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Ilya expected a lot of fucked up things from life. It hadn’t given him any reason to believe otherwise, just dealing him bad hand after bad hand. At this point, he was taking it all in stride with the mindset of ‘if it kills me it must have been my time, and if I live, then I guess I lived’, which was admittedly not the healthiest and definitely something he and his therapist were working on, but was a major step up from the whole ‘actively wanting to die’ situation he had been in before.
Having said all that, Ilya really shouldn’t have been surprised when he walked past an alleyway on his way home from the bar and heard a struggle. He contemplated walking by, but groaned internally and turned around. He wanted to get some actual sleep tonight, and that was not going to happen if he was wondering what happened to the person who was now shouting in the alley.
He turned around, poked his head around the corner, and promptly bluescreened. There were two men, the taller of which was pushed up against the wall and definitely struggling, the other pinning him with a firm grip, his face buried in the taller man’s neck. The tall man cried out again, voice laced with pain, and Ilya heard the blood spatter on the pavement before he actually registered seeing it.
Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. What are you supposed to do to stop a murder again? This feels like something that should be taught in schools, right up there with ‘drugs are bad’.
Ilya was still contemplating what the actual hell he was supposed to do when the tall man saw him, reaching out a shaky hand and murmuring a weak “help”. Ilya’s eyes widened as the other man stilled, pulling his face out of the tall man’s neck. He stared at the tall man for only a moment before turning toward Ilya.
There were many things about the man that stood out to Ilya, the most immediate of which being the blood that covered his face and neck in gruesome, shiny smears. The top of his shirt was stained a deep color, so dark Ilya would have believed it to be black if he didn’t know that blood was red. His dark hair was messy, his eyes wide and glowing a vivid, primal shade of red, and…and some of his freckles still showed through the blood, his cupid's bow even more pronounced with the way the streetlight shone on the liquid covering him.
Recognition turned his eyes from red to the soft, warm brown Ilya was used to looking at, his grip loosening. The tall man took his chance and bolted, taking big, gasping breaths as he stumbled out of the alley. The other man’s gaze tracked him lazily before landing back on Ilya, who felt like he was frozen in shock.
“...Hollander?”
Shane frowned in his direction, looking down at the blood puddled around his feet. He looked back up, glare fixed on his face.
“Why are you here?”
Ilya gaped at him, eyes flicking back and forth between the blood on the ground and the blood on Shane’s face.
“What…what the fuck?!?”
Shane sighed heavily, head tilting up to the sky as he groaned.
“Jesus, why does this shit always happen to me? Okay, come on.”
Shane walked further back the alley, waving a hand for Ilya to follow. Ilya started toward him before stopping, realizing that his tendency to follow Shane wherever he went like a lost puppy might actually get him killed this time. Shane must have heard him stop walking because he turned around, rolling his eyes.
“Okay, so you’re going to just forget about this then?”
Ilya swallowed. His brain lagged as he tried to think of how to say I will never forget this, why do you look so hot covered in blood? Why did you look so hot pinning that guy down? That was so fucking hot. What the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you? Can you pin me down like that too?
“Probably not,” was what he ended up saying, to which Shane cocked his hip and looked at him with more authority than Ilya had ever seen him do.
“Well, your options are to follow me or to forget you saw anything. Your choice.”
Ilya scrambled after Shane as he turned around again, following him deeper in the alley. He followed Shane through twists and turns that he wasn’t entirely sure made architectural sense, played with the idea of being in a level of the backrooms, dismissed the idea of being in the backrooms when he asked Shane and received the most annoyed sigh he’d ever heard from the man, and eventually stopped when Shane opened a door labeled ‘employee entrance’.
“Uh, I am not sure you are an employee here, Hollander.”
The glare Shane shot him, dried blood cracking and flaking off his face, sent blood rushing straight down to his dick. Ilya maybe should feel gross about that…maybe (but he really didn’t, so. Oh well).
“Get in.”
