Work Text:
Luca Haas stepped out into the night, his expression bleary in the streetlights. The neon from the bar colored his hair a bright teal as he wrapped his arms around himself. It was cold, but the alcohol in his system had him feeling warm and pleasantly floaty. He leaned against the building and watched his breath fog for a moment before the door opened again and he was joined by Ilya Rozanov. A new heat wormed its way through him as his cheeks turned dark pink; he looked down at his feet and hoped he didn't look stupid.
"Cold?" Ilya asked, leaning next to him and lighting a cigarette.
Luca watched the cherry blaze bright as Ilya inhaled, cheeks hollowing and showing off his cheekbones in a way that made Luca stare. Ilya met his gaze and raised his eyebrows in a question. Luca realized he was waiting for an answer, "No. Not cold."
"I like the cold," Ilya said, taking another drag. "This cold isn't like Russian cold, though."
"No… guess not," Luca fidgeted with his backpack, "Are you done drinking?"
"Yes. So are you. Bood said you already had-"
"Bood always watches what I drink," Luca said.
"Somebody needs to," Ilya said. "You are young. You overdo it."
Luca stuffed his hands into his pockets and his shoulders slumped, "Right."
"You are cold. Come on." Ilya walked away.
Luca followed immediately, staying on Ilya's heels like a loyal puppy. Ilya led him to his car, unlocking it. Luca looked at the car with reverence before Ilya gave him an expectant look and he hurried around to the passenger side, getting in. Ilya slid into the driver's seat and started the car, turning on the heat and cracking his window.
"I'm not… not a kid," Luca said after the silence had stretched between them.
Ilya looked at him, his mind clearly working for a moment, "I won the Stanley Cup when you were thirteen."
Luca swallowed, unable to hold Ilya's gaze for long. He looked down at his hands, "When did you start smoking? Were you thirteen?"
Ilya chuckled, "Little older. Fifteen."
Luca huffed out a laugh, "Is it a Russian thing or were you just cool?"
"I was cool, yes," Ilya said. "Obviously. But I learned from my brother. Older brothers teach you bad habits."
Luca smiled, unsure what to say. He had no idea how Ilya felt about his brother in a real sense, and he didn't have a similar story, "Really."
"Who will teach you bad habits, hm?"
Luca looked back at Ilya and his gaze was different somehow, heated in a way and Luca blushed, "I… guess the team."
Ilya smirked, "My job, is it? You want to smoke do you? I can teach you."
Luca thought about it and shrugged, "Sure."
Luca expected to be handed the cigarette Ilya was smoking, or an entirely new one, but instead Ilya moved in, cupping Luca's face and pressing their lips together. Luca's lips parted on instinct and he breathed in, sucking the smoke from Ilya's lungs into his own. His mind shut down and he went limp in Ilya's hands.
Ilya released his hold on the younger man and Luca immediately coughed out the smoke, his eyes watering. Nausea hit him like a truck and he heard Ilya chuckle as he opened the car door and leaned out, vomiting onto the asphalt of the parking lot, "You are a kid."
"'M not a kid," Luca said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, closing the door and sinking back against the seat.
"No, maybe not. But you are drunk, too drunk. I will take you home."
Luca made a small noncommittal sound and closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, feeling the darkness like warmth as it slowly crept over him. Ilya spoke again after a moment, "What is your address, Haas?"
Luca tried to answer, tried to get his lips to move, tried to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth or even get his eyes to open, but it was a lost cause. He heard Ilya say his name again but it was soft and wavy like voices underwater. Then there was nothing.
Luca woke up in a bed he didn't recognize, confused and with a headache that throbbed ugly behind his eyes. He winced and rolled over, spotting his phone on the bedside table. He grabbed it and found it dead, sighing. So much for that. He sat up and slowly got out of bed, squinting against the light as he grabbed his glasses from the bedside table where they'd been laid out beside his phone and put them on. Luca made the bed out of habit before anything else. He crossed to the door slowly and stuck his head out, looking around. He didn't immediately recognize the place, but he spotted stairs and stepped out to take them down.
