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Shane was going to wear a hole in the thin hotel carpet with his incessant pacing. His heart felt like it might genuinely burst through his chest, and he felt a wave of nerves wash over him. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this.
He couldn’t tell if it felt liberating, or stupid. Or maybe just desperate. It had been months since he’d last seen Ilya and his resolve was dissolving quickly.
His phone pinged, signaling a new message and his feet froze in their tracks. Shaking hands moving quickly to get his phone from his pocket and open the message.
$ - I’m on my way.
Shane stared at the words, a wave of excitement and nausea washing over him. He must have been rooted to the spot longer than he thought, because soon there is a soft quick knock on the door.
Shane’s feet move automatically, pulling the door open quickly and moving to hide himself in the shadows as Ryan Price enters his hotel room.
The man was impossibly bigger up close, taller and wider than Shane but somehow he remains unimposing.
Neither of them speak for a long moment after the door clicks shut behind him, staring at each other with a quiet heat masked only by nerves.
___
Ryan hated flying, wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t part of an incredibly high paying contract. Which is why he was surprised to find himself in Mexico. His younger sister had begged him to take her to this fancy resort, said it would be great to spend time together.
Ryan snorted as he raised a glass to his lips, taking a slow sip of the watery beer and letting himself look around the expensive lobby. His sister had ditched him before he had even rolled out of bed that morning, saying something about an excursion with some girls who had met them there.
It was fine, he could entertain himself.
Or, well. He could drink at the bar. Which was what he did, he was on his fourth glass in as many hours, the sun was setting and he had finally considered it time to find dinner when a large group of loud boys infiltrated the lobby.
Ryan threw back the last gulp of his beer before standing, casting a quick glance at the crew of men - they all look vaguely familiar but with the beer in his system and the anxiety of being alone he can’t place why.
That is until Shane Hollander takes a few steps out of the circle of men and turns away, Ryan can see the way he takes a deep breath and takes a few attempts at a smile before he turns back to his friends.
Knowing now that Hollander was present, it was easier for Ryan to place the other men as other Montreal Voyageurs.
Ryan can’t help the annoyance bubbling in his chest at the sight of the hockey players on his vacation. It’s not that he disliked any of them personally, but he didn’t want to think about hockey - not while he was supposed to be relaxing.
He doesn’t realize he hasn’t stopped staring until Hollander’s eyes meet his own, there’s a long pause as both men realize they are making eye contact and evaluating each other. Then, Shane offers a small meek smile, it looks nothing like the attempts from earlier. It’s accompanied by a light flush across his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes.
For not the first time in Ryan’s life, Ryan is struck by just how pretty Shane is. The corners of his lips pull up just slightly, he couldn’t have helped it if he tried. The moment holds a few beats longer before an arm is being wrapped around Shane and the other man is pulled back into the circle.
The laughter grows, and Ryan finally pulls his eyes away, he’s about to make his way to the door when he hears Hollander’s laugh fill the room. Something in it tugs on him low in his gut, and without conscious thought he’s sitting back on the bar stool and ordering another beer.
When he has a cold glass of beer back in his hand Ryan lets himself spin in the bar stool so his back is pressed against the bar, eyes flicking around the room, pretending he’s not looking for something, or someone in particular.
And he might normally be embarrassed by how many times his eyes flit back to Shane, but every time they do, Shane is already looking.
Ryan had heard the jokes, the ones that seemed to follow Hollander off the ice and into his personal life. Had heard time and time again, the man was a robot, only cared about hockey. Never even had a girlfriend.
Never even had a girlfriend.
Ryan feels like a bell chimes in his head, he drags his eyes back across the bar and holds his breath, heart fluttering in his chest as he allows himself to hold eye contact with Shane this time.
He watches as Shane says something to his nearest teammate before ducking away from the crowd and walking slowly towards him. Ryan suddenly feels like his lungs are constricting a little in his chest. The beer in his hand sloshing the sides of his cup, he spins in his stool to place it back on the bar quickly before Shane can see his nerves.
Shane just slides into the stool beside him and places a casual order with the bartender before he looks over at Ryan.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
Ryan isn’t sure he had ever seen Shane this close before. The man wasn’t his usual type, Ryan didn’t typically search for other hockey playing jock types. But with those long dark lashes, pink cheeks, lush lips and soft freckles Ryan felt like he might be under a spell. “Yeah, uh, weird coincidence.”
Shane nodded and his eyes flicked down to the bar, and then up again meeting Ryan’s. There was something searching in the other man’s gaze that put Ryan on edge.
“You here with anyone?” Ryan chokes on his own spit, eyes widening, as he takes in the words. They were casual, innocent enough, but when Shane’s lips pull just slightly at the corners Ryan knows he caught Shane’s meaning.
