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Ilya had an ear in his mouth. It was a nice ear, belonging to a nice woman with pretty blonde hair and pouty lips, but Ilya was only sucking it to hurt Shane. He wondered if it was working, as he licked behind it, his hands sliding over this woman’s body. He felt her hips, and imagined they were Shane’s. Which he never did. He never imagined anyone but the person he was with during sex. But he felt her hips, kissed her neck, squeezed her ass, and imagined Shane. She was a lot softer than Shane, but he could still pretend, until she moved his hands to her breasts and he came crashing back to reality.
His eyes flew open, and met Shane’s. The club was pumping music. Strobing lights washed over Shane’s face, casting it half in shadow, but Ilya could tell something was wrong. He told himself he was being stupid. Shane was with Rose. They had been dancing together moments ago. Shane was happy.
Shane burst into tears.
Ilya separated himself from the woman immediately, too quickly - she almost fell over as he moved far enough away that she could no longer lean on him. He was ready to rush forward, to push through the crowd to get to Shane, but Rose reached him first. She was grabbing his arms and touching his face and he could see her mouthing, “What’s wrong, Shane, what is it?” and knew Shane hated it, knew he needed space and calm.
Ilya should have left it. He should have found the blonde woman again, pulled her back in, let Rose take care of Shane as best as she could. But Shane was still staring at him. Even as Rose took his hand and pointed to the exit, his eyes never left Ilya’s face. And he still looked so freaked out. Like a startled kitten. Ilya wanted to smooth out his crumpled forehead, brush away his tears, press a thumb to his trembling lip. He couldn’t do any of that, he knew. But he went over anyway.
Shane seemed to soften the closer he got, like Ilya’s proximity was directly proportional to how safe he felt. Ilya tried not to think about what that meant. When he reached them, he tapped Rose on the shoulder and she whirled around to face him, and fuck, she was gorgeous. This was not the time to be thinking about that, but she had giant blue eyes and dark brown hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders. Shane, who even now, Ilya wasn’t sure even liked women was dating someone this hot? Then Ilya looked at Shane and remembered he would trade blue eyes and pretty hair for brown anxious ones and freckles any day, if he could.
“Hollander,” he said, careful to keep his voice soft even in the ear-splittingly loud club.
“Ilya Rozanov?” Rose said, completely confused, and Ilya had the very rude urge to shove her out of the way.
“Rose, this is… Ilya,” Shane said, so polite even though he had barely stopped crying. It was not the way Ilya had hoped Shane would say his first name again, like he was speaking underwater, like Ilya could stop him from drowning, but it still made his heart skip a beat.
“Shane,” Ilya said, and pulled Shane’s hand gently out of Rose’s, held it between his own. He would have to apologise to Rose later, if he could get the bitter taste out of his mouth that appeared whenever he looked at her. “You are okay. What do you need?”
Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to ask, Ilya worried, but Shane was gripping his hand like a lifeline and his watery eyes met Ilya’s as he said, “You.”
Ilya took it like permission. He tugged Shane into his chest, releasing his hand, and wrapped both arms around his broad shoulders. And Shane- Shane pressed his face hard into Ilya’s chest and broke down again.
“Shh,” Ilya said soothingly, running his hands up and down Shane’s back. “I am here. I have you.”
It was not how he had dreamed of holding Shane, but Ilya’s heart still swelled with some kind of happiness, to have him like this, in his arms, like he belonged there.
Shane’s sobs were slowly quieting, his body going limp. His hands had stopped clutching at Ilya’s back and were fisted loosely in his shirt.
“I will take you home,” Ilya said, and it should have been a question, but he wouldn’t have wanted to take no for an answer. He needed to see Shane safe, out of this fucking club. He wanted to tuck him into bed and slide in beside him, hold him close until he fell asleep.
“Okay,” Shane said, nuzzling into his neck.
It was then that Ilya remembered Rose. He looked up from where he had his face pressed to Shane’s ear. She was staring at them. Wide-eyed, with her arms wrapped around her waist awkwardly, and he almost felt bad for her, he really did. She opened her mouth to say something and stopped. He got the feeling there wasn’t much that could render her speechless. He supposed seeing her boyfriend practially glued to his alleged rival would be an exception.
She stepped closer, hesitantly, and placed a hand on Shane’s shoulder. He stiffened slightly but didn’t move from Ilya’s arms.
“Shane, you go home with-“ she looked at Ilya questioningly.
“Ilya,” he supplied, because he would cuddle her boyfriend in the middle of the club but he wasn’t a total dick.
“Ilya,” she said, smiling faintly. “I’ll text you later?”
