Asexual Biromantic She/They. Born in 1990 and occasionally NSFW so minors beware. I’m trying to get better at tagging but I make no promises. Apparently I write fic now, so find me on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteddieAsSheGoes/pseuds/SteddieAsSheGoes
he wouldn't admit it to shane until they'd been married like three years, but the first time they fucked was the best night of ilya's life. maybe excluding their wedding, or winning the Cup with shane. maybe. he felt like an actual god that night. didn't even matter that boston lost – he finally got to fuck shane hollander after literal years of chasing him. he could never stop thinking about:
how hollander curled all around him and pulled his hair just a little while they were kissing and it made his entire body tingle like nobody else had ever done or would ever do.
how he got hollander to make those insane breathless whimpery noises when he ate him out, all shocked and trying not to and then giving into it.
that hollander really, really liked getting fucked. in the back of his mind ilya had worried that maybe hollander was like him and the idea of being fucked was better than the reality, or maybe it would only feel okay. but no, hollander absolutely melted even when ilya was just fingering him and it was a revelation for both of them. it was so easy to make him feel good.
that hollander REALLY liked getting fucked. the way he pushed back for more and pressed his face into the pillows and moaned loud and shaky and clenched his fingers in the sheets and actually – actually! – came without either of them even touching him, that was the cherry on top of the most perfect cake. ilya did that to him. ilya did that for him.
and it wasn't just that ilya made him feel good, although obviously ilya was a guy who got off on making his partners feel amazing. it was that it was hollander: uptight, always annoyed at him, his perfectly perfect rival who was so strong and dominating and fun to play against on the ice and so desperate to submit to him in the bedroom. absolutely fucking perfect for ilya. he would look at hollander's stern, serious face on television or across from him during a faceoff and think nobody else knows what you like. nobody else knows how you get shy and overwhelmed and want to be told what to do so badly. i'm the only one who knows what you look like when you're being fucked so well and you can't get enough of it, it feels so good. and you can only get that from me.
for a while afterward he only felt – he thought he only felt – triumph. the desire to submit to someone he didn't even like, the fact that ilya fucked him until he was begging and whining and he loved it, had to be more than a little humiliating for hollander. but the more he thought about it, which was all the time, the more he remembered how unbearably sweet and soft hollander had been, how good it felt, how much he wanted to take care of hollander afterward. how he had wanted to stay and kiss him to sleep and listen to him make those happy little buzzing hums ilya only heard him make right after he came.
nothing else ever really touched that feeling, not even winning the Cup that year. when he thought about the 2013-2014 season he thought about that night with hollander first and then the Cup. terrifying. he could never, ever tell anyone.
(until one night several years married when shane abruptly says "do you ever think about our first time together?" and ilya says "no, hollander, i have forgotten. when was that?" and instead of throwing a pillow at him shane looks troubled and says "yeah, i guess it probably didn't mean as much to you as it did to me," and ilya has to correct him so shane knows exactly, exactly where it ranks in ilya's personal list of best days ever.)
I go back and forth on how emotional hollanov would be when they say goodbye at the cottage/airport their first summer together, but I ultimately think it would hit them at different points.
The first time it really hits Shane is the night before Ilya’s flight back to Boston. The pair were lying in bed together, fingers dancing on skin, Ilya’s breath rhythmic on Shane’s neck. Their last full day had been a haze, barely getting out of bed, bodies glued together for nearly every moment.
Shane genuinely lost count of the orgasms, his body feeling like one giant aching bruise in all the best ways.
And now, he was exhausted. He could tell Ilya was too by the way his hands that were gliding against Shane’s skin slowed, his breaths evening out more and more, hanging on the precipice of sleep.
If they slept now, they wouldn’t see each other until the morning. Until they would have to pack up in Shane’s car.
Until Ilya would leave.
Tears stung Shane’s eyes.
He squeezed them shut, trying to will himself to calm down, the burning in his throat near agonizing. He must have tensed too much, because Ilya began to pull out of his dozing and adjust, his nose brushing against Shane’s. “What’s wrong?” Ilya whispered.
Shane made a pathetic noise in protest, refusing to open his eyes.
“Shane. Look at me.” There was a sternness to Ilya’s voice that was too commanding for Shane to ignore. It wasn’t loud, the volume still that of a whisper, but it was clear.
Shane opened his eyes to meet Ilya’s and the way Ilya’s eyes shuttered told Shane that he must look wrecked. “What is it?” He pressed again.
