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The kettle clicked off with a quiet snap.
Shane reached over automatically, grabbing the handle before the steam could fog up his glasses. He poured the water into his mug, watching the tea bag darken the liquid slowly.
It was peaceful, mornings like this.
No cameras. No locker rooms. No one trying to run him into the boards. Just tea. He glanced around the kitchen, looking for sugar, and spotted a small gold packet sitting on the counter. Honey. Fancy looking stuff too, not the plastic bear kind. Shane tore it open with his teeth and squeezed the thick amber into his mug.
“Nice,” he muttered to himself, stirring it in.
The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clink of his spoon against the ceramic. He took a sip, testing the temperature. Perfect.
Behind him, the apartment door opened. Ilya stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket and tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. His hair was still damp from the shower at the rink, curls slightly flattened from the toque he’d clearly just pulled off. He stopped halfway into the kitchen. His eyes landed on the counter. Then the empty honey packet. Then Shane.
“...Hollander.”
Shane glanced up from his mug. “What?”
Ilya pointed at the counter.
“Where did you get that honey.”
Shane followed the gesture, then shrugged, lifting his mug slightly.
“It was just sitting here.”
Ilya’s eyes narrowed.
“And you used it?”
Shane took another sip.
“Yeah.”
A beat. Ilya looked at the mug. Then back at Shane.
“You used all of it.”
Shane gestured vaguely with the cup.
“I mean… yeah? It was one packet.”
Ilya closed his eyes for a moment like he was reconsidering every decision that had led him to this exact point in his life.
“Shane,” he said slowly.
“What?”
“That was not normal honey.”
Shane blinked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Ilya pointed at the packet again.
“You know that little specialty shop down the street?”
“The overpriced tea place?”
“Yes.”
Shane nodded. “Yeah.”
“They sell things that are…” Ilya searched for the word. “…enhanced.”
Shane frowned.
“Enhanced how.”
Ilya opened one eye.
“Aphrodisiac.”
The kitchen went very quiet. Shane stared at him. Then at the mug in his hand. Then back at Ilya.
“…You’re joking.”
Ilya gestured to the packet.
“Does it look like joke honey.”
Shane stared at him for another second. Then the color started creeping up his neck. It spread fast, blooming across his cheeks, the crimson bringing his freckles out more, as the implication finally caught up with him.
“Oh…” He set the mug down a little too quickly on the counter. “Ilya.”
“What?” Ilya said calmly.
Shane gestured vaguely between them, still flushed. “You can’t just say something like that.”
“I am stating fact.”
Shane ran a hand through his hair, pacing two steps across the kitchen like the tile had suddenly become very interesting.
“Why would you even leave that out?” he demanded.
Ilya leaned back against the counter, folding his arms.
“I did not leave it out,” he said mildly. “I bought it yesterday.”
“Well it was on the counter!”
“Yes.”
“Where people can use it!”
“Shane, I did not think you would wake up and immediately drink random substances.”
Shane pointed at the mug defensively.
“It was honey!”
“It was suspicious honey.”
Shane huffed. Then paused. Then blinked.
“Wait.”
He turned slowly back toward Ilya.
“…Why do we even have aphrodisiac honey?”
Ilya’s mouth twitched slightly. Shane’s eyes widened in horror as the thought finished forming.
“Wait, why would we even need that?” he continued, voice climbing. “You literally joke that neither of us are ever soft when the other one’s around!”
Ilya shrugged one shoulder.
“It was novelty.”
“Novelty?”
“It was on sale.”
Shane stared at him.
“On sale.”
“Yes.”
“You bought aphrodisiac honey because it was discounted.”
Ilya tilted his head thoughtfully.
“When you say it like that, it sounds irresponsible.”
Shane dragged both hands over his face.
“Oh my God.”
Ilya’s gaze drifted back to the mug.
Then back to Shane.
“How much did you drink.”
Shane followed his eyes down to the tea. The mug was nearly empty.
“…Most of it.”
Ilya went very still. Then he inhaled slowly through his nose.
“Well,” he said.
Shane immediately didn’t like that tone.
“Well what?”
Ilya pushed himself off the counter, taking one step closer.
“Then,” he said evenly, “we are about to have very interesting afternoon.”
Shane bit his lip, the flush still climbing up his neck and into his ears. He picked his mug up again mostly so he had something to do with his hands, even though it was basically empty now. His eyes flicked up to Ilya, something a little too bright in them.
