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It wasn’t a serious suggestion. Not at first, anyway. In fact, Ilya had only said it either to piss Shane off or make him laugh. He wasn’t sure which. They’d been in the middle of an argument and Ilya was, as always, losing, so he’d whipped out his tried-and-tested last bastion of defence: saying something so preposterous that it would render Shane speechless, and Ilya would win the argument by default.

This time—as was so often the case lately—they’d been arguing about the fact that their relationship still had to be kept secret, and the frustration that came with not being able to openly love one another. It was made all the worse by the fact that they agreed with each other. Neither of them liked keeping their relationship a secret, but there was nothing either of them could do about it, which meant that arguing about it was a waste of time and energy that could be put to far better use. 

So, because there was no actual, tangible solution, and because he was tired of arguing with Shane in loops about something they simply had no choice but to live with, Ilya had said they should go to an anonymous sex party to fuck in front of people. 

There. Problem solved.

It was ridiculous by design. The whole argument was ridiculous, and Ilya’s suggestion served to highlight that.

Only Shane had looked at him: eyes wide and unblinking, mouth agape, his body so still that it appeared he wasn’t breathing, and after what felt like entire minutes had elapsed he’d simply said, quiet as anything, “Okay.”

Ilya had laughed. Of course he had laughed. Shane’s idea of adventure was sleeping past seven thirty in the morning on a weekday or having carbs with lunch and with his evening meal. Ilya had fucked him in front of a mirror once and it had embarassed Shane to be fucked before no-one but himself. There was no way he’d be open to getting fucked in front of an actual audience.

Which meant, surely, that he was simply trying to beat Ilya at his own game by saying the most out-of-pocket thing he could think of.

“Sure, and we will transfer you to Boston while we are at it, ah?” Ilya said now, sarcasm dripping from his voice. It was the next least likely thing Ilya could think of. 

Shane’s mouth twisted slightly, but then his expression settled into one of curious neutrality. He shrugged. 

“I don’t hate the idea,” Shane said carefully. 

Ilya blinked at him. 

“Of playing for Boston?” 

“No, Ilya.” A roll of those pretty, brown eyes. “The sex thing.” 

“‘The sex thing’?” 

“Yes.” 

“What sex thing?” 

“The… Thing you just said.” 

“Shane, come on, you will not even say it.” 

He wasn’t serious. There was no way he was serious.

He looked very serious. That was Shane’s way. Either Shane had no interest at all in something, and he made that known, or he was all-in. Ilya had tried countless times to get Shane to show an interest in his cars, but he went somewhere distant whenever Ilya started talking about brake versus wheel horsepower, or the difference between a V8 and V12 engine. There was no distance in Shane’s eyes here, now. Only a bashful keenness, and the hint of a challenge. 

“You are fucking with me,” Ilya said plainly, with a shrug. “I know you are.”

“Like you were fucking with me?” Shane’s brows nudged accusatorily up towards his hairline.

“Sure.” 

“There isn’t a tiny part of you that actually wants to do that?”

More stubborn than a red wine stain on a white shirt, Shane rarely let go of something once he had hold of it. Not once in all his years of knowing Shane had Ilya ever won a tug-of-war against him, so whenever he did bait Shane into one, it was purely for the love of the game. That, and Ilya liked it when Shane was a little angry with him. Partly because Ilya was a fiend and it turned him on, but there was also a deeper, more complicated part of him that was just glad Shane wasn’t scared of him. Ilya knew in his heart of hearts that he was not like his father, but it was nice to get the occasional reminder. 

Shane saying no to some of Ilya’s coarse suggestions was another such reminder. He had said no to threesomes, to sex anywhere near a hockey rink, and had issued an impassioned threat to cut off Ilya’s dick and balls if he ever brought up the idea of piss play again. A no from Shane Hollander was a no.

Which made it all the more strange that Shane was even pretending to entertain this latest in Ilya’s run of insane suggestions. 

“Fuck you in front of people?” Ilya asked, putting it as bluntly as possible in the hopes of scaring Shane back into himself.

“Yes.” Shane’s voice and expression were tight with impatience, but his cheeks were flushed with colour.

Ilya didn’t like that he couldn’t quite get a read on Shane. Usually, he was an open book, at least to Ilya. Here, they were straddling a line, one foot in fooling around and the other in, apparently, total seriousness. 

“I mean… It would be hot.”

“You know it would change nothing though, right? Nothing about our situation? It wouldn’t make this any better, or any easier. It wouldn’t make it suck any less.”

“Obviously,” Ilya returned, leaning towards serious given that Shane, for whatever reason, seemed to be angled that way too. “But it would be nice to… Not have to hide. To show you off for once. Even if it was just for an hour or two.”

“You really think you’d last an hour or two?” 

The quip, delivered with a small smirk and the quirk of a perfect, dark eyebrow, made Ilya laugh. It was an easy sound that burst unintentionally out of him, and it broke a little bit of the tension.

“Come on, Hollander. You know better than anyone how long I can last.” 

Shane’s tongue ghosted over his bottom lip, his mouth twisting as he tried to suppress a smile. 

“But with an audience, though?” 

Shane’s eyes had been downcast, as they so often were when they talked about uncomfortable things. They lifted now to meet Ilya’s, sparkling with mischief. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ilya, you’re a showman. I think you’d be so turned on by all the people watching that your stamina’d go out the window.” 

Ilya raised his brows, his smile playful. 

“‘All’ the people? How many people are watching us exactly, Hollander?” 

Caught off guard, Shane’s smile faltered. His blush deepened, crept up to the tips of his ears. He chewed on his bottom lip. 

They’d wound up on opposite ends of Shane’s couch. It was late evening, and the TV was on mute because Shane didn’t like to talk—or argue—and have the volume on at the same time, but also insisted that pausing the picture was bad for the screen, so the rerun of that night’s game they’d been watching played silently on in the background. 

Now, Ilya surged forward, grabbed Shane by the neck of his shirt, then hauled him back to Ilya’s side of the couch. 

“How many?” Ilya insisted, his voice light with mischief despite the words being forced through ground teeth. 

Shane practically giggled. He buried his face in Ilya’s chest and settled himself between his legs. 

“A few,” he said, his voice muffled. 

Ilya planted his hands on Shane’s ass and grinned into his hair. 

“And they are watching us fuck?” 

The sound that left Shane was small and breathy, but could only be described as a whimper. His answer was a nod, followed by a not-so-subtle grinding of his pelvis against Ilya. 

Ilya had uncovered that Shane had a touch of the exhibitionist about him. He had told Ilya once of a dream he’d had where they’d been fucking at centre ice, and had since confessed that although the idea of getting caught terrified him, he secretly loved it when there was nothing but a thin wall between them and either a neighbour or a teammate. Ilya had once had a brief conversation through a hotel room door with Marly whilst he’d had his fingers inside Shane, and Ilya had never seen his cock jump so much.

Ilya lifted his hands briefly and slid them beneath the waistband of Shane’s shorts. A low hum marked his own approval of the idea. No, it wouldn’t fix anything. No, it wouldn’t make the burden of having to love someone in secret any easier to bear. But Ilya dreamed of a time when he’d be able to take Shane on his arm to a gala dinner or pose on a red carpet with him as his boyfriend, and the reality was that they might never have that. They might be retired by the time that became possible, and even then there was no guarantee that people would accept them for it. The world at large was changing, but theirs was not. 

“That would be hot,” Ilya said, because there was that, too. It would satisfy—albeit briefly—the part of Ilya that wanted to love Shane loudly, but it would also just be fucking hot. The fact alone that Shane was willing to entertain the fantasy was fucking hot. “Having people see how good my baby takes it.” 

Shane hated it when Ilya called him baby, unless he did so with his mouth up on Shane’s ear and his voice low and sultry, as he was now. Then he quite liked it. 

“Fuck,” Shane breathed, the muscles in his ass flexing under Ilya’s hold as he ground his hips again. 

“I am one of the only… What? Three people in the world who knows that. Mm?” 

Shane whimpered. 

“And still, I do not think you took it so good for the others.”

Shane shook his head. He had told Ilya—or Ilya had dragged it out of him, rather—countless times that he was better, that those other men had been nothing. Ilya’s ego loved to hear it as much now as it had the first time. 

“Tell me,” Ilya instructed, with a squeeze of Shane’s ass. 

“Ilya.” 

“Tell me.” 

He knew Shane wanted to. Knew him well enough by now, inside and out, better than he knew himself. Knew that Shane liked to give just a little bit of pushback sometimes, with the sole aim of hearing Ilya take that tone with him. A shudder rippled through Shane now as evidence of his enjoyment of it.

“I just wished they were you the whole time.” 

“Mm.” Ilya was hard as hell, his cock already aching to sink into Shane, but in recent years he’d come to enjoy prolonging this part. For so long, they’d had to rush everything. Clandestine meetings in hotel rooms before curfew, a couple of memorable blowjobs in event venue bathrooms. Now that they had time, Ilya had a new appreciation for prolonged gratification; for sitting in the anticipation of it all instead of diving straight in. “So you wouldn’t want anyone to touch you? Just watch?” 

Shane shook his head, then lifted it. “Would you want anyone to touch me?” 

“Of course not,” Ilya said, leaning in to drag his teeth up Shane’s jaw. “You are mine.”

Shane seemed to like this answer. He sought out Ilya’s mouth with his own and gave him a hot, wet, filthy kiss that went straight to Ilya’s cock. 

“Always was,” he whispered against Ilya’s mouth. “Even when they were fucking me.”

A grumble of disapproval sounded in Ilya’s throat, triggered by the mere thought of other men putting their hands on Shane’s body, when it had always felt like it had been crafted with Ilya’s eye in mind. Those strong shoulders, all of his packed muscle, everything from the constellation of freckles splashed haphazardly across his cheeks as though by a can of tipped paint to the heavy hang of his cock; all of it combined to form Ilya’s absolute ideal. He knew for a fact that nobody else Shane had ever let near his body had worshipped it in the way it deserved. The way Ilya did. 

“Let us not talk about other people fucking you,” Ilya said, a petulant whine colouring his voice.

“Ilya, it’s only been you for a long time. You know that.” 

“I know.” Ilya pulled back. Smiled. Regarded Shane with a look of amusement and deep fondness. “This dick was just too good, ah?” 

Shane laughed. It was a sound Ilya would never tire of.

“Something like that.” Shane reached up and stroked a hand back through Ilya’s loose curls, smiled at him. “So… What, having people watch would be okay? So long as they don’t touch what’s yours?”

Ilya swallowed, nodded, and liked his lips. Shane’s smile adopted a devilish quality. He slid off Ilya’s body and onto his side beside him, his hand coming to palm at Ilya’s erection. An appreciative hum instantly fell from Ilya’s lips.

“And what are these other people doing?” Shane asked, kissing uncoordinately at Ilya’s jawline. “Are they fucking, too?” 

“Some of them,” Ilya answered, shifting into a more comfortable position, one hand still down the back of Shane’s shorts. He lifted the other behind his head and watched Shane work the clear bulge in his sweats. “Some are jerking off.” 

A breath left Shane, all at once as though it had been stolen from him. It fanned over Ilya’s cheek. 

“Are they all men?” 

“Mm,” Ilya affirmed with a slight nod of his head. His breathing quickened with each second of Shane’s attention on his cock. “It would not be fair, I think. If there were women.”

“How so?” 

“Because only I like women. You do not.” 

“I wouldn’t be there for anyone else anyway. I wouldn’t mind.”

Ilya shook his head. 

“I think I would also like…” Ilya’s voice trailed off as Shane’s hand slipped beneath his waistband and wrapped around his cock. He moaned, and let himself enjoy the first few strokes before he went on. “The thought of being in a room with… With all these men you could have, but you are with me.” 

A sound escaped Shane that was half laugh, half moan. 

“While I claim you in front of all of them.” 

