Archive of Our Own

1. 

After years of traveling from city to city, one would think that Shane should be used to sleeping in hotel rooms. The mattress is comfortable, the sheets are soft, the quiet hum of the city sounds below turns into soothing white noise. The problem is that Shane has gotten used to sleeping with Ilya next to him. He’s back at home, finally getting some well deserved rest as he heals from the injuries he sustained after getting slammed into the boards by New York’s new huge left winger. Nothing major, just some bruised ribs and a minor concussion. 

“I miss you” are the first words Ilya says when Shane answers the video call. 

“I miss you too. I wish you were here,” Shane says with a soft smile.

“I could be there by tomorrow morning, but I know my pretty wife would yell at me about proper healing time or whatever.”

Shane blushes at the word wife. It sets something off in him that he can’t explain, sends a chill up his spine. Ilya calls him all kinds of things, ranging from handsome to beautiful to so so fucking good, best boy in the entire world. His voice is addicting, whether it’s moaning loudly behind him or whispering right against his ear. 

But something about the occasional teasing wife makes Shane’s ears perk up. He loves when Ilya calls him pretty boy—especially when their eyes are locked while Shane’s mouth is stretched around his cock—but sometimes he wonders what it would sound like for Ilya to call him pretty girl. He hasn’t quite figured out how to bring it up to him.

“You have two more weeks until you’re cleared to get back on the ice, but I’ll admit that playing against Boston won’t be as fun without you.” Shane shifts to his side and hugs a pillow to his chest, trying to imagine the bulk between his arms is the body belonging to the sweet face filling his phone screen. 

“It will be quite embarrassing if you lose, so make sure to win. I know that might be hard without Ottawa’s best player—”

“You fucking wish, dude.”

“That’s captain to you, Hollander.”

“I think you’re forgetting that you’re hurt. So, technically, Bood is in charge.”

Ilya rolls his eyes and copies Shane’s position in their bed back at home. It gave them both the impression of laying face to face in bed together. Soon, Shane thinks. He’ll be home in two days. 

“Do you want me to let you go?” Shane asks when Ilya yawns loudly. 

“No, is okay. I will stay on the phone until you fall asleep.” 

Ilya falls asleep within ten minutes, mid-sentence, as he’s attempting to update Shane on the recent tricks he’d been practicing with Anya. 

The rumble of Ilya’s snores over the speaker helps soothe Shane to sleep, but not before he spends another hour scouring the results of his search for ‘what is feminization’. 

Two days later, Shane is barely two steps in the door before Ilya drags him over to the couch. They’re locked in a longing kiss, never breaking apart even as Ilya sits and pulls Shane down to straddle his lap. 

His hands are firm on Shane’s hips, shifting them slightly to reposition Shane’s crotch directly over his left thigh. They groan into each other’s mouths as Shane begins to grind his hips back and forth, Ilya’s fingers digging into the meat of his ass to control the pace. 

“That’s right. Get yourself off on my thigh.”

Heat swirls in Shane’s stomach at Ilya’s words, grinding down harder into the muscular thigh below him. He’s already close, the pitch of his moans growing higher as his hips pick up speed. 

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for it. Haven’t taken any of your clothes off and you’re already about to cum in your pants like a virgin.” 

Shane whines into the crook of Ilya’s neck, grinding his hips down faster until strong, calloused hands grip hard enough to make him stop. 

“Get naked,” Ilya growls against Shane’s ear and nibbles at the pulse point below it. 

As per usual, Shane immediately obeys. He leans back against the couch, damp skin sticking to the leather. When his briefs come down his legs, Ilya grabs his wrist and takes the fabric into his own hands. He brings it to his face, admiring the large wet patch in front where the head of Shane’s cock was, and presses his nose directly into it for a deep inhale before tossing the briefs to the side. 

“You get so fucking wet, Hollander. Wet like a girl, yes?” 

This wasn’t just simple dirty talk, not with the way Ilya raises an eyebrow in a silent question. He was testing the limits, pushing to see what boundaries Shane would let him break. A small nod from Shane causes a devilish grin to spread across his face. 

Ilya strips his clothes off to lay over Shane’s body, slotting perfectly between his legs. He reconnects their lips, licking into Shane’s mouth and moaning against his tongue. The friction between their bodies creates a slick sound as Shane smears precum along their abdomens. 

Ilya’s hand trails down and cups over Shane’s leaking cock, sliding his hand up and down to spread the slickness along the length and between his thighs. 

“You’re soaked, babygirl. Might not even need lube to fuck you, could just slide right into your dripping pussy.” 

Shane throws his head back as a loud moan erupts from him, his entire body shivering at Ilya’s words. 

He could have never imagined how much he would like this. And, of course, the great thing about Ilya is that he immediately plays along. They’ve had a couple conversations regarding kinks, things they’d like to try out or things they both want to avoid, but it’s hard for Shane to grasp exactly what his kinks are. To him, they just have fun during sex, and certain things are really fun. 

He was always under the impression that kinks are crazy, outrageous, forbidden things that should be hidden away. Is it really that wrong for him to enjoy Ilya occasionally treating him like a girl? Or Ilya whispering filthy words in his ear about getting him pregnant when he spills into him? Or Ilya fucking him against the windows of the cottage and teasing him about someone catching them? No, these weren’t kinks. It was just… dirty talk. Little quirks that make their sex fun. That’s all. Completely normal. 

