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As soon as they step off the ice, Shane knows something’s off with Ilya.
His eyes are glassy and unfocused, almost like he’s not fully there. He doesn’t chirp at anyone in the locker room, doesn’t tease. He doesn’t even look up when Troy makes a joke so obviously aimed at him that half the room turns to watch for a reaction.
His face is just…blank.
Ilya just drifts toward the showers without a word.
Shane frowns.
“What’s up with him?” Troy asks quietly.
Shane bites his lip.
“I don’t know. Sometimes he…” He sighs. “Well, he doesn’t usually get like this after practice. It’s weird. I’ll check on him.”
After he’s showered and changed, Shane walks back to the car beside Ilya, studying him the entire way.
He still looks far away.
Detached.
Like he’s floating somewhere outside his own body.
Shane reaches out and brushes a hand against his arm.
“Ilya? You okay?”
Ilya nods.
Shane doesn’t believe him for a second.
Still, he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
The whole drive home, his chest aches.
He wants to pull over and wrap Ilya up in his arms until whatever this is passes, but the best he can do is rest a hand over Ilya’s where it sits on the center console.
He hopes it’s enough for now.
When they pull into the driveway, Shane is out of the driver’s seat almost immediately. He watches Ilya trudge toward the front door, shoulders heavy.
The second they’re inside, Shane opens his arms.
Ilya walks straight into them.
“Shane,” he murmurs softly.
The sound alone makes Shane’s heart twist.
He slides a hand into Ilya’s hair and holds him tighter.
“What happened, baby? Did you get hurt?”
Ilya shakes his head.
“No. Just…” He swallows. “Hard practice. I feel weird.”
Shane nods.
“Bad weird?”
“I don’t know.” Ilya presses closer. “I just… I needed you. I wanted you to hold me all practice, but I couldn’t ask for that, and it was…” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. I’m acting like a fucking baby.”
“No, you’re not.”
The answer comes immediately.
“You’re not.”
Shane tips their foreheads together.
“I’m sorry you needed me and I couldn’t help. But I’m here now, okay?”
His arms tighten around him.
“I’ve got you.”
Ilya sighs, relief softening his entire body as he nuzzles into Shane’s neck.
A quiet whine escapes him when Shane scratches gently at his scalp.
Shane’s stomach flips.
“You need more?” he asks softly.
“Need everything you can give me.”
Shane’s breath catches.
Carefully, he pulls back and cups Ilya’s face in both hands.
“Go wait for me upstairs, baby. Clothes off. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Ilya whines again.
“Fuck, yes. Please.”
Shane smiles.
“Go. Be good for me.”
His thumb brushes across Ilya’s cheek.
“No touching yourself until I get there.”
Ilya’s eyes immediately darken.
“Okay.”
Shane watches him disappear up the stairs.
He already looks lighter than he did at the rink, but not quite where Shane wants him yet.
Shane toes off his shoes, tosses their jerseys into the wash, hangs up their bags, and takes care of the handful of things that can’t wait.
Then he heads upstairs.
When he walks into the bedroom, he finds Ilya on the bed waiting.
His legs are spread, his expression openly expectant, cock pink and hard and leaking desperately.
Shane can’t help but grin.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Ilya lets out an impatient little whine.
“Made me wait forever.”
The complaint is undermined somewhat by the flush spreading across his cheeks.
Shane laughs.
“It was five minutes.”
He steps closer.
“And you can handle five minutes, can’t you? Because you’re a good boy?”
Ilya bites his lip and nods quickly.
“M’ your good boy.”
Something warm settles in Shane’s chest.
He climbs onto the bed between Ilya’s parted legs.
“That’s right, baby.”
He reaches up and brushes a hand through Ilya’s hair.
“All mine.”
Ilya smiles softly, leaning into the touch.
“What do you need?” Shane asks. “Tell me, sweetheart.”
Ilya’s eyes are wide and blown out.
