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Ilya hovers in the familiar alleyway, shifting his weight back foot to foot. He's nervous, and he doesn't like it.
He sucks in a breath, and pulls out his phone.
Jane.
It rings out several time.
Come on, asshole. I know you're just lying there scrolling. What else would you be doing? Stop staring at screen with your cute little worried face and just -
"…Rozanov?"
"Hello, Hollander."
"Why are you calling me? We don't call."
"Well, obviously we do."
Hollander snorts. "What do you want?"
"If I stay out here much longer, I might be murdered. Would not be very good for your sex life."
Hollander is silent, and Ilya waits, letting him piece it together.
"…you're here? Like, here here?"
"Da, Hollander. This alleyway is a bit nicer during daytime. But still cold, my dick might fall off if you keep asking questions. This is also not good for your sex life."
"You have fingers," Hollander shoots back, and Ilya grins into the phone. "Sorry. Wait. Fuck, you're here? Now?"
"Yes."
"You have a game tomorrow!"
"Yes. Tomorrow. Come let me in front."
"I can't, someone might see…oh, fuck, I can't - "
"Mm, yes. No stairs for you right now on that knee, I am guessing, so no kissing in fire escape for us. Will have to be front door."
"I…yeah, fine. I can't carry my phone around on these stupid crutches, so let me just - " The line goes dead.
Ilya waits a few moments to give Hollander a head start, before ducking around to the front door.
It slides open, and Hollander leans against the wall inside, panting and glassy-eyed from pain.
"Zhopa," Ilya mutters. "Idiot," he repeats in English, to make sure Hollander gets the message. "You look like you ran down hallway. Bad for knee."
"You called me with zero notice!" he snaps back. "I would have - fucking showered, at least."
"That will be more fun together, anyway," he winks. He shuts the door behind him, so Hollander doesn't have to.
"What are you doing here, Rozanov?"
Ilya strolls in Hollander's kitchen, dumping the bag of groceries there. Hollander fumbles for his crutches, and hops slowly to the stool, wincing. There's a bulky, black brace strapped on over his left knee, keeping it bent.
"Is like when captains visit injured players in hospital. I did not like watching you get hurt last week in game, so I come to see you and…" He clicks his tongue, trying to remember how the English words go. "…offer condolences."
"Except…you're not the opposing captain. And we're not in hospital. And, maybe I'm wrong, but I didn't have sex with anyone last time I was in hospital for an injury."
"Sex, Hollander?? In your condition? You pervert, I would never." Ilya gives him a sly grin.
Hollander really frowns then. "You came over to…not have sex?" He finally notices the grocery bag. "What's that?"
"Snacks. Good ones. I am sure you have only flavourless crackers as special treat in your diet, yes?"
"…maybe. Shut up! Maybe I like my crackers."
"Liar. You are injured. You get good snacks when you are injured." Ilya fixes him with a stubborn glare as he pulls out some fruits, chips, and chocolates. Those are for him. Unless he can tempt Hollander into a bit of indulgence.
"You got this…for me?" His voice cracks a little.
Ilya studies him properly for a moment. His skin is a washed-out grey under his freckles. Pain draws his mouth tight, and he can see the restlessness jumping under his skin. No, being benched is not going well for Shane Hollander. The sky is also blue.
"I refuse to eat your boring snacks while we watch whatever boring movie is your favourite, Hollander," he says, and watches him melt a little with satisfaction.
"It's not boring," he grumbles.
"What is it?"
"Planet Earth is a classic."
Ilya groans dramatically, rounding the countertop. "Please tell me the animals at least have sex."
"Now who's the pervert?" Hollander says with a little smile. It's his first one today. Ilya smiles back.
"Ah, but at least I am honest pervert." He wraps his arms around him, and tucks Hollander's head under his chin. He sighs and melts into him. "You pretend not to be obsessed with sex. Is hot, though, so I forgive you."
"Shut up," he mumbles into his chest. "This is really, weirdly nice of you. Sorry I keep snapping. It's been…a bit shit, all cooped up in here for a whole fucking week."
One of his hands smooths a slow, firm path down Hollander's back, and the other cradles the back of his head, right where it always helps calm him.
"You must be golden boy out there, Hollander, but in here, you can snap at me, okey?"
"Okay." He melts beneath his touch.
"And why is everyone always surprised when I am nice? I am wonderful."
Hollander smiles up at him. "Because you're an asshole."
