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“Are you sure it looks okay?” Shane asks for the hundredth time that night, fixing his tie and shrugging his shoulders in the full length mirror of their bedroom. He messes with his hair again, running his hands through the front of it and making sure it wasn’t too puffy or too greasy.
“Shane, I am having a very hard time even thinking about leaving the house right now. You look perfect.” Ilya groans where he’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe of their closet watching him get ready. Shane wasn’t much better.
Ilya was wearing an all black suit with no tie, but with a pair of boots that put him just half an inch taller than Shane and his gold chain on display and just the beginning of his chest hair. His hair was styled and slicked back slightly from his face and Shane already couldn’t wait to run his hands through it when the night was over.
“Later. Be good.” He warned, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
It was the night of the second annual Irina Foundation gala; a fundraising event for donors to bid on auction items and buy raffle tickets for prizes, hopefully raking in a significant amount of money for the foundation each year. It was a black tie dress code, and Shane didn’t mind sitting for the fancy dinner in a suit if it meant they could keep offering the kids’ summer camps at no cost. Having Ilya at his side didn’t hurt either.
Ilya just smiles cockily before he pushes off the wall and saunters over to stand behind Shane and wrap his arms around his waist. “Mmm, and what do I get if I’m good.” he asks and kisses his cheek, resting his chin on his shoulder to meet his eyes in their reflection of the wall mirror in their closet.
“Hmm. . .” Shane hums like he’s seriously considering his options. “I’ll let you pick the next movie for movie night.”
Ilya tilts his head from side to side like he’s weighing his options. “Not bad, but we both know that I want to watch the movie you talked about last week.”
“Okay, how about I give you a massage after practice on Monday.” Shane tries again, resting his hands on Ilya’s arms where they’re wrapped around his middle.
Ilya’s eyebrows scrunch together seriously and he shakes his head. “You will do that anyway. Remember, Massage Monday.” He scoffs, like Shane is the one who forgot the meticulous rituals he had in place within his workout routine.
Massage Mondays were for massages to recover from either practice back after a weekend off, or to unwind if they had a travel or game weekend, and Shane and Ilya always put on reality TV and took turns kneading out each other’s sore muscles.
“Okay fine.” Shane sighs and meets Ilya’s eyes in the mirror before tipping his chin down just enough to look up through his lashes to make his next suggestion. “Maybe, and only if you’re good, I’ll let you fuck me.” he says quietly.
Ilya groans and the arms around Shane’s waist tighten as he rests his forehead on his shoulder, like just looking at Shane in the mirror will send him over the edge before they leave the house.
He composes himself and meets Shane’s eyes again. “I have a feeling that will be a very easy thing to do, Hollander.” He purrs in his ear before kissing it, and Shane can’t help but turn his head and shift in his arms to press their mouths together.
“Shane, you cannot make me leave the house right now. This is cruel. This is torture.” Ilya straight up whines and pouts when they part.
“Yes, I can. This is a big night. This is going to be great for us, and it’s only once a year.” He encourages and takes Ilya’s face between his palms.
“I know, I know.” He takes one of Shane’s hands and kisses his palm gently.
“I’m glad to have you with me. Seriously, I’m not as nervous with you around.” He nods and Ilya meets his eyes with a tender gaze.
“You do not need to be nervous. You look perfect, and you have me. I will not leave your side.” Ilya replies firmly. Nodding his head once and pressing his mouth to Shane’s with a gentle hum. “But as soon as we get home - “
“As soon as we get home, you can have me.” Shane nods, then thinks for a moment. “You have me too, you know that? If you need anything tonight, if it’s too much, tell me. Okay?” He asks, meeting Ilya’s eyes asking for a response.
Ilya exhales heavily and nods. “I promise.”
“Good.” Shane nods once in approval. “Now, we need to leave or else that suit is ending up on the floor, and I don’t want to have to explain those wrinkles to the dry cleaner again.” He kisses Ilya once and then before he can lean in to deepen it, Shane pulls him out of the closet and down to the car so they can leave.
Downtown Ottawa was all glass and reflected evening light by the time their car pulled up to the hotel. The entrance glowed gold against the darkening street, valets moving with rehearsed efficiency while guests in gowns and tuxedos drifted through the revolving doors. Through the tall windows Shane could already see the ballroom upstairs lit in warm amber, tables set with white florals and the foundation’s logo projected across one wall.
There was movement everywhere; staff, photographers, volunteers, but from inside the car it all felt briefly suspended. Shane looked out and felt the familiar tightening in his chest before events like this, not nerves exactly but awareness: people would expect things from them tonight. Ilya noticed immediately. He reached over, squeezed Shane’s hand once, solid and warm.
Ilya got out first, turned back, and offered him his hand like they were arriving at their own wedding instead of a fundraiser. Shane took it and stepped out into the lights with him. Walking in, the entire space was already set up perfectly. They greeted staff and helped finalize a few details here and there. There was a raffle, as well as an auction to help raise money for the kids camps, and as guests started arriving Shane could hear them gasp in awe and excitement looking at everything that was available. Hopefully their pockets were just as excited.
Ilya never drifted far from Shane, keeping close by as they took in the space and stepped out into the hall to welcome people, and Shane let out a sigh of relief when a familiar face finally came into view.
“Jackie Pike.” Ilya let out a low whistle and eyed her as she smiled warmly. She was wearing a floor length black dress and looked effortlessly beautiful. “Jackie, I do not know how many times I have to tell you this, you are the most beautiful woman in Canada. You could do much better than Pike.” he sighs like he’s heartbroken at the thought before kissing her cheek and hugging her warmly.
She smacked Ilya with her clutch and he laughed as he leaned away. “Wait until you see Hayden, and I promise he’ll prove you wrong about one of those things.” She winks before hugging Shane close and rubbing his back soothingly.
“Jackie, you look beautiful, really.” Shane says earnestly.
“Thank you, boys. You don’t clean up so bad yourselves.” She smiles and waves a hand at them.
“What did I miss?” Hayden asks, sliding in behind Jackie and wrapping an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to the top of her shoulder.
“We were just telling your stunning wife how gorgeous and perfect she is.” Ilya says, ever the charmer. “You do not look so bad, also.” He shrugs and eyes Hayden up and down.
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Hayden pouts, holding his chest like he’s truly touched by the statement.
