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At two forty-five a.m. on a Wednesday night, Shane was sent a photo of Ilya in Shane’s jersey with the text, ‘look what i got’ accompanying it.
The camera angle was pointed up, Ilya sticking his tongue out as he winked to the lens. Shane swallowed, shameless when he immediately saved the photo. A few seconds later, another image was sent: Ilya holding the bottom of the jersey in his mouth, stomach exposed, his cock hard where he held it.
Just as he had with the last one, Shane saved the image, opening it up so that it filled the entirety of his screen. His skin was pink like he’d just gotten out of the shower, his damp curls reflecting that. Beads of water sat on Ilya’s skin, and it made saliva pool in Shane’s mouth. He wanted to lick him.
Shane could feel his pants tightening, could feel himself getting hard the longer he looked at the photo. Ilya’s nipples were hard and swollen, and Shane knew he’d played with himself in the shower. Fingered his ass, too, and Shane knew Ilya did it all while thinking of him.
That was the thought that made him unbutton his pants and slide his dick out from where it was held hostage under his briefs. The first slide of his hand ripped a long moan from Shane as he traced the hard lines of Ilya’s abdomen, thoughts of Ilya sitting in front of him masturbating making him impossibly harder.
He’d be as flushed as he is in the photo, curls sticking to his forehead the same. The smell of his sweat would be in the air, and Shane would just watch, testing his self control. Something would probably be said by Ilya, some snarky comment that would only make Shane say, ‘Go faster”.
Shane’s pace quickened at the thought of Ilya’s hand on his own dick, getting off at Shane looking at him. Hot and flushed, Shane would take Ilya’s hands off of himself just before he came, loving the way his cock got angry and red, pumping out more precome. Ilya’s whine was ingrained in Shane’s mind now as he pumped himself harder to the noise, playing it over and over again.
He wanted his hands inside Ilya, wanted his dick inside him, tearing him apart. Shane traced the shape of Ilya’s nipples on the photo with his thumb, his hands remembering the stiff way they moved, and the way Ilya’s body went rigid, his moans getting breathier.
Just as Shane reached his climax, pumping himself furiously without rhythm, another text lit up his screen that nearly made him crush his phone:
you came, didn’t you?
—
Teeth covered the bottom half of Ilya’s face as he stood at the doorstep of Shane’s cottage, grin overwhelming. Cockiness drew the line of Ilya’s body, his form languid and confident, unabashedly displaying Shane’s jersey over a pair of normal jeans. Shane’s jaw ticked, his gaze dark, and the sight just made Ilya all the braver.
“I was right! I assumed from the lack of response, but,” Ilya entered without Shane prompting him, pushing the older man out of the way as he closed the door. “This was great confirmation.”
Heat radiated from the Canadian, heat he was sure Ilya could feel, but he held himself back from grabbing Ilya and pushing him down in his entryway. They padded to the living room, the charged energy nearly causing a lightning strike between the two of them.
Turning around, the sudden movement jarring Shane, Ilya looked him up and down, smirking. His hands found his jersey, hiking it up to be cropped on his body as he bunched it in the back. A hair tie that had been around his wrist was tied to it.
“I thought about wearing it like a cheerleader. Y’know, go Hollander, go,” he added little imaginary pompoms and jumps as he teased Shane. “I’m wearing it during the Hall of Fame game.”
“You chose my jersey?” Shane clarified, and Ilya just nodded.
“It deserves to be worn by an athlete worthy of the number,” Ilya reasoned, undoing the knot, the jersey hanging normally. “In fact, I’m pretty humble wearing this jersey. Being better than you, and all.”
Ilya’s smile was wolfish, and Shane knew that the younger man was egging him on because he liked when Shane got mean, when Shane got rough. He was walking closer to Shane then, advancing with a look in his eyes that made Shane want to do anything to him.
Deciding to make good on that, Shane grabbed Ilya, hands moving to turn him as they crashed onto the couch. Ilya sat in Shane’s lap, his back to the older man, hands bracing himself on either side of them. Digging his nose into the crook of Ilya’s neck, Shane breathed in deeply, the clean smell of his skin and clothes vaporizing any of Shane’s thoughts.
