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Ibiza was sun-drenched, sweat-soaked and smelled like sex.
That was Shane’s impression from the heady first few days of his honeymoon with Ilya. It was not the type of place Shane would have chosen, but Scott Hunter had recommended it and neither he or Ilya could come up with any better ideas. They weren’t especially well travelled unless you counted hopping between NHL cities, which Shane categorically did not.
“You’ll have fun. Great beaches, great food, massive gay scene,” Scott had enthused at them over a beer. “Besides, no one in Europe gives a shit about hockey so you won’t recognised.”
“I am European,” Ilya objected, sounding unimpressed. He started rattling off the names of players from Sweden, Switzerland and Finland, clearly trying to make Hunter look foolish.
“Fine,” Scott said, raising his hands in defeat. “No one in the parts of Europe where it doesn’t snow gives a shit about hockey.”
That was what sold it to Shane, the opportunity for anonymity. Not that he wanted to hide his relationship – he had done enough hiding for a lifetime – but precisely because he no longer had to. He wanted to hold Ilya’s hand as they walked down a bustling street, to splash with him in the ocean and to kiss him on a dancefloor. These were all things that had felt impossible a year ago but now felt overwhelmingly possible. They could do all that and more on their honeymoon, without being asked for photographs by overly eager hockey fans. And if they were spotted, Shane knew it would not be the end of the world.
It had been Shane’s idea to rent a luxurious villa in a secluded part of the island. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it and Shane knew he would need somewhere peaceful to retreat to after time spent on crowded beaches and amongst sweaty bodies. There were more bedrooms than made sense for the two of them, but Ilya had simply suggested that they would have to christen them all. It had been Ilya’s idea to rent a car so that they could explore and, of course, he had chosen a vintage one in an obnoxious shade of red. Shane couldn’t remember the model but Ilya had been so excited when he’d found it online that Shane thought he looked like an overgrown toddler.
They didn’t leave the villa for the first day and night they were Ibiza. The rush of finally being alone after the wedding, not to mention the chaotic months before it and the stress of being outed, was too much. It had felt impossible to detach their mouths and hands from each other from the moment they crossed the threshold, so they hadn’t even bothered trying.
“What do you think a honeymoon is like for couples who wait to have sex until they are married?” Shane mused, coming to sit on the bed beside Ilya. He was draped in a fluffy white robe while Ilya had a towel wrapped around his waist. They were both still damp and flushed after their post-sex shower had naturally devolved into languid blowjobs under the spray.
“Full of very bad sex,” Ilya responded dryly.
“Hey, our first time was great!” Shane frowned and playfully swatted at Ilya’s arm with his hand. His first time with Ilya was something Shane considered sacred, burned into his mind forever.
“Well, we are different and special,” Ilya said, sounding completely sincere before he broke into a grin. “Plus, I am a sex god so you were in good hands.”
“So humble too.”
“Da. You’re not saying you wished we waited?”
Shane snorted. “As if we could have. As if we could have gotten to this place any other way.”
“We could always roleplay it, if you like,” Ilya suggested, rolling onto his side towards Shane and grinning wolfishly. “You could play the innocent virginal bride and I could teach you how to find your clit.”
“Fuck off, asshole,” Shane snapped but couldn’t help himself from smiling. He reached for one of the decorative pillows on the bed and used it to wack Ilya gently on the head. Ilya batted the pillow away and rolled on top of Shane, pinning him to the bed by his arms.
“If there is something new you want to try while we are here, to make this extra special, I am all ears, Hollander.”
“I’m not sure,” Shane hedged, his mind spinning through the possibilities. He wasn’t sure what he and Ilya had left to try. They’d done a lot over the past decade, but Shane knew his own frame of reference was somewhat limited. “Let me think about it.
“Is okay if not. It is our honeymoon. Will be special regardless.”
They the days that followed sleeping late, trying different beaches and dining al fresco. For once, Shane felt himself able to truly let go and indulge. There were no 6am runs or performance diets. Those things mattered to him and would fold back into his life as the season approached, but he enjoyed the permission being on his honeymoon gave him to truly let go. He could have long boozy lunches and stay up late to soak in the vibrant streets after dark. Being with Ilya in the open also made him feel brave, open to trying new things. The first time had come when Ilya had driven them to a secluded beach behind some salt flats. It had a reputation as a gay beach, apparently. It was also a nudist beach.
Shane didn’t have a problem with nudity. It had been a fact of life in locker rooms for his entire hockey career and knew that he had a good physique. Still, an NHL dressing room was as desexualised as a place could get with a pervasive odour built up from years of stale sweat and spilled sports drinks. A gay beach would be different. Shane tried not to think about the headlines if someone spotted him – Montreal Voyageurs star caught on naked gay beach – until he remembered that he wasn’t going to be a Voyageur next season. Farah was already working her magic behind the scenes.