“Please, Ilya. Yes. Oh my god, please fuck my pussy,” Shane cries out as Ilya shoves his tongue past his rim, breaking his train of thought. The burn of Ilya’s fingers punches pathetic little noises from Shane’s throat, incoherent words slurred between each breath as he works up to three digits stretching him out. 

Ilya manhandles Shane to reposition them on the couch, Shane flat on his back and Ilya kneeling between his spread legs. Spit drips from Ilya’s mouth into his hand before he brings it down to lather along Shane’s inner thighs. The look on Shane’s face is a mixture of confusion and arousal, both excited and slightly nervous for what his husband might do next. 

His legs are forced together, touching from thigh to ankle, and held tightly to Ilya’s body as his feet point toward the ceiling. The glide between his spit-soaked thighs is uncomfortable, but the feeling quickly washes away when Ilya begins to push his cock between them. Each thrust elicits a lewd squelch, Shane whining softly every time the head of Ilya’s cock brushes against his own length. 

“I-Is this how you used to—fuck— how you would fuck your old girls?” Shane barely manages to breathe out.

“Mmm, sometimes,” Ilya feigns nonchalance, “but I can show you how I really used to fuck them. My favorite position, too.” 

Shane nods, barely has time to gasp before he’s being flipped over onto his stomach. Ilya drizzles lube over his hole, intentionally pouring way more than necessary, causing Shane to shudder at just how soaked he feels. 

They moan at the same time when Ilya finally pushes in, maintaining an agonizingly slow pace as he watches each inch of his length disappear into Shane’s body. With their hips flush together, Ilya leans over so that his lips brush against the shell of Shane’s ear. 

“So fucking tight, Hollander. Love how wet you get for me. It’s all for me, yeah?” 

Shane nods into the couch cushion, moaning out a weak, “it’s yours.”

“What is mine? Tell me, pretty girl. What belongs to me?” Ilya speeds up his thrusts, occasionally grinding in hard circles when their hips fully connect. 

“My…” Shane trails off, heat flushing across his cheeks. 

“Your what?” Ilya punctuates with a particularly hard thrust.

“Oh. My pussy! My pussy belongs to you, Ilya. Only you. It’s your pussy, baby,” Shane rambles, bucking into the couch as he shoots between his stomach and the leather. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. My fucking pussy. Such a good girl,” Ilya growls before biting onto Shane’s shoulder and spilling deep inside of him, hips pinning Shane hard against the couch as his cock twitches with each pump of his release. 

After they’ve both caught their breath and cleaned up, Shane can literally feel how much Ilya wants to bring it up. He keeps glancing down to where Shane is resting against his chest, arm thrown around his shoulders as they relax on the (freshly cleaned) couch. 

“Just say it, Ilya.”

“I’m not—”

“You keep staring at me.” Shane sits up to turn slightly and rests a hand on Ilya’s thigh. “I know you want to ask about… all of that. Just do it.”

“Okey. Well, I guess, first off, do we need to talk about you? Is there something you need to tell me about… how you’re feeling? Like, in your body?”

“I’m not trans, Ilya.”

“You know that would not be a problem, if you were, right? You know that I will love you forever, no matter what? And I will support you, always.”

“Baby,” Shane breathes out on the verge of tears. He definitely chose the perfect person to marry. “I appreciate that. Seriously. And the same goes for you, okay? But this is… not that.”

Ilya nods in acknowledgement, then raises an eyebrow as a gesture for Shane to continue. 

“So, I mean, I know that I’m a man, right? Sometimes, I just… I don’t know. I like when you call me a good boy and stuff, but sometimes I also like when you make me feel…” Shane mumbles the last few words so softly that they’re barely audible.

“Make you feel, what?” Ilya leans forward, staring Shane down and making sure he doesn’t look away.

“…like a girl.”

Ilya grabs Shane’s chin as he tries to duck his head, making sure to look in his eyes when he speaks again.

“You want to be my girl, Hollander?” 

Shane’s breath catches, eyes searching across Ilya’s face as he nods, slow and small.

2.

“You take me so fucking good. Wish I could use your hole whenever I wanted.”

The words echo in Shane’s head as he continues the relentless bouncing on Ilya’s cock. They continue to echo after Ilya has filled him to the brim. Still echoing even after he’s showered, gone to sleep, and woke up the next day. 

Wish I could use your hole whenever I wanted.

That… could certainly be arranged. It wasn’t an idea that Shane necessarily hated, far from it actually. The thought of Ilya just bending him over and making him take it when he least expects it…

He makes sure to clear his search history after spending the next two hours with his eyes glued to his laptop. 

When Ilya is shirtless on the couch three days later, watching the game between Tampa and Detroit, Shane decides to put his research to practice.

Ilya gives Shane a soft smile as he walks into the living room, motioning for him to come sit. Instead, Shane drops to his knees, grinning as he watches Ilya’s expression change from a pout to shock to dripping in lust. 

“What—”

“Just watch the game.” Shane reaches for the waistband of Ilya’s sweats and pulls them down to his thighs along with his briefs. 

