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The Montreal Metros lost their third game in a row. Their plane got delayed yesterday, leading to Shane's schedule getting fucked up and meetings being rescheduled. Shane's favorite smoothie place closed down. Yesterday marked two months since Shane last saw Ilya in person.
Needless to say, Shane was stressed, pent up, and fucking desperate for release.
That's how, on a Sunday night alone in his apartment, Shane found himself in his bed taking care of his own problem.
He sprayed Ilya's cologne on the pillow beside him to help set the scene.
"You might be pretty, but you're still just a slut tied up for me to use," Ilya's breath blew against Shane's cheek as he spoke. "I don't even need to tie your hands, you're so needy."
The cuffs Ilya usually used on him stayed in Ottawa, so he had rigged up one of his thin Metro scarves to tie his ankle to the footboard of the bed. The restriction felt good, right, to Shane. He needed this; needed the pressure.
Ilya slammed into him, sweat dripping down his tan pecs. "There you are, slut. You can't go four days without a dick in you, can you? Fucking useless."
Shane gasped as his purple dildo slid out of him, the base too slippery with lube for him to grasp. Hurriedly, he wiped his hand on his sheets before grabbing the base again and sliding it back in with a load moan.
He closed his eyes to resume his fantasy scene.
"Listen to you," Ilya snarled in his ear. "You can cry all you want to, but no one will help. Why would they help you?"
Shane moaned and slid his free hand over his pecs, pinching his pebbled nipples.
"You're just a needy little slut who needs to get fucked." Ilya leaned down and bit Shane's nipple. "Listen to you: my slut begging for more."
"Fuck, Ilya," Shane whimpered and sped up his hand fucking himself the toy. Fuck fuck! If only Ilya wasn't two hours away. If only it was actually his boyfriend's dick making him drool.
If only it could have been Ilya's dick making Shane's brain feel so fucking good.
He started to slide his hand lower before falling back into his fantasy.
"Stop that," Ilya growled and slapped Shane across the cheek. "You don't get to touch your useless little cock. Look at it, so sad and pathetic. What do you use that for? You don't fuck women, you don't fuck men. It's useless."
"Ilya, please," Shane begged outloud to an empty room. No one could hear him; even the walls turned their backs on him as he begged to a fantasy only he could see.
Ilya tsked above him. He sped up to a merciless pace. "If you insist on calling me the wrong name, then my slut can fucking cum without anyone touching his pathetic dick."
"I'm sorry, sir. Sir, please- fuck, I'm cumming."
Ilya slapped Shane's cheek again. "Too late to apologize. Cum if you want, but only untouched like the whore you are."
Shane's ankle pulled against the scarf as he cried out. Ropes of cum squirted up onto his chest and his chin. His body spasmed with overstimulation as he continued to pump the dildo in-and-out until every last drop drizzled out of his dick.
Shane dropped against his pillows as he caught his breath. His ankle ached slightly and his cheek stung where he'd slapped himself in the heat of the moment.
He felt good, pleasantly wore out in a way that he hadn't felt since January when Ilya tied him up and edged him for hours and hours.
Shane closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His brain felt fuzzy and he let himself drift into nothingness.
Shane's not sure how long he drifted for — long enough for his cum to dry in his chest hair, but not enough for his hip to be stiff from being in an awkward position due to his ankle still being tied up. It started pleasant, a nice haze to cover the last few weeks of frustration and loneliness.
But Shane opened his eyes and the room danced in front of him. He rubbed his face, surprised to find damp streaks down leading from the corners of his eyes to his hairline.
Fuck, what was wrong with him?
He couldn't even fucking masturbate correctly now? You're fucking worthless, he thought to himself.
He forced himself up to blindly pull at the knotted scarf until it loosened, yanking his leg back to curl in on himself.
Shame filled his chest as he stared at the state of his bed. Dried cum and lube mixed together on the sheets, the purple dildo laid discarded beside his pillow, the blue Metros scarf wrinkled from misuse.
You should be ashamed of yourself. You're just a fucking slut.
He'd felt this way before, but Ilya was always beside him to warm him up — fuck, he was so cold — and whispered sweet things in his ear.
Once, years ago, it had been almost this bad. Vegas was a rough time for both him and Ilya, leading to multitudes of miscommunication and hurt on both sides.
Since then, the couple talked through their pain and set new boundaries.
"Tell me when you are upset, yes?" Ilya whispered as he rubbed circles on Shane's lower back. "I want to know, even if I am on the moon, I want you to tell me."
"Ilya-"
"No. I am serious. You have a phone. Call me when you are upset so I can help you. It will make me feel better."
He shouldn't bother Ilya. His boyfriend lived a life of his own and babysitting his boyfriend wasn't one of his responsibilities. Shane could fucking handle this on his own.
But… Ilya did say it would make him feel good to help — a concept Shane couldn't relate to, but he could respect.
Would Ilya want him to call?
Shane blindly grabbed for his phone as his breath quickened. Half blind through fresh tears, he found Ilya contact and pressed the call button.
Ilya answered, but it wasn't his voice he heard first. It was thumping music, cheerful yells in the foreground.
