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It's an accident, ostensibly. Ilya's just groping his pecs, it's business as usual, but it's also summer and despite the way that Shane keeps the cottage at a cool 20 degrees (he'd prefer it a bit cooler, actually, but he does care about energy efficiency and maybe more than a little bit not ending up on a list of irresponsible millionaires or something), they're sweating. Honestly, it's more of a testament to how long they've been close, teasing, wanting than anything else. Not every time has been as rushed as the first few, but they don't often get to linger the way that they can now. Shane is so fucking glad that Ilya is here. Even if he also still can't believe it a little bit.
All that is to say that Shane doesn't think that Ilya means to put any pressure on his throat. They're not, like, the best communicators in the world, but Ilya is always so, so careful about checking in, making sure things are okay (bad decisions in Vegas not withstanding). He just really fucking loves playing with Shane's chest (his tits, when he's feeling bold and Shane feels like letting him be bold about that) and they're sweating and it feels like they've been fucking for ages and his hand slips.
And Shane comes.
It all happens within the space of a second. There's the barest hint of pressure, but the placement of Ilya's hand and even the slightest obstruction to Shane's breathing happens and he meets Ilya's hips for a deep thrust, just right, and he comes without Ilya's hand or his own on him. Hands-free, untouched, whatever, it feels fucking blissful. It feels like he's coming forever.
"Fuck, Shane," Ilya says, immediately moving his hand back to Shane's chest, gripping into the muscle there hard enough to hurt which only makes Shane's orgasm feel fucking stronger. It doesn't help (or it helps a lot, depending on how you look at it) that Ilya fucks into him harder and faster chasing his own orgasm until he comes inside Shane with a groan.
"Oh my god, what the fuck was that," Shane breathes - pants, really - once his brain comes back online. Ilya is still moving inside of him, still hitching his hips forward as he rides out his orgasm.
Ilya doesn't respond verbally, at least not at first. He peppers kisses all across Shane's abdomen and chest and neck and face before meeting his lips for a filthy, filthy kiss. Shane still wants answers, needs to know what the fuck happened, but it can wait. Everything in the world can wait when Ilya's mouth is on his like this. Everything else should.
Maybe not everything. But he's hard-pressed to think of something right now, not when it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of them, here in the place where Shane most feels like is home. The bubble had burst, yes, briefly, when his dad had caught the two of them here and ruined Shane's carefully constructed plan for easing them into the news not only of his sexuality but his choice of partner (or boyfriend, but definitely not lover, ew, Ilya). But it had ended as well as it could have, all things considered, and Shane was actually warming up to the idea of being grateful that his parents knew. It could have ruined the cottage for him, if things had gone differently, but they hadn't. So there was no point in dwelling on it. No point in dwelling on anything except that he still has almost two full weeks alone here, with Ilya. And maybe whatever the fuck that intense as hell orgasm had been.
He grimaces when Ilya pulls out - he really prefers it when Ilya still wears a condom, most of the time, even though they're exclusive. He needs a shower, like, five minutes ago, but he also doesn't want to leave the bed. Ilya flops on top of him, though, so the choice is largely made for him. If he really needed to, he could get out from under him, but he doesn't.
"You are sluttier than I thought, Hollander. You come just from hand on your throat? Why did I not know this about you? Thought we said we would be honest here, no?"
"Fuck you," Shane replies, typical, but it's halfhearted at best. At worst, it basically sounds like saying I love you. A part of him wonders how long it'll take for the tally of I love you's to catch up to the decade of fuck you's. Maybe never, since just because they are saying I love you now definitely doesn't mean that they're done saying fuck you. Even if Ilya decided he was done saying it, Shane sure as shit wouldn't be. Case and point. "I didn't - I didn't know."
Ilya makes a sound that's pure delight, and Shane can't even be mad about how smug he knows that Ilya is going to be about this. He doesn't know why - Ilya was his first kiss with a man, his first blowjob, his first time getting fucked. All of those milestones already belong to him and he still wants more? They've already talked about this. One other man has topped him, and one other man has traded blowjobs with him. Ilya spent the first seven or so years of their relationship sleeping with someone new every week, at least, and Shane is still pretty sure that if Ilya ever got access to a time machine, stopping Shane from having those other two even mildly gratifying sexual experiences would be high on his priority list. Not the very top, but high. And he'd definitely make sure that he never dated Rose Landry, even if those sexual experiences were embarrassing and definitely not gratifying. Maybe someday he'll tell Ilya those details if he really keeps asking, but he's very, very sure Rose does not want a repeat performance. More importantly, though, neither does he.
