Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Timeline according to TV show and books:
Ilya was born in 1991. In 2003 Irina Rozanova died. In 2005 Ilya starts exploring sex. In 2008 Ilya arrives with Russian team to Canada at 17 years old and meets Shane Hollander. In 2007 he might have got to the Russian Junior Hockey League, but I don't know anything about hockey, just googled it.

Before rivalry

Autumn, 2006

Ilya was exhausted. Being the youngest player in a completely new team placed a huge responsibility on him. He had to be the best and the brightest to get into the Junior hockey league in a year, at 16 years old, and in a couple of years - into the KHL. His mother would be happy with such a career. His father expected nothing else from him.
The coach just let boys to fool around for some time before ending today's practice. Ilya chased his teammate Dima, who was incredibly fast, but not fast enough. He had just received the puck from Grisha, whom Ilya had also been trying to get until that point. No chance, of course. In this game he was alone against boys who were playing together at least for one season. He had noone on his side to partner with. And oh, they all wanted to know what he was worth. Ilya would never give them the pleasure to see him loosing.
He was trying to read their eyes and their bodies. What will be their next move? How will they give each other a signal? Dima nodded slightly to Grisha, who raised his stick like one millimeter from the ice, indicating that he was ready to receive the puck. Here it was - the moment. Easy. Ilya gathered the last of his strength, rushed between them and stole the pass. He had no energy left to continue the game, so he simply sent the puck into the net and turned around to see the team's reaction. But all he saw was just Dima's shoulder bumping into his face. Then all was white, and then red. When Ilya stood up, staggering, he realized that it was his blood dripping onto the ice. Dima was still down, and coach, whistling and swearing, ran towards them. Of course, he checked Dima first.

***

"Idiots! Playing like that, you will be dead by the end of the season! Wait in my office until your parents arrive. They will get you to the emergency department"

Coach was angry. But Ilya secretly hoped that his smart play had not gone unnoticed. And the accident was not his fault - it was Dima who couldn't understand the game was over. The skin on half his cheek was scraped off from contact with the ice. But in general, they both were fine.

The coach gave Ilya some ice from the fridge and left, probably to call their parents and continue the practice. To explain their mistakes to the rest of the team.

"Come on, look who's hiding here! Are you still afraid of getting hit by a puck at the arena?" Dima suddenly said, and only then Ilya noticed that someone else was in the room.

A thin boy in black clothes, a hood pulled over his head. His hair seemed pretty dark, too.

"Did something happen to your face? Or were you always this ugly?" he asked gloomily. His low-set eyebrows were quite expressive while he was talking. Ilya noticed, how unusual were his eye shape and color. Ilya wouldn't describe it in words.

No doubt, these two were not friends. Ilya decided not to interfere. He had so much to learn about the relationships in the team. The quarrel did not last long, so, these two were not enemies either.

Dima's parents arrived for him within 10 minutes. He had to explain that they hadn't even fought, but simply bumped into each while chasing a puck. His mother kept complaining that hockey was dangerous and he should choose a different sport. His father was complaining that he had other plans for tonight.

"Our coach's son, he's weird," Dima whispered in response to the Ilya’s question as they shook hands in goodbye. Of course, it wasn't smart of Dima to speak badly about the coach's son, no matter what he was like. But Ilya decided not to comment on this thought. Especially since he was about to be left alone in the room with this new boy.

For some time they just sat in silence.

"When are you leaving?" - suddenly asked the boy. He was in the process of writing something, probably his homework, when they interrupted, and of course he was annoyed.

"Noone is coming for me. My father is at work. I will ask coach if I can go alone" said Ilya.

"Where is your mother?"

"Dead"

"Your grandmother? Grandfather?"

"Some dead, and some are not in Moscow"

"Sounds like shit. Is your nose broken?"

"I don't know. Haven’t seen it"

"I have a mirror. Sit."

Ilya sat on a chair at the opposite side of the room. The boy took a pocket mirror out of his backpack, stood up and headed to Ilya. Fuck, he appeared to be tall, definitely higher than 6 feet, and completely blocked the light from the chandelier. He took the ice to free Ilya's hands, and gave him the mirror.

"Can't see anything" said Ilya

"Sorry"

The boy squatted, and Ilya finally saw his own face in the mirror, covered in blood, and his slightly crooked nose. Shit, it was broken. Again. Tomorrow his face will be nothing but a swollen bruise, and there is a game in a few days... Shit. Shit. He couldn't look at himself anymore and returned the mirror. At that moment the boy looked straight at Ilya, and his eyes came into the light. They were like coffee with milk he had every morning - Ilya could almost taste its thick, softened bitterness. But there was no visible depth in them. Some people's eyes had a texture like the surface of a planet, or endless mountain ranges, or dunes. But eyes he looked into were like plain sand, or even brown sugar. Sasha was mesmerizing in some unproper way, like he could be eaten, consumed, and found tasty. Ilya realized he was staring, probably for the first time in his life, at another boy. And the boy was staring back. Ilya had the right to feel unwell, and he tried to pretend that he was just a little out of touch with reality.

"Are you feeling OK? How much does it hurt?"

"I am not in pain now. But I will feel it later"

"When?"

"When I am out of adrenaline"

"You definitely can't go alone, mm, sorry, I didn't ask your name..."

"Ilya"

"I am Sasha"

They shook hands. Sasha's palm was cold despite he was wearing a thick hoodie. It felt just like skin and bones, definitely not a hand of a hockey player.

"Why are you alone here?"

"Our family is very big, and it is always noisy at home. My father's office is usually quiet, but not today. I'm in my first year at university and I have to study."

"A student already? You look young"

"I am seventeen. You look old, by the way. You still go to school?"

''Sometimes. I'm mostly doing hockey. I will be a professional. Rich and famous. You should watch me playing"

Sasha grinned in response. These words probably seemed like stupid boyish bravado to him, and that's exactly what it was. But Ilya liked to show off. It was a part of his charm, and it was also a little bit easier to believe in himself by saying it out loud. But why at all was he trying to use his charm on Sasha?

"I don't really like hockey. Too aggressive. It will be a shame if this nose of yours won't be fixed properly. Have a surgery" Sasha was clearly not impressed by the invitation.

"I can't miss practice tomorrow. Besides, girls won't look at my nose if I'm rich"

"Sure. But where are they now?"

Ilya began to imagine what bold answers he could come up with, but the door opened and the coach came in. Sasha stood up immediately, and hid the mirror in his pocket. Why did he even carry it with him? This boy really was weird.

"Father, can we take Ilya to the emergency department? Noone is coming to pick him up" suddenly said Sasha. He might have been weird, but also appeared to be kind.

"I know already" answered the coach.

***

Of course Ilya didn't do the surgery. To have it for free he needed to make an appointment three months in advance, get millions of health tests and endure all kinds of humiliation. Paid surgery also was not an option, because his father would never let him spend money on such a bullshit. For him, broken nose was not even a sufficient reason to go to the hospital. So Ilya just asked the doctors on duty to fix his nose a little bit. Make the fracture less visible. No anesthesia, of course. They also did an x-ray at the emergency, so coach allowed him to attend to tomorrow practice since he did not have a concussion.

So, the next day, he was on ice. Pills didn't help much, so he sprayed some lidocaine on his face in the locker room. Dima didn't show up. Loser. Somehow Ilya felt calmer after yesterday, he was focused and saw clearly. During a break he went to drink some water, and suddenly noticed Sasha at the arena. He had a book he pretended to read, secretly watching what he was invited to watch - Ilya playing. It was somehow very inspiring, and Ilya did his best on the practice, making sure that he wouldn't be left on the bench for the next week game. The coach approved his performance and even patted him on the shoulder: "You have the spirit, son!"

