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It’s late afternoon when they finally enter the canoe.
The day had been unusually hot, not allowing for much more than dips in the lake and lazy lounging on the deck, ice cold ginger ales in hand. Heat usually isn’t Shane’s thing. He prefers temperate Canadian summers and the dry cold of the hockey rinks.
But as Ilya cast aside his T-shirt just before noon, only sporting a pair of black swim trunks that seemed to make it a mission to crawl as far up his thighs as possible, Shane couldn’t deny that the perks of a hot summer day significantly outweighed the downsides.
Ilya had lounged beside him all afternoon on the deck chairs in-between swims. Behind his sunglasses, Shane had allowed his eyes to wander. Ilya’s body glistened in the sun. His tan skin made his curls almost golden in the bright sunlight. Shane watched with undivided attention as small droplets, a mixture of sweat and lake water, slowly made their way down Ilya’s well-toned abs. Shane felt his mouth go dry as his eyes followed the beads’ path through the dark, curly hairs of Ilya’s treasure tail before disappearing underneath the band of the swim trunks. He remembered with a smile the way his own tongue had traced the same path only hours before in bed, Ilya’s low moans the only sound that interrupted the morning stillness.
It had not taken much to convince Ilya. Shane flushed a deep pink when he asked if Ilya would like to canoe to one of the islands, which more than anything else revealed his true intentions. Ilya cocked one eyebrow and gave Shane one of his irresistible, sexy smirks.
Ilya leaned over the gap between their deck chairs and lifted his hand to gently cup Shane’s cheek. He kissed him slow and deliberate, pressing his tongue against Shane’s. His other hand slid up the back of Shane’s neck, grabbing him, pulling him closer, to deepen the kiss. He pulled back slightly just as Shane considered dropping the canoes entirely and getting on his knees for Ilya right then and there.
“It would be my pleasure,” Ilya murmured, in a low, warm voice. Despite the heat, Shane shivered all over.
—
It is late afternoon when they finally enter the canoe. One canoe is big enough to fit the two of them, so they hoist one from the boat house by the dock and lower it gently into the water at the lakeshore. Shane tosses Ilya an oar from the boat house which the Russian catches easily in one hand, the strong muscles of his arm flexing. The heat of the day still lingers, and neither of them bothers with any more clothes than their swim trunks and trainers.
“I’ll be in the back,” Shane says, looking over at Ilya across the length of the canoe. “Steering.”
Ilya wiggles his eyebrows at Shane. “Interesting,” he says, giving him another one of his sexy smirks.
“Behave yourself,” Shane replies, but he can’t hide his smile nor the blush that appears on his cheeks.
“Commanding. Very sexy,” Ilya replies, still smirking, but he doesn’t protest as he steps into the front of the canoe. He settles his large form on the front seat, his back towards Shane. Shane goes in after him and settles in the back. He pushes them off the shore with the oar.
The lake is calm, and they glide easily into the water, creating ripples behind them. The sun is still shining on them from above the forest on the other side of the lake, above the thick cover of trees. The light of the sun’s reflection dances across their naked torsos.
“Where to, captain?” Ilya teases as he lowers the oar into the water on his right side and starts paddling. From this angle, Shane can see the dozens of moles peppered over Ilya’s strong back. His now dry hair curls wonderfully at his neck, soft and inviting. Ilya’s beauty in the afternoon sun takes Shane’s breath away. He has to physically remind himself to look away in order to see where they’re going. He lowers his own oar on his left side and steers them out of the cover of trees that conceal the cottage.
Shane likes to steer and he’s good at it, canoeing with his family on the lakes since he was little. But he’s not ashamed to admit that part of him also wants to admire the view. Ilya’s strong arms start rowing with deeper strokes in the water, thrusting them ahead at high speed. The hard muscles of his back work at a steady rhythm. The thought of how exactly he wants Ilya to put those muscles to work once they reach the island already makes Shane hard.
