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Ilya Rozanov stood in the blustery cold of Regina, Saskatchewan desperately trying to get his fucking lighter to work. His coaches admonished him every time they smelled cigarettes lingering on his coats, but he couldn’t be bothered to care right now. He heard footsteps approaching quickly, then faltering.
“Ilya?”
The voice was unfamiliar but the pronunciation of his name was perfect. He turned rapidly, the tone of the voice intriguing him. The other man had sounded dumbstruck and…terrified? No, not quite, but Ilya couldn’t figure it out in the second it took to turn.
His eyes landed on a beautiful face, looking at him with tears and wonder. He was left defenseless and utterly befuddled at the look of overwhelming relief and melancholy cast his way. The boy, who really was quite stunning, was approaching him with the caution reserved usually for wounded animals or frightened children.
What the fuck?
“Oh my god, ILYA,” the boy sprinted his last remaining steps towards him and Ilya had just enough wherewithal to drop his cigarette and lighter before 200 pounds of muscle came flying into him, arms wrapping around his neck, lips finding his own.
It was the most wild, passionate kiss Ilya had ever experienced in his 18 years of life. He returned the kiss with fervor, some unknown force—an instinct—propelling him to give this mysterious boy what he so clearly needed in return. Hands roamed, pulling on his hair with a practiced roughness he normally had to coax out of his lovers. They moved down quickly, roving over his body in a way that was purposeful and reverent—it felt like a reclamation.
What the fuck??
After many long moments, they broke the kiss, each gasping for breath. Ilya looked down at the weeping angel he held gently, boxed against his chest. Had he ever held someone this carefully before? The boy reached his hands up and caressed his face in awe, letting out a laugh, of sorts, as his eyes danced endlessly around Ilya’s face.
The English language left Ilya’s body completely.
“Privet?”
“Privet, Ilya.” The boy beamed. It was such an earnest, unabashed show of affection, Ilya couldn’t help but return his smile, shyly.
“This must be a dream?” He murmured in Russian.
He didn’t lose his smile, but the boy did tilt his head.
“Sorry, I haven’t gotten that far in my lessons, yet, love.” He leaned his head without hesitation, resting his forehead against Ilya’s who, for some reason, was continuing to let this all happen.
Love?
Right, English. He willed any words he could remember to come back expeditiously.
“Uhh, this is…dream? No?”
“Fuck, I hope not. It feels real.” Voice breaking on the last word, the boy took a shuddering breath, grief overtaking his pretty face so rapidly. Ilya had the sudden and overwhelming urge to do anything at all to make it go away.
“How long has it been for you?” The boys eyes were shining with tears, they were so big, so brown, so honest. Fuck, was this all a sex thing for this kid? He seemed too utterly sweet in the moment for it to be foreplay, but Ilya couldn’t imagine what else he could be talking about. His mind drifted to the girl he ate out in a club bathroom a week before leaving for Canada.
“Uh, a week? Week and a half?”
“Fuck. It’s been an entire year for me, lyubimyy.”
Ilya felt dizzy at the intimate, Russian pet name. Who was this? Was Ilya just so irresistible to this boy who hadn’t been laid in a year that he just had to stake his claim?
No. The boy was probably mentally ill, but it wasn’t just a bizarre tryst. He looked into those big, big eyes and knew he couldn’t be harmed by this sweet, trembling, thing he held in his arms.
In this distance, he heard some boys shouting and roughhousing in what sounded like Swedish, possibly. It snapped him out of the spell the kiss had put him in. He took a half step back from the enigma before him, moving his arms from his back, but gripping the boy’s biceps. He didn’t think it would go over well to completely disengage.
“Ah, there are many people here?” He hoped the other boy understood what he was saying.
“Fuck, you’re right. I can’t believe I’m really back here. It’s been so long, my body feels so weird. Nice to not have that twinge in my knee, I guess.” He let out a wet chuckle, clearly still heavily emotionally impacted, but trying to act somewhat normal. Ilya had never been so confused in his life, but gave him what he hoped was a reassuring nod. It felt more like a grimace.
He looked up at Ilya, resignation taking over. Smiling, he grabbed his wrist and confidently led them inside the nearest building where the administration offices were. Ilya followed blindly, not willing to give up this puzzling connection quite yet.
A single-person bathroom was found and the boy shoved him inside, quickly locking the door before pinning Ilya against it and kissing him again. The kiss was heated and not at all tentative. Ilya felt fireworks behind his eyes, his entire body felt invigorated and alive with the touch of this stranger. A stranger who he should probably learn the name of.
He felt his coat being undone and an attempt was being made to get it off his broad shoulders. He leaned away from the kiss and helped shrug it off. He tried to ask for the boy’s name but was caught off guard when he felt a confident hand caressing his erection through his jeans.
“Oh shi—name? Please?”