Ilya didn't hurry to change and leave. He had a very good excuse - all clothes that had to be removed over the head caused pain. But in fact, he felt like Sasha would come to share his opinion, but only after everyone had left. Ilya always sensed things other people would do, along with the things other people wanted to do but wouldn’t. That was one of the talents that made him so good at hockey.

The timing wasn't quite right. When Ilya returned from the shower with a towel over his shoulders, Sasha was already sitting in the corner of the locker room with his stupid book, once again completely unnoticed. For some time Ilya fiddled around in a locker, flashing his butt, sprayed his face with lidocaine again, and then went to dry his hair.

"Hello. How is your nose? Your face is completely fucked up" the voice came from behind. Ilya dropped the hair dryer in surprise. Truly, this boy was creepy!

"Fuck! How long have you been there?!"

"Long enough" Sasha smiled. He definitely was not looking at the face. Ilya immediately wrapped a towel around his hips.

"You were watching the whole practice"

"I wasn't"

"Oh, really? And how many pages have you managed to read? One?"

Ilya walked up to Sasha, very close, and snatched the book from his hands. It was "The Sun Also Rises" by Hemingway. He had no idea what it was about and didn't want to know. Books were boring.

"You should watch the game" Ilya continued since he got no answer.

"I will consider it" Sasha smiled and walked out. The book stayed in Ilya’s hands, and for some reason instead of leaving it on a bench, he put the book in his backpack. Then he dressed up and took metro train. All the way home he thought about the milk coffee eyes, and the sharp chin, and the full wide mouth, pale pink, giving him the most mesmerizing smile. In a long time, he didn't imagine his mother’s face on this long ride, and didn't wonder what his father would say at the door. Oh, Ilya would embrace everything that could save him from those thoughts.

***

Ilya won the game. He fucking won the game for his team, scoring three times in a row. His yellowish-blue face may have scared off the opposing players, so he met little resistance at their net.

"Ouch!" he cried, when the team hugged him, because his nose still hurt, but they didn’t give a shit, pouncing on him from all sides like crazy. Ilya was in pain, and he was happy, and he felt like a god. Suddenly, surrounded by all these strong triumphing bodies he caught himself thinking that he wanted to know if Sasha had come to watch.

"We should throw a party!" proposed Grisha as soon as they entered the locker room. "My parents are on vacation so we can gather at my place"

"I’m in!" replied a dozen of voices. Of course there would be more, but some boys had strict parents, and some chose to follow a healthy lifestyle.

"I will ask my brother to buy us vodka and beer" said Igor. He spent the entire game on the bench, but seemed more inspired than the others.

"I can invite girls" said Ilya, and suddenly everyone became quiet. It was no big deal in his previous team. They had fans, who willingly threw themselves at the players. They could invite any girl from the crowd, and she would be happy to join the party. Ilya became really good at this – he had like 20 numbers in his phone, and he was sure that at least half of the fangirls would accept the invitation despite him being in another, rival team. At least, he was sure that most women watched hockey for different reasons than men. He could definitely get them girls.

"How many?"

"How big is your house, Grisha? Give me the address"

"Oh, he’s rich. He has a cottage with seven bedrooms not far from the city" Igor answered with both envy and appreciation

"I am sending you SMS with the address"

"Should I get us seven girls then?" asked Ilya

"At least eleven of us are in. So make it ten if it’s possible. Or more. But how are you going to do this?"

"I will walk outside and invite them"

"Just like that?"

"Yep. Give me ten minutes"

Ilya left the locker room, still in his uniform to be more remarkable. He didn’t have a single thought that his bruise will somehow complicate his task. He knew he scored three goals, and he was a god today. He could pick any girl from the crowd. Suddenly he saw a group of them at the cloakroom – girls were giggling and discussing the players, repeating the names of Ilya, Grisha and Kolya, their goalkeeper who had played brilliantly today. There were seven of them. No sign of parents around. Perfect catch.

"Wanna celebrate with us, girls?"

Their eyes became wide and round, and they fell silent for almost half a minute. Ilya spent this time examining them. Three girls in tight pink sweaters were kind of pretty, with visible but firm breasts and round asses. Ilya could tell one was not wearing a bra. Another one was a muscular type in sportswear. The remaining three were a little plump, but OK. Some guys liked plump. He would tell Kolya who recently confessed he liked his maths teacher who was, like, thirty five years old, was one of these guys.

"Two of us are still in the toilet, we need to ask them first" replied one of the girls

Oh wow, this truly was a catch. Nine girls. Definitely team fans. They needed some time to discuss it, so he just told they will be ready in half an hour, very clean after the shower and very eager to have fun. While leaving, he heard the muscular girl saying she didn’t like the idea, and others complaining with her. But what is one voice against eight? The party will be a great success, he could feel it.

When Ilya returned to the locker room, smiling, ready to announce he found nine very nice girls, he saw his teammates surrounded someone. It took him just a couple of seconds to understand that it was Sasha, and he was not in danger at all, but discussing something in low voice, holding a small bag of white powder in his hands.

"We are taking him with us," whispered Igor to Ilya, "he has cocaine"

***

Ilya was in the taxi with the muscular girl, whose name was Masha, the plump girl Marina, and of course Sasha also jumped in. They decided not to tell the girls what they had until they arrived, so he simply started talking about hockey. Surprisingly, Masha turned out to be a hockey player who brought her friends to the game.

"I wish we could earn as much money as you guys do!" she complained, "And we barely have the audience"

"I would watch," answered Ilya, "Is it as wild as male hockey?"

"Much wilder" she giggled and asked for Ilya’s number. She promised him and Sasha tickets for her next game. Ilya caught himself on a thought that she was the most interesting of all the girls, and while he would of course fuck them all, he would definitely date Masha, if he had time for this. And he was really excited to watch female hockey.

The plump girl asked Sasha if he was also a player. That’s how Ilya found out that the coach forced him to skate since he was three years old, but decided to start with figure skating. Sasha wasn't very good at it. He lasted three years, then broke his leg and quit. Oh, Ilya could imagine Sasha doing figure skating. He had the grace.

When they finally arrived, other boys were already there, as were the drinks. Girls mostly preferred beer, but Masha chose vodka, of course. Tough girl. Although she was initially against the party, her voice was mostly heard in the conversation, probably because other girls were quite new to hockey. Masha actually understood the game and could comment on it.

Ilya had never tried cocaine before, and it wasn't like he was particularly interested. But the night was fun, and the music was playing, and everyone was talking, drinking, dancing in the most safe and fancy place he ever partied in. They all were celebrating his victory which made him high already. Ilya was promised his broken nose won’t hurt for some time. He also knew that unpleasant thoughts won’t bother him until he gets sober. So Ilya willingly consumed what Sasha prepared for him on the table. Why not?

After some time boys and girls kinda sorted out who likes who, and someone even started kissing. Ilya wanted to get laid, badly. He had to make a move while there were still some free girls left, and placed his hand on Masha’s knee. Truly, that was a knee of a fellow hockey player. The feeling of tough muscle under his fingers was strange but interesting. He wanted to enjoy it for some time, but Masha placed her hand upon his, gently threw it off and said: "Sorry, Ilya, you are a nice guy, but I am a lesbian, and me and Marina are together".

She was supposed to say it quietly, but her voice was either naturally loud, or she just already had too much vodka, and everyone at the table heard her. Of course all the boys were excited to see the lesbians making out immediately and to know how are they doing it without a dick, and they started asking all those gross questions making Masha and Marina blush up to their ears.

