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Winning the Cup after the loss to Latvia at the Olympics was euphoric. He dedicated it to his mother. The rest of his time on the ice was a blur. He was pretty sure he ended up crying into Emma’s shoulder and being lifted in a hug by Cliff.
In the back of his mind, he knew that commentators would be talking about his youth as a captain and how he had ended a thirteen-year drought for the Raiders. They would be talking about his future. They would also, inevitably, be talking about how the Metros were on year fifteen of a losing streak. Ilya hoped they would turn it around soon. Hell, maybe next year would be Shane’s year.
It wouldn’t be Ilya’s. He was waiting for his trade to go through. The media didn’t know it, but the management had a deal pending the last game of the season. They had all been sympathetic to Ilya when he had asked to be traded to Ottawa. But with their high chances for the Cup, they had held off. He was grateful. He wanted to win a Cup with Cliff. He wanted this for the Raiders. He spent their on-ice celebration twirling with babies, kissing WAGs.
In the locker room, he was drenched in champagne, laughing, behaving poorly. But he grabbed his phone and saw the text from Shane, “I’m so proud. You deserve this. Have fun with your team tonight.”
He texted back, “Congratulatory phone sex when I get home? I earned this.”
“You earned it,” agreed Shane.
The team went out, hit the town, he had fun, but went home relatively early and only tipsy, loudly citing the promise of phone sex. He got home and immediately video-called Shane. “Man of the hour,” Shane answered in glasses. He started to take them off.
“No, leave them,” begged Ilya. Shane laughed and left his glasses on. “What are you reading?”
“A biography on Wayne Gretzky,” said Shane.
“Ahh, fascinating, so different from usual.”
“You would be sad if it was,” said Shane. “How was partying?”
“Everyone loves me,” said Ilya.
“I believe it. You were magnetic tonight.”
“I wish you were here,” admitted Ilya.
“Me too,” said Shane.
Thinking about it, Ilya said, “Do you still have that dildo?” Shane laughed, sounding embarrassed, already going pink on his pretty freckled cheeks. “What color is it?”
“Ilya, please,” Shane whined.
“What? I want to fuck you, and I’m not there.” Ilya propped up his phone and threw off his shirt.
“You can’t fuck me, you’re not here,” said Shane, taking his words far too literally.
“I can tell you how to fuck yourself. It’s like I’m with you, playing with your toy.”
Shane took off his shirt and folded it, blushing, looking at his shirt, he said, “It’s been years… I have more toys now.”
“Shit, Shane. Show me.”
He leaned out of the camera’s view and pulled out things in front of the camera, blushing so beautifully. He had a baby blue dildo, a fleshlight shaped like a mouth, green anal beads and a gray vibrator. Ilya loved all the colors. So fun.
Ilya stared at them, “All the time I’ve spent in your condo and you’ve never shared? Get naked. I have a plan for that vibrator.” Ilya quickly stripped off.
Shane undressed and said, “I don’t know why this is so awkward.”
“Just pretend I’m there with you.”
Shane’s phone made a noise, and he said, “Shit, that’s Duolingo.”
“Don’t lose your streak,” Ilya teased, “Did you do your Rosetta Stone and Pimsleur lessons today?”
“I just want you to have someone to speak Russian with in Canada. I’ll do my Doulingo later.”
Even though the Doulingo alert was breaking Ilya’s flow, the knowledge that Shane spent over an hour every day studying Russian was a weird turn on in and of itself. “Talk Russian to me,” said Ilya.
“Ya ne prevyshal skorost, ofitser,” said Shane in a halting way that made it hard to follow, but his accent was good.
“Are we role playing? You were speeding and I’m the cop who pulled you over?” asked Ilya.
“I thought I said I wasn’t speeding. Shit. Did I get it wrong?”
Ilya laughed, “No, you said you weren’t speeding. I just assumed you were lying and were hoping I would let you off.”
“No, Ilya, I’m a good boy, who is boring and follows rules,” Shane half whined, and Ilya moaned at the noise.
“That’s true; you’re always so good for me.” Ilya said, “Such a good boy. Turn on the vibrator and run it over your neck.”
Shane did as he was told but said, “This isn’t how I use this.”
“Were you watching me on the ice?”
