Archive of Our Own

“Is someone sitting here?”

Shane jumped at the sound of the thick accent, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t up in his room—he was in the hotel lounge. 

He’d meant to head upstairs after his best friend and money manager, Hayden, had left to call his wife, but he’d gotten lost in emails instead. The work of owning and running his own business was never truly done. 

He looked up now from his phone, air seemingly getting stuck in his chest for a second at the sight of the beautiful man standing before him with a glass in one hand. His golden curls were kept short, but still noticeable around his temples and the nape of his neck, his hazel eyes reflecting golden flecks circling his pupils in the low lighting above Shane’s table. His mouth was a full Cupid’s bow that was quirked up on one end, his shoulders broad beneath a denim jacket and a golden cross sat at the very base of his throat against a black shirt. His face and jaw were all hard angles that Shane had the sudden urge to run his hands over. 

The man stared at him expectantly, clearly waiting for his answer. When Shane still didn’t give him one he nodded curtly and began to turn. 

“You do not speak English. Okay.”

“N-no, I do,” Shane blurted out, hating the way he tripped over the words. He’d worked years to rid himself of the flaw, to only convey power and confidence at all times. The sudden, unexpected return of it sent a jolt of annoyance and something else he couldn’t name through him. His jaw tightened, nose flaring slightly as he went on more carefully. “And the seat is available. You can take it if you need to.” 

His eyes quickly scanned the room, noting that while it wasn’t at full capacity, there were still other available chairs around. 

His interest was further piqued. 

“Thank you,” the man said, pulling the seat back just enough to give himself room. And then he sat. 

And stared directly at Shane, raising his glass to his lips and taking a pointed sip. 

“Sorry, did you need something else? Do I know you?” Shane couldn’t help but ask. He knew that he didn’t; there was no way he’d forget such a good looking man ever crossed his path before. 

“No,” the man answered simply, eyes roving over him lazily. 

Shane pressed his toes into the soles of his shoes hard, trying to keep himself from openly reacting otherwise. 

“Is nice suit,” the man went on, tilting his head. “You are businessman, yes?”

“Yes,” Shane answered, locking the screen of his phone before placing it face down on the table. A voice in the back of his mind advised he stay on edge, certain that this was a trick of some kind by one of his competitors. The digital media industry was a lot more cutthroat than one would’ve thought. “I own a sports media sharing platform—“

“Rivalry Unleashed,” the man finished, nodding suddenly. “Yes, yes, that is where I know you from. Shane Hollander, youngest and most eligible sports media bachelor.”

Shane looked over the man’s clothes, expensive but not particularly extravagant. “Sports fan?”

He smirked. “Sports player.” He took another pointed drink from his glass but didn’t elaborate. 

“As a hobby?”

The man laughed and Shane found the sound more appealing than he was willing to admit for the moment. He was still suspicious. “You own a sports media company and yet you don’t know sports? Seems…I don’t know, ridiculous. Like you shouldn’t be as good at your job as they say.”

Shane bristled. “So you’re a professional.”

“Yes,” the stranger smirked. “Hockey.”

That explains the accent, Shane thought to himself. Despite his job, he didn’t pay as much attention to sports as he probably should but when he did it was the occasional hockey or basketball games at a friend’s or playing in the background of one of his more relaxed sports bar meetings. He’d picked up enough shit talking among others to know that the two had higher volumes of European players. 

“So you ice skate,” he decided to say in a poor attempt at banter. His skill was making deals, not conversation. 

The man snorted. “To put it simply, sure.”

“And not so simply?”

Hazel eyes roamed over the length of Shane again lazily as the man licked his lips unconsciously. “I am the captain of the Boston Raiders.”

“I see,” Shane said. “Do you have a name, Captain?”

“Rozanov.”

Shane waited a beat. “Just one name? Are you the Madonna of the league or something?”

“No. You want to know it, you have to earn first name.”

“You realize I could just Google you right now.”

“You could. But I think you will not.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because a man like you, living life so in public…I think you respect private. I tell you my name is Rozanov and you won’t look up my first name because you think I don’t want you to know. Is public to everyone else but private from you. Until you earn it.”

“Fair enough,” Shane nodded, sitting back as he reached for his own drink. The glass was still nearly full, the liquor more of a prop out of habit than something he actually wanted. As he took a drink now, he focused harder than usual to keep from letting the disgust show on his face. He’d gotten better at that too, over the years, but after his stutter before he didn’t trust it to stay at bay now. “So what can I do for you, Rozanov? I’m fairly certain you didn’t just happen upon my company by chance. You knew who I was when you approached me. So why?”

“What makes you think I had a reason?”

“Because this lounge has plenty of other empty seats you could’ve sat in. I find it hard to believe that a professional ice hockey captain just picked me out of a crowd by accident.”

Rozanov shrugged, pursing his lips. “You looked very boring. I wanted to see if it was true.”

Shane’s jaw flexed. “I’m not boring.”

“No?” Rozanov pushed. “You sit in hotel lounge with drink you don’t touch, staring at your phone that no one calls, dressed in your fancy suit no one else can afford. And that is not boring to you?”

“Not at all,” Shane answered. “Because I’m dressed in a business suit, sitting in the hotel lounge with a nightcap I hadn’t had the chance to drink from because I was distracted by business emails for my very successful, very not boring company.”

“No one drinking nightcap is doing business,” Rozanov said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Unless you are in the business of the night.” His large hands circled his glass as he leaned forward on the table between them, nodding at Shane. “Is that the secret to your success, Hollander? Are you a businessman of the night and you are here waiting for your next…investor? Did you think that was me?”

Shane looked at him without understanding, shaking his head. “I work during the day. My business day ended hours ago.”

“Ah, so you are a very high class businessman of the night,” Rozanov went on. “The type to keep the hours of his most prized clients, yes?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have clie—wait, are you calling me a—“ Shane’s voice pitched high enough to make him wince before he lowered it, leaning closer to shoot an accusatory tone at Rozanov. “Are you calling me a prostitute?”

“One of your class is called an escort, no?”

“I’m not—I’m not that,” Shane hissed and Rozanov twisted his mouth as if to hold back a laugh. 

“Such a shame,” he replied. “Because you are very pretty.”

Shane couldn’t help it; he felt the blush stain his cheeks. It wasn’t exactly new that someone found him attractive in some way, but he’d definitely never been called pretty. Especially not by a man that by artists standards looked like he should’ve been carved from marble. 

As if the blush weren’t embarrassing enough for him, Rozanov winked at Shane causing his lips to part and his tongue to line their edges while he stared at the man. 

It’d been awhile since Shane had been with anyone—so long, that he was more than positive it hadn’t happened this year. It was hard to make time for…fun like that when he was busy trying to solidify his throne at the top of the industry. He didn’t have time to go out and meet anyone, apps felt like one awkward sentence away from a LinkedIn networking message to him and his friends apparently had no idea what he was looking for in a partner. Granted, they all thought he was straight until a few months ago, but still. 

When it came to romance or sex, Shane had shit luck. 

Except now…the way Rozanov was leaning towards him, the way he kept looking him over with his gorgeous eyes, the wink…Shane almost got the feeling that he was…flirting with him?

That can’t be right, Shane thought. I haven’t heard about any openly gay players in the league. I mean, that definitely would’ve come up, wouldn’t it? Somewhere?

Shane let his own dark eyes take in Rozanov more carefully as he argued with himself, finding him more and more beautiful the longer he did. So what if he hadn’t heard about any gay players in hockey, that didn’t mean that there weren’t. It just meant that they were keeping it quiet. 

But if he’s been keeping it quiet this whole time, why now would he flirt with me?

“Well, if that’s the mark of a…nighttime businessman, then wouldn’t that make you one as well? In fact, I’m more inclined to believe that of the two of us, you would be the one. After all, you did approach me, remember?” He tried on a smirk of his own and watched one of the golden flecks in Rozanov’s eye twinkle against the light as he tipped his head back with a small smile. 

“So you think I’m pretty?”

“Actually, I think you’re stunning.”

Whatever Rozanov had been expecting of Shane, it clearly wasn’t that response. His jaw went slack and his expression blank for just a few seconds, awarding Shane with a sense of accomplishment for rendering him speechless. 

Then Rozanov blinked, his expression shifting again and Shane could swear he saw a challenge in his eyes as he responded back. “Mm, stunning…sounds more expensive than pretty, no? How much do you think? What would you pay for a…business meeting with me?”

“I don’t pay for my meetings,” Shane answered, more coolly than he felt. He stealthily swiped the palm of his hand on his knee under the table, never breaking eye contact with Rozanov. 

Rozanov tsked quietly. “I am stunning, not cheap. And you are stubborn—would not even compromise, I think.”

“In my life, compromise usually means negotiations,” Shane said. “And while some people do business with others through negotiations, I don’t. I tell them what I want and if they’re game, then we work together. If they’re not…well, someone else will be.”

