Work Text:
April 2021
There was always a common misconception about Shane and Ilya’s relationship to their friends and family. Shane was shy, timid, and more reserved, which made his shocking relationship with the boisterous and overly-confident Ilya Rozanov so shocking.
Shane Hollander, a star in the Hockey league, who was known for his meticulous game play and high hockey IQ, was dating, or at least fucking, a man of his complete opposite. Ilya Rozanov, who was known for using aggression and insane body stamina to dominate the rink. The outing of their relationship brought shock, of course, but also curiosity.
There had been so much speculation of how it all started. Was Shane Hollander seduced by womanizer Ilya Rozanov? Has Shane Hollander broken down Rozanov's ice-cold exterior? Was Ilya Rozanov using Shane Hollander? Is Shane Hollander the naive baby who truly believes Ilya Rozanov had fallen for him?
The articles and constant questioning upset the couple, Shane more than Ilya. But every time Shane found one that particularly upset him, Ilya was always there to pick him up and to remind him that the truth of their relationship was something that belonged to only them and anyone who wanted to know more could fuck off. Ilya was always there – to wipe tears, whisper words of encouragement, listen silently while Shane ranted, fucked him just as fast or as slow as he wanted. To Ilya, the only thing that mattered was Shane: Shane’s feelings, his happiness, comfortability. Most days the only thing Ilya thought about, besides hockey, was Shane, Shane, Shane.
When the news of their relationship broke, there were bigots and homophobes, and even teammates who threw jabs that they didn’t think Ilya would take offense to.
It was only practice, not even the real game. The team was preparing for a tournament, and Ilya was just unlucky enough that the team they happened to be playing in four days was Shane’s team, the Voyagers. Ilya was practicing just as he always had, fast, aggressive, sharp. His teammates noticed, and after practice ended, they complimented him on his skills.
“Fuck, Rozy, playing agaisnt your man got you fired up?” Wyatt asked as he shook off his practice jersey. Ilya just grunted. He and Shane had agreed to keep their relationship private, and as not to upset Shane, Ilya kept his responses about his lover brief, always.
LaPointe chimed in, “Aw don’t be like that, Roz. Maybe this means Hollander will take it easy on us.”
Ilya chuckled, “Doubtful. The only thing Hollander hates more than me is losing.”
“Hates?” LaPointe laughed, “You? Come on man, we know you put it down. Hollander probably creams his pants at the sight of you during these games.” The team around him laughed, making jokes following LaPointe’s crude remark. Ilya said nothing.
Young followed, “Knowing Hollander, he’ll do anything you say. He probably bend over mid-game if you asked him too.” Ilya's eyes squinted. The thought of anyone seeing Shane bent over that wasn't him always made Ilya feel uneasy, but he couldn’t even focus on that thought because of the jeers and laughing of his teammates at Shane’s expense.
Ilya wanted nothing more than to yell, bare his teeth, and threaten anyone who disrespected Shane. But Shane would not be happy with him if he did. He had told Ilya that soon the pressure and eyes would go away, they would be able to show the world that their sexuality had nothing to do with how well they play the game. Shane was strict in his instructions: “Do not fight back,” he says, “Don’t give them any more reason to talk about us.” Ilya would rather die than disobey Shane.
Instead he plastered a smile on his face, “I think only person being bent over will be you, when Hollander wins face off.” This earns a roar of laughter from his teammates, laughter and chuckles heard from the hallway. Ilya would be good, Ilya would not bare teeth until Shane allows him too.
_________
March 2021
See that was the thing about Ilya, he only ever wanted to do what Shane wanted. The two had spent so many years dancing around their feelings and being dishonest with themselves, and Ilya was tired of it. Tired of being scared to love Shane and shower him with love every hour of every day. Ilya vowed to himself after the leak, that he would never shy away from his feelings for Shane. He would do everything in his power to make sure his love was always happy and content.
When the video of them leaked, Ilya held Shane for what felt like hours while he sobbed. He cried and told Ilya how scared he was, and how their careers were ruined. While he held Shane, Ilya became scared. Not because of hockey, or their respective tears, but of his own feelings. He wanted to cry and sympathize with Shane, but the only thing Ilya could think of at this moment was how angry he was that someone had made Shane feel like this. Ilya could feel his body becoming hot and fidgety with anger at Hayden fucking Pike for making Shane, his Shane, feel like this. Of course he knew that it was a mistake, but after years of seeing Shane cry, Ilya wanted to be the only one to inflict such emotion. While they sat together, Ilya became scared of feelings. He was scared that he was too obsessed with Shane, too in love to think rationally when it came to him.