"Is dangerous. Have not done it much before, but that can change. If you want."
Shane immediately moves to protest, but closes his mouth before he can say anything. Does he want that?
"Can I think about it? I mean, obviously, you know, it um, worked tonight. But I don't know if I - "
"Shane," Ilya says, and his eyes are drawn down to where Ilya's head is pillowed on his chest, eyes looking up to meet his. His fingers are gentle but firm on Shane's jaw, more comforting than guiding him to look at him. As if Shane could look away right now, now that he has permission. Now that it's just the two of them and he can look his fill. After years and years of only stolen glances, it feels gluttonous but he doesn't care. "You are worrying about nothing. If you want to do it, we look at it, we figure it out. If you don't want, then that is that. Is simple, no? No time limit. No wrong answer."
No time limit. What a fucking concept for the two of them. This thing between them has felt like a time bomb from that first awkward meeting in Saskatchewan. All-Stars this past year was the first time...the first time, that it ever actually felt like maybe time was on their side. That maybe they could be something real, if Ilya could be honest about it and Shane could avoid running away when things got serious.
Shane lets himself smile. "You like it when I worry about nothing. I will think about it, though. Now let me up. I need to shower and we definitely need to change these sheets. Again."
"Mmmm, gimme kiss, then I will think about letting you up."
Shane kisses him, of course, because he's still relishing in the fact that he can so openly right now. It's actually crazy to him how addicting the feeling of freedom here is. He knows it can't last, won't last outside of this place that is more home to him than anywhere else. But it makes him feel greedy for indulging in it so heavily while he can.
He also pushes Ilya off of him and to the side, because while he's perfectly happy letting Ilya manhandle him and put him where he wants, he likes reminding Ilya that he only does that because Shane lets him. That he is also a professional athlete at the absolute top of his game. Ilya doesn't need the reminder - has never treated Shane as anything less than an equal, knows that he loves playing hard and being challenged in the same way that Shane does - but it can never hurt.
Ilya huffs and turns it into a pose, and he looks so fucking good laying there naked with his head propped up by his hand that Shane almost doesn't move into the bathroom, but a small trickle of Ilya's come escapes him due to gravity and it's enough to spur him into the shower. He's efficient with it - wants to give Ilya his turn, and more importantly, get the sheets changed on the bed so that they can actually sleep there tonight. There are plenty of guest rooms, as Shane pointed out to Ilya on his initial tour, but Shane's never slept in one of them because he's never had any reason to. He doesn't intend on changing that tonight.
He comes out of the bathroom to Ilya standing next to the bed, still naked, but it's clear that he's been up for at least a few minutes. The old, soiled sheets are in a heap on the floor and Ilya is smoothing down the duvet that's hanging unevenly off the sides of the bed. Shane can see that he has made no attempt at clean hospital corners, either, and his eye twitches. And it's not a sure thing, but he thinks that the duvet is the wrong way around. Still, he walks forward, pulls Ilya towards him and kisses him.
"Shower's all yours," he says, and Ilya grins at him.
"You just want me to leave so that you can fix," he says, gesturing towards the bed.
He simply nods. There's no point in not telling him the truth, especially not about something as simple as this. Besides, he was the one who asked for honesty. He won't give Ilya the ammunition to accuse him of being a hypocrite. "Exactly."
Ilya huffs, but Shane can see the laughter dancing in his eyes. He can say that Shane is boring and has no sense of humor all he wants, but he knows better. Shane's jokes don't land in a locker room, or on the bench, and certainly not on the ice. Mostly because they're all probably just a little bit too mean. He hardly makes jokes on the ice, because he'd prefer to be focused and because he's sure his teammates probably don't want to hear all of his completely honest thoughts about them, but still.
Ilya kisses him again before proceeding into the bathroom while Shane gets started on fixing the bed. It is a nice thing that Ilya did - tried to do - so he really can't be too bitchy about it. If he were a different man, he probably just would have said thank you. Luckily, Ilya doesn't want him to be a different man, so he doesn't have to be. Ilya made the effort, because he knew it would make Shane happy, but he also knew that Shane was going to want to redo it himself. And instead of getting irritated with him for it, he predicts it and kisses him for it.
