Chapter Text
The facts of the matter seem entirely irrelevant in hindsight to Ilya. Yes, he was a bi-sexual menace, yes, he was an asshole to everyone (but with love) and even, yes, he had probably extensive problems with family and any sort of attachment. That was all mostly true and explained a lot about him.
Some other facts were also true. He was crushing on a rival with unfairly alluring freckles, far too muscular thighs, and a smile he rudely tried to hide all the time. Ilya was a simple man when it came to desire. If he wanted something he went after it. Simple.
It wasn’t very simple anymore.
Ilya was in his chauffeurs non-descript black sedan on his way to a photo shoot that the organization “suggested” he do. Naturally, his first instinct was to bully his way out of it, but then he thought about Hollander. He wanted to see him and not wait months. Since that night in the gym, the man had frequented in both his dreams and daydreams. Ilya had thoughts about him and that was an understatement.
The car pulled up and he allowed his security detail to open his door and escort him inside. His name was Joe and he never said a word, but that was something Ilya preferred when English was still a pain in his ass. He understood quite a bit but not nearly enough to be able to identify when assholes were being assholes or when vital information was given to him.
In a rare moment of embarrassment, Ilya had entered a restricted zone he had just been told to avoid when in reality he thought he’d been told to go there. Normally, he would have just played it off, but the door led to a utility room where many workers were urgently whisper-shouting at each other and in obvious distress. That would make him look too bad, so he had to admit he didn’t understand what they said. The pity on managements’ faces was horrendous but until he devoted more time to learning it was how it was.
He was getting better, slowly, but even when his comprehension was better, there was an even bigger disconnect when speaking English because it seemed like of every fucking conversation, he missed a third of the context and he knew he was fucking up all his responses. He wasn’t stupid or illiterate, and he hated that was how he was presenting himself. Ilya had done well in school, some subjects like maths and sciences were above average. In Russian he was a good reader, writer, and his speeches in Russian were far superior. Being here in America or really anywhere without the native tongue, it was like stripping away something he needed with him each day or that something was a little off about his day or body. Sort of like wondering if you left the stove on or if you forgot a doctor’s appointment. It made him uneasy and at times, irritable.
But today was a good day because Hollander would be here soon, or maybe already was. The thought spurred him to walk faster to the back rooms where the director of the shoot should be.
No luck. For Hollander or anyone else. He had the day and time right, didn’t he?
Yes, July 19th 10AM. Well, it was about 9:15 but that was hardly considered too early.
No one would say that Ilya was a patient man. Though Hollander was putting that to the test.
Wasn’t he rigid enough to be early for something like this?
Ilya shook his head and pulled on the heavy gear before scrolling his phone. He had it in English to help with learning, but he switched it back to Cyrillic, far too keyed up for testing himself.
He was deep into doom scrolling when the door opened and Hollander walked in, his mother close behind him. They both paused when they noticed him and Ilya honestly hadn’t expected Hollander to show up with his mommy in tow. But then again, Ilya had basically no family, and certainly no one that would accompany him to anything not benefiting them.
He couldn’t help his eyes from focusing on Hollander’s face, seeing his brow cinch and lips purse. His motion moved the smattering of freckles on his face and Ilya had to tear his eyes away before they looked him up and down in front of his mother. He looked at her, where Hollander obviously got his good looks from. She was honestly a knock-out.
He offered an easy grin, “Nice of you to show up, Hollander. And you must be Mrs. Hollander?”
He knew the custom was to maybe shake hands, but that seemed to be too much when he and Hollander were rivals, and Ilya had spent far too much time thinking about defiling her son to feel right about it.
Mrs. Hollander looked surprised to be greeted and for once Ilya resented his reputation as an asshole a little.
“Yes. Yuna Hollander.” She moved forward and put her hand out. The action was so familiar Ilya couldn’t help but smirk at Hollander as he shook her hand firmly, but gently.
“Nice to meet you. Today should be fun.” He said, pleased by the blush in Hollander’s face as he no doubt recalled his own offered handshake.
Yuna smiled more openly, “Yes, it’s a great opportunity. I’m glad the CMM thought to include both of you. Very good for exposure.”
