Everyone sees a post-retirement Shane meltdown coming a mile away unless they find something to fill the hockey shaped hole in his brain, and someone casually throws out Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Shane figures well why not, can’t hurt to go to one class and see how it feels
He goes in and immediately, day one, gets his ass absolutely handed to him. Slammed to the ground, choked out, beat to shit, no rest no mercy the entire time and he LOVES it. Getting pushed and tested, needing to figure out strategy, fully working his muscles and getting thrown around. He comes home bruised and sore and can’t wait to go back
Ilya isn’t super sure at first about his husband getting recreationally beat up, especially after going to a practice early on and getting nauseous from watching people choking Shane and purposely putting him in so much pain he’s forced to tap out. The spouse of another person at the gym says to wait a few months before trying to watch again
But after a while he starts regularly hearing Shane laughing and Anya happy barking from other parts of the house, and walking in to find the two playfully wrestling around. Or when they watch the Pike kids they all want turns to get flipped around and wrestled by uncle Shane
And then of course one day Shane texts Ilya saying he wants Ilya to help him learn a triangle submission, and he adds a winky face and Ilya is just ??? Ok? I guess? But then he looks one up and well. That sure. Uh. That sure would be his husbands big strong sweaty thighs locked around his head and you know maybe he shouldn’t be too hasty to judge this hobby
Very soon Ilya is looking up moves for them to “practice” and he starts to see the appeal of his big strong husband being able to manhandle him and also anyone else. When he finally goes to watch another practice he sees Shane taking down guys six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier with ease and no actually so sorry they can’t go out to eat with everyone afterwards he needs to get his hot sweaty husband home immediately
The hockey world struggles to hide how pissed they are the first time Shane wins a tournament because of course he can’t retire normally and had to go and become the best at something else, specifically something that means he could beat the shit out of any of them if he wanted
times ilya rozanov was so lost in the sauce that he ascended to a higher plane: in (mostly) chronological order from hook-up era to marriage
the first time shane rode him during the hook-up era. when shane was still hollander, still nothing more than a torturous daydream, something he could have for small, greedy moments before having to let go of again. and he's still in denial about it all at this point, unwilling to put a name to that echoey, achey feeling in his chest that blooms when hollander leaves their bed and puts his carefully constructed mask back in place. Shane Hollander--the captain, the teenage phenom, the golden boy, the pride and joy of Canada--replacing the boy ilya had just had under his fingertips, in his mouth, beneath his body. anyway. it's a heady thing, for ilya, to have this side of hollander. to have hollander sat on top of him, holding ilya down with his wrists pinned above his head, hips moving slow and confident and maybe a little mean as he pants and grins and teases "you okay there rozanov?" and ilya just nods. he's totally okay, he's not seeing god or nirvana or angels or whatever the fuck. it's just hollander, bent over him, pretty face full of open wanting, a flush high on his cheeks, his mouth bitten red and slack around sweet sweet little 'unh unh unh' sounds every time he rolls his hips just right. and ilya just lays beneath him and grasps at his hips as he bounces and grinds in his lap. when he comes it makes him dizzy, his heart pounding in his throat, warmth tingling down his chest to his toes. it takes him a moment, too lost in the sauce to notice that hollander is still hard but then ilya is quickly rolling them over and swallowing him down the second he realises. later, he showers and thinks of how to get hollander on top of him--bouncing and grinding and rolling those strong hips, flexing those thick thighs, ass jiggling--again.
obviously, the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov is at the cottage. post-iloveyous, post-shanewakesilyaupinthemiddleofthenighttoplanthenextdecadeoftheirlivestogether. it's that moment when they're tangled up together in the soft sunlight, rain pitter-pattering on the wide glass windows, shane looking back at ilya so sweetly asking "this is real right" with his big, strong hand gripping at ilya's curls. and i think we can all agree that moment is the first moment they don't use condoms so ilya is trying to answer--to give shane the verbal confirmation he needs--but his entire body is buzzing with sensation at how warm, tight, soft, close shane feels like this. his mind is just drowning in loud tingling pleasure, his body also. all of him honed in on shane, shane, shane. he couldn't think of anything else if he tried. all he can do is nuzzle his nose into shane's pit, smear kisses over his ribs, lap helplessly at shane's nipple, and watch shane beneath him. watch his pretty face as his freckles bunch up, as his big brown eyes water with pleasure, as his cheeks get ruddy and his brows pinch then relax as his beautiful boy sinks into the sensation. and when they're both done, ilya stays tight to shane's back, just stroking up and down the thick muscle of his lover's thigh, kissing at his ribs, enjoying the afterglow. enjoying it the way he's wanted to for so long, with nothing between them and no need to wash away his longing by showering as fast as possible.