Shane had packed several of the tiny Speedos he’d been gifted after working with the brand. They were all in bright colours and left little to the imagination, but he was yet to wear them outside of the pool at their villa. He wore sensible black swim shorts and rolled his eyes when Ilya had shown up in the garage in neon pink trunks.
“Is a vacation, Shane,” he had reminded him. His eyes lingered hungrily on Shane’s nipple piercings, almost a year old now and visible through the tank top Shane had thrown on for the drive.
The beach was not actually as intimidating as Shane had feared. Not everyone had a supermodel body. Shane knew it was wrong to stereotype but other men on the beach did not give off the vibe that they’d know which end was up on a hockey stick. Maybe Scott had been right. Sure, there were a lot of bodies and a lot of naked flesh, but everyone was being respectful and mostly keeping their eyes to themselves and their partners. He caught a few appreciative glances pointed in his direction, as well as Ilya’s, as they undressed but Shane only had eyes for his husband. It was worth any embarrassment to see Ilya Rozanov naked in the water, Shane decided. He looked like an ancient god of the ocean, his curls dripping with water and his broad chest glistening with droplets in the sunlight.
This was exactly what a honeymoon was supposed to be. They were just two men, two very naked men, swimming together in a beautiful place. It didn’t matter here than they were Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. As Shane dunked his head under the water and let the ocean support his weight, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt so free.
“We are going home now,” Ilya announced suddenly, placing a hand on Shane’s lower back.
“Everything alright?” Shane asked warily. He was having a good time. They’d just returned to the water after some time spent on the sand, drying off and enjoying the sun. Well, Ilya had enjoyed the sun. Shane had sat under their beach umbrella and enjoyed seeing a naked Illya in the sun.
“Yes, but I think even on naked beach it is illegal to fuck your husband.” There was a hunger in Ilya’s eyes that did not seem like it could be argued with. Ilya looked like he wanted to devour Shane, and Shane was absolutely game to let him.
They returned to their towels and umbrella on the sand quickly, dressing and hopping in the car before they had fully dried off. Shane drove and Ilya’s hands were desperately grabby over the parts of Shane’s body that could be reached from the passenger seat. The moment Shane unlocked the front door of the villa, Ilya was on him. His kisses were greedy and demanding, fingers digging into Shane’s pecs and hips. They didn’t make it to one of the many bedrooms. Instead, Ilya bent Shane over the large timber dining table and yanked down his damp swim shorts. Shane’s nipple bars enhanced the sensations in his chest as it lay flat across the tabletop.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane cried as his husband immediately knelt behind him and started licking at his hole. Ilya began with wide, strong strokes of his tongue and then transitioned to little jabs that seemed aimed at starting to open Shane up for him.
“You still taste like the ocean,” Ilya sighed between Shane’s cheeks. He heard the unmistakable sound of Ilya spitting and gasped as the glop of liquid hit the sensitive entrance of his hole.
“Fucking hell,” Shane whined as Ilya began working a finger into him while his tongue continued to lap at the outside of his rim.
“I am being creative. Need to open you up.” Ilya timed his words with an especially firm thrust of his finger that had Shane bucking against the edge of the table.
“Theres lube on the coffee table,” Shane gasped, pointing towards the lounge. They’d left it there the night before when they’d come back from dinner to enjoy frotting on the couch. Ilya was gone in a flash and Shane cried out, feeling the loss of Ilya’s touch. He felt exposed, lying over the table face down but he didn’t think his legs had it in them to move in that moment. Ilya was back almost as fast as he had left and suddenly there were two fingers pressing into Shane’s opening. A third followed soon after and Shane was conscious that his cock must be dripping onto the terracotta tiles of the dining room floor. He started to push back but Ilya stopped him with a firm hand between his shoulder blades.
“Let me do the work,” Ilya commanded. “You just take it.”
“Fucking love taking it,” Shane panted between gritted teeth. He could feel his body opening for Ilya, relaxing around his digits as he stretched him and rubbed at his prostate. He was so easy for this, so easy for Ilya. Shane felt the ghost of Ilya’s fourth finger circle around his hole as Ilya twisted his wrist in a truly wicked manner.
“Can you take one more for me?” Ilya breathed into the crease where Shane’s ass met his thigh. Shane nodded into the table, feeling sweat drip down the bridge of his nose. He heard Ilya uncap the lube once more and then came the cool sensation of additional wetness.
“Going to try now, sweetheart,” Ilya cooed, and Shane felt the additional intrusion against his hole. He tried to bear down on it, to entreat his body to relax and accept the stretch. Ilya had never had more than three fingers in him before and, fuck, he wanted this.
“‘s good,” he managed to moan out, marvelling at how his body was adjusting. In that moment he was convinced he could do anything, be anything, for Ilya.
“Your hole looks so pretty all stretched out for me.” Ilya twisted his wrist again, causing his fingers to rub confidently against Shane’s prostate.
