Archive of Our Own

This time it was Ilya's turn.

The sunlight pierces through the curtains, making its way into the bedroom without a single bit of shame and falling into Ilya's face. He squirms a little, takes a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly, finally scrunching his nose at the light because even if it was dim, his eyesight was screaming in pain like the sun personally attacked them. Behind his lashes he saw Shane shifting a bit over him and getting closer, like he was trying to put his whole weight in, trying to get more tangled than he already was, limbs everywhere.

So warm.

But it was Ilya's turn.

So, after untangling himself from him who was very comfortable in his arms—as always— he got up, looked back and made sure he didn't wake him up. Shane just shifted a little, but stayed in bed. Ilya smiled fondly at the sight and went to brush his teeth, because he wanted to leave a morning kiss, but if Shane knew that he did it with his morning breath still intact it will be the end, so he does it and then goes to kiss him on the temple, soft and slow.

Ilya descended the stairs whilst stretched lazily. It is a great day; they could sleep as much as they wanted since neither of them had any practice scheduled that day. He had managed to persuade Shane to stay with him, though it hadn't required much effort. With kisses on his neck and gentle touches on his thigh while pleading like a little kid who wants attention from his mother, Shane finally agreed making him promise that he would prepare breakfast while Shane could sleep a bit longer—just a little, since he didn't want to disrupt his sleep routine. He didn't want to open the apartment curtains, the light throught them should be enough, so he decided to turn on a light that illuminated the kitchen at least, allowing him to begin preparing breakfast.

He was wearing only a loose pants over his hips, with his curls not particularly styled—not like it matter, since it was going to be a nice day, right? He took out the boring meal he'd saved exclusively for Sleepybeauty from upstairs: a mix of mix-nuts, protein yogurt (whose effectiveness was questionable), and a couple of fruits—though the last ingredient actually came from Ilya; otherwise, that meal would've been bland and unappetizing, unlikely to satisfy anyone's hunger.

For him, he prepared bacon and eggs served with toast—a breakfast that should be perfect. The smell was delicious; he loved it. Well, perhaps he had taken out a bit more bacon for Shane to see if he'd want to share something that could bring a little joy to his life, even though deep down he knows Shane is going to reject his offer. It's okay; he likes this, likes this domestic lifestyle.

He cracked the eggs, the sound of them frying was somewhat relaxing, as if the day could truly start. Tossed the shells aside but the sound of missing the trash bin drew his attention: not just that the trash bin was full, that's why the shells were on the floor now, but noticed something more. He bent down, leaving the meal he was preparing in the pan while oil droplets spilled out—something Shane would surely scold him for, given that he wasn't wearing a shirt to protect his skin and the counter would have oil on it and someone's gotta clean it up later.

As he opened the container, he counted... two... three... four... five pencils? There were too many of them to be thrown out at once. As if they'd been used extensively and were no longer functional, well, that would've made sense—but they weren't; they were unused, chewed on in many places, with missing fragments. It looked like a dog had bitten them, but they didn't have any (for now). So where did all these pencils come from, and why were they so badly damaged? He scratched his head, like that will give him the answers he was looking for, like that will make the ideas fall right on top of his head—that was until he heard steps coming from upstairs going to his direction and his gaze went there, meeting his beautiful boyfriend walking slow, like he needed to sleep more but didn't want it to. He was scratching his midriff under his shirt— the only piece of clothing he was wearing besides his boxers— and with a sweet and cute soft voice said: “Good morning, Ilya”.

He yawned —god, so pretty—, making Ilya smile softly, just a faint one while he stood up straight, looking at him:

“Good morning, moya lyubov” was his answer, always because... well, he was that and more, “you can sleep more, you know.” But Shane shakes slightly his head getting closer, wraping his arms around Ilya's waist from the side and resting his chin on Ilya's shoulder. He closes his eyes while making a little pout that Ilya couldn't resist and gave him a little peck on it.

“Bacon again? You know it's bad for you, too much unheathly oil.”

“Yes, but it is delicious.”

“Eggs too? They better be boiled.”

“You take the joy out of life, Hollander.” Even thought he said that his smile never left his face, and Shane answers with a snort while shaking his head. Ilya kissed his forehead because he can't help it. He loves it when Shane does that.

So pretty.

“I made your weird and probably tasteless mix.”

“It's nourishing.”

“What? Do not make up words to make yourself smart.”

“I'm smart and maybe you need a meal like this.”

“No way. But at least there is fruits in it. Good for me.” He praises himself because it was his idea.

“Oh my god.” Shane laughs a little.

“Sure you not want something that can pull you out of your misery?” Shane frowns.

“No, and your greasy breakfast will burn.”

“Blyad!” He turns over, shoulders drop in defeat. His bacon was overcooked, it shrunk and was probably not tasty anymore, so he had to throw it away. “Got distracted.” Said a little annoyed that now he can't eat his bacon infront of Shane and annoy him some more.

“You got distracted? With what?” Questioning with genuine curiosity, sitting on the chair in front of the island, holding a spoon so he can begin to eat. He took a spoonful of his mix when Ilya turns back to reply to him, but got distracted, again, smirking at the expression Shane was giving. Shane didn't grab the fruits he put in, so his face was saying that the mix indeed was tasteless, but of course he wouldn't admit it. Not a chance. But Ilya didn't need confirmation, he knew.

“Ah. Yes.” His trail of thought went back on track. “There is pencils in the trash bin. I do not know where they come from.” He said it like it's nothing, because it's nothing. It should be. He threw away everything that was used, at least the eggs where saved and he could eat it with toast. But when he turned around again, the look on Shane's eyes... were like a deer in the headlights. Frozen in place for a second too long, looking at Ilya like he didn't know him and the spoon half way to his mouth.

“Shane? Are you okay?” Asks a little worried. Shane swallows, Ilya didn't know if his yogurt or saliva and he nods. A single nod.

“Yeah, yeah, uhm, how strange... are you sure you didn't bring any dog from the streets?” Tries to make the mood light again. Ilya can tell. He always can tell. But decides he doesn't wanna make their morning weird by point it out now so he just laughs a little.

“No, not yet.”

“Don't.”

“Oh, c'mon, i'm sure you will love it. Besides it will live with me, so.”

“Yeah, but when we move in—” He stops himself, cleared his throat and took another bite and then speaks after gobble up. “You know you'll have to take care of the dog all by yourself, right?”

“Oh, Hollander,” He purred his boyfriend last name with amusement “are you thinking about moving in together?” He leans a little over the island. Shane's eyes stays on his yogurt and doesn't respond. Ilya can see the sweet red on his ears by the angle and his smile wides a little more. “Don't you think we are moving too fast?” That makes Shane laughs softly.