Shane mumbled something, lips brushing Ilya’s skin.
“He will text you in the morning. I will take care of him,” Ilya promised.
Rose looked a bit sad. “I know you will.”
And Ilya nodded at her and left, Shane tucked into his side.
It was almost easy to block out everything except Shane as they exited the club. He didn’t see his Boston teammates, barely noticed the few people who had recognised them and were whispering, and he hoped Shane didn’t either.
He called for a car when they got outside, inputting the number clumsily with his free hand; his right never left Shane. Shane was shivering against him, though it wasn’t that cold, and Ilya tucked his phone back into his pocket to embrace him properly. He wanted to kiss his hair. To mouth along his jaw, his chin. But he pictured Rose, alone in the club, and he stopped himself. Shane wouldn’t want that. Wouldn’t want to hurt Rose.
The car arrived and they broke apart for the first time, and it was ridiculous but Ilya immediately ached to hold him again. He settled for a hand on the small of Shane’s back, guiding him gently into the car. He slid in beside him and gave the driver the address of the sex condo.
“Wait,” Shane said, his voice clearer now that they were in a quiet, dark space. He glanced at Ilya and seemed to have a very brief and silent war with himself. Then, he told the driver a different address. The address to his actual home. Ilya’s heart beat very fast after that.
They were silent for the rest of the car ride, and the darkness felt heavy with anticipation Ilya knew he could never act on.
Shane was on his phone, texting someone, shoulders pulled up to his ears and a frown on his face. Probably Rose. Ilya tried not to let his heart break even more.
By the time they arrived, Shane seemed slightly more cognizant of the situation. He thanked the driver, let Ilya pay, opened his own door.
It was too dark to see much, but Ilya still felt a thrill standing in front of Shane’s apartment for the first time. They walked to the door together, Shane leading. He punched the code in and then they were inside. Ilya was in Shane Hollander’s apartment. His home.
And then, Shane was kissing him. His hands gripped Ilya’s shoulders, pinning him against the door, and his mouth was hot and open and messy and Ilya almost moaned into it the second their lips touched. Shane slid his hands down Ilya’s chest, to the hem of his shirt and then up under it, his palms warm and rough. His thumbs brushed over Ilya’s nipples and Ilya grabbed at his hips, pulling him closer, melding their bodies together like he could pull Shane right into him, so he would never have to let him go again.
It was then that he, once again, remembered Rose fucking Landry.
“Shane,” he panted into Shane’s mouth, and he sounded so desperate, and it had been so long, and why was he stopping this. But- “Shane,” he repeated when Shane just kept kissing him, tongue sliding against his, hands fumbling with his belt buckle.
Gently, and Ilya thought he deserved a medal for this, he pushed Shane away. He kept holding him for a moment, thumbs stroking over his collarbones, taking in his flushed face, his wet mouth, his heaving breaths.
“You have girlfriend, Hollander.”
Shane, who had looked confused and hurt to be pushed away, looked significantly less concerned at that statement than Ilya would have expected him to be.
“No, I don’t,” he said. A smile was slowly spreading across his face. Ilya wanted to bite him. Ilya wanted to hit him. Had his break down at the club affected his memory? Was he drunk, and Ilya hadn’t realised?
“Yes, you do,” Ilya said. “Rose Landry, remember?”
In response, Shane took his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Ilya. He had been texting Rose in the car, as Ilya had suspected. But the texts were not what he had expected.
“She… broke up with you?” Ilya’s heart was racing. He felt hopeful for the first time in months.
Shane scoffed. “It was mutual.” Of course he would be competitive about a breakup, Ilya thought, disgustingly fondly. “Turns out Rose doesn’t want a gay boyfriend, and I, being gay, don’t want a girlfriend.”
“You are gay?” Ilya clarified, like he hadn’t know Shane Hollander was obsessed with dick (his dick) for years.
Shane went red. Looked at his feet. Then met Ilya’s eyes again. “Yes. I’m gay.”
Ilya burst out laughing. Shane’s glare only made him laugh harder.
“Oh, wow, Hollander, this is big night for you. Breakdown and coming out to your girlfriend and the guy you have been fucking for years.”
“Shut up,” Shane said. Then, softer, “You called me Shane, earlier.”
Ilya abruptly stopped laughing. “You were upset. It would have felt weird to call you anything else.”
Shane looked up at him through his eyelashes. Ilya’s heart was in his throat.
“I liked it,” Shane said, and Ilya’s heart fucking burst. “I like you.”
Was Ilya dreaming? Had they been in an accident on the way back from the club? Or had Ilya seen Shane with Rose and gone into some kind of psychosis from the torture of it all? But no, Shane was stepping closer, taking his hand, staring at Ilya with his face all open and hopeful.
