kissmehhyoufool



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    “You are planning to rob me or what?” He hears Rozanov call, and he can’t help but smile slightly even as he rolls his eyes, closing the door to the linen closet and feeling strangely lighter than when he opened it, reassured that he’s just trying to read into a blank page, that today doesn’t mean anything more than Rozanov doesn’t mind him being around, which is strangely flattering.

    “I don’t know,” he calls back. “Don’t Russians like diamonds and fur and stuff? Where should I start looking if I want to know what my options are?”

    He hears Rozanov laugh, and it makes him smile.

    When he joins him in the living room once more, Rozanov tugs him down to lean against him again. Shane goes easier this time, settling into it, knowing it doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that he just happens to be the closest warm body, the person on Rozanov’s roster who filled today’s slot.

    (the tuna meltdown doesn't happen) (this does not mean they get ANY better at communication)

    (or: how shane didn't realize he had a boyfriend for several months)

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    01 Jun 2026

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    Shrugging one shoulder far more casually than he possibly feels, Ilya says, “I like both. Is secret, okay?”

    “Okay,” Hollander says, voice cracking.

    He doesn’t say anything else. The air’s so heavy around them that it feels like being in the middle of a scrum, the weight and heat of all those bodies pressing down on you. Danger always feels like hockey; it’s the most dangerous thing Ilya knows, except for this. Everything dangerous in his life involves men’s bodies and just how close he can get to them. Closer than he probably should.

    A year after mysteriously dropping out of the 2009 draft, Shane Hollander is signed by the Boston Raiders, right behind Ilya Rozanov. Having the two biggest stars in the league on the same line is great for Boston — but playing alongside their worst rival was never exactly in Shane or Ilya's plans. Especially not when staying away from each other starts to feel just as impossible as getting along.

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    18 May 2026

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    Rather than give him the joint, Ilya takes it back between his own lips and sucks in a deep breath, the tip glowing as he does so. Then, before Shane can process it, he’s reaching up and sliding one large hand around the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him down so their lips meet.

    Shane gasps softly, and Ilya takes the opportunity to blow smoke into his open and waiting mouth.

    Oh, God. Are you there? It’s me, Shane Hollander. We’ve had our differences, but I think I’d like to convert for real this time. I’m ready. Open the pearly white gates. I’m coming up.

    Shane goes to a house party, gets high, then gets on his knees. bon appetite
    now a multi-chapter saga bc i couldn't help myself

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    14 May 2026

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    “Please,” he says finally, voice breaking as he gives in. “Fuck, please, Rozanov, I’m gonna—”

    Rozanov pulls all the way back, mouth releasing his cock with a noise that makes Shane’s hips rock up into nothing.

    “Rozanov,” he begs again.

    “Hmm?” Rozanov asks, kissing Shane’s shaking thigh gently. “You need something?”

    “You— fuck— you said I could come,” Shane says, trying to keep the accusatory note out of his voice.

    “Mhm. When you say my name, yes?”

    “I did!” Shane insists, just a hint of a whine in his tone now. Rozanov smirks at him.

    “Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “My first name.”

    OR:

    Ilya does something a little different on tuna melt day.

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    09 May 2026

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    Shane Hollander is ready to climb the publishing ladder and land the job that could completely change his life—even if it means working for the despotic and insufferable Ilya Rozanov.

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    08 May 2026