He’s not wrong, Hayden volunteered to be the emcee of the evening and was wearing a well-fitted blue suit and he looked very handsome, all clean shaven and not a hair out of place. Next to Jackie, Shane felt very proud of his best friend as Jackie looked up at him lovingly.
“He does, doesn’t he.” She smiles and Hayden just blushes.
“Stop it.” He groaned and waved his hand. “Next to this one I don’t stand a chance.” He smiles and looks down at Jackie. She looked at him like he hung the moon and Shane almost had the urge to remind them to both use protection for whatever they were getting into that night while they were alone for the weekend.
“Boys!” They all turn to face Yuna, where she’s gesturing towards them with her clutch, also dressed in an evening gown.
Yuna Hollander, the force of nature that she is, had taken over as CFO of the foundation, pro bono of course, and Shane was pretty sure she had a real bet going with some of the other staff about how many donations they’d get that night. She had been on fire helping them line up donors and auction items, locking in to make sure everything was perfect.
She greets each of them now with a hug and a kiss, tending to them they were a flock of sheep she was in charge of herding from donor to donor for the evening.
“Boys, Jackie, I would like to introduce you to the fine gentlemen of the Ottawa Fury. They’re our new partners in fundraising this year. Getting some of that good cross sport partnership will be great for foundation funding.” She gushes and they mingle all start shaking hands and exchanging greetings, welcoming them and exchanging pleasantries. It seems like the whole soccer team is there. Shane had seen them play a few times and recognized a lot of their faces from local commercials and banners around the city.
A tall man, a man Shane has seen on several billboards around the city, steps forward and holds his hand out.
“Shane Hollander, wow. Such an honor to meet you, man.” He says earnestly and holds a hand to his chest, “Really, I’m a huge fan, you’re an amazing player, and I really admire your bravery.” He gushes, holding Shane’s hand while he says it.
“Oh, um, thank you.” He answered, finally pulling his hand away. The football player didn’t look away, he held Shane’s gaze and his soft eyes looked warm and genuine.
“For real, for guys like us, what you did for sports is legendary.” He insists and Shane nods, understanding what he was saying without saying it.
“That’s incredibly kind of you, thank you. And thanks for coming to support the foundation today. That’s really nice of you guys.” Shane replies.
“Of course; and I mean it.” He responds instantly. “I try to watch you on the ice every chance I get.” He adds and Shane watches as he winks and lips his lips as he says it.
Both of Shane’s brain cells focused on this conversation come together at the same moment to connect and understand the subtext of what was happening, that this man was trying to be understated as he tossed compliments and lingering gazes at Shane.
He opened his mouth to respond, not really knowing what he was planning on saying, but he didn’t have to think too hard; he was cut off by Ilya wrapping an arm around Shane’s waist and jutting his arm out sharply to shake the man’s hand.
“Hello. Ilya Rozanov, I am Shane’s husband.”
The footballer looks slightly confused by the interruption.“Um, hi, nice to meet you. I was just telling Shane here what an incredible player he is to watch.” He responds, looking warily at Ilya and reaching out to shake his hand slowly.
“Hmm, yes he is very enchanting. Very lethal.” Ilya boasts and shakes his hand seriously. He doesn’t blink where he uses his slight height advantage to glare down at the man.
“Y-yea, he’s great. Um, congratulations on the foundation. The boys and I are happy to be here.”
“Thank you.” Shane nods diplomatically and looks at Ilya for a moment when a long silence stretches between the three of them. He scans the man, eyes raking him up and down like a snake sizing up its prey before finally deciding to show mercy and not attack.
“Yes thank you.” Ilya finally concedes. “Hopefully your pockets are as deep as your goals. Have a wonderful evening.” He adds with a forced warm smile and promptly uses his arm around Shane’s waist to turn him and move them towards a hallway leading into the ballroom. Shane stops him just outside the doors and looks at him with a universally understood what the fuck? face he’s pretty sure he’d absorbed from Ilya at some point.
“What the hell was that?” Shane asked.
Ilya shook his head like it was obvious. “Shane, he was all over you.”
“Ilya he literally was not, he was just being polite.” He retorts.
“People that look at you like that are not trying to be polite, they’re trying to know what it’s like to have your mouth around -“
“Okay!” Shane’s hand flies between them and covers Ilya’s mouth quickly. Ilya raises his eyebrows at him from behind his hand, and for a second Shane loves that they’re so married they can still have a full conversation, even with a hand over Ilya’s mouth. “Okay fine the eye contact was a bit much, right?” He confirmed and moved his hand away.
It didn’t get far though, Ilya brought it to his mouth and kissed his knuckles gently.
“More than too much.” He rolls his eyes and huffs and his jaw is set in a tight bite, teeth clenched like he’s holding himself back at the mere thought of someone trying to flirt with Shane.
Shane runs a hand along his jaw, smoothing it over with his thumb and watching some of the tension release there. “I think it’s very sweet that you're jealous.”
“I am not jealous. I am pissed that he thinks he even has a chance.” He rolls his eyes again and lets the weight of his head rest in Shane’s hand for a moment. “I will kill him if he looks at you again.” He pouts and Shane just shakes his head.
It’s unbelievable to him sometimes, that the raw power of Ilya Rozanov, the strength and the grit that made him such an asset as a player, could be qualmed so easily by a gentle touch from Shane, or a meaningful glance sent his way. It was cute in a way, that he thinks he could even entertain the idea of loving someone who wasn’t Ilya. He was born for it. He felt like at this point they were somehow cosmically made for each other, and no other human could ever even come close.
Shane leans in and presses his mouth to Ilya’s gently, feeling him sigh against his mouth, not caring that he could hear more people arriving, and they would soon have to part and lock into host mode. He takes the quiet moment, and Ilya’s simmered anger, to just have a moment for them.
He parts quickly and nudges his nose against Ilya’s before meeting his eyes.
“I’m sure you will, but we have an auction to run and a lot of money on the line tonight so don’t go to jail for murder just yet, okay?” Shane asks gently, but Ilya just nods seriously and kisses his hand again before holding it in his own, seemingly calmed.
“Whatever you say, moya lyubov.” he nods and Shane kisses him once more, just because he can, before sighing and squaring his shoulders before walking into the ballroom to get the gala started.