Ilya’s head hits the back of the couch with a soft thud as Shane takes his half-hard cock fully into his mouth. He doesn’t move, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the growing weight and salty taste resting on his tongue. Saliva pools in his mouth, soaking his chin and dripping down to Ilya’s balls. Instead of a proper blowjob, Shane just sits with Ilya’s cock in his mouth, occasionally swallowing around him to prevent choking on his spit. 

Ilya tries to do as Shane told him. He’s fighting to keep his eyes on the TV instead of staring down at Shane, his hips twitching slightly every few minutes. Staying still becomes a much harder task when Shane begins to moan around him. 

“Such a perfect mouth,” Ilya groans, immediately flooding with confusion when Shane pulls off.

A line of spit connecting the head of Ilya’s cock to Shane’s bottom lip breaks as he speaks. “Don’t talk, okay? Pretend I’m not here. I mean, like, ignore me. Act like you’re— um, like you’re just… using me.”

Ilya nods, eyebrows furrowed, trying desperately to ignore the alarm bells going off in his head. Shane can tell, he’s learned to pick up on tiny details within Ilya’s facial expressions. 

“We’ll talk about it later?” It’s phrased as a statement, but the uncertainty in Shane’s voice makes it sound like a question. 

“Later,” Ilya nods again. “Just… tap my thigh or something if we need to stop, okay?”

Shane pats Ilya’s knee in agreement before leaning back in to swallow his cock down to the root. His throat clenches as he fights against his gag reflex, wet and heavy breaths huffing from his nose. 

It takes every ounce of discipline for Ilya to keep his eyes on the TV, especially when Shane starts blindly patting around for Ilya’s hands. Both hands rest in Shane’s hair, fingers twisting around the silky locks. Though it’s difficult from this angle, Shane tries to look up at Ilya as his grip tightens on Ilya’s wrist. He forces Ilya’s hand to press down on his head, a silent hint to fuck his face. With his free hand, Shane snaps to get Ilya’s attention before pointing at him, signaling toward Ilya's eyes, then motioning toward the TV. 

Once Ilya snaps his eyes back up to watch the game, Shane’s jaw goes slack as Ilya begins to move his head. Muffled gags and slobbery moans fill the room, just slightly louder than the whines coming from Ilya, completely drowning out the commentators on the screen. 

Shane loses himself in it, only focused on breathing and swallowing around the cock in his mouth. He has no idea if Ilya is making any noise, if the TV is still on, if it’s still daylight outside. Every single thought is completely anchored to all nine inches of his husband sliding across his tongue. 

Ilya pushes Shane down hard when he finishes, forcing his nose to bury in the patch of pubes as Ilya shoots down his throat. 

Shane slurps loudly when he pulls off, making a show of swallowing the load in his mouth and licking his lips. He moves to leave and go brush his teeth, but Ilya catches his wrist before he can go too far.

“Okay, it is later. Can we talk about that? Or I can blow you too?” Ilya looks at Shane with dazed seriousness, glancing down at his shorts. 

“I’m fine, just give me a minute. I’ll be right back and then we can talk.”

Ilya tucks himself away as Shane walks off to clean himself up. Somehow, in his post-orgasm state, he hadn’t noticed that Shane finished in his briefs, completely untouched. 

As soon as Shane returns with clean clothes, Ilya mutes the TV and looks at him expectantly. 

“Shane, light of my world, love of my life. What the fuck was that?” 

“Are you mad?” 

Ilya scoffs. “Yes, Hollander. I am very angry about a surprise blowjob.”

Shane chews the cuticle around his thumb nervously, only for a minute until Ilya catches him and pulls his hand away. 

“Baby,” Ilya says softly, “I just want to know what you’re thinking. Obviously, I will not complain about you sucking my dick. It was just unexpected.”

“Have you ever heard of free use?” Shane blurts out.

“Yes.”

“So basically it’s— wait, you have?” 

“Yes.”

“How do you know what that is?” Shane tries not to sound as jealous as he feels. 

“From boring porn that Marly showed me back in the day. How do you know what that is?” Ilya narrows his eyes.

“From actual research, thank you very much.”

“Of course you did.” Ilya grabs Shane’s hand as it flies to hit his chest, catching it midair and kissing across his knuckles. “So why are you asking me about it?” 

“I want you to use me.” Shane smiles at the confidence he’s developed over the years with Ilya, finally able to ask for what he wants. 

“Use you like… how?”

“I know that, realistically, we can’t just fuck whenever and wherever. But I like the idea of you just kind of… using me. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

Ilya’s breath hitches, knuckles turning white as he grips the couch cushions. He follows the movement of Shane licking his lips before speaking again. 

“Sometimes I think it would be hot if you just walked up and started fucking me or just shoved your cock in my mouth.”

Shane thinks Ilya might die. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, fingers digging into Shane’s hips so hard that they might leave bruises. 

“Is that something you would want too?” Shane asks timidly.

“Yes,” Ilya responds so quickly that it makes Shane giggle. 

“Okay, so let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you whenever I have a plug in, and you have blanket permission to fuck me anytime you want. If I don’t have a plug in, you can still use my mouth.”

