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Ilya: Looking forward to the game tomorrow?
Marlow: Looking forward to kicking your ass.
Ilya: Drinks after :)?
Marlow: You know it.
Marlow scanned up through their text message history. It was pretty sparse, since Ilya got his trade to Ottawa. It was wild how quickly an entire year had passed.
Even now, Cliff still scanned instinctively for Ilya on the ice, or when they went out - looking for that familiar profile - broad shoulders, a narrow waist and sharp cheekbones.
It was a relief not having to babysit some guy and make sure he got his dick wet so that they could keep winning games. Now, he could just focus on himself.
That was what he told himself.
For several solid years leading up to Ilya leaving the team, Cliff Marlow had abided by a strange - but strangely reliable - pre-game ritual.
If Ilya Rozanov got laid the night before a game, Boston would win.
When the eventuality occurred that Rozanov could not find someone to hook up with, Cliff stepped in to help.
It had been easy.
Fun.
Rozanov was incredible enough in bed, even if he was a guy.
Good enough that Marlow didn’t care he wasn’t into dudes himself.
Not having that anymore had been… odd.
An adjustment.
Marlow had considered experimenting hooking up with other guys - on and off. Ultimately he filed it away as not being worth the hassle. Marlow was no Scott Hunter. He wasn’t interested in a passing curiosity turning into a label or a defining trait of his career.
He was perfectly content sticking with women.
On the off-nights where he went home alone when Marlow had only his right hand to keep him company… well. Ilya was still there as well.
After years of hooking up with the guy, it was hard to keep him out. When he closed his eyes the phantom sensation of Ilya’s mouth on his cock still helped get him there. The soft tenor of his voice when he got needy and too horny to think. Fuck, it was cute. Guys didn’t just make noises like that.
It wasn’t just that Ilya was - hot? Pretty? Cliff didn’t even know.
He just… wanted.
Marlow had always been a creature of habit. He didn’t think much about it.
When he got laid, it was with women.
When he was alone and jerking off, it was with Ilya.
At least until he thought of something better, which just never happened to come up.
-
Allens was a disaster of a rookie.
He had been giving Boston trouble for weeks now. He was performing well on the second line. He was fast, he handled the puck well. The problem was his hot head. He instigated fights, lost his temper at any perceived slight on the ice and let that take the wheel during the game.
It was for this reason that during a scuffle during the second half of the game, Marlow found himself hanging back as Allens and an Ottawa defenceman started exchanging blows. As an enforcer, normally it would be Cliff’s job to get in there and start throwing punches. But Boston was well up with a comfortable 5-2 lead and it was as good an opportunity as any for the kid to get some sense knocked into him.
So while the rookie was getting a reality check behind the net, Cliff reached out and wrapped an arm around Rozanov’s middle as he was skating by toward the fray. A few others were doing that on the ice as well, pairing up to keep the scrum from escalating. Technically, this should have had Marlow tying up Boodram. He wasn’t too sure what possessed him to act.
Maybe he just wanted the guy in his arms again.
Ilya was pulled back up against his chest. He turned and looked up at him, blinking with surprise. Then he smiled, going soft in the corners of his eyes. The white of the ice made Ilya’s irises look pale and sharp and pretty.
“You’re going to make Boodram feel unwanted, you know.”
“He’s busy teaching Allens some manners.”
The refs had broken up the tussle, the instigators skating off in a huff to the penalty box. Above them, the Jumbotron was now showing the two former teammates tied up in the friendly hug. Arms around one another was normal for a tie-up. Talking and laughing with one another was a fun novelty, and the crowd was loving it. Marlow cuffed Ilya playfully on the helmet as the two broke apart.
That night, Marlow stood under the hot spray of the shower. He was fixated on the feeling of Ilya in his arms. Imagined pushing him down onto the ice, pinning him there. He came roughly, imagining the taste of salt on the sweat of his skin.
Shit.
-
“The internet is loving you and Marlow.”
Shane said on a video call to Ilya that night.
“Hm, I think it is more that your algorithm loves me.” Shane beamed, mostly over the way the word algorithm tumbled over Ilya’s tongue. He was in his kitchen, unloading the dishwasher with his shirt off. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. Shane sat back on his hotel bed, sucking on the drawstring of his hoodie and wishing he was there.
“It was good Marlow did not join that fight. Boodram does not need another missing tooth.”
“When did Boodram lose a tooth?” Shane asked, mostly just to keep listening to Ilya’s voice. Jetlag was messing with his head, and he really needed to sleep at a normal hour tonight. Ilya’s voice was soothing. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like he was back in their bed.
“During practice scrimmage.” Ilya said with a wicked smile. “Fell face first, tripped on his own skate.”
