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“We need to get the rookie laid!”
Someone claps Shane on the back, someone else shoves a beer in his hand. Shane just rolls his eyes as Hayden laughs next to him. It’s halfway through the season and the Metros are overly invested in Shane’s (lack of—or so they think) sex life. They’ve dragged him out to yet another club after a game, and Shane hasn’t yet learned to say no. He’s a rookie and eager to fit in.
”I’m good, guys, thanks.”
”Yeah, you’re too good, Hollander. That’s the fucking problem!” JJ says.
Miitka shakes his head at the group surrounding Shane. “Leave the rook alone! Just look at the points he’s racking up already—you want to fuck that up? Maybe the secret sauce is… keeping his secret sauce to himself, you know what I mean?”
”Ew, Mitty,” Hayden says, wrinkling his nose.
”No, I’m getting bro laid,” Comeau chimes in. He eyes up Shane, almost suspicious. “Second overall pick keeping his dick dry? Not on the fucking Metros.”
Ilya twists his hand over Shane’s cock, pouring more lube over it, then runs his slick fingers over his own before ramming it back into Shane.
”Fuck,” Shane grits out, lifting his knees higher to take Ilya deeper.
”Mm, you love it.” It’s not a question.
Shane nods, eager and breathless. “I fucking love it. Don’t stop.”
Ilya fucks him harder, jerking his cock with firm, commanding strokes while murmuring in Russian—he could be calling Shane a slut, could be making small talk about the weather, Shane has no idea. He just loves the sound of it.
”I will not stop, even after I make you come. Will not stop until you come again and again.”
”Yes,” Shane breathes. “Yes.”
“Fucking goody-two-shoes over here is making us look bad.”
All eyes in the locker room turn to Shane. He shrugs. “I barely said anything.”
”You should’ve said ‘no comment’. Aucoin’s my boy, we were in Juniors together,” Comeau says, anger plain on his face.
Maybe your boy shouldn’t have been caught cheating on his wife, Shane thinks. “I don’t know him.”
”He’s in the MLH, you don’t need to know him to stand up for him. Talking to some reporter about so-called toxicity in the sport is a bitch fucking move. We stand behind our own.”
”She asked a question, I answered.”
”Of course the fucking virgin has a problem with cheating, as if everyone doesn’t do it,” Drapeau says with an eye roll. “That shit doesn’t count on the road. Aucoin’s wife should know that by now.”
Shane tenses up. “I’m not—”
”Everybody doesn’t do it, for the record,” Hayden interrupts, looking just as disgusted as Shane feels.
Comeau laughs. ”Relax Pike, Jackie can’t hear you from here. I know she’s got you on a short leash, but—”
“Fuck off.”
Comeau ignores Hayden, turning his attention back to Shane. ”Hollander, just cool it with the Boy Scout shit, okay? Some of us actually have sex drives, if you can understand that. Keep your fucking mouth shut next time.”
“Open your fucking mouth.”
Ilya moves up Shane’s body, pulling off his condom, stroking himself and panting. He’d just made Shane come so hard he’s still seeing stars, but Shane obeys instantly. He opens his mouth just as Ilya erupts with a desperate groan. He doesn’t quite make it in time, and his release shoots over Shane’s cheek and lips before the rest makes it onto Shane’s tongue.
Shane moans as he swallows, staring into Ilya’s eyes. He reaches up to wipe his face, but Ilya grabs his wrist and presses it against the pillow. Shane sees just the hint of a smile on Ilya’s face before he lowers down, kissing Shane hungrily. He gently licks over Shane’s lips, cleaning up the mess he left there, before moving to his cheek, kissing and licking at his skin while Shane squirms beneath him, equal parts grossed out and turned on. But the longer Ilya lingers over him, the more erotic Shane finds it. Ilya licks up the last remaining on his cheek before shoving his tongue back in Shane’s mouth, sharing it with him.
”Fucking hell, Rozanov,” Shane gasps when Ilya finally collapses on top of him, resting his head on Shane’s chest. Shane feels satisfied, safe, warm, a little sticky… and another feeling he won’t dare name.
