trick :)

head empty no thoughts

[tricks-tickles]

hey, my name is trick! im 20, and a sfw tickle fic writer. i also use he/they pronouns :)

feel free to send an ask or dm if you wanna chat!

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[ppyspsps]

OH MY GODDDD TSHD FAN FINALLYYYYYYYY🥹🥹🥹🥹 Lee yoshiki ler hikaru or the opposite literally anything flies😍😍🥹🥹🥹

Thank you for your request!!!!!

I hope you like it

took me 1h17min cz I'm nauseous 😠

timelapse here

[vqler]

some hurt/comfort with boys? and my attempts to try manga style in sai (i think i failed)

[tricks-tickles]

devouring this

[tricks-tickles]

I just read Under Pressure and I am in love with it, it's super duper adorable! These boys deserve to be cute and soft and silly together 💖

I LOVE YOU

[tricks-tickles]

Love you heated rivalry fic!

ararrgghh and i love you random anon!

[tricks-tickles]

Your heated rivalry fic is so cute! Lee!shane is adorable

THANK YOUUUUUU !!!!!!!

he is the boy of all time i fear i must write more of him once midterms are over bc that boy is too cute not to be tickled i fear

[amitlee]

Bellboy

Ler!Ilya, Lee!Shane

SFW

Summary: Shane and Ilya finally have the time to be playful. Takes place before during and after the infamous bellboy scene.

Words: 1.5K

AN: Wow hi just gonna drop this here

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The cabin was too quiet for two people who had spent years being loud at each other. But inside the air was warm, comfortable with the dissolved tension of things that had been said, worries put to rest.

Shane took the lead down the narrow hallway, one hand trailing along the wall as he walked, the other holding Ilya’s.

Ilya followed a step behind him, amused in that quiet way of his, eyes drifting over the space before inevitably coming back to Shane. “Is nice.” He hums.

Shane stopped in front of the bed and turned to face Ilya. He glanced at him, lips twitching, eyes bright with that familiar mix of nerves and teasing. He swallowed, putting up a mask of faux stoicism.

“This is awkward.” Shane shifted his weight, glancing around the room with a sheepish half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This room isn’t available to the guests.”

Ilya closed the space between them with deliberate slowness, his posture straight, hands tucked neatly behind him as he leaned in. Their faces were close enough now that Shane could feel his breath. The seriousness on Ilya’s face was almost convincing, except for the faint curve tugging at his lips, the quiet amusement shining through his gaze. “Mmm. Disappointing.”

The change in his voice caught Shane off guard. The lower and rougher quality making him look away, heat creeping up his neck. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, the word slipping out with more weight than he meant it to carry, and the flash in Ilya’s eyes told him it hadn’t gone unnoticed, “we’d really like to accommodate you, but—”

The rest of his protest vanished as Ilya suddenly pushed him backward, the mattress dipping under his weight as Ilya followed him down.

“Sir, I’m just a bellboy!” Shane laughed, breathless now, even as his hands were trapped above his head. Pinned by Ilya’s weight as the man settled smugly over him. “You can’t treat the staff like this!” Shane protests.

Ilya leaned close, easily pressing Shane back down when he tried to escape. A crooked smile curved across Ilya’s mouth. “Oh, I think I know how the staff likes to be treated after all these years, hm?”

Ilya’s grin lingered just a beat longer, like he was savoring the moment before chaos. Or more likely letting Shane wallow in anticipation. Then, he shifted to hold both of Shane’s wrists in one hand. His free hand sliding lower with a deliberate slowness.

Shane tensed instantly. “No,” he warns, shooting a heatless glare at Ilya. His body betrays him, giving him pink cheeks and a tiny smile that he can’t fight off. “Ilya, no —don’t you dare.”

“So sensitive,” Ilya murmured, clearly entertained. His fingers brushed along the curve of Shane’s hips, light as a warning. “You react before I even start. This is very bad poker face.”

“I am not—”

Ilya’s hands closed around his hips before Shane could finish. Thumbs pressing in, fingers spanning the curve of bone and muscle like he remembered exactly how Shane fit under his hands. Deliberate and unhurried.

The reaction was immediate. Shane twisted, laughter breaking loose before he could stop it, sharp and startled. “Ilya—!”

Ilya’s mouth tipped, slow and satisfied. “There it is. Still the same,” he murmured, almost thoughtful. “I was not sure.”

Shane blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, breath uneven. “Not sure about what—”

Ilya squeezed.

Shane’s protest shattered into helpless laughter, his torso jerking as he tried to curl away.

“That you would still react like this,” Ilya finished calmly, as if Shane hadn’t spoken at all. His thumbs pressed in again, rolling in small circles this time, savoring the way Shane’s composure dissolved with each pass. “Good to know some things do not change.”

Ilya leaned down. His nose brushing the side of Shane’s neck, warm breath ghosting over skin that was already flushed from laughing. The faint scrape of stubble followed — not rough enough to hurt, just enough texture to make the sensation impossible to ignore despite the shocks on his hips.

Shane jolted. His laughter pitching upwards, uncharacteristically squeaky in his surprise, shoulders hiking toward his ears as he tried to scrunch away.

The brush of his mouth wasn’t a kiss, not quite, just a slow pass along the curve where neck met shoulder, paired with the deliberate scrape of his stubble. It sent a different kind of reaction through Shane: laughter tangled with breathless protests, his head tipping helplessly to the side as he tried to block the sensation with his shoulder.

“You are very sensitive here,” Ilya observed, entirely too pleased. His free hand remained at Shane’s hip, thumb tracing in a way that kept him twitching even as the focus shifted upward. “I could always tell.”

Another slow drag of stubble along his neck made Shane burst into helpless laughter again, his body arching in a futile attempt to escape both directions at once. There was nowhere to go; pinned at the hips, trapped by his own reactions.

Ilya shifted his weight just enough to trap Shane’s legs between his own, pinning him in place with unfair ease. “You move too much,” he said thoughtfully. “Is problem for guest experience.”

“This is not included in the customer service—!”

Ilya’s fingers slid down, zeroing in on the sensitive spot just above Shane’s knees.

Shane made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a startled squeak, his legs jerking violently. His laughter turned helpless, high and bright as Ilya squeezed rapidly with his pointer finger and thumb.

Ilya noticed everything; the way Shane’s muscles went taut before he even touched him, like his body knew what was coming and was already bracing for it. The way his legs tried to bolt on instinct, even though there was nowhere to go. It was ridiculous and endearing in equal measure.

He’d seen Shane fierce, stubborn, and unmovable in every way that mattered. But here, in this small, private moment, Shane was all twitchy nerves and breathless laughter, undone by something as stupid as Ilya’s skillful touch. There was something soft about it, something unguarded. Ilya felt a fond, familiar warmth settle in his chest at the sight.

“You have very dramatic knees,” Ilya observed, completely straight-faced.

“I can’t control them—oh my god—stop—!” Shane gasped, his head tipping back into the pillow as he laughed himself breathless. His shining smile on display.

Ilya’s grip relented just a fraction, not enough to stop the tickling, but enough to calm Shane when he jolted again. He liked this version of Shane. The one who forgot to be careful, who let himself be loud and ridiculous and entirely present. It felt like a small, precious thing to be trusted with, and the thought made his teasing soften into something quieter, more affectionate, even as the laughter kept spilling out between them

Ilya finally slowed, his hands lingering just long enough to make Shane twitch even when the tickling stopped. He leaned down, forehead brushing lightly against Shane’s, his grin softening into something fond.

“You are very noisy bellboy,” he said quietly.

Shane was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling as he laughed weakly, eyes bright and a little dazed. “You’re never getting upgraded again,” he muttered.

Ilya laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and shifted his weight so he was no longer pinning Shane down—though he stayed close. Neither of them in a hurry to put space back between them.

Shane stayed sprawled against the mattress for a second, laughter fading into soft, uneven breaths. His face was warm, eyes unfocused in that pleasantly wrung-out way. His limbs felt heavy, like gravity had suddenly decided to double down on him.

Ilya shifted closer, one hand settling at Shane’s side, the other brushing gently over his arm in slow, grounding strokes. The ticklish edge was gone now. No tricks or surprises, just steady reassurance.

“You laugh very nice. Is good sound.”

Shane turned his head toward him, eyes still bright but calmer now. “You’re such a jerk,” he said fondly, the words lacking any real bite.

Ilya leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Shane’s temple, brief and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world. When he pulled back, he brushed his thumb under Shane’s eye, gentle, almost careful. “You okay?”

Shane nodded, shifting just enough to bump their foreheads together again. The contact was easy, instinctive, like they’d both leaned in without thinking about it.

“Yeah,” he said, voice still a little wrecked from laughing. “I’m good.”

Ilya didn’t move away. His hand remained at Shane’s side, broad and steady, thumb tracing slow arcs that were deliberately grounding. A quiet contrast to the chaos from minutes before.

Shane let out a slow breath, the last of the laughter leaving him in a soft exhale. “You looked very pleased with yourself.”

“I was,” Ilya said.

Shane huffed. “Jerk.”

“Yes.”

A beat.

Shane’s fingers curled loosely into the front of Ilya’s shirt, not pulling him closer, but a small unconscious anchor. His eyes drifted shut again, the corner of his mouth still tipped up.

The quiet between them was easy, and Shane’s lingering smile gave away any protest he had made earlier.

Ilya noticed.

He said nothing.

————————————————————

Guys I’ve been so insanely obsessed with heated rivalry that it brought me back after like 3 years

I haven’t even looked at this blog, lowkey scared to 😭😭 I’m so different and grown up now

But I still love all my friends from here, I’ve kept y’all in my thoughts.

[bow-of-aros]

A Proposition

Ilya has an idea, a game he wants to play with Shane. Shane is doing a very bad job at pretending that he doesn't like it. WARNING: Nsfw content! Please read responsibly :D

It was a few minutes before Shane had to be on the ice for the game against Boston when he saw his phone light up with a text. Warmth rushed to his cheeks when he saw the name Lily on the screen. He’d be embarrassed at his reaction before even seeing what Ilya had sent him if he wasn’t already fairly certain of the contents of this message.

Shifting his grip on his helmet to one hand, Shane made sure that nobody would be able to catch a glimpse of the screen as he swiftly unlocked his phone.

I have proposition for you

Not entirely what he expected, but Shane wasn’t going to let his curiosity stop him from shooting back a teasing message.

Proposition? That’s a big word. Learn that from the New Yorker?

Shane allowed himself to feel proud of his little quip as he watched Ilya’s speech bubble appear, then disappear, then reappear once more.

Fine then. I won’t tell you

An amused snort escaped him before he could stifle it, and he gave another cursory glance to reassure himself that nobody was paying attention to him. Satisfied that everyone was distracted by wrapping up their pre-game rituals and heading out to the rink to warm up, Shane rolled his eyes and turned back to his phone.

I’m sorry! What’s your proposition?

A couple of seconds went by with no response, and Shane could picture Ilya staring imperiously at his phone. Waiting.

Please?

Immediately, the speech bubble reappeared. Shane wasn’t sure if that meant that he was easily influenced, or if he just knew exactly what to say to make Ilya give in. He found that he didn’t mind either of these options.

Because of good manners, I will give you hint

It has me getting my mouth on your dick and my hands on your thighs

Shane turned off his phone reflexively, his face flushing a deep red. He fumbled to get his helmet on in an attempt to hide whatever incriminating expression he was undoubtedly making. It’s impossible not to glare at his phone because, no matter how innocent the object itself might be, Shane could feel Ilya’s smugness radiating through the black screen.

When he felt like he’d gotten himself under control, he opened his phone back up.

Fuck you.

Not quite. It is time for me to beat you

See you on the ice ;)

With a roll of his eyes, Shane turned off the phone, deciding that this was a conversation much better finished in person. Preferably with him mopping the ice with Ilya and his team.

The sounds of his teammates hyping each other up reached his ears and Shane allowed himself a small, private smile as he stepped onto the ice. Catching a glimpse of movement, he locked eyes with Ilya across the rink, and all thoughts of what might happen after the game faded from his mind.

Ilya sent a smirk his way and Shane steadily held his gaze, the tension only broken when Hayden skated up to him and bonked their helmets together, talking about how they’d be winning this game, no sweat.

