Archive of Our Own

Most people thought it was overkill. Shane Hollander was a grown man, a world famous hockey player, and an incredibly capable individual. Everyone knew that he was more than able to take care of himself, which is why people thought it was so odd how Ilya Rozanov treated him.

It wasn’t bad, per se. Anyone with eyes could see how enamoured Ilya was with his husband. But the way he treated Shane was just… a lot.

Every time there was a door? Ilya rushed to open it for Shane. Whenever they were about to leave the rink? Ilya held Shane’s coat open for him to slip his arms into. Whenever they went out with friends? Ilya paid for everything. Shane probably didn’t even carry his wallet anymore. The few times Shane had tried to pay in the past Ilya looked horrified.

Fuck, Shane didn’t even lace up his own skates anymore. As soon as he slipped them on Ilya would fall to his knees in front of him and tighten them to perfection before tying them off with a sweet little bow.

So yes. It was sickenly adorable how in love Ilya was with his man. But it was also overkill sometimes. It was like Ilya lived and breathed to serve his husband. Which he did. And he was very, very happy that way.

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The bass of the club’s speakers thumped loudly around the Centaur's private booth. Ilya hadn’t been to this specific spot before, but Rose was very enthusiastic about bringing Shane here to celebrate after their most recent win. A few of the other Centaurs sat around the table, chatting loudly over the thrum of the music, but Ilya was in his own world. He was sitting at the booth too, but he wasn’t registering a single word of outside conversation; his focus only on the cool glasses in his hands, and the rippled body of his husband moving on the dancefloor.

As soon as the couple got there, Rose had begged Shane to join her for a ‘few’ songs. Ilya knew the routine well enough by now to know that a ‘few’ songs would mean he got roughly an hour long performance of his husband happily laughing and dancing with one of his best friends.

A few years ago Ilya maybe would have been jealous of this. Actually scratch that, he absolutely would have been jealous, but now, after years of getting to intimately know Shane and Rose’s dynamic, he was more than content watching them enjoying each other in the way platonic soulmates do.

So when Shane was whisked away, Ilya went to the bar to order their drinks before hunkering down with his team, eyes always drifting to his love.

And Shane… he really did seem to be enjoying himself tonight. In a way he so rarely lets himself. Anyone close to Shane (or anyone as obsessed with Shane as Ilya was) would know that he rarely allowed himself to let loose unless there were at minimum a handful of people he trusted present.

Those people consisted of Ilya of course, as well as Rose, Hayden, his parents, Jackie, Cliff, Scott, Kip, Luca, and sometimes, on occasion, the rest of the Ottawa Centaurs. It seemed like tonight was greatly due to the presence of his team alongside his husband and best female friend.

Shane had never told Ilya this, but Ilya always had the suspicion that Shane felt safer in group settings when his teammates were around. Having some large, strong men around seemed to quell some of his anxiety. There had been a few… instances in the past with The Metros and some other interactions with homophobic, self-righteous men that clearly made Shane a little panicked to be in a crowded space. Ilya, of course, had physically corrected the men who dared lay a hand or spoke an unkind word to his husband, but memories of those interactions unfortunately lingered for Shane.

So Ilya was a very happy man when he got to witness his husband with his team. Lively, unafraid, and so very happy. 

“Rozy, care to actually join the conversation or are you just going to stare at Hollander like a pervert all night?” Bood asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

“I promise whatever conversation you are having is not as interesting as watching my beautiful husband. I would invite you to join me but then I will have to break your legs, so,” Ilya quipped back to Bood with a shrug, eyes never leaving Shane’s form.

“Well if you’re going to just stare at him all night, why don’t you go join him? I’m sure Rose wouldn’t mind if you cut in,” Luca asked. The sweet boy always wanted to make sure everyone was having fun.

“No no, I couldn’t,” Ilya shook his head. “I have to watch his drink. He will want once he’s done dancing and I do not trust to set it down. I’ll hold for him.”

He knew he was probably being ridiculous, but Ilya really didn’t like the idea of setting Shane’s drink down. He’s spent many a night back in his ‘wild days’ helping young women and men alike get back to their friends after some asshole tried to fuck with their beverage. It made him simmer with rage every time it happened back then, but now, the thought of it happening to Shane? Yeah. Ilya would be in handcuffs if that ever happened.

He was sure his teammates would watch it if he asked. Hell, they’d probably be more responsible with Shane’s drink than their own. But still. This was a matter of Shane’s safety, and Ilya was not going to take chances with that. So he was perfectly content to hold his man’s vodka cran with one hand, palm fully encasing the top of the glass, and his own vodka neat loosely in the other.