“Of course I was,” said Shane.
“Did you like it?”
“I love watching you.”
“I love watching you too. Spit on that vibrator and drag it over your nipples,” said Ilya. Shane made a little whimper as he followed the order. “Such a good boy for me,” said Ilya. He spat in his hand and started to stroke himself.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane moaned as he watched Ilya start to jerk off.
Watching Shane falling apart, Ilya bit his lip, “I wish I could smell you,” said Ilya. Shane laughed. “I’m serious. I’m dying watching without tasting or smelling you.” Shane’s hand started to wander lower, and Ilya said, “No, don’t.”
“Ilya, please,” he whined.
“Not your hand, touch the vibrator to your balls.”
Shane was glassy-eyed and desperate and said, “I’m so close. Just watching and teasing, I’m close.”
“I know,” said Ilya. Ilya jerked himself off hard, watching Shane fall apart. Ilya was fighting for words as he said, “Run it along you dick.”
As Shane did as he was told, he came, moaning Ilya’s name.
Looking at how wrecked Shane was made Ilya come apart, and he panted, “God, I miss you.”
“My flight’s tomorrow. I didn’t want to jinx you by coming before,” said Shane, making Ilya laugh. “I miss you too. But you won the Cup,” Shane reminded him with a smile. “It was an amazing game.” Ilya felt the grin spreading over his face. “Have they said anything about the trade?”
“They said they would finalize after the last game. They wouldn’t um… cross T’s until the game was over?” he couldn’t remember the exact wording.
“Dot the I’s and cross the T’s,” said Shane.
“Da,” Ilya nodded. “I don’t know what they’re getting for me, but the deal better be done soon because my contract runs out in three weeks and they want it finished before then. They said they would.”
“I’ll help you pack while I’m there,” said Shane.
“Might not go through,” said Ilya.
“I’m less worried about jinxing this than the Cup,” said Shane with a smile. He yawned and said, “Sorry, I’m not allowed to be tired. You’re the one who just won the Cup.”
“No, but you have a Doulingo lesson to do before bed. What time am I picking you up?”
“Eleven, so you can sleep in,” said Shane with a smile.
“Okay, learn Russian, go to sleep. Love you.”
“Love you too, and I’m so happy for you.” Ilya grinned and blew a kiss at the camera. “Poka-poka,” said Shane, softly.
“Poka-poka,” repeated Ilya, before he hung up.
He felt warm and happy. He was also sweaty and gross, so he showered, brushed his teeth and put on sweats, looking forward to the morning.
***
His alarm didn’t wake him. His GM woke him. He got a call in the morning from the too cheery man, telling him when he would be getting his personal day with the Cup, when his ring would come, when the parade was and the fact that it was going to be done on a duck bus. He loved duck tours. Finally, the man said, “Your trade will be announced in four days.”
“Okay, awesome, thank you. Shane Hollander is coming to help me pack. I’m gonna try and talk him onto the duck as family. Do we have to wear anything specific for the parade?”
“Jersey or merch.”
“I’m definitely wearing my jersey,” said Ilya. “I love my jersey.”
He had toured a few houses in Ottawa with Yuna. She had told the realtor she was looking for places for Shane. Ilya loved one of them and was hoping it would still be available when his trade was announced.
Firing his manager had been awkward because he was friends with Svetlana’s dad. Sergi called and asked Ilya what was going on. Ilya explained that Yuna Hollander was willing to represent him and knew the Canadian market. Sergi wasn’t particularly happy, but he accepted it.
Ilya changed his sheets, started his washing machine, went for a run and came home to a shower. Then he checked Shane’s flight time and drove over to the airport in his Porsche. He didn’t worry about being recognized near a private airport. People knew they were friends.
When Shane finished talking to the officials, he came across the tarmac with his duffle bag, rolling carry-on bag and a smile. Ilya gave him a bro hug. He didn’t want to give Shane a bro hug. He wanted to cuddle him close and inhale Shane’s scent. He didn’t want to be hitting him on the back like they were best buds. He wanted to be surrounded by Shane’s arms forever. But they were in public, and Ilya had won the Cup last night. He put Shane’s bags in the back and said, “You wanna confuse the fuck out of Boston and be on the parade duck bus tomorrow?”