“Freak,” Ilya commented, turning his head to kiss Shane soundly, their lips colliding only to make way for their tongues. A jolt of pain headed straight to Shane’s dick as Ilya bit his bottom lip, tugging it back before righting himself to look ahead. “Who knew Shane Hollander was such a narcissist?”
Shane smoothed his hands over the embroidered numbers of his jersey, pressing down on Ilya’s stomach, going lower before slipping them under the fabric to touch Ilya’s skin. He ground up gently into Ilya, the movement more of a response to feeling the softness of Ilya’s flesh than anything purposeful.
“It’s not narcissism,” Shane whispered into Ilya’s ear, feeling the way he shivered. The older man licked the shell of the younger’s ear, nibbled on his conch, sucking on his lobes, his palms rubbing over Ilya’s perk nipples. “It’s because you chose it. You want this.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement, the way Ilya’s back arched into Shane at every touch proof enough. His own twitching cock causing a wet spot at the top of his jeans was just more evidence that Shane had carved out a space in Ilya that could only be filled by him.
Silence filled the room when Ilya just nodded, a full acceptance and admittance that yes, he did. Such things were rare for Ilya, saying what he meant without talking around the subject until he got winded. The confession had Shane growing harder, pushing up unto Ilya as he resumed feeling the younger man up.
Twisting the hard nubs in his hands, Shane rolled over Ilya’s nipples with his thumbs, capturing them between his forefinger and middle finger. He pinched and pulled off, Ilya arching off him before falling forward, an expletive Shane couldn’t decode spitting from him. Ilya’s face was completely red, warmth radiating from him as he grinded back into Shane.
Moans and grunts left Ilya as Shane pressed him back, fusing their bodies together as Ilya’s head fell on Shane’s shoulder. He was so close to Shane like this, and the man used it to advantage by placing kisses to the man’s cheek, continuing his onslaught on his ears.
The groan that left Ilya when Shane’s tongue traced the flat cartilage of his ear spurred the older man on as he added the extra stimulation of his blunt nails to Ilya’s chest. He flicked them, nails scraping against the sensitive buds, and Ilya gasped right next to Shane’s ear. It made him sigh, rolling back up into Ilya as he did so, his desire to wring more sounds from Ilya increasing twofold.
One of his hands continued to tease Ilya’s chest and the other went down to the hard bulge in his pants, palming over it in a way that had Ilya squirming in his grasp. Hands clamped down on Shane’s arms as Ilya attempted to right himself, his eyes wide and mouth open, no sound coming out.
Saliva was beginning to drip out of the corner of Ilya’s mouth as Shane continued pressing on his clothed dick, thumbing over the ridges, loving the way Ilya twitched and stuttered. His voice was so beautiful like this, strings of curses and long, breathy noises lighting a fire in Shane that was rarely easily quenched.
Shane pulled Ilya close to him again, hand snaking up through his shirt to poke out of the collar, holding Ilya’s face in place by his jaw. Snaking his tongue out, Shane licked up the trail of drool sliding down Ilya’s chin, using his finger to force Ilya’s jaw to lower. Plump lips parted as Shane stuck his tongue in, closing his mouth around Ilya’s.
Undoing Ilya’s zipper to let his cock spring out, Shane pulled away from the kiss, incredulous. His hand fished around inside Ilya’s pants for any trace of underwear, and when he looked back up at Ilya, his hazy eyes had just enough coherency to grin.
Starstruck, Shane oggled at the sight for a few moments, just letting his hands run up and down Ilya’s length. Admiring Ilya was a thing easily done for the older man, fingers rolling over the head of the younger’s cock.
Every feeling coursing through Ilya was immediately felt by Shane, their close proximity making it easy for Shane to get friction on his own dick by rubbing into Ilya. Anytime Ilya pressed himself back, rubbing his clothed hole over the tent in Shane’s jeans, it made the Canadian tighten his grip.
Beginning to stroke Ilya now, his other hand still playing with his swollen nipples, Shane spat on his hand to help his hand slide easier. Up and down, Shane became hypnotized by the sight of his hand working the angry length of Ilya’s cock, licking his lips every time tiny spurts of precome aided the slide of his palm.
