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Ilya had seen how Hollander’s eyes had trained on his ass in the shower, had seen how he had gotten hard just from looking in about ten seconds, too. And wasn’t that just the best compliment anyone could ask for? It had made all the effort to secure the joint ad worth it.
He liked women, he did. He liked to see what noises he could make them let out, see how they’d squirm under him, how tight they’d envelop him. He liked seeing their eyes as they trusted him with their bodies, their pleasure, how they expected him to take care of it. Ilya always lived up to those expectations.
He liked men, too. Granted, he’d only been with one man before, and the first time had been a hasty thing in an abandoned locker room one evening after practice. It had been far from comfortable, but as Ilya had been bent over and filled up, something in him had finally been allowed to rest. For the first time in his life, he had been enough without having to do anything. So it had been easy to carry on with it, well, until the nerves had gotten to him and he had shut the whole thing down. It was one thing to fuck men in Russia, it was a whole other thing to be the one that took it.
The way Hollander had looked at him had made his own cock thicken, had made it all too easy to stroke himself and watch how Hollander had blushed. He had imagined Hollander looking down at him with that same dumbfounded expression as Ilya took his cock into his mouth. Ilya bet he could make him come in less than two minutes.
“So uh, look, we can forget about that in there. Okay?” Hollander had said from where he was sitting on the bench.
Ilya noticed how he dropped his shoe in the middle of picking it up to put it on. He also noticed how Hollander had had to drag his eyes away from Ilya’s body.
“Is what you want?” Ilya asked teasingly. He knew he had Hollander right where he wanted him, he just had to be careful.
“Yeah, for sure,” came the quick reply.
He chuckled. “You’re a bad liar.”
It had been easy to get Hollander to agree to meet up with him later that night. It had been a while since he had been fucked, so he spent a long time preparing himself. For some reason he couldn’t place, he wanted things to be perfect for Hollander, convenient.
Hollander had surprised him with how eagerly he had gotten to his knees, even if his inexperience was obvious. Though Ilya had to be quick to make things clear.
“Hollander, you will fuck me now, yes?”
And he seemed shocked by that. “Really?” he asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Ilya shrugged, feeling like he was under a microscope. “What?”
“I just…” Hollander blushed hard, “didn’t expect that.”
Ilya fought to keep his expression neutral. If Hollander wanted it that way then he could oblige, but…
“But no,” he continued, still sounding nervous, as he stood. “I’d like that.”
“You would?” Ilya pressed.
Hollander let his forehead fall forward against Ilya’s.
“More than anything. I didn’t…want to…you know,” he paused.
“But you would have? For me?” Ilya asked.
Hollander nodded wordlessly.
And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing anyone had ever said to him.
“I prepared myself just for you, Hollander. Would be a shame to waste it, no?”
Hollander’s hands clenched reflexively where they were settled on Ilya’s hips hard enough to hurt. “Please.”
Ilya could feel the nerves rolling off of the other man in waves, and he had never met someone more in need of a firm hand to guide him.
“Strip and get on the bed,” Ilya ordered.
It was more endearing than Ilya would ever admit to see the way Hollander folded his clothes neatly, piling them on a nearby chair.
The power was intoxicating, like dominating on the ice, but far more condensed because it was the only two of them there.
Hollander looked at him expectantly as he lay there naked on the bed with an unabashedness that spoke of years in various locker rooms. Ilya stripped the rest of his clothes off and joined him, climbing on top of him and finally getting to kiss him again. His lips had been tingling with the lack of it. He was inexperienced, but something about it only turned Ilya on more. He was just so fucking eager.
“You think you will cum fast?” Ilya asked teasingly.
Hollander just tipped his head back, his jaw clenched. “No,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Okay,” he replied. “Are you just going to lie there like…what is term? Pillow princess?”
That was enough to bring out the competitive side in him, just as Ilya had hoped. He flipped him over easily, far easier than Sasha had ever been able to do. Hollander was a little shorter than him, but just as muscular and not in a way that was for show either.
“You said you prepared earlier?” he asked, voice rough.
Ilya nodded. “So we could hurry and fuck,” he said before adding with a little more vulnerability than he had intended. “Want you to fuck me.”
It wasn’t as if that wasn’t already perfectly obvious given their situation, but saying it out loud like that seemed dangerous somehow. But Hollander didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, he just tightened his grip on Ilya’s hips.