He’s already picked out an island among the many that scatter across the lake. He’s gone out on the lake many times before, so he knows a particular one with a thick grove of trees perfect for hiding from prying eyes.
As they sail further into the lake, Shane looks around them and realises how exposed they are like this. Anyone could easily see them, from another boat or, with good eyes or binoculars, from the waterfront and wonder what the two best hockey players in the world and supposed rivals are doing in the same canoe completely alone on a lake in Ontario. They’ve never been more exposed than this, and the thought sends a shiver down Shane’s spine. But there are no other boats on the lake. They’re completely alone.
“Go for that one over there,” Shane says, pointing ahead. Ilya looks over his shoulder to see where Shane is indicating. It’s one of the bigger islands in the lake, big enough for a dozen or so trees covering a small mound of mossy grass, but inconspicuous enough that no one sailing out would pick it as a destination. As Ilya turns to paddle again, Shane feels his heart rate pick up in anticipation.
—
They easily glide through the water and quickly reach the island. With a quiet thud the canoe hits the island bank, and Ilya steps out onto the ground.
As Shane stands up, Ilya gets an idea. He quickly bends down to grab the front of the canoe and pulls it towards him with a quick jerk. This earns him a yelp of surprise from Shane who almost falls on his back into the water before he manages to regain his balance.
“Asshole!” Shane chirps, like an angry kitten. His nose is scrunched up in that adorable way that Ilya loves, and he can’t help but grin widely despite the harsh tone.
“My apologies, printsessa,” he says in a smooth voice, still a wide smile on his face. With mock elegance he extends a hand to Shane as if helping a lady out of her carriage. “Please let me assist you.”
“Fuck off,” Shane says, but he still takes Ilya’s hand and steps forward.
He doesn’t have time to steady himself before Ilya quickly pulls him out of the canoe and into his arms, pressing Shane’s body flush against him.
The sudden sensation of Shane’s almost naked body on his makes Ilya’s heart jump. With one hand on Shane’s lower back he presses them close, deliciously close, the other hand chasing up Shane’s arm, chest, neck and jaw, skin warm and flush with hundreds of freckles after a long day of basking in the sun. He tilts the jaw so Shane’s eyes meet his. Ilya pauses to admire the freckles across Shane’s nose, still scrunched slightly in annoyance. He leans in, lips brushing against the ear.
“I would not do that to you,” Ilya says, voice warm and low, and he gets rewarded with goosebumps tingling along Shane’s skin despite the heat between them. Shane’s eyes close as he leans into Ilya’s touch.
“Yes, you would,” he says, a pink blush spreading, deliciously so, across his freckled cheeks, but the bite in his voice has been replaced by a gentle sigh. Ilya smiles and leans back to face Shane again. They’re so close, their noses are almost touching. His hand on Shane’s back draws gentle circles on his tanned skin, the other holds Shane’s cheek carefully, thumbing the soft skin there.
Golden rays dance on the water behind them in the afternoon sun, and the wind ruffles Shane’s hair slightly. Ilya thinks Shane is the most breathtaking thing he has ever seen. He can’t believe he told this gorgeous man that he loved him, and, even more incredibly, that it turned out he loved him back. He then remembers why Shane asked to go to the island in the first place, and a sudden jolt of desire hits him.
He grabs Shane by the hand.
“Come,” he says in a low voice and leads Shane from the water’s edge towards the centre of the grove. They’re half-hidden behind the trees, but anyone sailing within 50 metres of the island would easily be able to spot them. The moss is soft and moist underneath their shoes, small bushes scattered around them.
Ilya turns to pull Shane against him again. He kisses him slowly, working Shane’s mouth open gently with his tongue. Shane moans into Ilya’s mouth and grasps his hair, pulling him in. The thought of them being like this, here, out in the open where anyone could see him, sends a thrill down Ilya’s spine. If Shane’s eagerness is any indication, he really, really likes it too.
“Tell me how you want it,” Ilya says against Shane’s mouth. Shane pulls back slightly. His lips are plump from the kiss, and his cheeks are flushed.
