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Montreal had completely shut out Boston, and Shane had scored a hat trick. Ilya had come to the hotel room that night with something to prove. Shane had been cocky, jumpy almost, hyped up on the win, and Ilya's jaw had tightened, grinding his teeth with genuine frustration. Passes hadn't connected, he'd had an off night. He'd let his team down as captain, and defense had fallen apart as Shane...
Shane had flown past them all. He'd been genuinely, maddeningly brilliant that night, lighting up the rink, the stands. Unstoppable, glowing, and so in control.
Ilya could admit to himself that he wanted that control back. He saw the man in front of him in the dim light of the bedside lamp and wanted to devour, to take back what had been lost. He wanted to take someone so dominant, clever and competent, and take him completely apart, to know that he could overwhelm, break, and be thanked for it. He was going to make Shane pay for that win.
He dropped to his knees.
"Well Hollander, come get your reward." Ilya took off his shirt and opened his mouth enough that his challenge couldn't be misunderstood. Shane's inhale gave him away. So easy. Ilya made him close that distance, walk across the carpet to meet him. Waistband at eye level. He just looked up, making eye contact and letting it show in his gaze and the tilt of his lips how hungry he was for Shane's cock. Ilya swore he could feel Shane getting hard, could smell it, Shane stilted pulling down his track pants and boxers while Ilya did nothing but open his mouth wider. Hesitant hands reaching for his head; this wasn't normally how they did things. Normally they were both too desperate for Ilya to tease for long, and this was a new game entirely. One Shane didn't know the rules of yet.
One that Ilya was going to win.
He was completely pliant, mouth soft on Shane's cock, bobbing as he was moved. He couldn't help closing his eyes for a few moments, savoring the hot skin and the pressure against the back of his throat, taking deep breaths through his nose. But he didn't moan, didn't work his tongue aggressively over the head, didn't even grab for Shane's ass. He was a model of self control and restraint.
"Come on," Shane groaned.
Only having his lips stretched around a dick could contain Ilya's smile.
He looked up, eyebrows raised.
"Rozanov." A couple more aggressive thrusts, Shane's brow furrowing.
"What?" He pulled off to say. "You win, I give you blow job. You don't like it? Ungrateful. Very rude, Hollander."
Shane's hard dick was still bobbing right in front of Ilya's face, and it took all his self control not to lick the very appealing head as Shane's face reddened above him. Ilya thought he saw a vein popping in his forehead.
"That's what this is about? I win so you give me a bad blow job on purpose?"
"Bad blow job?" Ilya kept an offended look on his face.
"You want me to throw the next game? This is your tactic? Or what," Something else passed over Shane's face. "You don't want to do this anymore? Aren't into it when I beat you?"
"Hollander. Hollander." Ilya sat back on his heels. He needed some distance from Shane's distracting, half softening cock.
"I am here, having sex with you. I want to be having sex with you. I just need," Fuck. That word. "You. To tell me what you want." He stroked fingertips up Shane's sides, under the t-shirt he still wore. His hands buzzed with finally allowing himself to make contact. Had to stay focused.
"Anything you ask for I give you, okay? Anything you want tonight." He raised his eyebrows, looking up at Shane who seemed to be relaxing back into horniness. "Just say. Winner." Ilya allowed himself to grip Shane's hips, fingers digging in to sensitive flesh, a jab.
Shane nodded, jerkily. "Okay." He thrust his hips forward gently, the head of his cock sliding over Ilya's wet lips, messy against his cheek. Neither of them could contain a groan as Shane's cock caught on Ilya's unconscious kiss, lapping precome. "Okay." Voice slightly more strained.
"Finger me. Rozanov." Shane bit his lip, looking anywhere but Ilya's face as he took off his clothes, folding them over the chair and heaving himself face down on the bed, face smushed into the comforter.
Containing his grin even with Shane unable to see it, Ilya prowled towards him. Stuck a finger in his mouth, wet it just enough, and stuck it in between Shane's perfect cheeks. He was relaxed enough that Ilya wiggled the tip in promptly before Shane tightened up with a protesting, "Oh fuck you, you know where the lube is."
"Ah," Ilya had to grin a little now. "Sorry, dumb hockey player. Too many pucks to the head, you know. You'll have to be more specific."
Shane was keeping his face turned into the bed, not even looking at him, but Ilya knew he was grinding his teeth. "Rozanov. Get the lube. From the bedside drawer. And finger me. In the ass." His face turned up to bite out the last bit, enunciating each word, but still not turning to Ilya. "Clear enough instructions for you?"