Once he hit the ground floor his surroundings became familiar and his chest tightened. He was in Ilya Rozanov's house! Luca froze at the bottom of the stairs, hearing movement off in the distance. He cleared his throat to make his presence known, following the sound. He found Ilya in the kitchen, standing at the stove.
"Morning," Ilya greeted. "You have hangover?"
Luca blushed, "I'm alright."
Ilya gave him a look and went to the fridge, coming back with a Gatorade and setting it on the counter, "Drink that."
Luca sat down and opened the bottle, sipping the contents. He watched Ilya as he prepared eggs, nausea making his stomach lurch at the idea of eating. Without comment, Ilya brought Luca a slice of toast and set it down in front of him, returning to the stove, "I guess you don't get hangovers?"
"I did not drink like you did," Ilya said. "Or maybe I should say I can handle my drinks better. I was not so drunk."
"Right," Luca said, eyeing the toast in front of him warily. "I guess I overdid it."
"You do that a lot," Ilya said. "It's why Bood watches you like… what is it… mother hen. He knows how you are."
Luca picked up the toast and nibbled at the corner of it, chewing slowly, "I don't mean to get that drunk."
Ilya shook his head, plating the eggs and sitting down next to Luca, "You will learn. Until then, we watch you."
"How did I end up here?" Luca asked.
"You passed out in my car. After you threw up—not in the car. Thank you for that."
Luca froze, memories of sitting in the car, of Ilya's lips on his flashed in his mind and he turned deep red, looking at Ilya, "Did we…?"
"Shotgunned a cigarette—or you tried. I don't think you're going to take up smoking," Ilya said, taking a bite of his eggs. "Unless you want to keep trying."
Luca stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, "Keep trying?"
Ilya smirked, "We could always try without the smoking, if you prefer that."
"Yes," Luca said before he could chicken out.
Ilya laughed, "Maybe after you brush your teeth. I have extra toothbrush. You can use it. You can shower too, if you want. Guest bathroom has everything and I can lend you some clothes."
Luca nodded, wondering briefly if he was dreaming, "Ok."
Ilya was in the hallway when Luca came out of the guest bathroom dressed in his clothes. He looked him over slowly and walked him back against the wall, hands going to his hips. Luca went easy, tilting his face up toward his captain and parting his lips to speak just as Ilya took his mouth in a kiss. Luca hadn't expected to go literally weak in the knees but he was grateful for the wall behind him supporting him so that he didn't embarrass himself as he did his best to keep up, kissing back and meeting Ilya's tongue with his own. Ilya's hands slid up to Luca's chest and squeezed through the borrowed shirt and Luca sighed a bit too eagerly at the feeling. Ilya broke the kiss and held Luca's face with one hand, looking him over in a way that made Luca feel small, submissive. He avoided the older man's gaze until Ilya pulled his jaw upward, guiding Luca to look at him straight on. Luca sucked in a breath and they were kissing again, this time Ilya was walking him along the hallway with firm, guiding hands on his sides.
Luca's back hit the door of the guest bedroom and Ilya reached to open it, holding onto Luca to keep him from stumbling when it gave way behind him. Ilya broke the kiss again and flipped the light switch, crowding Luca toward the bed as his large hands slid up Luca's shirt.
Luca didn't need to be told, immediately pulling the shirt off over his head and dropping it to the floor. Ilya moved kisses to Luca's neck and he tilted his head to the side, practically begging for more. Ilya pinched Luca's left nipple before soothing the spot with his thumb, scraping his teeth against Luca's throat. Luca felt devoured, breathless, taken over in a way he'd never been before. He'd had his neck kissed before, his nipple touched before sure, but nothing like this, nothing that felt so possessive. Luca wondered if everyone who Ilya Rozanov was with felt this way and if so how did they ever recover when he vanished and never saw them again?
Ilya stopped and took off his own shirt, smirking when Luca took a moment to look him over, "You don't see enough in the locker room?"