"It’s OK. I would still go to your game" Ilya said, trying to cheer her up. Then he sipped some beer, leaned back on the sofa and smiled like a fool. That moment Sasha landed next to him. He was a little sweaty and blushy from dancing, and definitely high. His eyes had an unhealthy gleam and dilated pupils, and his smile was wild.

"It seems that we are not getting any girls today. Wanna smoke?" he said to Ilya.

"Not there" Grisha told them. Of course he didn’t want to get into trouble with his parents "There is a balcony upstairs. If it’s too cold, you can use a smaller toilet. My father is only allowed to smoke there. Don't forget to turn on the ventilation"

Of course they chose the toilet. It was late autumn and around zero degrees outside. The room was small, but there was a chair and an ashtray on a tiny round table.

"How are you feeling?" asked Sasha while offering Ilya a cigarette.

"Light. Easy. But a little confused"

"Sit"

Ilya plopped down on a chair, and Sasha settled down on the floor next to him, almost between his wide spread legs. A curtain of cigarette smoke obscured Sasha’s face, and they silently stared at each other through this veil.

When the cigarettes were over, Ilya took out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts.

"I can invite more girls" he said. "What’s your type?"

"Are you horny?"

"The fuck I am!"

"What’s your own type?"

"I don’t know. Right now I could fuck a bagel"

They laughed for a few seconds, but then Sasha’s face got serious, and suddenly he said: "And I’m not really into girls"

And then he put his finger on Ilya’s inner thigh, very cautiously, and then two fingers, and then three, and moved them slowly, giving enough time to say no, to rush out of the toilet and pretend nothing happened, except for vodka and drugs. But Ilya was only able to groan "Fuck!"

It felt like the flames touching him, melting him, squeezing the soft fabric of his sweatpants, scratching the skin. He couldn’t move. If he stood up, his legs would fail him. When another boy’s hand reached his crotch and cupped his dick, Ilya realized he was already half-hard. Sasha looked him right in the eye to check if they were still OK with what was happening, and then he buried his face right between Ilya’s legs and smelled him in. Inhaled him. This was insane in a bad and in a good way at the same time, and when Sasha tried to lower his sweatpants, Ilya lifted his hips to make it easier. His bare butt touched the cold plastic chair, while the warmest and the widest of all mouths sucked his dick in, very deep, every inch of it. He only saw this in porn. Sasha's nose was buried in his pubic hair. Ilya could feel the movement of his throat around the head of his dick. He never imagined it was possible, like, he had quite a size, and girls he hooked up with were never as enthusiastic as Sasha was. Sasha definitely tried to impress him, and the sensation was becoming overwhelming, but Ilya caught himself thinking that he would prefer to see Sasha’s face. He would also prefer him to make less noise.

"Stop, stop!" Ilya ran his fingers through Sasha’s hair, gently pulling him away

"Let me blow you, please, please… Your dick is gorgeous" Sasha murmured, his chin and lips wet with saliva, his cheeks red.

"I want to see you kissing it, slowly. I want to see you enjoying it."

Ilya couldn’t believe he just said that. And in a second, he saw Sasha giving him lustful wet kisses, licking hungrily all his length, right from the balls to the foreskin, plunging the tip of his tongue into the cockhole, sucking the head in. Then he looked up straight at Ilya, and their eyes met. Fuck, Sasha was enjoying it. And it felt so good… llya didn’t care that he was not with a girl. What he had with girls was messy, wet, hot and predictable. Normal. But girls were kind of shy to demonstrate what they wanted. What he experienced now was unimaginably exciting, because there was pure lust on Sasha’s face.

Ilya was close, and he moaned as quietly as he could, because they were in a fucking bathroom at the fucking party. Sasha understood, and took him deep again, yet not as deep as before, and stroke him with both hands. His tongue was drawing circles on Ilya’s tender skin. Sometimes his teeth gently pressed in, increasing sensations a hundred times.

"I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come now…" he warned Sasha in case he didn’t want to swallow, but of course he wanted. And he did. Ilya covered his own mouth to hold back a groan, his whole body shaking with overwhelming pleasure, his heart racing like crazy. The fingers of his other hand tangled in Sasha's dark hair as he gratefully kissed Ilya’s cock, like it was him who received a pleasure. It was so intimate and beautiful.

Then Sasha licked his lips and looked at Ilya again, like a cat overfed with sour cream. It seemed that he wanted to be kissed, unsure if Ilya wanted to kiss him. And of course he wanted to be touched. Ilya wondered how it would feel to touch a guy.

Most of his teammates would definitely consider Sasha’s mouth dirty. In their minds, sucking a dick was kind of humiliating. Sure, they would hook up with a girl who enjoyed blowjobs like Sasha did, but they would never have married her. Ilya was different. He never considered any part of his body dirty. He liked bodies of other people. He didn’t actually care if his partners liked other dicks, too. Ilya didn’t expect anyone to be faithful, because he could not offer the same. His only loyalty was to hockey, to his career, and relationships were kind of in the way. But Ilya felt that he shouldn’t share these feelings with anyone. He didn't like serious conversations and always tried to avoid them. And right now Ilya enjoyed how easily he understood Sasha without words.

So he gently pulled Sasha up by his hair and sat him on his lap, face to face, and caressed his chin and his lips affectionately.

"It was amazing" said Ilya and kissed him. Sasha’s mouth tasted like cum and cigarettes, wet and smooth and passionately responding. They played with their tongues, deepening the kiss. Ilya grabbed Sasha’s ass, so firm under tight jeans, and pulled him closer, until Sasha straddled him.

"I want you to fuck me, I want it so much..." Sasha whispered in his ear and then bit the earlobe, and licked it, and then kissed his neck.

"There’s no way I am going back to the living room to grab condoms from my bag. You have some?"

"Also in my bag"

"Even if we had them here, I’d prefer to be sober. Right now I’m not… not in control"

"Are you sure you will ever to talk to me tomorrow? Most likely, you will try to forget what happened. I know you hockey players. I promised myself I won’t get involved with any of you, ever. But I just can’t resist"

"Noone can resist me" Ilya was flattered. And he knew he had to make Sasha come, too. Ilya was curious how it would feel, to be inside another man. He would definitely go for it next time. He was an explorer, after all. But there was definitely something else he could explore right now.

And Ilya started to undo Sasha’s jeans until his dick was in his hand, so very hard, leaking with precum. Ilya’s another hand slipped under the elastic band of Sasha’s pants from behind, grabbing one of his cheeks, and then gently touching his hole. Sasha was clean-shaven there. Prepared. Did he originally plan to drug Ilya and fuck him? Like, in the morning before the game? Fuck. That was terrible, but it also was hot. Ilya felt he was getting hard again.

His fingers burst into Sasha's mouth.

"Make them very very wet for me" he asked. Sasha did his best. He knew where they were about to go.

Sasha’s moaning was lost in a kiss, when Ilya started fucking him with one finger, and then two.

"Harder!" Sasha plead, grabbing both their dicks together and stroking them, fast and rough.

Ilya pushed and pushed inside, finally touching a spot, which made Sasha bite his shoulder, leaving marks on the skin.

"Yes, yes, like that!" Sasha seemed to be repeating, holding his grip. And then he trembled around Ilya’s fingers, and warm drops of cum splashed over their dicks. Ilya couldn’t bare it any longer and came too, gasping for air. For some time they just froze like they were, in each other’s arms.

"You really are something, Ilya" whispered Sasha, kissing him tenderly.

"I know. What are we supposed to do now?"

