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For the first time since Ilya entered the cottage he feels…bare. Not in the sense that he’s naked–majority of his time in the cottage is spent that way–rather, he feels alone. He feels the absence of strong arms wrapped around his body and sturdy legs entangled in his own and the way the bed slightly shifts under the added weight of another. This absence reminds him of bitter nights. Nights spent alone in hotel rooms long after Hollander left when Ilya’s tongue was weighed down by all the things he wanted to say before he had gone.
Ilya finally opens his eyes, a bit disturbed at the realizations from a moment earlier. He’s grown too comfortable, too used to Shane’s presence. It had only been a week, for god’s sake. A few weeks since the off season began. A couple weeks since Scott Hunter made hockey history and Ilya made his–what he thought was stupid–decision to come to the cottage. A week since they got to said cottage. A couple days since saying I love you for the first time. A few days since they’d been caught and had to talk to Shane's parents. A few days of being boyfriends.
But it’s only been a week. A bit early for Ilya to feel comfortable.
The sun beams through the large glass windows, hitting Ilya’s sensitive eyes as he begins to blink awake. God, what time is it? Surely late, or at least far later than Shane would get up. Guess that explains why he’s gone. Ilya reaches over and searches for his phone on the nightstand, squinting to read the time as he brings the screen to his face.
10:08? Jesus. No wonder Shane’s long gone. Ilya hadn’t been keeping track, of course, but Shane would usually have been up for four or five hours by now. The odd thing is Shane usually wakes Ilya up at some point in his routine, rather intentionally or not. Or Ilya wakes himself up to tease Shane about his absurd morning routine full of exercise and skincare far too specific for a hockey player.
Everything just kept feeling more and more suspicious.
Ilya sat up in bed, scrolling through endless notifications. Some are headlines from various sports news sites, others are celebrity gossip sites that Ilya may or may not have forgotten to unsubscribe from since the Rose Landry incident. Every once in a while there’d be an email or two from a coach discussing summer training that Ilya barely had an interest in. Ilya mindlessly thumbed through it all til he got to the very bottom, seeing two notifications from around midnight.
Ilya checks the date on his phone. June 15th.
It’s his birthday.
He always seems to let it sneak up on him. Between the end of playoffs and heading back to Russia, he barely bothers. Most he usually does to celebrate is go out to dinner or to a bar with Svetlana every now and then back in Russia, only after some convincing on Sveta’s part.
He thanks the both of them for the well wishes before finally getting out of bed to find Shane. He searches through the drawers for something to wear, thinking back to the back-and-forth with Shane over moving his clothes out of his suitcase.
”You might as well. You’re going to be staying for two weeks. Make yourself at home.”
Ilya throws on a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, about to leave the room before catching something in the corner of his eye. A piece of paper left on the same nightstand Ilya dragged his phone from. He walks over to it, picking it up.
Hey, woke up early and didn’t want to wake you. I should be back by the time you get up, though. Just went on a run and then got some groceries.
Love you, Shane
The love you sends a bolt of energy through Ilya. He can’t believe after eight years this is real and actually happening. This man is his boyfriend.
Ilya walks off through the cottage, finding Shane in the kitchen. He’s a vision, as always. He has on an open red flannel with a white shirt underneath and shorts that barely pass as long enough to go in public. He smiles when he notices Ilya walking up to him. Ilya wraps his arms around him from the back, placing a kiss on his neck. Shane giggles, leaning into Ilya’ touch.
“Good morning, Ilya.”
“Mm, good morning.”
Ilya began to trail kisses down Shane’s neck slowly, pulling giggles and small noises from his boyfriend.
“Why didn’t you get me up?” Ilya mummers into the crook of Shane’s neck, the vibrations tickling Shane and pulling more laughs from him, a sweet sound to Ilya’s ears.
“I wanted to let you sleep in while I ran some errands. I did get you breakfast, though.” Shane nods to a plastic bag sitting adjacent from them that Ilya barely noticed when he walked in. He hesitantly walks over to the bag, seeing it’s filled with waffles and eggs and bacon and all the other things Ilya indulges in but Shane barely touches.
“You did not have to–I would’ve eaten your boring, protein-filled breakfast like always.”