"Wow. I cannot believe English dictionary changed overnight. And now "asshole" means 'wonderful, sexy Russian man and brilliant center'."
"Above-average center."
Ilya tightens a fist in Hollander's hair, which just makes him melt more.
"Better than that fucking Columbus guy. We play them next week, will check him right through the fucking boards for kneeing you like that."
Hollander looks up at him with a slightly dopey expression.
"What? What is your face doing?"
"Nothing." But Hollander's beautiful eyes are always so easy to read. Kiss me.
And Ilya does. He goes slowly, enjoying the gentle familiarity of Shane Hollander's tongue on his. He keeps his hands firm on Hollander's body as tension drains out of him. Relax. I have you.
He rests a hand on his chin, happy to see Hollander's eyes are already half-hazy.
"We will go to shower," he purrs into his ear. "Then watch animals not have sex. I will leave once you are asleep tonight."
"Okay," he sighs, like a prayer. Ilya smiles down at him.
"I will pick you up now."
"I - wait, no, fuck - "
Ilya wraps his arms firmly around his ribs, and picks him up all at once, still upright.
"Rozanov!" he laughs. "For fuck's sake, put me down!" But Hollander's arms tighten around him.
"I will sling you over shoulder like fireman if you do not behave," he grins. "Might do it anyway as a sex thing."
"I thought you said no sex while I'm injured," Hollander grumbles as he walks through the house.
"Did I? I forgot, thank you for reminding me."
"Wait, that's not - put me down, I fucking stink!"
Ilya buries his nose in his armpit and sniffs as deeply as he can. Hollander slaps him, hard enough to sting, not hard enough to mean it. "Nearly there, Hollander. Thank fuck for your downstairs bathroom."
"That's part of why I bought this place. And I've had handrails installed - "
"That's nice. Where is little shower stool? Ah, there. Thought you might be idiot about it and try to shower standing."
"No!" Ilya lowers him onto the stool. "During the acute phase of a ligament injury, it's important to keep the angle of the knee bent to - "
Ilya groans loudly. "You know, Boston goalie hurt knee last year, ligament, something, something. He walked around a bar for two hours after game before getting it looked at. And he stills plays."
Hollander raises his eyebrows skeptically. "And does he have pain?"
"I think it is time for you to get clothes off now."
Hollander grins smugly, but pulls off his hoodie and shirt. Ilya kneels before him to take care of the brace.
Hollander watches with shadowed eyes as Ilya releases the straps and slides it off, fingers gentle.
"Keep knee bent, yes?"
He nods. "To thirty degrees or more."
"Whatever the fuck that means." Hollander rolls his eyes, and slides off his pants and boxers with a bit of help. His cock lies soft against his thigh.
"Wow. Is like endangered species. Maybe it will make it into your documentary?"
"What?"
"This might be my first sighting of soft Hollander dick," Ilya grins.
Until Hollander reaches up behind him, and turns on the shower. Ilya yelps and ducks out before his clothes get soaked. "Fucking asshole!"
Hollander is laughing so hard he might fall off the stool. Ilya tears his clothes off as fast as he can - although not for the reasons he's used to, when at Hollander's house - and slams his mouth on his under the spray. Mostly just to shut him up.
"You are so, very, very lucky you are injured, Shane Hollander," he growls into his ear.
"Am I?" he gasps, arching up beneath him.
"Yes. If you tried trick like that when I didn't have to treat you oh, so, nicely…" His mouth is wonderfully pliant as Ilya devours him. "…I would slam your face into wall and take you, right here." He reaches for Shane's body wash, and smooths slippery hands over his shoulders, watching his squrim beneath his hands and his words.
"But you know I don't like it in the shower," he whines.
"I know, solnyshko." The pet name slips out before Ilya can stop it, but Shane is too far gone to notice. "Maybe I would get lube, but why bother? Water would just wash it away. Your little hole is slutty enough to take me without it by now, yes?"
"No," Hollander gasps, blushing beautifully. "Would hurt."
"It would, and you would hate that, wouldn't you?" Shane is too busy chasing his mouth to answer, so Ilya slaps him on the cheek. "Wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he moans.
"Water would get in your mouth, hard to breath, oh no. The tiles would be all rough against your nice, pretty cheek."
"Fuck," Shane bucks beneath his firm hands. His cock begs for his attention. Ilya drops a hand to it, but doesn't move, denying Shane any friction at all.
