Chapter Text
It was all Rose’s idea.
This particular idea arrived on a Tuesday night in early June while Shane sat at his kitchen island in Ottawa, chowing down on turkey and brown rice while talking to Rose over FaceTime.
She had called him from the backseat of a town car, still wearing the makeup from a press event and a dress with so many crystals on it that every time she moved, light flashed across the screen.
“You need a Hot Girl Summer,” she said.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“A Hot Girl Summer?? Like what Megan Thee Stallion always says??” Rose’s eyebrows continued to raise.
Shane frowned. “Is that a wrestler?”
“Shane.” Rose sighed. “You’re so just proving my point. It’s a way of life. It’s about self love, and having fun and not giving a bit of a fuck every once in a while.”
“I guess I still don’t understand what the point is.”
“The point is that I’m so, so happy that you came out to me. And I know you told people on the Metros and some people didn’t have the best reaction. But I want you to know that you have so many more people in your corner that just want you to have fun.”
Coming out had gone better than every version he had rehearsed in his head.
His parents cried. His mother apologized if she had ever said anything that made him feel like he couldn’t tell her. His father engulfed him in a huge hug and asked if there were any “nice men in Montreal” that he was seeing.
Most of the Metros were fine with the news. He had already told Hayden and JJ in private. If anyone had an issue with it, they weren’t saying shit to his face. It's hard to try to give shit to the captain that led you to three Stanley Cups.
“What were you planning on doing this summer anyway except going to the cottage?” Rose asked.
“Well, besides going to my parents’ cottage as well, I have nothing.” Shane shrugged.
“That’s what I thought. Don’t be mad, but I already talked to JJ, Hayden and Jackie. They’re all down if you are. Pick any place and we’ll go with you as long as there’s half naked men for you to ogle at.”
Shane rolled his eyes, but his chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
He knew he was lucky. Rose had been his girlfriend once, and somehow despite being the biggest movie star on the planet, she had still become one of the safest people in his life. Hayden and JJ had spent years beside him in locker rooms, airports, and hotel hallways, seeing him at his best and when he was one bad game away from shutting down completely. Jackie, Hayd’s wife, had never treated him like an extension of Hayden or the team. She just understood him, and was judgement free.
The fact that Rose had called all of them and they had agreed without hesitation made him feel more emotional than he planned on admitting.
Later that night, long after Rose hung up, Shane sat at his kitchen island with zero idea on where he wanted to go.
The team always ended up in the same handful of places after the season. Miami. Cancun. Jamaica. Somebody had a guy who knew a guy with a yacht. Somebody else knew which club would let them skip the line. By August, every group chat was full of the same photos of boats and bottles.
Shane opened one tab after another.
Italy looked beautiful, but every article seemed to include a celebrity eating pasta outside while photographers stood conveniently nearby. Spain looked crowded. Mykonos looked loud.
He did want somewhere with beaches and clubs so even if he didn’t want to go out his friends wouldn’t get bored. He wanted somewhere with a gym nearby so he could work out and where Hayden and Jackie could lie beside a pool and enjoy being away from the kids without feeling guilty.
He also wanted somewhere nobody would expect him. He typed variations of private European island vacation, quiet luxury beach clubs and places hockey players do not go, which did not produce anything useful.
Eventually, after clicking through a travel blog, he found Hvar.
The pictures looked almost too bright to be real. Clear water pressed against rocky beaches. White boats filling the harbor. Stone streets winding between old buildings. There were beach clubs, restaurants, private villas, and enough nightlife that would satiate all of them.
He spent the next hour reading reviews. Hvar was lively in the summer, but there were quieter areas outside the center of town. It had luxury hotels and private homes close to the water. People could take boats to nearby islands for dinner and dancing. One article described it as welcoming to gay travelers.
Shane stopped scrolling and sent the link to the group chat Rose had created. Within a few days, it was settled. Flights were booked, a villa was reserved, and they were leaving in two weeks.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------
Two weeks later, they were standing in the entryway of a villa near Podstine and the villa looked even better than it had online. White stone walls, green shutters, and wide glass doors that opened toward a private pool. Pine trees surrounded the terrace, giving them enough cover from the neighboring properties without blocking the view of the water. The Adriatic stretched out behind the house, bright blue beneath the afternoon sun.
After everyone was settled, they met outside in the backyard. JJ appeared with the bottle of Veuve Clicquot the owners had left them.
“House meeting,” Rose announced.
“We just got here,” Hayden said.
“Exactly. This is when rules are established.”
Shane looked toward the pool. “Can’t we establish them after we swim?”
“No.”
Rose gathered them around one of the patio tables. Jackie sat down with a relieved sigh after confirming over the phone that her parents and the kids had survived without her and Hayden. Hayden stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders while JJ opened the champagne and spilled some across the table.
Rose ignored him.
“Rule one. No work emails beside the pool.”
She looked at Shane, who had already pulled his phone from his pocket after feeling it vibrate.
“It could be important.”
“If somebody has been traded, arrested, or killed, Hayden and JJ will receive the same email.”
Shane put the phone facedown.
“Rule two,” Rose continued. “Nobody counts macros. Training can wait for a little vacation fun.”
“That’s not how macros work.” Shane rebutted.
“I can do whatever I want, it's Hot Girl Summer.”
Shane groaned.
“Rule three. Shane has to accept compliments without arguing.”
Jackie looked up at him. “Your hair looks nice.”
“I need a haircut.”
Rose pointed at him. “That. You can’t do that.”
“My hair is too long.”
“It’s been thirty seconds and you’ve already broken the rule twice.”
JJ poured champagne into five glasses. “Does the punishment involve shots?”
“There’s no punishment,” Shane said.