“Almost ten years is fast to you?” Ilya laughs too.

Yes. Ilya can always tell. Always. Every little thing that changes in Shane's demeanor, all thanks to the years they had spent together, and of course, because it was interesting, it'll never escape Ilya's gaze. His mind rewinds to the moment Shane reacted to the pencils thing, how his posture was so rigid, so stiff, that maybe this was going to be his posture for the rest of the day. How his eyes looked like a child traped in a little white lie and was expecting to be scolded. He couldn't let it go, doesn't want to either; he needs to find out why his pretty polite boy reacted that way. Something's going on.

But as days go by, the further the answers lays, because Shane keeps diverting the matter, Ilya just couldn't bring it up. And now the trash bin was always flawless, squeaky clean, not even a paper inside, and he knows is because Shane clears it up at night or very early in the morning, so Ilya can't see the evidence.

Something feels off.

Practice was going well. Shane had flew back to Montreal but they'll only be apart for a week, shortest time apart in a long fucking time, and just for that reason Ilya was in a good mood. He was that easy.

Even if the training was going great for the team, that didn't mean it was going to work out in a actual game; that's why they were trying really hard, practicing more intensely, hoping maybe, the next game they will actually win, finally break a bad streak. Three loses in a row. Ilya was so tired of this, but he trusted this team, they felt like... family? No, more like children he was teaching how to be a winning team.

He was not doing a very good job.

He was their captain, he needed to stack up his game. He needed to show that they can be more than they already are, so this training was hard. By the end of it they were all exhausted, dripping from his chin and forehead, and lungs burning for the effort. But neither of them said no when Ilya was settling a new path for them to practice, they just drank more water, adjusted their helmets, gripped tighter on the stick and just skate to his captain for more.

Ilya was proud of them, even if he didn't said it all the time, he was.

In the locker rooms everyone was finally breathing better, and now they were berating at him, pointing out just how hard this was, if they did something wrong this time to deserved such a horrible treatment. Ilya was laughing while removing his shirt above his head, not saying anything about his teammates complaints because his phone vibrated first, so he reached out to grab it and reply to someone so important that he cannot keep them waiting— but his fingers could't reply in time. A voice near him caught his attention:

“Damn, Rozanov, you're gonna be eaten at this rate.” Says Boodram while smiling, maybe amused by his words choice.

He just frowns, doesn't get it.

“Don't know what you mean.” and his eyes go back to the screen, trying to finish typing, but is interrupted again.

“You didn't notice? You have like a really big bite here.” His side was poked, and that did make Ilya turned, leaving his phone with the message half written. His gaze went down, looking at the place apparently everyone was looking now, raised his arm to look better. Below his ribs, in a soft spot there was a bite, not big, but it was red, very noticeable. And yes, Ilya didn't notice. He tried to remember now, maybe the last time he was with Shane? He barely recalls teeth sinking on his body, but it was all very confusing with his cock overstimulated by Shane's strong grip. Maybe he recalls way too many teeth on him. But like he said it's all very confusing.

“There's another one here.” He feels a finger touching him again, on his back now, right over one of his shoulder blades.

“Noticeable too?” Asks while he walks in front of one the mirrors, turns around and tries to look at himself, because yes, he is curious, and liked the first mark, so he wanted to look at this one too, but it was really hard.

“Yeah, man, sounds like she really sink in, you didn't feel it?” He ignores the woman implication Wyatt was making, just looks at him, just to saw how he was raising an eyebrow, like he didn't believe it. Ilya just shrugs.

The conversation begins to draw the team attention. Ilya thought he needed to make the training harder because it looks like they do have the energy to circle around him, very interested about the mark, even making it a competition to see who finds more bites in Ilya's body. He didn't know what the prize was, but he turned in front of the mirror and stood still, looking at himself too.

“C'mon Rozy, pants off. I'm sure we can find more.”

“Invite me coffee first, Hazy.” He smirks, looking at Hayes who pushes him a little on the shoulder shaking his head at the silly idea.

Ilya's curious too, so he takes off his clothes and stands only on his briefs, arms crossed and looks too.

“Here!” Luca raises his voice, excited like a little kid and points at Ilya's inner thigh. Ilya finds it funny, how Luca is always really shy around him, probably because of his crush on him, but now was so absorbed on this little game that he was doing something unlike him. He thought it was cute.

Everyone bent down, like... everyone, and stared at the spot. A bite mark more evident, you can tell for the purple on the skin that it was hard and not so old.

They know, they always get bruises, just not like this one.

“Well, this is weird.” Ilya titls his head a little, words just floating on the air with no one to answer them. If a reporter enters this room right now they would be the frontpage all over Canada.

“Hey, Rozanov, this one is really strong. You got a really possessive women.” Dykstra comments.

Ilya just smiles, his usual crooked smile.

“I wish.” Shane is many things; cute, boring, annoying, extremely perfect and overly adorable, but up until now he never saw him acting jealous or possessive. Not that he could recall at the moment. He wished he was, that would be very funny.

“Doesn't hurt? It's turning purple. You should be careful, i read this can cause clots and can travel through you veins and kill you.” Everyone stared at Tanner, who was speaking really serious, looking at the mark. He looked up at his team and all of them, including Ilya, frowned upon his unnecesary comment.

“What? It's true!” He tried to defend himself, but everyone just sighed heavily.

“Do not worry. Doesn't hurt.” Ilya finally speaks and just walks to the showers, ignoring if anyone was trying to call for him.

He begins to wash up, clearing his body from the sweat, but his mind was tracing in his memories, looking for the time all of this was made. Everytime his hand finds a mark —new ones he discovers now and others his teammates remarked— his eyes tracks them. They didn't hurt and were red — he could even feel the little hollow made by those teeth— but nothing else, and that made him feel something warm in his insides.

Weird.

When his fingers slide through the one in his inner tight he had to stop his breathing a little—that one hurt. Just a little. He looked at it for a second, remembering better the night before, how that beautiful mouth was over him; licking, sucking, stealing the air from Ilya's lungs— and then he was free, Shane's hand still stimulating him, but can recollect his lips tracing across Ilya's skin, like he was looking for something. Something to sunk into. Maybe he rememebers the bite, maybe, but felt so over the moon that the memory slips away fast.

That was it.

Oh well.

He couldn't find out now, Shane wasn't here and he didn't wanna question him over the phone. He could do it later.

A week was ‘later’. Shane was back in Ottawa, in Ilya's lap on the couch, arms around his neck while Ilya was showered with kisses, kisses he missed deeply and could live only off of them. Kisses that lasted a little longer than usual, but not intense, just slides over Ilya's lips like the most delicate thing while he enjoyed Shane's weight on him.