The boy giggled. “Yes, it’s your Shane, love. Please, I need you. Please.”
Well, that was lucky.
Shane. It was so very Canadian. It was beautiful and it fit the babbling figure before him. He used his arms to pull the boy away, forcing eye contact. He needed to make sure he was mentally sound enough to consent to…whatever was happening.
“Shane. Are you…ok? You want this, you really want this?”
“No, I’m not ok. Not by a long shot. I haven’t been since…but you’re here. Oh my god, you’re here. I want you more than anything—please.” Hands found his face, again, as fresh, hot tears rolled down the boy’s face. “Sorry, a lot of people would find it fucking weird that I just want to jump your bones after all this, probably.”
“Yes. You are correct.” Ilya had such a hard time comprehending what was happening but he knew most people would’ve decked Shane or had him committed by this point. He wasn’t most people, however.
Shane giggled again, sending a bolt of delight and warmth through Ilya.
“Yeah, yeah. But we were never normal, were we?”
He said it so wistfully, so painfully, Ilya just tilted his head and tried to study him. He recognized part of what the boy was feeling, extremely well. The pure unadulterated grief of losing someone you loved was something Ilya was incredibly familiar with, and it was rolling off this “Shane” in waves that were so powerful, it nearly knocked him off his feet. He thought of how alone he felt in his own mourning for so many years.
He was used to giving himself away. He gave his body to hockey, his money to his brother, his life to his father. His heart to his mother, gone for five years at this point. He could give a little bit of his love and empathy to this boy, just for a day. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad as the others.
Shaking his head, knowing his mind was already made up, he leaned in carefully and caught Shane’s mouth with his own. He let the boy continue to undress them.
Falling to his knees with practiced ease, Shane shucked Ilya’s pants and boxers down with no hesitation. He felt a face nuzzling into his pelvis, then his length. Well, that was new for Ilya—but he wasn’t about to complain.
Shane took his cock like he was made for it. An angel of lust, fallen with the sole purpose to torture him with desire. He had never had such a skilled mouth on him before. Shane knew every single trick, every single button, to take Ilya apart. It was done in a frenzied, loving flurry of spit and movement. Ilya almost laughed at how unbelievably perfect it was.
“Shane, Shane I’m gonna—“
Shane slid off long enough to say “give it to me, baby,” before taking him down to the root. Ilya came, hands clenched in raven hair, as dark eyes bore into his through glistening lashes.
What the fuck.
He hauled the boy up to his feet and did his best to convey through a kiss how practically life-changing that had been for him. He had never been loved on so ravenously, so expertly before. He had been with many people, had all sorts of experiences—not one of them compared to the way Shane had just so thoroughly and instantly taken him apart. How could he ever go back to lazy handjobs in a back alley after experiencing something that felt so correct? So holy?
He turned them so Shane was against the wall and lowered himself to his knees. He was determined to give at least half the blowjob he just received, if that was possible. He had been confident in his skills—up until now. Shane wasted no time tangling his delicate fingers in Ilya’s hair, murmuring sweet nothings as he was taken in. He got louder, seemingly uncaring of their location. Ilya spared a thought for anyone who may hear them but it was quickly washed away by the taste of Shane’s cum filling his mouth. Delicious.
Ilya left him with a kiss to his tip and did an awkward little shuffle to buckle his own pants before sliding the rest of the way to the ground. A pang of guilt swept through him. Whoever Shane thought he was, he wasn’t. He felt like he had taken advantage of the boy’s raw emotions. But he knew how badly Shane had wanted it, begged for it.
As if he had done it for years, Shane plopped himself in between Ilya’s legs, his own curled up against their torsos. He nestled into Ilya’s chest, his right hand snaking up to cup his neck and play with his curls. Their toques had been discarded in the ordeal, lying at their feet. Ilya had no choice but to wrap his arms around the boy. He leaned his cheek against his hair, trying to make sense of what just happened.
Before he could speak, he felt Shane’s body start jerking slightly. He snuck a look down and saw that he was sobbing, once again. Glimmering eyes met his own. Shane’s face completely crumpled.
“It’s been so fucking hard, Ilya. I-I wasn’t strong enough to be without you. Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he devolved into gasping sobs and tremors as he laid his head against Ilya’s chest again.
Ilya had never felt more conflicted in his life. He was so taken aback by the unabashed display of love and sadness and pure trust—not something he had ever witnessed in Russian culture, certainly not from strange men he didn’t know.
“Shane, I am…very sorry. I am, ah, so confused. I think you might think I am someone else.”
He could feel Shane’s body freeze instantly. The tears still fell.
“I do not think we have met, yet…you know me. You know my body, is obvious. I do not know you, though. I am sorry.”
Shane had slowly been leaning his head away as Ilya spoke, his eyes scanning every inch of his face looking for deception, recognition, anything. He had gone pale, so pale, and a new kind of shiver seemed to take hold.
