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Svetlana picks up the bottle of red wine and pours what is left into her glass. Ilya watches with interest as her painted lips wrap around the rim of fine glass and the crimson liquids runs directly into her mouth.
She’s gorgeous with such an ease and grace, that so many struggle to achieve and it always leaves Ilya staring after her in awe every time. He’s not exactly sure where this night is going to take them, their plans remaining in limbo, but if she offers he certainly wouldn’t turn her down. What fool would? A blind one, he's pretty sure.
“So.” Her eyes light up in a way that always spells trouble and Ilya feels his stomach drop. “For the new year I’ve been considering getting into yoga and then luck would have it new studio opened a few blocks from my apartment.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
Ilya would not complain that his best friend becomes more flexible. Absolutely not. He thinks it would only work in his favour. He doesn’t tell her this, it would only make him sound like a complete pervert.
Svetlana is looking at him, with a sparkle in her eye as she says the last bit. “And I was thinking you could join me.”
“No.” His answer is instantaneous. Absolutely not.
There is no way in hell that anyone can convince him to go to a yoga class.
-
Ilya stares up at the sky rise building, shifting from one foot to another, his baseball hat pulled low on his face in the hopes that nobody recognises him. A selfie with a hockey fan, outside a yoga studio is the last thing he needs this morning.
Svetlana had messaged him to let him know she is stuck in traffic and is running ten minutes late and part of him wonders if he could get away with disappearing off. He very easily could take the wrong turning and end up in the wrong place entirely.
Just as he’s debating his options, if he goes left he risks the chance of bumping into Svetlana but if he’s goes right it’ll be a much further walk to his apartment, he hears footsteps behind him.
“You came.” Svetlana announces, her voice coming out a bit breathless as if she ran the last bit.
Ilya stamps down on the feeling of disappointment that he no longer can put his escape plan into action.
“Well you didn’t exactly give me a choice.” He grunts glancing back at the building with something similar to disgust. He can't believe he agreed to do this.
“Since when does Ilya Rozanov do what he’s told?”
He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother to give her a response, and they enter the modern looking building. He respects Svetlana, if she told him to jump he would. Not that he would tell her though, that would only go to her head.
Inside the building it's cosy, still decorated with a few stray Christmas decorations, that haven’t yet been taken down along with an area of plush looking sofas and a stack of pillows. In the corner, sits a small reception desk where an overly enthusiastic young woman waves them over. If Ilya wasn’t already regretting his decision he would be now.
“We are here for the yoga class at eleven.” Svetlana says, tapping her manicured nails against the mahogany wood of the table. The woman nods, her eyes moving to screen and clicks something with her mouse.
“What’s the name you are booked under?”
“Vetrova.”
The woman types something on her keyboard and after a few clicks makes a pleased noise “Got you. Fourth floor. And when you leave the elevator its the first left, you cannot miss it.”
She points to the elevator and Ilya follows behind Svetlana, feeling more like her pet dog than an equal. Vaguely he wonders if it would be appropriate to travel to the top floor of this high rise and then proceed to throw himself out of one of the many large windows. Probably not.
The receptionist is correct, when they step out of the lift they are met with a door that has a large sign declaring that yoga starts at eleven.
When he enters the studio, Ilya suddenly feels even more out of place. There are already around ten people, sitting on mats and performing warm up stretches. The second thing Ilya notices is they are about thirty years older than him.
What the fuck has Svetlana signed them up for? He’s about to make a comment or two to his friend, but when he turns round he finds Svetlana rifling through the cupboard and pulling out equipment for them already in her element.
Ilya purposely chooses himself a space at the back of the room and is just kicking his trainers off when the door swings open once again.
“Sorry I’m late.” A man’s voice says as he hurries in past all of the mats, a sports duffel shoved over one shoulder, dropping it down at the front of the room.
Ilya’s world slows to a stop as he takes in the man standing at the front of the class. He doesn’t know what to think as he takes him in. When Svetlana told him they were attending yoga by Shane he hadn’t thought much of it. Shane could have been a fifty year old man for all he knew.
But now he feels as though he’s been thrown into the deep end as he takes in this man - his yoga instructor.
He stands just under six foot, with a build that looks as though he belongs in a different part of a gym. Not a geriatric yoga class.
When he moves his biceps flex, and Ilya feels himself white out for a moment. Jesus fucking Christ he needs to get himself together.