He missed him.

How did he manage to live without this for so long? He can't imagine not touching Shane as much as he wants now.

Shane settles on him a little, Ilya's hands were sliding slowly over his shirt, caressing softly over the waist and then his back— but that didn't last long, his hands needed warmth.

Shane's skin is warm.

So his palms goes under his clothes, touching his pretty boy up and down, his gaze half closed fixated in his beloved's face although the kisses never stopped. When he touched his skin, Shane hummed low and his kisses went to Ilya's cheek and jaw.

“Did you miss me that much, Hollander?” His voice like a whisper and low, closing his eyes while smiling.

God, his boyfriend is so pretty.

Shane didn't reply, just kept his trail of kisses behind Ilya's ear, the side of his neck, slow and a little wet, keeping his lips a second too long on his skin —which made it climbed several degrees up—, then goes down to the crack in his neck and stopping there. Just a tiny moment. Ilya feels Shane breathing on him, making his heart race, and then feels the breath heavier because Shane parts his lips and his teeth make his move, marking Ilya's skin like fire.

Ilya's breath hitched.

“Shane...” Exhales his name like a plea, or a threat.

Shane still doesn't answer, just keeps on kissing him, his fingers slide one of Ilya's tank top strap a little so it doesn't interfere with his smooches, until he bites again on his shoulder, making Ilya shudder a bit. Maybe a bit too much.

“Shane.” Calls him again, breathing in deep, real deep. Shane finally looks at him, but doesn't look so pleased—he frowns, his hands goes down on Ilya's chest, staying there. His temple rests on the shoulder he just bit, glancing at Ilya, letting out a little sigh. “What?” His tone makes the sides of Ilya's mouth perk a bit.

So sweet

“Solnyshko, you bit me pretty strong last time. If you go on, the guys will worry more.” Shane's eyes widened. He sat up and stared at him, looking surprised, or embarrassed?

“The guys?” His tone almost sounded innocent. Almost. His eyes never leaving Ilya's.

“Yes. They saw them. One or two were deep, and they got worried. They said i was gonna be eaten.”

“Oh... i see. Sorry.” Shane breakes eye contact, looking down at something Ilya's not sure what. Doesn't let him. Ilya takes his chin between his fingers lifting him so they meet again.

“You know i do not care. I'm yours, you can do whatever you want with me. All i'm saying is to be careful.” His team doesn't know about them, and he knows Shane doesn't want them to know, so yes, they should be more careful.

Shane bit his bottom lip a bit.

Ilya saw it.

His thump started tracing Shane's chin gently, his other hand kept Shane in place, right on his waist, firm.

“Okay...” Says breathing out the word.

Now Ilya bit his own bottom lip a little.

“They said you were gonna be eaten?” Shane asks, staring, but his eyes went from Ilya's eyes to his cheekbones, nose and now lips.

He feels analyzed.

He kinda likes it.

“Yes.”

“And you don't mind?”

“No.”

“Doesn't sound bad.”

Ilya hummed approvingly. His fingertips leaves his chin and slides from there to his throat, feeling the way Shane swallows, making his smile widened.

He makes his way to the neck, barely touching the hair in Shane's neck. The movements were slow, deliberate, feeling the heat under his skin creeping in.

He really liked how he was trembling under his touch.

Shane was staring at his lips, like always. Maybe trying to say with his gaze what he wanted.

“Am i food now?” He says a bit sarcastic, expecting a curse, a laugh. But Shane doesn't respond right away, his eyes goes up again— Ilya forgets how to breath.

Oh.

“N-No, you're not food... but... I— well, not really, you can't be food— but...” And there he goes again. His mind goes faster than his own words or thoughts because he can't make up a proper sentence. Shane opens his mouth a little and closes again seconds later, trying to mantain eye contact. He really tries.

So cute when he tries hard.

Ilya's hand cups one of Shane's cheeks. His breath changes —his chest raising a little more than before—, leans just a bit over Ilya, and his head tilts just to feel the palm that was soothing him.

“But?” Now he does expect an answer.

Shane can't help it. He averts his eyes.

“Shane, tell me.”

Shane looks at him again, takes a deep breath and speaks more clearly.

“Are you sure... you weren't bother... by the bites? Even if i did too much?” Ilya raises a brow. He took his time, staring into Shane's eyes, maybe waiting to catch if he can tell just by looking at him, but he knows better than that; he knows Shane needs confirmation. Needs words.

“I said no, why? Want to make more?” Asks, smiling slightly.

Oh.

He was sure, so fucking sure he just saw Shane's eyes sparkled for a split second. Every fiber in his body trembled, from head to toe. He swallowed hard, his mouth made a fine line like he struggled to holding back a sigh. Or a moan.

The pencils incident flew back to his memory, how Shane reacted, how they never appeared again, but now Shane's teeth were all over him.

“Am i a replacement for those pencils?” He asks softly, pushing Shane closer to him by his waist.

Shane stayed still a moment.

Ilya asumed he felt trapped. Of course he can deny it, but Ilya will only push back because he knows.

He studied him, and he was being studied too.

The silence stretched for two seconds more. He almost can see the gears rolling in Shane's head.

And suddenly saw Shane relaxed a little all on his own.

He swallows and then shakes his head a little.

“The other way around.”

Oh.

Why was he biting pencils and then him? Anxiety? Just a thing he has always wanted to do and now can't hide it anymore? Too many questions were flying to his mind, but couldn't think how to form them.

Ilya let go of Shane's face and tapped his hips, gesturing for him to get up, and by Shane's expression he could tell he didn't wanted to, but he did it anyway— he always does. Ilya gets up from the couch too, takes Shane's hand and walked across the living room. Shane just follows him. Either of them says anything. Their steps syncronized. Passed the couch, going to the stairs, one step at the time. Ilya feels his hand being gripped from time to time, and he knows Shane is trying to catch his attention, but he doesn't give in. Not yet.

Cute

They reach the bedroom. He lets him go, walks to the middle of the room and then turns around, looking at Shane standing outside. He doesn't go in, just looks at him for a moment. Ilya thinks he's trying to figure it out if he can. If he wants to.

Ilya smiles a little soft.

That makes the trick for Shane to step inside, shutting the door behind him.

They don't exchange a word, just stare at eachother, like they're waiting for something to happen, or someone to make the first move.

Ilya begins to undress himself, tuging his tank top over his head, holding it by his fingers, stretch his arm and drops it. The piece of clothing hits the floor. Shane's eyes follow every movement. Ilya smirks.

He was wearing track pants, so his thump went between his hip and the fabric, detached it and slide it down a little so it falls to the ground easily. He steps out of it and kicks it away.

