Work Text:
Ilya wanted to play it cool, but tonight he knew exactly what he needed. He wanted to fuck and he wanted to fuck hard, and he wanted to fuck until his body felt completely drained and empty.
Playing against Shane had been unreal. Skating as fast as he could to try and catch Shane and then being smashed up against the boards by him had made Ilya’s head buzz and his stomach flip. Shane wasn’t really an aggressive player, being the star centre and all, but tonight he had really gone for it. At one stage he’d felt Shane’s elbow digging into his back and instead of turning and shoving Hollander back, he’d felt himself lean into it. Fuck, harder Hollander, he’d thought to himself.
Despite Ilya being distracted during the game, Boston had won tonight. And historically, Shane was always extra irritable when he lost, but it made him kind of demanding in bed which was fucking hot. Like if Ilya had ruined his night by beating him at hockey, then the least Ilya could do was fuck him properly.
And God did Ilya want to fuck him properly. Ilya resisted the urge to chew his fingernails as his taxi slowly crept along the busy Montreal highway.
“What do you do for work?” the taxi driver asked. He was indicating as he tried to merge into a completely stuck lane of traffic. Another car honked but the taxi driver merged anyway.
“Uh, consulting,” Ilya said. He wasn’t really in the mood for this. Why did he say consulting? Why didn’t he pick something he would know how to lie about? Hopefully the taxi driver wouldn’t want to talk.
“Oh? What kind of consulting?”
Fuck.
“On helping teams work well together,” sure. Why the fuck not. “Sorry,” Ilya said quickly, “I have a bit of a headache, so—”
“Oh no it’s fine. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks,” Ilya said. He took his earbuds out of his back pocket and put on some music as he looked out the window.
It had been seven weeks since he saw Hollander.
Last time had been kind of quick and unsatisfying. They’d both ended up in Toronto on the same night and had fucked quickly in Shane’s hotel room. Between Ilya arriving and Ilya leaving, they’d spent all up maybe fifty minutes together.
And it was fine. It was fine enough. The sex was great but it felt so rushed. Shane had come shortly after Ilya and then given him the “I have an early flight to catch” signal to get the fuck out of the hotel room within about two minutes of them both finishing and Ilya had felt like he was still catching his breath. So Ilya had gotten up, dealt with the condom, and then given Shane a quick kiss before finding himself wandering down the cold hallway of the hotel and making his way onto the even more frigid street to smoke a cigarette.
And prior to that, it had been about four weeks since they’d managed to hook up, and even then it had been an exchanging of blowjobs in Ilya’s hotel room.
So Ilya needed tonight bad. It probably didn’t help that going into the Christmas season with this many games on, and it being far too cold in December to go out to clubs, that Ilya hadn’t been getting any action. He could have texted any number of women in his phone but he just didn’t. For some reason.
It didn’t matter.
“They’re saying six inches of snow,” the driver said, despite the earlier indication from Ilya that he clearly wasn’t in the mood to chat.
“Ah,” Ilya replied. He could probably be friendlier but his mind was on Hollander and how badly he needed to touch his body and feel his mouth and thread his fingers into his—
“No doubt flights will get cancelled,” the driver continued. “Could be more you know. Don’t you think it’s interesting that we get these once in a hundred year storms every two years now?”
“Yes, interesting,” Ilya said, rolling his eyes and looking out the window. Even if it was gloomy and snowy he couldn’t deny that there was something warm and cosy about seeing the red, green and white lights twinkling everywhere. Christmas was different in Russia, but Ilya hadn’t lived in Russia for many years. It was quite endearing how the country seemed to completely close down and as a society everyone just agreed that no one was going to do much work.
Well, hockey players only got a week off, but whatever. Ilya couldn’t help but remember that he probably should have booked flights to go back to Russia, at least for a few days in January, but he pushed that thought out of his head.
Jane: Where are you?
Ilya grinned to himself. Okay, so there was a chance that Shane might be just as keen for this as he was. Maybe. Ilya typed out his reply.
Lily: Traffic is really bad.
Ilya looked at the shape of the word “Jane” on his phone screen. He couldn’t help but feel slightly attached to the covert nickname he had so cleverly come up with so many years ago.
Jane: Ok see you soon just text when you’re here.