“Deal. Yes. Deal, deal, deal. Until when?”

“Until always. No deadline. If there’s ever a day that I’m not in the mood, I’ll let you know.”

Ilya shakes his head in astonishment, looking at Shane like he’s just won the lottery. 

The next morning, Shane wakes up before Ilya. He goes through his usual routine, brushing his teeth and applying all of his skincare, then decides to prep himself for the day. 

Over the years, they’ve managed to collect an array of toys from different sized plugs to cock rings to ball gags. Shane insists that there’s nothing necessarily kinky about their collection and that everyone else just has boring sex. He grabs one of the medium-sized silicone plugs, dark purple with a silver jewel nestled at the end of the flared base. The empty box that usually houses the plug is sat on Shane’s pillow with a sticky note that only has “;)” written on it. 

Once he’s prepped with the plug settled comfortably in his ass, he continues his normal routine. No workouts or practice today, a rare day of rest for both of them. Perfect to test out Shane’s newest fantasy. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to act normal with the lingering reminder that Ilya could come and fuck him at any minute. It’s barely past 9 A.M. and he’s already thinking about Ilya’s cock. 

In an attempt to distract himself—while also putting himself in a compromising position—Shane pulls out his glasses and a Sudoku booklet to place on the kitchen island. Instead of sitting on one of the barstools, Shane juts out his hip and leans over the counter, curving his lower back maybe a little more than necessary. He fills two boxes, three rows, and all of the fives by the time Ilya makes his way downstairs.

Ilya heads straight for the cabinets to begin making coffee, completely ignoring Shane’s presence instead of giving his usual morning greeting. That alone sends a chill down Shane’s spine, knowing that Ilya could pounce at any moment with no warning. 

He tries to refocus on the puzzle in front of him, but his eyes keep flicking across the kitchen to watch Ilya. He watches him clean out the pot, fill the machine with water, and pour grounds into the filter. Never once looking over at Shane.

Ilya presses a button to start the brewing process and immediately turns in Shane’s direction, who quickly averts his eyes to stare down at his puzzle. Ilya yawns obnoxiously loud and makes a show out of stretching his upper body as he walks closer to Shane. He rubs his hands under the hem of Shane’s shirt, dipping his fingers into the waistband of his old basketball shorts, and curses under his breath when he doesn’t find any underwear. 

Ilya lightly kicks between Shane’s feet to adjust his stance before dropping the shorts down to his ankles. A small bottle of lube magically appears from Ilya’s pocket as his own shorts and briefs are shimmied down just enough to pull his cock out.

Shane focuses on finishing one of the puzzle rows, but fails to hold back a whimper as Ilya tugs the plug from his ass. He hears the squelch of Ilya coating his cock in lube, barely having time to take a breath before Ilya is pushing into him. 

Ilya grabs his hips, mumbles something under his breath, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge Shane as he fucks into him. Hard, fast, unforgiving. 

Shane drops his pen, watching helplessly as it rolls across the counter and onto the floor. His nails scratch across the marble as he tries to grasp onto something, anything, but his body is at the mercy of Ilya’s thrusts. He’s so close, he can feel it all the way down to his toes. 

Ilya speeds up his pace as the timer on the coffee machine starts to go off, rocking Shane’s body against the counter over and over. He releases into Shane with a prolonged groan, hips flush against each other. With one last twitch of his cock, he pulls out and immediately places the plug back in, still never acknowledging Shane as he walks away to go fix his morning coffee. 

Shane is left with his torso sprawled across the marble countertops and his pants around his ankles, utterly fucked out of his mind. He was so fucking close to coming, so close. And Ilya just walked away after he was done. Any normal person would be furious, but this is exactly what Shane wanted from him. 

Shane doesn’t see Ilya for the next two hours and, quite frankly, it’s torturous. Ilya is purposely ignoring him, ensuring that they’re always in separate rooms. 

The torture finally ends while Shane is doing laundry, his ears perking up when he hears Ilya’s slippers padding across the tile floor. He holds his breath as Ilya enters the laundry room, slowly switching clothes from the washer to the dryer to ensure he’s bent over while Ilya is directly behind him. 

Cold air rushes over his skin as Ilya drags his shorts to his ankles, placing a hand on his back to keep him bent over with his head in the washing machine. A hard slap lands on the right cheek of his ass, Shane’s moan echoing through the drum of the now-empty washer. 

The plug is roughly slipped out and quickly replaced by Ilya’s slick cock, seemingly coated with lube before he even walked in the room. The leftover cum from earlier threatens to drip out of Shane’s hole, but is quickly pushed back in when Ilya stuffs his cock into him. 

It’s another burst of quick, hard thrusts that barely give Shane time to breathe, skin slapping against skin until Ilya fills him up with another load and stuffs the plug back in. Once again, he leaves the room with no acknowledgement of Shane or any reciprocation. 

The pure disrespect has Shane hard enough to cut glass, leaking so much precum that his shorts have a huge wet patch spreading across the front. It shouldn’t turn him on this much. Any normal person would be fuming at the thought of their partner disrespecting them like this. Shane, however, has come to realize that he is far from normal. 

3.