“Hm. Very cocky way to do business, no?”

Shane shrugged, turning his drink glass with the fingers of his other hand. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just confident enough that it’s what’s made me successful like I am today.”

“Maybe,” Rozanov repeated, giving Shane a calculated look. “Does that business plan work with your girlfriend?”

Shane’s mouth twitched. “You know I don’t have one. Most eligible sports media bachelor, remember?”

“Da, I forgot.” His smirk said he didn’t. 

“‘Da’? Rozanov…your Russian?”

“Mhmm.”

Shane nodded, but didn’t know what else to say. 

Rozanov took the opportunity to keep going. “You like being bachelor? Get many girls?”

“I don’t really have time to meet anyone,” Shane answered vaguely. 

“Yes, I would think not with all the nightcap emails,” Rozanov taunted. 

“And you?” Shane asked. “Girlfriend?”

“No,” Rozanov said dismissively and then shrugged. “There’s lots of women and sex, yes, but nothing serious.”

Shane deflated slightly. “No time.”

“And not what I’m looking for, maybe.” His voice dipped a little lower, his accent wrapping around Shane over the short distance. “I think I know what I want—for tonight at least, but who knows.” He sighed dramatically before half lifting the remainder of his drink to his lips. “What about you Mr. Businessman? What do you want?”

Shane laughed once. “In life or just in general?”

“In whatever.”

Shane took a long, deliberate look over Rozanov, sure that the man could feel it on his skin somehow by the way his shoulders straightened a little and his chin tipped up. “Well, in life all I ever want is control. Completely and totally and nothing less. It’s the only way I know how to function, truthfully. As for tonight—“ Shane leaned forward a little more, careful not to make it look too intimate to anyone who may look their way, and made sure to meet Rozanov’s gorgeous eyes. “I want you.”

For a moment, Rozanov didn’t respond and panic struck Shane that he’d misread the entire situation. He didn’t think news of his sexuality would affect his business, but he also wasn’t ready to find that out just yet and now he was scared he didn’t have a choice in the matter anymore. 

But then Rozanov’s eyes turned half lidded as his gaze fell to Shane’s mouth, and all the panic disappeared as quickly as it’d come. “I’m right here. What more could you want?”

“For starters, I want you alone. Preferably with no clothes.” Shane’s voice started to shake at the end and he dug his fingernails into his palm to distract his nerves. “I bet you’re even more stunning out of them.”

“I am,” Rozanov agreed, a cocky smirk crossing his face. “Maybe you are pretty enough I will let you see.” He paused to meet Shane’s eyes again, something devilish dancing in the green of them. “What is your room number?”

*****

Thirty minutes. Shane had told Rozanov to be at his room in thirty minutes and now he regretted not just having him follow him up immediately. 

But he needed the time—to mentally prepare himself, to decide how far he was willing to let this go, to decide on whether he was going to change into something else. In the end, he decided against it, partly because he still wasn’t entirely sure how invested Rozanov was in this encounter and partly because no matter what he wore, it would still be a ridiculously expensive suit–or ridiculously expensive, silk pajama bottoms. 

He was on a business trip, he hadn’t planned on any personal time.

Once he’d decided that, Shane sat in the armchair directly facing the mirror on the room’s wall, staring his own reflection down in the bright light. He toyed with his hair slightly, ensuring every strand was brushed back and in place–controlled. He adjusted his collar at his neck, already feeling the irritation of heat and too many clothes just at the thought of what would potentially come next, his trousers a little tighter than when he’d first returned to the room.

His mind was swimming with images of Rozanov already–his sexy smirk that somehow made his eyes brighter, the thought of how wide and muscular his shoulders must look under his jacket, an image of him on his knees for Shane… 

Each one new one that came to mind was hotter than the last, Shane’s pulse picking up slightly. What if I don’t hold up to what he imagines? he couldn’t help but think as he stared at his reflection. What if he changes his mind? Did I just fuck up everything I’ve been working for by outing myself to an athlete?

Get a fucking grip, buddy! another voice countered, sounding suspiciously like Hayden. You need to fucking get laid, it’s been way too long.

Shane groaned in frustration at himself, scrubbing at his face as if he could erase the patheticness that way. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on his bag, a bad habit calling to him across the void. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, pushing to his feet to greet it.

*****

Rozanov’s body was buzzing with anticipation, you’d think he didn’t just have sex two nights ago. 

But this was different. This was sex with a man, something he hadn’t done in…fuck, years. 

And this wasn’t just any man, this was Shane Hollander, a man who held power in an industry that was clearly trying to beat him down; power that was constantly getting called out because of his age.

Power that Rozanov felt matched his own when it came to him and his career on the ice.

He’d never fucked a man that powerful before and the potential for it was intoxicating. 

From the moment he’d spotted him in the lounge he knew he at least had to try. He didn’t know whether it would’ve worked; every article he’d ever read about him never seemed to mention a love life and it wasn’t as if they had mutual connections that he could’ve asked. So he took a shot in the dark and then he watched as the powerful man before him stumbled over his words trying to keep him from leaving after only a minute. Watched as his pupils widened at the sight of Rozanov, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Rozanov allowed himself to smile once more at the memory as he approached room 1410, took a deep, centering breath, arranging his features to ones of indifference and knocked on the door.

There was nothing for a bit, making Rozanov wonder if he’d gotten the room number wrong, and then there was a faint, “Come in” from the other side. He tried the door, surprised to find it wasn’t entirely closed as he’d expected.

Rozanov pushed inside, being sure to listen for the click behind him as he closed the door and his eyes found Shane in the armchair by the bed.

He couldn’t help but part his lips with the sudden intense desire for the man as he took him in.

Shane was sitting, almost entirely relaxed–except for the still visible stiffness of his shoulders–legs spread wide before him, one hand resting casually on the arm of the chair while the other brought a cigarette to his lips. He took a pull, his eyes closing a moment as if the nicotine sent a straight shot of tranquilizer to his brain, and then the hand came down to rest on the other side by a glass ashtray, careful not to drop ashes outside of it. When he exhaled, the smoke swirling around him, Shane’s eyes met Rozanov’s as one side of his mouth tilted upwards. 

It was as if the smoke were a filter of confidence for Shane, something he could use to keep his mask of control and power, and it was doing something for Rozanov–something that had his cock twitch twice in his jeans as he paused to take it in. 

“Took you long enough,” Shane said and Rozanov snorted.

“You were the one who said a half hour.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted you a bit needy.”

“Sounds like you are the needy one,” Rozanov countered with a smirk, stepping closer to Shane slowly. He saw Shane’s eyes drop to his feet, tracking his progression. “I did not know you smoke.”

The cigarette wavered between Shane’s fingers before he brought it to his lips again, taking a drag and looking up at the ceiling to blow it out. “Is that going to be a deal breaker for you?”

Rozanov didn’t say anything. He just closed the distance, plucking the cigarette from Shane’s fingers and watching as his dark eyes tracked it to his mouth. His lips circled around the rolled paper, a deep inhale giving him that familiar kick of nicotine that simultaneously relaxed and sent his nerve endings a buzz. He tapped the edge off into the ashtray as he took one final step in front of Shane, blowing the smoke out between them. “No.”

Shane’s eyes danced across his face through the smoke, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling twice in quick succession before he steadied them. “Good.”

Rozanov tilted his head, watching Shane with barely veiled amusement. “You have what you want, Hollander,” he said in a low, deep and seductive tone that Shane swore he could feel on his skin.”I am here with you, alone.”

“Yes, but you’re forgetting one key part,” Shane replied, fingers flexing on the arm of the chair before he willed them to relax, hoping Rozanov hadn’t seen it. “No clothes.”

“Mmm. That is problem.”

“Yeah, one you can fix.”

Rozanov chuckled. “Funny, I was going to say the same to you. Why don’t you help me with this, Hollander? Four hands is faster than two, yes?”

Shane almost gave in; almost jumped to his feet, reaching for and tearing the clothes off of Rozanov just to make them that much closer to what he really wanted. But he held back.

Rozanov could almost see how much of a struggle it was for him to do so, but he didn’t say anything as he waited.

“I don’t think I will,” Shane said slowly, eyes trailing along Rozanov’s body and clothes rather than meet his gaze. “You see, when I said I wanted you up here, it was to do what I want.”

“Oh? And what is it that you want?”

“I told you before–I like control. I thrive on it. I want you to do what I say, when I say it. No backtalk, no negotiations. Just obedience.”

Rozanov quirked a brow at Shane, mentally assessing every minute movement, every undertone he could pick up on. 

He knew Shane thought what he wanted was control, but his body screamed something else entirely.

Rozanov could see his shoulders still tense by his ears, his voice strong for the most part but wavering ever so slightly on the word ‘want’ as if to give him away, his skin growing pale with nerves. He even knew–from his own experience–that Shane’s smoking was a tell of his nerves, an act to distract and regain control of himself, maybe even fool himself.

