Chapter Text
Ilya was the last one to skate off the ice and into the tunnel. The excited screams of fans rang in his ears. They had just won their ninth game in a row, 4-1. He felt good, he played even better. Save the wide open shot on goal he had missed in the first period, but made up for it later with two goals and an assist. It was a fantastic start to the season for his team.
Ilya walked into the locker room to the whoops and yells of his teammates, all turning to him as he entered, grinning like a gaggle of idiots.
“Capitaine!”
“What a game.”
“Roz you're a magician.”
“Magicians don't miss shots on a wide open net Haasy.”
“Shut the fuck up Marlow.” Ilya said with a smirk on his lips. “You would still be scoreless on the season if not for my magical pass.”
“Yeah sure Roz. Party at Bood’s at nine to celebrate. You comin’?” Cliff Marlow, his assistant captain asked.
“Duh.” Ilya began stripping his jersey and pads and threw them into a heap in his locker, heading to the showers. He had plenty of time to head back to his dorm, change, eat, and maybe nap before walking to Bood’s frat house. He had opted not to join said frat at the beginning of the semester, instead taking a tiny single dorm to assimilate to the foreign country he had only just arrived in. And was hopefully never leaving, if he had anything to do with it.
It had only been two months, but Ilya knew he much preferred living in Canada to Russia. He wasn’t sure what would happen once his college days were over and his scholarship ended. However he quickly came to terms with the fact that he would do pretty much anything to stay.
Ilya pushed on the door of the locker room, stepping into the evening light flowing in through the doors of the main entrance to the rink.
The loud crash that followed rattled against his ear drums. He stopped just outside the door and turned to his right, the direction the door had swung open in, to the sight of a man Ilya had never seen before. Lying on the ground.
“Shane! Are you okay?” The redheaded woman next to him asked, crouching down in front of the boy and blocking Ilya’s view of his face.
“Yeah. Fine.” Ilya heard the response come in an exasperated tone. “Rose this is literally why I don't go anywhere but the library.”
“Oh calm down, you’re so dramatic, so what a door opened in your face? You’re fi–” The redhead trailed off as she turned to face Ilya, helping the dark-haired boy to his feet. “Oh. Oh my god. You’re–”
“Да. Yes. Ilya Rozanov.” Ilya said looking at the woman, Rose, he presumed. He shifts his gaze to his victim with an apology on his lips. Only for every word he had ever learned in English or Russian to completely slip his brain, except one.
Freckles.
That was all Ilya could manage to think. Freckles.
And so many of them. Adorable brown marks, varying in hue and size, were scattered across the man's cheeks and nose. His nose. Had Ilya ever noticed someone's nose before? He quickly decided not to dwell on that when the boy finally met his stare.
The big eyes that focused on Ilya were nothing short of beautiful. Pools of brown swirled around his pupils, which Ilya wanted to dive head first into.
Holy shit this man is stunning. As in, ‘Oh my god I think I just fell in love with you’, kind of stunning.
Okay Ilya was being dramatic. Obviously he couldn’t be in love with him, right? Just like, objectively, that wasn’t possible.
Right?
His eyes flicked to Rose, then back to–what had she said before? Shane. Back to Shane. Gorgeous, pretty Shane.
Ilya was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Rose’s throat clearing. He realized, somewhat embarrassingly, none of them had said anything. They just stood outside the door to the men’s locker room. Shane and Ilya staring at each other, Rose looking between the two of them with a smile on her face.
“Hi.” Ilya managed to breathe out, his voice not nearly as steady as he would’ve liked. God what was wrong with him? He was Ilya Rozanov. He needed to calm down. The other man hadn’t even said anythi–
“Hi.” Shane responded, voice breathy, higher than normal. A pink tint bloomed on the skin under the galaxy of freckles, their eyes not leaving each other's.
So love at first sight was possible.
“Uhm.” Rose prompted, studying Ilya. With some considerable effort, Ilya pulled his eyes over to Rose.