Speaking of his man, Ilya watched Shane lean close to Rose to speak directly in her ear with a smile before the two of them started making their way back to the table.

Rose made it there just a step before Shane, slotting her way at the end of the booth bench next to Barrett.

“Troy! Come get a drink with me!” Rose said, smacking a loud kiss against Troy’s cheek. She had very clearly had a few shots before the Centaurs arrived, but Ilya didn’t blame her. Being around all of these handsome men must be nerve-wracking for a single person. Luckily Ilya was very happily not single. But he understands the nerves. He still gets butterflies every time Shane looks at him. And he truly was the most handsome man on the team. The most handsome man anywhere, actually. So what if he still got nervous around Shane? It’s not his fault he married Aphrodite reincarnated.

Shane perched himself on Ilya’s lap, arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Ilya’s smile widened. Shane was never usually this affectionate in front of the boys, but Ilya was absolutely not going to complain. He was sure it was due to the alcohol swimming in his blood, but Ilya was always going to eat up every crumb of Shane’s touch as he could. He was practically starved for it. Always was with Shane. Selfish, selfish, selfish, always wanting more. And now he was exactly where he wanted to be, acting as a throne for his prince to sit on.

Ilya lifted Shane’s drink up to his mouth, watching with apt attention as Shane slipped the straw between his lips.

“Thank you, baby,” Shane murmured around the straw, before taking a slow sip.

“Anything for you, my love. Are you having fun? You looked beautiful out there,”

Shane ducked his head shyly, trying and failing to hide the blush painting his pretty freckles.

“Yeah, I am. I missed Rose. I’ll have an even better night if you come dance with me, though.” Shane spoke softly, looking up at Ilya under fluttering eyelashes. As if he was trying to persuade Ilya. As if Ilya would not hesitate to do anything this man asked him for.

“I would love to. Are you done with your drink, doll?” Ilya asked, finishing off his own glass. Shane nodded and Ilya placed their glasses down on the table before standing, arm around Shane’s waist to help steady him to his feet.

“Oh, so now you’ll go dance. What happened to watching his drink?” Barrett asked teasingly.

“My husband asked me to dance, so I go dance. I’ll get him another drink once we’re done. Don’t worry, I will make sure we put on good show for you,” Ilya said with a wink, before Shane pulled him away to the dance floor.

><><><><

“Shane, can you please pass me my mug?”

Ilya had thought this was an innocent question. He had been in the middle of reorganizing their spice cabinet (alphabetically of course, as Shane prefers) after a run to the nearby farmers market. Ilya had been getting more invested in cooking for them and they were running low on a few things, so a trip was needed.

Shane had been sitting at the kitchen table color-coding their weekly planner while humming a little song he’d had stuck in his head for a few days, so Ilya had thought nothing of asking the favor. Shane did happen to be right next to his coffee cup, after all.

Evidently though, this was not an innocent question. At least not to Shane, who went deathly silent. The song he was humming muted and the rhythmic scratching of his pen stopped abruptly.

Ilya turned around, noting the change immediately. He was always attuned to Shane’s mood even more than his own.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at his husband over his shoulder. Shane looked fine physically, but his expression looked like he was debating either crying or murdering Ilya in cold blood.

“What did you just call me?” Shane asked, voice low and cool.

“Uh… Shane?” Ilya supplied weakly. At least he thinks that’s what he called him. Truthfully he wasn’t really paying attention. He was far more focused on making sure each of the labels on the spice containers were facing outwards evenly. He knew his baby loved perfection.

“Yes. That is what you called me,” Shane said, a petulant look overtaking his pretty face.

“It is your name, no?”

“Yes, Ilya. It is my name. But you don’t call me Shane,” Shane said, clearly trying to stay firm, but after years of marriage, Ilya could detect the unmistakable, slightest whine in his voice. Ilya loved hearing his man whine in other more intimate settings, but not in this context. He would rather cut his own arm off than actually, genuinely hurt his husband’s feelings.

“I don’t get to use my husband’s name?” He asked, genuinely trying to gauge his husband’s thoughts while stepping down from the step stool and over to his love.

“No, you don’t. You never call me Shane. Shane is for everyone else. You always call me things so much nicer. Petnames. Things only for us,” Shane complained.

Ah. That explained it. Ilya noticed that Shane always ate up every bit of affection he gave him, even the loving pet names he showered him in. Come to think of it, Ilya couldn’t remember the last time he actually used Shane’s legal first name. He wasn’t even sure he called him that on their wedding day. No wonder Shane was grumpy at him.