No laughter, this time. Just a moan. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Shane’s words were breathy, blurred around the edges in that dreamy way they got when something hit the spot just right. 

“You like that?” Ilya asked, kneading the meat of Shane’s ass like dough. “Would be like marking my territory, mm?” 

“Fuck.” 

Shane had Ilya’s sweats down around his thighs in record time, and his hungry mouth on his cock as soon as it had sprung free. Ilya spread his legs and helped Shane manoeuvre himself between them, Shane’s eyes rolling back in his head once he was settled and able to get to work. 

Grinning, Ilya pulled up the hem of his t-shirt and was instantly rewarded with Shane’s hand shoving beneath it and clamping over his pec, the tips of his fingers turning into the flesh as though close wasn’t close enough, and he needed to merge together with him somehow. Hence the eager way he was sucking Ilya’s cock. 

“Imagine it,” Ilya pushed, propping himself up on his elbows so he could watch Shane work. “Bunch of guys watching you do this.” 

Shane’s deep moan reverberated through Ilya’s cock.

“Standing around us. Stroking their cocks. So jealous.” 

A whimper, followed by Shane slowly taking the head of Ilya’s cock into the plush seat of his throat and making himself gag on it. Warming himself up. 

“Fuck,” Ilya snarled, watching with keen eyes as Shane’s mouth drew back and off briefly so he could take a breath, leaving Ilya’s shaft covered in spit. He went straight back to it. “You are showing off for them, ah?” 

Shane nodded eagerly without releasing Ilya’s cock from his mouth.

“Showing them what a good little cocksucker you are?” 

The moan that left Shane this time was guttural, a primal sound that came from somewhere deep and ancient inside him. Ilya’s words injected new purpose into him, it seemed, because Shane took Ilya deeper again and quickened his movements, losing his rhythm. Ilya loved it when Shane gave head like this. He had started out so tidy, so efficient, when they’d been young. Over time, Ilya had come to learn that sucking cock put Shane in an almost trancelike state, that it quieted his busy mind in a way that nothing else did, barring getting fucked. It took him out of himself, and when it did, he got messy with it. Sloppy. Like he was now.

“Fuck, Hollander, you are too good at that.” 

Ilya dropped off his elbows and let his head fall back instead, Shane’s mouth taking him to heaven. Grunted moans fell from him with mounting intensity, and despite the fact that they’d already fucked that night, Ilya knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

“Where do you want me to come?” 

Shane whipped his mouth off Ilya’s cock just long enough to answer, then got back to work. 

“Down my throat.” 

Ilya moaned hard, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes, relaxing into the pleasure, feeling like a god under Shane’s worship. 

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya panted, orgasm mounting. Shane released his vicelike grip on Ilya’s chest to flick his middle finger at his nipple instead, and Ilya was a goner. 

“Oh god,” he said, eyes rolling back in his skull behind his eyelids. He opened them, and watched through a dreamy haze as Shane’s head bobbed and bobbed and bobbed until, with a deafening roar, Ilya erupted into his mouth. 

“Ohhhh fuck. Fuuuuuuuck, Hollander. Da, like that. Good boy. Good fucking boy. Swallow it.” 

Shane had drawn his mouth back to the very head of Ilya’s cock right at the moment of climax, just how Ilya liked it. Ilya watched his shaft pulse as it pumped rope after rope of hot come into Shane’s waiting mouth, and felt for the slight constriction of Shane’s tongue as he swallowed each one down with zeal, contented hums leaving him with each gulp.

In a pleasured daze, Ilya lay there panting while Shane nursed his softening cock, swirling his tongue over the sensitive tip. Only when he was satisfied that he’d swallowed every last drop of Ilya’s spend did Shane release him. 

“You sound so fucking good when I do that,” Shane said, climbing Ilya’s lax body, a telltale rasp in his voice that Ilya always loved to hear. Shane settled on top of Ilya and kissed him, and Ilya gladly tasted himself on his mouth. “But if we’re gonna do that in front of people, you can’t use my name. Or speak Russian.” 

Ilya simply laughed. 

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Ilya had expected that to be that. A fantasy they’d briefly indulged in, and would maybe revisit sometime. It had served its purpose; to diffuse the argument and remind them that they were on the same side. 

Two weeks later, however, Shane sent Ilya an ominous text. 

Jane: Can we talk later?

Ilya stared at the text for a long while. Instantly, anxiety started to eat at him. Four innocuous words and he felt like he was on the verge of losing everything. Things had been good between him and Shane recently. Had they been too good? Had he missed something?

Lily: talk like talk or talk like break up ??? 

Jane: Talk like talk, idiot. 

Ilya’s anxiety was instantly soothed. There was no way Shane would call him an idiot if he was going to break up with him. Whenever he called him an idiot, he did so with affection. 

Lily: we will do more than talk later i hope yes????? 👉🏻👌🏻💦💦💦

Jane: God, you’re disgusting.

Lily: u looooove me

Lily: so much

Where the confidence had come from, Ilya had no idea. He’d been certain, thirty seconds ago, that Shane was going to break up with him.  

Jane: I do. Scientists are still trying to uncover why. 

Lily: 🥰🥰

Ilya grinned at his phone then pocketed it. He didn’t ask what Shane wanted to talk about; he knew he wouldn’t tell him. He was just happy he still had a boyfriend.

Shane had a game in Montreal that evening, and would make the drive to Ilya’s place in Ottawa right after. Ilya had been giddy the whole day. They hadn’t seen one another since the night they’d spent at Shane’s place two weeks ago, and a rough couple of weeks of games had left Ilya longing for Shane’s company even more than usual. He needed to lose himself in the feel of him, the warmth of him, the familiarity of him, and in the simplicity of that easy company, forget about how insurmountable everything felt.

Hearing Shane’s car pull into the driveway that night instantly made Ilya feel calmer. Their problems were no greater or smaller for them being together, but it made Ilya feel less like he was drowning. 

Shane was barely through the door before he was shoving Ilya back against the nearest wall, tearing off his coat, and kissing him like a man starved. Ilya accepted the onslaught gladly, helped Shane with his coat, and swallowed down the moans that poured generously from Shane’s mouth into his own. 

“I thought you wanted to talk.” 

“After,” Shane panted, shaking his head. His hands were on Ilya’s face, fingers practically clawing at him. Ilya’s own bracketed Shane’s waist, drinking in the feel of him after so much time apart. Two weeks, these days, felt like forever. It was strange to think that there had been a time when they’d gone months without seeing each other. “Can’t think about anything else right now. Need you. Need you to fuck me.” 

Those were magic words to Ilya. 

He heeded them. 

It was gone two in the morning by the time ‘after’ came around. They were laying in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat, spit, and come, panting after a marathon fuck that had just barely hit the spot. Ilya looked forward to their usual routine of waking up at five, six in the morning, doing it all again, then going back to sleep.

“Okay. So we are definitely not breaking up?” 

Shane scoffed. 

“Considering I have your come in my ass, I’d say no.” 

Ilya grinned. “Begged for it, too.”

“Asshole.”

“Yes, that is where I put it.” 

Shane reached up from where he was sprawled over Ilya’s chest and clamped his hand over Ilya’s mouth. Ilya stuck out his tongue and managed to rub it all over Shane’s palm before he snatched it away.

“I’ve been researching.” Shane said, lifting himself up into a straddle and wiping the offending hand on Ilya’s arm. “That thing we talked about.” 

It genuinely didn’t occur to Ilya what he might be referring to. 

“What thing? We talk about many things.” 

Shane sighed, chin jutting out impatiently as though he expected Ilya to read his mind, but the caresses he gave Ilya’s chest were full of fondness. Ilya had never expected to meet someone who loved him and was irritated by him in equal amounts. He adored it. 

“The thing.” Ilya’s expression must have given away that he was still clueless because Shane rolled his eyes and went on. “The… Having sex in front of people thing.” 

Whatever Ilya had been expecting, it wasn’t that. 

“You… Have?” 

“Yeah. Pretty obsessively, actually. Since we talked about it.” 

Ilya’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. His hands had been on Shane’s thighs, thumbs caressing his skin. They stilled, now.

“Shane, I was kidding about that.” 

“I know. I mean, I think you were at first. But then you weren’t. And neither was I.” 

Ilya didn’t know what to say. His body reacted for him, his spent cock pulsing with renewed interest under the seat of Shane’s ass. 

“You were not.” It wasn’t a question, just Ilya trying out the idea on his tongue as if he could taste the truth in it. 

“No.” Shane took a deep, shaky breath, then lifted his chin as though in defiance of his own nerves. “I want us to try it.”

Ilya stared at him. 

“For real?” 

“Yes, asshole. For real.”

Silence. In the wake of the obnoxiously loud sex they’d just had, it was deafening. 

Ilya sat up. Nose to nose with Shane, he looked into those pretty doe eyes for even a hint of him doing this for the wrong reasons. His main concern was that Shane was saying this because he thought it was what Ilya wanted, and not because the want came from within him, too.

“You know that I am happy with the way things are between us, right?” Ilya said, sounding about as serious as he ever did. “I know that I complain, and… Obviously I would like it better if we did not have to hide any more, but… This is already so much more than I thought we would ever have.”

He leaned in and kissed Shane, slow and purposeful. 

“I love you,” he whispered, mouth still pressed to Shane’s. “You do not need to do this.”

Shane’s hands stroked up Ilya’s arms, over his shoulders, and ultimately up to his face. 

“I want to.” 

Ilya swallowed. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“You are not just saying that because you know I would like it?” 

“Ilya, when was the last time I did something just because you like it?” 

Ilya had to laugh at that. Shane Hollander did not do anything he didn’t want to do, not with Ilya.

“Good point.”

“Can I at least tell you about what I found? We don’t have to do any of it, obviously. But can I tell you about it?” 

They ended up with both their backs propped against the headboard, Shane with his iPad in his lap because of course he’d compiled a folder of all the information he’d gathered. 

“I didn’t really know where to start, but I ended up on Reddit,” Shane explained. “And I read about a bunch of different places that host this kind of thing in Montreal.”

Shane glanced at Ilya, then went on. 

“I thought at first that would maybe be a little too close to home. Like maybe there was more chance of being recognised. But… I don’t know. It would feel safer, I guess. To be somewhere familiar. To know where to go in an emergency or whatever.”

Ilya smiled, but didn’t interrupt. It wasn’t mocking. It was just so very Shane to effectively conduct a risk assessment in his research on sex parties.

“But I found this one that seems like maybe it could work.”

Shane pulled up a document on the iPad where he’d summarised the information he’d gathered. 

“The guy who runs it, his name is Mike. He’s been doing it for years, apparently. I found lots of people online who vouch for him. That he vets everyone, that his parties are always clean, well organised, super discreet.” 

“That is good,” Ilya ventured cautiously. He rubbed Shane’s knee under the blanket.

“I actually contacted him,” Shane went on, his voice smaller, more shy. “He ended up calling me.” 

Ilya nodded, though the corners of his mouth turned down. 

“Is he hot?” he asked. 

“Ilya, you can’t possibly be jealous.” 

“You are talking to other men about sex.” 

“You and I just had sex. I think that counts for more.” 

Ilya smiled smugly at the reminder then gestured for Shane to go on. 

“Anyway.” Shane sounded exasperated, but his mouth twisted around a poorly suppressed smile. “I think it’s worth a try. He hosts every first Friday of the month. Outside the city. Good neighbourhood.” 

Ilya couldn’t help the fond laughter that bubbled up and out of him. He loved his practical, sensible boyfriend so fucking much. 

“It’s a mix of couples and single people. And he has a wristband system. Different colours to show what you’re into. We would wear blue because we’re happy to be watched but we’re not there to… Get involved with other people.”

Of course there was a system. Shane loved a system.

“Okay. But what about masks or something?”