"Whatever you want." Ilya came to him, but didn't cover his body with his own like he usually would, like any gap between them was too much. He just sat next to him on the bed, let lube drip down his fingers and unceremoniously worked two into Shane's body, pushing past the resistance of his delicious tension. Fuck, Ilya loved having someone so rigid and controlled tight around his fingers, around his cock, and the way he melted like butter...
Shane wasn't melting now. He huffed out a sigh, wiggled his hips and seemed to steel himself for the mechanics of getting fucked in the ass. Ilya could practically see the steam rising from his head as he was forced to keep his brain on.
"This good Hollander? This what you asked for, yes?" With Shane not looking at him, Ilya could let a shit eating grin spread across his face.
"Yup," Shane bit out. Inhaled sharply as Ilya brushed over his prostate competently. Impersonally. Attentive to Shane's directions, and completely inattentive to his needs.
Ilya idly found it interesting, how his body wanted to react to what Shane wouldn't, couldn't say; how it took concentration to stop himself from giving him all the pleasure and pain he wasn't asking for.
After not much longer and a bit more lube Shane said, "Okay. Fuck me."
"How do you want it?"
"I don't know, just--" An aggrieved sigh. "From behind." Ilya knelt up, and Shane turned to look at him with a miserable look that didn't belong on the face of a man promised whatever he wanted sexually with someone he couldn't keep his hands off of. It shouldn't have gotten Ilya as hard as it did, to know that he could let down Hollander like this, fuck with him like this.
"Uh, I mean, how about--" Hollander couldn't even get the words out, face on fire as he grabbed a pillow and laid down with it raising his hips.
"Of course. You're in charge here, Hollander. I'll do whatever you say." Ilya singsonged.
"Then shut up and get in me."
"Oh, yes sir--"
"What did I just fucking--ah--" Ilya moved fast, rolling on a condom and pushing in. "--say."
"You say shut up, then ask me a question, mixed messages, I thought you were better captain than this Hollander." Ilya could fuck Shane and shit talk him at the same time. Shame that Hollander couldn't say the same. His face turned to the side, Ilya could see his closed eyes and open mouth, perhaps trying to shut out Ilya's words and take his pleasure from his body.
"Thought you were such a big shot, always in control, isn't that what the sportscasters say? Shane Hollander, dominating the game." The way Ilya drove himself in got a reaction, but he was still determinedly looking away.
"You don't seem so dominant now. Could hardly tell me what you wanted, could hardly tell me how you wanted to get fucked." Shane's whole body was so tight, his face like a wall. It was like fucking the perfect exterior, the Shane Hollander that everyone else got. But Ilya had seen through that a long time ago.
"Maybe this isn't what you wanted? Maybe you like it when I'm in control? Maybe you need it Hollander." Shane's breath hitched; his shoulders softened unconsciously. Ilya knew he had his attention now. "You like it better that way, yes? I know what you really want for reward." He slowed his thrusts, mouth close to Shane's ear. His hand came up to caress his hair, not pulling it even a little. Ilya rocked slowly and waited.
"Tell me what you need."
Shane looked like the words were trapped in his mouth, impossible to spit out; Ilya knew there was some barrier between him and dirty talk, either his factual 'maybe twice's or the babbling that hit when he was truly being fucked so good he couldn't keep it in. Trying to goad him into speaking more during sex was usually something Ilya avoided, wanting Shane to feel..
comfortable. Safe. Good. But right now, Ilya hung him out to dry. Watched him. Something hot was curdling in his gut at the thought of Shane feeling uncomfortable, unsafe, bad. He couldn't decide if it was enough to make him want to give up the game or kick it into overdrive.
"I don't...I don't want to be in control. Oh God, Ilya just fucking..." Ilya couldn't help the way his hips jerked forward at that, making Shane whine as he gave him a few deep, bone shaking thrusts. A reward.
"Fuck me. Use me. Please. Anything you want." His voice was shaking in a new way. "I can't. I can't. Please." He sounded...overcome. Ilya was making him sound like that, like he had broken down some new wall of defenses, had broken him in some new way.
"Oh fuck, Hollander." Ilya was suddenly on the verge of coming, and he suddenly didn't care to make it last.
"Perfect hole, fucking perfect," He gritted out before lapsing into Russian, running his mouth without keeping tabs that's right baby, sweetheart, cry for me, I want to see your perfect face, I want to wreck it mesmerized watching himself fuck into Shane for an amount of thrusts that would have been embarrassing if not for the absolute perfection of Shane's submission. He would defy anyone to do better with Shane fucking Hollander clawing at the sheets for them, making guttural, nearly grief stricken noises--
The orgasm that overtook him was long and shuddering as he slammed in to Shane, fucking himself as deep as possible, holding himself there as he came down from his high.