"Clean ourselves and join others?"

"Won’t they notice?" Ilya was worried. He was not even sure all this could be so easily cleaned.

"They are all high. Or drunk. Or fucking already. We are the last thing they care about, believe me..."

Ilya did his best to clean the cum from his loose knit sweater, which luckily was milky brown. Sasha just took his black hoodie off, revealing a tight coral-red T-shirt underneath. He seemed to like bright colors, but wearing them wasn't always practical and appropriate. Ilya adored his broad shoulders, and small nipples poking through the thin fabric.

"We can go to the club and dance, if you want" Sasha offered, but Ilya didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be seen dancing with a guy.

"Maybe next time"

"Promise me there will be a next time"

"I don’t make promises"

When they got back, there were only Masha, Marina and Kolya, sitting on the sofa, talking and laughing. Others vanished. Ilya felt like he should call a taxi and drive home alone. It was 2 a.m., and the effect of the drugs and alcohol began to vanish. His nose started to hurt again.

So he said goodbye and slipped out into the cold autumn night. The black sky was covered with stars, as bright as they can only be outside the city. He knew he was supposed to worry about what just happened, but somehow he felt the opposite – relaxed, calm, satisfied. On his way back he fell asleep on the back seat of the car.

He called Alexei and asked to open the door, so Ilya would not wake father.

"You need to go to school tomorrow" his brother reminded

"There is no way I will get up so early" Ilya disappeared into his room and locked the door. He will shower when he’s up, and then he will ask Svetlana to copy her homework.

***

In the evening Ilya was at Sergei Vetrov’s house. Svetlana was his only friend from school. The rest of his classmates envied him because he could get away with anything as a hockey player. Svetlana appeared in his life soon after his mother's death, and they became best friends very quickly. While everyone at school wanted him to concentrate on his education, she encouraged him to play hockey. She saw his talent back then, when he was just twelve years old. While teachers told him that he would not succeed neither in sports nor in life if he continued to skip classes, and would not be able to find a good job, Svetlana believed in him, as his mother did. Father always criticized and never praised, which did not motivate Ilya at all. Svetlana was his only inspiration back then.

Being raised in US, she was not used to her Russian pet names - Sveta or Svetka. So he always called her by her full name, as she asked him to. Sergei Vetrov was offered a good position in Russia, and his only and beloved daughter agreed to move with him. She was truly her daddy's girl. Spoiled. She had anything she wanted. Her mother and brothers visited often, mostly in the summer. Moscow was too cold and gloomy for them.

So Ilya tried to watch some boring NHL game on TV in the living room with one eye, and use the other to copy the homework he was supposed to complete three weeks ago.

"What was your excuse to skip the school today? Your game was in Moscow" asked Svetlana when he was about to finish writing

"I am seriously injured. Just look at my face"

"I can’t believe you can play with a broken nose, but can’t study. I had to cancel my date because of you!"

"Oh, you are dating someone! Wow! Does your father know?"

"Fuck off, Ilya!"

Although Ilya discovered sex around a year ago, he has never had a relationship. Several times he hooked up with the same girl twice or three times, but never more. He was excited the most by new people and new experiences. After three times, he knew everything he wanted about any person.

"Yesterday I understood I would date a hockey player, but she turned out to be a lesbian. Can you imagine?" said Ilya

"It actually makes sense. You men prefer girls to be weak. Stupid. She probably got disappointed for not being seen for who she really is"

"Is your boyfriend like that too?"

"I don’t know yet"

"Listen, I have a favor to ask of you. Can you disguise this somehow? Like, with a concealer. I have practice tomorrow" Ilya lowered the collar and showed Svetlana the teeth marks on his shoulder.

"Wow! Who did that to you? A lesbian hockey player?!"

"A former figure skater, I’d say. While coming."

"Was it that good? Or painful?" Svetlana suddenly appeared to be curious

"We were doing drugs. It was different in many ways. Good is not the right word. More like wild, thrilling"

Svetlana clearly didn't know what to say, so she only raised her eyebrows and then commented on the Ilya’s original request.

"If you will be sweating, the concealer won’t help. Stick on a bandage, say you were hit during the game. It would be reasonable. But I don't understand why you want to hide it at all?"

"I don’t know..."

He couldn’t tell her. Not yet.

Chapter Text

December 2006

There were guests, when Ilya returned home. Like, a lot of them. Some were relatives, his fathers friends and colleagues. Some were new, a young woman among them. She was in her early thirties, with long brown hair and large, naive eyes. The other woman looked very much like her mother, with gray hair and a rather provincial outfit. Everyone congratulated his father and raised toasts to his and Polina’s health and happiness. Who the hell was Polina?!

"What’s this all about?" Ilya asked his brother, who left the table to smoke.

"Father is getting married. Probably, in spring" Alexei replied.

Ilya felt like he had been punched in the gut. With a tyre iron. Their mother died three years ago. This should be OK. But it was not. He shouldn’t have found out like that. Ilya understood why father didn't tell him earlier. Grigori Rozanov always tried to avoid difficult conversations because he didn't want to be questioned. He preferred them to learn of his decisions once they were in effect, and there was no turning back or attempts to change his mind. He was accustomed to orders being carried out without objection, and he found a way to achieve this at home.

"You would have seen it coming if you had been home more often" Alexei continued. He wasn’t happy with it, too, but it was always easier for him. He wasn’t mommy’s favorite son. Ilya was. Grandmother once told that after giving birth to her first child Irina was all alone, couldn’t eat and sleep properly and didn’t wash her hair for weeks. She cried constantly for no reason, even when father managed to send Alexei to a children day care. When she didn't have the energy to get out of bed, he would just yell at her and call her lazy. So when Ilya was born, granny stayed in Moscow and helped. Freed from the burden of household responsibilities, Irina had more time to form a bond with her second son.

Despite this difference, both brothers didn't really want to sit at the table and welcome their future stepmother. Festivities in their family were always very insincere. They also were not allowed to invite anyone. Father said, their friends would be an embarrassment, unable to behave. He hated the fuss and noise made by kids. While he didn't mind them having fun sometimes, he preferred not to witness it. Even at their birthdays, there were only father's relatives at the table. Irina always gave her sons money as a present so they could invite their own guests somewhere else.

Ilya and Alexei spoke about her for some time as they smoked in the kitchen, but their memories were not the same. Ilya grieved because they could not become the reason for her to stay, and they failed to help her. Alexei grieved because she abandoned them, as an irresponsible selfish child, not a grown-up woman, not a mother. So there wasn't much to talk about, and Alexei decided to return to the celebration. Before leaving, he poured a glass of vodka for Ilya, but it remained untouched.

Was alcohol the solution to all problems? Ilya wished it was, and loved how it helped everyone to relax and have fun at the party, but drinking alone in the kitchen was not cool. This was more like the last stage of alcoholism, when a person no longer needed company to drink. So Ilya went to his room, locked the door, lay down on the bed and turned on the radio through headphones. All the latest rock hits were terribly sad, and of course they were streaming the saddest one, "Lonely Day" by System of a down.

Such a lonely day shouldn't exist
It's a day that I'll never miss
Such a lonely day, and it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
And if you go, I wanna go with you
And if you die, I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away

Ilya wished these stupid musicians would make more cheerful songs for him, he wished he never googled the translation. But it only got worse. The next song was "Hate me" by Blue October.

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things
I didn't do for you

Ilya threw off his headphones, but immediately found himself witnessing the conversation behind the wall, which was about war. Their future relatives asked about the medals. Father didn't keep them in a display case, so some of his colleagues probably decided to bring up this topic to impress the fiancee.