“Y-you don’t…know me?”
Ilya shook his head slowly. He started rubbing Shane’s back with both hands, trying to show he wasn’t angry about what had happened. In fact, this was the most open and understanding he had allowed himself to be since his mother had passed away. Underneath the mountains of concern—and an unexpected protectiveness—forming for the boy in his arms, he was a little proud of himself.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck—shit!”
Shane attempted to stand up abruptly, before losing his balance and falling to his hands and knees so harshly it made Ilya wince. He seemed unable to get up, curling in on himself as if he were bracing for blows. He was trembling and pale and so pathetically sad, Ilya wanted to do anything to help him. His father would call him soft for this instinct but his father was in Russia and would never, ever hear about this, if Ilya could help it.
“Shane, is ok. Maybe we, ah, find place to go? We can talk? You have hotel?”
He moved to kneel next to the Canadian and continued to rub his back. Shane leaned into the touch naturally.
“If this really is 2008 Regina, I’m here with my parents. Fuck, they’re probably waiting for me. I don’t want to leave you, I can’t be away from you aga—“
He stopped himself, seemingly remembering Ilya’s confession. He sat up against his ankles and looked at Ilya with heartbreaking want in his eyes. His bottom lip wobbled.
“God you probably think I’m insane, huh? I promise I’m not. I know you Ilya, better than anyone I’ve ever known in my life. I know your favorite movie isn’t actually Fast and Furious, but Aladdin. I know your favorite ice cream flavor is cookies and cream, but you rarely let yourself indulge in it. I know how scary Russia is for someone who is bisexual. I know how awful your father and Alexei can be. I know how much Svetlana means to you and how you would do anything for each other. I know she was your first. I know about…Irina.”
Ilya’s blood turned cold, but he didn’t dare interrupt.
“I know how wonderful and beautiful she was. How sad she got. How much she loved you, her solnyshko. I know I probably scared you to death by telling you I love you just now. But I meant it. I’ll always mean it. I just don’t know how to explain how I’m here or how you’re here but you don’t remember me. I’m sorry, Ilya. I’m so sorry.”
Ilya found his eyes betrayed him and were full of his own tears, not yet fallen. He felt shaken, exposed. How did this beautiful man, with beautiful freckles he was just now appreciating, know every dirty secret of his life? Why did he believe him?
Shane’s voice was too shaky and his eyes too sparkly for Ilya to ignore, despite his internal panic. He grabbed Shane’s head and tucked him against his chest again.
“Da. You seem a little crazy. But honest, and…correct. Is why I have not run. No faking all this, yes?” He gestured to all of Shane, who let out a little laugh and kindly wiped Ilya’s tears, which had descended down his face.
“So I really ran up to you out of nowhere and kissed you like that and you just went with it and let me blow you?”
Ilya pounced on the moment of levity, desperate to cover himself up in humor.
“Hey! I return favor! Little angel comes to me and kisses me like I have never been kissed before, I cannot turn away. Am simple man, I guess.”
Shane snickered and Ilya felt like a beam of pure sunshine struck his heart. It was a balm on the lightning of terror that had been coursing through his veins since the mention of his mother’s name.
“Shane, look at me.”
He complied instantly.
“If you know all this…only I could have told you. That I know. And maybe, I would like to know you too, ok? I certainly deserve to find out how this happened. Gimme phone, we can call. I may not be who you wanted, but I think we should meet, talk. You know me somehow, I believe you, and…is only fair I know you too.”
“You’re always who I want.”
Shane nuzzled his head back into Ilya’s chest before nodding and retrieving his phone. ‘Little kitten’ flashed through Ilya’s mind before he shook his head. What on earth had gotten into him? Who was this minx that could turn him into a gooey puddle with some sad eyes and a kiss? Why did he feel so attached, so quickly?
They stood eventually, adjusting their clothes and retrieving their hats. Ilya went to make a quip, but felt it die on his tongue. He studied Shane, who had his eyes trained on the ground, utterly despondent.
Ilya sighed, not unhappily. He would let himself be sincere once more before slipping behind his walls again and retreating to his hotel. He gently, so gently, cupped Shane’s chin and raised his face. There weren’t words sufficient enough for either of them to fully convey whatever fucked-up, intensely emotional, supernatural situation they had found themselves in. They each knew it.
He let his body talk, leaning in and giving Shane a kiss that he knew the boy wouldn’t take for himself, not after he had known the truth. It was passionate, morose, and an absolute promise. Ilya put his trust in whatever version of himself Shane had known. He never would’ve let some random hook-up into his life like that. He knew with certainty the Ilya that Shane loved had loved him back. His promise was to Shane, and to that Ilya: he wouldn’t let this die. He would watch out for this angel. He would try. It might just save his hard-fought, miserable life.
They kissed and kissed and Ilya knew nothing would ever be the same.