God, they are stupid in love. Probably have been for years, too, even if it's definitely not true for the full length of their relationship. It makes him feel a little bit insane thinking about it as he removes the duvet, fixes the sheets with precisely folded corners, replaces the duvet with the correct orientation, ensures that the pillows are lying flat with the edges against the seams exactly. It has to stay a secret - of course it has to stay a secret - but Shane couldn't say that he's not relieved that he doesn't have to keep it a secret from Ilya anymore. From himself, for that matter. The world gets to have so much of him - but not this. This is his, and Ilya's. And now his parents know and maybe someday that circle can continue to grow, but he's content like this. More than just content.
The all-star weekend feels a little bit like a fever dream now. The way he'd shown up sheepish, unsure of his welcome after running away from Ilya so cowardly, subsequently avoiding him for months, not having the courage to face him at all while he was with Rose (and frankly worried that communicating with him at all would have blown the whole thing up - he never really thought of himself as the type to cheat, but if Ily had asked him to meet up while he was still with Rose, he knows what would have happened). Having the most fun - god, probably the most fun playing hockey that he had in years. Yes, Stanley Cup winning years included. No one could match him like Ilya could. No one could match Ilya like Shane could. They were electric. And off the ice, they were so, so soft. Shane didn't want kids - babysitting and being 'Uncle Shane' was plenty for him - but he had to admit that it tugged at his heartstrings to see how good Ilya was playing with them. He couldn't help but think of his godkids, how Ilya hated Hayden but would love Ruby and Jade and Arthur and Amber, how maybe one day they could be Uncle Shane and Uncle Ilya.
And then after - on the beach, watching the sun set together. Barely brushing hands in the sand, completely hidden from view, but still in public, outdoors, with the sun still in the sky. Telling Ilya I'm gay and it not hurting as much as Shane was always afraid it would, even with the way that Ilya outright laughed at him. He wasn't in a rush to tell anyone else - especially after the surprise of his parents - but it had felt so good to be honest. Not only to say I'm gay, but I want us to be something. Ilya had his own confessions to make, his own vulnerability to share, and that night had felt sacred to Shane, even as he walked out of the hotel room. It was like it had existed entirely out of space and time.
He jumps when he feels Ilya press his full weight on him, skin warm and flushed from his shower. "You are thinking too hard for man who just came his brains out. Bed is fixed, yes?"
"Yes, but," Shane doesn't get to provide his explanation about what he was thinking about before Ilya all but tackles him into the freshly-made bed, and it doesn't matter what he was thinking about because he loves this man so much.
He means to say, "Oh my god, get off of me you absolute child," but he laughs instead and all he can think is I love you I love you I love you and I want to keep this forever.
They play-wrestle for a little while, but it's been a long day already, so Shane lets himself be pinned and strains up to ask for a kiss, which Ilya grants him immediately. Even if he had been giving it his all, Ilya probably would've ended up pinning him on his own. That exact scenario has played out between them enough times for Shane to know how it ends.
It's hot enough that when Ilya lets him up, they still make no move to put clothes on. If Shane were sleeping alone, he'd at least put underwear on, but with two bodies in bed it's just not reasonable. It's the kind of adjustment he never really expected to progress far enough in a relationship to have to make, but he's glad to do so. If only 2011 Shane Hollander could see him now, not only fucking completely naked but falling asleep with Ilya Rozanov in his bed in fucking Lanaudière also completely naked. Not even afraid of his parents showing up, because that had already happened and the world hadn't ended.
They settle easily enough, lamps turned off, and Shane tucked into Ilya's side so he can continue scrolling on his phone while Shane falls asleep, despite all of Shane's careful research and information presented about too much blue light, and it negatively affecting sleep. However, sleep doesn't seem to come so easily for him tonight, even after Ilya finally turns the screen off and falls asleep with slow, even breaths. It's probably the breathing thing that's actually continuing to blink in the back of Shane's mind; an alert drawing all of his attention that won't let him fade away for the night until he addresses it.
The idea is hot. There's no protesting that for Shane at all. But it is also really, truly fucking dangerous. Obviously Ilya's not an idiot, and he's not going to intentionally hurt Shane in any way that Shane doesn't want to be hurt. He thinks that's probably a solid part of this whole 'maybe probably yes boyfriend' deal, and besides, it wasn't like Ilya physically tried to hurt him before they were anything official, either.
It's probably something that they could do while out at the cottage, though. During the season is out of the question - it's dangerous, it could leave marks that would be absolutely unexplainable in a locker room, and most importantly, it would probably really fuck with Shane's head. And having Ilya be his actual boyfriend is probably going to do enough of that, so the last thing that Shane needs is to actively choose to add to that complexity.