He and Hollander had texted a lot more over the last few months. It wasn’t all just hookup arrangements or whatever. They kind of bantered a little bit, sometimes about hockey, sometimes about some article that had come out about either of them. Ilya loved cracking crude jokes and getting an angry little emoticon back from Shane. It was hilarious what would piss Shane off.
Once, and only once, Ilya had sent Shane a dick pic. In Ilya’s defence, they’d been almost sexting, and Shane had been the one who’d fucking started it.
Shane had replied in all caps screaming at Ilya.
Jane: I AM IN HOTEL ROOM WITH HAYDEN HE COULD HAVE SEEN. DONT YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN. I AM SO SERIOUS “LILY”. YOU DO THAT AGAIN AND YOULL BE FUCKING SORRY
Ilya had, of course, apologised, and then at their next meet up said, “Take it out on me, I have been bad, make me sorry.” Shane had rolled his eyes at that, but then Ilya had spent longer than normal sucking Shane’s dick and let Shane fuck his mouth until his eyes watered as he knelt on the carpet, as a treat, but mostly as an apology. Shane had come extremely loudly as he gripped Ilya’s curls so hard that it genuinely hurt.
But fuck it had been hot.
And now as Ilya’s mind drifted through the memories, he’d already started to chub up. Fuck, why was this the longest taxi ride in the world, and could it please hurry the fuck up?
Finally, Ilya saw a building he recognised as being from the neighbourhood next to Hollander’s. Thank fuck. The traffic had thinned out on that end of town, so he knew he wasn’t far away.
Lily: 5 min.
Jane: Back entrance
Lily: I love your back entrance
Jane: 😠
He didn’t know why Shane always clarified it was the back entrance. Maybe it was because he knew Ilya would almost always make some kind of anal sex joke. Maybe it was because he genuinely thought Ilya would forget which way to enter. Who’s to say.
Ilya finally got out of the taxi and handed some cash to the driver through the open driver’s window. “You have a good night,” the driver said as he opened his wallet to get change.
“Keep the change,” Ilya said. He couldn’t wait for the driver to leave so he could finally go inside.
“Oh, but that’s like $65,” the driver said. “Are you sure?”
Ilya paused. He opened his wallet and fished out a hundred dollar bill. “Well, take this too.”
“Oh, wow, that’s so kind,” the driver probably hadn’t expected Ilya, the asshole with a “headache,” to be his personal Santa Claus.
Ilya shrugged. “I don’t have kids, but I saw the photo in your car.”
The driver gave Ilya a “Merry Christmas,” and then headed off.
Lily: Here and I am going to freeze my fucking cock off.
As soon as he had hit send, the downstairs door opened.
Shane waved his arm to beckon Ilya in. Ilya rolled his eyes. Where the fuck else was he going to go?
As soon as the door closed behind them, Shane pressed Ilya up against the wall and started to kiss him hungrily. Ilya, a little surprised but definitely not complaining, kissed Shane back. He felt Shane’s fingers pulling at his almost-dried curls and threaded his own fingers into Shane’s silky hair. Fuck, it was always just so easy like this. Whatever fucked up arrangement they had was unlike any other hookup. Shane groaned into the kiss and moved his other hand to paw at Ilya’s still zipped-up coat. “Off, off, off,” he hissed between kisses.
“You are going to have me fuck you on the stairs?” Ilya said as he moved his hands to open his coat. If that was what Shane wanted, he’d happily oblige. Anything for Shane to touch him, fucking anything.
But then Shane paused. “Have you ever fucked on stairs before?”
Ilya thought for a second. “No. You want?”
Shane shook his head. “These stairs are concrete and my knees would probably get bruised up. The guys would see my knees and—”
“You don’t think they would be happy for you? Taking it on your knees like a little slut?”
“Fuck you. They’d probably tease me and I’d have to come up with a story, fuck, I don’t want to talk, come on let’s go inside.”
So Shane was snippy and wanting it bad, then. Ilya could handle that.
After making it into the living room of Shane’s apartment, Ilya took off his coat and hoodie and laid them across the kitchen counter. He quickly took off his boots before Shane could bitch at him about that. Although it would have been fun to get a rise out of Shane, Ilya couldn’t be bothered this time.
When Ilya looked up he noticed that Shane was already stripping off his own hoodie and t-shirt so he was standing there just in his sweats. He looked stronger. Maybe Shane had been bulking up, and it had been some time since Ilya had seen him without a shirt so the difference was more evident.