And anyway, the win would taste even sweeter after the game, when he was faced with whatever Ilya had planned for him.

A few laps around the rink later, a sharp whistle sounded through the air, and Shane’s team gathered around him.

It was time to play some hockey.

They won 3-1.

Of course, Ilya had scored Boston’s one and only goal and the first of the game, which Shane couldn’t help but be a little proud of. Shane himself wasn’t much of a gloater, but he’d managed to score two out of Montreal’s three goals, which was something he planned on subtly holding over Ilya’s head for tonight.

But Shane had a feeling that Ilya enjoyed seeing him a little cocky. He also had a feeling that Ilya enjoyed knocking him down a couple of pegs.

On an unrelated note, Shane had made it up to Ilya’s hotel room, and he gave three sharp knocks to the door. It took Ilya five seconds to turn the knob and let him in, even though Shane knew he could’ve done it in three.

Asshole.

“Hollander,” Ilya said in greeting, eyes glittering dangerously in a way that was already threatening to make Shane go weak at the knees.

He refused to show it though. Not yet, at least. “Rozanov,” Shane replied, letting his lips just barely curl up at the corners.

Clearly, it didn't go unnoticed, because Ilya shot him a glare. “Yes, congratulations, Hollander. You won the game.”

Shane did his best to shrug modestly in a way that conveyed that he was not feeling modest at all, “You played well. Your goal was impressive.”

“Of course it was,” Ilya sniffed, “I am the one who scored it.”

Silence stretched on for a bit before they both cracked, grins softening as they came together for a kiss. It started off unusually tender for a post-game hookup, when fire was usually still raging in their veins, and Shane let himself sink into it for a moment until he felt Ilya trying to push for more.

He pulled back just enough for their lips to brush together, chuckling at Ilya’s groan of protest.

“Didn’t you say that you had a proposition for me?”

It was like those words flipped a switch in Ilya, and his grin widened treacherously as he said, “You are going to regret reminding me, but yes, I did say that.”

The threat spread like wildfire, a steady heat burning through Shane’s body.

Ilya leaned in closer. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Yeah,” The word was barely a breath, so Shane cleared his throat and tried again, “Yes. I want to know.”

“Good. Here is my proposition: I will suck your dick.” Ilya started approaching Shane, a predator stalking its prey. Instinctively, a thrill working its way through his veins and straight down to his dick, Shane took a step back for each step forward. “As I do this, I will also tickle you. Your only job is to stay standing and stay silent. That is your reward for winning.”

Shane’s back hit the wall, and he hoped that his face wasn’t as red as it felt, even though he knew that it definitely was. “That doesn’t feel like much of a reward. That feels more like a punishment for beating you.”

“Does it matter?” Ilya clearly didn’t feel much sympathy, and didn’t buy Shane’s reluctance in the slightest, “You will like it.”

The darkness of the room clearly wasn’t doing him any favours as Ilya trailed a couple of fingers across his cheekbones. He grinned like Shane was a prize he’d won, like the heat radiating off of him was further proof of his victory.

“I—” Shane wasn’t sure what he’d planned on saying, probably some weak denial of wanting this so bad he was already half hard, but the words dried up in his mouth as Ilya dropped to his knees. Clearly, he was done with waiting.

But he didn’t touch Shane, not yet. Instead, he just looked up expectantly, patient in a way that betrayed his teasing words. He would only start when Shane gave him the okay.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed. With clumsy, eager fingers, he undid his jeans, watching as Ilya tugged them along with his briefs down to his knees. “Do it.”

That was all the permission Ilya needed, and he took Shane halfway into his mouth without another word.

It took an embarrassing amount of focus to not come right then and there. Sometimes, Shane still felt like a teenager around Ilya; finally being touched for the first time in a way that felt good and then being so surprised and horny that he didn’t even end up lasting a whole minute.

There were moments where that was part of the game, where Ilya pushed him over the edge as fast as he could, and then kept pushing just to see how much Shane Hollander could take before he cracked. Before tears started spilling down his cheeks and Ilya’s eyes glazed over at the sight.

But not today.

Ilya took him in a little further, pulling a groan deep from Shane’s gut. He scrabbled his hands against the wall, searching for something to hold onto as Ilya slowly pulled off, dragging the flat of his tongue roughly against the underside of his dick until his flushed lips were just wrapped around Shane's head.

A sharp exhale punched out of Shane when Ilya tongued his slit, swirling his tongue teasingly around the crown and lapping up the beads of precum that were leaking out. Then, without warning, he took Shane back in, hollowing out his cheeks and giving a muffled laugh at the helpless moan Shane let out.

His mind was fuzzy, overwhelmed with sensation and unwilling to form coherent thoughts. Which is probably exactly what Ilya had intended to do so that Shane would forget the other half of his so-called reward.

Blunt nails lightly trailed down Shane’s thighs and he, although he would deny it later, let out a very high-pitched squeal as he whited out out for a few seconds.

Ilya had learned that Shane was ticklish just a few months ago which, given how long they'd know each other, Shane found impressive. He’d been wrestling Shane to the bed when his hand slipped and squeezed at his side rather than his hip, higher than Shane had been expecting it. Apparently, the sound Shane made had been panicked enough that Ilya had immediately withdrawn and demanded what he’d done and if Shane was okay.

Thus prompted a red-faced, more flustered than he'd ever been in his life Shane to stammer through explaining that no, he’s fine, he’s just a bit sensitive is all. Maybe it was the way Shane’s voice climbed in pitch in sync with Ilya’s widening grin, or the way his eyes seemed to be glued to Ilya’s hands, but Ilya had declared that they must explore this immediately.

Moments later, Ilya also learned that Shane liked it when Ilya tickled him. A lot.

Shane had never known peace since.

“Ilya—” Shane choked on what sounded like a combination of a giggle and a moan, which Ilya really enjoyed, because his eyes glittered and he very briefly drew back for a breath before doing something complicated with his tongue that nearly had Shane coming right there.

Easing up a little further, Ilya allowed his teeth to gently scrape along the sensitive skin, the threat making Shane try to instinctively scramble back and groan desperately when he was reminded that there was nowhere to go. And then he just sat there, letting Shane’s barely-restrained twisting and jerking from Ilya dancing his fingers down his thighs and behind his knees do the work for him.

The fact that Shane was still even upright was a miracle. His legs were trembling with effort and every time he tangled his fingers in Ilya’s hair or leaned down to brace himself on his shoulders, Ilya dug in even more viciously.

Whether it was a warning or a punishment didn’t matter as much as the fact that it worked. Shane’s grip would inevitably loosen and he was back to valiantly fighting to keep his knees from buckling and sending him crashing down.

“Ilya- Ilya, I'm close,” Shane gasped out, the roiling heat tightening in his gut.

Instead of finishing him off like Shane thought he would, Ilya pulled off of him so fast it left his head spinning.

And then licked a solid stripe up the inside of his thigh.

A shocked laugh tore out of Shane alongside a “Ilya, that’s fucking gross!”

Ilya didn’t seem to care all that much, gleefully ignoring Shane’s dick in favour of running his mouth up and down trembling thighs, drawing out embarrassing giggles and the occasional yelp whenever he decided to lightly bite into the sensitive skin.

“Oh my God.” Shane ground out, heaving for breath and growing more desperate by the second, Ilya- Please.”

Of course, Ilya ignored him and said, “I love your legs, Hollander. Especially your thighs. I love it when they’re wrapped tight around me, keeping my cock inside you. I love how strong they are on the ice.” He looked up at Shane, smirking at how red his face was. “I love how they make you second fastest skater in the league.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Shane said, but he was smiling. Having Ilya here, on his knees, heaping praise on him, was making him dizzy. “I swear to God, Rozanov, if you don’t get your mouth back on my dick I’ll— Hey!”

He was cut off by a sharp squeeze to his knees, and Ilya leaned in like he was sharing a secret. “I especially love that I’m allowed to touch them like this, and see how crazy it makes you.”

Before he could say anything in response, Ilya took Shane’s dick all the way in at once in a way that definitely felt like he was being smug about it. He started bobbing his head with a single-minded determination, swallowing around Shane in a way that had him choking out curses.

It wasn’t long after Ilya’s hands returned to kneading the muscle of Shane’s thighs that he was frantically tapping Ilya’s head in a warning that was never heeded.

The orgasm tore through him as Ilya diligently swallowed his cum, and Shane’s legs finally went numb. He could feel himself starting to slide down the wall before Ilya was there, scooping him up and carrying him over to the bed before Shane could protest.

Ilya held Shane against his chest, safe and secure and so incredibly gentle even though Shane could feel his still hard dick pressed against his ass as he caught his breath. Lips pressed behind his ear and lingered there, breathing him in until Shane turned and caught them with his own.

Pulling apart just barely, Shane asked, “Need any help with that?”

“Hm, you broke the rules,” Ilya said. “Did not stay standing or stay quiet. Very bad.”

That wasn’t exactly a response to what Shane had said, but he had a feeling that Ilya was building up to something. “Oh yeah? And what’s my punishment?”

Ilya flipped him over effortlessly, pinning Shane down with his body weight while his finger skimmed teasingly across his hole.

“I think,” he said lowly, “that I will edge you until you cry those pretty little tears of yours. Until you are begging me to let you come a second time. And then, maybe, if I decide you beg sweetly enough, I will let you come. Does that sound like a fair punishment?”

What Shane wanted to say was no, absolutely the fuck not, you asshole. He wanted to whine and complain that he didn’t deserve that, that he’d die after what Ilya had already put him though.

Instead, what his traitorous mouth said was, “God, yes. Fuck- please, Ilya.” Because he was a glutton for punishment, apparently.

Craning his neck, Shane met Ilya’s eyes and saw them filled with adoration and something akin to awe. After a moment that sharp, mischievous look returned, and Ilya dragged the flat of his tongue across Shane’s ass, briefly sinking his teeth into the muscle possessively before leaning in close.

“As you wish,” were the words that fell from his lips, thick as molasses and just as darkly sweet. A threat and a promise.

Shane was planning on holding him to it either way.

[tricks-tickles]

Under Pressure

ao3 is down so fine i’ll do it myself

heated rivalry has been consuming me mind body and soul so i had to exorcise it into this fic (dint work) (still there)

word count: 1236

pairing: Ler!Ilya/Lee!Shane

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Shane was not having a good day. There wasn’t a good reason for it, or so he told himself, just a build up of little irks that led him to stand in the hotel elevator, drumming his fingertips against his leg incessantly. He hadn’t even pressed the floor number yet, and was just standing in the elevator like a weirdo.

It started in the morning. Waking up in slightly scratchy hotel sheets, he decided to go for an early run before the game that afternoon. His mom had called, and her usual reminders felt more like nagging. It left him walking back to the hotel, going ‘Yes, Mom, I remembered that. Yeah, I won’t forget. Yes, you know I have actually played the Raiders before?’ Then she got upset with him for being short with her. Shane knew she loved him. He loved her. Still, he was 24 years old and wished she would remember that sometimes.

When he got back to the hotel, Ilya still hadn’t responded to his text from yesterday, which was fine, really, then Shane realised he had actually forgotten his protein powder that he had just insisted he remembered. Which was. Fine. He would just use Hayden’s, only it wasn’t the whey blend that he liked, and so he only drank half his smoothie.

So then Shane was hungry before the game. And the seam of his socks was sitting directly beneath his toes, which he only realised when he was laced up, meaning he had to take his skates and both pairs of socks off to fix them.

And then they lost. Honestly, the loss wasn’t even that high on the list of upsets. He had played a lot of games, and lost a lot too. At least Ilya was there, and sent his room number right before they were going to play, along with a series of increasingly ridiculous emojis.

Now he was in the elevator. Fidgeting. He was always excited to see Ilya, maybe too much, but there was a stiff ball of tension wound in his chest, and he wasn’t sure great sex was going to unwind it all the way. Not that Ilya wouldn’t try.

And try he did, as soon as Shane actually made his way to his room, he was pulled inside. Ilya pressed him against the door, kissing him long and slow, moving to his neck.

“Missed you.” He muttered against Shane’s neck, making him shiver.

“I-ah, missed you too.” He said, pretty sure Ilya was just joking anyway. His hands roamed from Ilya’s waist, up his back, tightening as Ilya gripped his thighs, lifting him easily. As Ilya picked him up, and Shane felt his arms tightly around him, he felt something deep within him relax, just a bit. Then he was dumped on the bed, with Ilya looming over him.