So like. Tomorrow, theoretically, Shane could ask for it. That's maybe also another barrier, is that this is something that Shane is going to have to clearly and explicitly ask for. For the most part, pulling out his biggest wettest saddest eyes and whimpering gets Shane exactly what he wants, except for when Ilya feels like really making him ask for what he wants (or making him ask for it and then denying it to him anyway). And something like this - yeah, whimpering and even intentionally guiding Ilya's hand to his throat this time isn't going to be enough.
He can totally ask his boyfriend to choke him. Like, he already has. And he saw how that worked out, so it's not like Ilya's not into it.
Feeling only a little bit like a giant hypocrite (Ilya should be asleep enough that it's not going to turn into a thing), he reaches for his own cell phone on the night stand and opens a private window - usually reserved for looking at Ilya's socials, or porn - and starts finding information on how to safely choke a sexual partner for pleasure in bed. He frowns as most of what he finds initially indicates that there isn't really a safe way to do it, only ways that are less risky than others. He looks at hand placement and even collars (then resolutely puts that in a box for another time) and it's a lot but it's also really not.
Realistically, though, he knows he isn't going to go without it now that he knows how good it can be. Ilya won't ask him for answers tomorrow or anything, either, but he's also not going to let it go indefinitely. He's always excited - maybe too excited - about information that makes it easier for him to take Shane apart. And it's not like that's something that Shane is exactly opposed to, either.
So he reads about putting pressure on the side of the neck, restricting flow to the trachea without doing any crushing of the esophagus. He reads about non-verbal safewords (which is really just putting a technical term for how he gets Ilya to give him a goddamn break when he's being facefucked within an inch of his life, one of his favorite places to be but one that does sometimes require a break without him, like, hurting Ilya, because he could if he needed to but he doesn't want to. Just like he can obviously tell him to stop if he actually doesn't want something but it's so much better when he can act like it but Ilya knows the difference). And that's really...it.
Even after he puts his phone back on the night stand, he can't stop thinking about it. It feels like such a monumental thing, but at the same time, Ilya literally just did it by accident earlier today. So maybe it's really, really not as big of a deal as Shane is making it in his mind. Which is irritating if only because it again means that Ilya was right. Shane knows that they're not keeping track, not keeping score, but they also kind of are. It's kind of their whole thing, too, the competition of it all.
It will be hot if Shane can confidently ask for it, especially if he does do it tomorrow. It's probably much sooner than Ilya is assuming that he'll be brave enough to bring it up, and he lives for surprising Ilya or surpassing his expectations. Ilya would probably say that he doesn't have expectations for Shane during sex, which is nice in theory but notably not true or helpful in practice. Shane wants Ilya to have expectations of him and he wants to soar past and shatter every single fucking one of them.
It's that thought - the idea of surpassing Ilya's expectations, getting that reverent, awed look on Ilya's face that appears whenever Shane does something particularly slutty, usually (or tells him that he loves him, too) - that finally allows him to join Ilya in unconsciousness.
The thing is that he can't do it first thing in the morning. Mostly because the novelty of it is too precious to him - waking up to Ilya still in bed with him, warm and sleepy and yes horny, but in a way that is so nice and soft and unhurried that asking him to choke him would completely take both out of them out of the moment. Shane is pretty sure that Ilya would still be interested, might even give him what he wants, but it doesn't feel like the right time. So he ruts against him and kisses him despite both of their morning breath, and he thinks about later.
He continues thinking about later through breakfast and going for a jog and taking a dip in the lake and showering and lunch and putting one of the stupid action movies that Ilya apparently loves on the television in the living room of the cottage. Shane puts his head in Ilya's lap and tries not to point out that none of what's happening on the screen is realistic in any way. Also his face is like, so close to Ilya's dick and he's not even doing anything about it which he personally feels like he deserves an award of some kind for. Being able to relax with Ilya like this is a gift, like he said to Ilya on the drive here. All of their time has been so rushed, stolen, and now that they're here it doesn't have to be that frantic. It's just that Shane also is still kind of obsessed with Ilya and his dick and everything and he wants to ask his boyfriend to choke him.
It's a comfortable, easy, sleepy afternoon. Shane never feels more like himself than when he is alone with Ilya like this. It's this combination of factors that allows the words to just...slip out, while Ilya's hands are gently combing through his hair, juxtaposed with the ridiculous, fast-paced action on the screen.