“I see, angel. I am sorry. I was not thinking, too distracted with my own thoughts. You are my Shane, but you are so much more, aren’t you, solnyshko?” Ilya brought a large hand to Shane’s face, gently cupping the most beautiful art the universe had ever created.

“Don’t tease, Ilya,”

“Oh, moya lyubov, I wouldn’t tease you like this. I save that for our bedroom, yes?” Shane tried to pull away from Ilya’s grip but he held firm, gripping his chin with one hand while dropping to his knees between Shane’s legs.

“Lyubimiy, moya printsessa, you mean so much more to me than anyone else who has ever walked the planet. You know I love loving you. It is my favorite job. I love it most. I am sorry I made you forget, is my biggest mistake, moy krasivyy mal'chik.”

Shane ducked his head down, trying to avoid Ilya’s devoted gaze.

“I didn’t forget. I’m sorry, I know I’m being dramatic, I think it just caught me off guard because it’s been so long-”

“No. No sorries. Never be sorry for needing more love. I have so much to give to you, kotik, I will never run out. Is an overflow. Anytime you need I give, yes? Is why I am on the Earth.”

Shane rolled his eyes fondly, lifting Ilya’s other hand to rest warmly on his cheek.

“I love you so much, Ilya.”

“I love you too, moya krasivyy Shanya.”

><><><><

The energy in the opulent ballroom was palpable; people weaving around each other decked out in black tie attire, voices and laughs ringing like church bells. Tonight was another fundraiser banquet for the Irina Foundation, and Ilya was fittingly very proud. Shane and him had been hard at work inquiring potential donors and finding adequate items to auction, and they had raised a very hefty amount of money tonight.

The only way this night could get any better was if his husband was standing next to him. He had been, for most of the night. Hand gripping Ilya’s arm, allowing his husband to guide him from person to person, smiling softly whenever Ilya commended Shane’s work to yet another donor.

Even during their joint speech, Shane had allowed Ilya’s hand to rest firmly on the small of his back, keeping him centered as he listed off the goals the foundation had met this year.

And Shane looked so good tonight. He always looked good, but something about seeing him all dressed up always got Ilya hot and bothered. Perfectly tailored suit, some simple jewelry pieces (proudly picked by Ilya) adorning his beautiful body, gorgeous cologne mixed with something distinctively Shane that made Ilya’s knees weak. 

Ilya was so proud to have Shane by his side. His smart, beautiful, driven Shane. Which is why it was so hard when Shane suggested they separated for their parting round.

Shane, being the smart, good boy he was, insisted they make the rounds to personally thank their guests for being there. Ilya had argued they could do that together, that he might die if he was out of his husband's reach, but Shane explained if they split up they could be done faster and get home sooner. And nothing sounded better to Ilya than getting his husband home and underneath him, so he reluctantly agreed. 

Things were going just fine for a while, Ilya making polite small talk and thanking the folks he personally invited with a charming smile and genuine appreciation, but then he made the devastating choice to look up, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shane.

And he did find Shane. Talking to a man Ilya didn’t recognize. A man whose head was inclined towards Shane with a flirty smile on his face. A man whose hand was grasped loosely on Shane’s bicep, thumb working its way back and forth over the fabric, appreciatively feeling the muscle under his suit jacket. A man who was causing that uncomfortable look Shane currently had plastered on his face.

And that wasn’t allowed. Shane was not allowed to look any way that wasn’t happy, pleasured, or at the very least, pleasantly content. And all of Ilya’s resolve shattered when Shane glanced up nervously to his husband, eyes pleading.

So Ilya had no choice but to politely excuse himself from his conversation and bee-line over to his husband. When Ilya got close enough to make out what the stranger was saying, it took every ounce of willpower in his body to restrain himself from doing something illegal.

“...just saying, a man like you deserves some type of reward for doing all of this charity work, don’t you think? I could show you a good time.”

And alright, that’s absolutely enough of that.

Ilya bullied his way between the two men with a clenched jaw and wrapped a strong arm around Shane’s waist. Shane instantly melted into his side, a soft exhale of relief leaving him.

The man dropped Shane’s arm and glared up at Ilya with an annoyed expression. It caused some sort of primal pride to see that the man did in fact have to look up to Ilya to meet his eyes. And Ilya had to have at least 30 pounds on him too. It settled something in him to see that if hands were to be thrown, Ilya would be the one walking away unscathed.

He knew Shane hated violence, and Ilya would try to avoid it if it made Shane more comfortable. But Ilya’s gut stirred with displeasure and anger at the way Shane was actively trying to place himself slightly behind Ilya, his smaller form looking even smaller than normal. Shane feeling unsafe was not going to fly with Ilya. He knew he wouldn’t hesitate driving his fists into this jackass if it made Shane feel safer.