Shane sniggered sympathetically.
“What other gossip do you know?”
Ilya paused, turning a cereal bowl over in his hands. Shane smiled sleepily. Ilya was considering something juicy, he could tell. He tried to keep his tone light, but it still came out sounding more like a confession.
“Marlow knows about us.”
Shane bolted upright.
“What?”
“Yes, it is fine. He is good at keeping secrets. Marlow is not interested in gossip.”
“When did you tell him?” Shane said, trying to keep the hurt and anger out of his voice.
“I didn't tell him, he figured it out. Just like Pike. Before All Stars.” Ilya in his phone brandished the cereal bowl with a flourish.
“We should meet him for dinner.” Ilya said, struck by the thought. “This way it is even.”
Shane continued to fret, and to chew down the frustration that Ilya hadn’t thought to mention this to him before.
“How did he find out then?” Shane pressed.
“I uh,” Ilya had picked up his phone, his face filling up the screen. He paused thoughtfully. “I don’t know. He didn’t say. We’ll ask him over dinner. Ah! you are in Boston in two weeks and I have time off. We will meet there.” Ilya looked to be multitasking on his phone by the way his eyes were darting about.
“Are you sure that’s alright?” Shane flagged a bit. “I never really met the guy before.”
“Yes, because I was such good friends with Pike when we went to his house for dinner. I am already texting Marlow, sweetheart.”
Ilya glanced down at the phone with all the fondness in the world.
“He will love you. Marlow is a good friend of mine. He should be your friend too.”
“Okay.” Shane hugged his knees a bit.
“Good.”
Ilya beamed, then his expression smoothed over in consideration.
“Also you should know. I Marlow and I used to hook up.”
“What?” Shane’s jaw dropped. Ilya must have figured that Shane’s night was already shot with the news that someone else knew their secret, what was one more world-altering fun fact?
“He’s not gay.” Ilya shrugged, carefully and forcefully indifferent about it.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Is what he always said, I don’t know. We stopped after you and I got serious.”
Shane leaned forward, gripping his phone tight. All thoughts of sleep were thoroughly forgotten.
“I need details. Now.”
-
The Montreal-Boston game was packed.
Ilya showed up for the game, which got a Jumbotron feature and a roar of support from the audience, as well as a few scattered boos. It was a little over a year since his trade to Ottawa, which had given enough time for most of Boston to settle any feelings of betrayal into a grudging fondness, though clearly not all of them.
As usual when they played, Shane and Marlow scarcely ran into one another. Shane was quick, and was too laser-focused to pay much attention to anything other than the puck and the ice. During games, things tended to narrow into a strategic whirl.
It wasn’t until they were all clearing off the ice at the end of the game that Shane managed to catch his gaze as he coasted by.
The barest, subtlest nod of his head.
Shane returned it, too dumbstruck to do much more than mirror the action.
He blew out a long breath as he charged off the ice to the locker room.
This was going to be a long night.
-
Ilya had spent his years in Boston getting a good lay of the land when it came to bars and restaurants. He heaped many reassurances on Shane that they’d be meeting at a discrete location - one mostly full of artist types who didn’t pay much attention to hockey.
Besides, it was okay now.
With the announcement of the Irina Foundation and their hockey camp, the sizzling friction of their “rivalry” was barely a story worth reporting these days. Shane and Ilya had already tackled a few strategic “sightings” that had eased the public’s mind that they were now friends.
Friends meeting a friend for a few drinks.
That’s all this was.
No big deal.
Shane watched Ilya get up off the booth, crossing the bar to greet the tall, solid brick of a man who just walked in.
He never met Cliff Marlow formally. Though he knew that he and Ilya had been close when he played for Boston. Close enough to keep in touch whenever they played each other.
He hadn’t realized they were close enough that they had been having sex nearly as long as Ilya had with Shane.
Shane watched as the two men greeted each other.
Marlow wrapped an arm around Ilya’s shoulders, dragging him in for a tight hug. When they parted, Marlow’s hand slid back, holding Ilya by the back of the neck.
He… squeezed - just a little. Gave Ilya a small shake, as if just to show he could move him.
It was perfectly friendly, effortless.
Shane swallowed, his fist tightening around the beer at his table.
“Marlow, this is-”
“Shane Hollander. Yeah, hey. Nice to meet you.”
Shane took Marlow’s hand as the man sat across from them.
“You want a drink?”
“Yeah. Jameson’s fine.”
Ilya nodded, vanishing before Shane could get a word in edgewise.
“Uh. Hey.” Marlow said, looking Shane over.
“Hey.”
A beat.
“Great game.”
“Could have been better.” Marlow smirked.
“Is Sebbin okay?”
