Chapter Text
Shane knew this was a bad idea, probably a worse idea than meeting up with Ilya, but he could not keep doing that, because nothing could ever come of it, and it was slowly starting to kill him. So, now he was here, at some seedy bar after his game, alone, trying to forget about Ilya. He's sitting in a dark corner at the bar, staring into whatever gross beer he ordered.
"You here alone?" He hears a gruff voice behind him ask. Shane turns to find a dark haired man hovering behind him. He was fairly attractive and just slightly taller than Shane himself.
"I, uh, yeah, I'm here alone." Shane answers, starting to pick at his cuticles.
The dark haired man holds his hand out to Shane, "I'm Carter." Shane takes his and carefully and shakes it, pleasantly surprised that the man doesn't recognize him.
"Uh, Shane." He supplies looking around the bar to see if anyone is watching them but the bar is mostly empty and those in it are more concerned with their own conversations.
"Look Shane, not to come off as too forward, do you want to get out of here? You look like you could use a break." Carter says, nodding towards the back exit. Shane nods and stands, abandoning his beer as he follows Carter out the back of the bar into a secluded alley.
The next thing Shane knows he's pinned against a wall, lips pressed against his.
This was fine.
He wanted this.
The man presses his knee up into Shane's crotch and grinds into him.
This is wrong. He shouldn't do this. He didn't want this.
Shane tried to push him away, "St-stop, please, I want to go."
"Shh, you're fine, stay still for me." Carter whispers to him, grabbing him by his shoulders and flipping him around so his face was pressed harshly against the rough concrete, digging into his cheek. He feels his jeans and boxers get yanked down.
"No, no no no, please, I don't want to." Shane writhed against him. He was professional fucking hockey player for god's sake, why can't he get him off. He's slightly taller than him but Shane knows he's stronger, but still he can't get him off, can't get away. It's like his body just shut down.
Shane is sure he screamed when he thrust into him. It was the worst pain of his life, a sharp, splitting agony shooting up his back and down his thighs all the way to his feet. His face was slammed into the wall, cutting through the pain briefly, before everything started spinning again.
The next thing Shane knows he's alone, laying on the cold wet ground of the alley. His pants and underwear were bunched up around his thighs, his face pressed against the cool pavement. Everything was a haze. Shane's mind was cloudy, fading in and out of consciousness. He wasn't quite sure where he was, all he could make out was the pain. A burning, splitting pain in his ass, an ache in his back and thighs.
When he manages to stand up he pulls his pants up, he cries out in pain as the waistband of his jeans drags over the swell of his ass, he has to double over and catch his breath. He starts walking, nowhere in particular, just trying to make it back to his hotel room. He soon realizes he doesn't remember what hotel he's staying in. He starts searching for his phone, he finds it shoved in his right front pocket, it's badly cracked but by some miracle turns on.
He pulls up his texts with Lily on autopilot, looking down at the address he had been sent earlier that night.
Ilya was pissed. They had just won the game against Montreal 4-2, and he was alone in his apartment. He should be out at some club with the rest of his team and instead he was alone in his room waiting for Shane like fucking idiot. Shane who said he wasn't going to come, Shane who said they shouldn't do this anymore. Fuck. He should just leave at this point, go meet up with the rest of his team. He doesn't though, he stays, sitting on his couch, staring at the door.
He's about to just give up and go to sleep when he hears a gentle knocking at his door. It's fucking embarrassing how quickly he jumps out of bad and races to the door, teasing words about Shane not being able to get enough start to form.
The words die on his tongue when he opens the door though. Standing before him is Shane Hollander with tears streaming down his face, big brown eyes rimmed red, and he can see a bruise beginning to form on his cheek, one that he definitely didn't remember happening during the game.
"Help... please." Shane stutters out, his legs wobbling beneath him. Ilya grabs his shoulder, pulling him through the door and leading him to his living room. When he turns to face him he catches a glimpse of blood smeared over the seat of his pants.
He carefully cradles Shane’s face in his hand, guiding him to look up at him.
"Hollander, Hollander what happen? You are hurt, no?" Ilya asks, careful to keep his tone soft as not to scare Shane more than he already was.
"I-I can't, I don't, please." Shane gasps out, chest heaving. He pulls his head away, curling in on himself. Ilya gently pulls him in and lets him collapse into his reassuring warmth.
"Shh, is okay. I am here. Just breathe. In, out, like me." Ilya holds Shane against his chest, exaggerating his breathing for Shane to copy.
Finally, minutes later, Shane's breathing eventually evens out to occasional hiccuping sobs.
"What happen Shane? You are hurt?" Ilya questions gently, hand rubbing up and down Shane’s back.
"I went out," Shane mumbles into his chest. "To some bar. I don't know why, I wanted to, I thought I could... There was this guy there. He seemed, nice, I guess, I don't know. He, we went to an alley, which was fine, I was okay with that. But, ah, when I wanted to leave, I, he didn't like that, and he, he," Shane cuts himself off with a sob, burying his face in the crook of Ilya's neck.
"Oh Shane, I am so sorry. Is going to be okay. I got you. You are safe here." Ilya pulled Shane in closer, shushing him gently. "Shane, I think you need to go to hospital." Ilya prompts gently, feeling as Shane immediately stiffens in his arms.
"No, no, no, please Ilya, please, no one can know, please. I can't." Shane manages to choke out.
"You don't have to report anything. But you are bleeding. You need hospital Shane. Will be secret, promise. We make them sign NDA and we go to private room, okay?" Ilya practically begs. Shane finally nods jerkily after considering for a minute.
"Okay let me get some stuff, you stay here, then we leave, okay?" Ilya asks, waiting for Shane to nod in response before hurrying off to his bed room to collect some things Shane might need for the hospital.