#lilytracks

[myshanela]

leaked footage from ‘my dinner with hayden’

[ilyasmole]

"Part of your job (as an actor) is sort of playing a varied amount of parts, tones, stories, and being able to seamlessly fit into them."

[manhasetardis]

Irina is a smart and curious child with big dreams. She gets into figure skating. She’s good, she wants to be the best. In her late teens she gets a boyfriend. He’s good at first, sweet, but soon starts getting jealous and controlling. Every time she’s not with him, she has to tell him what she’s doing and with whom. She stops going out, she gets more and more isolated. She’s with him all the time. It’s not enough. When she arrives 5 minutes later than the agreed upon time, he accuses her of cheating and hits her.

She’s 19 now, she hasn’t been with him for almost a year. She’s doing better. Her mother asks her if she doesn’t want to start going out again. She means well. She’s so beautiful. She meets an older man. He isn’t as sweet as her first boyfriend was, but look where that got her. He treats her well and clearly cares about her. He works for the police and is well connected. He’ll protect her.

She’s 20 now and pregnant. She wanted to try figure skating again. Or maybe go to college. Grigori keeps calling her a silly girl. He tells her she only has to make him look good. She’s so pretty. She just needs to not embarrass him. Can’t she see how the other wives behave? How is it so difficult to organize a party? Doesn’t she have everything she needs?

Alexei is born and she’s so tired. She doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong. She wants her mother but Grigori barely lets her see her. Alexei is a difficult baby, she thinks. He cries all the time. She can’t get him to eat. She can’t get him to sleep. She has barely slept herself. ‘How is this so difficult for you?’, she hears, ‘every woman does it.’ She dreams of disappearing.

Alexei finally sleeps for a few hours and meal time is easier now that he eats solid foods. She likes spending time with him. But he needs her too much sometimes. There’s something in him that reminds her of Grigori. She doesn’t dwell on that; she can’t resent her own child. She dreams of having her own house, of skating, of going to school again.

Grigori thinks she spends too much time with Alexei. He’s a big boy now, he shouldn’t need his mother so much. He starts getting jealous of his own son. She leaves Alexei crying sometimes; it’s better that way. She needs to pay attention to Grigori.

Alexei has a fever and Grigori tells her to get dressed; they have a party to attend. She tells him no; she will stay and take care of her child. He grabs her, locks her in her room, and reminds her of her place in the house. She can hear Alexei crying, a weak cry. She starts screaming and banging on the door, she has to get out. Something breaks and she can’t hear Alexei anymore. Her throat is raw from screaming when the door is open. ‘You will remember what I can do.’ She doesn’t say no again. She starts thinking of her plan to leave, she will try to take Alexei. She will be good for now.

She’s pregnant again. She can’t sleep; she can’t eat. Alexei is acting strange, has more tantrums. He’s cruel sometimes, he keeps reminding her of Grigori. She can’t have another son. She will not survive all the crying and sleepless nights. She keeps making monsters. She mustn’t think that. Alexei keeps asking for her attention. Grigori reminds her she needs to spend time with him; she is not to lock herself with her child again. She needs to leave. Her life is over. She will never escape now.

The moments she has alone, she keeps talking to her son. Ilya, she will name him. He’s her only comfort now. She begs him to please help her. He can’t be difficult. She will do her best to protect him, but he has to be good. She tells him her fears, she confides in him. She’s terrified. ‘Please don’t be like your brother, please.’ She loves Alexei, she does. ‘I won’t survive if you are like him.’ She will need to find a way to leave.

Ilya is born. He looks like her. He’s a sweet baby, nothing like Alexei. He eats when she asks. He sleeps through the night. He never cries. She worries about that sometimes but when she looks at him, he looks well. Big eyes focused on her. He’s starting to smile now, every time he looks at her, he smiles. She can’t help but smile back. She continues to talk to him, tells him all her worries, asks him to help her. He’s all she’s got.

Alexei is getting more difficult now. He never stands still, always running, always breaking things. Grigori doesn’t like that, tells her she doesn’t know how to raise him. Alexei gets in trouble in preschool, he’s hitting other kids. The teachers say he’s a cruel boy. Grigori makes him change schools. She wonders if they were right, if whatever is wrong with Grigori, whatever is wrong with her that makes her hate her own child sometimes, has been passed to him. But then she sees the way he is with Ilya, so gentle, so careful, always making him laugh. Ilya can’t take his eyes off him, always trying to copy him. Ilya’s first word is Alexei’s name. Ilya is like that, bringing the best in everyone.

