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Summers at the cottage, somehow, always reminded Ilya about summers from when his mother was still alive. They’d go up to a cabin owned by his late grandfather and eat his shitty beef stroganoff recipe until she’d cluck her tongue and say, “okay, moy lyubov. Salami?” And she'd magically produce the cured meat that had surely been smuggled over the border seeing as their family certainly could not gain access to such goods at the time.
Okay.
Maybe not exactly like summers at the cottage.
It was good, though. Something about the pine and oaks surrounding the serene lake, the faded wooden dock.
What was not good, however, was that goddamn loon bird, fucking menace-
That was not the loon.
Shane.
“Ilya! Goddammit, Ilya, where the fuck-” He felt his heart warm- the loud, annoying, high pitched sound was not the stupid Canadian wolf bird, it was his stupid Canadian boyfriend.
“Yes, moy lyubov, what is it that you need?” He finally spotted Shane, hopping around a corner with half his boxers on and a dress shirt with the buttons done up wrong. He walked over to him, putting his hands on his shoulders to steady his boyfriend, as he began undoing and redoing the buttons in the right order, while Shane laid out the predicament at hand.
“Did you remember it was Hayden’s vow renewals’ dress rehearsal tonight?” Ilya blinked, confused at the millions of words coming out of Shane’s mouth at a rapid pace.
“First of all, it is weird that he need to renew vow. Second, why does he need dress rehearsal to do it? Pike understands that he can only marry someone once, right?”
The look of exasperation on Shane’s face was priceless- he could picture it now, his boyfriend, sleeping peacefully, when all of a sudden he starts thinking about hockey, then Hayden, then Hayden’s multitude of children, all birthed by Hayden’s beautiful wife Jackie, who Hayden married-
“Hello! Rozanov. We need to leave, like, forty minutes ago.” By now, Ilya had already fixed up Shane’s buttons and was just staring at him, deep in thought.
“Relax, Hollander, is next week. Do not worry. You made me put the date on the calendar.” He gestured to their fridge, a large month-by-month calendar hanging there by a magnet. Is for children, Ilya argued when Shane bought it, but nevertheless, it was used religiously to keep track of training and camps and, of course, friends’ weddings and vow renewals.
“Oh. Shit. Fuck me.” Shane exhaled, glancing at the big red circle on the calendar that was much further down on the page than where they were at right now, leaning his head on Ilya’s bare shoulder, his breaths still coming a little quicker than normal due to all the rush.
“I can fuck you. Don’t worry, Hollander, I am good at fucking you, no?” Shane laughed, pushing Ilya off and pulling his shirt straight over his head.
“Yes, Ilya, you are very good at fucking me.”
“I can prove it?”
Shane bit his lip, and Ilya felt that pool of arousal in his gut. Even after nearly a decade Shane had this ability to turn him on with just a few simple words.
They stumbled back into the bedroom, Shane tugging at Ilya’s shirt as he mouthed his neck, until Ilya finally pulled it off and they fell onto the bed on top of each other. “Inside?” He asked, and Shane groaned, rolling his eyes while he moved from Ilya’s mouth to the headboard, giving them more space.
“When,” he started, leaning his back against the headboard, “have I ever not wanted it inside?” Ilya broke into a grin, knee-walking over to Shane only to straddle his hips and kiss him harder. “Like, now, Rozanov.”
Ilya clucked his tongue, reaching into the nightstand and pulling out the lube, pouring it over his fingers and Shane’s hole. “Impatient. Did not know Canadians were impatient and mouthy, hm?”
“Sofuckingimpatient, fuck-” Shane moaned out as Ilya inserted two fingers in him, finding him still loose from this morning’s activities. He curled his fingers to hit dead on that perfect spot, watching Shane throw his head back against the wall, arching his back as he moaned through the whole thing.
“Tch, moy lyubov, cannot have you giving the franchise center a concussion, eh?” He put a large hand on the back of Shane’s head, acting as a buffer as he once again curled his fingers upwards, hitting his prostate just to watch Shane writhe in pleasure.
“Not-” he panted, attempting to respond while catching his breath. Ilya sped his fingers up just a tad, throwing Shane off as he hissed. “Not the franchise center. That’s all you, sweetheart.”
Ilya chuckled. “So humble, even for me. Make up for your impatience, huh?” And all at once he removed his fingers and replaced it with his cock before Shane could even notice, and when he did-
“Ilya. God, fuck, Ilya. Fuck, I need-” he keened, dissolving into a loud whine (sounds like the wolf bird a little, Ilya thought momentarily). He slowed down his thrusts to give Shane the chance to say what he needed. “I want to be on top. Wanna ride you, baby, please lemme-” he could already see tears forming in the corner of Shane’s eyes, Ilya’s thrusts becoming shallow to allow for him to speak clearly. They were currently chest-to-chest, Shane practically folded in half as Ilya thrust him against the headboard, but they easily swapped, Ilya unfolding Shane to seat him on his dick, resting against the headboard.
“Well, Hollander? Ride, sweetheart.”
Shane grabbed one of Ilya’s hands, putting it on his chest (he could feel Shane’s heart thrumming under his bones) and the other hand on his hip, not moving or guiding, just there. Shane planted his feet as he began to move up and down experimentally, and as he found his footing sped up, incrementally clenching his hole to mess with Ilya.
“Fuck, so good Hollander, you ride my dick so good-” Shane’s eyes rolled back in his head at the praise, and Ilya moved the hand playing with his nipples to his weeping dick, flailing in between them as he felt Shane’s thrusts begin to stutter. “Are you close? Will you come for me, Shane?”
Shane nodded frantically, upping the ante on his thrusts even more, loud moans of “fuck so big” and “more more more” spilling from his lips when finally, with one final thrust, he came all over their chests, meeting Ilya’s lips in a kiss that made their teeth chatter as his hole clenched sporadically, bringing Ilya over the edge.
They lay in silence for a bit, Ilya using a dirty t-shirt that had been discarded on the floor to wipe their chests so Shane could lay on him, drifting off to the silence of their pants.