But he couldn’t fool Rozanov. Though, while he knew the truth even when Shane didn’t seem to, Rozanov was willing to play along for just a little while. 

Just long enough to make this man of power desperate to fall to his knees for him.

“So you are Mr. Businessman in the bedroom too?” he couldn’t help but tease, catching the way Shane’s jaw twitched in response. “Mr.--uh–Shot Caller, yes?”

“What did I just say?” Shane countered, his attempt at a fierce voice. Rozanov’s mouth twitched with the smile he fought to hold back.

“You said nothing, really,” he answered. “I asked what you want and you only say for me to obey. No direction, no nothing. How can I obey if you tell me nothing?”

This time, Rozanov could almost see the muscle bouncing in his jaw as it tightened and refused to relax. “Take off your clothes for me,” Shane demanded, a pleasant rush running through Rozanov at the words. He wasn’t actually used to being told what to do with the expectation that he would do it; it was a new, interesting feeling for him to realize that he kind of liked it.

He looked forward to experimenting with it more tonight.

Rozanov moved to rest the still burning cigarette against the ashtray but Shane moved in quickly to swipe it from between his fingers, returning it to his own mouth while he gestured with his other hand for Rozanov to start.

The Russian shrugged his shoulders back, the denim slipping off of them and sliding down his bare biceps, revealing his shirt beneath to be a tank top that clung to every curve and divet of his perfectly sculpted body. As the material slipped off his wrists, he grabbed the collar in one hand and tossed it aside towards the dresser without looking. He heard the clink of the buttons against the wood before the soft thud of the jacket hit the carpeted floor, but his eyes never strayed from Shane who watched him almost ferally. 

His dark eyes had widened ever-so-slightly, darting between Rozanov’s biceps. When Rozanov reached for his shirt end, just beginning to tug it up his torso, Shane’s voice came out thicker with another demand. “Slower.”

“You like it slow?” Rozanov couldn’t help but quip, earning a quick glare from Shane.

“I said no backtalk,” he snapped, taking another small drag of the cigarette before blowing the smoke toward him. “Just go slower. I can already tell you have a phenomenal body, Rozanov, and I have every intention of appreciating it tonight. Starting with this.”

The words brought an unexpected heat to Rozanov’s skin, his own urge to listen beginning to line up with Shane’s demand for obedience for real. 

He nodded once, curling his fingers into his shirt bottom but taking his time this time as he pulled it up the skin of his toned stomach, revealing the strip of dark hair that disappeared into his pants, then his chest, until finally he pulled it entirely over his head and tossed it to the side too. With one hand he worked the button of his jeans open deftly and used the other to reach out towards Shane, taking the cigarette back to rest it between his own lips again with a smirk. It was nearly halfway done now and he was finding something very arousing about sharing the smoke with Shane, their mouths having touched the same object before ever touching each other.

As he took a pull from it, he kicked off his sneakers before kicking them to the side and bringing the zipper of his jeans down slow and noisily in the quiet room. Using his teeth to prop the cigarette up in the corner of his mouth, Rozanov used both hands to push the jeans slowly down his hips, his toned thighs, his just as toned calves. When he stepped one foot out of one leg of the material he caught the low but definite hitch in Shane’s breathing, noting the way his mouth was a little more slack as he breathed through it.

Rozanov’s smirk started curling into more of a proud smile as he finished removing the pants altogether. “Like what you see so far, Hollander?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no nervousness. Shane was already lost in the glorious sight that was Rozanov and he still had one piece to witness the liberation from.

“Do you think you will be able to handle this next part?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Da, we will.”

Shane tried to brace himself as Rozanov’s thumbs hooked into the waistline of his briefs–briefs that were tightly hugging a very considerable bulge already–and bit down on his bottom lip, barely suppressing a gasp as he easily slid it down to reveal his long, thick cock, already pushing to stand erect from his body. Shane felt his own cock twitch in his pants, hungry to give it some attention but desperate for it to come from Rozanov more. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out on a half strangled whisper. “You’re…big.”

“Is good or bad?”

“That’s hot,” Shane answered honestly, making Rozanov laugh as he straightened again, now entirely naked.

“What do you want me to do now, Hollander?”

“I–you did such a good job with your own clothes,” Shane said, momentarily tripping over his words again. “Why don’t you have a go at mine?”

“You want me to take your clothes off?”

“Yes.”

“Happily.”

Rozanov moved forward, fingers coming down to rest on Shane’s chest and pushing up under his suit jacket to its shoulders, pushing it down and off him with deliberate force that sent a shiver through Shane’s body. 

Instead of watching Rozanov work this time, Shane watched his face, taking in the enraptured way Rozanov focused on every drag of his hands across Shane’s torso and arms until he’d helped him shrug free of the fabric. He could tell the other man was as eager as he was to rid him of his clothes as his hands came back to find the buttons of his dress shirt and work them through their holes, only to be surprised when Shane’s hand came up to circle one of his wrists and stop him. 

“Like you said before, this is a very expensive suit, Rozanov,” Shane said pointedly, trying to control the rapid growing speed of his breath in his chest. “When you take a piece off, you take care of it. Fold it neatly, put it where it can’t be ruined.”

Rozanov gave him a look like he wasn’t quite sure if Shane was being serious or not and then seemed to shrug off the inner questioning as he reached for the jacket he’d left crumpled behind Shane. Folding it in half carefully along its length, he sat it just as carefully over the back of the chair and went back to work on Shane’s shirt. “I fold now, move them together when I am done. Efficient.”

Shane nodded, hoping it didn’t look as eager as it’d felt. “Let me get the cigarette,” he said, reaching for Rozanov’s mouth only for the large man to duck his head backwards with a devious look on his face.

“No, let me,” he said instead, fingers moving to the cigarette as he brought himself just inches from Shane’s face, eyes roving over his features. Silently appreciating the dark constellations across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. “I breathe out, you breathe in.”

“What?”

“I breathe out,” Rozanov repeated, cupping Shane’s chin with the fingers of his other hand, holding it in place. “You breathe in.”

Shane still wasn’t entirely sure he understood what Rozanov wanted but watched the rise and fall of his chest as if to synchronize their breathing while Rozanov smirked and shook his head lightly. 

With one long, intentional pull, Rozanov breathed in against the cigarette, noting the bright burn of its ashy tip from the corner of his eye as he held his gaze on Shane. Then he held it, moving the cigarette away from his mouth before giving a warning nod. Shane nodded back reflexively, waiting for the telling fall of Rozanov’s chest as he blew the smoke from his lungs directly into Shane’s face. 

Without overthinking it further, he breathed in deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as the combination of headiness from the smoke and Rozanov’s breath intoxicated him. He barely held it in a few seconds before the brush of Rozanov’s thumb along his lower lip surprised it out of him, a low moan tangled beneath it. 

“Better?” Rozanov asked quietly and Shane nodded. “Use your words Hollander.” The command had only a little bit of a snap to it, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through Shane that popped his eyes open to meet the hazel ones already fixed on them. 

“Yes,” Shane answered. 

“Do you still want the cigarette?”

“No.” He’d needed it to relax his nerves, get out of his head before Rozanov arrived. But now, it was clear the Russian could do that just as effectively. 

Shane watched his mouth twitch as he turned away, stubbing the butt out in the crystal tray before moving his hands back to him more deliberately. 

Rozanov traced a line down Shane’s still clothed shoulders, the swell of his arms, the crook of his elbow and straight down to his wrists, turning them over to inspect the buttons at the cuffs. Then he made quick work of each one, careful to open each one up and rest the arm against the chair without accidentally folding the fabric in on itself. 

Shane expected him to move back to the buttons along his torso but nearly stopped breathing entirely when Rozanov’s hands found their way to his belt instead, unhooking it from itself swiftly so he could get to the button and zipper beneath. “My—the shirt—“ Shane started, only for Rozanov to nod as he licked his lips. 

“Da, I know. But don’t want to ruin it, pulling out of pants still closed. Don’t worry, Hollander, I know what I’m doing.” His lips quirked up cockily and Shane got the feeling he meant more than logistically. 

With his pants entirely open, Rozanov’s hands hovering at his waistline while his eyes undeniably focused on his very evident bulge in his crotch, Shane’s skin burned all over, sweat beginning to dew around his collar. He moved to pull the fabric away from his skin but one of Rozanov’s hands shot out quickly, grabbing his wrist in a strong grip as he shook his head and placed it back down where he had it before. “No, no, Hollander, stay like this. I would not want you to blame me for wrinkles. Just sit. Enjoy view.”

“Okay,” Shane answered, just above a whisper. 

