Chapter Text
January 2011
Minnesota - All Star game
[Texts]
Ilya: 2513
Shane: Heading over soon. Just finishing dinner with the team.
Ilya: Don’t eat too much. Save room for dessert ;)
Shane: You’re gross.
Ilya: You love it
Shane was smiling at his phone. He did love it. Even more so because he barely got to see Rozanov and he was really looking forward to seeing him again. They only saw each other twice a year; three if they both went to the All Star game - the first for both was this weekend.
When they first hooked up in July 2009, just before their Rookie season, he thought that was going to be the only time they would hook up. Afterall, it was a mistake. It never should have happened in the first place. It was hot (VERY hot), but wrong. Shane wasn’t even sure about his sexuality, but he knew enough that if he was going to experiment with men, it should absolutely NOT be with Ilya Rozanov. Then their NHL careers started and their teams met for the first time during the regular season. First in Vancouver, then in Boston. The next season, they met up in Vancouver again. They knew by now that there was no escaping this….whatever it was. It was getting increasingly difficult to stay away from each other, no matter how risky and wrong it was.
Shane knew Rozanov got around with lots of women in practically every city he played in. There were plenty of Pap pictures online to prove this. Who could blame him, really - a young hot superstar at the peak of his physical condition and hockey career (and who could blame the women??). He’s young, gorgeous, charismatic, built like a Greek God; women are constantly throwing themselves at him - and he takes full advantage of it. If Shane was into women the same way Rozanov was, he might even feel a bit competitive about it with him. But he doesn’t. It’s not that he doesn’t LIKE women, but he’s never gotten aroused by them the same way he gets aroused by Rozanov. Which is kind of too bad. That would’ve been easier. Though Shane’s hoping he just hasn’t met the right woman yet. But that’s not important now anyways. He’s WAY too focused on his hockey career. There will be time for relationship stuff later.
Ilya was definitely an experienced lover (though Shane hated that word, it was the only word he could think of to describe what Rozanov was to him. He certainly wasn’t anything close to a boyfriend - that was WAY out of the realm of possibilities anyway, but they weren’t exactly friends either. They were friendly enough towards each other in private - though not much conversation ever happened. They pretty much got down to business right away. And “Fuck Buddy” just seemed too crass - so - Lover it was). Shane was learning fast though. He’d started to learn what turns Ilya on and he thinks his BJ skills have vastly improved since their first time together.
Now, in their second year in the NHL, they both had the fortune of being named to the All Star game in Minnesota. They took full advantage of the entire weekend and hooked up in each other’s rooms as much as possible (the advantage of being an All Star - you get your own room. No sharing!)
~~~~~~~
The All Star break had been great. It was always nice to be around players that he idolized when he was growing up and other great players just a few years older than him. These were the best players in the NHL and Shane Hollander was officially one of them! He knew that most of the players there took coming to this thing with a grain of salt. They didn’t take it seriously; afterall, it’s not like the goals or assists you scored counted towards your yearly stats.
But despite his eagerness and excitement at being at his first All Star game, hockey was second for Shane in terms of the other kinds of fun he’d be having this weekend.
He got a text from Rozanov indicating he was in his room and ready for him on their last night in Minnesota.
He knocked on room 2513. The door opened a quick moment later. As soon as he entered the room, Ilya lunged at Shane without warning. One hand tight around his waist and the other at the back of his head, pulling his face in to meet his. Their lips crashed together hungrily. Shane’s hands fumbled, pulling at the hem of Ilya’s shirt to pull it up over his head. They stumbled towards the bed, lips not separating. They almost tripped over themselves as they tried to undress as quickly as possible without breaking their kiss. They were starving.
They did, though, break apart long enough to step out of their pants and underwear and only when they were both completely naked did they fall on the bed together, Ilya on top of Shane.
Ilya darted his tongue deep into Shane’s eager mouth again, exploring every inch and moaning with hunger as their hands held onto each others’ faces to deepen the kiss.
Their bodies were grinding; their obvious excitement pushing up against each other’s thighs, pre cum already leaking from both of them making the grinding a little slicker and stickier.
Ilya slid down Shane’s body, peppering his chest with kisses, paying special attention to his nipples. He grabbed one between his teeth and gently pulled, eliciting a new sound from Shane that made Ilya’s cock twitch more. Ilya softly licked at the nipple to soften the bite, which only made Shane's cry louder. He moved further down Shane's body and swallowed his cock in one swift movement. The abruptness of it all made Shane’s back arch and a loud moan escape from his gut. Ilya settled into a rhythm that took Shane dangerously close to the edge in about 2 minutes.