“What?” Shane glared.
“Nothing. You…”
“I what.” Shane crossed his arms. His arms looked bigger too. Fuck.
“Your hair is longer.”
“Well, I’ve just had it cut, so.”
“It’s nice.” Ilya stepped in closer to Shane. “Longer is nice. I can hold it like this better.”
And Ilya was back to kissing Shane, pushing him against the glass panel in the walkway and then yanking off his own sweatshirt between kisses as they fumbled back.
“You’re fucking horny,” Shane said. He reached between Ilya’s legs and gripped his already hard cock.
“Fuck,” Ilya couldn’t deny it. If he had been smart, he would have jerked off straight after the game finished so he wasn’t showing up to Hollander’s so pent up he was ready to bust. But the communal showers were, well, the communal showers, and nutting one out in the Bell Centre bathrooms had felt like too juvenile and humiliating a move to pull. “I am, okay? And you are not? You always get so horny when you lose.”
“You just got lucky,” Shane snapped back and gripped Ilya’s cock tighter through his pants. Fuck, it almost hurt.
“It is not luck, Hollander. We are a stronger team.”
“Fuck you,” Shane said. He was a little breathless and yanked on Ilya’s curls hard again. Ilya groaned at the pressure on his scalp.
Even though tonight of all nights they actually did have the time to take it slow, there was none of that. By the time they made it into Shane’s bedroom, Shane was getting on his knees and undoing Ilya’s belt and fly.
“Eager?” Ilya teased.
“Fuck you. As if you’re not.”
Well, Ilya’s now-freed hard cock jutted out, flushed so dark it was nearly purple. No denying that evidence, that was for sure.
But then Shane took him in his mouth and his lips stretched around his cock, and he bobbed his head up and down, flicking his tongue on the underside of Ilya’s cock, and Jesus, it was heaven. “God, yes, like that, like that, fuck—”
The best part about fucking in Shane’s apartment was not having to muffle his groans into a clenched fist. So Ilya let himself indulge and be loud.
“Stop, let me,” Ilya finally managed to get out. “Let me suck you.”
Shane pulled off but stayed on his knees. “Just, uh, fair warning. It’s been a while. And don’t fucking chirp me for that, okay? I’ve been fucking busy. So yeah, I might not last.”
Ilya shrugged. “It’s the same for me.”
Shane looked up and blinked slowly. “Oh. Okay.” Something passed across his face so quickly — maybe surprise, maybe confusion, maybe something else. Ilya kicked off his jeans and underwear into a corner of the room. Then he pulled Shane up by his armpits and pushed him onto the bed, and helped him pull his sweatpants and boxers off and threw them to the side. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”
And Shane always was. He leaked like a fucking tap. Ilya leaned down and gave his tip one long lick, and felt Shane shudder and moan quietly.
And Ilya would do anything to hear more of those little noises. When they fucked in hotel rooms, Shane would often press his own hand over his mouth to stay silent while Ilya either sucked or fucked him. Ilya could still always tell when Shane was about to come by the way his breath would go all stuttery, almost like he was hyperventilating. It felt like a crime for those noises to be stifled.
“Shit, fuck,” Shane’s hips twitched up, and Ilya tried his best not to gag as Shane’s cock hit the back of his throat. “Sorry, stop, or I’ll—”
On another day, Ilya might have made some snark remark about Shane not lasting more than a minute, but as he was in the same position tonight and knew it was probably going to be a struggle not to shoot the moment he was inside him, he kept that comment to himself.
Instead, he pulled off and kissed up Shane’s stomach and to his sternum.
Shane rolled to one side and grabbed the lube off the bedside drawer and handed it to Ilya.
“So eager,” Ilya smirked up at Shane.
“Yes,” Shane rolled his eyes. “Do you ever feel so horny you feel like you could come like, five times, but then after you come you’re just, dead?”
Ilya laughed. Shane was such a funny guy sometimes. It was too bad that they were rivals and could never be real friends. “Yeah, I do know that feeling.”
“Have you ever come more than once?” Shane asked as he lifted his knees up.
“I have come more than once in one night, but not, uh, one after the other.”
“I have,” Shane said. “But not often. If it’s a prostate orgasm I can keep coming sometimes.”
And who the fuck was fucking Shane until he came again, Ilya wondered. It was none of his fucking business, for sure, and he really shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.