Ilya was boneless in his lap, knees spread completely apart, limbs twitching, hands digging deep into Shane’s arms. His moans got louder the faster Shane went, his voice raising, all of it right next to Shane’s ear. Like he’d taken the strongest drug alive, Shane began to become high on the sounds alone.
“Were you thinking about this on the way over?” Shane asked gruffly, saying the words into the hollow of Ilya’s neck before biting down, receiving a delicious yelp from the younger man. Ilya nodded, whimpering when Shane’s hand curled around the base of his cock and squeezed before resuming his stroking motions.
“Yeah,” he sighed, grinding down into Shane who hissed at the sensation. “I fucked myself on my fingers thinking of you before I came here.”
An animalistic growl left Shane as he doubled his efforts, hand moving faster as the other slid down Ilya’s abdomen, pressing at the spot that Shane could see his own cock poke out from when he went deep. Every press was a harder downstroke, and Shane moved to whisper into Ilya’s ear.
“So this isn’t enough, then? Just me stroking your leaking cock?” Shane moved to cup Ilya’s balls, squeezing them, massaging, loving the way that Ilya didn’t know what to do with himself. He moved his hips off of Shane before slamming them back down like they were magnetized. “You need something deeper, hm? Something right here?”
Shane pressed on Ilya’s stomach, hard, a hint of what was to come as the day unfurled before them. That was all it took to send Ilya over the edge; the very thought of Shane’s cock inside of him had him throbbing, fingers curling and clenching on Shane’s skin, shooting out white ropes of cum.
Like a man possessed, Shane honed in on the sticky substance coating his hands, mouth watering at the sight. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tasted Ilya’s come before, but the lewdness of the situation was getting to him as he brought his hand up to his mouth and licked. Ilya watched from beside him with wrapped attention, his expression unreadable.
“I think,” he started, twisting his body as he placed his hands on Shane’s chest, legs moving to straddle Shane. “I really like looking down at you, Hollander.”
Swaying from above him, Ilya’s face was red with horny determination, his cock already hardening again as Shane’s hands found his waist. Shane traced every inch of Ilya’s body from this angle; the swell of his chest, the width of his shoulders, the half-lidded way he looked down.
Hands roaming down Ilya’s thighs circled around to his back, squeezing Ilya’s ass before going higher, resting in the middle. Shane tilted his head, watching as Ilya just stared down at him, emotions still obscured, his body completely still. Bringing his hands higher, Shane reached up to Ilya while pressing him closer, tangling his fingers in the younger’s hair while he kissed him.
“If you want to be on top, you get to take my dick out,” Shane whispered in Ilya’s ear before leaning back on the couch, stubbornly removing his hands from Ilya completely. That seemed to do the trick, snapping Ilya out of whatever daze he was in.
Tilting his body back, Ilya reached for the ottoman, pulling out lube and a condom that were stashed away. His hands then moved to Shane’s jeans, unbuttoning them and zipping them down, drawing Shane’s boxers away from his cock. At this point, Shane was painfully hard, leaking and desperate for Ilya’s hole.
Ilya spread a healthy amount of lube on it after sliding the condom on, eyes hungry as he licked his lips. Shane hissed from the warmth of Ilya’s hand and the coolness of the liquid, Ilya’s hand working it down Shane making him groan, eyes following Ilya’s lube-slicked fingers as they disappeared into his ass. He was leaning over Shane, one hand braced on the back of the couch, eyes closed and mouth panting inches away from Shane’s face.
Two fingers were easy for Ilya to take, Shane groaning at the sound of them rapidly going in and out of Ilya. He was moaning from above him, breathy little things that made Shane want to devour him. His own fingers feeling neglected, Shane pulled Ilya’s hand away from his hole and slid three of his own fingers in instead.
Proof of Ilya saying he had stretched himself earlier was clear in the soft ease of Shane’s fingers sinking deeper without resistance. Ilya buckled from above him, knees going weak as he slid his hand down, forehead resting on Shane’s shoulder. He gasped, shuddering as Shane scissored him, a satisfied sound leaving him.
“Still my turn,” Ilya murmured to Shane, collecting himself as he used his hand to take Shane’s away. Annoyed but letting Ilya take the lead, Shane let his hand be discarded while Ilya straightened up, hands moving to grab Shane’s cock.