“Yeah, but you would've complained the whole time.”
“True.” Ilya grins, walking over and placing a kiss on Shane’s cheek before sitting down to eat. The two make ideal conversation over breakfast. Every so often shane would look down to check his phone, lingering for just a bit too long. After one time too many, Ilya makes a grab at Shane’s phone, at which Shane quickly pulls away.
“What are you doing, Hollander? It’s off-season. The off in that means you do not have to work.”
“It’s nothing. Just checking a few things.”
“Sure.”
By the time Ilya finishes his breakfast, Shane has just finished putting away dishes. Ilya comes up to him from behind, wrapping his arms around him once again. Shane leans his head back, catching Ilya’s lips. As they kiss, Ilya’s hands slip underneath Shane’s shirt, moving along the expanse of his chest and grazing his nipples. Shane’s hands reach up over Ilya’s, stopping him and pulling his hands away.
“Okay! Okay, stop, Ilya,” Shane giggles, “Let me tell you what I have planned for today.”
Ilya stills at the mention of plans. To be fair, Shane has a plan for everyday but he usually doesn’t feel the need to announce them.
“Plans, Hollander? For what? It is off-season. We can do whatever we want.”
Shane takes a step back and stares at Ilya as if he’s lost his mind. He looks like he’s about to laugh in Ilya’s face, actually.
“Ilya, you can’t be serious.”
“What, Shane?” Ilya comes off annoyed, unsure of what is so obvious.
“It’s your birthday, is it not?”
Ilya smiles. He smiles so hard his cheeks begin to ache and he starts laughing. Shane simply stands, even more confused than before.
Of course Shane didn’t forget. Ilya was sure Shane hadn’t forgotten anything since the day he was born. He somehow had to keep reminding himself that Shane isn’t like his family, isn’t like everyone else. He cares. He remembers. He does the small things. And right now those small things are getting him breakfast and kissing him softly on his birthday.
Ilya calms himself enough to look back at Shane, his hands grabbing at Shane’s waist.
“I just thought–” Ilya begins, but is quickly cut off by Shane.
“You thought what? I forgot? Do you think I’m an idiot, Ilya? Genuinely?"
“Of course not, Hollander.”
“You’re acting like it!” Shane laughs, playfully shoving Ilya off of him. “I mean, someone here has more Stanley cups and it’s not–”
“Ah! Do not joke. You know that second Stanley Cup was only because I felt nice. I let you win it.”
“Sure. You let me win.”
“I know,” Ilya chuckles, “It’s ridiculous.”
Shane giggles, pulling Ilya to the couch to sit down as he continues talking.
“Anyway, our plans. It’s your birthday and we need to celebrate. We’ve never celebrated it together before.”
“Well, I am usually in Russia while you stay in boring Canada.”
“Yeah, yeah. But we’re together now.”
Ilya’s smile somehow grows wider and he’s sure his face will be sore from it tomorrow.
“So, tell me, Hollander. What is grand plan?” Ilya stretches out on the couch, putting his hands behind his head dramatically. Shane rolls his eyes at him and starts to list out various events.
“Well, I’m cooking us dinner. Breaking my diet for you, you’re welcome. My parents wanted to come over and bring you a gift so I thought it’d be nice for us to all have dinner together.”
Ilya nods. To think, a week ago Shane’s parents hated Ilya’s guts and probably would’ve preferred him back in Russia. Now? They’re insisting to come over to give him gifts and celebrate a holiday Ilya barely celebrated himself.
“After dinner,” Shane continues, “they’ll say their goodbyes and leave before it’s too late. Then I'll give you my gift and that’s it.”
“Why do I have to wait for your gift?”
“You’re a big boy, Rozanov. I think you can put it together yourself.” Shane smiles, hitting Ilya on the leg before getting up and walking away. God, Ilya loved that man.
Ilya feels as if the day passed him by quickly, barely feeling like a few hours before Shane’s parents arrived. The doorbell rang as Ilya and Shane were getting ready, Shane insisting Ilya get the door whilst he finished. Ilya was met with two–in his opinion, overly cheery–Hollanders at the cottage door, holding gift bags and a bottle of wine. Yuna immediately goes in to hug Ilya, catching him off guard as he slowly reciprocates.