“There should be,” Rose replied. “Final rule. Everyone has fun, nobody apologizes for it, and absolutely no second guessing. Go with your gut.”
Rose picked up her glass and held her other hand above the table.
“Hands in.”
Shane stared at her. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on.”
“Hot Girl Summer on three.”
“I’m not doing that.”
Jackie placed her hand over Rose’s. JJ immediately added his. Hayden sighed and put his on top of Jackie’s.
Everyone looked at Shane. Shane looked back at his silly, amazing best friends and slid his hand into the pile.
“Hot Girl Summer!” everyone shouted.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------
Their first full day on the island involved no schedule, which Shane found both relaxing and mildly distressing.
White boats filled the Hvar Town harbor. Restaurants stretched along the waterfront with tables pressed close to the sea. People moved through the narrow stone streets in loose shirts, bathing suits, and expensive sandals.
They wandered through shops selling linen and at lunch, Shane ordered grilled fish with potatoes (that he actually ate!!). He allowed himself to look at the gorgeous men everywhere. It seemed like they were coming out of thin air with plenty to pick from.
Despite his depressing sex life, he didn’t want to center the trip around it. His experiences so far consisted of making out with and blowing some guy he met at a club, then hooking up once with Miles, one of Rose’s former X Squad castmates, after a party in Los Angeles. Miles was handsome, discreet, and experienced enough to keep Shane from embarrassing himself, which should have made the whole thing easier.
Instead, Shane had spent most of the night painfully aware that Miles knew Rose, that Rose knew Miles, and that there was a very real possibility they would eventually discuss his performance over brunch. The sex had been fine. Miles had been nice, but two encounters were hardly enough to call himself experienced. They were enough for him to know that forcing himself into people’s beds just because he was finally out was exhausting. He wanted to have fun and if he felt a spark, he felt a spark.
By sunset, the group headed to drinks at a spot JJ found online. Hula Hula sat right against the water, crowded with people who looked straight out of Mamma Mia. Music pounded from the speakers before they even reached the entrance. Warm lights hung above the wooden tables, casting an orange glow across bare shoulders and sweating glasses. People danced wherever they could find space, on the deck, beside the bar, and between tables that were already too close together.
The air smelled like saltwater, sunscreen, and perfume.
Everyone had found somewhere to go within minutes. JJ had disappeared almost immediately, drawn into a group near the dance floor after spotting a woman he clearly liked. Hayden and Jackie had slipped off together not long after but it was expected. They met in a nightclub so something about them provided a level of nostalgia and horniness that Shane was good on avoiding.
Shane stood beside Rose, trying very hard not to go into the crowd and dance with a girl who was clearly giving her eyes.
“Go. I’ll be fine.” Shane gave her the green light but she glanced at him.
“You sure you’re okay roaming around by yourself?”
Shane looked past her at the crowd. There were too many bodies, too much music, and too many men he was already trying not to stare at.
He should be able to handle this.
He was a grown man. He had played in front of twenty thousand people while millions more watched from home. He had stood at center ice with his heart trying to beat out of his chest and somehow managed to look calm enough to lead everyone else.
He could have one drink at a beach club without needing his ex-girlfriend to hold his hand.
“I’m fine,” he told her. “Go talk to your new friend.”
Rose studied his face for a moment.
“Text me if you want to leave.”
“I won’t.”
Rose squeezed his arm before joining the other woman on the dance floor.
Once Shane was by himself, the music felt louder. The bass thumped against his ribs. People kept brushing against him as they passed, warm skin, and damp fabric, nobody apologizing.
He grabbed a drink and moved toward the edge of the club where there were fewer people and a clear view of the water.
The sea glowed beneath the setting sun, gold stretching across the surface. Boats drifted farther from shore, and the music softened slightly whenever the wind moved in from the water.
Shane drank his beer and tried to breathe normally.
Maybe this had been a mistake.
He had wanted privacy. He had it. Nobody knew him here, which also meant nobody had a reason to speak to him.
Rose could begin a conversation with anyone. JJ was probably already invited somewhere. Hayden had Jackie. He had no idea how to walk up to someone because he thought they were attractive.
What would he even say?
Hello, I’m Shane. I came out recently and my ex-girlfriend has brought me to Croatia to stare at half-naked men.
He took a longer drink and began plotting his escape. He could finish the beer and go back to the villa.
Nobody would care. He could order room service, take a shower and sit on the terrace in beautiful, sweet silence.
He could FaceTime his parents and show them the sunset. He could answer the messages his mom had already sent about the Reebok campaign. He could convince the boys to wake up early and train with him the next morning.
He was reaching for his phone to text the group chat when across the club stood one of the most gorgeous men Shane had ever seen.
He looked less like a person and more like a Greek fucking God. He had blond curls that were lit gold from the sunset. Gorgeous eyes. His jaw looked sharp enough to cut glass. His mouth...Jesus Christ. Shane had never understood why people noticed mouths until right then.
And he was looking directly at Shane.
It took everything in him at that moment not to point at himself, mouth agape and say “ME?!”, so he turned around instead, wondering if he was looking at someone else. But there wasn’t anyone behind him acknowledging the gorgeous creature that spotted him.
When he looked back, the man’s mouth curved into a smirk and Shane felt heat crawl up his neck. He felt like a complete freak for staring, so he looked back into his drink. He gave it a beat before looking back up and his Greek God was gone.
It was a bummer but maybe this was just the start of seeing hot men around the island. It would’ve been nice to have made a move, but he totally struck out. He could feel the judgement from Rose once he told her this story.
Shane sighed, finished the last of his beer and made his way back toward the bar to pay his tab.
It was much busier now with people packed shoulder to shoulder. He finally spotted an opening and slipped into it.
Someone stepped into the space beside him.
"Did you wear Reeboks to the beach?"
