Work Text:
“Hollander.”
Shane didn’t turn around. Instead, he picked up his pace and continued walking briskly towards the bar’s entrance.
“Hollander!”
He went outside, and Ilya followed him through the heavy doors and into the snowy streets of downtown Ottawa.
“Shane!”
At the sound of his first name, Shane’s body spun around to reveal the horrified look on his face.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rozanov,” Shane snapped, in a whispery tone. “People could see us. Stop being so fucking obvious.”
Ilya’s eyes widened. He realized that he was maybe a little tipsier than he had initially thought.
He liked this side of Shane a lot, but Shane didn’t let him see it very often. So when he did get to see his boyfriend jealous, it was exciting. He knew that it probably made him a bad person to take such enjoyment in Shane’s distress, but Ilya couldn’t help it. It made him feel wanted.
“Where are you going?” Ilya asked.
“I’m leaving,” Shane said like it was obvious. “You clearly don’t want me here anyway.”
He knew precisely what Shane was referencing but decided to play coy.
“Why would you think I do not want you here?” Ilya asked innocently. “I invited you out with the team so that you could have fun.” He lowered his voice, “For once,” he mumbled.
“Fuck you,” Shane spat. “I am fun.”
“You are not fun,” Ilya countered.
“Why,” Shane asked, “Because I don’t want to have a threesome with you and that hot blond guy you were eye-fucking across the bar?”
Ilya’s lips curved into an annoyingly perfect smile and Shane felt his stomach flip over.
“He was just being nice,” Ilya clarified. “Not flirting.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “You barely look at me all night, but then you decided to flirt with a stranger just to what, piss me off?”
Ilya shrugged. He couldn’t really deny it.
“So he was into me,” he conceded. “So what? Does not mean that I will go home with him.”
Shane scoffed. The fucking nerve of this man. Why did he love him, again?
Ilya moved in closer, and Shane’s eyes darted to his perfectly bowed lips. They were right there in front of him, teasing him, testing every ounce of his restraint. He could just lean up and kiss them. Except that he couldn’t, because half of the Ottawa Centaurs team were inside and probably on the edge of their seats watching them fight. They were all probably wondering why their argument seemed so… intimate. There could be anyone witnessing this right now. People who had cameras in their pockets that could be used as weapons to destroy both of their careers.
“Can you blame him for wanting to sleep with the best player in the NHL?”
Shane was stunned and insulted. “You’re not the best,” he said. Then he got really angry when it dawned on him what Rozanov was saying. “Wait, he said he wanted to fuck you?”
“He gave me his room number,” Ilya bragged. “He is staying upstairs.”
That was the last straw for Shane.
“You should take him up on his offer,” Shane suggested. “Because you are not coming home with me tonight.”
Ilya wondered if Shane was being serious. He figured that there was about a ten percent chance that Shane would actually follow-through on his latest threat, since he usually folded immediately whenever Ilya was in the same room and paid him even the slightest bit of attention. But something had been off about Shane the entire night.
“You are not being serious,” Ilya called his bluff. “This is stupid. Let’s just go home and talk.”
Shane glared at him “Really? You don’t think I’m being serious.” He started flagging down a taxi that was driving down the same side of the street. “I’m going home, Ilya. By myself. Don’t call me.”
The cab slowed down and parked directly in front of the bar. As soon as the vehicle reached a complete stop, Ilya opened the passenger side door and yelled inside. “You can go,” he told the driver. “He does not need a cab, sorry.”
The man seemed to get annoyed and drove away quickly with a shake of his head and a “fuck you,” under his breath.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Shane asked enraged. “You can’t hold me hostage on this fucking street corner.”
Shane wanted to punch him. But he also wanted to make out with him in the sketchy back alley behind the bar and then maybe be fucked by him against a dumpster until he came so hard that he nearly passed out from pleasure. His feelings right now were very confusing.
“Stay here and talk to me,” Ilya demanded. “Did you really think I was going to go home with that random man at the bar?”
They were interrupted by the sound of laughter. Shane glanced nervously at the attractive couple coming out of the bar as they passed him on the sidewalk and headed East. They were holding hands, and Shane felt a wave of sadness pass through him when he thought about how he couldn’t do something as simple as hold his boyfriend’s hand in front of everyone.
As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued to admonish his boyfriend.
“Can we not do this here,” he asked quietly. “Anyone could see us.”
Ilya surveyed his immediate surroundings for anywhere they could go to possibly get some privacy. Then he had an idea.
“Come here.”
He grabbed Shane’s forearm, digging his fingers into his skin until Ilya’s knuckles were white, and began maneuvering Shane back inside the building.
“Hey!” Shane yelled and tried to pull away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Ilya opened the heavy door one-handed, moved through the entrance and began dragging Shane through the sea of people and towards the back of the bar. Shane stopped resisting because he didn’t want to draw even more unwanted attention to this situation. If the crowd hadn’t taken notice of their fight before, they sure as hell would now.