“Happy birthday, Ilya.” Yuna says, holding Ilya’s face in her hands.
“Thank you. Come in, dinner is almost ready.” Ilya ushers the two to the living room, feeling a bit silly as this is obviously a home they knew inside and out. Ilya still feels like a stranger here and yet they’ve known it since it was built. Shane comes from the bedroom just as the group settles in the living room.
“Hey mom, dad. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it.” Yuna, almost in a complete echo of Shane, responds. The two are so similar it still gives Ilya a bit of pause. David steps in just as Yuna finishes.
“The free food is nice, too.”
The group laughs as Yuna playfully hits David and Ilya sees a bit of him and Shane in the two. Just for a moment.
“Oh! Ilya, here you go. A gift from each of us.” Yuna hands over two bags to Ilya. Ilya’s heart stutters as he accepts the gifts, thanking them both.
“You really did not have to get me anything, Mrs. Hollan—“
“Yuna. I told you, you can call me Yuna, Ilya.”
“Thank you, Yuna.”
Ilya takes the first gift out of the bag, revealing a bottle of one of his favorite colognes, a Russian brand. David speaks up as Ilya holds it to the light.
“I read in an interview somewhere a while back that that’s your favorite? Don’t know if it holds true but I hope you like it.”
“I do. Thank you so much.” Ilya places the bottle on the table and grabs the second bag. Shane rests his hand on Iya’s leg, smiling at him. As much as this is for him, he knows this means a lot to Shane. Being able to see the man he loves with the people he loves. Ilya simply smiles back.
Ilya pulls the second gift out, this one being wrapped. It was certainly larger than the other gift, slim and square. It’s wrapped in black cloth with a golden bow, a nod to his team.
When Ilya unwraps the gift, he’s first met with confusion, at which Yuna promptly speaks up.
“It was David’s idea and I thought it was great. We wanted to hang it up in Shane’s childhood room in our cottage, next to his own. A way to show you’re a part of this family, Ilya. That you should’ve been a long time ago.”
It’s Ilya’s Raiders jersey, in all its glory, framed in a glass case. Ilya imagines, years, fuck, weeks ago, this would’ve been sacrilegious to have the Hollander household, would probably catch flame upon crossing their threshold. And now, only after, what, four days of knowing Ilya? Yuna and David have been so accepting and welcoming to the two of them, to Ilya. Accepting them first and asking questions later.
Ilya doesn’t remember when exactly his eyes began to prick with tears, but before he knew it there were tears down his face and Hollanders surrounding him, hugging him tightly. Ilya could barely rush out thank yous in a mix of English and Russian and some slurred version of the two before Yuna shushed him. She simply wiped a tear from his cheek and looked at him dead on.
“There is no need to thank us, Ilya. This should’ve happened long ago. We didn’t make you and Shane feel like you could tell us. I don’t like how it happened but it happened.”
Ilya sniffed, simply hugging her back. After a few moments, the group breaks apart and makes their way to the dining room for dinner. The four eat and talk and for the first time in a long, long time, Ilya felt content on his birthday. He enjoyed it.
After dinner, Yuna and David say their goodbyes and head back to their cottage, promising to invite Ilya back over to see his jersey before off-season ends. Ilya comes back into the house but Shane is nowhere to be found. He insisted Ilya be the one to walk his parents to their car, saying he needed to put away the dirty dishes. Yet, the dishes were still on the table and Shane was who knows where. It had been ten, maybe fifteen minutes since Shane had disappeared.
“Hollander?” Ilya shouts but to no answer. He ventures further into the house, looking around.
“You could not have gone far that quickly.” Ilya sighs as he walks into the bedroom. He stops in his tracks as soon as he sees the sight in front of him.
Shane Hollander, nude, completely splayed out on his their bed. His eyes are heavy, laced with arousal, and barely open. He’s panting, his chest flushed and rising and falling in quick bursts. The tip of his cock is flushed red and he’s rock hard, twitching as precum leaks onto his abdomen. But this? None of this is a surprise to Ilya. He’s seen that sight a million times over just being in the cottage this week alone. No, what causes Ilya’s pause is the red ribbon wrapped into a bow around Shane’s cock. It’s almost taunting him. Daring him to come closer.