The Greek statue from across the club was standing next to him.
Which was great and horrifying, because he was even prettier up close. Worse than that, he was looking down at Shane’s shoes with open revulsion.
Shane glanced down, then back up. “Yes?”
“Going to play basketball after drinks?” the man asked.
His accent was strong, but Shane couldn’t place it. Not Croatian but not exactly anything he knew well enough to name.
“Maybe,” Shane said, already defensive. “Is there a dress code?”
“No, but you come to this place in krossovki. What is this? You look like a tennis instructor.”
Shane looked at him hard, because if they were going tit for tat, he needed something to work with. The guy’s shirt looked like it had been ripped straight out of some late-nineties Eastern European music video. Silk, loud as hell, and obnoxiously expensive. Crimson and gold and electric blue, all of it clashing in a way that should have been ugly but somehow wasn’t. It was half-unbuttoned, collar loose and careless, sleeves pushed up just enough to show tanned forearms and a chest scattered with moles.
It was ridiculous. And worst of all, he looked fucking hot in it.
“And your shirt is any better?” Shane asked. “You look like Fabio.”
The man’s brows pulled together. “Who in the fuck is Fabio?”
Shane stared at him. Of course he'd embarrass himself like this.
“He was this…” Shane stuttered, then immediately regretted having a mouth. “Super hot guy on all the romance novels in Canada.”
The man looked delighted. “Super hot?”
“That wasn’t the point, I was just giving context."
“You called me a super hot romance novel man.”
“I said your shirt made you look like him.”
“So you like the shirt.”
“No, I think your shirt looks like cat shit." Shane chirped back.
The man laughed, low and a little surprised, and it shifted something in his face. He looked younger and softer for a second and Shane silently studied his face.
“I’m Ilya,” he said, holding out his hand. Shane stared at it before remembering that normal people usually shake back.
“Sam,” he blurted out. He knew that it was so unlikely that this man knew who he was. But there was also something that gave Shane a bit of a rush pretending to be someone else while also being able to protect himself.
“You are here with friends, Sam?” Ilya asked, glancing past him toward the crowd. Shane nodded and pointed vaguely in the directions they had all disappeared. “They’re around.”
Ilya took another sip of his drink. “My friends and I are going to Carpe Diem later. So if you want to insult me more, you should get there after 8 o’clock and ask for my table.”
Shane had read about the club during his research. It was on another island, which made agreeing to go with a stranger feel slightly more reckless than Rose probably meant when she said to follow his gut.
“If I find my way there I’ll ask for you.”
Ilya smirked. “Good.” He moved like he was about to leave, then stepped closer instead, leaning into Shane until his mouth was right beside his ear. “But do not wear the Reeboks.” His breath was warm against Shane’s skin, and before Shane could think of a response that wasn’t completely embarrassing, Ilya pulled away and disappeared back into the crowd.
Shane watched him go for several seconds before realizing the asshole had left faster than he could realize he never got his phone number.
He caught up with Rose and she took one look at his face and demanded to know more information, so Shane told her about Ilya and the invitation to Carpe Diem.
“So, just to be clear,” JJ said as they started down the path back to the villa, “you’ve been here one night and you’re already getting dick?”
Shane almost tripped. “I didn’t say that. I don’t even have his number. Who knows if this guy was actually telling the truth or just spewing bullshit to see if I’d show up.”
Rose shrugged. “Then we go and find out.”
Shane looked at her. “You want all of us to follow some stranger to another island?”
“It’s a popular club, not a dark alley, Shane. It’s worth going. If he’s lying, we get drunk and dance. If he’s telling the truth, you get your first dick for Hot Girl Summer.” J
J raised his hand. “We’ll get you dick regardless, man…”
“Can everyone please stop saying that?” Shane asked. Nobody answered him, which he took as a resounding no.
When they got back to the villa to get ready for dinner, Shane showered and changed at least four times.
—----------------------------------------
The boat ride to Carpe Diem Beach felt like something Shane would’ve watched Rose do in a movie. The sun had lowered behind Hvar, leaving the sky washed in pink and orange while the lights along the harbor started blinking on. Music drifted over the water before the boat reached the island, growing louder as they pulled toward the dock.
The club opened beneath the trees in layers of stone terraces, glowing lanterns and white daybeds, with people dancing barefoot near the water and carrying drinks. It was beautiful and slightly ridiculous and unlike anywhere he had ever been.
Rose squeezed his arm as they stepped off the boat. “This is gonna be so much fun.”
They got their own table near the edge of the main terrace and agreed Shane could go look for Ilya without four people following behind him like some kind of protective mafia.
“If Fabio isn’t here, you have somewhere to come back to,” Jackie told him.
“And if he is,” JJ added, “we want the horny details.”
But Ilya was exactly where he said he would be, sitting alone at a table overlooking the water with one ankle resting over his knee. Shane had expected him to be surrounded by people, or to have forgotten the invitation entirely, so seeing an empty chair waiting across from him threw him off.
Ilya looked up as Shane approached but didn’t grin or act surprised that he had actually come. He only looked down at Shane’s shoes.
“Better.”
Shane pulled out the chair. “Hello to you too. Am I the only guest?”
“My friends are somewhere dancing. Or drinking on other side of island. Possibly both.”
Ilya gestured toward the empty seat. “Sit, Sam.”
Shane sat and tried not to read too much into the fact that Ilya had saved him a place.
“So you weren’t spewing bullshit.”
“About dinner?” Ilya asked. “I save my bullshit for more important things, but I never bullshit about dinner.”
Ilya lived in Boston and ran an automotive import, restoration, and performance company with his best friend. He had grown up in Russia, moved around more than Shane could keep track of, and used to play hockey, although he waved that part away like it was barely worth mentioning.