They made their way through the attendees, shaking hands and posing for pictures and stopping to talk to the foundation’s staff. People were enthralled with Shane and Ilya and while overwhelming, Shane kept an eye on the raffle tickets and the auction items, watching as donations started rolling in and things were purchased.
Yuna and David were also shaking hands, and they all found a moment to breathe when some of the Centaurs players and their partners arrived and sat down at their table. Shane doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to see Bood in his life.
By the time dinner had been eaten by the guests, the live auction began and within minutes Hayden had the entire ballroom exactly where he wanted them. He stood beneath the spotlight with a microphone in one hand and a drink he absolutely was not supposed to have on stage in the other, somehow managing to look polished despite the fact that he'd spent the last ten minutes roasting half the room.
"The signed jersey package is currently at twelve thousand dollars," he announced. "Which is impressive. That's almost enough money to buy groceries for a week in Montreal."
Laughter rolled through the crowd. A few tables away, all their friends groaned at his jokes and took pictures, watching Hayden look entirely too pleased with himself.
Shane was on stage to bring prizes to guests that won the raffle and auction items as part of his duties for the night; taking the job when it was confirmed he would not have to speak into the microphone for more than five minutes and that he could be out of the spotlight, happy to have all the energy focused on his best friend instead.
The bidding continued, climbing steadily as Hayden bounced effortlessly between charm, self-deprecation, and gentle harassment of the foundation board members. He remembered names. He remembered spouses' names. He remembered who had won what last year and who had sworn they wouldn't bid as high this year. Every time the energy dipped, he found a way to pull it back up.
The next auction item was supposed to be one of the night's biggest draws: a luxury getaway package displayed on a crystal pedestal beside the stage, complete with a framed certificate and a decorative model sailboat that represented the private charter included in the experience.
Everything was going perfectly.
Until the sailboat somehow hit the floor.
The crash echoed through the ballroom.
For one terrible second, everyone stared as the model exploded into approximately eight thousand tiny pieces.
A volunteer froze beside it and Hayden blinked for a moment.
The volunteer looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. The audience collectively held its breath. Then Hayden looked down at the wreckage.
Looked at the volunteer.
Looked back at the wreckage.
"Well," he said into the microphone, "good news." The room waited. "The yacht experience now comes pre-sunk."
The laughter was immediate, even the volunteer cracked a smile. Hayden crouched beside the debris and picked up what looked suspiciously like half a mast.
"Historically accurate maritime experience. Very exclusive."
The crowd relaxed, chuckles spreading through the ballroom. Unfortunately, when one of the event coordinators hurried over to assess the damage, the expression on her face made it clear the problem wasn't just the decorative boat.
He pressed a hand to his chest. "Ladies and gentlemen, it appears the boat as docked for this evening, but we are going to do our best to make sure everything is fixed and we can find an updated voucher." A murmur spread through the room. "Nobody panic," Hayden continued. "I'm sure it's somewhere in this ballroom. Potentially being used as a placemat. Maybe somebody thought it was the dinner menu."
“In the meantime, next up next we have. . .” Hayden stalls, turning to look at the stage for something to inspire him to fill in the space. His eyes scan around until they meet Shane’s and light up, and somehow, through the powers of best friend telekinesis, Shane starts shaking his head in fear, knowing exactly what he was about to do.
“No, no, no - “ he starts, and reaches his hand towards Hayden like he’s going to either stop him or beg him for mercy. But he’s not fast enough, and Shane feels like he’s watching a car crash happen in slow motion.
“And next up we have a one-on-one evening with the one and only Shane Hollander.” Hayden gestures towards him like he’s bringing out a car on a game show. The light swoops over to Shane and he smiles awkwardly, frozen in place. Hayden approaches and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Spend an evening with Shane Hollander, my best friend and the greatest hockey player of the generation. Not to mention lifelong Ottawa sweetheart.”
“I’m going to kill you.” he whispers through his teeth as the crowd applauds.
“I’m aware of that.” Hayden says through his smile and away from the microphone. “Starting bids at. . .” he takes a step back and looks Shane up and down for a moment like he’s sizing up a piece of meat. “What, a thousand dollars?” He seems to genuinely ask the audience.
A wave of hands shoot up across the room and Shane’s jaw drops as he takes it all in.
“Okayyy, how about five thousand dollars?” Hayden asks and some hands go down, but not as many as Shane was expecting. He looks down to the tables and sees his mom give Hayden a thumbs up and he keeps going. Traitor.
“Okay, how about six thousand dollars?” A good group of hands stay raised.
“Eight thousand!” Someone yells and Shane splutters and shakes his head. In the crowd, his parents and friends look too pleased with the bidding that’s taking place, and Shane can physically feel the uncomfortability of the moment sinking into his bones.
Behind his parents however, Ilya is glaring like he’s going to absolutely murder Hayden.
He was sitting exactly the same as always; relaxed posture, ankle crossed over his knee, one arm over the back of his chair, but Shane knew him too well for that to work. His expression had gone smooth in a way that meant danger. His mouth was set into a line that couldn't be misinterpreted as anything else but pissed.
And his eyes, his eyes were fixed on Shane with this faintly incredulous look, like he couldn’t believe everyone in the room had collectively decided to embarrass themselves by trying to get at his husband. Shane watched him glance at another raised paddle and then back at Shane with visible skepticism, and all at once realized, with a warm spark of delight in his chest, that Ilya was jealous. Like his internal monologue was genuinely: why are these people acting like they get a turn?
God, all their years together and Ilya still looked like he was ready to tear out the throat of anyone that even bothered to look at Shane for a moment too long.
“Ten thousand dollars.” Someone calls out and Shane’s head whips over and sees the football player from earlier with his hand up, sending a warm smile to Shane.
He’s attractive, Shane can’t lie. He’s got warm brown eyes and a gentle smile, and the tux he was in for the evening didn’t hurt either. He didn’t look like someone that would try to kill Shane or be annoying to spend an evening with, and for that much money towards the foundation it couldn't be that bad.
“Holy sh - okay, ten thousand dollars, how about eleven thousand?” Hayden continues on, and the footballer’s hand stays raised.
A few other hands stay up as well and the footballer looks behind him before standing. “Fifteen thousand.” he declares loudly and there’s a roll of applause throughout the audience. Shane’s jaw nearly drops to the floor at that.