Shane’s voice came out in a croak, a tear falling from his waterline. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”
And Ilya understood. He understood the gravity of that and how the perfect bubble of these last weeks was about to be gone. So he gathered Shane up in his arms. “I’m still here now,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Shane’s head.
They stayed that way until morning.
Ilya didn’t break until they were at the airport.
They were… okay, leading up to it. They were okay as they got ready, they were okay as Shane started driving. But Shane quickly noticed that the closer they got to the airport, Ilya got quieter. His grip on Shane’s hand was getting tighter and tighter, to the point where it was near crushing.
When Shane parked the car in the back of the lot, they were silent. Ilya stared out the passenger window, refusing to look at Shane. “Are you okay?” Shane dared to ask.
Ilya didn’t look back immediately, but when he did, Shane’s heart broke.
Ilya’s eyes were shining and his mouth had the smallest of trembles. His Adam’s apple bobbed once before he spoke. “I love you,” he said, voice wobbling.
“I love you, too.”
Ilya bit his lip and looked down at the space between them, where their hands were clasped. “I don’t know how to go back,” Ilya said. “How do we go back?”
“It’ll be different now.” Shane started. “Better. We’ll talk all the time. Every day, we’ll at least text, and then call when we can. It’ll be hard, but people do long distance all the time.”
A tear slid down Ilya’s face and Shane had to stop every nerve in his body that screamed to wipe it away. “Do you think people who do long distance are as in love as we are?”
Shane smiled sadly at him, and shook his head gently. “Probably not.”
Ilya’s face crumpled even more and he gasped, leaning forward to press his lips to their joined hands. Shane leaned forward too, pressing their heads together over the center console.
Shane didn’t dare kiss him, but he would allow them this much. Ilya was whimpering softly against their hands, eyes screwed shut, forcing Shane to close his eyes too to stop himself from crying also.
“We’ll be okay,” Shane promised. “We can do this. Just one season.”
Ilya made a noise in acknowledgement, but did not speak. Shane wasn’t sure how long they sat there together, but he knew that Ilya had to go or he would miss the flight. “You have to pull it together, baby,” Shane whispered as softly as he could.
“I know,” Ilya replied.
After a few more seconds, Ilya took a loud, deep breath, and sat up, separating their hands.
As Ilya tried shaking off the emotions, Shane spoke. “Text me when you board.”
“Okay.”
“And when you land.”
“Yes.”
“And call me when you get home.”
Ilya huffed wetly and nodded, a smile pulling at him. “I will.”
They looked at each other one last time, and Shane made sure to memorize Ilya’s face as much as he possibly could. Every mole, every blemish, every pore. “I love you,” Shane said again, but in Russian, hoping he wasn’t butchering the phrase. Then, in English: “So much.”
Ilya nodded once. “I love you.”
Then Ilya was basically throwing himself out the car and hauling his bags out the back hatch.
Shane watched Ilya walk toward the airport doors, not looking back. Only when Shane lost sight of him, did he close his eyes and rest his forehead on the steering wheel.
sometimes i think about an au where ilya chickens out of going to the cottage for whatever reason, and shane just. kinda gives up. stops pursuing him. still texts him and is there vaguely as a friend, because he cares about him and wants him to know that, but no more than that.
shane thinks he's respecting ilya's choice: we cannot do that, we cannot be more, this risk is too much and i am not willing to take it. continuing to pursue ilya at this point would feel tantamount to trying to pressure him into a relationship, and shane doesn't want to do that. so he'll back off, let ilya know he's here just generally as someone who cares for him, but, like, he gets it. he'll stop. he'll allow ilya his distance. he respects ilya's decision, even if it breaks his heart.
meanwhile ilya stops getting daily texts from shane, spends all day thinking about shane, glowers at his phone all summer long (he goes back to russia with svetlana. he stays for all of four days before he books a flight back to boston. why did he even do this? he asks himself. papa is dead. mama has been dead for so long. he doesn't want to talk to his brother. so why is he even here?) and then finally hockey season starts up again and shane Doesn't Text Him to talk shit about the san francisco game he watched last night, and ilya realizes like. wait. what the fuck? no, no, no. this feels bad. this feels bad and wrong. this is not what i want.
