Chapter Text
January, 2017
Ilya : Should I wear this in Tampa?
Ilya : <picture>
Ilya was packing to leave for Tampa the next morning, and had on a pink shirt with palm trees on it, unbuttoned. He’d bought it on a whim, thinking it would be funny.
Jane : Definitely. You can pull it off.
Ilya : Pull it off? Okay, sure.
Ilya was grinning as he took the silly shirt off, packed it away in his luggage, and snapped another picture of himself.
Ilya : <picture>
Jane: Oh. I mean like, you look good in it. Not everyone can wear a shirt like that. I couldn’t pull it off.
Jane: But you should keep it off.
Ilya laughed out loud to himself. He’d known exactly what Shane meant, but it was so fucking fun to mess with him like this.
Ilya: What about you, Hollander? Show me what you’re wearing. Probably some boring fucking Voyageurs T-shirt.
Jane: Ha! Jokes on you. I happen to have hired a stylist.
Jane: <picture>
Ilya had started to type something in response to Shane hiring a stylist when the picture came through. Ilya stopped packing, letting a pair of shorts drop haphazardly on his bed. Shane was wearing a charcoal gray waffle-knit henley shirt. The top two buttons were undone, and the material pulled tight across his pecs and somehow accentuated his biceps. Ilya had never seen him wearing something like that. It wasn’t seductive or anything, but - it was stylish. For Shane. And it made Ilya want to touch him. The fabric looked so soft, but the definition of Shane’s body underneath was so beautifully displayed while being completely covered. Okay, so it was seductive.
Ilya deleted the message he’d been writing about Shane not wanting to look like shit anymore.
Ilya: You look good.
Really fucking good. It had been two long months since Ilya had been with Shane. More than two months. Ilya had often looked forward to games against Montreal before - he loved playing against Shane as much as he loved fucking him. But something was different this time, suddenly he couldn’t wait to see Shane tomorrow.
Ilya: Might be too warm for Tampa though.
Jane: You saying I should take it off?
Jane: <picture>
Ilya groaned. Packing could wait. He fell onto his bed, and settled into the pillows. Taking his phone in his left hand to respond to Shane, his right hand moving to the button of his jeans.
--
Tampa, two days later (Saturday morning)
Shane was lounging by the pool at the Tampa Bay resort. Hayden and Jackie were challenging anyone who came into the pool to a chicken fight - the couple hadn’t lost yet, and were the current All Star Chicken Fight champions. Shane had declined all requests so far to be involved in any of their antics, there were plenty of other guys there willing to hoist some hot girl on their shoulders.
Shane was acutely aware the moment Ilya arrived on the pool deck. He had on what could only be described as European swim trunks. They were way shorter, and tighter than Shane’s board shorts. Especially on Ilya’s thighs. Shane took deep, steadying breaths, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Shane was grateful his sunglasses allowed him to check out the hard lines and dips of Ilya’s well defined body. So many years of hooking up in hotel rooms, Ilya’s penthouse, and Shane’s love shack, but he had never had the opportunity to admire Ilya like this - poolside, in the sun. If the All Stars had been in warm cities before, Shane had certainly never allowed himself to blatantly check Ilya out. Not that he was being obvious right now, despite needing to take a drink of his water. Seriously, how did Ilya live in Boston and still look like he had a summer tan in January?
“I will chicken fight you,” Ilya announced, causing Shane to blink in surprise. Of fucking course Ilya volunteers.
Hayden looked hesitant. “Do you know what a chicken fight is?”
“With who?” Jackie raised an eyebrow at him.
“With Hollander. We should learn to work together before we have to play together,” Ilya pointed at Shane. Shane was already shaking his head from the lounger he was lying on. What the fuck was Ilya thinking?
Hayden was laughing. Jackie thought it was a great idea. Shane tried to protest as Ilya grabbed Shane’s wrist to haul him up.
“Come on, Captain ,” Ilya smirked as he said it, leaning close to Shane’s face. He smelled like sunscreen and Ilya and it made Shane feel light headed. “Where’s your team spirit?”