Rozanov finally made his next move, his fingers just dipping inside of Shane’s waistline to catch the bottom of his dress shirt and pull it out of his pants. He shifted in the seat to let him reach the back of his shirt, bringing Rozanov’s face closer to his, his chest just brushing against one of Shane’s shoulders. Because he couldn’t help himself, Shane curled the fingers of one hand inward to brush against Rozanov’s skin and enjoyed the small tensing he felt in response. 

When Rozanov pulled back, his fingers finding the buttons on the front of his shirt again, he put just enough distance between them that Shane could see his cock again; bobbing between his legs with a pearlescent drop on his tip. It took everything in Shane to keep from licking his lips at the sight, refocusing on the careful, slow way Rozanov was undoing each button. 

“You could go a little faster,” Shane said despite himself. 

Rozanov laughed once, shaking his head. “You are not the only one who wants to appreciate a body tonight.”

Shane opened his mouth again, whether to complain or make another command he wasn’t sure and he never found out—because Rozanov had made it halfway down his buttons and suddenly slipped both hands beneath the shirt to run along Shane’s rib cage, sliding up to trace the lower line of each pec. Whatever words he’d been about to speak suddenly morphed into surprised gasps, his eyes widening at the sudden and deliberate touch. 

“Da,” Rozanov said quietly, giving each side a squeeze before dragging his fingertips across the skin and causing Shane to shiver lightly. “This one deserves appreciation too.” 

His hands slipped back out to return to the buttons and Shane bit down on his lower lip to keep from saying anything more—knowing it would only be desperate pleas for him to touch him everywhere, now. 

When he was finally done with the buttons, Shane felt like he could breathe again, one step closer to what he wanted. 

And then the air deflated in choppy breaths as Rozanov’s palms flattened against his waist, pushing the shirt sides out as wide as he could and dragging his hands back in to graze his fingertips along Shane’s abs. He pushed one hand higher up Shane’s torso, the pads of his fingers sending chills up Shane’s spine as they each deliberately trailed over his hardened nipple and slid over the slope of his shoulder, the knuckles softly pushing the shirt off of it. Then they slid down Shane’s arm, inciting goosebumps between the contrast of their touch and the shirt fabric tickling his skin on the way down. Shane let out a surprised hiss as Rozanov’s other hand pinched at his hip and he looked over at the man in time to catch him lean forward, his perfect lips pressing to the side of Shane’s neck. 

“You are even prettier when you are breathless,” Rozanov said into the skin, moving his mouth upward to leave another kiss, and then another. “Makes me excited to think how pretty you will be when I make you come.”

Shane choked out a laugh, his own fingers digging tightly into the arm of the chair to keep from reaching for him. “Someone’s confident. You haven’t even finished getting me naked yet.”

“And you think I need to do that to make you a mess?” he pulled back to look at Shane, a challenge sparkling in his eyes. “You think I can’t make you ruin this expensive suit so good you would be too happy to care?”

Shane swallowed hard. “No, I’m sure you could. But you won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“No. Because you want to do what I want and what I want is for you to finish making me naked so you can put those…” His voice trailed off for a few seconds as his eyes came to rest on Rozanov’s plush mouth, wanting to suck the bottom lip into his own and sink his teeth into it until he made him groan. “...those perfect fucking lips to work on my cock.”

Rozanov peeked down at Shane’s still clothed crotch as the hand that was undressing him finally reached his wrist, effortlessly pulling Shane’s hand from the chair to free the one side completely. “Sounds hot. Will you pull my hair?” he teased and Shane felt an almost painful twitch beneath his clothes.

“Maybe.”

Rozanov finally broke into a full blown grin, the effect of which was nearly blinding to Shane who likened it to looking into the sun; bright and hot, something that was probably a bad idea but he wanted to keep doing because he could.

Rozanov’s movements picked up a little bit of speed now, his hands switching in tasks as the other followed the same trailing method along the right side of Shane’s body, teasing and getting the task done at the same time. He leaned forward again to press his lips to the other side of Shane’s neck, releasing a low hum against Shane’s pulse when he felt it jump, and then the second sleeve was off. 

Shane let out an almost embarrassed breath of relief to be free of the garment, the cool air of the room feeling nice on his heated skin as he watched Rozanov straighten up to full height with the shirt between his hands. 

Like he had with Shane’s jacket, he took special care in folding it, only moving along the appropriate creases to avoid wrinkles and then reaching over to place it on the jacket behind Shane. 

Shane couldn’t believe how arousing it was to watch the man fold his clothes. 

Since he was a kid, Shane knew he always liked order, cleanliness, control. He had a full-proof method and routine for everything he did, the second he went anywhere; home, work, a hotel. Even after some of his longest, most tiring trips, if he’d had casual clothes he’d brought with him, he wouldn’t allow himself to sleep until they were washed, dried, folded and placed in their rightful place. It was just the way he was.

But now, not only watching Rozanov fold them for him but requesting it… He didn’t know if it was some weird fetish he’d just unlocked, but Shane was positive the second Rozanov got his pants off there would be heavy proof of just how much it affected him.

As if he could read Shane’s mind, Rozanov suddenly dropped to his knees before him, Shane’s breathing undeniably ragged at the action. 

The large man reached for his shoes, slipping them off quickly, followed by each sock, tucking them neatly beneath the chair before running his hands up Shane’s clothed legs, his thighs, reaching just inside his waist. Hazel eyes focused on the way Shane’s hips squirmed impatiently; long, powerful fingers toying with the waistline of his briefs, just dipping inside before pulling them back.

When he suddenly looked up at Shane, there was a deviousness to them that was the only warning before one large hand moved away and suddenly gripped Shane’s cock through his underwear, tracing the hardening curve of it as he leaned up on his knees to get in his face. Shane’s eyes dropped again to his mouth, tracking the part of them as Rozanov breathed out against his face. 

“You are so hard already. You like me taking your clothes off.”

“Yes,” Shane admitted. “Please finish.”

“So I can suck your dick?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

“And when I suck your dick,” Rozanov continued, the tip of his nose brushing against Shane’s as he leaned in even closer. “Will you come for me? Or will you wait until we fuck?”

“I-I don’t know,” Shane rambled. His mind was growing foggier the longer Rozanov’s fingers toyed with him in his pants, the rubbing of his palm against him drawing more pre-cum from him. If he didn’t get out of his pants soon, there would be no saving them from staining. “Don’t you want to find out? Like, now.”

Rozanov chuckled at his need but decided to give in as his own throbbing cock began pulsing in time with what he could feel beneath his hand. “Yes, yes I do. Lift a little.”

Shane’s brain went offline for a second, uncomprehending before the loss of Rozanov cupping him was suddenly replaced with the realization that his hands were at his waist again, curling into the fabric of his pants. Then Shane gripped the arms of the chair again and used them to leverage himself up enough for Rozanov to pull the material down to his ankles. Shane expected him to double back for his underwear and kept himself hovering above the seat until Rozanov used one hand on his hip to push him back down. He felt himself pout slightly, tried to cover it up with a glare, but Rozanov was pointedly ignoring him now, rising to his feet to fold the trousers and place them with the rest of Shane’s suit.

Shane breathed in the scent of his spicy cologne–wood and cinnamon–as Rozanov leaned over him to retrieve all of the clothing and then turned to walk them over to the dresser. 

While he wanted to be annoyed that he was still left wanting and partially clothed, the view of Rozanov’s ass was decidedly distracting in a good way. Insanely perfect in its round shape, full and bulbous along the sides. He had the sudden urge to get on his own knees just to bite a cheek, run his tongue soothingly along it after. 

“I put your clothes here,” Rozanov announced as he placed them neatly in the center of the dresser top. He bent to pick up his jacket where it fell, placing it over the clothes like an extra protective layer before turning back to Shane with a smirk. “No risk of mess.”

“Good,” Shane forced himself to focus enough to say. His mind was splintering; between how hot he still found the naked man before him, the image of his ass, his erect cock saluting him proudly, the still arousing effect of watching him handle his clothes with care, the idea of his suit still having a trace of this beautiful man’s scent on it when the night was done…

Would the smell transfer to the rest of my clothes when I return it to my luggage? If I did it as soon as we were done, would it have time to settle into my clothes for tomorrow?

Do I want it to?

“Now get back over here,” Shane went on, trying to get himself, and the situation, back under control. “You forgot an important part to gaining access to my dick.” He gestured at his briefs and Rozanov laughed.

“I did not forget. But unlike suit, they are already ruined,” he said cockily, slowly making his way back over to Shane. “I did not think you would want them put together. I made you very wet.”

“You didn’t—shut up!”

Rozanov laughed again as he came to a stop in front of Shane. “Is okay, we know this. I made you wet and you made me very hard. See?”

Shane licked his lips as he once again focused on the cock pointed his way, the tip red and coated with arousal. “Yeah, I see.”

“I don’t think you do,” Rozanov said, his voice dropping slightly deeper. His hand reached out for Shane’s wrist, grabbing it, slowly bringing it towards his body, giving Shane plenty of opportunity to stop him if he wanted. Shane let him lead him until his hand was circled around his shaft, Rozanov’s hand covering it to give them both a light squeeze that made him groan. “Now you see?”