Again, Shane only watches, not moving. Ilya thinks he's enjoying the show by how his breathing is changing.

He sees how his eyes flickers, how his bottom lip is bitten just a bit. He loves how he can take this reaction from him, how Shane waits for instruction, how he gives this type of control only to him.

Only to Ilya.

Ilya raises his arms, like showing him what stands before him, making Shane snorts and shakes his head.

“Cocky.” Shane adds while scanning Ilya's body.

“Yes.” Smirks back.

Ilya climbs the bed, only the creaking sound fills the room besides their breathing. He sits in the center, legs crossed and faces Shane. He extends a hand, palm up, inviting him.

“Come.” Voice soft, not commanding.

Shane finally take a few steps, calm steps, looking at the extended hand and takes it, placing his palm on top of the other, but doesn't squeeze. He stands at the edge of the bed.

“Here you have me.” Shane blinks.

“What?”

“Did not want to bite me more? Well, here i am” Ilya raises an eyebrow first and then shruggs, like this was a typical Tuesday. Shane stares at him, like he was trying to figure out if Ilya was joking or not. Of course not, Ilya never jokes about Shane's fixation of the day.

Ilya pulls him closer, but Shane's expression changes again, like he's still thinking. Sometimes he spirals around the issue a little too much—so Ilya stops pulling.

“You are thinking too much again, Shane”

“It's just...”

“You don't want?”

“No—I mean, yes, but—” Shane stops his words, like he didn't know if he sould continue. But even with his hesitation, he can tell Shane glances at his marks, in his pec, in his side, and specially in his thigh. Ilya grins, sliding his fingertips around Shane's wrist, making him squirm.

“You are staring.”

Shane swallows.

“C'mon. It is your moment.”

His fingers grips Shane and again begins to pull, and Shane surrenders. Climbing too to the bed and over Ilya, who lays down willingly.

He lets him go, his hands goes up behind his head, flexing his muscles—smiling when he notices his boyfriend tracing with one palm his abs, his side exactly over the first mark that triggered all of this. Ilya takes a deep breath.

He didn't want to break the moment Shane was having. His eyes were looking closer at the marks, and then went down to the one in his inner thigh.

“This one looks rough.” Shane's fingertips slides softly over it, like appreciating it.

“Is starting to heal, so is okay.”

“Mmm...” Murmurs low, like in trance. One hand reache for Shane's face, caressing his soft cheek, making Shane close his eyes just for a second and opening them up again, glancing at him. A small smile makes his way.

“What?” Ilya asks.

“Nothing.” Shane closes the distance, cuping Ilya's cheeks and kiss him softly, first his bottom lip, tilting his head for a better angle.

With every kiss, Ilya's mind was melting. He was so sweet, and sometimes it was too much for him.

Shane's fingers begin to go to his curls and squeeze them a bit.

Makes Ilya sigh almost like a moan— can't help it; everytime he touches his hair it makes his all body vibrates, a warmth stays there for a moment and the next it expands all over him, making him dizzy. With every second that passes the kiss deepens, his tongue meets Shane's and he lets him control the rhythm, how deep he wants to go, how intense he wants it to be. Hm...

Maybe he finds new things too.

Ilya's hands goes to Shane's waist pushing this clothes up to take it off. Shane complies. His shirt falls to the floor and his mouth is bussy again a few moments later.

He complies to that.

Their bodies are pressed together, seeking the heat of the other. His hands moves to Shane's hips, gripping there to ground himself, trying to stay somewhat focused.

But is he on fire? Maybe.

That will explain how every brush makes him shudder and burn to the core— but just a little because he has a reputation to keep.

But his reputation can't keep him from shaking. Shane's fingertips are changing their path. They go down slowly on his neck, pecs, slides right above his ribs. Even the contact of his nails makes him groan a bit and Shane grins lightly against his mouth— until they reach his thigh, putting pressure on the mark, and a heavy sigh escapes his lips.

“Hurts?” Shane asks sweetly. So sweet.

“No.” Breathes the word with lidded eyes.

One hand leaves Shane's hip and grabs his neck, taking his mouth once more and his own hips finally moves, seeking a most necessary friction against the other, and now he takes Shane's delicious sighs, feeling his shivers above him.

That makes him smirk.

He wants to test something now.

He takes Shane's bottom lip between this teeth, pulling just a little to make his pretty boyfriend moan, which he archives.

“Mm, seems like is not only about me.” Points out and chuckles.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Their eyes sparkles, because when a challenge is involved they can't resist it. They have to prove it, prove they can do it.  

Shane bites his jaw —stealing another shake from Ilya— and goes down his neck, leaving behind a path of open kisses while he adjust, securing Ilya's hips between his thick tighs.

Ilya can only lay there, receiving every little thing Shane wants to give him.

His hands goes down too, looking for Shane's pants to remove them, but he can make only a mere brush before his wrists are taken and pressed against the mattress.

Ilya's taken aback.

“You said I can do whatever i want with you, right?” Shane speaks softly and low against the crook of his neck. Ilya swallows and nods once. Just once.

“Good, then stay still and let me”.

Oh.

It's not usual he can see Shane like this, but when he's feeling this relaxed, this safe, and with his desires served in silver plate, maybe the gods will shine on you and make all of your dreams come true: which is Shane making his way with you.

Ilya can only nod again and do as told. He relaxes, tries not to fight him— he really wants to know what he would do to him.

The waiting is killing him.

Shane Hollander is killing him.

Again his body betrays him, can't control it, because, well... Shane goes from the other side of his neck to his shoulder —the one side who wasn't attacked before—, leaving kisses and maybe a little lick here and there, but not doing what he said he was going to do and is making Ilya lose his mind little by little.

Why won't he—

And Ilya's breath stops.

Shane starts to trace his skin with his teeth, biting like a kid that is learning what he can and can't do. He inhales deeply, trying to compose himself, but fails almost immediately when Shane finally goes a little strong on his neck, right in the middle.

“Fuck.” Mumbles while trembling. Shane only smiles and licks his doing.

He keeps on biting a little until reaches his shoulder and bites again stronger, and once again Ilya can only shake and closes his eyes. He tried but couldn't control his hands, fighting a little against him, but Shane make use of his strong arms and pins him down more.

God, his lungs are out of air.

“Shane...” His name escapes like he is begging. Maybe he is.

His hands are itchy.

He needs to touch him, this is torture.

Why did he even agree to all of this?

He lowered his eyes, and he meets Shane going to his chest, leaving soft bites, a sucking in his left pec, close to his loon tattoo that makes his hip jerk a little.