except. now it's ilya rozanov vs himself: final boss, "avoidant tendencies and self sabotage" edition. if he wants shane back, he's going to have to be honest about his feelings, voluntarily, for the first time in his life. in tampa he wouldn't have admitted to anything if shane hadn't more or less dragged him into talking about his feelings kicking and screaming; at this point he's got to imagine tampa shane there again, taking him by the hand and going "cut the bullshit, ilya," and then giving him those impossible-to-resist big brown eyes. it's a process.
anyways. where i'm going with this:
when boston goes to montreal, ilya shows up on shane's doorstep with a bouquet of flowers. shane is utterly bamboozled.
he's standing there in the entryway (he let ilya in, of course, but they haven't made it past the front hallway) holding this big colorful bouquet like. ????? what??? what is this?? you... don't do things like this. what is happening? what are you doing???????
and ilya has to shove his hands in his pockets so he doesn't start wringing them like. um. i don't know. i don't know what i am doing either but i just wanted to. i don't know. do you like them?
shane takes a whiff (they are quite fragrant and he does like them) and sighs wistfully and says yes, but he doesn't understand...???????
and they're both just standing there right next to the front door with this giant bouquet of flowers between them like ?????????????? until ilya clears his throat and asks if shane has plans for dinner, and the metaphorical lightbulb goes off and shane just gapes at him.
like. wait. ilya rozanov, are you... trying to woo me?
and ilya is like …….y….es??? unless you don't want me to be, in which case no, and you can throw those in the trash, and you can also simply kill me so i do not have to live with the shame of this. or if you do not want to kill me because it would make you sad i can just go throw myself into traffic or something. it's fine. um. yes.
shane stares at him for a second. and then goes on a mad dash for the nearest vase because he can't just drop the flowers, he has to put them in water and be gentle with them, but also if he doesn't get to grab ilya by the lapels of his jacket and kiss him stupid in the next minute, he might die.
(the corollary to this is that shane spends several days admiring his beautiful flowers, stroking the petals and sighing dreamily over them. when they finally start to wilt, he takes one of the hockey books he's read several times before and presses them.
a year later, ilya does go to the cottage. shane is in the shower, and while he's waiting, ilya idly picks up one of the books on the shelf in the living room to flip through, and finds it full of dried and carefully pressed flowers. odd, he thinks, but cute.
and then he asks shane about it, and shane goes pink all the way to his ears and says they're the flowers ilya bought him last year. he couldn't bring himself to throw them out, so... yeah. <- he says this with a casual shrug, as if he hasn't just hit ilya with an instant one-hit KO.)
I think by now Hudson and Connor have repeated enough times that they do not want pictures to be taken that we are all aware, yet the stalking continues.
I don't think any of it is ok. The public street pictures help identify their neighbourhood - where they are staying, which gym they go to and lead to increasingly intrusive, dangerous and disturbing stalking like Connor being touched without consent and followed to his private residence or Hudson being photographed inside the private gym clearly without his knowledge or consent.
If you call yourself a fan of either or both of them, please don't spread these non-consensual photos and videos and call out the stalkers instead of encouraging their behaviour.
They will be working in Toronto for months, and the situation is already spiralling badly with stalkers reportedly flying in to harass them. They will be forced into lockdown, it will impact their mental health being hunted for pics, and it will burden the production to have to increase security.
There are no upsides. We should not engage with this kind of content, and wait until they share what they are comfortable sharing.
i hate how much ai has taken the joy out of seeing something cool. you used to see something cool, like a really intricate drawing or a video of someone doing an insane skill or two animals doing something cute, and because there were no mental gymnastics involved in discerning whether or not it was 'real' you could sit there and have the joy of like, "wow! how did they do that! how cool is it that they made that! what a wonderful moment to have captured!" and now every time i see something remarkable i hate that i have to sit there and be like okay let me go frame by frame to make sure everything lines up. let me double check the page this comes from. let me scroll through the comments to make sure no one called out something i missed. like i want the joy of being able to trust someone else's creation back, please
It’s stupid. He knows he’s being ridiculous, which honestly only makes it worse.
Shane watches Ilya laugh with his dearest friend, happy and beautiful under the pulsing lights, and hates the jealousy curling around his heart like a hissing cat. Why can’t he be normal about this?
Svetlana has been nothing but nice to him, he likes her, which is really just another thing that sharpens the sting of shame. But this thing has been pumping through his bloodstream, poisoning him from the moment they got here.
