He hated losing. He particularly hated losing against his husband.
"Sorry," Ilya panted as he grabbed a water bottle from the bench.
"No you aren't," Shane glared, swiping his own bottle. "A shot on an empty net should not fucking count."
"Oh it counts," Ilya smacked his stick against Shane's. "It was in last 2 seconds of the game. That counts."
Their wager at been the first to score a hat trick for the Cens this season would win. Shane got close with the first two games and but Ilya was on fire tonight. They lead 5-2, with Ilya scoring a hat trick and the last goal, and Shane and Haas with one goal each. Even though two of Ilya's goal's were assists of Shane during a powerplay.
"So," Shane asked him once they were getting dressed after showers. Most of the guys had filed out already. "What do you want?"
"What do I want...," Ilya pretended to think like he didn't already have an answer. The asshole. "So many possibilities."
"Well you can think about it then."
"Wait, I got it," Ilya snapped, like the idea just came to him and leaned closer to Shane so only he could hear. "I want a lap dance."
"What?" Shane hissed, pulling back. "No fucking way, dude."
"Is my prize," Ilya said. "Unless you are too scared."
"I'm not scared," Shane recoiled.
"No, it's okay," Ilya said condescendingly, a glint in his eyes. "It is probably intimidating. I mean, Ilya Rozanov has gotten so many lap dances. Professional ones, yes? How are you going to, uh, hold up to that. I'll think of something easier for you."
"I know what you're fucking doing."
Fucking yes. Yes, it was.
Shane was nothing if not all in. His mother used to tell him anything worth doing is worth doing well. And then Shane would take 'well' and turn that into being the best.
The problem was, Shane really couldn't give a lap dance better than professionals.
His recent google searches included research such as:
Lap dance songs.
Professional lap dance tutorial not porn
Men lap dance on men
Women lap dance
Most popular lap dance songs gay
Gay lap dance song not sad
Top sexy songs
Why do dancers count 5678
Lap dance lessons near me private for men
Shane groaned, and laid his head on his desk. This was so stupid. He should not be nervous about giving his own husband a lap dance. His husband who has seen, touched, licked, every inch of his body.
He knew Ilya liked to watch. And Shane, not so secretly, liked to be watched. Ilya watching him gave him that same buzz as stadiums rising to chant his name. Still. He wasn't a great dancer. He danced with Ilya sometimes but Ilya always lead. He wasn't going to be able to hold a candle to all the professional women Ilya had gotten lap dances from. Especially with only a couple days to prepare.
But. Shane lifted his head. He could do something that none of those professional women could.
It was a risky move, Shane considered, but like Ilya always said, he was brave.
When Ilya walked back through the door with Anya after their evening walk and hung his keys on the hook, he was immediately aware there was no husband throwing himself into Ilya's arms. Or even saying hi. Rude.
"Shane?" Ilya called out, toeing off his shoes. "We're back."
"In here!" Shane called out from the living room.
As Ilya walked into the room, a slow smile spread over his face. Shane had dragged a dining room chair into the center of the room, coffee table and couch pushed out of the way. He had set their lights to a nice soft warm glow.
"Got anything else to do?" Shane shifted, nervous. His brave, perfect boy.
"Nothing," Ilya responded. "Let me put Anya up and I'll be right back."
After he put Anya in her mansion of a crate with a peanut butter filled Kong and some toys, he stalked back into the living room, smoothing over his hair. He was curious how Shane was going to play this.
He suspected some soft, sexy song. Maybe from one of Ilya's playlists.
Shane wasn't dressed up, but Ilya didn't expect him to be. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweatpants. Good layers for a lap dance, so he could slowly pull each of them off. Ilya hoped he was wearing one of those tight black tank tops underneath...
He settled into the chair, letting a cool, confident look wash over his features, legs sprawled open and hands resting on his thighs.
Shane took a deep breath and clicked the remote for their Bluetooth surround sound system.
Immediately, a familiar, albeit slowed down, song filled his ears.
There lived a certain man, in Russia long ago
Ilya let out a startled laugh. What? This was not the soft sexy song he expected. Still, this was a song that he loved so much that a line from it was on his Instagram bio for years - Russia's Greatest Love Machine.
Shane, a little stiffly at first, started to move with the music, and pointed over to Ilya when the song said 'a certain man'. He let his hips sway and his shoulders move, finding the song's rhythm.
He was big and strong and in his eyes, a flaming glow
Shane made a show of flexing his arms, finally starting to walk over to an Ilya who could barely contain his joy. His perfect husband. Shane brushed his hand over Ilya's cheeks.
Most people looked at him with terror and the fear
Shane pulled off the hoodie and Ilya shifted in his seat. Shane turned around, showing off Ilya's Centaur's jersey.
But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear
Shane pressed his hands over his heart and then took down his pants, now in just tight black boxers and Ilya's jersey. He looked so fucking good. Thick, plush thighs disappearing into tight black fabric. Without all the under-gear, the jersey looked even bigger on him than usual, falling just above the hemline of his underwear. Ilya just wanted to flip it up, fabric pooling around his waist...
Ilya reached out to touch his thighs and Shane backed up.
"Hey," Shane said lowly. "No touching the dancers. I'll have to get security if you try that again, sir."
"Sorry," Ilya said breathlessly and sat on his hands. Shane seemed pleased with this and finally lowered himself on Ilya's lap. He didn't let all of his weight down, bracing himself on his spread feet as he hovered just above Ilya's lap.
Shane didn't really dance so much as he just grinded against Ilya, but he had no complaints. He did lip sing parts of the song, which would make Ilya laugh. When Shane whispered, breath hot against his ear, "lover of the Russian queen", Ilya finally broke.
"Fuck, Shane," Ilya's hips bucked up to his husband, desperate for it.
"You won a whole song," Shane responded, but by his gasps Ilya knew he was just as close to breaking.
"Exception," Ilya begged.
"Maybe just this once," Shane let all his weight settled onto his husband's lap. He pulled Ilya's hands up and he wasted no time grabbing him by the waist and pressing him close. Shane's hands went to his hair as he kissed him roughly.
"Wait," Ilya stood up with Shane still in his arms and Shane whined at the kiss ending. "Shh," Ilya soothed, placing Shane on the chair.
"Ilya," Shane complained, starting to pull off the jersey.
"Hey," Ilya said sharply. "Jersey stays on."
Ilya grabbed the remote to the speakers. "Restarting the song."
