Chapter Text
Shane woke up feeling like he had been run over a train, but in the best way possible. His legs felt like noodles and his joints had the consistency of jello, but he felt warm in a way. He turned over and smiled to see his husband peacefully sleeping, arms tightly wrapped around him. Ilya sleepily opened his eyes.
“Good morning,” Ilya smiled, “You are feeling ok?”
Shane nodded, moving to kiss Ilya’s forehead, “I am great,” He smiled lazily at the memories of last night. H had been utterly trapped in his head after a stressful week that was definitely making his top 5 worst moments.
On Monday, he spilled ginger ale all over himself before an important meeting. He had to change into a different outfit at the last moment. He wasn’t able to shower or do anything more than a simple washcloth wipe down. He had to sit through the meeting sticky and uncomfortable and he was so overwhelmed that he got nauseous. When he tried to drink more ginger ale after he got home to calm his nerves, he spilled it all over himself again.
On Tuesday, their hot water went out while Shane was taking a shower. Shane managed to mess around with the water heater and fix the issue, but it completely disrupted his morning routine and thus his mood. The problem was initially bigger than he thought as well and as a result, took him hours to fix. He didn’t end up even getting the opportunity to take his hot shower until later that evening and by then, he was exhausted. Ilya was very helpful, swooping in to run him a bath, but he was still tired.
On Wednesday, they thought Anya got into his allergy medication and Shane swore that was the worst panic attack he had had in years. They called the vet immediately, driving her down, and thankfully, she was alright. It had turned out that while she had gotten into the trash, she had only torn up a cardboard box that had some peanut butter smeared on it from where it was in the bin. The allergy packet they had seen had been an empty one, sandwiched between the trash. Shane was absolutely mortified at his panic despite the reassurances from both Ilya and the vet that being that afraid was perfectly normal.
Thursday to Saturday hadn’t been that bad in retrospect, but it felt like a nightmare at the time. He had a small cold and he felt like shit on top of the fact that he was now behind on some things he needed to do.
Sunday had been another bad day. He had a photo shoot and those were always hard. The stress of the previous week had been building and building and when he got home he literally begged Ilya to take him out of his head. He couldn’t take the stress anymore and he didn’t want to think about anything right now. He begged Ilya for the roughest he could give him, the roughest he would give him. So of course, Ilya obliged—and he went crazy.
Shane had never been fucked that hard, ever. Ilya had him over his knee and then over the bed. Shane was practically screaming bloody murder with how hard Ilya was pounding into him and he was very glad in that moment that they didn’t have neighbors. He could barely take a breather—and he had loved it. He went to bed with nothing more than the thought of Ilya, happy, sleepy, and completely relaxed.
He kissed Ilya again before rolling back over to get up off the bed, “Where are you going?” Ilya groaned, “Come back, I miss you.”
“Stop pouting, Ilya. Look at the time,” Shane pointed to the clock on his nightstand, “Rose is picking me up in an hour and a half so we can catch up.”
“Hmmm but you can get ready in like 30 minutes,” Ilya dragged himself towards the edge of the bed where Shane had sat up, wrapping his arms around his waist, “You can cuddle with me for the next hour.”
“If I get back in bed with you, I’m not coming out. And I haven’t seen Rose in months.”
“Fine,” Ilya playfully rolled his eyes and turned back over, “My husband is leaving me for a WOMAN. The HORROR!”
Shane rolled his eyes back, kissing Ilya again. But as he got up, he was hit with the soreness in his lower half. Ilya caught his wince, letting a small chuckle.
“And what’s so funny?” Shane blushed tomato red as he manged to get up (but not without a wobble).
“Oh nothing,” Ilya laughed, “Just the fact that my husband is waddling around like a penguin because I fuck him so well.”
“Who said you did you this?”
Ilya smirked, pointing at the hickeys littering his body and the handprint right in the middle of his ass. Shane huffed and threw a spare pillow at him. He got changed and went downstairs, Anya perking up at the sound of him from her living room bed. Ilya joined him in the low-waist sweatpants that made Shane want to climb him like a tree. As Shane sat for breakfast, he found himself wincing, the soreness in his body making itself very well known.
Ilya gave him a concerned look, “I was just teasing you earlier, did I go too hard on you last night?”
Shane looked lovingly back at him, “I’m ok. You didn’t give me anything I didn’t want,” he leaned in towards Ilya’s ear, “Maybe one day I’ll let you fuck me the next morning even though I’m sore,” It was Ilya’s turn to be embarrassed and red at that.
The hour and a half passed and Shane’s phone soon went off with a text from Rose, signaling her presence outside.
“When will you be back,” Ilya hugged Shane from behind as he stood at the door.
“By dinner. You want me to get us something or do you want to cook? There’s that Chinese place you like right by Rose’s apartment that I can pick up from.”
Ilya just smirked, licking his lips and looking at Shane. Shane sighed, “I have another snack I’m interested in.”
“Forget I asked,” Shane kissed his cheek and wiggled out of Ilya’s grip, walking out to Rose’s car.