Shane laughed and said, “I’m not pissing off Montreal. But congrats. When you win for Ottawa, I’ll come on the parade float.”
As they drove away, Shane rested his hand on Ilya’s thigh, “I’m so proud of you. And I’m also jealous.” Ilya laughed.
“You brought so much stuff. I thought you were helping me move out, not moving in,” joked Ilya.
“I need my tux and dress shoes for Vegas. We gotta give out an award, then I’ll watch you win.”
“You’re admitting I’m the most valuable?” Ilya asked with a laugh.
Shane shook his head. “They give it to the captain of the team that won the Cup. It doesn’t matter that I won the scoring race in the regular season.”
They talked about the schedule, about the house and about what Ilya wanted to do while he had the Cup in his possession.
“So, you’re making a music video to We Are the Champions with Cliff, getting a picture of you in the bath in your jersey with the Cup and a glass or champagne, and we’re doing a taste test of my protein shake out of the Cup?”
“Maybe it’s better out of the Cup,” nodded Ilya. “Also, it’s a bubble bath and I want to do one in my jersey and one shirtless.”
“Sounds good. Am I allowed a sip of my shake out of the Cup?”
“You were so good for me last night; yeah, you can try your shake out of the Cup. It’ll still be disgusting.”
“So why are we doing it?”
Ilya laughed. He had thought it was obvious, “I want a video of you and me playing with the Cup together.” They pulled up to his house and behind the gate. Parking, he said, “Can I fuck you now?”
They rushed inside, Shane kicking his shoes off by the door and dropping his duffel bag. Ilya picked him up and carried him up to his bedroom. They made out as they both started stripping off. Shane leaned back slightly to fold his clothes and stack them on the bedside table, and Ilya remembered to turn on the towel warmer he had set up earlier.
“Missed you,” said Shane.
“You were hot so last night,” said Ilya.
“Hated not kissing you. Sucked,” whined Shane.
Ilya immediately moved to kiss him, making sure to hold Shane close. They made out, holding each other tightly. Ilya was hungry for Shane’s touch and taste. He had felt like a man dying from dehydration. Sex could wait. He was willing to prioritize kissing for Shane. After a while, Shane broke away, kissing his way down Ilya’s body. He played with Shane’s hair and massaged his shoulder as Shane sucked him off.
He came, choking on Shane’s name and Shane kissed him again, saying, “Congrats on the Cup.”
He started to stroke Shane and said, “What do you want?” But then Shane came fast. He laughed, delighted by how fast Shane had popped off.
Shane smiled, “I’ve been turned on watching the whole Cup Race. You were obnoxiously hot.” Ilya laughed and cuddled him closer. “I’m sticky.”
Ilya looked at the towel warmer and saw it was ready. He reached up and fumbled the lid off, making Shane laugh, and started to wipe them both off with the steaming towel that smelled like lilies. He got them both clean and said, “Good?”
“Yeah,” Shane curled into him. “We’ll get up in a bit.”
“In like an hour or two,” agreed Ilya, stroking Shane’s hip. “Just stay here for a while.”
“We gotta pack up your stuff. You’re moving to Canada.”
“I can’t wait to be one long drive away from you.”
“I have a surprise for your house. I know the new house is bigger. But you don’t need to buy any tables.”
“You bought me tables? You, Mr. Hired the Interior Decorator?”
“You’re gonna love them.”
“What kinda tables are they?”
“You don’t want a surprise when you get to Canada?” asked Shane with a smile.
“I’m moving from a foreign country to a foreign country to a city I have spent hours in. I would rather have fewer surprises.”
“People make coffee tables and side tables out of antique typeset trays that have glass tops so you can display things in them. You keep your rock collection all organized in that dresser, so you don’t get to display it. And the company makes all different styles, so I got you a big coffee table and two side tables that are all sleek and modern,” Shane groped for his phone and pulled up an email, showing the tables to Ilya.
“That’s so cool,” said Ilya. “I love them.”
“They’re in my parents’ garage right now.”
