Chapter Text
Shane went to Ilya a week before the All-Stars game.
They were both invited.
It was an impressive feat, considering they were both from the same team, had been forcibly outed, and the commissioner wasn't exactly their biggest fan. And that was putting it incredibly mildly.
There was something building behind Shane's ribs at the thought of going to All-Stars with his husband.
His husband.
For the first time in his career, Shane would be attending All-Stars as himself. Openly and without shame.
Mostly.
Shane spent nearly his entire life feeling ashamed and scared that someone would discover the truth. Eventually, the shame and fear found their way into his pores, taking over every small part of him and infecting the way he experienced the world.
There was no avoiding it.
Shane still carried shame.
He still flinched instinctively when Ilya reached for him in public. And he hated it.
Playing alongside Ilya in Ottawa was life-changing for Shane. They were on different lines, but power plays were theirs. They dominated in those brief moments on the ice when it felt like everyone else faded away and they acted as limbs of the same body. Always moving in tandem.
They were out. They were married.
Sure, people still left comments saying some of the most deranged things, but Shane got to choose not to interact with them.
"What do you want?" Ilya asked from where he sat on the couch.
Shane was standing just inside the doorway from the kitchen.
"What do you mean?" Shane asked, concerned, not for the first time, that Ilya was able to read his mind.
"You have 'I want to ask for something but don't know how' face on right now," Ilya said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
And, apparently, it was incredibly obvious. At least to Ilya.
"Uh, yeah," Shane said, still not moving from the doorway.
Sighing, Ilya turned off the tv and shifted so he was facing Shane. His expression was open, and Shane knew logically that there was no universe in which Ilya would turn him down or, worse, laugh.
"Go ahead," Ilya encouraged him when a minute passed and he still hadn't spoken.
"Well, next week is All-Stars."
"Yes," Ilya agreed, raising an eyebrow. "You did not come in here with nervous face to tell me about schedule I already know."
Shane clenched his fists, letting his nails dig into his palm, and shifted from foot to foot.
"No, I didn't," he said, looking down at his hands. He heard rather than saw Ilya pat the space on the couch next to him.
He walked over without looking up, stepping around the coffee table so he could sit on the couch. Ilya immediately reached out, gently uncurling Shane's fists. The glint of metal on Ilya's finger reminded Shane that he was his husband.
His husband.
The small reminder gave Shane the last bit of courage he needed to ask for what he wanted.
"I want—" he cut off. "I mean, I would like…wait no. Could we—"
"Solnyshko," Ilya said softly. His hand left Shane's and reached up to lift his chin until they were face to face, breathing the same air. "Nothing you say can change how I feel about you. I love you no matter what."
"I want you to fuck me at All-Stars," Shane said, letting the words fall out.
Ilya was very clearly trying not to laugh at Shane.
"Okay," Ilya responded. "Kind of assumed we would."
"No," Shane sighed, embarrassment heating his cheeks as he prepared to ask for the caveat. "Um. Uh. Do you remember last year?"
Ilya's brow pinched as he thought back to the previous year. "Remind me, please."
"Marleau came to the door," Shane said. Embarrassment was making his stomach climb up into his throat.
He saw the moment Ilya remembered, a devilish grin taking over his face. "Ah yes. I remember this well."
They sat staring at each other and Shane knew he had to keep pushing forward or they would end up fucking. Heat was already building in Ilya's eyes.
"Stop that."
Ilya's eyes widened a fraction. "What? I did nothing?"
Shane exhaled loudly. "You should have stopped when he came to the door."
"Probably, yes," Ilya agreed. "We had not negotiated. Even if it was hot and you liked it. Was risky."
His smile returned by the last few words, and his eyes glazed over like he was back in that hotel room and not there with Shane in their home.
Shane was brought up short. He'd expected Ilya to push back.
"Yeah, but that's not the problem I had with it," Shane said. Ilya had released his chin, allowing Shane to avert his gaze again.
"Tell me."
"I didn't know what you were going to do," Shane admitted. "I mean, obviously, I knew you wouldn't out us, but it was a lot."
He risked a glance up at Ilya. He looked thoughtful.
"And if you had known?"
Even though Shane had spent the last few weeks rehearsing that exact conversation, he couldn't help the way his mouth dried up or the panic that accompanied the embarrassment of it all.
He supposed that was kind of the point, though.
"I think I would have wanted you to keep going," Shane said quietly, looking away from Ilya again.
"Is that so?"
Shane only nodded.
"He assumed you were a woman," Ilya pointed out.
Shane nodded again.
"No one would make that assumption this year," Ilya continued. "They would know it was you. Know exactly who my Jane is."
It felt like Shane was breathing loudly enough for everyone in the neighbourhood to hear him.
