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Shane, in general, was one of the most responsible people he knew in his own life. His mother had taught him to be meticulously organized about everything, all the time, and his father taught him to always keep an eye out for the unexpected, like the stock market crashing or someone else falling through on a commitment. So, Shane was fairly responsible overall, especially after having been on his own for huge chunks of his life since the moment he was legally an adult.
He spent nearly every waking moment being responsible, even more so when he was still in charge in Montreal, and continued to be responsible and level-headed after moving to Ottawa and settling down with the love of his life. Shane was responsible to the point that it was a running joke amongst the league – Hollander probably knows when the bus leaves and Nobody’s got a more rigid routine than Hollander and If you ever forgot something, ask Hollander because he probably has extras.
All his life, he’d been the responsible one and he liked that – he liked being dependable, even if he hated how much pressure was put on him by his team and his mom and the league and the world. He liked the level of control that responsibility gave him.
So he had no idea why he was so insulted by the idea of Ilya being responsible and fucking him with a condom on.
At home, it didn’t bother him. He and Ilya mostly went without, though sometimes Ilya or Shane or both of them used condoms for easier clean up. They were both safe, and they knew this, and everything was perfectly fine at home so it didn’t bother Shane as much as it did now with them on the road for a week and a half. He glared at the foil peeking out of Ilya’s suitcase like it had personally offended him, because it kind of fucking did. He glanced at the bathroom where Ilya was brushing his teeth and then back at the suitcase, quickly moving to it and picking up the condoms just to count and realize that Ilya had brought enough for their entire trip – there were more than enough for even their nearly unstoppable sex drive, so Shane’s chances of feeling his husband drip out of him was getting slimmer and slimmer with each passing second and each mile they got further from home.
Shane dropped the condoms like he’d been burned, shoving them back into place and glaring at them one last time for good measure before climbing back into their hotel bed and settling against the headboard. National Geographic played on the television, some default program that turned on when he was pretending he wanted to watch something and pretending like he could distract himself from his internal spiraling. Elephants walked across the screen and a comforting voice played through the room but all Shane could think about was how much he wanted wet and messy sex with Ilya and the condoms to be in the trash.
“Sha-ne,” Ilya sing-songed, crawling up the bed to him and pressing a kiss against Shane’s lips, eclipsing the tv with his massive shoulders. Yeah, Shane was a bit distracted, the elephants be damned. He lifted his hands to Ilya’s shoulders, squeezing at the firm muscle as Ilya’s eyes searched his face.
“Thinking so hard all by yourself, handsome?” Ilya asked.
Shane rolled his eyes. “Ilya.”
“Tell me what you’re so busy thinking about?”
Shane couldn’t think about much else other than the way his husband loomed over him, shirtless and warm and so fucking hot that all Shane wanted was to sink down on Ilya’s cock until Ilya filled him up and- ah. Shane could think about something else.
“No,” Shane countered, pushing Ilya off of him a bit.
Ilya stared at him from where he laid on his side, an elbow propped up beneath him. “You’re pouting.”
“I am not fucking pouting.”
“You are,” Ilya emphasized, shifting so he could press a little kiss to Shane’s bicep and then his pec when Shane didn’t shove him away again, followed by three against his clavicle in quick succession. “Shane. What’s wrong?”
It felt childish to be as upset about it as he was, but Shane really didn’t know how to explain how important it was to him that Ilya fucked him bare while they were away from home. Out here, away from their sanctuary, there wasn’t anything that was theirs. They had rings on each others’ fingers or necks depending on if they were at a game or not, and they had each other’s last names hyphenated with their own, and everyone in the world knew about the first husbands of hockey, but that didn’t mean they were really each other’s. Not in the real world. In the real world, people flirted with both of them or asked if their marriage was serious or whatever other bullshit they thought would get them in either Shane or Ilya’s bed, like it wasn’t one bed with space for just the two of them. Away from home, Shane didn’t really belong to Ilya – he didn’t have pictures of them lining the walls or a room dedicated to their trophies or hoodies with ROZANOV blasted across the back that he could drown himself in.
So he really wanted his husband’s cum on him and in him instead, and Ilya had brought fucking condoms.
“I want you,” Shane said quietly.
Ilya’s eyes visibly softened. “You have me. You always do, you know this.”
