Chapter Text
January 2017
Shane was riding a high as he walked into the dressing room after the game.
JJ was going around high-fiving people and yelling “let’s gooooo!” at anyone who would pay attention to him. The rookies, Kovac and Sorensen, were rehashing the game-winning goal they had scored and assisted with, respectively.
Shane pulled his jersey off as he listened to JJ make his way over to Hayden and try to convince him to go out. He folded the jersey and placed it into the laundry basket to be taken to be washed.
He walked back to his locker, undoing the buckle on his shoulder pads. He pulled it over his head before glancing around to check that everyone else was preoccupied and then grabbing his phone. He couldn’t wait to text Ilya to gloat about winning the game
Rozanov had played well, but Montreal had played better. He was always wound up in the best way after games like this. Shane was looking forward to whatever Ilya was going to do to take it out on him.
Rozanov was quickly forgotten, though, when Shane saw that he had two missed calls and a voicemail from Lauren, Violet’s nanny, and a missed call from Rose. His stomach dropped. He didn’t bother looking at any of the texts from either of them before he started pushing his way out of the locker room, ignoring the shouts and questions of his teammates. When he had made it to the comparatively quiet hallway, he pressed on Lauren’s contact with a shaking hand.
In the two seconds it took for the phone to ring and Lauren to pick up, Shane’s mind went through every possible worst case scenario.
Lauren was going to pick up and tell him that something terrible had happened to Violet: He hadn’t installed it right, and her dresser had fallen over on her. Or she had gotten past the babyproofing on the cupboard under the kitchen sink, and had drunk some chemicals. Fuck, maybe he had forgotten to lock the balcony door, and Lauren hadn’t noticed, and Violet had climbed the balcony railing.
Why had no one told him? Both Rose and Lauren had his team’s phone numbers in case of emergency. His parents did too. Fuck the game; fuck hockey. Shane would never play again if it meant that Violet was alright. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.
Lauren picked up the phone, and Shane didn’t even let her say anything before he said, “what happened? Is Violet okay?”
“She’s fine,” Lauren said, though Shane wasn’t reassured by the uncharacteristic rasp in her voice that made it sound like she had been crying. “Nothing happened to her. She’s asleep; has been for a couple hours.”
Shane leaned back against the wall of the hallway and closed his eyes. She was fine. Violet was fine.
He schooled his breathing, forcing himself to take a deep breath in and blow it out.
“Sorry,” he said, “I saw that you and Rose called, and I didn’t look at your texts, I just panicked.”
Hayden walked out of the dressing room. His eyebrows shot up in question and he mouthed ‘you okay?’
Shane nodded and gave him a thumbs up as he listened to Lauren on the other end of the phone. Hayden went back into the dressing room
Shane had planned on texting Rozanov when he got home, but when he sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone, there was already a text from Lily waiting.
Lily: I saw you have family problems. Is your family okay?
Someone must have said something about why Shane had run out of the arena without taking any interviews. As captain, the responsibility usually fell to him to deal with the media, so it wasn’t surprising that it had been quickly noticed that he wasn’t the one being interviewed today.
Jane: Everything’s fine. Violet’s nanny had a family emergency, so I had to come home.
Lily: I am glad your family is okay
Shane felt the corners of his mouth pull up.
Jane: Sorry to bail on you
He really was sorry. After looking forward to this for weeks, not getting to hook up with Rozanov and instead having to figure out what he was going to do with Violet while Lauren was with her family in Fredericton was not Shane’s idea of a good time.
Shane swiped to his text thread with Rose. She was in Vancouver again, filming another TV episode.
Shane sent her a text confirming that, yes, he could find someone to watch Violet on his own and she didn’t have to worry about it. Which was probably mostly true. Shane had no idea what he was going to do.
Maybe his mom could come up from Ottawa? His dad would have work, but Shane knew if he asked that his mom would come by herself; he just didn’t want to ask that of her.