Shane told Ilya he lived in Ottawa, traveled a lot and worked in sports, which was vague enough to be any Regular Canadian Guy. He admitted he loved hockey because he couldn’t help himself, then spent the next several minutes trying not to sound like someone who had made the sport his entire personality.
Ilya asked what he liked about Ottawa, whether he enjoyed traveling when it wasn’t for work and why he had chosen Hvar. They were personal questions, but he never pushed when Shane gave a smaller answer than the one he probably wanted. He teased him about researching the island like a school assignment, then listened while Shane explained exactly how he had compared villas.
They ordered enough food to cover most of the table and stayed there long after they had finished eating.
Shane tried things he would have normally avoided, mostly because Ilya kept sliding plates toward him with the confidence of someone who had already decided Shane would like them.
He did, annoyingly.
Normally, Shane would be lost in his own head during experiences like this, but this felt so easy. He wasn’t wondering what Ilya expected from him or whether he looked inexperienced. He was just having fun and he wasn’t sure if it was the environment or the person.
At some point, Ilya moved his chair around the table so he could hear Shane better over the music. At least, that was the excuse.
Every few minutes, the space between them seemed to disappear a little more until their shoulders brushed whenever either of them moved. Ilya’s knee rested against his beneath the table, warm and solid, and neither of them pulled away.
Later, while Shane was halfway through a story, Ilya put his hand on Shane’s knee like it was so natural, rubbing up and down.
Shane lost the point of the story immediately.
When the bill arrived, he paid before Shane could reach for it and waved off every argument Shane tried to make.
Ilya invited him to go dancing with the same casual confidence he had used to invite him to dinner. Shane was tipsy enough that agreeing sounded exciting instead of completely reckless.
He texted the group that he was staying with Ilya and heading farther into the club, then watched the typing bubble appear almost immediately.
Rose reminded him that they all had his location and informed him that if he failed to send an update every hour, she would personally assemble a search party. JJ followed with several eggplant emojis.
Shane slipped his phone back into his pocket before the conversation could get worse and followed Ilya toward the music.
—--------------
By the time they left the restaurant section, Carpe Diem had completely transformed. The lanterns were dimmer now, the music louder, and the stone terraces were packed with people dancing beneath the trees. Colored lights moved across the water and flashed over bodies shining with sweat. The whole island seemed to vibrate with the bass.
Ilya led Shane toward the dance floor, then looked back when he realized Shane had stopped a few feet behind him.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
“No,” Shane answered immediately.
Okay, Shane was a little scared.
He had never danced this closely with a man before and had no idea what he was supposed to do with his hands, his hips, or any other part of his body that suddenly felt extremely visible.
Ilya didn’t touch him at first. He only started moving nearby, close enough that Shane could follow without feeling like he was being tested. Shane let himself catch the rhythm and gradually stopped worrying about whether he looked stupid.
When Ilya finally placed a hand around his waist, Shane glanced around automatically, expecting somebody to stare.
Not one single fuck was given.
The realization loosened something in him. Shane stepped back until there was barely any space left between them, his ass settling against the hard line of Ilya’s cock through their clothes. Ilya’s hand tightened around his waist immediately, fingers digging into his side as Shane rolled his hips again, slower this time and with enough intention that there was no mistaking it for dancing.
Feeling how hard Ilya was because of him sent a sharp, heady rush straight through Shane. He had done that. He was the reason Ilya’s breathing had changed, the reason his grip kept getting tighter every time Shane ground back against him. Shane had spent the whole night worried about looking inexperienced, but Ilya clearly wasn’t thinking about that. He was too busy pressing his cock against Shane’s ass like he wanted Shane to feel exactly what he was doing to him.
Ilya bent down until his mouth brushed Shane’s ear. “You are much less awkward when you stop thinking.”
“Shut up,” Shane breathed.
Then he reached behind him, grabbed Ilya by the hip and pulled him closer before pushing back hard enough to drag another low sound out of him. Ilya’s mouth dropped to the side of his neck, hot breath against Shane’s skin while they moved together in the middle of the crowd.
For once, Shane wasn’t waiting to see what Ilya wanted. He knew. He could feel it pressed against him, and he wanted to make it worse.
It took them less than ten minutes to decide they were leaving together.
Shane texted the group and told them he was going back with Ilya and dropped a pin for the location.
It should have felt insane. His first full day and he already met a man wanting to fuck him, but Shane felt strangely safe with him.
Rose responded immediately and told him to have fun but keep them updated. JJ sent a row of eggplants.
Shane locked his phone and followed Ilya onto the boat.
There were other passengers heading back toward Hvar, but Shane and Ilya found seats away from most of them. Their thighs pressed together while the boat cut through the dark water.
Ilya kept looking at Shane’s mouth but made no move to close the distance, and Shane realized he was waiting.
So much of the night had felt like Shane stepping into Ilya’s world, letting Ilya order the food, choose the club and pull him onto the dance floor.
This choice was his.
Shane grabbed the front of Ilya’s shirt and kissed him.
The kiss went filthy almost immediately. Ilya opened for him with a low sound, one hand sliding up Shane’s thigh while the other caught the back of his neck. Shane climbed closer until their legs tangled and kissed him harder, licking into his mouth.
Ilya’s hand moved higher, squeezing Shane through his pants before rubbing his palm slowly over the shape of his cock. Shane broke the kiss with a sharp breath and buried his mouth against Ilya’s neck, biting down hard enough to make Ilya’s fingers tighten around him.
They were surrounded by other passengers, close enough that one wrong movement would make it obvious what they were doing. Shane should have cared.
Instead, the risk made it hotter.
He spread his legs slightly beneath Ilya’s hand and kissed him again, swallowing the sound Ilya made when Shane palmed him through his pants in return. They kept their movements small and almost discreet, mouths pressed together while their hands did increasingly indecent things beneath the cover of darkness.