Laundry has always been a fun task for Shane, comforting and monotonous enough to keep his attention. Especially lately, given that he has ample opportunity to test out a new interest he’s discovered. This one definitely struck him as a bit… abnormal, but you can’t blame the guy. His husband just smells really fucking good. 

It started with his pillows, Shane always making sure to take a big inhale whenever Ilya’s side of the bed was empty. He thought that maybe it was Ilya’s shampoo or cologne that he was becoming addicted to, but he tested them out on himself and it wasn’t the same. 

Naturally, the conclusion came that it was a combination of everything. Ilya’s soap, his cologne, his aftershave. Just him. The smell of his jersey after a game, his sweaty clothes after practice, the musk of his underwear after a long day. The scent was alluring, Shane could easily sniff Ilya out in a room like a drug dog. 

Which is why laundry is a perfect task for Shane. He can freely shove his face into his husband’s dirty clothes without risk of judgement. It was an innocent agenda, he’s only half-hard. Ilya never has to know. 

A certain shirt in the hamper catches his attention. It’s light grey, a complimentary shirt that Ilya had received at a past All-Star game. Shane has a matching one, but in dark green. Near the bottom hem, Shane spies crusted white stains, knowing full and well that they’re from two days ago. 

Ilya had worn the shirt to a casual dinner at Hayden’s house. The stains were not from food, but instead a result of Shane’s impatience. They were barely halfway home when Shane made Ilya find a secluded spot and pull over. Despite their efforts to contain the mess, a few drops of Shane’s cum landed on Ilya’s shirt. 

With a deep breath, Shane inhales the scent of sex and Ilya’s musk from the fabric, blood immediately rushing to his cock. He gets flashbacks, hears Ilya’s voice in his head from that night.

“So impatient, so desperate to be fucked that you couldn’t wait.”

“Fucking take it. Just like that. Good boy.”

A quiet moan escapes his lips, snapping him back into reality. He is so painfully hard, he needs to take care of this right now. 

He creeps out of the laundry room to peek into the living area, finding Ilya slumped along the couch fast asleep. Perfect, Shane has at least another hour before he wakes up. 

He grabs the shirt from the laundry room and sneaks up to their bedroom, flopping onto his back across the sheets and shoving his briefs down to his thighs.

His cock twitches in his hand as he takes another deep inhale, moaning at the smell of Ilya and sex and sex with Ilya. The fabric spreads out across his face, yearning to suffocate in it as he strokes his length faster. 

The familiar burn spreads in his stomach as he gets closer to the edge, slickness coating his hand as he leaks precum. 

“Shane?” Ilya’s voice makes his hand freeze. 

Heat rushes to his cheeks, still covered by the t-shirt. Fuck, he must’ve been too loud. 

“I thought you were taking a nap,” Shane mumbles from under the shirt, too embarrassed to take it off and let Ilya see his face. 

“Well, I had to pee, so I woke up… and I heard you whimpering and moaning in here,” Ilya says as he slowly peels back the fabric. “Is this my shirt?”

Shane doesn’t answer, just averts his eyes and quickly attempts to put his cock away. Ilya stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“What were you doing with my shirt, solnyshko?”

“Nothing.”

“It sure didn’t look like nothing.” 

Shane gasps as Ilya wraps a hand around his cock, staring into his eyes as he gives it a squeeze.

“Don’t lie to me, Shane.”

“I was— oh fuck,” Shane breaks off in a moan as Ilya slowly strokes him. “I- I like the smell of you. I was thinking about the other day, in your car.”

“Keep going.” Ilya pulls his hand away to discard his own shorts and underwear before straddling Shane’s thighs.

“I love how you smell when you fuck me,” Shane mumbles shyly, whimpering as Ilya spits into his hand and aligns their cocks. “You— oh my god— you smell great. Even when you’re sweaty. Especially when you’re sweaty. I love it.”

Ilya strokes them both in one hand, slightly thrusting his hips to create more friction. His free hand bunches up the t-shirt and brings it to Shane’s face, shoving it over his nose.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Get your fix.”

Shane’s eyes roll in the back on his head as he orgasms, moans muffled by the shirt being held over his face. Ilya continues to stroke them both through it, his release eventually mixing with Shane’s where it pools on his stomach. 

4. 

The first time Shane picks up on a new potential kink, he’s on a video call with Ilya. 

“I can’t believe I have fucking shin splints, this is ridiculous!” 

“Easy, Hollander. The world is not ending. You’re only missing one game.” 

“It’s still bullshit. Now I’m stuck at home while you get to beat Vancouver’s ass,” Shane groans, dramatically throwing his arm over his face. 

“You know what I think would help? If you take off your clothes.”

Their phone sex went along its usual route, both of them more interested in each other’s faces rather than their bodies. The amount of times Shane caught himself looking down into the corner where his own reflection sat did not go unnoticed.

The second time Shane picks up on that same new potential kink, Ilya has him pressed against a wall in their bathroom. His face is turned to the side as Ilya keeps his arms forced behind his back, using the grip on Shane’s elbows to pull him into every thrust. 

With his cheek squished against the wall, Shane is forced to look in the direction of their large bathroom mirror. In the far edge, he’s able to catch their reflection. He sees the flush on Ilya’s skin, the sheen of sweat and the glint of his necklace as it catches the light. He sees how wrecked Ilya has made him, lips swollen and eyes glazed over. It stirs something inside of him, forces his eyes to stay fixed on the reflection of their bodies moving together.

