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“What are you looking at?” Ilya asked as the boys crowded around Marleau in the locker room.
He expected the usual; a photo from one of his many hooks ups, a porno, an Instagram post of some model, maybe. Ilya joined the group, pleasantly surprised to see photos of brand new puppies.
“You are getting a dog?” Ilya asked excitedly.
He loved dogs. His uncle had always had dogs when he was growing up. Ilya loved playing with them; mean looking German Shepherds that were actually big babies, sweet oversized lap dogs with so much energy that Ilya could run around with them for hours.
“Nah, Kathy’s dog had a litter,” Marleau said. “They’re so cute but I can’t justify a dog when we’re away so much.”
Ilya hummed, looking at the tiny faces in the photos. They were so tiny the photos. They looked so soft.
“I want to meet them,” Ilya demanded.
Marleau just looked at him like he was expecting him to say that. “Fine. I've gotta pick up the girls from school today, come with.”
Ilya beamed at the prospect of meeting puppies after practice. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a boring day after all.
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“They were so cute,” Ilya said as he scrolled through the photos.
“They’re so small,” Shane agreed. “This one with the heart nose is so cute.”
“Marley’s sister said I should take him,” Ilya frowned. “But I don’t want a boy dog. No good. Girl dogs are better behaved.”
Shane made a soft noise, still scrolling through the photos Ilya had sent him. He listened as Shane laughed, probably at the photo of him laying on the floor with the puppies that Marley had taken of him.
Ilya smiled as he pulled the covers up to his chest, staring at the sweet faces on his own phone screen. He'd called Shane as soon as he’d gotten home from dinner at Kathy’s, lamenting how he couldn’t reasonably have a puppy himself.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna adopt one?” Shane asked.
Ilya hummed. Moments like these, he wished Shane was here in bed with him, and not echoing through the speaker on his phone. His house felt too big, sometimes, but never more than when he was on the phone to Shane, wishing they were curled up in bed together.
“One day,” Ilya said. “When we aren’t travelling so much. When I live in Canada.”
“You mean when you’re retired and I’m still out there winning cups?” Shane teased.
“More like, I'm retired and you’re coaching,” Ilya corrected.
“You wouldn’t wanna be my assistant coach?” Shane asked.
“No, someone would have to stay home with the babies.”
“How many puppies are we having?” Shane sounded amused.
“Four, maybe five,” Ilya said.
“Oh, sure.”
Ilya could hear the smile in Shane’s voice. “Do you like dogs?” he asked, realising that he didn’t even know. He had no idea if Shane had pets growing up, if he liked cats or dogs or had allergies or if he was scared of anything.
“Yeah,” Shane said. “I mean, I think they’re sweet and cute. I hate people that don’t train their dogs properly, though. I hate when they like, jump all over you, especially the big ones.”
“Our dogs will be well trained,” Ilya promised. “No jumping.”
"You’re gonna send our dogs to obedience school?” Shane asked.
“No,” Ilya scoffed. “I train them myself. It's not hard. I am very good at training sweet young puppies.”
He heard Shane huff on the call, unable to stop himself from smirking. “You’re an asshole.”
Ilya laughed. “See, if you were here, I would give you warning smack for your attitude.”
He could hear Shane shuffling around in bed as he laughed. “I can’t wait to own a dog with you one day,” Shane said, his voice far softer than Ilya was expecting to hear.
Ilya swallowed, refusing to get emotional at the statement. It was so simple; it was doable. One day, he and Shane would have a dog together. Just like any other couple.
“Six dogs,” Ilya corrected, not wanting to indulge in any raw emotion tonight.
“Six?” Shane asked, raising his voice in mock outrage.
Ilya was grateful that Shane had let it go, that he was playing along with this now. It was easier. Ilya would wait until they were in each other’s arms again to talk about the future and cry about it.
“Yes, it’s what I said before. Six, maybe eight dogs,” he teased.
Shane sighed, long and dramatic. God, Ilya loved him.
“And you know, they will sleep in the bed with us,” Ilya taunted.
