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2015 — Boston, Massachusetts
Ilya towelled himself off while he walked back into the bedroom, skin warm and still a little damp from showering. He felt sated and at ease, two states of being he could never seem to fully achieve whenever he and Shane were apart, playing in different cities.
The Bears had lost to Montreal in a gruelling overtime battle tonight. It should have hurt, but it was hard to ignore the embers of joy that fluttered up inside him alongside the disappointment at Shane managing to beat him. A loss against the Voyageurs was digestible only because what came afterwards made up for it tenfold. Shane’s eager body and mouth always knew how to expertly erase every lingering trace of the sting.
Ilya knew well by now that Shane’s relative ability to let loose during sex was dependent on how he performed on the ice, his quiet satisfaction following a victory translating into something beautiful in the sheets. Winning made him so much more relaxed, finally susceptible to the idea that he deserved to be properly worshipped by Ilya.
And that was exactly how tonight had gone. Instead of pressing his face into the pillow and baring his ass for Ilya to take—that impersonal, rough sex all he could usually withstand after any of his more glaring losses—Shane had instead splayed himself out comfortably on his back, allowing himself to be admired.
Ilya recalled the massive surge of want and something teetering dangerously close to love that took over him as he stood at the foot of the hotel bed, watching Shane strip off the last of his clothing, finally laid bare. It was a dizzying sight, standing over Shane as he pulled his own thighs apart, holding himself open and gazing at Ilya with a lazy sort of lust that seemed to say I want you. Come here and make me feel good.
So that was what he did. Ilya took his time opening Shane up, pressing kisses to his face and neck until he was practically begging for him to get on with it.
Ilya loved being thorough with prep, loved getting to drag out the time he had with Shane like this, but he was laughably weak when it came to Shane voicing exactly what he wanted. Whatever he was desperate enough to ask for, Ilya was going to give him, even if he sometimes liked to tease a bit before rewarding Shane for his honesty.
It felt almost holy, sheathing himself inside Shane Hollander, prince of hockey, as he melted into the mattress beneath Ilya so willingly. His unrestrained moans were the sweetest kind of music when breathed against the shell of Ilya’s ear, those strong arms wrapped around him enough to set Ilya's skin ablaze.
He could never get enough, never wanted to let this go. Shane made it impossible not to get hooked on him, the rush of their nights together enough to plant an addiction in Ilya that had him running back for more every time he played Montreal.
He relished this, the rhythm of their bodies as they grew increasingly more attuned to each other. Fucking face-to-face wasn’t something they allowed themselves often, since it unleashed an unspoken passion in them that made whatever they were starting to secretly feel for each other when they weren’t supposed to seem… startlingly within reach.
They let themselves indulge once in a while, though, needing to satisfy that mutual unspoken craving for an intimacy they couldn’t get with anyone else. Tonight, it served as a reward for the both of them putting up a good match, with Shane ultimately coming out on top.
The days and weeks apart fell away to nothing as Ilya got to kiss Shane through his rising pleasure, swallowing down the prettiest of his sounds before pulling back to take in the alluring picture beneath him. Shane was always so effortlessly beautiful like this, his constellation of freckles decorating newly flushed skin, gorgeous brown eyes glazed-over and completely taken by overwhelming desire.
Ilya knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer when Shane nuzzled against his cheek and started to beg. “Please. Need you so bad, Rozanov. Please, god, need you to fuck me harder.”
And then Shane was tugging Ilya towards him so their bodies were completely aligned, torsos plastered together like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance between them. The added friction of Ilya’s abs running over Shane’s cock with each thrust was intoxicating, and it sent Shane over the edge with only a few more thrusts. Ilya was quick to follow, burying his face in Shane’s neck with a deep groan as he finished.
“God, you are so fucking sexy.” He breathed. “Always so perfect for me, Hollander.”
Shane just huffed out a laugh in response, too spent to form coherent thoughts so soon after such an intense orgasm. Ilya lay with him in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, not yet able to bring himself to separate from the blissful warmth of Shane’s chest beneath him.
It was becoming increasingly difficult not to toe that line they’d maintained since the beginning of their years-long unconventional arrangement. Anything more than sex was an impossibility—an illogical fantasy that would jeopardize all that they’d worked their whole lives to achieve. But Ilya couldn’t deny that in moments like this, he’d started quietly nurturing that growing desire for more with Shane, rather than continuing to push it down like he was supposed to.