“He’s been downplaying some shoulder pain. You noticed that?” Marlow smirked, giving Shane an appraising look. Of course Hollander did. He probably picked up on the injury before he even got onto the ice.
No wonder the guy had managed to secure a 3-1 win against Boston almost single-handedly. Sebbin might as well not have been in the goal at all.
Still, hockey talk was an easy fallback for the both of them, and filled up the empty air as Ilya took his time chatting with the bartender.
Once they moved away from the still-sore topic of Boston’s loss that evening, Marlow turned out to be a pretty easy guy to talk to for Shane. He said what was on his mind plainly. He didn’t use a lot of innuendo. Didn’t seem like the type to say one thing and think something else.
It was largely that reason when Marlow noted-
“Rozy said you think pretty loud. Something on your mind?”
-That Shane felt that he might be safe to hedge his bets and answer.
“When did you figure us out?” Shane asked, taking a sip of his beer he desperately hoped was nonchalant.
Marlow sat back and crossed his elbows over his chest, giving Shane a long and considering gaze.
“That night you two ran into each other at the night club in Montreal. Back when you were dating Rose Landry.”
“The night… oh.” Shane’s ears pinked. He looked down at the table. “Yeah.”
Marlow wasn’t used to this perspective of Shane Hollander. In all the years playing against the guy, he didn’t even think he ever really looked him properly head-on. He knew what the guy looked like, of course. But if he conjured an image in his mind’s eye it was always from some promotional image or ad campaign. On the ice, Hollander was always just a furious blur of blue and red.
If he had to close his eyes and think ‘Hollander’ the image that conjured there was the back of his head, a white ‘24’ on a blue jersey as he tore down the rink. The summoned image came complete with Rozanov there - chasing after him, hot on his heels.
That’s how it had always been.
But this was different. Hollander’s eyes were far-away soft. His shoulders were a little slumped, making him look smaller. His thumb was methodically shredding the label on his beer bottle. His hair was soft, styled in a way that gave some lift and shape to his bangs instead of lying plastered flat against his forehead. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and a black t-shirt with a deep v in the neck that made him look less like the demon captain of the Montreal team and more like, well-
“I don’t think anyone else noticed.” Marlow soothed.
“Yeah?” He looked up at Marlow under his lashes and-
Shit. Shane Hollander was kind of pretty.
Who would have thought that?
“Yeah, man.” Marlow nodded. “It was just because I was already watching Ilya that I saw anything. Or knew him well enough to piece it together.”
“We almost messed it up. Or, I mean. I did.” Shane said with a car crash of a smile. “That night… sucked. I’m kind of - I mean. I'm glad Ilya had you there.”
“Probably not as great as Rose Landry.” Marlow smiled. Shane laughed, though his shoulders were going up around his ears.
“Yeah, I mean. I didn’t go back with her that night. I kind of, just sort of sat in my car and felt sorry for myself.”
Marlow shifted with discomfort, glancing over guiltily to Ilya at the bar. If he made the guy’s boyfriend cry within an hour of meeting him, Ilya was probably going to deck him.
“Sounds like you two worked it out in the end.” He pressed gently.
That earned him a watery smile.
“Yeah. I, uh. I have to thank you, actually.”
“Oh yeah?”
“If I wasn’t so high on painkillers after you floored me on the ice, I probably would have been too in my head to ask Ilya out. For real.”
“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that.” Marlow ran his hand down his face.
The timing on that had been pretty bad. Marlow probably looked like a deranged, jealous ex trying to take Shane out of the equation. Ilya couldn't say a single word to Marlow for over a week, and that had been a special sort of hell.
“It’s okay.”
“Okay I nearly killed you?”
“I got your center traded to Ottawa, we’re pretty even now.”
“Not even close, man.” Marlow laughed and - good, Hollander was smiling again.
Ilya arrived with a handful of drinks and looked between the two of them, tail wagging in excitement. He handed Marlow his drink and slid into place between them.
“At least we weren’t playing you guys in Montreal this time. Those crowds always get you so fired up.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty great.” Shane grinned.
“Montreal’s always been a tough team to beat but the city is nice.”
“Marlow never had to worry about me getting laid in Montreal.” Ilya said, with a playful wink for Shane.
“Yeah.” Marlow laughed, breaking up an awkward sort of pause. “Jane was always pretty reliable. And I guess Jane is uh, you.” He said, tipping his drink toward Shane.
Shane smiled and nodded.
“He was “Lily” in my phone.”
“That’s cute.” Marlow smiled. “So uh. Ilya told you about us, then?”
“Yeah.” Shane said with a small smile. “I mean, I knew that Ilya liked to go out and stuff, y’know. Before. Which is cool, I don’t mind.” He thumbed the label of his drink a bit.