Shane finally notices Ilya’s presence after a few moments, eyes flickering up to the man. He smiles lazily, clearly already mostly gone. Ilya walks further into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Happy birthday, Ilya.”
Ilya doesn’t think he’s ever moved fast in his life. Not even on the ice.
He takes Shane’s face in his hand, quickly connecting their lips. The kiss is aggressive and desperate, chasing after one another. Shane moans when Ilya’s tongue slips into his mouth, putting his hands around Ilya in return. He pulls on Ilya’s clothes, the two only breaking apart so Ilya could take various articles of clothing off. Between every kiss, Ilya’s mumbles of I love yous did not go unheard. Ilya quickly kisses Shane's neck, continuing down his body until he gets to Shane’s dick. He licks a stripe up it, causing Shane to swear and buck his hips, throwing his head back. Ilya carefully pulls the ribbon off, discarding it somewhere on the floor. He wraps his hand around the shaft, stroking slowly and pulling frustrated noises from Shane.
“So perfect for me. Such a good gift. Just for me, yes?” Shane nods in response, word being an afterthought as his brain tries to catch up.
“Yes, Ilya, just for you.” He moans, writhing in Ilya’s touch. Ilya places a kiss on Shane's tip before slowly sinking his mouth onto it, watching every reaction Shane has. He begins to move up and down, holding down Shane’s hips to keep him from bucking up. He sets a ruthless pace, chasing the moans and groans from Shane’s lips. Subconsciously, he runs on the mattress, chasing pleasure from the contact to his now hard cock. It’s almost pathetic, really, how he humps the bed harshly. When he looks up, he sees how truly unraveled Shane is. His lips a glossy red from being bitten, small marks already appearing from where Ilya sucked a bit too hard, freckles usually visible hidden by the flush across his entire body. Ilya wants to keep a mental snapshot of this image for the rest of his life, hang it in the mansions of his mind and very forget it.
“Fuck, Ilya. Just like that, shit. I’m so close..” Shane manages to mutter out, his hand threading into Ilya’s curls. Ilya pushes himself down onto Shane, the tip of his cock pushing into the back of his throat. He swallows around him to keep from gagging, only pushing Shane farther towards the edge. There is no verbal warning before Shane comes, but Ilya feels as his body tenses and Shane’s hand tightens in his hair. When Shane finishes, Ilya comes up, but simply replaces his mouth with his hand, lazily stoking Shane. Shane squirms, looking down at Ilya confused.
“Ilya, I can’t, I–”
“Yes you can, Shane. For me? It is my birthday.”
Shane hesitates for a moment before nodding, closing his eyes as he sank farther into the pillows behind him. Ilya takes careful time working Shane, enjoying how easily he gets to edge once again while overstimulated. Ilya himself couldn’t be closer, hips still bucking into the mattress as he chases his high. This time, when Shane gets on the cusp of releasing, Ilya opens his mouth, placing Shane’s tip on his tongue. As Shane, and subsequently Ilya at the sight of Shane, comes, it lands on Ilya’s tongue, messily. He swallows it, before quickly coming up to Shane and kissing him. Shane indulges Ilya, chasing after his mouth desperately.
The two break apart, Ilya sighing as he hits the mattress with a thump, grinning.
“That was gross.” Shane says, voice barely above a whisper, but there is no disdain in his voice.
“Hm. You liked it.” Ilya shrugs.
“Whatever.”
The two sit in a comfortable silence before, after a while, the dirtiness of it all gets to Shane, he gets up, goes to the bathroom and comes back with a warm towel to clean the both of them. He cleans up Ilya and lets him change as he changes the sheets. Once the two are settled once again, they sit in bed together, limbs wrapped around one another.
“I love you, Shane.” Ilya says into the crook of Shane’s neck, like it’s still a forbidden thing.
“I love you too, Ilya. I hope you had a good birthday.”
“The best.”
“The best?” Shane giggles, “Wow, well I guess I’ll have to work really hard to one up it next year, huh?”
“You can try, Hollander. You can try.”