Luca blushed and reached out, placing his hand on Ilya's chest reverently, feeling along his pecs and then down his abs to the waistband of his sweatpants. Luca licked his lips and slid his hand inside, brushing his fingers against Ilya's half-hard cock. Ilya exhaled and Luca felt a bit braver, wrapping his hand around his captain and feeling him fill in his grip. Ilya rubbed his hands up and down Luca's biceps, gazing at him with a patient sort of heat that made Luca blush all over again. He was usually in a permanent state of embarrassment anytime Ilya paid too much close attention to him—and this was by far the closest.
Luca stroked Ilya slowly, experimentally, watching the older man's face. Ilya's lips parted and he sighed softly. He met Luca's gaze, "Good."
Praise from Ilya always made Luca's heart race, but in this setting it set him on fire and he couldn't help but smile. Ilya moved his hands to Luca's pants and pushed them down with his underwear, reaching around to grasp Luca's ass in both hands and pull him forward. Luca pressed into Ilya, face in his neck, inhaling his scent, clean skin and cigarette smoke and the cologne he always wore that Luca had wracked his brain trying to identify. This close it made Luca's eyes want to roll back. Shyly, he kissed the column of Ilya's neck, tracing the muscle there with his lips and drinking in the hum of approval he got.
Ilya retrieved Luca's hand gently, his other hand tangling in Luca's hair and pulling his head back as he walked him to the bed, pushing him onto it. Luca pulled himself back as Ilya removed his pants and crawled up after him, straddling his thighs. "Is this your first time? With a man?" Ilya asked.
Luca blinked up at Ilya, his breath hitching, his cheeks going pink again, and he shook his head, lying, "No."
Ilya looked at him for a moment, saying nothing, and then his gaze changed, more predatory than before and Luca shivered. He leaned down and captured Luca's mouth in a heated kiss that had Luca moaning, breathless like it was so much more than mouths, like Ilya was licking the true core of him, flames on his heart.
Ilya broke away and Luca sucked in a breath, panting softly, the world in sharp focus as his heart hammered in his chest. This was really really happening. Ilya kissed down Luca's body, every contact searing like a brand on Luca's skin. His nerves lit up and fired information into his brain in a jumble he couldn't keep up with. Ilya's tongue found the crease of his thigh and he almost jumped, then there was hot breath on his flushed cock and Luca's brain went briefly very quiet.
Luca watched as Ilya dragged his tongue along his cock slowly, their gazes meeting. Then he took the head of Luca's cock into his mouth and Luca's head dropped onto the pillows, "Fuck."
Ilya circled the head with his tongue before bobbing down slowly only to pull back and tongue at Luca's frenulum, sending electricity through his body. Luca lifted his head and squirmed but Ilya used one hand to hold his hips fairly still as he took him into his mouth again, hollowing his cheeks and Luca knew he'd never be able to watch Ilya smoke without thinking of this exact moment for the rest of his life. He fisted his hands in the blanket under him and held on for dear life while Ilya sucked his cock in a way that he knew was ruining him for anyone else in the future.
Ilya's eyes met his and he pulled off of Luca with a wet pop, crawling up his body. "Open your mouth," Ilya said.
Luca did as he was told immediately, lolling his tongue out, desperate to please. Ilya spat into his mouth and Luca's eyes rolled back as he closed his mouth, savoring the feeling, the taste of Ilya in his mouth before he swallowed, "Oh god."
"Next time I'll let you swallow something else," Ilya mumbled against Luca's chest, then he sat up, taking Luca's glasses off and setting them on the nightstand, "Turn over."
Luca rolled over onto his belly with next time echoing in his head, starting to rise onto his hands and knees but Ilya pushed him back down and moved between his legs. Luca buried his face in the pillow when he felt Ilya spread his ass open and spit on his hole, anticipation burning low in his gut. Ilya's tongue followed, licking over Luca's hole and dragging a whine from the younger man. Luca twisted his hands into the blanket, squeezing his eyes closed while Ilya worked him open on his tongue, alternating between pushing his tongue inside and lapping at him. Luca's cock was already leaking liberally onto the bed, twitching with every touch of Ilya's tongue. He moaned loudly, trembling beneath his captain.
When Ilya pressed against Luca's rim with his fingers, he turned his head to the side and sucked in a breath, "Fuck please… please…"
Ilya pulled back just enough to sink his teeth into the meat of Luca's ass, "Please what, Haas?"