“Fucking hell, I’m close already.”
“Good, you should come like this,” Ilya commanded, but his own voice was getting ragged. “So slutty taking four fingers. Could probably take my whole fist.”
The words sent a thrill of terror through Shane but it was drowned out almost immediately by an unbelievable surge of lust. He pushed back against Ilya fingers as he came, his untouched cock jerking pathetically between his legs and spilling onto the tiles.
"Holy shit," Ilya breathed. Shane could only just hear it over his own gasps and moans. He felt his legs buckle and decided not to fight it. Ilya fingers slipped from him as Shane slid to the floor, turning as he did to face his husband. On his knees, Shane lurched forward and pulled Ilya’s stupid pink swimwear down to his knees.
Shane allowed himself one filthy glance up at Ilya before he swallowed his cock down. It was not elegant. His breath was still ragged from his orgasm and his hands were shaky on Ilya’s hips. However, from the way Ilya was cursing under his breath in Russian, he didn’t seem to mind. Spit dripped down Shane’s chin as he eagerly fucked his mouth on Ilya’s cock while his hole ached from the absence of Ilya’s fingers. He was almost tempted to reach behind himself and start playing with his stretched-out entrance, but no. This was Ilya’s turn. He instead moved his hand to cup Ilya’s balls, rolling them between his fingers as his throat gurgled around Ilya’s length.
“Shane,” Ilya groaned, threading his hands through Shane’s salty hair. Shane opened his eyes to see Ilya staring down at him with such wonder and awe. It made him want to be better for Ilya, to give him everything. He increased the speed at which he was bobbing his get and let out a choked moan at the taste of Ilya’s pre. The vibrations from the muffled sound must had carried through to Ilya’s cock because he, too, sounded like he was choking.
“Gonna swallow for me, kotik?” It was nice that Ilya still asked, Shane thought through the haze of desire and spit. Sometimes the texture of come grossed him out, but today, on his honeymoon, he wanted it all.
“Want you to come on my face,” he said, pulling off Ilya’s cock to speak and tonguing the slit. Ilya’s eyes went wide and he took himself in hand. Shane was glad he remembered to close his eyes half a second before the first ribbon of warm release hit his cheek, then his chin, and then his nose. His husband, his face, his come. It was perfect.
“I love you so much,” Ilya said when he was done, cupping Shane’s messy face. “You are such a good boy.” Shane preened into the touch as the come cooled on his face.
“I love you too.”
Ilya found one of their beach towels and did his best to clean Shane up with it before he declared it a lost cause and instead picked Shane up and carried him towards the nearest shower.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice what made you come, moya lyubov?” Ilya teased as he used warm water to rinse away the traces of his orgasm from Shane’s cheeks. With a gentleness that felt almost worshipful, his hands trailed across the planes of Shane’s chest. His fingers came to rest, as the always did, against Shane’s pierced nipples. The were no longer a secret but they’d always be theirs.
“Shut up.” Shane hoped that his face was already pink enough from the sex and the shower to disguise the blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. He tucked himself into Ilya’s chest to be cocooned in his warmth.
“Would you want to try?” Ilya asked calmly. There was no leading edge to his voice, no sense that he was expecting a particular answer.
“I don’t know,” Shane lied. Yes would have been the honest answer. Yes, he wanted Ilya’s whole fucking hand inside him, stretching his body to the limits and claiming him completely. But there was something about it that also felt wrong, or humiliating. It disturbed Shane a little that the perversion of it all did not seem to counteract his desire for it. Instead the two feelings curled around each other, co-existing in Shane’s gut.
“Is okay,” Ilya hummed, reaching for the shampoo. “You tell me if you decide.”
The next night saw them arriving at one of the largest gay clubs on Ibiza after midnight, following an afternoon of napping by the pool at their villa. They’d been to a few bars in the days they’d been on the island, gay bars with pride flags and cute bartenders in tight tees, but this was the first time going to one of massive clubs that made Ibiza the nightlife paradise it was. Shane could tell Ilya was excited from the way seemed to vibrate in the back of the cab they had called to get them into town. He knew that Ilya had been a king of the Boston nightlife circuit and, fuck, he had looked beautiful under the lights at that Montreal club, the night Shane had gone out with Rose and her friends. Ilya had moved his body to the music that night in a way that was pure sex, all leonine and sensual. He had been so breathtaking that Shane had been unable to look away, even as Ilya had danced on some random girl. Tonight would be different. Ilya was his husband and he would only be dancing with him.