“Thank you, Shane,” Ilya snuggled Shane closer. He started thinking about how he would organize them. “I found an arrowhead while I was taking Cliff’s kids for a nature walk. I was going to give it to his oldest, but Cliff told her you can’t keep things you find in nature and then slipped it back to me whispering she wouldn’t appreciate it. Then he told the kids some bullshit about taking nothing but photos and leaving nothing but footprints. So, now I have a native American arrowhead. And I found a really good bluejay feather while running last month.”
“Yeah, you showed me on a call,” Shane reminded him. “Can’t wait to see it in person.”
“The table has all different sizes of slots under the glass. Some are good length for feathers,” said Ilya with a grin.
“I can’t wait to see how you display all your rocks and collection.”
Ilya smiled up at the ceiling. He ran his fingers through Shane’s hair. Thinking about it, he said, “Moscow is a very green city. Lots of parks… When I was little, we didn’t have money. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t nice. It was a loud building. Mama used to take Alexei and me to the park to get out. On the beaches along the river, we would find bits of sea glass and wishing stones. Mama said, when you found wishing stones, you were supposed to make your wish and throw them back into the water. I kept every wishing stone I found because I wanted to keep an eye on my goals. I kept my dreams close. And they never came true… I did a couple of commercials. I was a cute kid with blond curls who could skate. I was on three winter commercials. I don’t even know what I was selling. Those got us into a two-bedroom apartment and got food on the table. Sergi got Papa a better job with the police. Things got easier but they didn’t get better… It never got better until I got to leave. Once I got drafted, I threw the stone I had wished to get drafted on back into the river. Right now, I have two wishing stones in my bag with all my gear. They have been with me everywhere as I’ve hoped to win the Cup and get traded. I don’t know what to do with the stones because I’m not going home… My wishes so rarely come true that I don’t know what to do with them if not throwing them in the Moskva River.”
Shane said, “Well, you could give them to Cliff’s kids to make wishes. Or you could put them as centerpieces in your new tables. Or you could drop them at the canal in Ottawa. Or you could put them on the beach at the cottage. You have so many options and so much time to decide.”
They dozed for a while, and when he woke up, he said, “Are you hungry?”
“For what?” asked Shane.
“Food, you pervert,” Ilya laughed. “I can make tuna melts.”
“I love tuna melts.”
“I know, you told ESPN they’re your favorite weekday cheat meal.”
Shane laughed, “I don’t remember saying that, but it’s true.”
“Later we can grill some steaks.”
“I love grilling in the summer. And meat.”
“I know you love meat,” joked Ilya, getting out of bed. He tossed a pair of shorts toward Shane. “Do you like tomato in your tuna melt?”
“Yes, please.”
Ilya cooked while Shane made a list of all of Ilya’s most valuable and most beloved awards. They were all insured. But that wouldn’t get them back if they were stolen in the move. Shane could fly them over to Canada easily.
“We have a week before we have to go to Vegas, we have time. Your parents are crazy excited for Vegas.”
“You got them Celine Dion tickets, of course they’re pumped,” said Shane.
“I thought it was a joke that all Canadians loved her.”
“Not boomers; they don’t fuck about when it comes to Celine,” said Shane. “I may have been conceived to Celine. Hopefully we’ll never know, but that’s the sort of thing my mother might share over one too many glasses of wine.” Ilya laughed, and Shane grinned. “Thank you for making it a family vacation.”
His parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary was going to be two days after the award ceremony. Over a phone call, Shane had told them they didn’t need to come as Ilya was all but guaranteed MVP. His mother had said she wanted to be there to cheer for Ilya. She had also said, “Dad and I can take your fancy penthouse that the League rents you and you can tell anyone that you couldn’t rent one for us because the League snapped them all up. Claim you’re crashing on Ilya’s penthouse’s couch.”
“Thanks, Mom, it’s nice to have someone helping us.”
“I wish I could make everything easier for you. I can at least find a reason why you are sharing a hotel room.”
When he had talked to Ilya about it, Ilya had leaned into the lie, turning it honest, making a group chat with Shane’s parents, getting everyone tickets to Cirque du Soleil for the night after the awards, and a pair of Celine tickets for the night of their anniversary. They had a bunch of dinner reservations lined up.
“Are you ready for a boring trip to Vegas?” teased Shane, “A family vacation to sin city.”
“Sasha called my boring when I saw him during the Olympics.”