Ilya had acted on it once. Acted on his insatiable feelings toward Shane. It was their first game against each other after the news had broken, before they geared up for the MHL national tournament. The game was going fine, Shane and Ilya were playing amazingly even with the newly added pressure on their backs. The Voyagers team chemistry was off, everyone in the arena could sense it. Ilya could sense it. Shane was putting on a brave face, playing with the same analytical intensity as he always did, but Ilya spent years analyzing every one of Shane's facial expressions. He could tell something was off.
While Ilya was benched, he could hear the other team.
A left wing, named Wilson, was talking. “Sick of the bullshit. Coach won’t fucking put me in for that motherfucker. He fucks the opposing team and gets to start, and what do I get? Benched. I want that fucker off my team.” Ilya listened closely, fist clenching around his stick. “The fucking fa-”
Before Wilson could finish his sentence, the whistle was called, Ilya was subbed in along with the left wing. The players took their positions, and as the puck hit the ice, the players were off. Shane looked beautiful, the way his eyebrows scrunched when he was focused, the sweat highlighting his freckles, and the way his hair stuck to his head. Ilya wishes more than anything that he could forget about this game, and focus on Shane, but there was a voice in the back of his head. Wilson’s voice, the hatred in it, the bigotry, toward Shane, his Shane. Ilya tried, he really did, to forget about it. He tried to tell himself that it was nerves talking, that Wilson was trying to find an excuse for his shitty game play.
But Ilya just couldn’t get the sneer out of his head, that look in his eyes, he had to do something. So Ilya watched, watched and watched, until the puck was passed to Wilson. As soon as it was, Ilya sped over to the man and slammed into him so that the man went sliding across the ice. Ilya felt satiated, but it was not enough. While the refs were still skating over, Ilya sliced his skate across the front of Wilson’s glove, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make a statement. The whistle had been blown immediately after Rozanov's hit, he stood there, eyes peering down into Wilson’s. Wilson's face burned a bright red.
“What the fuck, Rozanov? You could’ve fucking cut my hand up?” Wilson demanded, trying to regain composure from the embarrassing hit. Ilya shrugged.
Shane could see the interaction from across the rink, he skated closer.
“I’m doing you favor. Your coach now knows to keep you benched.” His back toward the player, but he looked over his shoulder, “Especially when there are better options.”
“Ily- Rozanov stop,” Shane said, skating in between the two.
Wilson's eyes narrowed, and he quickly got up onto his skates, “Are you fucking kidding me? You almost fucking cut me for your bitch?”
Shane whipped his head around, “I’m still your fucking cap-”
But before he could finish his sentence, there were gasps from the crowd. Ilya had dropped his gloves to the ice, and lunged to punch the left-wing in the face. The punch hand landed on his right cheek, and Ilya felt satisfied. Below his fist, he could feel the teeth of the motherfucker beneath the skin of his mouth. Wilson tried, he really did, he managed to grab Ilya’s chin and push it up. This didn’t stop Ilya. Ilya typically never got into these fights, his words being enough to truly hurt someone, but hearing someone insult Shane, his Shane, he couldn’t hide his anger. He knew he was going too far, even for hockey's standards, but this was Ilya.
Terribly abrasive and aggressive Ilya. The same Ilya who would do anything for Shane, no matter how insane the request was. Ilya, who had spent years wishing Shane was his, would not let anyone take what was his.
The fight ended when Marley grabbed Ilya's fist and hair, yelling, “Roz, stop.” Ilya peered his eyes back, and let himself be taken. He allowed Marley to drag him off to the side of the rink, eyes never leaving the remains of the fight before him. His eyes found Shane’s at one point.
Shane’s face was – something Ilya hadn’t seen before. Was it anger or sadness? Could it have been a disappointment? No, it was something much worse, Ilya realized. It was fear. Ilya felt his eyes burn, mouth wobble, and face brighten.
He hated this. He hated himself. All these years he spent trying to keep his truth locked away from Shane, only for it to be revealed in such a terrible manner. Shane was scared of him. The same Shane, he had spent hours laughing and giggling and breaking down trauma walls with. The only person Ilya cared about was scared of him, because Ilya had shown his disgusting jealous and obsessive nature.