"If I wanted to be nice, I could bend you right over into one of your pretty yoga shapes, give you only your ankles to hold on to as I fuck you."
"Rozanov. Please."
Ilya just laughs into his mouth. "Ah! Keep still, Hollander. Don't want to hurt your knee."
"I can keep it still." Those big, dark eyes blink up at him, and Ilya nearly gives in. "Are you really not going to…?"
"Of course not! You are injured. And I hear abstinence is good for your health, you need it for your recovery." Ilya slaps his face lightly again with a grin.
"Why are you such an asshole?" he sighs, and slumps, letting Ilya soap up his armpits.
"Because you love it." He ignores Hollander's shifting hips and focuses on getting him clean. Slowly, Shane's body unwinds under his touch, until he's no more than a blinking, dazed puddle. Ilya shuts off the water and fetches a towel.
"I get you clothes?"
"Mn. I want to choose them," he mumbles sleepily. "You'd probably put me in a corset if you could."
"Don't give me these ideas, solnyshko, I'm not supposed to fuck you. Come on." Ilya slides the brace back on over Hollander's damp knee, and once secured, scoops him up again. He's warm and melted in his arms now, as Ilya carries him to his downstairs bedroom, and seats him at the end of the bed. Ilya gives him one last little kiss before he fetches his crutches from the kitchen.
Ilya sprawls out naked on the bed as Hollander hops around and looks through his drawers. He smirks at his half-hard cock, bobbing awkwardly in the air.
"Hollander, some asshole got my clothes all wet, and not in the usual fun way. Please help." A hoodie smacks him in the chest, followed by a few other things. Ilya tries not to breath in too much of Hollander's pine-musk aftershave, suck it down and tuck it away into his lungs for when he's lonely on the road. Just like after every hook-up, when his scent lingers on Ilya's clothes.
He helps Hollander dress, and tosses the boxers aside that he picked out. Hollander watches with dark, hopeful eyes, but doesn't comment. He's so cute when he's sleepy like this, and he has some more colour in his cheeks. Good.
"Movie?" Ilya says softly, holding his chin so that Hollander will blink at him.
"Mm." He slumps forwards, and they kiss for a while, so lazily that Ilya loses track of time.
A while later, they curl up on the couch together. Ilya arranges a pillow carefully between Hollander's knees to support his leg, and he lets him. Ilya slides in behind him and pulls him against his chest so he can breath in his shampoo. He snakes a hand under his hoodie to pinch his nipple. Hollander pushes back against him with a little gasp, and grinds his ass right against Ilya's cock.
He grabs his hip to still him. "Quiet, Hollander, you'll hurt yourself."
"For fuck's sake." He switches on the TV. "You love this, don't you?"
"No. Am very sad you are hurt."
"Sure. Asshole."
Ilya doesn't watch a single second of the documentary. He's too focused on sliding his hand over the hot, smooth skin of his ribs, tickling his belly until he squirms. They both drift.
After a while, Ilya can't take it anymore. As carefully as he can, he slips a hand into his tracksuit pocket, and the little tube he hid there earlier.
Hollander goes very still as Ilya's hand sneaks down the back if his pants, and one slick fingertip rests over his hole.
"Rozanov," he breathes.
"Yes, Hollander?"
"Um." He can almost hear his brain whirring, ready to say that's not injury recovery. "…never mind."
Ilya kisses his ear with a grin. "Good. Watch your animals. I will be quizzing you later."
"Oka - ohh." Ilya's finger slides inside him with barely any resistance. Fuck, he is incredible.
Ilya stays almost still inside him, moving in just tiny circles. He lets his growing cock rest against his ass, lets his desire press into Shane, who jerks back against him. When Ilya's so hard he's aching, he withdraws his finger.
Shane lies very still as Ilya rolls on a condom and slips their pants down just a little. Ilya barely adds any more lube, just holds Shane's hip tight, and slides home.
He stifles a moan into Shane's shoulder. Fuck. Perfect. A little too tight, a little too dry. He knows Shane loves it too by the way he whimpers.
"Sh sh sh, solnyshko. Focus." Ilya relaxes, nestled inside him. His hands resume their wandering path along Hollander's skin, trembling a little now. "We absolutely, definitely, should not fuck, Hollander," he sighs into his ear. "I could never hurt you like that."
"Liar," Shane mumbles into the couch.