"Will you choke me? Please?" He tacks on belatedly, as if Ilya may require convincing.
The hands in his hair stutter, but do not freeze. No, the real proof of Ilya's surprise is in the choking noise he makes and the way he scrambles for the television remote.
Once he finally manages to pause the movie, Ilya pulls him up off his lap, much to Shane's chagrin. He was fucking comfortable. Shane's protest dies before it passes his lips, though, because when he meets Ilya's eyes, he sees that his pupils are blown wide and he looks wild with it.
"You are trying to kill me, Hollander? What the fuck?"
Shane can't help himself - he laughs right in Ilya's face. He definitely wasn't expecting Shane to bring it up so soon, or in the context that he did. Sue him for being smug about being the one to surprise Ilya for once, since it so typically feels one-sided.
"Well, you said to think about it, and I did. I kind of haven't stopped thinking about it, actually. I went on a bit of a research spiral about it after you fell asleep and - "
Now, Ilya is laughing at him, which is definitely a bit insulting but also much more familiar territory. He seems to have collected himself after Shane's surprise attack, but his eyes are still more than a little bit wild. Shane can't help but respond when he looks like that - even if Ilya doesn't choke him, he's pretty sure they're about to have some really fantastic sex. Even though it - it's all pretty fucking fantastic. There have been times like Vegas where it hasn't felt good or right after, but hopefully there will be less of that now. Now that they're something to each other, boyfriends, they should probably be able to talk about that kind of thing. And not let it fester for months on end - either of their ends. Shane knows now that Ilya wasn't being fully honest with him about things were, but he didn't push, either. Didn't even tell him how he was feeling about it.
"So do you, um, want to? I can show you some of the stuff I found, but it really comes down to..."
The look Ilya gives him is incredulous, and Shane trails off. He doesn't feel like he's particularly said anything wrong, but Ilya's face gives him a different impression.
"Do I want to? Shane, you cannot be serious. You came immediately yesterday when this happened. I am always interested in making this happen, you should know this."
"Sometimes you like to make me wait for it," Shane points out, then immediately kicks himself as Ilya's predatory grin creeps across his face. Yeah, maybe it's one of his favorite looks on his boyfriend, but it also usually means that he's in for it. Maybe exactly where he wants to be.
"I like to make you wait for it because you like it when it's up to me to decide. When you don't have to think about it, hm?"
Fuck him. Ilya's right, but it's not like Shane has to tell him that. It would probably be more accurate to say that he loves to hate it, being pushed to the edge but being made to wait for it, too, but making that particular correction doesn't feel particularly important right now. The way that Ilya is looking at him and telling him that yes, he's on board with choking him, now that feels important.
"You think too much, too loud, all the time. Even about this, I give you time, I tell you is okay no matter what, and you stay up to do research." Ilya creeps forward, boxes Shane into the corner of the couch, then just rests his hand on the vulnerable front of Shane's neck, like he's measuring something. "Is fine. I know how to make you stop thinking."
A breathy "please" escapes Shane's lips before he even knows what he's asking for, but Ilya is already leaning in to kiss him, his hand a steady presence. Not applying any pressure, yet, just being there. In fact, his hand shifts away from Shane's neck, slides up to cup the side of his face, and there's no way that Shane is going to complain about that.
Ilya kisses him so thoroughly and for so long that Shane genuinely feels dazed by the time Ilya pulls away, a few affectionate slaps to his face not enough to bring him out of it fully, but enough to make his eyes meet Ilya's. Whatever it is that he finds there, Ilya grins at.
"Solnyshko, you are so far gone already. Give me your phone. You saved what you need me to see?"
Shane nodes eagerly, pulls his phone out of his pocket with clumsy hands and pushes it towards Ilya.
"Good," Ilya says, leans in and kisses him again. "Go wait for me in bed."
Shane stumbles towards their bedroom (their bedroom!!) and only hesitates for a moment before leaving the privacy screens up. Even if his mom or dad were to come over again, they shouldn't be able to see anything with how the room is positioned, and they know to text now. He's so fucking sick of hiding, he knows Ilya is sick of hiding, and so he won't. Not here - he asked Ilya for honesty that first day, and Ilya said that he would try. The least he can do is try and repay the favor. And he knows damn well that Ilya wants those screens up.