Ilya nodded and hurried inside, watching as Shane slipped in behind him. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge him this time, just started walking in a direction and expecting Ilya to follow (which, of course, he did). Ilya followed him to an empty stairwell, followed him up five flights, realized at some point that they were in a hotel, and watched warily as Shane peeked out into a hallway before leading Ilya to his room. The instant that Shane had closed and locked the door, Ilya was jumping on the bed and shooting off his questions.
“Okay what the fuck? Did you kill that guy? What were you doing? You know you’re covered in blood, right? Is this some cult shit? Are you okay? Do you need help? Like to get out of this? What-”
“Oh my fucking god shut the fuck up!”
Ilya had a full-body reaction and Shane muttered an apology for his volume immediately. He must have noticed the way Ilya stilled, the way his jaw dropped and mouth went dry, and assumed that he had scared him. In all actuality, Ilya had caught the way Shane’s eyes flashed red, bright and piercing, before being overtaken once again by brown, and god that was so hot what the fuck is wrong with me.
Shane shuffled his feet, and Ilya couldn’t help but this ah, there is the Shane I know. Ilya watched him turn in a full circle before running a bloody hand through his hair, shaking his head.
“Can I shower first? And then answer your questions? I’m just kinda…”
Shane gestured at his face and Ilya nodded frantically, sure that the peeling blood was uncomfortable. Shane nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, taking the quickest shower possible before reappearing in not blood-stained clothes. He stood awkwardly by the bathroom, and Ilya snorted before patting the spot next to him on the bed. Shane hesitated, looking at Ilya’s face for any reason to not sit, but eventually found nothing and ended up beside him.
“Okay. One at a time, please?”
Ilya nodded.
“I mean, it will be hard, but I suppose I can try.”
Shane smiled, a small upward quirk of his lips, and Ilya internally pumped his fist in success.
“I guess my first question, uh, are you in a cult?’
Shane looked at him, silent for long enough that Ilya thought that maybe he was in a cult, and god, way to be disrespectful, and then Shane laughed. He laughed so hard that he bent over, hands on his knees and tears in his eyes.
“No, god. There’s not a cult, is that seriously your first thought?”
Ilya shrugged.
“I mean, my first thought was maybe vampire, but that’s like, fol'klor, da? Made up?”
Shane blinked at him, a clear battle playing out behind his eyes. The need to make the situation less stressful in the middle of the overly stressful night must have won out, because before Ilya knew it, Shane’s mouth was open and bared, showing off unfairly straight teeth and…fangs. Pointed, sharp, deadly-looking fangs.
Ilya’s jaw dropped open and Shane smiled, looking predatory with his teeth still bared for Ilya to see.
“Vampires-”
“Are real, yes.”
Ilya nodded slowly, watching Shane’s now closed mouth.
“Do you have more questions?”
“Give me a second.”
Shane smiled nervously.
“I can leave. If you’re, you know, uncomfortable?”
“If you try to leave, I jump on top of you and tie you down. I am not done with question time.”
Ilya could have sworn Shane’s pupils dilated but he ignored it (god, what was wrong with him, ignoring Shane’s obvious interest in the threat), trying to think about what the next important question he should ask is so he can get them out of the way and get Shane off.
“So. Vampire.”
“...Yes?”
“So blood drinking?”
“...Maybe?”
“Maybe is not an answer.”
“...Yes.”
“So the man?”
Shane hesitated, looking down at his lap.
“The man.”
“You were…drinking?”
Shane looked at him out of the corner of his eye, obviously more than a little nervous. Ilya hurried to reassure him, resting a gentle hand on his thigh.
“Is okay, vampires need that to live, right?”
“Yeah. It's disgusting, though, don’t you think? Like, I have to drink another human’s blood in order to function, like a fucking monster or something.”
Ilya frowned at the way Shane talked, not appreciating the outlook on what was apparently his own biology, but knowing he didn’t quite have the time or information needed to argue otherwise.
“Ah. I am sorry for interrupting, then.”
Shane sighed tiredly, letting his hand meet Ilya’s.
“It’s okay,” he said, tracing his finger along the back of Ilya’s hand. “I can find someone else tomorrow after the game.”
“Oh my god, is that why you never get in fights?”
Shane laughed, shocked at the abruptness of the question.