Ilya nodded, for once understanding the underlying meaning, “Very good, yes. Exposure gives…what is…ahh relevance.” He did not blush over struggling for the word.
Yuna Hollander beamed at his statement and Ilya felt a stirring of pride in his chest. A big smile meant probably nothing but that little display of approval was so rare he felt invincible with it.
He glanced back at Hollander who was looking at them with a blank face, but his eyes gave him away. He was certainly not comfortable with them conversing this long. Ilya hoped it was similarly because he was thinking defiling thoughts about Ilya too.
Ilya couldn’t look at Hollander for very long without thinking about that one dream where he jerked himself to the finish and came all over those freckles. Fuck.
Ilya smiled back at Yuna Hollander, one of his more genuine smiles because, hell, he suddenly wanted her to like him. While lusting after her son was now his favorite pastime, maybe having another Hollander in his pocket would do him some good.
“Well, I will let you boys continue getting ready. It was lovely to meet you, Rozanov.”
“Ilya, please. It was nice to meet another Hollander. There is one more, isn’t there?” He said with the intention of being charming, but Yuna Hollander ran with it.
She looked like a ray of sun when she gasped excitedly as if she just had the greatest idea in all of history. Her hand reached out onto his arm which made him jump. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, of course, my husband David. He is joining us later today. You should have dinner with us, Ilya. It would be so much fun!”
Hollander, his favorite one, choked and began coughing. It was far too irresistible to say no to a chance to annoy Hollander, and it was even harder to ruin the earnest hope on Yuna’s face.
“I would love too. Could I give you my phone number? You can send the time and location.” He winced a bit when he immediately thought the word ‘place’ was the better choice for the common phrase.
She jumped at the chance and sent her name so he would have hers. Hollander looked on with shock and horror on his face at their exchange. Yuna was adorably oblivious and kissed his stunned face before scurrying out of the room.
Ilya smirked at the beautiful man sitting on the bench.
“My mom is happily married woman, Rozanov.” He warned and Ilya had to laugh.
“Ahh yes. She did say. Do not worry, Hollander. She is quite beautiful. Is where you get it, yes?”
He would be thinking about the shock and blush on his face for many many months.
They met on the ice about fifteen minutes later, and Hollander still had a red face. He avoided eye contact and Ilya was thankful that the make-up artist did not cover the freckles he adored so much.
“Do I look pretty in my make-up?” Ilya teased when they knelt for their first face-off photo.
Hollander openly gaped at him, seemingly speechless. Ilya was now more certain that Hollander was a virgin, if only with men. He was too shocked by his flirting to be possible otherwise.
The thought sent a thrill of lust downward. He would be the first and while that was probably weirdly possessive, it felt so good to think about. Ilya was going to ruin him. In the good way, of course.
“Ahh, I guess I am ugly then. Very mean, Hollander.”
Instantly, “You’re not. I mean—you look hot. I mean nice!”
Hook, line, and sinker, was the phrase, right? Ilya grinned wickedly, letting his tongue run along his lips and the camera flashed.
Ilya had never had so much fun. Hollander brought out laughter he hadn’t experienced in years. He brought warmth to his chest that he thought was gone for good. Hollander was his obsession.
This was not good in reality, but in fantasy, he was walking on the clouds.
Hollander stared at him for a long time after he admitted to organizing the shoot and then wordlessly moved to the showers.
Ilya waited only five minutes before joining him, only two stalls over.
He didn’t hide his appraisal and neither did Hollander.
Hollander was lithe in the waist, thick in the thighs and cock, firm and round in the ass, and his glistening body made Ilya fully hard in less than two minutes.
“What are you doing?” Hollander whispered as he began to squirm under Ilya’s gaze.
“Mmm, enjoying the view. Aren’t you?”
Ilya snapped his eyes up from Hollander’s hard cock to his face where blatant want roamed.
Hollander’s eyes were on Ilya’s cock too and unable to resist, Ilya gave it a couple strokes while he looked. The man trembled and his own cocked twitched, leaking a small bead of precum. Ilya wanted to taste it. Right now. But…public showers were not private and not exciting to kneel on.