“You are tense.” He said, squeezing Shane’s arms. Shane leaned forward to take his t-shirt off, regretting the way he had to throw it to the side.

Ilya pressed a kiss to his sternum, then to his stomach, “Let me make you feel good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recently, when they had finished, Ilya would lie next to him, one arm wrapped around his waist. Sometimes they’d even talk, a little, before parting again.

Ilya pressed a sleepy kiss against his shoulder, “You are still tense.”

Shane shrugged, “Just not a good day.” He said softly, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t your performance.”

Ilya grinned, his teeth grazing Shane’s neck, “Was not worried about that.”

They were quiet for another moment, as Shane debated whether or not to say something else.

“Anything I can do?” Ilya asked. Shane was sure he meant something like slide his hand down Shane’s boxers and go for round two, but…

“Um. Could you- I mean.”

Ilya hummed encouragingly.

“It felt good when you picked me up.” Shane said at last, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“You want me to pick you up?” Ilya asked.

“No, no, I don’t think so…” Shane thought about it, remembering what usually made him feel better. Piling his pillows and blankets on him had worked when he was a stressed-out teen.

“Could you,” He took a breath, “Lie on top of me?”

He could feel Ilya’s raised eyebrow without looking.

“I will crush you,” Ilya said, “Like a bug.”

“Fuck off, no you won’t.” Shane responded quickly, giving Ilya a shove, “Just, lie on top of me. The pressure helps.”

Ilya hummed, “Your funeral.” He said, shifting around to lie on top of Shane, flopping down like an oversized labrador.

“Oof, not like this, asshole.” Shane grumbled, “Like, wrap your arms around me and squeeze.”

“So demanding,” Ilya said, obligingly.

His strong arms went around Shane, all the way till his fingertips touched Shane’s sides. He squeezed, gentle, and Shane felt that ball of stress start to unwind.

Shane let out a content sigh, his arms squished against his chest.

“Feels good?” Ilya asked. Shane nodded, pressing his head into Ilya’s neck.

They lay like that for a few minutes, until Shane finally felt the last bit of discomfort leave him.

“Okay,” He said, “I’m good.”

“Okay, but what if I don’t want to move now?” Ilya teased, “Is pretty comfortable.”

“Asshole,” Shane said, wiggling, “Get off.”

“Mmh. No.” Ilya said, squeezing Shane tighter. His fingers curled into Shane’s sides, making him jerk and twitch.

“S-stop!” He choked out, not expecting the electric tingles that came off of Ilya’s fingers.

“Ahh, I forgot. Mighty Shane Hollander is very ticklish.” Ilya breathed the words into Shane’s neck, making his shoulders scrunch up. Over the years they had accidentally tickled each other a couple of times, but this was the first time there was intention.

“Rozanov, stop! I-I’m serious.”

Ilya stopped wiggling his fingers into Shane’s sides, “Too ticklish for a hug, so sad.” He pouted, pulling back.

Shane felt the loss sweep through him, as he thought helplessly, not yet, just another minute, please- and so he said, with false bravado,

“I’m not that ticklish, fuck off.” He looked away, his cheeks definitely pink now.

Ilya grinned, his fingers diving back into Shane’s ribs.

“No?” He asked, “Then you will not laugh if I do this?”

Shane did laugh, immediately, his back arching as Ilya’s fingers wormed their way higher, into his armpits.

“Seems very ticklish to me,” Ilya said, grabbing Shane’s flailing hands with his own. He leaned down, nosing into Shane’s neck.

“Rohozanohov!” Shane giggled, kicking his legs weakly.

“Hollander,” he teased. Ilya sat up, straddling Shane’s thighs as he still giggled weakly. If Shane’s eyes were open, he would have seen the look of pained awe as Ilya stared down at him. Snapping out of it, Ilya gave Shane’s hips a small pinch, making him buck.

“Very, very ticklish.” He said sternly.

“Whatever, so are you.” Shane shot back.

Ilya reeled in mock offense, “Not true. Russians do not have this.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.” Shane said.

The moment was over. They detangled, and Shane put his (sadly wrinkled) clothes back on while Ilya watched from the bed.

“See you…” Shane trailed off, thinking of their next game.

“Later.” Ilya finished.

Shane nodded, “Later.”

“Goodnight, Rozanov.” He added.

Ilya nodded, “Goodnight, Hollander.” He said.

Shane turned and made for the door. As he glanced back, Ilya looked almost sad.

It was probably nothing.

He slipped out, shutting the door behind him with a click.

[tricks-tickles]

heated rivalry brain rot so bad im reviving this blog wtf.

[ticklishraspberries]

Excellent Memory (Ilya/Shane)

Summary: Ilya makes a discovery during one of their hook-ups. Shane counts on him forgetting, but of course, he doesn't. (Canon-typical NSFW stuff. Minors, don't interact. I'm obsessed with this show.)

Shane didn’t expect that Ilya Rozanov could be so gentle.

On the ice, he’s swift, calculated, out for blood. And off of it, he’s snarky, a little rude…an asshole, as Shane often calls him.

But in this hotel room, Ilya’s calloused hands move softly, gracefully over Shane’s skin, handling him like something delicate, ready to shatter. It makes him feel vulnerable, too vulnerable, and he has to get out of his head before he fumbles the chance to feel Ilya inside of him for the first time in months.

He presses their lips together, successfully pulling himself back into the right headspace—Ilya’s kisses aren’t so soft, they have more fire in them, a kind of desperate passion that feels like they’re out on the ice, playing a game.

He’s on his back, legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist. He wants him close, as close as possible, because by tomorrow, the only touching they will be doing is slamming into one another on their skates, and he craves the heat of Ilya’s skin against his, has been not-so-patiently waiting for Ilya to fulfill the promises he’s made in all his filthy text messages.

Ilya’s fingers absent-mindedly curl around the back of Shane’s thigh, nails lightly grazing the sensitive skin there, and Shane’s leg twitches involuntarily—it sends goosebumps over his skin, and he lets out a little gasp against the other’s lips.

Ilya pulls away. “You okay?” he asks.

Shane nods, leaning back in, but Ilya doesn’t kiss him again, not just yet. Instead, the bastard repeats the action, and Shane’s expecting it this time, but the muscles in his leg still tense at the feeling, toes flexing.

“Hollander, are you…” Ilya pauses, like he’s trying to remember the right word. “Ticklish?”

The word rolls of his tongue easily now that he’s found it, and wow, his English really has gotten better over the years, and Shane’s stomach flutters. 

“No,” he replies, and he sees the mischievous glint forming in Ilya’s eyes, the smirk threatening to tug at his mouth, and Shane refuses to give him the satisfaction. He grabs a fistful of Ilya’s curls and brings their lips back together.

He successfully manhandles Ilya flat onto his back, so that Shane is the one on top now, and Ilya’s hands are busy grabbing at Shane’s ass now; a successful distraction, it seems.

Even Shane himself forgets, lost in the feeling of Ilya’s cock inside of him, the blinding pleasure of it all. It’s been so long, too long since he’s had this relief, and he’s not eager to let it go just yet, holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, trying to make the moment last.

After they’ve finished, and Ilya has gone back to his room, Shane’s phone vibrates with a text.

Lily: I will remember how ‘not ticklish’ you are next time.

Shane’s cheeks get hot, and he promptly puts his phone back down, heading off the shower.

It’ll be months before they see each other again.

He’s sure that Ilya will forget by then.

***

Ilya does not forget.

In all the years they’ve known each other, all the times he has touched Shane’s body, he remembers everything. He remembers the way Shane’s throat quivers under his lips, how he can feel Shane’s heartbeat jackhammering through the skin of his chest. He remembers how Shane likes to be touched, the spots to kiss and lick and stroke to make him whimper and moan.

He also remembers the ways Shane doesn’t like to be touched, is very aware of what not to do to make sure he feels comfortable and safe.

When they’re apart, Ilya reminisces on these memories, thinks about new things he can try the next time they see one another, wonders if Shane is touching himself to the memories too.

They’re in Boston this time, and Ilya has been texting Shane dirty things for days now, teasing him in preparation for this night.

Shane shows up right on time, hood pulled up, nervous eyes darting up and down the hotel hallway. Ilya pulls him inside, watches as he folds his clothes in that stupidly endearing way as he undresses, desperate to touch him after months apart. 

Ilya leads him to the bed, pressing quick kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.

Shane’s kissing back, planting his lips wherever they reach, like the crown of Ilya’s head or his collarbone as he shuffles backwards, letting himself be pushed back against the mattress.

There’s a delicate dance to this, what they have. They don’t talk about what they are, what this means, but it isn’t devoid of tenderness and care, either. It isn’t a quick hook-up, it isn’t hate-fucking, it’s…Well, it’s something that Ilya doesn’t quite have a word for, in either language, and he thinks it might be better left unsaid.

And so, while he knows Shane’s body so well, has been inside him, something about this feels more intimate. He’s heard Shane laugh before, at interviews and parties, a few times with him, when they bumped heads in the middle of changing positions, but it’s not in the nature of their relationship to be…silly.

But he’s just too fucking tempted to see Shane Hollander let loose a little, in a different way than normal.

He brings his hand to the back of Shane’s leg, like last time, and slowly, deliberately scrapes his nails along the skin, ghosting behind his knee, and Shane twitches, bending his knee and trapping Ilya’s fingers there.

Ilya looks up with a smirk, and is delighted to see Shane’s cheeks are flushed.

“Told you I would not forget, Hollander,” he says. “I have excellent memory.”

Shane does his best to glare, but he just ends up looking pouty. Ilya’s startled by how cute he finds it, and to try and ignore that thought process, he squeezes at the muscle of Shane’s thigh.

Shane lets out a strangled sort of noise and shoves at Ilya’s chest. “Rozanov, don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare what? This?” he asks, repeating the action a few times in rapid succession, and finally, a little giggle slips out and Shane is smacking at his arm, trying to shove him away.

They’re both naked, and they’ve gone soft now, but they’re both grinning like idiots and Shane looks so adorably flustered. Shane manages to get himself free from Ilya’s grip, tucking both his legs under himself protectively.

“I hate you,” Shane murmurs.

Ilya chuckles. “Can you ever forgive me?” he asks, giving Shane his best wide, pleading eyes. He sidles up next to him, presses a little kiss to his shoulder.

Shane’s pout slips away into a smile, and he leans down to kiss the bridge of Ilya’s nose. Their lips find each other’s once again, and soon, its like nothing ever happened.

They just barely crossed into a forbidden zone, that too-soft territory that they’ve been avoiding. A delicate dance—How far can they delve into couple-like affection before it becomes too much to handle?

It comes in little bursts like this: The tender forehead kisses, the lingering brushes of knuckles, the laughter, the teasing. 

Shane nips the shell of Ilya’s ear and whispers, “Are you ticklish, Rozanov?”

“Russians are not ticklish,” Ilya replies.

By the look on Shane’s face, he knows he doesn’t believe him, so he pins him back against the mattress, ready to take him apart and clear his mind.

He wonders if Shane will remember that comment for next time.

[ticklishraspberries]

Back Tickles (Ilya/Shane)

Summary: Shane and Ilya talk about ways that their mothers’ used to comfort them when they were kids. Due to the language barrier, Ilya misunderstands the meaning of ‘back tickles’, and ends up doing the opposite of relaxing his boyfriend. (Still obsessed with these boys. Minors, please don't interact. Hope y’all enjoy!)

The trip to the cottage was supposed to be relaxing, but Shane had just experienced one of the most stressful days of his life.

It was absolutely not how he had imagined coming out to his parents would go, and part of him did still wish it had happened in some picture-perfect way. But it hadn’t gone bad, and although he was emotionally exhausted, he still left his parents’ house with his heart feeling a bit lighter.

He collapses into bed, Ilya following right behind him, wrapping his arms around Shane’s middle and holding him close.

He melted into the touch, letting out a heavy sigh.

“How are you so good at that?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Ilya replied.

“Calming me down. It’s like you always know what I need when I’m freaking out.”

Ilya gave a soft smile. “I don’t know. I just…think about ways my mother used to comfort me when I was a child. She would hug me, play with my hair. She’d say, ‘Твоя мама здесь.”