“Yes.”

Rozanov released Shane’s hand but Shane held it there, letting his fingers feel the soft, hot skin, tracing the vein that throbbed beneath them, his eyes fixed on the steady pulse of release leaking from the tip. He felt the occasional twitch against his palm, felt Rozanov’s eyes still fixed on him, and despite how much he’d been trying to get Rozanov to get back to his own cock, he was suddenly too enraptured by the Russian’s.

Before he knew it, Shane found himself pushing out of the armchair to his knees on the carpet, his face inches from the eager member before him, his mind blank of anything but the need to taste Rozanov.

Above him, Rozanov watched him silently, tilting his head to get a better angle of the desperate need to serve that was suddenly painted across Shane’s face. He reached a hand out to brush through Shane’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, but Shane didn’t seem to notice. His focus was entirely on Rozanov’s cock as he began to stroke it slowly, unaware of the groan it pulled from the man’s chest when he ran his thumb along the slit. 

“Hollander,” he said once, somewhat amused when it still didn’t catch his attention. “Hollander.”

Shane looked up at the louder call of his name, looking a little dazed.

“I thought you wanted me to suck your dick,” Rozanov said half teasingly. He was entirely ready for either scenario at this point, but Shane had said from the start he wanted control. He wanted Rozanov to do what he told him and this was not that.

“I do.”

He didn’t say anything else and the desire that was burning its way through Rozanov decided to take things into his own hands. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to make someone think they were still in control. 

“But you want to suck my cock first, don’t you?” Rozanov went on, tacking on the question at the end despite already knowing the answer. It was a trick he’d picked up over the years when dealing with people; making them think it was their idea by phrasing it as a question, giving them the sense that they were making the choice.

It worked, same as it did every other time. “Yes.”

“If is what you want, I won’t st–oh-mngh!” Rozanov’s words cut off abruptly with a moan as Shane didn’t hold back any more, his mouth descending on his cock eagerly. 

Any sign of Shane’s earlier nerves were suddenly gone as he went to work, taking as much of Rozanov into his mouth at once as he could before backing off, dragging the flat of his tongue along the underside before curving up to lap at his tip. 

Rozanov swore and moaned the more into it Shane got, his grip in Shane’s hair tightening as he occasionally moved to give him silent direction on speed. And Shane, for his part, let Rozanov do so happily–lost in the blissful feeling of him on his tongue, sliding partway into his throat as he relaxed it, twitching inside his mouth with the growing and consistent threat of spilling. Shane curled his tongue around Rozanov’s cock as he pulled his head away slowly, sucking at the tip for the burst of salty taste that always followed, clutching Rozanov’s thighs for both stability and an excuse not to reach for the inside of his underwear. 

Rozanov’s swears grew breathier, faster, and Shane could tell he was close to the edge, ready to take whatever he was willing to give.

With a great amount of resistance against himself, Rozanov managed to pull Shane off with a half disappointed groan, panting as he stared down at the already half wrecked Canadian staring up at him with doe like eyes and wet, swollen lips. 

“Fuck, Hollander.” He slid his hand down to one of Shane’s arms, reaching for the other to pull the man to his feet in front of him, oddly realizing for the first time how large he actually was as Rozanov swayed slightly off balance with the effort and his lust drunk body. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Shane asked.

“Yes. You are too fucking good at that.”

“Wait, what–”

Shane’s words were suddenly cut off as Rozanov dove forward without warning, hand coming around to grip the back of his neck as he yanked him forward for a kiss. His full lips crashed into Shane’s, pulling a surprised gasp from his mouth that allowed Rozanov to slip his tongue in, caressing the roof of Shane’s mouth until the other man closed his lips around it and sucked roughly. The pair groaned, warring with each other for dominance, Shane’s hands coming up to grasp at Rozanov’s hair, keeping him pressed tightly against him, the weight of his thick cock heavy against Shane’s abs.

When they finally broke apart a couple of minutes later, both breathless, overheated and hands tangled in the other’s hair, Rozanov spoke against Shane’s lips as if he weren’t prepared to let him go entirely yet. “I have condom. You have lube?”

“I–fuck! No, I don’t. I wasn’t planning anything like this before an hour ago and–”

“Ssh, is fine, we make it work,” Rozanov insisted, giving him a hard kiss to silence him. “I want to fuck you, Shane Hollander. I would not be happy if I didn’t, I think.”

“Lucky for you, that’s what I want you to do,” Shane couldn’t help but smile goofily and Rozanov laughed.

“Oh, yes, so lucky.” He turned to reach for his jacket again, pulling two condoms from his pocket before bringing his hands to rest at Shane’s hips.

“Two?” Shane asked tauntingly. “Someone thinks highly of their abilities.”

“Not at all,” Rozanov grinned. “This is minimal night number. If you want high number, I can run back to my room, get three more.”

“Thr–five?” Shane asked incredulously. “You expect me to believe you can come five times in one night?” 

“No,” Rozanov answered. “I did not say that. I said I could use five condoms–to fuck you five times. I could come more.”

“Bullshit!”

“Keep talking all night and you will never find out, no?”

“Bring it on, Rozanov. Show me what you got.”

“Ah, Mr. Businessman wants to see what I offer,” Rozanov smirked, his hands sliding around back to squeeze Shane’s ass before hooking just beneath it, pulling Shane flush against him. “Jump.” 

He muttered the last word so low, Shane wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard it until he felt Rozanov’s hands slide lower to his thighs, tightening against the muscles and beginning to pull him up. 

Shane tightened his arms around Rozanov’s shoulders and bent his knees just in time to push off the floor with minimal effort, Rozanov already having done all the heavy lifting. Then he wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and crashed their mouths together again, letting Rozanov turn and walk them towards the bed, dropping them both on it with a bounce that made Shane’s cock grind against his abs and drew a moan from him.

Rozanov worked his mouth from Shane’s lips to his cheek, down the length of his neck to the hollow of his throat. 

Shane’s breathing could only be described as panting by the time Rozanov’s mouth slid down the line of his pecs and over to one nipple, sucking at it playfully, his tongue circling it and his teeth scratching it lightly every time he felt Shane’s cock twitch against his stomach. He left the condoms beside Shane’s head as he moved lower down his body, plotting every inch of his skin with his tongue and kisses before reaching the waistline of his underwear. 

Then he only pulled the fabric down enough to expose part of his pelvic bone, his eyes flashing up to find Shane watching him hungrily. 

“Do you think you can come more than once?” Rozanov asked seriously.

“It’s been awhile, but, probably,” Shane answered truthfully, making Rozanov smile against his skin.

“Good. I am going to suck your dick until you come, Hollander, and then I am going to fuck you until you do it again.”

“Oh shit,” Shane let out in a half whisper, the words going straight to his cock that twitched in front of Ilya’s face beneath the fabric. “Fuck.”

“Sound like good business deal?” Rozanov asked. 

Shane let out a surprised laugh. “I don’t know, I mean, it sounds great on my end. But what are you getting?”

Rozanov pulled Shane’s briefs down his thighs, leaving them just above his knees, keeping his legs locked in place by the material. “I am getting to fuck you so good, you will be ruined for anyone else.”

“And why would you want to do that?”

Rozanov shrugged. “Why not?” 

And then he dropped down to take Shane in his mouth, his tongue immediately swirling around Shane’s considerably wet tip like it was trying to absorb all of it. His jaw and throat loosened, allowing him to take Shane deeper, his hands keeping Shane’s hips pinned to the bed no matter how hard he tried to buck up into him.

Shane was a growing mess of words and sounds, all of them blending into nonsense as one hand buried in Rozanov’s curls, the other tossed to the side of his own face as his arm attempted to cover his eyes. His head tipped back as the pleasure ran through him, his moans growing uncontrollably louder, his skin growing insanely hotter. 

He’d gotten his fair share of blowjobs over the years, but nothing had ever felt like this. 

Something about the way Rozanov opened himself up to take Shane down his throat felt different, like he was able to go boneless and devour Shane just the way Shane never knew he needed to be. Rozanov’s hands were firm at his hips, not letting him move, and yet they were soft in a way that Shane took to mean he would let him push away if it got to be all too much. And the sounds that Rozanov made as he practically breathed Shane in…they unraveled Shane to his core.

They sounded like Rozanov was in heaven taking Shane down his throat, taking him apart, because he knew it was what Shane wanted him to do. Like Rozanov was as desperate to please him as Shane was to be pleased.