He knew it likely wouldn’t come to that, they were at a charity gala and had to maintain some illusion of professionalism, but Ilya’s decked punches for his husband before for lesser reasons and had no qualms about doing it again.

“Hello moya lyubov, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Ilya asked, voice soft, always soft around his husband, but still soured with possessive displeasure.

“No, Ilya,” Shane said, just as the jackass who still hasn’t left for some reason said “Well, yes, actually-” but cut himself off when Ilya shot him a warning glare, hand tightening on Shane’s waist.

“I am thinking sweetheart, we call it a night, yes? We have another long day tomorrow,” A lie, they were planning on spending a lazy day in bed but a little white lie never hurt. Not when it came to getting Shane out of there.

“I think that’s a good idea. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Villalobos,” Shane said, giving a curt nod. The conversation was clearly over, but this motherfucker was either the stupidest man alive or had no preservation skills because before Shane could be fully led away by Ilya, the offending hand was wrapped back around Shane’s arm, gripping tighter than necessary.

Ilya had already started leading Shane away but paused their exit when he heard a surprised gasp from his husband, and both their eyes locked onto the hand holding Shane hostage. 

“My offer is always on the table, okay? Just let me know,” Jackass whispered to Shane, a smarmy smirk growing on his lips.

And oh. 

This man was trying to get his shit rocked, wasn’t he? Privately propositioning his very publicly taken husband at their joint charity gala was already dangerous, but propositioning Shane for sex in front of Shane’s husband? 

This man had a death wish.

Shane’s eyes widened and darted back to Ilya. He knew Ilya would handle this. He was such a smart boy. Ilya locked eyes with the stranger, eyes murderously cold.

“Leave.” Ilya sneered at the man. He could barely recognize his own voice. It was icy, ruthless, slightly shaking from ill-concealed rage.

Mr. Villalobos’ hand loosened, as if he was genuinely shocked that Ilya Rozanov, famed fight-starter, who was violently in love with his husband, would be telling him to back off.

“Relax, man we were just-”

“Leave. Now. While you still can. Uberite svoi gryaznyye, yebanyye ruki ot moyego muzha, inache ya ikh slomayu.” 

Ilya knew this man wasn’t smart enough to understand Russian but the tone of his threat must have sunk into his thick skull. He removed his hand from Shane’s arm before taking a startled step back.

Ilya wasted no time in turning his husband back around and leading them out of the building, his solid arm never leaving its home around his waist.

“Thank you,” Shane said, trying and failing to hide the shake in his voice.

“Do not thank me. Is your arm okay?” Shane nodded softly but kept quiet. 

“I am sorry that happened. I am sorry I did not get there sooner,”

Shane shook his head and leaned further into Ilya, eyes flicking down to their shoes, allowing himself to be mindlessly led through the parking garage. Ilya’s shoulders released some tension at the act of quiet submission. Ilya loved that Shane trusted him enough to do things like this. To let himself be taken care of. To let Ilya take the lead, knowing he didn’t have to think or even walk for himself and his husband would take care of him unconditionally.

Ilya opened the door for Shane when they reached their car and leaned across him to buckle him in. Normally Shane would probably make a comment about how he didn’t need to be babied like this but he probably could sense that Ilya needed this. Needed to show his husband that he craved to take care of him in every way he could.

That no stranger with filthy hands and empty words could take care of him the way Ilya could.

After his precious passenger was safely stowed away, Ilya made his way to the driver’s seat, bucking himself in before placing a possessive hand on his husband’s thigh.

“Were you talking to him long? Before I got there?” Ilya asked, reversing the car and leaving the garage. He needed to know. He normally was so attuned to Shane, he should have been there to step in sooner. He should have intercepted as soon as that asshole’s eyes landed on his pretty husband. He hoped Shane didn’t suffer for long.

“No, I wasn’t. He didn’t even ask about the foundation, really. He just told me he made a donation and… tried to shoot his shot. It felt gross. Like he felt I owed him for his donation.” Shane answered. The tremor in his voice picked up towards the end of his explanation and it made Ilya want to turn the car around and break that fucker’s teeth. But Shane needed him, and Ilya wasn’t going to leave him alone for a single second, so Ilya only gave his thigh a comforting squeeze and took a deep breath.

“You do not owe anyone anything, kotik. What he said was disgusting. Trying to hook up with a married man at his own event… I should have hurt him. For making you so uncomfortable. For his audacity,” Ilya tried to keep his voice level but his words were still coated in cold steel.