“Sweetheart, what—”

The grip in his wrists softened, and Shane's palm goes down with him, caressing Ilya's forearms in the way.

Shane lowers even more, making his way to his abs, licking every line and forces a reaction from Ilya —a groan, a pant, a sigh—.

His hands goes to either side of Ilya's body, like trying to keep him in place.

Ilya's arms stays up. He doesn't know why.

And then Shane bites every one of his abs with precision.

One

“Ah, Shane...”

Two, with a little force.

“W-Wait...”

Three, and then his flat tongue went over it.

“F-Fuck.”

Four. He opened his mouth more just to grab more and does it stronger.

“¡B-Blyad-ah-!”

Five. He ended it with a suction.

“T-That..”

Six.

Bites hard in the last one, making Ilya's moan loudly, his hands finally gripping Shane's hair.

His back arches only a little and his head goes back, sinking into the pillow.

Jesus. He hopes he didn't came from this or it would be very dissapointing.

His hands loosened the grip and begins to stroke him softly, taking a few strands away from his forehead. Shane was going down more, licking that very specific line that goes right to his dick, like an arrow pointing at it.

Ilya exhales.

Shane tongues is so hot it's making him feverish.

“Even more?”

Please, God, Allah, Zeus, anyone, someone have mercy on this poor soul because there's no way this gorgeous man have the most shinny and beautiful brown eyes to ever exist, looking at Ilya with the most utterly satisfaction when he hears the question— but like before, he doesn't replay right away, just glances at him a moment, smiling a little. The silence stretch a bit.

Ilya breaths in deep.

“Sounds something you want too” Finally speaks, but against Ilya's skin and makes his body shiver.

God, seems like he's really starting to forget how to breath.

His dick hurts. His underwear has a stain clearly showing Ilya's suffering.

Shane's hands goes to each side of Ilya's boxer and slides it down slowly, never leaving Ilya's eyes as he goes— until Ilya's erection is on fully display. Shane lowered his gaze and kiss right in the middle of his dick. It makes him twitch and dripping right over his abs. Ilya breaths out the air he's been holding back without even knowing.

“Not there...”

“You don't get to decide that.”

Shane says low, defiant, and so so so beautifully that Ilya can't say anything back.

Ilya can't take his eyes off of him, following every little thing he does while one hand caress Shane's hair, not forcing anything, just needing to touch him. The other one stays on the sheets, using his elbow to support himself and get a better view.

He can't stop looking.

Oh, what a sight.

Shane's dreamy lips aparts, stick his tongue out and slides all the way from bottom to top on Ilya's cock, sucking at the end, making him shudder. His hands clenches on the sheets and Shane's scalp. Ilya sees Shane's Adam apple bobbing.

Jesus, he swallowed his precum.

Shane licks his lips slightly.

“Shane...” What more could he say than his name like the most precious thing on earth?

Shane slides this tongue against his erection again, not swallowing anymore so it's making him more slick, his hands firm on Ilya's thighs, sometimes pressing on them trying to cause a reaction from Ilya. Most likely.

His hand free Shane's hair, but only a little, because he needs to stroke his cheek slowly, mesmerized in the scene that he would never get tired of seeing. Shane closes his eyes, his freckles pops up by the sweet red on them and makes a sound from the back of his throat that goes straight to Ilya's dick.

“You are so beautiful”.

Shane responds by passing his tongue to the top, sucking a little and then going down on him inch by inch, making Ilya's mind go blank, his mouth lost for words and just shudder while the warmth of his boyfriend's mouth wraps around him. His head goes back, letting a loud groan from the very bottom of his throat. His all body tense up.

So good, so fucking good.

Shane's tongue was making little movements inside his mouth, going through every vein that will stick out. Oh god, and he didn't even make it all the way down— he stopped half way, then went up again slowly, sucks the tip —to which Ilya's response is a moan— and goes down again.

Maybe he is really trying to kill him.

“Shane.”

He starts bobbing his head, breathing through his nose.

“There you go.” He does the same. “Through your nose, sweetheart.”

Shane just humms softly and every time he goes down, the distance between his nose and Ilya's pelvis is shorter and shorter.

He just loves when Shane fucking Hollander takes him apart, making him only moans and sighs.

He likes more when Shane falls apart.

But for now he will let him, let him suck him like he wants, savour him all the time he wants (he will try not to come, even though it's quite hard), only so he can see this amazing sight. Shane's eyebrows goes a little up, frowns sometimes, like he didn't know if this is difficult or if he is enjoying it.

Maybe both.

He's feeling close, really close, but doesn't want to come just yet.

He's about to tell him that until something changes.

Oh.

Ilya's breath was caught.

“F-Fuck, Shane—”. His teeth makes his apparence, Shane angle his head to the side to make it better, sliding his plate on his wet erection from Shane's fluid. A weird and exquisite electricity goes thought his spine, making him shudder like no other. His orgasm was right there, but it went down, making him go crazy; but this sensation, feeling Shane's canine scraping his foreskin was something he never thought he will ever experience. He never imagined he'd like it this much.

He wasn't biting or putting force, he was just sliding them slowly, like tracing every part of Ilya, licking from time to time and then going down.

“Yeshche raz.” Mumbles between his teeth, not knowing if Shane will understand him.

But maybe Shane knows more than he thinks because that's exactly what he does.

Shane relaxes his throat, he can tell by the way his cock goes all the way down, touching the back of Shane's mouth.

Jesus, this must be paradise.

Ilya can't make anything even remotly to words, he just curses in Russian and then mumbles sweet things to Shane who maybe doesn't understand them; not because of language, he's saying them in english, but because they get lost in his sighs and whimpers.

When Shane goes up, his teeth brush him again, making him pant every damn time, his lungs running out of air. His body can only tremble and his cock twitch with delightment.

“Sweetheart, I—I am not—” His breathing was heavy, his hand clinging to the sheets and knuckles white. He's feeling like is going to go crazy at any second; but before he could Shane lets him go, his head goes back, making a little “pop” on his way and lick his plumps lips after.

“Fucking hell, what—”

“You can't come unless it's inside me”.  His breathing is uneven, but he tries to speak as firmly as he can.

So fucking stunning.

Shane went down again, but not to his tortured cock.

He went to kiss his thighs, with Ilya watching as Shane took his own pants and boxer, slipping them off in one movement and tossing them aside, along with his socks. Shane sighs over him, his hot breath making him shiver.

Maybe Shane felt free or the cold breeze forced him to make that sound.

He was going to make a sly remark like he always does, but it gets caught and replaced by a low moan— all because his lovely boyfriend decides to bite him again, right there on his inner tight, opposite of the mark made the other time—one that was fading away.

It was green, and like he said, didn't hurt.