“Yeah. Don’t have to worry about that now. The way the Centaur’s season is going it’s pretty clear Rozy isn’t getting any during his away games.”
Shane laughed at that as Ilya spluttered with mock indignation.
“You cannot say this to my boyfriend, Marlow! Once I get the cup for Ottawa he will think I am being unfaithful!”
“Gotta start winning games first, man.” Marlow took another drink around his grin.
Ilya shoved at Marlow playfully, who scruffed his hair in return while taking care not to spill his drink. He shifted, noticing Hollander’s expression had changed.
The guy was sitting up straight. Watching them with a wide, intent expression.
“Uh, sorry.” Marlow pulled back. It didn’t seem like quite the right thing to say, but Marlow wasn’t sure how else to read Shane at that moment.
Had he fucked it up?
Shane’s mouth was opening and closing wordlessly.
“It’s okay.” Ilya’s shoulder was warm against Marlow’s. Warm wasn’t the right word. It burned.
“I, uh. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Shane excused himself quickly. His eyes darted meaningfully from Ilya to Marlow then back again.
Marlow sighed, running his hand through his hair.
“This might have been a bad idea.”
“You think so?”
“Hollander’s pissed.” Marlow said flatly, stating the obvious.
“No he’s not.” Ilya answered easily. “He’s just nervous.”
“About what?” Marlow quirked his lip.
Ilya smiled with his lazy, catlike grin. He took his time with a long pull of his drink before he spoke.
“About asking if he can watch you fuck me.”
-
Shane steeled himself in the bathroom. His heart was pounding in his ears.
After the Boston-Ottawa game, he couldn’t stop watching it.
The way that Marlow reached out. Grabbed Ilya like it was nothing. He pulled him in against his chest. There was a little moment as well - before Ilya clocked who it was that he grabbed him that he thrashed on reflex. But Marlow had just squeezed at the moment Ilya realized who it was and just went lax.
Shane tucked his feet up in bed, hitting the button to re-play on loop. His mouth dry and his pupils blown wide.
Shane liked how he and Ilya did things. He didn’t want to change that. He didn’t want to top Ilya.
But he did like the idea of… he wasn’t sure how to name it.
Ilya thought Shane would be pissed to hear about him and Marlow. How it started out casual, then escalated during Shane’s brief Rose Landry phase. How the guy had fucked Ilya through his tears then rocked him like a baby afterward.
Instead of getting upset or jealous, Shane had pushed Ilya down and rode him until he saw stars.
Shane didn’t love that Ilya had been so upset, of course.
But with the emotional hurt tucked away safely in the past, the visual of Marlow and Ilya - what that must have been like - had been haunting him.
Now that he was here though… Shane was in over his head.
Shane wasn’t Ilya. He didn’t do things like this.
What had he been thinking? Marlow was probably going to be so grossed out.
It sounded like he was barely into guys in the first place.
Oh god, what if he told people-
Shane’s phone buzzed.
Ilya: Marly is down :)
His vision swam, Shane read and re-read the message several times as more texts came in.
Ilya: I paid our tab.
Ilya: Let me know if you change your mind, he will understand.
Shane: Are you sure?
Ilya: Yes :) we will go back to his place and talk about what we are comfortable with first.
Ilya: Just like we went over before.
Shane’s nerves steadied a bit.
Shane: Okay.
-
In short order, they were back in Marlow’s very nice (if sparsely decorated) penthouse apartment. Shane looked around, taking note of how it toed the line between “tastefully minimalist” and “single straight guy thoroughly uninterested in interior design.”
It came with a nice kitchen, though. Marlow cracked open another round of beers for the three of them while Ilya unpacked some takeaway boxes they had picked up from a diner on the way back.
“Yes! I missed this place. I am glad they’re still open.” Ilya speared a dumpling with a plastic fork, stuffing it happily into his mouth.
The food made things easier. Shane doubted that potato and cheese and fried dough fit into his diet, but he was already three beers deep, so his evening was likely already shot. It gave him something to do with his hands, and the heavy comfort food settled the nerves in his stomach.
“Have you done this sort of thing before?” Marlow asked Shane, as if they were discussing a new exercise regimen.
“No, never.” Shane said with a quivering sort of smile. “Have you?”
“Yeah. Though mostly with women. And usually a little… less formal. But a little formality might be good for tonight.”
Ilya was looking between them happily.
Ilya had done “this sort of thing” before as well. He had discussed it - haltingly - with Shane. Marlow’s sexual history was nearly as extensive as Ilya’s had been, at least as far as women were concerned. It wasn’t unheard of for him to take two women back to his room. Apparently he had a long-standing arrangement with two women down in Tampa that had gone back for years.