“You saw Sasha?” asked Shane, aiming for casual but missing by a mile. “Your old coach’s son Sasha?”
“You are the most jealous man I know,” said Ilya.
“How many men do you know?” asked Shane, clearly aiming to make it a joke.
“He was at Sveta’s father’s party. He wanted to hook up, and he wanted me to do coke with him. He got angry when I was with someone. He said, ‘Well, she’s not here.’ He kissed me. I pushed him away; I’ve never been a cheater. Then he got angrier and said he would find someone who was less boring. Like he wasn’t trying to get me to do two illegal things in a bathroom at a government party.”
“He kissed you without your permission? That’s gross,” said Shane.
“It’s actually assault,” Ilya corrected him. “I always thought we were friends with benefits. Now, I don’t think we were ever friends.”
“I’m sorry he was like that. I’m not sorry you didn’t do coke at a government party. That seems like a bad idea.”
“It’s a really bad idea,” agreed Ilya. He plated the sandwiches and nodded toward the couches. “Talking of ideas, Cliff and Emma invited us over to dinner while you’re here. Unlike Pike, Cliff’s very happy for us.”
“You guys are close?”
Ilya silenced the TV, flicking through to find something. There was obviously no hockey after the Cup. National Geographic was showing a stupid survival show. Ilya found a nature documentary on PBS. He only sort of paid attention to the TV as he said, “Oh, yeah, I’m Uncle Ilya to his kids, and Emma refers to me as their oldest because I was seventeen when we met, and she was pregnant. They helped me a lot with English and learning how things worked in America.”
“Of course we should go,” said Shane, tangling their feet together. “You’re not going to get to see him as much when you move and I totally get them wanting to meet your boyfriend.”
“Cliff always wanted me to get with someone so there could be double dates. Now, he knows there has been someone the whole time and I’m leaving.”
The documentary was about South American lizards, and it was good. Shane was watching him more than the show. “Okay?” asked Ilya.
“I’m happy; I just like seeing you enjoying your stuff.”
“You never know when you’ll need to know South American lizards,” Ilya joked.
“Do you anything about Canadian wildlife?” asked Shane.
“Is it all that different from the U.S.?”
“I don’t know,” Shane shrugged, “animals aren’t really my thing. I learned some bird calls as a kid. My dad really wanted us to be a camping family for a while. But Mom and I are creature comforts people.”
“I’ve seen your cottage. It’s not very… rustic.”
“You saw my cottage?” asked Shane.
“On ESPN,” Ilya nodded.
“The special?” asked Shane.
“Yeah, it was very good. I needed help sleeping.”
“Fuck off,” said Shane with a laugh. “I’m so excited you’re coming.”
“Me too,” Ilya said, taking a bite and turning back to the show.
***
It was a happy, quiet week. They ate food from Ilya’s favorite restaurants, went running at Ilya’s favorite parks, looked at the dogs at Ilya’s favorite dog park, hung out with Cliff.
When he had the Cup, he set it in the middle of his trophy room. He fucked Shane on the floor, telling Shane to keep his eyes on the Cup.
“Is this supposed to be motivation?” asked Shane between pants.
“Just ride it, Shane,” he said, fucking him as Shane raked his nails down his back. “So good for me,” he said, kissing Shane’s jaw. Shane came hard but kept rocking, working to get Ilya off. Lying together, catching their breath, Ilya said, “You’re looking at the Cup?”
“Yeah,” Shane agreed.
“You’re the best thing I ever won. That’s why we’re fucking in the trophy room. You’re better than the Cup.”
“I still want it,” said Shane.
“The first time you lift it on the ice, Shane,” he groaned, still rocking through his aftershocks.
“Such an asshole,” said Shane with a laugh.
Then there was the parade. And the trade was announced, and it was all anyone was talking about on the sports channels. They went to Cliff and Emma’s for the evening, and Cliff introduced Shane as “Uncle Ilya’s boyfriend Shane.” The two kids were excited to have a new adult to show off for, not asking questions about how a man could have a boyfriend or who Shane was. The adults talked about Ilya’s move and asked if he needed help. Cliff asked him how long it would take to pack his rock collection. Ilya excitedly showed him the tables Shane had bought him.