“Not here.”
“No. After family dinner, yes? What is your room number?”
Hollander’s face pinched but he said, “1410,” without missing a beat.
Ilya turned the shower cold while maintaining eye contact and smiled when Hollander did the same.
Ilya paced in his hotel room. He needed to leave in about ten minutes to join the Hollanders in the lobby where Yuna insisted, they meet. Carpooling was good for the environment, she had said firmly. Ilya knew that meant there was to be no argument.
However, David Hollander would be driving with Yuna in the front seat, leaving him in the back seat with the object of his desire. He was being tortured and it hadn’t even happened yet. Also, there was something sort of juvenile about riding in the backseat with parents versus bodyguards and paid drivers.
At least he knew Hollander would be similarly uncomfortable. Ilya knew he could say something came up and not go, but then that certainly would make getting lucky later next to impossible. For whatever Hollander would say about not wanting to go to dinner, he would have to be more upset for Ilya standing his parents up. His persona literally screamed “good boy” that parents would be thrilled to have.
Ilya slipped out of his hotel room and felt his heart pick up as the elevator went down floor by floor. On the lobby floor, the doors opened and he saw the Hollanders waiting for him.
Seriously, why was he doing this? This anxiety and awkwardness weren’t worth the joy of annoying Hollander, was it?
Ilya couldn’t reflect on it before Yuna Hollander was gripping his arm and shoulder into an embrace.
Ilya froze and perhaps flinched. His face, if he could see it, looked panicked to everyone else. Hollander, if Ilya had looked, stepped forward in concern, and he would have seen David touch his son’s arm so he wouldn’t interrupt.
Inside, Ilya was a mess. He knew that—but nothing more. He remained rigid in Yuna’s arms, who was now aware of his reaction. He wanted to walk, no sprint away, but he remained completely still afraid for the moment to progress.
Ilya sort of knew it had been a while since he’d been hugged. Maybe even a long time. But now in the moment of receiving one, he knew exactly when the last time was.
Twelve years old. A sunny day and sleepy mama. A spring breeze. Waiting for the bus to school.
Then by the end of that day hugs were a myth or at the least something he did not deserve.
“Ilya, honey. It’s alright. Take a breath. I am terribly sorry for not asking, first. It’s really alright. No one is upset.”
Yuna. Not mama. Ilya took a deep breath in and without his permission he breathed out, “I am sorry.”
Yuna’s eyes watered, “No, no. I should not have assumed that would be alright. I am too touchy, my husband and son say.”
Ilya felt her thumbs rubbing his biceps as if warning him she was about to let go. He smiled shakily; a smile he didn’t think anyone had ever seen.
“Just not used to that. It is okay.”
There wasn’t the expected pity on Yuna’s face. Her eyes flashed with intensity and with a squeeze of his arms, she stepped back.
“Well, excusing my faux pas, lets have a good dinner, shall we? Shane, can you show Ilya to the car?”
Ilya assumed that meant she wanted Hollander to make nice with him, or she wanted to converse with her husband about how unstable their son’s “rival” was.
Hollander didn’t speak until they were at the car.
“I was diagnosed autistic last year. Right before it was nearly certain I would go pro. My mom freaked out, we all had a fight about it. She thought it meant there was something wrong with me that doctors needed to fix. When she said that my dad didn’t speak to her for a week. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen them even disagree. That said, my Mom collects people she thinks need help. So. Just warning you, you probably aren’t going to escape her now.” He smiled a little uncertainly at him but with rare eye contact.
Ilya didn’t really know what to say, but he felt his shoulders relax.
“Well, I am irresistible, so I understand.”
Hollander laughed, “Asshole. Just remember she’s married.”
Ilya could not tell if he seriously thought that was on his mind. He stepped a bit closer to Hollander, sharing warm breath with him.
“It is not her freckles I think about.”
Hollander blushed deep red, shuffling his feet.
“They are dumb. I was always made fun of and called pretty boy,” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“No. They are pretty and they make you pretty.”
Hollander bit his lip, blinking up at him, and stepping closer until their lips had barely any space between them.