“Thank you for stepping in. And thank you for not hurting him. That would have caused a media shit storm and I really didn’t want to have to deal with that,”

Ilya couldn’t help but huff out an amused chuckle. Of course that’s what Shane was worried about. Ilya didn’t mind the idea of word getting out that he beat the shit out of someone for hitting on his husband. People needed to know Shane was off-limits and that would be a pretty sure-fire way to send that message.

“Maybe you are right. He will not be bothering you again. Do you have his contact information? He will not be allowed to attend any more of our events.”

“I think my mom does. He’s some representative for an athleisure brand. Not important enough to invite back.”

“Even the commissioner of the NHL would be permanently banned from our events if he tried that shit with you. You are mine. I am yours. Everyone who does not respect that deserves to bleed.”

Shane wrapped his hand around the one Ilya had placed on his thigh.

“I love you. Thank you for taking care of me. And for stepping in.”

“I love you more, moya lyubov. And I will always take care of you. Always.”

><><><><

Team get-togethers were sometimes a lot for Shane. Ilya knew his husband loved his team dearly, but sometimes they were a little…much. They were a bunch of huge, loud, abrasive, physical men, and Shane was just so Shane. 

Make no mistake, he did fit in beautifully with them. He was so sarcastic with the boys, meeting every chirp good naturedly with an equally fitting tease back, and he did such an incredible job making sure everyone was comfortable and heard. If you were to ask any member of his team, they would all day Shane was an invaluable addition and they were incredibly grateful to have him as a teammate and a friend.

But Shane was also gentle. And anxious. He didn’t always mesh with how tactile his team was. His back often stiffened when a teammate clapped him too hard on the back or froze with discomfort when someone pulled him in for an unsuspecting hug.

And the noise. The Centaurs were so loud. If they were watching a game, Ilya often had to witness Shane flinch when a good pass or goal was made and the team shouted out celebratory praise.

Ilya had offered to talk to the team, tell them to settle down a bit when Shane was around but that was shut down immediately. Shane already had a deep rooted anxiety of not fitting in with them, and he felt ostracized enough by his last team. He didn’t need a reason to be scorned by this team too.

So Ilya bit his tongue, despite wanting nothing more than to scream at his teammates and train them like well-behaved dogs until they could act right around Shane.

But there were other things he could do to help, so Ilya made it his mission to do whatever he could to make Shane comfortable when they got together with their team.

Today was another one of their team get-togethers. A barbeque at Bood’s place to celebrate the start of summer. Ilya tried to convince Shane to stay home in bed all day, knowing both of them would have much more fun there, but Shane stated something about ‘needing to keep involved in team dynamics’ and Ilya was a slave to whatever Shane wanted to do.

So here they were, laid out on a weather-proof couch in Bood’s backyard, stomachs full and chatting with their team. As soon as they got there, Ilya had claimed the outdoor couch as their spot. Being outside usually helped Shane stay a little more grounded and it put some distance between him and the loud chatter from inside the house. And there were only a handful of other chairs around the firepit, which Ilya preferred. Just enough for a few people to bother them with their presence, but not enough to overstimulate his husband. 

Right now, Ilya was sprawled out on the couch, back against the armrest, with Shane slotted between his legs, back to Ilya’s broad chest. Shane had become more comfortable with PDA in the last few months, especially when they were at an event where the other guys’ wives and partners were present. No amount of the PDA Shane allowed could hold a candle to any of their teammates around their pretty ladies.

Harris and Troy were sat across the firepit, chatting idly with each other about their plans for the following weekend and Luca sat to the right of them, discussing plays with Shane while absentmindedly running his fingers through Chiron’s fur.

Ilya had his chin hooked over his husband’s shoulder, hand braced gently across his stomach. He had attempted to follow along with the conversation, but gave up pretty quickly. Shane’s freckles had darkened from the sun showing itself more and his hair had gotten long enough to curl around his ears. The same ears he had recently gotten pierced, the diamond earrings Ilya had gotten for him shining in the sunlight.

So yes, Ilya did try to pay attention, but it was impossible when he had a lapful of beautiful Shane nestled in his lap, beauty up close in HD. He was only brought back to the present when Shane shifted in his arms, attempting to dislodge himself from Ilya’s embrace.

Instinctively, Ilya held him firmer, not wanting to pop their sweet bubble of coziness.

“I’ll be right back, Ilya. Just wanted to grab another ginger ale,”

“Ah, you stay put, angel,” Ilya said, legs already swinging over the edge of the couch, hold still keeping Shane firmly on his lap while he transferred his weight. “I will go get you one. I want another beer anyways,”

“It’s fine, babe I can go. I’ll grab your beer too. Is another corona fine?”