Shane really loved his husband – Ilya always knew just what to say. Shane leaned over and kissed him, softly at first and quickly turning biting and sloppy as he straddled Ilya’s waist, pushing him down against the mattress and chasing his lips as he rocked against Ilya’s pelvis. Ilya’s hands collided with his hips, fingers digging in at the exact pressure that Shane loved, the level of pressure that left faint bruises on just the very top levels of his skin. Ilya panted against his mouth and pulled at Shane’s lip with his teeth and stars danced behind Shane’s eyelids at the sharp pain that was so mixed with pleasure.
“Sweetheart,” Ilya groaned, and Shane felt the word like an electric zap down his spine. Every movement of his hips had Ilya’s dick pressing against him in all the best ways. Shane really wanted it in him, Ilya leaking inside of him and leaving a mark that no one could deny or try to take away from them. Fuck, that was the root of it, wasn’t it? At home in Ottawa, there was no one denying what they were to each other because literally everyone knew the Hollander-Rozanovs, and Shane needed that out here too. He wanted to be tied to Ilya down to what literally sunk into his skin and into his very being.
“Ilya,” Shane moaned, closer to a whine than he would have liked it to be. “Please.”
“Okay, okay,” Ilya said all in one breath, hoisting Shane up and to the side, depositing him against the bed with one last pointed roll of his hips before standing and shucking off his joggers as Shane pulled his own down and off, folding with practised ease and dropping onto the ground next to the bed. It was because of this – because of him being responsible – that he didn’t notice Ilya grab the condom until he was already turning back to Shane with it in his hand.
Shane wished he had lasers for his eyes so he could burn a hole through it and render it completely useless because then, maybe, Ilya would leave it alone.
Shane abruptly stood up from the bed as Ilya knelt on it, his expression rapidly switching from unbridled lust to slight confusion. Shane rounded the bed and Ilya turned, sitting on the edge with his legs hanging off, feet planted on the ground, and that stupid fucking condom in his hand. Shane had spent over a decade blowing Ilya and sinking to his knees was practically second nature – the thing he was best at was hockey, but sucking dick was a close second. The moment his knees hit the carpet, he reached up to take the condom from Ilya’s hand, throwing it back at the suitcase and settling his hands on Ilya’s thighs to steady himself as he swallowed down Ilya’s dick in a single motion.
“Oh, fuck,” Ilya cursed, his abdomen tightening and a hand dropping down to Shane’s hair immediately, fingers curling in the strands and holding on more than guiding as Shane breathed around the intrusion in his mouth. He was an expert at blowing Ilya after so many years practising – he knew Ilya could care less about anything performative but that he loved it when Shane rolled his balls in his hand, that Ilya barely blinked when Shane made tiny kitten licks around the head but that his eyes rolled back in his head when Shane tongued at the bottom of his shaft.
Shane pulled out all of the stops, hands exploring Ilya’s body and deepthroating Ilya’s cock as much as he could, pulling off every few seconds to take a deep breath and lick across the underside or to suckle on the tip. The precum on his tongue was tantalising, taunting, and Shane put all of his effort into milking Ilya. Each passing second, his mouth watered with the promise of Ilya spilling down his throat. God, he wanted it so bad; he wanted to feel Ilya in his mouth, his throat, his stomach. He wanted to taste him on his tongue for as long as possible – he wanted to go out with all the people that dared to flirt with them and still be able to taste his husband because Ilya was his fucking husband and people needed to remember that.
“Shane, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ilya moaned rapidly, just barely deep enough to not count as a whimper. “Just like that, good, fuck.”
Shane continued and Ilya’s breaths got shakier above him, his long, strong fingers pulling pinpricks of pain to Shane’s scalp with each tug at his hair. One of his own hands ran up and down Ilya’s abs, the other thumbing at the base of Ilya’s dick while gently playing with his balls.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Ilya continued, the praise lighting Shane up from the inside out. One specific swipe of Shane’s tongue and him gently raking his nails across Ilya’s lower stomach had Ilya jolting just slightly, his head dropping back and a loud moan tearing out of his chest. Shane pressed himself forward, chasing his reward.