“Oh. Right. Sorry. I’m sorry. For door. Um. For hitting you with the door.” he said, looking back at Shane. Ilya seriously needed to pull himself together. “You are okay?”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, I’m totally fine, it's totally fine. Don’t worry about it. Um. I’m sorry.” Shane blurted, the words coming out fast and strung together.
“What? Why sorry?” Ilya responded, a slight frown pulling at his lips in genuine confusion.
“For, uhm, being in the way of the door?” Shane offered, unsure why he even said sorry in the first place. The striking face of this exquisite man had his brain malfunctioning. Only worsened by the smile growing on said face. What had Rose said before? Ilya. On Ilya’s face. Stunning, breathtaking Ilya.
‘For being in the way of the door.’ Ilya repeated in his head. Adorable.
“Alright,” Rose interjected, clearly entertained by the exchange between the two. “Ilya, I’m Rose Landry and this is Shane Hollander, congrats on the win by the way. You played great.”
“Yes. Thank you. Good start to season.”
“Yeah, you played great, good uhm–,” Shane cleared his throat, “–good skating.”
God, could he get any cuter?
“Ah, thank you. Is just like walking.” Ilya shrugged and smiled widely at him, regaining some of his composure “I have not seen you at rink before. Why is this?”
“Oh, well, I uh–,” Shane’s cheeks heated adorably again, “It's my first time coming to a game, Rose here dragged me from the library.”
Shane’s beautiful eyes widened immediately, “I mean, no. Not like that. Not like dragged me... like I had a good time, I just meant that...that I don't usually–”
“Is okay,” Ilya mercifully cut him off, his face seeming to be stuck in a permanent smile. “Glad you are here, that you came to game I mean. Sorry again, about the door. You are sure you are okay?”
“No really it's completely fine. And yes, I’m sure I'm okay.” Shane responded, a shy smile tugging at his perfect lips.
“Good,” Ilya said, a smirk playing on his own, “I can make it up to you? There is party at hockey house tonight, you should come. Both of you.”
“Oh yeah I’ve been to a few parties there. Shane we are absolutely going. And– Oh don’t give me that look, the library can wait. Seriously, like, it's a Friday, live a little.” Rose said, rolling her eyes and pulling her phone from her back pocket.
“Okay but–” Shane started his rebuttal.
“Come.” Ilya said, firm but fond, “She is right. Library can wait to see you. Not sure I can.”
“Oh” The darkest shade of blush yet began to crawl up Shane’s neck and again onto his perfect face. Ilya wanted to know just how dark that blush could become.
“Okay.” Shane smiled shyly again.
“Yes. Good. See you later then.” Ilya flashed him the widest grin he could muster and turned on his heel. He started for the door, afraid if he stood in front of Shane any longer he would drop his hockey bag and kiss him right then and there. He didn’t even know if Shane liked men. He would find out later he supposed, hopefully. Although the pink on his cheeks at Ilya’s every word was pretty telling. Jesus, the blush. His eyes. Those freckles. Had he mentioned Shane’s freckles? And oh. The huge biceps practically busting the seams of his t-shirt sleeves. The shirt was loose fitting, or meant to be. However Shane certainly filled it out well, very well. He wondered what Shane would be wearing tonight. He felt his blood begin to rush south.
Ilya was done for.
Ilya had been to this house a thousand times, and yet this was the first he felt nervous walking up to the front door. It was about 30 minutes past nine. Would Shane already be here? He hoped not. If their earlier interaction was any indication, Ilya definitely needed a drink before talking to him. Maybe two. And a shot.
Ilya let himself in through the front door, the noise of rambunctious, already drunk college students and booming music rang in his ears.
“Cap! Just in time! Get over here we’re doing shots!” Ilya heard Bood’s loud voice shout out.
And who was Ilya to turn down a shot?