“Wait!” Ilya yelled, “Please get Chinese! I love you!”
“I will,” Shane yelled back, “Text me what you want. I love you too!” He opened the car door to greet Rose.
Rose reached over to hug Shane, Shane attempting to not wince as Rose hugged him, “Ugh Shane! I’m so happy to see you, it feels like it’s been years.”
Shane moved like he was trying not to set off a bomb, settling into the seat slowly and closing the door. As he sat, it felt like his ass was on absolute fire. The leather interior of Rose’s car pressed against all his sore spots in just the right way, just like Ilya had the night before.
Ilya’s hands on his hips, dragging him up the bed and pulling him closer and closer to fuck him deeper, bruises on his hips, his chest slamming into Shane’s back with every thrust whispering dirty, filthy praises in his ears as he pressed Shane down, down, down, further and further into the mattress, cock hitting all the right spots, calling him a slut as fucked him dumb and asking if he wanted more and Shane always wanted more-
Shane shook his head, snapping himself out of the memory. He was not about to get a boner in Rose’s car. He was not going to do that to her. He began willing images of his parents and teammates in an effort to stop him from getting hard. Rose noticed his discomfort, giving him a look.
“What?” Shane tried his hardest not to blush. He knew he had been walking funny all morning and he certainly looked weird walking to the car, but he played dumb, “Something wrong?”
“Are you feeling ok?” Rose asked, genuine concern in her voice.
“I’m fine, Rose. Just drive,” Shane replied, “So, how’s that guy you were seeing in LA?”
“Oh, him?! Ugh he gave me the worst time last time we met up...”
The pair arrived to Rose’s apartment shortly after, Shane absolutely struggling not to waddle into the living room, but failing. Rose placed his keys in the counter and then leaned against it, eyeing Shane just like he had done in the car.
“Ok, I know you’re lying. Are you hurt?”
Shane waved his hand as he moved to sit down on her couch, “Rose, I’m ok. I just had a really tough and long-” Shane paused to yelp as he sat down, “Work. Out.” Shane cursed under his breath. He knew that was a poor excuse.
“You and I both know that’s a lie, hun,” Rose grabbed herself a smoothie from the fridge and Shane his classic can of ginger ale, “Was it from last week’s game? Are you hiding an injury or something? I mean, you did get slammed into the boards pretty hard.”
Oh, Shane thought, I got slammed alright. The image of Ilya over him in bed last night returned to his head. He was on his back, Ilya’s cross hitting his chest as his hips moved back and forth and back and forth. Shane could feel Ilya everywhere as he was practically folded in half, his ankles up by his ears. He had to practically drag his mind away from the image, “I’m fine,” he said quickly, “I’m just sore. From my workout. That I did yesterday.”
“Does Ilya know you’re in pain like this? Or have you been hiding this from him too?”
Shane choked on his ginger ale, “He knows...” He said quietly. He looked to the side, failing to hide the small smile on his face and Rose gasped.
“Wait,” she said, shocked, “Oh my god, Shane Hollander-Rozanov you fucker!”
“I did say I was ok, Rose,” Shane smiled, “I promise.”
“How hard did he fuck you, good god?!” Rose settled into her spot on the couch, “I mean, seriously. Shane, you were walking like you had a hockey injury. My first thought was that you sprained something and were trying to hide it! Thank goodness you guys don’t have neighbors.”
“He called me a penguin when I got out of bed this morning.”
“With the way you were walking, I’m surprised you even got up at all. I’m surprised you managed to sit in my damn car—I went over like 10 speed bumps to get here!” Rose pointed to the couch, “How the fuck are you even sitting right now?” Rose sipped her smoothie, “Your husband is a monster. I’m so serious, restrain that man!”
“I mean I do sometimes...” Shane muttered.
Rose was the one to choke on her drink sometime, “Oh my god you freak. I should have known you were the real freak in that relationship.”
Shane just smiled and kept sipping his drink. They later moved on from Ilya’s rough treatment of Shane to other topics and before they knew it, Rose had driven Shane back to his house.
“Tell him to go easy on you,” Rose said as she hugged Shane goodbye, “You have practice again in a few days.”
Shane laughed and said his goodbye to Rose, walking in the house where Ilya greeted him and Anya nudged his leg.
“Hi, Shane,” Ilya smiled, wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist and crowding him against the now closed front door, “How was Rose? Did she notice you waddle like a duck?”
“Actually, she did,” Shane blushed, “She was super convinced that I initially had a hockey injury...”
“An injury?” Ilya laughed, “Oh, that is too good. That is too good.”
Shane playfully punched his shoulder, moving to get the takeout he had brought them for dinner, “You and your damn ego.”
“What, I cannot be proud of how well I fuck you? Come on, Shane, you know I’m good at it! That’s how we got here in the first place!”
“And if you don’t get that damn food I bought for you, I’ll lock my dick up!”
“First of all, that would only be a punishment for you, not for me. Second, is this your way of saying you want to try a cock cage, because I can totally arrange that-” Ilya was cut off by another spare pillow thrown at his face.