Shane vaguely recognised the song playing as they entered the club. Perhaps it had been on a playlist that blared in the Voyageurs’ locker room post-game. He couldn’t be sure though because all of his senses were under siege in the crowded club. The music was augmented by excited chatter and cheers. Shane’s body felt the comforting hold of Ilya’s arm around his waist but also the foreign touch of unfamiliar bodies against his own, some shirtless and all sweaty. His nose wrinkled as something acidic and chemically permeated the sweat-soaked air. That, too, was unfamiliar. There were smoke machines and flashing lights that gave the space an otherworldly feel. Then there were the bodies, so many bodies – resolutely male and packed so tightly that they almost seemed conjoined.
“Doing alright?” Ilya murmured into his ear. Shane nodded. It was intense but, as Ilya had said, what was the point of coming to Ibiza if they weren’t going to party? He could do this. He could try new things, so long as Ilya was by his side. Ilya steered them to the bar and they downed tequila shots. They’d already split a bottle of Spanish red with their late dinner and Shane knew he had to be imagining it, but it felt like the additional alcohol had hit his bloodstream immediately. He felt loose and hazy in a way that was not entirely unpleasant.
Dancing was sort of like sex, Shane thought. Ilya pulled him into the centre of the dancefloor and wrapped his arms around his waist, gyrating against him. Shane’s hands found Ilya’s broad shoulders and then the back of his neck. He would never be a natural dancer like Ilya or Rose, but he knew how to move his body in sync with Ilya. This wasn’t so different really from riding Ilya in one of the squashy armchairs near the fireplace in his Brossard house or pushing back against Ilya as he took him on his back. He did become aware several songs in that he and Ilya were becoming the object of significant interest. There were lingering glances and purposeful brushes against their bodies that felt more overt than the attention they’d received on the beach. Shane saw hungry eyes appraised Ilya’s body as it nearly burst out of his black tank and he pulled his husband into a filthy kiss.
Shane knew Ilya had fucked other men before, in addition to the women he was famous for pulling. Other than that the first was the son of an old hockey coach, he knew nothing about them. Ilya had described his encounters with men as a rare treat. As Shane looked around at the lust-filled eyes and flawless bodies, he wondered which of the men here were Ilya’s type. Did he fuck skinny guys with long legs that could easily be draped over his shoulders? Plenty of the men here were smaller than Shane and would be easier for Ilya to throw around. Some were bigger too. Maybe Ilya would enjoy dominating a larger man? As Shane looked around, he saw bodies that looked better than his own. His was built for function and performance, whereas some of the bodies around him seemed to have been carved from marble purely for aesthetic enjoyment. Shane eyed the washboard abs and razor-sharp v-cuts as something like envy began to boil in his stomach.
There was a broad spectrum of facial hair on the men on the dancefloor too, from sexy dark stubble grazing cheeks to perfectly groomed moustaches to full beards. Shane couldn’t grow facial hair to save his life. Ilya didn’t seem to mind, although he did like to tease Shane during playoffs when his cheeks remained smooth while the rest of his team grew beards. Shane loved how Ilya’s own playoff beard, and the scratchy stubble he tended to sport over the summer, felt against his skin. He loved the contrast it made with his plush lips as he sucked on Shane’s nipples, his cock and his ass. Would Ilya prefer feeling that sensation too?
“You are spiralling, da?” Ilya asked, gripping the bottom of Shane’s chin to make him meet his gaze.
“It’s just a lot,” Shane said, and it wasn’t untrue. One of the bearded men he had been eyeing pulled out a vial from his pocket and held it against the nose of the man he was dancing with. The other man grinned and blocked one of his nostrils with a heavily-ringed finger. Ilya was tugging Shane away from mass of bodies before he could see what happened next.
“Some fresh air is good idea, solnyshko,” he called over the noise. Ilya’s idea of fresh air turned out to be an outdoor smoking area. The air didn’t feel particularly clean or healthy but it was mercifully less crowded and a little less noisy.
“Do we need to head back to the villa?” Ilya asked, steering Shane to an empty bench and sitting down beside him.
“No, I want to stay. I just need a minute,” Shane said, resting his head on Ilya’s shoulder.
“Lots of people, lots of noise.” Ilya sounded so understanding as he patted Shane’s knee that he wanted to cry. He couldn’t tell him that he’d been stressing out about whether Ilya would be more satisfied with another man. It would hurt him to know Shane was even thinking that, especially on their honeymoon, so he decided to change the subject entirely.
“That was a popper, right? What the guy next to us was doing?”
“Yes, and that was the smell too,” Ilya confirmed.
“I saw them when JJ took me to that gay club, but I didn’t know what they were at first,” Shane admitted. “He called me a baby gay and said I had a lot to learn. Have you ever tried them?”
“Da, once. Club in Moscow. Not for me, I think,” Ilya shrugged. “Is more for bottoms, anyway.”
“Because they relax the muscles?” Shane had done his share of internet research after his lack of knowledge had embarrassed him in front of JJ.
“Yes, but also they give a head rush for a little bit. Doesn’t last long.”
“Have you ever fucked someone who used them? During, I mean?”