maybe not that first summer but after a year or two ilya manages to convince shane to smoke a blunt with him. and shane is terrible at it; he complains that the smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently and chokes on each inhale, barely taking any in. so, of course, ilya takes over. presses his mouth, damp and hot and full of smoke, to shane's and pushes his tongue past shane's lips. and that's how shane gets high, breathing in the smoke ilya traps behind his teeth. they smoke out on the dock, at sunset. shane says he feels nothing and ilya just hums, says "sure, hollander" and pokes shane's flushed cheeks, laughs at shane's wide pupils, lounges back against the wooden dock with a wicked quirk to his smart mouth. and he feels it. in his limbs, that heavy warm floaty buzzy feeling that makes him kinda feel like sleeping and kinda feel like bursting into a fit of childish giggles. it takes about ten minutes for shane's body to loosen, for him to turn to ilya with heavy, hazy eyes and then crawl over top of ilya, pushing him down into the dock to kiss him all sloppy and demanding and hot. and ilya's had sex high before, made out high before, but suddenly his heart is frantic. shane is heavy in his lap, shirtless and drenched in orange-gold light, freckles stark over his cheeks and shoulders. he's beautiful, his brown eyes turned amber in the sunset, his pouty mouth swollen and dragging heated kiss after heated kiss from ilya's lips. and ilya's heart is pounding, so fucking loud in his ears, he can feel the hectic thumping of it in his throat, in his chest, banging on his ribcage. actually, he's so violently turned on and the adrenaline is pumping so fast he feels sick and he wrenches away with a gasp and feels lightheaded and has to hold off shane who is pouting and whining for more kisses. all the blood in ilya's body has travelled to his dick and all that's left in his brain is a druggy haze of lust and cotton. this is the first time ilya rozanov ever freaks the fuck out on weed -- because his high brain got so turned on he nearly forgot to breathe between kisses. he has to lie flat on the dock breathing in through his mouth and out his nose for twenty minutes before he can get up and go inside.
i think their wedding night they are too drunk and delirious with joy to manage anything more than a sloppy, messy, grinding makeout in bed after everyone leaves. they're both coming in their pants and showering afterwards together and kissing some more and then falling asleep in a heap of tangled limbs. their honeymoon, however, is full of ridiculous, ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov sex moments. the most notable being after a night out at some club. shane had been just so fucking sweet and hot and joyful all night. dark hair styled nicely, big arms on display in the tight little sheer black t-shirt ilya buys him to wear out to the club, his fingers tucked into ilya's waistband most of the night, just a little possessive and a little clingy. but ilya just has such a nice night. he does shots with a drag queen and meets fun, attractive, queer people. he dances in public with his husband under pulsing neon lights and kisses shane in the corner underneath the speakers throbbing ear-splitting club music. he feels a little trashy and a lot young and infinitely in love with his husband who mostly just bobs his head awkwardly to the music and holds ilya's hand with a besotted look on his handsome face. and when they get in the uber back to the hotel at 4 in the morning shane doesn't even flinch when ilya plasters himself to his side, kisses all over his neck, gropes his chest in the backseat. and when they're finally in the hotel room and stripped naked there's glitter on shane's skin from brushing up against the other bodies on the dancefloor and he's sweaty and he smells a little musky and a little like alcohol and ilya just loves him. loves his husband for coming out with him to a club and indulging everything ilya wanted all night even if he was nervous. loves his husband for the way he'd just had eyes for ilya all night, not even noticing anyone else looking at him, dark eyes never straying from ilya. and they go into the bathroom to shower the night off their bodies but ilya gets distracted looking at shane in the mirror, looking at him standing there all naked and glorious in the soft yellow light, and he can't help but drop to his knees behind shane and pry apart his asscheeks and bury himself there, tongue lapping, pressing, smearing, sliding over shane's hole. and he sucks kisses into the skin, pushes his tongue in, drools over his own chin as he presses his face in deeper. eats shane out for so long that his neck cramps and his knees hurt but he's entirely lost in it. moaning and groaning and whimpering when shane pushes his hips back, when shane reaches back to grab his hair and hold him closer, when shane curses and pleads and whines for more. ilya isn't even thinking of fucking shane--he is enjoying this too much. at some point he started jerking himself off tho and he comes like that, tongue buried in his husband, moaning loudly and dripping saliva down his chin.