Could he be blamed for dreaming? If he didn't act on any of his irrational wants, it was a completely harmless thing. So what if he was a puppet, bound to move with invisible strings at Shane’s whim. In moments like this, when he was still inside Shane, Shane’s fingers tracing gentle circles into his shoulder while his free hand ran softly through Ilya’s curls, Ilya did not want to be in control of himself. He wanted to give himself over to this man completely, and to trust that his heart was safe in Shane’s hands.
He was so tired of his family treating him as something disposable, never good enough for them unless it involved his money. And he was so tired of chasing physical highs from hookups with strangers that ended up leaving him hollow, a reminder that he wasn’t worth anything beyond his ability to perform in bed.
The long list of his stressors and disappointments were a stark reminder of why Shane was so wonderfully different, and why Ilya wanted to be with him more than anything else. Shane was the only person who made him light up inside, awakening a seemingly bottomless pool of desire that craved Shane’s touch above all. Beyond just that, Ilya was starstruck by his gorgeous smile and reserved laughter, wanting to be the reason for it whenever Shane was back in his room, and then back in his bed.
Because Ilya had spent years learning all the expert ways to make Shane feel good, but there was so much more that also existed between them from the beginning. There was that electricity that surged so fiercely on the ice, their rivalry and the constant competition that came with it sealing their intertwined fates for good.
He loved the thrill of toying with Shane before a face-off, and the resulting rush when Shane chased him down the ice any time he stole the puck.
Ilya knew he would never find a connection like the one he had with Shane again, no one in this lifetime a more perfect match for Ilya than the one person he could not have.
It was a sobering thought after how amazing the sex had been, his heart still warm with the month’s stolen moments of closeness he’d just shared with Shane.
He couldn't let himself succumb to his achy wants with Shane still beneath him, flushed and so fucking beautiful. Wants like this were only safe when he was alone in the cold darkness of his room, dreams of Shane and an impossible future together his only real comfort while trying to find sleep.
Pulling away was always the hardest part, but it was a necessary part of their routine. That distance was standard by now; they could make each other cum, and nothing more.
Ilya brushed a gentle hand across Shane’s stomach in wordless apology for the unpleasant drag of the condom as he pulled out. Ilya wanted to kiss him tenderly, too, but with the sudden swell of mushy affection rising in him, he knew it was too dangerous right now. Knew it would convey too much of the truth.
Ilya sat on the edge of the bed, faced away from Shane as he tied off the condom and discarded it in the wastebasket next to the bed. Shane’s fingers ran along the base of his spine, a whisper of a touch, though whether it was meant as a silent question, a thank you or just an urge to check that Ilya was still here, that this was still real, he wasn’t sure.
When Ilya finally got up to go head for the bathroom, he didn’t look back. He couldn’t bear to see Shane so spent and pretty with his legs tangled up in Ilya’s silk sheets, not when he couldn’t have more.
The spray of water on his skin did wonders to help recenter him. He buried all of his private desires, and instead let himself relive how good Shane had felt around him, opening for him so willingly. Kissing him so sweet, and looking at Ilya with those gorgeous doe-eyes that were impossible not to become entranced by.
He made sure the shower was long, and burning hot.
~★~
Ilya tugged on his boxers and walked back out into the bedroom, still towelling off his upper half. They had worked out an unspoken routine after years of doing this, that familiarity another layer in the intimacy they were slowly building up even when neither of them would admit it out loud.
Shane was almost always content to let Ilya take the shower first, tending to need more time to settle back into himself after they fucked, especially when they went at it rough. It was typical for him to remain boneless in the sheets, eyes closed even after Ilya was done with the bathroom. That same familiar sight greeted Ilya now, except instead of laying on his back like he had been when Ilya left, Shane was flipped over onto his stomach, face buried into the pillow
“Shower’s all yours, Hollander.” He said casually, walking past the bed to rummage through his suitcase for a clean t-shirt.
When he received nothing in response, not even the soft sound of ruffling sheets as Shane shifted against the mattress, Ilya glanced over his shoulder to check on him.
He looked… peaceful. Shane always did when Ilya fucked him so thoroughly he came untouched. But this complete quiet was something entirely new.
Ilya stood and crept over to the edge of the bed on silent footing, sitting down next to Shane as delicately as he could.
They never did this. They didn’t stay the night with each other—didn’t ever linger for anything more than even a stolen hour after a passionate hookup. It was much too risky, and invited room for an intimacy they couldn’t in good conscience open themselves up to.
But here was Shane, accidentally asleep in Ilya’s bed, unbeknownst to the fact that just the sight of him so at peace while in Ilya’s space made him want to break down in tears.
