Chapter Text
Shane was fidgeting, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen Ilya since the hospital, and the vague, fractured memories made him wince in embarrassment. What if his parents had walked in, right when Shane was crowing about fucking werewolves? Outside of the fact that they’d order a head scan, he had also put Ilya in an uncomfortable situation, shouting his secret to the packed hospital wing.
He had wondered if Ilya ran away, too angry at his secret being revealed, but when he’d gotten the phone call from Russia, all those worries had dissipated.
Ilya was human, with human problems. Shane sometimes wondered why he was so comfortable with Ilya Rozanov being some mythical shape-shifting wolf, but then he remembered how soft Ilya looked in the moonlight, how his fingers had brushed Shane’s hair, how his lips felt in those secret moments Shane had chased all year. There was a mystery here, no doubt, but Shane cared less and less about it.
He just wanted time.
His phone buzzed just as he spotted familiar golden curls beneath a baseball cap exiting the terminal, bag slung over tanned shoulders and sunglasses barely hiding his features. So much for incognito, Shane grinned, watching for a moment as Ilya glanced around the parking lot, phone held to his ear. It dropped when their eyes met, and Shane felt suddenly shy. “Hi -”
“Is this a Jeep?”
Jesus Christ. Shane scoffed, the nerves disappearing instantly. “Fuck off,” he grinned, climbing into the car as Ilya slung his suitcase into the back. “It’s practical.”
“Still same boring Shane Hollander,” Ilya mused, the door slamming shut and leaving them in a crackling swirl of energy, so bright and taut Shane could almost see the sparks. It remained in the space between them until they were away from the bustling streets, the highway lined with lush green trees rather than concrete walls. Only then did it evaporate, seeping out of the car through their open windows as they watched the cars slip off the road at every exit.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Shane said, and from the corner of his eye, he watched Ilya tense on an inhale. “Are you… do you need to go back to Russia?”
“No.” Ilya’s answer was razor-sharp, and Shane let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Never.”
“Oh,” Shane said, because he didn’t know what else to say. But he watched Ilya’s shoulders release as he exhaled, like just the idea of never returning to his homeland was a relief. “Well, I’m glad you’re home. I’m glad you’re… here.” He cleared his throat, turning back to the road before Ilya could catch him looking. “I think you’re going to like the cottage, it’s really private.”
“Private,” Ilya repeated, his mouth turning up into a hint of a smile. “You are worried?”
“About what?” Shane asked, playing dumb. Ilya glanced at him, eyebrow arched. “I mean, you don’t have to be worried -”
“Cottage in woods with pretty boy, how convenient for me,” Ilya sighed, and Shane blushed. “No need to worry, it must be fairy tale.”
“Well…” Shane began, and Ilya chuckled. “We don’t need to talk about it -”
“We will, soon,” Ilya said, quiet but full of promise. “Thank you for inviting me, Shane.” He reached over and grabbed Shane’s hand, their fingers tangling over the gear shift as the empty road dragged on, the houses growing sparse and the trees growing crowded.
—
Ilya forgot sometimes that Shane Hollander had been rich for a while. Prodigy player, plucked out of childhood too early and trusted with legacy team reputations, brands throwing money at someone young and attractive and talented. Ilya might have been the same, if he’d grown up in the Americas, but in Russia his finances had been managed (and drained) by his greedy family.
“Wow,” he whistled as Shane locked the door behind them. Perhaps Canadians had a different definition of cottage, because the sleek glass walls screamed mansion instead, a penthouse built in the middle of bursting trees. “Mr. Real Estate.”
“I had it built,” Shane said, standing awkwardly beside their bags with his hands in his pockets. It was so fucking perfect that Ilya had to turn back towards the window to keep from smiling too wide.
Was this really happening? Was Ilya actually standing inside Shane Hollander’s hidden retreat, no one around for miles, secrets about to be laid bare in the one place where Ilya’s wolf could feel the most safe? He still wondered about mates - the actuality of it, the destiny predetermined by some mysterious force, the uncertainty of myths and magic - but was this not proof that Shane Hollander was meant to be his?
A house in the woods, where Shane felt the most comfortable. A wolf inside a glass house, finally at peace.