“Wow! Okay fifteen thousand, how about - “ Hayden can’t get the words out of his mouth though because Ilya is standing so fast his chair nearly topples over behind him.
“Fifteen five hundred.” he raises his hand and there’s a warm laugh that rolls through the audience when they realize who it is, but Ilya doesn’t seem to notice it. His gaze is locked on the footballer with a furious scowl.
“Um, sixteen?” The footballer responds, keeping his hand up but keeping a wary eye on Ilya at the same time.
“Twenty thousand.” Ilya shouts and there’s another round of applause and cheers throughout the room as he raises his hand higher.
Shane watches, gobsmacked, as his husband flicks his eyes between Hayden and the footballer, silently daring him to bid higher and see what happens. The poor footballer caught in the middle, smiles warily and waves a hand at Shane before sitting down.
“Okay, sold! Well, wait, he’s not sold I guess, but the special evening spent with the lovely Shane Hollander goes to,” Hayden stops to shake his head for a moment and sighs. “It goes to Ilya Rozanov. Give him a hand everybody.”
Shane smiles at Ilya and he’s blushing on stage, he knows it, but he can’t help it. It’s like the room of people isn’t even there anymore as he locks eyes with Ilya, who grins cockily and sends him a wink. It’s so publicly claiming, so overly dramatic of him, and Shane doesn’t think that he could love him more even though he’s never wanted to crawl out of skin more in his life.
Finally, once the certificate for the yacht experience was relocated and auctioned off to a nice couple from Toronto, Shane was released from his duties on stage and walked off with Hayden, exhaling hard like he was trying to push all the nervous energy out of himself.
“Hayden Pike, what a wonderful save.” Yuna greets him with open arms and a kiss to the cheek.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hollander.”
“No thank you. We doubled what we expected and you kept people laughing and drinking, and you know what they say.”
“Drunk and happy people spend more money.” Hayden, Shane, and Ilya all repeat back at the same time, having heard the same spiel from her all week leading up to the gala.
She nods happily and picks up her glass of wine and takes David’s hand, who’s just laughing and shaking his head. “Good job, boys.” She tips her glass at them before leaning into David’s side and leaving to find their friends.
“You did so good, honey. Just try not to sell your best friend the next time.” Jackie sighs as Hayden wraps his arms around her and leans in for a kiss.
“No promises.” He smiles.
“No, promise. You must promise.” Ilya shakes his head as he winds an arm around Shane’s waist and pulls him close again. But he can’t keep arguing with Hayden because Shane has stepped between them in his line of sight and looked at him with shock.
“What the hell? Twenty grand, babe?” Shane asks, shocked but not able to completely hide his smile as he looks at Ilya with wide eyes.
“I win!” He cheers, like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“Ilya you don’t have to buy my time. We live together. We’re married!”
“It’s not about buying your time, it’s about beating that man that tried to beat me.”
“For twenty thousand dollars?”
“Would have spent more.” he shrugs and pulls Shane in for a hug and presses a kiss to his cheek and keeps his lips close to his ear to whisper. “I would do anything to make sure that no one ever gets you alone ever again.” he says slowly, nearly growling in his ear.
He pulls back and smiles innocently and kisses his cheek again, like he didn’t just nearly make Shane drop to his knees in public with his words.
“Wh-what?” Shane sputters, but he can’t say more because suddenly the Centaurs are around them and asking for a team picture and Shane just prays to god that he looks at least somewhat composed.
By the end of the night the ballroom had thinned out into the pleasant aftermath of a successful event, heels abandoned under tables, jackets off, volunteers carrying centerpieces home, people lingering because nobody wanted to be the first to admit the evening was over.
Shane and Ilya had ended up with their friends around one of the high cocktail tables near the back, all finishing the last bottle of champagne that was opened for the evening.
Hayden was still riding the high of a successful evening when he raised his glass. “To the Irina Foundation.”
Everyone raised their glass up before drinking, and Shane rubbed Ilya’s back warmly, knowing that hearing her name and seeing everything they were able to accomplish in one night was nothing short of extraordinary. Shane knows without a shadow of a doubt that she would be so extremely proud of him, just like Shane was. Ilya turned his head and gave Shane a bittersweet smile, like he could read his mind. Shane kissed his shoulder lightly before finally deciding that he’d had enough and was ready to go home.
They all said goodbye, and as soon as they start walking away, Ilya’s hand tangles with Shane’s so they’re walking shoulder to shoulder out of the hotel; the warm presence of each other soothing without words.
In the car on the way home Ilya’s hand is pressed firmly to the inside of Shane’s thigh, the broad width of it taking up nearly all the space, making Shane feel pinned by just his palm where he sat in the passenger seat.
He was happy to have quiet in the car, he knew they’d talk when they got home, but for now he appreciated the known quiet that Ilya held for him after a hectic and loud evening. Shane could physically feel himself settling back into his body as they came closer and closer to their home.
Ilay's thumb draws wide and calming circles over the seam of his pants and Shane counts them absentmindedly as they drive, feeling grounded and calm under the feeling they left in their wake.
It’s resting there the same way Ilya always touches him in public now, without hesitation. Like it doesn’t occur to him not to. Like Shane belongs within reach.
His thumb drags another slow line over the seam of his pants, and Shane thinks suddenly of all the years before.
Of leaving first.
Of pretending.
Of walking through crowded rooms with whole conversations happening under the surface of everything.
Of wanting to stand closer.
Wanting to touch, wanting to look too long; wanting and wanting and wanting and teaching himself to act like he didn’t. Back then, he thinks, he would’ve taken anything. A glance, a shoulder bump, five extra minutes. Back then this, this exact moment, would’ve felt greedy.
Sitting in the passenger seat after a public event. Going to any event together.
Ilya’s hand spread over his thigh like there was nowhere else it belonged, taking him home. Shane looks down at the hand, pinning him in place in the easiest way. And something in his chest twists unexpectedly because he realizes -
Ilya doesn’t hold him like someone who’s afraid he’ll disappear, he holds him like someone who finally believes he gets to keep him. That thought settles warm and deep inside Shane, because for years he thought loving Ilya meant always being prepared to let go.
To be reasonable, to understand all the reasons why it wouldn’t work.
And now. . .
