Archive of Our Own

The Bell Centre throbbed with twenty one thousand screaming fans. The energy in the arena was thick enough to taste. It was the kind of night that reminded Shane Hollander exactly why he had fought for the captaincy of the Montreal Metros. Tonight they faced the Boston Raiders in a heated division matchup. The rivalry had already reached a boiling point before the game even started.

Shane glided through warm ups with his usual measured precision. He handled the puck smoothly. At twenty eight years old, he was in his prime. He was respected, steady, and the face of the franchise. But this season there was a new variable wrecking his usual composure. That variable was Ilya Rozanov.

The twenty year old Russian phenom had been selected first overall the previous summer. He immediately started acting like he owned the entire league. He made flashy plays, showed off a bigger than life personality, and never seemed to shut his mouth. Shane had watched plenty of video on him. The kid was undeniably talented. But he was far from disciplined.

The game started fast and intense.

By the end of the first period, Rozanov already had an assist. He was chirptwenty-year-oldy time the two teams lined up, that thick Russian accent sliced through the noise of the crowd.

"Too slow tonight, Hollander," Ilya called out during one stoppage. He smirked behind his mouthguard. "Maybe the captain needs an oxygen tank. You getting too old for this?"

Shane did not answer. He simply kept playing. But inside, irritation flickered hotter than it should have. This fucking kid.

The second period was where things got worse.

Boston rushed into Montreal's end with speed. Rozanov danced through the players and set up a beautiful goal for his linemate. The Boston bench exploded in celebration. Instead of joining his teammates, Ilya glided right in front of the Montreal bench. He pointed his glove straight at Shane and yelled loud enough for half the arena to hear.

"That one is for you, Captain. Still think you are the best in this league? Or are you getting scared of a rookie?"

The crowd booed loudly. Shane's jaw tightened under his helmet, but his face stayed completely calm. He tapped his stick on the boards twice, signaling his team to stay focused. Inside his head he was fuming. Keep running that mouth, Rozanov. See where it gets you.

It got him into trouble ten minutes later.

Montreal was moving the puck up the ice when Ilya came barreling in hard. Instead of going for the puck, he smashed into JJ Boiziau with a massive hit. The veteran defenseman crashed hard into the boards. The whistle blew right away.

Shane skated straight toward the scene. He reached Ilya just as the rookie stood there grinning. He looked proud of himself.

"You going to keep playing like that?" Shane asked. His voice stayed low and even as he got right in Ilya's face. "Or are you actually here to play real hockey like a professional?"

Ilya's blue eyes sparkled with pure arrogance. Sweat dripped down his temples. His dark hair was plastered under his helmet. Up close he looked even more annoying. Taller than expected. Broad shouldered. Radiating raw rookie energy.

"What are you going to do about it, Hollander?" Ilya taunted. He leaned in until their face cages nearly touched. "You going to cry to the refs? Tell them the big bad rookie is being mean to you? Come on, Captain. Do something."

Shane stared him down. He refused to raise his voice. "Watch yourself."

The next shift, the tension felt nuclear.

They met again near the boards. Shane pinned Ilya hard against the glass. He used his strength and positioning to trap the younger man there. Their bodies pressed together through all the pads. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. For a second, something electric crackled between them.

"Enough," Shane said quietly. His words were only for Ilya to hear.

Ilya's response was a wild laugh. In one quick motion, he shoved Shane back, threw his gloves onto the ice, and started swinging.

"Come on then, Captain," Ilya snarled. He threw a hard right hook. "Fight me like a man. Or are you too scared? Too soft to handle me?"

Shane did not drop his gloves. He never did. Instead he blocked the punch with his forearm and tried to wrestle Ilya down to calm the situation. But the rookie was fueled by adrenaline, ego, and pure cockiness. Another punch grazed Shane's jaw. The crowd roared as the linesmen rushed in. They grabbed both players and dragged them apart.

As they were pulled toward the penalty boxes, Ilya kept shouting across the ice. His voice was hoarse with excitement.

"That all you got, Hollander? Pathetic. I thought you were supposed to be this big tough captain. Guess you are just all talk. Come on, old man. I am right here."

Shane said nothing. He skated to the box with his head held high. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. A small cut on his lip was bleeding where Ilya's punch had landed. His mind was racing. A rare storm of frustration boiled under his calm surface.

That cocky little shit.

He could still feel the heat of Ilya's body pressed against his. He could still feel the wild energy rolling off the rookie in waves. The kid was good. Dangerously good. But he played like he had everything to prove. And tonight, that something had become very personal.

Both players received matching five minute majors for fighting. As the game continued without them, Shane sat in the box staring straight ahead. He replayed every chirp, every hit, and every arrogant smirk. He told himself it was just another annoying rookie.

But deep down, something else was simmering. Something much hotter than simple annoyance.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, a narrow three to two win for Montreal, most of the arena had started emptying. Shane showered quickly. He changed into his suit and headed toward the players' exit. He needed to get home, decompress, and forget about the mouthy Russian who had spent the entire night trying to crawl under his skin.

Except fate had other plans.

He was walking down the quiet, dimly lit service hallway that connected the visiting and home locker rooms when he heard footsteps behind him. Heavy. Confident.

"Well, well," came that familiar thick accent. It dripped with smugness. "If it is not the mighty Captain Hollander."

Shane turned slowly. There stood Ilya Rozanov. He was still in his post game suit. His tie was loosened. His hair was damp. He wore the same arrogant grin he had worn on the ice.

This time, they were completely alone.

Ilya leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His blue eyes locked onto Shane with open challenge. The hallway was quiet except for the distant hum of the arena staff far away. Most people had already left.

"You ran away pretty fast after the game, Captain," Ilya said. His voice carried that thick Russian accent. It sounded mocking and pleased with itself. "What is wrong? You do not like losing to a rookie? Or maybe you just do not like losing to me."

Shane kept his expression neutral. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "The Metros won tonight, Rozanov. Maybe you should focus on your own team's mistakes instead of running your mouth."

Ilya laughed loudly. The sound echoed down the empty hallway. He pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer. "Won? You barely scraped by. Three to two. Lucky goal in the last minute. Without that, I would have destroyed you tonight."

Shane felt that familiar flicker of annoyance rise again. He had dealt with cocky players before. But something about this twenty year old rookie got under his skin more than most. Maybe it was the constant chirping. Maybe it was the way Ilya looked at him like he was something to be conquered.

"You played a decent game," Shane said calmly. "But you need to control your hits. That was unnecessary on Moreau."

Ilya stepped even closer. Now only a few feet separated them. "Unnecessary? It was hockey. You are soft, Hollander. Everyone knows it. Perfect captain. Perfect face. But soft. You do not hit back. You do not fight. You just stand there looking disappointed, like some disappointed dad."

Shane's jaw tightened slightly. He refused to let it show. "Some of us do not need to prove anything by throwing punches. Unlike certain rookies who still have a lot to learn."

