Mellawach



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    “Does the Dominus enjoy serving a slave?” Ilya murmured.

    Shane looked up at him through dark lashes. His mouth was a hairsbreadth away from Ilya’s cock, and Ilya could see the exact moment the last of his composure burned out, shedding, the way a snake left its old skin behind, eyes bright and body underneath already new—

    —and instead of answering, Shane licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft, root to tip.

    The law calls Ilya a slave. The mob of Rome calls him their lion, their Gladiator. Senator’s son Shane calls him to his bed.

    Now Shane wants to call him free, but that means owning him first.

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    11 Mar 2026

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    Shane Hollander is hockey’s closeted golden boy with everything to hide. Ilya Rozanov is a professional Dom with everything to lose and an expired visa.

    Through their arrangement at a discreet Montreal kink bar, where NDAs protect secrets and sessions are charged per hour, they discover the most dangerous thing isn’t being caught—it’s wanting more than those hours allow.

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    08 Mar 2026

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    “Holy shit, dude,” Hayden whispers, too loudly, as he pulls Shane away. “No way you were just talking to Ilya Rozanov.”

    “Uh, yeah. We just met. Wait, did he lie to me?” Shane asks, looking back over his shoulder where Ilya is now standing next to a short but very muscular woman with long black hair. “What does he play?”

    Hayden stops, so Shane does too.

    “You don’t know who that was?” 

    Shane makes a face that says ‘no shit’, and waits for an answer. 

    “Dude. You are so innocent. Ilya Rozanov, ‘Russia’s Greatest Love Machine’?” Hayden says, like it’s obvious. 

    Shane looks at him blankly, and then Hayden laughs. Not like, a chuckle. He full on cackles, bending over like he can’t even contain it. “Man, he’s like prolific.”

    “At what?” Shane snaps, because he’s getting really sick of not being in on the joke. 

    “He’s a porn star, man.” 

    “A-” Shane says, swallowing thickly. “What?” 

    ---

    Ilya is a porn star, Shane is a hockey player, and their paths cross.

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    21 Feb 2026

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    Sometimes life came at you with a clenched fist and Ilya had never figured out how to duck.

    So here he was, twenty-eight years old, single, dealing with the fallout from injuries given to him by the game he loved, and the second youngest assistant coach in the league to one of the worst teams. Stability was hard to come by, but he was managing.

    Then along came Shane Hollander to knock him on his ass, one more time.

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    17 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 78

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    Ilya couldn’t get enough. He was addicted to the sounds Shane made. He was hooked on his husband’s groans, moans, and whimpers; along with every variation of his name. He had never really thought much about how his name sounded before Shane, but now all he found himself able to think about is how Shane’s lips look wrapping around the consonants that spell it out, the breathy intonation behind every vowel. He’s intoxicated by the sounds he can feel reverberate through his chest and against his lips when they’re pressed close together, Shane demanding pleasure with the movement of his hips or surrendering to Ilya by falling into him, letting himself be manhandled and directed with Ilya claiming his lips as if he were a man starved. Not a day passed that Ilya did not think of the noises Shane made, or how he could get them to make more of them.

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    15 Feb 2026