“Fuck fuck fuck, Rozanov stop stop stop!!!” He desperately needed to come, but not like this. Not this quickly when they just started.
Rozanov hesitantly pulled up, popping his lips off the head of Shane’s cock and bringing his mouth to a wide, toothy grin!
“So close already, Hollander! You missed me!”
“Fuck you!” Shane hissed back, but he found it hard to hide the slight smile starting to spread on his face.
“As you wish, Moy zloy kotonok. Roll over” He demanded in a whisper in Shane’s ear and patted his thigh, which sent shivers down his spine.
Shane rolled over obediently. He didn’t know what the Russian words Ilya said meant, but it felt dirty and that made him feel hot all over, disturbing the butterflies in his stomach. He’d never get over how much he loves being told what to do by this man. For a very brief moment, he allowed himself to think about how it might feel to be the one doing the “telling”; to be the one in charge. He’d never really thought about that before, but suddenly, it prompted an electric shock through his body. He filed that thought under “things to think about later” and he returned his thoughts to the hot man looming above him, preparing to fuck him senseless.
Ilya reached over to his side table and grabbed the lube and condom he had taken out earlier to prepare for this and set them on the bed beside Shane. He took a moment to appreciate the vision before him: Shane on all fours, back slightly arched, his beautiful round, puckered ass facing him; waiting so eagerly for him. He’s not sure what he loves more: Shane’s eagerness and greed for his cock, or the actual act of fucking Shane Hollander like this, when he’s so desperate for him.
Ilya ran his left hand up Shane’s back up to his shoulder and pushed him down slightly, so his head was closer to the mattress; mindlessly rubbing his back. His other hand, now covered in lube, ran up and down the slit of Shane’s ass, stopping to gently circle around his rim, applying slight pressure to his hole. He slowly let a finger penetrate while he bent down to kiss Shane’s back and neck where his left hand was still rubbing patterns on his skin.
“Is good? Or you want more?” Ilya breathed into Shane’s ear.
“More….please! Always more” Shane barely moaned out in response.
Ilya pushed another finger in, this time deeper.
“Oh god Rozanov, yes yes yes! Like that”
Ilya slowly slipped a third finger in and was working them in and out now, a little bit faster. Hooking his fingers just right to hit his prostate.
“Oh Jesus Christ that feels so good. Yes, don’t stop”
“I won’t stop, moy kotenyok but you want my fingers to fuck you or you want my cock? Because if you’re good enough with my fingers, I can get you off like this too.” Ilya loved teasing Shane, even though his own cock was hard as a fucking rock and was threatening to spill completely any second.
“Fuck you! You know I want more. This is good but I need…”
“What? Tell me”
“More. I need more. I need you” Shane was barely audible but it was enough. He was getting heady and was barely able to think straight.
“You have me. You have my fingers” Ilya teased more, smiling behind Shane's back.
“Fuck off! You know what I mean!” Shane’s whimpering now.
“Use your words, Hollander”
“Fuck….omigod…I need…I need your cock. Inside of me! Fuck! Are you happy?” He was almost crying out of frustration. It still felt so good but he needed more. He was aching for Ilya’s cock.
That’s all Ilya needed to hear.
In one swift movement, Ilya removed his fingers from Shane’s ass, grabbed the condom and ripped it open with his teeth and rolled it on his very sensitive cock. He grabbed Shane’s hips to position himself behind him and as he gently brought the head of his cock to Shane’s hole, Shane sank his head and chest further down onto the mattress, effectively bringing his ass closer to Ilya.
“Always such an eager slut for my cock” he growled, which sent more shivers through Shane and made his cock drip more on the mattress below him.
“Please, Rozanov. Fuck! I need to feel you”
With a grunt, Ilya pushed himself into Shane. Slow and gentle at first. Pushed in maybe an inch, then pulled back. He repeated that a few more times”
“Fuck! More! I need more and harder, Rozanov! Fuck!!
“So greedy! Vot on, moy kotenyok. As you wish!” and he thrust hard into Shane.
The guttural noise that emitted from the pit of Shane’s stomach would be embarrassing to him any other time, but right now he didn’t give a shit. This all felt WAY too good to care. And the Russian mixed in with English did something to him. He tried to make a mental note to try to remember to ask Rozanov what it meant. But that thought was very quickly fucked out of his brain as Ilya started pumping harder and faster.