Ilya tutted his teeth before sliding out from under Shane, depositing his husband back on the couch. It was loud inside, and Shane looked comfy out here. So of course Ilya was going to be the one to get their drinks.

“My princess will not lift a finger. I will go, lyubimiy. You stay here and look pretty, let the sunshine bring out more of your beautiful freckles” Ilya punctuated his statement with a kiss on Shane’s blushing cheek.

“Fuck off,” Shane mumbled, small smile sneaking its way on his face.

“Never,”

“Can you guys cut it out? Some of us are still trying to eat,” Troy sighed exasperatingly, despite a teasing smile on his face. Ilya noticed his plate had been abandoned near his feet to keep his hands free while he was chatting with Harris so he really wasn’t eating, but giving Shane and Ilya shit for being in love was such a popular recreation for the team that Ilya knew that wasn’t the point.

“Go back to listening to boring boyfriend tell boring stories. I have important business to attend to.”

“What important business? You’re literally just getting your husband a drink.”

“Da. Is warm outside, he needs to keep hydrated. So I will get him many drinks. Keep him company with Luca, he will get so bored without me.”

Ilya made his way into the house and snagged a refresh of their cold drinks from the fridge. He also grabbed Shane a bottle of water and his bag off the coat rack.

“Whatcha doing, Roz? Care to join us? We’re just starting a new game.” Bood asked from the dining table. Half a dozen guys were seated, chatting idly while Bood shuffled a stack of cards.

“No, I have to get back to Shane. I just went to get him ginger ale,”

A chorus of ‘whipped’ and other various chirps erupted from the table and Ilya just grinned.

“Yes. Am very whipped. When you have husband as hot as Shane, you get to know your place,”

“Jesus Christ Rozanov, just go get your man. We don’t have time to listen to you fawn over him for the next hour, we have poker to play.”

“Have fun boys, but I will have more fun,” Ilya leaves with a wink, delighted by the groans that elicited.

A ‘no having sex on my porch!’ was called out by Bood. Ilya just yelled back “No promises,” before ducking back outside.

The back porch looked largely the same as Ilya left it, only now Chiron was curled up next to Shane, happily accepting the pets he was getting.

“Chiron, you have stolen my husband,” Ilya grumbled while opening Shane’s replenished can of ginger ale. He passed it to Shane before opting to sit on the arm rest next to him. Shane thanked him and took a sip of his drink before placing it on the table next to him.

“He saw the opportunity and took it man. You’ve been cuddling with Shane all afternoon, the little guy wanted a turn too.” Harris said with a smile.

Ilya just rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff before he placed the bottle of water down and started digging around in Shane’s bag. He pulled out the small bottle of Korean sunscreen Shane preferred and squirted a small amount onto his fingers.

“Shanya, look at me,” Ilya said with a nudge to his shoulder. Shane, ever the good listener, turned his face towards Ilya.

“Close your eyes for me,”

Shane did as he was asked, eyes falling softly closed. Ilya dotted his precious man’s face with sunscreen before gently smoothing it in. Shane kept mostly still for Ilya, but still ran his hand through Chiron’s fur. 

Ilya was forever grateful to the sun for bringing out his beautiful boys’s freckles, but also constantly annoyed that the sun would threaten to burn Shane’s sweet skin. It was a hard relationship to understand.

After Ilya ensured Shane’s face was evenly coated and left no white streaks, he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss onto Shane’s lips. Shane opened his eyes with a smile and mouthed a small ‘thank you.’

Before Ilya let him move too far, he also dug out Shane’s sunglasses from his bag and balanced them onto his face.

“There, much better. You were looking just a little pink, kotik, did not want you to get burned,”

Shane interlocked his fingers with Ilya and brought his hand up to his mouth, lightly kissing the back of it before turning back to his teammates.

“Guys. What the fuck. That was so sweet it was actually gross.” Troy laughed. Shane’s cheeks once again turned that delectable shade of pink and Ilya squeezed his hand three times in quick succession.

“Loving him is never gross. Always a gift. Now, go back to telling me about boring weekend plans.”

><><><><

Ilya sat himself on the padded bench outside of the Chanel changing room, relieved to finally be able to rest his feet. He put his armfull of shopping bags onto the bench next to him alongside Svetlana and Shane’s bags.

Svetlana had flown in from Russia for Shane’s birthday and she had begged him to let her take him shopping. She knew Shane had fired his stylist a while ago and was dying to get some ‘more suitable’ clothes on him, whatever that means.  Ilya loved the idea. He adored treating Shane to nice things, and loved going with him to pick things out even more. 