—-------------------------------------------------
As if the night couldn’t get more unbelievable, Ilya’s villa made Shane stop in the entryway.
It sat higher above the water than theirs, all dark stone, glass walls and dramatic lighting. The living room opened onto a terrace with an infinity pool, and beyond it the Adriatic was black and silver beneath the moon.
“This is ridiculous,” Shane said.
“I know.”
“You rented this?”
“With friends.” Ilya dropped his items in his pocket onto a table. “They are still out. We have privacy.”
That last part settled low in Shane’s stomach.
Ilya crossed the room slowly, looking ready to devour him.
Large hands settled around Shane’s waist and pulled him close. Ilya kissed him with none of the restraint he had shown on the boat, tongue sliding deep into Shane’s mouth while his hands moved lower, tracing the globes of his ass before gripping him hard enough to make Shane gasp.
The kiss became greedy and desperate almost immediately. Ilya held Shane’s face between both hands, firm but careful, controlling the angle while Shane chased his tongue. One hand slipped down to Shane’s throat, squeezing slightly, while his thumb dragged slowly across Shane’s bottom lip.
Shane opened his mouth and sucked it in.
Ilya went completely still.
His eyes darkened as Shane swirled his tongue around the pad of his thumb, suddenly feeling bolder than he had in such a long time. Ilya pulled it from his mouth with a wet sound and stared at him like he was the 8th wonder of the world.
“On your knees,” Ilya said.
Shane went quickly as he looked up and saw Ilya mouth “Wow” to noone.
The ease with which he obeyed should have embarrassed him. Instead, kneeling in the middle of this ridiculous villa with Ilya’s hard cock straining against the front of his pants made Shane feel slutty and sexy in a way sex never had before.
Usually, he spent hookups trying not to think. He closed his eyes, focused on getting off and waited for his brain to shut down long enough to enjoy himself. Tonight, he wanted to see everything. He wanted to watch Ilya lose control and know he was the reason behind every broken breath.
He wasn’t sure if it was the person or the environment.
Ilya eventually pulled Shane back to his feet and led him upstairs, kissing him every few steps. The bedroom occupied an open loft overlooking the main living area, separated from the rest of the villa by glass and dark wood. Moonlight poured through another wall of windows, illuminating a low bed beneath exposed beams.
They barely reached it before they started stripping each other.
Ilya took his time once Shane was naked, kissing down his chest and stomach while his hands gripped Shane’s thighs. When Ilya dropped lower and wrapped his mouth around Shane’s cock, Shane’s knees nearly gave out.
“Oh, fuck.”
His hands immediately disappeared into Ilya’s curls.
Ilya took him deeper, tongue working beneath the head while one hand stroked what his mouth couldn’t reach. Shane tried covering his mouth when his next moan came out louder than intended, but Ilya caught his wrist and pulled it away.
Ilya got up and lifted him onto the bed as though Shane weighed nothing, saying something rough in Russian that Shane couldn’t understand but he knew the gist. Shane dragged him down and kissed him, tasting himself on Ilya’s tongue while their hands moved between their bodies.
They kissed until Shane’s lips felt swollen and his thoughts had narrowed to Ilya’s weight over him, the scrape of a crucifix against his skin, and the thick cock rubbing against his thigh.
When Ilya’s hand moved lower to his hole, Shane rocked his hips toward him. Ilya’s mouth curved against his neck. He circled and then dipped his finger inside of him.
He worked Shane open slowly, paying attention to every change in his breathing. Shane’s nerves returned with the first stretch. He watched Shane’s face, adjusted and gave him more whenever Shane pushed back against his hand. He added a second one.
Soon Shane was openly begging, rocking onto Ilya’s fingers as they curled inside him.
“More.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes. Please.”
By the time Ilya had three fingers inside him, Shane was spread open beneath him, cock hard and leaking against his stomach. Every movement sent heat rolling through his body, but it still wasn’t enough.
“Oh my god, Ilya, fuck please fuck me.” Shane begged.
Ilya reached for a condom and the bottle of lube beside him on the bed. Shane watched him roll it down his cock, his mouth going dry at the sight. Ilya slicked himself slowly, stroking the thick length while Shane lay there aching for it.
Ilya settled between his legs and pressed the head against him.
Ilya groaned and kissed him as he pushed forward, swallowing Shane’s first broken sound. The pressure was intense enough that Shane’s fingers dug into his shoulders, but Ilya remained still until Shane relaxed around him and he bottomed out.
“You’re so deep,” Shane gasped.
Ilya made a rough sound against his mouth and began moving.
Slowly at first. Then faster when Shane wrapped his legs around him and pulled him closer.
Ilya lifted Shane’s legs higher, changing the angle until each thrust drove his cock deeper. They kept kissing through it, messy and desperate, Shane catching every grunt against his lips while Ilya fucked him into the mattress.
Shane loved how affected Ilya was. He loved that beneath all that confidence, Ilya was losing control too, a small vein beginning to jut out on his forehead and his mouth slack from watching his balls slap his skin.
Ilya eventually pulled out and turned Shane onto his stomach. His large hands spread Shane’s cheeks, followed by a low, appreciative sound that made Shane’s face burn.
“You have such a pretty ass, ya mog by trakhat' tebya vechno.”
Ilya fucked him harder from behind, one hand gripping his hip while the other held him open. Every thrust made the bed shake beneath them. Shane pushed back to meet him, taking Ilya’s cock as deep as he could while Ilya praised him in a mixture of English and Russian.
The pleasure built so quickly Shane didn’t have time to warn him.
His whole body tightened. He came untouched against the sheets, moaning loudly name while his body clenched helplessly around his cock.