Ilya is 3 now. He loves playing with mama. They are picking flowers outside when he sees Alexei. He rushes to him and offers him the prettiest one, tall and golden yellow with pink on the outside. Alexei doesn’t even look at it and shoves him to the side. His father is right behind, an angry look on his face. He pats his head and goes inside. There’s loud noises. He looks at the ground and the flower is destroyed. His mama is hugging him and that’s when he notices he’s crying. ‘Forgive him’ he hears her say, ‘he doesn’t know how to do better. Maybe we can make him a drawing to cheer him up.’ At night he goes to Alexei’s room to give him the drawing but he doesn’t go in. He notices some bruises on his wrist, like he sees in mama sometimes. He wonders if she noticed.

Mama is lying in bed. She had been there with her eyes open for a few hours, the way she is sometimes, when he went to her. She’s petting his hair now, it’s nice. ‘Have I ever told you about the boy I dated before I met your father?’ He hears her talk about a man who’d scream at her and hit her. She tells him about leaving him. She seems so small, her eyes are on the ceiling, her voice goes on. He closes his eyes and hugs her. ‘What is wrong with me to keep choosing this? How can they sense it in me?’ She is the strongest person he knows. He can hear Alexei turning up the volume of the TV in the living room.

Ilya started hockey lessons. He loves how fast he can go, it’s like he’s flying. His father goes to see him sometimes, it’s the only time he’s seen him smile at him. He prefers when he goes with mama, she always tells him he’s the best. The coach is talking to his father now. He has his ear to the door but he can’t make out any of the words. When his father opens the door he doesn’t say a word. Later, he takes him out to eat ice-cream and tells him he’ll be the best no matter what it takes. It doesn’t feel good like when mama tells him, it feels like an order.

Yesterday kids at school made fun of him for playing with flowers. They say he’s like a girl with pretty curly hair. But they don’t say it kindly like his mama when she tells him he’s beautiful. They say it with fists and kicks that left a bruise on his tummy. So he decided, today he will not be going to school. Mama finds him in bed, he tells her he’s scared. ‘Yes, it’s scary,’ he hears, ‘but you’re brave.’

He’s alone at school today but he prefers it that way, no one bothers him. He sees a girl coming his way and he wants her to leave. He will not be rude though, so he just makes a silly face at her. She beams, takes his hand and says ‘you’re such a stupid boy, I’m Sveta’ They are running now and he never wants to stop. He thinks he loves her.

Alexei has been watching TV for over an hour now. He promised Ilya he would play with him, so Ilya decided to turn it off to remind him. He’s chasing him through the house now, but he’s not mad, he can hear him laughing. He turns back to look at him smile, when his father opens the door. It hits him and he falls to the floor. He’s never seen his father so angry. Two punches followed by a whimper and his brother is on the floor. ‘You should know better, you can’t let him do whatever he wants.’ ‘Yes papa, thank you papa.’ His father leaves without looking at him. Ilya reaches for his brother, he wants to comfort him, but gets shoved away. There’s blood on his shirt now and an ache on his ribs. Good, it’s him who deserved to get hurt.

He’s going home from school when some older boys show up. He knows they are trouble. They are going after him, and he’s running as fast as he can when Alexei shows up. He can rest now, Alexei will always protect him.

He’s trying to skate but his legs are too heavy. He’s too hot and too cold at the same time. His head hurts. Keeping upright is hard but he knows if he sits down, he will not be able to stand up again. He throws up and his coach is calling him. He will be calling his parents. ‘Please don’t, please don’t’, he dreads seeing his father’s face if he has to leave early. It’s his mama who picks him up. The way home is hard, he’s too tired. She helps him get into bed. He’s burning up. ‘He’s lazy and a liar, you can’t believe everything that boy says, you’re turning him too soft,’ he can hear his father’s voice on the phone. His mama comes back. She gently rubs his back, his face, his wrists. ‘No Ilyusha, he loves you.’ He falls asleep.