–
They’d managed to sweet talk his mom into holding off on any media appearances or brand deals for the first part of the summer once they’re both knocked out of the playoffs (Ilya says it’s because “No one can say no to your pretty pout, zaychik, is not just me” but Shane secretly believes it has far more to do with the giant soft spot both of his parents have for Ilya) so they can have a solid two weeks to themselves before they have to lock in to preparing for Game Changers. They kick it off with a visit to Boston.
The trip to Ilya’s sort-of home town is only a few days including travel, so Shane convinces him to sacrifice his usual off season sleep in for one day to catch the earliest flight. At least since their announcement on The Irina Foundation, they have a reasonable excuse to be seen traveling together. As much as he’d love a road trip with Ilya, he’d hate to waste even more of the limited time they set aside for this on the long drive there and back.
They land at Logan just after 10am.
Unsurprisingly, they’re spotted by fans at baggage claim. Even less surprising considering where they are, they’re far more interested in Ilya. Shane stands off to the side, watching as Ilya is charming as always. He’s smiling fondly at a trio of young boys who crowd around him asking for his autograph and telling him all about how they can’t wait to play hockey like him some day. Shane thinks of the upcoming camp, wonders if he’ll see these boys there someday.
He’s so good with kids. It makes something in Shane ache, knowing he can never give that to Ilya. A future with Shane probably means a future without children. Biologically, for sure, but also Shane’s just not sure if it’s something he wants. He loves playing uncle to the Pike children, but he knows that parenthood is an entirely different beast. Is it something Ilya wants? It doesn’t seem like something that has a middle ground. If they’re on opposite sides…
Shane’s pretty sure Ilya would have stayed there all day, happily soaking in the joy of these kids, if it weren’t for a delicate cough interrupting their chatter.
“Sorry to interrupt, boys, but I am here to collect Mr. Rozanov and Mr. Hollander.”
As Ilya says his goodbyes to the kids, Shane turns to greet Ilya’s oldest friend. The smile forming on his face freezes in place a little when he finally sees her, an unexpected tightness in his chest.
He’s seen pictures, of course, he knew she was beautiful. But the woman standing in front of him is stunning. Her wild curls are gathered in a messy pile at the top of her head, a few perfect ringlets escaping to frame her face. She’s dressed casually, he supposes, but he can’t help but think she looks like a model in her jean shorts and halter top. Her makeup is light, natural, just enough to accentuate her piercing eyes.
Eyes that are staring right back at him, shit. At least she looks amused rather than put off by his awkwardness. He brushes off the tension and extends his hand between them.
“Hi, it’s uh, it’s nice to meet you, Svetlana?” Why does he say her name like a question? “I’m Shane. Hollander.”
She smirks at him, but not unkindly. “Yes, Shane Hollander, I know who you are.” She bypasses his stilted attempt at a handshake and pulls him in for a hug instead. “Is nice to finally meet you, Jane.” she whispers in his ear.
Ilya, finally done with his little fans, wraps them both in his arms. “Ah, my two favorite people together at last!”
Svetlana laughs, rolling her eyes at his antics and shoving him off. Shane wishes they weren’t still in public, so he could linger instead of shaking off Ilya’s other arm as well.
“Have you two eaten? There is place not far from here with very good breakfast.” She grins at Ilya. “They even have food your zaychonok (baby bunny) will eat, I checked.”
It’s an unfamiliar word, though it’s close to Ilya’s favorite nickname for him. Even though her words are directed at Ilya Shane wonders if he’s the one being teased. He’s not positive though, and it leaves him feeling a little wrong footed as they head out into the city.
They are sitting on the couch, scrolling on their phones. Shane is up against the armrest with his legs out long, his feet in Ilya's lap. They are silent for a while. Then, Shane:
"Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you never met me?"
Ilya's head snaps up, brow furrowed. His hand pauses on Shane's ankle.
"Like, at least,— I don't know, if I had never introduced myself that day in Regina." Shane looks at Ilya, earnest and seriously considering. "Then none of—," he gestures between the two of them, "—this would have happened. And things might have been easier for you. Us. Probably."
Ilya doesn't move. Scowls more.
"And we wouldn't know what we were missing, I guess, so," Shane's voice is quieter now, timid, realizing he might have misstepped. "I was just wondering. If you think about it ever."
