those big strong silly boys are always doing some weird shit with their bodies together. shane is attempting squats while ilya is clinging to his back. they're sprinting as fast they can while barefoot on the grass at the cottage just to see who can run 100 metres the fastest. they're climbing trees and doing back flips off the dock. they're taking turns tackling each other and seeing who can hold their ground the longest. ilya's flexing his abs and telling shane to hit him as hard as he can in the stomach ("I'm not going to hit you as hard as I can" "oh my god you are so boring"). and well, of course the wrestling,
hollanov fic: sleepy cuddly morning sex + quiet dirty talk
it's cold outside their blankets. ilya lies flush against shane's back. his arms hug him close. their legs lay tangled together in the duvet. shane woke first but allowed himself the lie-in. they don't have practice today, and shane doesn't have any commitments with friends.
ilya woke a few minutes ago, making it known by rubbing shane's stomach, but neither of them have said a word. content to exist in the knowledge of each other's soft attention. ilya's hand continues to move across shane's skin, palm flat and circling his bellybutton. shane's cock is thickening against his thigh. ilya's mouth, which has been releasing warm breaths over the nape of shane's neck, purses into a kiss against the soft hair there.
"malysh," he mumbles, so quietly. shane hums. "are you going out today?"
his words have soft edges, drowsy. "no," shane replies, just as quiet.
ilya's turn to hum. the movement of his hand doesn't cease. he shifts closer and nestles his clothed erection between shane's cheeks, making shane inhale and push back against him. ilya hasn't moved his hand down shane's body.
"are you hard?" ilya asks, without urgency.
they both still have their eyes closed. they're nowhere but here. shane says, "yeah."
quiet noise of acknowledgment from ilya. "do you want my hand?"
shane breathes, "yeah."
"mmm."
ilya doesn't give him his hand. he drags it up shane instead, resting it on one of his pecs. gently squeezes the muscle—once, twice, slow. shane grunts and arches into it. ilya kisses his neck again. then he uses just his first two fingers to begin circling shane's nipple. shane moans, quietly. his cock gives a hard throb. one more.
ilya lifts his fingers to shane's lips, murmuring, "suck."
shane does. ilya's fingers are salty. and warm. he pushes them in and out of shane's mouth, along his tongue, in a slow fuck. when he withdraws, a string of spit extends from the tips of his fingers to shane's bottom lip. ilya either doesn't notice or doesn't care. just moves his hand back down, draping the spit over shane's chin as he does, and starts gently massaging shane's nipple with his wet fingers. shane moans again. longer now. ilya rubs his cock leisurely into the cleft of shane's ass, humming deep in his chest.
"you like that, kotik?" he rumbles. shane nods into his pillow, reaching back to tangle his fingers in ilya's hair. ilya's face nuzzles into his neck. "love touching your tits," he says into shane's skin. "your nipples. they are so hard for me. like your cock, mmm?" shane makes a quiet, plaintive noise. ilya pinches him. "you get so hard for me everywhere."
"yeah," shane breathes.
"yeah?" ilya echoes, and shane lifts his jaw to invite ilya to kiss along his neck. ilya obliges him. shane sighs.
"yeah."
they lapse into a brief semi-silence; shane breathing through ilya's attention to his nipples, ilya moaning low as he works himself up against shane's ass. when his hand finally leaves shane's chest, skating back down along his abdomen, shane finds himself holding his breath. his cock is wet inside his boxer briefs. and aching. ilya whispers into his ear, "breathe, moy lyubov" and shane takes some air in just as ilya pushes his hand beneath the fabric of his briefs and holds his cock, firmly.
shane lets out a sound like it's been shocked from him. his body curls inwards, around the point where ilya is holding him, and ilya laughs softly. presses his wrist into shane's pelvic bone, urging his hips back against his cock. "come back, malysh," he teases. his hand starts working over shane under his briefs, and shane starts moaning in earnest. ilya exhales roughly in his ear. "you are so eager," he murmurs, drawing out the "so". "so horny for me in the morning, hm? just woke up and already need to get fucked? my needy boy... fuck, you are getting me all wet, shane."
and shane whimpers because he can feel it. the way ilya's fist is becoming slick with his precum, easing his movements into an obscene glide. up, down. up, down. ilya draws his hand out of shane's briefs for a moment and tugs the waistband down, tucking it behind shane's balls before reaching back up for his cock. heat rises in shane's cheeks at the sounds ilya's hand makes around his newly freed cock—distinct, wet fwips that cause shane's arousal to spike so hard his body lurches towards the edge. ilya moans loudly, presumably just as affected by it. his hand speeds up.