“You gonna be able to keep up, Rozanov?” Shane teased, trying very hard to sound unaffected. Ilya went very still. Then one eyebrow lifted slowly.
“Keep up,” he repeated. Shane shrugged, leaning back against the counter like he hadn’t just accidentally ingested what was apparently weaponized honey.
“Just saying,” he added, tone light. “You’re the one who bought it.”
Ilya watched him for a long second, gaze drifting from Shane’s face to the way his fingers were gripping the edge of the counter a little tighter than usual.
“Shane.”
“What?”
“How are you feeling.”
Shane frowned slightly.
“Fine.”
A beat. Then he shifted his weight and looked Ilya up and down from head to toe like he was a meal.
“…Warm.”
Another beat. Shane cleared his throat.
“Okay maybe a little really warm.”
Ilya’s mouth twitched.
“Interesting.”
Shane glared at him. “Stop saying it like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like you’re observing an experiment.”
Ilya pushed off the counter and stepped closer, folding his arms.
“I am observing,” he said calmly.
Shane crossed his arms defensively. “I am not an experiment.”
“No,” Ilya agreed.
Another small step closer.
“You are very competitive athlete who just consumed aphrodisiac.”
Shane opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
“…That sounds worse when you say it like that.”
Ilya’s gaze dropped briefly to Shane’s flushed face, then back up again, something amused flickering in his eyes.
“You asked if I could keep up,” he said lightly.
Shane tried to maintain the cocky smirk he’d started with, but the heat creeping up his neck was making that difficult.
“Yeah.”
Ilya leaned just slightly closer.
“Be careful what challenges you make, Hollander.”
Shane swallowed.
Too late, he realized the tea might not be the only thing making the kitchen feel suddenly a lot warmer. Shane held out for about thirty more seconds. Which, considering the circumstances, was honestly impressive. But then the heat crawling under his skin spiked again, sharp and restless, and whatever fragile self-control he’d been clinging to finally snapped.
“Fuck it.”
Before Ilya could even finish raising an eyebrow, Shane grabbed the front of his shirt and practically pounced, lips crashing into Ilya.
“I hate you,” Shane muttered against his lips, half frustrated, half breathless as he pushed him back against the counter.
Ilya caught him easily, hands settling at Shane’s waist to steady them both.
“Clearly,” he said dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he fought back a laugh.
Shane glared at him, which would’ve been far more intimidating if his face wasn’t still flushed and his grip on Ilya’s shirt wasn’t bordering on desperate.
“This is your fault.”
“My fault,” Ilya repeated, amused.
“Yes!”
“You are the one who drank mysterious honey.”
“It was on the counter!”
“You did not question why honey came in gold foil packet.”
Shane opened his mouth. Paused.
“…Okay that part might be on me.”
Ilya huffed out a quiet laugh, his hands tightening slightly at Shane’s hips when Shane leaned closer again, clearly far more interested in solving the problem than debating responsibility.
“Shane,” he said, voice calmer than the situation probably deserved.
“What.”
“You are very impatient suddenly.”
Shane shot him an exasperated look.
“Ilya.”
“Yes.”
“I swear to God if you start analyzing me like I’m-”
Ilya’s composure cracked then, a soft laugh escaping before he could stop it, cutting Shane off midsentence.
“You are the one who challenged me, remember?”
Shane blinked. Then groaned.
“Fuck off.”
Ilya tilted his head, eyes glinting with unmistakable amusement now.
“You asked if I could keep up, Hollander.”
“Why do I open my mouth,” Shane muttered, dropping his forehead briefly against Ilya’s shoulder.
Ilya’s answer came immediately.
He smirked, fuck that smirk, the one that had been ruining Shane’s life since they were seventeen.
“For me.”
God. The worst part was that he was right. Shane felt the truth of it hit somewhere low in his chest, sharp and immediate, and whatever fragile thread of control he’d been pretending to hold onto snapped completely. One second he was standing.
The next-
He was on his knees. Shane blinked down at the floor like it had betrayed him somehow. He didn’t even remember moving. One moment Ilya’s hands had been on his waist, the next they were sliding up into Shane’s hair as Shane knelt between his legs.
“Fuck,” Shane breathed, half horrified at himself.
Above him, Ilya went very still. Then he laughed. Not loudly, just a low, disbelieving sound that vibrated through his chest.
“You do not even remember getting down there, do you,” he said.