“Oh, fucking fine!” He carefully placed his Raybans with his water bottle on the small table next to his lounge chair. Shane sat at the edge of the pool, preparing to slip into the water, while Ilya canonballed in - right next to Shane. Shane squeezed his eyes shut against the huge spray of water that hit him. He opened his eyes to the sight of Ilya coming up out of the water, whipping his head to toss his wet curls back. It happened in slow motion for Shane, like a scene from Baywatch. Fuck me, thought Shane. Like, literally. Shane’s heart felt like it was in his throat, his stomach felt full of butterflies. He was half hard in his blue swim trunks - okay, he’d been half hard since Ilya arrived at the pool, more like two thirds now. Shane took a deep breath and slipped into the water, which was blessedly chest height, but not nearly cold enough to stem his arousal.
Ilya watched him with a knowing smile. “Asshole,” Shane said to him. Ilya answered by diving under the water and grasping Shane’s quads as his head went between Shane’s legs. Suddenly Shane was being thrust up and completely out of the water, his arms flailing in circles until Ilya was standing and Shane’s hands found purchase in Ilya thick locks.
“Watch it, Hollander,” Ilya said.”That’s my eye.”
“Sorry,” Shane breathed, moving away from his eye. He kept one hand on Ilya’s head and couldn’t resist giving him a gentle caress, underlying his apology with his touch. “That’s what you fucking get. Why do I have to be on your shoulders?”
“Jackie is going on Hayden’s shoulders,” Ilya said as if that settled things. Hayden was under water lifting a laughing Jackie up at that moment. “Don’t worry Hollander, I’ll let you bottom later,” Ilya said this in a low voice for Shane’s ears only, but Shane’s eyes still went wide at the bold statement. They were in a public pool, for fuck’s sake!
Shane’s cock reacted too. Why the fuck was it even sexier because they were in public?
Ilya must have felt it because he squeezed Shane’s calves in response. “I hope you chickens know how to swim!” Ilya charged Hayden and JAckie as soon as Jackie was balanced. It was only Shane’s own strong abdominals that kept him from falling off backwards.
The fight didn’t last long - Shane was unwilling to be even half as aggressive as Jackie was. He didn’t want to hurt her. She had no such qualms, and quickly had Shane falling backwards, bringing Ilya down with him. Ilya twisted under water and Shane saw him grinning like some sea God with his hair fanning out around him - dark gold in the dappled sunlight shining through the water. Ilya rubbed Shane through his swim trunks, grasping his hard cock and pumping once before surfacing for air.
Shane came up sputtering and coughing. He’d gasped at Ilya’s brazen move and swallowed some water.
“What the fuck, Hollander? You just let her push you off! You are the most chicken chicken I’ve ever seen!”
“I didn’t want to hurt Jackie! I can’t just push her off,” Shane swam away from Ilya.
“You fucking Canadians, so fucking polite. You hear that Pike? You won on a politeness technicality!”
It wasn’t Hayden who spoke, but Jackie - who was still perched victoriously on her husband’s shoulders. “There are no rules in Chicken Fight, Rozanov. You can’t cry to the ref here. A win is a win, I use Shane’s weaknesses to my advantage.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes at her. “Ruthless. I love it. What are you doing with Pike?”
“Fuck you, Rozanov,” Hayden glared at the Russian, who was giving Jackie his sexy half-grin.
Jackie gave Ilya the most evil grin. “Feel free to hop on Shane’s shoulders and we can have a rematch,” she offered.
“No fucking way,” Shane was shutting that down immediately. For one thing he genuinely didn’t want Jackie to get hurt. But mostly he could not have his head between Ilya’s legs right now. Not even for a Chicken Fight. Jesus.
---
Shane was walking back to his room, T-shirt on and towel around his waist. Ilya jogged to catch up to him in the hotel hallway, his own towels dangling from his fingers. “Hollander, wait up!”
Shane looked back at him with heated eyes - angry and horny. Ilya’s favorite version of Shane. Shane glanced the other way up the hallway and once he’d confirmed it was only the two of them he stepped into his room, gesturing Ilya to follow quickly.
Ilya let Shane shove him up against the wall next to the door. “What the fuck, Ilya?”
It still made Ilya’s heart beat faster, his chest feel tighter, every time he heard Shane call him by his first name. He let it show on his face, the desire, and whatever that feeling was, as he took in Shane’s flushed cheeks. Less than two days in the sun, and Ilya was positive more freckles had sprouted across Shane’s nose. He’d count them, if only he had the time.