“I’m going to get one for the cottage, and Ilya can put whatever he finds while we’re playing outside,” said Shane. “The cottage is all about the great outdoors with kayaks, jet skis and so many hiking paths. We’ll have to get you guys up there for a long weekend next summer.”
“We can turn it into a contest for the kids to find something nice for the table, get them off the devices and away from the Barbies and looking at the green,” said Ilya.
“But not the jet skis,” said Emma.
“No, the Pike girls aren’t old enough for them either, but they can go in the kayaks in someone’s lap and it it’s fun to look for frogs and stuff along the shoreline.”
“How old are they?”
“The twins are six, Arthur is nine months. How old are yours?” asked Shane.
“Amy is five and Clifford is two,” said Emma.
“Cool. I’m competent with them. I’ve never been the most fun uncle. Playing’s never been my thing. But… y’know, some guys on the team don’t change a diaper when they’re babysitting because they worry about it being appropriate to see a kid’s genitals. So, they let them sit in in pee rather than just change them. They’ll feed them up with sugar. And then be unsure of what to do when the kid ends up crying. So, WAGs prefer for me to babysit because they know they’ll get their kids back clean, fed real food and comforted when they get upset. They might be bored. I’m not taking their kids to La Ronde by myself.”
“La Ronde?” asked Cliff.
“An amusement park,” said Shane. “Watching Ilya with the kids at All-Stars, he could handle it, but I would pull my own nails out.”
Amy brought Shane a baby doll. “This is Nancy. Can you feed her and hold her for me? I gotta do stuff.” She handed him a bottle.
“Sure, are you going on a date or doing errands?” asked Shane.
“I’m going to the groceries,” she said.
“Enjoy grocery shopping. I’ll look after Nancy.” He bounced the doll as he fed her the empty bottle.
“What’s your name again?” asked Amy.
“Shane.”
She ran away to her kitchen playset. Shane kept bouncing the doll while pretending to feed it. Cliff raised an eyebrow, and Shane said, “You never know when they’re going to turn back and get pissed that you aren’t doing it.”
“Wow, of course the WAGs love you,” said Cliff.
Late in the evening, as they left, Emma asked for Jacki Pike’s number, saying that WAGs needed more of a network.
***
The penthouse in Vegas was beautiful. Shane dumped his stuff on the couch, in case anyone came in later. They broke in the bed in the late afternoon sun, showered together and put on tuxes. They ran into Carter Vaughn the minute they left the room, and he laughed, “Were you guys pregaming the ceremony?”
“No,” Shane shook his head. “Every single suite and penthouse rented by the MLH but it’s my parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary so they took my penthouse and I’m crashing on Ilya’s couch.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” said Carter.
They headed down together. JJ ran into them in the elevator and said, “Are we celebrating whichever one of you wins?”
Ilya laughed and said, “I have this.”
Shane rolled his eyes but said, “I’d love to argue and point out I won the scoring race in the regular season, but the captain of the Cup’s winning team always wins.”
The ceremony was as boring as always, but he and Shane presented an award together, the one for sportsmanship. They did a stupid bit where they said, “The real winning in hockey is the friends we make along the way.” It had probably been rewritten since they’d been outed as friends. Maybe before, the joke was that they weren’t friends. Forcing the sport’s biggest rivals to hand out the sportsmanship award probably seemed hilarious. But whatever the bit was originally had since been retooled. Now it was a stupid joke about taking selfies.
Ilya suggested taking selfies with your friends while wearing tuxes.
Shane read a terrible joke off the teleprompter about all of them not wearing sweats for once.
Ilya took a bunch of selfies of them and then stopped reading the teleprompter and spoke off the cuff as he said, “I’m sending these to the family group chat.”
Shane rolled his eyes, and Yuna called out, “Thank you,” making people in the room laugh and Shane say, “Mom, stop encouraging this.” People laughed louder. “And the award goes to-” he opened the envelope and held it out to Ilya.
“Oh, that’s nice: Carter Vaughn,” said Ilya.
Vaughn bounded up to the stage and said, “One more,” and whipped out his phone to take a grinning selfie with them before taking the award.
Ilya and Shane exited the stage, and Shane said, “You’re absurd.”