“Yeah, you can either show your face or not. He said most people do, but there are plenty who don’t. He has a record of who attends each month and everything so nobody’s really there anonymously. But it’s just for safety.”

Ilya’s eyebrows nudged upwards. 

“That doesn’t bother you? That he would know you were there?” 

Shane shrugged. 

“I already sent him my ID.” 

Ilya looked at Shane for a solid minute without saying a word. 

“Is this a midlife crisis or something?” 

“No. I’m not middle aged.” 

“Just a crisis then.”

“No. Ilya, I’m serious about doing this. I want to do it. People know that I’m gay. I think people would be more surprised to find me at a… At a Hooters than a gay sex party.” 

“Sorry,” Ilya said, creasing up. “Now I am just picturing you at Hooters.” 

Shane elbowed him lightly in his ribs. “So what do you think?” 

Ilya mulled the question over for a moment. 

“I would have to give my ID, too?” 

“Yeah,” Shane answered, with a twist of his mouth. “Does that bother you?” 

“No. As long as it does not bother you.” 

“You have to go meet him first, too. With proof of a negative STI test from the last two weeks.”

“I did not know there would be so much… Admin.” 

“Ilya, this is like foreplay for me.”

“I know,” Ilya said, laughing. He leaned across and buried his face in the crook of Shane’s neck, kissing at him. He nodded at the iPad when he pulled back. “How many times did you get hard doing all of this?”

“A lot,” Shane admitted with a laugh, before switching off the screen with a sigh that sounded more relieved than anything, like he was glad to have gotten everything off his chest. “Anyway, just… Think about it?” 

“I do not need to think about it, Shane. I want to do it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Ilya said with a kiss to Shane’s shoulder. “We will talk about it some more, mm? Before we commit to something.”

They did talk about it. At length. Sometimes at three in the morning when Shane woke up with a burning question and wondered if it was an appropriate time to text ‘Mike’. More often than not, Ilya talked him out of it—at least until the following morning—but the truth was that they were both excited.

While they waited for a first Friday of the month that worked with both of their schedules, they often discussed the why. It was rooted in part, of course, deep in kink. They both agreed that they simply found the idea hot. A big—arguably the biggest—part of it was that they wanted to feel free. Just for a night. Their very small inner circle knew about them: Shane’s parents, Rose, Sveta, and Hayden, Jackie and their kids. And it was nice that they knew, but that didn’t mean they could fully relax around them. Hayden freaked out if they so much as touched hands—granted, that was less because they were both men and more because Ilya was Ilya—and although they were more comfortable being affectionate in front of Shane’s parents now, the bubble in which they could even come close to being fully themselves was still suffocatingly small. 

A third reason came up in their conversations, too. One that reminded Ilya that they were together in what they were going through, because he’d felt like he was alone in being sad over not really being able to express and simply be around queerness. Shane was a gay man, and Ilya was bisexual, but that wasn’t something either of them was really allowed to express. Gay bars were too risky and, well, they were effectively jocks. Most of their peers were painfully straight men who would likely not react well to the news that two of the league’s best players were a couple of queers. The safest thing to do was conform as much as possible so that you didn’t stand out, because much as the world at large seemed to be shifting towards acceptance or at least tolerance as a bare minimum, theirs seemed just as oppressive as ever. Like festering, stagnant water, and that showed no signs of changing. The occasional Pride nights and rainbow stick tape were gimmicks the league used to sell the illusion that it was progressive, and that anyone was welcome, but really the only goal was to tell queer people that their money was welcome, too. It made no real difference to the league itself, and the culture it fostered. 

Neither of them were under any illusions that attending what was effectively a gay orgy would make the world a better or safer place for them to exist. They would likely never post couple selfies or vacation photos or pregnancy announcements to their Instagram feeds like all of their teammates and friends in conventional relationships did. But for a night, at least, they could be free, and queer, without the need to constantly be looking over their shoulders.

The stars aligned a few months later. A bye week in the season landed on the first Friday in the month, and Ilya found himself pulling up outside of a suburban property in his least conspicuous car, a 3-hole ski mask on the passenger seat and an already half-hard cock. 

He was alone. He donned the mask and walked to the firetruck red door alone, too, wondering if the garish colour screamed ‘SEX PARTY HAPPENING HERE!’ to passersby as loudly as it did to him.

He could practically feel Shane’s eyes on him. He was sitting in his own car, and had volunteered Ilya to be the first to enter, just in case the whole thing was a setup and ‘Mike’ was in fact nothing but a murderous psychopath. Ilya had tried not to take it too personally that Shane was so ready to throw him to the wolves. 

Technically, things had gotten started around an hour ago. It had taken a lot of convincing before Shane had taken Ilya’s word for it that nobody showed up to a party on time. Shane had stared at him as though he’d grown a second head, and found the concept baffling, but ultimately he’d conceded on the basis that Ilya knew more about parties than he did.

Regular parties, anyway. Ilya wasn’t sure if the same etiquette applied to orgies, gay or otherwise.

Ilya knocked on the door. He glanced over his shoulder then practically heard Shane cussing him out for it from his car, so he turned to face forward again.

It was Mike himself who answered. Ilya and Shane had both met with him separately for vetting, so Ilya lifted his mask briefly to effectively sign in, then settled it back into place. Shane would be wearing an identical one, and both had already been through the laundry because trying them on for the first time had made them both horny as hell.

Mike wasn’t overly chatty or attentive, which Ilya appreciated, and knew Shane would too. He greeted Ilya and gave him a brief explanation of where everything was in the house, and which rooms were for what purposes, before slipping a blue silicone wristband over Ilya’s hand and asking if Ilya consented to a patdown. It had been explained to them ahead of time that this was part of the procedure for ensuring nobody took in any recording devices, so Ilya obliged. Mike had explained that there were secure lockboxes at the house for cell phones, but Ilya and Shane had opted not to bring theirs. It was maybe a bit of a risk, but they were here together and knew well enough how to defend themselves, if the need arose. Shane had also expressed that he’d rather be found dead than call 911 for help and have to give oh, that place in the West Island where all the gay sex happens as the address of the emergency should anything go awry.

Once Ilya was waved through into the party proper, he lingered near the door to wait for Shane. So far, at least, it looked like a pretty normal party. A contemporarily decorated, spacious living room housed thirty or so men, while low, pleasant music hummed away in the background. 

It might have looked like a domestic space, like somebody’s home, had it not been for the furniture. Where, in a regular home, you might expect to see sideboards and dressers, potted plants or tall, centrepiece lamps, instead were large couches and daybeds, massage chairs, and swings suspended from the ceiling. There was no doubt that the room had been very purposefully designed, even if the scene before Ilya looked pretty modest at present. Some people were gathered in small groups, chatting, whilst others had taken to the beds and couches in pairs. Some were masked, either simply like Ilya and Shane were or in more elaborate pieces that piqued Ilya’s interest, but many were showing their full faces, and Ilya envied their freedom. Or perhaps it was bravery, or a combination of both. Either way, Ilya was glad that there were others like him and Shane here who, for whatever reason, did not want to be recognised. 

Shane emerged a few minutes later, his nervous energy practically preceding him. He made a particularly unsubtle beeline for Ilya which went against the very rules Shane himself had set, but Ilya didn’t mind. He chuckled, eyes sparkling, and welcomed Shane in as he plastered himself to Ilya’s front like a child clutching a parent’s leg. 

“Was that scary?” Ilya asked quietly, only half teasing. He rubbed Shane’s back and pressed a kiss into his temple. 

“Shut up.” 

“No trouble?” 

“No. You?”

“No.” 

Silence stretched between them for a long moment, like the realisation that they were embracing in public hit them both at once. It felt like every pair of eyes in the room was on them. Felt like every single one of Ilya’s senses was on high alert.

Shane cleared his throat and stepped back. He quickly glanced about the room, then gazed up at Ilya with a tortured look in his eyes, but it was quickly bulldozed by determination. Shane tucked himself up against Ilya instead, and buried his face in his neck.

Ilya’s heart was a paranoid flutter in his chest. They had come here to fuck in front of people. Ilya hadn’t dared look beyond the excitement of the idea to see how momentous it would be to simply hold each other, here.

He took a long, calming breath, then tentatively brought up both arms and wound them around Shane, and was flooded with relief when Shane did the same back.

Ilya’s eyes were stinging. 

He refused to cry at an orgy. 

“I love you,” he whispered, punctuated by a kiss just under Shane’s ear. “We can leave. Any time. Okay?” 

He felt Shane nod. They separated, and Ilya felt a little less weird for getting emotional when he saw that Shane’s eyes, too, were brimming with tears. 

“Hey,” Ilya said, reaching up to wipe at Shane’s eyes with his thumbs. “No crying at the orgy.” 

This made Shane laugh. Ilya wiped his wet thumbs along the jaw of Shane’s mask, then forced his own thoughts into safer territory. 

“You look hot. In this.” He tugged at the neck of the ski mask. 

“You can’t even see my face, how can I look hot?” 

“This is whole point, no? You could be anyone.” 

Shane’s mouth twisted with amusement, but instantly softened.

“I want to be me. And I want you to be you.”

Ilya shook his head. “You choose now to be romantic with me?”

“I can’t be romantic with my boyfriend?” Shane slipped his fingers through Ilya’s and stared down at the union. “We’ve never even held hands in front of people before.” 

“What about your par–”

“Maybe let’s not talk about my parents here.” 

Ilya laughed, then lifted Shane’s fist to his mouth and kissed his knuckle. 

“Is nice, ah?” 

Shane met Ilya’s gaze and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s nice. Kinda scary. But nice.”

Ilya beamed. He returned Shane’s hand to his side and gave it a squeeze. 

“I want you to be you too, by the way,” Ilya assured. Shane rolled up onto his tiptoes and kissed him on his masked cheek. 

“What do we do now?” 

Ilya considered Shane’s question as he looked about the room. Everybody was still clothed, and nobody was fucking, which made Ilya feel like he’d been missold on the idea of sex parties and what happened at them. It seemed like less of a party and more of a mixer, and there wasn’t any sex happening so as yet, it was doing neither of the things advertised. 

“Come,” Ilya said, rather than sounding, as was the truth, like he didn’t know what he was doing. He took Shane’s hand and led him through an open set of French doors and onto a stone patio. The back yard seemed to have been designed for privacy, with lots of trees and shrubs and partition fencing. Tucked under a pergola close to the house was a large hot tub, and despite the fact that most guests seemed to still be in the mingling phase of the party, two couples were perched on the jacuzzi’s edge, unabashedly naked, and visibly erect. 

“Oh,” Shane said quietly. When Ilya looked at him, he was staring towards the hot tub. Even with the mask on, Ilya could tell Shane was blushing. 

Ilya grinned. 

“What?” Ilya teased gently, slipping his hand over Shane’s back and giving his waist a squeeze, his chin coming to rest on Shane’s shoulder. “You are surprised to see people naked at a sex party?” 

“No,” Shane returned, overly defensive. “I just… Haven’t seen another guy’s dick in a while. Apart from yours.”

“Ah, the Metros all wear Speedos in the shower, then?” 

“No,” Shane ground out through his teeth. “But I don’t look at them.”

“No? You looked at mine. After the CCM shoot.”

“That was different.” 

“Why?”

“You were hard.”

“Ah, but how would you know I was hard? Unless you were looking?” 

Shane gave an exasperated roll of his eyes, but the smile he gave Ilya was a fond one. 

“That was a very long time ago.” 

“If someone told me back then that we would end up here together I would have died from laughing.”

Shane gave a small, huffed laugh, and made such loving eyes up at Ilya that he almost suggested they just go back to Shane’s place and spend the night in bed together. They saw each other far more often these days now that Ilya was based in Ottawa, but despite the excitement and the allure surrounding being here, and the idea of doing something so taboo, Ilya couldn’t help but feel possessive of Shane, like he didn’t want to share him with anyone when they got so little time to be alone together.