He strips out of his clothes, folds them neatly to the side. He gets the lube and a condom out, too, but leaves them on the nightstand. They only really need the lube but Shane knows more of Ilya, now. Knows that he likes to be the one to work Shane open, so Shane doesn't do it for him. Instead, he stretches, and he visualizes. Typically it's a strategy more reserved for the ice, but it works just as well here. The thing that's different is mostly how many ways it could be good. On the ice - they've got a playbook, drills, everything they practice. Either the puck goes in the net at the end of it or it fucking doesn't.
There are so many goddamn ways that Ilya makes him feel good, that he can make him feel good. They've already done things so many different ways so many different times and it all still feels new and good. That's all that the choking will be - a novelty to build on what they already both enjoy. Ilya could put his face in the pillow, put pressure on the back of his neck. Not maybe the most traditional position, but it would be effective and Shane's pretty sure he would like it.
He likes to see Ilya, though, and he knows now that Ilya prefers the same. They could just as easily do it in the position that they were in last night; Shane with his back against the pillows, safe in the hollow of Ilya's hips. One of his favorite places to be, and just as nice with Ilya's hands on his chest and throat. They could be on their sides, or Shane could be in Ilya's lap, though that one seems like it would be at least a little bit trickier to maintain. At least for their first time it's probably better to try and stick to the 'basics', though Shane knows he'd never hear the end of it if he referred to any of those positions that way. He's not stupid or naive, despite what his team may think of him sometimes. He knows that what he and Ilya do isn't strictly 'normal', for whatever that's worth, which he personally thinks is nothing. It's not anyone else's business and it never will be if he can help it.
For now, he just arranges himself on his knees on the bed and waits after he stretches, his mind clearing of anything that's not Ilya. It's harder to do when he's still not here, when Shane can't even hear him just existing in the other room, but he does his best. And that's all Ilya has ever asked of him.
"I should make you wait for me like this more often. After every game, maybe. I would ask if you would like this, but I already know."
"God, you are such an asshole," Shane says, but it's so fond at this point that he might have well just told Ilya that he loved him. Again. At least he knows now that his waiting is over.
"Yes, but you love me, and I love your asshole, so what does that make you?"
Shane gets lost trying to figure out what the hell that is supposed to mean - he gets the components, but not the whole. "Ilya, what - ?"
He loses the discussion immediately when Ilya tips him forward from his kneeling position on the bed, landing face-down in the linens with a soft oof. Ilya's mouth is on him before he can even gather his thoughts together enough to try and ask another clarifying question. And fuck, but there's really not a lot of higher brain function going on when Ilya's mouth is on Shane, especially when Ilya is hungry for it like he is now. Shane is too impatient to come just like this, without Ilya's cock in him, but he wholeheartedly believes that if Ilya wanted to make him come like this, he absolutely could. It's just that Ilya also prefers to finish inside of Shane, lucky for him.
"Oh my god, Ilya, slow down. Fuck, it's too much, too fast, too good." Shane remembers Ilya saying very similar things to him the first time they hooked up. He'd been so nervous - he's still never told Ilya about the suit thing, and he never intends to - but especially when Ilya had pulled him off and told him to stop. He'd also been worried at least a little bit that he'd been lying about why he was telling Shane to stop, but the way he'd narrowly avoided coming in his mouth for the first time had reassured him.
Ilya does not stop, and Shane doesn't have any leverage from this position, so he just sort of takes the onslaught of sensation. It really is too much, but it also feels so fucking good and he can't really be that upset about it. Not with the way that Ilya eats him out like a starving man, stopping only to slip one, two, three fingers inside of him in quick succession. It definitely helps that they've been all but non-stop fucking since they got to the cottage, save for the interlude of Shane's dad interrupting them and having to hold space for that entire experience.
He pulls at Shane's hips until he's arranged exactly where he wants him, goes to line himself up, teasing at Shane's hole with the head of his cock and then just...doesn't push in. Shane whines at the tease, cants his hips back, but Ilya holds himself just out of reach.
"Mmm, no, on your side, I think," he says, tapping at Shane's hip insistently like he couldn't just flip him over if he wanted to - like he actually has before. And it's not even like he's trying to get him on his back!
Still, Shane adjusts while biting his tongue because getting fucked is more important than giving Ilya shit about this. This time. He feels Ilya mold himself to his back - it really is unbearably close, this position, for all that it's not quite so easy to look into each other's eyes. He can manage it well enough if he twists to meet Ilya's lips for a kiss, which he does eagerly. He keeps it pretty well in control until Ilya doesn't tease and actually pushes inside this time, and then it's less of a kiss and more of Shane just moaning messily into Ilya's mouth. Not that it seems like he minds in the slightest, and Shane sure as shit doesn't.