By the time Ilya positioned himself to be aligned with Shane, their bodies were completely flush, Shane resting his chin on Ilya’s sternum, looking up. One of Ilya’s hands spread his ass open, the other slowly beginning to insert Shane’s dick. Ilya was stretched so well that Shane slid in easily, Ilya controlling the depth and speed.
It was agonizing, the speed with which Ilya was taking Shane in. He would speed up, only to slow down again, and Shane’s patience was wearing thin as his hands twitched. His hands wanted to touch Ilya, force him all the way down, shove himself as deep inside as possible, but Shane was resisting for him.
There were points where Shane wasn’t sure Ilya could take doing it himself, long moans being followed by still silence before he resumed taking Shane in. After a long period of Shane white knuckling the couch instead of Ilya’s thighs, not wanting to clean up blood, Ilya finally settled fully onto Shane.
The feeling was euphoric after being teased with it for so long, the swell of Ilya’s ass pressing against Shane’s upper thighs, the younger finally allowing himself to relax. His head was hung low, panting, his messy hands bracing himself on Shane’s still-clothed chest. When Ilya looked up, he had an expression similar to a kid who just figured out where the candy jar was.
A shuddered sigh left him as he began to slowly lift himself off of Shane, only bringing him out about halfway before slamming back down. The force was enough to punch a groan out from both of them, their breaths mingling centimeters away. Shane closed the distance, kissing Ilya as the man continued his up and down motions, never fully letting Shane slip out before going back down.
Ilya kept Shane inside of him at all times, his pace gruelling compared to what Shane wanted to do. He was strong, his thighs straining as he continued to work up and down, moving his body to orient Shane’s dick in the way he wanted. Unbeknownst to Shane, the feeling was written all over his face.
“Oh, you want me to go slower?” Ilya mocked, face still close to Shane’s, their noses almost touching as he moved at a snail’s pace. He slowly slid Shane out, drawing it out as long as possible while still keeping him inside, before slamming down in a quick motion. Red and white mingled to purple in Shane’s wavering vision, Ilya wearing his jersey turning him on to insane degrees.
Despite Shane gritting his teeth, despite the hands moving to clamp onto Ilya’s skin, he continued his pace, steady and slow, seemingly just enjoying the slide. Ilya’s hole was making obscene sounds from all of the lube, and the only places Shane could look were Ilya’s eyes and his dick disappearing into the younger’s hole while he was wearing Shane’s sweater.
It made him dizzy, how quickly he was looking between both in order to not miss a single thing.
Ilya smiled, noticing the attention he was receiving (something that did not surprise Shane; the man loved any attention he got) and slowing down even more. One of his hands went to Shane’s dick as he finally popped him fully out before re-lining him up, whipping his head to face Shane again, his hazel eyes blazing.
“Do you like looking at me take your cock, Shane?” Ilya purred, mouth slightly open from where Shane craned his neck to look. He began to slide down on it, his cross necklace dangling in front of Shane. “Watch, Shane Hollander. It feels so good.”
Ilya pressed his forehead onto Shane’s, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth fell completely open, moaning onto Shane’s lips as he finally bottomed out. A low growl came from Shane, white spots dancing in his vision as he attempted to control himself.
“Ilya…” he groaned, feeling himself slowly start to think with his dick instead of listening to reason.
Positioning himself to lean over Shane, Ilya brought himself up and back down with more force than any previous thrust, the angle hitting the perfect spot inside Ilya. He threw his body forward into Shane, a long whine coming from his throat as Shane bit and nipped at his exposed neck.
When Ilya moved to expose more pale skin, the last of Shane’s sanity snapped. He moved his hands firmly to Ilya’s waist, touch light as Ilya worked himself up and down Shane to hit the angle he wanted, the friction still not enough for Shane. When Shane tried to open his mouth to talk, Ilya just clamped his hand down on it.
“Don’t say shit about wanting to take charge,” Ilya panted, a sheen of sweat beginning to coat his body from exertion. “You do this shit to me daily. It’s my turn.”
Licking Ilya’s hand to force him to take it away, the younger made a face of disgust as he pulled away, Shane’s hands wrapping around Ilya’s waist as he forced him to stop his movement.