Ilya came with a deep groan, his legs tensing on either side of Shane. Shane had never been religious, but swallowing Ilya down felt like a divine blessing. He held Ilya in his mouth throughout his entire release, licking everything up so nothing got away and swallowing it down until Ilya’s cum made a mark inside of Shane. He kept licking and sucking even as Ilya’s legs went weak, falling further apart, and he began to shake just the slightest bit.
Shane left Ilya’s dick with a long, deliberate lick and sat back on his heels. Ilya looked down at him, his eyes dark, and he made a single come here gesture with his hand. Shane was on his feet in a second, dropping onto Ilya’s lap and kissing him, moaning when he knew Ilya had to taste himself in Shane’s mouth. Ilya’s hand dropped down to Shane’s dick and the contact made him hiss.
They pulled apart and looked down at the cum cooling on Shane’s pelvis and dick. Shane hadn’t even realised he’d came, too wrapped up in the ecstasy that accompanied pleasuring Ilya.
Ilya raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow,” he said.
“Shut up,” Shane responded, kissing Ilya again, though some of the fire had died down. He kissed Ilya and threaded his hands through Ilya’s hair as Ilya just held him for a long while. Finally, Shane had enough and pulled himself up and off, smiling as Ilya dramatically sighed and collapsed backwards against the bed.
“I’m gonna shower,” Shane said and Ilya nodded, closing his eyes and giving a thumbs up, clearly still spent from having his dick sucked with such vigor. Shane turned around and saw the condom laying on the floor by the suitcase where he’d thrown it earlier and he quickly picked it up. Annoyed by it and trying to help his odds of feeling his husband raw, he went to hide it and sneak it into the bathroom to throw it away.
“Why are you taking it to the bathroom with you? You didn’t get enough?” Ilya asked from behind him.
Shane turned and saw Ilya looking between him and the condom. “What?”
“If you’re going to cum again, at least let me watch.”
“No, I wasn’t, I just- I was gonna…toss it, I guess.”
Ilya tutted. “Don’t be wasteful, we can still use it. It’s not even open.”
Shane turned back around and dropped it back into Ilya’s suitcase, paying no mind to Ilya’s Shane? from behind him as he walked into the bathroom. He closed the door and stared at the mirror, frowning.
Fuck.
Shane spent his entire shower thinking about the stupid condom, and then spent some of the night thinking about it, and woke up and the pile was the first thing he saw, so he was instantly annoyed. Ilya had to disappear for a couple minutes to answer a question from Wiebe and Shane seriously debated if he could spin a story where a thief broke in and stole only their condoms. He didn’t get his story figured out by the time Ilya returned, so he was left to share a room with them for another day.
Their game managed to distract him from it, and the adrenaline rush from the win carried him even further. They found themselves at a club because that’s simply what happens when you’re in New York and just watched the Centaurs beat the Admirals for the first time in years. Shane was happy to be there and even happier to see the way his husband seemed to glow under the lights, a shirt a few buttons too loose against his chest and showing flashes of skin that had Shane’s mind wandering. He let Ilya drag him onto the dancefloor, Ilya’s hands on his hips and guiding each dancing movement with a grin on his face.
Shane leaned into it, squeezing Ilya’s biceps and tilting forward into a kiss. He could never get tired of kissing Ilya – they could do it every second of every day for the rest of their lives and Shane still wouldn’t have enough. Ilya’s hands slowly slid further down, palming at his ass, and Shane knew it was probably indecent but it was so good that he found it hard to care.
The back of his neck prickled the moment before a warm hand settled on his back.
Which made zero sense, because Ilya’s hands were still firmly on his ass.
Shane pulled away, tearing himself away from Ilya’s lidded gaze and kiss-bitten lips, and looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the man who was standing right behind him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.
“Can I help you?” Shane asked loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Pretty thing like you, I sure hope you can,” the man answered.
Irritation shot through Shane. He forced a smile. “No thank you. I’m with my husband.”
“Husband?” The man asked, eyeing Ilya, who now looked just as irritated as Shane felt. “Never been with a married couple before, but I’ve found myself in the middle plenty of times if you know what I’m saying.”
“How interesting.” Ilya answered, voice flat. His fingers dug into Shane, holding him tighter.
“Sexy accent,” the man remarked.