Ilya just breathes softly on top of him, gently caressing Shane’s hot, sweaty skin wherever he can reach. “Da.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Pike. Have you never heard of condoms? Four fucking kids?” Gagnon shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, I respect the raw-dogging, but goddamn.”
Hayden doesn’t look amused, just shakes his head and glances at Shane. “Can’t believe your reaction was actually better than this,” he mutters. Raising his voice to get over the din of the locker room, he asks, “Is it really that difficult to just say congratulations?”
“Congratulations on nutting in your wife!” Comeau calls back. The room erupts with laughter. At Hayden’s glare, Comeau shrugs. “Best feeling in the world, I don’t blame you.”
”Yeah, but you could try pulling out too,” Gagnon offers seriously, like this has possibly never occurred to Hayden before. Hayden just sighs and turns to face his stall.
"Nah, pulling out's for quitters," Drapeau says. "As long as she's on the pill, you're good."
Gagnon grimaces. "Sure, if pregnancy's your only concern. Try that on the road and you'll end up with chlamydia."
"Speaking from experience, Gag-non?" Comeau asks, laughing too hard at his own joke. Gagnon also turns around to his stall at this, rolling his eyes. "Oh come on, when did everybody get so uptight? You've all turned into Hollander."
Shane clenches his jaw. He was pointedly staying out of the conversation. "I didn't even say anything," he says, trying to keep his voice light, like he's not bothered by constantly being singled out for what—not joking about cum often enough? He'd had enough of that by junior high.
"Hollander, if you've ever nutted raw in anybody, I'll shove my own hockey stick up my ass."
"I doubt Hollander ever fucks anybody without having them fill out some fucking paperwork first," Drapeau says as everybody laughs.
"I don't know, sometimes it's the quiet ones you'd never expect," Gagnon says, turning back to the conversation. He fixes his gaze on Shane. "He could be getting more pussy than all of you combined, and you'd never know."
There's a pause as the room considers this possibility, then an eruption of laughter at the very idea.
"Have you ever come inside anybody?"
Ilya pauses at the question, his jeans halfway up his legs. He quirks his eyebrow at Shane, still lying naked on the bed. "Did we... not just do that?"
Shane bites his lip. "I mean, without a condom."
Ilya pulls his jeans the rest of the way up, then slips on his shirt, eyeing Shane the whole time. "No."
"Really?" Shane asks, tilting his head. He finds that hard to believe, with Ilya Rozanov's reputation—he wouldn't want to feel the 'best feeling in the world'? But Ilya shakes his head.
"Would you want to?" Shane's stomach flips as the words fight their way out of his mouth. He doesn't know why he's asking, doesn't know why he suddenly wants to feel it. Maybe it's only the best feeling in the world for the one inside. But maybe giving Ilya the best feeling in the world would be another kind of best feeling. Shane can't stop thinking about it. He'd watched Ilya roll on the condom earlier, and the words had died in his throat. But they're out now.
"I..." Ilya looks lost for words. "Is not safe."
"It's safe if we're both clean. It's not like you can knock me up." Ilya smiles and almost laughs at that. Shane lifts his chin, feeling braver now they're really talking about it. "I'm clean. Are you?" He's starting to feel excited that not only did he bring it up, maybe it could happen right now.
"I was, last test. But—"
Shane's excitement tamps down. But he'd been with other people since. Shane fights whatever feeling is rising up in him. He knows Ilya fucks other people. Has known it for years. Everybody knows it. It's never bothered Shane—only when he thinks about it. "Get tested again. Before next time."
"Okay." Ilya nods. "So then, next time..."
"Next time you can come inside me."
Ilya smiles. "Okay."
"Ugh, can you believe this?" Yuna asks, disgust in her voice. She's holding that day's paper, reading about the latest MLH players who have been exposed for cheating. Aucoin was just the tip of the iceberg; his scandal got the ball rolling. The latest news is about a player in Florida and his secret baby he stopped paying child support for. All news to his wife. "Everybody's bringing up the MLH's morality clause as if they'd care enough about cheating." She clicks her tongue. "But I know they're not happy about all this publicity."