"I know."
Ilya's breath caught in his throat.
When Shane looked up, Ilya had lapsed back into a quiet thoughtfulness.
"You do not let me kiss you the moment we can see the practice rink," Ilya started, trying, foolishly, to reason his way through Shane's choices. "But you want me to fuck you hard enough that people in hotel know?"
"Yes?" He knew the uncertain answer wouldn't be enough for Ilya. "But no. I don't want it to be exactly like last time."
"Explain."
He took a deep breath before trying to answer. The thoughts were still somewhat scrambled in his own head. Hopefully Ilya would be able to do the thing where he just understood Shane, even though he couldn't articulate his thoughts exactly.
"I know I've been struggling still," Shane started, "with, like, public displays of affection. I know that. And I know it hurts you. But this will be our first All-Stars as a married couple. And I do want to try."
"Shane," Ilya said seriously. "There is large gap between not kissing in public and fucking you so loudly that all of best MLH players can hear."
"I know," Shane said. His voice sounded whiny even to him. "I don't want anyone to hear."
"Okay." Ilya looked lost again.
He did a terrible job explaining it.
"I want to have to deal with them knowing," Shane said. It still sounded confusing. "I want you to stop letting me pretend they don't know."
"Ah." Ilya sounded like he finally understood. "You want me to make you say it. You want me to say it."
"Yes."
"That everyone knows you came to my room."
"That everyone knows you are my husband."
"And they know exactly why you followed me up to the room."
Ilya's grin put the Cheshire Cat to shame.
Shane could see that the wheels had already started to spin.
"But you don't want to be caught?" Ilya clarified, his eyes focused back on Shane.
"No," Shane said. "I don't want any of them to actually hear me."
"I can keep you quiet."
Shane flushed an even darker red at the implication.
"Maybe…not totally quiet," Shane said quietly, somehow still embarrassed about his wants. Even with the man who regularly had his tongue in Shane's asshole. "Not completely."
Confusion was back on Ilya's expression.
"I don't want to be made silent," Shane said, hoping that clarified it a bit more.
"You want to struggle." Ilya's grin was back. "You want possibility that they hear."
Shane nodded.
"I can accommodate this."
Of course he could, and the shame seemed to slough off Shane. He knew logically that Ilya would be fine with it and would likely be very excited by the prospect. He could no longer remember why he'd been so nervous.
"If someone knocks?" Ilya asked, pulling Shane back into the moment. "I will not answer, obviously. But do I ignore? Do I stop?"
"I think…I don't want you to stop," Shane said. And that cheeky spot of embarrassment was back. "But maybe I don't want you to force a sound. Like you just keep doing what you were doing."
"You already say a lot of the things I like," Shane kept talking. "I just want that, but more deliberate."
"I see." Ilya's voice had gone low, rough. "You want me to make you feel exposed with words. Not actually expose you."
"Yes."
"What things do I say that you like?" Ilya asked. He shifted on the couch and Shane knew he was hard. Shane was too.
"That I'm easy for you," Shane whispered, feeling like he was baring his soul for Ilya. "That I'm yours and desperate."
Ilya hummed quietly, reaching out to brush his fingers gently down Shane's cheek. "You want me to remind you who you belong to."
Shane closed his eyes and nodded. He needed to control himself.
"To ask you what everyone must think," Ilya continued. "Respectable Shane Hollander, until I get you behind closed doors. And they will know. If I pull you away during dinner. And then send you back down. They will not wonder why you are flushed."
The couch bowed under Ilya's weight as he moved closer to Shane, so that when he next spoke, his breath brushed against Shane's cheek.
"They will know."
They stayed like that for a second, the smallest movement guaranteed to set them ablaze.
And then Ilya leaned back. Leaned away.
"We need boundaries," Ilya said, his voice far too level. "What I cannot say."
"I don't want to actually feel bad," Shane replied, opening his eyes. This was the serious part of the conversation.
The part that kept both of them safe. It was important.
Even if Shane wanted to set it aside while he climbed on his husband and rode him until they both came.
"Okay." Ilya nodded.
"I don't want to feel like you don't like me." It came out as a whisper. "I don't want to think about the people who hate us for our love. I don't want you to actually tell people directly. I don't want to worry that you will."
"Not self-hating," Ilya agreed. "No genuine forced exposure."
"Other than the usual limits, that's pretty much it."
"I can make you repeat my words?" Ilya checked.
Shane thought about it for a second before nodding emphatically.
"I can do this," Ilya said, like it hadn't been obvious.
Shane smiled. Something clicked into place and he felt the last bit of anxiety over his request drop away.
"Now get upstairs," Ilya said, all pretense dropped. "And take off your clothes."