Ilya already quietly swapped out Shane’s empty beer for a ginger ale as the three spoke. It was probably for the best. Shane still felt relatively clear-headed, though the alcohol helped to ease out much of his tension.
It was a bit funny, the careful consideration that Marlow and Ilya were both paying to Shane, as if he hadn’t been the instigator of this entire thing.
“Why don’t you start by telling us what you’d like to see or do, and we’ll let you know what we’re okay with.”
-
An hour later, Shane pressed his back to his dresser in Marlow’s bedroom, gripping the edge of it tight.
Ilya was pulling out of his jacket, Marlow following in after. Watching him, hungrily.
The guy looked to Shane, who nodded shakily. Just once, a quiet final permission.
Marlow wrapped his hand around the back of Ilya’s head and pulled him in for a kiss like a man starved.
They had never kissed before, not on the mouth. Ilya had been surprised Marlow asked for it during their earlier conversation where they laid out the main tenants of the evening.
Safety words, boundaries.
Everything stopped as soon as anyone became uncomfortable.
Marlow wanted to kiss Ilya.
They had both agreed to that. Ilya was amenable. Shane was… excited.
He was right to be. Marlow’s hands were large and strong, cupping the back of Ilya’s head and crowding into his space. Ilya’s spine curved back, forcing him to cling to Marlow’s shirt and groan into the kiss.
Marlow glanced over at Shane out of the corner of his eye, connecting him to the moment. Shane’s breath caught. Marlow winked.
Marlow broke the kiss apart, grabbing Ilya around the middle.
Ilya swore loudly in Russian as he was manhandled and thrown onto the bed. Ilya bounced once before Marlow was on him, pinning him down.
Ilya thrashed. He did it playfully, but he did it with his entire body. His muscles flexed and strained, his veins bulged as he pushed against the immoveable force of Cliff Marlow.
“Giving up, Rozy?” He teased. Ilya grinned back, toothy and sharp. Ilya kicked up with his legs, getting a bit of leverage needed to slip free. The two tussled a bit more. Ilya attempted to get Marlow in a headlock, only for him to be flipped over onto his back - his t-shirt tugged off in the process.
Shane bit his lip, shifting his legs a bit as his breath quickened. He knew their messing about and posturing was for Shane, even if they looked like they were having plenty of fun.
It didn’t take long for Marlow to get the upper hand again. Ilya was on his knees on the bed, his arms pinned nearly behind his back with Marleu's arm wrapped tight around his middle. The button had undone to show the full stretch of the dark scattering of hair that ran from his navel down to his groin. Marleu's other free hand slid down, grasping Ilya's barely clothed cock under the taut fabric. Ilya groaned, his hips rolling into the contact.
Ilya looked up at Shane under his lashes, pinning him with a heated gaze. His body flushed dark as Marlow touched him with such unabashed confidence, his hand slowly stroking his cock from shaft to tip. His mouth sucked into the curve of Ilya’s neck, teeth scraped against the skin.
Marlow whispered something low and rough into Ilya’s ear that made him groan. Shane didn’t quite catch the words, but it sounded affectionate. Soft.
Ilya buried his face into the sheets, grabbing at the fabric with his teeth as his hips bucked helplessly into Marlow’s fist.
“Fuck,” Shane breathed, his knees trembled.
Ilya looked up at Shane, their eyes connecting. Shane could see something there. A quiet look for reassurance. He found it immediately in the open, wrecked expression on Shane’s face.
Shane had rarely seen this side of him before - but only occasionally, and in fleeting moments. When Ilya wanted to be held after sex, or when he tucked his head onto Shane's lap with a silent demand that Shane pet his hair. Those moments always felt so tentative, like when a deer wanders by out of the woods on a quiet evening on the lake. Breathe too hard and it would bound away.
Marlow was able to coax it out almost instantly, with his strong arms and steady hands. Shane wasn’t sure if he should be jealous. It was more of an analytical question than an emotional one, something that had flitted through his thought process throughout the entire leadup to this.
He should be jealous, right?
That was what you did when someone else had something with your partner that you didn’t.
He wasn’t.
He… wanted to see more.
Ilya fisted the sheets of the bed, watching Shane with wide dark eyes as Marlow stroked him. His thighs trembled, his breathing harsh and ragged through his nose.
Shane palmed his own clothed cock roughly, giving Ilya the barest hint of a nod.
The whites of Ilya’s teeth flashed as he shuddered and snarled, coming roughly over Marlow’s fist.
Marlow's hand ran up Ilya's spine, his other hand steadily jerking him through his climax.
“That’s it, fuck.” Marlow breathed. “You’re still so pretty when you come like that, Rozy.”