Shopping wasn’t Shane’s favorite thing, but he was always a wonderful sport as Ilya picked out countless pieces he thought Shane would look good in. He rarely complained about trying on outfit after outfit for him, seemingly content to act as Ilya’s pretty little doll to dress up.

And lord was he pretty today. Ilya had already bought his beautiful man thousands of dollars worth of clothes, an array of pieces ranging from pastel toned sweaters, to angular boots, to well fitting pants that showed off some of Shane’s best features.

Sveta had tried to convince Shane into letting Ilya purchase him some more… risque outfits, but Shane politely declined. Ilya knew he would, but fuck was he heartbroken when Shane refused to try on a top with a fucking corset attached. Ilya could imagine cinching in Shane’s slutty little waist for him, allowing his pecs to spill out the top and show off his generous hips.

But no, apparently Shane hated him.

Shane did agree, however, to try on a mysterious stack of clothes Sveta shoved into the dressing room with him at the last minute. He had only reviewed the items with a soft giggle and a ‘yeah, ok,’ before Svetlana winked at Ilya and shut the door behind her.

It’s been a while and Ilya would be getting nervous if not for the sweet laughter of his two favorite people conspiratorying behind the door. Ilya’s mouth quirked up when their giggling picked up, both of them clearly feeling so giddy and safe in their little bubble.

Svetlana finally opened the door to the changing room and ushered Shane out in front of her. 

And. Well.

Svetlana was a genius. Or she wanted to kill him. Either way, he was eternally grateful.

Shane was currently dressed in a white, cropped, lace long sleeve top, almost entirely see through, paired with practically painted-on light blue jeans that flared the further they went down his leg and a pair of white heeled boots. 

He looked stunning as always, he would look good in a paper bag, but there were two specific elements of the ensemble that had Ilya frothing at the mouth. The first was a delicate silver choker wrapped around Shane’s neck. It almost looked like a fucking collar. It even appeared to be encrusted with a smattering of small diamonds if Ilya’s eyes were correct. And they usually were when it came to Shane.

But the second element was what was really holding his attention. Just peaking out slightly above the hem of Shane’s jeans were the tiniest sliver of pink lace. And Ilya wasn’t a betting man anymore, but if he had to put money on it, he would bet his fucking house that Shane was wearing fucking panties.

“Uh oh,” Svetlana laughed, “I think we broke Ilyusha,”

Ilya finally tore his gaze away from the hypnotizing vixen of fabric around his husband’s hips and grazed his eyes greedily over the rest of Shane’s body. His toned abs were fully on display under the cropped lace and his perfect nipples were poking through teasingly. His arms were threatening to rip the fabric from how tight it was, and again, fuck, that choker.

Ilya cleared his throat before standing up, magnetically moving towards Shane. His eyes stayed locked on the chain tight around Shane’s throat until he was close enough to notice the little charm dangling from the silver.

There, front and center, hanging from Shane’s perfect neck like a brand, was a little ‘I’, publicly declaring to the universe that Shane was Ilya’s.

And he was, wasn’t he? Ilya was certainly Shane’s. He knew that from the day he met him. Shane owned his heart, soul, body, mind, and everything else that mattered. And he knew Shane was his as well, but seeing Shane so proudly wear physical proof that he was Ilya’s and Ilya’s alone was dizzying.

“Do you like it?” Shane asked quietly. He peered up at Ilya through his eyelashes, hands clasped nervously behind his back. Ilya had to take a steadying breath before nodding, placing his hands on Shane’s hips.

“Moya prekrasnaya printsessa,” Ilya breathed out reverently, “My beautiful boy. I do not know how I got so lucky. Just look at you. Fuck. It is like you are pulled straight out of a dream. Moya milaya malen'kaya kukolka…”

Ilya had practically moaned the last sentence out, mouth hot where he was pressing kisses into Shane’s neck. Shane sighed contentedly against him, allowing himself to be coddled by his man.

“Fuck, angel. And this necklace, we need to get you more. Please let me. I want you to wear all of the time. Let whole world know you are mine. Please.”

“Sure Ilya, whatever you want,”

The satisfied hum of Shane’s voice was music to Ilya’s ears. He would have asked to take Shane right here, right now, on the floor of some public boutique, if not for Svetlana’s pointed cough.

“Yes, Shanya is very pretty. He needs to take my clothing advice more often, but please save it for the bedroom. The staff here does not get paid enough to deal with voyeurism." Sveta was clearly trying to be chastising, but the amused lilt to her voice was hard to hide.