That seemed to light a fire in Ilya. His grin sharpened into something almost predatory. He closed the remaining distance until they were nearly chest to chest. Up close, Shane could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with fresh shower gel. Ilya's eyes were bright with adrenaline that had clearly not faded since the fight.

"You think you can lecture me?" Ilya asked,  voice dropping lower. I am the future of this league. You are just some old captain who is scared of real competition. Scared of me."

Shane did not back up. He held his ground and met Ilya's stare. "You are talented. But talent without discipline does not last long in this league. Keep playing like that and you will find yourself in trouble more often than not."

Ilya smirked. He tilted his head. "Trouble? You mean like right now? We are alone, Captain. No refs. No teammates. No cameras. You could finally do something about all that annoyance you have been hiding all night."

The air between them felt thicker. Shane could feel the heat coming off Ilya's body. The rookie's chest rose and fell with each breath. His loosened tie hung crooked. A small bruise was already forming on his cheek from the earlier scuffle.

"I am not interested in whatever game you are trying to play," Shane said. His tone stayed even, but his pulse had picked up.

"Liar," Ilya shot back. He was fully smirking now. "I saw the way you pinned me against the boards. You liked feeling me there. All that pressure. All that heat. Admit it. You have been thinking about it since the penalty box."

Shane's internal irritation mixed with something else. Something hotter. He tried to push it down. "You are imagining things, Rozanov. Go back to your hotel and cool off."

But Ilya did not move away. Instead he stepped even closer until their bodies were almost touching. "I do not think so. I think you need this. Mr. Perfect Captain who never lets anyone see him lose control. I could be the one to break that. I could fuck all that calm attitude right out of you."

The words hung heavy in the hallway. Shane's breath caught for just a second. He told himself it was surprise. Nothing more. But his body was reacting. Heat pooled low in his stomach.

"You talk a big game for someone who just got five minutes for starting a fight he could not finish," Shane replied. His voice was still controlled, but quieter now.

Ilya laughed again, low and rough. "Oh I can finish, Hollander. I have finished plenty of guys. I know exactly what I am doing. I would have you begging in minutes. Shaking. Moaning my name like a good little captain."

Shane's eyes narrowed. He could see the hunger in Ilya's expression. The rookie was breathing faster. His pupils were wide. For all his arrogance, there was something almost desperate underneath it.

"You have never even been with a man," Shane said. It was a guess, but a calculated one. "All that talk. All that attitude. But you are still new at this."

Ilya's eyes flashed with anger and something else. "Shut up. I have fucked lots of guys. Back home. Here. You think you are special? I would destroy you. Have you on your back taking every inch while you forget how to be so fucking perfect."

The crude words sent another unwanted wave of heat through Shane. He could feel himself getting hard despite his best efforts to stay calm. The hallway felt too small. Too private.

"Prove it then," Shane said before he could stop himself. The words came out steady, but his heart was pounding.

Ilya blinked. For half a second his cocky mask slipped. Then the grin returned, sharper than before. "Yeah? You want me to prove it?. My hotel is two blocks from here. Room 1221. One hour. You show up, or you admit you are too scared of a rookie like me."

Shane held his gaze for a long moment. "One hour. And if I come, you had better be ready to back up all that talk."

Ilya grabbed the front of Shane's suit jacket and pulled him into a rough kiss. It was aggressive and messy. More teeth and hunger than anything soft. Shane kissed him back with equal force. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.

"Dont be late, Captain," Ilya said with a smirk. "I get bored easily."

With that, Ilya turned and walked away down the hallway. His steps were confident. He did not look back.

Shane stood there for a full minute after Ilya disappeared. His body was buzzing. He told himself this was a bad idea. A terrible idea. But the heat in his veins refused to settle.

--

Exactly one hour later, Shane stood outside room 1221 at the Boston Raiders hotel. He had changed into a simple dark sweater and jeans. His mind had been racing the entire time. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door.

The door opened almost immediately.

Ilya stood there in nothing but a pair of loose black sweatpants. His hair was still slightly damp. His chest was bare and broad from years of hockey training. The arrogant smirk was back in full force.

"You actually came," Ilya said, voice thick with satisfaction. "I thought maybe captain hollander would chicken out."

Shane stepped inside without a word. The second the door clicked shut behind him, Ilya pushed him back against it. Hard.

"Now," Ilya growled. His hands were already pulling at Shane's sweater. "Time to show you what a real man can do. I am going to fuck you until you cannot even remember your own name, Hollander."

Before Shane could respond, Ilya crashed their mouths together. The kiss was aggressive and hungry, but also messy and uncoordinated. Ilya's hands gripped Shane's sweater and yanked it upward. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the sweater over Shane's head and toss it across the room, but he almost got it tangled. Then his mouth was back, biting clumsily at Shane's lower lip, sucking on his tongue with too much enthusiasm. He looked so eager and pathetic already, like he was trying to prove something but barely knew what he was doing.

Shane kissed him back with controlled intensity. His hands settled on Ilya's bare waist. The rookie's skin was hot under his palms. Ilya made a low, satisfied whimper and pressed his body closer. The thin fabric of his sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he already was. His hips jerked forward desperately, grinding against Shane.

They took a moment to look at each other properly. Shane's eyes roamed over Ilya's broad, muscular chest and defined abs, the result of years of intense hockey training. His shoulders were wide and powerful, his arms thick with muscle. Ilya was undeniably hot, built like a young god.

Ilya was doing the same, his gaze hungry and wide-eyed as it moved over Shane's lean, strong body. The captain had a sculpted torso, powerful thighs from years on the ice, and that perfect V-line disappearing into his jeans. "Fuck, you look good," Ilya muttered, voice shaky with awe. "Better than I imagined. So much better."

"You are not so bad yourself," Shane replied quietly, his hands sliding up Ilya's chest, admiring the firm muscle there.

Ilya smirked, but he looked nervous. He attacked Shane's neck with rough kisses and sharp bites, but his mouth was too eager and sloppy. One of his hands slid down and palmed Shane through his jeans, but his grip was clumsy and too tight at first. Shane's breath hitched. Ilya let out a desperate little sound at the reaction.

"Already getting hard for me," Ilya said, trying to sound smug. "Pathetic. I thought the great Captain Hollander had more control than this." His voice wavered, betraying how overwhelmed he already felt.

Ilya worked open Shane's jeans with impatient, fumbling fingers. He shoved them down along with his underwear in one rough motion, almost tripping over them in his eagerness. Shane's cock sprang free, heavy and flushed. Ilya wrapped a big hand around him and stroked once, twice, but his hand was shaking so badly it was obvious he was nervous.

"Look at you," Ilya said. His voice was smug but cracked. "So fucking hard already. Bet no one has ever touched you like this."

Shane leaned his head back against the door and exhaled slowly. "You talk too much, Rozanov."

