Chapter Text
“Thank you,” Shane says when they reach the cottage.
Ilya, still laughing from teasing Shane about the word lovers on the car ride, needs a second to figure out the change in tone. “For what?”
“For being there at my parents’. For — fuck, for everything?” Shane says, looking over at Ilya. “It helped having you there.”
Ilya gives a smile. “I am glad.”
“It made me think about what it would be like to have you there on all the hard days,” Shane continues like he’s not turning Ilya’s world upside down. “I think I’ll always want you there.”
“When my father died…” Ilya says. “I wanted you so badly. Like — yes, like that, but you were the only one I wanted to talk to. I wanted you to be there the whole time. So, yes, I know what you mean. I am glad you want me, too.”
“I do,” Shane says quietly. “Like that, but also like that.”
Ilya huffs a laugh. “I am looking forward to being there on your hard days, Shane Hollander,” he says, hoping it comes across.
And it must, because Shane leans over the gear shift and kisses Ilya so sweetly in a way Ilya is fast becoming addicted to — a kiss that clearly isn’t a prelude to sex, a kiss just because. A kiss because they’re in love. It feels unreal.
They head back into the cottage, and the weight of the day makes everything seem new. It feels like a year has passed since Shane was asking him what he wanted for dinner and Ilya kissed him up against the glass.
“Why are you smiling?” Shane asks him.
“I met your parents,” Ilya answers. He’s definitely not going to be able to explain this one.
“I know it was weird—”
“Shut up,” Ilya says. “I loved it.”
The look Shane gives him says Ilya in no way made it clear, but since it’s only half clear to him, too, he decides to kiss Shane instead. A slow, lingering thing. Just as sweet, but with the heat of a promise behind it. Shane slips his tongue into Ilya’s mouth, and it lights a fire beneath his ribs.
When Ilya pulls him close, Shane responds beautifully. This ridiculous Canadian who Ilya can’t get enough of, he thinks as he unbuttons Shane’s shirt.
“I have a bed close by,” Shane reminds him.
But Ilya needs him here. Now. It must show in his eyes, because suddenly Shane is pushing Ilya against the wall by the front door and dropping to his knees, and, oh, Ilya loves when Shane does this, when he sucks him like he’s going to die without, when — fuck—
“Shane I’m going to—”
Ilya comes hard in Shane’s mouth. He’s babbling something in Russian, hopefully Shane thinks it’s smooth or charming, but it’s just horny nonsense this time. God, he loves this.
Sliding down the wall, Ilya joins Shane on the floor. “Is not fair,” he declares.
Shane grins. “What?”
“I can no longer fuck you now,” Ilya says, kissing Shane’s smile.
“Really?” Shane asks. “I thought I heard Ilya Rozanov was all right in bed.”
Ilya laughs, delighted like he always is by Shane’s sense of humour. “I am more than all right,” Ilya insists.
“Says the man who can’t even fuck me.”
Taking the bait, Ilya pulls Shane into his lap and brings their mouths together. He could kiss Shane all afternoon, but his reputation is on the line. He opens Shane’s shorts and pushes his hand inside.
“What are you doing?” Shane asks, kissing Ilya’s jaw.
Ilya reaches back through Shane’s legs. “Fucking you.”
When Ilya pushes his finger inside, he gets to hear Shane’s gasp in his ear. A delicious sound, one Ilya will never tire of hearing.
“Does that feel good?” Ilya asks.
“Yeah,” Shane breathes. “Fuck.”
Smiling, Ilya kisses him again. That he gets to be the only one to touch Shane like this is still sinking in.
“I am happy,” Ilya says inadequately. God, what he’d give to have Shane understand Russian.
“Yeah?” Shane asks, rolling his hips.
“You make me happy, Shane Hollander,” Ilya says. “I love you very much.”
It doesn’t come out as romantic as he’d like, but he still gets a kiss for it. A kiss and a moan. Shane’s breathing speeds up.
“I love you too.”
It’s a beautiful thing, hearing it from Shane’s lips. He loves him. They’re lovers. It’s still too new to be anything but a revelation. Ilya feels his eyes filling with tears.
“Hey,” Shane says when he sees this.
“I do not know how to describe today,” Ilya says. “It felt important meeting your parents—
“It was.”
“And we were — real,” Ilya says. “Around them. The world cannot know, not yet, maybe not ever, but two whole people saw us for who we are. They saw me kiss you. They heard you say you love me. I think — I have never been so happy.”
The declaration makes Shane happy, too. He takes Ilya’s face in his hands and kisses him until it’s no longer clear who started crying first. Maybe one day Ilya will be able to express his feelings for Shane without being reduced to a shaking mess, but today is not that day. He’s not sure he even wants that day to come.
Ilya brings Shane higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me, Hollander?”
“Make me.”
Ilya brings his other hand to Shane’s cock and strokes it as he fingers him. “Do you like that?”
Shane’s head tips up to the sky as he rides Ilya’s fingers. It’s impossibly beautiful. Ilya has no idea how he got this lucky.
“Fuck, Ilya.”
“Come for me, my love,” Ilya says, and Shane does.
After, they don’t move from where they’re holding each other against the wall. Ilya is perfectly happy to live right here if it means getting to keep Shane warm and boneless in his arms like this.
“I am sorry if it embarrasses you,” Ilya says after a while.
Shane kisses Ilya’s neck and doesn’t move. “What does?”
“The word,” Ilya says. “Lovers.”
Shane laughs. “God,” he says. “It’s just so… much. I definitely preferred when you called yourself my boyfriend. Lovers means — like, something else.”
Ilya liked the word boyfriend, too, but he can’t resist teasing Shane. “Oh?” he asks. “My English is not as good as yours, perhaps you could teach me. What do you call someone who runs? A runner?”
“Yes.”
“Someone who swims?”
“A swimmer.”
“Someone who loves?”
Shane finally lifts his head. He’s smiling like he’s in love.
“A hockey player.”