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Ilya is woken up by a kiss that tastes of Shane and toothpaste. He leans into it automatically, sliding his tongue between Shane’s lips until Shane huffs out a laugh and pulls away.
“Brush your teeth,” Shane says.
Ilya groans and obeys, rolling out of bed and padding off to the bathroom. The small gaps between the curtains show it’s still dark outside. It’s not a bad hotel but with Game Seven of the playoffs tomorrow, they aren’t exactly going to have time to enjoy the amenities.
When Ilya comes back from the bathroom, Shane is sitting cross-legged on the bed, with only the dim light of the bedside lamp illuminating him. And, heart-stoppingly sweet, that of the candles on the little cake he’s holding in his hands.
Shane’s dark eyes sparkle in the gleam of the candles as he smiles up at Ilya. “Happy thirty-first, baby,” he whispers.
“Shane,” Ilya chokes out.
“Come here and eat cake,” Shane says, his smile getting even wider.
Ilya joins him on the bed. He takes all the kisses Shane lets him have, so many that he almost forgets about the cake.
Eventually, Shane rests their foreheads together, cradling the cake protectively between their bodies. The candles have gone out, thankfully without lighting anything on fire.
“I love you,” Shane says.
“Shane,” Ilya says again, stealing another kiss. “Ya lyublyu tebya. I cannot believe you did this.”
“It’s only a cake,” Shane says, even though they both know it isn’t.
Shane’s focus during this playoff run is unlike anything Ilya has ever seen, and he’s seen everything about Shane, always. He’d been fully ready for Shane to be so focused on the training he’d forget the date, and might only realise it’s Ilya’s birthday once someone else brought it up. Ilya couldn’t have blamed him; it’s due to Shane more than anyone else that they’ve come this far. He feels himself tear up at Shane planning enough to get a cake and candles for him in advance despite the rush and pressure of the playoffs.
“Hey,” Shane whispers. “Are you okay, Ilya?”
“Yes,” Ilya reassures him. “Happy. So happy that you are here.”
It’s Shane who darts forward for a quick kiss now. They inch closer to each other so that their feet are touching while they eat cake with their fingers, licking frosting from each other’s mouths.
“I have a real gift at home for you,” Shane says after they’ve broken apart enough to speak.
Ilya grins at him. “Is it the cute bow for Anya we saw in the pet store?”
“I told you wanting to buy that was silly,” Shane says. “She has a million accessories.”
“So yes, is the bow?”
“Yes, obviously.”
Ilya laughs so much he can barely kiss Shane again, but he does his best anyway. Eventually, he pulls himself away, but with reluctance. “We have to get dressed, right? Is it time for breakfast?”
“It’s all right, we have some time,” Shane says. “I set the alarm early.”
“You set a sex alarm? That is the sluttiest thing you have ever done. And you have done a lot of slutty things for me.”
“Shut up.”
Shane scoots back and undresses in a hurry and then helps Ilya get rid of his clothes, pressing soft kisses to Ilya’s skin as they go.
“Love you,” Shane breathes against Ilya’s clavicle, his wrist, his hipbone. “Love you so, so much, Ilya.”
“This is the only present I want,” Ilya says, toppling Shane over onto the bed and kissing him firmly before leaning their foreheads together. “You, Shane.”
“Flatterer,” Shane says.
“You love it.”
“Yes.” Shane is grinning. “I love you.”
“Love you, Shane,” Ilya murmurs, before sliding down Shane’s body to lick at the head of his dripping cock, savouring the familiar taste of his precome.
“Mhm, Ilya,” Shane sighs. “Come on.”
“Is my birthday,” Ilya says. “I can go as slow as I want.”
Shane scoffs. “We always go as slow as you want.”
“Yes, and you always like it.”
“I do,” Shane breathes. “You make me feel so good, every time.”
Shane knows what he’s doing, Ilya is well aware, but Shane gets what he wants anyway. Ilya sucks the head of his cock into his mouth and grips Shane’s ass when he bucks up.