Ilya hummed happily. “Yes, Hollander. Show me how strong you are,” he purred. “Fuck me hard. Show me why you are second draft pick.”
And truly, he hadn’t meant for it to be a dig, but the way Hollander’s mouth quirked into a frown meant that he had taken it that way. Still, he was happy enough to insinuate himself between Ilya’s thighs, his hard cock bumping against his ass.
“You tease me now?” Ilya asked when Hollander didn’t immediately move.
But he was just staring down at Ilya like he might faint. Ilya considered stopping things right then since he seemed so nervous before he spoke.
“Not teasing,” he said breathily, “just trying not to cum.”
“Oh?” he asked, chuckling.
“Fuck, Rozanov. Just looking at you like this is nearly enough to make me bust,” he hissed. “Looking down and seeing myself between your legs? Fuck.”
Ilya felt himself blushing despite himself. “You should be more worried that I’ll get bored,” he said, moving like he was about to get up.
Strong hands pushed him back into the mattress. Hard. Hollander was giving him a petulant glare.
“Don’t joke.”
But Ilya wasn’t sure he could say anything right then. He had completely forgotten English, for a start, and secondly, he wasn’t sure his mouth worked. All he could seem to do was stare, slack-jawed. He had never imagined that Hollander had it in him.
“Okay, Hollander,” Ilya said eventually, and there was none of his previous mischief in his tone.
The brunet seemed satisfied with that, reaching to take the base of his cock in his hand. Ilya fidgeted slightly, Hollander was still taking his time, but the punishing grip on his hip kept him from pointing it out.
Ilya gasped as Hollander finally pushed in. It really had been too fucking long. He had prepared well, so he opened to the intrusion easily, but he had forgotten just how intense the feeling was. He let out a whine before he could stop himself, his head tilted back.
Hollander stilled, leaning down to kiss him comfortingly. “Are you ok?”
Ilya huffed. “Yes, yes. Fuck, Hollander. Fucking get on with it.”
“I’m not hurting you?”
Ilya lifted his hips, pushing back on Hollander until he had bottomed out completely. They both stayed still for a moment, breathing hard. Hollander’s hands had migrated from their tight grip on Ilya hips, dancing over his thighs and up to his ribs restlessly, like Hollander wanted to touch him everywhere and didn’t know where to start. Ilya, taking pity on him, grabbed one of Hollander’s hands and placed it on his chest firmly.
“Grab.” Ilya said and Hollander did, gripping onto him like his life depended on it.
Hollander looked down at his own hand and gasped hard, looking down at him with too much open reverence for Ilya’s taste. Especially not when he looked down to where they were joined like he could hardly believe it. It was all too much.
“Okay,” he said. “We switch.”
He couldn’t take any more of those molten brown eyes staring down at him. Even the, he had to admit, adequate job he was doing of fucking him into the mattress, wasn’t enough to stop the feeling that Ilya was being flayed open by those damn eyes.
“S-sure,” Hollander said, pulling back to let Ilya turn around.
This time, Hollander didn’t wait for Ilya to guide him, he placed a proprietorial hand on the small of Ilya’s back. Like already he had opinions about the best angle. Since he couldn’t see his face, Ilya didn’t bother to hide his smile as Hollander sank into him again, setting a bruising rhythm.
Ilya let out a punched-out moan, scrabbling at the bedsheets. The other good thing about this position, apart from the fact that he wasn’t meeting Hollander’s eyes anymore, was that it meant that he was driving into his prostate on at least every other thrust.
“Am I hurting you?” Hollander asked nervously, stopping his movements entirely.
Ilya turned around just enough to glare at him. “Why did you stop?”
“You sounded…in pain?” he explained.
Ilya rolled his eyes, turning back to hide his embarrassment at having to say what he was about to say out loud. “No. Was good sound.”
“O-oh,” and Ilya could fucking hear the pride in his tone, and he hated that it turned him on even more.
Hollander thankfully started to move again without further comment. Ilya let himself float off into the pure sensation of being fucked. It really had been too long since he had had this, and he was fucking ravenous for it, pushing his hips back into Hollander desperately. Usually, he would have had some finesse. Perhaps he even would have ridden Hollander, and taken pride in watching him fall apart under him, but not tonight.