“Ilya? Is that- is that okay?”
Ilya wanted to kiss him. Wanted to grab him and shake him and say, “I have been in love with you probably since the day we met and you say you like me?!” It was not enough, and it would have to be enough for now.
Ilya could still picture Shane’s face when he had left Ilya’s apartment two months ago. Could still feel how he had shut down and climbed off his lap, and run away. But tonight Shane had said his name multiple times. Had brought Ilya to his real apartment. Was holding his hand and looking at him, still terrified, but he was holding his hand.
So, Ilya kissed him. They fell into each other, and then against the door, and Ilya slid his hands under Shane’s ass and lifted him up, smiling into the kiss when Shane wrapped his legs and arms around Ilya and clung to him like his life depended on it.
Ilya carried him down the hallway, which was more difficult than usual because Shane was licking into his mouth, sucking his tongue, rutting against his stomach like he couldn’t help it.
“So desperate, Hollander,” Ilya teased. He found Shane’s bedroom (it looked slightly more lived in than the others) and deposited him on the bed, immediately crowding between his legs.
“Shane,” Shane panted into his mouth. “Call me Shane.”
At this point Ilya’s heart was going to fucking stop.
“Shane,” he said, reaching for his shirt and pulling it off, then removing his own. “My Shane.” He whispered it, but Shane nodded a little fervently and bit Ilya’s lip.
“Yours,” he breathed.
Their pants came off quickly, and Ilya paused to fold them. Haphazardly, but Shane still looked at him like he was a saint or something, so. And then, Shane was spread out on the bed before him, naked and beautiful. He got on his knees and kissed each of Shane’s knees, up his thighs, in the crease next to his already dripping cock.
He hovered over it, letting his words caress Shane’s erection as he said, “I like you too, by the way.”
Shane shuddered and arched up into his breath.
“Y-yeah?” he said shakily, as Ilya resumed kissing his inner thighs, his hands roaming Shane’s sides. He dug his fingers into the soft muscle of Shane’s ass and licked a slow line up from the base of Shane’s cock, flattening his tongue when he reached the head.
“Very much,” he said when he pulled back, and Shane whined.
Ilya just wanted to look at him for a moment. At the man in his bed, flushed and needy and honest. And, currently, glaring at Ilya impatiently and lifting his hips up in a transparent plea.
Ilya chuckled. He grabbed Shane by the hips and yanked him closer to the edge of the bed, a little roughly, but Shane had never minded that.
“Ilya,” Shane said warningly, cock angry and red. “If you don’t-“
Before he could finish his sentence, Ilya swallowed him down, earning a string of cursewords and a fist in his hair, gripping it tightly but not pulling him down, trusting Ilya to do the work. To make him feel good.
“Ilya,” Shane said again after less than a minute, and it was a different warning. “If you don’t stop I’m going to come.”
Ilya considered this. It had been a long night for Shane. Crying at the club, breaking up with Rose, now crying over Ilya’s dick. Maybe a blowjob was more than enough. But, Ilya wanted to be inside him. Wanted to be inside him so badly it ached, so he pulled off with a swirl of his tongue in Shane’s slit.
“Condoms?” he said as he stood up.
Shane, who up until this moment had been a horny mess, blanched and sat up.
“Fuck. I don’t have any. We’ve never… done it here before.”
Ilya stared at him and tried not to swear loudly.
“Is okay,” he said. “I can still blow you.” He went to resume his earlier position but Shane threw out a hand and grabbed his wrist.
“Wait,” he said, and then went silent.
Ilya waited a moment. “What? You are going to come out to me again or something?”
Instead, Shane said something that made Ilya potentially more turned on than he’d ever been in his life.
“We could do it without a condom.”
Ilya was maybe a bit lightheaded. Just the thought of that - of just him and Shane, nothing between them, made heat pool below his stomach. But, this was so unlike Shane. He had to know for certain-
“You are sure?”
Shane gazed at him, somewhat shyly, but his eyes were heavy with want and he bit his lip before he replied. "Yes. Do you?”
Ilya almost laughed. “Fuck, Shane. Yes.”
Ilya crawled over him, and he shuffled back further on the bed til his head was on the pillows.
“I’ve only been with Rose, and we used condoms, and I got tested a couple weeks ago, too, and you always get tested regularly, right?” Shane was babbling, and Ilya ran his hands up and down his arms.
“Yes. But I haven’t slept with anyone since you, anyway.”
Shane stilled at that. “Really?” he said.