“Okay, we’re done here.” Shane said quickly, taking his hands off Ilya and turning around fully. Ilya settled against his back instantly, strong arms wrapped around his waist. “We’re not interested.”
The man, thankfully, raised his hands in surrender. “Sure, whatever you say. If you change your mind, please feel free to find me.”
“We won’t,” Ilya promised. The moment the man walked off with nothing more than a wink at them, Shane’s hand wrapped around Ilya’s wrist and he pulled Ilya away and towards their table of safety where some of the Centaurs and their partners were sitting, drinking, and laughing.
“Thought you’d be out there longer,” Hayes said in lieu of a proper greeting. Shane shook his head, dropping onto the seat next to him and immediately sidling up to Ilya to the point he was practically sitting on Ilya’s thigh. Ilya held him tightly but Shane still found himself annoyed.
With the man, of course, but also with the fucking condoms he’d been dealing with for a few days. Somehow, this was their fault.
In Ottawa, everyone knew they were together so it didn’t matter but here, without Ilya’s cum in him and where they were surrounded by complete strangers, men thought they had a chance. Shane bristled like a cat and pulled Ilya’s hand off from around his waist, crossing his arms and pressing back against the booth cushion so Ilya couldn’t sneak his hand back through.
“What are you doing?” Ilya asked.
“Nothing.” Shane answered. He wanted Ilya’s hand back on him but it would just make him want to have sex with Ilya and then he’d bring out a condom again and everything would be ruined.
“Shane.” Ilya said, voice demanding. Shane didn’t often ignore Ilya and especially not when he was like this, the loaded, deep voice he usually kept to the confines of their bedroom. He couldn’t pretend like it didn’t give him a bit of a rush, though, ignoring what was clearly a silent order from Ilya to look at him.
Shane felt Ilya’s hand settle on the nape of his neck, fingers tight around his skin. “Look at me.”
Shane turned his head, looking at Ilya. Ilya watched him for a long moment, eyes searching Shane’s face, before he decided something and nodded just slightly. “We should go back to the hotel.”
“Why? You’re not having fun?”
“Mm, I am, but I think we could have more fun there.”
There. With the tiny, foil-wrapped problems that started this whole thing.
“I’m staying,” Shane said firmly. “You can go if you want.”
Ilya watched for a few passing moments. “Thirty minutes,” Ilya said, reaching into his pocket and setting a timer on his phone.
“Fine.”
For thirty minutes, Shane, admittedly, tormented Ilya. He ran a hand up Ilya’s thigh until Ilya went to touch it and he pulled away again. He stood up and leaned across the table to pass a phone back and forth with Bood, sharing hockey clips and definitely giving Ilya a good look at his ass in the process every time. Towards the end of the thirty minutes, when Shane was a little too aware of his dick pressing against the seam of his jeans, he risked a glance at Ilya and swallowed when Ilya just gave him a darkened look in response.
Shane was aware of the timer the moment it went off and he wanted to run back to their hotel, to sink to his knees or bend over a chair or arch across the bed – anything Ilya wanted. But, he knew what waited for them there and he knew that he had to commit to being a bit of a nuisance if he was going to get Ilya worked up enough to forgo the condom.
Ilya’s hot breath hit Shane’s ear and he shuddered. “We’re leaving. Now, solnyshko.”
Ilya said their goodbyes and Shane echoed them, hardly paying attention when Ilya had his thumbs looped through the front belt loops of his jeans and his big hands splayed across Shane’s pelvis, holding Shane against him firmly. It was only a ten minute walk back to their hotel but each minute felt like it was a knife stabbing at Shane. Ilya didn’t speak, just kept his hand in Shane’s with their fingers intertwined tightly together as he navigated them back. Navigating was usually Shane’s job, but Ilya had taken over without a second thought.
Shane took his keycard from his pocket before Ilya could, tapping them into the elevator and selecting their floor. The moment they were in the elevator, completely private, Ilya spoke for the first time since leaving the club.
“Are you planning on listening to me at all tonight?”
Shane tried not to shiver at the tone. “Maybe,” he said weakly.
“Hmm, maybe.” Ilya repeated, his mouth twisting into a hint of a smirk.