Not now.

He feels Shane's thump tracing it. Ilya swallows, his eyes follows him, watching him closely as Shane's eyes doesn't look at him, only looking at his previous work.

Ilya chuckles.

“It's healing.” Murmurs. The hand on Shane's hair goes to his cheek, caressing it with the side of his thump, touching his freckles like he hadn't done that a thousand times, but he can't never get tired of it.

The most beautiful constellations.

“Mm, yeah...” Says soft and low, almost like a whisper— maybe to him or maybe to himself. Shane kisses it again.

“What is it, malysh?”

“I don't want it to go away” His voice sounds like music to Ilya's ears. He loves it when Shane speaks about his own desires— maybe Ilya came to this time and place just to make all of Shane's wishes come true.

He grins a little wider.

“Then do not let it go away”

Shane looks up, like searching in Ilya's eyes a sign that he was just kidding, that he didn't just gave him permission, like he understood him correctly.

You can do everything you want with me.

They stare at eachother a couple seconds more where Shane just goes around his features, and when his gaze stays on his mouth, Ilya pushes his lips like blowing a kiss to him, and he smiles a bit. Of course he has permission.

His eyes goes back to the green mark and, without warning, just licks it and starts sucking. Ilya groans, breathing deep and shaking all over, all at the same time. His hand goes again on Shane's hair, the other one stands restless over the sheets, squeezing them a little sometimes.

Finally sinks this teeth on him again, making Ilya moan loudly, more than he thought he would, feeling his skin burning between each tooth and being licked later like a compensation for the pain. The sweet, sweet pain.

Sweet like Shane, because he can tell he didn't bite him in the same spot. No, he did it right below, maybe because Shane knows the same stupid and nerd thing Tanner said a few days ago. His caring and sweet boy.

That doesn't mean Shane didn't use the strength he wanted.

It hurts. Its hurts but his cock seems to think differently... or maybe he thinks exactly how much he enjoyed it and twitched at the sensation. The rush goes to his veins and filling his head, making him dizzy, captivated by him.

Shane goes a little more down, more inside and bites again, less force than the last one, and Ilya's hips jerks.

“I don't know who is enjoying it more...” Shane remarks with a little laugh, pressing his cheek on the place recently marked, and his hands goes softly in Ilya's skin; but Ilya had enough. He can't really take it anymore or is going to lose his fucking mind.

Ilya pushes up a little and takes Shane's wrist.

“Come.” His voice steadied that he thought it would sound.

Shane smiles but doesn't push back. He lets himself being pulled closer, climbing on top of Ilya to be devoured by him like he is the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. One hand went to his nape, placing it to keep Shane close while his tongue explore every little corner, holding for himself Shane's sighs and pants.

Too much tongue. Too much teeth.

So much teeth.

His free hand flew to Shane's ass, grabbing him firmly, squeezing like his life depends on it. His hip seeks friction, needs it, and his hand helps to it, dragging Shane's erection against his own. Shane pants again.

“Lube.” Mutters, his mind is pure chaos, racing a hundred thoughts at the time, and nothing at all, just ShaneShaneShaneShane.

Shane nods lightly. He stretches his arm, his hand looking blindly for the nightstand's drawer while his mouth is under attacked by canines that makes him shudder, Ilya can feel it.

He found it. Struggles to open it up but when he does his hands grips strongly to the side of the drawer, making it crack a bit. Ilya's hips wasn't giving Shane a rest, just keeps on moving, making his cock slides and rubs against Shane's, while Ilya's hand on his ass holds him steady there.

“I-Ilya, wait...” Shane breaks the kiss a little, breathing out those words because he can't grab what was requested.

Ilya chuckles.

“C'mon, malysh. Grab it.”

Ilya lets him escape. But that doesn't mean he can wait.

Shane's neck is under attack now. His crook is wet, Ilya's tongue traces hot lines and slow kisses.

But because he senses movement, Ilya glances at Shane, seeing how he moves to do was asked of him, and his eyes goes to Shane's chest right in front of him.

Ilya licks his own lips.

He shifts his body a little low, using Shane's distraction. While Shane looks for the item, Ilya's tongue traps one of Shane's nipples and licks it all over. Movements in circles and then sucks it with a little force.

Shane moans and shudders.

Ilya's hands were everywhere —back, ass, shoulder, waist— and Shane struggles to keep on tracking the things.

“I-I can't...”

“Yes, you can.”

Ilya enforces. Shane swallows and tries, really tries, to search for the item despite Ilya's effort to make this difficult.

Shane manages to do it. His hands grip strongly the bottle while one nipple is sucked and the other one is being pull a bit by two fingers.

“Asshole...” Breathes out, frowning a little and looking back at him.

Ilya smiles against his skin.

“Well done”.

His curls are tugged in a second, jerking his head back, robbing him a low groan, while is been pulled away from Shane's chest, but rewarded by his mouth, his sweet and hot lips that kisses him like they hadn't a second ago. When his hand was going to Shane face, his palm feels a soft pat and it sounds like plastic; yes, the bottle. He grabs it while his cheeks are trapped between Shane's hands, and the kiss breaks just a little and turns into a slow one with a dearing pace, with so much softness that completely disarms him.

Never breaking the kiss— he opens the bottle with his thump and dumps a generous amount on his fingers, and then a bit of it between Shane's buttcheeks.

He shudders, sighing against Ilya's mouth.

Ilya's wet fingers went to his rim, tracing it a little, making his boyfriend trembles, and watching him with hungry eyes at how Shane tries not to make louder noises. Ilya smiles.

His hand went another way— without taking his eyes off of him, his lubricated hand went between their bodies, grabbing Shane's dick, closing his fingers and starts moving it lazily.

“Ah! I-Ilya... wh-what...” Seems he expected something different, but seeing him desperate was one of many Ilya's favourite views. His curls were grabbed again, harder this time, making him choke a moan.

Their foreheads were pressed against eachother: Shane's eyes were closed, his lips parted, and Ilya was enchanted by all his eyes were taking.

So so so beautiful.

His dick was throbbing, leaking precum that fell on his abdomen, but he genuinely couldn't care less if he can watch Shane's expression forever. Shane kisses him again, desesperate, sloppy, his teeth clashing but seems like either of them cared.

His lips were sore by now.

But it was the best feeling ever.

His thump was moving in circles over Shane's tip and he moans a little more, longer, feeling their chests together.

“Please...” Shane whines.

“Please what, malysh?” Asks softly against his lips. Shane complains a bit but only with sounds.

“What do you want, Shane?” Asks again.

“Please... your fingers. Your fingers inside me, Ilya, please...”