Ilya groaned before pulling away from his husband’s neck. His eyes roved down Shane’s front again, not knowing where to focus. His eyes almost immediately went back to the panties but he didn’t let himself linger on them for too long. Svetlana did have a point and Ilya truly did not think he could stop himself if he focused on that particular article of clothing for too long.

He drunk in the supple curve of Shane’s ass through his sinful jeans and watched reverently as he pressed his fingers into the hard lines of his abs. His eyes raked over him like a predator watching its prey, looking for the best area to latch onto. They finally landed on Shane’s tits, transfixed as the fabric strained against them.

Ilya brushed a thumb over one of his husband’s pretty nipples and tilted his head.

“Would you ever consider getting these pierced for me?”

Shane pushed him back lightly with a startled laugh, moving to cover himself up with his crossed arms.

“No. They would hurt like hell if I got slammed into the boards. Or they could tear. Or any number of things given how hockey is,”

Ilya let out a wistful sigh before finally letting go of his husband.

“Fine. You are right, I do not want my man hurting. But once we retire? It would make your tits look so pretty. And make shirts like this look even more sinful, if that is even possible. We are buying all of this, but only for home, yes? No one else deserves to see you dressed like this,” 

Shane nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek, letting his mouth linger by Ilya’s ear.

“You know,” Shane breathed against the shell of his ear, “I really do like my necklace. I was thinking we could get one that says your jersey number. Or maybe ‘property of Ilya Rozanov.’ I don’t know. Might look pretty, don’t you think?”

Shane pulled back with a demure smile, looking the very picture of innocence. As if he didn’t give Ilya enough visual ammunition to single-handledly supply a sperm bank. Ilya knew his face was burning.

Shane just gave a cheeky wink before turning back into the dressing room, softly closing the door behind him.

Ilya was still frozen to the spot. Luckily Svetlana was there or he may have been stuck like that all day. Or at least until Shane came and dragged him along like a lovesick puppy like he always did.

“Well babe,” Sveta said, looping an arm through Ilya’s, “I think I accomplished some good work today. I’m sort of surprised he actually tried that one on but fuck I’m so glad he did. He looked like a walking wet dream, yes?”

Ilya nodded rapidly, clearing his throat, before turning to his best friend.

“Sveta, where did you get that necklace. I am buying him more. Does it show prices? He might not let me buy if too expensive. But I can go on my own if they do. He will have full jewelry box by the end of the day.” Ilya spoke quietly with but a strong sense of conviction. 

Shane had barely been okay accepting the diamond earrings Ilya had gotten him all those months ago, saying it was ‘too much,’ and he ‘didn’t need expensive things to be happy,’ but Ilya didn’t think he knew how worked up it got him.

Seeing Shane, his Shane, doing post game interviews, or lounging on the Pike’s couch, or hanging with the team in expensive jewels Ilya had got him made him practically feral. He was sure it was some base, primal urge to show Shane how well he could provide for him. That he could easily afford frivolous gifts meant for the sole purpose of making his lover feel pretty and adored, but it also made Ilya’s insides start to melt whenever someone else commented on them.

The first time Pike had seen the pretty pieces decorating Shane’s ears, he had widened his eyes before asking, “goddamn dude, where did you get those?” 

And Ilya didn’t care much about Pike’s opinion on his gifts, but when Shane looked lovingly to Ilya and responded, “Ilya got them for me. Aren’t they pretty?” Ilya had practically creamed his pants. Having Shane so adoringly give Ilya credit for taking care of him in such a superficial way was so hot.

So since then, Ilya had tried to sneak in a few more items to Shane’s jewelry collection, including a rolex, a pretty diamond pendant, a few rings, and a dangly pair of earrings.

Shane wasn’t even really a huge jewelry person, but he seemed to revel in the quiet, claiming feeling he felt every time he secured a pretty accessory onto his stunning body.

So yes, more will be added to their collection. As soon as possible if Ilya had any say in it. He had more money than he knew what to do with, what better way could he spend it than lavishly decorating his lover?

Svetlana smiled wolfishly at Ilya before rattling off a few of the best jewelers nearby she had shopped at and texted Ilya the number to her private jeweler in Russia.

Ilya thanked her with a kiss to the cheek and was ready to drag Shane out of the store. He could already picture him dripping in diamonds, or sapphires or rubies. Whatever Shane wanted. 

When he finally exited the small changing room, clothes folded neatly in his hands, Ilya wasted no time in taking them from him, along with swinging his and Svetlana’s bags and their many shopping bags onto his arm.

He paid the cashier as quickly as he could and directed Shane to the nearest jewelry counter. They were not ending today without loading Shane up with as many diamonds he could carry. Or Ilya could carry, really. He would never make his princess hold his own bags.