"Yes. Shh," he smiles, and kisses his cheek. "I was telling you how fucking you would be irresponsible, and am very responsible guy. But I come over here and I bring you nice snacks that you are ignoring…"
"'M distracted…"
"..shhh…and I make you all nice and clean and I even touched your dick a little bit, you are very welcome."
"Barely."
"Shut up, Hollander. And now I just want to put my dick somewhere warm and tight and I found this beautiful little hole back here. So I will just relax and enjoy it, okey?"
"Okay."
"Maybe I fall asleep with you wrapped around me, hm? Wake up in the morning with a wet cock and a desperate boy trying to use me to get off?"
"Yes," Shane whines and squirms in his grip.
"Stop that, I am trying to sleep."
Ilya lasts almost half an hour like that, keeping still inside him. Shane's hole milks him beautifully, and he tries to buck back against him, but Ilya keeps him pinned him down. Ilya's cock doesn't flag for a second. He never wants to leave.
But finally, he can't take it anymore, and by Hollander's red cheeks and glassy eyes, neither can he.
At the first little roll of his hips, Shane shudders, a broken cry spilling out.
Ilya forgets their little game for a moment. "Beautiful, solnyshko, so beautiful for me," he mumbles. It's like Shane is stroking him, his velvet walls desperate around his cock.
"Plea - " Hollander's hand presses over his crotch, over his cock, no doubt leaking a small mess onto his thighs by now.
"Come on, Hollander, you need hand on your dick to come? You can do better than that." Shane snatches his hand back like he's been burned, clutching Ilya's over his hip instead.
Fuck, he meant to last longer, but Shane's scent is in his nose, and he's making the sweetest little whimpers, and Ilya just can't -
It takes only one thrust, a little harder than the rest, and Ilya is curled around a trembling Shane, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he spills inside him.
Shane can't hold back then, and a tear trickles down his face as Ilya goes soft inside him,
"Please, Rozanov, please, I need it…"
"Need what, solnyshko? Tell me."
"Please let me come, I've been so good…"
"You have been perfect little hole," Ilya purrs. "You think perfect little holes should get to come?"
"Yes," he moans.
"I think we should lie here and wait for my cock to get hard again - " He bites his earlobe, and Shane keens. " - and then I will fuck you until your knee is bent sideways and you will never walk again, but you won't care, will you?"
"No," he sobs, face screwed up and broken.
"Because you will have my cock, and nothing else will matter, yes?"
"Yes."
And Ilya almost did it, too. He meant to wait until he was hard again and he could fuck Shane the way he deserved. Most of him wanted to.
But he was so beautiful.
Ilya slid his hand under Hollander's waistband, and has to gasp as how wet his cock was.
"Oh, wow, poor thing. What horrible person left you all desperate like this?"
But Shane has no words left, just little whimpers, as Ilya strokes him. He keeps his hand gentle, with a little slide of his thumb along his slit the way, just the way he likes it. Ilya can actually feel himself getting harder again inside him. Shane must, too, because he grinds his hips back, and now Ilya lets him.
"It's alright, Hollander, just relax, I take care of you. Come for me." There's no bite left to his words, no teasing. Ilya drops kisses over Hollander's teary face and swallows his grateful cries as he finally spills into his hand.
They stay like that until the end of the documentary, Hollander's soft cock in his fingers, and Ilya's cock still buried inside him.
Hollander is mostly asleep when the credits start to roll. Ilya manages to slip out from behind him without waking him, and cleans off his hand. He returns, and scoops him up, careful with his knee.
Ilya carries Shane through his dark house to his bed. He sighs as Ilya lays him out and rolls his pants down. He cleans him gently with the towel, before sliding on the clean boxers and light pants, so that the brace so it won't pinch in his sleep.
Ilya tucks the doona around him, listening for gentle sighs that tell him he's comfortable.
Once he's sure Hollander is settled, he pauses. Lingers.
"…zanov," he mumbles.
"Da?" Ilya strokes his hair.
"…f you fuck up your knee…want me to…suck your dick n…better?"
Ilya smiles, and drops a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. Anything you do would make me feel better, Hollander.
"Won't fuck up my knee. I am invincible."
"Assho…"
"Yes. Sleep well, Hollander."
"…ank y…"
Ilya gives himself have one last kiss, before he creeps through the house, and lets himself out the fire escape.
His phone buzzes two days later.
Jane: These snacks are really good. Thank you.
Ilya smiles at his screen, and with practiced ease, ignores the warm thing that twists in his chest.