Shane whines when Ilya pulls off again to rub his cheek against the sensitive skin on the inside of Shane’s thigh, making Shane clutch his hair and moan. Ilya chuckles to himself. He knows Shane likes his playoff beard.
“I will win for you tomorrow,” Ilya promises. “I will hand you your Cup and then I will kiss you, and everyone else can fuck off.”
“Oh, god,” Shane groans. “More.”
Ilya bites him gently, until Shane chokes out a please. Ilya soothes the bite marks with soft, wet kisses before going back to rubbing his beard against Shane’s skin.
“Yes,” Shane gasps. “Everywhere. Want to see it later. Want to feel it while we train.”
“Fuck,” Ilya grunts, and marks Shane up as asked. “When we win, I will tell them it is all for you, the press, the fans, anyone. Everything for you, Shane.”
“Oh, fuck, Ilya,” Shane rasps. “Here, up here.”
He grabs Ilya’s face in his hands and kisses him, hot and hard and with teeth, then rolls them over so he’s on top and can climb all over Ilya.
“Mine.” Shane is panting hard against Ilya’s lips. “Mine, mine, mine. No one else’s. Only mine.”
He bites Ilya’s neck, his shoulder, his pecs, hard and fast and sure to leave marks. Ilya growls at the delicious sting of it. He holds onto the back of Shane’s head and tells him he’s perfect because he is.
“Harder,” he rasps when Shane rolls his hips, sliding their cocks together. Shane digs his teeth in, moans coming out muffled against Ilya’s skin, the grind of his hips becoming uncoordinated until Ilya grabs his ass and takes control of their rhythm.
Shane doesn’t stop biting until he has to pull off for air, taking heaving breaths and giving Ilya the opportunity to flip them back over. Ilya kisses down and back up Shane’s chest, squeezing his pecs and sucking a nipple into his mouth until Shane is writhing beneath him and begging for more.
Ilya doesn’t tease this time, just swallows Shane down and sucks hard, bobbing his head eagerly when Shane desperately pulls at his curls. Ilya savours it, the taste and feel and scent of Shane, over the still-lingering taste of chocolate frosting on his tongue. He takes Shane’s cock deeper until the head hits the back of his throat and Shane whimpers, clearly on the brink of coming. Ilya grinds his hips against the mattress, he can’t help it.
“Wanna keep you here.” Shane is babbling on the verge of incoherence, lovely. “In this room, jus’ for me. Make you come again and again, all day.” He cants his hips up into Ilya’s mouth in tiny little thrusts. “You’re for me, you belong to me. Don’ want anyone to have any of you. Don’ want ‘em lookin’ at you. All mine, Ilya.”
Ilya comes so hard he needs to collect himself for a second before he can continue sucking Shane properly. Ilya takes him deeper, feels Shane’s abs tensing. He reaches to cup Shane’s balls with just enough pressure to be slightly painful, exactly the way Shane occasionally likes it, and then Shane is coming down his throat, crying out uninhibited like he would at home.
Ilya swallows greedily and pulls off to find Shane looking down at him with his cheeks flushed and pupils blown. Ilya hovers in his place until Shane grabs his shoulders and pulls him up to lie on his chest. Ilya presses kisses to Shane’s heart and nudges his thigh between Shane’s until Shane wraps a leg around his back to anchor him. Shane shifts to give Ilya friction and makes a surprised little noise when he finds him soft.
“Did you already -”
“Yes. You were talking, that was very good.”
“Ilya, fuck, that’s so hot.”
Ilya laughs and kisses Shane’s chest again. Shane’s hands go back to his hair, lazily playing with the strands.
“Shane?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“I told you ‘s the least I can do to get you a cake.”
Ilya kisses him. “I meant for being mine like I am yours.”
“Oh,” Shane breathes. “Baby. I am. Always.”
The alarm goes off. Shane’s set it to an instrumental version of Happy Birthday to You. Ilya laughs.
“Fuck off, I thought it would be fun.”
“You are the most fun, Shane.”
“Oh, shut up. Let’s go shower.”
Ilya pulls Shane in for another slow kiss, before following him out of bed.