...One of my mutuals with cream cheese and ham. I went for a fourth spin for the hell of it and got one of my mutuals again. I guess I could just eat the filling? I rather like chive cream cheese with turkey...
I USE TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS WAAAHHHXIWMALSJA
(I feel like I'm the only one happy we're getting anything official after all these years, ppl online seem to be upset that we got official art and not the movie)
joke - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 577 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
It didn't hit Ilya until the next day. Until he awoke in Shane's arms, their limbs tangled together, the orangey-yellow light of the sunrise peeking in through the windows of their (their!) bedroom in the cottage.
But when he realized, he felt like a freight train had collided with his chest.Â
Two hundred pounds of pressure on his sternum, something immovable and vast lodged in his throat, tears scraping at his eyes, he rose slowly, restlessly, moving to sit outside, trying to get some of the energy out of his system.
It was almost poetic, how quickly it took Shane to find him. How did Shane always find him?Â
"You're awake," Shane pointed out needlessly, joining Ilya on the rock which he was perched atop of.
And then, god fucking help him, he placed a blanket on Ilya's shoulders.Â
And those stupid, traitorous tears began to fall.
"Yes," he whispered, avoiding eye contact, afraid that saying more would cause his voice to break.
Shane leaned his head against Ilya's shoulder, and the warmth was like an anchor. "You want to tell me what it is?"
No. He wanted to hold all of these feelings in his palm, to shove them behind his molars and swallow them down forever, to make them disappear and focus on the bliss of being with Shane in this space, of having Shane here, like this, while he could.
But he was too weak for that.
"Is nothing. JustâŚ,â he swallowed thickly, âI have not really said those words with someone for...over ten years," he confessed, tears dripping off of his jaw now, making soft wet spots in the blanket. "Stupid."
Shane looked over to him, obviously confused. "What-?"
"I love you."
Memories crashed together in his mind, a storm in a churning sea. Memories of his mother, holding him close, whispering 'ya tebya lyublyu' in his ear. Memories of yelling those words to her as he ran off to school or to practice.Â
Memories of murmuring the same thing as he said goodbye at her grave.
He felt Shane's eyes on him. "You...you say it. To your teammates. I hear you, it's--" But something was changing on Shane's face. His usual flat affect that he adopted when he processed, morphing into realization and twisted pain. "Wait. Do they say it back?"
Ilya considered this, still feeling shaky and raw. "...Uh. Yes? Sometimes, I think."
But Shane seemed to be in absolutely urgent need of an answer, now. "Who else?"
Now Ilya was confused. âWho else, what?â he asked.
âWho else tells you they love you?â
It was a kick to the chest, considering that. âFans,â he answered, shrugging. âSvetlana, sometimes. Girls, when I fuck them well enough.â The joke didnât land, though, because when he risked a look towards Shane, he saw that a tear was making a trail through his freckles. âHollander.â
âEvery day,â Shane whispered, furiously, hands clenched like he was making a pact.
He furrowed his eyebrows, unsure. âWhat?â
âEvery day, Iâll tell you. Sâstupid, thatâŚthat you donât hear it. Iâll tell you every day,â Shane murmured, jaw set, head shaking a little, like a great injustice had occurred.Â
Shaking.
Ilyaâs hands were shaking.
He bit down on his trembling lower lip as he pondered that, refusing to fall apart completely. âThatâŚsounds nice, I think. Would be a good change.â
âAlright. Good. I love you, Ilya,â Shane mumbled, taking both of his hands.
Donât mind me. Just thinking about the first time Shane fingers Ilya. (If this is covered in the books I donât remember so go with it. Thatâs an order) 18+
Not proof read.
In all their years exploring each other, it just never came up.
Years might be a stretch. More like snapshots of time, stolen greedily by hungry hands and mouths. Their hookups were always intense, sure, but time constraints didnât exactly allow for much deviation.
They both knew what they liked- Ilya liked to fuck, Shane liked to get fucked. There was variation here and there, a pair of ill advised fuzzy handcuffs, some spanking and dirty talk and all those filthy little things. It just never really occurred to Ilya to switch up the formula too much.
But now?
Now they have time. Ilya is in Ottawa. Shane is in Montreal. Each meeting is still too brief, but longer than theyâve ever been used to.