“That was the only funny part of the presentation. And Vaughn improved it.”
They headed back to their separate tables. Ilya did win the MVP, and he saw Shane standing on his feet to clap for him. Ilya thanked his team, his coaches, the medical team and trainers for helping him get to that point. He dedicated the award to his father for always pushing him to do better. He thanked the Raiders for giving him a home in the U.S., said they would always be his family in the U.S., and thanked them for working so hard to get the Cup. He promised to work hard to make the Centaurs the best they could be next season. He finished by saying, “And thank you to the Hollanders, especially you, Shane, for being the first person to welcome me to this new continent. You’ll never understand just how much it meant to me when, back at our first Prospect Cup, you introduced yourself. Thank you. Love you, Shane. Love you all.”
People clapped. He’d announced to a room full of people, who worked for a horrifyingly homophobic organization, that he loved a man — and they all clapped. There was a boring party afterward where a ton of officials and the owners of both the Raiders and the Centaurs congratulated him with a drink.
When Shane got to him. Shane grinned but said, “Congratulations, I think you owe me a drink.”
Ilya laughed and bought him a beer, “Sorry.”
“No you aren’t. And you shouldn’t be. You earned this,” Shane tapped his beer against Ilya’s glass of vodka. Cliff and Emma stayed close all night. Yuna and David stopped by to hug him and congratulate him.
“Don’t party too hard tonight, boys. Remember that we have Cirque du Soleil tomorrow,” David reminded them.
“We’ll be good,” Ilya promised.
“I’m going to go network,” said Yuna. Then, dropping her voice, she spoke to the whole group, “Remember that a lot of sponsors are here. Nothing too crazy. Don’t make your managers’ jobs harder.”
There was a chorus of, “Yes, Mom/Yuna/Mrs. Hollander.” She kissed both Shane and Ilya on the cheek before leaving.
“Your mother is terrifying,” said JJ.
“Yuna is the best,” Ilya corrected.
Pike was standoffish, but Emma and Jacki greeted each other with a hug like they were old friends. Everyone from the Eastern Conference who had been nominated or was there to support a nominee was hanging out together. Ilya had never seen that happen before. It was like the knowledge that he and Shane were friends put everyone in a truce that had never existed before. Because they were the center of the truce, they couldn’t slip away. It was more fun and friendly than usual.
People hounded Shane if he knew about Ilya’s trade, and the Raiders’ owners walked by. Shane said, “Did I know about Ilya’s trade before it went public?”
People laughed, and one of the owners rolled her eyes, “It’s fine, Mr. Hollander,” she said as she passed.
“I was in Boston helping Ilya pack essential things I’m bringing back to Canada for him. Mom’s been looking at houses for him for ages. We knew. Mom’s his agent now.”
“Oh, so no one else is going to have sponsor deals next season,” JJ joked.
They managed to leave the party a little past one. Upstairs, Ilya put the trophy down. It was gold and had sparkled earlier in the evening. He had passed it around so much that it was smeared with fingerprints. “I keep thinking back to our rookie year’s award ceremony.”
“When I found you on the roof?” asked Shane.
“That was an awful night. The whole season, I was chasing you and couldn’t catch up. I had Papa calling me, telling me I was a failure. But then they nominated me, and people kept saying I was more entertaining to watch, and the Raiders had had a huge ticket sales increase, so it wasn’t a done deal. I felt sick after we were out of the playoffs, waiting. Then I lost. I knew Papa was watching and would be livid. And I had to go home in three days to face his anger. Now I won MVP… I doubt he was watching.” He swiped away tears before they could fall. “If he was, his English has slipped and isn’t good enough to follow the broadcast anymore. And… when we spoke yesterday, he was angry at me for losing the Prospect Cup to you. I never got to make him proud.” Shane gathered him in a hug, not replying, just holding him and rocking him gently, even though they were still standing. “It’s stupid,” said Ilya.
“It’s not,” Shane assured him. “Do you want distraction or do you want to cuddle and go to bed?” asked Shane softly.
“No,” Ilya said with a half whine, half growl, “it’s my special night. I want to fuck you.”
“How do you want me?” asked Shane.
“I,” Ilya paused, “I’ve never felt as good, as real, as I do with you. I just want to be with you.”