Now they leave together, now Ilya reaches for him in rooms full of people. Now there are photographs somewhere from tonight where Ilya is standing too close and looking at Shane instead of the camera. Now they get in the same car and Ilya puts his hand on his leg and doesn’t move it the entire drive home.
Like Shane is his; of course he is. There was no one else in the world who he could possibly belong to.
Outside the city passes by in streaks of light but inside the car Shane thinks, with something that still feels dangerously close to disbelief, we don’t have to give each other back anymore.
When they get home and park, they get out and Ilya is immediately holding his hand out to hold Shane’s as they walk inside the house. They enter quietly and take off their shoes in synchronized motions before locking up and heading up the stairs. Shane strips as soon as he can, wanting the layers of fabric off his body as soon as possible.
Shane huffs after he takes off his suit jacket and hangs it up, somehow flustered with the knot of his tie. Ilya tuts from across the closet; already down to just his pants, unzipped and open where he pauses and closes the short distance between him and Shane. His face is focused as he softly grabs the tie and starts undoing it gently and slowly.
It’s quiet between them, and Shane feels drunk off the smell of his cologne after such an intense day.
“You are thinking.” He says suddenly, causing Shane to nod slightly.
“I am.”
“Am I allowed to know?” He asks quietly, moving to take one of Shane’s hands and gently undo the cufflink that’s there. Shane is quiet for a moment as he collects his thoughts and watches Ilya’s large fingers navigate the tiny pieces of metal, putting them aside gently before coming back and undoing the buttons of his shirt for him
“Yes.” he nods after a moment. “I liked it. When you stood up, for the auction. But also when you kept your arm around me. I felt,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “I felt like I was yours. I am yours.” He corrects him and Ilya nods like he approves. “I’m yours, and everybody knows us.”
Ilya sighs like he’s catching his breath before he responds. “Shane, there is nothing in this world that can keep me away from you. I am yours until I die, and even then, in the next life I am yours too.” He responds as he opens Shane’s shirt and moves his hands to hold his bare waist and to stand closer to his body.
Their chests touch and at the single press of bare skin to bare skin, Shane feels as though he’s already melting against his skin. It’s like he comes back into his body at that moment. Like he remembers every bit of sensation he’d pushed to the back of his brain for the evening and he whines as he nods and presses closer to Ilya.
“Ilya - “
“I do not share.” He noses the side of his neck, Shane half expects him to sink his teeth in. “Maybe I have to show you? Maybe I have to give you my cock again so you can remember that it is yours. That it is the only one that makes you cry, makes you cum without anything else.”
Hours of preparation had brought them here.
Hours before the gala even began, Shane had bent over their bed, Ilya’s slick fingers working him open with methodical, torturous patience, then sealing him up with his favorite plug.
That plug had been Ilya’s idea. “So you feel it every time you move.” he’d said, adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror while Shane squirmed against the sheets. “So you remember, all night, what’s waiting for you when we get home.”
And Shane had remembered. During champagne toasts and speeches. During the auction itself, shifting on his chair, cheeks flushed, hyperaware of the silicone pressing against nerves that made his vision blur if he sat on it just right. It grounded him more than anything else could, and no one had to know - it was just for them.
Now, finally they were alone.
“Look at you.” Ilya spun him by the hips to face the mirror on the wall behind them, chest pressing against Shane’s back. “Do you see what I saw tonight? Do you see what I wasn’t going to let anyone else have?”
Shane’s reflection stared back at him, pupils blown wide, lips parted and slick, a flush spreading down his throat. “Ilya. . . ” He pants.
Ilya’s fingers found the zipper of Shane’s pants, dragging it down with deliberate slowness. “You talked to every person in that room tonight. You smiled on stage for twenty minutes. And that man. That man, who kept looking at your mouth like he wanted to - ”
“He won’t. No one will, not ever. Just you.” Shane whimpers, shaking his head, his mind solely focused on the comforting and simultaneously exhilarating feeling of Ilya teasing him.
“You were mine.” The word landed like a slap, and Shane’s trousers hit the floor. “And he forgot. Wearing this plug I put inside you while another man imagined - ” He stopped himself, jaw tightening as he shook his head. “Strip. Now.”
Shane’s hands shook as he worked his briefs down and shoved them down his legs. The mirror showed everything, the way Ilya watched him, the way his own cock strained against his briefs, the way the plug’s base was just visible when bent to pick up his clothes and put them back in the closet.
Ilya circled behind him. Didn’t touch. Just let the anticipation build until Shane’s skin prickled with goosebumps.
“You took my fingers inside you, and you still wanted more.” He states, finally coming around again to stand in front of Shane.
“Always want more.” Shane’s voice cracked. “Always want you.” He shook his head, it was the most obvious thing in the world. The sky was blue, the sun would rise again tomorrow, and there would never be a world in which Shane didn’t want Ilya, didn’t love him like he was the most important thing in the world.
Ilya seems to have liked his answer as a small smile picks up at the corner of his mouth before his hand grips Shane’s jaw gently, tilting his head back. “Open.”
Shane’s lips parted instantly with a whine. A beat of eye contact, then Ilya gathered saliva and let it drop, a deliberate, filthy strand that landed on Shane’s waiting tongue.
“Swallow.”
Shane did. His throat worked, and Ilya’s grip tightened approvingly when he sighed in relief.
“Good. Such a good boy for me.” Ilya released his jaw and stepped back, shrugging out of his pants. “Hands on the mirror.”
Palms pressed against cool glass. Shane watched his own breath fog the surface as Ilya came to stand behind him and run his hands over his waist and down to his ass.
“You wore this all night.” Ilya’s thumb traces around the base, not pressing, just teasing. “Every toast. Every handshake. And now I’m going to give you what you want.”
The removal was achingly slow as Ilya knelt behind him and worked him up gently. Shane’s forehead pressed against the mirror as Ilya worked the plug free, fucking his open and wet hole with his fingers for a moment, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing.
“Still okay?” Ilya asks, kissing the curve of his asscheek gently, circling a finger around his hole to check that it’s still open and ready.
“Yes. Good, still so good.” Shane moans and pushes his ass back, chasing Ilya’s fingers. He presses kisses along his lower back and ass before he stands and puts the plug away.
“Don’t move.”