One hour, four shots, and two beers later, Ilya found himself on the couch in the living room. His third beer grasped loosely between his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers. The warm buzz under his skin made him feel light, airy. Ilya felt genuinely happy, surrounded by his teammates after another fantastic win. Although there was one thing bothering him. A certain dark-haired boy who Ilya couldn’t seem to get out of his head. Not that he was complaining, in fact he welcomed the thoughts warmly into his brain. The timid little smile, his big shiny brown eyes, his lips.
In his state Ilya can’t help but imagine those lips on his. On Ilya’s neck, on his chest, trailing across his abdomen and down down down. The image of Shane’s lips wrapped around him filled his mind and he nearly had to stifle a groan.
“Ебать.” Ilya muttered under his breath.
“You good?” Marlow asked from next to him on the couch.
“Of cou–” Ilya was cut off by the sound of the door opening. His eyes flew to the entrance of the home, landing on the two people now walking into the living room.
Shane. Had he gotten more beautiful since Ilya saw him earlier? He sure fucking thinks so.
Before he could say a word though, a different, grating, voice began to speak. One Ilya had wholeheartedly forgotten was a resident of this house.
“Shane! Rose!” Hayden Pike sprang up from the armchair he was occupying and nearly tackled Shane with the force of his hug.
“oof. Hi, hey bud, how much have you had to drink?” Shane wrapped his arms around Hayden with a fond smile on his face. Although his brows were creased in worry, Hayden wasn’t usually one to give hugs.
Pike? Pike knew Shane? Pike was hugging his Shane. Well not his Shane. Not yet.
Hayden turned back to his team, a huge, drunk smile on his face, “Everyone this is Shane, my best friend and Rose, my... other friend.”
Best friend? Of all people for Shane to be best friends with. He’d chosen Hayden fucking Pike?
“Wow thanks Hayd, what an introduction. Also I have literally been here before. To multiple parties. With all of these people.”
“Oh. Right. Well anyway this is Shane, the one I've told childhood stories about.” Hayden managed to get out, slurring each and every one of his words and stumbling back to the armchair.
Stories? Well damn if Ilya had known all of Pike’s useless blabbering was about this beautiful man he probably would've listened
“Ah yes, famous Shane.” Bood mused from the couch opposite Ilya.
Famous? Ilya really needed to start paying more attention.
As Rose began walking to the chair next to Pike, he started up again.
“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad you finally came to a party but, like, why? I didn’t even know you were coming” Hayden asked with heavily lidded eyes, trying to focus on Shane’s face.
Shane, who was standing somewhat awkwardly, flicked his eyes to Ilya and back to Hayden. The short eye contact lit a fire in Ilya’s core. He wanted more.
“Oh, well actually Ilya invited us, after the game.”
Suddenly, Ilya felt several eyes on him, specifically Shane’s. His soft stare tore right through Ilya. The fire in his core stroked by the feeling of Shane’s eyes on him.
“Yes. After game. I run into Hollander and Landry in hallway, literally.” The alcohol flowing through Ilya’s blood gave him some courage, luckily, but his accent was thick, “I open door of locker room right in Hollander’s pretty face. And being gentleman I am, I say sorry and invite them. Also so I can see pretty face again.”
The blush that answered Ilya was like seeing an angel. He relished in it. Still too curious to see how red he could make the boy.
“Hollander you want drink? Come. We get you a drink.” Ilya got up off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. With a quick glance over his shoulder he could see Shane following him, still blushing. Ilya turned his head back to hide the smirk on his face.
Ilya rounded the kitchen island and opened the fridge, “What do you want? Beer? Seltzer? Shot?”
“Um. I don’t really drink alcohol. Sorry. Plus I have to make sure Rose gets home okay.”
“Hollander, stop saying sorry for silly things, you can drink something else, yes?”
“Yes. Ginger ale? If you have it. If not, I'll just have some water.” Shane said, smiling at Ilya.
“Ah, water it is. I will be sure to have ginger ale for you. Next time.” God why did he say that? Shane’s presence is doing something to him. Something sinister. He can barely flirt.