Ilya loosened Marley's grip from his body and sat on his team's penalty bench. He avoided everyone's gaze for the rest of the game, head filled with questions on how he could “fix this.” Eventually the game had ended, Ilya was not let back on the ice and Montreal had won.
His teammates tried to cheer him up in the locker room, but it was no use. Ilya could not get out of his own head, he couldn’t forget the way Shane looked at him. There was only one way to fix this: Ilya had to talk to Shane, to explain his actions.
Later, Shane was sitting in his home, mind still on the game that had ended hours ago. He knew Ilya was strong and aggressive in the rink, but he didn’t think he could do something like that. Shane didn’t think Ilya would punch someone’s teeth out? Punch someone's teeth out for… him. Before Shane could further process the feelings, he heard his front door opening and closing. It could only be one person.
Shane turned off his TV, and stood up to look at Ilya as he was taking his shoes off. Ilya wasn’t looking at him. When he finally did, his eyes were red-rimmed and tired. Shane stood up fully. Before he could say anything, Ilya spoke.
“I’m sorry, Shane. Fuck.” Shane stared at him, not saying anything. “I don’t know what happened, I just – just went crazy hearing someone talk bad about you.”
Shane gulped, Ilya walked closer to him. Eventually, the two were a breath away from each other and Ilya placed his forehead against Shanes.
He opened his eyes to look at Shane,“That fucker was saying all kinds of shit. About you.”
Shane sighed, “You cannot beat up anyone who talks bad about me. You really messed him up, Ilya. His face looked… I can’t even describe it. I’ve never even seen you like that, it made me feel-”
Before Shane could finish his sentence, Ilya dropped to his knees. His head hitting Shane’s kneescap.
“I know you’re scared of me, but please, you have to understand. I would do anything for you, moya lyubov.” Ilya was on his knees, crying into Shane’s leg, but he didn’t care,“Ya dolzhen byl postupit' khuzhe za to, chto on skazal tebe.”
Shane sighed, putting his hands into Ilya’s hair before slowly dropping them to his chin. He then grabbed it, and pulled to angle Ilya to look at him.
“I’m not scared of you, Ilya.”
Ilya shook his head, “You lie, I saw your face. It was fear.”
Shane sighed, “No it wasn’t. Okay maybe a little, but I wasn’t scared of you. Was seeing you beat my teammate up a little scary, sure, but not in the way you think.”
Ilya’s eyes, full of tears, just stared at Shane. He continued:
“It scared me because I liked it. I liked it so fucking much Ilya. No one, and I mean no one, has ever stood up for me like that.” Ilya blinked, “Seeing you defend me made me feel on fire, and when Marley was pulling you away, I was scared of myself because seeing you like that felt fucking amazing.”
Shane ran his hands through Ilya’s hair, as Ilya stayed there at his knees. “It scares me a bit how much I like how you treat me.”
Ilya looked up, “How I treat you?”
“It makes me feel really good that you would beat someone up for talking shit about me,” Shane said. Ilya got up from his place on the floor, and stood to look at Shane.
“I would do anything for you.” Ilya said, looking Shane in the eye. He brought his hand up to Shane's face, thumb pulling down Shane's lip.
“Anything?” Shane asks. Ilya just nods, and stares a little longer.
Shane bit his lip, “Ilya?” Ilya’s eyes were already on his,“Take me to bed, please.”
Who was Ilya to refuse his love?
_________
Ilya loved seeing Shane like this, spread open without a care in the world. Ilya had two fingers in his hole, and was taking his time licking all over Shane’s cock. His tongue was hot and wet, and tasting every drop of sweat that it encountered. Ilya used his free hand to hike Shane’s knee up, giving himself better access to his hole. Ilya pushed his two fingers in deeper, while simultaneously taking a long lick up the backside of the cock in front him. Shane’s hands found Ilya’s hair.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane said breathlessly, The two made eye contact as Ilya lifted his tongue to slid over the head, licking at the pre-cum that was resting there. The act made Shane buck his lips, forcing the cock down Ilya’s throat. “Oh my god.”
Shane was whimpering, eyes shut and chest heaving, and Ilya was…
Ilya was in heaven. He knew Shane inside and out after all of their years together, and even now there was nothing that turned him on more than Shane giving in to his body. Ilya loved to take Shane out of his mind, and make him focus on his pleasure for an hour. That’s exactly what he was doing now.