“What?”
Ilya had accidentally frozen in place.
“Nothing.”
“Well then hurry up. Fuck.”
Bossy Hollander was back in the building.
Ilya knelt between Shane’s legs and started pushing a lubed-up finger inside. Fuck, Shane was tight as hell.
“Oh god, yep, that’s it—” Shane squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, more, just add another.”
With two fingers inside Shane, Ilya crooked them and rubbed Shane’s prostate as he thrust in and out. Shane whimpered quietly.
“Relax, relax,” Ilya said and stroked Shane’s outer thigh with his other hand. “Breathe. You are tensing.”
“Like I said,” Shane groaned, “it’s been a while.”
“Couldn’t find a top to make you keep coming?” As soon as Ilya said that he wanted to slap himself. Shane hardly ever shared anything about himself and now Ilya had probably gone and ruined that by throwing it in his face like that—
“No, that was just me. On my own,” Shane’s hips twitched as he lifted them to match Ilya’s fingers fucking into him. “Come on, add another. Add another, I’m fine.”
On his own? Oh. Oh. And Ilya didn’t care and he wasn’t elated at the idea that Shane wasn’t getting amazing sex with some other guy. Definitely not.
“I will add another but I don’t want to hurt you,” Ilya added more lube to his fingers and eased them inside.
A few minutes later, Ilya put on a condom and Shane flipped onto his stomach. He arched his back up and pressed his chest into the mattress.
As Ilya pushed in, slowly, and finally, he swallowed hard. Shane was squeezing him so tightly it almost hurt. “Relax,” he said again, “come on, let me in, you know how to do this.”
Shane took a deep breath and Ilya watched as his shoulders moved slowly up and down. Finally, Ilya could sink in further.
And having his cock fully inside Shane felt insane.
“Move,” Shane wiggled his hips. “Seriously. I’m fine.”
“You are in such a rush,” Ilya laughed to himself. “I will fuck you. I will fuck you more than once, if you can handle it.”
And why the fuck had Ilya gone and promised that? Idiot, idiot, idiot, he cursed himself internally.
“Oh god,” Shane groaned as Ilya started thrusting.
Ilya gripped Shane’s hips and pulled him up a little and started fucking pounding him. If he was going to need to go twice, there was no shame in round one being fast.
“There, fuck, there,” Shane gripped the bedsheets and pushed his ass back onto Ilya’s cock. “Right fucking there, go faster, please, harder, fuck—”
“I can’t or I’ll come—” and Ilya’s brain-to-mouth filter had broken. He would never usually admit it but—
“Don’t fucking care, fuck, if you keep going I’ll come too, fuck, please—”
“Oh god, fuck,” Ilya thrust harder and faster. “Come for me, fuck, come on my cock—”
“I’m right there, I’m right there, fuck, please, right there—” Shane’s voice was getting higher and higher as he moaned and begged.
“Come for me, fuck, I’m gonna come, come on, come on—” Ilya was panting as he went faster and faster and—
“I’m coming,” Shane’s voice broke as he moaned and pushed his ass back again and again and—
Ilya took one hand and pushed Shane’s head down as he felt himself going over the edge. Shane’s ass squeezed around his cock hard as he pushed in deep and felt his abs burn as he came. “Fuck, Hollander, I’m coming, so tight, fucking squeeze me, fuck!”
After Ilya had stopped panting, he gently pulled out. Shane immediately rolled onto one side. “Fuck, I forgot the sex towel.”
Ilya laughed and landed with a thud next to him. “Was it good? Even if it ruined your blankets?”
“So fucking good,” Shane chuckled and threw one arm over his eyes. “Shit, it was so good. Fast, but good. For us both.”
“Quickest shot competition,” Ilya joked.
“First equal.” Shane snickered and Ilya gently shoved him.
“When you come without me touching your dick, it feels better?” Ilya wondered aloud.
Shane pushed himself up onto an elbow and looked at Ilya. “What, you don’t know what it feels like?”
Ilya shrugged. “I have never come like that.”
“It’s… it’s fucking insane. You come for way longer. If I had to guess, I would say it lasts about three times as long, and I feel it in my stomach and my thighs. Does that make sense?”
“Sounds hot.” Ilya looked down at his rapidly softening cock, still with a condom on. “I will be right back.”
Shane nodded and closed his eyes. “I could go again.”