“No. Well, my sister is here. Somewhere. With friends.” He couldn’t have sounded lamer, and Ryan wouldn’t be surprised if Shane had just left to go find his friends right then and there.
Apparently this was a week of surprises, because Shane is just sliding his phone across the bar, an empty contact space open, one eye brow raised in question.
Ryan licks his lips nervously, eyes flicking between the phone and Shane, he knows he could walk away. That Shane could brush this off as anything but what it is. That they could both pretend it never happened.
Ryan didn’t want that though. He wanted one night with the hottest NHL player. Decision made, Ryan moved to input his phone number, added the money symbol as his contact name. Discreet, he thought, before passing the phone back.
Shane bit his bottom lip, turning his head over his shoulder to look back at his teammates for a moment before turning his attention back to Ryan. “Building 6, room 34.” The words are whispered, and they lack the casual tone of earlier.
Ryan nods along dumbly, eyes tracking Shane as the other man moves to get up and go back to his teammates. “What time?” The words escape him before they can stop him, and Ryan feels a little stupid about it.
Surely this is what the phone number was for, so Shane could text him when. But it had been awhile since Ryan had hooked up with anyone, and he couldn’t help the buzz of anxiety.
Golden boy Shane Hollander just smiles warmly, “I go to bed early, probably around nine. I’ll text you.”
__
“You came.” Shane feels a little stupid as the words come out, cheeks warming up as he flicks his eyes away.
Ryan’s laugh is soft, hesitant, and when Shane feels brave enough to glance at the other man’s face he notices his eyes are also on anything but Shane.
The energy in the room feels nothing like at the bar, where Shane was feeling a little bold and desperate. This is two people with dark clouds of anxiety feeding off each other in a loop.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” He tries again to put himself on familiar, safe ground. He forces himself to keep his eyes on Ryan, trying to be the one to break this anxious spell that’s fallen over the room.
Ryan clears his throat, eyes burning a hole in the carpet as his cheeks flush brighter than his hair. “No, ah. No thank you.” Shane watches as Ryan forces in a deep breath, chest raising and falling in short jerky movements, a few moments pass before Ryan meets finally meets his eyes.
And in that moment, the dark clouds that had been hovering over them both felt static. Excitement shooting sharply through Shane, and if Ryan’s tongue flicks over his bottom lip is any indication - he feels it too.
Shane breathes in deeply through his nose and takes a slow tentative step forward, eyes watching Ryan closely. When the other man doesn’t back away Shane moves in closer. Now that they are so close Shane can see the way Ryan is tensing his muscles, holding himself taut.
Feeling emboldened by the closeness, Shane lifts a shaking hand and places it on a bare, firm bicep. Fingers curling just enough to indent the skin, thumb rubbing soothingly at the larger man’s inner arm.
His tongue comes out and swipes his bottom lip as he makes himself look back into Ryan’s eyes, head tilted up, letting his eyelashes flutter.
That seems to unfreeze Ryan, whose hand comes up slowly from his side and rests very gently on Shane’s cheek. Shane can feel the slight tremor in his hand. “Can I kiss you?” The words are barely a whisper, a breath between them.
Lips pulling up at the side, Shane nods once, before moving and meeting Ryan in the middle. It’s clumsy, hesitant and slow. Shane tries hard to stay in the moment, finger gripping a little firmer on Ryan’s arm when his thoughts start to point out the differences between this, and Ilya’s smooth easy confidence.
Shane pulls back, letting both of them catch their breaths, a ghost of a smile gracing Ryan’s face for the first time that night.
It takes a couple beats for Shane to work up the nerves to speak again, used to the ease that comes from being with someone who knows exactly what he wants. “Can I blow you?”
Ryan’s breath seems to catch, but he nods quickly, “Yeah, uh. Yes. Please.”
Shane lets a small laugh fall as he drops to his knees. Hands coming up to pull down the elastic waist band of Ryan’s swim shorts.
He shouldn’t be surprised at the size. Ryan is a big man, one of the biggest in the league. And Shane had been with Ilya, who was probably comparable in length. But when Shane wrapped his hand around the base, he couldn’t help noticing it was undeniably thicker.
With a watering mouth Shane lets himself collect saliva under his tongue, flicking his eyes up to look at Ryan through his lashes as he lets the spit he’d collected drool out of his mouth onto the head of the other man’s cock.
The hand that was holding it steady at the base moves up to collect the wetness, giving a twist as he slicks the man up. A feeling of pride blooming in his chest when Ryan lets out a long low groan at the feeling.
When Shane has gathered enough spit back in his mouth, and Ryan’s cock is slicked up, he dives in. Taking the head into his open mouth, tongue flicking. He lets himself focus on the head for a good few seconds, hand working the base, before he finally sucks it in further.