His father is screaming at mama. He can’t make out all the words but it’s enough; ‘sissy, soft, you’re ruining him.’ He grabs her and pins her down, red, angry face so close to hers. He’s at his father’s back, tiny fingers trying to hold his hands; he’s in the air now, being taken to the bathroom. He locks Ilya in there. He can hear everything in the other room. ‘I’ve calm down, papa. Thank you, papa.’ He opens the door now, he can leave. He’s on his mama’s bed, can feel her making soft circles on his wrist. Later at night, when he can hear his father snoring, he goes into their room. He crawls to his mother’s side and notices she’s looking at him, tears in her eyes that won’t fall. He lies on the floor and holds her hand, watches her as she falls asleep. It becomes a habit; he always has to check on her.

Alexei broke a window playing football. He’s not breathing right, words scrambled on their way out of his mouth. ‘You have to tell him it was you. He won’t hurt you.’ Ilya can still see his father’s hand on his arm.

Ilya got punched today, some boys at school who didn’t like him. Sveta is helping him clean his wounds like she has done so many times before. Alexei sees him and Ilya feels a little safer. ‘When will you learn to toughen up? Such a fag.’ Sveta kicks his shin.

Word gets around that Ilya is the best at hockey. He’s bigger now, stronger. Boys don’t mess with him anymore. He’s learned that he can be loud and mean, and everyone wants to be around him. He’s never felt more alone.

His father is going to hit his mama, he’s sure. He raises his hand and Ilya holds it. ‘Stop.’ His father is looking at him, twists his arm. It hurts but he doesn’t show it. It gets him to stop. ‘My sweet guardian angel, you will always protect me,’ his mama tells him. ‘Promise me you’ll always be my sweet, soft boy. He can’t take that from you.’ He turns his head away from her, tears running down his face.

He’s beating records now. He can hear his coaches saying he’s the best they’ve ever seen. He remembers skating for the first time with his mama. He will get her out of here, he will be the best and make sure they will escape.

His mama spends days on her bed, not moving, barely eating. He talks to her one day, asks her if she’s ever thought of leaving. ‘I can’t leave you Ilyusha, you’re my reason to stay.’ ‘Take me with you,’ he doesn’t say.

His mama is having a good day today. They spent the whole morning together like when he was little. They have to go to school in the evening, Alexei is receiving an award. It’s almost time, he’s changed his clothes. His mama is napping but he’ll have to wake her. She won’t move, she won’t breathe. She’s holding her necklace, he’s holding her. There’s a ringing in his ears, he can hear a high, ragged sound but he can’t tell where it’s coming from. His father is in the room now, telling him to move. His feet won’t cooperate. He gets pushed away. ‘This was an accident,’ his tone brooks no argument. In his own room, he realizes his throat is raw. He looks at his hand and sees the cross staring at him. ‘You’re free now. You should have taken me with you’, he doesn’t say.

Alexei won’t look at Ilya anymore. Ilya keeps practicing and he’s getting better and better, no one can compare to him. Alexei won’t look at him. His father brings him to parties, introduces him to all the right people. He will be a star. ‘I have to keep him in line, he gets lazy otherwise.’ Alexei is in a bathroom somewhere hooking up with a girl and doing coke. He still won’t look at him. Ilya gets more and more popular. Alexei will join the police, like father did before. His father won’t look at Alexei.

He meets Sasha. He likes him. He’s fun and Ilya can be fun with him. People enjoy when he’s fun. Sasha can be soft too, in his own way. Ilya appreciates that, he hasn’t been soft in a long time.

Ilya starts hooking up with girls sometimes and he’s having fun. They like that he doesn’t care and when he’s a little mean. He prefers Sveta though, they can cuddle afterwards.

He sleeps with Sasha and that’s a different rush. He feels unstoppable. He’s the best, even Sveta thinks so, and she knows more than anyone else.

He knows he’s good but now he’ll have an opportunity to show it too. Shane Hollander thinks he can’t see right through him, but he won’t act so nice once Ilya beats him. He knows what he’s like, perfect, golden boy, from a perfect, golden family. He’s not used to competition. But why does he seem genuine then?

Hollander is good. Not as good as him, but good. Playing is fun again. And he’s learning that teasing him is even more fun. He keeps thinking about him, but that’s only because he’s not used to having someone on his level.

He gets drafted first. He is the best like he promised his mama. He escaped, but he isn’t free.