“I have,” Ilya said carefully, trepidation creeping into his tone for the first time. “I am not small, as you know Hollander, and I have been with a few men who liked to use poppers before they got fucked. Not all bottoms find it as easy to open up as you do.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Shane’s head. Shane knew Ilya had added the compliment to reassure him. Apparently he was not doing as well as hiding his insecurity as he thought.
“I wanna try them,” Shane blurted. “Poppers, I mean.” Ilya’s eyes went wide.
“Shane, you do not have to. Just because other men…”
“No, it’s not about anyone else. It’s about me,” Shane insisted, trying to convince himself as much as Ilya. “I want to try something new, with you, on our honeymoon.”
“Is not without risks,” Ilya said warily.
“And I am not risk averse, Ilya,” Shane snapped. “I play a dangerous sport where I risk traumatic brain injury each time I step on the ice.”
“Okay okay. I will buy you poppers, but I won’t do any, to keep an eye on you.” Ilya stood and reached his hand out to Shane. “Ready to go back inside?”
The club was even louder and more packed with sweaty bodies as Shane followed Ilya back inside. It wasn’t as overwhelming, this time. It felt almost exhilarating. Shane felt like he was on the threshold of entering a glamorous in-crowd made up of sexy men who did poppers and got fucked. Besides, he was with Ilya. Nothing bad could truly happen to him when he was with his husband.
Ilya dropped his hand to speak to a group of men. Through the alternating darkness and pulsing lights of the club, Shane saw Ilya exchange a small wad of cash for a small bottle. He slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans and returned the Shane. Wrapping his arms around Shane’s body, he pulled him closer for a kiss that tasted like tequila and promises.
“Let’s get you dancing for a little again before you try, alright?” He used his hold on Shane’s body to start grinding on him to the beat. The DJ was remixing a song Shane thought his parents might have played but it was rendered almost unrecognisable with the addition of synths and bass. Shane started to think that he could feel the music more than he heard it. He could definitely feel Ilya half-hard against him.
“I wanna–” Shane began, before Ilya cut him off with yet another kiss. He licked into Shane’s mouth as he reached behind himself to withdraw the bottle. Their mouths didn’t part as Ilya made short work of the cap. He held the bottle a few inches from Shane and then finally pulled away, his lips shiny with spit.
“Are you sure?” Ilya asked, rubbing the side of Shane’s face with his thumb.
“Yes, let me have it,” Shane responded. His chin jutted forward defiantly but he cast his eyes quickly around them. There was no visible security and no one was watching them. Everyone was caught up with their own partners and friends, like a shield of bodies allowing Shane to have this private moment with Ilya.
Ilya raised the bottle towards Shane’s nose and Shane blocked one of his nostrils. He had no idea if he was doing this right but that was what the other man had done. Steeling himself by clutching at the bottom of Ilya’s tank, Shane inhaled sharply.
The headrush was instantaneous and overpowering. Shane felt euphoria spreading to each of his extremities, his fingers, his toes, even the tips of his ears. It felt almost itchy, but in a way that was definitely good. Good itchy. Alive.
“Wow,” he exhaled. It felt like an understatement.
“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Shane heard Ilya over the noise of the club and the roaring in his head.
“Bubbly.” It felt like the right word. There were probably others but Shane couldn’t bring them to mind. The felt light but also warm. Very warm. Too warm? With clumsy hands, Shane tried to do away with his linen shirt but the buttons felt too small for his fingers.
“You sure?” Ilya asked, glancing at the bodies around them. Many of them were shirtless too and, in that second, Shane couldn’t care less who saw him. He nodded and Ilya moved to help him undo his shirt. Once it was hanging loose off his shoulders, Ilya grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. He pulled back quickly, too quickly for Shane’s liking, and started intently into Shane’s eyes. Shane felt examined, like Ilya was checking to see if he was really alright.
“Feel amazing,” Shane sighed, because it was true and maybe that would reassure Ilya.
“You look so beautiful,” Ilya whispered into his mouth.
Shane felt himself collapse against Ilya and then they were kissing again. The press of Ilya’s tongue against his own felt more electric than ever and he loved how his bare chest and pierced nipples felt against the cotton of Ilya’s tank. It was like every physical sensation was heightened. He wanted more of Ilya. He wanted all of Ilya. Already the rush was starting to dissipate but Shane knew what he needed.
“Baby, take me home,” he insisted, although he voiced sounded slurred. He wasn’t sure if that was what he actually sounded like or if that was just was his warped hearing picked up. The music sounded a little strange too but he continued. “Take me home, let me have another go and then I want your whole fucking fist in me.”
Ilya’s mouth dropped open but his eyes were full of arousal. Even through the chemical haze, Shane would never fail to recognise that look on his husband.