He obviously recognized the word ‘mama’, but couldn’t translate the rest. “What’s that mean?”

“Your mom is here.”

Shane remembered the words Ilya had whispered to him at the table: Your family is here, your boyfriend is here. He was so glad that Ilya felt comfortable talking about these things, telling Shane all the wonderful memories he had of Irina, who sounded like a beautiful person.

 “That’s sweet,” Shane said with a small smile.

“I liked your parents. A lot,” Ilya murmured. “They were very kind.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Even with my mom grilling you?”

“She cares about you. I understand why she did it,” Ilya said. “But I was surprised…They did not seem to know how to handle you being upset.”

Shane shrugged, playing with the hem of Ilya’s shirt. “I don’t really get like that around them often. I used to all the time when I was a kid, but I guess I got better at suppressing it as I got older. Hockey is…It’s safe. I know I’m good at it, and it doesn’t stress me out, even when our team’s losing or I didn’t play my best, because I know all the factors that go into a game. But when it comes to personal stuff, emotions…I’ve never been good with things like that.”

Ilya pressed a kiss to his temple. “I think I understand what you mean.”

Shane remembered what an anxious child he had been: How before hockey, he had been desperately searching for structure, rigidity. Even at that age, he would only eat certain foods, he craved the predictable schedule of school, and struggled to fit in with his peers. He molded himself into a perfect student, a perfect athlete, a perfect son.

Of course, his parents had seen through the cracks on several occasions and had tried their best to comfort him through it.

“You know, when I was a kid, my mom used to have to sleep in my bed a lot, because I could never shut my brain off at night. I’d just toss and turn, thinking about homework, or hockey drills, or other stupid stuff.”

“How would she get you to relax?” Ilya asked.

“She’d hold me. Like this,” Shane said, snuggling closer into Ilya’s side, relishing in the warmth of his skin. “Sometimes she read to me. But I always liked it when she tickled my back. It always made me fall asleep super quickly.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Shane hummed in affirmation.

“Is this something you would like me to do for you? To relax you?”

Shane’s cheeks flushed. “I mean, if you wanted to. If you didn’t mind.”

“You know I enjoy touching you, no matter the context,” Ilya replied, smirking.

He brought his hand to the middle of Shane’s back, fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt, and Shane shut his eyes, ready to sink into bliss.

Instead, Ilya began quickly spidering his fingers over the backs of his ribs, and Shane would never admit it, but the noise that left his mouth could only be described as a shriek.

Over the years, they had both discovered a few ticklish spots on one another, but it had always felt too cutesy, too romantic to explore it further. It wasn’t until the first day they arrived at the cottage that Ilya had pinned him back against the mattress, claiming he had been wanting to do this for ages, and tickled his belly until he’d begged for him to stop and touch him elsewhere instead, the friction of all their squirming making him achingly hard in his shorts.

Ilya’s hands were so quick, still cuddling him close enough that he couldn’t wriggle away. His back wasn’t even especially ticklish, but Ilya had caught him so off guard, and the touches strayed too close to his neck, his ribs, all the other sensitive places, keeping him twitchy and on edge.

“Ilya!” he cried, giggling. “Wait, wait—”

“Is this not what you just asked me to do?” Ilya replied.

At first, Shane thought he was teasing, but when the tickling hands ceased and Ilya looked down at him in confusion, Shane realized his mistake: Ilya’s English had gotten so good over the years, it still surprised him when they had those little miscommunications.

Breathing heavily, he said. “Not that kind of tickle. I should have explained it better. Give me your arm.”

Ilya seemed a little wary, but did so anyway.

Shane began trailing his fingers up and down Ilya’s arm softly, gentle strokes instead of the scribbling motions Ilya had been using.

“Not the kind of tickle that makes you laugh, but like…It’s more like being pet, I guess. Like this.”

Ilya let out a soft noise, the muscles in his arm relaxing as Shane continued. “Oh. That makes more sense. I thought you meant, like, tickle you until you were exhausted.”

Shane didn’t hate the sound of that, either, and blushed a little at the thought. That could be a conversation for a different time, though.

Unable to help himself, he did sneak a little tickle to Ilya’s side, making him flinch and let out a startled noise akin to a laugh.

“You call me the asshole, but you are no better,” Ilya said, pulling Shane into a crushing hug, squeezing him tight.

Shane laughed again, shaking his head fondly. “And you’re ridiculous,” he said, leaning down to kiss his lips.

Later that night, Ilya fucked him slowly, softly, before the two of them settled down to sleep. And as Shane laid there, facing away from him, Ilya reached out and repeated those gentle strokes on the freckled skin of Shane’s back, murmuring something about connecting the dots.

The comment made him smile, and he wanted to call Ilya a dork for the comparison, but he was already half-asleep, melting beneath his careful touch.

He’d have to remember to insult him in the morning.

[tomurah]

Too, too confident, my boy..

[bow-of-aros]

I'm Just a Bellboy!

A sillier deviation of Shane and Ilya's five seconds of roleplay :) This is also fulfilling an ask from a couple of anons! In particular, my lovely French-speaking anon. Sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy!! <33

It was hard for Shane to fully wrap his head around the fact that Ilya was actually here, in the cottage that Shane had painstakingly planned and overseen the construction of so that he could have a little slice of peace away from the chaos that is his life.

The space was open and bright, and Shane always knew exactly where everything was at any given moment. He didn’t have to worry about getting overwhelmed or not having access to his pre-approved foods, and even just stepping through the door eased the ever-present weight on his shoulders.

This cottage was Shane’s safe haven, which is why it had been such a surprise to catch himself wishing that Ilya was there with him.

Before, Ilya had been part of the chaos. The one truly unpredictable thing in Shane’s life, and yet a steady constant in the way that Shane always wanted him. Always longed to be in his orbit.

Bringing him here could be a terrible idea. If this went wrong, Shane’s sanctuary could be ruined forever. Each time he returned he would only be reminded of what he could’ve had and let slip through his fingers.

But he was getting ahead of himself. And anyway, Shane had decided that this was a risk that he was willing to take. That it was a risk he wanted to take. He wanted to invite Ilya to share this part of his life. His quiet, private corner of the forest where Shane could let down his guard.

He wanted Ilya to know that this could be his too, if he wanted it. A place where they didn’t have to constantly be looking over their shoulders. A place where they could be Shane and Ilya rather than Hollander and Rozanov.

It was nerve-wracking, showing Ilya the cottage, watching as he took in each room Shane led him into. It felt like Shane was taking some raw, vulnerable part of himself and offering it up for judgment. The tightness in his chest loosened as he led Ilya into his bedroom, the natural light framing his face, softening the sharp angles in a way that reminded Shane how young they both really were.

And to top it all off, Ilya was smiling, so it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun with this, right?

“This is awkward.” Shane looked around his room, a faux-apologetic grimace plastered on his face. “This room isn’t available to the guests.”

Ilya took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back, face inches away from Shane’s own. His expression was serious, but Shane could see the way his lips twitched up at the corners, the way his eyes crinkled slightly in mirth.

“Mmm. Disappointing.”

His voice sounded deeper than usual, and Shane had to avert his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry sir,” a small thrill sparked through him at the word sir and, judging from Ilya’s expression, it had affected him too, “we’d really like to accommodate you, but—”

Before Shane could finish his sentence, Ilya was shoving him onto the bed and clambering on top of him.

“Sir, I’m just a bellboy!” Shane couldn’t help but laugh, even as his wrists were pinned next to his head and Ilya situated himself on his waist. “You can’t treat the staff like this!”

Ilya leaned in close enough that their noses brushed, pushing Shane back down with a smirk when he tried to sit up. “Oh, I think I know how the staff likes to be treated after all these years, hm?”

And, God, it was fun. Shane was pretty sure that nobody would ever describe him as the playful type, but here he was. It was just so easy with Ilya. It was easy to bring him into this part of his life, to tease him and laugh unguardedly when Ilya wrestled him to the bed.

Not like Shane was putting up much of a fight, but still.

Finally, finally, Ilya captured his lips in a kiss, and Shane could feel the way they were both still smiling into it. Forget the cottage, this is what coming home felt like, honey-smooth on his tongue and making him feel so warm he was sure that sunlight was ready to burst through the cracks in his heart at any moment.

Ilya moved to his neck, prompting Shane to tilt his head to the side to give him more room. A shudder worked its way up his spine as Ilya sucked on a sensitive patch of skin right under his jaw, pulling away with a pleased grin and adoring eyes before leaning back down to scatter quick, soft kisses across his neck.

Maybe if Shane hadn’t already lowered his guard so much, he wouldn’t have started laughing so quickly. As it was, he couldn’t stop the frantic, high-pitched giggles from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Ilya! Ilya wahait—” He pulled half-heartedly at his wrists which predictably did absolutely nothing.

Still, Ilya pulled back just enough so that Shane could get a full view of the shit-eating grin on his face and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Oh God, he was so fucked.

“Hollander,” he basically purred, “why did you not tell me that you were, ah, щекотливый? Sensitive? No—what is the word?”

For a second, Shane thought that Ilya was just messing with him—and maybe that was part of it, but he could also see Ilya casting around in his head for the right translation. Shane didn’t exactly want to be giving Ilya this kind of ammunition, but he wasn’t going to be a dick and let the missing word eat at him.

Through gritted teeth, Shane managed to ground out, “…Ticklish?”

The way Ilya’s face lit up when the word clicked into place was almost worth the combination of embarrassment, dread, and something he refused to give a name to swirling in his stomach.

“Yes! Ticklish!” He leaned in close again, glee sharpening into something a little more intense, his breath ghosting over Shane’s lips, “Why did you never tell me you were ticklish, Hollander? We could’ve been having so much fun.”

The something he refused to name grew, and Shane said perhaps the one thing that would only serve to make things worse for him.

“Uh… I’m not?”

Ilya laughed a low, rumbling chuckle that Shane could feel in his bones. “No? Are you sure? Then why were you laughing so much?”

As Shane floundered for words, Ilya just watched him, infinitely amused and perfectly content to watch Shane dig himself deeper into his grave.

“You just surprised me!” The moment where Ilya realized Shane knew exactly what he was doing was equally mesmerizing and terrifying. The gleam in his eyes was no less delighted, but his grin widened into something predatory.

His eyes raked over Shane's body, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being hunted. The thought sent a giddy thrill rushing through him, which was definitely something he and Ilya were going to be examining later.

Thoroughly.

Shane was brought back to himself by a sharp squeeze to his side and he yelped, shooting out his now free hand to wrap around Ilya’s wrist and shove it away.

If Shane had thought that Ilya looked mischievous before, now the expression on his face was downright devious. “Did I surprise you that time as well? Is that why you screamed?”

“What- I- What are you even-” Shane sputtered, his words tripping over themselves before he finally settled on, “I did not scream!”

“Hm, yes, right.” Ilya leaned in close, lips brushing against Shane’s ear in a way that made him shiver, his breath sending goosebumps racing down Shane’s spine. “Would you like to?”

Before Shane could even begin to process the question, Ilya attached his lips to the crook of Shane’s neck and blew. The vibrations lit up Shane’s nerves and he couldn’t suppress the shriek that escaped him as he threw his head back, presumably to try and escape, but only serving to give Ilya more surface to torment.

Ilya gleefully alternated between pressing sloppy kisses and devastating raspberries to Shane’s neck, drinking up Shane’s laughter like he’d never tasted anything sweeter.

“Il- Ilyahaha! You’re so fucking grohohoss!” Ilya didn’t say anything, but Shane could feel his chuckle buzzing against his skin in a way that should not be as ticklish as it was. “Ohmygod get off! You asshole!”

At that, Ilya pulled back, although he notably did not get off of Shane quite yet, his wide grin on full display. “I am not asshole here! First, you lie to me, and then you call me the liar by saying you do not scream! And then I think, maybe I did surprise him, so I will make sure that he is not surprised so we can get to the bottom of this, because I am a good guy like that, and then you scream again! Right in my poor ear!” Ilya shook his head incredulously, like he couldn’t believe that Shane had had the audacity to react so outrageously. “And you call me the asshole? It is disrespectful, truly.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Shane.

But he was grinning, and so was Ilya, and their attempt at kissing quickly dissolved into gently pressing their foreheads together, basking in the glow of being happy and together. In all of their rivalry, they’d so rarely had the opportunity to be playful, and there was something so freeing in finally being allowed this simple joy.