Hollander is a surprise. He’s never had this much fun with anyone else. He’s a risk and that’s part of it. He keeps feeling wrong-footed, he doesn’t follow the same script as everyone else. He hides so much and yet he’s so genuine. He can’t stop poking him, and poking him, and poking him. And Hollander lets him. Seems to like it. It’s exhilarating.

He needs to be pushed, to be teased, to be touched. But he also craves gentleness and softness. Ilya can give him that without it being more.

He sees his face on a stupid ad. He wants to text him. He had a good practice today. He wants to text him. He’s making friends, and going out. He wants to text him. He texts Sveta instead.

Hollander wants him, that’s clear. And that’s good, he’s used to being wanted, he likes being needed. He can give him what he wants. He can make it fun, so Hollander will keep coming back.

Ilya is back in Russia. His father is getting sicker, Alexei is unbearable, only talks to him to ask for more. Ilya almost hit him today. He really is his father’s son.

Ilya needs Hollander, wants to text him. But he’s reminded of the poison that is his family, he’s reminded of the risks. He won’t risk Hollander.

He wins the Stanley Cup. He escaped, but he still isn’t free. ‘For you Mama, it was always for you.’

Hollander still wants him and it gets easier to breathe. He likes how he reacts to his teasing and it’s good sex, that’s the only reason. No point in stopping, it’s just having fun and they both clearly enjoy it. He won’t ruin him though, he won’t get close, there’s no reason to. Ilya dreams of an escape, but he will just keep hanging around for as long as he wants him to.

It keeps being fun. He’s never felt more alive. Playing is better than ever. He goes out, his teammates like him. He’s popular, everyone wants him. He’s not hooking up with random people as much but that’s because he’s feeling better than ever, he doesn’t need it as much anymore, and that’s the only reason.

He wonders what Hollander is doing, what he's eating, what he's reading. He collects little pieces of information, how he looks when he focuses, how he talks to reporters and how he chirps on the ice. He wants to know.

He’s counting down the days to meeting Hollander. He’s texting him. He thinks it would be good to hang out with him more, outside of sex. He wants him to stay the night. He wants him to drink the ginger ale he bought for him. He wants to cook him a meal and he wants him to eat it. He wants to kiss him. He wants to hold him. He wants and wants and wants.

He learned that he can’t want things a long time ago, but he’s stupid, it takes too many times for it to truly sink in. Every time he sees Shane with her, he’s reminded of the same lesson. He wasn’t made to have, only to give.

He knows Shane wants him, he’ll just have to accept that it’s only for this. He can be fun, he can give him that.

Seeing Shane again is better and worse than he could have anticipated. He can’t stop looking at him. Maybe he can have him again, and without her, which is better than he imagined.

Shane wants more, but he doesn’t understand. Ilya isn’t that, he isn’t big and fun and laid back, he’s broken, and small, and scared. He can’t want that, so why does it feel like maybe he can?

His father dies and he has no reason to see his brother again. It should be freeing, he’s not sure why it doesn’t feel that way.

He calls Shane, he always wants to talk to him. For once, he is the one who wants more, more, more, but he’s learning to be happy with what he gets.

He can’t breathe. He wants to go to him and hold his hand. He’s not moving. Is he breathing? He needs to get to him. His feet won’t cooperate. He gets pushed away. Everything his heart touches dies.

He’s fine and smiling and relaxed. He is okay. He will be okay. He wants to comfort him. He wants to give him everything he asks for. He can’t tell him no, but he doesn’t know how to make this possible.

Scott Hunter is kissing a man and he hopes. Maybe he will be free.

He’s scared, but he can be brave, he can be soft. He’s trying, he shares little by little and Shane catches him. He can be loud, and fun, and mean, and scared, and small, and soft. He’s always there. He looks at big sad eyes with tears that won’t fall and he remembers. He hears him laugh and sees him smile and he remembers. He wants to hide, but he’s held and he remembers. Shane looks at him and sees him and he remembers. He can be loved.

[shnehollander]

HEATED RIVALRY GIF MEME ➤ [4/7] kisses

[shanesbian]

#myzine retelling of heated rivalry (words borrowed from mary shelley's frankenstein)

[shanesprophecy]

I didn't know I was lonely 'til I saw your face

[kcvindays]

HR Prompt - maybe a cute snippet to go with Mina’s farmers market fanart? 💕

word count: 1465 words

rating: gen

did you hear? my prompts are open!

fic is based on this gorgeous art by @mina-logan

----------------------------------------------

It's not fair that the farmers market is in the morning, and it's a downright injustice that Shane insists on being there right when it open at 8 AM. 