Dropping his towel to the floor, Ilya’s hands came up to cup Shane’s face, a thumb brushing over his cheek as his other hand slid around to the back of his neck. He bent his head and captured Shane’s mouth with his own, cutting off any further reprimands. Shane’s hands flexed on Ilya’s bare chest. Ilya thought he might try and push away, so he deepened the kiss. Shane groaned in response and smoothed his hands down Ilya’s chest, stopping just above the waistband of his swim trunks.
Shane’s fingers dipped below the waistband, as he broke off the kiss. “You can’t do that.”
“Do what?” Ilya was genuinely confused. What was Shane talking about? Why was Shane still talking, with his hands inches from Ilya’s dick, and his lips trailing kisses down Ilya’s neck.
“You know what.”
“I really don’t,” Ilya’s head fell back against the wall as Shane kissed his bear tattoo. His tongue darted out to flick Ilya’s nipple. Ilya growled. “I swear to God, Hollander...” Ilya didn’t finish the sentence.
Shane stepped back to strip his own shirt off. “You can’t....turn me on like that. In public.”
Ilya grinned. “Oh? Were you turned on? I’m so very sorry.”
“You suck at apologizing.” Shane dropped his towel to the floor with his shirt.
“I am not Canadian, like you.”
“I think it’s more that you aren’t sorry at all.”
“Of course not. It’s only fair for you to be just as horny as me,” Ilya’s voice dropped lower. He was teasing Shane, but he was also completely serious. It was torture watching Shane poolside, his smooth body glistening in the sun, unable to touch him. Did Shane not realize the effect he had on Ilya?
Shane’s breath hitched at Ilya’s confession, before he let it out in a whoosh, letting his gaze roam down Ilya’s body. Ilya pushed off from the wall to close the distance between them. Shane stepped back again, until he hit the bed behind him. Ilya crowded him until Shane was forced to sit on the bed. Ilya dropped to his knees in front of Shane, hands coming to rest on Shane’s thighs. Ilya breathed in the coconut scent of Shane’s sunscreen and smiled to himself. Of course Shane had liberally applied sun protection. He didn’t understand why, but he found it endearing.
Ilya started moving his hands up Shane’s thighs, eager to remove the damp swim trunks.
“Wait.”
Ilya froze, moving only his eyes to look up at Shane, he raised a single brow.
“I thought we could talk?”
Ilya didn’t particularly feel like talking just yet, but the look in Shane’s eyes. “You’re serious.”
Shane nodded.
“Okay.” Ilya stood up and hesitated briefly before sitting next to Shane on the bed, pulling one leg up sideways so he was facing Shane. His shin was pressed up against the side of Shane’s thigh. Shane tilted his sideways to look up at Ilya, his eyes looked like deep, black pools in the dim light of the hotel room. Ilya could drown in those eyes. Shane wanted to talk though, so Ilya leaned back, placing his hands palm down on the bed behind him.
“So, I’m gay,” Shane said.
“Yes. I gathered,” Ilya agreed when it seemed like Shane was expecting a response.
“And you are, not gay but, bisexual?”
Ilya shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.” What was Shane getting at? Ilya could have had Shane’s dick in his mouth right now.
“And you and I, we...”
“We fuck.” Except for right now, they were definitely not fucking.
Shane whipped his head around to glare at Ilya. He looked angry. And hurt. Ilya’s heart clenched. “Last time we were together...that was more than just fucking, ” Shane said.
Shane didn’t drop Ilya’s gaze, the anger in his eyes faded into pleading. Ilya rolled his lips together. “It was,” he agreed.
“So,” Shane’s hand came to grasp Ilya’s ankle, his thumb moving in slow circles. “What does that mean?”
Ilya sighed. “Nothing, Hollander. It can’t mean anything.”
“Because of the rivalry? What if-”
Ilya leaned back towards Shane, he took Shane’s wrist in one hand as he shook his head. “It’s not that. Not only that.” Shane’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I wouldn’t be able to go home. To Russia.”
Shane visibly deflated, even as Ilya took Shane’s hand in his. Shane shifted so he was on his knees on the bed, putting him at eye-level, facing Ilya. “It’s that bad?” Ilya gave a shrug. He didn’t really know how bad it would be, but he wasn’t about to find out. “What about your family?”