“No, Roz. I mean, kind of, because I don’t really want to suddenly be fighting vampire instincts on the ice, but I have enough control of it that I would be fine if I was in one. I just genuinely don’t enjoy it that much. Like, fights are a part of hockey, but if I don’t need to be in a fight to make a goal, then I’m not gonna get in a fight, you know?”
Ilya nodded in understanding, murmuring a small ‘but it’s so fun’ under his breath and smiling when Shane snorted.
“So, I interrupted you earlier.”
“It’s seriously fine. I can find someone else tomorrow, no big deal.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
Shane’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Nothing? I just find someone when I get back to Montreal?”
“No, I mean, what happens when you don’t have blood?”
“Oh.” Shane’s fingers stilled on his skin. “Uhm, I get sick. Like, my body just starts shutting down because it doesn’t have the blood it needs to keep running, I guess? Vampires aren’t really a known thing, so there’s not really a lot of medical research into it, but yeah.”
Ilya hummed, thoughts racing.
“So. You need blood to live.”
“Yes.”
“And I interrupted your dinner, basically.”
“Ew, don’t call it that, but yes, essentially.”
Ilya stood up, walking further up the bed before climbing back on and settling against the headboard.
“Come here.”
Shane raised his eyebrows but listened, twisting and crawling the little bit toward him. He made a yelping noise when Ilya grabbed his waist, pulling him into his lap and holding him there.
“Were you going to kill him?”
Shane winced, looking down to Ilya’s chest.
“Most of the time I do, yeah. It’s just more convenient? God that sounds terrible. I need a certain amount of blood, and most of the time it happens to be the amount of blood that a person needs to live, and finding one person is easier than finding two or three. So usually, yeah.”
“But you already had some?”
“Yeah,” Shane said, looking at Ilya with a suspicious expression. “It’s really not a big deal, I promise. I was almost done anyway, I’ll be good.”
Ilya nodded resolutely.
“Drink from me.”
Shane jerked back like he had been burned, but Ilya tightened his grip to keep him on his lap.
“What? No fucking way!”
“Why not?” Ilya shrugged, smoothing his thumbs on Shane’s hips. “I am saying it is okay, you are saying you only need a bit more. You won’t hurt me, we both know you can stop.”
Shane was looking at him with an expression that was a mixture of horror and lust, eyes tinted red.
“I can tell you want it. Your eyes show me.”
Shane closed said eyes and Ilya laughed softly, reaching a hand up to drag his knuckles across his cheek. Shane peeked his eyes open, glaring at him.
“I don’t know. Really, Roz, I’ll be okay until-”
“Ilya.”
“...What?”
“I think that if we are close enough for me to know you are a vampire, and if you are going to drink from me, then you can call me Ilya, da?”
“I am not drinking from you.”
“What if I want to know how it feels?”
“God, you’re so perverted, what is wrong with you-”
“I am just saying, it could be hot-”
“You are such an asshole-”
“Shane.”
Shane stopped his protests, blinking up at him. Ilya pulled him closer, holding back a smile at the way Shane’s breath caught.
“Shane. When I saw you in the alley, I thought you looked so hot that I could come in my pants like fucking teenager. You’re strong, you know what you need, and I know you know how to stop. I think you are just scared because you know me, which should make it less scary I think. I am not afraid to knock you off the bed if you don’t stop. You know I can, too, because I am number one hockey player.”
“Fuck you, you asshole,” Shane said quietly. Ilya nodded in agreement.
“Da, yes, I would like to fuck you. I would like you to drink, and be full and have energy, and then I would like to fuck you.”
Shane searched his eyes for longer than Ilya wanted him to, but he was willing to be patient if it meant Shane eventually got what he needed.
“What if I want to fuck you? Ride you”
Ilya’s mouth went dry, all cognitive thought ceasing.
“Yes. Yeah, yes, that is okay.”
Shane settled into his lap, leaning in to kiss him softly. Ilya thought that he still felt a bit nervous, and well, that won’t do. He bit Shane’s lip, smiling at the shocked gasp it pulled out, before kissing him hungrily. It was all teeth against teeth and tongue against tongue, breathing growing heavier until Shane pulled back and rested his forehead against Ilya’s breathing into his mouth.