That's the only reason why Ilya hauls himself out of bed at 7 AM during the offseason. He downs a cup of coffee before brushing his teeth, then brings a second cup as Shane gets into the driver's seat. 

It isn't until Ilya is three-quarters done with his coffee and they're halfway there that he realizes Shane hasn't spoken a word. His husband is staring resolutely out at the road, squinting against the bright morning sun. The gold light washes out his freckles, catching on the glasses that the doctor told him to wear more diligently, and obscuring his expression. 

Ilya leans forward in his seat so Shane can catch his raised eyebrow. "Shane?"

"Yeah." Shane still keeps his eyes on the road. 

Ilya waits a beat for Shane to say more. When he doesn't, he lets out a soft scoff. "What, did you forget the list, and are going over it in your head?" 

"No, I didn't make a list." 

"What, you're gonna do shopping with no list?" 

Shane shrugs with one shoulder as he pulls into the parking lot. "I just thought we'd see what they have, you know? I haven't been to one of these since I was a kid."

Ilya hums as Shane parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. The minute stretches long as they wait for the other to make the first move.

Ilya breaks it and reaches over to reassuringly squeeze Shane's shoulder. The muscles are tight under his thumb and pointer, tensed until Shane slowly relaxes under Ilya's hand. Ilya turns Shane's chin for a close-mouthed kiss, and Shane hums into it for one moment before pulling away. His nose wrinkles in distaste before he opens the door and gets out.

Ilya pops a mint into his mouth from the stash in the glovebox before getting out, giving an exaggerated stretch as Shane rounds the car. He doesn't miss the way Shane's eyes flash down as his shirt rides up. 

"Nope." Shane says in response to Ilya's smirk, grabbing the reusable bag from the backseat before marching towards the market entrance, not waiting for Ilya to follow. 

Ilya catches up when Shane is at the first stall, inspecting the rows of tomatoes and carrots like he'll be tested on them later. Ilya smiles in hello to the vendor sitting in a plastic chair in the corner of the stall, propping a chin on Shane's shoulder and reaching over to grab the closest vegetable. 

"Wow, what are they feeding cucumbers in Canada?"

"That's a zucchini, Ilya." Shane grabs the one from Ilya's hand and one more from the stand before dropping it in the bag, passing a bill to the vendor before shrugging Ilya off his shoulder and moving on. 

Ilya wanders away from Shane to stroll the other stalls, stopping to browse rings made from sterling silver and embedded with tiger's eye or amethyst. He spends an embarrassingly long time at one stall smelling all 28 candles for sale, internally comparing each scent in accuracy to the picture on the label before moving onto the next candle as the vendor smiles wanly at him. He compensates for the loitering by buying one that smells plant-fresh with a name he can't pronounce, cradling it in one hand as he turns to look for Shane. 

It doesn't take him necessarily long to find him again. He's standing in front of a stall full of what looks like scraps of wood, talking to the owner. As Ilya gets closer he can make out the rigid line of Shane's shoulders and his knuckles pale where they tightly grip the bag's handles. Ilya steels himself for an encounter he's not fond of having, but when he draws up to Shane's side he can see that Shane is smiling, though it's close-lipped and tight at the corners.

The vendor- an old man with more coarse white hair on his upper lip than on the top of his head - barely spares Ilya a glance and continues telling how everything is handmade from driftwood, that he personally collected while on walks with his grandson, and handpainted with varnish, and did he mention that it’s all driftwood-?

Finally, Ilya gently cuts him off, saying that they would take one of the large picture frames. "For the cottage, no?" He turns to Shane. "Or perhaps over the fireplace."

Shane furrows his brow. "We don't have a fireplace." 

Ilya shrugs. "We will build one then." 

"Oh, are you two gay?"

Immediately, Ilya turns back to the vendor, his hackles rising. A million possible phrases teeter on the tip of his tongue, yes, they are gay. So what? He feels Shane go still beside him, and can sense the hundreds of internal walls they've spent years dismantling ready to rebuild at a moment's notice. 

The vendor doesn't seem to notice their discomfort as he finishes wrapping the frame in paper. "My grandson is gay! Wonderful. That'll be forty-five dollars.” He gives a wide smile.