“Maybe I am ridiculous,” Ilya shrugged. “But I never heard you say stop. If you think about it, it is out of my hands.”

As he was talking, Shane could feel Ilya crawling his fingers up his ribcage, and he didn’t bother trying to smother the giggles that tumbled out of him. Instead, he did his best to ignore his red face and let Ilya think that he’d won as he prepared his retaliation.

It wasn’t easy, Ilya’s hands were always distracting in their own right, and Shane had to fight against every instinct that was telling him to glue his arms to his sides in self-preservation. But he gathered up his strength and, before Ilya could register the shift, deftly flipped them over so that Shane was perched on top of Ilya’s hips.

Shane made sure that he had Ilya’s hands firmly pinned under his knees, because he knew that if he lost the advantage now, Ilya would make him regret even attempting to turn the tables.

“Look at you. Is new view for me, you are not usually on top. Well, unless you are riding me, of course.” Ilya’s tone was teasing, but Shane could detect a spark of anticipation that sharpened his consonants.

Good. Let him know what was coming.

After the residual laughter made its way out of his system, Shane laid his palm flat against Ilya’s stomach, his thumb rubbing back and forth. “Yeah, yeah. And what about you, huh? Are Russians ticklish? Or, uh…” What was the word he’d used? “Shchekotlivyy?”

He was pretty sure that he butchered it, a thought that was only further confirmed by the grimace Ilya bit back a second too late. But Shane could see the way the tips of Ilya’s ears flushed pink and knew that the attempt at Russian had the effect he’d been hoping for.

Maybe, maybe, he could understand why Ilya seemed to love teasing him so much.

Below him, Ilya rolled his eyes and said, “Of course not. Russians do not have any sort of weakness, I have already told you this. It is how I obliterate you on the ice.” Shane snorted, shaking his head, and Ilya tacked on, “How about I make you a deal, hm?”

“What kind of deal?” Shane had a feeling that he knew where this was going, but he wanted to see how Ilya was going to try to worm his way out of this.

Not that he wanted to. They both knew that Ilya could’ve escaped since the moment Shane flipped them over.

Ilya, somehow looking perfectly at ease despite his current position, said, “You let me go, and I will spend the rest of the day fucking you in every single room in this cottage. After I finish having my fun, of course.”

“Of course,” Shane said, the most nonchalant anyone has ever been. “And what if I don’t want to let you go?”

Ilya had obviously been hoping that Shane would ask that question, because he leaned up as far as he could and purred, “Well then, when I get out, and I will get out, I will tickle you until you cry.”

The way he said it was so casual, like he was commenting on the weather instead of threatening his revenge. Like he wasn’t planning on pinning Shane down and taking him apart until he apologized or begged for mercy. Or probably both. Shane felt dizzy.

Shane could feel Ilya’s breath hitch under his fingers as he slipped his hand under his shirt. “Well, it sounds like you’re going to be ‘having your fun’ either way, so I think that I should make the most of it. What do you say?”

Slowly, Shane skimmed his fingers back and forth across Ilya’s stomach. It was fun to watch him grit his teeth against the laughter that so clearly wanted to escape him so he could say, “I say that you will be very sorry after this”

“Actually, I don’t think I will,” Shane replied. “And, anyway, I haven’t heard you say stop, so, if you think about it, it’s out of my hands.”

The look on Ilya’s face as his own words were thrown back at him was priceless, a combination of disbelief and pride, and Shane willed himself to burn the image into his memory.

But that was enough stalling. While Ilya was still deciding whether to be offended or horny (and the answer was clearly both), Shane dug his fingers into Ilya’s sides before traipsing upwards to worm them under his arms.

The full body jolt was almost as wonderful as the helpless grin that stretched across Ilya’s face. With his eyes scrunched shut and his curls splayed out on Shane’s pillow like a halo, Shane couldn’t help but think that Ilya had to be an angel. It was the only explanation for the way his breath whooshed out of him at the sight.

“Hollander, I will make you regret this—Hey! Shahane! Wait, дерьмо—” Ilya dissolved into cackles, bright and boyish and possibly the most beautiful sound that Shane’s ever heard in his life. He was hurling what Shane was fairly certain were Russian expletives at him, but there was a distinct lack of venom in his voice, so Shane wasn't overly concerned. He'd take whatever punishment Ilya deemed fit to dole out as his so-called revenge, knowing it would be worth it.

And this? Bringing Ilya to the cottage, seeing his smile and knowing that, for the next two weeks, they’re allowed to just be?

Shane would never be able to bring himself to regret this.

[nhasablogg]

Till your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention

Fandom: Heated Rivalry

Characters: Shane/Ilya

Summary: A video of Shane being tickled during a night out goes viral. Ilya becomes obsessed with it.

A/N: Warning for sexual themes.

Words: 4.5k

Lily: I can tickle you better.

Shane nearly flung his phone onto the table from how quickly he turned away in an attempt to shield it. His team wasn’t paying attention to him anyway, all hungover, all exhausted and not looking forward to the flight out of Toronto, though it was mercifully not until late in the afternoon. The brunch situation at the hotel was the last thing they were doing before the bus was due to pick them up to take them to the airport, a drive which could either be loud due to their win the previous night, or eerily quiet due to their celebration of said win. Shane wasn’t usually that careless about his time, but even he had been pulled into it, meaning he was all but dreading the thankfully relatively short flight into Boston. Boston where Ilya was currently texting Shane.

Jane: Excuse me?

He typed it out quickly, a panic settling in his stomach because he didn’t usually text him like this, out in the open. The closest thing to it was their dressing room and its guise of privacy. On his left was Hayden, who looked much worse for wear than Shane, which was probably due to all the shots he’d taken. Shane had, despite his team’s nagging, stayed entirely sober, but that didn’t mean he had a clear memory of the night either.

Lily: He doesn’t know your body like I know it.

Shane slammed the phone face down on the table, then thought better of it and grabbed it again. “What’s wrong with you?” Hayden asked, reaching for his own phone as if it would give him all the answers.

Shane ignored him and typed another response.

Jane: What the fuck do you mean?

Lily: You know.

Jane: I really don’t??

He could picture Ilya’s stupid smirk. Riling Shane up was his favorite thing.

Lily: You thought you could keep it secret from me.

Shane exhaled slowly.

Jane: That I’m ticklish? How did you even find that out?

Lily: Ah. You don’t know.

Last night came back in flashes. He remembered wanting to text Ilya. Remembered Hayden drunkenly urging him to text “that girl he was hiding”. But mostly he remembered flashing lights and people being drunk, and Shane feeling equally gone due to the lights and the sounds, stuck between awareness and a blur.

“Oh my god,” Hayden said to his left, just as Shane attempted to type back anything more coherent than a bunch of question marks. “Shane, we’ve gone viral.”

“What-”

Hayden pressed his phone into his face with a laugh, alerting most of the table. “You gotta see this.”

The video was on twitter, though it wasn’t posted by any of them but seemed to be a screengrab from Olsson’s instagram account. In it were Shane and Hayden with people dancing all around them. Really it was nothing special. Nothing to go viral over. Hayden was mostly swaying, while Shane was bopping his head awkwardly upon noticing the camera. Through the music you could hear Olsson prompting them to smile.

“He said smile!” Hayden yelled, seemingly not impressed by Shane’s initial attempt, which to be fair looked more like he was in pain than enjoying himself.

Present Shane shook his head. “Why would we go viral over this?”

“Oh, just you wait.”

In the video, Hayden grabbed for him, and Shane doubled over as if trying to escape. It really still didn’t make it any more interesting, until he realized with a flush that he was laughing.

‘They are so cute’ the tweet said, and when Shane would scroll down later in the privacy of his hotel room, people, seemingly fans of him and the team, would gush about their “bromance” and about him being ticklish, and it still didn’t really make any sense that this would get that many views, but Shane felt embarrassed about it anyway.

So much for letting loose.

In the end, it spread because Shane supposedly gained super strength and threw Hayden off of him - “That’s why I have this huge ass bruise on my side!” - and while he knew his way on the ice, Shane really wasn’t an aggressive person off of it.

The team laughed at the video and Shane slipped out of his seat, phone in hand.

Jane: What the fuck.

Lily: You have never thrown me around like that.

Jane: I will if you don’t stop.

Lily: You must be really ticklish.

Lily: Exciting for me.

Jane: Stop.

Lily: Hmm. I will if you are nice.

Jane: Asshole.

Lily: See you in two days :)

*

Ilya watched the video at least a dozen times before he texted Shane. He wished to say he did so in a composed manner, but he had hit the keys in a dazed rage. He wasn’t used to seeing Shane with his guard down, if you could even call it that. He didn’t seem like he belonged in that club, not really, but he seemed more relaxed than Ilya had seen him with his team. He always had a shield up. They were alike in that way.

It amused him to see him like that, slightly out of place but evidently enjoying himself. And then Pike put his hands on him and he saw red for much longer than he was willing to admit, and by the time he realized that Shane was bending over because he was being tickled, because he was ticklish and his best friend was using that knowledge to his advantage, knowledge he probably possessed beforehand, Ilya was already typing out the text without allowing himself time to think too much about it.

Jane: Excuse me?

The reply came quickly and Ilya didn’t let himself stall, didn’t let himself overthink this. He was teasing him, as he often did. Shane was always more practical over text, almost monotonous, but Ilya could sense his emotions behind the typed words. His spluttering. His blushing and stuttering and arousal, if the conversation asked for it.

He seemed confused now though, and Ilya swiftly realized he had no idea what he was talking about. Could imagine him scouring the internet for clues and putting up his usual front when he found it. Ilya only texted him because he wanted to reestablish something, maybe mostly to himself, and not necessarily because he cared about Shane being ticklish. That had just been a bonus.

But as the text conversation progressed, and as he imagined him blushing throughout it, he found he couldn’t let the idea of him squirming under his hands for different reasons go. It all but consumed him, in fact.

*

Montreal beat Boston and Ilya was in a frustrated mood. It was always worse losing when you played at home. Shane knew that all too well. He also knew that the best remedy was always taking your frustration out on each other’s bodies, which was why he wasn’t surprised when Ilya shoved him into the room the very moment Shane opened the door to his hotel room.

“Hey,” he said, though there was no heat to it.

“No talking,” Ilya said and grabbed his face to smash his mouth into his.

Shane was familiar with this dance. Had both led it and been led many times. He let Ilya steer him now, let him bite his lower lip and slide his mouth down his collarbone. Let him press him against the wall and dig his thumbs into his hip bones, as if there was any world where Shane would be pulling away. He moaned and Ilya moaned back in return, both of them relishing in how frustration always made the body desperate. How willing they both were to give into that desperation.

The bed was suddenly right there - when had they moved through the room? - and Shane didn’t protest when he was thrown onto it. The sheets were soft and freshly washed. Not that he really had the time to acknowledge it. Not with Ilya looming over him like that, head tilted in a way that made him feel self conscious.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling dizzy and needing him closer again.

A fingertip on his chest, which was slowly moving downward. It was very like Ilya to tease. He liked watching him squirm, he’d said, but this felt different. Shane suddenly felt on edge.

“I’ve been nice,” he said, remembering the text conversation.

Ilya hummed. “Not very nice to embarrass me in my own city.”

“That’s hockey, Rozanov.” He jutted his chin out. He was on thin ice, he knew. “We were simply better.”

“Were you?” Something flickered across Ilya’s face. Something kind of terrifying.

So Shane had been nervous about tonight. He hadn’t exactly been able to pinpoint why until now, when Ilya’s grin turned mischievous and he realized he had him pinned to the mattress, something he usually liked. Still liked, if he was being honest.

“Tell me, Hollander.” His finger had stilled on his ribs, the touch unbearably light. “How did you keep your sensitivity a secret from me for so long?”

Shane flushed, which was fucking ridiculous. “I’m not that bad. Hayden surprised me.”

“So if I tickle you now-” He used his other hand to wiggle his fingers in the air. ”-you won’t laugh? You will keep still and let me keep tickling?”

“What? I don’t know.”

“You are tense.” Ilya’s smile softened. “And blushing.”

“Shut up.”

He suddenly removed his finger. “I think I will let you be. Better to keep you tense. Means we will win next game.”