Behind him, the sound of a cap opening makes him moan in anticipation as Ilya comes back. He hears the wet, unmistakable sound of Ilya slicking himself up, and then his cockhead was pressing against Shane’s entrance, hot and blunt and maddeningly still. He knows this is what Shane needs. To feel a bigger stretch than the plug could offer. To be lost to everything that wasn’t Ilya cock inside of him like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.
“Say it.” Ilya’s voice was gravel. “Say what you are.”
“Yours.” The word barely made it out. “Ilya, please, I’m yours - ”
Ilya pushed inside.
No gradual giving-way, no polite hesitation, just one long, claiming stroke that seated him to the hilt while Shane cried out and scrabbled against the mirror. The stretch burned in the best possible way, hours of anticipation collapsing into this single overwhelming fullness.
“Mine.” Ilya’s hips drew back and snapped forward again, harder. His hands held his hips like a vice and it still didn't feel close enough. “Mine.” Another thrust. “Not anyone else’s.”
Shane’s words were already dissolving. “Ilya, fuck, Ilya. . .”
“That’s it.” Ilya’s rhythm built, each stroke aimed to devastate, angled to hit the spot that made Shane’s vision white out. “Forget everything except me.”
The mirror fogged. Shane’s palms squeaked against the glass with every impact, his cock bobbing untouched, dripping onto the reflective surface. Ilya’s reflection behind him was a study in controlled violence, forearms and abs flexing with effort, and that expression of absolute ownership carved into every feature.
“Look at yourself.” Ilya’s hand tangled in Shane’s hair, yanking his head up. “Look at what you look like taking my cock.”
Shane looked. Saw his own wrecked face, tears beading at his lashes, mouth open and slack. Saw Ilya behind him like something out of a dark dream. Saw the place where their bodies joined, the relentless rhythm of it.
“Beautiful.” The praise landed like a kiss. “My perfect, beautiful slut. My good boy.”
Ilya pulled out then and Shane whined and pushed his hips back at the change. He felt like he was suddenly dunked into cold water without the weight of Ilya’s cock inside him and he’d be embarrassed about how emotional that made him if he wasn’t so fucked out.
Shane whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but before he could protest, Ilya’s arm was around his waist, hoisting him up. Then Shane was off his feet entirely, cradled against Ilya’s chest like he weighed nothing, being carried from the closet toward the bedroom.
“I’ve got you.” Ilya’s mouth brushed his temple. “I will not let you fall.”
The bed met Shane’s back a moment later. Ilya followed him down without hesitation, settling between his thighs, and then the heat of him was pressing inside again, one smooth, devastating thrust that punched the air from Shane’s lungs.
“There.” Ilya’s forehead dropped against Shane’s. “Right where you belong. Under me. Full of me.”
Shane’s legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist, ankles locking. His fingers clawed at his broad shoulders. “Harder. Please. I need - ”
“I know what you need.”
The pace Ilya set now was punishing. Not the measured claiming from the closet, this was something deeper, more desperate. His hips drove into Shane with a rhythm that rattled the headboard against the wall, skin slapping skin, the wet sounds of their joining filling the room.
“Spent all night thinking about this.” Ilya’s words came between thrusts, ragged and raw. “Watching you across that room. Knowing you were stretched open under those perfect trousers. Knowing I was going to take you home and fuck you until you cry.”
Shane is sobbing into the sheets. Ilya is all power and fucks into Shane with a pace that seemed impossible. Shane’s back arches off the mattress when Ilya moves one of his legs to rest on his shoulder, and bites the inside of his calf muscle.
“Close, I’m close.” He cries.
“No.” Ilya’s hand closed around the base of Shane’s cock, squeezing just enough to hold him back. “Not until I say.”
A sob tore from Shane’s throat. His head thrashed against the pillows, and Ilya’s grip in his hair returned, holding him still.
“Open your mouth.”
Shane obeyed. Ilya’s spit landed on his tongue again, and the sheer filthy possessiveness of it sent Shane spiraling to the edge. He was nothing but sensation now, fullness and friction, the weight of Ilya pinning him down, the taste of salt, the dark heat in his eyes above him.
“Please,” Shane gasped. “Please, Ilya, I’ve been so good, please let me.”
Ilya’s composure finally cracked. His rhythm stuttered. His hand released its grip on Shane’s cock and grabbed his hip instead, hitching him higher, driving deeper.
“Yes, you are so good for me, so perfect. Come for me. Now. ”
Shane shattered with a cry that might have been Ilya’s name. His release striped across his own stomach, hot and pulsing, while Ilya fucked him through every wave.
And then Ilya’s hips slammed home one final time, grinding deep, and Shane felt the unmistakable pulse of heat flooding him from the inside, Ilya coming with a guttural groan, buried to the hilt, marking him in a way no amount of money could buy.
They lay there, tangled and trembling, chests heaving. Ilya’s weight was crushing and perfect. Shane didn’t care that he could feel himself start to come back into his body little by little, or that Ilya’s cock was softening inside of him. This raw and private moment was his favorite part of being with Ilya. The comfort he felt to stay relaxed and know that he would always be safe.
Ilya pulls out slowly, but doesn’t go far, keeping his body weight pressed on top of Shane.
“You are okay?” Ilya mumbles against Shane’s neck where his face is tucked, kissing it gently as he sighs and shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can look at Shane’s face. He scans it, assessing for any damage and reaches out to hold his throat lightly, like he’s checking his pulse for any panic.
But it’s steady, and Shane wonders if he can feel how his heart beats just for him in the first place.
“Perfect.” He nods and gives him a gentle smile.
“Good. You are such good boy for me.” Ilya smiles warmly and presses their mouths together, his tongue tracing Shane’s lips like he doesn’t want to forget the shape of them.
By the time they untangle, the room has gone quiet in that particular way it only does late at night. Not silent, there’s still the low hum of the house and the sound of the air conditioner, but quiet enough that Shane can hear Ilya breathing.
Shane stays where he is for a minute, laid back against the pillow, eyes half closed. His limbs feel heavy in a good way. Boneless. He could probably fall asleep exactly like this if left alone.
A hand settles on his chest and shakes him ever so lightly.
“Hey,” Ilya says softly from where he’s standing at the side of the bed. He must have drifted off for a moment and makes a noise that isn’t really a word in response, and it earns him a quiet and warm laugh. “You asleep?”