"The sign says sixty." Ilya points out as Shane fishes out his wallet. 

"It'll be forty-five." The vendor says again with a well-meaning wink. Shane silently hands over three $20 bills and waves it off when the old man starts to fish in his register, shifting the produce bag to Ilya so he can take the frame in both hands as they trek it back to the car. 

"We could have paid forty-five." Ilya says as he opens the hatchback so Shane can load it in. 

"We're millionaires, Ilya." 

Ilya shrugs. "Yes. But we could have paid forty-five." 

"Didn't know you were such a Scrooge." Shane closes the hatch, grabbing the produce bag back from Ilya and heading back to the market. 

"As long as Scrooge is hot, I don't mind." Ilya follows, reaching his hand out to trail from Shane's elbow and down his forearm to thread their fingers together. Shane doesn't verbally acknowledge the gesture, but his hand squeezes back. 

It's a different vibe, now, then when they had first entered the farmers market. It's still new, being out in public as a couple. In the early morning in rural Ontario, there wasn't a high chance of being recognized amongst the elderly couples or mothers with a gaggle of toddlers in tow, but every step outside was a step forwards for them. The decade of secrecy had taken its toll, and some days, Ilya's first instinct was still to hide when someone in public deduced that he and Shane were together. He felt that draw in Shane, too; the moment of hesitation in the car as he gathered his courage. 

Now, Shane doesn't let go of Ilya's hand as they dodge the other patrons as the market slowly filled, bringing him alongside the fruit stalls as they pick out a carton of apples and cherries. He keeps their fingers entwined even as he inspects the peaches, brushing his free hand along one and gently prodding for bruises. He has to let go of Ilya to load up their bag, and to distract his hand from feeling cold Ilya takes the opportunity to pay. As soon Shane picks out enough peaches and Ilya's wallet returned to his pocket, their hands find each others again.

The market has filled in the hour they have been there, bubbles floating by from a machine as children giggle at the sight. A busker is playing a rendition of some pop song on their violin, and Shane roots around in his pocket for loose change awkwardly with one hand to drop in the open violin case as they pass, and Ilya's heart feels so, so full. 

It brims up and over when Ilya tugs Shane behind a food cart selling lemonade, the smell swirling around them with the lingering scent of peaches.

"Ilya, what-" Shane's weak protest dies as Ilya draws him in for a kiss. His glasses nudge against Ilya's cheek as he immediately reciprocates. Ilya sweeps his tongue in as Shane’s mouth opens on a soft sigh, tasting warmth and the muted remnants of toothpaste. He cups Shane's jaw to deepen the kiss further, the stubble that Shane lets linger in the summer scratching against his fingertips.

"What was that for?" Shane asks when they finally part, his eyes slowly fluttering open. His nose is red and his lips are wet, and Ilya feels a pull in his gut that has nothing to do with the fact that they haven't had breakfast yet, and all because he is married to the beautiful man in front of him for the rest of his days.

Ilya smiles. "Because you're brave."  

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

The time he gave in. a very unpolished ficlet i wrote in a fugue state cw//one line about somno, sleep depervation, cockwarming, public intimacy, oh, and an unedited fic.

Shane Hollander is very good at being appropriate in the centaur locker room. When they share a shower, Shane doesn't watch Ilya run soap over his body. When Ilya teases him like a schoolboy with a crush, Shane will blush with dignity, and not back Ilya up against a wall. And when they win a game and Ilya gets his hands under Shane's jersey and Shane gets his mouth around Ilya's lips, and the team jeers and whoops in approval, that is as far as it goes, because anything further would not be appropriate for any public situation.

It all goes fine until the middle of the play offs in Shane's fourth year in Ottawa.

The first night Shane couldn't sleep he wrote off as a blip, by the second, Ilya noticed. Shane tried to brush him off, but Ilya insisted they were a team, and thus he must help. They tried every trick in the book. Shane was thankful for the help. He just wished anything worked. Orgasms did next to nothing, alcohol just made Shane dizzy, chamomile tea and cuddles only served to lull Ilya to sleep on the couch. Nothing seemed to force Shane's nervous system down enough to sleep.

Eventually Ilya had called uncle and dragged himself to bed, needing to be up for practice the next day. Shane spent the rest of evening reviewing strategy on the bedroom ceiling.