ilya has been injured for a week, on IR, out of commission. he's miserable about it. not just because of the hockey--not just bc he is captain and feels like a sack of shit for abandoning his team, to which shane had said "baby, it sucks but it's good it happened now and not later in the season. you'll be back on the ice in time to make sure we still make it to the playoffs"--but also because his injury has prevented him from doing much with his husband. shane has been on a roadie and ilya has been with yuna and david, being dotted on, which is a bit overkill -- it's just a sprained groin not even a severe sprain, the doctor had said it was only grade two and he'd been fine in a few weeks. but before that he hadn't been allowed to do much either -- nothing at all in the bedroom -- and he is miserable. when shane gets back he picks ilya up from his parent's place and anya too and they all go home to their quiet ottawa place. anya runs off to her favourite corner of the yard to reacquaint herself with her favourite pile of dirt in the bushes and shane fusses over ilya on the couch. ilya is NOT sulking at all, not at all bitching and whining like a child. he's just saying that he doesn't need all this fuss hollander, it's fine, please just come here and let me blow you at least. and shane--who is currently been bumped from A to C--is trying to be responsible and telling his husband "no, you will not go on your knees and strain your groin further just to suck me off" and ilya groans and says "okay, i will lie flat and you can sit on my face, do all the work yourself" and, well, shane's dick is a little interested in that. but no, he shakes his head. so ilya pulls out the big guns, he pouts, flutters his thick lashes, looks up at shane with his eyes all pleading and says "i miss you" and shane groans, rubs a hand over his face and stomps away. ilya thinks his tactic has failed but then shane is coming back, dropping lube onto the couch then climbing behind ilya, dragging ilya back to lean his back against shane's chest. and ilya is confused by this turn of events but says nothing as shane kisses at his throat, runs a featherlight touch up and down the ladder of his ribs, the other hand massaging ilya's thick thigh muscle, careful of where ilya's muscle tore. and shane does this for ages, just kissing at ilya's neck, biting at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, scratching blunt nails over ilya's sides and rubbing his thumb over ilya's nipple. ilya is hard as fuck and wants to squirm away but shane holds him tighter and sucks a bruise into the soft skin behind his ear. eventually he's pushing down ilya's pants and briefs and slicking his hand with lube and slowly, torturously, meanly, stroking ilya's cock in lazy drags. his palm and fingers applying the faintest amount of pressure, dragging over ilya's cock lazily, like he has all the time in the world. and ilya can't fucking do anything about it. shane has one leg clamped over ilya's knee to keep him from moving and has his other hand wrapped firm around ilya's hip. he keeps kissing wet and messy and biting at ilya's throat. keeps stroking just on this side of too little. he maybe spends half an hour like that, nosing at ilya's jawline, murmuring softly to him saying "baby, baby, shh, just like this" and ilya is going fuzzy at the edges. forgetting all about being annoyed abt being on IR, forgetting all about feeling lazy and useless. "let me take care of you, you do so much, work so hard," shane sighs "just enjoy it" and ilya, strangely, does. the world's slowest, lightest, sweetest handjob reducing him to a puddle of goo melted between shane's thighs. when ilya eventually comes it's with a soft whimper and then shane is cleaning up his tummy and kissing his forehead and making him a nice meal and getting him an icepack for his groin.