Ryan’s girth proves to be more of a challenge than he’d expected and he’s not able to take it as deeply as with Ilya. What he can’t reach he makes sure doesn’t go untouched by his hand.
His other hand has now drifted up to cup Ryan’s balls and he’s moving frantically, spurred on by every noise and jerk of Ryan’s hips.
When he can feel Ryan’s balls tightening, getting closer to his body, his hips moving more erratically Shane pulls himself off. His hand no longer moving, just holding the base. He looks up at Ryan again, letting himself take in the wrecked appearance of the other man.
His hairy chest glistening in sweat, his lip red and plump from being bitten, the flush that was on his cheeks now covered his whole body.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
That seems to punch a groan out of Ryan, his abs flexing as he folds forward just a little, the hand in his hair tightening. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah, I do.”
Shane stood from the ground a bit clumsily, gripping Ryan’s arms as he righted himself. When they’re face to face, Shane takes the initiative to lean in and press a warm open mouthed kiss to the other man’s neck. Licking and biting, reveling in the sounds of appreciation.
He’s forced to move away when tentative hands grab the hem of his shirt and start pulling up slowly, giving plenty of time for Shane to change his mind.
Shane just smiles wide and helps to get the shirt over his head and stepping away so he can fold it neatly. Next he slips off his pants and boxers, folding them and putting them with his shorts before turning back to look at Ryan.
Ryan, who is now openly staring at Shane’s body. Eyes raking up and down hungrily before landing on Shane’s ass.
“C’mon.” Shane holds a hand toward Ryan, who strips with impressing speed before taking his hand and moving in close to meet him in a frantic kiss.
Naked bodies pressed together, greedy hands wandering and groping they let themselves get lost in it for a long time. This kiss much more sure, and confident than the first it has Shane’s head spinning a little.
When Shane finally manages to breakaway, it’s with a quiet whine from the other man. Shane goes to lay on his back on the bed, when at the last moment he decides to flip on to his stomach, sliding his knees underneath him and raising his chest slightly up with his elbows.
“Fuck, Shane.”
It doesn’t take long for Shane to feel Ryan press against his back side, a large hand coming down to rest in the small of his back while the other grips his ass firmly.
Shane shudders in anticipation as Ryan’s thumb moves closer and closer, swiping between his cheeks before finally finally brushing his hole.
“Please.” Shane breathes out softly, head falling forward onto the mattress below him.
With that, Ryan pauses. “Do you have uh, “ He trails off awkwardly, the air settling between them.
Before it has a chance to get too heavy Shane points a hand towards a black bathroom bag on the bedside table.
The silence lingers, broken only by Ryan shuffling behind him, and the sounds of opening packets.
When the other man returns, he uses one large hand to grip and spread him open - and the other, now slick, to press a slow finger in.
Shane feels himself melting a little, it’s not quite enough yet, but it’s close and it feels so good. Shane had opened himself in the shower earlier, before he had texted Ryan to come over. It doesn’t take long for Ryan to work him into a panting and sweating mess on three fingers.
“Do you think you’re ready?”
“Yeah, c’mon. Fuck me Pricey.”
Shane feels empty when Ryan pulls his hand away, but he doesn’t have to feel it for too long before the slick tip of Ryan’s dick presses against him.
He goes slow, giving Shane ample time to stretch around him as he pushes in. Hands massaging at Shane’s ass and lower back.
When the other man finally bottoms out they’re both shaking and groaning. They stay still for a long moment before Ryan pulls back gently, and rolls his hips forward, punching a low whine from Shane’s lungs.
“Yes.”
He does it again, this time with more confidence. Shane closes his eyes. For a minute, he thinks, with Ryan behind him just like this, he can almost pretend it’s - no.
Shane forces his eyes open, moving a hand behind him to grip Ryan’s hand on his waist to ground himself in the moment. “Harder.” He begs.
Ryan obliges.
The silence from earlier feels like a distant memory. The room is filled with sounds of slapping flesh, moans, a creaking mattress, and the dull thump, thump, thump of the head board against the wall.
With the building pressure Shane feels his grip on the moment weaken, mind flashing to curly blonde hair and vibrant eyes. He can practically hear the Russian accent when Ryan says, “Come for me Hollander.”
One of Ryan’s thick hands now wrapped around his cock as he fucks into him, Shane can’t help it when his whole body tenses and he releases on the other mans hand.
Ryan works him through his orgasm, pulling out when the sensitivity overrides pleasure. Shane rolls over onto his back and watches as the larger man pulls off the condom and works himself to finish, spilling onto Shane’s stomach with a low grunt.