For Ilya, seeing Shane like this, moaning and panting and splaying himself so wonderfully for him was enough to make him come much sooner than he’d like. He needed to slow down. As he did, he folded down and kissed Shane’s back up to his neck. He brought his right hand around his throat and gently pulled him up onto his lap as he continues to fuck him. Ilya kissed his neck and ear and whispered to Shane “Touch yourself. I need to come soon and I want to see you come first”
Without hesitation, Shane grabbed a hold of his painfully hard cock that had already leaked quite a bit on the bed and started gently stroking it.
“Da, like that Hollander”
“Oh fuck…..I’m gonna come soon”
“Yes, come for me Hollander” Ilya was holding onto Shane by his waist and neck and thrusting into him harder again as he felt his own climax coming to a massive crescendo.
“Omigod….fuckfuckfuck….I’m coming” Shane slouched down out of Ilya’s grasp while still holding onto his spurting cock, making a wonderful mess in his hand and on the sheet below him.
“Fuck Hollander…trakhni menya” Ilya growls as he slowed down and stilled, releasing himself inside Shane. His head foggy and his vision spotty as he flopped down on top of Shane and then rolled to the side, his chest resting along Shane’s back, in order to avoid crushing him.
Shane was still holding his now limp dick. His senses slowly coming back to him. He let go of his cock and looked down.
“Ew. I need to clean up” He panted, but didn't move. His legs had forgotten how to move and Ilya lay behind him, arm draped over his chest, felt too good to try to move away from right now anyway.
It was Ilya that finally moved first. His body felt like lead, but he managed to peel himself away. The absence of his cock from Shane’s body made him shiver in a way he hadn’t felt before. It’s a feeling he wished he could feel all the time. Forever. He loves how Shane’s body always felt like an extension of his own and as soon as they separated, it was like getting a limb cut off. As quickly as that thought entered his mind though, he pushed it out and shook his head, internally scolding himself for allowing these kinds of thoughts to enter his brain in the first place. He blamed the sex. No one ever thought straight during or right after sex.
He got up and walked to the bathroom, tied off the condom and deposited it in the bin. He grabbed a couple of washcloths, wet them in warm water and came back. He cleaned Shane off first - handing one of the washcloths to him so he can wipe his hand and used the other to wipe his backside gently. Shane winced at the feeling, but it was a good feeling. Like when you work out and rip your muscles - the next day your legs might hurt, but it’s a good hurt.
After they were both cleaned off, they sat up in bed for a few minutes in mostly silence, regaining composure. They ask each other about their upcoming games, figuring out when they’ll next see each other. It’ll be in Boston a couple months from now. It was comfortable - this silence with small talk, but a little awkward at the same time because they soon ran out of hockey dates to talk about and talking about anything else seemed too personal and not “them”. Before Shane could get in his head about it too much, he decided to get up.
“I should get going. My flight leaves early tomorrow, so…you know”
“Yes. I need to shower and sleep.” Ilya looked away towards the bathroom, like he was willing it to pull him away so he didn't have to look at Shane as he leaves.
“Ya. I need to shower too” He kind of wished Ilya would invite him to stay and maybe shower together. But why would he? That was stupid. The only time they ever showered together was to START sex. It started with heavy kissing under the waterfall head, licking and kissing all over and one of them on their knees to blow the other one. Then they’d dry off and continue on the bed. But afterwards - AFTER sex - when they were both spent, they never showered together like that. Shane can imagine how warm and enveloping it might feel when all they would do is clean each other and maybe lazily kiss until they were done, then they could dry off and crawl into bed together and just doze off, cuddling.
OK….what the hell was that?? Where did those thoughts come from?
Shane had to shake his head a bit to rid his brain of these kinds of thoughts. He KNOWS he can’t have these thoughts. He just wished he could control his brain to prevent them from happening in the first place.
Shane got dressed quickly and walked to the door. As he was about to leave, he looked up at Rozanov one last time and caught him staring at him. There was a look in his eyes he couldn’t quite place. Sadness? Intrigue? He wasn’t sure. But as soon as Shane met his eyes, the look on Ilya’s face changed; he held his chin up high as if to preserve some level of something in himself.
“Goodnight Hollander” He said, before dropping his gaze and walking into the bathroom.