The feeling didn’t have time to settle, though. An invitation from the direction of the hot tub pierced through it.

“Plenty of room if you wanna join us, guys!” 

Ilya looked over to verify that the offer had actually been aimed at him and Shane. It had, it seemed, when one of the smiling—and very hard—men waved them over.

“I wonder if they took something,” Ilya observed idly, the question quiet, for Shane’s ears only. “To just be hard like that.” 

“Maybe,” Shane said, his voice pitching a notch higher than usual, a dead giveaway that Shane was either hard or getting there too, and had not needed to enlist the aid of a little blue pill.

“Wanna go over?” Ilya asked, eyeing Shane excitedly. 

Shane found an interesting spot on Ilya’s chest to stare at for a moment so he could overcome the necessary hurdles in his mind before he took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, and nodded. 

Ilya led him over by the hand. Greeted the group of men with a tight smile and an upwards tip of his chin, trying not to make eye contact with their dicks. He ripped off the bandaid by stripping off his shirt, putting it haphazardly over the back of a nearby chair. When he noticed Shane staring at the garment, he picked it back up and folded it with a fond chuckle.

“Water good?” Ilya asked the two couples, buying Shane some time to decide whether he wanted to go through with this. He was fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, a tangible air of trepidation about him.

“Perfect,” one of the men answered. Murmured agreement from the other three suggested the consensus was shared. Again, Ilya offered them an appeasing smile, then looked back to Shane. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to,” Ilya assured, rubbing a hand down Shane’s arm. 

“No, it’s not that,” Shane said. “It’s just… The mask will probably get wet.” 

Ilya blinked at him. 

“I mean… Probably, yes.” 

“That’s kinda gross.” 

“So take it off.” 

He obviously didn’t mean for the instruction to be taken seriously, and Shane knew that. He shrugged it off with yet another roll of his eyes, but the suggestion did seem to help him snap out of it. He whipped off his shirt then folded it neatly, and left it next to Ilya’s. 

Ilya didn’t wait for him to pluck up the courage to go for his jeans. He stepped up to Shane instead and, grinning down at him, his heart beating away at his ribcage, he undid the button and fly before indicating that Shane should do the same, giving him time to adjust to the fact that he was about to be naked in front of four men who weren’t teammates. 

“This is crazy,” Shane whispered as Ilya kicked off his shoes and slid off his jeans, leaving him in just his underwear. Still, Shane did the same, and on an apparent wave of bravery, took off his underwear, too.

As always, it gave Ilya a rush to see Shane naked. To Ilya, Shane’s body was a thing to worship, something cut from the very fabric of Ilya’s dreams. Here, though, seeing Shane undressed came with a new excitement, born in part of the fact that they had an audience, and also of the relief that came with knowing he didn’t have to pretend not to look. Pretend not to want. Pretend not to love. 

Ilya was out of his own underwear a second later. A loaded look was exchanged between the two of them then; a reminder that they loved each other, and that this would only be fun as long as they were both enjoying themselves. And then, with a squeeze of each other’s hands, Ilya was helping Shane into the hot tub.

“Your first time here?” one of the men asked as Ilya seated himself on the tub’s edge. Shane opted to submerge himself in the water up to his shoulders, not quite ready yet to be completely on show. 

“Yes,” Ilya answered, instantly pulling Shane to sit between his legs, not out of any desire for modesty but purely because he was thrilled at the opportunity to show even minor affection to Shane in front of other people, even if they were strangers. He began to gently massage Shane’s shoulders. “And for you?”

One couple went on to explain that they’d been coming to Mike’s parties for years, whilst the other pair said this was their fourth time, but that they’d known Mike through the circuit for a while. Ilya had to chuckle at that. His and Shane’s ‘circuit’ was literally just the two of them. 

“Can I ask where you’re from?” The question came from the man closest to Ilya’s right. He was incredibly handsome, with deep black skin and a bright smile, a gentle look about him. “I don’t think that’s a Canadian accent.” 

“Hungary,” Ilya answered, banking on the learned stereotype that most Americans and Canadians weren’t really clued up on eastern European accents. It wasn’t like revealing he was Russian would unmask him, but it wasn’t likely to make him any friends, either, and he figured it was probably best to err on the side of caution. “But I have lived here for many years now.”

Ilya fielded a couple more questions on his and Shane’s behalf, each member of their sequestered group not-so-subtly checking out the colour of their wristbands as the conversation went on. Mike had explained the wristband system to them once they were vetted, and Ilya noticed now that both pairs of men wore green, which meant that they were completely open to other partners, to being kissed and touched and all the rest by whoever took a fancy to them. Ilya’s and Shane’s own wristbands told any interested parties that they had come with a partner, and were willing to be watched, but that they had no interest in anything more with anyone who wasn’t that partner. 

This suited Ilya just fine. He had done his fair share of slutting himself around North America and Russia alike. The idea of only wanting one body for the rest of his life had once been completely inconceivable to him, but his interest in other people had long since waned. He could acknowledge when another person was hot, of course, and often encountered people whose beauty reminded him that there had been a time when he’d found other people subjectively rather than objectively attractive, but the truth of the matter was that he had stopped wanting to fuck anyone who wasn’t Shane long before they’d made things exclusive.

The men they shared the hot tub with were attractive. It had been a long time since Ilya had seen a man other than Shane naked—outside of porn or a locker room, anyway. He let himself admire their bodies now, and knew Shane would be doing the same. They had come here to fuck each other in front of people, yes, but there was no harm in looking. 

Ilya must have stared at the cock of the man opposite him too long, because he gave a small smirk, then lazily took up his cock in his hand, stroking it along the inside of his thigh. He had reddish brown hair all over his body, more concentrated in the usual areas but spattered everywhere else like careless flicks of paint from a paintbrush. His cock was short, but thick. Circumcised. Ilya watched the slightly more pink skin at the head emerge from then disappear back into the grip of the man’s fist. 

His cock twitched where it hung between his own legs, nudging at Shane’s back between his shoulder blades. 

Was Shane as turned on by this as he was? He could practically feel the heat coming from the burning tips of Shane’s ears, but did this arouse him the way it aroused Ilya? The casual nudity? The open way this man masturbated before his friends and two strangers, even if that was the whole point?

Ilya nudged his eyebrows upwards in acknowledgment. Approval.

“You like?” the man asked, lifting the length of his cock to show off the hang of his balls. Ilya wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t attracted to the man, not in the usual sense. He wasn’t Ilya’s type. He was older, and had the build of someone who had once been fit, but had softened a little with age and an enjoyment of good food. It was more so the act itself that he was attracted to. Bold and carefree in a world that had always taught Ilya to keep this part of himself small.

“Like to watch, yes.” Ilya clarified his position, still gently kneading the meat of Shane’s shoulders. This alone felt like relief. This touching. This branding declaration of his hands on Shane’s body that Shane was his, and his alone. 

“We like to do this, mm?” Ilya went on, trying to drag something out of Shane that gave away his position on what was happening. Was he okay? Uncomfortable? Turned on? Ilya gave his shoulders a squeeze, then leaned forward and around slightly to get a look at Shane’s face. “At home together. Or at least I like to make you do this. While I watch.”

Shane was rosy pink down to his shoulders, which could have been explained away by the fact that he was sitting in a bubbling pool of hot water, but Ilya knew better. The mask concealed much of his face, but the slightly glazed over look in his eyes and the way his lower lip wouldn’t stop twitching—imperceptible to anyone but Ilya who knew the language of Shane’s body as well as that of hockey—told of exactly how affected Shane was by what he was witnessing. 

Shane nodded. Ilya straightened, and slid one hand from Shane’s shoulder to cup around the front of Shane’s neck. Ilya felt his Adam’s apple bob against his palm; once, twice. He took to caressing the column of his neck with the tips of his fingers, in the way Shane liked to do sometimes. It made his brain empty itself like a bucket, he said.

“You guys married?” the guy stroking his cock asked, and Ilya couldn’t help but chuckle at the juxtaposition. The idle chatter and the lewdness of the act. 

“No,” Ilya answered. “Not yet.”

At this, Shane tipped his head back to lean against Ilya and craned his neck up to look at him, his eyes saturated with fondness and longing. Ilya smiled down at him, still petting at his throat. 

“Is this okay?” Ilya whispered to him. 

“Yes,” Shane answered, so quiet that the sound of the jets almost swallowed it up. 

“Want to give him something to stroke to?” Ilya asked a little louder, for the other men to hear. Weirdly, this felt more comfortable than idle smalltalk. This was what they had come here for.

Shane nodded this time. Ilya gently lifted him up and out of the water by his throat. 

It was a relief to see that Shane was rock hard as his body emerged slowly from the cover of the water. Exposed to the comparative cold of the mild breeze, Shane’s cock jumped, and goosebumps erupted all over his body. Ilya have a small hum of approval as Shane settled back against his body, his cock the subject of all four men’s attention. 

“Damn, you have a great body,” one of the men offered, a stocky, bald man with a rug’s worth of hair on his chest and belly. His cock jumped as he raked his eyes over Shane, and although Ilya felt mildly possessive, he also felt proud. 

Yes, and it belongs to me, he thought, but didn’t say aloud. Instead, he lowered his hand to stroke it over the swell of Shane’s chest, then his rippling abs, and the defined cuts of his hipbones. Mine. 

The black man seated beside Ilya shifted closer to the other men for a better view. The fourth man slung his arm around him. The final member of their audience hadn’t said much during the brief conversation. His toned body coupled with a severe expression, a mess of curly hair and an unapologetic Roman nose to give him the air of a Michelangelo statue come to life. Shane would like him best, Ilya was sure. He was toying with his cock now, too. With two fingers, despite the fact that his cock was the biggest out of the four. The redheaded man had taken to playing with his nipples, his cock jumping from the stimulation.

“Thank you,” Shane said, his voice thin. He was breathing rapidly, taking big, gulping breaths as if he’d just come off a treadmill. He had his hands on Ilya’s thighs, squeezing them so hard it would bruise. 

All four of the men were touching themselves in some way, now. All all four pairs of eyes were on Shane.

God, it was such a thrill. Watching them openly lust after what they couldn’t have. What was Ilya’s. 

Ilya put his mouth to Shane’s neck and kissed it; hot and wet and languid. 

“Please,” Shane whispered, tipping back his head against Ilya’s shoulder. “Please touch me.” 

The confirmation that Shane wanted things to progress was all the permission Ilya needed. He grunted his enjoyment of the request, and the breathy, desperate way Shane had made it, before he reached for Shane’s balls and toughed them lightly, much as he had done to Shane’s throat. 

“Like this?”

“No. Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Please touch my cock.” 

Ilya moved his touches to Shane’s shaft, but kept them featherlight and teasing. 

“Like this?”

“God. No. Fuck. You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t. Tell me.” 

Shane’s body writhed. Ilya cast a scanning gaze over their audience. Each man’s eyes were bright with interest. Ilya felt like a puppet master, in control of the whole affair. It made him dizzy with power. 

“Please.”

“Tell me.” 

“Jerk me off. Please.” 

“In front of all these people?” 

Shane’s only answer was a nod. That wasn’t good enough. Ilya pulled his hand away entirely. 

“Okay. Fuck. Yes. Yes, in front of all these people. Jerk me off in front of all these people.” 

His reward was Ilya doing just that. He grinned and wrapped his fist around Shane’s cock and ceased his teasing. He stroked. 

“Fuck yeah,” the bald man said in a slow drawl, reaching for the redhead’s cock and stroking that at the same time as his own. Shane’s dick throbbed in Ilya’s hand. 

Ilya had expected to feel a little awkward. Granted, he wasn’t the one on show, but as they’d walked through the house and side-stepped through the smalltalk, Ilya had wondered if they’d made the right choice in coming. Now, he knew they had. Every pretense was dropped, and all six of them acknowledged and leaned into the perverseness of what they had really come here for. This was a dance Ilya knew. 