Scratch that, he still felt fucking crazy.
Shane had stilled beneath him. With how abruptly Ilya had stopped, and how far gone Shane had sounded being thrust against the pillow under him, Ilya had possibly ruined his orgasm, stopped him from cumming right on the precipice. He felt warm inside at the thought.
As Ilya panted heavily on top of him, Shane shifted. Ilya could see him start thinking.
"Um, should I, can I--"
"Hollander. Shut up." Ilya pulled out, none too gently. He pulled the condom off carefully, dropping it off the side of the bed and wiping himself on the sheets while Shane couldn't see.
He pushed at his shoulder, until he rolled over, then blanketed his body, boneless. Ilya nearly felt like crying at the relief of full body contact, lined up skin on skin, Shane's cock nestled against his hip, sweat growing tacky between them. He looked him full in the face, closest he had seen it since the face off circle. Remembering Shane's focused expression sent another jolt of arousal through him already, and seeing his slack mouth and hazy eyes now he couldn't help but kiss him, devouring. The clumsy way Shane moved his mouth, inching his hips with small movements, like he couldn't help himself, made Ilya lose all finesse, pushing his tongue into Shane's accepting mouth with a deep groan. His lips were too forceful, he bit too hard and licked at Shane's teeth with a nearly deranged hunger and Shane took all of it.
Ilya pulled back with a hand to Shane's jaw. "No thinking. I take care of you, yes?"
Shane's teary eyes fluttered and he nodded against ilya's grip. He slapped his cheek gently, just enough to feel Shane's cock kick against him. Then harder, to hear him moan. Then one more time, just for his own satisfaction, to see the red bloom and fade.
You're so perfect for me, Ilya breathed into Shane's uncomprehending expression. Grabbing Shane's hips he rolled them over clumsily, with Shane's assistance. Shane's legs splayed over his thigh, Ilya reached down until he could slip two fingers unceremoniously into him, Shane rising up onto his knees enough to give him access despite the angle. Grabbing at his short hair in a tight grip, Ilya angled Shane's head for a harsh kiss, feeling his reactions everywhere they pressed together. His hole felt like heaven as Ilya pressed in as deep as the angle would allow, pulsing his fingers and feeling his aborted thrusts against his thigh. The power of Shane's thighs tightening in a vise grip around his own at the slightest pulse of his fingers had Ilya rubbing savagely, widening and making room for a third inside him even though it made the angle shallower.
"More," he moaned. "I need--"
"Shh." Ilya pulled his fingers out and shifted enough to grab another condom, stroking himself, rolling it on and hastily adding more lube. "You will ride me." Shane nodded, even though there was no question in his tone. He shifted his huge thighs up Ilyas body, lined himself up and took it all.
"So good, fuck baby." He was still speaking English.
Shane whined. "Ilya..."
"That's right, you know who fucks you like this."
"You, ah, just you, no one else, Ilya please."
There was relief on his face as Ilya's hands dug into his thighs, controlling the pace but letting Shane power their thrusts, the sound of skin on skin like an impact every time, the tops of Ilyas thighs warming, could Shane get bruises on his ass just from this, at the very least Ilya could bruise him with his grip, digging his fingers deeper as Shane's hands came down on his chest, half steadying half groping. Ilya slowed their pace, still somewhat satiated from his first orgasm. The very picture of self control. He slowed them until Shane started to squirm, definitely all pent up. Ilya idly wondered how many days it had been since he had jerked off.
"How long?"
"What?" Shane was panting, squirming in his lap.
"How long since you last came? How long since you jerked off?"
His face pinked up and he closed his eyes as he groaned "Rozanov..."
"What?"
"Quit it."
Ilya's hand moved, quick as a cobra, to strike him across the face.
"No." He slapped him again as Shane threw his head back, then put both hands to his thick waist to give him a few deep thrusts like he needed, before stilling all the way inside. The way Shane started writhing at that nearly made Ilya black out.
"So needy for it..."
"Stop, I--" Ilya cut him off with a slap.
"You don't have to say it. I know that you're made for this."
"Th--" Shane made the smallest noise before it was swallowed by a groan.
"What's that, sweetheart?"
"Th--then--then give it to me." He lifted his face out of the crook of Ilya's neck, and for the first time he saw that the wetness between them wasn't just sweat and spit.