Ilya heaved himself up onto his feet. “I think… maybe I could too. Just give me fifteen minutes.”
Ilya went into Shane’s ensuite and dealt with the condom. Shane had bitched at him before when he’d left it on the sink, which yeah, was super gross of him, but he’d kind of been in a rush that time. So on this occasion he wrapped it up nicely in toilet paper and put it in the trash.
“You want a cloth?” Ilya called out.
“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind,” came Shane’s response.
So Ilya looked through the little cabinet in Shane’s bathroom for the neatly stacked washcloths, gave himself a wipe down, threw the dirty cloth in the hamper, and then ran some warm water over a fresh one and brought it back to the bed.
Shane was already up on his feet, opening another cabinet. “I’m just finding an old towel. For round two.”
“I said give me some time, Jesus, you are greedy, Hollander.”
“I’ll give you time, I just don’t want to lie in the wet patch.”
Shane gave the towel a flick and spread it over the bed. “Here,” Shane handed Ilya his drink bottle, “it’s got electrolytes.”
“Thanks.”
Well, they had to kill fifteen minutes. Ilya lay back down and Shane joined him after giving himself a cursory wipe down.
“So you like my longer hair.” Shane rolled into Ilya’s chest. Ilya kissed the top of his head.
“Mm. It is nice. I think it makes you look older. Maybe almost cool.”
“Fuck you, I’m cool.”
Ilya grunted. “You are a famous hockey player, but you are not cool.”
Shane huffed. “You’re just chirping.”
“I am killing time so I can fuck you again.”
“Wish you could fuck me now. I feel like I actually need to come again.”
“Hollander, I am not a miracle worker. Please.” Ilya gestured at his still-soft cock. “Give him some time.”
“Fine,” Shane reached down between his own legs and started touching himself. “I’m not waiting. You fuck me when you’re ready then.”
Fuck. Apart from years ago in Vegas, Ilya had never watched Shane touch himself before, and even then, he’d mostly just watched as Shane had fingered himself open. There was something so practiced and mindless in the way Shane stroked his cock — because of course, Shane probably did it every day. And now Ilya would be able to picture it in full detail, from here on out.
“Feel good?” Ilya asked. His own cock was making a valiant effort to stir back to life.
“It’s alright,” Shane said, and Ilya could feel Shane’s breath against his chest in little huffs.
“You want me to do it? Will feel better.”
Shane shuffled further up the bed and let go of his cock with a gesture that said be my guest.
As soon as Ilya gripped Shane’s cock, Shane moaned softly. “Yeah, definitely better. Fuck, wait—”
Shane grabbed the lube and popped the cap. “Otherwise it feels a bit too dry.”
“You always need lube? To jerk off?”
Shane shrugged. “You don’t?”
“No, I’m not circumcised. I can do it without.”
“Mm. Right. Ah, fuck, yeah, like that.” Shane huffed another breath. “Fuck, Rozanov, like this, yeah like this.” Shane’s hand went to cover Ilya’s and guide him a little.
All those years ago in the hotel room after the photoshoot, Shane and Ilya had gone straight to blowjobs. And since then, blowjobs and fucking had been kind of their normal. Ilya thought hard — he wasn’t sure he’d ever given Shane a handjob before. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d given anyone a handjob in fucking years. Now, Shane was showing him what he liked.
“A little tighter, yeah,” Shane said as he thrust his hips a little into Ilya’s fist. “Fuck, fuck, yeah, that’s good, do it like that.” Shane let go of Ilya’s hand and let him keep stroking him slowly.
“Tell me when you’re close,” Ilya said into Shane’s neck.
“Okay,” Shane breathed. “I won’t be as fast like this, but fuck it feels good.”
“I’m getting hard watching you,” Ilya said. “Maybe I won’t need fifteen minutes after all.”
“It’s already been— fuck— like ten,” Shane panted. “Want you to fuck me, don’t wanna come like this.”
Ilya sped his hand up slightly and felt Shane’s body tense against him. “Oh? You will last until I am ready?”
Shane nodded. “I’ll last.”
Ilya smirked to himself and gripped Shane a little tighter, stroked him a little faster. “And like this?”
“I’ll last,” Shane said again, but his voice sounded strained now. He was really trying to sound sure, it seemed.
Ilya had forgotten how awkward the angle of giving a handjob was, and felt a small measure of relief when his cock was finally back at full mast.