One of the WAGs? Jackie was the obvious choice, and she would say yes in a heartbeat, but she was also about a millions months pregnant, on top of having three toddlers to take care of, so Shane wasn’t about to saddle her with a fourth toddler for an indeterminate amount of time.
Fuck, he would figure this out tomorrow. He should go to bed.
Shane grabbed the baby monitor from the coffee table, staring at Violet’s black-and-white form sleeping peacefully on the screen for a moment, before turning off the lamps and heading towards his bedroom.
Shane stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, and his mind was filling the time by bringing up the mental images of what Shane wanted to be doing right now, which was getting fucked by Ilya Rozanov.
He hadn’t touched himself, but he was already hard. Goddammit. He knew if he jerked himself off it would be completely unsatisfying.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Rozanov. He had been texting Shane all week, telling him that Ilya’s prize for winning was going to be getting to fuck Shane’s mouth. When Shane had asked what would happen if Montreal won, Ilya had said that that wouldn’t happen, but in that impossible scenario he would reward Shane by fucking his mouth. Shane had called him an asshole, but he couldn’t deny that he probably would have let Rozanov face-fuck him, and gotten off while doing it.
Shane groaned and rolled onto his side. This wasn’t helping his sleep. Or his dick. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, figuring that scrolling was a better way to distract himself than failing at trying not to think about Rozanov.
The first thing he was when he picked up his phone was it wasn’t even 10pm yet. The second was that he had some texts from Lily.
Lily: It is okay. Not your fault
He must have missed that while getting ready for bed. But that wasn’t the only thing he had sent.
Lily: I am sad that I do not get to feel my cock in your mouth tonight
Lily: But that is okay. I have good imagination.
Fuck. Shane bit his lip.
He had never even thought about inviting Rozanov to his apartment before, the idea was so absurd. People knew he lived here. If someone saw Rozanov anywhere near this building, that would be a disaster. Not to mention that Violet was here. He couldn’t have his fuckbuddy over when his daughter was here.
Shane glanced at the baby monitor. Violet was still asleep. And he had no reason to think she would wake up any time soon. She had been sleeping through the night for almost a year.
He looked back down at his phone.
Jane: Are you at your hotel?
Shane paced back and forth in front of his front door. He had sent Ilya his address. His real address. Ilya was on the way, right now, to his real apartment, not just his investment property.
He had felt like he shouldn’t be wearing his pajamas, so Shane had put his post-game loungewear back on. He played with the string on his hoodie as he walked back across the entryway and waited to buzz Rozanov into the building.
There was a sound from the baby monitor, and a pool of icy dread settled in his stomach as Shane grabbed the monitor from the side table. He let out a breath; Violet was still asleep. He put the baby monitor back on the side table.
The intercom started buzzing, and Shane quickly pressed the button to let Rozanov into the building. He stood by the door, his eye pressed to the peephole, until he saw Ilya walk out of the elevator. Shane opened the door and ushered him in.
“Hi,” Shane said once he had closed the door.
“Hi,” Ilya said. He took his shoes off then took a few steps into the apartment. “So this is where famous hockey player Shane Hollander lives.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Yes, this is my apartment.”
Rozanov unzipped his coat and walked into the living room, taking his time to scan the room and run his hand along the back of the sofa.
Shane grabbed the baby monitor off the side table and followed him. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. Violet’s stuff was kind of… everywhere. More than it normally was.
Ilya didn’t say anything, and instead walked to the wall where Shane had hung up some pictures of various combinations of himself, Rose, Violet, and his parents. He studied them for a moment before walking into the kitchen. Shane followed.
Ilya walked straight to the fridge and pulled the doors open. “Interesting,” he said.
“What?” Shane asked, furrowing his brows and walking closer so he could peer past Rozanov and try to figure out what he found so interesting.
“I always wonder if boring Shane Hollander also eats boring food,” Rozanov said. Shane waited for the inevitable comment about his bland meals, but instead Rozanov said, “but no, he eats yogurt from Elsa container.”
“Fuck off,” Shane said, bumping his shoulder against Ilya’s, “those are Violet’s. And how do you know who Elsa is?”