“Feel good?” the black man asked Shane. He, too, was stroking himself, but there was a note to his tone that suggested he was checking in, making sure Shane was okay. Ilya’s number one priority here was Shane’s comfort, so he appreciated the gesture, even if it made part of him want to plant a flag in Shane despite it being clear the man hadn’t meant it as an advance. 

“So good,” Shane panted, and all four of the men reacted in some way to the desperate eagerness in his voice, either with their bodies or with a grunt or with a comment about how sexy he was. Shane’s cock surged in Ilya’s grip, and Ilya couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect way to get Shane to relax into things. The whole point of coming here had, of course, been something of a temporary solution to a very permanent problem. But there were other elements at play, here, that Ilya hadn’t considered before. Shane loved to perform, loved to be good, loved to be praised, but he also liked to be teased, and pushed to the very edges of his comfort zone. Liked to do things that embarrassed him, as though that gave him a sense of ownership over the shame he felt around his sexuality and the things he liked. 

But, it would also do him some good to be around people like him. People like them. Somewhere they didn’t have to hide. Shane was an anxious person by default, but it was compounded by the fact that he felt like he was always lying to everyone. He didn’t have to do that here.

“I always knew you would like to be watched,” Ilya said, his mouth against Shane’s ear. “Do you like that they are hard for you? Touching themselves for you?”

Shane made a desperate, whimpering sound. Being fluent in the nuances of the songs Shane sang while they fucked, Ilya slowed his stroking. Shane was often quick off the mark, but novelty especially seemed to send his stamina flying out the window.

“Fuck yeah he likes it,” the bald man offered, and Ilya’s top lip almost curled back in distaste at the man answering on Shane’s behalf as though he knew anything about him at all. Ilya kissed at Shane’s covered jaw instead, then nudged at it with his nose to encourage a proper response out of him.

“I like it,” Shane said, turning his face in towards Ilya’s to answer him directly. “It’s like you’re… Showing me off.”

Ilya’s core tightened. Between the heat of being observed and that of both his and Shane’s arousal, he felt like he was aflame. His cock screamed to be touched, or for the relief of being buried into the seat of Shane’s ass, but Ilya had always liked to delay things for himself a little. He liked the discipline it required, liked to feel as though he was master of his own body before he gave in to it.

He realised that he also liked this. Showing Shane off. Ilya had always enjoyed flashy things. Flashy houses, flashy cars, flashy watches. Not because he was particularly materialistic but because each possession was a giant fuck you to his father and the life he had escaped. 

There was no greater fuck you to all of that than Shane. Shane, who was entirely his—even if usually only in secret. Shane, who loved him with a fierceness Ilya never thought he’d know again once his mother had died. Shane, who embodied everything Ilya’s father would have hated; he was a man, and he was better than Ilya at hockey.

It was odd, Ilya knew, to be thinking of his father at a time like this. And it was only a fleeting thought, a leaf floating by on the wind, there and then gone, but it made Ilya’s chest swell with pride.

“It is a nice cock, ah?” Ilya asked the group now, making sure to stroke Shane’s cock slowly, his fist dragging down the length of it before twisting around the head. “It is a waste on a bottom, really. Such a big cock.” 

Ilya loved Shane’s cock. It was thick and long even when it was flaccid—more of a shower than a grower, really, but it was more than plenty to work with. It aroused Ilya endlessly to see it, soft or hard. The hang of it when he was soft and naked made Ilya’s mouth water, as did seeing the shape of it through underwear or swimwear, bold and undeniable. He particularly enjoyed evenings spent on the couch in their underwear, teasing each other to hardness over and over again without taking things further just because they had time now. 

“Not when you… Beg… To suck it. Every night.” Shane’s words left him in fragments, which sapped some of the effectiveness of his return. Ilya noticed that Shane was purposefully deepening his voice, and liked the thought of him struggling to maintain the charade as pleasure gripped him. 

Ilya grinned. “I want it to feel useful.” 

Shane gave a breathy laugh, his hand coming back and around to fist at the neck of Ilya’s mask. He bucked his hips up. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, the sounds that were leaving him strained and high, and Ilya knew he was getting close before Shane spoke. 

“Please. I don’t… Want to come in here.” 

Ilya had to chuckle. It was so very Shane to worry about the practicalities of jizzing in a hot tub right when he was on the brink of orgasm. 

“Want to go inside?” 

“Please.” 

Ilya gave Shane two more slow strokes before he released his cock and stood with him. He skimmed his hands over his wet body for a moment, still putting on a show. Ilya was nothing if not a performer. Clearly running on adrenaline, Shane spun to face Ilya, dragging him down into a fierce and filthy kiss that left them both breathless.

There were towels provided throughout, so Ilya grabbed one from a nearby rack and used it to dry him and Shane off, then took Shane’s hand and headed for the house. The atmosphere indoors had shifted from sophisticated soiree in the time they’d been outside, which spared them the embarrassment of being the only ones naked. Many of the partygoers had at the very least shed their shirts, and Ilya appreciated the opportunity to simply ogle attractive men without fear of repercussions. 

A tangle of bodies writhing on a daybed in the far corner of the room caught Ilya’s attention, and Ilya instantly headed for the vacant one beside it. The bed was big enough for four, so their black and redheaded companions from the hot tub joined them on it. One of the other two men ended up on a nearby couch, the other sinking to his knees before him in what looked like a practiced manner, getting straight to work on his cock with his mouth.

Ilya felt inspired.

Grinning, he had Shane prop himself up against the wall the daybed was pressed up against, whilst he in turn settled himself prone between Shane’s spread legs. 

“Watch them,” Ilya instructed, mischief dancing in his eyes. “While I suck you.” 

A whispered ohmygod fell from Shane’s mouth, but he quickly nodded. He spread his legs further in invitation, and Ilya shifted himself into position, one knee lifted up and out, his arms curling beneath Shane’s legs, hands cupping the top of his thighs as he got to work. 

It probably wasn’t the most hygienic thing; to give someone head right out of a hot tub. But if Shane didn’t mind—and out of the two of them, he was the most likely to care—then Ilya certainly didn’t. Beyond the taste of chlorine was the saline flavour of Shane’s pre-come, which Ilya savoured as he circled his tongue around the leaking head of Shane’s cock. His eyes were fixed on Shane’s face, watching him over the generous swell of his chest as Shane wrestled his attention back and forth between Ilya and the men on the couch opposite. Shane’s cock twitched in Ilya’s mouth as he nursed it. Ilya reached up a hand to palm at one of Shane’s pecs. This earned him a pretty moan, which made him instinctively grind his hips against the mattress beneath him. 

Ilya could practically feel all the pairs of eyes on them. It was thrilling. The men beside them had taken up the same position, the redhead man substrate before the other. Ilya assumed he was giving him head too, but he felt no desire to check. His attention was firmly focused on Shane. 

Shane, who was very clearly on the verge of falling apart. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna… Hnnh, fuck.” Shane’s voice was strained, his body tensing in Ilya’s hold as he braced against his impending orgasm. Ilya had barely even sucked him properly, but he figured there was time for that. He’d already brought him to the edge in the hot tub. This was just to finish him off. He relaxed his throat now and moved his head in a measured bob, knowing exactly the pace Shane needed in order to climax. “Oh god. Oh fuck. Hnnhgod. Coming. I’m coming. I’m c–”

Shane interrupted himself with an almighty moan. He threw his head back as he unloaded down Ilya’s throat, hands grasping at the crown of Ilya’s ski mask and pulling at the hair beneath. Ilya moaned and closed his eyes against the pressure, and was sure to swallow down every last drop of Shane’s spend before withdrawing his mouth. He grinned up at Shane after a gluttonous rake of his eyes over his heaving, flushed chest. 

“Think you are the first one here to come?” Ilya teased. 

“Shut up,” Shane returned, putting his palm to Ilya’s forehead in a gentle shove. He tipped his head back, still panting, and Ilya climbed his body slowly to give him a filthy kiss. Shane returned it, chasing after the taste of himself on Ilya’s tongue.

“You guys are hot as hell,” the man beside them said. Ilya drew back only slightly to grin at Shane, and although he’d teased that Shane could be anyone beneath that mask, he was glad for those familiar brown eyes and the lines that burst from the corners of them when his cheeks lifted in a smile. “You must live at the gym.” 

“Something like that,” Shane answered, without taking his eyes off Ilya. He couldn’t be certain, but he felt as though the sparkle in Shane’s eyes was inspired by the fact that he too was thinking of the time all those years ago when Ilya had showed off for him at the communal rink shower, and they had ended the night by blowing each other. 

“He gives good head, huh?” the man asked Shane, with a nod towards Ilya.

“It’s alright,” Shane teased, which earned him a squeeze of the chin from Ilya. “I’d say I’m better.” 

“I’d love to see you prove it,” the man pushed, and Ilya could have kissed him for it. Beyond a grind here and there against Shane’s ass or the bed beneath them, Ilya’s cock had gone neglected. He enjoyed it that way, enjoyed the mounting of anticipation and the way his cock got hard as stone the longer he waited, but he was ready for some relief. 

Ilya had worried that post-orgasm clarity might give Shane pause, make him reconsider what he was doing here. If it had, the challenge seemed to override it. A wicked glint appeared in Shane’s eyes as he switched positions with Ilya, who in turn felt like a king as he sank back against the wall and watched his boyfriend trail kisses down his chest and abs, over the line of his hip, and ultimately to his cock.

“He is a slut for a cock in his mouth,” Ilya said. To his surprise, instead of chiding him with a bite at his cock, Shane moaned and nodded as he dragged the flat of his tongue over Ilya’s frenulum. 

“Love it,” Shane said, clearly putting on a show as he navigated Ilya’s cock with that talented mouth of his. He planted dirty, wet kisses down the shaft before dragging his tongue up the thick vein lining the underside. “Love your cock.”

Ilya puffed out his cheeks, and folded his arms behind his head. He could feel the appreciative gaze of the man beside him as it roved over his body, and when Shane noticed it too, he possessively took up Ilya’s cock in his mouth and gave the blunt head a wet suck, a warning in his eyes as they flashed over to the other man.

“Don’t worry. It is all yours,” Ilya assured with a cocky grin. He enjoyed it when people found him attractive. Of course he did. But these days the thrill he got from it came not from the opportunity it presented, but from being secure in the knowledge that every inch of the body they lusted after belonged to Shane.

Sufficiently placated, Shane’s gaze returned to Ilya’s until he eventually closed them in favour of twisting his head as he worked the end of Ilya’s cock with his mouth. Ilya moaned lazily. He’d always enjoyed the way Shane’s head felt like worship. It seemed like a chore for many others, a stepping stone to get them to their ultimate goal. Shane had always loved this part as much as the rest. It made him mindless, the pleasure of having his mouth and throat stuffed full of cock, and Ilya couldn’t believe his luck for it. 

“Fuuuuuck,” Ilya moaned as Shane worked him. He caught himself before he said Shane’s name. It was a strange juxtaposition to the freedom he felt. He and Shane could love—and fuck—each other openly, here, but Ilya couldn’t help but mourn the fact that he had not heard Shane moan his name a thousand different ways like some kind of prayer as he’d come.

As though reminded that they were in company, Ilya lifted his eyes from Shane’s expert work and cast them about the room. The majority of the partygoers had undressed now. Some were naked, some in leather fetishwear or harnesses, puppy masks and jocks and all kinds of gear that made the room look like Ilya’s Twitter feed come to life. It was a decidedly lewd scene, but there was a camaraderie to being here, surrounded by so many other queer men.