Ilya turned around when he could control his expression, still careful not to give everything away and scare Shane off. Shane, for that matter, seemed to be fidgety for a thousand other reasons, his eyes scanning Ilya’s face before mapping his house, small and unsure even in his own palace. “I could give you a tour,” he said, turning towards the kitchen like Ilya had never seen a house layout before. “Or I could make some lunch…”
Ilya smiled and let him talk, watching Shane like a predator watches a particularly clueless bunny, bumbling around his space like it was their first time talking. “I have my own well,” Shane continued, pointing at something outside. Ilya didn’t follow his fingers, instead allowing himself to drink in Shane’s face. “In case you’re thirsty.”
Thirsty, yes. For water, no. Ilya didn’t say anything, just let Shane come to him. He stopped awkwardly just an arm’s length away and waited, a rabbit taunting a wolf, unsure of the trap he’d walked into. Ilya closed the gap and tugged Shane’s face closer, his fingers tightening around the back of Shane’s neck. Was it ownership, or was Ilya trying just as hard to hold onto this moment?
It didn’t matter. Ilya kissed Shane like they were equals, because they always had been. He drank in Shane’s breathless giggle as they stumbled towards the couch, their legs tangling and their hands getting caught beneath a frustrating amount of clothes. “Off,” Ilya commanded as Shane toppled on top of him, tugging at his shirt until the bottom buttons started to strain. Shane slapped his hands away, his cheeks already a delicious shade of pink as he pulled off his shirt.
“I might not last long,” he admitted, and Ilya could feel Shane’s cock straining against his shorts, the fabric thin over solid warm heat and pressing against the crook of Ilya’s thigh.
“Same,” Ilya replied, and he felt Shane exhale against his neck. It was a confession, one that Shane hadn’t been expecting, or at least not allowing himself to hope for, but who would Ilya choose over this? He knew his reputation for women had been exalted, exaggerated even, amongst their teammates, but Ilya had spent the last year only wishing for this, the man in his arms with delicate freckles and desperate eyes. “Now touch my dick before I explode.”
Shane chuckled, his lips shifting into a smile against Ilya’s skin. “Should I show you to your room, sir?” And Ilya just groaned in response, letting himself get dragged to his feet. This man would be the death of him, but god, it would be worth it.
—
In between sex, they talked.
Shane loved the sex, he loved it, the fingerprints on the glass like breadcrumbs of their desperation, too worked up to find their way back to the bed. But he loved the other moments too, Ilya asking questions about his parents over burgers and beer, the birds chirping in the distance like quiet jazz. They talked about hockey too, almost too much but when it was their favorite common interest, it was inevitable.
But they hadn’t talked about it yet, the elephant in the room. Or the wolf in the room? Shane bit his lip as they cleaned up, watching Ilya’s profile as he washed dishes and talked about New York’s surprising defense during the playoffs. He would wait until the perfect moment, but Shane worried that he wouldn’t recognize it when it arrived.
But then the sun set, and the firepit outside reflected the small insects in the air and the bird sounds had been replaced by the soft rustling of leaves, and Shane couldn’t hold it in any longer. “When did it first happen?”
Ilya made a noise of confusion. “When did what happen?”
Shane winced and waved his hands in the air. “You, um… becoming a, you know.”
“Ah.” Ilya chuckled dryly, gazing past the fire licking through the air into the woods. “You cannot say word?”
“I can,” Shane said, but then he couldn’t, the word dying on his tongue. Ilya had on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s a lot.”
“I know.” Ilya leaned back against the cushions, his gaze still far away, like he was revisiting another time in his life, his mind floating while his body stayed solid next to Shane. “I am surprised you believe it.”
“Were you the wolf in Russia?” Shane asked, his mouth falling open when Ilya nodded. “Seriously? Did you know who I was?”
“Yes and no. I knew you look familiar, but I did not know your name. We did not play against each other.” Even though time had long since passed since the Olympics, Ilya looked annoyed at the reminder of his team’s loss. “You were stupid though, walking through woods by yourself.”
“Hey!” Shane hissed, but Ilya wasn’t wrong. “I helped you, didn’t I?”
“You pour water on me and then slap a bandaid on fur,” Ilya drawled, and Shane huffed. “But you treated me kindly, always so kind.” He glanced up at the stars and Shane’s eyes mapped his throat, remembering that emerald forest and the wolf with emerald eyes pinning him against the tree. “I felt something change that day.”
