AspenShade



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya used to not miss anything when he returned to Moscow during the off-season. He was standing in a convenience store, some July day in 2015, flipping through the newsstand, when it hit him that he didn’t particularly care about anything going on there. He was counting down the days before he could get on his flight back to Boston, as if there was anything there to greet him on his return. Maybe it wasn’t Boston he was missing. The realization is not welcome.

    “Do you think you will stay in Boston?” Shane asks, stroking Ilya’s upper arm. His touch is soft. Ilya wants it endlessly.

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    09 Mar 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 96

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    Ilya explains what Scott Hunter changed for him.

    Ilya took a moment to admire the curves of Shane's back, the broad slopes of his shoulders, the deep divot of his spine. He loved the landscape of him, the rolling hills of his muscles, the peaks and valleys of his bones. Summertime in Massachusetts, those precious days between home and camp. Ilya could get lost there, if he let himself. Forget hockey, forget everything, he could spend the rest of his days wandering the planes of Shane's body and never need anything else.

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    08 Mar 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    When Shane Hollander looks into the future he sees— not a flat sheet of ice, not that, not anymore, but something equally as empty.

    His backup plan was always to go to university. He hadn't thought he'd ever need it, not really. Especially not near the end, when everything felt so certain. But his grades were good, his mom made sure of that, so when he woke up in the hospital he already knew what he was going to do next. But after?

    There's a standard path people take, he knows, that comes after school. But when he tries to picture it, slot himself into the picket fence and the corporate overhead fluorescents, it disappears. Like it was never going to be real at all.

    (Or: after ending up at a jazz bar to celebrate the end of finals season, Shane Hollander finds himself where he never thought he'd be— in the orbit of NHL superstar Ilya Rozanov.)

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    06 Mar 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 11

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    Ilya is watching the sun rise over the lake at the cottage when Shane joins him and makes a little request.

    “So, I was wondering…next time we fuck…would you like to, uh, skip the condom? Because I’ve been thinking about feeling you skin-to-skin inside me for a while now, and it’s been driving me—”
    Shane did not get a chance to complete his sentence because Ilya had hauled him over and was giving him a kiss, fierce and biting and ravenous.
    After many glorious moments of kissing, the sun warm on their cheeks, Ilya pulled back. Shane licked his lips and gave Ilya a darting glance before looking away. “Anyway, yeah, it’s been driving me insane,” he said, and cleared his throat.
    “Well now that you said it, it makes me insane too,” Ilya replied. “Come.” He stood and hauled Shane up along with him. “Chop chop, Hollander. No time to waste.”

    Podfic of eyes wide open, naked as we came by beautifulduckweed.

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    05 Mar 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “This is hard to talk about,” is all he says, though he knows it will amount to nothing.

    Shane’s fingertips are feather-soft on his chest. “You have to.”

    He has to, because Shane and Ilya have this thing, now, this agreement. Nothing is too hard to talk about. Nothing is off limits. They have to be bare, have to surrender the deepest crevice of their soul to one another. And Ilya, for whom this is easier said than done, whose chest carries a perpetual weight, an immovable mass, it’s all worth it – worth the relief smoothing over Shane’s features, the reassurance that he’s not worried anymore, that Ilya can give him this peace, albeit only a fragment of what Shane gives him by just being there when he wakes up. He would never say it, but he thinks that what he has to offer to Shane amounts to nothing – nothing compared to what Shane does, what Shane is, by simply nuzzling into his chest and sighing into his sleep, late at night when all Ilya can do is lay awake and just feel.

    “I need more,” Ilya says. “And is nothing you can do. I need you inside me, and it feels terrible.” He swallows, with great difficulty. God. “I need to– I need to eat you.”

    or, Ilya never knew love can hurt this good

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    04 Mar 2026