Father rarely spoke of war. Ilya and Alexei knew some biographical facts, but no personal information. Grigori Rozanov chose military career at a very young age. After graduation from the Nakhimov Naval School, he rose through the ranks with determination and speed. Leaving to the Afghan War as a senior lieutenant, he returned as a 1st rank captain without being involved in a single battle. It was long before Ilya was born, so he knew only that father delivered weapons and soldiers to Afghanistan. Almost no risk and no chance to prove yourself. Why would one be promoted so fast and receive medals for such a boring job?

There was another war for which Grigori Rozanov had abandoned his wife and two sons - the first Chechen war. Ilya just turned three years old when he suddenly left, almost without explanation. Grigori told his wife when it was already decided, silently packed his things, and in a couple of days he set out. Shortly before this he was promoted to rear admiral - probably, on purpose. They needed an ambitious executive, experienced in supplying armies.

Ilya remembered how mother threw herself at father's feet and cried, begging him to stay because if he died she would not be able to raise two sons alone. But he just yelled at her and called her pathetic. He said that if they don't stop separatism now, Russia will fall apart, and they will all be doomed to chaos and poverty. Only a stupid woman would put her small problems above her country. This is probably Ilya's first memory. This scene is imprinted on his retina. A three-year-old, he sits on the floor among his toys and father's face is too high above, unapproachable. When Grigori finally returns home after more than a year, Ilya is scared, because he has forgotten what his dad looks like.

Now Ilya can hear his father telling guests that the first Chechen War changed him completely. Grigori had a speech prepared for such occasions. No matter what you decide, Russian citizens die. So many innocent people. Cities and villages on his Motherland razed to the ground by its own sons. Their enemies were bandits and terrorists with twisted minds, not an army. Grigori once got into their ambush and suffered a blast injury when another car in the convoy was blown up. He was lucky he only suffered headaches. That's when he decided to join the police - to save people, not to condemn them to death.

Ilya didn't believe a word. He read about this war on the Internet and asked his fellows whose fathers and brothers have been there or never returned. It was all politics: some important people profited from the war and used it in their race for power. There have been speculations that it began over the oil pipelines. That the militants received money and weapons from Moscow. That it all was done to keep the army busy to avoid a coup. Ilya heard that some of the clothing and provisions did not reach the soldiers. He heard mothers were searching for their missing sons and buying them from captivity. There was scattered information about this war and many conspiracy theories that grew so well in the absence of truth. Ilya knew one thing for sure - father was talking bullshit.

For many years Ilya learned to understand and read his father, but it was always hard. He believed that Grigori Rozanov was more interested in power and wealth than in goodness and justice. Officially he could only receive awards and probably a bonus pay for his loyal service. But somehow just a month after the war ended, they moved into a new four-room apartment. But the times were changing, and father decided that a cushy job in the Department for Combating Organized Crime would be more profitable than military service. In 90s organized criminal groups took control over many enterprises and even banks. They likely had more money than the state, so the department was highly corrupt.

Ilya was in first grade when the economic crisis hit. Everyone who had savings became poor in a second. The families of many of his classmates lost their income and could not even afford proper food. It was a disaster for most people, but not for Grigori Rozanov. In those difficult times, he managed to provide well for his family. He got hold of a dacha with a nice summer house and a car. He continued to pay for judo classes for his older son and hockey classes for the younger and sent them to a seaside trip in the summer as usual. They always had any food they wanted, could go to the cinema and restaurants. Their life wasn't that bad, compared to so many other people's lives. Ilya couldn't understand why it became unbearable for mother...

He wondered what granny would say about father’s marriage. She didn't get along very well with Grigori, so Ilya rarely saw her after the mom's funeral. She lived in Novosibirsk, so lately they only met when Ilya had a game in this city. Each time grandmother saw how Ilya has grown, she proudly said he was nothing like Grigori Rozanov. Ilya wanted to speak to her badly, but there were not enough funds on his mobile account for an inter-city call.

He also wished he had Sasha’s number. Ilya had to distract himself, even if it would be in a gay club, he wouldn’t care tonight. Then he tried to remember a girl who lived on her own, but he never seemed to bother asking such things. So for some time Ilya just lay on his bed, feeling lonely and miserable, trying not to listen to the voices behind the wall. He hated this house, but had nowhere to go. The worst part was that he didn't feel like going to tomorrow morning's practice at all. Fuck, he had to get himself angry! Angry, not sad.

Ilya sat up in bed, trying to figure out what to do with this feeling of internal emptiness devouring him. Sasha's book was lying on his desk, and Ilya opened it, looking for any clue. There was a bookmark inside, which looked like a souvenir from Italy with a 2004 calendar on one side and Michelangelo’s David on the other. There was a number written on it, which didn’t look like a phone number. What could it be?

Ilya turned his computer on and searched for the number in his ICQ app. It existed, but definitely did not belong to Sasha. Matteo1985, the nickname looked pretty much italian. Fuck. Why would Sasha write his own number on the bookmark? Of course it belonged to someone else, someone who gave him this bookmark in Italy, two years ago. Ilya wondered if he should ask Matteo for Sasha's contact, but obviously his level of English wouldn't allow it. But Ilya finally felt the anger he searched for. Sasha had a life, he had secrets and experience none of his previous hookups had. Ilya was curious, but also jealous, and scared a little bit. Maybe he should be looking for friendship today, not sex.

Among all his ICQ contacts, his former teammate Oleg was online. They did get along. Not close friends, but they shared some interests like music and online games. Oleg was born in a small town from Moscow metropolitan area, and his parents paid for the room in a communal flat so he could play for a good capital-based team. They never partied there, because the place had dirty shared bathroom and kitchen, but sometimes gathered to drink beer and play guitar. Oleg had a good ear for music. Ilya remembered him performing the song "Sex and rock 'n' roll" which was originally released by the band "God Zmei" which he had never heard of, but the lyrics immediately stuck in his head.

Condoms in my pocket,
And that means we're alive,
And that means we're loved, and we love back,
And may it be so, and may sex and rock 'n' roll not destroy us
It's not love that saves, but sex and rock 'n' roll!

Every time Oleg picked up the guitar, Ilya asked him to perform this song. They also liked Bon Jovi, System of a down, Linkin Park, Gorillaz and some old rock music, such as Queen or Nirvana. But it was much harder to sing in english, so they only did it with Russian music, such as DDT, Splean and Bi-2. That were good memories. Perhaps the change of team did not oblige him and Oleg to become enemies.

"Hi! Can I crush at your place tonight?" Ilya wrote

"Were you kicked out of the house for being drunk?"

"No. My father is throwing a party, and I have a practice early in the morning"

"I do too. Bring some food"

llya went to check for food in the kitchen. In the oven he found a baking pan of French-style meat with a thick mayonnaise gratin. He placed a large portion in a plastic container, grabbed his sports uniform and homework and left the house.

Half an hour on a metro train, and he was there. Oleg already prepared him fresh sheets and a pillow on the couch. They ate, played the NHL 06 game on the computer, and then went to bed.

"How is your new team? You had an easy win a couple of days ago" Oleg asked as they lay in the darkness.

"Great. I just wish I didn’t break my nose"

"Yes, you look terrible! Sema lost his tooth last week. Can you imagine?"

"He deserves it. But I kind of miss this bastard"

"You made the right decision changing teams"

"It wasn’t really mine. My father negotiated the transfer. Sometimes it's hard to meet new coach's standards. But it is good for my career"

"It is. You are amazing on the ice. You can play abroad, you know. Have you thought about this?"