"Shots! Rozzy, get the fuck over here man!"
Troy? That sounded like Troy.
Troy fucking Barrett was the last person Shane wanted to hear right now.
"Yes, yes, save one for me! I step out for a smoke, one minute!" The sound cracked through the speaker until it evened out in a quieter environment— presumably outside. "My Jane! I thought you went to sleep after long roadtrip! How are you?"
Shane bit his lip. Fuck, he was so fucking selfish to call Ilya. The Centaurs had won their game tonight. Of course, they're out celebrating. But Shane was too needy to think about that before he pressed call.
"I'm sorry," he managed. "Don't let me interrupt you. I can, ah-"
"Jane, you can call me anytime." Ilya paused for a second before lowering his voice. "Shane, are you okay?"
In the solace of his bedroom, Shane shook his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go party with the guys, Ilya."
"Shane," Ilya said slowly, "I know that voice. You are lying. Why? Are you hurt?"
He angrily wiped under his eyes. "No, no, I'm not hurt. It- It helps hearing your voice."
"Shane? What happened?" Ilya sounded positively worried and if that didn't just make Shane feel like the worst boyfriend in the history of mankind.
First, he did sex wrong, then he fucked up his boyfriend's evening.
"It just got… Too intense, I think? Uh, I feel like… spacy and, um, I can't breathe?"
It was faint, but Shane swore he heard an intake of breath over the phone. "Are you having a sub drop, baby?"
Baby.
That's not a term of endearment they usually use for each other. The only exception was in bed while Ilya doted on Shane.
Well, Shane was in bed, and boy did it feel good to be doted on.
"Y-yes, sir," he stammered, the honorific coming natural to him in this state. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I've never-"
"Shush, shh, baby. It's okay. You did good. Where are you?"
"On my bed, sir."
"Good boy. Are you under the sheets? If not, I want you to get under them for me."
Shane glanced over at the mess he left on the sheets and felt his stomach drop. "I can't, the bed is gross. I'm sorry, I made a mess."
"Shh, no sorrys. It's okay that you made a mess. My good boy makes a mess because it feels good, yes? Do you still have that armchair in your room?"
Shane nodded before remembering his words. "Yes, sir."
"Grab the throw blanket off the back of that and wrap it around yourself. Don't worry about the mess, we can wash it later. Can you do that for me?"
Shane looked across the room to the armchair Ilya was talking about.
"Why does my sweet Canadian boyfriend have a cuck chair in his bedroom?"
"A what chair?" Shane frowned as he looked the chair over. "It's a nice chair. And it gives me a place to sit that doesn't mess up the bed."
"It's a cuck chair," Ilya insisted. He looped his fingers in Shane's beltloops and pulled him against him. "You want someone to watch us fuck? Maybe we invite Hayden to come sit in that chair while I fuck you-"
"Fuck you, let me go!"
"-until you beg Hayden to tell me to let you cum. Is that what you want?"
Shane stood up on wobbly legs and took the three steps to the chair before he collapsed in it. He wrapped the fuzzy blanket around him as he curled up into the cushion.
"Okay, I have it around me."
"Good boy. Shane, take deep breaths. I want you to close your eyes and pretend the blanket is me, yes? In… out… in… out…in… out…"
Shane focused on Ilya voice, calm and authoritative, over the phone. The warmth of the blanket enveloped him. It wasn't nearly as good as Ilya himself, but then again, nothing was.
"Good boy. Listen to you, following orders. You're so good for me. I can't believe you're all mine, Shane."
The usual praise fell flat. Yes, Shane was all Ilya's, but tonight didn't happen because of Ilya. It happened because Shane-
"I'm sorry, sir." Shane felt his face heat up and he scrunched his nose in an effort to not cry again. "I shouldn't have gone into subspace without you. I shouldn't have done any of this without you here."
"No, no. Shane, listen to me. You did not do anything wrong. No, don't argue with me. You are an adult who is allowed to touch himself, allowed to feel pleasure. Fuck if I am there or not. You didn't do anything wrong."
Shane swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay. Okay, I didn't do anything wrong."
"Good boy. Now, we're going to sit here and talk for a bit."
"But, your party?"
"The boys won't even notice I'm gone. Now, why don't you walk me through what happened? I need to know so I can help you."
Shane swore he could hear Ilya's soft smirk through the phone.
"Ah, well, I haven't jerked off in four days because the roadtrip."
"Not even in the shower?" Shane could hear the disbelief in his tone.
"Hayden was always in the hotel room! Anyways, the flight got delayed so I had to cancel a lunch meeting with Adidas. I tried to grab a protein smoothie at Ahoy Smoothies, but they closed down. I wanted you, but you were in your game, so I was in a really shitty mood."
Ilya hummed agreeing. "You're schedules and routines got fucked up."
"Yes, exactly. Anyway, I thought I should take the edge off, and on the car ride home I thought about those cuffs you used last time? But I don't have any, so when I got home, I grabbed an old scarf that I don't wear-"
"Shane."
"I know, I shouldn't have used it, but the knots weren't too tight. I tied one leg open to my bedframe."
"Did you fuck yourself?"