Ilya gave a humorless laugh. “My father is a cop. My brother is a cop.”
“Shit,” Shane breathed out slowly. “Your mom?”
Ilya shook his head. “Dead.”
“ Ilya . I’m sorry,” Shane was rubbing a hand up Ilya’s arm. Ilya tried to focus on the gentle caress, but it was only reminding him of how hopeless this situation was. Not that there was a situation, because there couldn’t be.
“Anyway, now my dad is sick. Alzheimer’s. So who even knows how long he has,” Ilya said in a rush. It felt good to tell someone. Apparently Ilya’s someone was Shane. Even if they couldn’t mean anything. How fucked up was that?
“Hey,” Shane said, forcing Ilya to raise his eyes and look at him. Shane was biting his lip, his nose scrunched up, like he was trying to figure out what to say or do. God, why did he have to look so beautiful? The bare skin of his chest and shoulders glowed in the lamplight. His eyes bore into Ilya’s, so incredibly sweet, and caring.
Ilya’s gaze dropped to Shane’s lips, and he tugged lightly on the hand still clasped in his. Shane leaned forward willingly, eagerly, pushing Ilya back down onto the bed. Their lips met softly, gently, but it felt more intense than any of the hot, frenzied kisses they’d shared before.
---
It was well past lunch time, and Shane was hungry. “We should get something to eat.” He didn’t want to get up though. He was cuddling with Ilya in his bed. Despite everything they said - or hadn’t said earlier, something had definitely changed. It had changed back in Boston, when Shane spent the night at Ilya’s. Even though Ilya said it couldn’t mean anything, it did to Shane.
“Room service?” Ilya suggested. Shane didn’t like the idea of ordering room service. Wouldn’t it be obvious there were two of them? Whatever. There would be plenty of hockey players ordering ridiculous amounts of room service this weekend.
“Hide in the bathroom when they bring it.”
Thirty minutes later they were sitting on the bed across from each other, cross legged. “Our second meal together,” Ilya smiled softly at Shane - not his usual smirk or half grin. It was a sweet gesture, pointing out such a domestic activity, Shane almost forgot to swallow his food, and coughed to avoid choking.
“It’s nice,” Shane finally got out. He hesitated to say more, but he wanted Ilya to know. “I wish we could do this more.”
“I wish we could do a lot of things more.” Shane’s heart soared at Ilya’s words, even as the heaviness of how impossible it would be weighed on him.
“We could go away somewhere. Someday.”
“Yeah. Someday.” Ilya said, wistfully. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Can I stay here later tonight?” Ilya’s voice dropped lower and came out rough with the question. It was sexy, but uncertain. It made Shane long to hold Ilya close, and never let him go. The sudden swell of emotion threatened to overwhelm his senses, so Shane got up and moved the tray to the desk. He turned back to see Ilya watching him, unmoving from his spot on the bed. He was still naked from earlier, the sheet pulled up over his lap. He was tense, waiting for Shane’s response, his soul laid bare in his eyes. Shane could feel how badly he wanted to stay - because Shane wanted it too.
They shouldn’t. It was too risky. But they’d gone way past shouldn’t . They’d crossed that line years ago. He watched Ilya swallow, bringing Shane’s attention to Ilya’s throat. There was no way he could come back from the skills competition and spend the night alone. Shane nodded. “Stay here,” he climbed back onto the bed. The way Ilya’s shoulders relaxed, the smile that brightened his entire face, it was everything.
Shane kissed that gorgeous, smiling mouth. “But first you need to leave. And don’t take it personally when I beat you tonight.”
Ilya growled at that, but he was laughing too. Bringing both hands up to grip Shane around his ribs, he flipped Shane so that he was laying flat on the bed, with Ilya looming over him. The way Ilya moved with so much grace and strength was undeniably sexy, and caused a shiver to run down Shane’s spine. Ilya straddled Shane and kissed him long and deep. Shane was just starting to arch into it - maybe they had time? But Ilya broke off the kiss and jumped up off the bed. He pulled on his now-dry swim trunks and practically skipped out of the room, leaving Shane dazed, and half-hard on his bed.
“See you later, Hollander!”
Shane smiled at the door for a moment before shaking his head and rolling off the bed himself.