"Hm." Shane sips his coffee. His parents are visiting for the week, and while Shane loves having them around, he's only thinking about meeting up with Ilya after tonight's Metros vs Raiders game. He's already booked a hotel room since he can't exactly bring Ilya Rozanov home with his parents staying here.
"What about on your team? Will any scandals be coming out about any of the Metros?"
This gets Shane's attention. He knows she's just asking if any of his teammates are stupid enough to be caught cheating on their wives. But now Shane wonders if he's stupid enough to get caught with Ilya. Would the MLH morality clause take issue with that? His stomach sinks, thinking how much bigger of a scandal it would be if it got out that Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov were fucking each other.
"Honey?"
Shane shakes himself out of his thoughts, meeting his mom's eyes. "Uh, I don't think so. I'm not worried about it."
"Good." Yuna turns her attention back to the paper. "At least I know I never have to worry about you."
Shane worries about it.
"No one saw you?"
Ilya rolls his eyes, grinning. "No. And even if they did, I am just hockey player in a hotel. I do not have sign saying, 'Everybody look, I am here to fuck captain of Metros'."
Shane laughs, even though his nerves are still on high alert. "Sorry. There's just a lot more attention on hockey players lately. You in particular."
Ilya scoffs. "They keep trying to lump me in with cheaters just because I, uh—" He wiggles his fingers, trying to find the word.
"Get around?" Shane asks, unimpressed. He sits down on the bed.
"Yes. I get around. I do not cheat or trick people like those others. Media are just prudes."
Shane doesn't say anything, but he knows Ilya's right. He's been reading every story that comes out, detailing Ilya's antics and history, trying to use him as another example of the MLH being toxic. But whenever they quote any of the women Ilya's been with, they're nothing but effusive and complimentary. #greenflagrozanov even trended for a while. Shane now knows more than he ever wanted to about just how many people—women—Ilya's been with, and how expertly he gets them off.
Reading all the posts made Shane feel just a little pathetic—at needing to read them all, at needing to imagine Ilya with other people, at realizing Shane wasn't special because Ilya apparently treats all his hookups the same. But that won't be true after tonight. Shane will experience something with Ilya that nobody else ever has. And he feels just a little more pathetic for needing that, needing to be special. To stand out.
"So, you're, um..." Shane suddenly feels awkward. They're really doing this. He glances around the room. He thought he'd prefer if they could be at his place, but doing this in a hotel room feels right somehow. Their very first time together, and so many after that, had been in hotel rooms, after all.
"Yes, clean." Ilya nods, already undressing. "And so fucking horny. Test was weeks ago."
Shane grins as Ilya climbs onto the bed. He strips his shirt off just as Ilya reaches him, pressing his lips hard against Shane's. He wasn't lying about being horny.
"Do not worry, I jerked off before I came here. I will last long for you," Ilya says, briefly breaking the kiss.
Shane grabs the back of Ilya's head, pulling him in again. All thoughts of any others Ilya's been with leave Shane's head—they don't matter. Right now, only this matters. Ilya grabs Shane by the waist and pulls him farther down the bed until he's flat on his back, kissing him the whole time with growing urgency. Ilya's hand brushes over Shane's cock, then stills there.
"You are so hard already," Ilya whispers against Shane's lips.
Shane just nods, raising his hips against Ilya's touch.
Ilya stares down at Shane, breath hitching in his throat, as he palms Shane through the fabric.
"Take them off," Shane tells him.
Ilya immediately tugs Shane's pants down his legs, followed by his briefs, never breaking eye contact. Shane gasps when Ilya touches his cock, his warm skin against Shane's all he needs in the world. Shane drops his head back on the bed as Ilya gets to work, first with his hands, then his mouth, doing everything he knows Shane loves. By the time he's pressing three slick fingers inside Shane's hole, whispering to him in soothing Russian words he can't understand, doesn't need to understand to feel the care in them, Shane is writhing on the bed, begging to be fucked.