"Yes," Shane whispered. "But I pictured you in my head."
"What did I do?"
"You, ah," Shane hesitated for a second. His cheeks burned. "You called me your slut. You told me my d-dick was useless. You slapped me. Remember New Years Eve? Basically that scene, but a bit more."
Ilya exhaled on the line. "Oh, baby. You liked that scene, didn't you?"
"I loved it. It made me feel special and wholly yours."
"Did you feel that way this time?"
Yes. No.
Yes, during the fantasy scene Shane felt euphoric, peaceful, put in his rightful place under his very trustful boyfriend.
No, afterwards he felt like the most disgusting human alive.
"At first. But…"
"Tell me, Shane. Be a good boy."
"Afterwards-" Shane's voice cracked. He cleared his throat before continuing, "I felt worthless this time. Ashamed that I could like something like that. I- I promise, sir, I liked it, I do."
"I know you do, baby. After that scene, I wrapped you up — like you're wrapped up now — and I kissed your temples and your cheeks and your lips and your nose. You remember?"
"Yes."
"Listen: I love you so much. You are perfect. I am so proud of you for calling me. I am so proud of you exploring your kinks and doing things you like. There's nothing to be ashamed about. You're allowed to chase pleasure, allowed to feel pleasure."
Shane's body relaxes slowly as Ilya regaled his praises onto his boyfriend.
"Fuck, baby, I can just imagine your face when you came. Did you touch your nipples?"
"Yes," he admitted. "But not my dick. I promise."
"You even came untouched? Wow, Shane, you are fucking amazing. You know that, yes? So talented and special and all mine, just for my hands and your own."
Shane smiled for the first time since his orgasm. Fuck, Ilya really did love him.
Ilya didn't think he was worthless.
Ilya didn't think he was disgusting.
Ilya didn't think he was shameful.
"Just for you, sir," Shane repeated as his head started to fuzz up again.
"Good boy. Are you sleepy now?" Shane hummed in response, which wasn't good enough because he heard Ilya on the phone again: "Shane, I need words."
"Yes. Sleepy."
"Good job. Do you think you can manage a quick shower? Or even a washcloth to clean yourself up?"
Shane frowned and shook his head. "No, I don't- my legs are jelly."
"That's alright, baby. Take a little nap there — okay? — then sleep on the couch when your legs feel sturdier. The sheets can wait until the morning."
"Thank you, Ilya," Shane whispered softly.
"Anything for you, my lover."
"Gah, that's still gross."
"Shh, sleep. Call me in the morning."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Shane never heard the line hang up. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of him floating peacefully above his own body.
Shane focused on his breathing as he stretched forward. He reached his arms forward as he listened to his body, his muscles.
Inhale.
Exhale.
On the next inhale, he brought his left leg back beneath him as he transitioned into child's pose.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Yoga helped Shane recenter his body after games or stressful days.
Or unintended sub drops.
He rolled his matt up as his phone buzzed with a new notification.
Movement Detected At Your Front Door.
Frowning, Shane picked up his phone. No one was supposed to come by. Ilya had morning skate, Hayden and Jackie planned to take the kids to the zoo today, and J.J. hadn't visited since Shane came out to him.
So who could be at his front door?"
He quickly reset his home gym and finished off his water bottle on the way to check the door.
It wasn't a person on the other side but a package. Shane didn't remember buying anything. He checked the label and-
Jane Hollander
Ilya must have bought something for him. Oh, that's sweet.
Shane pulled his phone out again and dialed his boyfriend's number. It almost rang out before the line clicked.
"Hmm, goodmorning Hollander," an unusually deep voice said on the other line.
Fuck, Ilya's morning voice always turned Shane on.
"Goodmorning sleepy head. Don't you have practice soon?"
"Is seven in the morning. I have time."
"Sure, Rozanov. Maybe you drank too much last night and you're stuggling to get up. You're almost thirty now after all."
"Nonsense, I am always twenty-two, like Taylor Swift."
They both laugh on their own end of the call. Shane sits on the couch and picks at the tape on the package. He's about to speak, but Ilya beat him to it.
"How did you feel this morning?"
"Oh, I'm good. I did a little yoga, a lot of breathing."
"Recentering, yes, I remember what you do."
Shane hummed softly. "So, I got your package?"
"Already?" Ilya sounded surprised. "They ship fast."
Shane frowned. When did he buy this? "Can I open it or do you want me to wait for you?"
"Open it. It's for you."
Curiosity overflowing, Shane pulled the tape off and lifted a silky bag out of the cardboard. He pulled the drawstring loose and managed a peak inside.
Padded velcro cuffs.
Shit, Ilya must have bought these last night after their call.
"Ilya-"
"You like, yes?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Shane, if I hear that you use a scarf or rope or anything that you shouldn't to tie yourself up again, I will make sure your entire team sees your ass bright red. Do I make myself clear."
Shane's face flushed red. Why did the idea of his team seeing make everything so much hotter?
Why did the idea of Hayden in the cuck chair make him want to moan every time?
Shane stiffled an embarrassing noise and closed the drawstring bag back up.
"Yes, I understand. Thank you, Ilya."