When the doors opened and Shane keyed them into their room, he tried to continue walking in but was caught by Ilya by the back of his shirt. Ilya pulled him back, expertly moving around Shane until he was in front and could walk Shane backwards. Shane’s back collided with the door and a short gasp escaped from him, his hips instinctively twitching forward and seeking Ilya’s heat, but Ilya kept him just out of reach.
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.” It was a request, and Shane was sure he was only one repeat away from it turning into a demand. Sure enough, when Shane pointedly stayed silent, Ilya’s fingers gripped his jaw and pulled his head just a little bit closer.
“Tell me,” he demanded. Shane’s head swam, the firm pressure at his jaw doing nothing to help him focus.
“No,” Shane tried, his voice barely more than an exhale.
“No?” Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Okay. You don’t want me to fuck you.”
“What?” Shane’s brain scrambled to keep up with the crazy jump. “I do.”
Ilya shrugged. “No, you don’t.”
“I fucking do!”
“Then you’ll tell me.”
Shane’s mouth snapped closed.
Ilya shook Shane’s head where he was still holding it, forcing Shane’s head into a gentle back and forth motion. “Here is the deal, sweetheart. I will make you cum, over and over again, until you can’t even breathe right, but you will not get to touch me or feel me until you tell me what you have been so busy thinking about that you decide to act like a brat in front of our team.”
Fuck, Shane was going to cum in his pants. He closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to keep it under control, replaying Ilya calling him a brat in his head, before opening them again.
“I’m not- I’m not a brat.”
“No? Then what would you call this?”
Shane didn’t have an answer. Ilya hummed and patted Shane’s cheek just hard enough to lightly sting. Shane’s eyes fluttered closed. He fought to keep his brain online as he protested, “I want to touch you.”
“You can,” Ilya began, and Shane lit up at the idea of getting his hands or mouth or hole on Ilya, “when you tell me the truth.”
Shane deflated. “There’s no problem.”
Ilya just gave him a look and stepped away, walking towards their bed. “Clothes,” he said. Shane rushed to follow, pulling his shirt over his head as he walked over and folding it against him before he even made it to the edge of the bed. His pants and underwear were quick to follow. When he turned back, Ilya was clad in only his underwear and a wave of disappointment ran through Shane at his husband hiding what Shane really wanted to see most.
“Lay down.”
Shane complied eagerly, climbing onto the bed and laying down, looking up at Ilya with big eyes that he hoped conveyed how badly he needed Ilya. Ilya leaned over him immediately, kissing up Shane’s body from his sternum to his lips. Shane moaned when Ilya’s tongue slipped its way into his mouth and his hands flew up to Ilya’s hair.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Ilya scolded, pulling back and bringing one hand to Shane’s, slowly and manually retracting Shane’s fingers. “I said no touching.”
“Ilya,” Shane whined in protest automatically. Not touching his dick or body was one thing, but not even being allowed to touch Ilya’s hair was crazy. It was one of Shane’s favorite features on Ilya.
“Hands by your head.”
Shane laid his wrists on the pillow on either side of his head, biting on his lip hard not to react so vocally when Ilya snuck a hand down between them to wrap a hand around Shane’s dick. Shane bucked into Ilya’s grip, his breath catching in his chest when Ilya grinded his palm against the tip. Ilya sank back on his knees and used his other hand to tug Shane a little closer, his legs spreading wider so Ilya could fit between them as he so naturally did. Each slide of Ilya’s hand, lubricated by how much Shane was leaking, felt heavenly after wanting it for so long.
Ilya looked at him and grinned before dropping down onto his stomach, half of his legs hanging off the bed but entirely uncaring as he pressed kisses to Shane’s inner thighs, slowly and steadily continuing to jerk him off. He nipped at where Shane’s legs met his hips, at the skin above his dick, at the sensitive spot right behind his balls that always had Shane arching and moaning. He put his mouth everywhere except where Shane really wanted it.
“Ilya,” Shane panted, “please.”
“Please what?”
“You know what I want.”
“Yes, and you know what I want. Guess neither of us is getting it.”
Shane rocked into Ilya’s hand as he cried out in desperation, wishing so badly that Ilya would put his mouth on his cock. His hips shifted back and forth as Ilya continued with his teasing kisses and bites just around his dick and continued to twist his hand in the most terribly fantastic way. One specific stroke, when Ilya turned his hand and thumbed at the head for a few seconds before continuing again, had Shane at wit’s end.