Shane opens his eyes enough to squint at him. “Yes.”
Ilya looks unfairly put together for someone who had been fucking the life out of him ten minutes ago. He brushes his knuckles along Shane’s cheek.
“Come on.” Shane stares at him with a groan and Ilya raises an eyebrow. Shane reaches one hand out blindly and Ilya snorts and takes it immediately.
Shane lets himself be pulled upright with all the dignity of someone being rescued from the ocean. His head ends up resting against Ilya’s chest for a second and Ilya doesn’t move him. Just stands there with one hand rubbing slowly up and down his back.
“You still okay?”
Shane nods. It isn’t even a question about okay.
It means: comfortable? Too cold? Need water? Head quiet?
Shane nods again because yes. More than okay. Ilya presses a kiss into his hair. Then he shifts into motion.
Water first. Shane sits on the closed toilet lid in their bathroom while Ilya hands him a glass and waits until he drinks half of it before accepting it back with obvious satisfaction.
“Good.”
Shane rolls his eyes but lets Ilya pull him gently to his feet.
Ilya moves around him without hurry, brushing shoulders every few seconds where they stand at their side by side sinks. Shane brushes his teeth while leaning against the counter and watches Ilya wash his face. Watches him rinse and wipe his mouth with the back of his wrist.
When he finishes, Shane reaches over and silently hands him the moisturizer.
“You said your skin felt dry this morning.” Shane explains when Ilya looks at him questioningly.
He mutters something in Russian, and Shane is too tired to figure out what and watches him squeeze some into his hand and start applying it to his face with harsh scrubs of his fingers. Shane finishes brushing his teeth and when his toothbrush is put away he reaches out to catch his wrist.
“Gentle.” He pleads.
Ilya doesn’t protest when Shane takes over. His fingers are warm as he smooths the rest over Ilya’s cheek and temple with focused concentration. Ilya just stands there. Lets his eyes close, lets Shane do it with a gentle hum and total trust and adoration. Shane finishes and taps his cheek once.
“There.”
Ilya opens his eyes. Shane’s looking at him in that softened way he gets sometimes late at night. Like there’s nowhere else he’s supposed to be.
Ilya reaches out and catches his wrist before he can pull away. His hands are always warm, always careful. Years of hockey and old injuries and rough skin and somehow every touch still arrives gentle.
Ilya presses a kiss into the center of Shane’s palm.
Shane looks startled for half a second, then pleased. “Very romantic.” he says.
Ilya shrugs and Shane can only smile and turn off the bathroom light. Back in bed, Ilya goes immediately toward him without thinking. Shane opens his arm before Ilya even gets all the way under the duvet.
Ilya crawls in and settles himself between Shane’s legs, one of his own legs tossed over his, and lays his head on his chest, his arms coming to rest at Shane’s sides, stroking the flesh there with his thumbs.
He sighs heavily when he finally shifts a few times and settles. Shane’s hands find their home in his hair. Running his hands through the gold stands and shaking out the last bit of product he’d used for the day to free his curls so he could play with them and scratch his scalp.
Ilya is quiet as Shane widgets with his hair, still feeling relaxed and sated, but knowing that Ilya was restless, not in his body but in his mind.
“You’re thinking.” Shane parrots Ilya’s earlier sentiment, breaking the silence and nudging him slightly and kissing his forehead.
Ilya hums and stays quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I am worried sometimes, that I am too. . . clingy. That I am selfish and I need you too much. That I am too much.”
Shane feels his heart physically ache at his words. “Ilya - “
“I know, I know, but you are so beautiful, and smart, and funny, and sexy; you could have anyone, but you chose me, and now I am like a dog that will bite if anyone gets too close.”
Shane can’t help but huff a laugh at that. “I like it. I like when you bite. Makes people know that I’m yours, that you protect me and what we have. I love you so much, it’s crazy.”
Ilya hums contently at his response and turns his head down to press his lips to the center of Shane’s chest and kiss the skin there gently. Shane knows that he’s okay, but his heart aches like he can feel whatever is worrying Ilya.
“You don’t have to,” Shane starts, “but you can tell me anything. I will always listen, you don’t have to be scared.” He adds quietly and Ilya makes a wounded noise in response and swallows hard before he opens his mouth to respond.
“I think. . . “ he pauses for a moment but Shane just stays quiet, letting him think and continuing to run his fingers through his curls. “I think that, everyone else is gone. My family, they don’t, they’re all. . .” He swallows hard and Shane holds him a fraction tighter. “If I lost you I would be all alone. And I just got to know what it’s like to be not alone anymore, and I don’t think I’d survive it all on my own again. I can’t go back.” He sniffles, and Shane feels a tear leak out of his eye and onto his bare chest.
“And I know, and I feel, that you love me, but I worry someday that I will become bad. That I will end up being someone you did not agree to love, to marry. And I don’t want to cling too much, and I am scared that if I am bad you will see that everyone wants you. That you could have anyone. And I want you to be happy, and do what is best, but I am a selfish man, and I don’t ever want to be without you.”
He knows he can do anything to fix what’s happened to him in the past, no matter how much he daydreamed of having the opportunity to kill his father himself. He can’t undo what’s been done, but he can brush his thumb along his jaw and keep his lips to his forehead as he speaks.
“Sorry.” Ilya huffs out after a moment and sniffles again.
“No, no. Nothing to be sorry about. Never be sorry for telling me what you think. You’re so brave, Ilya, and you’ve been through so much. I’m so happy that I have you now, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for forever. I promise, baby.” He adds, not able to hide the raw emotion in his voice.
Ilya nods against his chest and takes a deep breath. “Say it again.” He asks, and Shane can hear the slight pout in his voice and it makes his heart flip. He loved when Ilya was needy for him.
“Baby. My baby, I’m so sorry you were alone. But I love you so much, and no one has ever mattered to me as much as you, not from the very first day. I don’t want anything without you.”
Ilya’s head lifts and he’s pouting his lips and Shane barely has to lift his head to connect their mouths in a warm and gentle kiss that feels like home.
“I love you. So much.” He whispers against his lips. “Thank you.” He adds and kisses his lips again, and again, and again, before laying his head down on Shane’s chest and letting him wrap both of his strong arms around him to hold him tight to his chest.