“Yes,” Ilya replied, and any embarrassment he felt faded when he saw the slow, happy smile that appeared on Shane’s face. “We still do not have to. We can wait.”
Shane sat up, reached for his bedside table and the drawer there. Handed Ilya a bottle of lube. “I don’t want to wait.”
Ilya dove on top of him, swallowed Shane’s laugh with a quick succession of kisses that deepened, until he was swallowing Shane’s gasps and moans instead.
He took his time opening Shane up, as always, even though his own cock was throbbing and Shane was leaking steadily onto his own stomach, giving little whimpers that made Ilya want to devour him whole.
“I’m ready, Ilya,” Shane gasped when he was three fingers deep. “I need you.”
Ilya leaned down and kissed his stomach, his hip bones, his knees where they were held up near his head.
“Need me to what?” he said, lessening the pressure of his fingers on Shane’s prostate, barely grazing it and earning another devastating whimper.
“I need you to fuck me.” It was almost a whine, and Ilya growled and pulled his fingers out.
He slid into Shane slowly, watching his face, how his eyes glistened and his mouth slackened as he took Ilya in his entirety. They didn’t usually do it in this position; doggy style was easier, less intimate (even though everything he did with Shane felt intimate). But Ilya was indescribably glad to be able to see Shane like this, to feel him, all of him. It was achingly familiar and searingly new, all at once. He started to thrust, and Shane arched into him, reaching for Ilya’s hand. Ilya tangled their fingers together, brought them to his lips, mouthed over his knuckles and braced himself with his free hand to thrust harder, faster.
“I’m gonna come,” Shane said, starting to tense.
“Me too,” Ilya said, breathless. “Do you want me to-“
“Stay,” Shane said quickly. “Want to feel you come in me. Fuck.”
Ilya leaned down and kissed him, messily, their mouths open and panting, and Shane bit down on Ilya’s lip when he came, so hard he tasted blood. Which made Ilya come, too, spilling into Shane, filling him up.
Shane kissed him when he finally stilled, licked blood from his bottom lip, pressed their foreheads together and smushed his nose into Ilya’s, like he couldn’t get close enough, like Ilya wasn’t still literally inside him.
“I like you,” Shane said again, still kissing him.
Ilya replied in Russian; he was a mess, it felt like his brain had floated away and he was just a body, like he just existed in the points where Shane’s skin touched his. English had escaped him.
“What does that mean?” Shane asked, rubbing their noses together, running his hands through Ilya’s curls.
Ilya kissed him and pulled out before replying.
“It means the same as what you said.” He couldn’t look at Shane while he lied. But he hoped it wasn’t a lie. Hoped Shane had meant more than what he’d said.
A moment passed with them lying next to each other, Ilya’s hand on Shane’s thigh, Shane leaning into him, their arms pressed together. Then-
“Ugh.” Shane grimaced. “I’m all sticky. And I can feel you… leaking from my ass.”
Ilya laughed. “I will not let myself get used to no condoms,” he joked.
“I liked it,” Shane said, and he said it so earnestly. Then he sat up properly and winced. “Just maybe not every time.”
“Okay, malysh,” Ilya said, and leaned over to kiss him. Then he stood up, pulling Shane with him. “Shower now.”
“Shower now,” Shane agreed. His hair was sticking up and he was flushed all the way to his chest and he looked, Ilya thought, so fucking happy.
He followed Shane to his ensuite bathroom, staring at his ass and the come - Ilya’s come - dripping down his legs. His cock twitched, and Shane smirked when he turned and saw it.
They got under the water together. Shane had a huge shower, but they stood huddled together in the middle of it, chests touching, skin slick and warm, and Ilya definitely wasn’t the only one who was half-hard. He cupped Shane’s cheek, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as Shane closed his eyes and hummed, smiling, still blissed out from sex.
I am so fucking in love with you, Ilya thought. It hurt less than it usually did. Shane had said his name. Shane had gone home with him, not Rose. Shane was gay. Shane had Ilya’s come dripping out of his ass.
He kissed Shane’s forehead under the water.
They showered surprisingly quickly. There was languid kissing and soft caresses, but no blowjobs. Shane was slowly crashing after everything, and Ilya could tell, so he shampooed his hair for him and soaped his body, slightly in awe that he got to touch Shane like this for a change.
Ilya changed the sheets while Shane made them tea, the plain, unsweetened kind Ilya never drank, but he sat in bed beside Shane and sipped at it, heart full with the domesticity of it all.
Shane didn’t ask if Ilya would stay. He just took his cup from him when he was finished, placed it on the bedside table beside his own, snuggled into Ilya, and turned off the light.