"I don't… I don't know," Luca panted, "Your fingers?"
Ilya moved and Luca panicked for a moment that he'd done something wrong as he left the bed entirely, but then Ilya appeared in his field of view opening the bedside drawer and taking out a bottle and a condom, moving back out of view again. Luca heard the bottle top snap open and felt the momentary shock of cold liquid between his cheeks. He hissed and Ilya chuckled softly, "Sorry."
Luca didn't believe that apology one bit, but then Ilya's fingers were back and he couldn't have cared less. First they circled his hole, then brushed over it, spreading the lube and warming it. Then Ilya pressed one slowly inside, just a bit and Luca made himself breathe, feeling like he was losing his mind. Ilya opened him up slowly, working the second finger in completely before curling them, searching until Luca tensed and gasped when he found his prostate, "Fuck!"
Ilya got a third finger into Luca and took his time fingering him within an inch of his life, listening to the desperate whimpers and moans Luca let out into the stillness of the room. When Luca was shuddering on the edge of orgasm, he managed to gasp, "I'm-"
Ilya removed his fingers and the younger man let out a sob of frustration, "No cumming yet."
Luca bit into the pillow as tears spilled down his cheeks, but then Ilya was pulling him up onto his knees, nudging his legs further open. Luca looked over his shoulder and took in the sight of his captain, imposing and masculine, like a god and Luca was eagerly bowed before him, nothing if not pious. Luca felt the blunt head of Ilya's cock press against his hole and he raised up onto his elbows, bracing, readying himself, his entire body strung like a piano wire, shivering on the edge of something sacred.
Ilya pushed into Luca and he let out a hitching moan as he was breached, the burning stretch more intense than the fingers before it and more meaningful, more than he could have imagined and it was still just the start. Luca was centered, consecrated by it. He felt Ilya like the older man was a part of him, their essences intertwined but overwhelmed like Ilya was the literal sun swallowing Luca's tiny star.
Ilya's voice pulled Luca back into focus, "Okay, Haas?"
"Ok," Luca whispered, clearing his throat. "Gr-great… I'm great, Cap."
"Great," Ilya rumbled behind him, pushing forward, deeper.
Luca took Ilya in with only a bitten-off whimper, managing to keep himself quiet until Ilya was fully seated inside him, hands slipping up his sides and back down to his hips, "Still with me, Haas?"
"Cap," Luca breathed. "Fuck I'm… yes."
Ilya chuckled softly but not cruelly and Luca couldn't even find it in him to feel embarrassed with Ilya buried to the hilt in his ass. Ilya started to move then, pulling out a bit and pushing back in and Luca let out a soft sound with each building movement until his breath was being punched out of him by quick, deep thrusts. Luca could only suck in breath between the little 'unh' sounds that Ilya's cock was forcing from him.
Ilya stretched over him and Luca felt the crucifix he wore lay against his back, then Ilya bit into his shoulder, hard enough to bruise—sexual stigmata. Luca cried out, "Please!"
Ilya didn't ask for clarification this time, nor did he bite again, but he did suck a mark into Luca's skin just where his neck met his shoulder, low enough to be hidden by a shirt collar. Then he straightened and the hit came, a sharp stinging smack to Luca's ass that radiated to his cock and made him cry out again, a surprised yelp like a wounded animal. Luca's body took every mark greedily, a living canvas under its master's touch.
Ilya straightened to get better leverage and a damn burst inside of Luca; he babbled in German, words that would have made Rozanov stop, probably, definitely words that would have made things awkward, but Ilya only heard the inflection, the need, and that was fine. Luca shook as tears filled his eyes again, his body tensing on the edge of orgasm again even though his cock hadn't been touched and wasn't even rubbing against the mattress. Ilya was pounding into him, shifting his entire body forward to the point where he had to put one hand up to keep himself from running into the headboard. He opened his mouth to warn Ilya about the inevitable but Ilya reached around and squeezed the base of Luca's cock hard and the feeling subsided just a bit, backing away from the precipice of oblivion to build up further, "No cumming yet, Haas."