“What do you mean?” Shane asked curiously, but Ilya seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Was coming to Montreal a coincidence?”
“No.”
Shane felt his heartbeat pick up. “So you came for…”
“You? Yes.”
“Ilya,” Shane said breathlessly, unable to keep from leaning forward as he clasped Ilya’s clutched fist. “Really? Why?”
“That is hard to answer too,” Ilya said, looking down at their clasped hands. “The answer will scare you.”
Shane gulped. “Scare me?”
“Or not,” Ilya continued like Shane hadn’t interrupted. “You have weird sense of fear, maybe. Shane Hollander walks through strange woods and helps dangerous wolves without question, so perhaps finding out that my wolf considers you my mate is not so strange.”
Shane froze, and he felt Ilya’s hand clench around his fingers suddenly, like he was scared Shane would pull back. And should he? “What does that mean?”
Do wolves mate for life? He thought wildly, going through the snippets of animal videos he had found on the internet. He was pretty sure swans and penguins did -
“It is myth,” Ilya said, sounding rushed as Shane’s heart began to pound quicker. “Not true, or at least… maybe not. This body is a curse, my family tree has been cursed for centuries, and perhaps this feeling is connected to that curse.” He looked flustered, squeezing Shane’s fingers just a bit too hard as he stared between them. “But I could not stop thinking of you after that day in Sochi, and I acted recklessly. I called my agent, told him I would take whatever deal he could get me with the Metros.”
“A curse? That sounds bad,” Shane said, biting his lip. What was Ilya trying to say, that he was somehow magically tied to Shane in a way that meant he had no choice? Was it not actual attraction or romantic interest, and actually some fucked up cursed feeling on Ilya’s part?
But Ilya shook his head, looking frustrated. “Not bad, not curse, I do not know how to say.” He was still holding Shane’s hand, which was a good sign. “Just not something I ever believed in until now.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ilya groaned, his free hand rubbing over his face. “I have wanted you since very first time I saw you. And whether it is because my wolf believes you to be our mate, or because you are you and I cannot live without you now, it does not matter.”
Shane felt his body go warm, and it wasn’t because of the fire. “So, your wolf likes me -” Ilya snorted, but he didn’t reject it, and Shane felt himself smile. “And you like me.”
“Good, you understand.”
“I think so,” Shane grinned, feeling his heartbeat racing as Ilya turned to him. “So what happens now?”
Ilya didn’t say anything, his profile cast in bright orange and yellow as he stared into the forest. “Now, we -”
A noise echoed from the woods, and Ilya flinched violently. “What the fuck was that?”
Shane stared at him. “A loon?”
“A what?” Ilya jerked again when the loon called out once more, and Shane couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s a bird.”
“It sounds like a fucking wolf!” Shane gaped at him. “What?”
“You’re a wolf! Don’t you know how to tell the difference?” Ilya looked offended, but the question seemed to shut him up. Shane couldn’t help but giggle at Ilya’s furtive glances towards the trees. He looked less serious, less dangerous when he was so unnecessarily worried. “Are you sure you’re a wolf? Maybe you just hit your head too many times playing hockey.”
He was joking, but Ilya glanced at him with one eyebrow raised. Now, with his head turned towards Shane directly, the flames looked less like soft golden lights and more dangerous, highlights and shadows flashing across his face. “You do not think I am wolf?” He murmured, leaning over so his palm was pressed against Shane’s thigh, his body moving to block him against the cushioned seat. “You do not believe?”
“I - I was joking,” Shane gulped, leaning back until he was almost lying down, allowing Ilya to climb over him like a predator over prey. In the distance, the loon had stopped crying out, almost like an acknowledgement that a greater beast had emerged. “Ilya…”
“Perhaps I am not,” Ilya whispered, but his eyes had turned brighter gold, and Shane had no clue if it was from the blazing flames or if something deeper had risen to the surface. “Perhaps you are not in any danger at all.”
“Danger?” Shane choked out, and Ilya’s hand crawled up his chest towards his chin, grasping the delicate skin of his neck like a collar.