It was unbelievably precious, and it filled Ilya with a desperate hope that he would never forget this, the sweet sight of Shane turned into a memory, a picture burned so clearly into his mind it was tangible.
His next thought was irrational. Stupid, really. But maybe… maybe it was alright if he took just one. A real picture. Besides, no one would ever see it but him, and Shane would never have to know. Not if Ilya never told him about it.
He reached for his phone on the nightstand, and then hesitated. It felt wrong, somehow, but also harmless enough that Ilya couldn’t make himself resist. Not when this would be so easy, the possibility of capturing and keeping an innocent photo of Shane soundly asleep in his hotel bed.
Saying a quiet apology in his mind, Ilya swiped into the camera app. Just one, that was the promise he made to himself. And he stuck by it.
He positioned the camera so everything except Shane’s face was in frame. To anyone else—not that anyone else would ever see this—the photo was an anonymous candid. But Ilya would know better.
He would know the muscled slope of those strong shoulders anywhere, know the soft fall of his sex-ruffled hair. Even more beautiful was the smattering of freckles decorating his smooth skin, spanning across his biceps and back, skipping his neck, and returning on his cheeks turned away just enough to hide any of his more distinguishing features.
The covers were pulled up over his waist. Shane must have burrowed his legs under them, seeking a bit of warmth while he turned over to get comfortable. It made the perfect curve of his ass even more tantalizing, shape well-preserved though still unattainable while covered by those thin white sheets.
Both his arms were tucked up under the pillow, cradling his head where it was tucked away and half-buried in the soft fabric. Ilya discarded his phone on the nightstand and then inched in closer, taking in what the photo had missed.
There was that quietly handsome face he adored. The perfectly straight dip of his nose angled towards the pillow, plush lips parted just enough to allow for deep, sleepy breaths.
Shane’s bangs hung gently over his brow, framing his face in a way that softened him. Those pretty eyelashes pointed low over his cheeks, brushing over the first dottings of freckles decorating his warm skin.
It was startlingly clear right then, the thought so irrefutable it occupied the entirety of his mind.
Ilya was in love with him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
As much as he wanted to let Shane sleep as long as he needed to, and then play it off casually when he did eventually wake up, Ilya couldn’t be responsible for that discontinuity in their routine. He knew Shane had an early flight to catch tomorrow, and they never stayed longer than they had to after a hookup, anyways.
He gave into his wants just a little bit, though. An internal compromise of sorts, if only because Shane wouldn’t really notice.
He reached one of his hands out, and caressed fingers along Shane’s cheek, tracing those beautiful freckles that were maybe his favourite part of this very beautiful man.
When that didn’t wake Shane, Ilya inched forward and pressed a kiss to the curve of Shane’s spine, one, then two a little higher, marking the place between Shane’s back and his neck.
“Hollander,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his bicep to jostle him as gently as possible. “Time to wake up. You have flight to catch tomorrow.”
He felt Shane groan and shift under him, squinting awake. Ilya continued to rub his shoulder while Shane got his bearings, and then he was flipping onto his back to look at Ilya properly.
“I feel asleep…?” His voice was a little rough with disuse. So fucking cute.
“Yes, Hollander. I fucked you so good it put you to sleep. Didn’t know this was possible, but I guess I am just that special.”
“You’re such an asshole.” Shane sighed, throwing an arm over his face and closing his eyes. His voice tapered off into something small. “I didn’t mean to, sorry.”
And oh, Ilya wouldn’t have that.
“There is nothing to be sorry for. Was only a few minutes that you were asleep, anyways. I would let you stay for longer, but you need to kick Florida’s ass tomorrow night. Shower is ready, you should go wash all that dried cum off you, mister clean freak.”
Shane scrunched up his nose. “Oh god, you’re right.” He shifted to sit up the bed. “I’ll shower and be out of here in twenty.”
Ilya nodded, patting a hand over Shane’s cheek as if to say yep, okay. And then because he needed to scratch a little bit of that itch he’d been ignoring for the last half hour, he leaned forward and kissed Shane. Only once, chastely on the lips.
It was all worth it for the resulting sweet smile that lit up Shane’s face.
God, he was so fucked.
2016 — Montreal, Québec
Everything hurt. He was drunk, his head was pounding, and he was all alone in this goddamn hotel room because he couldn’t even stomach the thought of bringing a girl home from the club. Not when the sight of Shane dancing with Rose, the two of them happy and pressed right up against each other, had the same effect as a knife to his chest.
