Chapter Text
Hockey season meant Ilya barely got to see Shane at all – only when their teams were playing against each other, or the rare occasions where Shane made the long drive to Ilya’s place in Ottawa. At present, it had been nearly three months since they had managed to find time alone together, and Ilya was ready to crawl out of his fucking skin.
It was almost harder now, having had a taste of what his life could be like, if the circumstances were different. After just two weeks sleeping and eating and living side by side, Ilya was reluctant to go back to the way things were. Reluctant might not have been a strong enough word.
But this was how it had to be. At least for now. So, Ilya would endure, and one day, he would finally have everything he could possibly want.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Now, though, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry or upset about their situation, because he was going to see Shane. Montreal was playing against Ottawa, a home game for Ilya’s team.
Tonight.
Ottawa won. Not by a lot, but any win was somewhat of a surprise with this team. Ilya’s teammates cheered jubilantly, tackling each other, and as much as Ilya wanted to enjoy the victory, he felt a pang of something dour when they lined up for handshakes and he came face to face with Shane.
“Good game,” Shane huffed as he shook Ilya’s hand. His eyes were blown dark, face flushed from exertion. Tension knitted his brows together, and the thoughts were practically visible churning in his head. Probably replaying the game, looking for mistakes. He had nearly stolen the puck from Ilya there at the end, neck-and-neck as they flew across the ice together, when Ilya had pulled some fancy maneuvering to escape Shane and scored the winning goal. “Almost had you.”
Ilya was pretty sure he knew a way to help raise Shane’s spirits, so to speak. He grinned mischievously and squeezed Shane’s hand a bit firmer than strictly necessary. “Hm, think I will ‘have you’ tonight,” he purred and winked before moving away to shake the next player’s hand. He hadn’t given Shane much time to react, but still caught the flaring of his nostrils, the little twitch of his eye that indicated Ilya’s words had the intended effect on him.
Ilya was waiting by the door when Shane’s car pulled up. Gone were the days when Ilya felt the need to disguise or downplay how much he looked forward to these nights together. He pulled Shane inside before shoving him up against the door, immediately invading his space. The beginning of a laugh caught in Shane’s throat as the air left his chest in a whoosh. Ilya kept a palm pressed firm against the center of Shane’s chest. He could feel Shane’s heart racing already.
Ilya nosed at Shane’s throat and couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across his face when Shane automatically tipped his head away, providing better access. Ilya kissed and nipped at Shane’s neck, making him gasp. The hand on Shane’s chest wandered until Ilya was groping at one of Shane’s pecs. Shane gasped, pressing his head back against the door, when Ilya dragged a blunt nail across Shane’s shirt-covered nipple.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane panted. His hands scrambled over Ilya’s back, searching for something to hold onto. Ilya pinched the now hard nipple, harder, meaner than he probably meant to, and Shane jerked, knocking his head against the door. “Ow,” he complained, still breathless and panting.
It was a light bonk, but Ilya still asked, “You are okay?”
“Yes, fine,” Shane huffed a laugh, his eyes closed. When he opened them, he looked to Ilya through dark lashes. “Just,” he took a steadying breath, “sensitive. It’s been a while.”
“Five weeks without my cock, now you are shaking like a virgin,” Ilya teased despite his own urgent, desperate arousal.
“Shut up,” Shane said, indignant flush spreading down his neck. Ilya leaned in to kiss the warming skin and felt Shane’s throat rumble when he spoke again. “Missed this,” he admitted, breath catching when Ilya nipped at the spot by his jaw.
Ilya hummed in agreement and slipped his hands up under the hem of Shane’s shirt, sliding his fingers over the firm muscles of Shane’s abdomen. He loved the way they jumped under his touch, slightly ticklish and very aroused. Shane sighed above Ilya, his own hands pushing under Ilya’s shirt, exploring. He was making soft, happy sounds while they both enjoyed the contact.
Ilya had a goal, though, and he was trying to stay focused. He bit and sucked at Shane’s ear until Shane was clawing at Ilya’s back, gasping. One hand slid from Shane’s stomach around to his lower back, and Ilya tucked a thumb into the back of Shane’s waistband, stroking the sensitive skin there.
Shane was getting pretty worked up already, Ilya could tell, which was perfect for what Ilya had planned for tonight. There had been times, many times, when Shane seemed to say no because he thought that was the right answer, not because it was the one he wanted to give. The first time Ilya offered to eat him out, Shane had been adamant that it was not something he was interested in. A few weeks later, Shane had gasped out a frantic “I changed my mind,” while Ilya was in the middle of swallowing around his cock, two fingers buried in his ass. Now, it was one of Shane’s favorite things to do in bed, even though he was still bashful about the subject.
Ilya was pretty sure Shane was going to like this idea, too.
He pulled Shane’s hips away from the door to press against Ilya’s own, rubbing their clothed erections together. Both men groaned.
“I did some nice skating today, Hollander,” Ilya said, a low whisper against Shane’s ear. Shane shivered. “Performance like that, I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”
Shane’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart hammered against Ilya’s chest. Ilya was pretty sure he felt Shane’s cock jump against his thigh.
“Fuck you,” Shane gasped, as if he weren’t barely holding back thrusts against Ilya’s thigh.
“Yes, that is the idea,” Ilya grinned as he ground his thigh up into Shane’s bulge.
“F-uck,” Shane’s body jerked. “I um, stopped by the hotel. Before I came here? Got a shower.” His face was bright red, and he wouldn’t meet Ilya’s eyes.
Ilya grinned even wider. His fingertips slipped further down the back of Shane’s pants suggestively. “What are you offering?”
Shane groaned. “You're an asshole. You know I’ll do whatever you want.” Ilya did know, but he always loved hearing Shane say it.
“Good, because I have a request,” Ilya said, withdrawing the hand from Shane’s waistband and easing back to give Shane some breathing room, but no further. He grabbed Shane’s jaw with a firm hand, and Shane finally met his gaze. “Take off your clothes,” he smiled, giddy, reaching into his back pocket, “and put this on.”