Ok I watched the second video of Connor dancing and like
I am just thinking about playful silly Ilya. Like this boy has sooo much whimsy but he’s always been so grounded in sadness and seriousness from when he was a kid, his fathers strictness, loosing his mother, her sadness- the grief, and then trying to get out make it in hockey and be free, grounded by all his coping mechanisms and depression and his brother and so much responsibility all the time on his shoulders.
And like finally with Shane he can be a little boy again sometimes, he can silly and stupid and carefree and playful. Like I think of the Ilya we saw with svetlana when he playfights with her on his bed, these little glimpses we see but then when he’s finally out with Shane, his husband, living together playing hockey and he’s loved and supported he’s even more free, he has this lightness this ability to be so loose and silly. The ability to be feminine and expressive and flirty while still being the big bad hockey player he is. He gets to be all of it.
I can imagine Ilyas had a couple glasses of wine with dinner, Shane has too because he does now, even in the season, when Ilya is being extra sweet on him about it- making up some anniversary that doesn’t really exist- “oh Shane it’s the anniversary of the first time we held hands” “our first kiss” “the first time you winked at me” and insistence of celebrating (and Shane knows, knows the he’s just making it up so Ilya can convince Shane to order takeout from the place he wants and they need red wine because it’s romantic and it’s stupid but it makes Ilya so happy, every time, and Shane can’t help wanting to make Ilya happy any chance he has to so he kind of can’t not play along with him). So they’ve have had a few glasses of wine and Thai food and they are sprawled out on the big plush rug in the living room, music coming from the homes speaker system, on the rug (glasses of red wine safely on the coffee table out of reach because Shane is tipsy but he is not letting this rug get stained again) because they’d gotten into an argument about who could do more pushups in a row and that had turned into having to settle it because it’s them and they are so competitive, even now.
So they are on the rug and Shane is half curled on his side, shirt tucked up around his hip from how he’d flopped down, pouting in defeat because Ilya had gotten him (by two and he’s seen the shake in Ilyas arms after so it’s basically a tie) Ilya is leant back on his hands, bare legs sprawled out in front of him, in shorts far too small for the middle of winter (for the rain pelting down on the windows of the home, the roof) he’s in some big cosy hoodie to compensate and his hair is still drying in it’s pretty ringlets from the shower. He’s so handsome and Shane is red wine horny, a happy pretty throb in his lower stomach and toes and wrists. (He can feel it, the draw of their sex later in the way Ilya is watching him, had served up his plate of food for him, sat with his hand on the back of Shane’s neck through most of dinner, the way Ilya had stacked the dishwasher for him before they spilled onto the couch to finish the wine).
Anyway he’s so handsome and breathless from the pushups and leaning back by Shane’s feet and his husband is so gorgeous and his and he smiles and watches Ilya as he scrolls on his phone, no doubt bragging about his physical prowess on the teams group chat. He rolls more onto his back, lets his legs part and rubs his socked foot in little circles against the rug, bites into his bottom lip and just waits for Ilyas attention to come back to him because it always does, and catches his fill, watching Ilya his gorgeous boy soft and cosy in their house on their way to wine drunk, watching him happy and warm and his his his and he has loved him since he was seventeen and his shoulders were more slight, the skin by his eyes unwrinkled, and he loves him even more, shoulders filled out and their laughter marked by his blue eyes.
Shane’s chest squeezes with the ache of affection, and he thinks about crawling into Ilyas lap, watching the surprisedhappyhornylonging look chest grow in Ilyas eyes. He thinks about tackling him down onto his back and biting at Ilyas neck and poking his fingers into his sides until Ilya has enough and pins him. He thinks about crawling between Ilyas legs, pushing them open further to make room and pressing his face to Ilyas crotch and breathing him in, getting his guard down and shoving his face under Ilyas hoodie to blow a raspberry on his stomach instead, hear the squeal of Ilyas laughter, loud and bright and booming and warm and his his his, his boy his man the love of his life.
Shane thinks he’s had too much wine, and lets himself flop back onto the carpet, loose limbed with slow deep breaths. He thinks he’ll let Ilya come to him instead, likes knowing Ilya will, come to him, look for his body with hungry hands and mouth because he’s never stopped being hungry for shane. Shane thinks about Ilya crawling over him and getting his hands all over Ilyas thighs, his strong legs have been distracting him all afternoon, he wants to suck marks into them. He will, he decides.
But then the music kicks up- louder than it has been all night, half way through a song and a happy gasp from Ilya and Shane props himself up on his elbows, eyes on Ilya. “I love this song” he beams, phone now abandoned behind him. And then he’s performing, lip syncing and grinning and ? Gyrating? And Shane is giggling, he’s hard and he can’t look away, he watches and goes hot from his head to his toes and thinks of stone faced walls up teenaged Ilya of angry sad Ilya in his twenties and watches Ilyas face open and happy and warm and bright bright bright and that’s his baby, spinning and dancing and radiant. That’s his man the muscles of his thighs shifting and strong and delicate and the body of a fucking athlete. His expressions bright and emotional and over the top and he is breathless with the energy he’s putting in, pauses to laugh as he shifts to be on his knees, paused for a second to swipe the back his hand over his mouth. He’s so fucking pretty and so fucking hot and Shane loves him so fucking much.
Then one knee rises his hand goes down onto the carpet in front of him and Shane is laughing like a little kid, his cheeks ache from him and he wants his husband so bad he feels dizzy for it, feels clammy handed like the first time before he ever touched Ilya, ever had him like this and then Ilya is crawling towards him, dark eyes, wolf smile, mouthing “you know I’ll take you there” as he brings his body over him, warm warm warm bright bright bright and kisses wine tannins and the taste of berries and the rest of life hot and wet into his mouth.