Ilya instantly moved away at the sound of footsteps, realizing with a jolt that they were in a public parking lot and in clear view. The elder Hollanders didn’t seem to have noticed anything and without preamble they drove to the nearby pizzeria.
This was not a new concept to Ilya and just as unexpectedly he remembered his last time at a pizza buffet. These Hollanders were a fucking curse. Or maybe worse than that.
He was eleven, his July birthday, Alexei being scolded for overdoing the buffet, his mama’s blonde curls almost catching fire on the birthday candles adorning his homemade honey cake. His father’s absence as birthday celebrations were forbidden. It was the only agreement he and his brother ever had. What mama did away from father; it never happened.
Ilya felt his throat dry but mercifully he didn’t “freak out” again. At this rate, he was never going to get Hollander naked and bent over.
Strangely, but also adorably, David and Yuna insisted on taking turns to go to the buffet with the reasoning being to “defend the table”. So, he and Hollander went to get plates. Ilya didn’t pay attention to Hollander’s plate at first until they were about to walk away.
“Wow. No. Just no, Hollander.” Ilya pulled him back to the line and added three more pieces to his plate.
“Jeez, I can’t eat all—
“Yes. You are not coming to a buffet and eating one piece. You are hockey player. You will waste away, Hollander.” He looked ready to argue so Ilya leaned closer to whisper.
“If you are a good boy and eat this, I will give you very nice reward later, yes?”
Hollander’s eyes darkened and his lips twitched like he wanted to smile. Ilya felt invincible when he kept the slices and they went to the table.
Yuna and David raised their brows at their piled plates and Ilya thought maybe Hollander was “different” about food. Svetlana, his best friend, dealt with that a lot over the years. It could be scary at times.
Yuna and David came back with similar plates and then conversation had to happen. Ilya knew this was how “family” dinners worked but now he realized how much of his life he definitely did not want to talk about.
“So, Ilya, will your family join you for the draft picks?”
“Ahh, no. I am not close with them. Here for new future.”
Yuna paused, not expecting this. Ilya felt a small flash of irritation. What did she think all families were loving and dedicated like hers?
“Well, there is no doubt you’ll go second.” She said, a smirk resting on her face. Ilya returned it.
“Oh, I think that is wrong. Hollander will go second, maybe third. I will be first because I am best hockey player.”
The sexy Hollander kicked Ilya under the table, and his face was that of an angry kitten. It thrilled Ilya.
“Oh, котёнок, do not worry. I will still cheer for second best player.” Ilya teased.
“What does that mean?” He demanded, looking suspicious.
Ilya then realized his slip. Well, thankfully most non-Russian speakers couldn’t replicate the sounds to look up words.
“Mmm, is secret.” He took a huge bite of a pizza slice as he looked at the sexy, angry, kitten-faced Hollander.
“Well, I want to know.” Yuna piped up, looking between them with intrigue.
Fuck. One thing to deny Hollander, impossible to deny Yuna.
“I will text you. You cannot tell him, or I will boo him when he gets second pick. I will be so loud, Yuna. He will go home crying.”
The sexy, angry, kitten-faced Hollander kicked him again.
David spoke for the first time, “Well, Ilya, I must say you are different than the media portrays you.”
He didn’t know that word. “Hmm what is por-trays? I am still learning, my English is bad I know.”
David smiled, “I meant what they say about you. Mean-Russian and all that.”
Ilya nodded, “Yes, I am very mean. The most mean. Except to rival’s parents.”
“What does that mean!” Sexy Hollander blurted.
Ilya looked at him like it was obvious. “I am going to steal them, Hollander. This is clear. It will be so embarrassing for you. I will become favorite son, and you will be forgotten step-child.” Ilya was very proud of the sense that he made. It was one of the longer sentences he ever spoke in English.
Yuna and David burst into laughter, shocking them.
Hollander spluttered indignantly, “I can’t be a step-child! They are biologically my parents!”
“Oh, so a bastard then, yes? What is the date of marriage and your birth? Time tells all lies, you know.” Ilya laughed at the further agitation Hollander’s reddening face. It was such a beautiful face.