“No,” Shane said, his playful veneer finally cracking. “No dogs in the bed.”
“Okay, but –”
“I’m not having sex when there are dogs around,” Shane said.
“But I thought you liked being watched,” Ilya teased.
“Not by dogs!”
Ilya laughed, pulling the covers tighter over himself. He wished Shane was here with him.
“I wish you were here,” Ilya admitted.
“Next weekend,” Shane promised. “Only a few days away.”
Ilya hummed to himself. Only a few days. Not that long. “I miss fucking you.”
Shane sighed again. “I’m too tired, don’t start, please.”
“Okay,” Ilya acquiesced. “Go to sleep. Phone sex tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Shane agreed easily. “Love you.”
“Love you,” Ilya repeated, a smirk on his lips.
“Say it properly,” Shane demanded.
Ilya smiled to himself as he repeated it in Russian, swearing he could hear Shane’s smile through the phone. He sighed as they hung up, looking back at the pictures he had taken today.
So many cute puppies. Kathy had asked him if he wanted to take one when they were old enough, saying that she had a few people interested in them, but that Ilya could have first pick. He had appreciated it, but said that it wouldn’t be responsible to leave a dog home alone so much. Marleau had suggested those dog hotels, but Ilya still couldn’t bear the thought of having someone waiting for him at home that didn’t understand when he would be coming back.
It was hard enough for him, to be waiting for a chance to see Shane. At least he could talk to Shane and count down the days until they were in the same country. If he had a dog, they wouldn’t understand. What if they thought he had abandoned them?
Ilya knew what it was like to have a parent leave and never come back. He wouldn’t do that to a dog.
He smiled at the photos on his camera roll, swiping through, trying to pick a few to post. He ended up with thirty eight favourited, unable to pick which ones to post. It was nearly two in the morning before Ilya decided to simply screenshot his camera roll and post all the photos at once with the dog emoji before he tossed his phone onto the bedside table and close his eyes.
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Ilya jerked awake, confused as to why he was opening his eyes when his room was still pitch black. It took him a long moment to realise his phone was buzzing on the wood beside him.
He rolled over and grabbed his phone, frowning when he saw Marleau’s name on the screen. 05:49 blinked at him in the top left hand corner.
“Marley, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Ilya sat up; Marleau had only ever called him before six a.m. once, when one of the rooks had crashed his car after a few drinks at a bar and been too scared to call the police or risk the coaches finding out. Marleau had grabbed Ilya and they’d gone to pick him up, Ilya driving the crushed car back to the rookie’s apartment building for him while Marleau took the kid to the emergency room.
“Roz, you gotta delete that post,” Marleau said.
Ilya blinked, trying to wake himself up. “What?”
“The photo you posted a couple of hours ago,” Marleau said, his voice rushed. “Delete it. The puppies. Right now.”
Ilya frowned as he put Marleau on speaker and opening his Twitter account. “Delete the puppies?”
“You – yeah, Roz, the screenshot, you need to delete it now,” Marleau said urgently.
Ilya navigated his way to his profile, deleting the post, because Marleau seemed worried, which was never a good sign. “What, people hate cute dogs now?”
“Roz –”
“Relax, I delete it,” Ilya confirmed, still confused. “What the fuck?”
“Did you look at it before you posted it?” Marleau asked.
Ilya frowned. “Yes, many cute puppies, and then some of me playing with them. Some of you.”
“And the photo of you cream pieing some chick in the top left hand corner of the screenshot?” Marleau asked.
Ilya's heart stopped. “What?”
“It’s been screenshot, sorry man, it’s all over Twitter and shit, but at least you deleted it before management woke up,” Marleau said.
Ilya clicked into his camera roll, pulling up the last photo, the screenshot of his favourites folder.
Thirty eight photos of puppies, all adorable and perfect. One photo of perfectly cooked roast potatoes and a rare steak that he’d taken to send to Shane to brag about his skills as a chef that had started an argument over what was red meat and what was blue.