Ilya’s hand stayed firmly on Shane’s arm the whole time. He can only imagine how it must have looked to everyone around them, with him man-handling the NHL Captain.
Shane went silent as Ilya dragged him. Ilya could feel him seething. When Ilya finally reached his destination, he pushed open the bathroom door and shoved Shane inside. He locked the door behind him so that no one would be able to see them in the middle of their couple’s spat.
“You need to calm do -”. Before Ilya could even get the last word out, Shane slapped him square across the face.
Ilya was shocked, while at the same time, extremely turned on. That was so hot. Shane was not usually one for physical violence, even in their more sexually charged encounters.
“Don’t you dare touch me like that ever again,” Shane said adamantly. “Or you and I are over.”
Ilya touched his palm to his stinging cheek. “Please hit me like that again,” he beamed.
Shane shook his head in disbelief. “You’re disgusting,” he said. “You would be lucky if I ever touched you again.”
“I always feel lucky when you touch me,” Ilya said, softly brushing his hand against Shane’s naked bicep.
Shane bristled at the feeling of Ilya’s fingers on him.
“Why were you ignoring me,” Shane asked.
Ilya had to think about it for a second. “Maybe it is easier to ignore you,” he said. “Because then I don’t have to think about how I cannot reach out and touch you.”
Ilya tugged on the collar of Shane’s t-shirt. “I want you so badly, it fucking kills me Shane.” Ilya’s voice sounded like his desire for Shane left him in excruciating physical pain.
“You can’t flirt with other people,” Shane reiterated his boundaries. “I don’t care that you don’t think it’s a big deal or that you weren’t going to fuck him.”
“You are jealous,” Ilya said, sounded obnoxiously pleased with himself.
“Of course, I’m jealous,” Shane admitted. “Look at you.”
Ilya was wearing a silk black button-down short-sleeved shirt with a neckline low enough to show nearly his full chest. His golden crucifix was laying idly against his bare skin. The obscene display of his boyfriend’s upper body was so slutty that Shane thought he might actually die.
“It is a curse,” Ilya sighed. “Being this handsome is always getting me in trouble.”
“You’re an idiot,” Shane said, trying not to smile.
Ilya backed Shane up against the sink, and Shane steadied himself with his hands.
“You are in love with an idiot,” Ilya observed.
“You can’t look at other people,” Shane reminded him. “You already have a boyfriend.”
“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “But the cute man at the bar does not know that.”
And therein lied the problem. Shane and Ilya couldn’t be public about their relationship. They weren’t ready to let the world into their bubble. To be inundated with all the opinions and commentary from their fans, their teammates and whoever else decided to pile on. But the idea of letting people think that they were both single drove each of them crazy.
Shane glared at him. “Cute?” he repeated his word back to him. “You liked it,” he observed. “I know you did. You would have fucked him if I wasn’t here.”
Shane’s flippant assertion about his lack of fidelity hurt Ilya deeply.
“You think that the only reason I am faithful to you is because you are watching? Hmm? I have not had sex with another person, man or woman, in years, Shane. Years. There is only you. I would never even think of being with someone else, you know that.”
Shane’s eyes softened and turned almost glassy. He wasn’t going to cry, Ilya knew Shane well enough to know that he never cried actual tears. But he was clearly far more upset by this situation than he was letting on.
“I hate not being able to touch you,” Shane shared. “We’re in a fucking bar with all your teammates and all I can think about is wanting to rip your clothes off and fucking you on the top of the fucking bar.”
Ilya reacted to Shane's admission with surprise and excitement. “You would let me fuck you on the bar, Hollander? With everyone watching you.”
Shane did think that he would enjoy that experience. In a purely hypothetically sense, of course.
He was brought back down to reality by Ilya’s hand grazing his dick through the fabric of his jeans.
“You’re seriously missing the point,” Shane said.
Ilya just smiled and gently brought his lips to Shane’s. When he stopped, Shane leaned forward, chasing his kiss. “I think I understand perfectly what you are saying, Hollander.”
Ilya reached for Shane’s belt buckle and Shane’s hand quickly intercepted him.
Shane raised his eyebrows. “Here? Are you sure,” he asked. “Shouldn’t we wait until we get home?”
“No,” Ilya said defiantly, shoving Shane’s hand away. “I want to get you off before we go. Will you let me do that?”
Shane stared into Ilya’s fierce sex-drunk eyes and nodded. Shane let Ilya undo his belt, unzip his fly and drop his hand into his boxers.
He let out a small groan when his dick finally received the long-awaited touch it had been craving for far too long. It had been a little over two weeks since the last time their bodies had been this close, and Shane was pent up and frustrated. He knew that it had to be worse for Ilya, whose sex drive was much higher than the average man.
Shane squirmed a little. “Your hand is cold,” he noted.
“You made me follow you outside in freezing weather,” Ilya countered.