“What- you can’t text me before the game, Rozanov,” Shane said weakly, but it fell on deaf ears and he kind of forgot to reestablish that boundary once Ilya’s mouth was on him again.

*

Ilya felt lucky. Lucky that the next game against Montreal was only a few weeks after their loss, and lucky because he knew Shane was expecting him to text and therefore would be thrown off when he ended up not doing so at all. He looked at his phone and grinned, knowing Shane was probably doing the same in his own dressing room. It was almost better, forcing him to think of him. It would be more fun later, because of course there would be a later. He would take a cab to Shane’s creepy apartment and Shane would be angry because they would inevitably beat them, and Ilya would just laugh and let him do whatever he wanted to him, though not without doing things right back. It was part of it, their tumbling and battling.

“You waiting for a call or somethin’?” Cliff asked, appearing beside him suddenly.

Ilya slipped the phone into his bag. “No.”

“We have to win tonight, you know.”

“We will.”

“Price better keep Montreal in check.”

“You think I can’t do that myself?” he asked, which he knew was unfair. It was Price’s job to make sure he had as much of a free range as possible. It was Ilya’s job to score. Ilya would score and wink right in Shane’s face just to drive the point home and possibly drive him a bit crazy while he was at it.

Cliff slapped him on the back. “We got this.”

Ilya huffed and finished getting ready. His phone buzzed just before they were about to go out on the ice.

Jane: I didn’t peg you as someone who listens.

He snorted out a laugh and didn’t reply.

*

“Now you’re texting me before the game, huh?” was the first thing Ilya said when Shane entered his hotel room.

“You’re an asshole,” Shane replied. He looked angry, but there was no heat to it. You learned to live with losses when you played. Mostly they worked as motivation to keep getting better.

Ilya felt equally tired that night. The game had been an ongoing battle of score after score from both teams, which meant overtime and suspense which was both his favorite thing about the game and the thing which drained him the most. He had hoped that Shane would be fired up enough to take charge that night, but they stood staring at each other for slightly too long and Ilya grabbed for his waist when he realized Shane wasn’t moving.

“Wait-” Shane recoiled, which was unlike him, and Ilya had a terrifying moment of wondering if he’d finally crossed a line, if Shane was finally tired of this thing they were doing, and while he was certain his fear was visible on his face Shane seemed too busy blushing to notice.

“Ah,” Ilya said, realization dawning on him. “You think I will tickle you.”

He didn’t mean to say it to embarrass him, but Shane’s blush turned redder, turned angrier and defensive. “I thought you said you could do it better.” It was so evident that it took everything in him to say it. Ilya felt merciful because of it and didn’t tease. “Pardon me for thinking you were a man of your word.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to do it?”

“Well, no.”

“Then I won’t.” He reached out again, though without touching him. “Come here. I won’t do it,” he added when Shane eyed him warily. “But I really really want to.” He wasn’t sure why he admitted it, but the image of Shane squirming beneath him still hadn’t left his mind.

Shane whined. A beautiful, arousing whine, and Ilya wasted no more time before undressing them both and throwing him onto the bed.

*

Shane couldn’t figure out why it bothered him. Why the promise of such a pure, innocent thing wasn’t being held. Why he even cared about it in the first place.

The rain was plummeting down outside. Too early in the season for rain, but even winters in Canada seemed to have suffered from climate change. Not good. He watched it for a moment. The rain Ilya was probably driving in, this night after their game. The usual. This familiar dance.

It didn’t help that they hadn’t seen each other for like two months either. He felt restless. Horny. Really fucking lonely, actually.

“What took you so long?”

“Hello to you too, Hollander.” Despite their loss, Ilya seemed to be in a good mood. Much more cheery than Shane, weirdly enough.

“Yes. Hi. Come in.”

Ilya’s jacket was dripping just from the short walk to the door. Shane tried to not care that he was getting it on the wooden floors.

This was a new thing they had been doing recently. Not crashing into each other the very moment they were alone. They never had any reason for the stalling. They spoke very rarely, and when they did it was never anything that took up too much time. Ilya lingered by the door, took his time removing his jacket and shoes, and when he did he just looked around the apartment as if he hadn’t been here too many times to count by then.

“I have a confession,” he said, his hands in his pockets.

Shane’s heart skipped a beat. “That can’t be good.”

Ilya let out a laugh, though he seemed on edge. Nervous. That wasn’t common. “Is nothing bad.”

“Says you.”

Ilya shifted his weight from foot to foot. Not good at all, Shane didn’t say, though the obvious display of uncertainty fascinated him.

“You’re making me nervous.”

Ilya looked up at him, with a smile so unlike his usual one. “I confess,” he started, dragging the word out surely just to mess with him. “that I have been thinking of that video.”

“What video?” Shane knew what video.

“You know what video.”

“I really don’t.” He really did.

“Will you force me to use it against you, Hollander?”

“Use what- okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands when Ilya stepped closer, a rare playfulness gripping them both. “You have been thinking of the video. Got it. What about it?”

Ilya took another step. “It makes me curious.”

“Curious of what?”

“You see, the video was loud.” Ilya waved a hand around. “You can only hear music.”

“It was a club, after all.”

“I can see you laughing, but I cannot hear it.” He shrugged. “Is unfair, don’t you think? That I have touched every part of your body, but have never heard you laugh like that?”

Shane exhaled. “You’re the one who has decided you’re not allowed to tickle me for some reason.”

Another step. If Shane reached out he would be able to touch him easily.

He stayed rooted to his spot even when Ilya grinned. “I change my mind.”

It surprised him that he kissed him when he grabbed for him. That his hands were holding onto Shane’s jaw and nothing else, nothing more soft and vulnerable and sensitive. But it didn’t surprise him when his hands started roaming once they got into the bed, once he had Shane trapped between his body and the mattress, and it didn’t surprise him that he started giggling immediately, though it did embarrass him.

“Oh my god,” Ilya mumbled into his mouth.

“What?” Shane snapped, which sounded a lot less demanding when you were laughing.

“Your laugh. Is cute.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Ilya left his mouth alone much to Shane’s chagrin and watched him instead, head tilted, something amused and fond on his face. It made this worse, so much worse, but Shane couldn’t concentrate on looking away. Not when Ilya seemed to lay all his focus on tickling him now. Fingers gentle on his ribcage, moving up and down until Shane was nothing but a twitchy mess. This was very different from how Hayden tickled him, those few times he’d done so. Hayden was always rough about it, and always quick. Ilya was gentle. Ilya took his time.

Shane wasn’t entirely sure if he could handle that, though. “Fuck, okay, you’ve heard my laugh, now cut it out!”

“Hmm, don’t think so. Have more spots to try.” True to his word, Ilya’s hands moved upward to curl beneath Shane’s chin, causing his laughter to go up in pitch. He probably loved that, that bastard.

Shane tried to grab him, tried to push him off, and the fact that he couldn’t, the fact that he was pinned just enough so that he couldn’t budge, did things to him which had nothing to do with the tickling, not really. Maybe Ilya noticed, because he suddenly leaned down again, his lips on the left side of Shane’s neck while his fingers kept tickling the right.

That was the start of something strange and bodily and tickly, which had Shane moaning and giggling in tandem. “I watched that stupid video over and over,” Ilya admitted into his skin, maybe in a moment of weakness. “I tried to figure out where exactly Pike was tickling you, but turns out it did not matter. You are ticklish all over.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Shane choked out through his laughter. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Ilya laughed and went for his thigh, proving his own point.

*

Lily: If we win you have to stay still while I tickle you.

Ilya wasn’t sure why he felt his pulse quicken when his phone buzzed with Shane’s reply a moment later. Too long for what he typed, which could mean he was busy but more likely meant he was flustered. Good. Ilya liked him flustered.

Jane: And if we win?

He shook his head, not stopping his grin from spreading. No one was here. He was safe to smile.

Lily: Oh, the same :)

Having admitted that he thought about the video had been a risky move, but oh the reward had been sweet. It took Shane longer to reply now. Had they been the types who called each other, Ilya would’ve done so. Longed to hear his voice rise in pitch as Ilya teased him.

Jane: I feel like this is cheating.

Lily: You are easy to distract.

Lily: Not my fault.

Jane: You are just as easy to distract.

Lily: Is that so?

Lily: What if I pinned you down and tickled that spot on your lower back? Pinned you facedown so you couldn’t stop me.

Lily: What then?

Jane: Stop texting me.

Lily: You love it.

Jane: I’m with my PARENTS.

Lily: Better keep a straight face while imagining my hands on you then.

Jane: I will block your number.

Lily: Is your ass ticklish? I never tried.

Jane: !!!!!!

Ilya burst into laughter. Shane was just too easy. And too fun. He feared he might get addicted. Probably already had, ages ago. He could imagine Shane shoving him on the bed in indignation only for the tables to turn and him not doing anything to stop it. Ilya liked that he didn’t try to stop it. Ilya liked making him squirm and laugh. Ilya liked that he let him.

*

Lily: Do me a favor.

The text came late, but Shane was wide awake somewhere in San Jose.

Jane: Why are you awake?

Lily: Big boy.

Shane’s stomach flipped until he realized he meant himself, which made him roll his eyes.

Jane: I am rolling my eyes.

Jane: What’s the favor?

Lily: Touch yourself and imagine it’s me.

Shane’s breath hitched, and it didn’t help when a second text came through.

Lily: Make it ticklish too.

Shane hated that he sometimes still felt like he was doing something wrong when they did this, but he didn’t allow himself to strain his ears to see if he could hear anyone else in this hotel. It was pitch dark. He was a grown ass man.

He barely had time to make himself comfortable on the bed when Ilya texted again.

Lily: Are you doing it?

Jane: Shut up.

Lily: Does it feel good?

Jane: I’ve not started yet.

Lily: Call me.

“What?” Shane said it out loud, and yet he called him anyway without a second thought. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Ilya sounded so close through the speaker phone. Maybe Shane could pretend his breath was in his ear for real. “Are you in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Start with your stomach. I like the way it twitches under my touch.”

Shane inhaled sharply. “You can’t just tickle me over the phone.”

“How do you know? We’ve not tried yet.” The sound of rustling sheets could be heard. Shane imagined he was sliding down the bed. “If phone sex works then this could work.”

Shane shook his head. “That only works because you can touch yourself. You can’t tickle yourself.”

“So do both. Will make you more sensitive.”

“Jesus.”

“Not bad idea, right?”

“I guess not.”

“I am waiting.”

“You’re just gonna listen?”

“I can tease. You want me to tease?”

Shane ran a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“What is happening to you? Describe it.”

“A fucking Russian menace is happening to me.”

Ilya laughed and Shane found he couldn’t help his smile. “Hollander,” he sang, as if he wasn’t ruining Shane’s whole life. “If I was there I would tickle under your arm. So start there.”

“Why there?”

“Because you make funny noises when I do.”

“I do not-”

“Hollander.”

Shane wasn’t sure why he was complying. It wasn’t as if Ilya could see him.

“Are you gripping the headboard like you always do with me?”

Yes. “No.”

“Be gentle at first. I only dig when I want you to be laughing. I only want you squirming now.”

Why the hell was Shane listening to him, he wondered as he dragged his nails over his armpit. It kind of tickled, but not enough for him to want to pull away or laugh. He felt silly, but something warm had settled in his chest. Something which was tied to the voice in his ear.

“Are you doing it?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Shane let out a strangled sound. “I can’t touch myself if I tickle there.”

“Be patient.”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet.”

Shane mostly said it as a joke, but he could tell from Ilya’s tone that he was entirely serious. That he was planning on joining Shane while directing him.

It made him incredibly turned on to think about.

“Can I please switch spots?” Can I touch myself?

Ilya made a sound he couldn’t interpret. “You can. Go for stomach now. Gently.” He waited while Shane did as he was told, then added, “Does it tickle?”

“A little.” Why was he entertaining this?

“Good. Imagine it is me.”

Shane did. Fuck, he did. Ilya leaning over him. Ilya being so gentle while also still keeping him in place. One hand on his sensitive skin, another on his sensitive groin.

“Fuck.”

Ilya laughed softly in his ear. “You like that? You like the thought of my hands on you?”