Shane bucked down as much as Ilya's tight grip out allow as a tear traced its way down his cheek.
"I," big shuddering breath, "I need you to give it to me. Please." Now he was looking Ilya full in the face for the first time since he had stepped into the room. Red rimmed eyes with the glaze of tears made his breath catch nearly as much as Shane's was shuddering.
Ilya was a weak, weak man. He shifted their position up the bed a bit to give himself more leverage, and used his grip on Hollander's hips to begin impaling him on his cock. Shane gasped, his head tipped back and a low whine started to build in his throat. Then he clenched up all at once and started moving with Ilya's thrusts, doing more of the work, his thighs moving like a machine. The tightening around Ilya's cock would have been enough to make him go off if he hadn't already come in Shane once tonight. Each time Shane dropped himself to take Ilya fully it punched a sound out of his throat that got nearer and nearer to a sob. His face was twisting, red creeping across his chest. Ilya knew it wasn't from exertion; his stamina was much better than this. The look on Shane's face that approached pain transfixed him, the way he seemed addicted to overwhelming himself. With one last harsh squeeze, Ilya took his hands off Shane's hips and focused on powering his own movements in time with Shane's, making the pitch of his hitching moans rise. Shane was clutching at his own chest, riding Ilya with his eyes closed. Ilya's gaze was focused the place where he went into him, where Shane's cock bouncing untouched and drooling onto his stomach.
"So much, so much so much," Shane was breathing out like a mantra, his face twisting and Ilya couldn't stop flicking his gaze between that perfect place where they were connected and Shane's expression. Tears were leaking out of the corners of his reddened eyes and his whole body was starting to shake.
"If you come I'll just keep fucking you," Ilya promised. "I won't go easy on you. It's going to hurt."
"It--it already hurts. Oh god it hurts I need it, I--I need it to hurt." He was starting to babble, letting himself go, his bouncing getting slightly shallower, tilting his hips trying to get the angle less overwhelming.
Ilya couldn't let that happen. Not when Shane was being so good, telling him what he needed.
He slammed himself as deep as he could get, wrapped his arms around Shane's waist and bowled them over, bringing Shane's back to the mattress and then doing his absolute best to blow it out. One hand reached under him, gripping over his shoulder for leverage and the other moved down to rub clumsily at Shane's leaking cock. When Shane got whiny and teary like this his orgasms came almost gently, and Shane's cock spilled between them with only a hitching sob followed by a long drawn out throaty noise, Shane's hand coming down to bat Ilya's hand away. His cock was still rigid enough to brush Ilya's stomach, trapped between their bodies and being overstimulated with every thrust.
Ilya didn't go easy on him, just kept thrusting as hard and deep as he had before Shane had come, forcing it through the way his body clenched up and tried to squirm away. Ilya put a hand to Shane's jaw.
"Hollander. Relax. You're going to take it for me, okay? I've got you. I know it hurts. But I'm going to keep fucking you for as long as I want, yes?" Shane nodded, or perhaps his head was simply moving from the force of Ilya's thrusts, nearly flopping off the end of the bed. He was sniffing, breath uneven and tears flowing freely but his body was boneless, relaxed, a perfect hole for Ilya to fuck into.
His hands fisted in the sheets, his legs were shaking around Ilya's torso and sobs ripped from his throat now and then and still he was so good, taking it perfectly even when it hurts, my precious baby.
It was Shane's eyes on his face, Shane's arms flying up to bring Ilya down to him tight tight tight, his mouth missing Ilya's like he needed to kiss his cheek, his neck, his ear, collarbone, nose, like each was precious to him before Ilya took control of the kiss and filled Shane's mouth with his tongue as he emptied himself inside for the second time in less than an hour. Where the first round had heightened his arousal, this one struck him like a metal pole to the head, shuddering inside Shane and dropping his full weight on him as his limbs refused to coordinate.
Shane was petting him, so sweet, moving his head minutely to press soft kisses along Ilya's hairline. Ilya got is breath back then pulled back to look at Shane's teary smiling face.
"Three days ago." Shane said, voice perfectly composed.
"What?"
"I jerked off three days ago. I thought about you." Fluttering lashes and a blissed out shy smile. Fuck, Ilya couldn't get hard again so soon.
"Fuck, Hollander you will kill me. I can't get hard again so soon."
"No?" Shane was biting his lip. It was absolutely over for Ilya. "Maybe in a bit? And maybe...kiss me right now?"
"Your wish is my command."