Ilya dropped to his knees in one eager movement, but he almost lost his balance. He looked up at Shane with those bright blue eyes full of arrogance mixed with clear nervousness. "I am going to make you eat those words."

He took his time admiring Shane's cock up close first, but his breathing was already ragged. His hand stroked it slowly from base to tip, feeling its weight and thickness. His fingers trembled. Then, without rushing but clearly over-eager, Ilya leaned in and licked a long, wet stripe from the base all the way to the head. He swirled his tongue around the tip, tasting the precum, but it was messy and uncoordinated. He finally took Shane into his mouth, going too deep too fast and gagging slightly.

Ilya pulled back a little, eyes watering, but he tried again. He sucked with too much enthusiasm, hollowing his cheeks and using his tongue messily. Wet and sloppy sounds filled the room. Spit dripped down his chin and onto Shane's balls as he worked. He looked so pathetic on his knees  blond curls messy, eyes glassy, desperately trying to impress while clearly having no real idea what he was doing.

Every few strokes he would pull off to catch his breath, stroking firmly with his shaky hand while looking up at Shane with desperate eyes. "You like my mouth, Hollander? Feels good, yeah? I have sucked so many cocks. I know exactly how to make a man lose his mind." His voice was breathy and uncertain.

He dove back down again, taking Shane even deeper. His head moved faster but sloppily. One hand worked the base in awkward twists while the other gripped Shane's muscular thigh, fingers digging in too hard. Ilya moaned around the cock in his mouth, the vibrations sending sparks through Shane's body. He kept going for a long time, alternating between fast, eager bobs and clumsy deep sucks.

Shane's hand tightened in Ilya's blond curls. "Fuck... that feels incredible."

Ilya pulled off with a wet pop, breathing hard, lips shiny and swollen. "Told you. I am good at this." But his voice was slightly rough, and his hands trembled badly against Shane's thighs. He looked so eager and pathetic, clearly proud of himself even though he was obviously struggling.

Ilya stood up suddenly and kissed Shane again. The kiss was even messier than before. Their bare chests pressed together, skin sliding against hot skin. Ilya was grinding his clothed cock against Shane's naked thigh desperately, hips jerking forward like he could not control himself. The friction made him whimper loudly into Shane's mouth.

"Bed," Ilya demanded, voice cracking. "Now. Please."

He pushed Shane backward across the room, but his movements were eager and clumsy. When the back of Shane's knees hit the mattress, Ilya shoved him down onto it. Shane landed on his back. Ilya climbed on top of him immediately. He straddled Shane's hips and rolled his own, grinding down hard. The thin sweatpants were the only barrier left between them. He looked so desperate, hips moving frantically.

They took another long moment to check each other out again. Ilya ran his hands over Shane's chest and stomach, admiring the defined muscle and the way it tensed under his touch. "You are so fucking hot, Hollander. All this muscle from hockey. Makes me want to mark you up." His hands were still shaking.

Shane's hands explored Ilya's body too. He gripped the rookie's thick thighs and ran his palms up over his firm ass and strong back. "You are built like a machine," Shane said honestly. "All this power. It is impressive."

Ilya grinned nervously and leaned down to kiss him deeply again. They made out for a long time like that, tongues sliding together, hips grinding in slow, dirty circles. Ilya's hard cock rubbed against Shane's through the thin fabric, creating delicious friction. He kept whimpering and moaning into the kisses, clearly overwhelmed. They kept kissing and dry humping, breathing heavily into each other's mouths, hands roaming and squeezing. Ilya looked so pathetically eager, like he could not get enough.

After several minutes of this, Ilya finally shoved his own pants off. His thick cock slapped against his stomach, already leaking heavily. He wrapped a hand around himself and stroked while looking down at Shane with wide, desperate eyes. "See this? This is going to be inside you soon. Stretching you open. Making you feel every inch. You are going to take it like a good boy, yeah?" His voice was shaky with nerves.

Shane reached up and pulled Ilya down into another deep kiss. While their mouths moved together, Shane wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and stroked them together. Ilya gasped sharply against his lips. The sound was raw and pathetic. Almost surprised.

"Fuck," Ilya hissed. He thrust into Shane's fist desperately. "Your hand feels... good. Too good. Is this okay? Am I doing this right?"

They continued making out and grinding like this for a while longer, bodies pressed tight, cocks sliding together in Shane's fist. Both of them were breathing hard, admiring the way their muscular bodies fit together. Ilya kept making small, needy sounds, clearly barely holding it together.

Ilya suddenly pulled back. He moved down Shane's body again. This time he pushed Shane's legs apart and settled between them. He looked up with that arrogant grin, but his eyes were glassy with lust and nervousness.

"Going to get you ready for me," he announced, voice cracking.

He licked a broad stripe up Shane's cock before taking him back into his mouth again, sucking with renewed but messy hunger. At the same time, one of his fingers teased over Shane's entrance. He pressed lightly, then tried to push the dry finger inside without thinking. Shane tensed slightly at the friction.

"Wait," Shane said gently but firmly, voice steady. "Use lube first, Rozanov."

Ilya froze. Fuck. Fuck. I knew that. Why did I do that? Panic flared hot in his chest. His mind was spinning. His cheeks burned with humiliation.

"Oh. Right. Fuck. Sorry," Ilya mumbled, sounding mortified. "I knew that. I just... got excited."

He reached for the lube with visibly shaky hands. He fumbled with the cap, almost dropping the bottle twice before managing to squeeze a generous amount onto his fingers. Some of it dripped messily onto the sheets.  

Shane watched Rozanovâs clumsy fingers and shaky hands with a mix of amusement and affection. The rookie was clearly trying so hard to look like he knew what he was doing. Shane could tell this was new territory for him.

He slicked his fingers thoroughly this time, then pressed one inside Shane, sliding it in slowly but still a little too fast. He worked it in and out awkwardly for a long time, his rhythm uneven and unsure. He kept glancing up at Shane with wide, nervous eyes, desperate for approval.

"Is this better?" Ilya asked, voice cracking with anxiety. "Does it feel okay now? Tell me if I am doing it right. Please, Hollander."

Shane moaned softly, his hips shifting slightly. "Yes. Much better. You are doing fine." Shane's voice was calm and reassuring, but inside he felt a warm rush of affection mixed with arousal. Watching the usually arrogant Rozanov so nervous and eager was unexpectedly hot. He reached down and gently placed his hand over Ilya's, guiding his finger deeper and showing him the right angle.

Ilya's breath hitched at the contact, but it also made his cock throb harder. He followed Shane's guidance, curling his finger the way Shane showed him.

Encouraged but still obviously lost, Ilya tried to add a second finger. He pushed them in too soon and at a slightly wrong angle. He tried to scissor them gently, but his movements were clumsy and hesitant. He kept pausing to look up at Shane with desperate, glassy eyes.

"Am I hurting you?" Ilya whispered, sounding genuinely worried. "Should I go slower? I do not want to mess this up. Tell me what to do."

