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Driving home had been, for Shane at least, the final straw.
As the sun started to kiss the horizon behind them, he shifted the car into park. He and Ilya had come from his parents’ cottage down the road after what could’ve been the most exhausting afternoon of his life. From getting caught with Ilya by his father, to coming out to his parents both about his sexuality and his— albeit, newly affirmed— relationship with Ilya, Shane’s emotional battery was well spent. If it weren’t for the man following him to his own cottage’s front door, he wasn’t sure they would’ve gotten home as soundly as they had.
Ilya had kept his mind occupied, one of the many things he had proven to be excellent at since they were teenagers. For the better part of a decade, he was an intrinsic facet of Shane’s ever-moving line of thought. He was his satisfaction personified, his capacity for love personified. He was—
Waiting in the doorway expectantly, it seemed. The car keys were useless in Shane’s hand as he shook himself back to reality, sure that he had heard something.
“Shane? Are you coming?” Ilya called from the stoop, face concerned but voice so gentle.
“Yeah, sorry, just—” Shane shuffled to the stairs, meeting Ilya at the doorway with the key and the click of the lock. “Lost my train of thought, is all.”
“Hm? Is that so?” Ilya asked, taking the door out of Shane’s grasp as the latter pulled it open, holding it so his lover could head in before himself, the door softly clicking shut behind them both not too long after.
Shane dropped the keys into the bowl he kept by the door, slipping off his shoes. His face scrunched at the feeling of his feet on the hardwood below, making a sudden turn towards the bedroom with Ilya on his heels.
“Yeah, it is,” Shane said, walking up the stairs languidly, a weight pulling his arms low. He felt Ilya caress his hand from behind, latching onto his pinky with loose, gentle fingers.
Once Shane reached the top of the landing, he turned around to find Ilya with a soft smile coming to his side from the stairs below. Ilya pulled Shane into the room towards the bed before sitting down. Before taking both of Shane’s hands into his own, squeezing them gently.
“I’m not in the mood, Ilya—”
“Oh my god, Hollander. We don’t fuck every time we go to bed,” Ilya smirked, continuing to hold Shane at arm’s length, rubbing his thumbs across Shane’s knuckles.
“I mean… we have, though.” Shane chided, trying to find the joke in Ilya’s words.
He watched the man in front of him playfully roll his eyes. “You are so boring,”
“Fuck you,” Shane said, nearly breathless with exhaustion as he tried to react at all.
Ilya pulled him in with that same smile, wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist as the latter collapsed into his arms. Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya’s neck, ducking his nose into Ilya’s shoulder. He sighed, succumbing to the weight in his shoulders, his chest. Ilya took a hand to Shane’s back, rubbing slowly up and down the length of his spine. He hummed as Shane let himself nearly go limp in his arms, the vibrations soothing him as he closed his eyes, breathing Ilya in.
“Someone’s sleepy,” Ilya said after a beat, continuing to rub up and down Shane’s back.
“Yeah, well, wouldn’t you be?” Shane asked, his words muffled.
“I am too, you know. We had a long day.” Ilya said. His voice was low and almost sultry. At another hour, Shane would’ve wished for things to take a different turn.
Later, he thought to himself as he realized, We have all the time in the world now.
“Fuck, it was long, wasn’t it?” Shane almost whined, words still muffled by Ilya’s stupid Boston shirt.
“A lot happened,” Ilya agreed. “Maybe we have lazy night in?”
Shane hummed in approval, earning a chuckle from Ilya.
“What were you thinking?” Shane asked.
“A shower, first. We never got to after the lake,” Ilya started. Shane could picture him talking, his eyes bright towards the ceiling, his lips pursing around his vowels, accent heavy as the day caught up with him. “Then maybe a movie?”
“Can we just lay in bed after?” Shane asked.
He felt Ilya press a kiss to his temple.
“Whatever you want, moya lyubov,” Ilya said, tapping his back to pull Shane off of him. “Let’s go before you fall asleep like a horse, yes?”
Shane hummed again, letting himself be pushed to arm’s length as Ilya rose to his feet, keeping his arms wrapped around his neck. Ilya brought Shane to his chest once more before bending down a bit, lifting Shane in a fluid motion as he supported him from below. Shane nuzzled his face into Ilya’s neck, sighing as Ilya carried him into the en-suite bathroom, placing him onto the counter with another kiss to the temple.
Shane sat in a sleepy haze as Ilya turned the shower on and slightly dimmed the lights. Before Shane knew it, Ilya was in front of him, naked, helping him take his shirt off with gentle hands. Shane hummed, letting Ilya raise his arms, pull him off the counter and pull off his bottoms. Shane hadn’t been this tired since his concussion, anxious about the world seeing him and Ilya on the ice, anxious about Ilya knowing he was okay, anxious—
“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get clean, yes?” Ilya asked him softly, guiding Shane to the shower.