Ilya’s eyes burned with the sting of unshed tears. Would Shane ever be his again? Had Shane ever been his in the first place? He wished he could take it all back. Wished he could redo that godforsaken day in Boston, reshaping the memory so that he never cooked for Shane, never asked him to stay, and that he’d shut his fucking mouth before calling him anything but Hollander.
He was curled up in bed in the dark, but he knew sleep wasn’t going to come. His phone buzzed with the third call from Marlow in the last few minutes, probably him wondering where Ilya was after leaving alone so abruptly.
He didn’t care. He let the call ring out again, curling up into himself even tighter under the sheets. He was cold, but he didn’t feel capable of moving to adjust the thermostat. Couldn’t force his muscles into action when they felt full of lead.
If he had just been normal about Shane from the start like he was supposed to, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. They were fuckbuddies, and that was it. It was bound to end at some point, which was why Ilya needed to stop feeling like his chest was caving in, or like the world was fucking ending.
He couldn’t, though. He couldn't act like all of it—seven goddamn years of the most meaningful connection he’d ever shared with someone—had meant nothing to him.
Every breath was a struggle he didn’t want to keep fighting for. It was impossible to move on, because deep down inside Ilya knew the truth.
He knew that Shane felt this too.
But he was so scared. They both were, though Ilya had been the bigger fool. He took what was secretly blossoming between them and used it as fuel for his own stupid hope. He knew that Shane was terrified, and yet he’d let his own optimism blind him, pushing them both over the deep end when neither of them knew how to swim.
Ilya reached for his phone, trying and failing to tamp down the burning behind his eyes. The glow from the screen was the sole source of light in the room.
Then he pulled it up. He looked at the only picture he had of Shane that was fully his, and started to sob.
2017 — Boston, Massachusetts
This should have felt surreal, but instead it settled delicately inside Ilya, tangible and honey-sweet.
Because he’d tried vulnerability all over again, almost a year after it shattered his heart. He’d broken himself down and fought through the hardships, all of it worth it now that he had Shane back. His Shane, who he asked to stay the night at his place and who had said yes.
They’d both been through so much in the last few months. The passing of Ilya’s father, the final reckoning with his brother, Shane’s injury, and that magical night in Tampa where he and Shane had poured their hearts out to each other, finally deciding to fight for something more.
All of those harsh and beautiful moments bled into each other to create a tether between them that felt unbreakable, making them almost reckless in their renewed wants.
The season had just come to a crazy end, with Hunter delivering that final push he needed to agree to go to Shane’s cottage later this summer. The season ended in April, though, and Shane’s plans were set for July.
It was just too long of a wait to go without seeing him, especially when they’d reached a deeper level of trust and understanding, finally allowed to acknowledge that a mutual desire was there.
So he’d asked Shane to come visit him one weekend in June, once they were settled into the offseason and no one cared about hockey or his whereabouts for a little while. He tried to frame it as something more casual than what he really wanted, asking Shane to come help him choose what to pack or buy since he wasn’t normally very outdoorsy. It gave Shane an out in case it was too much; he didn’t want to push Shane’s boundaries before they got to hide away in his secret paradise only a few weeks later.
But Shane had said yes, taking a last minute flight to Boston without a word to anyone except his parents and Hayden. All of them received pretty flimsy excuses regarding his whereabouts, but didn’t ask too many questions since he’d only be gone for a day or two.
All of it led them both here, Shane spent and happy in Ilya’s real bed, wanting to stay the night.
Shane pulled him closer so they could continue to kiss leisurely, lovingly.
Ilya had been a bit nervous about having sex when Shane’s arm was still freshly out of his sling, but Shane was adamant that he was completely fine. Still, Ilya was extra cautious, laying Shane out on his back and making sure there were ample pillows should he feel at all uncomfortable.
There was an amused twinkle in Shane’s eyes as he watched Ilya fuss over him, though he didn’t ever say anything to stop it. Shane probably found it oddly endearing getting to witness how whipped Ilya was, but fuck it. It was true, and he was going to take such good care of Shane now that his affection was allowed.
He fucked Shane slow and gentle, even when Shane panted and begged for something faster, harder, more. It went against everything in Ilya’s nature to ignore his sweet pleas, but he did, kissing Shane through it as he brought him to the edge much more achingly delicate than he ever had before.
They made out for a while after that, content just to press up against each other and remind themselves that this tenderness no longer needed to be tamped down.
Later, when they showered together, they kissed some more. It was like there was an invisible force keeping them together at all times, encouraging a release of all the affection that had been stifled throughout the years.