“You know I can make you feel better, though,” Shane reasoned, leaning back once more on the couch, one of his arms still wrapped around Ilya while the other circled to the front. His hand pressed on the slight bulge in Ilya’s abdomen, feeling the stimulation himself as Ilya gasped. “You’re getting tired, right?”
While Ilya worked his jaw with narrow eyes, Shane knew he’d won just by saying something. Ilya would always seek out his own pleasure first before securing his pride; no one else in the world thought more of Ilya than Ilya did, in the younger’s mind. In Shane’s, though, he considered himself to be a top contender.
No answer would come from Ilya, a reality both of them recognized, so the Russian didn’t stop Shane as he moved his hands back to Ilya’s waist, his touch much less gentle than it had been. There was no move made to prevent Shane from moving; on the contrary, Ilya was actually loosening his body, pulling Shane forward as he draped himself over the older man. The feeling of Shane’s sweater on his skin was odd when it came from Ilya.
That was all Shane needed to begin moving, grinding into Ilya from where he was already seated inside. He dragged against Ilya’s prostate, breathy moans filling Shane’s ears as he continued.
Finally deciding to pull out, Ilya lessened the burden on Shane by helping himself off with his thighs, going slack when Shane pulled him down. Shane met the thrust with a snap of his own hips, Ilya crying out as Shane groaned, eyes screwing shut, his chin getting hit by the heavy metal of Ilya’s necklace.
He lost himself to the pleasure of Ilya’s wet, tight heat, the smoothness and openness of it allowing Shane to go as fast as he wanted without worry of hurting Ilya. The younger circled Shane’s head with his arms, burying the Canadian into his neck, close to tears as he sucked painful hickeys into the skin.
Their bodies were sticky from where they were pressed against each other, the distance just making the other feel hotter, and Shane swore Ilya’s entire body was pink. Ilya began to snap his hips every time Shane pulled out, chasing the friction of Shane’s t-shirt on his leaking cock, his fingers tangling into the older’s hair.
His voice was pitched high and wanton, saying Shane’s name brokenly as the Canadian just slammed in harder and harder. He angled his hips up every time, meeting Ilya’s thrusts down, both of them chasing their pleasure together. It worked best this way, their bodies knowing exactly what the other wanted and needed.
“Shane,” Ilya huffed into the man’s ear, kissing his temple as he whined and unraveled. Shane’s grip on Ilya’s hips was oppressive now, surely leaving a bruise, fabric bunching under his fingers. “Faster. Go faster.”
Shane listened, his pace doubling, loving the way Ilya cried and whined at every thrust, meeting Shane sloppily at the end of every one. The older’s t-shirt increasingly became soaked with Ilya’s precome, and Shane would be a liar if he said he didn’t love the weight of Ilya’s cock sliding on his stomach.
“Here?” Shane asked, nipping at the skin behind Ilya’s ear, thrust hitting the bundle of nerves inside Ilya that made him sob. Ilya reacted just as Shane expected, tears springing to his eyes from the force of it all. “I make you feel so good here, don’t I? The only time you shut up is like this, Ilya. You should see yourself, so pretty when you cry.”
Ilya couldn’t help but nod incoherently, gurgles of sound being swallowed by gasps and moans, tears beginning to drop from his eyes as Shane thrust up. He could feel himself getting close, Ilya clamping down on Shane every time he pulled out like the younger didn’t want to be empty, and that thought alone was enough to make him come.
To help both of them along, Shane circled a hand around Ilya’s dick and pumped him in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation making Ilya lose control of his body. He shook and spasmed, limbs going every which way as he tried to pull away from Shane who just held him harder.
“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Shane gritted out, Ilya shaking his head and babbling, heat building to an inferno in Shane. “See, you’re taking it so good. You want to come, right?”
Ilya nodded again, hands curled in the fabric of Shane’s shirt as he kissed the older desperately, more spit and teeth than lips, Shane licking into the younger. Deciding that the last push to the finish line should be the best push, Shane pivoted Ilya on the couch, slamming him on his back into the cushions.
He didn’t leave Ilya’s hole once, but this angle allowed for more precise thrusts, and it allowed him access to Ilya’s nipples. Shane shimmied his jersey up, exposing swollen pink nubs as he continued jackhammering into Ilya, his other hand working equally on his dick. An open, willing mouth clamped down on Ilya’s nipple, and a broken off moan that devolved into sobbing alerted Shane that the man was coming.