"You are doing fine," Shane reassured him, his voice low and soothing. He kept his hand over Ilya's, gently guiding the movement. "Just like that. Curl them a little more." Shane's own pleasure was building steadily. The feeling of Ilya's thick fingers stretching him, combined with the rookie's obvious nervousness and eagerness, was intensely arousing. He could feel his own cock leaking against his stomach.

Ilya focused on that spot, curling his fingers again and again while his mouth worked Shane's cock with sloppy, eager enthusiasm. Sweat was building on both of their bodies. Ilya's breathing was loud and shaky as he watched his fingers disappear inside Shane. He looked so pathetic and desperate, trying so hard to look experienced while clearly having no idea what he was doing. His blond curls were messy, his cheeks flushed, and every few seconds he would whimper around Shane's cock like the whole experience was almost too much for him.

"You are so tight," Ilya muttered when he finally pulled his fingers out, voice full of awe and embarrassment. "Going to feel so good around me. Is this enough? Should I add more fingers?"

He wiped his fingers messily on the sheets and moved back up Shane's body. His cock was leaking steadily now. He looked painfully hard and completely overwhelmed.

"Going to give you exactly what you need, Hollander." His voice tried to sound commanding, but it cracked badly at the end.

Ilya finally pulled his fingers out of Shane's body. They came out slowly, glistening with lube, and he stared at them for a long moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His cock throbbed painfully between his legs, thick, heavy, and flushed a deep red at the head. A bead of precum had already dripped down the shaft. He reached for the condom packet on the nightstand with fingers that were visibly shaking.

He tore the foil open using his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the heavy silence of the hotel room. He pinched the tip of the condom and tried to roll the latex down over his impressive length. His hands fumbled awkwardly for a few seconds before he managed it. The condom stretched tight around his thick girth, hugging every vein and ridge. He gave himself one long, slow stroke from base to tip, his blue eyes locked on Shane's spread body the entire time, but his hand trembled so badly it was obvious he was barely holding it together.

Shane lay on his back in the center of the large bed, completely naked. His legs were spread wide, knees bent, feet planted on the mattress. His hole was relaxed, shiny, and slightly open from the long, thorough prep. His muscular chest rose and fell in a steady, controlled rhythm. Sweat already made his skin glow under the warm lamp light. His abs were tight and defined, his powerful thighs thick with muscle from years of professional hockey. His cock rested hard against his stomach, flushed and leaking. He looked incredibly handsome, calm, composed, and devastatingly attractive even in this exposed position.

Shane felt a strange, warm mix of amusement, affection, and arousal as he watched Rozanov struggle. The rookie's usual arrogance had cracked so quickly, revealing just how inexperienced he really was. It made something protective stir in Shane's chest even as heat pooled low in his own stomach. He wanted to guide him, to see the cocky mouthy player fall apart under his hands.

Ilya moved between Shane's spread thighs. The mattress dipped under his heavier weight. He braced one large, strong hand beside Shane's head, his bicep and shoulder flexing powerfully. With the other hand he gripped the base of his condom-covered cock and pressed the thick, blunt head against Shane's slick, waiting entrance. The moment the hot tip made contact with the relaxed rim, both of them drew in a sharp breath. Ilya's breath was noticeably shaky.

" You are going to feel me for days."Trying to keep his voice deep and cocky. It came out rough, strained, and far too breathless, almost cracking.

He pushed forward.

The thick head of his cock breached Shane's tight ring of muscle. The intense, velvety heat and pressure hit Ilya like a freight train. His eyes slammed shut and a loud, broken moan tore from deep in his throat. Only the first two inches were inside and he already looked completely overwhelmed. His powerful thighs started shaking uncontrollably. He looked so pathetic in that moment â a loud-mouthed rookie who had spent the whole night talking big game now trembling like he was about to come just from the first push.

"Fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth. Sweat broke out across his forehead and began sliding down his temples. "You are so tight. So fucking tight it is insane. I cannot... fuck... it feels too good. I do not... I cannot..."

He tried to push deeper, but his hips jerked forward too quickly and awkwardly. Another inch slid in. The sensation of Shane's walls squeezing and fluttering around the head of his cock made his head spin. Sharp pleasure shot up his spine like liquid fire. His arms trembled where they held his weight above Shane's body. A desperate, needy whimper escaped him before he could stop it.

Shane reached up calmly and laid a steady, warm hand on Ilya's heaving chest. He felt the frantic, rabbit-fast heartbeat thundering under his palm and gently stroked the firm, sweat-slick muscle. The contrast between Rozanovâs arrogant chirping on the ice and how pathetically eager and overwhelmed he was right now sent a rush of heat through Shane. He could feel his own body responding strongly to the sight. "Easy. Breathe through it. You do not have to rush."

"I do not need your fucking advice," Ilya snapped immediately. Denial burned hot in his bright blue eyes. His voice cracked badly. "I have done this before. Many times. I know exactly what I am doing. Shut up, Hollander."

He thrust forward harder in stubborn defiance. Three more inches sank inside. The overwhelming stretch and heat made his head drop forward until his forehead rested heavily against Shane's collarbone. A helpless, broken whimper escaped his lips again. He tried desperately to turn it into a groan, embarrassed by how much his body was betraying him already. His hands were shaking so badly they could barely support his weight.

Shane could feel how tense and unsure Ilya was. The way the younger manâs hips stuttered and his breath hitched with every movement made it obvious this was all brand new to him. Still, Shane found it strangely endearing.

Shane's hand slid slowly up to cup the back of Ilya's neck. His fingers threaded gently through the damp blond curls. He could feel how overwhelmed the rookie was, and it only made him want to guide him more. The sight of the usually cocky Rozanov falling apart like this was unexpectedly arousing. "You feel good inside me. Really good. Keep going. Slow and deep."

Ilya's breath hitched hard. He pushed again. After several shaky, clumsy attempts, he finally bottomed out. His hips pressed flush against Shane's ass, every thick inch buried as deep as possible. The full sensation made his eyes roll back in his head. He stayed completely still, buried to the hilt, breathing hard and fast against Shane's neck. His entire muscular body trembled uncontrollably, thighs shaking violently, arms quivering. He looked so pathetically desperate, like he was fighting with everything he had not to come immediately.

"God... you feel... I cannot believe how good this is," he mumbled, voice muffled against Shane's skin. His hips gave a small, involuntary twitch that made both of them moan loudly.

Shane wrapped his strong legs around Ilya's waist, heels digging into the firm muscle of his ass. He kissed Ilya's temple softly, feeling a strange mix of protectiveness and arousal at how clearly inexperienced and overwhelmed the cocky rookie was. "You are doing well. Move when you are ready. I can take everything you give me."