“Need you to make it better.”
“I can do that.”
Shane reaches for the lube, before lowering himself down between Ilya’s legs. It’s been a while since they’ve done it this way, so he wants to take his time with prep, make sure his baby is nice and stretched and feeling good before he gets inside him.
Shane settles between Ilya’s spread thighs, hands sliding up the insides of those beautiful thighs to push them wider. He lowers his mouth and drags his tongue in one slow, wet stripe over Ilya’s hole. Ilya jerks, a shaky sound catching in his throat.
“Fuck,” he cries out.
Shane does it again, slower, letting the flat of his tongue press and circle around the tight ring.
Ilya’s hips twitch. Shane keeps him pinned with both hands, thumbs stroking the soft skin while his tongue works in steady laps.
He licks and sucks, getting the muscle wet and relaxed, then pushes the tip of his tongue inside.
Ilya moans, thighs trembling around Shane’s head.
“Ngh—Shane,” he whimpers.
But Shane’s in no hurry. He fucks Ilya with his tongue in shallow thrusts, pulling back to lick broad stripes and suck again until spit runs down Ilya’s crack and Shane’s chin is slick.
Ilya’s cock lies heavy against his stomach, leaking steadily. Every time Shane’s tongue pushes deeper Ilya’s hole flutters and another bead of pre-cum slides from the slit.
Shane keeps going, alternating between long licks and focused sucking until Ilya is panting and rocking down against his mouth.
Only when Ilya’s rim is soft and shiny does Shane reach for the lube. He coats two fingers, rubs them against the loosened hole, and presses one inside. Ilya’s breath hitches.
Shane works the finger in and out slowly, twisting, feeling the tight heat clench around him.
He adds more lube and slides the second finger in beside the first, scissoring gently, stretching Ilya open with patient, steady movements.
“That feel good, baby?”
“Fuck—yes, yes, so good.” Ilya whines, hips rolling. Shane curls his fingers, searching, and finds the spot that makes Ilya’s whole body jolt.
He rubs there in slow circles, pressing and stroking while his other hand wraps loosely around Ilya’s cock, giving it light, teasing strokes that match the rhythm inside him.
Ilya’s thighs shake. His moans grow louder, more desperate. Shane keeps the pace unhurried, working both fingers deep, rubbing that sensitive spot again and again until Ilya’s cock twitches hard in his hand and he comes with a broken cry, cum spilling over Shane’s fingers and onto his own stomach.
Shane doesn’t pull out right away. He keeps his fingers moving slowly through the aftershocks, easing Ilya down while the tight ring pulses around him.
When Ilya’s breathing starts to steady, Shane withdraws his fingers, slicks more lube over his own cock, and lines up.
“Still good?”
Ilya nods. “Want you inside me. Please, need it.” He begs.
Shane grins down at his husband. He pushes in gradually, watching Ilya’s face the whole time. Inch by inch, giving him time to adjust, until he’s buried to the hilt.
Ilya’s eyes are glassy, mouth open.
“So full.” He slurs.
Shane’s eyes darken. He stays still for a long moment, letting the heat and squeeze settle around him. Then he starts to move slowly, dragging almost all the way out before sinking back in.
Each stroke is deep and hard, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that keeps Ilya moaning and reaching for him.
Shane leans down, forearms braced on either side of Ilya’s head, and kisses him while he fucks him.
The kiss is messy and wet, tongues sliding against each other, both of them breathing hard.
Shane keeps the pace measured, grinding deep on every thrust, angling to hit that same spot inside Ilya again and again. Ilya’s legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Love you,” Ilya moans.
Shane’s hand finds Ilya’s again, fingers lacing together above Ilya’s head as he rocks into him with long, unhurried strokes.
“Fuck, baby. Love. You. So. Fucking. Much.” He grinds out, punctuating every word with a thrust.