Shane has never been one to enjoy porn, never really understood the appeal. Typically, when he’s alone and needs to get off, he can just call or text Ilya. If his husband is busy, he can use his imagination. Watching Ilya fall apart over video call is one thing, but this image in the mirror is… something else. It’s not just Ilya getting himself off, it’s them enjoying each other together that holds Shane’s attention. His orgasm slams into him at the sight of Ilya’s fingers gripping his hips in the mirror. 

When Ilya is out of the house a couple days later, Shane gets to work doing what he does best: research. He comes across various articles for exhibitionism, voyeurism, and so on, but nothing really speaks to him until he spots a peculiar word.

Katoptronophilia 

A love of mirrors. Not in a literal sense, but a fetish for watching yourself and/or your partner in the mirror. Deriving pleasure from the sight of the reflection.

And, yeah, that seems fairly accurate.

As a result of his search, Shane has been testing the waters. Spontaneous sex on the couch where they can see their reflection in the black TV screen, an unholy amount of bathroom blowjobs in front of the mirror, watching himself ride Ilya in the backseat of one of his cars through the rearview mirror. This has definitely become a thing for them, at least for Shane. 

Which, of course, now means that Shane has been looking for a huge mirror to install in their bedroom. 

“So… what is this mirror for again?” Ilya asks, peeking over Shane’s shoulder. 

“I want to put it on the ceiling.” Shane is so nonchalant with his answer, you’d think he was responding to a question about the weather. 

“To… watch me in my sleep? You are that obsessed with me?” 

“To watch you fuck me, idiot.”

Ilya’s teasing smile suddenly drops, his expression changing to something more like curiosity. 

The large mirror is delivered and installed less than a week later, directly above their bed with no questions asked and strict NDAs signed. 

Within a mere twenty minutes of the installation crew leaving, both men are naked with Ilya swallowing down Shane’s cock in the middle of the bed. 

“You like watching me take you apart, huh? Finally able to see how pretty you look when I play with you.” Ilya shoves a third finger inside to join the two he’d been stretching Shane out with. 

Shane’s eyes are glued to the ceiling, watching in amazement at the way Ilya’s muscles flex as he fingers him open. His eyes travel down to the perfectly round muscles of his ass, accentuated by the position of his knee tucked under his body. The image disappears, replaced by Ilya’s face towering over Shane’s for a deep kiss. 

Ilya moves to kiss down his neck as he begins to push inside, allowing Shane to watch the entire scene play out through the mirror. He watches the ripple of Ilya’s back as he sinks in, the clench of his ass, the grip on Shane’s knee tightening. It makes him seriously reconsider his persistent denial of making their own personal sextape. 

His eyes threaten to shut when Ilya bottoms out, lashes fluttering as he slowly pulls out to thrust back in again. In the reflection, he sees his ankles lock behind Ilya’s waist, red marks blooming along the skin of his back under Shane’s fingernails. 

He locks eyes with himself in the mirror as Ilya gives a deep, gut punching thrust that knocks the wind out of him, and goosebumps rise on his skin. This is an extra layer of arousal, something burns hotter in his abdomen seeing how gone he is for Ilya, the euphoria overtaking his face with bitten lips and teary eyes. 

It’s hot. It is so fucking hot. Not just being fucked by Ilya, but watching himself be fucked by Ilya. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. 

He kisses across Ilya’s jaw and down his neck, watching himself with his gaze locked on the mirror. He’s torn between watching Ilya right above him or watching himself on the ceiling. He needs more.

“Get on your back. I want you to watch too.”

Ilya obliges with no hesitation, gasping quietly as he sees his reflection, seemingly forgetting that the mirror was there. Shane swings his leg over Ilya’s lap, shaking his ass teasingly where it faces Ilya as he moves to sink down on his cock again. 

Shane shifts his knees to plant his feet on the bed, slowly leaning back until Ilya’s torso is flush against his back. He looks up to take in the sight in their new mirror. Most of Ilya’s body is hidden under Shane’s, one arm wrapped around Shane’s torso while the other plays with the muscle of his pecs, knees caging Shane’s legs as he begins to thrust up into him, Shane’s leaking cock smearing precum across his stomach. It’s a work of art, a modern painting that Shane would love to hang in their home. 

They lock eyes in the mirror as Shane begins rocking his hips, as best as he can in this position. Ilya pistons his hips up to meet Shane’s rhythm. It’s messy, awkward, uncoordinated, but neither of them care. One of Ilya’s arms tightens its hold on Shane’s body, the other sliding up until his hand wraps around Shane’s throat. 

“Look how fucking beautiful you are,” Ilya whispers in Shane’s ear, carefully pressing down on his throat. “You like watching yourself get fucked? Like to see how good I make you feel?” 

A broken moan escapes from Shane’s chest, the only noises he can seem to muster up right now. His eyes rapidly scan across the reflection between Ilya’s hand on his throat, the flush across his chest, the purple head of his cock jolting with each thrust. 

“Ilya, fuck. I’m so fucking— shit. Oh my god.” 