“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He can feel Ilya smile against his chest and it calms something in him, letting his brain relax all the way as he drifts into sleep.
“Hmm, I know you will.” Ilya responds before sleep takes them both, wrapped up in each other in their home, in the future that they both worked so hard for.
In the future that they’d both do it all again for.
Ten Days Later
“How do I know that you are not going to kill me?”
“Oh my god you are being such a baby, I’m not going to kill you.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. The last time you put a blindfold on me we were in very different circumstances.” He purrs suggestively and Shane just laughs and shakes his head as he drives. He has one hand on the wheel, and the other firmly clasped in both of Ilya’s where he’s sitting, blindfolded in the passenger seat.
“Shut up. You liked that and we both know it.”
“Of course I liked it.” He shakes his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Shane just sighs. “Just last time I was also tied to the bed, and now you put me in the car so murder is my only guess this time.”
“Just like, two more minutes, okay? Trust me.” He says and parks the car a few moments later when they finally reach their destination. “Okay, I’m going to get out of the car and come get you, don’t get out!” He says before getting out of the car.
Ilya can hear him messing with something in the trunk, before closing it and walking around the car to get Ilya. He can hear his feet crunch on gravel but other than that, he has no idea where they could be.
He reaches for him on instinct, standing up and finding the curve of his waist with his hands. Shane takes his hand in his own and pulls him forward. They’re outside, he knows that, and he hears their footsteps move from gravel to grass.
“Okay, just, stand there for a second. Don’t move.” Shane says as they suddenly stop.
“Anything for you.” Ilya holds up his hands in surrender and hears Shane put something down and a rustle of fabric.
“Okay, take it off. But don’t laugh at me.” Shane says from somewhere in front of him. He reaches up slowly, going for the tie at the back of the fabric around his eyes and undoing it before pulling it off his face.
He blinks as his eyes adjust to the light for a second before he feels his mouth open in not shock, but wonder, and he feels his chest ache with how much love he has for Shane in that exact moment.
Because in front of him, is the most beautiful view he’d ever seen. It was golden hour and they were at a park that overlooked the city and the water, and in front of him was a plush blanket spread out with a picnic basket with a bottle of wine and two glasses out. Most importantly though, Shane was standing next to it with his hands on his hips, and a small nervous smile on his mouth.
“Ta da.” He gestures gently at the basket and the view. “This is your twenty thousand dollar evening with Shane Hollander-Rozanov. As contractually obligated.” He smiles and messes with the hem of the sweater that he’s wearing like he’s actually nervous. “There’s sandwiches too, from the deli you like, and the wine is the same one we had at my parent’s house last month. It’s the pino grigio though because I couldn’t find the chardonnay even though I went to the wine shop again, and - are, are you crying?”
Ilya lets out a wet laugh, not even realizing that he’d teared up as he took in the sight in front of him. He thought about Shane preparing all of this, thoughtfullying putting together a basket of his favorite things and taking him out to surprise him on a date, something they’d missed the luxury of doing for so many years. The thought alone of Shane focused and gently packing the glasses and setting everything up in the car was so sweet and so pure, Ilya almost felt like he didn’t deserve it.
And Shane, was - Shane was perfect. He looked nervous, like there was a world in which Ilya wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t sob at the sweetness from his beautiful husband, who was glowing in the sunset light over the city.
Ilya laughs again and wipes his face as Shane approaches. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” he laughs as well and gathers him in his arms. Ilya holds him close, and they’re both laughing. Ilya’s lips find his cheek like a moth to a flame and he pulls away just enough to press his lips to Shane’s in a kiss that he hopes conveys everything that he’s feeling.
“Happy tears?” Shane suggests quietly when Ilya pulls away to nuzzle his face into the side of neck. He hums, but he already misses Shane’s face so he raises his head and takes it between his palms.
He always holds Shane like this, like he’s always holding something precious and gentle. Like he can’t believe how fucking lucky he got.
“So happy. You are perfect, and I love it, I love you, so much. So fucking much.” He stresses, squishing Shane’s cheeks slightly just because he can and he likes the way his pink lips pucker slightly to make them look even more pouty.
He un-squishes his cheeks and Shane just smiles contently, like everything was going exactly the way he wanted, which most importantly included Ilya feeling so loved and so happy that he bursts with it.
“Good. I love you so much. Always.” He nods and Ilya nods back immediately.
“Always.” He nods and kisses Shane’s lips again, pecking them over and over again until he’s laughing and squirming and Ilya takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him in for a hug.
Shane tugs on his hand after a moment and moves to sit on the blanket. He looks up at Ilya and pats the spot next to him, and Ilya does, but not before pulling out his phone to take a picture of Shane looking at him over his shoulder with a sky smile and the city in the background. He finally sits next to Shand and happily takes a glass of wine from him as he stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning on his side to stare up at Shane.
“Okay, you feed me 20,000 Canadian dollar sandwich now, yes?” Ilya asks as he sips his wine.
“Oh now I have to feed you?” Shane faux grumbles, already lighting up at the prospect.
“I was promised a one-on-one evening with Shane Hollander, I’m assuming you are going to be doing a lot more than feeding me.” He winks and Shane groans but can’t stop the smile on his face.
“My ass was not up for action, excuse me.”
“Doesn’t have to be ass, can me mouth, can be hands, can be -“
“A twenty thousand dollar hand job doesn’t seem worth it though.” Shane shrugs.
“Okay so mouth or ass, I still win.” He shrugs and Shane unwraps half of the sandwich, and to his delighted surprise, holds it up to Ilya’s mouth with a hand under his chin. He opens and takes a bite, moaning when the flavor hits his tongue.
“I think I have competition if that’s how you're moaning for a sandwich." Shane quips and Ilya is already shaking his head as he takes a bite from the same side of the sandwich.
“No, on my list of things that make me moan it is you first and always, of course, then it is mortadella.” He smiles cheerily.
“You’re ridiculous. I do not want to be compared to a piece of meat.”
“That’s funny, I seem to remember you being on auction just last week.”
“Shut up.” Shane grumbled with a smile. “And plus, you won, remember? I’m all yours.” He shrugs and looks at Ilya just in time to see his eyes go soft and hum and his words.
“Yes.” He replies quietly and wholeheartedly. “Yes I did.” He nods and Shane can’t help but lean down to kiss him.
Because he really was. All his.