“Goodnight.” Shane walked out the door. Feeling satisfied physically (as he always does), he realized that something didn't sit right with him. He wasn't sure if it was his own feelings (he hates his feelings sometimes) or the look on Rozanov’s face at one point during sex and just now when he left. He ultimately decides it was nothing and pushed the thought out of his mind. For now.
~~~~~~~~~~
February 14, 2011
The All Star game last month was fun and Ilya had loved the extra time he got to spend with Hollander. It was rare they got that much time together, but there’s still a lot of the season left and he needs to focus on hockey. The Canucks would come to Boston later this year anyways - in March, so he still had one more visit to look forward to. For now though, in February, the Boston Raiders had their annual “Waiter, There’s a Puck in my Soup” charity dinner. It’s a fun night where the players dress up and act as waiters to guests who made a minimum donation of $500 towards the Team’s charity of choice. For the Raiders, it’s the Boston Children’s Hospital.
Ilya partook last year when he was a Rookie, but didn’t have nearly as much fun as he was having this second year. Last year his English wasn’t as good as it is now so hearing what the guests wanted was difficult and frustrating. Also, never having waited tables before, he wasn’t comfortable with the whole ordeal.
This year, he was ready. He was funny and acted like a clown the way he does in the locker room after a practice. He was putting cloth napkins over kids' heads and playing tricks on them. He would pretend to put the wrong plate down in front of someone and tell them they were wrong, then laugh and put the plate down in front of the correct person; things like that. The people loved his energy. They were having fun and he was having fun.
Once all the guests had been served, the players got a break. The actual Hotel restaurant staff completed the experience by refilling drinks and taking away empty plates, etc. Right now, the players went to another room and grabbed a bite to eat themselves. After the guests finished eating, they would have to make themselves available again for photos and polite conversations so the guests got the most bang for their donation.
After Ilya had eaten, he excused himself to go out for a smoke. He found a back door just off the kitchen - perfect! It’ll be clear and quiet and he can enjoy a few moments of solitude before heading back in.
After his second drag, the door swung open. Well that was brief. A tall, slender woman with shoulder length blonde, wavy hair came out. She was wearing a red, floor length strapless sequin dress that had a high slit going up the right side, almost to her ass. She had a pashmina covering her shoulders and was clutching a purse in her left hand. She had bright red lipstick that matched her dress that gave the impression of someone who was calculating and ruthless. But what does he know?
“Fancy meeting you here,” the woman said. Ilya looked up at her and thought he recognized her but wasn’t sure from where. He was taking maybe a bit too long trying to place her because then she said “I’m Heather…..Brookheim? The General Manager’s wife?” as she extended her hand to him.
“Right! Of course. Nice to meet you. Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked while reaching out to shake her hand back.
“Yes, the meal was great and it’s all for a great cause”
“I am glad. And yes, is a very good cause”
“The only problem is, I forgot my cigarettes back at my hotel” She put on her best puppy dog eyes.
Of course. Ilya, being the gentleman he is (when he wants to be), pulled his pack out from his jacket pocket and offered Heather a cigarette.
“Thank you” she purred. Ilya then reached over and lit the cigarette for her.
“So, are you having a good time with the Raiders this year?”
“Yes. Is good so far. They are a good team and I am scoring a lot. I think we can go far this year. Maybe even win the cup!”
“Right. It’s a shame though, if you boys win this year, then you won’t qualify to draft Connor Williams in the off-season. With talent like that, there’s no saying HOW far you can get”
Ilya looked at her thoughtfully, actually confused about why she would say anything like that - especially to him. Does she not realize who he was? That he was drafted 1st overall just a couple of years ago?. Maybe his English wasn’t as good as he thought. He needed clarification.
“Well, if we win the cup, then we won't need anybody like Connor Williams. I am here now and I think we are good enough. We have good depth. We do not need anything else.”
“Yes, you’re very good dear. But what you’re failing to understand is that Connor is my nephew and he’s already a superstar in the OHL. He’s projected to be the next Wayne Gretzky, did you know that? The Raiders would love to draft him in the upcoming draft. But only if the Raiders are bad enough this season. You know as well as I do that a team that wins the Cup can’t get the 1st overall pick. I mean, you were the 1st overall pick, were you not? How did Boston finish the year before you were drafted? 2nd last overall, if I remember. And look what they got in you”
Is she seriously suggesting what he thinks she is?? He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts so he could make sure he was saying the right words.
“So you’re suggesting Raiders lose on purpose to try to get a high draft pick in the summer that we do not need?”