“So what, huh? Close? Gonna cum for me? Gonna watch your pretty little reflection as you cum on my cock?” 

Shane’s eyes close briefly as pleasure shoots through him, forcing them open as he watches cum pump from his slit with a high-pitched cry. Ilya isn’t far behind, giving Shane’s neck a nice squeeze as he fills him with his release. 

Another successful fantasy to check off Shane’s list. 

5.

Shane has gotten a little too eager with his free use discovery. It’s now gotten to a point that, some days, he’s actually slightly disappointed when Ilya acknowledges him in the same room and doesn’t immediately fuck him. God, he feels like a fucking freak.

The element of surprise is still there, to an extent, but it’s not as invigorating as truly being surprised with sex. On their free use days, Shane is still conscious of the plug in his ass. He trusts Ilya enough to give him full, complete consent to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The thought of waking up to Ilya using him for his own pleasure is enough to get him hard within seconds.

“Hey, so…” Shane flips on the bedside lamp and turns over to face Ilya, shaking him out of his dozed state.

“Huh?” Ilya grumbles and cracks an eye open, still half asleep.

“I have another idea.”

“Hollander, why do you tell me ideas when I am sleeping?”

“I don’t want to lose the thought, okay? Just listen.”

Ilya nods, stretching under the sheets and resting a hand on Shane’s knee. 

“I want you to fuck me while I’m asleep.”

Ilya’s eyes shoot open, suddenly feeling very awake. 

“You— what?”

“Listen, I know how it sounds. I just really like whenever we have our free use days. I love when you just… use me. It’s so fucking hot. And I thought, maybe, it might also be hot to wake up to you using me.” 

Ilya studies his face for a while, neither of them speaking. Finally, Ilya just nods.

“Okay,” he says softly before turning back over and closing his eyes. Shane doesn’t push it, taking the hint that his husband just wants to sleep, and turns the lamp back off. 

Several hours later, Shane wakes up on his stomach with his briefs pulled down to his thighs. He feels something sliding between the cheeks of his ass, taking a few moments to realize that it’s Ilya’s cock. There’s lube spread between his crack, Ilya’s hands pushing the cheeks together to create tight friction. 

“I-Ilya?” Shane rasps sleepily, attempting to turn his head to look at him.

“Good morning,” Ilya purrs, speeding up the movement of his hips. “You can go back to sleep. I’m almost done.”

And, fuck, if that doesn’t wake him up. Fighting against his better judgement and the desire to be properly fucked, Shane just nods and closes his eyes again. The glide of Ilya’s cock becomes almost therapeutic, lulling Shane back into a light sleep. 

He wakes up again around thirty minutes later with his briefs still pulled down and a puddle of dried cum on his lower back. Unfortunately, it shoots arousal down his spine. 

Once is not enough. He craves more, always craving more. So, a few nights later, Shane makes a show of very obviously prepping himself before going to bed. Ilya just watches him, pretending to be more interested in whatever game he’s playing on his phone. 

When Shane wakes up this time around, Ilya’s cock is already in him. He managed to sleep through Ilya fingering him open and whatever else he decided to do, the thrill of not knowing makes him even more aroused. A confused groan breaks off into a blissful moan as Shane grips the sheets below him.

“Good morning,” Ilya says into the skin of his shoulder. “You opened up so well for me, baby. You were whimpering in your sleep, practically begging for it.” 

This is exactly why phone sex was so good with Ilya. Before him, Shane often turned his nose up at the thought of having sex over the phone. It was pointless, the other person wasn’t actually touching you. It couldn’t possibly feel good. However, Ilya has made it a personal mission to prove him wrong, and his mission has been a success. Shane could probably cum, completely untouched, just from Ilya’s words.

“Such a good boy. Always ready for me. Made sure I could fill your pretty little hole as soon as I woke up, like my own personal toy. Is that what you are, Shane? Just a toy for me to fuck?” 

Shane tries to reply, but his brain is still so sleepy and his tongue doesn’t seem to work, only able to babble out incoherent syllables. 

“Oh, look at you,” Ilya says condescendingly. “You are cock drunk, moya lyubov. Fucked you stupid, huh? Can’t think of anything other than being used by me.”

Shane has no control over his senses, broken cries mixing with each uh uh uh that gets punched out of his body. He needs to cum. Maybe he already has, he isn’t sure anymore. 

“Cum for me,” Ilya growls in his ear, fucking into him so hard that his thighs will likely be bruised later. 

The warm rush of Ilya filling him is enough to send him over the edge, burying his face in the pillow as he soaks the sheets below him.

+1

“Okay, so you roll these dice. One of them has a body part and the other has an action.” 

Shane is so giddy as he explains the game. The dice came from Hayden as a gag gift, along with a sarcastic joke about how Shane and Ilya definitely need something to spice up their sex life.

They’re both sitting on the floor of their bedroom, cross-legged on the carpet in just their briefs. Ilya looks like he wants to skip the shenanigans and jump Shane’s bones, which he probably does, but Shane insisted that they incorporate this game into their sex tonight. 

“This is stupid.”

“It’s not! Come on!” 

Ilya sighs and shakes the dice in his hand before releasing them on the floor. 