“We were married before his birth. Timing of conception is irrelevant.” Yuna played along, eyes sparkling.
Sexy Hollander gaped at his mother and then looked at father for support.
“What can I say, Shane? Your mother gets what she wants when she wants it.”
Hollander gagged and buried his face in his hands while the three of them laughed at his expense.
“I hate all of you.” He muttered.
“I have to know Ilya, where are you staying between now and the draft?” Yuna asked as the laughter died down.
“Oh umm, back to Russia.”
“Aww, so you’ll miss the camps and parties?”
Ilya nodded, “I think I have too. My father expects me to return.” He could feel the frown on his face more than normal from having been laughing the past half hour.
“Well, if you decide to stay, you should come stay with us! Shane never brings anyone home and we get so bored in the summer.”
David barked a laugh. “You mean you do—I am working like normal, Yuna.”
“Which just means you aren’t there to entertain me, and my son avoids me like a sullen teenager. Really Shane, I’m not that bad.”
Ilya was delighted by this information. He also decided he would be going to stay with the Hollanders.
“Mom!”
“Shane!”
“I will let you know, Yuna. I cannot have my favorite Hollander being bored.”
Ilya didn’t really know what to make of it when Sexy Hollander moved his leg flush against his own and left it there.
Ilya didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Well, he was in the elevator going up to Hollander’s floor. He knew that. But he never was nervous for sex, and he never met the parents before it—or at all. Svetlana didn’t count.
He knocked on his room door, 1410. The number bouncing around in his head since the showers.
Hollander opened the door and pulled him inside roughly by his tank. Ilya had no opportunity to say a word before Hollander pushed him against the wall, kicked the door closed, and kissed him so hard his lip nearly split.
Ilya groaned, very pleasantly surprised. He thought Hollander might need more coaxing, to be honest.
They bumped into walls before finally making it to the bed where Hollander pushed Ilya so he landed on it with a bounce.
The look on his face was a mix of want and exasperation but before Ilya could ask about it—Hollander began stripping.
Sure, Ilya had seen him in the showers, but he was even more beautiful now, in the dim light of a hotel room. It was hardly meant to be romantic but then Hollander began folding his clothes in neat squares, setting them on the desk.
Ilya realized he should be getting naked too and shucked off his pants and tank, his hard cock springing upward. He hadn’t been fully, or even half hard in the showers, and Hollander’s eyes widened taking him in.
Sure, Ilya was big, but Hollander was beautiful. His cock curved to the left, round full balls resting just behind it, immaculate trimming of black hair. He was perfect.
Ilya’s cock was big and that’s really all that could be said about it.
Hollander, however, seemed mesmerized by it. He was on his knees in front of Ilya before he could blink tongue out.
“I’ve thought about coming all over those freckles so much. Will you let me?” Ilya said it before he could really consider it.
“Yes.”
Then his cock was in a heavenly, wet, warm mouth that was not experienced, but so eager.
Hollander’s trimmed nails dug into Ilya’s thighs as he tasted every inch of the cock in front of him, experimenting with how much he could fit in his mouth before pulling off. The teasing built the coil until he was grunting out a warning to Hollander, who pulled off just a little and looked up at him with those warm, glossy eyes—Ilya came all over those freckles, ropes of cum hitting Hollander right where he’d dreamed.
Ilya’s hips jerked instinctively as he emptied all he had and then he knelt down to Hollander and licked every inch of his mess off his beautiful face. Their lips met several times in his efforts to clean him up, and Ilya reached down to stroke him.
“Up, now.” Ilya muttered and pushed the other man flat on his back on the bed so he could swallow him down. God, he’d never felt this good, this electric.
Ilya had lasted maybe five minutes in Hollander’s mouth. Hollander lasted two. His thighs clapped around Ilya’s head so tight that sound was cut off, and his fingers fisted in his hair, pulling Ilya’s mouth closer as he came down his throat.
Ilya eventually had to extract himself so he could breathe, but fuck did he like being there.
Hollander met his eyes and Ilya thought he saw his exact thoughts reflected there.
This wouldn’t be the only time. Oh, and they were fucked.