Pondering the non-sexual intimacies of their sexual encounters during the hook-up years. Ilya gets a charlie horse type cramp in the back of his thigh while fucking Shane and being like "ugh gimme a second, fuck" and Shane being like "I can help" because he loves bodies and physicality and knows how to deal with physical issues that impede performance and Ilya is like "Is just a cramp Hollander" but Shane still helps him straighten his leg and stretch out his hamstrings and it's like this moment of accidental intimacy because Ilya is on his back with a leg in the air, balanced on Shane's shoulder while Shane grips him with those big handsâone behind his knee and the other behind his calf, pushing Ilya's leg towards his body. And Ilya moans because it hurts, and feels great, and their cocks are still out and Shane looks so good, and also Shane is so endearing with his concentrating face, Ilya can't help but be like "Thank you Dr. Hollander" and Shane is like "Shut the fuck up, that's last time I help you" and Ilya is like "What else can Dr. Hollander do?" and then Shane climbs on top and rides him until Ilya is all out of chirps.
I think it gets ilya so unbelievably horny when he's fucking shane doggy style to look over shane's back and shoulders and arms. the dimples carved above his ass. miles of bunched muscle bracketing his spine. the strong, straight line of his shoulders. bulging biceps. raised earthwork lines on the backs of his hands where they clench in the sheets. shane is so big, and he's so strong, and he bends for ilya like he is none of those things. it makes ilya feel so goddamn powerful. it makes him feel chosen.
times ilya rozanov was so lost in the sauce that he ascended to a higher plane: in (mostly) chronological order from hook-up era to marriage
the first time shane rode him during the hook-up era. when shane was still hollander, still nothing more than a torturous daydream, something he could have for small, greedy moments before having to let go of again. and he's still in denial about it all at this point, unwilling to put a name to that echoey, achey feeling in his chest that blooms when hollander leaves their bed and puts his carefully constructed mask back in place. Shane Hollander--the captain, the teenage phenom, the golden boy, the pride and joy of Canada--replacing the boy ilya had just had under his fingertips, in his mouth, beneath his body. anyway. it's a heady thing, for ilya, to have this side of hollander. to have hollander sat on top of him, holding ilya down with his wrists pinned above his head, hips moving slow and confident and maybe a little mean as he pants and grins and teases "you okay there rozanov?" and ilya just nods. he's totally okay, he's not seeing god or nirvana or angels or whatever the fuck. it's just hollander, bent over him, pretty face full of open wanting, a flush high on his cheeks, his mouth bitten red and slack around sweet sweet little 'unh unh unh' sounds every time he rolls his hips just right. and ilya just lays beneath him and grasps at his hips as he bounces and grinds in his lap. when he comes it makes him dizzy, his heart pounding in his throat, warmth tingling down his chest to his toes. it takes him a moment, too lost in the sauce to notice that hollander is still hard but then ilya is quickly rolling them over and swallowing him down the second he realises. later, he showers and thinks of how to get hollander on top of him--bouncing and grinding and rolling those strong hips, flexing those thick thighs, ass jiggling--again.
obviously, the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov is at the cottage. post-iloveyous, post-shanewakesilyaupinthemiddleofthenighttoplanthenextdecadeoftheirlivestogether. it's that moment when they're tangled up together in the soft sunlight, rain pitter-pattering on the wide glass windows, shane looking back at ilya so sweetly asking "this is real right" with his big, strong hand gripping at ilya's curls. and i think we can all agree that moment is the first moment they don't use condoms so ilya is trying to answer--to give shane the verbal confirmation he needs--but his entire body is buzzing with sensation at how warm, tight, soft, close shane feels like this. his mind is just drowning in loud tingling pleasure, his body also. all of him honed in on shane, shane, shane. he couldn't think of anything else if he tried. all he can do is nuzzle his nose into shane's pit, smear kisses over his ribs, lap helplessly at shane's nipple, and watch shane beneath him. watch his pretty face as his freckles bunch up, as his big brown eyes water with pleasure, as his cheeks get ruddy and his brows pinch then relax as his beautiful boy sinks into the sensation. and when they're both done, ilya stays tight to shane's back, just stroking up and down the thick muscle of his lover's thigh, kissing at his ribs, enjoying the afterglow. enjoying it the way he's wanted to for so long, with nothing between them and no need to wash away his longing by showering as fast as possible.