“Of wolves and obsessive men,” Ilya explained slowly, his fingers dragging over Shane’s pulse. “Of dangerous things crawling into your bed every night, between your legs.”
I’m very okay with that, Shane wanted to say, but he could not find the words. He could only glance down at Ilya’s parted lips and wait for them to find his. If Ilya was dangerous, then it was a danger Shane welcomed with open arms. “There is a part of me that craves you,” Ilya continued, bypassing Shane’s mouth to press his tongue over Shane’s jaw, tracking spit and heat as he moved down to Shane’s pulse. “In a way that should scare you.”
“And the other part?” Shane asked hesitantly, and Ilya pulled back to look at him. “What does that part think?”
Ilya watched him for a moment, and Shane might have been imagining it, but it was like the gold faded from his irises back to the familiar green. Maybe it had just been a trick of the light. “That part of me cannot stop thinking of stupid, boring hockey player with beautiful freckles, and how badly I want to be with him.”
Shane couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across his face, and after a second, he received one back. “Very dangerous,” Shane said, and Ilya shrugged.
“What can I say? I’m a dangerous - fuck, stupid Canadian wolf bird!”
—
Shane would run away one day.
The thought had plagued Ilya since the first time they met. One day Shane would realize that this was too much, that Ilya was too much, and find a way out. Ilya had bounced back and forth on the idea of letting him leave - if mates were real, if Shane really was his to chase and claim, would Ilya even be able to give him up? But the thought had always been present, that Shane would run and Ilya would have to decide if he was a monster who chased after what he thought was his alone, or if he would break apart and become a shell of who he once was, lonely in this godforsaken world.
Now though, as Shane lay beneath him, his chest warm and solid as Ilya mapped out freckles and veins with his lips, that thought was quiet.
Shane would not run.
“I love you,” Ilya said, and Shane’s eyes widened.
“Oh shit.”
The thought reappeared in the moment of silence. Shane would run -
“I love you too.”
And then it was gone for good, disappearing into the quiet of the bedroom as Ilya pressed against his mate, breathing in his scent and knowing that they were in this together.
—
“So the full moon is tonight,” Shane said, kicking a pebble into the lake and watching the ripples stretch out into the glassy surface. Ilya sat next to him, golden in the setting sun, his skin still damp from their afternoon swim.
“I know.”
“What’s going to happen?” Shane asked, trying hard not to sound casual. But in reality, he was almost vibrating from the anticipation of seeing Ilya as a wolf again. Especially since this time, he would actually know it was Ilya behind those golden eyes.
“I will turn into a wolf.”
“Shit, really?” Shane deadpanned, turning to Ilya with a frown. “I mean, can I see?”
Ilya sighed and laid back against the grass, his arms crossed behind his head, looking as relaxed as could be. “There is not much to see. I turn into wolf, run around for few hours, then turn back into this.”
“That’s a lot, Ilya,” Shane whined, pushing Ilya’s knee with his foot in annoyance. “Why are you being so chill about it? Am I not allowed to see? Will you hurt me?”
“Have I ever hurt you while I was a wolf?”
“No, but -”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. My wolf knows that you are someone to protect, not hurt.”
Well, that made Shane feel a bit giddy, but he was still annoyed at Ilya’s avoidance. “So can I see, then?”
Ilya sighed again, and then pushed up on his forearms until he was perched up. “You really want to see?”
“Duh!”
“Fine,” Ilya said. “You can see.” And then he stood up, brushing grass and dirt from his legs. “Come.”
“Wait, now?”
“Why not? You have better things to do?”
Shane scrambled up and followed Ilya’s retreating back, his heart pounding. “Does it hurt? How long will you stay a wolf? Do you eat animals? Do you -”
“Do you want answers or do you want to see?”
Both. Shane followed Ilya towards the edge of the trees, looking around furtively like someone would come around the corner. Ilya’s shirt was already off, flung over a lawn chair somewhere, and he was kicking off his shorts and then his boxers, standing naked in the setting sun like some ancient Greek god. Shane’s breath caught at the beauty, and he forgot all his questions for a moment as he stared over the hard lines of Ilya’s chest and legs. “You look like puppy with tongue hanging out,” Ilya quipped, and Shane’s glare was lackluster. “Perhaps I should call you that instead of lisichka.”