He took Shane’s cock deeper into his throat, tongue laying flat in his mouth. He began to bob his head slowly, relishing on the weight of Shane’s cock on his tongue. Ilya could feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he truly loved being in between Shane’s leg with cock in his mouth. He slowly brought his head back up, until it was just the head in his mouth. Ilya opened his eyes to look at Shane, to find Shane already staring at him.
Ilya slowly began to rub and glide the head of Shane’s cock with his tongue, focusing specifically on the slit. He slowly worked his fingers inside Shane’s hole below. He was always good at multitasking.
“Feel good?” Ilya asked, taking Shane’s dick from his mouth with a pop! Shane just nodded, hips moving to feel more of Ilya’s fingers in him. “You want it?”
Shane’s eyes were looking down at his cock, red and sticky with spit. To emphasize his sentence, Ilya thrusts his cock against Shane’s, “Look at me. You want?”
“Yes, please.” Shane said, lip in between his teeth. Ilya took his fingers out, and opened his mouth to spit on his cock. A white thick glob came out of his mouth, and landed directly on his cock. Ilya looked up at Shane as he massaged the spit evenly over his dick, making sure to slide his thumb down the slit. He grabbed Shane’s thighs and slid them apart more, and bent down to place his cock at the hole.
He gently pressed the head of cock against Shane’s hole, and spit again to give himself more slick to move. He continued to press and eventually, Ilya began to slide himself into the tight hole, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fucking move.” Shane replied. Ilya began to move, the first few strokes hitting slow and deep inside Shane. Shane whimpered, “Please, baby. Please go faster.”
Ilya bent down to kiss Shane, “Anything for you.” He began to thrust again, a fast and sloppy speed. He brought his hands to Shane’s hip, and gripped them hard. Ilya began to pull Shane back onto his cock, over and over again.
Shane was strung out, mouth producing loud and whiny moans, “Ilya – fuck, yes. Just like that, feels so fucking good.”
Ilya's mouth opened with a moan, at Shane’s praise, he began to faster. His uneven pace made his thrusts even sloppier, but Ilya loved it. He loved everything about having sex with Shane. Sure, the heat and grip from Shane’s hole was stimulating, but knowing that Shane was feeling heaven was all Ilya cared about. The blissed out look on Shane’s face, his mouth open lightly, lips red from biting them all night – God Ilya noticed it all. He knew exactly what spots to hit, when to hit them, and how hard to elicit a reaction such as this. Shane’s complete euphoria.
Ilya pace didn’t slow, hips rolling and circling to hit the sweet spot, and when he did the reaction was instant. Shane’s head threw back, “Right here?”
Shane began to nod rapidly, “Yea, fuck me right there. Kiss me.” Ilya bent down to kiss Shane, thrusts slowing slightly. Ilya licked into Shane’s mouth, before moving in to kiss him deeper. He began to suck on Shane’s tongue, wanting to taste everything.
Ilya fell on top of Shane, knees digging into the bed to keep his thrusts going. Shane’s arms wrapped around Ilya, pulling him in deeper. The pair was still kissing, biting at each other's lips with spit connecting the two every time they broke for air. Ilya was licking inside Shane’s mouth, over teeth and tongue, trying to taste every part of him. Shane moved first, feeling overstimulated from the hard thrusts and deep kisses. Ilya moved his head to sit on Shane's shoulder, his thrusts growing needy and possessive. They were getting slower, but harder as his cock dug deeper into Shane’s wet hole. Ilya whimpered at the feeling on his cock.
“Does it feel good? Am I making you feel good,” Ilya began to babble.
Shane was nodding, “So fucking good. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Ilya’s hips are still thrusting in a slow pace.
“I love how willingly you’ll do things for me,” Shane whined. His legs were far apart, trying to feel as much of Ilya’s cock as he could, “I love how you’ll do whatever I want you to.”
Ilya rose onto his arms, looking down at Shane, as his thrusts began to speed up, “I would do anything you tell me to.”
Shane grabbed Ilya’s chin, “Anything?” Ilya nodded, “Then fuck me, so I can come.”
Ilya’s eyes felt as though they had to refocus, but he understood the command, “Yes, Shane.”