It was a safety Ilya had never really known. Certainly not back in Russia, but not in Boston either. He had been surrounded at all times by painfully straight men. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fitted in. He was popular with women, and it had hardly been torture to have his pick of the bunch any time the team had partied after a game. Still, it had hurt a little whenever a man had caught his eye, and Ilya had been struck each time with the realisation that he would ostracise himself if he made a move. Part of the reason he had escaped Russia was in pursuit of a freer life in the land that promised it, but he had found that locker rooms in America were no friendlier towards people like him than the ones back home. It had been disappointing, really.

Shane had been a surprise. An ally in a world full of enemies. Even before they had admitted their feelings for one another he had been a pillar of safety for Ilya, and had made him feel less alone.

They certainly were not alone here. Shane’s backside was currently being ogled by two men. They sought out Ilya’s permission first, which he granted with a subtle tip of his head. One took up his cock in his hand, and the other followed suit.

“Do you know that there are two men jerking off for you right now?” Ilya asked Shane, his voice low and slow, just how Shane liked it. Shane’s mouth instantly stilled, but then his eyes rolled back in his head and he continued the blowjob with renewed zeal. 

“Two very hot men,” Ilya went on, earning him a wink from one of them. “Standing right behind you. Stroking their cocks.” 

Shane made a muffled whimpering sound, then shifted himself into a position similar to the one Ilya had been in previously. Ilya could only imagine the view the two men had, and despite having had the privilege of enjoying it countless times himself and the fact that he was currently having the arguably better experience, Ilya was still just a little jealous.

“You like that?” Ilya asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

“Mmnh,” was all Shane could manage. Ilya felt the reverberations of it right down to his balls, which tightened in slightly as Shane led him up the steady climb to orgasm. He had honed his technique over the years, tailored it perfectly to Ilya’s tastes, which made it impossible to last very long once Shane had set his sights on a mouthful of come.

“Come on,” Ilya said. “Give them something more to look at, mm?”

Shane reacted to this by withdrawing his mouth from Ilya’s cock. Ilya was glad for the respite, if he was honest. He wanted to enjoy this before the drunken haze of being two good strokes from orgasm took over.

“Like this?” Shane asked, lifting himself onto his hands and knees.

“More,” Ilya answered. Shane glanced back over his shoulders at his audience before returning his gaze to Ilya’s.

“You really want other men looking at my ass like that?”

“Is it really your ass, though?”

Shane caught his bottom lip with his teeth. He shook his head.

“No? Then who? Who does it belong to?”

“You,” Shane panted, a look of pure submission crossing his eyes that Ilya was well acquainted with.

“Good boy.” Ilya always liked how soft and malleable those two words rendered Shane. “Now show them. Properly.”

With all the obedience of a loyal dog summoned to heel, Shane lowered his chest down to the mattress. His face coming to rest near Ilya’s spit-covered cock, he let his knees spread out slightly and settled into a full arch, presenting his ass to the two strangers behind him. A drawn out moan bled from Ilya as he took in the sight.

“How is the view, boys?” Ilya asked, emboldened by Shane’s confidence. “Looks pretty fucking good from here.”

“Hot as fuck,” one of the men said. He had a moustache, and Ilya wondered idly if he should grow one. Maybe the next time he grew a playoff beard he would keep a moustache when he shaved. See how Shane liked it when Ilya rimmed him. “Perfect fuckin’ ass. Shame you won’t share him.”

They had clearly clocked their blue wristbands, and Ilya was glad for it. Shane was his and his alone, and Ilya was Shane’s in return.

“You would be selfish too, mm? If he was yours?”

“Damn right,” the man answered. After a brief discussion, the guy beside him—who wore a puppy mask and a harness criss-crossing his chest—went obediently down to his knees for him at the foot of the bed. The man left standing wasted no time in sliding a hand over the masked man’s head and fucking himself into his mouth while he in turn enjoyed the view of Shane’s ass before him. 

Around them, multiple other pairings’ interactions were devolving into baseness, and Ilya felt lightheaded from how horny it all made him. But most importantly, Shane too was clearly enjoying himself. He looked up at Ilya, and one look into those brown eyes as they sparkled up at him from the sockets in his mask, Ilya lost interest in the pornographic scene before him. 

It was an effect Shane had had on him almost as soon as he’d met him. He’d pretended, of course, that it hadn’t meant anything, that Shane was just a challenge, a mountain to summit, and once Ilya had conquered him, his interest would wane.

It hadn’t, of course. His interest in Shane had only grown with time, and with it his capacity to love in a way he thought he’d lost.

“Perfect boy,” Ilya whispered down to Shane now, the rest of the room fading into his periphery in a photographic vignette. “My perfect boy.”

Shane’s eyes fluttered under the praise, but he managed to keep them open. He stayed looking up at Ilya, so much adoration and reverence in the kaleidoscopic depths of those browns, his mouth and tongue moving on Ilya with singleminded purpose.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to come.” Ilya’s words were a long, drawn-out groan.

“Yeah, man,” one of the men beside them ground out in encouragement, reminding Ilya with a start that they weren’t alone. The encouragement was hot, but the sight of Shane chasing Ilya’s orgasm was hotter.

“Let’s see it,” the other man demanded. Ilya shook his head.

“No. He will swallow. He likes to swallow.”

Shane nodded enthusiastically, whilst also managing the feat of not breaking the bobbing rhythm of his head. Ilya hooked a hand over the back of Shane’s neck, his other hand lifted slightly out to his side as he lost himself in the pleasure Shane was bringing him.

This was all for him, he knew. Showing off his ass to the men behind him had been Shane putting on a show, performing a little, wanting to be good, angling for praise. This, here; this was for Ilya.

It was a strange callback, not being able to say Shane’s name. He felt free here, yes, and this was definitely more a time for kink than lovemaking, but it somehow felt restricting at the same time, not being able to say the name of the man he loved. Even back when things were—at least on the surface—casual between them, Ilya had loved to call Shane by his surname. Hollander. The address had fallen from his lips countless times in his life; still did, at times, when they were sparring, or teasing one another. Ilya was still Rozanov whenever he ate the last of the protein bars, or forgot to take out the trash. But back in the day, it had been a way of forging a connection. Of not letting Shane forget himself whenever they hooked up, of reminding him exactly who he was, and exactly who he was with. 

It was especially hard not to cry out for Shane when Ilya’s orgasm mounted. He managed it with some difficulty, focusing instead on how good it felt to unload into the wet heat of Shane’s perfect mouth, feeling Shane’s throat constrict as he swallowed down the generous spend. His spine curved away from the wall behind him, he brushed at his nipples with his middle fingers as he climaxed, then collapsed, chest heaving, body going slack with relief.

“Fuck, baby,” Ilya panted when Shane climbed his body and settled on top of him. They weren’t in the habit of calling one another baby, but Ilya was just now realising how much he liked to say Shane’s name and needed a placeholder. Ilya wound his arms around Shane, and lost himself in a filthy, wet kiss that said everything they couldn’t say here. “Always such a good fucking mouth.”

“You always taste so good,” Shane returned without pulling back. Ilya stroked at Shane’s body with his hands, drinking in the shape of him through his palms. God, he loved Shane’s body. It was packed with muscle, his skin smooth, every curve and swell like it had been purpose built for Ilya’s touch. “And that was so fucking hot.”

“It was,” Ilya echoed, giving Shane’s rear a generous squeeze. “Then you are okay? You do not want to leave?”

Shane shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna leave.”

“Okay.”

“Do you wanna leave?”

“No. No, I like this.”

“Getting to look at all these hot men?” Shane teased, his lips stretching into a smile against Ilya’s.

“I mean yes, they are hot,” Ilya conceded with a nip at Shane’s lower lip. “But nobody is hotter than you.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me while we’re naked at a sex party?”

“A little. Just need you to know that I love you.”

Shane chuckled, his breath fanning out over Ilya’s face. “I love you too. Big, soppy idiot.”

“Ah, so you think I am big?” Ilya pulled back slightly, his expression smug.

Shane made a non-committal face and shrugged. “I’ve seen bigger.”

“Where?” Ilya demanded.

“I can literally see bigger right now.”

Ilya surged up, and wrestled a laughing Shane onto his back. He ended up pinning him to the daybed’s mattress by his forearms, grinning down at him.

“Why don’t I fuck you. Ah? Then we will see if you still want bigger?” 

“Sure you can go again so soon?” Shane’s rebuttal was cocky in tone, but the little quiver in his voice gave him away.

By way of a response, Ilya released Shane’s arms and pushed back onto his knees, showing off his very-much-still-hard cock. He watched Shane’s eyes drop to it, and watched him catch his bottom lip between his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he appraised Ilya. 

“You are saying no? Because it is not big enough for you, ah?”

He took his cock in hand and angled it down to nudge the tip at Shane’s ass. Shane shook his head, adjusting his position and further spreading out his knees. He was flushed down to his chest, and his cock jumped away from his belly every couple of seconds. His entire body read like an invitation.

“I didn’t think so,” Ilya replied with a cock of his head, before he spat onto his fingers and used them to prep Shane’s ass. He always loved to slick him up first, to feel the way the pucker of Shane’s hole feathered against his fingers as he warmed him up. “So excited to get fucked, mm?” 

Shane nodded. What Ilya could see of his expression behind the mask seemed to twist with desperation. 

“In front of all of these people?” Ilya asked. This seemed to remind Shane that there was more than just the two of them in the room, because his eyes widened slightly before he took stock of his surroundings. Just as he did, Ilya worked a finger into him. 

Shane threw back his head, his entire body tensing and relaxing in time with the clamping of his ass. Ilya was only in down to the first knuckle of his middle finger, but he watched as Shane’s core tightened, and his cock throbbed. 

The men at the foot of the bed had moved to a nearby couch. Beside them, the pair from the hot tub had moved a couple of steps ahead of Ilya in the time that Ilya and Shane had been in their own world. Ilya looked at them now, Shane’s gaze following his own. Together, they watched as the dark skinned man rolled himself atop the other, strong thighs straddling the redhead’s body, flexing as he rode. Shane moaned first, with Ilya following suit in a gruff echo. 

Ilya turned then, and watched Shane watch the men beside them. Watched him repeatedly avert his eyes as though he couldn’t quite convince himself that he was allowed, but each time they strayed back. Shane watched from behind his lashes in an almost shy manner, which amused Ilya given how well he’d done with being entirely on show for a bunch of other men. Then again, they were both used to being naked around other guys. Shane especially, however, had very much taught himself not to get caught openly looking at another man as though he liked what he saw.

“Watch,” Ilya commanded, the instruction veiled as dominance, but really it was a granting of permission. You do not have to hide, here, it said.

“It’s okay,” the man riding said to Shane, leaning his hands back on the other man’s thighs as though to give Shane even more to look at. “I like it.”

Ilya continued to work Shane’s ass. He slipped another finger in once Shane was loose enough, rhythmically curling both up to nudge at Shane’s prostate. Shane’s attention jumped from the man beside them to Ilya, his gaze a little more bold now that he knew neither Ilya nor the man he was ogling minded. 

Ilya supposed he should have felt jealous. When Shane had briefly dated Rose Landry, Ilya had felt jealous with an intensity of feeling he had never known before. It had been one of the things that had made him realise just how effectively he’d managed to dull his ability to feel before then. Seeing Shane with Rose in that club had been a knife in his heart, which had reminded him that he’d had a heart in the first place, which had in turn reminded him to whom it belonged.

But he didn’t feel jealous. Not here. Here, he knew Shane belonged to him. The very fact that they were here together was proof that Shane belonged to him. That, and he loved Shane so much that he wanted him to enjoy this taste of what it was like to just be free. Not only free to love Ilya, but free to be who he was. 

Ilya had laughed the first time Shane had told him he was gay. He regretted that. He hadn’t seen it for the momentous confession it had been for Shane. Hadn’t considered the release he might have felt upon confronting something about himself he had tried to repress. He wanted to make up for that a little here, now.