Boston was suddenly too fucking far, their next joint game even farther. He exhaled and circled his belly button again, moved further to the side where he knew the skin twitched if he went gently enough. It was funny how well Ilya knew his body, even though this particular part was new to him. Something about his fixation on it, for Shane had seen right through his attempt at initial nonchalance, made him feel things he still hadn’t baptized.

He leaned his head back. Even though the hand was his own and he could remove it any time, the touch was still leaning on unbearable. If Ilya was here he would tell him to take it. Shane tried to take it each time, though he was always allowed to fight back. Was always allowed to squirm and curse and beg, not that he begged of course. He leaned his head back and curled his fingers over his skin and gripped himself tightly as Ilya told him exactly what to do. Their first phone call. How strange that it was this. How unsurprising all the same.

*

“Did you come?” Ilya had, several seconds before the inevitable sound of Shane’s own orgasm filled his ear. His question was redundant. He knew Shane’s noises well. Could imagine the way his eyes slipped shut.

“I did,” he replied, voice hoarse. “That was-”

“It was.” Ilya smirked. “I made you come without even being in the same state.”

Shane barked out a laugh. “I made myself come.”

“Hmm, not without my help.”

“Shut up.” But he sounded lighter than Ilya had heard him in a while.

“Tell me,” he said, rolling over to his side to reach for the tissues he kept at his bedside table. “Did you keep tickling the entire time?”

Shane was quiet for so long he thought he’d hung up. “I did.”

“Did you like it?”

No response at all this time. Ilya decided to be merciful.

“I was being serious, by the way,” he said while cleaning himself up. “If we win I will tickle you and you will be still.”

“And if we win you will do the same?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds fair.”

“I’m only fair on the ice.”

“An asshole both on and off it though.”

“An asshole who knows your body much better than Hayden Pike.”

“Oh my god, Rozanov.”

Ilya laughed. “See you in two weeks.”

[nhasablogg]

I won't stray from it (I don't know these spaces)

Fandom: Heated Rivalry

Characters: Shane/Ilya

Summary: Moments of playfulness are rare, and sometimes they are also tickly.

A/N: There's sexual content, though no actual smut takes place in it.

Words: 2.4k

[Read it on AO3]

They were only playful in flashes - laughter as dark surrounded them, teasing remarks that were seen as invitations that always ended in moans - but mostly that was a line they rarely crossed. Not fully, and if they did, not for long. Shane knew better than to ask things of Ilya. Knew better than to want things like that.

Most times, he didn’t even notice when they were teetering on the line of uncharted territory until afterward, when his brain refused to listen to him and started straying. But sometimes, when he allowed himself a moment to be present in more than bodily ways, those flashes would catch him off guard. It could be found in the way Ilya would whine into his neck afterward, when they were both worn out and needed to peel apart before this got too serious. It could be found in the way Shane would pretend something Ilya tried didn’t feel good when it clearly did, always said with a laugh that had Ilya pinning him to the bed.

But it was always the quiet moments that had Shane snap into the reality of the situation. The mundaneness of it all, which once hadn’t been a part of all this and had slowly been creeping into it when they stopped exclusively having sex in hotels. It shouldn’t have surprised him that a bedroom with comfortable pillows and blankets in case you got cold would be different to the staleness of hotels, but he blinked into the darkness that very first time he realized something was changing and he didn’t know what to do with it.

That was Ilya’s fault, mostly. It was difficult to think when someone was tickling you.

To his credit, he had no idea he was doing it. To Shane’s credit, he was really fucking good at staying still.

Ilya was good at aftercare. He was good at all of it, but the aftercare had surprised him the first time. Grabbing towels, stroking his hair, saying things under his breath which were comforting either way. Recently he’d started taking his time with it. Shane wondered, during weak moments, if he was stalling on purpose. He spent ages running his hands over skin, even though they were breathing normally. Who was Shane to deny him this quiet desire?

But this was different. He couldn’t just turn his brain off and overthink it later. This was physical. This was bodily. “Hng.”

“Hm?”

“What?”

“Did you say something?” His voice was low in the dark, as if hesitant to slice through it.

“No.”

“Okay.” His hand kept running up and down his side, so very gently. If he only put slightly more pressure into it Shane would’ve been fine, but acknowledging it was forbidden. They didn’t do that. They just didn’t.

He slipped his eyes shut and tried to breathe through it. He hadn’t yet hit that spot just above his hipbone that always made itself known, but he kept cutting close, which was almost worse. The way they were laying, with Shane resting his head in the crook of Ilya’s neck, twisted in a way that made it easy for him to access the left side of his body and very difficult for Shane to move away at all. This could get ruined so easily, and despite his ticklish predicament Shane wasn’t ready for him to get up and shower and leave. Wasn’t ready for a night accompanied only by his racing thoughts.

So he fought it. He really really did fight it.

But in his plight he seemed to have forgotten that Ilya knew every inch of his body and, even though they both refused to admit it, his mind as well. “Is this okay?” There was something in his voice that Shane couldn’t fully identify.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You are stoic.”

“What?”

“You know.” He snapped his fingers, giving Shane momentary relief. “Still. Uncomfortable.”

“Tense.”

“Yes, tense.”

“I’m not.”

“You are lying.” He placed his hand back on his side, though he kept it still. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

He was acknowledging this. He was acknowledging it because he thought Shane was uncomfortable.

Jesus Christ.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Rozanov,” he mumbled.

Ilya huffed. “Okay. I can keep going?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“You like what I do?”

“Of course.”

“It’s not ‘of course’. You were tense. How am I to know?”

“I’m sorry- ah.” He resumed his stroking without warning, and Shane couldn’t help the way he twitched away now. “No, no, keep going.”

But Ilya was leaning back in an attempt to look at him. “Hollander.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You are ticklish.”

“What, no, not at all.”

Ilya laughed then, and had it been brighter in there Shane was sure he would find a shit-eating grin. His laugh alone was certainly terrifying. “I understand now why you were tense. You did a good job keeping still. I’m proud.”

“Oh, shut up, it only tickled a little.”

Ilya hummed. “So you won’t mind if I continue?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay.” Oh his tone was lethal. “Can you keep still or will I have to restrain you?”

Shane felt his whole body blush. “I can keep still.”

“Uh huh.” He was scraping his nails slowly over his skin now, moving toward his stomach, which really wasn’t much better than his hip. “We’ll see about that.”

“Rozanov.” Shane pressed his face into his chest and tried to breathe. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“Liar.”

“Oh, but you don’t always want nice, Hollander. Not my fault.” He was moving back toward his side, opting for his previous route of going up and down it, only this time he was much more thorough. This time he went from upper ribs to hip, which would be Shane’s demise.

It was strange, giggling into Ilya’s skin and squirming in his arms and having him be so very gentle about it all. Uncharted territory, but not something they could ignore in the moment. You couldn’t just ignore someone tickling you like that. Couldn’t just ignore someone allowing himself to be vulnerable with you like this.

“You were doing so good,” Ilya said, having flipped them around so that he could pin Shane to the mattress. “Maybe I will reward you for it.”

“Oh yeah?” Shane was still blushing. Shane would be blushing for the rest of the weekend.

“Or perhaps I should punish you. I haven’t decided.”

“What would my punishment be?”

“A very ticklish blowjob, I think.”

Shane almost choked on his own spit. “And my reward?”

“Oh, the same.”

*

He became an expert at staying still after this, but he knew he only succeeded because Ilya wanted him to. Because he kept the touch so light and slow that Shane was able to keep at least an ounce of control when it started. It was slightly embarrassing to know that Ilya knew exactly what he was doing now and did it anyway. Lazy fingertips over his collarbones. Lips kissing gently over his lower back.

It was, he had to admit, a miracle he’d been able to keep his sensitivity a secret for this long. It was different during sex. Shane didn’t feel ticklish then, only turned on, desperate, wanting to be touched. It was the moments after, when he was exhausted and vulnerable and extra sensitive, that could make him squirm like that. And other moments of his life, which Ilya hadn’t had the privy to witness yet. Sitting on the couch and having his mother scribble her fingers over his sole while walking past. Hayden wrestling him onto the floor when he wouldn’t tell him about Lily. Ilya hadn’t seen those moments because Ilya only really existed tangled up in sheets.

They were in a hotel room this very snowy night. Shane hadn’t missed those - all stale lighting and impersonal wall decor - but he did appreciate not having to drive all the way home, which always took longer and always left him exhausted. Ilya’s team had crushed them and he felt pissed enough that he needed him to pin him to the nearest horizontal space they could find and fuck him senseless for him to feel okay about this. A hotel room worked just as well. Maybe it was better, keeping things impersonal.

Ilya was in a good mood, that fucker. Strutting into the room and looking around, as if it mattered at all what it looked like. Shane grabbed onto the belt loop of his pants and he allowed himself to be pulled in, only he placed a finger on Shane’s mouth when he leaned in. “Ah ah. Patience, Hollander.”

“I will kill you, Rozanov.”

“How will you do that? When all I need to do is tickle you to overpower you?”

That was the first time it had been acknowledged aloud since the discovery. Shane really wasn’t in the mood to blush, so he shoved him away and started undressing on his own. Ilya leaned against the wall and watched him, head tilted in that way that drove him feral. When he’d stripped down to absolutely nothing, Ilya was still fully dressed, hoodie and all.

Shane grabbed his chin. “Fuck me.”

“Soon.”

“Now.”

“Oh, but you are all wound up and angry and I do not like that.” He put his hand on the side of Shane’s neck, thumb brushing his jaw. “I help you relax, okay?”

“You can help by fu-”

“Hollander.” He laughed when Shane snapped his mouth shut. “You will do as I say or I will not be touching you at all.”

“Stupid fucking Russian menace,” Shane muttered and turned around to grab his boxers. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”

Ilya tutted behind him. “Who said I want you to get dressed?”

He was pushing him toward the bed the moment Shane turned around again, being rough enough about it that he felt a brief wave of satisfaction when he hit the mattress. He climbed on top of him, one hand in his hair while the other had a firm grip of his hip. Ilya grinned when Shane exhaled.

“Now,” he said, tugging lightly at his hair. “What do I have to do to get you to be happy, hm? Except fuck you, I mean.”

Shane whined. “I don’t know.”

“Think.”

“Let us win the next game.”

“Oohh, don’t be stupid, Hollander.” He suddenly dug into Shane’s hip. “You know I can’t do that.”

Shane grabbed his wrist. “Fuck, dohon’t!”

“But it makes you laugh, so it makes you happy, no?”

“That’s not how it works- stop!”

Ilya used his other hand to dig into his side, and none of this was gentle but all of it was playful. Though they were teetering the line of something else, something sensual which was making Shane embarrassingly hard. Maybe the combination of Ilya teasing him while also overpowering him was making him confused, but whatever it was, it really didn’t help his case here. Ilya ignored his pleas and instead noticed his predicament, causing him to tickle him harder.

“Okay, okay, I am happy, I am, just stop!”

“I didn’t think you would give up so quickly.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“I do- shit!”

Ilya grabbed both his hips and pulled him closer. “So be good and maybe I will.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rozanov.”

He leaned down suddenly to press his mouth to Shane’s hipbone, biting it slightly in a way he knew drove him crazy. “This is your consolation prize.”

Shane gripped the sheets with a moan. “Lucky me.”

“You can’t be cocky when I have your sweet spot under my mouth, Hollander.”

Maybe his team should lose to his more often, he briefly thought, knowing he wasn’t thinking straight.

*

Shane was tired. Honestly, it wasn’t unusual for them both to melt into the mattress after. The sex itself combined with a taxing game always had that effect on them, but this particular night Shane felt sleepy. Curl-into-a-ball-and-mumble-incomprehensibly-and balance-the-line-between-sleep-and-awake kind of sleepy.

“Hollander.” Ilya didn’t sound much more awake, though he still seemed to have the ability to speak. “You said you needed to shower twenty minutes ago.”

Shane hummed. “Soon.”

Ilya slapped his arm lightly. “You told me you need to get up early tomorrow. You will be tired.”

“Why do you care?”

“Oh, I don’t. Just don’t want you to be whiny tomorrow. You get so annoying.”

Shane snorted. “You’ll barely be seeing me tomorrow.”

“You whine on text.”

“Hah. Funny.”

He felt Ilya shuffle next to him. “You really are falling asleep.”

“Tired.”

He felt a poke on his back. “Hollander.”

“Soon.”