“You’re sure?”
Ilya grabbed his chin, pulling him back into their searing kiss. Shane moaned against his mouth, hips jerking. Ilya smiled, meeting Shane’s eyes again.
“Da, I am sure. Is the least I can do for ruining your dinner.”
Shane frowned, pulling back as much as he could with Ilya’s hand still securely fastened on the back of his neck.
“Well, no, I don’t want to do it if you just feel bad, that’s not really consensua-”
Ilya cut Shane off by yanking him down, pushing his face into his neck.
“Oh my god Hollander, I want you to because I think it will be hot, i already told you this, not just because you’re hungry! Now will you-oh!”
Teeth sunk into his skin, small pinpricks of pain that bloomed up his neck. Shane pulled back just enough that his teeth slipped out, tongue laving over the holes. Ilya was just opening his mouth to ask what he was doing when he felt a numbing sensation, the pain slipping away and a physical heat trailing from his neck through his body. Ilya honest-to-god whined, and he could feel Shane smiling as he latched back on.
Ilya wasn’t sure how to describe the sensation of having someone suck on him like a fucking straw, but he did know that it felt good enough that his dick swelled, twitching in his boxers with every strong pull of blood Shane took. He could hear Shane’s content noises in his ear, the soft sounds of him swallowing, the wet noises of his blood slipping across their skin.
He wasn’t entirely sure of when he started rolling his hips in a desperate attempt to get any kind of friction but when Shane finally pulled away from his neck, Ilya could feel him meeting his hips just as desperately. Shane licked his neck, cleaning the blood before tracing wet kisses to his mouth. Ilya almost came in his pants at the taste of his own blood in the kiss, at the feel of Shane’s fangs just barely brushing his lips. Shane kissed him frantically, hungrily, and when he pulled back, his eyes were that bright and vivid red that seemed to pierce into Ilya’s soul.
“Are you okay?”
Ilya watched Shane’s heaving chest, nodding.
“I’m okay.”
“Seriously? No dizziness, no lightheadedness, no-”
“Shane. I am fine. Come back.”
Ilya reached for him to pull him closer, but Shane was already moving toward him. Ilya found himself on his back, Shane crawling on top of him and reaching his hands down to pull his boxers off as he licked into Ilya’s mouth. His boxers didn’t even make it all the way off, just barely down to his knees, before Shane was taking his cock in his hand and stroking it.
Ilya’s head fell back and he groaned as Shane kissed his neck, hard presses of his lips against his skin. Shane’s hand left his dick, fumbling for the lube on the nightstand and squeezing out probably way too much, not that Ilya was complaining when the hand reached back down. Shane coated Ilya’s dick, looking down to make sure he did a thorough job, before doing possibly the only thing Ilya could think of to make this whole interaction more hot: he pulled out the plug that had been nestled securely in his ass, throwing it on the mattress and out of their way.
“You-god, Hollander.”
Shane flushed pink, and Ilya thought that maybe some of that blush was him, his blood running through Shane’s body.
“I, well. I was gonna call you later? Since we planned on spending the day together tomorrow, and my flight came in early, I was going to see if you wanted to just, I don’t know, get more time together?”
Ilya’s jaw dropped and he was sure that if he had a mirror, he would be the perfect example of an adoring disciple worshiping his god.
“Oh my god, how are you so perfect?”
Shane flushed even more, ducking his head. Ilya tutted, reaching up to make Shane meet his eyes.
“I would have said yes, solnyshko. Or maybe moy lunnyy svet would be better, da?”
Shane made a confused face and Ilya shook his head, placing his hands on Shane’s hips.
“Don’t worry about it. Come here,” he murmured, pulling Shane into another warm kiss. He was just slipping his tongue behind Shane’s teeth when he felt a hand wrap around his cock and his hips jumped, breath hitching as Shane slowly sat down on his length. He moaned into Ilya’s mouth, breath coming in pants and small whines. He didn’t move right away, which Ilya was surprisingly fine with; he was happy to let Shane take what he wanted from him, to let Shane set the pace. More than that even, he was more than content to just sit and be a part of Shane, to be inside him in as many ways possible.