He stopped moving his hand just as Shane squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, did you nearly come?”
“No,” Shane said, panting.
Liar, Ilya thought.
Ilya helped himself to another condom from the box on the bedside table. “You want it the same as last time? On your stomach?”
Shane paused. “I’ll go on top.”
Fuck. There was something about Shane riding Ilya. As much as Ilya loved replaying memories of Shane bent over his couch and fucking taking it, Shane bouncing on his cock and grinding down on him was something truly spectacular to behold.
Ilya quickly rolled on the condom while Shane straddled his thighs. “Now we’ve got our quick shot out of the way—”
“Yes, yes, I will last for you,” Ilya rolled his eyes.
But as Shane sank down onto his cock, his breath caught. Fuck. It felt so good despite the fact he’d not long come. Ilya let out an involuntary hiss.
“Bad?” Shane paused. He was already fully seated, leaning forward.
“Good,” Ilya corrected. “It’s still good.”
Instead of bouncing up and down, Shane rocked his hips back and forth in a slow grind. “Fuck, I feel so fucking full like this. It’s like you’re splitting me in half.”
Ilya clenched his jaw. Shit. Shane saying stuff like this was going to make lasting even harder. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just take it?
“It’s so good,” Ilya agreed. “Fuck, we might need round three.”
Shane groaned and leaned forward to kiss Ilya as he moved his hips faster, still rocking back and forward. Ilya lifted his knees to plant his feet on the bed so he could follow Shane’s rhythm and move with his body.
“Fuck,” Shane hissed and then pulled away and pressed his forehead to Ilya’s.
Ilya immediately stilled.
“No, keep fucking going, that’s the angle, right there.”
“Fuck, Hollander, am I going to make you come on my cock again?”
Shane groaned and shifted his hips so the length of Ilya dragged inside him. “You fucking better. Come on. Like you mean it.”
Shane’s hips moved faster and Ilya shifted to keep up with the new rhythm.
“There, there, fuck, right there, keep going, right there—” Shane was panting into Ilya’s mouth.
“Not gonna stop,” Ilya managed to grit out. If he didn’t stop he was going to fucking come.
“Please, fuck, I’m about to—” Shane gasped and then let his head fall into the crook of Ilya’s neck as he moaned and came, clenching hard around Ilya.
“Come for me, Rozanov, come for me,” Shane moaned through his orgasm.
“Fuck, shit, Hollander, I’m—” Ilya clenched his jaw and lifted Shane’s hips so he could drive up into him hard, again and again, until he was pushing in as deep as he could and coming, again.
After, they both lay panting for a minute, Shane’s come all wet and gross between them.
“I am dead,” Ilya sighed.
“What about round three? Could you go again?”
Now normally there would be no fucking way. No way in hell, as a matter of fact, that Ilya could go again. But admitting it felt like giving Shane a win, and Ilya was nothing if not competitive to a fault.
“Could you?”
Shane was still breathing hard into Ilya’s neck. “I think I could. I’m serious, Rozanov. It’s been a while. But if you don’t want to—”
“It’s not about want,” Ilya used a free hand to feel around the bed for the damp washcloth he’d given to Shane earlier. It was kind of gross but he folded it in half so there was a clean side and pushed it into Shane’s hand. “I think I’m probably empty.”
“Oh, that’s fine then,” Shane rolled off Ilya and wiped his stomach down, then offered the cloth to Ilya. Ilya gave his own stomach a quick wipe but still felt sticky. The washcloth wasn’t exactly wet anymore so it just felt like he’d spread Shane’s come around his stomach.
“I feel disgusting,” Shane finally said. Maybe Shane was hinting that he’d had enough of Ilya for one night, especially if Ilya couldn’t manage a third round. What a fucking freak. Who the hell went three rounds?
“Okay, shower?”
“Yeah. Shower.” Shane sat up with a grunt.
“One at a time, or—”
“Just shower with me, Roz.” Shane offered a hand to Ilya and yanked him up from the bed.
On the way to the bathroom, Ilya looked out the window. The snowstorm the taxi driver had mentioned had definitely hit.
He heard the sound of the shower starting and headed into the bathroom. Shane had already stepped under the water so Ilya joined him without much fanfare. It felt oddly intimate to be cleaning off together. They usually did that separately, or even after the other person had left.
Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane as the steam engulfed them. Probably too intimate, again, but Ilya had just shot his brains out through his cock so it didn’t really click.
“Is your flight early?” Shane asked.
Probably another hint for him to get moving.
“Around 11.”
“Oh, not too bad. Back to Boston?”
“Yes. I’m spending Christmas with friends.”
“Oh, cool.” Shane didn’t say anything after that but he kept leaning on Ilya’s chest. Eventually he turned to grab the body wash and offered a pump into Ilya’s hand.
They soaped up and rinsed off, and then Shane got out first and fetched Ilya a spare towel.
“Shit.” Shane muttered at his phone. He was standing with his towel around his waist and frowning.
“All okay?”
“Some of the highways are closed.”
“Ah.”
Oh my god. The storm, Ilya thought.
Shane was tapping away on his phone. Ilya was standing naked and starting to get kind of cold.
“So, I need to book a taxi now then, yes?”
Shane shook his head. “Wait. I’m just checking.”
“Okay.” The bathroom door being open meant the heat of the shower was rapidly escaping. “Can I have a towel?” Ilya finally said.
“Oh. Fuck, shit, of course. Sorry.”
Shane threw a towel over the glass shower panel.
As Ilya dried off, Shane tapped away on his phone.
“Hmm.”
“Hollander, please use your words.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “So, you’re not getting back to the Four Seasons any time soon.”
Ilya swallowed hard. He was supposed to feel annoyed. He was trapped with boring old Shane in the outskirts of town. He was supposed to be worried about his flights. He was supposed to groan, maybe huff about it.
“Oh. Oh well. Nothing we can do about weather. Flights still happening? Actually, I will check my emails.”
Ilya wrapped the towel around his waist and went to find his phone, which was still in his jeans pocket somewhere on the bedroom floor.
Shane followed him and Ilya couldn’t help but notice he looked a little nervous. Maybe Shane was feeling weird about Ilya being there — post-nut clarity and all that, but make it double.
“My flight is still on schedule, must just be snow in your part of the city,” Ilya said after checking the airport website.
“Wait out the storm, I guess.” Shane pulled the towel off his waist and leaned over to towel dry his hair.
Seeing Shane naked and, well, soft, was kind of a weird phenomenon. It wasn’t really how they did things. Ever. At all.
Oh well.
Ilya sat on the bed with his towel still around his waist.
“Hey!” Shane snapped. “Damp towel on my bed! I just took the gross sheets off!”
So that was how Ilya ended up helping Shane put on his new sheets. To be fair, changing the sheets on a king-size bed really was a two-person job. Afterwards, Ilya stood there, his towel still around his waist. “I need to find my underwear.”
“They’re with your jeans on the floor,” Shane said, looking up from his phone.
“No they’re not. I just looked.”
Shane groaned and got to his feet to have a look. But Ilya was right. They weren’t there. “I must have kicked them, fuck,” Ilya muttered.
“Here,” Shane opened his drawer and handed Ilya a pair of black Calvins. They were the same as the ones Shane had on. Maybe Shane only bought one type of underwear. That would be very Shane of him.
Ilya hesitated.
“What, you’ll eat my ass but this is gross?”
“No. No, you’re right.” Ilya chuckled and took the underwear.
“You can keep them,” Shane said quickly.
“Alternative is what? I send them by mail? Give them to you at the next game? Bring them in my bag for next time we fuck?”
“Whatever, asshole. Just keep them.”
“So generous,” Ilya teased.
They ended up both lying side by side in bed. Shane opened up an mp4 file on his laptop and watched some game replay, grabbing a notepad to jot down notes as he watched.
Ilya opened his phone and played Candy Crush until he was out of lives.
Eventually Shane shut his laptop.
“I’m going to brush my teeth. I’ll find you an extra toothbrush.”
So that was how Shane and Ilya ended up brushing their teeth together for the first time. All extremely weird, and Ilya felt extremely normal about it all.
Eventually, they got back into bed.
“So,” Shane began.
“I don’t have to sleep in here,” Ilya said quickly. “I can rest on the couch until the storm passes.”
“I was going to say, how about round three?”
“We just showered, are you serious?”
“Well we weren’t snowed in when we said no more sex.” Shane rolled onto his side with his head resting on a bent arm.
Well. When in Rome. Or snowed in at Shane’s apartment.