Doesn't have to say it twice. He squeezes more lube over Shane's crack, leaves the bottle aside, and his others fingers are the ones that makes his entrances, only his middle finger goes slowly, forcing his way just a bit, slowly and carefully— because that's all Shane deserves, just pure adoration.

Shane has many things to adore.

Ilya watches him carefully, looking in his face for any sign of disconfort, but it never appears. Shane pants low, forehead going to Ilya's neck, trembling while the finger in him goes in and out.

“Okay?” Ilya's voice is soft and sweet. Shane nods.

“Words, Shane.”

“Yes, 'mokay”.

Another finger goes in, Shane shivers again, his all body is shaking. Ilya leaves gentles kisses in his temple or his shoulder. His fingers scissors him, stretching him, while feeling Shane's fingers dig into his skin. He never stopped moving his hand on Shane's dick, but always at slow pace.

“Still okay?”

Shane tries to nod but stops halfway. “Yes.”

Ilya smiles. He remembered.

Ilya adds another one, and now Ilya trembles and a low groan gets stuck in his throat. Fuck, Shane bit him in the neck and almost made him come.

“Jesus, fuck.” Exhales, his actions stutter a moment, but regain his pace, on his back and on his dick, always putting Shane on edge but not quite getting to the end.

“Il-ya w-wait... ah.... please...” He struggled to form words.

“Please what?”

“I-It's too much...”

“Want me to stop?”

Shane shakes his head and moans softly again.

“Please...”

“What do you want?”

“Please... just fuck me. Just fuck me already, please.” Stumbling over his words, Shane tried to convein his desire at the best of his rationality.

Ilya can't say no to him.

He hums, letting go both estimulation, making Shane whimper a little for the loss, and grabs him by the hips, position him over his erection.

“C'mon sweetheart. Go down. Go at your pace.”

Shane lifts himself in a upright position, looking down at Ilya who smiles a little wider at the sight. Shane's breathing is uneven, his skin is glowing with sweat, his freckles stands up more for the pretty colour over them.

It's really not fair.

Shane nods. A hand goes to Ilya's cock and place it under him. His other hand goes to Ilya's chest for support, and Ilya place one palm over it with heavy breathing.

He goes down little by little, his hole stretching even more, and god help him, there's is no fucking way in this entire world that there is a better sensation than Shane's insides clenching on him, swallowing and making him feel even warmer.

God, the best feeling ever.

Both of them were moaning soft, like they couldn't be louder or there will be problems like old times. But this isn't old times, and they can do the fuck they want.

At least in this bed.

Every damn inch he goes down is a new star behind Ilya's eyes. He feels dizzy, but at the same time feels like touching heaven and Shane's whimpers are part of the song the angels are playing for him. His hand is pressing hard on Shane's skin, trying not to force him in anyway, only guide him like always, but sometimes he thinks it will leave marks on him.

He wishes for it.

When Shane's ass touches his thighs, Ilya lets a loud groan escapes his mouth. He can't help it.

“So tight for me, Hollander.”

His eyes went from the conection between their bodies to the full picture, and...

Holy shit.

Shane's thighs spread apart at either side of Ilya's body, shinning by sweat drops that didn't begin there but made his way along them; amazing and tensed abs behind a burning and dripping erection that made Ilya's mouth water. Pecs that goes up and down in a slow rhythm because maybe Shane is trying to catch his breath; his biceps fully extended—one hand resting on Ilya's chest, the other on his knee— looking spectacular and ending in firm, well-defined shoulders that supports a divine neck worthy of being flooded with a hundred kisses. A delicate and yet sharp jaw; his lips, dear lord, his lips were pinky and swollen, partly parted, glowing and perfect, and now he wasn't sure if this was a result of nature itself or the countless kisses, but they were undoubtedly exquisite. His nose perfectly shaped and pointy, adorned with the most beautiful freckles imaginable, crossing along his cheeks; those cheeks that were painted in the most perfect pink, highlighting his features even more. His deep brown eyes now gleam with contained tears, behind long and moist eyelashes. His eyebrows are relaxed, showing an expression of pure excitement that could make even Zeus fall to his knees and beg for more; ending all in strands of hair on his face, drenched in sweat yet clinging together so perfectly that it's almost unfair.

It really should be illegal to be this gorgeous.

“Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna move?” Shane's voice brings him back, making him blink twice; but Shane's hips it's what wakes him up completely.

His jaw clenches, inhales deep and lets out the air almost like a whistle because the sensation was all too much, all too sudden. The friction was perfect, just perfect, and every time the drops aligned with Shane's most sensitive parts, — he can tell by how his cock is clenched every single time— Ilya just surrenders to it and moans a little loud each time.

His fingers didn't know what to do anymore; sometimes they dig in Shane's back dimples or they go up and down slowly on his skin, just feeling him, sometimes moving him or other times just resting there. He wanted to remember every time the were together, engrave in his memory all of this so he can replay it in his mind when they have to be apart again.

His head goes back, mouth open and lets out another moan when Shane changes the angle, going a little forward, both hands on this chest and rocks him just perfect.

Shane is perfect.

“Oh my god... Ilya, there-yes, Ilya.” He would never get tired of hearing his name being spoken so sweetly yet so desperate. His mind was melting, couldn't form a normal sentence, his body was just pure sensation.

Pure Shane Hollander.

“I love you.” Slips between pants from Ilya's mouth.

Can't stand it anymore.

He adjusts his position, heels on the mattress, grabs firmly Shane's hips, and starts moving more like he wants to. Shane trembles, going more forward, hands on Ilya's shoulders and starts moaning over his mouth. They don't kiss, just breath over eachother.

“Iloveyou—ah— Il—ah— Ilyafuckfuckfuck.” He was ramming Shane like his life was depending on it. He liked when Shane was like this, feeling him, speaking fast. Shane's hips were meeting his thrusts in the middle.

So cute. So sexy.

He sees how Shane bit his bottom lip, drowing his moans.

He was about to come.

Gathering all the rationality he has left, he grabs Shane by his ass, makes him stop and lifts him up, sliding out with a wet and filthy sound. Shane whimpers.

“W-What—”

“Chest down, ass up, malysh.” He pats his sides, smiling even with his chest going up and down pretty fast.

Shane frowns. Of course he doesn't like it, he was about to come.

Even so Shane does as told. Goes to the side, placing his chest on the bed, arms besides his head that rest on the pillows, legs apart and ass up, arching his back.

The most delicious posture he could do.

Ilya moves to him while Shane repositions himself, leaving sweet kisses on his shoulder, between his shoulder blades and in his low back. Sometimes leaves a little bite that makes Shane shudder.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

“I know, my love.”