The intensity of the orgasm had left a slight tremor in Ilya's shoulders as he held his position kneeling on the bed, Marlow pressing hot kisses down his spine.
Shane didn't quite notice when he decided to move. His hands ran over Ilya's arms. He knelt on the bed, pressed himself forward up against Ilya’s chest.
Ilya moaned softly, moving eagerly against Shane. His hands on his chest, his hips, so eager to touch Shane and draw him in to the moment.
Ilya was tugged out of his pants.
The visual of it sent a hot lick of fire up Shane's body. The golden cut of Ilya's figure, naked and exposed and pressed between two fully clothed men. Marlow mouthed against Ilya’s neck,his breath warm.
“You wanna suck his cock, Rozy?” He looked up at Shane warmly as he said it, silently asking for permission as well.
Are you good?
Shane nodded quickly again, sliding down against the headboard and shimmying out of his pants while Ilya pined needfully. Marlow kept a grip on the back of Ilya's hair, lowering his head between Shane's legs. He nuzzled, breathing in the scent of Shane before licking with the flat of his tongue up the base of his cock.
It was more of a curiosity than anything else, and a difficult one to hold on to as Ilya sucked messily on his cock. Ilya had to pull off Shane entirely once or twice, gasping and panting as Marlow steadily took him apart with weighty strokes of his tongue. He lacked his usual focus and finesse, though it was worth it to see how Ilya pined and writhed as Marlow ate him out. Each deep groan of pleasure that Marlow pulled out of Ilya sent vibrations up the shaft of Shane’s cock. The final one tapered off into a high, whining moan as Marlow pressed a slick finger inside of him.
“Fuck, baby. You’re hard again already.”
Ilya pined softly, his fingers digging into Shane’s thigh.
“This is great. You can’t talk back when your mouth is full of cock, huh?”
“Talk - talk back?” Shane spoke, if only just to steady himself. Ilya was barely sucking at this point, mostly just keeping his cock warm with his mouth as he whimpered and moaned around it. All the same, Shane had to focus to keep from coming too soon and embarrassing himself.
“Oh yeah. You know what a brat he can be.” Marlow said warmly, sliding another finger in. “I never got around to teaching him proper manners.”
Shane laughed breathily while Ilya groaned, the muscles of his back flexing and curving in indignation. Ilya shifted Shane’s leg, moving it so he could hump against it as best as he could with Marlow stretching him open.
“Alright, baby. You ready?” Marlow pulled Ilya’s head off of Shane’s cock at last. He gasped, looking equal parts murderous and half-mad with wanting. He was fully erect again, hard and flush and aching.
His cock disappeared under Marlow’s large hand, the other holding onto Ilya’s hips possessively. Cruelly, Marlow didn’t move his hand.
“Marly…” Ilya begged, his head bowed low. He struggled to thrust with his hips, held fast against Marlow’s body.
“You’re too close, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”
Ilya let out a breath that teetered on the edge of a crying snarl.
Marlow had asked him this ahead of time. If he could use the nickname that Ilya always liked to pretend that he hated so much. He had gotten a stiff shrug of indifference, and Marlow was keen to abuse it.
Marlow looked up to Shane.
“Lean back. Like that, good.” His tone of voice was slightly different for Shane. Gentle, calm. They weren’t quite at the point of teasing or using pet names for one another. That would have been a bit too strange. But Marlow had a straightforward, reassuring way about him that Shane found himself instinctively leaning into.
“Just like that. Good, Hollander. Hold there.”
Marlow moved Ilya’s body, aligning his cock to slide slick and easy inside of Shane.
“Hey, hey…” Shane ran his fingers through Ilya’s hair, drinking in the sight of him. He found Ilya’s lips, the two kissing deeply and needfully. Shane could taste the moment when Marlow slid inside of Ilya in the whimper against his lips.
“You’re okay,” Shane breathed into Ilya’s ear. “You’re doing so good,”
Ilya’s skin was flushed warm and trembling under his hands. He needed a bit more time than Shane, either less accustomed to this or overwhelmed by Marlow’s size.
“That’s it, baby.” Marlow husked out. “Fuck, you feel so perfect-”
It was difficult to say what was undoing Ilya more thoroughly, the physical sensation of being inside Shane while Marlow filled him out, or the emotional affection pressed against him from both sides.
“Fuck,” Ilya whimpered out, the syllable carried a watery quiver to it. “I’m going- I’m going to come-”
“No you’re not.” Marlow soothed. “Deep breaths, baby.”
Shane nipped at his lower lip, the muted pain brought some clarity back to his eyes.