Rozanov’s tongue rolled in waves along the vein at the underside of Shane’s cock and then his cheeks hollowed around him suddenly and Shane felt the spark at the base of his spine, the warning. “Fuck, Rozanov, I’m gonna–”

Rozanov looked up at him under his lashes, bobbing his head along Shane’s length in acknowledgement, and then one hand slid slowly behind him. Shane just felt the pads of Rozanov’s fingers move across the space of his own ass before slipping between the cheeks, a single finger sliding up and down until he found the entrance. Then he pressed it, firm but tentative, against the space and Shane jolted beneath him, nodding eagerly.

Another strategic swirl of Rozanov’s tongue around his cock as he sucked it enthusiastically, the finger at Shane’s entrance just pushing into the round muscle with a slight burn, and Shane was done for.

“Oh f-f-fuck!”

He erupted in Rozanov’s mouth, the other man pulling back enough that it wasn’t down his throat instead, and his eyes stayed on Shane all along. The hand still at Shane’s hip caressed the skin soothingly, the finger in his ass pumping slow enough to add to the pleasure without overwhelming him, Rozanov’s own cock throbbing between his legs. 

Rozanov kept his mouth around Shane’s cock until he was certain that the last of his cum had emptied into it, careful not to swallow any of it. His finger in Shane’s ass came to a slow stop before he removed it entirely, pulling a low whine from Shane who moved the arm from across his eyes to look at him with an expression that was so loaded, Rozanov couldn’t begin to name it.

Shane’s chest felt like it was caving in repeatedly with how hard he was breathing following the orgasm, his hands shaking slightly as he pushed to lean up on them, his body at an angle to look down at Rozanov. “Fuck, that was…” he laughed, at a loss for words. Instead, he reached for Rozanov, preparing to pull him up. “Fuck, I need to kiss you again.”

Rozanov moved away from him, shuffling back and off the bed as he shook his head.

A pang of rejection struck Shane as he watched, his brain momentarily clearing enough to mentally think back on something he might’ve done to warrant the reaction. He’d been lost in the pleasure of Rozanov’s mouth on him, but he was certain that he hadn’t done anything to him…

Then Rozanov leaned forward to tap Shane’s knee, gesturing for him to roll over silently. Relief flooded him as he did what the other man said, feeling Rozanov’s hands slide his briefs the rest of the way off of his body before positioning Shane on his knees, his back slightly arched. 

“You’re being awfully quiet, back there,” Shane couldn't help but say as Rozanov still made no effort to speak to him. “What, was sucking my dick such a religious experience for you that you decided on a vow of silence going forward?”

He heard Rozanov snort at his words, but he still said nothing.

Large hands came down on either of his cheeks, massaging them slowly, opening them so that a finger could glide along his hole again. Shane tried to keep his body relaxed as he felt it breach, the familiar sensation of being filled drawing a content sigh from his lips. His head hung loosely on his shoulders as Rozanov went back to working it in and out of him slowly, building the anticipation for more by tapping another finger close-by. He felt something warm and thick drip down between his cheeks, felt Rozanov’s fingers rubbing it in as he continued to work him open, and he tried not to think about how he was using his spit as lube.

We don’t have anything else, he told himself. And if he fucks anywhere near as good as he sucks dick, I need him inside me.

He felt more drip down and then a second finger joined the first inside of him, curling up lightly when Shane let out a wanton moan. He expected Rozanov to make a comment about it, to pick fun at him for sounding so needy, but the man behind him remained silent, and it was beginning to do his head in.

“Seriously, Rozanov, why are you so fucking quiet all of a su–fuck–sudden?”

Rozanov still didn’t answer, just lazily finger fucking him in silence, and Shane turned to shoot a glare over his shoulder.

The second his dark eyes found Rozanov’s, the Russian gave him a wide, closed mouth smile that made a delicious chill run through Shane, his cock starting to twitch back to life in front of him. Rozanov moved forward, making sure to stay where Shane could see him and then opened his mouth enough to let its contents flow freely between them–and that’s when Shane saw it.

Rozanov wasn’t using spit to open Shane up; he was using his own cum.

“Holy fuck,” Shane breathed, unexpectedly aroused by the realization. No one had ever so much as suggested that to him before and yet here Rozanov was, dropping Shane’s cum along his ass and fucking him open with it with his fingers. 

His cock was suddenly much harder than he would’ve expected it to be this soon. 

“You’re–you’re fucking me with my own cum,” he said in breathless disbelief, noting the way Rozanov was watching his reaction to the news as he nodded. “Why is that so fucking hot?”

Rozanov just smiled again, entering a third finger into Shane with the help of a little more cum until he was satisfied with the ease of which he entered him.

And then he met Shane’s eyes again as he deliberately swallowed the rest, his tongue swiping out along his bottom lip to make sure he didn’t miss any. “I told you I make it work,” Rozanov finally said with a teasing raise of his brows. “I would not let no lube keep me from fucking you tonight.”

“Y-yeah, but I thought you…I thought you were using spit,” Shane panted and Rozanov smirked.

“There was some spit, yes.” He twisted his fingers, pushing one of them up a little further than the rest and heard Shane gasp, his ass clenching tighter on the digits. “Do you think you are ready to take me yet?” he asked, curling them until he felt Shane begin to tremble before him. “Because if I do not get inside of you soon–”

“Yes,” Shane moaned out, pushing back on his fingers without thinking. “Fuck, please fuck me. Now. I need it.”

“Mmm, so pretty when you beg,” Rozanov replied, bending to press a kiss on the small of Shane’s back, sending another chill through him. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you are when you scream.”

Shane let out a sound that was caught between a laugh and a moan. “You know, you’re so confident. I hope your dick lives up to it.”

“Oh, it will.”

Keeping his fingers in rhythm inside of Shane, Rozanov reached with his other hand to grab one of the condoms from the bed, bringing the wrapper to his teeth and tearing it open. Freeing it from inside, dropping the wrapper without a care as he rolls the condom on to his length, he hisses lowly at the oversensitivity of his cock from how thoroughly he’d inadvertently worked himself up in getting Shane off. Once it’s on, he strokes himself several times, slowly, testing his ability not to burst at the slightest touch and then leans over towards Shane, removing his fingers gently. 

“When you scream for me, make sure you use my name so they know who did this to you,” he said quietly, tauntingly.

“Too bad I don’t know your first name, then, huh?” Shane challenged and Rozanov shook his head.

“You have not earned it yet.” Getting back on the bed behind Shane, he puts one hand on Shane’s hip and the other on his own cock as he moves to position behind him, sliding and hitching against the hole he’d already prepped to open for him so beautifully. He notched his head at the entrance, eyes fixed on the point as he tests it by pushing in slightly, suppressing a shiver when it begins to give.

“You still haven’t told me how,” Shane answered back breathily.

Rozanov smirked, pushing in some more and humming at the pleasure licking through his every nerve endings. “Is not fun if I have to tell you.”

“Dick,” Shane scoffed under his breath.

Rozanov pushed in further, relishing the groan and tightening of Shane’s hands against the bedspread it wrought in pleasure. “Yes, I am giving that to you now.”

He was halfway now, silent groans on his lips, his cock pulsing excitedly and desperate to bury the rest of the way inside of Shane. But he looked at the other man, saw the tension in his shoulders, his teeth in his lower lip, and decided to take his time. 

Rozanov was eager to fuck this powerful man beneath him, to have him tripping over his words and calling his name until there was a noise complaint that the staff could never report to the news because of NDAs they had to sign, but he also wanted to make sure that it was enjoyable for them both. 

That when it was all done, and the man beneath him was laying in his own mess, all he could think of was how he’d been so lucky to have the Boston Bears Captain approach him of all people for sex.

He leaned forward, pressing light kisses up the length of Shane’s spine, pushing in a little more all the while until he reached the crook of his neck and bottomed out with an almost painful throb. The hand on Shane’s hip squeezed reflexively and he breathed into the other man’s neck, pulling out just a little before pushing back in with a groan. “Are you ready to be fucked senseless, Mr. Businessman?”

“I’m ready for you to try,” Shane challenged and Rozanov sunk his teeth into his shoulder with a low growl in response, making him whine.

Rozanov started slow, not wanting to burst too soon, still wanting Shane to come a second time before he even considered letting go. He controlled his breathing with each shift of his hips, inhaling deeply when he pulled out and exhaling when he plunged back in, both hands on Shane’s hips to keep him in place as he moved. 

Soon Shane grew impatient, or overly eager, driving himself back hard on Rozanov, drawing groans from the man as he fought to stave off an orgasm, twitching deep inside of Shane every time. 

He grew cocky at the thought of undoing Rozanov, going harder, faster, pushing against Rozanov’s grip on him like it was nothing and moaning louder. 

“God, you feel good,” Shane praised him, glancing over his shoulder again to watch Rozanov’s gaze fixed on where his cock entered Shane repeatedly, his mouth hanging slightly open. “You aren’t even…trying. Fuck, I bet you’d feel amazing if you tried…”

Rozanov’s eyes flashed up to Shane’s teasing face, glaring at him as his hand slid up from his waist to his shoulder, driving Shane back on his cock so roughly they both nearly choked at the sensation. “Oh, you think I am not trying?” Rozanov snapped, grinding his cock inside of Shane relentlessly, shifting his place on the bed to ensure his own stability. “You think I am not fucking you good enough, hmm?”