Ilya’s rhythm broke. He swore in Russian, drove into Shane one final time and came with a harsh groan, hands gripping Shane’s ass as he buried his face against the back of Shane’s neck.
For several minutes, neither of them moved.
Eventually, Ilya slipped away and disappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned Shane first, surprisingly gentle after everything they had just done. Then he cleaned himself before climbing into bed and pulling Shane against his chest.
Shane let his eyes close while Ilya’s hand drifted lazily over his ass.
The awkwardness he had expected never arrived as they got into small talk.
They talked about Canada and Boston. They talked about cars, and Shane’s lack of music knowledge. Ilya was funny even when he wasn’t flirting.
Shane had expected the night to become awkward once they were done. He had assumed there would be a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, maybe a polite offer of water, and then he would put his clothes back on and leave before either of them had to acknowledge what had happened.
Instead, Ilya kept touching him like there was no reason to stop. His fingers moved lazily over Shane’s hip and ass while they talked, occasionally tracing the lines of his body with the distracted familiarity of someone who had already decided Shane belonged there for the moment.
At some point, Ilya brought him water and ordered enough late-night food for three people. They ate in bed with the sheets pulled over their laps, passing containers between them in shocking ease.
When Shane finally checked the time, the numbers on his phone made him sit up too quickly. There were several messages from Rose, one from Hayden and an increasingly obscene collection of emojis from JJ.
“I have to go.”
Ilya glanced at the clock but didn’t argue. “Your search party is coming?”
“Probably since I haven’t answered them in a while. They think you kidnapped me.”
Ilya sat up, nibbling on his ear. “Would that be so terrible?” It took Shane all of his strength to get out of bed.
Shane found his clothes scattered across the room and dressed while Ilya watched from the bed. He tried not to think about how strange it felt to cover himself again after feeling so comfortable naked.
He booked a car while Ilya pulled on a pair of sweatpants and walked him downstairs. Near the front door, neither of them seemed to know what to do. Shane realized again that they hadn’t exchanged numbers.
“Have fun on the rest of your trip,” Ilya finally said.
“You too.”
Ilya leaned against the wall, barefoot and shirtless, curls completely ruined from Shane’s hands. Shane wanted to kiss him again and lick his Adonis belt. He also wanted to ask how long Ilya would be in Hvar, whether he came to Ottawa for business and whether the automotive company had a website Shane could quietly search once he got home.
Instead, they looked at each other longer than necessary.
“Goodnight, Sam.”
It was ridiculous to feel disappointed. They had met at a beach club. Shane had given him a fake name. Everything about the night had been designed to be temporary.
Shane almost corrected him. The truth made it all the way to the back of his throat before he stopped it. Maybe Ilya did this often. And why would he want his number after he lied?
So Shane smiled instead.
“Goodnight, Ilya.”
He stepped outside and headed toward the waiting car.
By the time he reached the road back to the villa, Shane was tired, sore and smiling at absolutely nothing. The windows were down, letting warm air move through the car while the lights of Hvar passed in scattered blurs outside.
He told himself it had been exactly what he wanted.
Still, Shane opened his phone and searched the Boston Raiders’ upcoming schedule.
—-----------------------------------------
It was still dark when Shane returned to the villa.
He had expected everyone to be asleep. It was late enough that even the lights from the neighboring houses had gone out, and the terrace was quiet except for the pool filter and the faint sound of waves beyond the trees.
Instead, Rose and Jackie were sitting outside drinking tea. Hayden was eating oatmeal at the kitchen island. JJ was asleep sideways across a lounge chair with his head hanging off one end and both feet planted on the ground.
Rose looked up from her mug and her eyes moved over him slowly like a Cheshire Cat.
His linen shirt was wrinkled beyond repair, and there was a mark near his collar that had definitely not been there when he left.
“Well hello there,” Rose leaned back in her chair. “How was dinner?”
“It was fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Yes.” Shane couldn’t hide his grin even if he tried.
Jackie tilted her head. “Your shirt is uneven.”
Shane looked down.
Hayden turned on his stool. “Good time, huh?”
“I said it was fine.” He felt himself turn red. Fuck, could they tell he was limping a bit when he walked up the driveway?
JJ stirred on the lounge chair without opening his eyes.
“Shane, did you get dick?”
After some more ribbing, Shane went to bed. Maybe he’d tell them about everything later, or maybe he’d keep it to himself. All he knew was that this was a great way to begin his vacation. He closed his eyes and thanked in his head whoever brought him a sexy Russian with a gorgeous ass to give him the dicking of his life at the start of this vacation.
—----------------------------
For the next two days, Shane had a fantastic vacation with a spring in his step.
He went to the beach with Rose and Jackie. He trained with Hayden and JJ in a gym near the villa. He tried a drink served inside a hollowed-out pineapple, even though it contained enough sugar to make his teeth hurt.
He was also unintentionally looking for Ilya everywhere. Every blond man with a loud ass shirt got a second glance from Shane in Hvar Town. He wondered if that was one of his last nights on the island or if he’d be able to spot him next time he’s in town to play against the Raiders. Maybe he could pretend he was going to buy a car.
But the night with no expectations was also the point and maybe that’s why he felt so confident in their hookup. He didn’t have to wait on any possibilities or complications and they could just fuck and go.
That evening, they took a water taxi to Laganini on Palmižana. The restaurant spread across several stone terraces above Vinogradišće Bay, surrounded by olive trees, low couches, and warm lights. Boats floated beyond the tables while a DJ played near the lounge, the music gradually getting louder as dinner stretched into night.
Shane had finally made it through almost an entire meal without scanning the crowd when JJ sat up straighter.
“No fucking way.”
Hayden followed his line of sight. “Is that Marleau?”