And two photos of Shane Hollander’s ass.
One photo was a thumbnail of a video they’d taken of Ilya fucking him, Ilya’s cock clearly buried inside him, Shane’s ass taking up the entire square.
And the other was a close up of Ilya’s come leaking out of Shane’s ass, two of Ilya’s fingers plugging him up.
Shane was going to fucking murder him.
“Blyat,” Ilya breathed, staring at the photos. “Okh blin. Fuck.” Ilya was awake now, panic washing over him.
“Relax,” Marleau said, trying to soothe him. “You can’t see anything. It’s just an ass. I mean, it’s a nice ass. That's a fat ass. Who is she?”
Ilya blinked at the question. He zoomed in on the photo, his panic easing only slightly when he realised that there was no way to tell who was in the photo. It was just an ass. A nice, fat ass. It wasn’t even discernibly a man’s ass.
“Jane,” Ilya admitted. “She’s going to fucking kill me.”
Marleau laughed brightly. “Oh shit, man. Sorry, Rozy, I wouldn’t have said that if I had known it was her.”
“Yes, you would have.”
“Yeah, I would have,” Marleau agreed. “I take it all back, though. Now your obsession with her makes sense. And ass like that and she lets you do that to her? And film it?”
Ilya closed his eyes, resting against his headboard. It didn’t look like Shane. There was nothing in those photos that would link him to Shane. There was nothing in those photos that even indicated Ilya was with a man.
It was a close up of an ass. And even if people on the internet blew it up and make the photo bigger, they wouldn’t be able to see anything. Except Ilya’s cock, and copious amounts of come.
Shane was going to be so fucking angry, Ilya knew. He'd nearly outed them. He'd been so fucking careless, all because he was distracted by puppies.
Oh, Shane was never going to let him get a dog now.
“You can’t tell who it is, can you?” Ilya asked.
“No,” Marleau said, his voice sounding like his media voice now. “No tattoos or moles or anything. It's close ups of some chick’s asshole and your dick. Can’t even see the sheets, man. No chance someone can identify anyone from it. If you didn’t tweet it yourself, no one would even know it was you, Roz.”
Marleau wouldn’t lie to him.
“Okay,” Ilya breathed. “Okay, not a big deal then. Everybody sees my dick. No big deal.”
“PR’s probably gonna have some shit to say,” Marleau scoffed. “But it’s not a big deal. Half of the continent’s already seen your dick anyways. It'll blow over in a few days. You could probably even lie and say it’s some porno you had saved.”
“Yeah, probably not,” Ilya sighed. “It’s fine. It's me, it’s whatever. No big deal.”
“Rozy, it’s gonna be fine,” Marleau said in what Ilya was sure he thought was a soothing voice. “You’re an adult, you’re single, it doesn’t matter what you do in your free time.”
“Yeah,” Ilya said distantly.
Marleau hung up with a promise to pick him up for practice in two hours with coffee so Ilya wouldn’t have to walk into the rink alone. Ilya sunk down into his bed, checking Twitter to see what people were saying, only mildly relieved to see people discuss his carelessness and the size of his cock. It made him untense, finally able to relax a little when he realised that not a single person on the internet even suggested that it was another man with him in the photos.
He debated calling Shane, but he wondered if a phone call this early would stress Shane out. Maybe a text would be simpler.
Hey, so, I accidentally posted your asshole on Twitter. Also my cock. Also, it's a close up of me coming inside you. And it was actually two photos.
Shane, my love. How private is your asshole?
Hey, no big deal, but I accidentally posted us having sex on Twitter. It was up for four hours but I deleted it, so we’re all good.
Do you remember how I tell you how much I love your little waist and big ass? Well, so does the internet, apparently.
Moya lyubov, your ass is so fat people think from the back that you are a woman. I have proof of this now.
Shane, hey. I love you. Do you love me too? Good. Remember that feeling as I tell you something.
Ilya jumped when his phone rang again, answering it.
“I deleted it,” he said immediately.