Ilya started thrusting. At first his movements were messy and desperate. He pulled out too far and nearly slipped completely out. When he pushed back in, the angle was wrong and he had to adjust awkwardly. His inexperience showed clearly with every uncoordinated snap of his hips. The wet, slick sounds of the condom and lube filled the room with obscene noises. He looked so eager and pathetic at the same time, trying so hard to be dominant while clearly barely holding it together.

"Shit, sorry." Ilya muttered when he slipped out entirely, his dick nudged over Shane's hole and smeared the lube over his throbbing cock. His face burned bright red with humiliation. He looked young, vulnerable, and genuinely embarrassed. "I did not mean to do that. Fuck. I am sorry."

Shane cupped his flushed, handsome face with both hands and pulled him into a deep, slow, reassuring kiss. Their tongues slid together gently, tasting each other. Shane sucked softly on Ilya's full bottom lip, soothing him. "Its okay" he said, guiding ilya back into him âI want you inside me, theres no rush."

Ilya nodded, still embarrassed. Shane reached between their bodies, wrapped his fingers around the thick, condom-covered cock, and lined him up carefully. Ilya pushed forward slowly this time. He sank back inside with a long, shaky, relieved groan that vibrated against Shane's mouth. The tight heat enveloped him once more.

"Thank you," he whispered against Shane's lips, the words barely audible. For a moment the arrogant mask slipped completely. He just breathed, overwhelmed and vulnerable, forehead pressed to Shane's.

Then something shifted.

Ilya found his rhythm. His thrusts became smoother, deeper, and far more controlled. Once he settled into it, he was genuinely good. His powerful hockey-trained hips rolled with precision and strength. Every long stroke dragged his thick cock perfectly along Shane's inner walls, pressing against his prostate with beautiful accuracy.

"Fuck... yes," Shane moaned deeply, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands gripped Ilya's broad shoulders tightly. "Just like that. You feel incredible."

Ilya's thrusts grew steadier, but only a little. He was still clearly struggling. His hips would roll smoothly for a few strokes, then stutter or lose rhythm. He looked so pathetic like this, desperately trying to act experienced while his body kept betraying him with shaky movements and quiet, needy sounds.

"Fuck, Rozanov," Shane groaned, his voice low and rough. "You feel so good. So deep."

Ilya's blue eyes were dark with lust as he looked down at Shane, but there was clear uncertainty in them. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto Shane's chest. His blond curls were messy and damp, sticking to his temples. His broad shoulders and powerful chest flexed with every movement, but his arms were trembling slightly. He looked incredibly hot, but also so obviously overwhelmed and inexperienced.

"You like that?" Ilya panted, his accent thicker than usual. His voice cracked a little. "Is this good? Does it feel good for you, Hollander?"

"Yes," Shane breathed. He tightened his legs around Ilya's waist and pulled him closer. "Harder. I can take it."

Ilya groaned and tried to give him what he asked for. His thrusts became deeper, but they were still a little clumsy and uneven. Sometimes he pushed too hard and lost the angle. Other times he would hesitate, clearly worried he was doing it wrong. The wet slap of skin against skin grew louder, but Ilya kept glancing at Shane's face, desperate for approval.

"Is this okay?" Ilya asked again, voice shaky. "Am I doing it right? Tell me if it feels good for you."

Shane smiled softly, reaching up to stroke Ilya's cheek. "You are doing well. Keep going just like that. It feels really good."

Encouraged but still nervous, Ilya kept thrusting. The condom made everything slick and smooth, but he was still clearly fighting not to lose control too quickly. The heat in Ilya's stomach was building steadily now. A warm, heavy pressure that made his balls tighten and his cock throb inside the latex. He looked so pathetic and sexy at the same time, biting his lip and whimpering quietly every few thrusts.

Shane could feel the difference as Ilya slowly improved. The rookie was still clumsy, but every few thrusts he would hit the right spot inside him. When he finally shifted his hips just right and started nailing Shane's prostate consistently, a sharp burst of pleasure shot through Shane's body. It made his back arch and a deep moan escape his lips. The sensation was intense and building fast. Shane had not expected the cocky, inexperienced rookie to feel this good once he found his rhythm.**

Shane continued playing with Ilya's chest. He squeezed the firm muscle, then focused on his nipples again. He pinched one, then the other, rolling them between his fingers and tugging gently. Ilya's reaction was immediate. His hips stuttered badly, a broken moan escaped his lips, and his cock twitched hard inside Shane.

"Shit... Hollâ," Ilya gasped. "That feels... fuck, do not stop. Is this still good for you?"

Shane smiled and did it again, harder this time. He pinched and twisted Ilya's sensitive nipples while looking up into his eyes. The combination of the stimulation and the deep, slightly clumsy rhythmic fucking made Ilya's rhythm falter for a few seconds. His powerful body shuddered. The heat in his stomach grew hotter, tighter, more urgent.

The pleasure was spreading through Shane in warm waves now. Every time Ilya managed to hit his prostate, sparks of intense sensation ran up his spine. Even with the rookie's obvious inexperience, the raw desperation and thick cock filling him so completely felt surprisingly incredible. Shane's own arousal was building fast.

They kissed again. This time it was slower, deeper, more sensual. Their tongues slid together lazily, tasting sweat and desire. Ilya's chest pressed fully against Shane's, their hearts hammering against each other. Shane could feel every flex of Ilya's abs, every slightly awkward roll of his hips, every tremor that ran through the younger manâs body. It was endearing how hard Rozanov was trying while still being so obviously new at this.

"You look so good like this," Shane murmured against his lips. "All that muscle working to fuck me. Your chest... your shoulders... you are so fucking hot."

Ilya moaned at the praise. His thrusts grew a little faster, but they remained uneven and desperate. The coil in his stomach tightened further. He could feel his orgasm approaching, but he was clearly trying to hold back, embarrassed about how quickly it was building again.

"Is this deep enough?" Ilya asked breathlessly between kisses. "Does it feel good when I go like this? Tell me, Hollander. Please."

"Yes," Shane gasped. "Right there. Keep hitting that spot."

Ilya tried his best. He fucked Shane with long, deliberate strokes, but every few thrusts his hips would stutter or he would whimper softly. He was still so pathetically eager, constantly seeking reassurance while trying to pretend he knew exactly what he was doing. The heat in both their stomachs turned into a burning pressure. Ilya's thrusts became more urgent. His moans grew louder. His body was covered in sweat, every muscle shining.

Shane kept one hand on Ilya's chest, playing with his nipples, while the other gripped his back. He dragged his nails lightly down the strong muscles, making Ilya shudder and thrust harder, even if the movement was still a little clumsy.

The heat in Ilya's stomach was almost unbearable now. A tight, burning coil that made his cock throb and his balls draw up tight. He could feel his orgasm getting closer with every deep, slightly uncoordinated thrust.

"Fuck... I am getting close," Ilya panted, his voice breaking. "You feel too good. I do not know how much longer I can last. Is this still okay?"

"Then come," Shane whispered, pinching his nipple again. "Come inside me."