“I want…” he says, then hesitates. His brown eyes are wide and dark with desire as his eyes roam Ilya’s face.
“Tell me.”
“I want you to fuck me,” he says, breathlessly. “H-here… out in the open. Take me… oh God,” he trails off as Ilya cups Shane’s already hard cock through the swim trunks. He moans loudly and arches into Ilya’s touch.
“Fuck, Hollander.” With a grunt, Ilya drives Shane’s mouth against his again, this time in a bruising kiss, urgent and aching to be close, closer. Shane’s mouth welcomes him eagerly, hot and familiar, as he grinds against Ilya’s hand.
“Ilya,” Shane moans, desperately. His hands move to fumble with the waistband of Ilya’s swim trunks. “Please… I want you.”
Now it’s Ilya’s turn to moan. He makes quick work of his and Shane’s swim trunks and trainers, exposing their bodies completely and freeing their rigid cocks. Shane’s eyes grow wide as he looks at Ilya’s hard nakedness, and, as if in a daze, he whispers “fuck.”
Before Ilya has time to react, Shane drops to his knees on the moss and grabs a firm hold of Ilya’s thighs before his mouth swallows his entire length. Ilya is grateful that there’s no one else on the lake because the moan that escapes him could be heard from miles away.
Shane’s eyes flutter shut as he starts expertly sucking Ilya’s cock. Ilya loves Shane like this, sloppy and desperate for him. But here, out in the open, where the trees and the lake are their only witnesses, Shane is even more eager than usual. It turns Ilya on so much that he feels like he’ll explode. Shane seems lost in his movements, his moans vibrating around Ilya’s dick. He can’t take it - he needs to feel Shane, all of Shane, with nothing in between them.
“Stop,” he says. Shane’s eyes open, pulling back from Ilya’s cock immediately. His lips are still grazing the tip, as if he’s wanting, waiting for permission to continue at any moment. Ilya almost faints from the sight of Shane like this, lips flushed, cock drunk and naked on his knees for Ilya, his own throbbing cock already leaking. “Turn around,” Ilya commands in a low voice, his accent suddenly heavy.
With a small gasp, Shane immediately complies, turning and getting on his elbows and knees. Ilya’s admires the round perfection of Shane’s ass, readily presented to him. He quickly finds the small bottle of lube that he brought in the pocket of his trunks and wets his fingers.
As soon as Ilya’s finger touches his hole, Shane moans shamelessly, and his head drops between his arms. Ilya bends over his back, steadying and caressing him with one hand.
“Fuck, Ilya, please, please,” Shane almost begs.
“Eager, are we?” Ilya teases, but he doesn’t need much additional convincing. He inserts another finger, and then, slowly, a third. It feels so fucking hot to have Shane like this, naked on the moss, moaning and panting with his fingers inside him. The knowledge that anyone, at any time, could see them, could see how much Shane wants him, makes his heart soar.
Shane moans as Ilya’s fingers slowly work him open. He arches his back and pushes his ass even further back to chase Ilya’s fingers, his body asking for more. Shane is turning into a quivering mess of need, small whimpers leaving him as Ilya strokes his prostate.
Ilya pulls out and wraps his wet hand around his rigid cock, sloppily slicking it in his eagerness to be inside Shane. He guides his dick back to where his fingers left moments before. He kisses Shane between the shoulder blades, one hand gently running up Shane’s neck and through his hair.
He places the tip at Shane’s most sensitive part. “Ilya, please, hurry the fu—“
Shane lets out a whorish sound as Ilya’s cock finally enters him.
“Yes,” Shane breathes, desperately, making an unmistakable fuck backwards. “Oh God, Ilya, fuck, I love it so much.”
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya mutters. He moves, gripping Shane’s hips possessively as he starts fucking into him, messy at first, then finding a steady, hard rhythm.
“You are so good—fuck,” he rambles, uncontrolled and sloppy as he pounds into Shane. “You fucking love it. How I take you. Anyone could see how good you are for me.”