“Thank god for that,” Shane said, his voice tight. “Oh, wait, it actually doesn’t matter, because everybody's already screenshot and posted it everywhere!”
“Remember a few hours ago when we were talking about retiring and having babies?” Ilya asked wistfully.
“Remember a few hours ago when the entire internet hadn’t seen a close up of my asshole?” Shane shot back. “Remember when the world didn’t know that my boyfriend came inside of me? Remember when there was a time people didn’t know about your come fetish?”
“My come fetish?” Ilya repeated.
“Four hours, Ilya, Jesus,” Shane said. “What the fuck are people even saying?”
"That it’s such a nice ass,” Ilya said honestly.
Shane scoffed. Ilya bit his lip. He'd fucked up terribly, he knew that.
“Shane, I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. I didn’t see it. I was only thinking about the puppies. I didn’t check.”
Shane sighed; a tired, weary sigh. Ilya hated that he was the cause of it. “I mean, it’s a close one, but – we're lucky. You can’t tell it’s me, can you? It doesn’t seem like you can.”
“Can’t even tell it’s a man,” Ilya agreed. “Marleau said you have a nice, fat ass.”
Shane made a choked off sound. Ilya did his best not to smile as he put Shane on speaker and opened up Twitter again.
“But no, no one can tell,” he said, scrolling through. “I could probably even say it’s not me and someone would believe me.”
“I doubt it,” Shane muttered. “Is it bad?”
“There’s tweets about how my dick is too big and it’s not responsible for me to fuck someone in the ass,” Ilya relayed. “Women don’t like big dicks, apparently. Not as skilled as my Jane at taking it. Lots of people saying my dick is too big and beautiful and now my attitude makes sense. There's a lot of compliments on my beautiful Jane’s perfect ass, those people are right, but I will kill them,” Ilya read aloud. “Some people saying I am no good for not using condoms. People saying anal sex is gross, these people are boring, oh my god. People saying that I am probably rotten from porn to do that to you. That women are disgusted by this, and they feel sorry for you. That only desperate women do anal. Americans are very scared of fun and sex, wow.”
“Jesus,” Shane said softly. “You know that’s not true, right?”
“Which part?”
“I love what we do,” Shane said. “I just wish it wasn’t out there for the entire internet to see.”
Ilya closed his eyes, shame washing over him. “I can’t believe I did this to you.”
“Ilya,” Shane said softly. “I’m not even mad. I was just scared. We have so much to do before we confirm us. I just hate the idea that it would be out of our hands.”
Ilya nodded to himself. “I scared myself, when Marley called to tell me to delete it. I thought I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t,” Shane said softly. “It was just a shock to see it the second I woke up.”
“How did you?” Ilya asked. He knew Shane didn’t even really check his phone outside of texts and missed calls.
“Um, Comeau sent a screenshot of it to the group chat,” Shane said. “It was weird to watch my team talk about me like that. He was talking about what kind of sluts you fuck.”
Ilya bit his lip. “Well, he was right,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “What kind of slut lets me fuck them raw and come inside them? Lets me take videos of it so I can touch myself to them later?”
“Don’t,” Shane breathed. “I have to go. Promise me you won’t post any more photos of my asshole today please?”
Ilya moaned dramatically. “Fine, I am done for today.”
“Thank you,” Shane said drily. “One day of peace, please.”
“Hey, Shane,” Ilya said. “I really am sorry.”
“I know,” Shane said softly. “Just, no repeats, maybe.”
Ilya agreed easily, hanging up and going straight to his favourites folder to unlike everything he had marked in there.
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The noise in the locker room when he walked in was unbelievable. Marleau clapped him on the shoulder as he smirked, pushing Ilya inside.
“Okay, okay!” he yelled, walking over to his cubby and tossing his bag in. “Before you say anything, I will tell you that that is my Jane in the pictures, so think very carefully about what you are going to say to me.”
The locker room quietened a bit at that.
“Oh, you guys are like, serious?” Dubek asked.