“Let’s get you home,” Ilya muttered and then he was once again steering Shane through the crowd, this time toward the exit. The effects of his first experience with poppers had mostly worn off by the time Shane collapsed into the back seat of the cab, but he was left with the a pleasant laxity from the alcohol and the certain knowledge that Ilya would get him home safe. He let his head loll onto Ilya’s shoulder in the taxi and watched the bright lights of the island flash by. The driver had the windows down and the cool night air had something of a sobering effect. He felt much more like himself again but the rush from the little bottle stowed away in Ilya’s jeans had been incredible. He wanted it again and he wanted as much of Ilya as he could get.
Shane kissed Ilya’s neck as Ilya unlocked the door to the villa and then stumbled in behind him. Ilya turned immediately and pressed Shane against the back of the door the moment it was shut. Shane felt Ilya’s hands everywhere at once, his hips, his hair, his neck, his ass.
“Bedroom,” Ilya insisted and Shane whined at the broken kiss. Still, the rational part of his mind knew that this was not something they could do in the hallway. He let himself be led to their bedroom and stood still as Ilya undressed him. Ilya took care to fold each item of Shane’s clothing and pile them atop the dresser.
“I want you naked too,” Shane whispered as he sat down in the centre of the bed. He almost regrated asking as Ilya took almost as much time with his own clothes. The anticipation was making him feel dizzy and he wanted to start. Now.
“Might be easier if you are on your stomach,” Ilya suggested, gloriously naked as he crawled onto the bed beside Shane. His cock swung between his legs, already full and thick, and Shane had half a mind to shuffle down the bed and take it into his mouth, but that was not what this night was supposed to be about. This night was about getting Ilya’s fist inside Shane.
“No, I want to be able to see you,” Shane countered, tearing his eyes from Ilya’s cock. If he was going to do this new and slightly scary thing, he needed to be able to have his eyes on his husband at all times. That was infinitely more important that avoiding a little physical discomfort and, besides, wasn’t that what the poppers were for?
“You are the boss,” Ilya said, and it felt like a serious reminder as much as a joke. He grabbed two pillows from the bed and hoisted Shane’s legs up to position them beneath his hips. After spending a while fussing over the exact angle of the pillows, he lay his palms against each of Shane’s thighs and pressed them back towards his chest.
“Feels okay?” Ilya asked, eyes locked on Shane’s.
“Yes.”
“I will start now.”
Shane wasn’t sure where Ilya got the lube from but a single slicked finger slid easily into his hole and began pumping in and out. The room was only lit by the two bedside lamps and the low lighting made the muscles on Ilya’s arm appear extra defined as he moved it between Shane’s legs. It was a stunning sight, watching this Adonis of a man work him open, but it was nowhere near enough.
“You can start with two. I’m still a little loose from yesterday,” Shane complained. His words were met with a sharp slap to the inside of one of his thighs.
“Don’t be greedy. I start with one.” Ilya sounded stern as he continued to press a single digit in and out of Shane.
“I thought I was the boss.”
“You are the boss in that if you say stop, all of this stops. You say what you want, but is my job to get you there.” Something about the authority in Ilya’s tone made Shane’s cock ache. He looked down to find a small bead of pre gathered at the tip. Meeting Ilya’s gaze, he gasped as a second finger was worked into his body. Ilya winked at him from between his parted thighs and Shane thought he might actually combust.
“Better,” he sighed, resting his head back against the bed once more. He heard Ilya chuckle.
Two fingers became three as Ilya continued to open Shane with the confidence that came with a decade of practice. Shane’s body, too, was familiar with this process. It felt nice to be take care of like his, by hands that loved him.
“Is time for four,” Ilya announced and then ducked his head to take Shane’s neglected cock into his mouth. The heavenly heat of Ilya’s mouth encasing his cock was a pleasant distraction from the slight discomfort that came with Ilya working his pinky finger into Shane’s hole.
“Your mouth,” Shane sighed, unable to find the words to finish his praise. Ilya seemed to understand though, because he bobbed his head enthusiastically a couple of times before pulling off again to nuzzle at Shane’s balls.
“Such a pretty cock, so big and hard, yet so unused,” Ilya crooned into Shane’s skin.
“Fuck you. I use my cock,” Shane gritted out, digging his heels into the plush mattress to try to push down further on Ilya’s four fingers.
“No, only when I am not with you. When I am here it is all about your greedy hole. You want my mouth, my fingers, my cock. Now you want my whole hand?” Ilya’s voice sounded sinful as he twisted his wrist in a way that sent his four fingers, pressed tightly together, rubbing against Shane’s prostate in earnest. Shane could tell Ilya was pressing deeper now. He could feel his thick knuckles against his sensitive stretched rim.
“Yesss,” Shane hissed, pushing back in earnest now. “Need it. I’m ready.” This time his punishment was a bite to the tender skin inside his thigh.