They stare at each other for a moment. Then Ilya throws his phone onto the cushion beside him and scrambles into Shane's lap, laying heavy accross him and gripping him tight. Ilya nuzzles his face into Shane's chest as though he's trying to carve out more space in his body to burrow into. Shane's arms wrap around Ilya instinctually, his fingers finding the nape of his neck and twirling the curly hair there. He holds Ilya like this, thinking he probably would know what he was missing if he never had this. Somehow, inexplicably— he's sure he would.
"Don't you ever fucking ask any stupid fucking shit like that ever again," Ilya grumbles into Shane's t-shirt.
Shane huffs out a laugh in surprise, then sighs when Ilya just holds him tighter in response.
"Okay," he whispers into Ilya's hair. Seals it with a kiss.
They lay like this for a couple of minutes, Shane running his fingers up and down Ilya's back, Ilya breathing heavy on top of him. After a bit, Ilya looks up, props his chin on Shane's chest, wide-eyed and pouting. Shane all but whimpers when he realizes Ilya's eyes are a little red.
"Say you're sorry."
"I'm sorry, Ilya." He leans down to kiss his waiting lips. "I won't ever ask any stupid fucking shit like that ever again."
Ilya reaches up for another kiss, lets this one linger a bit. Softly nudges his tongue into Shane's mouth, then pulls back, just slightly.
"Stupid fucking idiot," he whispers against Shane's lips, then sits back up and returns to scrolling on his phone.
It’s stupid. He knows he’s being ridiculous, which honestly only makes it worse.
Shane watches Ilya laugh with his dearest friend, happy and beautiful under the pulsing lights, and hates the jealousy curling around his heart like a hissing cat. Why can’t he be normal about this?
Svetlana has been nothing but nice to him, he likes her, which is really just another thing that sharpens the sting of shame. But this thing has been pumping through his bloodstream, poisoning him from the moment they got here.
–
They’d managed to sweet talk his mom into holding off on any media appearances or brand deals for the first part of the summer once they’re both knocked out of the playoffs (Ilya says it’s because “No one can say no to your pretty pout, zaychik, is not just me” but Shane secretly believes it has far more to do with the giant soft spot both of his parents have for Ilya) so they can have a solid two weeks to themselves before they have to lock in to preparing for Game Changers. They kick it off with a visit to Boston.
The trip to Ilya’s sort-of home town is only a few days including travel, so Shane convinces him to sacrifice his usual off season sleep in for one day to catch the earliest flight. At least since their announcement on The Irina Foundation, they have a reasonable excuse to be seen traveling together. As much as he’d love a road trip with Ilya, he’d hate to waste even more of the limited time they set aside for this on the long drive there and back.
They land at Logan just after 10am.
Unsurprisingly, they’re spotted by fans at baggage claim. Even less surprising considering where they are, they’re far more interested in Ilya. Shane stands off to the side, watching as Ilya is charming as always. He’s smiling fondly at a trio of young boys who crowd around him asking for his autograph and telling him all about how they can’t wait to play hockey like him some day. Shane thinks of the upcoming camp, wonders if he’ll see these boys there someday.
He’s so good with kids. It makes something in Shane ache, knowing he can never give that to Ilya. A future with Shane probably means a future without children. Biologically, for sure, but also Shane’s just not sure if it’s something he wants. He loves playing uncle to the Pike children, but he knows that parenthood is an entirely different beast. Is it something Ilya wants? It doesn’t seem like something that has a middle ground. If they’re on opposite sides…
Shane’s pretty sure Ilya would have stayed there all day, happily soaking in the joy of these kids, if it weren’t for a delicate cough interrupting their chatter.
“Sorry to interrupt, boys, but I am here to collect Mr. Rozanov and Mr. Hollander.”
As Ilya says his goodbyes to the kids, Shane turns to greet Ilya’s oldest friend. The smile forming on his face freezes in place a little when he finally sees her, an unexpected tightness in his chest.
He’s seen pictures, of course, he knew she was beautiful. But the woman standing in front of him is stunning. Her wild curls are gathered in a messy pile at the top of her head, a few perfect ringlets escaping to frame her face. She’s dressed casually, he supposes, but he can’t help but think she looks like a model in her jean shorts and halter top. Her makeup is light, natural, just enough to accentuate her piercing eyes.
Eyes that are staring right back at him, shit. At least she looks amused rather than put off by his awkwardness. He brushes off the tension and extends his hand between them.
“Hi, it’s uh, it’s nice to meet you, Svetlana?” Why does he say her name like a question? “I’m Shane. Hollander.”