“Fuck, Hollander, just like that,” he said just as the brunet changed his angle in just the perfect way and Hollander obliged him eagerly. Still the eager boy, wanting to follow orders for all that he was ploughing Ilya into mattress.
He hadn’t expected for Hollander to reach forward and take his hand, folding it tightly behind his back and effectively forcing his face into the bed.
“Did you-” Ilya had been about to chirp at Hollander - did you see that in porn? But his words had been quickly fucked out of his mouth the second that he realised that, fuck yes, Hollander was going to use the new angle to drive into him like he hated him. And no, he wasn’t going to let go of his arm either.
Ilya wondered if he would have bruises after this. Part of him hoped so, even if they would be hard to explain. Hollander was panting and moaning behind him, a series of half-bitten off sounds that made Ilya almost wish that he hadn’t changed positions. He bet that Hollander looked amazing like that.
Realising that Hollander wasn’t likely to last much longer, what with how he had fallen forwards onto Ilya’s back, effectively pinning him down as he rutted into him, chasing his orgasm, Ilya accepted defeat and fell properly onto the bed so he had a free hand to reach down and grab his cock. Just from the way his hand felt like too much stimulation already, he knew it wasn’t likely to be long for him either.
“Fuck, Rozanov,” he said directly into Ilya’s ear, sounding vaguely broken. “I can’t hold on. It’s-it’s too fucking good. You feel too good.”
Ilya preened at the praise. “You can cum, Hollander. I let you.”
Hollander chuckled but it sounded thready. His thrusts already lacked any finesse, but at being given permission, it seemed as though he had been given permission to do what he liked in other ways as well. Hollander’s mouth descended on his back, open and hot, as he brushed a series of uncoordinated kisses against the sensitive skin there. This time, Ilya didn’t try to hide his moans as he tilted his neck in a silent plea.
“You’re cute like this,” Hollander said, and the fact he didn’t seem to be teasing made it worse. Ilya had just been about to respond with a scathing retort, when that hot mouth of his touched his neck and his brain shortcircuited.
Of course, he knew better than to leave any hickeys on Ilya, but for one treacherous moment, he wanted for him to. Nevermind that there was no heterosexual way to explain hickeys on the back of his neck.
It was the combination of Hollander’s tongue on his neck, his cock filling him up so perfectly deep, and Ilya’s own hand stroking himself that sent him coming all over the bed and his own stomach. Hollander followed not long after, and Ilya was pleased to be able to be with it enough to take in the truly beautiful sounds he was making.
After they had collected themselves slightly, and Ilya had considered and then decided against smoking a cigarette, he took the time to check on him.
“So,” Ilya said, aiming for casual as he eyed the man on the other side of the bed, “was ok?”
Hollander let out a chuckle. “Obviously. Better than ok, really,” he said, his eyes softening in a way that continued to make Ilya uncomfortable as he reached out to stroke Ilya’s thigh possessively. “You were wonderful.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am good fuck. You are lucky.”
“Shush,” he replied, squeezing his thigh hard. “I meant it. I…I’ve never…with a man.”
“I know,” Ilya deadpanned.
Hollander blushed and looked away, but he didn’t drop his hand. “I never guessed it could feel so good.”
Ilya suddenly had a vision of the next man that Hollander would fuck, and the thought made him unnecessarily vicious. He had taken instructions so well, knew just how to fuck Ilya into that calm state of mind that he craved without being told. Where would he find that again? Hollander could find any number of willing men to simply be a hole for him like Ilya had been, but what Hollander had given him couldn’t be found so easily he was sure.
Determined not to let the post-orgasm haze leave him so soon, he decided to be proactive.
“You want to do this again, then?” he asked.
Hollander just gave him an open smile. “Yeah, I’d like that, I think.”
“You think?” Ilya huffed.
“No,” he was quick to add, “I know. Sorry.”
“You’re too easy to fuck with.”
“So…when do you want to do this again?” Hollander asked.
“Well,” he replied, rolling over onto his side, “I was thinking right now…”
“Oh,” he swallowed hard, “yes please.”
Ilya couldn’t hide his grin at that. He was just too fucking cute.
“And after that,” Ilya drawled, “we shall see.” At seeing the brunet’s pout, he added. “Have patience, you fuck man one time and you are, what? Addict now?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he scoffed, but didn’t contradict him.