Itâs abrupt, the moment he chooses to bring it up. Post-orgasm haze, all sweat and heaving breath. Heâs collapsed, full weight, onto Shaneâs chest.
Open mouthed, lidded eyes, so disgustingly in love he thinks he might throw up. How this impossible thing is his- he canât begin to fathom.
âShane.â
âYeah?â Shane is just as breathless, still coming out of that fuzzy space he enters when Ilya fucks him hard and deep and fast.
âI want you to finger me.â Ilya says, matter of fact and with no hint of trepidation. Just hard earned confidence and ease.
âYou do?â
âYes. Would be hot.â
âHave you ever-â
âNot with anyone, no.â
Thereâs a momentary pause and Ilya can hear the gears turning in his boyfriendâs head, and the beginning of a thought spiral. He grabs Shaneâs pec and gives it a squeeze- a playful, grounding gesture.
âI have done it by myself. Was not very good, but I figure it would be different. With you.â Ilya looks him in the eyes, then. Full of adoration so plain itâs etched across every line and divot in his face.
Shane is quiet, still processing- so Ilya continues.
âPlus it seems so good for you. Always begging for it, uh?â He grins, wolfish.
Shaneâs hesitance is extremely short lived. He canât help but smile, the statement too true to even teasingly refute.
Of course it would be different- it would be fucking hot. Insane, actually. Shane needs it immediately- needs to see Ilya experience that feeling.
The next night, they fall into bed and inevitably start making out, the hunger growing into something too big to contain.
Clothes fly off, and thereâs a competition over who can get them in the laundry hamper across the room. It soon gets forgotten when every item is off and Shane is naked between Ilyaâs strong, hairy thighs.
âYou still want this?â Shane breathes into Ilyaâs skin, inhaling the scent of him and getting dizzy on it.
Ilya bites his lip and nods, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a fond smile.
That smile is replaced by surprise as Shaneâs large hands grope the underside of Ilyaâs thighs and force them as far as they go towards his chest.
Ilya is nowhere near as flexible as Shane, so the stretch is a struggle, but nothing he canât manage.
âOh..â a choked gasp punches its way out of Ilyaâs lungs as Shane licks a filthy, wet stripe over his hole.
He wasnât sure what he was expecting this to feel like, but he didnât expect it to feel so⌠exposing. So intimate, and raw, and so fucking good. Is this what Shane felt every time?
Jesus.
Shane continues, fingers splayed and digging into Ilyaâs flesh hard enough to bruise. Good- Ilya wants to remember this.
Torturous minutes pass as Shane works his tongue inside, and Ilyaâs already panting.
âSo good for me, malchik, fuck..â
Shane pulls back a moment.
âYou like it?â and fuck- heâs so earnest in his desire to know that heâs pleasing Ilya.
âFuck, yes. Your mouth, MoyĂ LyubovâŚâ
Shane re-centres himself and spits on Ilyaâs hole and watches how it responds, transfixed and so fucking hard he can feel his pulse in his cock.
Ilya is just as hard, dick throbbing and jerking against his stomach untouched at the feeling of Shaneâs saliva running down onto the bed, filthy and ruinous.
Shane reaches for the lube, thrown haphazardly on the side of the mattress, and squeezes a generous amount between his fingers.
âReady?â He murmurs, lust bitten and eyes dark.
âYes, fuck. Want to feel you.â
Fingers begin circling the tightness, unyielding and showing the first sign that Ilyaâs a little more nervous than heâs letting on.
âRelax, Ilya, itâs okay.â Shane comforts him, delicately brushing the pad of his finger over the muscle.
Ilya breathes in. Relaxes. His cock twitching and dribbling precum onto his happy trail. He may be going out of his mind.
The tip of Shaneâs finger breaches, and Ilya freezes.
This feels really fucking weird. Intrusive and a little uncomfortable, and-
Oh.
Oh fuck.
There it is.
Shane presses his finger in all the way, curling it to nudge against Ilyaâs prostate as he peppers gentle, barely-there kisses over the weeping head of Ilyaâs cock.
Ilyaâs skin is already vibrating. A deep, rumbling pleasure spreads from his gut, overtakes every limb in a warm flush that has him feeling electrified. Like the next touch might kill him.