Shane glared up at him.
“This is still your fault.”
“My fault,” Ilya repeated mildly, though his fingers were already threading more securely through Shane’s hair.
“Yes.”
Shane tried to look annoyed, but the heat still humming under his skin made that difficult. His hands were gripping Ilya’s thighs now without him remembering deciding to do that either.
Ilya noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile shifted into something slower, more dangerous.
“Hollander,” he said lightly, “I thought you hated me.”
Shane rolled his eyes, though the expression lost most of its bite from this angle.
“I do.”
“Clearly.”
Ilya’s thumb brushed along the side of Shane’s cheek, lazy and warm. Shane exhaled shakily, tilting his head back just enough to meet his eyes again.
“Are you going to keep talking,” Shane muttered, “or are you going to do something about the mess you created?”
Ilya’s smile widened.
“Oh,” he said. “I plan to.”
Shane’s mouth brushed the fabric of Ilya’s sweats, and the quiet sound that escaped Ilya made his smirk deepen. He loved this. Not just the control, not just the reaction but the way Ilya tried so hard to keep it together. The way his hands flexed against the counter like he was fighting the urge to grab Shane’s hair and take over completely.
Shane tilted his head up just enough to meet his eyes again.
“You were saying something about keeping up?” he murmured.
Ilya looked down at him, that dangerous smile slowly returning.
“Hollander,” he said quietly.
“Yes?”
“This was your challenge.”
Shane grinned.
“Yeah.”
Ilya’s hand finally slid into his hair.
Shane slid his hands into Ilya’s waist band and slowly lowered his loose fighting sweatpants down to mouth more freely at the bulge in Ilya’s boxers.
Ilya’s head lolled back.
“Fuck, Shane.” His hand fell back to the counter gripping it tightly.
Shane pulled away and smirked up at him with eyes clouded in dark lust, his body was on fire. Shane quickly got Ilya’s boxers out of the way and watched as his cock twitched at the contact with the air. Shane leaned in and licked Ilya's slit teasingly and felt as Ilya’s hands lace his fingers into his hair as he hissed.
Shane hummed around the head of Ilya’s cock and accepted as Ilya finally lost control and began thrusting into Shane’s mouth, Shane let his jaw fall slack as Ilya fucked his mouth, moaning around him.
Ilya was so fucking close but knew this wasn’t how he wanted to cum, he pulled out from Shane’s mouth and enjoyed the whimper he received in return.
Ilya reached a hand down and stroked his cheek, “моя любовь My Love, so beautiful.”
Then Ilya had Shane back up on his feet and was kissing him so deeply Shane was certain he was going to drown. Ilya loved tasting himself in Shane’s mouth, his hands were traveling over Shane’s body and he delighted in making him shiver.
“Please.” Shane moaned breathlessly into Ilya’s mouth as his hips rocked and grinded desperately against Ilya’s thigh.
Ilya smirked and pulled away just enough to make Shane whine, “Please what? Use your words Hollander.”
“Fuck me.” Shane wined out as Ilya’s hand finally came into contact with his aching cock.
”Ilya please.”
Ilya didn’t hesitate this time and very quickly lifted Shane onto the counter behind them before opening one of the kitchen drawers and pulling out a bottle of lube, he had them stored in about every room in their home after all. Ilya made quick work of prepping Shane, then leaned in kissing him deeply.
“You okay?” Ilya checked in, like always.
“Jesus Roz, fuck me!” Shane begged and Ilya slammed into him hard and Shane arched into him moaning loudly.
Ilya set a brutal pace, watching the way Shane took him like he was made for it, for him and fuck he couldn’t believe this man was his husband. He could feel Shane getting close and smirked and pulled out and away, enjoying how shane cried out at the loss and watched the tears start to prick in his eyes.
“What a good boy, taking me so well.” Ilya comforted and enjoyed watching Shane fight back his tears before slamming back into him hard.
Shane had tears streaming down his face now as he became a blabbering and moaning mess.
“I-Ilya. Close please.” His own hand was going to try and stroke his cock but Ilya swatted his hand away.
“Only for me, cum for me Shane.” Ilya wasn’t going to admit how close he was either but he knew Shane could tell from how frantic his thrusts were becoming.
Shane didn’t need any more than that before his own release came, coating his stomach as Ilya continued his relentless pace before spilling deep into him with a deep moan, as his mouth crashed into Shanes again.