The words pushed Ilya closer to the edge. His thrusts grew faster and more desperate. The heat in his stomach burned hotter, tighter, until it finally snapped. He buried his face in Shane's neck and moaned loudly as he came hard, his hips jerking with every pulse. Even through the condom, the intensity of his orgasm made his whole body shake.

Shane followed soon after, the feeling of Ilya coming inside him pushing him over the edge. He came with a low, deep groan, spilling between their pressed bodies.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, both breathing heavily. Ilya's body trembled with aftershocks as he remained buried deep inside Shane. Slowly, he pulled out with a wet sound. He sat back on his heels, chest heaving, and carefully removed the used condom. His hands were still shaky as he tied it off and dropped it into the small trash bin beside the bed.

Before either of them could say anything, Shane pulled Ilya back down on top of him. Their mouths met in a slow, deep kiss. It was less frantic than before, but no less hungry. Their tongues slid together lazily as they caught their breath. Ilya whimpered softly into the kiss, still clearly overwhelmed. His cock, now bare, twitched and began to harden again against Shane's thigh as they continued making out.

They kissed for a long, heated minute like that â slow, messy kisses mixed with gentle grinding and heavy breathing. Ilya's hands roamed over Shane's body, squeezing and touching like he could not get enough. His blond curls were messy, his cheeks flushed, and he kept making small, needy sounds against Shane's lips.

Finally Shane pushed gently at Ilya's chest, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.

"I want to flip around," he said, voice low and rough against Ilya's mouth. "I want you to fuck me from behind. I want to feel you even deeper."

Ilya's hips stuttered at the words. His blue eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and fresh hunger flashing across his face. He was still breathing hard. The idea clearly excited him, but there was also visible nervousness in his expression. This was all still so new to him.

"Yeah?" Ilya breathed. His voice was hoarse. "You want me like that?"

Shane nodded, his hands still playing with Ilya's chest, fingers brushing over his nipples. "I want to feel all of you. Harder. Deeper. Turn me over."

Ilya reached for a new condom. His fingers fumbled slightly with the packet, but he managed to roll it on. Then he pulled out slowly with a wet sound. Both of them groaned at the loss. The cool air hit Ilya's freshly covered cock and made him shiver. Before Shane could move, Ilya leaned down and kissed him again. It was messy and desperate. Their tongues slid together hotly as Ilya's hands roamed over Shane's body. He was already starting to get fully hard again, his cock twitching against Shane's thigh.

They made out for a long minute like that, breathing heavily into each otherâs mouths. Ilya whimpered softly against Shane's lips, clearly still overwhelmed from the previous round.

Finally Shane turned over smoothly onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He spread his knees wider and arched his back beautifully, presenting himself. The position made his strong ass look even more inviting, his powerful back and shoulders flexing as he settled into place.

Ilya knelt behind him and took a long moment to admire the view. Shane looked incredibly powerful and sexy like this. His tapered waist, firm muscular ass, and strong thighs were all on full display. Sweat glistened along his spine. Ilya ran both big hands reverently over Shane's cheeks, squeezing the firm flesh and spreading him open slightly. His thumbs brushed over the slick, stretched hole. The sight of Shane's perfect plump ass made Ilya whimper pathetically. His cock twitched hard again.

"Look at you," Ilya breathed, voice full of awe and desperation. "So fucking sexy. Such a perfect ass for me."

He gripped the base of his cock and lined himself up. He pushed back inside in one smooth, deep thrust. The new angle let him sink even deeper than before. Shane moaned loudly at the fuller, more intense stretch. Ilya's thick cock reached places it had not quite touched in the previous position. The depth felt overwhelming for both of them.

"Fuck," Shane groaned. "It feels even deeper like this."

Ilya's hands immediately grabbing Shane's sides. One hand gripped Shane's hip tightly, fingers digging into the firm muscle. The other slid up his back and gripped his shoulder for leverage. He started thrusting. At first, his movements were still a little clumsy as he adjusted to the new position. He looked so pathetic behind Shane, eyes glued to the way Shane's perfect plump ass jiggled and vibrated with every thrust. He could barely hold it together.

"Yes," Shane groaned, pushing back to meet him. "Harder. Give it to me, Rozanov."

Ilya gave it to him. He fucked Shane with powerful, deep strokes. His grip on Shane's hip tightened, fingers digging into muscle hard enough to leave marks. His other hand stayed on Shane's shoulder, pulling him back onto his cock with every thrust. The new position felt completely different. Deeper. Tighter. More animalistic. Ilya could feel every inch of Shane's heat gripping him. The angle let him go so deep that his balls pressed against Shane with every thrust. He whimpered every time Shane's plump ass rippled against him.

"You feel so good like this," Ilya panted. "So tight. So deep. I can feel everything."

He leaned forward, pressing his sweaty chest against Shane's back. One hand left Shane's hip and slid into his dark hair. Ilya gripped a handful of hair and pulled gently, tilting Shane's head back. Shane moaned loudly at the sensation, the slight sting mixing perfectly with the deep thrusts.

"Like that?" Ilya asked, voice rough.

"Yes," Shane gasped. "Harder."

Ilya pulled a little firmer on his hair while continuing to fuck him with deep, powerful strokes. The combination of the hair pulling, the deep angle, and Ilya's strong grip made pleasure shoot through Shane's body. The heat in his stomach was building again, hotter and tighter than before. Every thrust dragged Ilya's thick cock perfectly against his prostate, sending sparks of pleasure through him.

Ilya's other hand stayed on Shane's shoulder, gripping hard. His fingers dug into the muscle there as he used it for leverage, pulling Shane back onto his cock with every thrust. He was fully in rhythm now, but still looked pathetic. His eyes were fixed on the way Shane's perfect plump ass jiggled and vibrated with each thrust. He kept whimpering and moaning, clearly barely holding it together.

"You take me so well," Ilya praised, his accent thick. "Such a good captain. Taking my cock so deep. Look at you. So strong. So perfect for me."

Shane moaned at the praise. The dirty talk mixed with the genuine admiration made his cock leak steadily onto the sheets below. The heat in his stomach grew warmer, a heavy pressure coiling tighter with every deep thrust.

After several minutes of this, Shane's voice came out breathy.

"Choke me," he said. "I want your hand around my throat."

Ilya's hips faltered. He slowed down, clearly surprised and a little nervous. His hand loosened in Shane's hair. Shane turned his head slightly to look back at him. His eyes were dark with lust but steady.

"It is okay," he said softly. "I trust you. Just put your hand around my throat and squeeze lightly. Not too hard. I will tell you if it is too much. I promise."

Ilya hesitated for a moment, his inexperience showing clearly in his expression. But the hunger in his eyes won out. He reached forward and wrapped his large hand gently around the front of Shane's throat. His grip was careful at first, barely any pressure. His palm felt hot and slightly shaky against Shane's skin.

"Like this?" he asked, still sounding wary.