maybe not that first summer but after a year or two ilya manages to convince shane to smoke a blunt with him. and shane is terrible at it; he complains that the smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently and chokes on each inhale, barely taking any in. so, of course, ilya takes over. presses his mouth, damp and hot and full of smoke, to shane's and pushes his tongue past shane's lips. and that's how shane gets high, breathing in the smoke ilya traps behind his teeth. they smoke out on the dock, at sunset. shane says he feels nothing and ilya just hums, says "sure, hollander" and pokes shane's flushed cheeks, laughs at shane's wide pupils, lounges back against the wooden dock with a wicked quirk to his smart mouth. and he feels it. in his limbs, that heavy warm floaty buzzy feeling that makes him kinda feel like sleeping and kinda feel like bursting into a fit of childish giggles. it takes about ten minutes for shane's body to loosen, for him to turn to ilya with heavy, hazy eyes and then crawl over top of ilya, pushing him down into the dock to kiss him all sloppy and demanding and hot. and ilya's had sex high before, made out high before, but suddenly his heart is frantic. shane is heavy in his lap, shirtless and drenched in orange-gold light, freckles stark over his cheeks and shoulders. he's beautiful, his brown eyes turned amber in the sunset, his pouty mouth swollen and dragging heated kiss after heated kiss from ilya's lips. and ilya's heart is pounding, so fucking loud in his ears, he can feel the hectic thumping of it in his throat, in his chest, banging on his ribcage. actually, he's so violently turned on and the adrenaline is pumping so fast he feels sick and he wrenches away with a gasp and feels lightheaded and has to hold off shane who is pouting and whining for more kisses. all the blood in ilya's body has travelled to his dick and all that's left in his brain is a druggy haze of lust and cotton. this is the first time ilya rozanov ever freaks the fuck out on weed -- because his high brain got so turned on he nearly forgot to breathe between kisses. he has to lie flat on the dock breathing in through his mouth and out his nose for twenty minutes before he can get up and go inside.
i think their wedding night they are too drunk and delirious with joy to manage anything more than a sloppy, messy, grinding makeout in bed after everyone leaves. they're both coming in their pants and showering afterwards together and kissing some more and then falling asleep in a heap of tangled limbs. their honeymoon, however, is full of ridiculous, ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov sex moments. the most notable being after a night out at some club. shane had been just so fucking sweet and hot and joyful all night. dark hair styled nicely, big arms on display in the tight little sheer black t-shirt ilya buys him to wear out to the club, his fingers tucked into ilya's waistband most of the night, just a little possessive and a little clingy. but ilya just has such a nice night. he does shots with a drag queen and meets fun, attractive, queer people. he dances in public with his husband under pulsing neon lights and kisses shane in the corner underneath the speakers throbbing ear-splitting club music. he feels a little trashy and a lot young and infinitely in love with his husband who mostly just bobs his head awkwardly to the music and holds ilya's hand with a besotted look on his handsome face. and when they get in the uber back to the hotel at 4 in the morning shane doesn't even flinch when ilya plasters himself to his side, kisses all over his neck, gropes his chest in the backseat. and when they're finally in the hotel room and stripped naked there's glitter on shane's skin from brushing up against the other bodies on the dancefloor and he's sweaty and he smells a little musky and a little like alcohol and ilya just loves him. loves his husband for coming out with him to a club and indulging everything ilya wanted all night even if he was nervous. loves his husband for the way he'd just had eyes for ilya all night, not even noticing anyone else looking at him, dark eyes never straying from ilya. and they go into the bathroom to shower the night off their bodies but ilya gets distracted looking at shane in the mirror, looking at him standing there all naked and glorious in the soft yellow light, and he can't help but drop to his knees behind shane and pry apart his asscheeks and bury himself there, tongue lapping, pressing, smearing, sliding over shane's hole. and he sucks kisses into the skin, pushes his tongue in, drools over his own chin as he presses his face in deeper. eats shane out for so long that his neck cramps and his knees hurt but he's entirely lost in it. moaning and groaning and whimpering when shane pushes his hips back, when shane reaches back to grab his hair and hold him closer, when shane curses and pleads and whines for more. ilya isn't even thinking of fucking shane--he is enjoying this too much. at some point he started jerking himself off tho and he comes like that, tongue buried in his husband, moaning loudly and dripping saliva down his chin.