Luca sobbed and his cock drooled precum while he was wracked with Ilya's fearsome thrusts. Despite his desperation to cum, he would do anything to follow Ilya's orders, to please him—anything to get the smallest bit of praise. Even if it meant not cumming at all, Luca would do exactly what Ilya told him to do. On the ice, in bed, laid out on an altar, anywhere. Luca breathed Ilya's name like a prayer and squeezed his eyes shut as stars exploded behind them, every nerve in his body singing with the pleasurable torture he was experiencing.
It was difficult to recall the events of the prior evening and how they might have led to this, being fucked into the headboard in Ilya Rozanov's guest bedroom, marked and sex-drunk and hanging onto every sound, every broken curse that left his captain's mouth. He felt both extremely aware of his own body and outside of it at the same time, like he was observing the unbelievable. To Luca, it was unbelievable to think that a living god like Ilya Rozanov would be interested in touching him of all people—in fucking him, commanding him so intimately. Luca was floating on a cloud of sex and hero worship all while his body was rammed into by well-known sex god Russian phenom and all around perfect man Ilya Rozanov.
Luca knew he was crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks unchecked by just how overwhelmed he was by pleasure and circumstance and gratitude, all of it. He was glad they weren't facing one another because he couldn't bear for Ilya to see him crying this hard, not when things were going so perfectly. Ilya leaned forward and Luca sucked in a hitching breath. Ilya growled in his ear, "Now," and Luca came apart.
He shouted as he basically erupted on command, his arms shaking so hard he went face first into the pillows but it didn't matter because Ilya had his hips in a bruising grip, and it only took a few more thrusts before he was stilling, groaning as he spilled into the condom between them. Luca whined as Ilya stretched out over him, pressing him further into the mattress and brushing his sweat-matted hair away from his face. Ilya kissed his shoulder, the back of his neck and his jaw, muttering low words in Russian that melted into a sweet soft purring.
Luca was floating again, his mind swimming in warm safety as he came down from the best, most intense orgasm of his life to date. Ilya pulled out and Luca let out a sound that bordered disappointment, but Ilya patted his back and returned momentarily, settling down beside him. The warmth radiating off of Ilya made Luca feel sleepy even though he'd gotten plenty of sleep. It was a sweet, bone-deep sort of tired that happened when his muscles were used up and wrung out. He felt like he'd looked directly into the eyes of god and survived to talk about it—not that he was up for much talking at that point. Ilya didn't kick him out of the bed either, nor was there expressly any direct cuddling, but Luca already thought himself the luckiest man in the world to be touching Ilya Rozanov at all much less the miraculous experience he'd just gone through.
Eventually, Ilya got up and bullied Luca back into the shower, going off and leaving him alone. Luca cleaned himself still in a bit of a haze, but the hot water slowly brought him back to himself. He took inventory of his body like he'd just played a game. His shoulder was a bit sore, and he could still feel Ilya's hand on his ass. He was sore from the sex, a feeling he hoped would last as he washed away the sweat and lube and cum from his skin. Once he was finished he got out, dried off and put back on the clothes Ilya had given him to wear, grabbing his glasses off of the nightstand where Ilya had placed them so gently.
Ilya was carrying bedclothes down the stairs when Luca emerged, "I can help if-"
"I can handle a little laundry, Haas," Ilya said. "Go drink some water."
Luca went back to the kitchen and found a glass, filling it at the fridge and drinking it in one go. He set the glass into the sink and went into the living room where he ran into Ilya again. He was on his phone, "I uh… drank some water."
"Good," Ilya said without looking up. "I am getting you an Uber. What is your address?"
"You don't have-"
"Your address, Haas."
Luca rattled it off and Ilya typed into his phone, "It will be here soon. You will go home and rest and eat properly. We have practice early tomorrow."
"Ok."
"I mean it," Ilya said firmly. "I'm saying this as your Captain."
Luca straightened a bit and nodded, "I will. I won't let you down, Cap."
So Ilya Rozanov sent Luca home with a hand print on his ass and a bite mark on his shoulder, sore with a soaring heart.