Shane hadn’t been expecting to see Ilya the night of Ottawa’s Pride game, but he wasn’t surprised to find him on his doorstep after midnight.

“Come here,” Shane said, arms open. Ilya collapsed into them.

Shane pulled him inside and closed the door. For a long while, he just held him in the dark, rubbing his back while Ilya breathed against him.

Shane had watched the game. It had been amazing, seeing the support from the fans for Troy Barrett. All the banners celebrating his decision to come out. Shane had watched the coming out video Troy had posted to his Instagram too. He’d even teared up a bit, watching it.

He knew Ilya was happy for Troy too. He’d seen how emotional Ilya had been during the long standing ovation Troy had gotten before the game had started. It had been a huge day for hockey.

But Shane also understood why Ilya needed to be held right now.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked quietly.

“No,” Ilya said, his voice muffled by Shane’s shoulder. “I am crashing, I think.”

“I get it.”

“It was a wonderful night. I should be happy.”

“It’s okay to feel weird about it. I do.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah. Like when Scott Hunter kissed Kip on TV. It was amazing, but also…fuck, right?”

Ilya laughed. “Yes. Exactly that.”

All Shane wanted to do was take care of Ilya, however he could. Ilya always knew exactly what to do when Shane was a mess. “What do you need?”

“Need you,” Ilya said simply. “Just…need to stop thinking.”

Shane stepped back, but squeezed Ilya’s hand. “Come upstairs. I’ve got some ideas for how to distract you.”

Ilya smiled and removed his coat, stuffing his toque into one of the pockets, and hung it up. He was still wearing the suit he’d left the arena in, including the dress shoes he was now sliding his feet out of.

“Did you drive here straight from the arena?” Shane asked as they walked upstairs together.

“Yes.”

Shane reached a hand behind him, and Ilya took it.

“You know I showered after the game, yes?” Ilya said with a gentle, teasing smile when Shane led him to the bathroom and its giant rainfall shower.

“This shower will be better.”

Shane turned on the water and let the room fill with steam as they both undressed in the bedroom. It took longer than it needed to because they kept pausing to make out a bit.

“Come on,” Shane said softly. “Shower.”

Ilya always looked spectacular when he was naked and wet. Shane had no idea how his teammates were able to shower with him without losing their shit. Shane certainly hadn’t been able to, all those years ago.

“Is this shampoo new?” Ilya asked as Shane washed his hair. Ilya had to bend forward slightly so Shane could reach.

“Yeah. You like it?”

“Smells nice. Like the ocean.”

“It has seaweed or something in it.”

“Even your hair is healthy.”

“Shut up. Rinse.”

Ilya obediently tipped his head back and rinsed his hair. The suds trailed down his body, dipping into the curves of his pecs and abs, and over and around his muscular shoulders. His cock was mostly soft, and Shane hoped to seize the opportunity that had been presented to him.

“Can I suck you?” he asked. “Wanna feel you get hard in my mouth.”

Ilya’s expression melted into pure desire. “You should hurry.”

Shane sank to his knees, running his hands over Ilya’s solid body. He mouthed gently at Ilya’s soft dick before taking it fully in his mouth. Ilya hissed and began to stiffen immediately. Shane kept his mouth loose, his tongue barely touching Ilya’s hardening flesh, and just enjoyed the sensation of being filled up.

When Ilya was fully hard, Shane pulled off and worshipped his cock with little kitten licks and kisses, then spent some time sucking gently under the head. Ilya murmured sweet nothings in Russian, his fingers tracing lightly along Shane’s cheeks and into his wet hair.

“So sweet for me,” Ilya murmured, in English.

Shane responded by locking his gaze on Ilya’s and sliding his lips down, taking him deep.

He was pretty excellent at sucking dick these days. Like all things he wanted, he’d worked hard at it. He’d studied, practiced, and visualized being able to do this. Being able to take his boyfriend’s cock into his throat and feel it grow even harder, nearly choking him. He loved how it felt, but more than that, he loved what it did to Ilya.

“Yes,” Ilya sighed quietly, the word almost lost in the sound of rushing water.

Shane slid his hands around to Ilya’s ass, gripping into the firm muscle and pulling him closer. His knees were already starting to hurt, but he could endure it. Maybe he should keep a yoga kneepad in the bathroom…

“Fuck, Hollander. That fucking mouth. Made for this,” Ilya growled above him, breaking Shane’s boring train of thought. Shane hummed around him, because yes. He was made for this. For anything Ilya needed from him.

He dipped his fingers into the crease of Ilya’s ass and inquisitively brushed against his hole. Ilya wasn’t always into this, but sometimes he was really into it, and Shane had a feeling…

“Yes,” Ilya said. “Keep going.”

Shane pulled back slightly on Ilya’s cock so he could focus on doing two things at once, while also being able to breathe. He sucked the head of Ilya’s cock while he traced circles on Ilya’s rim with one fingertip. Ilya moaned quietly above him. His eyes were closed and he looked like he might fall over, swaying slightly on his feet.

Shane gave his dick a parting kiss, then stood, keeping his teasing finger on his rim. “Why don’t we get you in bed, and I’ll give you whatever you need?”

Ilya nodded, and Shane turned off the water.

Shane dried Ilya off with a fluffy gray towel, starting with his hair, then his chest and arms and stomach, then down between his legs until he was once again kneeling at Ilya’s feet.