“I told you I set the pace. Don’t be greedy. You are very precious to me and I need to prepare your hole carefully.” Shane marvelled at how Ilya managed to suffuse so much love into his filthy words. He lay back and tried to focus on enjoying the pressure on is prostate and the knowledge that it was his husband doing this to him.
Eventually, he felt the small bottle being pressed into his hand.
“I am going to go past my knuckles now with the thumb tucked in. Will be the widest part. If you want another hit, you should do it now.” Ilya’s warning was welcome. As desperate for this experience as he was, he wanted the chemical buffer and the relaxation it could provide, at least this first time. He knew it was dangerous to spill the liquid so he commanded his abdominal muscled to pull his neck and chest upwards. Propping himself on an elbow, he let Ilya help him uncap the bottle and hold in under his nose. Closing one nostril, he inhaled.
The rush was the same as last time, flooding through him like a tidal wave of exultation and heat. It was perhaps a little less intense because he knew what to expect, but so very welcome. He luxuriated in the feeling for just a moment until he felt Ilya move.
“Oh.” Pressure. Enormous incredible pressure. Ilya was filling him so completely and his body just gave way to it. It wasn’t painful but there was an intense stretching sensation around his rim. He felt like his body had been cleaved open and that really should have been painful, but it just registered with his senses as a lot. Too much probably, but Shane couldn’t even think about that right now. Every nerve ending in his body felt like it was on fire and yet somehow also in space.
“Fucking hell, Shane,” Ilya gasped. He was looking down at where his wrist disappeared into Shane’s body like he had just seen the face of God for the first time.
“Move,” Shane gasped but the word came out all wrong. Ilya must have understood because he pulled his hand backwards until Shane’s hold started to stretch against his knuckles once more and then pushed forward again. He spat out a series of profanities that Shane could barely understand as he continued, rocking his hand backwards and forwards inside Shane’s body. Shane thought he was going to pass out when some part of Ilya’s hand – Shane was too far gone to tell which – pressed firmly against his prostate and then stayed there, moving across the surface in a steady rhythm but never giving him a moments respite. This is what it felt like to be truly claimed by another person, Shane though. Ilya might be inside him but it was Shane who felt utterly consumed.
The effects of the drug were wearing off once again. Shane wished he could stay in that blissful light-headed space forever but reality was starting to return. He wasn’t sure if he was cramping or if this was just what it felt like to be fisted without nitrates flooding your system, but he was growing uncomfortable.
“Kiss me,” he begged Ilya, sitting up and trying to reach for him. He needed the distraction.
“Not sure I can reach, not when I…” Ilya trailed off, gesturing with his free hand to where his body, skill kneeling at the end of the bed, met his arm.
“I think I might be done,” Shane said in a small voice. It was too much and the incredible pleasure of such direct prostate stimulate was started to be overwhelmed by the pressure in his guts.
“Okay, alright sweetheart.” Ilya quickly but carefully removed his hand from Shane. As his knuckles passed through his rim on their way out, Shane winced.
“Is alright, is done. You did so good, Shane. My Shane,” Ilya said hurriedly as he came to lie on top of him. Their lips met and Shane accepted Ilya’s tongue into his mouth, licking against it with his own. His ass felt strange, empty and lax in a way he was to unused to. Ilya’s kisses were deliciously grounding after the heady effects of the popper. Shane felt Ilya’s hand creep down his torso, pausing briefly to tweak a pierced nipple, and then slip down between Shane’s legs once more.
“Fuck, moya lyubov,” Ilya breathed as he slipped a single finger into Shane’s loose, wet hole. “So fucking open.”
Shane let out a whine, rolling his hips upwards and trying to get some friction from Ilya’s stomach against is cock.
“Shane, sweetheart. Can I fuck you? I won’t last long but, Christ, I need to know what you feel like after this.”
Nodding, Shane reached down to pull his own thighs back once more. Ilya could have any part of Shane he wanted, in any way. Everything he had was Ilya’s. He didn’t realise how much he wanted it himself until Ilya slid his rigid cock into his stretched out hole.
“Oh God,” he cried. Ilya’s cock was nowhere near as thick as his fist but Shane’s insides were so sensitised from the previous stretch that every thrust from Ilya felt magnified. It felt overstimulating in the best way, raw and filthy.
“So wrecked for me,” Ilya panted, his voice taking on the note of desperation Shane knew meant he was close already. “Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
The sound was obscene from the amount of lube as Ilya thrust wildly. The wet slapping echoed around the room in time with soft grunts from Ilya’s lips. He reached a hand out for Shane’s cock. It only took a couple of strokes before Shane was coming over his chest. He had been waiting so long and his body had been through enough. He stood no chance of holding out. Before he was evening done spilling across himself, Shane felt Ilya go stiff against him as his own orgasm hit him. He groaned into Shane’s neck as he filled Shane’s softened hole with his release.