He places himself behind, his hands sliding over Shane's ass, just feeling him, his smooth skin and his trembles. He leans into him again, leaving kisses while going up Shane's back until he kisses his shoulder. One hand goes to his own dick, placing it right in Shane's entrance— which makes Shane pant loudly— and the other hand grabs him by the waist firmly.

With one move he enters him deep and his teeth sinks in Shane's skin, at the same time. Shane hides his face on the pillows, hands gripping the sheets with such a force that his knuckles were turning white, and stifles, maybe a moan, maybe a scream; Ilya doesn't know, he just stays like this a moment.

“God, you are tight.” How can that be? They just—

“Shane?” Without pulling out, he straightens up and tilts his head, looking for a gaze that isn't there.

“Shane? Are you ok?” Shane couldn't stop shaking, his hands weren't releasing the fabric.

Oh, no, he didn't hurt him, right?

He went down a little more, pushing his hand between the bed and Shane's face so he can grab him.

“Sweetheart, answer me, please.” Yes, maybe he was panicking a little.

Shane isn't aswering at all.

Ilya pushes his hand and when he can finally take him, cupping his chin and forcing him—even thought Shane didn't put up much of a fight— to turn his face over and at least look at him, Ilya stands still.

Oh.

His eyes were shinning and half-open, a trail of tears went to the sheets, lips parted, gaze gone like he was watching a blank spot in the room.

God.

“Did you came?” Ilya asks, half surprised, half excited.

He looked down the best he could, looking at the cum below Shane, staining the sheets.

Of course Shane didn't replay. More like he couldn't.

Ilya can't help but smile.

His sweet and weak-to-pleasure Hollander.

He starts moving a little, going a little out and sliding in, and apparently that wakes him up because he opens his eyes wide and the next second closes them, whimpering and moaning low with a raspy voice.

“Shane, answer me.” His movements were really slow. It was agony, but was forcing him to talk.

“N-No... ah....” Nonsense.

“Words.”

“I... ah... couldn't hold... ah... it. I'm so-ah-sorry.”

So, so sweet.

“Is okay. Can you go on?”

Shane nods against the bed, opening his eyes and glances at him. Ilya didn't let go of his face and now he was caressing Shane's cheek slowly with his thump.

“More, please... Ilya, more”.

Ilya stays still.

“Are you—”

“Harder Ilya, please. More.”

“Baby...”

Really, it should be illegal to be this pretty.

Ilya loosens the grip, holds Shane by the waist with one hand steady, looking for something to ground him or he will lose it just by Shane's words; and the free one goes between Shane's shoulder blades keeping him in place.

“Anything you want, moya lyubov”

 And like this his rhythm starts going up, a pace that forces a moan from him and Shane at the same time. Every second that passes his thrusts speed up to the point of pulling out only half of it and going down hard and without mercy, making Shane sliding in the sheets and forcing out the most delicious sounds from Shane's throat.

Shane wasn't saying anything coherent, just babbling letters that didn't make sense at first, but with time passing Ilya can make something bearly understandible that are a mix of ohmygod, more, ilya, iloveyou, and then the words gets lost in syllables.

The room was filled with their breathing —sucking air that didn't, couldn't, fill their lungs—, their shaky voices, their skins crashing against eachother and Shane pleas.

“I-Ilya-no.. ah-I-can't... w-wai- can't hold-ah-fuckfuckfuuuck.” Every thrust cuts his words.

“Come for me, malysh. Come from my cock again.”

Shane buries his face on the pillows, trying to drown a scream—probably— while shaking so hard, clenching around Ilya's cock that makes him shudder too, and cumming a second time.

Ilya's hips stutter a bit, closing his eyes for a moment, but opens them again when he hears Shane who moans more with his face turned, cheek on the bed and looking at him the best he can.

“F-Fuuuck, Shane, don't...”

“Please, don't stop. Come inside, please Ilya, i need it, please.”

He speaks really fast like he didn't want his voice to shake but fails.

Ilya bits his lip.

God, he really can't with him.

He would do everything Shane asks him to do.

With the permission Ilya goes hard, chasing his own release but didn't take much time to do it

A few more thrusts and he's sinking into him, filling him like he was asked; and he is rewarded with a beautiful groan. “God, Shane...”

“Mm...” He seemed delighted, a tiny smile approaching in his lips while Ilya was trying to recover. He grins a bit.

“Are you gonna keep staring?” His accents thickens while he tries to slow down this breathing. Shane huffs softly without losing his smile.

“Oh, wow.” Harris says but cover his mouth right away, like sensing he wasn't supposed to say anything. He was looking at Ilya who just took his shirt off and then his pants without paying attention.

“Shit, there're a bunch more.” Boodram's voice sounds so surprised that makes Ilya look at him, raising a eyebrow. He extended a hand, touching a mark over Ilya's shoulder, but he moves his arm away.

“Is something precious. Do not touch it.” He says seriously, what makes Bood blinks a little, more surprised than before.

“Damn, are you gonna be eaten for real?” Wyatt asks amused by the sight of Ilya Rozanov covered in bites all over his body, and not just bites but also hickeys, some purple, some a little green, like there're new ones close to the old ones —neck, shoulders, pecs, abs, near his ribs, thighs, and even in his back, low and between his shoulder blades, even though he can't see them he sure felt them—.

Shane was so happy to make them, and Ilya was happy to provide the canvas for his favourite artist.

“Maybe not even my bones will be left.” The pride in his words were palpable, he didn't even want to hide it.

“Seems like you will actually die, Roz” Tanner shakes his head a little, true to his previous statement about the bites being fatal.

“You are not getting ride of me that easily” He gets dress properly, his equipment on his body, adjusting, and then his Centaurs shirt.

One of many bites in Ilya's skin is right under the same place were his C is in his shirt.

He likes it.

“Look, if we win tomorrow maybe those marks will be our lucky charm.” Harris says amused by his stupid suggestion, but Ilya seems to consider this a little more.

Doesn't sound so bad.

“Well, i will have to make sure they never fade away.” A couple of his teammates laugh it off, shaking their head or dismissing his word by moving a hand in the air. Harris scoffs and just leaves.

Time for a final training and then they will face another game, a game that now Ilya was seriously thinking about winning; because the idea of his team using Shane's bites like a lucky charm were wandering more than they should in his mind.

Just the thought was making him give his all. Not that he wasn't doing it already, but now... it was like he needed to do more.

And surely he could use this as an excuse to make Shane to keep on doing them.

Without dying, of course.

“Let's go!” Blades and sticks against the ice and the joy in Ilya's heart echo the rink.

Tomorrow it's gonna be a great game, he can feel it.

Tomorrow will be a great day, right?.