Ilya tangled his fingers in Shane’s wet hair and tugged slightly. “I need too much from you tonight.”

“You can have it. Anything.”

A soft sound escaped Ilya’s lips, close to a whimper. “Take me apart, Hollander.”

Shane dried himself off at lightning speed and followed Ilya to the bed. Ilya was already sprawled out on his stomach, a pillow under his hips, ass raised, making it clear what he needed. After three years of being an exclusive couple, they knew each other’s bodies well, and they knew each other’s limits. Ilya wasn’t interested in bottoming any more than Shane was interested in topping, but sometimes Ilya liked it when Shane gave his ass some attention. Sometimes Ilya just wanted to be taken as far out of himself as he could go, and this seemed to do it for him.

Shane started with his tongue. He kept it light and soft, fluttering his tongue the way he liked himself. Ilya groaned and seemed to sink deeper into the mattress.

They didn’t talk. Shane kept his mouth busy and Ilya, he hoped, was too out of his head to form words. Shane soaked up his moans and gasps and sighs as he increased the pressure of his tongue. Ilya was so tight, but Shane was finally, after several minutes, able to poke the tip of his tongue inside.

“Oh,” Ilya gasped.

Shane should offer to do this more often. Ilya rarely asked for it, but maybe Shane had been missing times where Ilya had wanted to ask for it.

Shane pulled back and admired his work so far. He suspected Ilya was ready for something deeper. “You want fingers?”

“Mmff.”

Shane laughed. “Gonna need an actual word.”

“Da. Yes. Fucking come on.”

Shane fetched a bottle of lube, then paused as he stared into the nightstand drawer. “You want to try a toy maybe?” Ilya hadn’t been a fan of the dildo Shane had tried on him once, two years ago, but they had smaller things now. Little vibrating prostate massagers and plugs.

“No,” Ilya said. “Just want you.”

Shane dropped a kiss on Ilya’s temple. “Okay.” He drizzled lube on his fingers. “Um. So, do you want…”

“Fingers, Hollander. Put your fingers in me. And fucking relax.”

Shane scoffed. “You’re the one who needs to relax here.”

“You are the one who is taking forever.”

“I liked it better when you couldn’t talk.”

“Then make me forget how to.”

Shane playfully bit Ilya’s ass cheek, then pressed a slick finger against Ilya’s hole. He worked him slowly, carefully, until he could slip inside without much resistance, up to the second knuckle. He searched around until he found the spot that made Ilya’s whole body jolt.

“Holy fuck,” Ilya panted. “I always forget.”

Shane smiled and started a rhythm. After a few minutes, Ilya was a trembling mess.

“Good, right?” Shane said softly. “Like waves. I love riding this feeling.”

“It is…a lot.”

“Yeah. Like you’re gonna come but not exactly. It feels so fucking good.”

“You come like this, sometimes.”

“I do,” Shane agreed. “And it’s fucking amazing.”

Ilya whimpered.

“You wanna try?” Shane asked.

“I… Yes. Fuck. Feels like it will kill me. Rip me in half.”

“It won’t. Let it happen.”

Shane knew Ilya was humping the pillow a bit, which was technically cheating, but it still took a surprisingly short amount of time before Ilya said, “Don’t stop. Oh fuck. Shane,” then clenched hard around Shane’s finger. His body rocked as he moaned and cursed, then finally stilled.

Shane extracted his finger and kissed Ilya’s spine while he waited for him to come down. Finally, Ilya said, “I hope you did not like that pillow.”

Shane laughed. “That bad, huh?”

“My whole body just shot out of my dick.”

“Do we count that as a lower-body injury?”

Ilya rolled to his back and grinned up at Shane. “Come here so I can jerk you off.”

Shane knee-walked until he was straddling Ilya’s waist. “I can do it. Your limbs are all noodly.”

Ilya folded his hands behind his head. “My favorite show.”

Shane smiled and poured more lube into his palm, then got to work. Less than a minute later, he was on the brink of orgasm. “Sorry,” he gritted out. “I can’t—”

“Is okay,” Ilya said. “Come on.”

Shane stopped trying to fight it, and let his orgasm slam into him, spilling all over Ilya’s chest. Then, Shane collapsed forward and kissed him messily. “Love you,” he murmured against Ilya’s lips. “So much.”

Later, after they’d cleaned up and Shane had put the unfortunate pillow in the laundry for tomorrow, they cuddled up together in bed. It was late and they were both struggling to stay awake.

“Did I tell you,” Ilya said, “that Bood and Cassie had their baby?”

“No.”

“They had a boy,” Ilya said. “Milo.”

“Nice name.”

“Mm. I saw him. Very cute.”

Shane fiddled with the ring on Ilya’s chain. “What would you name your son?”

“Roger Crowell.”

Shane cracked up. “He’d love that.”

“Roger Crowell Rozanov.”

“Stop.”

“Or…” Ilya rolled on top of him, grinning. “Roger Crowell Rozanov-Hollander.”

“God, that’s a mouthful,” Shane said as his heart melted into goo. “Hollander-Rozanov is alphabetical, though, so…”

“Sounds worse.”

“Maybe we could combine our names. Hollanov. Rozander.”

“Roger Rozander. Terrible name.”

“We’re not naming our kid Roger, you sack of shit!”

They both laughed, and then kissed until exhaustion made their mouths sloppy and slow. Ilya fell asleep first, and Shane listened to his steady breathing as his own body fizzed with happiness.

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