“Oh honey! That’s not what I’m saying at all! All I’m saying is - keep playing, but don’t focus on trying too hard. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself or you won’t even make the playoffs. I know you’re the best player on the team, Ilya, is it? Did I say that right?”
He gave one curt nod while looking into her steely eyes, blowing smoke out. Smoke may as well have been blowing out of his ears with how heated he felt right now. She moved a foot closer, facing him now and raised a hand and put it on his chest.
“You’re the best in the league right now. Well, in the east anyway. That Hollander kid out west is pretty great too, but Connor doesn’t want to play out west. He wants to play in Boston, where he grew up. The problem is, there isn’t room for two superstars on one team. There just isn’t enough cap space, so I’m asking for your help to solve a bit of a financial problem, if you will”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! She was actually asking him to throw games in order to be BAD enough to get her nephew on the team where he’s the newest star. Is she actually out of her mind??? And was this her idea or did her husband, the GM, set her up to talk to him about this?? This was all way too much!
While she was talking, she was rubbing her hand over his chest, finishing her thoughts with her hand cupping over Ilya’s dick and giving it a gentle but firm squeeze, as if that would sway him.
The movement made him flinch. He realized that his cigarette had burned down to the filter. He dropped it and stepped back from her and composed himself before he spoke again.
“I think you’re talking to the wrong person about this. I think maybe you need to have a talk with your husband to see if there is a way that your nephew can be happy without involving me. I do not have the power you might think I do. I am just one player and the whole team is good. But even if I DID have that kind of power, I would never throw games. It is not the kind of player I am. I worked my ass off my whole life to play in NHL. I will not throw it away for some kid I don’t know.” Ilya took a breath and continued. “I will not say anything to anybody about this conversation yet. I think maybe you are confused with who I am and what I do for this team; and what I will NOT do to this team. Now, I need to go back inside” He turned to walk inside. She grabbed him by the arm to stop him and tried one last tactic.
“I work my ass off too. And I always get what I want. Think long and hard about our chat. If you do the right thing, you’ll be rewarded in kind. But if you don’t….well, you’ll see” She gave him a wink, turned on her heel and walked past him, back inside.
Ilya waited outside for another 2 minutes pondering over what just happened. He felt like he was going to throw up. His stomach churned and his head was spinning.
Was this a dream? A nightmare, actually? What the hell just happened? Did the Boston Raider’s GM’s wife just come outside and THREATEN his career if he didn’t lose games on purpose?? What in the actual fuck?? It felt like a movie - a horror movie. These things don’t actually happen in real life, do they? He realized he’s going to need to tell somebody about this conversation, but he needed to gather his thoughts first and figure out what he’s going to say and to whom, so they actually believe him; because this all sounds pretty fucking unbelievable. If only he’d been smart enough to record the chat; but why would he think he would even need to? He glanced up and around. Of course, no cameras around. Fuck.
He slowly went back inside. He beelined to the washroom, had a piss and cleaned himself up - straightened his hair and ran his hands over his suit to flatten it down. After he composed himself, he went back out to the party. He found the rest of his teammates and put on his “charity event” face. A forced smile and fake facade, the whole bit. Most of the guests were done with their dinner. Music was playing and people were wandering around looking for their favourite players to take pictures with.
Ilya did a good job of entertaining for the rest of the night, though his hands were shaking most of the time and he couldn’t stop thinking about the talk in the back alley with Heather. It felt like the longest 2 hours of his life. Every once in a while he’d catch Heather’s eye and she’d just wink at him and look away. His stomach cramped up each time.
The charity dinner took place on February 14th. He still hadn’t spoken to anyone about what happened. He didn’t know who to go to and really, what to say without sounding like an egotistical crazy man. On February 16th, Ilya received a phone call from Heather.
“What?” He spoke into the phone abruptly.
“Is that any way to answer the phone to someone who holds your career in the palm of her hands?”
“What…..please? Thank you? What do you want?” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Oh darling, you’re so cute! Have you had more time to think about my offer?”
“What is offer? This is not offer. There is nothing good for me in this. You tell me I need to lose. I cannot do that. Russians do not lose on purpose. And if I do not lose, then what?”
“Well, then I find another way to get what I want. But I DO always get what I want. Mark my words” and she hung up the phone.
He just looked at his phone incredulously. What the hell does that mean?
The following week, Ilya Rozanov found out exactly what that meant.