He pulled back almost entirely, Shane whining at the sudden loss of depth before Rozanov drove back into him hard, the end of his cock slamming into his prostate as if he’d known where it was all along. Shane let out a long moan, his eyes shutting against his will as he leaned back into it, his mouth and jaw gone slack. 

“How about now?” Rozanov asked, repeating the motion again and again, feeling the way Shane tightened on his cock like he was trying to keep it in place forever. His other hand slipped around Shane’s hip, to his cock which was rigid and dripping in front of him, slapping obscenely against his abs with each deep stroke Rozanov drove into him. His hand circled him loosely, not quite jerking him as he was casually dragging his palm along his underside and catching pre-cum along his fingers. “Am I fucking you good enough now? Does it feel amazing–”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“Yes?” Rozanov repeated. “Is that all you can say? Use your words, Hollander. You are big businessman, you talk in many meetings, yes? So tell me.” He bent over Shane’s back, his sweat slick torso gliding along his skin until his lips brushed against Shane’s ear, his next words deeper, more gravelly than the rest, his own arousal clear in the tone. “Give me a status report, hm?” He made one deliberate drag of his cock back, his fingers dancing teasingly against Shane’s balls, before pushing back into him harder, angling his hips up and letting his own pleased moan echo through Shane’s ear.

“Oh my–” Shane breathed out, his head rolling forward on his neck, his body wanting to sag into something for relief but too hungry for the continued pounding reverberating through him. “Fuck, you–you’re doing…fucking…phenomenal. Fuck, your cock is so good. Love it inside of me. The way it moves…and feels…god.”

“Not good enough,” Rozanov growled out. “Do better, or I stop.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Oh no?” Rozanov asked, pulling out so barely his tip was still inside, this time making no move to bring it forward. “You sound sure.”

“Fuck you!” Shane snapped at him, managing to push his ass back to get some of the pressure he needed back. Rozanov’s hand returned to his hip, digging in and restraining him from engulfing him entirely. “Fucking…please!”

“Do. Better.”

“Fuck!” Shane cried out in frustration, looking at the man the best he could over his shoulder with him still pressed so close to his body. “Okay! Okay…fuck, you want a report, so here: your dick is fucking insane. I’ve never felt so fucking full, never taken anyone this fucking big…Shit, I think you might actually be the first guy to find my fucking prostate, alright? And the way you moved against it? Fucking…shit, I’m pretty sure if you kept doing it, I was going to come. I could feel it–so fucking good. You’re fucking me great, but I need…” He trailed off, letting out a frustrated groan and nothing more.

“Tell me,” Rozanov insisted. He brought his hand up to grip Shane’s chin, keeping his face turned towards him, smearing his arousal along the skin from where it still clung to his fingers. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to…to do more,” he answered lowly, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment. “I need to–”

“Fuck me back,” Rozanov finished for him and Shane nodded.

“Hard.”

A sound he didn’t recognize tore through Rozanov’s chest as he twisted to devour Shane’s mouth, his tongue dipping along the arousal coated skin of his face and swiping along the roof of his mouth, pushing against Shane’s hungrily, both moaning as Shane suddenly closed his lips to suck on the appendage again.

Rozanov’s arms shifted, one wrapping around Shane’s torso, across his chest so his hand crossed over to grip his shoulder from the front, the other digging fingers into his thigh until Shane moaned from the bite of them. Then he straightened them both up, chest still pressed to Shane’s back as he feels him slide back down on his cock, filling him full once more. Shane swears loudly, one hand reaching back to grab at Rozanov’s round ass and hold him tightly in place.

Rozanov hums appreciatively in his ear as Shane gives him a squeeze, his tongue brushing along the cusp of it before he speaks again. “Fuck me back as hard as you want, Hollander. Make yourself come on my cock.”

“N-no,” Shane answered, catching him by surprise.

“No?”

“No,” Shane repeated before tossing a smug smile over his shoulder, his eyes happily glazed with lust. “I’m going to make you come in me.”

“Fucking gladly,” Rozanov replied huskily, beginning to move again. He thrust up into Shane, the new angle allowing him deeper, allowing his cock to massage at Shane’s prostate in a way that was quickly making him unhinged.

He moaned at the feel of it, driving back roughly to meet every one of Rozanov’s upstrokes, grinding down as he clenched around him and basking in the sounds he drew from the Russian’s lips against his ear. With a shift of his legs beneath him, Shane found a more accommodating stance, one that let him comfortably drop his head back on Rozanov’s shoulder as his cock hammered away inside of him, making his body feel like electrified jelly. One that kept his body consistently stimulated and him able to actively bounce back on the larger man that his cock was weeping, red and pulsing before him, desperate for a friction he refused to give it. He knew that if he so much as touched a finger to it, he would explode and he didn’t want it–not yet. 

Not when he wanted to feel Rozanov pulsing everything into him first.

But Rozanov still had his own plans, his own desire to be fulfilled in making Shane come again first and he was nothing if not a determined man. With the hand at Shane’s shoulder as leverage, he used Shane’s entire body to fuck down on his cock, ground his hips so that he rubbed along every inch of wall inside of him, dragged his nails along Shane’s hip and thigh for extra stimulation, licked at the length of his neck and sucked at his pulse point. 

Both men were a mess, breathing harder than before, struggling to cling to one another as their sweat drenched bodies slid with every thrust, grind and bounce, their sounds growing garbled, nonsensical and loud. 

Rozanov turned Shane’s face back in towards his, kissing him needily, groaning into his mouth as Shane panted back, throwing his arm backward around Rozanov’s neck and burying his hand in his thick curls. Shane tightened his grip on the wet strands, his bicep flexing by Rozanov’s head too tempting for the other man who broke the kiss just to turn into his arm and bite at the muscle. Shane whimpered and watched as Rozanov’s tongue lashed out to soothe it, his lips closing on the same spot to suck on it and his whole body shuddered in response, making his next bounce on Rozanov’s cock somehow deeper than before.

“Holy fuck, Rozanov,” he moaned, too far gone in his lust to care how slutty he sounded. “That, that was it.”

“It?”

“Yeah,” Shane breathed shakily. “Again. Do it again.” He wasn’t giving much instruction for Rozanov to work with, wasn’t making much sense, but the other man made the effort anyway. 

He tightened his grip on Shane and thrust upward with more force than before, pulling his body down to meet him on each snap of his hips as he bit, licked and sucked on the hard muscle of Shane’s arm again. He felt the response immediately; the death grip of Shane’s hole on his cock, the long drawn out moan that rumbled through his chest, the way his head dug hard into Rozanov’s shoulder.

“I-I’m–”

“Da,” Rozanov interrupted him, doing it all again, mastering the routine with the precision of a pro-athlete. “Yes, you are going to come for me, Hollander. You are going to come on this cock that’s fucking you so good.”

“So…good.”

“And you are going to scream for me.” He bit down just a little harder on the muscle as his cock punched at Shane’s prostate, making him choke out a gasping moan. “You are going to scream for me, aren’t you Hollander?”

“I don’t–”

“You will scream for me and you will let all hotel know you are being fucked to death, yes?” He moved his mouth back to Shane’s face, kissing at the freckles along his cheek before nipping at his earlobe. “You will tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you do,” Shane stuttered and Rozanov smirked.

“Who?”

“You.”

“Who is ‘you,’ Hollander? I do not know ‘you.’ What is the name of the man who fucks you so good? What is the name of the man who has you such a mess? Like perfect, pretty slut for his cock.”

“Fuck…Rozanov. Rozanov fucks me this good.”

“And?”

“And…has me such a mess.”

“And?”

“Rozanov has me like his perfect, pretty slut…”

“Perfect, pretty slut for…”

“Your cock,” Shane croaked out, his voice strained with the warring effort of chasing his orgasm and not coming yet. “Fuck, Rozanov, you have me a perfect, pretty slut for your cock. Your cock that fucks me so good, so amazing, making me a mess…”

“That is right,” Rozanov growled, all restraint gone. Shane’s words had affected him more than he’d anticipated, his body kicking into a level of overdrive he didn’t know he had in the bedroom as he picked up the pace, his hips managing more force, his fingers digging deeper into flesh. Shane cried out louder, his moan sounding broken, his body beginning to tense against Rozanov as his cock throbbed painfully and twitched erratically before him, catching both men’s attention.

“Oh fuck.”

“That is right, Rozanov is making you scream and come for this cock.”

“Roza…”

He pressed his lips to Shane’s ear, his voice thick. “Ilya Rozanov.”

The response was immediate; like nothing Rozanov could’ve expected.