"mmm, fuck," ilya says. smearing open-mouthed kisses over shane's ear. "does it feel good, kotik? hmm?" shane nods, beyond words. ilya bites his earlobe and shane whimpers. "you are... fuck, moy lyubimyy, you are like a dream. like I am still asleep and fucking you, and when you come for me I will just wake up."
shane rolls his head against his pillow in vague dissent. "no," he slurs. "'m yours, ilya. your—fuck. oh. oh, ilya. oh m'god—"
"shane. are you gonna come, sweetheart?" shane inhales raggedly, nods minutely. frantically. "good. good boy. come for me, baby." ilya's fingers pull quickly beneath shane's cockhead. "yes. shane. come for me now, sweetheart—ah—fuck..."
shane is releasing into ilya's hand. twitching against him. moaning desperately. ilya holds him, kisses him, murmurs a litany of praise and encouragement in his ear. that's it, moy lyubimyy. you are so good. let me have it. good boy, shane.
after, shane relaxes into ilya's arms. spent, panting. ilya kisses over whatever he can reach of shane's face. shane, eyes closed, smiles faintly. he shifted away from ilya in those final moments—now he moves back. finds ilya hard, still.
"are y'gonna fuck me now?" shane mumbles. he hears, and feels, ilya huff a laugh against his cheek.
"oh, if you insist," ilya says, and shane laughs, rolling over onto him.
thanks for reading!! reblogs are super appreciated ❤️
The living room was warm, lamplight soft against the dark windows. Three empty wine bottles stand like trophies on the coffee table, and the fourth was well on its way. Rose lounges against one arm of the couch, legs tucked under her, while Svetlana is sprawled across the other end, barefoot and grinning like she’d just won a bet.
“Ten years,” Svetlana says, pointing her glass at the two men on the floor between them. “Ten fucking years of tension, and now you sit there like innocent puppies. Kiss already.”
Shane laughs, too loud and too quick, cheeks already flushed from the alcohol. “You’re both menaces.”
Rose tilts her head, smiling slow. “We’re just asking for a demonstration. For science.”
Ilya hadn’t said much in the last twenty minutes. He’d been watching Shane the way he always did when the room felt safe: quiet, focused, like Shane was the only thing worth looking at. Now he shifts, knee brushing Shane’s, and set his own glass down with deliberate care.
“Want to give them what they want, Hollander?” His voice was low, rough around the edges from the wine and something darker.
Shane swallows hesitantly before meeting his eyes, he sees the heat in them and something clicks inside him, he gives a small fast nod, “…yeah.”
It wasn’t a performance, not really. Ilya reaches out, fingers curling into the front of Shane’s thirt, a gentle tug, but an unmistakable command. Shane leans in without hesitation, breath catching as Ilya mets him halfway.
The kiss starts slow. Ilya’s hand slides up, palm cupping the back of Shane’s neck, thumb brushing the soft skin just under his ear. Shane makes a small, involuntary sound, barely audible, and melts forward, hands finding Ilya’s shoulders like they belong there.
Ilya deepens it then. Tilts Shane’s head exactly how he wants, lips parting, tongue sliding in with lazy possession. Shane gives in completely, body going pliant, fingers tightening in Ilya’s hoodie. A shiver runs through him when Ilya growls something soft and Russian against his mouth, too quiet for the women to catch, but loud enough to make Shane flush darker.
Rose lets out a breathy laugh. “Jesus. That’s not PG.”
Svetlana whistles low. “Show off, Rozanov.”
Ilya breaks the kiss just enough to speak again, lips still brushing Shane’s. “He is my favourite thing to show off.” Then he kisses him again, harder this time, hand firm at Shane’s nape, keeping him right where he wants him.