“Ah, fuck, Ilya, I’m gonna cum, fuck, please, please, please-”
“I’m not stopping you.” Ilya pointed out.
Shane’s hands flew down to Ilya’s hair as his knees hiked upwards, his back lifting off the bed as he groaned and came across Ilya’s hand. Ilya jerked him through it as Shane’s head spun and he dropped back against the mattress and pillow, breathing heavily while grounding himself with Ilya’s hair and-
“Shit!” Shane hissed, releasing Ilya and pulling his hands back quickly, dropping them by his head with a wide eyed look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t-”
“What did I say?” Ilya asked, still with his hand wrapped around Shane’s cock and thumbing at some of the cum dripping down the side.
“No touching.”
“Right. And you touched. So, I will keep touching you,” Ilya said with a shrug.
Shane practically whimpered. “I can’t take it.”
“You can. You’ve taken more than this before.”
Ilya’s steady movements had pushed him to the point of oversensitivity, his hips twitching and his nerves lighting on fire with each swipe of his hand. The stimulation was far too much but it was right on the line of pleasure and pain that Shane danced along constantly. It hurt but it hurt so good that he felt a familiar tug in his gut, one rapidly hurtling him towards another release with each passing minute. Faster than usual, but Shane was so worked up that it was no surprise.
Shane’s breathing shook as he whined, “Gonna- ugh, gonna cum again.”
“Already?” Ilya asked, a laugh in his tone. “See what happens when you listen to me? Good things happen. But when you don’t listen-”
Milliseconds before Shane was going to cum again, Ilya let go of his cock. Shane almost started crying, all of the satisfaction gone with a ruined orgasm. A small amount of cum trickled out and it felt like defeat; Shane let out a genuine sob as his body twitched and tightened.
“Shane.”
Shane’s whole body felt wrecked and he was so, so greedy because he wanted more he wanted Ilya back on him or preferably in him.
“Shane.”
He blinked his eyes open, unaware he’d closed them, and was met with Ilya’s face in front of his own. Ilya’s hand rubbed up and down his side, caressing his ribs. “There you are. Check-in with me, sweetheart.”
“I’m good,” he said, his voice cracking on the word. He blinked some moisture out of his eyes.
“You are. You’re very good.” Ilya reassured. “Colour?”
“I don’t-” Shane took in a shaky breath. “I can’t-”
“Shh, Shane, breathe,” Ilya ordered, continuing his gentle petting of Shane’s side.
“Can you kiss me?” Shane asked. He felt like he was going to cry if Ilya didn’t.
Ilya complied immediately, leaning down and kissing Shane softly. Shane melted into it and Ilya murmured, “You can touch me.”
Shane’s arms instantly went up, his hands cradling either side of Ilya’s face as they kissed. It was so gentle in comparison to the violence with which his orgasm had hit him, the painful pleasure that he adored. This was nothing like that, just him holding Ilya finally because he’d pushed through his punishment.
Ilya drew back carefully, taking his hand away from Shane’s side to brush some of his hair off his forehead. “Colour?”
“Green.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” Shane exhaled. He wanted Ilya to fuck him – needed Ilya to fuck him, and his thoughts around the matter made his eyes prick up with tears again. “I didn’t wanna be a brat.”
“I know. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”
Shane nodded quickly – he liked being good for Ilya, particularly when his mind was all fuzzy and soft like this. “I want you to fuck me.”
“I want to fuck you too,” Ilya promised, ducking down to give Shane a little kiss. “But you didn’t tell me the truth yet. It’s why I had to be so mean to you.”
“Bare,” Shane blurted.
Ilya blinked at him. “What?”
Shane sniffled just slightly. “I want you to fuck me bare. Raw. I hate the stupid fucking condoms. I want to feel you in me and I want you to cum in me. I need it, it’s what keeps me yours when we’re away from home so just- please, Ilya, can you fuck me without it?”
Ilya shook his head and a laugh of disbelief came out. “That’s it? That’s the problem?”
“Don’t laugh at me.” Shane was very much not pouting, even if Ilya said he was.
“Shane, sweetheart,” Ilya said through a wicked grin, kissing Shane again and tonguing at his teeth in the way that always had Shane’s head spinning. “I will always fuck you without a condom. Anytime you want, anywhere you want. I will be on my deathbed and still fuck you raw if you want it.”