“You like his body?” Ilya asked. It was a good body. Strong but graceful, the packing of muscle understated and subtle but still there, shifting beneath his skin as he moved. Ilya didn’t pass comment, though. This was about letting Shane just exist for a little while. He could already feel his body starting to melt into pliancy. 

Shane’s cock jumped. He nodded. 

“Like his cock?” Ilya ventured, smirking as he watched Shane’s eyes flick instantly down to it. 

Shane hesitated only briefly before he nodded again. 

Ilya knew Shane was blushing without being able to fully see his face. Shane reached a hand down to clasp around Ilya’s forearm. Ilya wondered for a second if he was going to make him stop. Instead, he pulled at Ilya’s hand until his fingers were as deep as they could get inside him. 

Ilya grinned.

“You are enjoying this, ah?”

Shane nodded, a strained moan seeping out through clenched teeth.

“You always were such a pervert,” Ilya purred affectionately, earning him a wry smile from Shane. As though in support of the statement, Shane lifted his legs and tucked his hands into the backs of his knees to hold them in place. Ilya licked his lips. 

“Almost ready for me, mm?” Shane responded with an eager nod, his blinks growing longer and longer as bliss set in, his chest heaving with panted breaths. In all the time that had passed since they had first done anything like this, Ilya had been unsuccessful in finding anything that was quite as stunning as Shane Hollander while he was being fucked, but Shane Hollander just before being fucked was a contender. Shane Hollander just after being fucked was up there, too. 

Shane was so lax in this state. Putty in Ilya’s hands. His headstrong, stubborn, anxious, sharp to the point of sometimes being cutting boyfriend went into hibernation, and he gave himself over to Ilya and the liberation of pleasure instead. Ilya had wondered how out-of-his-own-head Shane would be able to get here, surrounded by people. He figured that he wouldn’t be able to sink so thoroughly into mindless enjoyment the way he usually did, that there would at least be some residual anxiety caused by what they were doing, and where. Maybe it was the mask; the anonymity that gave Shane the freedom he needed to relax here, but relax he did, and Ilya loved watching those familiar petals unfurl as much as always. 

There was a tub of lube on a side table next to the daybed. Ilya reached across for it now and squeezed a pumpload into his palm. He slicked his cock with it then used it as he manipulated Shane’s ass for a few more seconds, nodding when he decided he was ready. 

Just as he angled his cock for Shane’s hole, one of the men who’d watched as Shane had given Ilya head appeared beside them. He had his hand over his cock, lazily stroking it out towards his hip, and a metal ring keeping his balls tucked tidily close to the underside of his shaft.

“Mind if I watch, boys?” he asked. 

“It’s up to him,” Ilya answered with a nod towards Shane. 

A nod. A whimper as Shane pulled his knees up closer still to his chest. “Please.”

Ilya sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly in a bid at staying in control of himself. Despite already having an orgasm on the board, he was so horny he was trembling.

“Okay, baby,” Ilya murmured, holding his cock with one hand as he nudged his cock at the wet pucker of Shane’s ass. It didn’t take long before it swallowed the head whole. “Mmm, fuck yes.” 

Their new spectator showed his approval with a moan of his own. 

Ilya made patient but efficient work of easing himself into Shane, whose eyes rolled further and further back in his head as Ilya sank further into him. The sounds Shane made were airy and light, and as Ilya filled him, his grip on his legs slipped as his body relaxed. 

“Good boy,” Ilya said once he was fully seated inside Shane. He held himself there for a moment to let Shane adjust, gladly putting his own pursuit of pleasure on the back burner until he knew Shane was good. Judging by the fluttering of Shane’s ass around his cock, he was doing much better than good.

So was Ilya. He shuddered, enjoying the hot, wet embrace of Shane’s body around him. He replaced one of Shane’s hands with one of his own, tucking it under his knee to keep it pushed up. He let the other knee fall out and to the side, choosing instead to reach down and rasp his knuckles down the generous length of Shane’s cock. It twitched under the attention. From there, he set his palm down beside Shane’s length and reached his thumb down past his balls for his scrotum. Shane had always been incredibly sensitive there, and loved it when Ilya stimulated the dark line connecting his balls and his asshole.

As though in demonstration, Shane gave an almighty moan and threw back his head. 

“Fuck me,” Shane pleaded, his words a slurred whine. “Please. Please fuck me.” 

Ilya was not in the business of denying his boyfriend anything when he asked for it so prettily.

He pulled out slowly, by half. Slid back in. Repeated the action until he watched the slight bit of tension Shane held in his body melt out of him. If he’d felt any unease at being fucked in front of an audience, it was quickly replaced by the sheer bliss of the familiar fullness Ilya’s cock provided him with. 

“Fuck,” Ilya barked, already losing himself to pleasure. “Fuuuuck, that’s good.” 

Shane nodded. “So good. Mmnh. Feel so… Full.”

This last word was delivered with a dreamy sigh.

“Don’t want bigger?” Ilya teased. 

Shane immediately shook his head. “No. No, s’perfect. Hmnn, fuck.” 

Ilya’s lips puckered as he watched himself rhythmically disappear into then reappear out of Shane’s ass. He shuddered, already losing himself to pleasure.

“Good ass?” the man standing beside them asked, pulling on his cock as he watched them with lidded eyes, looking like he was in a trance. 

“So fucking good,” Ilya growled, more to Shane than the poser of the question. Ilya bullied his thumb harder against Shane’s scrotum. In response, Shane keened prettily, his perfect mouth opening around a sound that went straight to Ilya’s cock.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed, head moving with a frenetic nod, his pelvis rolling in a desperate bid to get Ilya to fuck him harder. Ilya, who had never been able to resist the siren song of Shane’s body whenever he used it like that, heeded the unspoken instruction. He lifted his hand from Shane’s scrotum, bracketed Shane’s waist in his grip instead, and let loose.

Shane wasn’t the only one to moan. Marks of approval sounded from several spectators who continued to gather, drawn in by the action on the bed.

Ilya clamped his teeth together and hissed out words of approval as Shane took him, as well as ever, his chest flushed, pre-come dribbling from his cock like sap from woodbark.

His focus was on Shane, but Ilya allowed himself a cursory glance at the small crowd surrounding them, a shudder rippling up his spine when he saw how many pairs of eyes were on them. Some were simply watching, whilst others were engaged in sexual acts of their own, done either to themselves or by others. The performer in Ilya thrived. Adrenaline mixed in with pleasure to create a concoction that had Ilya feeling like he was in a trance, entirely drunk on the risqué act, the taboo, the freedom.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he panted. He didn’t slow his pace. The rhythmic collision of his and Shane’s bodies produced a lewd sound, but nothing was more lewd than the staccato moans tripping their way out of Shane’s mouth. This was echoed to varying degrees around them; lustful sounds of pleasure and approval provided the soundtrack to the show they were putting on.

It was the single most erotic experience of Ilya’s life, and given that Shane’s experience with kink lay entirely at Ilya’s door, he knew the same went for him.

He watched, now, as Shane corrected his rolling eyes and took stock of the scene surrounding them. With a shuddered moan, he reached down for his own cock, and with the support of a few members of their audience, he stroked himself.

“There you go, baby. Pull on your cock for me. Mmh, fuck that’s hot.” Ilyas encouragements were delivered through ground teeth. Shane worked himself faster, driven by the praise, as always.

Ilya’s orgasm was mounting. He wanted Shane to get there first. Wanted to show this crowd how well he could make his boy come. Had he not swallowed a load already, Ilya was convinced he could have made Shane come hands-free. He mourned that for a second before a wave of pleasure swept him away again. 

“Fuck, you’re hitting so deep,” Shane said. The words alone made Ilya’s eyes roll back in his skull. 

“Hitting your prostate good, ah?” 

“You always do.” There was a delay between each panted word. 

Ilya watched as Shane lifted a hand to his nipple, a sure sign that he was close to orgasm. Ilya slapped his hand away and did the job himself, gently flitting the pad of his thumb back and forth over the hardened flesh. 

“Ohhhhh fuck yeah.” Shane’s voice pitched slightly higher. Another one of his tells. Knowing that Shane was close motivated Ilya to stave off his own orgasm. Gave him a last burst of stamina.

“That’s it, baby. Show everyone how you come for me.”

Shane gave a staggered moan, and there was a responsive hardening of his nipple under the attention of Ilya’s thumb. 

Curling his spine up and away from the mattress, Shane gave their surroundings another once-over, before his eyes ultimately settled on Ilya. 

“Holy shit, you are so fucking hot.” 

Ilya grinned. They had reached the stage of Shane’s ascent to climax where his lips got loose and he started to hurl compliments at Ilya. This part was always enjoyable for Ilya. He got to drive his cock into the best hole he’d ever had while he was showered with praise. He didn’t care whether he deserved any of it. There was an element of worship to it, and the best part of all was how free Shane seemed when he was in that state. He had told Ilya once that the compliments he doled out in these times were echoes of the things he had wanted but had been too shy to say during their first hookups. It gave Ilya no small amount of pride to know that Shane still thought those things today.

Ilya had since told Shane that he too had been thinking similar things from the start. The first time he had kissed Shane, even, it had felt different to kissing other people. He had wondered at the time if it was just because Shane was a man, and Ilya’s experience was largely with women, but he had gone back and back and back, and had soon realised that it went beyond novelty. Being with Shane had breathed life back into him, and the heart he’d retired when he was twelve years old, and that was as true now as it had been all that time ago. 

“It’s all for you, sweetheart,” Ilya said now, sweat dripping in rivulets down his body.

“All mine,” Shane repeated. “All mine. That big fucking cock, too.” 

“Fuck yeah,” Ilya returned, lost in the lust-fuelled back-and-forth. “You like that big cock, ah?” 

Shane nodded. “Love the way you fuck me with it.” 

“Such a fucking slut for it.” 

“Yes.”

“My little cockslut, mm?” 

“Fuck yes. Need it.” 

“You were made to take it, yes?”

“Yes. Fuck. Fuuuuck.”

“You gonna come for me?” 

Shane, so close to orgasm now that his communication devolved into nothing more than sounds and grunts and pants, nodded and released his cock. Ilya pushed up closer to him, practically folding Shane in half as he bullied Shane’s prostate with his cock, set on his goal.

“Come on, baby,” Ilya encouraged, the rest of the room fading into the periphery. “Give it to me. Show me how you come.” 

With a shuddering sob, Shane’s back arched and spurts of white erupted from his cock, pooling in the valleys between his abs, and pooling up near his sternum. One ambitious rope landed over one of Shane’s pecs. The sight alone might have tipped Ilya over the edge, but the clamping of Shane’s ass around his cock guaranteed it. Ilya watched in awe, mouth agape, as he spent himself in hot pulses into Shane’s hole.

“Fuck, yeah, breed him,” said one of their spectators, sending a shudder down Ilya’s spine. Nodding, Ilya leaned back, his hands on Shane’s knees, to watch his cock throbbing where it disappeared into Shane. It was a sight he would never tire of. The first time they had gone bareback, Ilya was certain he’d died and gone to heaven. Knowing that a piece of him would remain inside Shane even after their bodies had separated gave him a kick unlike any other. 

“Holy fuck,” Ilya breathed, beaming down at Shane, who looked delirious with pleasure. He loved being fucked. Almost as much as he loved hockey, Ilya thought. Through that post-orgasm haze, though, Shane’s eyes gleamed.

“So good,” Shane said, then chuckled as Ilya collapsed over him, all the strength gone out of his arms. 

Erotic as it had been to fuck in front of all these people, as Ilya softened inside Shane with his nose buried in the neck of his mask, saturated with the scent of their favourite laundry detergent, he couldn’t help but long to be alone with him. One of his favourite parts of sex with Shane was the feeling of intimacy he felt afterwards, something he’d never felt with anyone before him. Sex with other people had been transactional. A means to an end. A no-strings, I’ll get you off if you get me off agreement. But post-sex with Shane meant gentle caresses of his fingers in Ilya’s sweat damp hair, the soft rasp of his nails over his back, slow kisses in the comfort of their own bed, kisses born of love rather than the heat of desire.