Shane whimpers softly, the sound swallowed by Ilya’s mouth. His hands slide up into Ilya’s hair, tugging just enough to earn a pleased rumble.
They finally part, both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. Ilya holds Shane close, thumb stroking lazy circles on his jaw like he was staking a claim in front of witnesses.
Svetlana claps once, delighted. “Okay, I’m sold. You two are disgusting and perfect.”
Rose raises her glass. “To finally getting the show we deserved.”
Shane buries his face in Ilya’s shoulder, his laughing muffled against the fabric. Ilya just smirks, arm sliding around Shane’s waist to pull him fully into his lap.
shane feeling overstimulated and his body feels like he's losing control and he wants to shake it all out of him but he can't he can only lay on his bed and groan into his pillow and ilya comes home and sees him laying there and immediately goes "Oh, moya lyubov....do you need me?" and shane mumbles a barely coherent "please" into the pillow and ilya immediately crawls onto the bed and flops his entire body weight down on top of shane and quietly lays there for 20 minutes without moving until shane eventually whispers a soft "thank you" and rolls ilya off him and then they cuddle for a lil bit and go make dinner
for season two i need ilya at hockey camp being followed around on the ice by a bunch of little kids in hockey gear like a mama duck and her ducklings while shane watches send tweet
ilya with his gaggle of baby hocklings, teaching them all how to chirp (age-appropriately). just a bunch of tiny kids who can barely stand up squinting hard with concentration as they yell stuff like “you skate like a walnut” and “you’re slower than an apple” at each other
one kid gets a dinosaur jab in at scott hunter and ilya laughs so hard he falls over and nearly gives himself a concussion. shane is so smitten by this foolishness he nearly proposes then and there
Loads of Hollanov fics have them getting walked in on while making out etc which is great
But I’d love a fic where one or both of Shane’s parents drop by the cottage for phone charger/laundry pod reasons and find Shane snuggled on the couch fast asleep on Ilya’s chest and that’s how they find out
They’re dressed in soft casual clothes, sleeping like the dead and wrapped around each other like vines and Ilya’s hand is in Shane’s hair and Shane looks so so comfortable and relaxed
Meanwhile his parents are staring slack-jawed at the sight of their son using his archenemy the Russian Rage Machine as a teddybear/pillow
It starts, like many things do, because Ilya is curious. Even after all these years, there are still things about Shane that make Ilya curious. It's just that he's seen how it affects Shane, being on his knees for Ilya, just holding Ilya’s cock in his mouth. His shoulders unclench and his face relaxes and he goes still, and any other time Ilya’s cock is out, Shane is never still. And so Ilya is curious. Where does Shane’s mind go when he floats away like that? What does it feel like? Ilya wants to know.
So, ok, Ilya decides they’ll try it. He doesn’t explain all of his reasoning to Shane. He doesn’t have to, really. Ilya knows Shane will give him anything he wants. And sure enough, when Ilya tells him what they’re going to do, he blushes and hauls Ilya in for a kiss, breathes out “fuck, Ilya,” in the space between their mouths, and that’s good enough for Ilya.
So they clean up from dinner, and Shane goes about setting up for them. He won’t let Ilya do anything, tells him, “Just let me. I know what we need.” So Ilya just sits on the sofa and waits, and watches Shane. Shane, who moves around the apartment with single-minded focus. Dishwasher on. Lights dim. Thermostat up. Cushion placed at Ilya’s feet, not for Shane this time, but for Ilya. He demands Ilya’s clothes, gets him stripped to just his boxers, then does the same for himself. He flicks the TV on to a hockey documentary he’s been wanting to watch. And then he turns to Ilya with a grin.
“Ready!” He’s bouncing on his feet a little, and Ilya can’t stop the warm chuckle that escapes from him.
“Excited, kotok?” And Shane rolls his eyes and says, “You should be excited,” but in truth, Ilya feels a bit nervous. He wants this to work. He’s seen how this can be like an off button for Shane’s brain, and there are some days he needs that too. Shane must sense some of what Ilya’s thinking because he says, “It’s going to be so good. I promise,” and places a soft kiss on Ilya’s forehead. Ilya slaps his hands on his thighs, stands up, and says, “Ok, do your worst, Hollander,” and Shane just laughs.