The room fills with the wet sound of skin meeting skin and Ilya’s soft, broken noises.
Shane keeps going, letting the pleasure build between them until Ilya’s cock starts to harden again between their bodies and Shane’s own release coils tight in his gut.
Ilya’s legs stay locked around his waist, pulling him in deeper each time he sinks home.
Their bodies slide together, sweat-slick and hot, Ilya’s cock trapped between them and growing harder with every pass of Shane’s stomach over the sensitive head.
Shane’s breath comes ragged against Ilya’s mouth. He kisses him again, tongues sliding slow and wet, then breaks away to press his forehead to Ilya’s. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Getting hard for me again already.”
Ilya whines, the sound breaking into a moan when Shane angles deeper and stays there, grinding in tight circles that make Ilya’s hole flutter around his cock.
Shane’s own pleasure coils tighter with every squeeze, heat building low in his gut.
Ilya’s cock is fully hard now, leaking steadily against Shane’s skin. Shane shifts his weight to one forearm and reaches down with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around Ilya’s shaft.
He strokes in time with his thrusts—slow, firm pulls from base to tip that match the way he fucks into him.
Ilya’s back arches, a broken sound spilling from his throat. “Shane—fuck—please,” Ilya gasps, hips jerking between Shane’s cock and his fist.
“I’ve got you. You can come, baby.” Shane groans, voice tight. He strokes faster now, thumb swiping over the wet head on every upstroke while his hips keep driving in deep and steady.
Ilya comes first. His whole body locks up, hole clenching hard around Shane’s cock as he spills over Shane’s fingers in thick, hot pulses.
Shane fucks him through it, never stopping, stroking him until Ilya’s cock twitches and starts to soften in his grip.
The tight squeeze and the sight of Ilya coming undone beneath him push Shane over the edge. His thrusts grow shorter, deeper, hips stuttering as the coil in his gut snaps.
He buries himself to the hilt and comes with a low groan, cock pulsing inside Ilya, filling him with hot spurts that make Ilya whimper and clench again.
Shane keeps rocking through it, slow and shallow, until the last of his release spills out and he finally stills, breathing hard against Ilya’s neck.
They stay like that for a long moment, Shane’s cock still inside, both of them trembling and slick with sweat and cum.
Shane presses soft kisses along Ilya’s jaw, then finds his mouth again, the kiss slower now, gentler. He eases out carefully, and Ilya makes a small, satisfied sound when Shane’s cum leaks out after him.
Shane reaches for the tissues on the nightstand, wipes them both down with careful hands, then pulls Ilya into his arms, holding him close against his chest.
“Better?” he murmurs at last.
Ilya lets out a soft laugh.
“Yes. Perfect.”
Relief blooms in Shane’s chest.
Maybe it’s stupid, but he likes knowing how to help. Likes knowing how to pull Ilya out of his own head when everything gets too loud. Likes being trusted with that responsibility.
“Now I can hold you for as long as you want,” he says.
Ilya hums happily and nuzzles closer.
“Good.”
Shane smiles and scratches lightly at his scalp.
“God, sometimes you’re like a giant puppy.”
Ilya immediately pushes into the touch with a quiet whine. Shane’s smile widens.
“Oh, you like that, huh?” Shane teases. “My sweet puppy.” He murmurs.
Ilya groans and buries his face in Shane’s shoulder.
“There is something deeply wrong with me.”
That is definitely information Shane is saving for later.
He presses a kiss into Ilya’s hair.
“It’s okay. Me too.”
A laugh rumbles through Ilya’s chest.
“We can be fucked up together.”
“Exactly.”
Ilya sighs contentedly.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.”
Shane repeats it back, tightening his arms around him and drawing him even closer.
Ilya immediately melts into him.
Shane smiles, presses a kiss into his hair, and settles deeper into the pillows.
Neither of them moves. Neither of them has anywhere else to be.
And for the first time all day, Ilya sounds completely at peace.