their first wedding anniversary is probably the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov. it's the anniversary of their pikelet wedding -- during the season and not a public date that their team, friends, or the wider hockey world is aware of. it's just a date for them. the day ruby and jade married them with children's plastic rings in stupid costumes. ilya doesn't really tell shane in the lead up to it that he has a plan -- and he doesn't know that shane has one either -- so they're both going to practice on the day and acting coy when asked abt their plans for the evening. (they both made dinner reservations at the same spot where they had their first date post telling Crowell to fuck himself). and so they get home after practice and shane says -- before ilya gets a chance -- "i booked us a dinner for tonight, since it's our anniversary" and ilya is briefly overcome by joy, elation, absolute ridiculous gooey sappy emotion before he says, outloud "fuck!" and shane is blinking like ??? and ilya says "nothing, lyubimy, nothing" and then "i am excited" even though internally he is like fuckfuckfuckmyplans but then they park outside the resturant and he bursts into laughter and shane is again like ??? and ilya explains through hysterical bursts of laughter that he booked the same place and when they get inside they ask to see which table each reservation had assigned to it then pick the best one -- shane's table because he remembered the exact table they sat at that first time. and they eat a beautiful dinner together, without any nonsense from paps or fans, ankles tangled under the table, smiling stupidly at each other over the massive chicken parmesan ilya ordered. and when they get home they kiss all the way from the front door to the bedroom, hands wandering all over, careful, tender touches. and we all know ilya "loverboy" rozanov loves to make love to his husband missionary so shane is on his back with his legs around ilya's hips and his ankles hooked around the small of ilya's back and their fingers are tangled above shane's head on the mattress and their foreheads are pressed together as they breathe into each other's mouths just moving slow slow slow. and ilya gets lost in it. the slow rhythm of their bodies, the wet drag of their mouths, the press of shane's slick tongue, their noses rubbing, their foreheads touching, lips smudging and panting together. it's probably a good half hour of just slow rocking, quiet moans, soft sighs, until ilya picks up the pace, presses in harder, and sends them both over the edge. and ilya fades out for a bit, laying on top of shane's chest, ear pressed to shane's heart, listening to its steady pulse. shane's arms around him, caressing and rubbing his spine. and maybe he rolls shane onto his side and slides back into him and fucks him again twenty minutes later, fingers locked around shane's hip, pulling him tighter, burying growls and whimpers in shane's neck, nipping at his earlobe. he starts crying at some point, but shane is too, though he thinks shane's tears are from pleasure. ilya is just happy and sad all in one confusing tumble. both so joyful he got this and so scared that there had been a moment where he might not have gotten it. and he comes again, rutting deep into his husband's body, clutching him close, wiping his tears away by dragging his cheeks over the wings of shane's shoulder blades. and after, shane rolls over, grabs either side of his face, kisses him all over, forehead and brows and eyelids and mouth and nose and cheeks and chin, and murmurs "love you so much, husband" and ilya garbles something back along that same sentiment and bites at shane's chin. he wants to eat him, devour him whole, swallow him. it's ashame they can't be one being. but this closeness will do.
ilya makes shane smile in that way where only the very corner of one side of his mouth twitches and turns up, the really sweet one when paired with his gentle eyes, and ilya reaches out and touches his thumb to that spot, says, "mine".
shane raises his eyebrows. "what?"
"this," ilya says, moving his thumb back and forth. "when this goes up. is mine."
"oh you're claiming my smiles now?"
"yes. also this—" ilya seeks out and pokes a spot high on shane's right cheek, "—this freckle."
"mmm, okay. anything else?"
ilya makes an 'I'm thinking' face. "probably. but I cannot think of anything now. I will get back to you on this," said in the tone shane reads his emails in. shane smiles fully and leans in. ilya copies him till they're nose to nose. brushing.
"well you don't have to think about it," shane says, "because it's all yours."
ilya asks, "what is?"
"me." shane puts his arms around ilya's neck, tilts his head, says into ilya's lips, "I'm all yours."
WAIT BUT(T) ilya eating and fingering shane's ass while shane is in hisjock and making him come into the jock and then not letting him change out of it until ilya says 😊😊😊😊😊 possibly doing this repeatedly until shane is near tears with discomfort AND insane levels of horniness 😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇
Hollanov gets married before their first NHL game for citizenship and falls in love along the way (completed)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/88289861
Shane Hollander is an incredibly busy hockey player that hates managing his own schedule. Enter personal assistant Ilya Rozanov (WIP)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82186826
Harris decides to start a series on their socials asking the players different questions. We also get to see some of the situations play out (WIP)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/80246546
Ilya billeted with the Hollanders as a teenager from Russia and formed a connection with Shane. Now in university, they find each other again (completed)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/83160051
Cliff Marlow breaks into Ilya’s phone and steals the number for Jane without knowing who it really is. They become great friends despite the secret (WIP
https://archiveofourown.org/works/81693776
A chatfic chronicling Shane’s first year on the centaurs (completed)
The Centaurs decide to secretly compete to see who can make Ilya laugh the hardest as part of a social media campaign promoting the upcoming season
Most of them get at least a chuckle out of Ilya, some get a full laugh. Shane goes last and he just silently texts Ilya something then puts his phone down. Ilya checks his phone and starts laughing so hard he almost passes out, with Shane smiling smugly at the others who all went all out in their efforts to make their captain laugh
The video ends with a screenshot of what Shane sent Ilya and it’s a picture of Anya wearing sunglasses
For weeks Ilya will start laughing when he looks at his phone and sees the picture and it pisses the team off every time because Shane just silently grins every time
I think one time during the final Boston year Shane chips his tooth and he shows up to Metros practice and the guys are like "Wait did you get clipped in the last game? Where were we?" and Shane is like "Yeah, I didn't even notice it during the game, must've been a stray stick or something. You got tape I can borrow?" Quickly changing the subject because he actually chipped his tooth while voraciously sexting Ilya and trying to get a well-composed photograph of his pecs but he was finding it hard to flex and push his biceps in toward his chest while holding the phone up above his head lying down in bed dildo half-in his ass while Ilya is sending rapid-fire text messages from the back of the Raider's team bus during an 8-week dry spell like—Send hole, Send nipples, tell me you love me, Send me your cock, tell me you want my cock, are you moaning? send me a voice note, yes I'll keep it quiet, volume is low Hollander, did you get the toy in? God I fucking love you. Missed you so much today almost chartered my own flight to Montreal, Yes I know you would be turned off by bad financial decision, God I want to swallow your dick. I want to see your nipples baby want to come all over them make you push your tits together, alright I won't call them tits you are no fun, make it nice for me, baby baby babyyyyyy, my good little— and Shane is rapid fire messaging back and also trying to take pictures and his cock is so hard it hurts and then he drops the phone on his face, chipping the tooth and swearing and the next picture he sends to Ilya is his fat fucking lip and bloody mouth and chipped tooth and despite being a little worried about what happened, Ilya nearly shoots off in his pants, no context needed. Cliff wakes up from a nap and thumps Ilya's back, thinking he's choking on his Doritos.