“Promise?” Shane asked.
In a second, he was flipped over onto his stomach and Ilya pulled at his legs until Shane’s ass was in the air, his chest and face pushed down into the pillow. He only got a single breath in before Ilya’s tongue was between his cheeks and licking a fat stripe across Shane’s hole, his hands holding him open. Shane moaned and his hands shot out to grip the sheets beneath him, pleasure coiling in his gut as Ilya tongued at his rim.
“Lube,” Ilya ordered, and Shane forced himself onto one hand so he could stretch and grab the lube they’d tucked under his pillow the night before. He tossed it to Ilya and looked backwards, earning a dark look from Ilya that he only had a few seconds to appreciate before a wet finger sunk into him and had him dropping back to the mattress, all of the strength leaving him as Ilya began to work him open. One became two, and two was accompanied by some tongue before it became three, and at three Shane was open-mouthed breathing and whining into his pillow.
Ilya crooked his finger just right, at the angle he’d spent a decade mastering, and Shane’s legs dropped open wider, forcing his back into more of an arch so he could hold onto the sheets more firmly.
“Ilya, please, now, I need you,” he said all in one breath. “I told you the truth and I’ve been good and-”
In one fluid motion, Ilya bent over Shane’s back, pulled his hand out to wrap around his own cock, and pulled Shane back with his other arm so he sank down onto Ilya’s kneeling thighs and his dick. Ilya held him upright with his arms, one wrapping around his waist and the other crossing his chest with his hand against Shane’s throat.
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned into Shane’s ear. “You’re so perfect. My good boy.”
“I am, I am, I am,” Shane mumbled repeatedly, his head dropping back and onto Ilya’s shoulder as he and Ilya worked together to lift him up and down on Ilya’s cock. “I just wanna be yours.”
“You are mine.”
“You need to cum in me,” Shane continued without pausing. “I need it, Ilya, fuck, please, I need to have you in me all the time.”
Ilya moaned and snapped his hips sharply, making Shane cry out. Shane brought one hand to grip at the back of Ilya’s. He slid Ilya’s hand up further until it really was settled around his throat – not pressing down or restrictive, but a steady presence that just helped Shane feel even more like Ilya’s. It felt all-consuming, the desire to be Ilya’s, so the pressure and sensation of skin on skin needed to match it. Ilya responded immediately, because he always did, and held Shane firmly against him, strong muscle against strong muscle.
Ilya’s breath was hot against his ear and Shane turned towards it, tilting his head until Ilya’s temple sat against the side of his head.
“You teased me so much,” Ilya began, his low, strained voice sending blood rushing to Shane’s dick, “just because you wanted me so bad?”
“Yeah,” Shane exhaled and it quickly morphed into a sharp gasp when Ilya’s cock brushed against his prostate. “Fuck, just like that.”
“You think I wouldn’t cum in you if you wanted me to?”
“Ilya-”
“You think I wouldn’t keep you full every fucking second?”
“Ilya!” Shane gasped, gripping one of Ilya’s thighs beneath him and digging his nails in as Ilya’s thrusts got stronger. He held on as Ilya pounded into him and felt his mind run further and further away from him with every dirty sentence Ilya murmured and moaned. When his thighs burned to the point of shaking, Ilya quickly tilted them forward until Shane was slumped against the mattress again. Ilya wasted no time in continuing his relentless pace, holding Shane’s hips in the air with one hand and pushing his back into an arch with the other.
“I will keep you like this,” Ilya began, “on my cock-”
Shane moaned into the mattress.
“-full of my cum-”
Shane clutched his pillow and felt his eyes roll back.
“-whenever you want, sweetheart.”
Shane’s vision whited out when Ilya called him sweetheart, his dick spurting weakly between his legs without any additional stimulation. Ilya followed quickly, gripping Shane’s ass firmly as he came deep with a loud, breathy moan. Shane’s legs ached but he basked in the sweaty, hot afterglow for a moment, relief and pleasure and calm settling over him.
He felt Ilya lean down over him and kiss the nape of his neck; Shane turned his head so Ilya could press another one to his lips. “Okay?” Ilya asked.