Ilya took the opportunity to drink in Shane’s beautiful brown eyes and freckles while Shane fooled around with his hair, giggling while he sculpted Ilya’s curls into two round bear ears.
His heart threatened to burst when Shane pulled him in for one more kiss, smiling wide with hands still cupping his cheeks.
“The prettiest Boston bear,” he said. “So cute, and all mine.”
It was a struggle to get out of the shower after that, Shane laughing as Ilya tugged him into a soapy hug. It must have been another half hour before they were towelled off and back in his bedroom, finally ready for bed.
“Let me find you a clean shirt,” Ilya said, already searching through his drawers.
Shane was perched on the edge of the bed, silently watching him. “Oh, you don’t have to. I brought some extra clothes in my backpack.”
“I know, Shane.” His first name rolled off Ilya’s tongue so naturally. “But I am selfish, and I want you in my clothes.”
He turned to look over his shoulder, meeting Shane’s eyes to convey all of the sincerity in his tone. He watched as Shane flushed a little, fighting not to squirm as he clenched his hands tighter in the sheets. This type of open adoration was still so new to them, but he liked getting to test it out.
“Okay,” He breathed, the word coming out both wispy and rough. “Okay, yeah, I’d like that.”
Shane couldn’t see Ilya’s resulting smile when he turned around and continued his search. He picked out an old gray Bears shirt, well-worn and spanning all the way back to his rookie year. It was one of the most comfortable things Ilya owned, the fabric a little fuzzier than it used to be because of how many wash cycles it’d been through.
Ilya grinned at Shane when he noticed the familiar logo on the shirt, kissing his exaggerated pout and then helping him into the garment. They both preferred to sleep in boxers, so Ilya didn’t bother finding him any pants.
“Do you need anything else before we go to sleep?” Ilya asked, running a gentle hand through Shane’s still-damp hair. “Whatever you want, I will get it for you.”
“Do you have tea? I still get headaches from the concussion sometimes, and drinking tea before bed usually helps me feel better.”
“I have chamomile. You are in pain right now?”
“Only a little bit. I’m pretty used to the headaches by now, and they’ve gotten better, so they don’t affect my sleep as much anymore. I guess drinking tea sort of became a habit over the past few months, though. I don’t really need it, but I like it. Maybe you can make some for both of us and we can just… sit in bed and talk for a little?”
“Of course, solnyshko.” Ilya smiled. “Give me a few minutes and I will be back with tea and some aspirin.”
And then just because he could, he leaned in and kissed Shane again. It was definitely overindulgent, and he’d definitely lost track of how many times they’d kissed tonight, but he was completely overwhelmed with how much he loved Shane, and this was the simplest outlet for his affection.
When Ilya pulled back, Shane’s hand still bunched in his shirt, he wanted to say it. That ‘I love you’ on the tip of his tongue. But being together in a way that entailed more than just fucking was still new to them, and he wanted to let them explore this kind of intimacy for a little longer before he confessed that truth.
So he padded into the kitchen and set some water to boil, retrieving a bottle of aspirin from the bathroom while he waited. By the time the water heated up and he soaked their tea bags for long enough, about fifteen minutes had gone by.
It took some careful maneuvering to carry two piping hot mugs and the pills at the same time, but he managed. He was so focused on making sure nothing spilled that by the time he crept back into the bedroom and set everything down on the nightstand, he’d barely even noticed Shane.
Shane, who was now curled into his side facing Ilya, soundly asleep.
Ilya’s heart swelled. He brought a hand up to brush through Shane’s soft bangs almost on instinct. This was so much different than the last time Shane had fallen asleep in his bed, the contrast leaving Ilya so fucking fond it almost hurt.
Both times had been accidents, Shane relaxed enough to let himself go without meaning to. That first time, though, was a stark reminder of everything he thought they could never have. Shane so comfortable in Ilya’s space, yet that same space not even really being his.
Hotel rooms had been their only solace for years.
That was why this moment was so precious, leaving Ilya on the verge of tears. He felt one slip out before he could blink the rest away, and then he shifted his hand to cup the back of Shane’s neck, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
When none of that woke Shane, Ilya sighed and took a sip of his tea. The warm liquid added on to the tender heat already running through his veins. When he eyed his phone next to where he’d set their mugs on the nightstand, Ilya was reminded of something old that he wanted to make anew.
He kissed Shane’s temple, seemingly unable to stop kissing Shane tonight. Then he opened up his camera and took a picture.