I don't feel like I painted Ilya's portrait enough here so for those interested- He's in the back of the Raider's bus, the part of the coach bus that's like three seats wide. Ilya's got the window seat and he shoves Cliff to the seat near the bathroom, saying he needs the middle seat to stretch his stiff hip (his hip is fine, it's fine). His hood is pulled up so far over his head like little red riding hood and he's bent over his knees, phone practically inside the hood, earbuds crumpled up in his hand because he can't stop texting Shane horny shit long enough to put them in. He keeps adjusting his brightness to see Shane's pictures but then lowering it immediately. He scored a hat trick AND assisted a rookie in getting a goal in their game and Boston fucking won against a strong contender. Hollander had said he'd reward him if he played well, and when he was boarding the bus Shane had sent the first dick pic and Ilya realizes that Shane is feeling as wild missing him as Ilya does.
And it's always a surprise, when Shane takes risks, not because he's a puritan (Shane has taken almost all the risk when it comes to them getting together!), but because Ilya is still wrapping his mind around the whole thing, and it's hard when he can't see Shane because sometimes it doesn't feel real, but in moments like this when he realizes that Shane is just as desperate for him and Ilya is for him, it uncages the beast a bit. He doesn't know how to stop asking, how to stop demanding that Shane give him more. He's greedy like that. He's on a good win streak, he's got a fun size bag of sweet chili doritos and the man he loves in his phone sending a picture of the come pooling in his abs. Life is good! Only five more days until they see each other.
ilya came all over shane’s face, pulling some onto his mouth. shane sucked his finger and ilya said “how do you say when someone gives you a nice thing? aren’t you a respectful canadian?” and shane says “thank you” and ilya goes “you’re such a whore” and shane responded “only for you” and ilya asked “yeah? whose mouth is this?” and shane responded “yours, only yours” and ilya’s like “yeah, you’re only mine, my slut” as he put one more finger into shane’s mouth, who whimpered. ilya goes “i wish i could capture that. you look so good, flushed with my cum all over your face”. that’s how shane gifted ilya with a digital camera and how he ended up with a pornographic album of shane.
shane and ilya go to the museum, find The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, take a picture of themselves recreating the painting. ilya posts it on instagram. harris then reposts it on the ottawa centaurs official account on valentine’s day.
Hollanov doing another house tour video now that they're married, and for two while weeks prior to shooting it's just Shane and Ilya frantically searching every corner of their house for stashed lube, condoms, and sex toys.
Shane is terrified one will make it into an edit. Just sitting out on some shelf in the office or on display in the gym by accident. So he gets a big crate with a lock to throw them all in.
This double backfires on him the night before the shoot, because he's so anxious and needs Ilya to fuck the nerves out of him, but all their lube is locked up, and Ilya is swearing at the lock because it won't accept his combination (he has the right number he's just too frantic to put it in right) and Shane is just pacing, an absolute ball of stress.
They finally get it open and then fuck like bunnies until Shane passes out.
Which means they sleep in the next morning and have to rush around. And inevitably, it means Ilya remembers last night's lube bottle about 20 seconds before the cameras land in their bedroom. So all he has time for is to run ahead and throw it under the bed and hope that Anya doesn't find it before the crew leave.
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