"Tighter," Shane encouraged. "Just a little. I can take it."

Ilya applied a bit more pressure. The feeling of his strong hand around Shane's throat made Shane moan loudly. Ilya started thrusting again, deeper and harder now. The combination of the choking, the deep angle, and the hair pulling sent intense waves of pleasure through both of them. The heat in their stomachs burned hotter.

Ilya kept one hand around Shane's throat while the other gripped his hip tightly. He fucked him with powerful strokes, pulling Shane back onto his cock every time. His own pleasure was building fast again. The heat in his stomach was a tight, burning coil that grew stronger with every thrust. He kept staring at Shane's toned ass rippling with each thrust, looking completely lost and pathetic.

"You feel so fucking good," Ilya panted. "So tight around me. Taking my cock so deep. Such a good boy for me."

Shane moaned at the dirty talk. The hand around his throat made everything feel more intense. The heat in his own stomach was building rapidly now, a heavy pressure that made his cock throb and leak.

Ilya kept his grip careful but firm. He was clearly still a little nervous, but the reassurance from Shane helped him relax into it. He continued fucking Shane with deep, rhythmic strokes. His hips slapped loudly against Shane's ass. Sweat dripped from his body onto Shane's back.

The new position felt incredible for both of them. It was deeper than missionary. More intense. Ilya could reach places that made Shane cry out with pleasure. Every thrust dragged his thick cock perfectly against Shane's prostate. The angle allowed him to grind deep, rolling his hips in small circles that made Shane's toes curl.

Ilya leaned forward again and bit gently at Shane's shoulder while keeping his hand around his throat. The mix of sensations was overwhelming. Hair pulling. Choking. Deep, powerful thrusts. Praise mixed with filthy words.

"You are mine tonight," Ilya growled against his skin. "My captain. Taking my cock so well."

The heat in both their stomachs continued to build. Tighter. Hotter. More urgent. Ilya's thrusts grew faster and more desperate as he chased the rising pleasure. His hand stayed around Shane's throat, careful but firm. His other hand gripped Shane's hip hard enough to leave marks.

The pleasure rolled through them in heavy waves. The deep angle made everything feel more intense. Ilya could feel every flutter and clench of Shane's walls around him. Shane could feel every ridge of Ilya's thick cock dragging inside him.

They stayed in this position for a long time. Ilya gripping, thrusting, praising, and losing himself in the feeling. Shane pushing back to meet every thrust, moaning at the depth and the control Ilya was finally showing.

The heat in their stomachs kept building higher and higher.

Ilya was still thrusting deep from behind, his hand around Shane's throat and the other gripping his hip tightly, bruising his freckled skin. The pleasure was intense, but Shane wanted more control. He wanted to show Ilya exactly how good it could feel.

"Wait," Shane said, voice rough but steady. "Stop for a second."

Ilya slowed down immediately, breathing hard. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Shane replied. He looked back over his shoulder with dark, hungry eyes. "I want to ride you. Let me show you how good this can feel. Flip over. I want to be on top."

Ilya's breath caught. He pulled out slowly with a wet sound. Both of them groaned at the loss. Ilya lay down on his back in the center of the bed, his chest heaving, cock standing thick and hard against his stomach. His face was flushed, eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and nervousness. This was still all new to him.

Shane climbed on top of him with smooth confidence. He straddled Ilya's hips, his strong thighs on either side of the rookie's body. He looked down at Ilya with heat in his eyes.

"Let me show you," Shane said softly. "You have been so good to me tonight. Now I am going to make you feel everything."

He reached down, wrapped his hand around Ilya's thick cock, and lined it up with his hole. Then he sank down slowly. Inch by inch, he took Ilya inside him. The new position let Ilya sink incredibly deep. Shane moaned loudly as he bottomed out, his ass flush against Ilya's hips.

"Fuck," Shane breathed. "You are so deep like this. You feel so good inside me, Rozanov."

Ilya's eyes widened. He could see the bulge in Shane's stomach. The outline of his own cock was visible through Shane's abs. The sight made him groan loudly, his hands flying up to grip his thighs. He looked completely overwhelmed.

"Hollander... I can see myself," Ilya said, voice shaky and amazed. "I can see my cock inside you. Fuck. That is so hot."

Shane smiled down at him, looking confident and experienced. He started moving. Slowly at first, rolling his hips in smooth circles. He was a pro at this. His movements were controlled, sensual, and devastatingly effective. Every roll of his hips took Ilya impossibly deep.

"You feel so good," Shane praised, voice low. "So thick. So deep inside me. You fill me up perfectly, Rozanov."

He leaned forward and captured Ilya's mouth in a deep kiss. Their tongues slid together hotly as Shane began to ride him properly. He lifted up and sank back down in long, steady strokes. The wet sound of his ass meeting Ilya's hips filled the room. Shane's strong thighs flexed with every movement.

Ilya's hands gripped Shane's hips tightly. His breathing was heavy and ragged. He was completely out of it, eyes fixed on the bulge in Shane's stomach every time he sank down. The sight combined with the tight heat around his cock was driving him crazy. He tried to thrust up to meet Shane's movements, but his hips jerked awkwardly. He was so overwhelmed that he could barely coordinate.

"Hollander... fuck," Ilya moaned against his mouth. His voice was whiny and desperate. "You are so good at this. So tight.. Is this okay? Am I deep enough?"

Shane smiled into the kiss and started riding him harder. He planted his hands on Ilya's broad chest for leverage and bounced on his cock with confident, powerful movements. Every time he sank down, Ilya's thick length hit deep inside him. The bulge in his stomach appeared and disappeared with every stroke.

"You are doing so well," Shane praised between kisses. "Look at you. Taking this so good for your first time. You feel amazing inside me. So deep. So perfect."

He leaned down and attacked Ilya's neck and chest with his mouth. He sucked hard on the skin just below Ilya's collarbone, leaving a dark hickey. Then another on his chest, right over his left pec. He was marking his claim on the rookie, claiming him in the most visible way.

While sucking on one of the fresh hickeys, Shane moved his mouth lower and latched onto Ilya's sensitive nipple. He sucked hard, tongue flicking over the bud. Ilya jerked violently underneath him, hips thrusting up deeper into Shane with a pathetic whine.

"Ah- fuck!" Ilya moaned loudly, his voice cracking. "That feels... too much."

Shane switched to the other nipple, sucking and gently biting while continuing to ride him with perfect rhythm. Ilya's hips jerked again, pushing even deeper. He looked so desperate underneath Shane. Blond curls messy on the pillow, mouth open in constant whimpers and moans, eyes glassy, body trembling as he tried and failed to match Shane's experienced movements.

The making out was constant and messy. Shane would lean down, kiss Ilya deeply, tongues sliding together, then sit up again to ride him harder. Their heavy breathing mixed together. Moans filled the room. Shane's moans were low and controlled but full of pleasure. Ilya's moans were louder, more desperate, broken by heavy gasps and pathetic little whines every time Shane sank down.