ilya has been injured for a week, on IR, out of commission. he's miserable about it. not just because of the hockey--not just bc he is captain and feels like a sack of shit for abandoning his team, to which shane had said "baby, it sucks but it's good it happened now and not later in the season. you'll be back on the ice in time to make sure we still make it to the playoffs"--but also because his injury has prevented him from doing much with his husband. shane has been on a roadie and ilya has been with yuna and david, being dotted on, which is a bit overkill -- it's just a sprained groin not even a severe sprain, the doctor had said it was only grade two and he'd been fine in a few weeks. but before that he hadn't been allowed to do much either -- nothing at all in the bedroom -- and he is miserable. when shane gets back he picks ilya up from his parent's place and anya too and they all go home to their quiet ottawa place. anya runs off to her favourite corner of the yard to reacquaint herself with her favourite pile of dirt in the bushes and shane fusses over ilya on the couch. ilya is NOT sulking at all, not at all bitching and whining like a child. he's just saying that he doesn't need all this fuss hollander, it's fine, please just come here and let me blow you at least. and shane--who is currently been bumped from A to C--is trying to be responsible and telling his husband "no, you will not go on your knees and strain your groin further just to suck me off" and ilya groans and says "okay, i will lie flat and you can sit on my face, do all the work yourself" and, well, shane's dick is a little interested in that. but no, he shakes his head. so ilya pulls out the big guns, he pouts, flutters his thick lashes, looks up at shane with his eyes all pleading and says "i miss you" and shane groans, rubs a hand over his face and stomps away. ilya thinks his tactic has failed but then shane is coming back, dropping lube onto the couch then climbing behind ilya, dragging ilya back to lean his back against shane's chest. and ilya is confused by this turn of events but says nothing as shane kisses at his throat, runs a featherlight touch up and down the ladder of his ribs, the other hand massaging ilya's thick thigh muscle, careful of where ilya's muscle tore. and shane does this for ages, just kissing at ilya's neck, biting at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, scratching blunt nails over ilya's sides and rubbing his thumb over ilya's nipple. ilya is hard as fuck and wants to squirm away but shane holds him tighter and sucks a bruise into the soft skin behind his ear. eventually he's pushing down ilya's pants and briefs and slicking his hand with lube and slowly, torturously, meanly, stroking ilya's cock in lazy drags. his palm and fingers applying the faintest amount of pressure, dragging over ilya's cock lazily, like he has all the time in the world. and ilya can't fucking do anything about it. shane has one leg clamped over ilya's knee to keep him from moving and has his other hand wrapped firm around ilya's hip. he keeps kissing wet and messy and biting at ilya's throat. keeps stroking just on this side of too little. he maybe spends half an hour like that, nosing at ilya's jawline, murmuring softly to him saying "baby, baby, shh, just like this" and ilya is going fuzzy at the edges. forgetting all about being annoyed abt being on IR, forgetting all about feeling lazy and useless. "let me take care of you, you do so much, work so hard," shane sighs "just enjoy it" and ilya, strangely, does. the world's slowest, lightest, sweetest handjob reducing him to a puddle of goo melted between shane's thighs. when ilya eventually comes it's with a soft whimper and then shane is cleaning up his tummy and kissing his forehead and making him a nice meal and getting him an icepack for his groin.