Ilya lifted his head and kissed Shane. He had just fucked him in front of a group of strangers, but the kiss felt too intimate so share with them, almost.

“You okay?” Ilya asked, the boisterous performer fading out of him by the second.

“M’okay,” Shane said, a sleepy affect to his voice that always struck just after an orgasm. “Love you.” 

“I love you.” Ilya sighed contentedly, then nudged at Shane’s jaw with his cheek. “You need anything?”

“Five minutes,” Shane said with a chuckle that Ilya echoed. “And then maybe to get out of here.” 

Ilya gave a hum of agreement. “Pizza when we get home?” 

“Again?” Shane whined. It had been two weeks since Ilya had last had pizza. But then, “Can we order from that–”

“The place with the salads. Yes, yes,” Ilya said with an affectionate roll of his eyes. 

“Thank you.” Shane kissed his temple. Ilya slowly pulled out of him, then turned to lean against the wall with Shane, playing idly with his cock.

“You guys are hot as fuck to watch,” said the black man beside them, his skin glistening with sweat. He was still riding the redhead, who was begging to be allowed to come and being ignored. Shane often liked it when Ilya edged him, but seeing the so called top be submissive might have given Ilya a few ideas. “Almost made me come twice. You look damn good together.” 

Ilya beamed. When he turned to look at Shane, he saw that he was smiling widely too, and trying to hide it with a hand half covering his mouth. It shouldn’t have meant so much coming from a stranger, someone who didn’t actually know who they were and never would. But Ilya felt a rush of pride at the compliment and knew Shane would, too. There were few people in the world who would look at Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov and think they looked good as a pair. Separately, sure, they had their fair share of admirers, but to be so openly praised as a unit satisfied Ilya’s desire to have their relationship exist outside of their own four walls even more than the sex had. 

“You too,” Ilya returned with a nod towards the couple. He turned Shane on his side and kissed at his shoulder and neck, caressing his hip and waist while they both watched. Ilya’s cock was spent, but still made a good effort at filling again. 

He knew Shane wouldn’t be comfortable for very long, covered in his own spend and sweat and dripping with Ilya’s too. He just wanted to bask in the experience a touch longer.

“Wanna see me come?” the man asked, and Shane nodded before Ilya could do the same. 

They watched, bodies heavy with relaxation, as the man stroked himself slowly, his hand over the top of his cock. 

“Please,” the man beneath him attempted, but all this earned him was a light slap across the face that made Shane curve his ass back against Ilya’s pelvis. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. You first. You first. Fuck.” 

“Good boy,” said the other, and Ilya reached his hand down to knead at Shane’s flaccid cock gently as they watched.

The slap was still on Ilya’s mind. Shane had a dominant streak to him, Ilya had learned that early on. Of course he preferred the mindlessness that came with submission, but if Ilya caught him in the right mood, Shane could absolutely throw his weight around in bed. He wondered how much convincing it would take for Ilya to get him to slap him around a little. Maybe tie him up. Edge him until he was begging pathetically like the redhead was.

With a frown and an appreciative puckering of his lips, Ilya watched as the Dom bottom ejaculated, angling his cock so that his come decorated the redhead’s chest much like Shane’s spend adorned his own. Where Shane’s chest was smooth, however, the redhead’s was covered in fine, curly hairs the colour of autumn leaves, and he thanked his Dom as his ejaculate matted in them. Shane moaned softly. 

“Hot, ah?” Ilya asked him, trailing wet kisses along Shane’s jaw and over his ear. 

“So hot. If I wasn’t beat that woulda made me wanna go again.” 

Ilya grinned, and dragged his teeth over Shane’s earlobe. 

“Pervert.” 

“We’re at a sex party.” 

“So then we’re all perverts. Including you.” 

Shane laughed, and Ilya reached down for his chin and pulled his mouth in for a proper kiss.

“Time to go home?”

Shane nodded. There were showers available at the house, so Ilya went outside to retrieve their clothes before the two of them headed up to get washed and dressed. The showers were very much in use; a projection of some of Ilya’s age old fantasies of where the communal showers at the gym turned steamy in more ways than one, so he and Shane enjoyed a slow stroke of one another’s cocks while they watched a tall man with a round belly and the kind of beard you only saw in shows like Game of Thrones as he was bent over and railed by his partner of the same build. Neither Shane nor Ilya had it in them to come again, but it was a pleasurable experience nonetheless. 

Ilya felt dumb, showering with the mask on. And if he felt silly, then it would be ten times worse for Shane, so they ultimately made quick work of getting clean. They could shower properly once they got home. Ilya knew Shane would want to. Maybe even twice. He often felt unclean after sex, even when it was just the two of them at home, and Ilya hadn’t dared dig deeper into the why beyond the fact that Shane just generally liked to be clean. 

Once they were dried off and dressed, they slipped out without another word to anyone. The sun had set whilst they’d been there, but the party would go on until long after it had breached the horizon again. Ilya, full of confidence, had anticipated spending the whole night there, but he had a good feeling that they had both gotten what they’d come for. 

“I’ll meet you at home?” Ilya asked once he had walked Shane to his car. He pressed Shane against the driver’s side door and kissed him like crazy before he opened the door for him and bundled him inside. 

“Drive safe,” he added when Shane had opened the window. Ilya leaned against the door with his forearms, grinning. “I know how you are. You are like Max Verstappen on these roads.”

“I don’t know who that is.” 

“Lewis Hamilton, then.”

“I know that one.”

“Yes, because you think he is hot.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Mm,” Ilya said with a shrug. “I like you better.” 

Shane laughed, then five-starred Ilya’s chest and gave him a light shove. 

“Go. You look like you’re about to rob me.” 

Ilya laughed, and adjusted the mask slightly. It fit weird now that it was wet. He desperately wanted to take it off. 

“And stop looking so smug,” Shane added.

“How can I? When my boyfriend is you?”

“‘…he said romantically in his ski mask.” 

Ilya was backing away from the car. He didn’t want to leave him, even for the short drive back into the city. 

“See you at home,” he said. They had three places between them, really. Shane’s Montreal apartment, Ilya’s house in Ottawa, and the cottage. ‘Home’ was whichever one they were staying at together. If they were separated for work or any other reason, their respective lodgings reverted to being houses until they reunited. 

“See you at home,” Shane answered, then rolled up his window and set off.

Ilya followed. He wasn’t an anxious person. Depressed as all hell maybe, yes, but Shane was the anxious one out of the two of them. Even so, Ilya’s heart was in his throat the entire time he trailed Shane home. Shane was a safe driver—because of course he was—but these days, any time Shane had to get into a car, bus, or plane and travel anywhere, Ilya couldn’t settle until he knew his feet were on the ground somewhere. Since Shane’s 2017 accident, Ilya had been a nervous wreck any time Shane was anywhere but with him. He had thought himself a controlling bastard for a while until Galina had generously pointed out that he was scared of losing Shane, and that the idea made him particularly anxious because he knew exactly what it was to lose someone in the blink of an eye, there one second, then gone the next. Ilya had half jokingly asked her for a refund for that session, so affronted was he by the reflection in the mirror she’d held up to him. She had declined, and teased him about his prices going up, and Ilya had left the session understanding himself better, but feeling then like a spotlight had been placed on the matter, similar to how you couldn’t stop noticing yellow cars once you had one yourself. There were clues that pointed to this everywhere, and he wasn’t sure he was any the better off for having had it pointed out to him. 

Fortunately, they made it back to Shane’s place, both in one piece. Ilya gave Shane a couple of seconds to get into the building and up to his apartment before he followed, soggy mask in hand. 

He was swallowed into a hug as soon as he walked through the door.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Shane said with an incredulous laugh. “Can you? Can you believe we did that?” 

“No,” Ilya laughed back, shaking his head, hoisting Shane’s legs up and around his waist and carrying him into the kitchen. “That was probably the craziest thing I have ever done.” 

Ilya set Shane down on the island  countertop and settled between his legs. The experience they’d just shared was already shifting from reality to surreality in Ilya’s mind. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Shane returned. 

“No?” 

“No. Once you started jerking off in front of me in the shower when we barely knew each other.” 

“And you are now my boyfriend. So my plan worked.”

“It was still a crazy thing to do. What if I’d… I don’t know. Gotten really mad? Beat you up or something?” 

“You were hard too.” 

“And I still coulda beaten you up.” 

Ilya grinned. “I am glad you didn’t.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. But I do want you to slap me when we have sex sometime.” 

“What…” Ilya was trying to get at Shane’s neck with his mouth. Shane gripped his face and shoved him back instead. “…the fuck.” 

“I saw that guy do it. Next to us. Made me imagine you… I don’t know. Maybe tying me up. Edging me. Not letting me come. Slapping me when I get a little too pathetic with my begging.” 

Shane gave an astounded laugh that sounded more like a cough. He was looking assessingly between Ilya’s eyes, the cogs in his mind whirring so hard they were practically audible. 

Then, his face softened, and broke into a smile. 

“I could probably do that.” 

“God, my life is perfect,” Ilya said in a joking tone, though he wasn’t really kidding at all. 

They ordered pizza. Rather, Ilya ordered pizza, and Shane ordered a salad without any dressing and added his own pre-prepared chicken to it from the fridge when it arrived. He did let them sit on the couch to eat, though, which made Ilya forgive him for ordering the most boring thing on the menu and somehow making it even more boring. 

“You had fun tonight, then?” Ilya asked him, once he’d devoured three quarters of his pizza. He felt bloated and full, but the box still lay open on his lap. He gave the remaining two slices a look that said I’m not done with you.

“Yeah,” Shane said from beside him. He had one hand in the back of Ilya’s hair, playing idly with his curls. They had both showered again while they waited for food, so they were still a little damp. Shane often ended up with his hand in Ilya’s hair whenever they got the chance to relax together. Ilya wasn’t even sure if it was something he did consciously or not. Either way, he liked it. “I don’t know how often I’d do it, but yeah.” 

“But you would do it again?” Ilya was moderately surprised. 

“I think so. It was… Very hot. Not… Not the other guys.” 

“Shane, you can find other men hot.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “I just mean… It was hot, feeling like you were showing me off.” 

“I was. I am very proud to be with you.” 

“Did it feel good? Getting to be proud out loud for a little while?” 

“Yes,” Ilya said with a subdued smile. “But I was happy to be done after. Now I have you to myself again.” 

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes, I think so. Not all the time. But now and then. Was there anything you didn’t like?” 

“No. Everybody respected each other’s boundaries. I guess I felt filthy afterwards but I can deal with that.” 

“Anything you really liked, then?” 

“Weirdly, I think just being around other gay guys. I feel like sometimes it’s a club that I’m not invited to. I don’t think I’m very good at being gay.” 

“I think you are great at being gay,” Ilya countered, wagging his eyebrows. 

“Shut up.” 

“No, but I understand. I can not understand fully, of course. I know it is different for me. But I get it.” 

Shane kissed his shoulder. “What did you like about it?” 

“I felt free. I do with you anyway, but it was just… More. Different. It was nice, not to hide. And it was hot, being in a room with all of those men and for you to still choose me.” 

“You weren’t worried about that, were you?” 

“No, not worried,” Ilya clarified. “It is just nice.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is nice.” 

They looked at each other for a long moment. Ilya saw his entire world there in Shane’s eyes. His past, his present, his future. They had scratched an itch that night, yes, but Ilya was under no illusions that it would be plain sailing from there; that it would be any less frustrating, not being able to be together publicly. But he loved Shane so intensely, with such purity of heart he had not known himself capable, and he knew that he would wait as long as it took.