Shane nodded and moved away from him, going to the windows to close the thin privacy curtains, “I don’t want to share you with all of Vegas. You’re mine,” he said.
He untied his tie and tossed it toward the couch, but then unbuttoned his shirt and neatly placed it on the couch. Ilya watched, drinking in the sight.
Ilya started to unbutton his shirt, but Shane said, “No, it’s your special night. I can do that for you.” As Shane reached him, he unbuttoned Ilya’s shirt, chasing his fingers with his lips, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. He folded Ilya’s shirt, just like he had his own, and turned to put it on the couch, keeping one hand tracing over Ilya’s stomach and opening his tuxedo pants, “Love you, wanted you all night. Everyone else was getting your attention.”
They both knew it wasn’t true. No one ever held Ilya’s attention when Shane was in the room, but Ilya said, “I’m sorry, lyubimyy. I’m paying attention.” Shane kissed his way down Ilya’s body and knelt at his feet. “Promise: I’m all yours,” said Ilya softly.
Shane blew him the way he always had: with so much enthusiasm. There wasn’t any foreplay. Shane acted like he was in a dick-eating contest where there was a timed finish line. Even the first time they had been together, the sheer eagerness had made Ilya come embarrassingly quickly. He sucked dick with the same focus and passion he played hockey.
Ilya said, “Stop, stop, stop. I’m gonna come and I want to fuck you. No one sucks dick like you, never get over it.”
Shane stood, and he gave a wry smile and joked, “No one does it like me ‘cause you love me?”
“No,” Ilya pulled him close, grinding against Shane’s still clothed groin. “They have foreplay and teasing. You go in for the kill. You’re fucking dangerous.”
Shane’s face scrunched in confusion, “But blowjobs are foreplay.”
“Don’t overthink it,” Ilya said quickly, “Don’t change how you suck dick. You’re perfect.” He kissed Shane and lifted him. Shane wrapped his legs around Ilya’s waist as Ilya carried him into the bedroom.
He kicked off his pants and underwear and stepped on his toes to pull his socks off. But, as he placed Shane on the bed, he gently tugged Shane’s pants and underwear, folding them and putting them on top of the dresser. He even half-folded the socks, the way Shane liked to pack his dirty socks to differentiate them from the clean ones when he got home from roadies.
He had left the lube on the bed when they had left for the ceremony, knowing they would need it later in the night. He lubed up his fingers and started to stroke Shane’s hole, “Wanna fuck you.”
“Yeah,” Shane moaned, rocking against his hand. “I need.”
“What do you need?” he asked.
“You,” Shane panted.
Ilya leaned down, hovering over him to kiss him slowly as he fingered him. Shane whined into the kiss and clung to him. “You’ve got me,” Ilya said against Shane’s lips.
Shane was a drug. Ilya would never get enough of a hit to move on. Every taste of him got Ilya higher and higher. He felt like he was floating even as he was sliding home into Shane’s body. The angle made it difficult to kiss, but, as well as being a drug, Shane was practically a contortionist, and they pulled it off. They moved together slowly as Shane got used to the intrusion. Ilya left soft, small kisses all over Shane’s face, peppering his freckles with affection.
“Can I make you come without my hands?” asked Ilya.
“Probably,” said Shane.
Ilya laughed, “No, I wasn’t asking for prediction. I want permission.”
“Oh,” Shane panted, “yeah, please, yeah.”
Ilya manhandled him the way that made Shane always melt like ice cream on a hot pavement. It made Ilya feel powerful to have Shane turn into a whimpering ragdoll in his arms. He pulled one of Shane’s legs over his shoulder, and Shane moaned. The angle let him hit Shane’s prostate perfectly every time.
Shane came hard, still clinging to Ilya. Ilya started to slow, but Shane said, “No, keep going, fuck.”
Ilya took his own pleasure from Shane’s body as Shane was still catching his breath. They ended up cuddled together, panting.
“I like Vegas,” said Shane, making Ilya laugh.
“Do you like Vegas or you like that we win things here and we have a penthouse?”
Shane didn’t reply for a few moments. When he did, he said, “Let’s clean up a little and order room service.”
Laughing, Ilya said, “Da, sounds like plan.”