And take it he certainly did?! And take it he certainly did
*muffled screaming*
🚨🚨AND TAKE IT HE CERTAINLY DID🚨🚨
this was about hudson’s psychosexual obsession with how big and strong connor is and how he loves peacocking in front of him and how that led to him refusing padding during the vegas hotel sex scene ON THEIR FIRST DAY OF SHOOTING???? WHEN HE CANONICALLY FELT HE HAD TO EARN CONNOR’S APPROVAL???????
yeah what an insane chain of events that hudson has just offered up to us every step of the way like it’s NOTHING. i often think that if this is the shit he openly and enthusiastically reveals in interviews what in the actual FUCK is in that rpf journal of his
Ilya watches Shane win MVP from the hotel, the image of him in his tux crystal clear on the huge flatscreen adorning the wall of Shane’s penthouse suite. The words penthouse scream luxury anywhere, but in Vegas it’s different; the suite is fucking huge, and Ilya figures he could fit about four of his apartment into it. Both his room and Sveta’s could fit into the living room of this suite alone, and still have some space left over.
Maybe something is broken in him, that it doesn’t feel weird or wrong. If anything it turns him on, the excess of it all, the beauty of it. Gaudy mock-ups of Grecian statues in the foyer, their own fucking pool. A balcony overlooking the strip, a games room, a fully-fitted kitchen as if either of them can cook. And the way Shane had shrugged it off, like it’s normal. Which, Ilya reminds himself, it probably is for him.
Well, Ilya has plans to fuck him in every single room of this too-big suite, and the balcony, too. He could probably get him to hump one of the statues until he comes if he wanted, which he doesn’t. Not right now, anyway; his mind is subject to change, and Ilya knows that Shane will do whatever he asks of him.
And he looks so fucking good in his tux. Custom Calvin Klein, part of the brand deal he has with them, fitted tight at his thick waist and tapering out at his wide shoulders. The second he’d stepped out of the bathroom it’d taken everything in Ilya not to drop to his fucking knees right there and suck his dick through the silky fabric.
Shane shakes the presenter’s hand, plastering on his media smile and looking down at the trophy in his hands. There was once a time that Ilya wouldn’t know the difference between the Shane Hollander smile and his real smile; there was once a time he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn. And isn’t that a scary thought, that he could’ve lived a whole life without meeting Shane, without kissing him or teasing him or fucking him. Without counting the freckles on his cheeks, or learning his pre-game routine, or knowing the minutiae behind something as small as a smile.
Lately, Ilya has been getting the feeling that he’s fucked. That he’s crossing a line, and that once he’s fully over it he won’t be able to go back. Watching Shane lift the trophy and say “I’m so grateful to my team, my family, and for the people waiting for me at home,” feels a lot like a crossing of its own.
The music plays; Shane leaves the stage, joins his teammates in the audience, and for the first time since they left Montreal, Ilya feels something curdle in his stomach. For the people waiting for me at home. Is that supposed to be him? Maybe. Possibly. Likely, even, since he knows good and well that Shane doesn’t have anyone else waiting for him. And it’s Ilya’s job to wait for him; he has no right to wish that he was there, sitting next to him, kissing his cheek and applauding embarrassingly loud.
Crossing a line. Moving from we fuck and you pay for dinner, for my apartment, for my skates into calling Shane Hollander’s penthouse apartment in uptown Montreal home. Kissing him on the cheek when he passes in the kitchen, cooking together. Fucking face to face, slow and intimate, kissing his eyelids. Ilya needs to get his fucking feelings under control or he’s going to get himself hurt. He’s a professional, this doesn’t happen to him; a good time, an easy fuck, easy money. That’s what he’d said to Shane when he was signing the NDA. Trust me, Mr. Hollander, this isn’t my first time.
When was the last time he’d even called him Mr. Hollander? Somewhere between midterms and finals, maybe. Ilya hadn’t even registered the shift, hadn’t realised that even this small show of emotion had permeated his carefully-crafted performance. Not so careful, if he calls him Shane, if he misses him when he’s gone, if he wears his t-shirt to bed. Fuck.
Hudson Williams’ previously announced Crave show “Yaga,” which follows a private investigator who is trying to figure out the mysterious disappearance of a fishery heir, will premiere this year.
Stockman said they were still deciding the release plan but teased that the show is “sort of sexy, but also creepy” and Williams’ role will surprise audiences.
“His character in this show is very, very different than his character in ‘Heated Rivalry,'” he said.
I love jock4jock Hollanov in canon I love that they’re two clueless dudes navigating institutional toxic masculinity and being so bad at it for so long