She smirks at him, but not unkindly. “Yes, Shane Hollander, I know who you are.” She bypasses his stilted attempt at a handshake and pulls him in for a hug instead. “Is nice to finally meet you, Jane.” she whispers in his ear.
Ilya, finally done with his little fans, wraps them both in his arms. “Ah, my two favorite people together at last!”
Svetlana laughs, rolling her eyes at his antics and shoving him off. Shane wishes they weren’t still in public, so he could linger instead of shaking off Ilya’s other arm as well.
“Have you two eaten? There is place not far from here with very good breakfast.” She grins at Ilya. “They even have food your zaychonok (baby bunny) will eat, I checked.”
It’s an unfamiliar word, though it’s close to Ilya’s favorite nickname for him. Even though her words are directed at Ilya Shane wonders if he’s the one being teased. He’s not positive though, and it leaves him feeling a little wrong footed as they head out into the city.
shane in the beginning of their official relationship being unsure of how to do casual intimacy because he’s used to only get it if it’s during sex or with the intent of turning into sex but now they’re boyfriends and he doesn’t always know how to navigate that so sometimes he will just 🧍🏻♂️ in the middle of the room because he wants a smooch but he’s unsure of how to progress and he feels weird asking for it before eventually realizing that ilya is more than happy to indulge
first post for context / see the tag 'open relationship au' for more or the masterlist so kindly put together by @tafkarfanfic.
and with this snippet the story is officially over! i might add to this AU later (if you want to know when i do, you can follow either the masterlist or my pinned post) but for now i'm gonna take a little break from it. HUGE thank you to everyone who read along and left me such lovely and encouraging replies and asks. you guys are the best <333 and a special thank you to @quillquiver for talking through some ideas with me and to @tafkarfanfic for managing the masterlist <3
July 2015
Shane is quiet on the ride home. He doesn't ask for the keys to the car back so Ilya drives, relieved at having something useful to do.
The silence is a little concerning. Ilya is starting to think maybe knocking on the door before the twenty minutes were up was a mistake. Shane did explicitly ask him to wait.
He'd just been so worried, stomach twisting into knots as he pictured all the ways Brian could be trying to win Shane back, or all the things he might be saying to hurt him. It hadn't sat right with Ilya in the first place, letting Shane go up there alone, even though rationally Ilya had no business going with him.
At least Shane is letting him stick around now. Ilya keeps waiting to be sent away, for Shane to ask for some privacy, but he says nothing as Ilya follows him up to his apartment.
Once they're alone and the door is locked behind them, Shane turns around and collapses against Ilya.
Ilya wraps his arms around him instinctively, heart jumping when Shane burrows his face in the crook of his neck.
"It's done," Ilya says, because he isn't sure if he can tell Shane it's okay yet. He strokes his back, feels the tension slowly draining out of Shane's body. "You did it. You were perfect."
Shane laughs shakily, breath warm and damp against Ilya's skin. "Was I? I felt kind of pathetic."
"No," Ilya protests immediately. "You were brave."
"Shut up."
"You were."
Shane pulls back, just enough to look Ilya in the eye. He looks away quickly, a habit Ilya has tried and failed not to find endearing.
"What now?"
Ilya hesitates. He wants to stay, to hold Shane until today (until every single moment he spent with Brian) is a distant memory, no longer capable of hurting him. He also wants to fall into bed together, because there is at all time at least a little part of him that wants to be fucking Shane Hollander.
But maybe that isn't what Shane needs. Maybe he needs this time alone, to think and to figure out for himself what he wants.
"Is up to you," Ilya says, unable to hold back a smile at the way Shane's lips twist in distaste at the idea of being in charge.
"I don't know." Shane sighs. "It's probably a bad idea, but I kind of just want you to fuck me until I stop thinking so much."
It's definitely a bad idea. But what about them isn't?
"I can do that."
They fuck twice.
After the first round, Shane cries.
It starts with tears slipping silently down his cheeks. Ilya reaches to brush them away and Shane makes a wounded noise, flinching back. Still, he doesn't protest when Ilya wraps an arm around his shoulder, tucking him in close to his chest. Doesn't say anything except a shaky "Sorry", in between shuddering breaths.
Ilya has no idea what he's doing, if he's helping Shane or hurting him. He just knows that thinking about Shane breaking apart like this alone, crying into a cold pillow instead of wetting Ilya's collarbone with his tears, feels like dying.
After a while Shane's breathing steadies.
"Sorry," he says again, voice hoarse.