Another poke, this time on his side. “Hollander.”

Shane groaned. “Don’t.”

Obviously Ilya never listened to him and poked him once more. “Get up.”

“Don’t wanna- stop.”

He wasn’t being particularly rough about it, but this was familiar enough to them that Shane felt no need to pretend it wasn’t happening. Therefore, even though he would deny it to his core the very next day, Shane started giggling.

The situation seemed to have reenergized Ilya, because he was now leaning over him and poking all over his back and sides, ignoring his pleas for mercy. “Get up,” he kept saying over Shane’s laughter, the lilt to his voice almost the worst of it all.

Shane cried out each time he switched spots, which left him in a limbo of constant noise that he couldn’t control. He would’ve been embarrassed had he been more alert. “Rozanov, please, I’ll get up!”

“But it was just getting fun.” Ilya gripped both of his sides. “You still feel sleepy, no?”

“Well, yeah-”

“So I must tickle you more to properly wake you.”

“Wait, no- no, no!”

He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle his giggles, even though they were at Ilya’s place and no one could hear him. It was second nature to them, trying to keep quiet. One simply didn’t stop after this many years. Maybe that was why Ilya wasn’t being overbearing. This was rare enough that it made them both slightly uncertain.

That was what Shane would tell himself anyway, much later, when he’d showered and driven himself home, having spent five minutes squirming under Ilya’s hands and pretending that he wouldn’t be spending the rest of the week thinking about the kiss he pressed to the nape of his neck when he was done. It never did him any good, thinking too much of this. Only recently he found he couldn’t stop.

But that was a problem for another night.

[nhasablogg]

There's no better vengeance than learning to enjoy again

Fandom: Heated Rivalry

Characters: Ilya/Shane

Summary: Ilya won't do anything to Shane without explicit consent, which includes tickling him.

A/N: Inspired by this anon's ask about Ilya being the #consentking. Because he SO is. This is also the fic I've been posting these sneak peeks for hehe.

Words: 2.1k

[Read it on AO3]

Ilya didn’t enjoy being tickled.

The lack of control was part of it. Having grown up in a household where any emotion other than anger was seen as a weakness, he had slowly armored himself in a way to ensure he was nothing but ego and pride to the outside eye. Being tickled just didn’t mesh with that image, and would certainly not bode well if the wrong person caught sight of it. And being out of control like that was dangerous for someone like him. The world wasn’t safe enough for that.

The sensation was another part. Though he wasn’t overly sensitive, he simply didn’t enjoy the feeling of light unwanted touch or, as was usually the case, hard pokes and kneading hands intruding on his person. His body didn’t know what to do with it, and so he ventured into the lack of control territory once more. Pulling knees out of squeezes. Slapping away insisting fingertips. Gritting his teeth all the while.

The fact that the only person who ever tickled him in a way that made him feel safe was his mother - his dead, long gone, wonderful mother - was probably the biggest part of it, though he buried it deep down. It was easier to blame everything else. Easier to pretend it couldn’t be fun in the right circumstances.

Shane never tickled him. Not on purpose, anyway. Ilya had discovered his sensitivity early on, tucked between roaming hands and moans laced with a laugh which could mean anything, really, had Ilya not slowly gotten to know every inch of that body. He knew to steer clear of Shane’s feet, to use more pressure on his inner thighs, to not nuzzle into his neck for too long. He wondered if he showed him the same consideration, or if Ilya had just gotten so good at reigning in his reactions that he had no idea.

He had been tickled by him though, accidentally, when he grabbed his knees to adjust himself, or dug his fingers into Ilya’s sides when something felt good. Innocent actions. Certainly not ticklish enough for Ilya to laugh, though he did remember himself twitching in surprise. If Shane had noticed, he never brought it up. Most importantly he never used it against him.

Ilya tried not to use it against him either, only it became harder once they got closer, once they were boyfriends, and their life was littered with playfulness and domesticity and not just sex. Wrestling Shane to the bed with a deeply ingrained instinct to jam his fingers into his ribs. He was already laughing. Already relaxed and happy and trusting him fully. And the trust was the reason he didn’t. Was the reason he simply pinned his arms to the side and leaned down to kiss him. Mornings of wrapping his arms around his waist in the kitchen, with the sudden urge to curl his fingers over his belly just to make him giggle and squirm into him. A moment of safety, which Ilya could ruin in the disguise of play.

That morning was different. Shane was sprawled out on the bed, sleepy after Ilya had gone down on him twice, and each time he made a sudden movement Shane would twitch and laugh, untouched and yet.

“What is it?” Ilya finally asked, relishing in that smile. All giddiness. All because of him.

Shane pushed his hand away, even though he still hadn’t touched him. “Tickles.”

“What?”

A blush was coloring his cheeks, but Shane wasn’t clinging onto denial or pretence. “I feel really ticklish right now, so I keep thinking you’ll tickle me.”

“I have never tickled you.” Ilya crossed his arms to show he was keeping them to himself. “Wait, how do you feel ticklish?”

Shane shrugged. “Extra sensitive. Giggly. Tired. Safe. I don’t know.”

“Safe?”

He averted his gaze. “I mean, yeah.”

“But you keep thinking I will tickle you?”

He shrugged again.

“So in that case you don’t feel safe.”

“But I do.”

Ilya wet his lips. “Explain.”

“I mean, it’s fun, right? And I trust you would stop when I needed you to.” He was bright red now, but he spoke in earnest.

Ilya hummed.

Another part of why he didn’t like being tickled: it was almost always done without his consent. Ilya didn’t like not giving his consent. Didn’t like that people thought they could just take and take in the guise of fun.

He tilted his head at Shane. Maybe not everyone thought the same way as him. “Do you want me to tickle you?”

Shane let out a strangled laugh. “That sounds stupid when you put it like that.”

“I won’t do it unless you want me to.” Ilya didn’t mean to tease, but he did enjoy the way Shane’s embarrassment shifted form and turned into something sweet. Something shy.

He reached out slowly and allowed himself to touch now, cradling Shane’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He leaned into the touch and said, “We’ve never had any tickle fights.”

Ilya shifted. “We haven’t.”

“Why is that?”

He didn’t have to explain to him that much of their relationship had been a constant tiptoeing of lines they were afraid to cross, and once they did, a quick retreat. For much too long it had been that, until suddenly it wasn’t. It was true that most people would be eager to explore the other side, and it wasn’t that they were afraid, not more than they had to be.

But Ilya didn’t know how to approach this. How something this silly could be so serious to him. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“You could’ve found out.”

“Would you have wanted me to? On my own, I mean?”

“It’s weird to have to tell you about it.”

“Hmm, I lied, actually. I knew about it.”

Shane’s head snapped to the side. “Wait, you did?”

“Yes. For a long time.” He grinned at Shane’s look. “What can I say? I am a gentleman.”

“Ilya,” he whined, giving his chest a light slap. “Why would you not have taken advantage of that?”

Ilya laughed. “It really sounds like you want me to tickle you, Hollander.”

“Don’t Hollander me, Rozanov.”

“You think you can provoke it out of me, huh?”

“That’s usually how it works.”

“I need you to ask for it.” He moved his hand from his cheek to his jaw. “I need you to tell me you will enjoy it, or at the least not mind me doing it.”

Shane’s breath caught. “Why?”

“Because-” He stroked his chin with his thumb. “-I do not want to do something to you that you don’t want me to do.”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Of course.”

“Most people don’t want to be tickled.”

“Are you most people?”

He exhaled slowly. “Some people think it’s fun.”

“And are you some people?” He smiled at him, attempting to keep it light, but Shane looked away anyway. It was cute. It was so cute Ilya nearly crossed his own boundary then and there.

“I don’t know,” he finally mumbled. “It’s been years, and it’s never been like this.”

“Like how?”

“With someone I love. Like this.”

Ilya’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

He leaned in to press his lips to Shane’s temple. “I love you too much to do something you don’t want me to do. I am not trying to be difficult.”

Shane’s gaze softened. “I know you’re not.”

“And I don’t mean to embarrass you when I tell you I need you to ask for it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Though I do enjoy your blush.”

“Ilya.”

Ilya hummed as he stroked Shane’s cheek with his knuckles. “Tell me.”

“I’m- not sure I would like it, but- I mean, I would like us to be like that, you know?”

“I know.”

“So.” He seemed to brace himself. Ilya found it unbearably adorable. “Could you tickle me? Please?”

Ilya grabbed his wrist. “Say it again.”

“Ilya-”

“Okay, okay.” He laughed at his impatience. “I need you to tell me when to stop, okay?”

“Jesus Christ-”

“Say ‘hockey’, okay?”

“Yes, yes, fine, hockey it is. Now can you get on with it? I hate the anticipation.”

Ilya grinned. “You love the anticipation,” and he pounced, before Shane had time to protest. Neither of them really expected it, that Ilya would straddle him, that he would take his task so seriously. He wasn’t being merciless about it, though. He didn’t pin Shane’s hands, or dig his fingers into spots that would make him twitch with laughter, twitch and jerk and lose control of his limbs. He kept it light, which, when he thought about it, which he would, many times, probably drove Shane all the more crazy.

“Wahahait,” was all he managed to say at first, a constant begging for Ilya to cut it out, to leave him alone, to stop taking advantage of his sensitivity like this. Only Ilya knew his protests didn’t mean anything, at the very least weren’t a proper call for this to end. He cradled the consent in his bare hands, holding it close as he listened to Shane’s begging, listened to him slowly falling apart without feeling like a monster for it.

“You’re so-” He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say, only knew that Shane’s laughter, which was filling the room almost entirely now, made him feel both excited and strangely powerful for being allowed this. “-fucking cute.”

“Shut up!” Shane spat back, but he had his head thrown back, his hands constantly chasing Ilya’s which skirted over his torso, side, rib, armpit, neck, and back. A chase which could drive anyone mad, but was still simply- fun. For them both.

“I didn’t know you would be so easy to break,” he said, treading somewhat unknown water. But he liked riling Shane up, and Shane and his biting mouth always enjoyed the challenge of having to deal with him.

He all but growled now, all giggly giddiness from before enveloped in something else, something determined. He dug his feet into the mattress and Ilya realized belatedly that he was trying to buck him off, that he was probably aiming to turn the tables, and while that didn’t mean he wanted this to stop, because the safe word was still nowhere near his tongue, it did mean Shane enjoyed the idea of this being mutual. Of this being bodily and competitive, and Ilya wasn’t certain if he wanted that. Ilya was about to ruin a perfectly good consensual thing because he hadn’t thought to bring himself into the equation.

Only when he found himself hesitating and Shane had the perfect opportunity to turn this around, he still remained glued to his back, knees which he had pulled up to Ilya’s sides relaxing, visibly forcing himself to take this with nothing but his shielding hands. Ilya realized it then. That Shane would never do something to him which he hadn’t consented to. That this meant as much to Shane as it did to him.

God knew how Ilya didn’t cry right there and then.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around him, taking in his surprised exhale and relishing in how he started squirming the minute he realized that Ilya was still tickling him even now. Fingers curling over his upper ribs, with Shane trapped between him and the bed and giggling into his neck, which tickled him a bit and he found that he didn’t care. He was safe here.

“You’re so ticklish,” he mumbled into Shane’s hair, which had Shane slapping his back and laughingly telling him to shut up. “What? Is true. You cannot deny it.”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” he said, whining when Ilya hit a particularly bad spot. “Fuck, this tickles so much, Ilya, get off.”

“Hmm, do you really want me to?”

“I- ah! I need you to allow me to squirm.”

Ilya sat up reluctantly. “Fine. Thank you for telling me. I can continue, yes?”

Shane covered his face with his hands. “Yes, god, please continue.”

“Can I tickle your knees?”

“This is gonna be the death of me- yes, you can tickle my knees.”

“Good. I think they will be very bad.”

“I will kick you.”

“Ah, maybe, but as long as you don’t say hockey I will continue.” He poked his belly. “Until we are both satisfied.”

“Domestic life is so weird,” Shane said, very obviously trying to redirect his embarrassment.

Ilya decided to bite. “This can’t be normal domestic life, though, can it?”

“Maybe not.”

“We’re so much less boring. Even you.”

“Oh, ha ha, please tickle me so I will laugh.”

“Oh, I will.” Ilya beamed at him. “Until you ask me to stop.”