Shane kept praising him while riding.

"You are so deep," he groaned. "I can feel you in my stomach. You are so big inside me."

Ilya looked down again and groaned at the sight. The outline of his cock was clearly visible every time Shane sank all the way down. The visual combined with the tight heat made his head spin. He was breathing heavily, almost panting, completely lost in the sensation. He tried to thrust up again but his hips stuttered uselessly.

"Holl-... I cannot... I am trying," Ilya whined pathetically. "You feel too good."

Shane smiled down at him fondly. "You do not have to. Just lie there and let me ride you. You feel so good inside me, Rozanov. So thick and deep. You are perfect like this."

Ilya nodded frantically, eyes glassy. "Yes... yes, Hollander. Whatever you want. Just... fuck... do not stop."

Shane leaned down again and sucked another hickey onto Ilya's chest, right over his heart. Then another near his nipple. He was marking him thoroughly, leaving dark red spots all over Ilya's pale skin.

"Mine tonight," Shane whispered against his skin before kissing him again.

Their tongues slid together deeply as Shane continued riding him with perfect rhythm. He was experienced and knew exactly how to move. He would roll his hips in circles, then bounce up and down, changing the angle and depth to keep the pleasure intense. Every movement made Ilya's cock drag against his prostate.

The heat in both their stomachs was burning now. A tight, heavy coil that grew stronger with every bounce.

Ilya's hands gripped Shane's thighs hard. His breathing was heavy and loud. He was completely out of it, eyes glassy, mouth open as he panted and moaned helplessly. He kept trying to thrust up to meet Shane but his movements were clumsy and uncoordinated. He looked so pathetic and desperate underneath the experienced captain.

"I am close," he gasped. "You feel too good. I cannot... fuck... I am so close"

Shane sat up straighter and rode him harder. His strong thighs flexed powerfully as he bounced on Ilya's cock. The wet, filthy sounds grew louder. He kept one hand on Ilya's chest, playing with his nipple, while the other braced on the bed for leverage.

"Come for me," Shane said, voice rough with pleasure. "I want to feel you come deep inside me"

Ilya's moans grew louder. His hips started thrusting up weakly to meet Shane's movements, but he was too overwhelmed to match the rhythm. The heat in his stomach tightened unbearably. His cock throbbed inside the condom. His breathing turned into desperate pants and whimpers.

Shane leaned down one last time and sucked a final, dark hickey onto Ilya's chest as he rode him through it.

Ilya came first. His entire body tensed. A loud, broken moan tore from his throat as he spilled hard into the condom. His hips jerked up uncontrollably. His hands gripped Shane's thighs so tightly they would bruise. The orgasm seemed to last forever. Wave after wave shook his body as he emptied himself deep inside Shane. He kept whimpering pathetically through it all.

The feeling of Ilya coming pushed Shane over the edge. He rode him through it, moaning loudly as his own orgasm hit. He came hard between their bodies, spilling onto Ilya's stomach and chest. His walls clenched tightly around Ilya's cock as he rode out every pulse.

They stayed like that for a long time. Shane still sitting on Ilya's cock, both of them breathing heavily. Their bodies were covered in sweat. Shane's hickeys stood out dark against Ilya's pale chest. Ily'âs hands stayed on Shane's thighs, holding him close.

Neither of them spoke for several long minutes. They just breathed together, hearts pounding, bodies connected.

--

Ilya stayed buried inside Shane for a long time after they both came. His body was still trembling slightly. His breathing was heavy and uneven against Shane's neck. The quiet hotel room felt too still now after everything that had happened.

Finally, Ilya pulled out carefully. He removed the condom, tied it off, and dropped it into the trash beside the bed. Then he sat up on the edge of the mattress, his back to Shane. He ran a hand through his damp blond curls, looking tense and uncertain.

"You should probably go," Ilya muttered. His voice was rough. "It is late. I... I have an early flight tomorrow."

Shane sat up slowly. He watched the younger manâs tense shoulders and the way he refused to look back at him.

"Rozanov," Shane said calmly. "Lie back down."

Ilya froze for a second, then reached for his sweatpants on the floor. "You do not have to stay. This was... it was just sex. Whatever. No big deal."

Shane reached out and caught Ilya's wrist gently but firmly. He tugged him back toward the center of the bed.

"I said lie down," Shane repeated, softer this time. "You are not kicking me out right after that."

Ilya resisted for a moment, but eventually let himself be pulled back. He lay down on the bed, still tense, staring at the ceiling. His cheeks were still flushed. There were several dark hickeys scattered across his chest and neck. He looked young and awkward now that the heat had faded.

Shane grabbed a towel from the bathroom and gently cleaned them both up. He moved slowly, giving Ilya time to breathe. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and pulled Ilya closer, wrapping an arm around the rookie's waist and holding him there.

"You do not have to run me off," Shane said quietly. "Just stay here with me for a bit. Come down from it, that was intense"

Ilya stared at the ceiling. His body was stiff. "I am fine. Really. I do not need... this. The cuddling part."

Shane smiled a little. He turned onto his side so he could look at Ilya properly. The rookie's curls were messy, his lips still slightly swollen from all the kissing. He looked beautiful and overwhelmed at the same time. Shane leaned in and pressed a soft, slow kiss to Ilya's lips. It was nothing like the heated, desperate kisses from earlier. This one was gentle and soothing, lingering just long enough to calm them both. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Ilya's for a moment.

"Is it all you ever dreamed of?" Shane asked, a light teasing tone in his voice. He was clearly trying to ease the tension.

Ilya let out a short, embarrassed laugh. He covered his face with one hand.

"Yes," he admitted, voice muffled. "You killed me, Hollander. I am dead. My brain is not working right now."

Shane laughed softly and pulled Ilya's hand away from his face. He kept holding it.

"Good," Shane said. "You were incredible. Especially for your first time."

Ilya's cheeks burned darker. He turned his head away, but he did not pull his hand back.

"Do not talk about that," he grumbled. "I told you I have experience."

Shane raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. "You can drop the act now. We are alone. You do not have to pretend with me."

Ilya stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he let out a long breath and finally relaxed a little. He shifted closer until his head rested against Shane's shoulder.

"It was better than I thought it would be," he said quietly. "A lot better. I did not expect... all of that."

Shane ran his fingers through Ilya’s damp blond curls soothingly. "You do not have to kick me out right away. Stay here with me until you feel normal again. No rush."

Ilya did not argue this time. He stayed pressed against Shane's side. His breathing slowly evened out. The awkwardness was still there, but it was softening.

After several quiet minutes, Ilya spoke again, voice barely above a whisper.

"I do not hate you as much as I thought I did," he admitted.

Shane smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"Good," he replied. "Because I do not hate you either."

They lay like that for a long time.The game, and the outside world felt very far away. For tonight, it was just the two of them in the quiet hotel room.