And before Ilya can tell him not to worry about it, Shane grabs his face and pulls him in for a kiss. It's wet with tears, shallow and messy and perfect.
The second round is slow. Shane wraps his legs around Ilya's waist, keeps them locked like he's afraid Ilya will disappear if he lets go. Ilya thrusts into him in short, deep movements, grinding more than fucking, hand tucked in the tight space between them and wrapped around Shane's weeping cock.
Shane comes first, nails digging into Ilya's back and hole clenching around him, moaning Ilya's name. Ilya follows helplessly, biting down on his tongue to keep from blurting out any ill-advised confessions.
As he moves to pull out Shane locks his legs around him tighter, keeping him still. Ilya takes the permission to collapse on top of him, head tucked against Shane's shoulder.
For a while, they just breathe together.
Then Shane sighs. "Rose would be disappointed in me."
"Hm?"
"The girl I talked to the other day," Shane says. "The one who helped me figure out my shit with Brian."
Ilya's hand twitches, grip tightening around Shane's waist possessively. He definitely doesn't like hearing that name while he's still buried deep in Shane's ass.
"She told me I should stay single for a while," Shane continues. "Which was probably good advice."
"Probably, yes," Ilya admits. He raises his head, catching Shane's eyes. "Is that what you want?"
"No, not really."
Ilya's heart soars. "No?"
"I want to be with you," Shane says, clear and to the point. Fearless, despite everything. "I like you. Probably more than I should."
"I like you, too." Then, much as it kills him, because one of them has to say it, "It will be complicated."
Shane swallows. "I know."
Ilya cups his cheek, thumb brushing across a dried tear track. His chest feels full, heart straining against his rib cage like it could burst it open. He doesn't understand how Shane could have gone through all that he did and still look at him like this, so open and trusting.
Ilya loves him. His Shane, his brave, beautiful boy.
"We will figure it out."
Shane kisses him, feather soft. There's something coy in his expression when he pulls back, a glimpse of uncertainty. "We could - I have this cottage. We could got there, be alone there to figure things out together. If you want."
Ilya's heart jumps. "I want. Today?"
"If you don't have someplace else to be."
Ilya doesn't, not after clearing his schedule to make it to Montreal. Even if he hadn't, he'd move heaven and earth to do it now. He tells Shane this and Shane smiles, bright like the sun.
"We could have a week," Shane says. "Maybe two, if you won't be sick of me yet."
"Never," Ilya says with absolute certainty. "I could never be sick of you."
Shane's smile dims. It's clear he doesn't really believe him.
That's fine. Ilya will keep showing him until he does.
laughing about the idea of ilya over time being able to predict when shane is going to be brainstorming late into the night and then waking him up about something. shane has A Specific Look when this is going to happen, and ilya knows that even fucking him stupid isn't going to save him from being shaken awake at 3 am to have rapid-fire english happen at him.
someone at dinner is talking about the complexities of funeral arrangements and how hard it is to organize everything when already grieving and ilya sees The Look happening on shane's face at his side and is then just
knowing he's going to get woken up at fuck o'clock tonight to talk about the fully-detailed options of cremation versus burial shane is going to run past him.
the only preparation he can do is to wear his wedding ring to bed so when he wakes up he remembers that he loves this man even when he's yanking him out of a rem cycle to take him through a verbal powerpoint.
That’s not to shift blame on her or anything, it wasn’t a bad idea. Logically, he understood it. Finding yourself in love with your casual fling was stupid and pathetic, and “get over him by getting under someone else” is a cliche for a reason right?
So it wasn’t a bad plan. It just…didn’t quite go as expected.
“Can you please stop calling this my ‘Hot Girl Summer’?”
“I cannot.”
“First of all, it’s January. Second of all, I’m not a girl.”
She smirks at him. “So you admit you’re hot?”
“No! That’s not what I-” He rolls his eyes as she laughs at him. “Ugh, you’re the worst.”
“Please, I’m the best thing to ever happen to you. Who else was gonna tell you that you’re gay?” She leans over his shoulder with a squint. “Or tell you that you have to upload at least one shirtless pic? C’mon, I get you’ve never used a dating app before but even you have to know the tropes!”
One of the perks of being the gay bestie of a movie star is that she knows tons of closeted famous people. Or, more relevant to his current situation, she knows the super elite secret anonymous gay hookup app they use. The kind that was invite only.