The thrusts sped up again, the relentless pace Ilya was using earlier. He looked at Shane, desperate to see the reactions Ilya was inflicting upon him. Shane's face was red, lips big and plump from biting, hair sticking to his forehead, and looking absolutely wrecked. Ilya’s hips snap over and over again, drilling Shane hole harder with each thrust. The room is loud, full of the sounds of moans, wet gasps, and bodies hitting each other.
“Oh fuck, Ilya. I’m gonna –” but he does not finish his sentence, as Shane’s body tightens as he comes ropes against his chest. It's the most beautiful thing Ilya has seen. Shane’s cock spitting out cum, white and thick, and the way his body calms when the orgasm takes over. Shane’s moans get higher, whinier, and it is the sound Ilya comes to. It only takes Ilya a couple more thrusts before he comes deeply inside Shane’s hole.
He falls directly on top of Shane, the two don’t speak and try to catch their breaths. Ilya can hear Shane’s heart beating inside his chest, and his own beating in his ears.
“Oh my god,” Shane says first, “That was–”
Ilya cuts him off, “Fucking good.” Ilya rolls off Shane, taking a spot on the other side of the bed. Once he gets comfortable, he sets his head on his hand to see Shane better.
“Yea, very. You follow instructions well,” Shane pointed out. Ilya just looked at Shane.
“I was serious. I would do anything you want. If you told me to slice that motherfucker's hand, I slice,” Ilya said.
Shane shook his head, “Ilya, I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you to become my attack dog every time something happens.”
“But I would do it,” Ilya says, getting up. “If you tell me to attack, I attack. You tell me to sit, I sit. Shane, you tell me to do anything, I will do. For you.”
Shane’s heart was beating faster in his chest, and he could feel his face heating. “So if I told you to punch a random man on the street, you’d just do it?”
Ilya nodded, grabbing clothes from the floor and placing them in a hamper. He moved closer to Shane, moving to sit down right next to the naked man. “I love you, with everything I have. I will never let anyone be mean to you.”
Shane just paused, he didn’t know what this feeling was. It made him feel good that Ilya was so willing, so eager to do what Shane wanted him to, “Okay, well I don’t want you doing that anymore – attacking. You will not beat up my ‘haters’.”
Ilya looked down into his hands, “Yes, Shane.”
Shane grabbed his chin to make Ilya look at him, “Unless, I specifically give you permission to.”
Ilya grinned, “Yes, Shane.”
_________
April 2021
That incident was weeks ago, however. After their mind-blowing sex and Ilya’s “no attack” rule, the two had been more in-tune with each other than usual. Shane would command, and Ilya would follow.
Even though Ilya would regularly rip out someone’s throat for speaking about Shane like that, he was under strict order to not attack anyone. He liked being good, for Shane.
But, he had a game to play. He wanted to win against Shane, beat him in the face off and smirk at him as they fought over the puck. The Boston Raiders made their way to the ice, warming up and discussing their plays against the Voyageurs.
Eventually it was time for the game to start, Ilya met Shane in the middle, both men ready for the face off. They took a short moment to smile at each other before the ref blew the whistle. The tweet sounded, and the two were off. Sticks fighting for the puck in the middle of them.
Ilya won, passing the puck back to his teammate Marley. The Raiders would attempt a point formation they had been practicing all week. The puck would be passed back, giving Marley enough time to travel behind the left-wing, and shoot the puck to a closer offensive man. The formation worked, Marley shooting the puck to Feller, who quickly shot the puck into the net behind the goalie.
Ilya skates over to celebrate with his teammates, smiling faces inside the huddle already. The referee whistles to begin the next play, but before Ilya can take position, he sees Shane’s fighting. Yelling with the same asshole teammate from weeks ago, Wilson. Ilya can hear the encounter from his place across the rink
“You did that on purpose,” Wilson yelled, finger pointing at Shane.
Shane smacked it out of the way, “Are you fucking kidding me? It was one face-off, how many points have I scored for you, motherfucker?”
Before the two could argue more, Pike came to push Wilson away. Shane just turned and skated away, towards where Ilya was standing. Ilya was trying to hide his anger, trying to calm his heartbeat down, and clench his teeth.
Shane skated over to Ilya, sighing, eyes closed. “Ilya?”
Ilya looked at him, eyes wide, waiting.
“Attack.”
He smiled, “Yes, Shane.”