Shane’s dark hair is cropped short and is styled carefully, not a hair out of place and he’s wearing a happy smile as he addresses the class.
Ilya feels something solid push against his leg and he forces his eyes away from Shane to find one of the older ladies offering him a yoga ball. He smiles at her and thanks her quietly, and returns his attention back to the front.
“I see we have some newbies here.” Shane looks around the room, his eyes only settling on Ilya for a few moments before he looks away. “So if you didn’t know I’m Shane your yoga instructor. I’ve been teaching yoga for around five years now, but have been practicing for a lot longer and like to make it as inclusive as possible. Does anyone have any injuries before we start?”’
One of the women at the front raises her hand nervously and he walks over to her to her so she can explain.
“I sprained my wrist a few weeks ago and my doctor said to go easy on it.” The woman says.
“Thank you Janet. If you need to use the blocks they may help, but don’t do any exercises where you are putting weight on your wrist. I’ll try to remember it when we get to them.”
His words are kind and non judgmental and Ilya finally feels himself begin to settle. He can do this. If all these people in the room can do yoga, including injured Janet, Ilya can do it.
He’s a hockey player for god sake! Yoga should be a walk in the park (later he learns that yoga is in fact not a walk in the park).
“Alright let’s all stand up.”
Everyone gets to their feet, an they begin with simple stretches pushing their fingers towards the ceiling and drawing large circles with their arms. Ilya very purposely does not look at the sliver of skin that is revealed every time Shane stretches, and his shirt rides up.
“Okay so now my favourite stretch, let’s fold ourselves down bone by bone.” Ilya stares as Shane folds himself him with such an ease, his head hanging between his legs.
Ilya wonders what other positions he could get into. How he would look bent over as Ilya fucks him from behind.
“Ilya.” Svetlana hisses from beside him and Ilya realises he’s the only one not in the position.
He begins to lean down, his arms dangling in front of him but his fingers are so far from his toes. He takes a look around the room and finds everyone else in the position with ease, their hands or at least their finger tips touching the floor.
He was built to shove other men on the ice not whatever this is.
“Feel the stretch in your hamstrings and glutes.” He hears Shane say from the front. Ilya holds back a snort, the stretch is the only thing he can feel. He thinks if he were to stretch anymore he would snap in half. “Now sway your body. Let your head hang loose.”
Ilya is pretty sure he is going to die. Die here with the blood rushing to his head and embarrassing himself in front of his stupidly hot yoga instructor. It would be rather mortifying if his gravestone had the words cause of death Shane the yoga teacher.
He decides as they move from downward dog into cobra that he very much prefers the idea of watching Shane do the poses rather than getting involved himself. He thinks he would make a killing, if he just posted the videos online instead.
Ilya isn’t sure why it surprises him that Shane is in fact a good teacher. He makes sure to offer them different levels of difficulty for most of the moves. Much to Ilya’s dismay he finds himself going for the easiest moves when everyone around him can bend and contort into every other shape, including Svetlana he said she had only dabbled in yoga before. And even these easy and simplified moves he struggles with, his breath coming out harder and faster.
He thinks he would prefer running hockey drills for a few hours non stop than this.
As they lie down at the end for savasana, Ilya limbs decide to remind him of how much they are aching. At least lying still with the lights dimmed is something Ilya can do with any ease.
The hour ends with Shane placing two hands together and bowing his head. “Thank you everyone for coming and I hope to see you next week!”
There’s murmurs of soft thank yous and goodbyes as everyone begins to pack up the equipment and grab their belongings.
Ilya feels exhausted, his body aches and he will definitely not be doing that again. Svetlana won’t even be able to convince him with the promise of a blowjob at the end.
He rolls his mat up, watching as Svetlana starts to chat with one of the other class attendees.
“I’ve never seen you here before.” He looks up to find Shane standing above him. He didn't even hear him walk over, Ilya wonders if he's a ghost - that would explain his inhuman ability to enjoy yoga so much. Ilya also notices how there isn’t a fleck of sweat on him and he looks as put together as he did before the workout.
“I was forced.” Ilya says simply and Shame cracks a smile at that. Somehow that only makes him look prettier.
“Girlfriend, tell you what to do?” Shane chances a glance of Svetlana who is still talking and flushes a gorgeous shade of red after saying that and Ilya definitely doesn’t document it into the back of his mind for later.