In his haze of pleasure and need, Shane almost forgot what they're here to do, instinctively reaching out when he sees Ilya rub lube over his bare cock. It's supposed to be bare, Shane reminds himself, pulling his hand back. He lifts his legs, holding his knees against his chest, and stares at Ilya. Ilya stares back, rubbing Shane's thigh before lining himself up. He pauses.
"Yes, fuck me," Shane breathes out.
Ilya presses in slowly as Shane's toes curl. He watches Ilya's face—how his brows furrow, how his lips purse—as he buries himself deep in Shane, with nothing at all between them. Shane's never been this close to another person in his life, and god does he feel it. He wraps his legs around Ilya, pulling him closer, as Ilya slowly pulls back, then plunges in again. They're both breathing in soft, little gasps, adjusting to the feeling of each other as Ilya sinks deeper inside him.
"Fuck, Hollander." Ilya leans over him for a kiss. Shane opens his mouth to welcome Ilya's tongue; Ilya is in every part of him and still it's not enough, still Shane wants more. Needs more. He digs his heels into Ilya's ass, and Ilya picks up his pace until they're breathing hard into each other's mouths, eyes locked together.
"Oh, God," Shane moans. His cock is trapped between them, rubbing against Ilya's stomach as Ilya fucks him, the friction almost enough to get him over the edge.
But Ilya pulls away, then pulls out, not ready to let Shane come just yet. His eyes wild, he flips Shane over on his hands and knees, and swiftly enters him again with a desperate groan. Shane's body trembles as he takes Ilya at this angle, his cock dragging over just the right spot inside of Shane now. Ilya drapes himself over Shane's back, his hands on either side of him, as he fucks him at a punishing pace.
Ilya's breathing is loud and desperate, coming in frenzied gasps right next to Shane's ear, and Shane doesn't need any friction against his cock now to come. He lets out an animalistic groan beneath Ilya, his whole body shaking. He only has a second to consider they should have put a towel down before Ilya's hand is on his shoulder, pressing him down against the mess he'd just left on the duvet. Shane doesn't even care, just focuses on the feeling of Ilya inside of him, his hands on him, the sounds coming from him.
"Come in me," Shane begs. "Please."
"I'm coming," Ilya grunts, tightly gripping Shane's waist as his body shudders with release. He pumps slowly into Shane, shallow thrusts, as he empties himself deep inside, Shane clenching around him all the while.
They're both back to their soft gasping breaths, holding the moment together, until Ilya drops onto his side, pulling Shane with him, the two of them still connected. "Jesus Christ," Ilya breathes out with a laugh.
Shane softly laughs in response. Best feeling in the world might actually be an understatement for what Shane just experienced.
Ilya slowly pulls out, and Shane glances over his shoulder at him. Ilya's eyes are fixed on Shane's ass, pressing a hand against his cheeks. Shane holds his breath; Ilya wants to see it leak out. After a few moments, Shane feels the wetness trailing down his skin, and Ilya makes a low 'mmm' sound in his throat. He moves his hand from Shane's ass to his waist, pulling his body flush against Ilya's, trapping the leaking mess between them.
"It was good?" Shane asks, unable to stop himself from asking. He needs to know. Was he good?
Ilya nods, murmuring against Shane's neck. "Yes, it was good. I have no words."
Shane smiles. "Not even in Russian?"
Ilya squeezes Shane tighter. "Nyet."
"You're known for having a pretty squeaky clean image, right? Do you feel any pressure to maintain that, or is it just who you are?"
Shane is momentarily thrown by the question. He'd just come off the ice after winning 5-2 and was expecting questions about his hat trick.
"I, uh... I'm just focused on hockey, I guess."
"Right, but that can't be everything. Everybody has hobbies, or vices. As we've recently seen, that gets some hockey players into trouble." The group of reporters share a laugh. "How do you stay out of trouble? Maybe some tips for the rest of the MLH?"
Shane is completely floundering now; nothing comes to mind. How do they expect him to answer this question?
He shrugs, at a loss.
"Don't get caught."