Ilya gets settled on his knees, already grateful for the cushion beneath him. The season’s barely started, but it’s already been brutal, and Ilya’s body is a patchwork of bruises, some fresh and some fading. As he goes to his knees, he thinks about Shane’s promise and the stress of the season and how good it would feel to not think for a while. He hopes Shane is right.
At first, Ilya feels a bit unsure. He loves Shane’s cock in his mouth, of course, but he can’t help feeling that he should be doing something. He’s so aware of the weight of Shane’s cock on his tongue, and shouldn’t Ilya be sucking him down, or bobbing his head? (No, Shane had said at dinner, cheeks pink, I want this to last) And Shane’s thighs are right there, so close they brush his ears, and isn’t Ilya supposed to be gripping them, guiding Shane deeper into his throat? (No, you’ll keep your hands still, too). And Ilya can hear the murmur of the talking heads on the documentary and the soft hum of the dishwasher, but he doesn't hear Shane groaning, oh, oh, fuck, yeah baby, just like that, so the whole thing feels a bit pointless.
But then Shane spreads his thighs a bit more, and Ilya sinks down a bit lower, gets his nose pressed right up against Shane’s belly. And Shane is mostly soft, but he lets out a sigh and a “so good, Ilya,” and, ok, that is nice. And then Shane does something Ilya doesn’t expect. Two fingers tap Ilya’s chin, look at me, so their eyes are locked when Shane says, “Please, Sir, may I touch your hair?” and oh, fucking hell, Ilya might die right here. They’ve tried out sir once or twice, and every time Ilya’s brain short-circuits. It’s the way Shane says it, a little breathless and eager. It’s the way it makes Ilya feel, trusted and powerful. And Shane is looking at him now with so much love in his eyes and waiting so patiently for an answer, fuck.
Ilya nods as best he can in this position, and Shane says “Thank you, Sir,” and Ilya groans and sinks down down down as Shane’s hands find his hair. And then it’s all gentle tugs on his curls and Shane’s strong fingers running over his scalp, and someone is moaning, and oh, that’s me, Ilya realizes. Ilya spreads his knees a little wider, sinks into his body a little more, and that earns him a, “That’s right, Sir. Get comfortable."
Jesus, Shane is going to kill him.
They stay that way for a while, Shane’s lovely fingers in his hair and Shane’s perfect cock in his mouth. Shane’s hard now but seemingly in no hurry, just keeping his hands tangled in Ilya’s hair and saying, “Love your mouth, Sir,” and “Sir, you’re taking me so good,” and Ilya is…he’s not floating, not like Shane gets, but his mind is calm in its own way. It’s just that somehow Shane has crowded out everything else. Or narrowed it down, maybe, made it seem small and insignificant compared to Shane’s strong hands and thick thighs and big cock.
And then Shane says, “Sir?” and gives Ilya’s hair a little tug, like maybe he’s been asking for a while, and all Ilya can do is give a questioning groan, taking Shane out of his mouth to answer is unfathomable, and Shane asks, “Sir, can I fuck your mouth, please?” And suddenly Ilya has never wanted anything more in his life. He moans, long and low, and his own hips fuck up like he’s the one asking, and Shane just says “Oh, thank you, Sir, thank you,” before he tightens his hands in Ilya’s hair and starts to move.
Ilya feels delirious. He knows he’s drooling, but he can’t stop it. He’s hard, he thinks, but it’s difficult to tell when his whole body feels like a circuit of pleasure stemming from the point where his mouth meets Shane’s cock. Every time Shane fucks in deep, he says, “Thank you, Sir,” and every time Ilya answers with a whine. When Shane pulls back, Ilya can taste the pre-cum on his tongue, and his own cock leaks in response. Shane’s pace is steady, and his body is strong and solid, and Ilya’s mind is blank but for Shane Shane Shane.
“Sir, oh, oh, it’s so good. I think I’m—you’re gonna make me come,” Shane gasps out, and Ilya wants that, desperately. “Please, please, Sir, can I come?” And it’s almost too much, Shane begging like this and calling him sir while he’s holding Ilya’s head tight and fucking deep into his throat. He feels so powerless. He feels so powerful.