“Maybe,” Ilya shrugged, thinking about the house he and Shane would one day live in filled with dogs and babies.
“Oh, shit, that’s why you’ve barely been out this season,” Johansson said. “You’ve got a girl at home.”
Carmichael raised his eyebrows at Ilya. “Yeah. Why leave the house when you’ve got a girl like that who lets you do whatever you want to her?”
Ilya tried not to smile proudly at that. “She begged for that, she did not let me do anything,” he clarified.
The boys jeered, and Ilya reeled himself in. Locker room usually didn’t bother him, but he didn’t want them talking about Shane. Only he could talk about Shane.
“But yes, she is very angry. Says if I do it again she will not have my babies,” Ilya pouted.
“Oh, Cap, you’re whipped,” St-Simon laughed.
“I’ve only seen her ass and I get it,” Marleau chimed in. “I would be too.”
Ilya felt a sick sort of satisfaction, listening to this group of incredibly straight men talk about Shane like this; like his beauty and perfection transcended stereotypes and heterosexuality.
“Enough,” Ilya said, unzipping his bag and getting his gear out. “Let’s get on the ice before I get yelled at by management.”
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Lina was blushing. Ilya tried not to smirk as she and Brian sat across from him, purposely avoiding eye contact with him.
“We’re glad you deleted it,” Brian was saying. “But we might need to do a little damage control.”
“For what?” Ilya asked.
“Well, there’s some chatter online about what’s appropriate and what’s not,” Lina said. “Family values.”
Ilya frowned. He'd heard that term more than he would have liked working under the Raiders. “Oh, what, anal sex is bad values now?”
Lina flinched, but Ilya caught the twitch in Brian’s lips.
“Was responsible,” Ilya shrugged. “No pregnancy risk.”
“There’s some hashtags trending,” Brian cut in. “Some things about the act itself. Some things about the clear lack of protection. We might have you post about condoms or something, advocate for safe sex to show that you’ve learned your lesson.”
Ilya's eyebrow shot straight up.
He could have argued. He could have started an argument or dissented or said he wasn’t going to do that. But he had worked out the game by now. He knew what PR was trying to do.
So he shrugged and asked them to send him whatever they had preapproved whenever they were ready.
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Ilya never posted the safe sex advert Brian had sent to him. Lina had sent a couple of follow up texts about it, but Ilya had just ignored them. He was too busy watching the video that he’d taken that summer.
He was practicing safe sex. He and Shane were monogamous. They got routinely tested as part of their NHL physicals every two weeks, but they had also gotten tested independently before they’d gone to the cottage that summer and had unprotected sex for the first time.
This video was proof of how safe they were.
It had blown Ilya’s mind, being inside Shane without anything keeping them apart. He'd done it a couple of times when he was a teenager, irresponsible and stupid and curious, but he’d been careful since. He'd always been paranoid a disease or a baby would derail his career, and hadn’t wanted to risk it.
But being inside Shane, coming inside him, feeling how hot and wet he was while he filled him up...
Ilya would never be the same again, he knew that much. He'd seen Shane have the same realisation when he’d pressed inside of him for the first time, like they could never go back to ever doing it any other way than this.
So, he’d wanted to commemorate it. He'd wanted to have proof of the first time he fucked his boyfriend raw, and he’d wanted proof of the very first time he’d ever come inside him. Of the first time he’d ever come inside anyone like that.
Ilya watched the video intently, his hand wrapped around himself as he held the screen too close to his face.
Shane had cried out so fucking loud as Ilya had come inside him that first time. He'd pushed back against him and shed tears when Ilya had pulled out, and when Ilya had knelt above him and watched his come leak out of Shane, he had dropped the phone and desperately tried to push it back inside him with two fingers, keeping him shoved down and plugged up, needing to stay inside him for as long as he could.
Maybe it wasn’t safe sex. Ilya knew that if this relationship went sideways, he wouldn’t survive it. There was nothing safe about being with Shane Hollander like this. They could lose their careers, their teams. Their reputations. He could lose Russia.