“Okay… Uh, this one says ‘kiss’ and this one says ‘thigh’.” 

“So now you kiss my thigh.”

“Oh, really?” Ilya quips, trying not to roll his eyes. He leans over and plants a kiss to Shane’s inner thigh, grazing his lips over the sensitive skin as he trails closer to his briefs.

“Hey! Nuh-uh.” Shane grips Ilya’s hair to prevent his head from going any further. “You kiss my thigh and that’s it. The dice didn’t say anything else.”

Ilya groans, eyes already half-lidded from the blissful pain of Shane tugging on his hair. 

“My turn,” Shane says, excitedly grabbing the dice and shaking them around. “Uhh, ‘suck’ and ‘ear’. Okay, I guess.”

He leans over, pressing his mouth to Ilya’s ear and sucking the lobe between his lips. This dice had slightly disappointed him, but Ilya’s reaction makes the result worth it, whimpering and wriggling against the carpet. 

“Your turn,” Shane grins, kissing Ilya’s flushed cheek before he pulls away. 

Ilya nods shakily, willing away the overwhelming desire trying to take over, and grabs the dice again.

“So ‘lick’… and ‘chest’.” 

Shane shoots him a smirk before leaning back on his hands to pump his chest out. “Come get it, big boy.” 

Ilya pounces on him, pushing him fully back to lay against the carpet as his tongue lathers the skin of his chest. His lips wrap around Shane’s nipples, licking and sucking until drool is dripping out of his mouth into Shane’s chest. 

“T-The dice just said lick my— oh fuck— my chest.”

They’re both too lost in it for Shane to push Ilya away now, instead choosing to savor the heat of Ilya’s tongue swiping over his nipples.

The sloppiness of Ilya’s mouth gives Shane a hint for where this is going. Although Shane is typically the submissive one, sometimes Ilya likes to let go too. Sometimes, the stress of being Ottawa’s captain catches up to him, and he trusts Shane enough to allow himself to float out of his mind. 

Ilya mumbles something against Shane’s chest, but he doesn’t quite catch it. Shane forces Ilya to look up, glassy hazel eyes sending an electric current to Shane’s groin. 

“What was that, baby?”

“Mommy.” Ilya’s voice drips in desperation, cheeks flushing deep red as the word leaves his mouth. 

They both freeze, sharing a questioning look. Ilya has spent the last several weeks dealing with Shane’s crazy sex discoveries, what a horrible husband he would be if he didn’t indulge Ilya right back. He gives him a small nod, silent permission to keep going, and Ilya dives back in. 

He kisses and sucks all over Shane’s chest, circling around his nipples and leaving bite marks near his collarbones. Shane is so achingly hard that it’s almost painful, but he doesn’t want to disrupt Ilya’s focus. He finally musters up the energy to tug Ilya back by his hair.

“You want to make mommy feel good?” Shane asks, scratching the back of Ilya’s head soothingly. 

“Yes, please,” Ilya breathes out, voice dripping in desperation. 

“Get me naked, baby.”

The fog in his brain causes Ilya’s movement to be a little slow, but he eventually gets both of their briefs into the hamper and lays a towel down under Shane. The bottle of lube in Shane’s hand clatters to the floor as Ilya pushes his knees to his chest, diving in to eat him out without hesitation. 

Ilya licks into him, sloppy and obscene, spit running down his chin and dripping onto the towel. 

“Oh, fuck. That’s a good boy. Just like that, baby,” Shane cries out, threading his fingers in Ilya’s hair to pull him closer. 

The lube bottle knocks against Ilya’s head as Shane taps it against him in a silent plea to hurry up. Like the skilled professional he is, Ilya keeps his tongue buried in Shane’s ass as he blindly coats his fingers, only moving away to slip them past his rim. 

By the grip on his hair, Shane tugs Ilya up for a deep kiss while he fingers him open. Their moans blend together as they lick into each other’s mouths, Shane breathing little whimpers against Ilya’s lips whenever his fingers curve just right. 

“I’m ready, Ilya. Please, just hurry up and fuck me. Be good for mommy.”

Even in his dazed state, Ilya can’t help but curse under his breath at just how filthy Shane can be. The little virgin boy with cute freckles that Ilya met in Saskatchewan has transformed into an absolute perverted menace. Not that he would ever complain.

Ilya rushes to fully sink in, bottoming out with a groan pressed against Shane’s neck. He might pass out from just how tight Shane feels around him. 

“Fuck me hard, baby. Make mommy feel good.”

That’s all Ilya needed to hear. The room erupts with slapping skin and breathless groans, both of them almost outcompeting each other in volume. Ilya’s thrusts are sloppy, desperate for pleasure as his hips meet Shane’s in a repetitive rhythm. 

“Fuck, mommy. Need to cum. Please, please, please,” Ilya babbles against the skin where his face is buried in the crook of Shane’s neck. 

“Go ahead, baby. Fill mommy up. You’re such a good boy, Ilya.” 

Ecstasy washes over Shane as Ilya finishes with a shout, burying his cock as deep as it can possibly go. The feeling of Ilya’s cock pumping him full of his release is enough to send him over the edge soon after. 

“So…” Shane says after they’ve both caught their breath.

“We’ll talk about it later.”