A few tables away, Cliff Marleau sat with a gorgeous woman whose dark curls tumbled over one bare shoulder. She was effortlessly stunning in the kind of way that made Shane instinctively assume she was either an actress, a model or significantly cooler than everyone else at the restaurant.
Cliff had played in Boston long enough and faced him dozens of times. Shane's mind immediately jumped to Ilya. Maybe they knew each other. Then again, Boston wasn't exactly a small town. Plenty of people lived there without ever crossing paths.
A tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, What if...?
Shane told that voice to shut the fuck up. JJ motioned for Hayden and Shane to follow him and headed across the terrace.
Cliff looked up as they approached.
“Well, do my eyes fuckin' deceive me!” Marleau smirked, throwing fake punches before pulling Hayden and JJ into quick hugs.
The woman beside him smiled and held out her hand. “Svetlana.”
She had a Russian accent.
Shane's brain supplied Ilya's face before he could stop it.
Coincidence.
It had to be.
Cliff asked Hayden about his shoulder and JJ about his contract. They complained about the upcoming schedule, exchanged gossip about a former teammate and discussed which players had already started training.
"Marly, who are your friends? I could've brought more shots."
Heat trickled down Shane's neck as he turned around.
Ilya.
He was smiling at Shane as though they'd never seen each other before. Like they'd never spent hours tangled up in his bed two nights ago. Shane, meanwhile, felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.
"You good, buddy?" Hayden asked, patting him on the back. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
Shane forced a smile. "Yeah. Just surprised."
Marleau looked between the two of them, completely oblivious. He threw an arm around Ilya's shoulders before resting his other hand on Shane's back.
"Ah, I see you've met Rozy." He grinned. "Ilya Rozanov, meet Shane Hollander."
Shane's stomach dropped.
Of course.
He hadn't told Marleau directly that he was gay, but news traveled around the league faster than anyone admitted. He probably thought he was playing wingman. If Cliff knew Ilya...
Jesus Christ.
Ilya held out his hand like it wasn’t four fingers deep in his hole several nights ago.
"Big fan," he said.
Shane stared at the offered hand before reluctantly shaking it. "Oh. Thanks."
"I have seen you play many times at Raiders games. Forty-something goals this season, what, two hat tricks?" Ilya's grip lingered for a second longer than necessary. "I know I am not supposed to root for you, but how could I not with that face, hm?"
He winked.
Shane forgot how conversations worked.
"That's... I mean, you don't have to root for me. Obviously. Since it's Boston. And I play for Montreal."
"Yes," Ilya said, completely serious. "I am aware."
"Right."
Shane pulled his hand back and shoved it into his pocket before it could betray him in some new and humiliating way.
Ilya's mouth twitched, clearly enjoying the fact that Shane had been reduced to a puddle of goo.
Marleau had already pulled Hayden and JJ back into a discussion about training camp gossip. Shane tried to follow along, nodding whenever someone looked at him, but he kept catching Ilya watching him from beside Svetlana.
Not even staring discreetly.
His eyes moved over Shane with the relaxed familiarity of someone who already knew what he looked like beneath his clothes.
Shane took a large drink.
Svetlana leaned toward Ilya and said something in Russian, followed by his name and a pointed glance in Shane's direction.
Ilya answered without taking his eyes off Shane. Svetlana laughed.
"What?" Shane asked.
"Nothing," Ilya said.
"That definitely wasn't nothing."
"You understand Russian now?"
"No, but I understand when people are talking about me."
Svetlana sighed dramatically and reached for her empty glass.
"You two are exhausting already." She looked at Marleau. "More shots."
Marleau raised his own empty glass. "Now we're talking."
"But I am comfortable." She settled farther back into the couch and waved a lazy hand between Shane and Ilya. "You two go. Clearly you have things to discuss."
Ilya stood immediately.
"Come, Hollander."
As they walked through the crowd, Shane asked. “You knew the entire time?”
“You think I live in Boston and have never gone to Raiders game to boo you?”
“You boo me?”
“Very loudly.”
“And you just let me introduce myself as Sam?”
Ilya shrugged, completely unbothered. “You looked like you needed to be Sam, you’re on vacation, I don’t judge.”
He had been prepared to be embarrassed. Maybe even angry. He had spent two days wondering whether he had been stupid enough to trust a stranger with more than he should have, and now he knew Ilya had possessed the information necessary to expose him the entire time.
But he hadn’t.
He had let Shane be some Regular Canadian Guy who worked in sports and loved hockey a normal amount. He never made him explain the why of it all.
Ilya’s expression became unbearably pleased as they got to the bar. “For someone internationally famous, you are terrible at aliases.”
“I panicked, I’m not used to not being myself.”
“Sam was the best you could do? You could not think of something sexy?”
“Listen, I panicked. I don't exactly make fake identities for strangers or have one night stands on a regular basis.” Shane glanced toward the table, where everyone was still distracted. “So could you give me five minutes of reprieve and stop enjoying this so much?”
Ilya leaned against the bar beside him. “For the record, you seemed very experienced the other night.”
Shane looked over. “Ilya.”
“What?” His expression was innocent, but he moved closer until his mouth was beside Shane’s ear. “You took my cock very well. Begging me to go deeper, pushing that pretty ass back against me.”
Shane's hand tightened around the edge of the bar.
"You can't say that here."
"Why not? Nobody can hear me." Ilya's breath brushed warmly against his neck. "Should I remind you how you came without me even touching you?"
"Jesus Christ."
Ilya pulled back just enough to look at him. "You asked me to lay off. I am only correcting your inaccurate statement."
Heat climbed up Shane's neck and settled squarely in his face. Apparently his body had decided being publicly humiliated by a gorgeous Russian man counted as foreplay now.