their first wedding anniversary is probably the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov. it's the anniversary of their pikelet wedding -- during the season and not a public date that their team, friends, or the wider hockey world is aware of. it's just a date for them. the day ruby and jade married them with children's plastic rings in stupid costumes. ilya doesn't really tell shane in the lead up to it that he has a plan -- and he doesn't know that shane has one either -- so they're both going to practice on the day and acting coy when asked abt their plans for the evening. (they both made dinner reservations at the same spot where they had their first date post telling Crowell to fuck himself). and so they get home after practice and shane says -- before ilya gets a chance -- "i booked us a dinner for tonight, since it's our anniversary" and ilya is briefly overcome by joy, elation, absolute ridiculous gooey sappy emotion before he says, outloud "fuck!" and shane is blinking like ??? and ilya says "nothing, lyubimy, nothing" and then "i am excited" even though internally he is like fuckfuckfuckmyplans but then they park outside the resturant and he bursts into laughter and shane is again like ??? and ilya explains through hysterical bursts of laughter that he booked the same place and when they get inside they ask to see which table each reservation had assigned to it then pick the best one -- shane's table because he remembered the exact table they sat at that first time. and they eat a beautiful dinner together, without any nonsense from paps or fans, ankles tangled under the table, smiling stupidly at each other over the massive chicken parmesan ilya ordered. and when they get home they kiss all the way from the front door to the bedroom, hands wandering all over, careful, tender touches. and we all know ilya "loverboy" rozanov loves to make love to his husband missionary so shane is on his back with his legs around ilya's hips and his ankles hooked around the small of ilya's back and their fingers are tangled above shane's head on the mattress and their foreheads are pressed together as they breathe into each other's mouths just moving slow slow slow. and ilya gets lost in it. the slow rhythm of their bodies, the wet drag of their mouths, the press of shane's slick tongue, their noses rubbing, their foreheads touching, lips smudging and panting together. it's probably a good half hour of just slow rocking, quiet moans, soft sighs, until ilya picks up the pace, presses in harder, and sends them both over the edge. and ilya fades out for a bit, laying on top of shane's chest, ear pressed to shane's heart, listening to its steady pulse. shane's arms around him, caressing and rubbing his spine. and maybe he rolls shane onto his side and slides back into him and fucks him again twenty minutes later, fingers locked around shane's hip, pulling him tighter, burying growls and whimpers in shane's neck, nipping at his earlobe. he starts crying at some point, but shane is too, though he thinks shane's tears are from pleasure. ilya is just happy and sad all in one confusing tumble. both so joyful he got this and so scared that there had been a moment where he might not have gotten it. and he comes again, rutting deep into his husband's body, clutching him close, wiping his tears away by dragging his cheeks over the wings of shane's shoulder blades. and after, shane rolls over, grabs either side of his face, kisses him all over, forehead and brows and eyelids and mouth and nose and cheeks and chin, and murmurs "love you so much, husband" and ilya garbles something back along that same sentiment and bites at shane's chin. he wants to eat him, devour him whole, swallow him. it's ashame they can't be one being. but this closeness will do.
Shane and Ilya hadnât seen each other for 4 months.
After leaving the cottage and having a tearful goodbye at the airport as official boyfriends, they had been surviving off of texts and facetimes for months. They had tried to see each other during the preseason, but due to other obligations, every effort failed.
Shane thought he might lose his mind.Â
He felt stupid. Even just last season it didnât feel this damn hard. Ignoring his feelings also made it possible to ignore just how deeply he would miss Ilya in the times they were apart. Now it consumed him. It thrashed in him in a way that left his chest tight and pained. Sometimes it would get so bad that he couldnât stop himself from telling Ilya how much it hurt, and he would feel a little better when Ilya would tell him he felt the same.
But tonight was their first game against each other of the season. The Raiders were in Montreal, and Shane was going to have Ilya to himself for an entire night.
They leaned down across from each other on the ice for the face off and it took every ounce of control for Shane to stop himself from reaching for his boyfriend in front of the entire stadium.
âHow was your summer?â Shane asked, daring to meet Ilyaâs eyes.
Ilyaâs face split into a grin. âVery good. Best in a long time.â
Montreal won.
The moment Ilya let himself inside Shaneâs apartment Shane was on him, wrapping his arms around Ilya in a vice-like grip.