“I didn’t make you do anything,” Shane argued.
“Do you want me to stop, hmm?”
Shane grinned. “Never.”
Ilya pushed two of his fingers into the back of Shane’s throat. “Get it wet, Hollander.”
Shane’s eyes went wide as he tried not to choke on his boyfriend’s fingers.
“There you go,” Ilya said. “Good job.”
Shane coughed as Ilya removed his digits and brought his saliva-filled hand back below Shane’s waist.
“Jesus,” Shane said.
Ilya wrapped his hand around Shane’s dick and began to stroke him fast and rough, keeping one of his knees planted between Shane’s legs and his other hand on his waist to hold him in place.
“I missed you so much,” Shane moaned, nuzzling himself against the man he loved.
Ilya’s heart was going to explode. Or was that his penis? Right now, he couldn’t really tell the difference.
“I know,” Ilya acknowledged his pain. “I’m here now.”
There is nowhere else in the world that Shane would rather be than right here, being held by the man he loved as he drove him completely mad.
"Is this enough fun for you," Shane asked flirtatiously.
Ilya practically swooned. How could he ever want to be with someone else after knowing Shane like this? Sex with anyone else would be pointless. Meaningless. It would do nothing for him.
“Want – ,” Shane gritted out.
“What do you want Hollander,” Ilya asked, dragging his hand up Shane’s shaft with remarkable intensity. “Tell me and maybe I will make it happen.”
“Your mouth,” Shane managed to say.
Ilya chuckled against Shane’s neck. The vibration tickled Shane’s skin and sent shock waves through his whole body.
“My mouth,” Ilya questioned. “What about the rest of me, hmm?”
The truth was that there was no way in hell that Ilya was about to get on his hands and knees in this bathroom, with dozens of people mere feet away, just to suck his boyfriend’s dick. The floor was filthy and he was wearing a new pair of pants that cost nearly as much as Shane’s entire wardrobe.
“Want that too,” Shane said, breathlessly. “Oh fuck.”
“Yeah,” Ilya continued, strengthening his grip. “You want me to fuck you in this dirty bathroom, Hollander? Would that make you happy?”
“Yes,” Shane confirmed.
There were several logistical issues that made fulfilling Shane’s request more difficult. The most obvious problem was that they didn’t have any lube, and Ilya wasn’t going to use his spit like an animal.
Even if he did have access to lube, Ilya still wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of getting partially naked in this bathroom when there were a bunch of people outside. Even though he found the thought of it to be incredibly hot.
“Not now, but later,” Ilya promised. “Now be a good boy and come for me.”
“Fuck off,” Shane replied.
Ilya removed his hand for a second, earning a pathetic whimper from Shane. He brought his hand to the area just above Shane’s chin. “Spit,” he commanded. Shane let a string of his saliva drip onto Ilya’s palm and was rewarded immediately.
“Oh yes,” Shane moaned. “Fuck, exactly like that.”
Ilya ignored the increasing stiffness in his wrist as he continued to stroke Shane’s cock, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of him.
“Give it to me,” Ilya grunted. “I want your come.”
“Then fucking take it, Rozanov.”
All the muscles in Shane's abdomen were flexing and he was bucking into his grip involuntarily. Ilya could tell that Shane was close before Shane even said, “I’m going to - fuck, I’m gonna come.”
Ilya covered Shane’s mouth as he came in stripes across his own stomach and splattered all over Ilya’s tired hand.
He stroked him through the aftershocks, relishing in the muffled sounds of delight that Shane was making.
God, his boyfriend looked breathtaking. In that moment, Ilya vowed to fuck Shane stupid the second they got home.
When he had finally come down from the high, Shane shuddered.
"Good," Ilya asked, licking his lips.
"Fucking great," Shane one-upped him.
Shane ran his hands through his dark hair. He turned to examine himself in the mirror. His face was bright pink, and he had a few beads of sweat on his forehead just beneath his hairline. “God, I’m a fucking mess,” he said, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
“Don’t move,” Ilya instructed him.
He went to the paper towel dispenser and pushed down twice. He ripped the paper towels at the edge and wet them under the sink. He brought the cold, damp paper towel to Shane’s stomach and gently, lovingly, cleaned him up. Then he disposed of the paper towel in the trash and washed his hands.
“See,” Shane said with a proud look. “I can be fun.”
Ilya laughed. “You are the most fun,” he agreed.
Shane tucked himself back into his boxers, pulled up his fly and tightened his belt. He wet his fingers under the sink and ran them through his messy black strands a couple times to look presentable.
“Better,” Shane asked Ilya for his approval.
“Spin around for me,” Ilya directed.
“Fuck you!”
“I guess it will have to work.”
“I should go out first,” Shane suggested.
“No, me first,” Ilya disagreed. “You look like you just got fucked.”
“And whose fault is that?” Shane asked sarcastically.
“Let’s go home so that I can fuck you properly, okay?”