His breath was punched out of his chest when Shane lifted himself and fell back down, hips rolling sensually and hands planted on Ilya’s chest to give him leverage.
“Oh-mmm, Shane-”
Shane smiled, panting as his head dropped, Ilya catching a glimpse of rapacious eyes and listening to his hungry gasps. He rocked onto Ilya’s cock, moaning when Ilya reached up and pushed his back into an arch that changed the angle of his motion. His hand slipped, sliding up to Ilya’s shoulder, thumb against his neck, and Ilya pushed his chin up with a whine. Shane slowed as he observed Ilya’s face, brows furrowing as he tentatively moved his hand to his neck, letting the weight of it rest against his skin. Ilya swore that he was practically drooling for it, pushing his neck into Shane’s hand.
“Yes-please, Shane, oh my god.”
He watched Shane grin mischievously at him, moving his hand off his neck to thumb away some of the saliva puddling in the corners of his mouth.
“Aw, look at you. Drooling for it like a dog.”
Ilya nodded and whined as Shane returned his spit-slick hand to his neck, thumb smoothing back and forth over his skin.
“Are you a dog, Ilya? Hm? My good boy? Sitting there and letting me take what I want? Just a puppy, aren’t you?”
Shane picked up his pace, riding Ilya harder as he just barely pushed down on his neck. Ilya wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed with how quickly he came once Shane’s hand was pushing down, eyes tearing up as they rolled back, making a choking noise as Shane rode him through it.
“Oh my god, jesus Ilya, I-”
Ilya shakily wrapped a hand around Shane’s cock, pumping twice before he was coming hard, chin dropping to his chest as he took gasping breaths.
Shane dropped down to his elbows, resting his forehead against Ilya’s. It was silent for only a moment before Shane laughed softly, a boyish grin spreading across his face. Ilya started laughing too, blood thrumming and awareness floating somewhere above his body. That was okay, he figured. Shane was there, holding his body down; he didn’t need to be aware of his surroundings when Shane was there to keep him safe.
“Oh, you are just gone, huh?”
Ilya met Shane’s eyes, no longer red, and watching him with something so soft it made Ilya’s chest feel tight.
“‘M not gone, I’m here.”
Shane smiled, cupping Ilya’s cheek and kissing him.
“Let’s get cleaned up, yeah? We’re all sticky.”
Ilya hummed in agreement, letting Shane pull him into an upright position and drag him to the bathroom. Shane washed him off with gentle wipes of the washcloth and Ilya made sure to do the same, laughing at Shane’s whine of defeat when Ilya pointed out the blood he must have missed earlier that was tucked behind his ear. They dried off and stumbled tiredly into the room, Shane digging in his bag and throwing a snack in Ilya’s direction before laying down with a tired sigh. Ilya looked down at the bar in his hands, holding it up questioningly.
“Uh, what is this?’
Shane opened an eye to look at him before closing it again, obviously unbothered.
“A snack. You essentially just had your blood drawn and then did cardio. You need to eat something.”
Ilya laughed and opened the bag, snacking as he watched Shane lay starfished on his back, eyes closed and chest rising and falling steadily.
“So. I have more questions.”
Shane groaned as Ilya laughed, throwing a hand over his face.
“Are you sure? Because I actually think that you’re tired and want to wait until tomorrow.”
Ilya laughed harder, finishing his snack and crawling into bed beside Shane. He gently pulled Shane on top of him, using a guiding hand in his hair to lay Shane’s head on his chest.
“Okay, solnyshko, okay. They can wait.”
Shane hummed happily against his chest, pressing a soft kiss against his skin before settling back down. Ilya wrapped his arms around him, pulling him tighter, wondering how Shane would react if Ilya asked to be exclusive. He’d probably have to clarify and reassure (“yes, Hollander, exclusive for fucking and for drinking”, “we will just have to schedule drinks, it will work”) but he was confident that Shane would come around to the idea.
For now, though, he was content to lay on the hotel bed, fed and cared for, and hold Shane against his body as they fell asleep.