__
“Fuck.” The word fall from Ryan’s mouth without permission, his eyes widening as the heat wears off and the moment creeps back in. He’s standing above a naked Shane Hollander, his cock in his hand, and a mix of both of their cum on him.
“Fuck.” He says again, this time a little more urgently as he backs away from Shane, who is staring at him - eyes wide looking just as scared as Ryan feels. “Listen, that was good. Great. But like, maybe we shouldn’t uhm,” He pauses, choking on his tongue, the words stalling in his throat. What had he done.
“Yeah. No, that’s for the best probably.” Shane agrees easily, moving to get up and wipe himself with the kleenex on the bedside table, looking anywhere but at him.
“I should probably - “ Ryan gestures over his shoulder with a shaky thumb towards the door.
Shane huffs a laugh but still doesn’t turn to look at him, “Might wanna put your pants on first.”
Ryan looks down at his flushed naked body and chokes out an embarrassed laugh. “Right. Right.” He moves to collect his clothes and throw them back on, the shirt is inside out, and his shorts might be backwards. He doesn’t care - he has his hand on the door nob, about to run out before his mind catches up to him.
“Uh, thank you. For this. I won’t tell anyone. If ah, you don’t?” He says, rather lamely in his opinion.
“Of course.” Shane’s voice is soft and hesitant behind him, Ryan feels like he should turn around and say something, anything. He doesn’t.
He steps out of that hotel room and doesn’t look back.
Ryan spends the rest of his holiday off the resort and manages to avoid Shane Hollander and the Voyageurs with ease.
Shane doesn’t text.
___
Ryan doesn’t think about it. Well, he tries very hard not to think about it. It’s not even in a pining sense.
He just can’t help himself, when the rumours of Shane Hollander being gay go through the league he can’t help but feel his heart squeeze in sympathy. Wondering if he should be doing more to support him.
Then he walks in on Shane and Ilya and a guilt he can’t quite name settles deep in his chest. Ilya had always been so good to him, he couldn’t imagine Ilya knowing he had slept with Shane. He didn’t think it would go well.
Then Shane and Ilya are outed, they get married and the internet has a hayday with speculation. The two men refusing to give a timeline means that everyone has been discussing when it could have possibly started to death.
When he sees someone suggest the possibility it had been all along Ryan feels sick, bile rising in his throat along with a bone deep guilt. What if they had been together at the time.
When he gets into bed with Fabian that night, he cracks. He tells the man about the one night in Mexico with Shane Hollander. About his friendship with Ilya. About the timeline speculation online, and he asks with a shaking breath if he needs to tell Ilya.
“I think, my dear, this is eating you up. Maybe talk to Shane about it?”
__
In the end, Ryan doesn’t get the chance to have a mature conversation with Shane or Ilya out of him. It comes to light as most things do, on a drunken night after a celebration.
Or, that’s what Ryan gathers at least when Ilya texts him late one night.
Ilya - You fucked Shane?
Ilya - In Mexico??
Ilya - Was good?
Ilya - He is refusing to give details.
Ryan’s staring at the phone with wide eyes, the unopened messages turning his gut with anxiety. He bites the bullet, opens his phone and presses call.
“Ah , Pricey, good to hear from you.”
“Ilya, what’s going on?”
Ryan can make out the sound of drunk laughter and several side conversations as he waits with baited breath for Ilya to answer.
“My lovely husband here, accidentally let it slip, that his Mexico Top, just so happened to be Ryan Price. I simply wanted more information, and now he is acting shy, - You were not so shy earlier!” Ryan pulls the phone away a little at the end when Ilya yells the last part, clearly directing it to Shane.
“I uh, am I in trouble? Or is this like a kink thing” Ryan asks nervously, picking at a loose thread on his blanket.
“Mm, maybe can be both no? Are you a bad boy Ryan?” If it weren’t for the snicker on the other end, Ryan was pretty sure his heart would have stopped at that.
“I’m not giving details if he’s not, keep me out of your kinks Rozanov.” Ryan says, forcing a confidence into his voice he’s not entirely sure he feels. But, he is fairly confident that Ilya isn’t too seriously upset, and that makes it easier to tease.
“You are both so BORING. BORING Shane, do you hear me?? You are boring. You tell me my husband hooks up with large hunky NHL player, and I do not get steamy details? This is a , a crime. You are both criminals.”
Before Ryan can even think of a response, another voice comes through the line clearly, “Man, your husband hooks up with a hunky NHL player every night and you’re there for it. What are you complaining about?”
Some shuffling fabric, and then Ilya’s muffled voice comes through the phone, “This is why you are my favourite Harris.”
“I’m gonna hang up now,” Ryan announces and counts to three, waiting for Ilya to respond, but his attention has clearly been taken. Ryan hits the end call button and breathes a sigh of relief.