It was the least safe sex Ilya had ever had, he realised as he watched the video. Watched how desperate he was to be inside Shane. Watched how desperate Shane was to keep Ilya inside him. Listened to them keen at each other as the phone lay forgotten in the sheets for a couple of minutes before Ilya picked it back up to show off Shane’s swollen hole, stuffed full of Ilya’s come and fingers.
Ilya came with a low groan as Shane moaned his name in the video, watching as he turned his head to the camera and panted for him.
He wasn’t going to post that fucking safe sex advert.
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I'm pretty sure that’s me in the photos.
That was actually me in those photos, from last summer.
That's me in the photos, I’m so sorry mom and dad. Rozanov and I had a bottle of wine after he beat the Admirals.
I didn’t wanna go public with this, but that’s me in Rozanov’s photos.
There were over a dozen women on Twitter claiming to be the women in the photos he had accidentally posted. Ilya had gone and checked each of their profiles, determining that he’d only slept with one of them for sure. There were three that he wasn’t sure about, but definitely no one that he’d taken videos or photos of.
None of them were in his phone, let alone worthy of him filming.
Ilya pulled up Twitter one final time.
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The post wasn’t even up for ten minutes before Shane called him.
“I thought we were gonna go one day without you posting anything about me,” Shane said, his voice tight.
“We agreed I would not post your asshole again, and I did not,” Ilya corrected. “Even though I have many more photos I would like to share. Maybe one of the videos. Show everyone what fun they’re missing out on.”
“You tweeted about me!” Shane hissed.
“No, I tweeted about Jane,” Ilya corrected. “I had to,” Ilya said, his voice softer. “People were claiming it was them. I had to make sure that people know it’s not just some girl that doesn’t matter to me.”
And he had. He had gotten home from practice, showered, tweeted, and waited patiently for Shane’s call.
Marleau had texted him the clapping emoji, and Brian had left him four voicemails.
“You said my Jane,” Shane said.
His voice was soft. Ilya loved when he sounded like this; soft, just for Ilya.
Jane my love, I’m sorry I showed everyone your perfect ass. I will not do it again.
“You are my Jane,” Ilya said. “I hate that I showed that side of you to everyone. But I needed people to know it was you.”
Shane was silent for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “But maybe that’s the last time we address it?”
Ilya tried to laugh, but he just felt sick. He'd nearly lost it all because of his carelessness.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said again.
"It’s okay,” Shane assured him. “You know it’s okay, right?”
Even though Shane couldn’t see him, Ilya nodded.
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Ilya gasped as Shane arched, watching as he rose up on his knees before rolling his hips down, repeating the motion over and over.
He couldn’t get enough of this. Of the way Shane had gotten so fucking good, so precise at riding him over the years. The way that Ilya got to just sit back and watch Shane use him to get himself off, got to feel every inch of him, inside and out.
“Fuck, god,” Shane breathed.
Ilya watched, hypnotised, as Shane’s hard cock slapped against his stomach as he rode him. Shane hadn’t moved to touch himself once. It was impressive, the way he sometimes even forgot about his cock, too focused on everything else to think about that, too.
He reached for his phone before he could think twice, smirking as Shane let him record them.
Shane just looked so fucking good that Ilya wanted to remember this forever. To keep it, to watch it whenever they were apart.
He focused on Shane riding him, making sure the way his cock, weeping and flushed red, was smacking against his abs, being careful not to get anything else in the video.
Just in case.
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Ilya flinched as he read the tweet.
Over a million views. Tens of thousands of likes.
Yuna would see it. Their PR would see it. Which meant Shane would be told about it.
He hadn’t thought about that incident in years. And since Pike, the idiot that he was, had outed them, they’d been dealing with so much other shit that this being noticed hadn’t even occurred to him.
Ilya reported the tweet and prayed it would get taken down and deleted. The last thing he needed was for that to be a discussion point.
Jacks @norisk26
if hollanov have been together for years...were those nudes roz accidentally posted of him cream pieing some chick in the ass of hollander??