—
Ilya pulled out of Shane slowly and smiled at the soft whine that he let out at the loss.
“Beautiful.”
Ilya kissed Shane’s jaw gently before gently picking him up and carrying him to their bed and setting him down gently.
“I’ll be right back, моя любовь.”
Ilya went to their bathroom and came back with a warm damp rag and began to clean Shane up.
Ilya smirked.
“Already hard again?” He teased then dipped his head down to teasingly lick Shane’s already dripping slit.
Shane moaned and blushed.
“Your stupid honey.”
He couldn’t stop himself from his hips trying to buck up into Ilya’s mouth. Ilya’s hand travelled to Shane’s hip and held him in place.
“So fucking needy, Hollander.” He took him into his mouth expertly and enjoyed feeling as Shane’s finger entangled in his hair.
“Ilya!”
Shane moaned as another orgasm crashed into him blindingly, Ilya greedily swallowed every drop his husband gave him before slowly pulling off him and smiling up at him. He enjoyed this view, Shane’s chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to come back to his body, Ilya placed soft kisses on the insides of Shane's thighs before carefully sliding beside him and pulling him into his chest.
“You were so good for me, my love.” Ilya praised him absent mindedly rubbing his back as Shane came back down.
Shane didn't say anything just curled tighter against Ilya, like if he parted for a second he'd disappear.
“Shane, hey look at me.”
Ilya knew Shane to well, he knew this was Shane fighting to come back to himself.
Shane tilted his head up just barely to look at Ilya, his face was still flushed and his hair was a mess.
“S-sorry got lost for a minute.” He said embarrassed.
The world stilled for a moment as Ilya took in his husband like this, so vulnerable but so gorgeous it almost hurt.
“Are you okay?”
Ilya asked as his hand came to cradle Shane's face. Shane nodded before leaning to kiss him, it was slow and soft, not with the fire that had been flowing through Shane earlier.
Shane stayed curled against him for a while, breathing slowly evening out as the last of the honey-fueled haze faded. The bedroom was quiet now, sunlight drifting lazily across the floor from the window. Somewhere downstairs the kettle still sat forgotten on the counter.
Ilya’s fingers moved lazily along Shane’s back, tracing absent patterns along his spine.
“You know,” Ilya murmured after a minute, voice low with amusement, “we should do this more often.”
Shane made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, too boneless to even lift his head.
“Fuck off.”
“What?” Ilya asked innocently.
“That stupid honey almost killed me.”
Ilya’s chest rumbled softly with laughter beneath him.
“You seemed to survive.”
Shane finally lifted his head just enough to glare at him, though it had absolutely no bite to it.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.”
Shane squinted at him for another second before his expression slowly shifted into suspicion.
“…Wait.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“What.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed.
“How much of that honey did you buy?”
Ilya didn’t answer right away. That was answer enough. Shane pushed himself up just enough to stare at him in horror.
“Ilya.”
“What?”
“There’s more of it.”
Ilya shrugged lightly.
“Possibly.”
“Oh my God,” Shane groaned, dropping his face back into the pillow. “Get rid of it.”
Ilya’s hand slid up into his hair again, scratching lightly at the back of his neck.
“If that is what you want.”
Shane peeked up at him through his lashes, still flushed and completely exhausted.
“Sure. Yeah,” he said firmly. “Absolutely.”
Ilya hummed thoughtfully. Shane held his gaze for exactly two seconds before looking away. Ilya’s smirk returned instantly.
“You are terrible liar, Hollander.”
Shane groaned again, dragging a pillow halfway over his face.
“Shut up.”
Ilya leaned down, tugging the pillow away just enough to press a soft kiss to Shane’s mouth. This one was slow, unhurried, nothing like the chaos from earlier. Shane melted into it anyway. When Ilya pulled back, Shane was smiling a little, eyes heavy but bright.
“Still blaming the honey?” Ilya asked.
Shane sighed dramatically.
“Absolutely.”
Ilya chuckled quietly and pulled him closer.
Outside, Ottawa moved on like it always did, traffic somewhere in the distance, wind rattling the trees along their street. Inside the house, though, everything felt still. Warm. Shane tucked himself closer against Ilya’s chest, already drifting.
“Next time,” he mumbled sleepily, “you’re making the tea.”
Ilya pressed another kiss into his hair.
“We will see.”
Shane snorted softly. And this time, when he finally fell asleep, Ilya let him stay exactly where he was.