Of course Ilya did. He wasn't particularly good at planning or doing research, but the idea of living in some warm place at the seaside seemed very attractive. They dreamed about it for a few more minutes until they fell asleep.

***

Sasha was not at the practice. He probably had classes at university, and Ilya had school. Despite the bad mood, Ilya decided to go there, just not to be at home. His seat at the desk next to Svetlana remained empty for two whole weeks. She was surprised to see him.

They had two english classes in a row, and of course Ilya couldn’t catch up. Svetlana was fluent, because her mother lived in US, so Ilya was able to get a good grade. Without Svetlana he would definitely have had to repeat a year in school - not because he was stupid, of course. Ilya just couldn't obey the rules. Svetlana was such a good friend, kind and generous, never asking for anything in return. He respected and appreciated her very much.

After classes they went to a cafe, where Ilya treated her to pizza and a milkshake. They talked about her boyfriend. Svetlana liked how much he was attracted to her and wanted to spend together all his free time. Ilya couldn't tell her about his former figure skater. Although the name Sasha could be either male or female, Ilya tried not to mention it, afraid to reveal that Sasha was a boy. He preferred to talk with Svetlana about his father’s marriage.

"You will get paid when you are in the Junior hockey league next year. You can rent a flat. That would help," she said.

The idea was good, however it would take a lot of effort to get into the league so early. It was not healthy to live in the house where his mother died. Ilya knew from Svetlana that in US they prescribed antidepressant drugs to people who were mentally unhealthy, and they had doctors and support groups. For an unemployed mother of two children with a very limited social circle, this would be a great help. But Irina Rozanova was unlucky enough to be born in Russia, where her mental problems were considered simply a shameful weakness. As his father liked to say, their grandmothers gave birth in the field and continued hay harvest with the newborn in their arms. You just need to pull yourself together. And pull harder and harder and harder, neither cry nor complain, because life is war.

For another couple of days Ilya stayed at Oleg’s communal flat until Svetlana asked him to wash his clothes. When Ilya finally returned home, neither his father nor his brother were interested where he had been hanging out. There were no complaints from the coach or school teachers, so nothing bothered them. Father never told him directly about his marriage, as if Ilya was unworthy of sharing this information, as if his opinion did not matter. But he was almost over it thanks to his friends.

***

Sasha disappeared. It was probably for the best. Ilya almost stopped thinking about him and searching for him in the arena and in the locker room. The nose has healed, and Sasha might not even recognize it now. Ilya tried to study at the end of the term and spent evenings at Svetlana's house when she was not on a date.

Masha invited Ilya to her game, and he brought Svetlana along. She really enjoyed female hockey and found it empowering. She wished she could also do some sport, but as a skinny girl, she couldn’t build muscle, no matter how hard she tried. Born to wear dresses and high heels, Ilya would say, if it would not sound kind of humiliating. She never dressed up for him and felt comfortable in her father’s old T-shirt. He wondered what she wore when she was with her boyfriend. Ilya could understand girls physically, like, how and where they needed to be touched, and what they wanted to hear from him in bed. Body language was easy. But the relationship part was the hard part. Why would they date one guy and not another? Why would they sometimes prefer men who treated them poorly? He didn’t want Svetlana to be hurt in her first relationship. So he regularly asked her if everything was alright, and promised to beat her boyfriend to death if it wouldn’t be.

In the last days of December they were having a great time at the New Year's tree. The square was full of ice figures, costumed Father Frost and Snow Maiden wandering among them, and a very tall ice slide. Svetlana screamed as they slid down standing on their feet, holding onto each other. It was crazy and fun. Ilya hasn't had such a good time out of the ice rink since... he couldn't say for how long.

When they got tired and fell into snow pile to rest, Svetlana started that very strange conversation which ended up in her asking Ilya to become her first man. Ilya, and not her fucking boyfriend.

"I don’t get it. At all," he replied after staring with his mouth open with shock for almost a minute. "Are you sure he is OK with that?"

"Oh, men. Always thinking about other men's feelings. What about me? Why should I want his opinion when it comes to my body?"

"I still don’t get it. Aren’t you in love with him? Shouldn’t he be the one you want?"

"I want, but… we never spoke about it. He doesn’t talk much, he shows his affection buying me flowers and making presents and arranging things he thinks I might like. But he rarely guesses it right. Or he doesn’t remember. So I worry he may not be good in bed, and I don’t want my first time to be ruined"

"Why me? I never dated anyone, I never bought a single flower to a girl, I don’t even remember their names"

"Exactly. You offer nothing but yourself. And yet they're lining up to ride your dick. I just can't stop thinking about the bruise on your shoulder. From teeth. What have you done to that girl, they don't even show this in the movies! Nail scratches on the back is a cliche, but biting..."

Ilya should have joked that she was watching the wrong movies. But he felt like he should tell the truth now. To scare her off with her stupid ideas, which would definitely be a big fucking mistake and the end of their friendship. Because if she kept insisting, if she touched him, he wouldn't be able to say no.

"It was a boy, not girl" he said

"No shit! But you are not gay?"

"I’m not. This happened once, but I think you should know. I didn’t do anything special. It was just… drugs, alcohol, adrenaline. Maybe that's what he likes to do. Maybe he did that to remain silent. It was the third time I saw him, and the last. We didn't really know each other"

"It actually sounds… hot. And sad"

Shit. Ilya only made it worse.

"You are very beautiful, and nice, and funny" he said, "I’m just not worthy of you. I am stupid and irresponsible. I have no talents except for hockey. All I do is copy your homework. I’m more like a burden than a friend"

"So fucking make yourself useful!" said Svetlana, and then she turned her face and kissed him.

It was different from any kiss he had before. There was trust in it, and hope, and care. The scent of her untamed hair was very familiar, and they could barely get close to each other because of their thick winter outfit. They held hands in thick mittens, covered in compressed snow. And it was surprisingly good.

"My dad is going to a ski resort with his friends on the New Year, and I said I will invite the girls from school. But I will actually be home alone, and I expect you to come," Svetlana revealed her plan. It was not bad. Ilya didn’t want to spend the New Year eve with father, Polina and her family. He couldn't bear the thought of spending the entire night being nice and polite to people he didn't want to know.

"I will come. Should I bring something? Like, sparkling wine? Caviar?"

"Bring condoms" she answered seriously. Ilya couldn’t stop himself from laughing. At their level of comfort, it could really be fun.

***

Father was invited somewhere to celebrate the New Year, so Ilya didn't have to ask permission to abandon his family on this probably most important Russian holiday. He did buy condoms, and lube, and of course packed some food, because he knew Svetlana didn’t cook. She would have sparkling wine, of course. Maybe good one, not Sovetskoye champagne that his father always bought. Ilya's favorite New year dish was winter salad. Mother made it the same way as far as he could remember. She used boiled beef and sour cream instead of kolbasa and mayonnaise. He couldn’t expect anything like that from Polina, because her French-style meat was gross. So Ilya decided to make the salad himself. Alexei laughed at him.

"Are you a housewife now?"

Mother’s cooking didn’t mean much to him. For years, Alexei preferred fast food and instant noodles, and found home-cooked meals tasteless. He might not even remember how their mother’s salads were different from those from supermarket.

"A girl invited me to stay the night"

"Does she fuck for food?"

"Fuck off. She is a virgin. I thought it would be nice to make some kind of romantic gesture"

"Better don’t make her pain last too long. That would be nicer of you"

"Why should I cause her pain?"

"That’s how it works, idiot! Good luck!"