“I’ll suck your cock,” Ilya glanced down where Shane was clearly hard in his matching black Calvins. “And maybe we will see if I can go again.”
“Works for me,” Shane shifted onto his back and lifted his hips to pull his boxers down to his thighs.
So Ilya took his time sucking Shane down. Shane immediately let his head fall back against the headboard, but he kept his gaze fixed on Ilya. “Fuck, yeah, like that,” he’d say quietly when Ilya went a little deeper or used his hand on the base of Shane’s cock. Ilya used his free hand to link his fingers into Shane’s and squeezed.
Coming twice had definitely helped Shane’s stamina, but Ilya didn’t find himself minding it or wishing Shane would hurry up and come. He enjoyed Shane’s little gasps and the way his thighs trembled or his hips bucked up just a little.
Eventually one of Shane’s hands found its way into Ilya’s hair and gripped his curls a little tighter. “Keep going, keep going, I’m getting close.”
Ilya sucked harder and pushed himself to go as deep as he could manage, until his nose brushed up against Shane’s lower stomach.
“Fuck, I’m gonna— if you don’t pull off I’m gonna—” but Ilya kept going and squeezed Shane’s hand harder.
How the hell Shane had any come left in his body was probably a medical mystery, but Ilya could feel the weak little spurts as Shane came, panting “Fuck, fuck, Roza—”
Ilya wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and climbed up the bed. Shane offered him his drink bottle and Ilya took a sip.
“You sure you don’t want your round three?” Shane asked. His right hand was absentmindedly playing with Ilya’s chest hair.
Well, if he was offering.
“Sure, but I don’t know if I can come again. But if you want to just — try? Maybe?”
Who was he kidding. There was no way he wasn’t going to come with Shane sucking his cock.
Shane sucked him slowly, and based on the noises Shane made, it sounded like he really enjoyed doing it. The heat that usually built fast took longer to catch alight, but eventually Ilya felt himself getting closer and closer. “Can’t believe you are going to, fuck, make me come again,” Ilya said, his fingers threaded back into Shane’s. “Fuck, pull off, I’m gonna—”
But Shane squeezed his hand back, sucked harder and flicked his tongue a couple of times, and Ilya was coming, for the third fucking time.
“Holy shit.” Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane when he came back up to the top of the bed. “I have not done that before.”
“I’m so dead now. I think I’m finally done,” Shane chuckled and leaned in closer to Ilya’s chest.
“Least there is no clean up,” Ilya reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Roads are open.”
“Mmm.” Shane closed his eyes.
And Ilya should get up now. He should get changed and get the fuck out and go back to his hotel. It really was time to go. Enough of whatever the fuck this was.
But he was tired. So tired from playing an intense game of hockey. From having sex, and then having sex again, and then lying here while Shane slowly sucked his cock like they had all the time in the world.
So Ilya closed his eyes for just a moment.
When he opened them again, it was because he was cold.
Shane was fast asleep next to him. Ilya checked his phone — fuck, it was 5am.
He’d stayed the night. He’d accidentally stayed the whole night at Shane’s.
Fuck. They didn’t do this. They absolutely did not do this. At least with Shane passed out like this, asleep and unaware, Ilya would never have to explain it. He was never going to tell him. No way.
He managed to ease himself out from beside Shane without waking him, and then reached back and pulled the blanket up over Shane’s shoulder. The bedside light had been left on so Ilya could see where he was going as he quietly picked his jeans up from the floor. The rest of his clothes were strewn around the apartment somewhere.
He took one last look at Shane. Even fast asleep, face slack and hair a mess, he was breathtakingly, unmistakably pretty. It made Ilya’s chest do something he didn’t have a name for and didn’t particularly want to examine.
He sighed and walked around to Shane’s side of the bed. He pressed his lips to Shane’s forehead, just for a second.
“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly.
Then he picked up his things and let himself out into the dark.
Jane: Sorry I fell asleep last night. Hope your flight wasn’t cancelled in the end.
Lily: Not cancelled, I am at the airport now. Road opened shortly after round three last night. I did not lock your front door, but did not want to wake you up. You were snoring.
Jane: Fuck you, I don’t snore.
Jane: Found your underwear, under my bed.
Lily: Keep it as your souvenir for the hat trick.
Jane: What?
Lily: 💦💦💦
Jane: Ohhh very funny