Rozanov waved his hand in the air, not answering the question. He closed the fridge door before pulling off his coat, walking back to the living room and tossing it over the back of the couch. He turned to Shane, who had followed him back to the living room, and closed the space between them, bringing his hands up to cup Shane’s face and pull it to his to press their lips together.
Shane let out a noise of surprise before closing his eyes and bringing the hand that wasn’t holding a baby monitor to Rozanov’s back. He let himself melt into the kiss for a moment before moving his hand to Rozanov’s chest and pushing him away.
“We-” Shane said, far too breathless for how little they had done, “we should go to my bedroom.” He felt weird about doing anything out in the open of his living room.
Ilya let his hands drop from Shane’s face and took a step back. “Lead the way,” he said.
“Make sure– make sure you’re quiet,” Shane said. He glanced down at the baby monitor to confirm that Violet was still asleep. There wasn’t really a risk of them waking her up just by walking past her room, but Shane was so nervous he didn’t want to take any extra chances; it was already enough of a risk having Rozanov here at all.
“Okay,” Ilya said.
Shane led him down past Violet’s room and Lauren’s empty room, to the end of the hallway and into his bedroom. He carefully closed the door behind them. When he turned, Rozanov was sitting on the bed, staring at him with a look Shane couldn’t place.
“What?” Shane asked.
“Nothing,” Rozanov said, but the look on his face didn’t change, and he didn’t look away.
Shane crossed the room to put the baby monitor in its normal spot on his bedside table. Rozanov had scootched up the bed, so Shane was able to sit next to him. He didn’t waste any time before leaning over to kiss him, fisting his hand in the collar of Ilya’s shirt to help pull him in.
Ilya pushed Shane back and climbed on top of him, throwing his leg over Shane to straddle him.
Shane trailed his hands down Ilya’s back to tease at the hem of his shirt before grabbing it and pulling it up. Ilya sat back to let Shane pull it over his head and toss it to the floor next to them. Shane took the opportunity to pull his own shirt off and also toss it onto the floor.
When he looked back at Ilya, Ilya wasn’t looking at him. Shane followed his gaze to the baby monitor.
“I don’t like having your baby looking at us,” Rozanov said, gesturing at the baby monitor.
“She’s not looking at us,” Shane said, “the monitor’s only one way.”
Rozanov kept looking at it uncomfortably. He had a point.
Shane pushed him off. “I’ll move it,” he said, grabbing it and turning the volume up as he walked into the bathroom. He set it on the counter and went back into the bedroom.
He climbed back onto the bed next to Rozanov, who leaned in to kiss him.
“So,” Shane said between kisses, “Montreal won the game.”
“Yes, I know,” Ilya said. “Is tragic.”
“I was told I would get a prize if I won,” Shane said.
Ilya pulled back so they were nose to nose. “Is this why you invited me over?” He asked, “you were thinking about me and couldn’t sleep.”
“Maybe,” Shane mumbled, his face heating up at how spot-on the assessment was.
Ilya grinned and pushed Shane onto his back, rolling on top of him. “I can give you your prize,” Ilya said. He made quick work of his pants, kicking them and his underwear off before climbing up Shane’s body.
Shane’s eyes roved up and down Ilya’s naked body. He used to be embarrassed to stare so overtly, but he had long since given up that insecurity. His body was immaculate.
Rozanov stopped when he was above Shane’s chest. He was close enough that Shane could have tilted his head forward and licked the tip of his cock.
Shane watched as Ilya wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly brought his fist up and down. When Shane looked up, he saw Ilya looking back at him with eyes hooded in lust.
“Fuck,” Rozanov said, dragging his fist up his cock, “you are so fucking sexy, getting hard just from thinking about my dick in your mouth.” He ran his hand through Shane’s hair in a gesture that was far sweeter than the moment dictated. He trailed his hand down Shane’s cheek before pushing his thumb against Shane’s lower lip. “Open,” he commanded, and Shane opened his mouth.