Before he could formulate a response that didn't involve dragging Ilya into the nearest bathroom, Rose and Jackie appeared beside them.
"You okay?" Rose asked, glancing between Shane and Ilya. From the concern on her face, she'd mistaken Shane's inability to form a coherent sentence for discomfort instead of the fact that he was suddenly very, very aware of his own body.
"Fine," Shane said far too quickly.
Jackie nodded toward Ilya. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Ilya Rozanov," Shane managed. "He's here with Cliff Marleau."
Rose's eyebrows shot up for half a second before she recovered. "Oh."
"And we met the other night," Shane added, because apparently self-preservation had left his body.
Jackie looked at Rose.
Rose looked at Jackie.
Neither of them was remotely convincing when they answered with, "Mm."
Ilya's grin widened.
"Rose. Jackie." Shane gestured between them. "My friends."
"Very nice to meet you." Ilya lifted the tray of shots the bartender had finally set down. "You should join us. There is food, alcohol, and many embarrassing stories about Cliff."
"I don't think Cliff would appreciate you advertising that," Jackie said.
"He will survive."
"Sounds perfect," Rose said, already reaching for one of the shot glasses.
Shane blinked at her. "We already have a table."
"So do they," Rose replied.
"Rose."
"What?"
"You are making this worse." Shane gritted through his teeth as they walked behind Ilya.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Rose gritted back and smiled sweetly when Ilya turned around. "Lead the way, Ilya."
By the time they returned, Rose and Jackie had collected their things and dinner had officially merged with Ilya's table. Chairs were dragged together, another round of food was ordered and Cliff launched into a story about Hayden's rookie season that Hayden insisted had become less accurate every time Cliff told it.
Shane somehow ended up seated beside Ilya.
Their thighs touched beneath the table.
At first it was only a light bump, something that could've been accidental.
Then it stayed there. Shane looked over. Ilya was listening to Cliff complain about Boston's coaching staff.
Shane nudged his leg away. A moment later, Ilya's was back.
Shane nudged it again.
It came back again.
On the third attempt, Shane sighed and pressed his knee firmly against Ilya's instead.
Ilya glanced over.
Shane gave him his most innocent expression.
The corner of Ilya's mouth twitched. He left his leg exactly where it was.
“You’re an asshole.”
Ilya leaned closer, his mouth near Shane’s ear. “I think you enjoy this.”
Shane should’ve ended the conversation there.
Instead, he turned his head just enough that their mouths nearly touched.
“You think you know everything.”
“No.” Ilya’s eyes dropped to Shane’s lips. “I know you are still angry I played along with your bad secret.”
“Maybe.”
“How will you punish me?”
—----------------------------
“Harder,” Shane shouted.
Ilya’s hands tightened around his hips.
Somewhere between the restaurant and the bedroom upstairs, Cliff had suggested they all head to another bar closer to the harbor. Everyone was immediately interested, except for Shane and Ilya who claimed they were both feeling a bit jet lagged. Meanwhile, they were back in Ilya’s loft making their own turbulence.
Shane was considerably less shy this time. He pushed Ilya onto the mattress, climbed over him and took what he wanted without waiting for instructions. Every time Ilya tried to regain control, Shane pressed him back down.
“You are very demanding tonight,” Ilya said, sounding far too pleased about it.
“You asked how I was going to punish you.”
“Yes.” Ilya’s gaze moved slowly over him. “I am beginning to regret nothing.”
“Shut up.”
Shane kissed him before he could say anything else.
He liked this version of himself. The one who didn’t hesitate before reaching for what he wanted. The one who could tell Ilya faster, deeper, there, and watch his expression change as he obeyed.
By the time Ilya finally pulled out, flinging the condom off to cum in his mouth, both of them were breathing hard and his voice was hoarse from yelling. He was very grateful the others had gone somewhere else.
“Shit.”
He sat up and began searching for his clothes.
Ilya remained stretched across the bed, entirely naked and completely unconcerned. “You are leaving?”
“Cliff Marleau is staying here.”
“Yes. I have noticed.”
“I’m not doing a walk of shame in front of a man I have to play against next season.”
“Is only shameful if you are ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed. I just don’t need him to see me like this, I won’t hear the end of it.”
He found his shirt folded on a chair and pulled it over his head. Ilya finally got out of bed, holding his phone.
“Give me your number. So I don’t have to accidentally find you every time,” Ilya said as he opened a new contact. “Next time I may not be so lucky.”
“Next time?”
Ilya looked up at him. “I assume our groups will be meeting up a few times this summer?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Shane smirked as he entered his phone number. He headed downstairs, quickly.
Behind him, Ilya called, “Goodnight, Sam.”
Shane flipped him off without turning around.
Outside, Shane stood near the curb waiting for his taxi, his shirt sticking slightly to the back of his neck in the warm night air. Music drifted up from somewhere closer to the harbor, muffled by the villas and the steady rush of the water below.
He checked behind him once, half expecting Ilya to be watching from the window.
He wasn’t.
Probably for the best.
Shane didn’t believe in fate. Fate was something people invented after the fact to make a series of questionable decisions sound romantic.
Still, meeting the same man twice on an island was an interesting coincidence.
Meeting him the second time with Cliff Marleau was an even more interesting coincidence.
Giving that man his phone number after letting him fuck the irritation out of him was probably less coincidence and more a lack of self control.
His phone buzzed.
ROSE: Are you alive?
Shane climbed into the taxi before answering.
SHANE: unfortunately
Three dots appeared immediately.
ROSE: and you say you aren’t having a hot girl summer
Shane looked back toward the darkened villa as the taxi pulled away.
His phone buzzed again.
An unknown number had sent him a single message.
ILYA: Sleep well, Sam.
Shane smiled down at the screen before he could stop himself.
Maybe Rose had a point.