âOh my god, Shane, fuckâ he rasps out.
And then he does something Shane has never experienced before, in all the years theyâve been fucking.
Ilya whimpers. High in his throat, like it was so involuntary he couldnât stop it escaping.
His skin is flushed a deep red, and when Shane adds a second finger, he has to close his eyes so he doesnât cum immediately.
God, Shaneâs hands⌠his fingers are thick, and long, and so perfect. Theyâre so fucking deep inside him that Ilya feels like theyâre in his fucking stomach.
This shouldnât feel this revelatory, but Shane is rapidly melting Ilya into sweating mess. He looks utterly debauched- curls wild and matted to his forehead, chest rising and falling rapidly, legs and abs straining with the effort not to cum.
âFuck youâre so tight, so fucking hot, youâre so fucking hot Ilya, love you so much.â Shane rambles, pressing praises into Ilyaâs skin with his lips.
Before he can even prepare, Shane takes Ilyaâs cock in his mouth and all the way down his throat and fucking his fingers in and out of Ilyaâs clenching hole in one movement.
Ilya nearly cries.
Itâs so intense. The wet, suctioning heat of Shaneâs perfect throat constricting his cock, the pads of Shaneâs fingers brushing so deep inside him.
âFuck, fuck, Shane-â Ilya gasps, trying to warn his loving boyfriend, â-mâgoing to cum, youâre going to make me cum down your fucking throat, fuckâ
A few more strokes and Ilyaâs entire body is seizing up and heâs cumming in hot spurts over Shaneâs tongue and gripping his fingers like a vice. The ecstasy almost tangible, like something he could reach out and grab, racks through his whole body like heâs been hit by a truck.
Itâs so much longer than his usual orgasms, and by the time it subsides, Ilyaâs vision has blacked out and Shane is cradling him in his arms. He doesnât even remember Shane pulling out or coming back up to comfort him.
âYou okay?â Shane asks into the shell of Ilyaâs ear and kisses all over his face.
âMmf.â
Ilyaâs eyes are closed and heâs trying his best to regulate his breathing and get all of his systems back online.
The first system is âbeing a little shitâ.
âWas ok. Your technique is clumsy.â He grins, knowing full well that Shane knows heâs bullshitting. Thereâs no faking that much cum.
âI guess youâll have to teach me.â Shane smiles dopily like a cartoon frog, all sweet and saccharine.
âMm. Yes, many many lessons for you to learn.â Ilya jokes, before turning a little serious. âIt was fucking crazy. Cant believe we did not do it before.â
âMe too. But weâve got time, now, right?â
âYes, time to work through your extensive list of sex things you want.â
âI donât have a listâ
âNo? You donât want me to sit on a cake for you? Tickle your balls with feathers?â
I love silly and maybe a little awkward sex hollanov i love ilya talking a big game and then coming in two thrusts because shane is tight and they havenât seen each other in weeks and shane giggling saying well you better be ready for round two i love shane saying just give me a fucking second when ilya enters him because itâs a lot and the angle is weird so he has to wiggle around like a worm i love both of them having a laughing fit because the bed squeaks like crazy and they canât take it seriously i love ilya throwing everything off the bed because they canât find the lube that was just there two seconds ago
HAPPY SHANE HOLLANDER DAY, EVERYONE! ⢠May 10, 1991
Happy 35th Birthday to hockey player Shane Hollander, husband of Ilya Rozanov, owner of the highest hockey IQ alive, better known as Mr. Landlord, Mr. Real Estate, Mr. Businessman, Mr. Lots-of-Sex. We hope youâre having an amazing day with your team, the Ottawa Centaurs, and that youâre having lots and lots of sex with your husband by the end of the night đĽ°đ.
currently obsessed w the idea of hollanov rough housing and wrestling like ALL THE TIME
bc while yes they r sweet and soft and tender w one another they are also boys at heart and incredibly jock4jock
theyâre running down the hallway with each other in a headlock after dinner w yuna and david laughing and pushing at each other until they accidentally knock a picture off the wall and yuna has to put them in a time out
two grown 6â tall , 200 lb professional athletes sitting in a corner pointing fingers at each other and blaming the other for getting them in trouble
Fangirling, geeking out, etc. @tumblinmisery - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