Shane’s mouth is wet and open as Ilya’s pounding forces short, breathless uh’s out of him. “Only you,” he says weakly.
Suddenly, a distant laugh penetrates the quiet air. They both freeze and look up. Through the trees, Ilya eyes a small dinghy a few hundred metres away from their island, sailing in their general direction.
“We have company,” Ilya grins, and speeds up his thrusting again. This earns him a jolted moan from Shane, even louder this time.
“Stop,” Shane says, weakly, evidently not meaning it at all. “They’ll hear us.” But the way Shane spreads his legs even further to take Ilya deeper, harder, tells a very different story.
Another chuckle in the distance. A small group of men and women are on the boat, chatting and laughing as they sail towards the island where Ilya and Shane are fucking.
“Will hear how much you love my cock, solnyshko,” Ilya says, keeping his pace hard and steady. “How well you take it.”
Shane moans, a long and loud sound that must travel across the lake. “Fuck, Ilya, fuck, fuck, please-“
The dinghy has made a slight turn, circling an area about a hundred metres away from their island, on the opposite side of the shore where their canoe is docked. The talking and laughter is now more pronounced on the quiet lake, and Ilya would be able to make out complete sentences if he wasn’t so busy taking in every moan, every desperate uh from the man under him.
“What would they do if they saw you here, like this? They would be amazed. How you are so good for me. How beautiful you are.” Ilya’s rambling, but he can’t stop himself.
“Fuck. Ahh!” Shane bursts out, almost yelling. “Ilya— I’m so close.”
Ilya barely knows the moment when he pulls out and presses Shane on his back on the soft moss. He faintly registers that the noise from the boat has stilled after Shane’s outburst. But all his attention is drawn back as he enters the beautiful man below him again in a strong, slow push. Freckles are all over Shane’s hot naked body, flushed deep pink in a mix of want and embarrassment. His mouth opens under Ilya’s, arms firmly grasping his neck and his back, pulling him in, closer, deeper, deeper.
Ilya sets a hard, brutal pace as he fucks into Shane, arms wrapped around Shane’s torso to be close, close, oh so close. Shane spreads his legs even wider, presenting himself the way he knows Ilya likes it, allowing Ilya to hit deep within him with every thrust. Their mouths linger above one another, both of them too lost in this to do anything but take what the other has to give.
“Ilya,” says Shane, helplessly, “Ilya.” His moans are uncontrolled, even louder as they echo across the now quiet lake. “I’m gonna— I’m so close.”
“Let them hear you,” Ilya rasps, slurring the words. “How much you love to be fucked like this.”
As if on command, Shane comes in a loud, desperate moan, nails digging deep into Ilya’s back, his release warm and wet in the space between them. His mouth stays open in a silent ‘O’ as he rides the waves of his orgasm in tandem with Ilya’s quickening thrusts.
“Fuck, Shane. Fuck,” Ilya rasps, his hips snapping. His cock pulses inside Shane as he climaxes, lost to the feeling of Shane surrounding him, feeling him everywhere. As he rides the waves of pleasure, Shane holds him tightly, needing to feel Ilya’s release deep inside him.
Ilya collapses on top of him, his arms wrapped around Shane’s hot body, his cock still warm inside him. They’re both quiet as they catch their breath for a minute.
“Fuck,” he repeats in the crook of Shane’s neck.
“That was… so fucking hot,” Shane says breathlessly.
“Everything you dreamed of?” Ilya replies, his lips against Shane’s neck. Although the air has cooled, the heat of their embrace and sweaty bodies keep them warm.
Shane smiles as he tilts Ilya’s lips to his, kissing him deeply and sensually.
“Did you guys hear that?” a man’s voice says from the boat in the distance. They both still. “I think it must have been a loon?” a female voice replies.
Shane and Ilya’s eyes meet. They both burst out laughing, their bodies vibrating with pleasure as they hold each other close.
Shane looks at him, warm and content in the afternoon sun.
“I love you.”