“You might have killed me, Hollander,” Iyla said as he pulled out. He came to lie beside Shane this time and pressed a kiss to Shane’s sweaty forehead. Shane snorted.
“You’re not the one who took a fist.” Unable to help his curiosity, he reached a hand down and gently pressed at his hole with a finger. It was undeniably puffy and swollen, the skin feeling delicate under his own touch. He must have been gaping because he could feel the warm trickle of Ilya’s come, a different texture from the copious amounts of lube, leaking out of him.
“I take it back,” Ilya said with a lazy grin. “Watching you play with your own stretched out hole is the hottest thing I have ever seen.”
The following morning, Shane woke with the worst headache of his life. He felt that was saying something considering he was a hockey player who survived being knocked out cold on the ice.
“Water,” he gasped and found a bottle pressed into his hand straight away. Ilya was standing over him, a look of gentle concern clouding his features.
“I should have made you drink more last night but you fell asleep as soon as sex was done,” he said as if he was chiding himself.
“Needed sleep,” Shane insisted, not wanting Ilya to feel bad. The memories from the night before came back to him as if from behind a sheer drape. They were clear enough to make him blush as he downed most of the bottle.
“Clearly. It is 2pm,” Ilya informed him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. I am never doing poppers again. Headache not worth the high.”
“That is fine. And your ass?”
Shane shifted experimentally on the mattress at Ilya’s question.
“A little tender, I think. Sore but nothing feels too bad,” he said. Ilya looked relieved. “You know, that part I probably would be open to doing again. Not straight away, but sometime.”
“We can discuss while I run you a bath,” Ilya replied dryly and pressed a two paracetamol tablets into Shane’s hand. “Take. For head.”
Shane nodded and obeyed. His head did really hurt. Still, he had a question he needed answered before Ilya left the room.
“Did you like it? Me doing poppers?”
“You are very cute high and was nice taking care of you, but is not something I need. I love this Shane. My Shane, with only chemicals from coffee and occasional beer.”
“And the other stuff?”
“Shane, solnyshko. I would literally live inside you if it was possible. Of course I loved having my whole hand inside you. I don’t know if your spaced-out little brain remembers but I said it was the hottest thing ever. I didn’t lie.”
“That’s good then,” Shane mused, reaching for the water once more. “Experiment successful. We found one thing we don’t need to do again and one thing we would like to do again.”
“50% is successful?” Ilya asked as he opened the door the ensuite. God, Shane really did want that bath.
“Yes, it feels balanced somehow,” he replied, and Ilya’s answering smile set his heart ablaze.
For the rest of their honeymoon, balance became Shane’s motto. He wore the tiny Speedos but stayed under the umbrella when they were on the sand. He danced shirtless with Ilya at gay clubs, wearing different nipple jewellery each night to admire how they glinted under the strobe lights, but did so on only two beers and stuck to sparkling water for the rest of the night. He held Ilya’s hand as they shared an ice cream while walking through a busy market and then took him home to do things to his body that were not fit for the public.
Ilya got a tattoo of the Ibiza wall lizard on his ankle to commemorate their honeymoon and made a sizable donation to a conservation fund after learning the species was under threat. Shane considered getting a tattoo but found he couldn’t commit to a design. Ilya didn’t seem to mind but did seem interested when Shane mentioned possibly getting an ear piercing or two when the got back to Canada.
“We should have a honeymoon every year,” Shane declared as he sipped a beer at a bar in the Figueretas neighbourhood. The sun was baking the pavers and making him feel deliciously warm inside and out.
“I think they just call that a vacation, Shane,” Ilya teased before taking a gullp of his own beer.
“Yes, but every year, for our anniversary,” Shane continued earnestly. “It’s a good thing we got married in summer. We should make the most of it.”
“You’d like to come back here?”
“Maybe, eventually, but there are so many places we haven’t been. We should go to other places where people don’t care about hockey – Australia, India, Thailand,” Shane mused, his mind full of possibilities. Now that he’d had a taste of loving Ilya in public, amongst others but largely left alone, he wanted more.
“Good thing you married such a rich man then, da?” Ilya stole a fry from Shane’s plate and Shane aimed a playful kick under the table in return.
“Mama, I am a rich man,” he said with a smirk.
“Shane, you made a Cher reference? I take back everything I ever said about you being bad at being gay,” Ilya replied, seeming genuinely impressed.
“Harris sent me a meme.”
“You will fit in so well with the Cens,” Ilya said dreamily.
“Don’t jinx it. Farah is still getting the details sorted,” Shane scowled. He’d been trying not to think about the negotiations going on back home now that he was a free agent. Ilya seemed to realised he’d slipped up.
“I trust Farah and you need to worry less. Less stress Shane, more vacation Shane, I think. Tell me more about where you want to travel with your hot rich husband.”
“Honestly, it wouldn’t really matter so long as I was with you.”
“I feel the same, moya lyubov.”