After a moment to gather composure, Marlow started to move. He braced his hands against Ilya’s hips, keeping a firm, steady control over the motion of him. As he bottomed out, he pressed Ilya forward. Shane breathed out shakily as Ilya’s cock filled him out flush to the hilt. Then, Marlow drew him back again.
Marlow steadily picked up the pace, fucking Ilya into Shane and - fuck, that was hot.
Shane drank in the sight of it, Ilya with one arm still pinned behind his back, his body covered by the imposing figure of Marlow and his steadfast control of the moment.
Ilya looked so good like that. Soft and aching and needful.
Marlow’s hands eased off of Ilya's waist, letting him fall forward, bracing his hands on either side of Shane’s head. Ilya's hips continued to move, mindlessly fucking into Shane and pressing back against Marlow’s cock.
More sugary, sweet affirmations and praise was causing Ilya’s head to swim. Marlow’s hands moved up Ilya’s body. The rough, calloused pad of his fingertips brushed against Ilya’s taut, dusky nipple, and that was it. He doubled over, coming with a gasp and a strangled cry.
Marlow’s arm was around his waist, holding him steady as he emptied himself into Shane. Shane whimpered, coming messily over his fist. Marlow couldn’t see Ilya’s expression from this angle, but - fuck - Shane Hollander was hot when he climaxed. You generally couldn’t say that about - anyone - but somehow this guy managed to pull it off. The soft noises he made, or how he bit at his lip to try and muffle them. His eyes were shiny. Marlow never got the expression of ‘having stars in their eyes’ before, at least not until now.
Marlow kept himself pressed inside the hot vice of Ilya’s body, but eased him gently out of Shane.
Marlow’s arms were wrapped tight around Ilya’s middle as he finished with rapid, needy thrusts into Ilya’s body. Ilya took it, completely spent. His eyes glazed and distant, mouth slack. He finally came with a stifled roar, his hips snapping taut, his breathing slowly evening out.
He collapsed onto the bed, still buried deep inside Ilya.
“Fuck,” Shane swore softly. He petted the damp curls out of Ilya’s eyes. The man looked far-away and fucked out, weak and blissful.
“You good?”
“Да,” Ilya breathed out. He turned his head, chasing Shane's stray fingers and nipped at the soft pad of his thumb, sucking on it mindlessly.
“Just ah. Just give me a second…” Marlow groaned into the crook of Ilya’s neck.
“Yeah, you’re okay. You’re good, Cliff.” Shane soothed. He rubbed the back of Marlow’s head as he sucked and bit just below Ilya’s ear.
He looked up at Shane with a weak smile.
“Cliff, huh?”
“I mean, yeah.” Shane smiled. If fucking your boyfriend within an inch of their life didn't get you on a first-name basis with someone he wasn't sure what would. “You need water?”
Marlow closed his eyes, perhaps taking mental stock of himself for the first time that evening.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Shane got up, taking his time to clean up in the bathroom. He wanted to give Cliff a little while longer with Ilya. Shane was still… curious to watch. It was a pretty incredible sight. Ilya bracketed between Marleu’s massive thighs, pressed tight against him, not wanting to pull out just yet.
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
Normally it was Ilya doing this bit. Cleaning up, making sure Shane had water and he'd showered and the sheets were clean. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing him like this, soft and kitten-minded. Shane tipped Ilya's head back and placed a deep kiss on his soft, pliant lips. Ilya made a soft, doting sound and mumbled something tender in Russian.
Before too long, Ilya was snoring softly. Shane thought Marlow must have dozed off as well, until he spoke.
“Thanks. For this.” He said, quietly enough not to wake Ilya. “I didn't think I'd get to do this again.”
Shane propped himself up on his side, shifting a bit so Ilya was more securely tucked up between them.
“It was my idea.” Shane reminded Marlow warmly.
“Still can't get my head around that.” Marlow laughed. “You've always seemed so competitive.”
“I don't know. It's not really a competition.”
Marlow’s expression flickered, grim and resigned.
“No, I mean.” Shane fumbled. “Not like that. I mean like. It feels more like… we’re on the same team?”
“Yeah?” Marlow smirked.
“Yeah.”
Marlow knew that wasn't something for a guy like Hollander to say idly. He expected a lot from his team. But it meant something to Marlow as well. He felt his perspective shift slightly. That protective edge that he carried with him onto the ice was expanding outward, enveloping Hollander and extending over him.
Maybe it was that invisible crossing of the line, into the same territory that gave Cliff the wherewithal to speak - on something he knew frankly shouldn't be any of his business.
“I worry about him, sometimes.” Marlow admitted quietly. “Brand new team, new city. It can be a lot.”