“What does that mean?” Shane asked, finally glancing back up at Ilya’s face. His eyes had darkened a bit while Shane took him in, and through the trees, the sun disappeared behind the mountains in the distance, leaving a haze of gold in the air, a layer of fairy dust for the fairy tale moment. “I meant to look it up but couldn’t remember it exactly.”
Ilya stepped closer, his naked body pressing against Shane, whose clothes suddenly feeling too thick and restricting. “It is exactly what you are,” Ilya murmured, his hand curling around Shane’s neck and tugging on the baby hairs against his neck. “It means little fox.”
Shane frowned. “What?”
“Oh, you do not like it?” Ilya smiled, tugging harder so that Shane was forced to tilt his neck back. “But it fits you so well, my little innocent prey, the thing I track in the night and watch.”
Shane swallowed, and it felt harder in this position, his neck bared to Ilya. “You watch me?”
“I have,” Ilya said, leaning forward to brush his nose against Shane’s pulse. “All those nights we room together, you lying there innocently in bed next to me. You did not know you lay with a wolf who wants to eat you.” He bit Shane’s skin at that moment, a playful snap of teeth against delicate skin, and Shane felt his body grow warm. His cock twitched and Ilya laughed, pressing them closer together as nature buzzed around them.
“You don’t want to eat me,” Shane choked out, and Ilya hummed against his neck. “Right? You didn’t hurt me those other times.”
“No,” Ilya said, pulling back to look at Shane. His eyes were golden again, the flecks pushing in from the sides and eating away at the normal, human green. “I do not want to hurt you. I want to possess you. I want to claim you. I want you to try to run and hide, and I want to find you and never let you go. I want a little fox like a wolf wants one, to hunt.” He dropped his hands from Shane’s neck and wrapped them around his waist, pushing the shirt up to touch flushed skin. “But then…”
“Then?” Shane exhaled, and Ilya’s eyes were like molten gold.
“Then I want to kiss you and fuck you and listen to you blabber about hockey and eat too many burgers because you cannot adjust recipe,” Ilya said, and Shane sank into his arms as they tightened around him. “And I want to spend all my time with you, because I cannot imagine anything better.”
“You’re sappy,” Shane said, but his voice cracked with emotion. “It’s weird.”
“It is your fault.” Ilya kissed Shane’s nose and then stepped back, holding out his hands. “This part is not pretty, I will not be mad if you look away.”
“I won’t,” Shane promised, but it was one he had trouble keeping, because Ilya was falling apart in front of him. It happened so quickly, too strange and bizarre for Shane to make any sense of where Ilya’s limbs were going, fur appearing out of nowhere as his legs shrunk and his back curved. And then, like magic, there was a wolf in front of him. “Whoa.”
Ilya stood his ground as Shane drew closer, his hand shaking as he reached out to touch Ilya’s fur-covered head. “Look at you,” he whispered, kneeling down to get closer and bringing his nose against Ilya’s warm snout. The wolf huffed and hot breath fanned over Shane’s skin. The wolf’s - Ilya’s - eyes were bright and golden, holding all of their precious moments from this past year in them.
Shane remembered looking into the eyes of a wolf and feeling fear, but there had always been an underlying sensation of something more. And now the fear was gone, and in its place Shane felt like he was greeting an old friend. “Hi,” he said. “You’re really pretty like this.”
You’re the pretty one, Ilya might say. Or he might scoff and say, of course I am. Shane didn’t know what Ilya was thinking at that moment, but he didn’t need to. Ilya was still present in the wolf before him, sitting on his haunches and gazing at Shane with the type of fondness dogs felt for their owners. Unyielding loyalty. Undeniable love. “So what now?” Shane asked, looking past Ilya towards the trees. “You run?”
Ilya shook his head, and then butted Shane to sit back onto the ground, his back against rough bark. And then the wolf pushed into his space and slumped into him, nose pressing against Shane’s neck just like human Ilya had done earlier, only this time much wetter. “Jesus, we could’ve brought a pillow,” Shane complained, but he let out a sigh and dug his fingers into Ilya’s fur, rubbing the coarse hair between his fingers. “All we staying like this all night?”
Forever, Ilya might say, and Shane had to admit forever sounded nice.
THE END.