Shane’s hole clenched on his cock, making it difficult–though fuck if he would let it be impossible–to keep thrusting into him, Shane’s cock jerking aggressively in time with their movements, the cry bursting from his throat both loud and broken, a steady stream of pre-cum leaking out of Rozanov at the sound. “Fuck, I-I’m coming…Ilya!”

Rozanov roared at the sound of his name exploding from Shane’s chest–breathy and needy and so fucking sexy–and with no more ability or willpower to hold it back, he came right along with him, groaning “Shane” into his ear, biting at his neck, his cheek, his lips. He tried to bring their mouths together in a kiss as he felt himself empty into the condom, but Shane’s lips gaped open, still moaning uncontrollably, the sound and vibration going directly into Rozanov’s mouth and down his spine to where the fire was spreading and his ass continued bucking.

With great effort, Rozanov held Shane up against him as he started to come down first, his body seemingly melting in his arms, until he felt the last ropes of his own release come to their end. Slowly, he leaned them to the side and then forward–careful to avoid the space drenched with Shane’s orgasm–until Shane slumped into the bed with ragged breaths, Rozanov leaning over him.

They laid like that for a couple of minutes, panting into each other’s cheeks in the post bliss silence, Shane’s hand still in Rozanov’s hair, carding through it softly. The Russian couldn’t help but hum appreciatively at the feeling, nuzzling in a little closer to his neck. “I am going to pull out now, okay?” he said quietly and Shane nodded.

“Just…don’t leave yet. Please.”

I could not imagine wanting to, Rozanov thought to himself silently, drunk on his own euphoria. 

*****

Ten minutes later, they were still tangled together, Rozanov’s arms wrapped around Shane as he kissed along his shoulder and back, sucking at his neck. Shane’s hand was still lost in his hair as the other rested on the bed in front of him. The used condom sat on the wrapper somewhere above their heads, as far as Shane would let him go to dispose of it. 

“I’m going to have to leave a hell of a tip for housekeeping,” Shane said quietly, an attempted joke as he shook his head. “Jesus, these sheets are done for.”

“Mmm,” Rozanov said against his damp skin. “I think they’ve seen worse.”

“Not from me.”

“Definitely from me,” Rozanov answered smugly. Shane couldn’t help the urge to yank at his hair in response, drawing a grunt. 

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“No? You don’t want to hear about my other sex deals?”

“Oh, so you are a prostitute?”

“Fuck you,” Rozanov laughed, kissing below his jaw. “I just mean I have lots of sex.”

“Okay, well, I’d rather not hear about that,” Shane repeated. “It’s not my business.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.” Shane let go of Rozanov’s hair, tried to scoot forward and away from him only to have the larger man pull him back, flipping him on his back as he crawled over him and boxed him in against the mattress.

“Is not big deal, people have sex.”

“Whatever.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Da, you are. Like you are upset or–what is the word? When you like someone but they do not know and they are with other people–”

“I’m not.”

“What is the word?” Rozanov insisted and Shane huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Jealous. And I’m not.”

Rozanov looked at him quietly for a minute, head tilted, gaze assessing. “I broke you.”

“What?” Shane asked, confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I broke you. I ruined you for anyone else. My dick was too good.”

Shane laughed incredulously, looking at Rozanov like he was insane. “It wasn’t that good.”

“You lie,” Rozanov said immediately, offended. “You are liar. I fucked you so good, you come without hands. Do not lie to me. Was first time, yes?” Shane didn’t answer, but the way his eyes darted away from Rozanov told him all he needed to know. “It was. My dick was too much, too good and now you want nothing else. I broke you.” He sounded downright giddy by the idea, Shane’s cheeks flaring again with embarrassment.

Again he tried to breakaway from Rozanov, but the other man wouldn’t let him, pressing one hand into his wrist at his side and dipping his face to force Shane to make eye contact with the other. Fingers digging into his chin with just enough force to keep Shane’s head aligned with his. “Is okay if I did. I am not making fun of you.”

“Whatever. Just…go away.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“No,” Rozanov repeated with a shrug. “I will not go away, I am not done with you yet and you are very much not done with me. And it is okay. Good. You do not want to be. I do not want to be.”

“Right. You still have a condom you want to use.”

“No. Well…yes, but no.” Rozanov’s face twisted, his mind working to find the right words for what he was trying to say. Words that he hadn’t intended on ever saying, let alone when he arrived at the door over an hour earlier. “You had fun, yes? You enjoyed yourself?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” Shane mumbled and Rozanov fought to keep a laugh back. 

“You got what you wanted. You wanted to be fucked and to come.”

“Fucking…yes, okay! Can we not talk about this, its fucking embarassing.”

“Is not,” Rozanov insisted. “Is the world. People fuck, they enjoy, they repeat. Maybe you want to do the same. We fucked, we enjoy and we want to repeat.”

“We?” The look on Shane’s face was entirely different now; not so much embarrassed as confused, maybe even a little…hopeful.

“We,” Rozanov said with a nod. “Fucking you was very good. You are very…responsive. Lots of moaning and when you come–”

“Okay! Okay, just please move on to the point.”

Rozanov grinned. “You were better than I’ve had in long time. I also have not fucked a man in a long time, but still. I would not be mad if we did this again. I liked giving you what you needed, what you wanted. And you did very good listening to me. I think if okay with you, we can keep doing this and I can teach you things like I did tonight.”

“Tonight? What did you supposedly teach me tonight?”

Rozanov’s thumb swiped out along his lower lip as his eyes darted down to it, watching it tremble uncertainly. “Moy khoroshiy mal'chik,” he started in russian before continuing in english. “I taught you how good it is to let go of control. To listen to someone else. To be rewarded.”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t–” But Shane’s words cut off as the entire encounter suddenly played across his mind through a different lens, an angle he hadn’t noticed it had taken until Rozanov said the words.

“I taught you how good it is to let go of control. To listen to someone else.” Suddenly he was seeing Rozanov when he first came in, listening to Shane’s orders to strip and then take off his own clothes only to have everything unknowingly shift when he found himself on his knees before the hockey player, taking him into his mouth. An action he thought he’d done entirely on his own, because he wanted to, only to realize now that it was gently coaxed out of him; his head guided with a soft hand to his hair. Then he was imagining himself on the bed with Rozanov’s mouth around him, reminded of strong hands keeping him down, only letting up when he wanted Shane to be free. Those same hands shifting and adjusting him as Rozanov entered him repeatedly, guiding him to find the right rhythm, the right stroke–all of it to bring the right response from Shane’s body without Shane ever having to think about it for himself.

“To be rewarded.” Rozanov had brought him to orgasm not once but twice within a span of twenty minutes, but his mind told him that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the only reward he’d earned by giving up control. 

“You want to know it, you have to earn first name.” 

Shane’s lips parted in surprise, dark eyes staring up at him in awe. “That’s why you told me your first name. I earned it by letting you have control.” Rozanov nodded. “But I didn’t–I didn’t know I was giving anything up, so how could I have earned that?”

“You do not need to know you are giving anything,” Rozanov answered. “If you do not feel like you are, it is easier to do. It costs you nothing. In business, you are always in control, you know what everything costs. Sex should not be like that. Sex should be fun, should be reward for letting everything go. Is why it was so good. You focused on what you wanted, not how you got it.”

“Okay,” Shane said slowly, processing his words. “I guess I get that. But that still doesn’t answer one thing.”

“What?”

“You couldn’t possibly have known I needed that when we first met, so why did you approach me? Why would you want to do this again? I mean, what do you get from it?”

“That is three things.”

Shane glared and Rozanov laughed, finally letting go of his face to rest his hand on the bed beside his head. “I will not lie; I like challenges. I have read about you many times, about your business. I know things. I saw you tonight and I wanted you. So I tried. Simple. I did not know if you would be interested, and maybe you try to tell someone–but I have reputation as asshole, no one would take you serious. I wanted, I tried, I got. Is what I do.”

“Okay, but why again? You just told me you can get plenty of sex elsewhere so why would you want to again with me beyond tonight?”

“You make me very…curious. I think I would like to see you learn more. If you would let me.” A devious glint took over his eyes then, his tongue wetting his lower lip seductively. “And maybe I am addicted to making you come. You do it so pretty for me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Shane couldn’t help but laugh, turning his head away as his cheeks burned again. “You really are an asshole.”

“Yes, but right now we talk about how much I would like to fuck yours again, yes?”

Shane turned back to him, his heart thudding in his chest.

He’d gone into this just thinking it was a fun one time thing to help him relax before heading home for another months on end dry spell. But now, after what was easily the best orgasm he’d had in years–especially better than he’d done himself–he was being offered the opportunity to do it again sometime. A reliable fuck so good, his body was still thrumming. Who was he to turn down something so good?

And they were both on the same page about keeping it quiet, it seemed. What was the worst that could happen?

“So, what’s your scheduling looking like the next few weeks?”