Ilya isn’t sure what noise he makes to signal his permission, but Shane, perfect Shane who understands everything, knows a yes for a yes. He fucks his hips up one last time as he shudders and shakes and spills. Ilya’s shaking too, and he can’t stop it. He feels like he’s might fly apart into thousands of pieces, but then Shane says, “Sir, let me—” and strong arms are hauling Ilya up and settling him on the couch, and Ilya’s got a lap full of Shane, Shane who is saying “Want to make you come, Sir, can I?” and Ilya nods, he thinks, but mostly he keeps his eyes fixed on Shane, Shane who unraveled him completely, Shane who will put him back together. And then Shane’s warm hand is wrapped around Ilya’s cock, and Shane is saying, “Please, please, Sir, give me your cum. Please, can I have it? I need it, I need it so much,” and Ilya, who can deny Shane nothing, gives him what he needs.
I'm gonna say why I admire Hudson so much and why I think he's really brave. Because let's be honest, he was given a character - Shane Hollander - who is a prime example of how a white woman from yaoi kingdom writes an "exotic bottom boy character" conforming to all the Asian, feminized bottom stereotypes without giving any consideration to the racial representation.
Shane looks "pretty", his exotic looks are constantly mentioned, his body is hairless, he's smaller than his big sexy Russian top, he's on the autistic spectrum, he's ranked low in the biggest dicks list of the GCU, he's a strict bottom, he's got a tiger mom... and his race only affects his look, but not his inner world or his struggles.
I think for a more insecure actor, playing such a character would be basically a career suicide - forever being locked into the "little Asian bottom" box.
But Hudson did something amazing with Shane. Shane in the TV show is masculine in really appealing way (soft and kind, but also firm and assertive), he radiates an easy physical strength that's not inferior to the top, he's a jock, but like a smart one who shines with his love of the game, he's autistic but not a caricature, he's unapologetic about his sexual preference once he figures it out, he goes down on his knees or crawls on the bed like he's acing a challenge thrown in his face.
And Hudson goes around crassly hyping and glamorizing being a bottom, taking up space, refusing to feel shame or be embarrassed about Shane. At the same time, with his wacky, shameless humour, he also shows himself being polite, caring, considerate, charming - never as a subservience, but as a confident embodiment of non-toxic masculinity.
I'm truly at awe how he took this racial stereotype, took control of the characterisation, took control of the narrative, the discourse and elevated both Shane Hollander as a character, and Hudson Williams as an actor, who is not merely the next prince of Wasia, desirable for his looks, but someone who is charismatic, worth listening to and capable of representing more than just his race or heritage. Someone universal - with appeal for the queer community, for all people with no-filter ADHD chaos, for people valuing decency and kindness.
they’re at a party and everyone is drunk even shane and it’s so buzzy and fun and then ilya loses sight of shane for approximately seven minutes and then relocates him and finds he’s wearing one of those plastic gold king crowns on his head and ilya well ilya blacks out for about three seconds and then walks off while he was in the middle of a conversation and just hands his drink to whoever and beelines it to shane and grabs his hand and pulls him along to a random room and shane is tipsy and relaxed and just smiles like kermit the frog with a crown on being pulled along by his man and then ilya is locking them in someone’s bedroom and crowding shane against the door and shane is like snickering because ilya is tickling his neck with his kisses and his crown is a lil lopsided now with how his head is angled and he’s like “hehe ilyaaaa what are you doin” and ilya is just kissing at every piece of exposed skin and then dropping to his knees for his king and shane’s eyes go all dark with his pupils blown out from seeing ilya nosing at his crotch through his jeans and looking up through his lashes with an open mouth and shane is staring down at him with his lopsided crown on and his skin has a pink flush from the alcohol and he’s got a hand pushing ilya’s curls back from his forehead and ilya licks his lips and says in his thick lustful accent “can I suck your cock, King Hollander?” and well king hollander is nodding so fast his crown slides down and he pushes it back up to its rightful position and watches ilya watch him while he sucks his cock and oh there’s a mirror just in front of them and shane gets to see himself wearing a crown and getting his dick sucked by ilya fucking rozanov. it’s a pretty good night to say the least