Alexei grabbed a beer from the fridge and left. Ilya wasn't sure that his brother had more sexual experience, but he may have been with a virgin. Ilya had not, or was unaware. He began to wonder if there was a way to avoid this being terrible. Maybe that was Svetlana’s original idea – to undergo this with someone who didn’t really matter and then embrace her sex life with the boyfriend she loved? If the memories would be too disgusting she could just stop being friends. But they would still meet at school… Fuck. He should have made some research, but it was too late now. So Ilya decided he will just open his mouth and ask if she is fine and if he should continue.

So he packed his salad, condoms, lube and his bravery, and did go for it.

***

Svetlana opened the door, wearing pajamas with deer and a Father Frost cap. It was clear that she had already drunk a glass of sparkling wine. On the table there were a dozen tartlets with black caviar and thinly sliced ​​red fish, nothing more.

"Is that all the food? We will starve... " said Ilya, taking a container out of his backpack "It was so smart of me to bring a salad. There are no peas so we won't get distracted by farting!"

Svetlana burst out laughing. Ilya was definitely capable of ruining romantic mood, making any conversation straightforward, honest and intense. But his jokes were great at calming the nerves, of his own and of those around him - that's why he started joking as soon as he came in. Of course, Ilya was nervous and had to hide it as best he could.

"To be honest, I didn't have time to do research," - Ilya continued, "so I made a questionnaire on a hundred sheets of paper for you to fill"

She couldn't stop laughing. Ilya got silent only to sweep half the caviar tartlets off his plate, but that also turned out to be very funny, because he tried to chew all of them at once.

"That's not how you are supposed to eat them. That's real caviar, not fake. You should relish it," Svetlana couldn't calmly watch this abomination

"Waste of caviar. I see no difference between the real thing and the fake. But it is very tasty. Thanks," Ilya replied when he finished chewing.

"You're such an omnivore! How do you stay in such great shape?"

"I eat a lot of meat. Goulash, beef stroganoff, shashlyck. And I'm always too lazy to make the sauce. I also work out a lot. That's easy," Ilya answered seriously. He never had problems with gaining muscle. Mother's cooking was always simple - no baking, no jams, no breadcrumbs. He also wasn't really into food. Ilya ate to live, not the opposite, and giving up certain products was never a problem.

"Oh, you cook! That's so cool! Your salad is great, by the way. Very healthy. Wanna drink?"

Svetlana poured some sparkling wine from an already opened bottle into his glass. Ilya took a small sip and stopped. It was an aged Riesling, very dry and sour, which he didn't really like. Svetlana finished her second glass in a couple of minutes. Perhaps it was the right time to start asking questions. The third glass would be too much for her. But two glasses are perfect.

"Now tell me, how do you touch yourself when you want to come"

"With my hand," she hesitated just for a second before answering.

Ilya loved that honesty between them. Most of the girls he fucked would probably say they don't masturbate at all. But he was never interested enough to ask. This time, he has to.

"That's not very helpful. Do you have any toys? Where do you keep your hand? How do you move it? Do you usually come many times or only once?"

"Oh, that's quite a questionnaire! I can come many times. I just press my fingers... on the outside. Sometimes I use shower. No toys. I'm not sure I can buy them legally"

"Did you ever put your fingers inside?"

"I did, but... there was nothing special about it. And the skin on the fingers is too rough"

Svetlana's cheeks turned pink, either from the alcohol, arousal or embarrassment. But she kept smiling.

"So why would you want something inside if you don't like your fingers there?"

"Other people do this for some reason. I probably just didn't figure out yet. And there's another thing. When I feel horny, it's more on the inside, like, where my womb is. Deeper than my fingers can go. And when I just touch myself outside, the satisfaction is incomplete"

"Ok, that's something" Ilya stood up and came closer to Svetlana "Where else do you like to be touched? Show me"

She looked up at him and replied: "My hair"

So Ilya started to stroke her hair slowly, running it through his fingers

"Like that?"

"Harder"

He clenched his fist and gently pulled her hair, forcing Svetlana to look up. Holding her like that, Ilya reached down and kissed her. It was innocent and friendly at first, slowly becoming more and more challenging. She definitely had some experience and enthusiasm, because her tongue was shamelessly exploring Ilya's mouth. It felt unexpectedly... penetrative...

"What else do you like?" - asked Ilya, breathing heavily after the kiss.

He thought Svetlana would put his hand on her breasts next, but it turned out that she liked it more inside of her thighs, or was just shy her breasts were so small. Ilya knelt down slowly. His hands seemed so big on her. He caressed her through pajamas, first just legs, but then his palm covered her pussy through the layers of clothing, which still couldn't hide the warmth. Svetlana sighed when he pressed his hand harder and moved it a little, up and down. She sighed in his mouth when Ilya kissed her again, letting him take control of the dance of their tongues. For some time they kissed, and he just touched her through the clothes until it started becoming wet. The idea that no man ever touched Svetlana there was... quite exciting. Ilya started feeling uncomfortable in his jeans. He wanted to speed up badly.

"Can I put your pants off?" he asked, and Svetlana nodded in response. She raised her ass to help him, revealing her red cotton panties to his eyes. Ilya saw a wet spot on the fabric, and lowered his head there, touching this very spot with his lips, breathing deep, in and out. Her scent was tangy and thrilling. Then he slipped his hand under the panties, studying the shape of her lower lips with the outer, smoother side of the finger. He heard and remembered that Svetlana was very sensitive there. She shuddered each time the finger slid over her clit.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes"

"Should I add my tongue?"

"Uh-huh... if you want to"

Ilya didn't do that often. He had no idea how good he was, but what he already learned was the importance of maintaining a certain rhythm, otherwise the process could run over time. He got rid of the panties and ran his tongue between the folds, tasting and familiarizing himself. He thought he should probably use the underside of the tongue, which was more smooth. Сomplementary groan confirmed he was so fucking right.

Ilya rhythmically ran his tongue along the pussy, the tip slipping inside deeper and deeper each time. After a few minutes, Svetlana's thighs began to tremble, and he threw them over his shoulders, holding tightly so that she would not be distracted. Then she twitched intensively, with her whole body, making it too hard to hold her, moaning out some unintelligible dirty curses. Oh, Ilya did such a good job.

"Should I continue? Or wait for some time?"

"Continue, don't stop!" she blurted out.

It took her only a minute to come the second time.

"Do you want to stay here? Or move to your room?" Ilya asked. The chair wasn't the best option to proceed. He was also not really comfortable kneeling on the floor.

"I don't know. You choose", Svetlana replied.

It will be on the bed then. Ilya easily picked her up and carried towards the bedroom. On his way he remembered to grab condoms and lube from his backpack.

Her room was spacious. Pastel-colored wallpaper with flowers, a narrow double bed, a dressing table with a large mirror, a wardrobe and a bookshelf. And there was still enough space to scatter some stuff on the floor. Ilya had never been here before, because they usually spent time in the kitchen or living room.

He lowered Svetlana onto the bed and hovered over, undressing her and letting her to take off his shirt. Their bare chests met as they continued kissing, Svetlana's nipples poking into his skin, the hair on Ilya's chest probably tickling her. They only had his jeans and boxer shorts between them.

"Are you going to show me your dick tonight?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

Usually Ilya undressed quickly. But today he was not supposed to think about his own pleasure, so he just thought it wasn't the right time to undress yet. He needed Svetlana wanting him, getting hungry for his dick, asking him to fuck her. Otherwise it made no sense. He hoped that was what she meant, even if it sounded like one of their regular jokes.

"You want my dick?"