And then Ilya was kissing him. And kissing him and kissing him and kissing him and-
âWait,â Shane gasped, pulling away. Ilya raised a brow, not-so subtley tugging at the hem of his shirt. âI wanna show you something.â
Intrigued, Ilya gestured in front of him. âLead the way.â
Shane grabbed Ilyaâs hand and pulled him toward the kitchen, Ilyaâs feet stuttering as the dining table came more into view. Shane stopped short, suddenly feeling self conscious.Â
There were a couple candles lit and two plates beside each other, filled with food. A bottle of wine and some glasses framed the display. âI was thinking,â Shane began. âYou know, we canât really like⌠go on dates or anything. So I thought I could, like, bring a date to us, maybe.âÂ
Ilya didnât respond at first and just stared, leaving Shane feeling compelled to explain more. âItâs steamed fish. I was trying to think of something that weâd both like, I hope itâs okay.â
Ilya began to blink rapidly and turned to Shane, the smile on his face showing every single tooth in his mouth. âShane Hollander,â he said, the smile sounding in his voice. âYouâre taking me on a date?â
Shane huffed and nodded. âYeah.â
Ilya grabbed his face with both hands and smacked a loud kiss to his lips. âI love you,â he murmured into Shaneâs mouth.
Shane didnât know happiness could feel like this. This⌠big. âAnd I love you. Come on, before it gets cold.â
The two sat hunched together while they ate, giggling and whispering to each other as if they werenât the only ones in the whole apartment. They stole kisses, grabbed knees, tapped feet.Â
Shane was damn near in Ilyaâs lap the whole dinner.
That is, until he was actually in Ilyaâs lap once they finished, fusing his mouth to Ilyaâs in a way that left Ilya gasping.
Shane couldnât imagine a more perfect moment, and he had never been more sure that this was going to be forever.
something something shane doing push ups and ilya laying underneath him NOT letting shane kiss him on each drop down and shaneâs just heavy breathing a hair away from his lips every time he holds it for three seconds and his eyes are hooded and keep flickering from ilyaâs eyes to his lips and he keeps pumping up and down up and down up and down and his sweat starts to slide down his face and ilya restrains from licking it up and oh would you know it shane drops down and his hard cock presses against ilyaâs already hard cock and he holds his position just a tiny bit above ilya with their clothed dicks heavy against each other and shane starts shaking with the effort to hold himself and then ilyaâs legs slowly find themselves opening for shane to slowly slowly drop into the space made just for him and his hands on either side of Ilyaâs head are red from the pressure and then heâs diving mouth open down on Ilya and ilya reciprocates it just as filthily licking at the sweat on his lips and into his warm mouth and something something you see the vision yes ?
happy late hollanoversary :DD imagine this is a framed photo of shane and ilya taken by yuna at the cottage sometime after they get married in 2021 :)) hehe
Honestly? What if we had more of hollanov lounging between the otherâs legs and getting lazily jerked off? Underrated comfortable sexy position to give and receive pleasure. Theyâre in comfortable stay at home clothes all disheveled, theyâve got sport on the TV and dinner in the oven, and theyâre wasting the good lube just cuddling the other to them and jerking them off slow. When itâs Ilya heâs nuzzling in his husbandâs armpit while he watches his cock in Shaneâs big hands. When itâs Shane heâs reaching back to pull Ilyaâs hair in time with Ilya jerking him. They got a workout in but otherwise they have no where to be, and their phones are on silent. They can do whatever they want whenever they want because theyâre together all the time now, and today they want to take their time getting each other off, whispering dirty nothings to each other and taking breaks to watch TV when they want to draw it out, and just feel close. What if we had more of that?
sad reality of the fanfic-to-published work economy is that the weirdest people are willing to do it. that's why there's now hundreds of shitty no plot cishet hate-to-love enemies-to-lovers books that are ex reylo fanfic. and it's not even good. that's because the people who wrote book-quality steve/bucky and kirk/spock fic are too normal to think to themselves "i should get this porn published". they're too busy working in local government offices
#imo the writers who write insanely good fanfic canât file the serial numbers off because they grasped the canon so thoroughly #the shitty stuff is publishable because once you change the names you canât recognize these people