“Svetlana is just a friend.” Ilya says, his eyes quickly looking over Shane’s body now he is up close. Ilya decides he might be hotter up close, if that is impossible,
“Will you come back?” The man’s voice sounds so sincere. And deep down, Ilya is a very very weak man when it’s come to pretty men in tight clothing.
“Yeah I’ll give it another go.” The words come out before he can stop himself and Shames returning smile, has him on cloud nine for the rest of the morning.
Svetlana bursts into laughter when she realises that Ilya has already signed himself up before they leave the building. He taps his card, on the reader as the receptionist from earlier confirms that he will receive a booking confirmation on his email in a few minutes.
“I couldn’t say no. He came and asked me personally.” Ilya says as he walks towards the main door as Svetlana struggles to keep up with his large strides.
“I mean you could.”
Ilya levels her with a look, “You should be grateful that you won’t be going alone.”
-
The following week Ilya walks in with Svetlana. He’s mentally prepared himself for seeing Shane, in terms jerking off in the shower to thoughts of Shane bent over, the water cleaning the evidence away in seconds. Yet thinking of him and seeing him are very different things, Ilya quickly learns.
They are slightly early, no one else having arrived yet apart from Shane who’s crouched down playing with his portable speaker in the corner of the room.
“Stop staring.” Svetlana hisses, as she pushes him towards the equipment trolley while she takes a seat on the hard floor.
“Am not.” Ilya bites back, gathering all the equipment for the two of them
Shane turns round at the sound of the them bickering, and his face breaks out into a smile.
“You came.” He almost sounds in disbelief and Ilya suddenly decides he would do anything Shane asks of him. And how pathetic is that?
“I said I would.”
Shane shrugs, “I wasn’t sure if that was you being polite.”
“Ilya doesn’t do polite.” Svetlana chimes in and Ilya levels her with a glare. He's not about to let her mess this up.
Before they can talk anymore, some of the other women begin to enter the room and Shane walks over to greet them with a wide smile and questions about their weekend, their husbands and the other events in their lives.
“Could you be obvious that you want to fuck him?”
“Don’t be so crude.” Ilya sniffs, and turns his attention to the front of the room.
Unsurprisingly yoga doesn’t get any easier after one session. He’s got the hang of Shane’s favourite stretches at least. If get the hang of, means when he bends over he doesn't worry about passing out.
They are in tabletop position and Ilya goes to straighten out his left leg, behind him, when it comes into contact with some hard and the sound of his metal water bottle hitting the hard floor rings through the room and over the soothing music. He notices how everyone’s eyes turn to look at him, open and questioning, and he cringes inside at the sudden unwanted attention.
“Sorry.” He mutters as Svetlana snickers beside him. He's glad that at least one of them is enjoying themselves.
After that he decides he will definitely not be coming back. At the end of the session, Ilya begins to shove all of his belongings into his bag and swings it over his shoulder, not waiting for his friend to catch up.
He’s about to push the door open, when he hears a voice.
“Ilya, isn’t it?” A voice calls.
He turns and finds Shane walking over. Ilya vaguely thinks that he never told the other man his name.
Shane's baby blue shirt is tight against his chest, leaving very little to the imagination and Ilya purposely stares at his face.
“Yes. That is me.” He looks at Shane questioningly and he catches on.
“Oh, I just was just going to say it was great to see you again. The progress you’re making is amazing.”
Ilya highly doubts that. He’s pretty sure he’s only being polite. Shane really needs to work on his lying ability,
“Well thanks.” He nods stiffly. Shane is standing stupidly close and part of him wants to shove him against the closet wall and claim his mouth with his. He thinks Shane would enjoy that.
“Will I see you next week?”
Ilya’s hand comes to the back of his neck and he purposely stares over his shoulder, “Ah I’m not sure.”
He doesn't miss the way Shane’s face falls, even when he scrabbles to hide it and if Ilya wasn’t watching him so intently he wouldn't have picked up on it. “Oh that’s fine. I mean of course I’m sure you’re busy. Being a hockey player and all that.”
Ilya nods.
-
“What do you mean you are ill?” Ilya demands down the phone. He shoves his phone between his ear and shoulder as he packs his duffle bag with his gym equipment, making sure he has a plastic bottle this time.
He’d booked the class on a whim at the last minute. Last week, he’d refused to go when Svetlana suggested it, coming up with the excuse that he had practice he simply couldn’t avoid. However for that hour while Svetlana was in class he spent the majority of it wondering what was happening. What Shane was doing, what he was saying, what ridiculously offensive shirt he was wearing.