"Make me come with your dick inside me"

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"I wish I knew"

"You should be on top, you can slow down whenever you want"

In one movement he pulled off his jeans, underwear and socks and lay on his back. Svetlana examined him carefully, raising her eyebrows as his cock came into her sight. Then she grabbed a pack of XXL condoms Ilya brought with him.

"I'm starting to get scared" she said. Probably Ilya should have warned her that he was bigger than average. But noone ever complained. He was more than confident about his size. It could increase even more, as he was still young.

"But I can reach where fingers can not. Oh, I wanna get deep into you, deep to the balls"

However Ilya wanted Svetlana to put the condom on, because it would finally make her touch his dick, he knew it would be much faster and easier to do it himself. She can train next time, with her boyfriend.

"I'm not sure it will fit," she said, straddling his hips, very focused.

"I will help you. Use the lube. A lot of lube"

She squeezed the clear gel onto her palm and finally took his dick in her hands, stroking slowly. Ilya applied some lube on her, too. Svetlana was still wet from her orgasms, but this wouldn't be enough for long. She flinched when he touched her there, so sensitive - and then placed the head of his dick at her entrance.

"I like it. Smooth and soft. Much better than fingers," Svetlana shared her impressions. She caressed herself with his cock for a while, and it obviously excited her.

"I like it, too," Ilya said, rising upward on his elbow and running his hand through Svetlana's hair, helping her keep balance.

"I feel like I'm close, but my legs get tense and distract me. When you're in, when I get used to it, just do it your way, OK?"

"OK"

Oh, Ilya would pound her into the mattress deeply and steadily, pressing with all his weight, demonstrating his strength and stamina. But usually he tried to be more delicate with girls, because they were fragile, easy to hurt. Svetlana especially was so thin and graceful. Ilya wondered what sex would be like with someone who could slam him against the boards, someone like Masha. Or a man. Not any man, of course - an equal.

Ilya was distracted from his thoughts of a man, when at some point Svetlana let his dick slip inside a little. Ilya felt the tightness, the tension in her muscle, almost squeezing the head of his dick. It felt so good. She repeated it over and over, letting him deeper each time, until the head was fully inside. Then she stopped, getting used to the new feeling.

"How is it?" he asked

"A little bit sore. Don't move," Svetlana breathed in deeply, trying to relax. Ilya placed the outer side of his finger on her clit and caressed it slowly, playing with her nipple with the other hand.

"Relax, focus on the pleasure," he said.

Svetlana took a deep breath and slowly slid down his cock. Ilya felt that he had filled all the space inside her, and it was overwhelming. "Fuck!" he groaned, squeezing her hips. His hands looked so pale on her skin, so big and powerful. Ilya raised himself up, laying Svetlana on her back, to the soft pillows. Her ass remained raised and rested on his thighs, her legs wide spread, exposing the view of Ilya's dick penetrating her. He never saw it so close before, it was always somewhere down there, wet and hot and rolling and unconscious. But right now Ilya could film a very good porn movie if he had a camera in his hands. He would just improve it by adding a little dynamics.

"Is it OK?" he asked before moving.

"Doesn't hurt. That's all I can say for now"

Ilya began with lazy movements, more of a rocking than friction, gently pushing the bottom of her vagina, paying attention to her clit and nipples and hair, recurrently leaning in for a kiss. But Svetlana seemed concentrated, and her response to his kisses was a little clumsy. Ilya thought that too many activities could probably distract her.

"How does it feel? We can change positions if you want to," he checked on her

"Don't change anything for now. For how long can you keep going like that?"

"As long as you need. It's not really that intense with a condom, I'd have to do it much faster if I wanted to get off quickly"

"If I want you to speed up, I'll ask"

Ilya continued to fuck her in the same rhythm, but decided to focus on her clit, instead of caressing the whole body. After several minutes he noticed how Svetlana's cheeks flushed, just as they had shortly before her previous orgasm in the kitchen. She was probably close. Ilya was excited to see the results of his labors, he wanted to finally have his cock squeezed by her inner muscle. He loved this feeling about vaginal sex the most, and it always brought him close to the edge in seconds.

Svetlana's thighs started trembling which was another good sign. She grabbed the bed railing and groaned, her mouth wide open and eyes shut, and within a minute she bent, shaking and screaming out "Yes!" and 'Fuck!" and "Harder!" between incoherent moans.

Ilya added more power to his moves, as he was asked, almost pulling his cock out and thrusting it deep with each friction. Their hands met on the bed railing, as they were gasping and colliding together. Suddenly Svetlana came once more, not as hard as the last time - or maybe Ilya's body just muffled her release, pressing her to the pillows. He didn't see it coming, overwhelmed by his own desire, and he too was immediately driven to the point of no return and came into the condom inside her.

For a moment Ilya simply could not move or speak, his face buried in the pillow, his dick still inside Svetlana. She lay beneath him, breathing in his ear, caressing his hair with her light little fingers. Everything was wet and sweaty, and the room ran out of air. Ilya's relief was not just sexual - a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. So much trust was put in him, and he did well. But he will never ever agree to such a thing again.

"Are you satisfied?" he asked, finally leaving Svetlana's body.

"Far beyond my expectations. How about you?"

"A man's satisfaction is obvious" answered Ilya, rolling over and waving a filled condom in front of her face.

"You just can throw it on the floor"

Ilya did as she said.

"You gave me very good instructions. That was half of the success"

"You asked. Most people would be too shy to ask such things. And I'd probably be shy with anyone else, too. I'd also worry about how I looked and sounded. But you... we... I feel like we've been married for a hundred years"

"Oh, yes, I hold your hair when you puked at Tonya's birthday, I've seen everything. With me you don't need to worry how you look anymore," Ilya restored his breath and was ready to joke again.

"Fuck off, Ilya!"

"You are very beautiful, by the way. Like a model"

"You too. You have a great body, so athletic" she passed her hand gently over his pecks and abs, and then his cock.

"Right now this body needs a cigarette"

"Go to the balcony. You can put on my fur coat, it's in the closet. The slippers can be somewhere under the bed. I'll bring your lighter and cigarettes," she got out of bed, took a huge terry robe from the hook on the door and put it on.

"I'm all sweaty, I'll just wrap myself in a blanket," Ilya said before she left

When he found the slippers, Svetlana already returned with lighter, cigarettes and two glasses of sparkling wine. So, she decided to smoke with him. She rarely did it, probably because before puking at Tonya's birthday she mixed cigarettes and vodka.

Ilya slipped out into the frosty night, eager to take a drag. Svetlana followed him. The smoke finally got into his head, calming his nerves. In fact, he had been terribly nervous all day, but wasn't supposed to show it. A man should always look confident and reliable. Ilya usually was exactly like that. But sometimes he was also just human.

"Am I a useful friend now?" he asked Svetlana, reminding her of how she had persuaded him to fuck her. The question came from an insecure heart of abandoned child he carried within.

Svetlana's face changed, as if a migraine was pulsating in her temples.

"It was a joke, you, idiot! I really value our relationship. You remember where they do the best milkshake in Moscow, you know that I prefer pizza with pineapple. So many people would scream how much they love you but not really give a shit about what you want or who you really are. You don't have to prove anything to me," she said, clinging to Ilya with her whole body, still holding glasses in her hands.

Suddenly they heard a thunder, and the sky was lit up by dozens of fireworks. Svetlana lived on the top floor, so the view was stunning. People poured out into the street, shouting congratulations and giving each other drunk hugs and handshakes. Their small fireworks set off the impressive show in the square - dozens of volleys of all colors and shapes.

"Happy New Year!" Ilya said, taking one glass from her.

"Happy New Year!"