(have been thinking of Ilya catching Shane watching porn for awhile now - so here's a little ficlet - cw: mild humiliation (and my inevitable sappiness))
A flight delay and the resulting late arrival back to Ottawa makes the coaching staff cancel the next day's practice and Ilya decides he'll surprise Shane, driving out to Montreal where he lets himself into Shane's place.
(And if he sometimes traces the cuts and bitings of that key, when he's anxious or lonely or has just lost yet another game, just to remember how Shane handed it to him at the end of those first 2 weeks at the cottage, not quite willing to meet his eyes.
"Next season, you can let yourself in, if you get to my place first - I don't want you to have to wait."
And ever since then Ilya had always let himself in with his key to Shane's home, even if he knew Shane was there just for the small thrill of knowing he was always welcome.)
The place is quiet and Shane doesn't respond when he calls out to him, but Ilya notices Shane's jacket slung over one of the stools at the kitchen island and sees Shane's keys on their hook by the door.
Shane usually only naps on game days, but he's coming off a long roadie and maybe the season has caught up to him. Ilya smiles at the thought of waking Shane up, just enough so he's not startled, and then settling behind him and wrapping him up in his arms, pressing up against his body, all soft and nap warm.
But all thoughts of softness go out the window as soon as he opens the door to Shane's bedroom.
Shane is sprawled back against his ridiculous pillow collection, legs spread wide, furiously thrusting half his hand into his hole while his other huge hand strips his cock.
Shane's entire focus is on his laptop and his noise-cancelling earphones explain his lack of response.
Ilya almost chokes on his tongue and an aborted jerk backward towards the door catches Shane's attention.
Shane gasps and goes dead still for a beat before he slams the laptop lid shut and flushes to his belly. His mouth hangs open and his left arm jerks as he seems to realize that he still has 3 fingers inside of himself.
Ilya pounces, kneeling between Shane's spread thighs and grabbing at Shane's wrist with one hand, holding it tight so Shane's fingers stay where they belong while knocking the headphones askew with the other, "Ah ah ah, was just getting good - what's got you so worked up Hollander?"
Shane's eyes flit back to the closed laptop before he meets Ilya's eyes, "Nothing! Fuck off!"
"Nothing, hmm?" He raises his eyebrows and Shane shoots him a mildly furious look that only has Ilya more determined to see what he was watching.
"Just watching my highlights again?"
"No, you asshole - let me go - mood's ruined now," Shane says, face scarlet.
"Is that what you want? I let you go, we go to couch - cuddle, watch game?" He sits back on his heels and holds his hands up in front of him, shrugging, "Okei, okei, can do."
Ilya notices that Shane's hand stays exactly where he left it, "You could fuck me?" Shane asks, lips gone into a flirtatious moue.
"Not sure I am in mood, you know, long drive - maybe if I had something to turn me on?" Ilya prods as if they both can't see the thick weight of his cock through his shorts.
"Fuck, fine! But you can't make fun of me," Shane says.
"Have I ever?" Ilya asks and Shane shoots him an unimpressed look.
Ilya climbs behind Shane, throwing pillows to the ground to make room and hooks his right ankle over Shane's right calf, pinning him open and pressing his dick into the small of Shane's back.
He puts the laptop back between Shane's thighs but before he can open it, Shane has ducked his chin down intently focusing on the bedspread, which won't do at all.
Ilya grabs his jaw and forces Shane to watch as he opens it before all attempts at seriousness fade into snorting at the title.
"I do not think straight bros in locker room actually play 'casual game of grab ass' Shane. Probably do not 'full throttle fuck' after too - sorry if this is disappointing."
Shane rams him in the shoulder with the back of his head, and the fucker went for his left shoulder that they both know took a hit the week before.
"I will get myself off in the shower if you don't start touching me, Rozanov," Shane hisses and Ilya lets his hand trail down from Shane's chin, scratching lightly at his neck before groping one of his perfect tits.
Ilya presses play with his other hand and they watch as 2 very muscular men in football gear start stripping off in a locker room.
One of the men, handsome with brown hair, slides his shorts down thick thighs revealing a jock before ostentatiously bending over, his hole winking at the camera.
"Is this what Metros locker room is like, Shane?" Ilya asks, tweaking one of Shane's nipples with one hand while lazily tracing patterns on the soft skin of Shane's inner thigh with the other.
"You show your pretty little hole off to anyone, mmm?"
Shane gasps and starts pumping his fingers again at a pace that can only be teasing given how hard he had been going before Ilya's (very timely) interruption.
They watch as the other man stalks over, blonde and bearded, and snaps his towel against the other guy's ass before aggressively grabbing both cheeks and spreading the man wide, spitting at his hole.
"Would you have let me do that, do you think - in that locker room - could have had you so much sooner malysh."
"Noo, wouldn't have," Shane moans, bucking up against Ilya's hand where it's still tracing circles, rubbing the side of his dick against Ilya's fingers.
"I think you would have, always such a slut for me." Ilya takes the hint and starts pumping Shane's dick in his warm, calloused palm, timing his strokes to match Shane's thrusting, moving his other hand down to gently cup Shane's balls where they're pressed tight up against Shane's body.
On the screen the blonde is furiously thrusting into the other actor and Ilya might make fun of the lack of finesse if he himself wasn't basically humping Shane's back at that point.
Shane tilts his head back to catch Ilya's eye, "Fuck me, please, please fuck me," he pants and Ilya slams the laptop shut, pushing it down the bed.
He grabs Shane's hand to stop him from fucking himself and pushes him forward until he's flat on his stomach, taking one of Shane's thighs and rucking it up until it's bent beneath Shane to make room.
The lube is still out and Ilya pushes his shorts down just enough to slick up his dick before covering Shane's body with own, taking himself into hand and pushing into Shane's warm body.
Biting and kissing at the nape of Shane's neck while he screws his hips in tight circles. Shane is so so tight like this, making hiccuping little moans as he's fucked.
Ilya holds himself up with one arm while he works the other beneath Shane and gives him his warm palm to rut against before he starts thrusting hard enough to rock Shane's body forward a little with every push.
"Fuck, fuck, Ilya - so good," Shane shouts, come spurts into Ilya hand and Shane collapses into the bed while Ilya fucks him through it.
Ilya pulls out when Shane starts whimpering, overstimulated, and smears Shane's come over his cock before stroking himself, once, twice and then coming all over Shane's ass and thighs before collapsing next to him in their bed.
Shane turns his head and his pupils are huge and his face red from rubbing against the sheets. His smile is huge and dopey, "Hi Ilya," he says.
"Hi, Shane," Ilya responds and they both laugh.
"Am surprised you could get off on that," Ilya says.
"What - why?"
"Mmm - we do not know even if they are good football players - what if they are awful - would make your dick soft," and Shane shoves him (in the non-injured shoulder this time).
"Dick."
"Yes - gave you my dick very nice."
"The beard kind of reminded me of your playoff beard - you shouldn't shave it so quickly next time," Shane said.
"Oh - and when am I going to the playoffs again?" Ilya asks, scoffing.
"You know you'll be back there in a year or two - I know you will be," and Shane's eyes meet his straight on - completely sincere and utterly sure.
"Besides, I already found an ice rink we could rent out for the day in Ottawa - locker room and everything."