He was going to suck Ilya’s thumb into his mouth, but Ilya sat up on his knees and guided his cock into Shane’s mouth. Shane brought his hands to the outsides of Ilya’s thighs.
Shane was still wearing his pants, and he felt his erection press uncomfortably against the inside of his boxer briefs. This shouldn’t be turning him on so much, but, god, it was.
“Okay?” Rozanov asked, stopping far before he was all the way in.
Shane nodded, as much as he could with a dick in his mouth.
Ilya pushed one hand into Shane’s hair as he slowly pulled his hips back then pushed back into Shane. His hand shot up to steady himself on the headboard as his head fell forward and a groan fell from his lips.
Shane stared up at him through his eyelashes. Rozanov had made an offhanded comment once that he found it incredibly hot, and Shane had been doing it ever since.
Ilya started slowly pushing himself in and out of Shane’s mouth. Lying on the bed didn’t give Shane the best angle to take his cock, but Shane was so turned on that he barely noticed.
Shane relaxed his jaw more as Ilya gripped his hair and started muttering under his breath in Russian. Shane trailed his hand around Ilya’s hip and squeezed his ass. Ilya let out a moan, and Shane let his hand trail further to circle his hole.
Sometimes he wasn’t into ass play, but if the sounds he was making told Shane anything, that wasn’t the case today.
“Oh, fuck,” Rozanov groaned as Shane continued to trace circles around his hole.
Shane tasted the salt of precum in his mouth, and fuck that turned him on. He moved his hips to try and get relief on his aching cock, but all it did was provide more friction.
Ilya whined when Shane pulled his finger away. Shane swiped it in the saliva that was running down his chin then brought it back to his ass. He circled his hole once before pressing in.
Ilya pulled his hand out of Shane’s hair to bite his fist and stifle a moan.
Shane was usually the loud one, and seeing Rozanov try to keep himself under control sent pleasure straight down his spine. Shane moaned around Ilya’s cock.
“Oh, fuck,” Ilya brought his hand back to Shane’s hair, “oh, god, Sha-” his word turned into a moan.
Shane felt the ribbons of cum hit the back of his throat, and that combined with Ilya’s moans and the friction of the pants he was still fucking wearing was too much for Shane. He squeezed his eyes shut, meaning as everything went white for a moment.
Ilya was breathing heavily as he pulled out of Shane’s mouth and flopped down on his back on the bed.
“Fuck, Hollander,” Rozanov panted.
Shane swallowed, then wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Now that he was back in his body, what Ilya had said was stuck in his head.
“Now it is your turn,” Ilya said, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants before Shane could say anything. “Fuck, Hollander,” Rozanov repeated when he saw the mess in Shane’s underwear, “I didn’t know you liked sucking my dick so much that it would make you come.”
“Shut up,” Shane said, feeling his cheeks heat up “my pants were tight.”
“Okay,” Ilya said, not buying Shane’s excuse. “Good thing you do not take long to get hard again. I can make you come again.”
“That’s okay,” Shane said, “I should probably go to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be up early tomorrow.”
Ilya nodded in understanding.
“You can shower before you go,” Shane said.
“Is okay,” Ilya said, “I will shower at the hotel. Let you sleep.”
Shane got undressed as Ilya got dressed, then, for lack of something better to put on, Shane put his sweats back on so he could walk Ilya to the door.
He stuck his head into the bathroom to check the baby monitor, and saw that Violet was still sound asleep.
“I will see you at the All-Stars game,” Ilya said.
“Yea,” Shane said, “see you there.”
Shane stuck his head out the door to check that no one was in the hallway before moving to let Ilya leave.
After he closed the door behind him, Shane shook his head. He was still thinking about Ilya’s words– Ilya’s sounds. It had sounded like Ilya had been in the middle of saying Shane.
Shane shook his head again. That wasn’t something they did. Ilya called him Hollander, and Shane called him Rozanov.
Shane didn’t think about the fact that he had called him Ilya in his head.