Shane looked up at Marlow. He hadn't considered it. Though in hindsight, it felt like a foolish thing to do. Ilya had Shane and David and Yuna now. Shane had figured that was enough. Ilya seemed fine most days. Sure his team sucked, but it wasn’t like Ilya hadn’t signed up for that.
Still… he'd given up a life he'd spent five years building in Boston. He'd given up friends like Marlow, who looked out for him.
Well, maybe not exactly like Marlow, but-
“Hey.” A big hand petted Shane's hair affectionately. “You’re thinking loud again. It's okay. You're good.”
Shane was startled to realize that considering they just had sex, it was the most openly that Marlow had touched him so far that night. His hand was steady, weighty. Like if it slid down behind the back of his neck and squeezed there, Shane might go limp and let him. He could see how he managed to handle Ilya the way that he did.
It was good, grounding. Made it okay to say more readily what was on his mind.
“I just want him to be happy.” Shans breathed out. He pressed himself a little closer to Ilya. The man murmured in his sleep, his arm slung over Shane's hip.
“He is happy.” Marlow said tiredly. “He's always been happiest when he's with Jane.”
-
“Is that coffee?”
In the morning, Shane poked his head out of the hallway from the guest room. Marlow had changed the sheets for them ahead of time. Even set out some towels for the bathroom, which was nice.
“Yeah. I ordered food in. Didn’t know when you guys had to head out.”
“I’ve got a flight at three. I think Ilya’s is a little before. He’s still asleep.” Shane sat down at the island kitchen as Marlow poured him a cup.
“Milk, sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
The two sat in relatively comfortable silence for a moment while Marlow messed about with slicing bagels for the toaster.
“Hey, so uh. Has Ilya ever tried to pick you up? Like off the ground?” Shane asked. Marlow just raised an eyebrow quizzically and they both ended up laughing.
“I don't know man, he might have tried?”
“I got so mad the first time he did it.” Shane thumbed the rim of his coffee mug with a smile. “Knowing Rozy, that's probably exactly why he did it.”
“Yeah, probably.” Shane took an appreciative sip of coffee. “So he's really never like, put it in you?”
Marlow choked out another incredulous laugh.
“Man, you are not the kind of guy I had you pegged for.” Marlow was grinning though, which Shane mirrored back with a little smile. “Maybe Jane, though. I always figured she had to be pretty special.”
“Oh yeah?” Shane smiled. “Like how?”
“I don't know. I figured she'd have to have been a bit of a freak to keep Rozy coming back.”
Shane looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“So, what happens now?”
Marlow blinked. Once again he was taken back by how forward and open Hollander could be.
“I don't know, man. You tell me.” He took an acai bowl out of the fridge, handing it over to Hollander along with a spoon.
“Ilya said you liked these. I picked them up earlier.”
“Oh, yeah thanks! Chia seeds?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.” Shane dug in happily. “I mean,” He returned to his original train of thought. “You still want to have sex with Ilya, right?”
Marlow was quickly acclimatizing to Shane's bizarrely frank approach to talking about all of this, now that his guard was down.
He didn't flinch or gape this time around, but he did draw himself up a bit. Maybe throw up a few walls. They were useful things to have, when there was something you wanted so desperately it could break you within arm’s reach. Being held out by the one person who could offer it and then snatch it away.
“Is this about what I said last night?” Marlow asked evenly. “Being worried about Ilya, and all that?”
“You care about him a lot.” Shane said it plainly, openly. It wasn't a question, it was a remark on something so plain to see
“I wasn't trying to, what's the word - infantilize him. Or whatever. Ilya's an adult.”
Shane looked Marlow over curiously, the wheels turning in his mind.
“Yeah. But…” Shane scraped the edges of the bowl methodically. “I don't know. There aren't a lot of people that know about me and Ilya. And we've both been having sex with him all this time anyway.” He popped the blueberry into his mouth, chewing over the idea thoughtfully. “I don't think it… takes away from what we have, you know. Same team, right?”
Marlow smirked, sipping his coffee. He had woken up this morning prepared for that conversation last night to be the work of the fanciful post-coital afterglow.
“You giving me permission to fuck your boyfriend?” Marlow said with a stretched smile.
“I guess? I mean, last night was pretty hot. You thought so, right?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“You’ll still need to talk to him about it. We haven’t really gone over it yet.” Shane mused. “Especially if you want to keep seeing other guys as well.”
“I'm not gay.” Marlow said flatly. He poured another mug of coffee as he heard Ilya moving from the bedroom to the hallway.
Shane blinked up at him plainly.
“Yeah, you are.”
“Shit, yeah. You're probably right.”
Marlow sighed. Ilya took the mug of coffee with sleepy, wordless synergy and accepted a kiss from Marlow to his temple with a soft sound of satisfaction.