The water was on the hotter side of warm as Ilya shut the shower door behind them, propping Shane up against himself as the water sprayed onto them, two bodies pressed as one. Steam filled their senses, warmth overwhelming any draft from the bedroom.
Shane opened his eyes to find Ilya staring at him in wonder, his blue eyes turning hazel in the warm bathroom light. He reached up to Shane’s hair, carding his fingers through it to push away from his face, keeping it from dripping onto his nose, his freckles.
“You are so beautiful,” Ilya whispered loud enough for Shane to hear over the shower spray.
Shane’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. He felt heat rise in his belly, deep, saccharine.
“No, you are,” He tried to deflect, his words too loose for conviction to take hold.
“We both can be,” Ilya spoke, pulling Shane out from under the spray as he reached for his special shampoo. He squirted some into his hands before reaching for his scalp, massaging it into his hair as it started to lather against his thick, black hair.
“Mmm,” Shane hummed again, swaying with serenity under Ilya’s gasp. He felt it blossom across his skin, even as the shampoo suds fell down his back from his scalp, his neck. He felt the warmth bloom through his bones, filling the depths of his belly, half-waking up his arousal, half-keeping it at bay in ecstasy.
“Later, okay?” Ilya whispered into his ear.
Shane hadn’t realized he closed his eyes again, feigning away from the shampoo getting into them. He opened his eyes to find Ilya smirking at him, shampoo in his own hair.
Shane was too tired to protest, whining as Ilya enveloped him into his arms, stepping them both towards the spray, letting the suds fall on both of their shoulders, unable to tell where they started and ended until they just felt wet. Drenched, really, without anything slipping between the drops of water. Ilya pulled them back again, continuing this sacred waltz. One of softly plucked piano strings and sparse melodies. One of ritual as he conditioned their hair, as he let his hands wander across Shane’s broad chest in awe with his fancy exfoliating bath cloth, his freckles shining in the muted orange light against the lathered soap. Shane felt his arousal intertwined with his waves of exhaustion, dipped in the cinnamon glaze of Ilya’s softness. Too close not to notice, too tired to deal with, a flag at half staff in the early dawn, unsure of where to go, content and suitable for the present.
“C’mere,” Ilya said eventually, after the water had slowed to a drip from where it once sprayed.
Shane followed him back onto the fluffy rugs into his arms with a towel around his shoulders. He found it in himself to dry off before Ilya took his towel and did the same, the latter taking it to the hamper in the corner of the bathroom. He took Shane’s hand again as Shane noticed Ilya must’ve taken care of their clothes while he was sitting on the counter. Shane smiled to himself, how thoughtful, as Ilya sat him on the edge of the bed this time before turning on the bedside lamp and fishing through his suitcase.
“I told you, before. You can unpack if you want,” Shane’s words were drunk with honeysuckle as he spoke, eyeing Ilya from across the room. Ilya muttered something in Russian, seemingly to himself, before stepping into a fresh pair of underwear. He bent back down to grab what looked to be a sweatshirt as well, tossing it to Shane before pivoting to the dresser.
“Later,” Ilya spoke, pulling a pair of underwear out for Shane and a pair of socks. They’d disagreed about this time and time again. It’s blasphemous, Shane. Shut the fuck up, no it’s not, Rozanov.
Shane balled the hoodie up in his hands, bringing it to his nose as Ilya came before him, chuckling. He took it from Shane’s hands, helping him stand before going to turn off the bathroom light. Shane dressed himself lazily, turning back to find Ilya looking at him with an almost-goofy smile. Lopsided in the way that was lovestuck.
“What?” Shane asked, oblivious.
“I love you,” Ilya said, coming forward to press a kiss to Shane’s lips.
“I love you too,” Shane said, feeling that heat flood through him again.
“Let’s sleep, da? You look like those cat videos,” Ilya chided, pulling Shane towards the bed.
Shane let himself be pulled, flopping onto the king-sized mattress as Ilya went to send the blinds down for the night. Shane slowly pushed himself under the covers, eyes heavy on Ilya as the man paraded around the room before he finally, finally, made his way to his side of the bed, sliding under the covers.
With a sigh of relief, Ilya reached out for Shane, pulling the man to his chest. He felt something nudge against his thigh as Shane nuzzled against him, content, half-rigid in trying to relax.
“In the morning, okay?” Ilya assured with a voice that meant he felt the same way.
Shane smiled, humming a final time before Ilya flicked off his bedside lamp, enveloping them in darkness, in deserved rest.