It still kills him how good it feels every single time. Their first time together changed something in him, but the first time that Ilya fucked him caused an arguably more dramatic change. Yeah, Shane had had a dildo before. He'd fingered himself before. It was fine - a little more hassle than just jacking off so he tended to lean towards doing that anyway. But it hadn't prepared him for Ilya's mouth on his hole for the first time, and it certainly hadn't prepared him to be fucked. This is something that Shane genuinely cannot imagine his life without, and of course with Ilya.
He craved it all the time before they were anything; when the best he could hope for was seeing Ilya four times a year. He's so goddamn glad that he'll never have to go back to that. Maybe it still won't be as often as they'd like, maybe the distance will still be a killer even with Ilya in Ottawa, but at least they know now. At least they can both try now. Cards on the table, they both want this, they're both in love. It changes things. It changes a lot of things.
"Fuck, Ilya, just like that. So good, baby." He says it as their lips detach, as he has to stop straining his neck quite so hard and face forwards again.
Baby is also entirely new. Shane has never liked being called babe or baby in a relationship, not that he's ever said anything about it or, frankly, been in enough relationships for it to matter. But calling Ilya baby? Knowing what it does to him? That's power that Shane could be drunk on forever. There's not much opportunity for thrusting in this position, but Ilya is buried deep and grinding and it truly is just so fucking good.
It's undeniably better when Ilya puts a gentle hand on his throat, though. He's not applying pressure, he's literally just using Shane's body like it's something built specifically to bring him comfort. For all Shane knows, maybe it was. Maybe his body can be good for two things now - hockey and supporting Ilya Rozanov. He finds that it's not as scary as it once seemed for his body to matter for more than just hockey, even though it's definitely still the priority. After all, he wouldn't have Ilya if he hadn't had hockey first. They're too deeply entangled to separate them out in any meaningful way, hockey and Ilya.
"Fuck, Shane, you still want it? Want me to take control of this too?" Ilya asks, checking in like he always - almost always - has, so reminiscent of the first time Ilya fucked him. Shane had wanted it so badly, and that's still the same too. He can't imagine a world in which he gets tired of wanting Ilya, or god forbid stops wanting him entirely. It just doesn't seem possible. They've been surviving on crumbs for years and years and years and years - some of which they weren't exactly on the best of terms, even talking to each other. Now that it's open, now that they've admitted to being in love? He's not interested in playing it cool; being coy. What's the fucking point?"
"Fucking yes, I want it. Didn't know it before you, didn't know until you gave it to me. But I want it, baby, please," Shane begs, even though Ilya didn't ask him to. He won't always make it so easy for Ilya - making him work for it is fucking fun, too - but with this? This is something Shane wants, so he's not going to play those games. Just like wanting Ilya, there's no point in pretending he's not aching for it.
Ilya barely starts squeezing at the sides of his neck at all, careful not to put any real pressure on the front, but the effect is instantaneous. Shane feels immediately a bit lightheaded, like he's floating away from his body. Ilya's still grinding into him, such a steady, consistent presence, and it feels like Shane is nothing but need, nothing but pure hedonism. Is he allowed to feel this good? Surely there must be some limitation, some ceiling, some peak of pleasure that he'll eventually reach and then never be able to achieve again. But the problem is that it feels like that every single time, and this is no exception. Or if it is an exception, it's only one because of how good it is.
"Yes," he hisses, and immediately takes stock of the strain in his voice. He can't tell how much of what he's feeling is actually real - the faintness, the pleasure, the pressure to speak - and how much of it is purely in his head, but he can't find it in himself to care, either. Again - what does it fucking matter? Why should he be thinking about it at all when he can just enjoy it?
"You give me too much, Shane, fuck." Ilya sounds absolutely wrecked, especially when he follows that line up with a smattering of Russian that Shane can't hope to translate. Maybe not even if he knew Russian, with how much he's floating right now.
"You can take it, it's yours, I'm yours," Shane says, delirious, and then Ilya is coming inside him. Ilya is coming inside of him bare (also new, also fucking fantastic) and his hand tightens on Shane's throat enough to make Shane feel like he really can't take a deep breath. Ilya's not even pressing that hard, he's being careful about where he's doing it, but Shane feels like there's no air to be had.
As Shane is discovering just how much of a rush this is, how intensely and deeply he feels as though he belongs to Ilya in this moment, Ilya wraps a hand around his cock and he's finished too. It's not even a proper stroke, not really, just Ilya's hand on him and he comes so hard it feels like he's going to black out.