Shane nodded and rubbed his face back into the pillow, his eyes drifting shut. “You’re so good at that.”
“What, sex?”
“Yeah. And knowing what I need.”
Shane was about to retract his statement when Ilya pulled out. He wanted it in – he thought he’d made that clear – but closed his mouth when Ilya dropped beside him and helped guide Shane to lay on him, carefully slipping his dick back inside Shane’s wet hole to keep the cum inside before he softened. Shane relaxed again instantly, thankful that he could bring one hand to Ilya’s face and hold onto him while they lazily kissed.
“I love you,” Shane mumbled against Ilya’s lips before resting down on Ilya’s chest. He could hear how fast Ilya’s heartbeat still was, though it seemed to be slowing.
“I love you,” Ilya echoed. “Even when you throw a tantrum because you decided you don’t like condoms.”
Shane huffed against Ilya’s collarbone. “It’s not that I don’t like them.”
“You don’t.”
“It’s not that,” Shane emphasized. “I just- it’s stupid.”
“Shane.”
Shane looked up at Ilya’s serious expression fixed on him. He knew what Ilya was going to say – it’s not stupid, your feelings are not stupid – and took a deep breath before explaining everything he’d been thinking about for the past few days.
“So…you think me cumming in you will keep men from hitting on you?” Ilya asked, staring up at the ceiling and running a hand up and down Shane’s back.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. But it makes me feel better.” Shane felt his ears burn and his cheeks flush and he twirled one of Ilya’s curls around his pointer finger. “It’s stupid, I told you.”
Ilya jerked beneath him. “No, no, I like this theory. My cum will keep other men away, like a warning sign or something, yes?”
Shane couldn’t help it – he laughed. “Sure.”
“Like a ‘beware of dog’ sign. ‘Beware, this man has a husband.’”
“Sure,” Shane agreed, smiling.
“‘Beware, this man has a husband with a big dick and plenty of cum so he does not need you.’”
“Stop,” Shane protested, cutting Ilya off with a kiss. “We should go shower, though.”
Ilya seemed to recognize that he would lose any argument about that and nodded, grimacing when Shane pushed himself up and off. Shane stood, simultaneously loving and hating the feeling of Ilya’s cum seeping out of him; he rushed to the shower and got in without waiting for it to warm up, ready to clean himself off before Ilya even made it there with him.
He was already almost done with his very thorough washing when Ilya joined him in the shower, his body cold against Shane when compared to the scalding hot water. Shane pointed this out and Ilya just grinned, pressing his cold hands against Shane’s ribs and snickering when Shane jolted at the temperature difference. He massaged Ilya’s muscles under the guise of helping him wash up, and Ilya didn’t look convinced but let Shane do what he wanted. When Shane stepped out, he spent a long moment ogling Ilya’s body under the steam and looked away quickly when Ilya glanced back at him with a cocked eyebrow.
Shane dried off and slipped on a pair of underwear, sinking into the comfy couch in their hotel room. He grabbed his phone, interrupting the continuous buzzing of messages coming through. He swiped to their team chat of only the players and felt his lips part in surprise when he saw what had started it all – a picture of the condoms, piled in the corner of Ilya’s suitcase.
Ilya ❤️: [Attachment: 1 image]
Ilya ❤️: If anyone needs, please let me know
Boodram: Shit cap, how many did you bring if you’re getting rid of these??
LaPointe: You’re a menace Roz
LaPointe: I’ll take a few
Chouinard: Wait why do you have condoms? Hollzy can’t get pregnant
Hayes: STIs exist, Nicholas
Chouinard: It’s just Nick, Hayes, I’ve told you this a million times
Dykstra: Wait Roz or Hollzy have STIs?
Ilya ❤️: We do not
Dykstra: Oh ok good
Boyle: Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing
Holmberg: Yeah
Haas: Yeah
LaPointe: ???
Holmberg: They’re XL…
The spamming of messages was, apparently, their team talking about dick size and telling Ilya to be careful with Shane while simultaneously offering Shane a room for the night if he needed to be saved from Ilya ‘and the monster he’s packing’, which admittedly made Shane laugh. Shane shook his head and turned his phone off, hiding his burning face even though there wasn’t anyone around to see.
He hoped their team took Ilya up on his offer, though. He wanted the condoms as far away as possible.