Ilya likes to think he doesn’t dwell too much on the Shane of it all. He’s only seen the man twice.
This, he decides, will be the final time. Closure, if you will.
However, now Svetlana has the goddamn flu and he is expected to go alone.
When he enters the studio, for the third time, he can't quite believe he's here. Part of him, wanted to just gave goodbye to the money spent on the class but the other part, wanted to see Shane again.
Janet approaches him as he's beginning to lay out his mat. Gingerly, she looks up at him from where she stands a little over five foot. “I think Shane missed you last week.” She says, smiling.
Ilya doesn't know how much truth that holds, but it's sweet all the same.
He shakes his head at her, "l don’t think so. He gets along with everyone in this class. Any way how’s your wrist holding up?”
Ilya always knows he’s been somewhat of a charmer. The media loves it, coming up with all sorts of stories some holding more truth than others. He can admit he has slept around with gorgeous people all over the country, but he's never done it with malicious intent.
He's just good at connecting with people, even when English isn’t his first language.
Janet lights up at the attention, forgetting the subject they were discussing before.
“Oh it’s much better.” She begins to go on a tangent, explaining the many hospital visits she has been to along with the scans and X-rays she has had to have. Ilya nods along not entirely focusing especially when Shane walks in, wearing a stupid looking headband, that pushes his hair out of his face.
Ilya can't help the way he stares across the room, and then accidentally makes direct eye contact.
Shane takes that as opportunity to come speak to him and he immediately makes a beeline for him and Janet.
“Svetlana not coming today?” He asks glancing around as if he expects for her to appear out of the shadows.
“She has the flu." Janet provides helpfully.
"Well I hope she feels better soon and Ilya I didn't expect to see you again."
"I thought I might give it one more try." He doesn't add the other bit. The real reason for coming.
“Well it’s nice to see you.” Shane turns returning to the front and Ilya can’t help but stare at the way the material of his shirts stretches over his ass.
Ilya thinks by the end of the third class he’s made a little bit of progress. He doesn't feel as though he's dying, to the same degree as he first did and all the different stretches don't feel like torture methods anymore. Not enjoyable, but tolerable.
As he gathers his things, he wonders what he should do. He really wishes Svetlana was here as his sounding board and voice of reason.
However, his decision is taken out of his hands when Shane taps him on the shoulder. He didn't realise that the majority of attendees had left just leaving the two of them in an empty studio.
“I’m not sure if I’m reading this wrong." Shane begins looking around nervously.
“No.” Ilya says instantly before backtracking when he looks at Shane's blank expression
“Huh.”
“You are not reading this wrong." Ilya elaborates, watching the stress fall from Shane's shoulder. "Would very much like to practise yoga outside of class. With you. Preferably in my bed.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
Ilya leaves that yoga class, with a new phone number saved in his phone and a decision to never go back to one of those classes. A good result if you asked him.
-
A few months later
“So.” Svetlana stares at the screen in front of them displaying the match between Montreal and the New York Admirals. Ilya observes their play - they have been playing shit if you ask him. “Did you fuck him yet?”
Ilya’s attention snaps to his best friend, who’s lounging into his couch cushions and not even bothering to look at him. “What?”
“The pretty yoga teacher you were staring at nonstop whenever I took you. I assume that’s why you stopped going to yoga. That sort of awkward "don't want to meet you old hook up kind of thing.” She waves her hand around vaguely.
Ilya doesn’t blush. It is not something he does. “I don't know what you mean.”
Svetlana catches on immediately. He would really like if Scott Hunter would do something spectacularly on the ice and take the attention away from him. Unfortunately, Scott Hunter is old and slow and doesn't do anything close to that.
“Ilya, you slut!” She gasps.
“Am not slut. Am monogamous boyfriend.”
He thinks back to Shane’s shy smile in the dim light, when he asked why they were as they lay side by side in Ilya's bed. How Ilya had pressed kisses to his hair and asked if he wanted to be his boyfriend.
He's broken out of his thoughts when he’s hit squarely in the face with a pillow . “What? Since when?”
“Since Shane gave me private yoga session. He is very flexible. Very useful when you need to have sex on kitchen counter,” he smirks.
Svetlana gags and Ilya feels a sense of achievement at that.