She’s currently using that knowledge to bully him into making a profile that will actually catch someone’s attention. She told Miles to get him on it, laughing when his response was bitching about girl code meaning he couldn’t ‘hit that’ himself. Miles was out and proud now, but he says he had many pleasant nights thanks to the app and sends wishes of luck with the invite link.
Even though, presumably, everyone using the app has the same secret and would be outing themselves if they called anyone else out for being on said app (“What were you doing at the devil’s sacrament?” “I have no idea what that means.” “God Shane you’re so uncultured!”), one of the golden rules is no faces. Shane feels equal parts relieved and odd about it.
On the one hand, he would absolutely not be willing to put his face on a gay dating app. He’s come out of the closet to exactly one person, and really she came out for him so does that even count? He’s coming to terms with it all, but he’s not exactly ready to start waving the pride flag. Baby steps.
On the other, it feels a little weird to be so…impersonal. Which is the point, he supposes, of a hookup. It’s just that with Ilya…with Rozanov it never felt quite so…seedy.
Rose tells him he’s being too precious about it because he stupidly involved his heart when it was only supposed to be his dick (“Or I guess your hole” “I’m never telling you anything ever again”) that was in the game so he doesn’t know what a hookup is supposed to be like.
Which…fair.
So here he is. He’s finding he has shockingly few pictures of himself that aren’t still revealing even without his face. Most of what he has are either in his jersey or from events where he was dressed by someone else. He’s got some stupid mirror selfie he took for god knows what reason (definitely not to send to Rozanov), a couple of shots from the gym…and that’s about it. Rose provides a candid he didn’t even know she took of him in a suit from a date that hadn’t been caught by paparazzi.
The photos part is easy, really. Straightforward. He crops out his head and uploads them for his fellow closeted homosexuals so they can decide if he’s worthy of a salacious one night stand.
The profile is another story. How does one advertise themselves without actually talking about themselves?
“Hockey is not the only thing that’s relevant about you Shane, Jesus. And you can say you’re an athlete. Most of the people on here mention at least the field their career is in. You don’t have to actually have much of a bio anyway. The more important thing is answering the questions, those will help filter out people you’re incompatible with like other bottoms. You’re not looking for your soulmate, you’re looking for someone hot who will do hot things with you.”
The questions are a mix of easy and complicated. Top, bottom, or verse? Easy. What’s your go to move when seducing someone?
“I don’t know! I don’t think I ever have seduced someone.”
“How’d the hookup with Mr. Unnamed Guy start then?” He can feel his face heat up enough that he knows it’s bright red. ”Oh my god, now you have to tell me!”
Rose doesn’t know anything about Rozanov, least of all that he is Rozanov. Shane struggles to think of what to say that doesn’t give too much away. The last thing he wants to do is out someone else, even if he knows Rose would take the secret to her grave. He figures the bare bones of it are vague enough.
“It was at a photo shoot. He kind of…jerked off at me in the showers?”
“Oh. My. GOD! Shane. That worked on you? What am I saying, of course it did. You would like the direct approach. Okay, so he seduced you then. It’s fine, just skip that one.”
He quickly works through answering enough questions to have a somewhat decent profile, but before he bites the bullet and publishes he pauses.
“Do I…I mean I feel like I should mention that I’m Asian somewhere right?”
“Oh shit, yeah probably. Miles has told me enough horror stories to know that sadly being gay does not make one immune to being a piece of shit. Best to weed out the bigots.”
Right. He adds a quick little sentence about being half Japanese, lets Rose give the entire thing one last inspection, then hits publish.
I so understand the vision of Shane going on a hot-girl hookup era after his breakup with Rose (possibly from Rose's encouragement to get over the Unnamed Guy), but I'm gonna be honest-- I think any hookup Shane has during their breakup would leave him unsatisfied and realize Ilya has had feelings from the fucking start.
Any casual encounter Shane would have would leave him feeling not great because like... where are the slow kisses??? where is the fun and the smiles??? where is the passion???? where is the banter???? why are we rushing through prep???? where is the praise???? where is the gentle but firm possessiveness????
He leaves the encounters feeling like just a body. Ilya has never made him feel that way (maybe once in Vegas, but that was only After-- not during the whole fucking thing and has never happened since)
I fully believe Shane would just need one or two casual hookups outside of Ilya to realize 2 major things:
1. What he and Ilya do is NOT the standard for hookup culture
and
2. Ilya is definitely in love with him too.