Shane could barely function the next day, he followed Ilya around like a dog and made his husband do everything for him until they got to the rink. The only time Shane felt remotely aware was on the ice.

"You should not be playing this well for running non stop since yesterday. Are you sure you didn't fall asleep last night."

"I counted the hours. But I can hope."

-

The closest thing Shane got to sleep was on his knees between Ilya's thighs. It was a hail Mary, in the past Shane had unintentionally fallen asleep like this, and 'worth a fucking shot I guess,' had been the accession.

And honestly, it was working much better than Shane hoped. For the first time in days his mind was off hockey and hopping around in that pre-dream-like state before one scummed to sleep. His thoughts drifted from one topic to the next without pause of conscious consideration. Ilya's dick sat soft and gentle on his lolling tongue. They stayed there for two hours. Then that night did it again, setting Shane up to cockwarm Ilya's sleeping body. Shane didn't fall asleep, but it was something.

-

By the time Shane skated off the ice and into the centaur locker room he hadn't slept in 80 hours.

He watched like a ghost as his team stripped off their gear. He should also probably be moving. He somehow couldn't get himself to.

His eyes fell onto Ilya, it was too much work to make himself look anywhere else. Saliva pooled on his tongue as watched the 81 get shucked and the hockey pads peeled from his arms. Ilya was bare chested and soaked in sweat and just a few feet from Shane. And Shane needed Ilya like air.

He could smell Ilya's distinct scent even through all of the mixing aroma's of the locker room. It lapped at his brain and made him taste the air, like a dog despite it doing nothing to help him smell better. Shane had never felt this desperate in his life.

Ilya caught his eye and gave a goofy grin. "You look very aware of your surroundings, Hollander," he teased with a smirk. "You ready for a nap, Мой медвежонок?" Ilya sauntered towards him. Shane took a step forward like he was being pulled by some physical thing. Maybe he was. Could scent be considered physical? He needed to get closer to that musk rolling off Ilya's bare and unshowered frame. Maybe if he'd slept, or if through the insomnia he'd avoided seeking respite in Ilya's thighs, Shane could have held on to his wits. Instead, his knees cracked against the floor as he went down.

"Woah!" Ilya shouted.

Every head in the locker room swiveled towards the couple. Shane didn't have any willpower left in his body to do anything about the shame that accompanied that fact. Ilya had rushed forward to try and catch him as he went down, and it had put him just where Shane needed. Shane let his whole body rock forward.

Ilya's cock was soft under the fabric of his shorts. Directed by nothing but muscle memory and need, Shane's mouth dropped open. Somewhere in the back of Shane's head something was screaming that he shouldn't be doing this. Shane didn't have the energy to listen.

Ilya's hands were on his back. Shane liked them there. The hands moved to grapple at his shoulders to try and pull him to his feet. Shane liked them there distinctly less. Ilya hauled on his arms. Shane dropped his weigh into his thighs and shoved his nose deeper into the crease between Ilya's hip and pelvis.

"Shane. You have to get up," Ilya said, voice thick with caution.

"I need you," the only reply Shane could manage.

"You need to shower. I need to shower…"

"No. You smell good now."

There was a shuffling behind him. Shane groaned into the cock that belonged to him. Why was it behind these shorts? Couldn't Ilya see how much he needed this. His arms were too tired to drag the boxers down.

"Is he okay?" That was Harris's voice.

"Uhh, he hasn't slept in three days. I think-"

"What!" Wyatt.

"I think his body is trying to get him to sleep." Ilya sounded sheepish.

Something about that explanation rang true. He needed this. This is what allowed him to feel better. Shane nodded. It served a dual job of both agreeing with Ilya's assessment and nuzzling deeper into the space where Shane belonged.

"Fuck m-" Shane's words were cut off by Ilya abruptly grabbing the back of his head and shoving his open mouth against its purpose.

"That's enough out of you!"

"You need any help getting him to your car?" Troy asked, voice wobbly. "I'll handle it. Can you hand me my shirt." Shane moaned in displeasure at the thought of Ilya getting dressed. "Nmu-" his tongue was too heavy to form the actual word. He felt Ilya moving above him, pulling fabric over his sweat. Shane wanted to fight more, but Ilya's scent was still wrapping his brain and he couldn't bring himself to move, or think, or fight, or fight… his tongue wasn't the only thing that felt heavy. Shane blinked slowly once.

He woke up at home.