Ilya pulls his hand away from his throat but luckily not his cock, and Shane can't even begin to describe it. It's like the oxygen rushing back in - though how much it had even really been forced out of reach is still fuzzy and unclear and will likely remain that way - prolongs everything, heightens the sensation. He feels so good and he can breathe again and every single fucking bit of it is because of Ilya, under Ilya's control. He'd let Ilya take over everything if he could feel this good all the time.
Well, maybe not hockey. Definitely not hockey. There'd be no point if they couldn't compete when it comes to hockey. He giggles about it - what the fuck is he even doing thinking about fucking hockey right now, when his boyfriend is in his bed in his favorite place on earth and just made him come harder than he has in a long time - then laughs harder when Ilya arches an eyebrow at him, incredulous.
"You are laughing at me Hollander? I choke you, fulfill fantasy that you did not even know you had before me, make you come so hard and so long, and you laugh? This must be illegal."
"'m not laughing at you, I'm just laughing. Had a thought about fucking. Hockey. And couldn't believe I was thinking of it at a time like this."
Ilya laughs, too, and it's quickly becoming one of Shane's favorite sounds in the whole wide world, Ilya's real laugh. He's caught glimpses before, but nothing like how Ilya allows himself to be now. There's a part of him that definitely wonders exactly how much he's been holding out, but he's determined to just find out instead of turning it into something to mourn, or even worse, a fight.
"Ah, so you are laughing at you for thinking about hockey all of the time, even when I fuck you so good you can't breathe. This, I can get behind."
"Oh, I'm so surprised," Shane chimes in, laying the sarcasm on heavily. "You've always been so restrained about making fun of me. And calling me boring, and saying I'm not funny, and - "
"And all of those things are true, yet I am still here in your bed, no? I still love you, even when you cannot think about anything but hockey and you only want to eat terrible bird food and I am warm and comfortable but you are already feeling sticky so I will leave cozy bed to get things to clean us up."
Shane immediately wants to protest, wants to be contrary, but Ilya's right. The idea of Ilya coming in him bare is really hot while they're having sex, scorching hot while it's happening, amazing in the immediate aftermath, and then on a dime, deeply unpleasant. Shane kisses Ilya twice before he leaves the bed to express his appreciation for just how well Ilya knows him, and then again as Ilya is wiping him down just a moment later.
The real afterglow is this - time, shared space, shared breath. No one worried about missing a curfew or having a teammate cover for them or a mess on their skin or a parent walking in. Just the two of them allowed to exist in each other's orbit without the fucking Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. Shane might just give up anything to stay here. Maybe even hockey. Fuck, they're both millionaires already, right? And they must have at least a useful skill or two between them.
But it's not realistic. Even getting Ilya here was - well, he's pretty certain that Ilya wouldn't be here at all if Scott Hunter hadn't kissed his boyfriend on television. He was pretty out of it in the hospital, sure, but even through his foggy memory he remembers how placating and unsure Ilya's "Maybe, maybe," had been. Fuck, he hadn't even wanted Shane to ask. Neither one of them is walking away from hockey. Even Shane's half-formed plan with the charity and with getting Ilya to Ottawa isn't perfect, and won't even be possible for at least another full year.
These two weeks will end and - well, it's going to really suck. It might even suck more than before they confessed their true feelings because at least then they could pretend. Shane can't pretend that he isn't deeply, madly in love with Ilya Rozanov anymore. Not to his face, at least. He has to spend all of his energy on pretending to the rest of the world so that he doesn't upend their entire fucking lives. Fucking hockey. Fucking Russia. Never before has it felt like such a large, looming presence; an unwelcome third guest in their relationship.
That's probably not fair - he has to imagine that it's always been on Ilya's mind. Just not something that he shared with Shane, because as he put it himself, what the fuck would it have fucking mattered? And the hockey of it all has always loomed over both of them. Probably always will, despite his parents remarking on how sad it is. It's not like they had alternative solutions, either.
There's every chance that what Scott did - brave as it was - changes absolutely nothing for them materially, but Shane's still grateful for it. Even if all it gave him was Ilya agreeing to come here - well, it's more than he had previously even hoped for.
"You are thinking too hard again. You are going to give me complex, Hollander, that was some of my best work. Just rest now."
And who is Shane Hollander to not listen to Ilya Rozanov when he's in his bed and he sounds like that?