Ilya shakes his head slightly, as if it would help him regain his charm. He grabs a cup and fills it with water, taking a slight deep breath in as he rounds the island once more to hand the cup to Shane.
“Thank you.” Shane says sweetly and takes the cup from Ilya. Their fingers touch softly as he wraps them around the cup. The slight touch sends a wave of electricity through Ilya.
Up close now, Ilya has a better view of the freckles that scatter across his lovely face. He wants to kiss every single one. To graze Shane’s cheek. With his thumb. His lips. His tongue. The need courses through him so strongly that Ilya has to clench his fists to his sides.
“Hi.” Shane says, voice high and breathy, just like before. Ilya can feel himself coming undone at every look. Every slight touch.
“Hi Shane. Glad you came.” Ilya's voice is low, sensual without meaning for it to be.
Shane’s skin heats again, averting Ilya’s gaze to look down at the cup in his hand, “Me too.”
“Can I ask you–” Ilya is cut off by the sound of Rose’s voice calling out to Shane.
“Sorry. Be right back.” Shane gives Ilya a small smile and turns to the direction of his name being called. “Coming!”
Ilya huffs and follows him back to the living room.
For the next hour and a half, Ilya tries his best not to stare at Shane. However, it's proving to be quite the difficult task. It’s not his fault Shane is so pretty. It's also not his fault that he keeps catching Shane staring too. Every time, Ilya would smirk or wink at Shane. He would blush and quickly look away. Ilya loved it. Loved that he was shy. Like a little lamb. Practically begging to be devoured.
And oh did Ilya want to devour him.
Two hours after their exchange in the kitchen, Ilya finally gets to hear Shane’s voice again. He is standing by the front door of the house, waiting for Rose and Hayden to stop their drunken conversation, when Ilya approaches him.
“Hello there.” Ilya greets, a wolfish grin on his face
“Hi Ilya.” The sound of his name on Shane’s lips is like fucking heroin. He imagines Shane saying his name in the voice he first said hi to him in. Breathy and blissed-out and whiny. Ilya is suddenly half-hard in the doorway of his teammate's house standing in front of Shane Hollander.
Ilya seriously needed to pull himself together.
“You are very pretty Hollander. Has anyone told you this?”
“Oh, um, well no, but th- thank you.” Shane stumbled on his words. Ilya loved that he caused such a reaction. He wanted to bite him.
“Yes. Would you like to know real reason I invited you?” Ilya asked with a smirk on his lips.
“Um. Yes?”
“Well when I saw you before, I am– what is phrase? Take back?”
“Taken aback.” Shane supplied.
“Yes. That. By your beauty, but I was much too nervous. So I invite you here so I can plan what to say.”
“Plan to say what?”
“Ah, patience Hollander, I am getting there. So I invite you to party to say again that I am sorry about hitting you with the door, then to ask you if I can really make it up to you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Want to take you out. Anywhere you want. Anything you want.” And Ilya realized that he really meant it. He would give Shane anything he wants. “Have I mentioned you are very pretty?”
“Yes I think so.” Shane says with a laugh. “And I would love to. Go out with you.”
“I will definitely make it worth your while.” Ilya says with a smirk and a wink.
Heat creeps onto Shane’s face once again, and this time Ilya can’t stop himself from reaching out to him. He brings his right hand up to Shane, softly brushing his thumb across the freckles peppering his cheeks. The skin becomes a deep pink under his touch. Shane’s eyes close involuntarily.
Ilya is truly, irrevocably done for.
“I will text you.” Ilya says as he drops his hand back to his side.
“Okay.” Shane’s voice comes out small, happy.
A few seconds pass, “I need number to be able to Shane.”
“Oh! Right! Uh– sorry... here.” Shane holds out his phone for Ilya to take. He saves his contact in Shane’s phone, sending him a quick text to let Shane know it was him.
“Thank you, I will, um, see you soon.” Shane says as he links his arm with Rose to steady her.
“Yes. Yes you will.”