Fluttering walls worked Shane’s cock as he pumped into Ilya, nearing his own release, working the younger through his orgasm. It took more thrusts than Shane expected to finish, but he assumed it was because the sight of Ilya fucked out below him wearing his jersey, smother in spit and sweat and come, made him want to take his time.
Ilya was twitching and overstimulated, eyes unfocussed as they looked up at Shane, practically begging him to just finish. His hands smeared his come across his abdomen, looking up at Shane with innocent, large eyes. It was an expression Shane had never seen on Ilya before, and it made him lurch forward and lose his rhythm.
“Come right here,” Ilya croaked out hoarsely, and Shane became entranced by the mental image of Ilya mixing their come together. Wanting that to become a reality, Shane pulled out, tossing the condom aside before working himself to completion with his hands.
What helped was Ilya sighing at the loss of Shane’s dick in him, his hole fluttering with the need to be filled. It was a sight so erotic that Shane’s face twisted into white-hot pleasure as he came, aiming directly for Ilya’s stomach.
The younger man wore a satisfied smile as he mixed their fluids together before bringing it to his mouth and sucking his pointer and ring finger clean.
“Yum.”
—
In the shower, Shane was sure to clean Ilya off, letting the man lie back and be pampered. He shampooed Ilya’s silky curls, washed the soap out, dried Ilya off, dressed him. It was the closest they acted to being in a relationship since meeting, and the thought made Shane’s chest tight.
As they settled into bed, Shane decided to broach the topic.
“I want us to be exclusive,” he declared as Ilya was tucking himself below the comforter, eyes still red from when he’d been crying. He smelled clean and sweet as he whipped his head to look at Shane, his eyebrow raising in confusion.
“And we were not before?” Ilya clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “If this is on my part, Hollander, I haven’t slept with anyone else. I appreciate the faith.”
Shane rolled his eyes.
“I have every reason to not know if you have or not, Ilya, and you know that,”
“I know you know I know, yes, yes,” Ilya waved his hand, yawning. Shane just frowned, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.
“Ilya,” he gritted out.
“Shane,” Ilya responded flippantly, eyes widening at Shane like a child does to annoy their sibling.
“I’m serious. We can’t keep just meeting up to fuck. I want to take you out, introduce you to my family,” Shane sighed, exasperated. “Be seen with you.”
“You want me to meet your family,” Ilya drawled, raising his brow at the absurdity of such a prospect. Shane bringing home a twenty-two year old to meet his parents wouldn’t blow over well, and both of them were well aware of the fact. “Besides, I’m the one who gets burned from this. You’re retired.”
Groaning, Shane just fell back, letting his head hit the pillows. He knew all of it, understood all of it, even better than Ilya did. Back when he played, Shane tried to date, mostly during his twenties. It was hard, trying to find the balance of wanting to be public and happy and knowing the hockey world despises nothing more than gay players.
He didn’t want Ilya to be despised.
“I know,” he murmured, turning his head to look at Ilya. “I just feel like I’m doing more bad than good with you, Ilya. Anything I can do to make this more real, anything I can do to protect you, I will do.”
Ilya was silent then, looking at Shane with furrowed brows, the corners of his lips downturned. A lump formed in Shane’s throat that he tried to swallow, the blockage preventing him from saying a word until Ilya did.
“I heard nothing happens in Indiana,” Ilya mused, face morphing into a smile. “They don’t even like hockey there. Gay people, either, but they won’t know who we are when we go on dates together, much less if we’re on a date. We can go there on a trip.”
Shane couldn’t help himself from breaking out into a grin, propping himself up on his elbow as he leaned down to kiss Ilya.
“Sure, let’s,” he laughed, laying back down as he moved to pinch Ilya’s cheek. “And no more saying Hollander. It’s Shane.”
“Okay, Shane,”
“I can’t wait to see your Hall of Fame match. You look great in my sweater.”
They laughed as Shane turned off the lights, cracking up below the covers as they fought for who got to feel the other one up, falling asleep to their hands under the other’s skin. Both hoped their flesh would stick together permanently.