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Shane was off. Not his game, of course. Even though the Centaurs were only on their third practice of the pre-season, Shane dominated every drill and every shot on goal like there was more on the line than just feeling out new teammates. Ilya wished he could enjoy it for the breathtaking spectacle watching The Shane Hollander show off up close and personal was, but he also knew that this was more than Shane simply being unable to give anything less than 110% on the ice.
Shane’s game was not off because Shane would never let his game be off. Shane was off.
Ilya leaned lazily against his locker and tracked his husband’s movement around the locker room under the guise of hanging out. He chatted with Troy while, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Shane exit the shower area in a towel and slides, dutifully nodding along to something Bood was going on about. He made fun of Hayes’ sad attempt at facial hair while Shane pulled on a t-shirt. Shane caught and held his gaze once, briefly, as he tied the laces on his sneakers. He narrowed his eyes and gave the briefest shake of his head. The movement was half obscured by Bood hovering over him talking about lettuce or whatever the fuck, but the sentiment was clear. What are you doing? Stop it.
Ilya did not stop. He wasn’t blatant about it, and he was relatively sure none of the other guys had noticed, but he continued to keep half his attention on Shane until Shane with a nod and a polite, “See you tomorrow,” which most of the boys dutifully parroted back.
“And I must go as well,” Ilya said the second the door closed behind Shane. “I have some business to attend to.”
A chorus of boos followed him out and one brave, “I’m telling your husband you called him ‘business’,” which he would deal with tomorrow in the form of sprint drills. For now, he really did have captain business to attend to. He would check in on any of his teammates if they had outskated everyone else, then demanded to run the drill again because that wasn’t his best.
They drove separately to the rink. Shane’s idea, obviously. “We should keep our private life separate from work,” he’d said. When Ilya had asked if he was afraid of anyone on the team saying something to them, Shane had said he believed Ilya when he said the team would be cool about them, and they could handle anyone who wasn’t. Separate cars was about a healthy work-life balance. When Ilya laughed in his face, Shane had punched his arm and said he was trying, asshole.
So. Because Mr. Eat Sleep Breathe Hockey decided he wanted to be a real boy, Ilya trailed Shane’s sensible SUV with nothing but some nonsense EDM blasting out of his speakers to fill the silence. He let out a helpless laugh when, about half-way home, he noticed that Shane was going exactly the speed limit leaving the practice rink, not one kilometer over or under. Of course he was. By the final red light before their, their, street, he was tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel, but he was determined to be patient. There would be time for action later. Now, he would observe and plan.
Finally, the slow - safe, Ilya - crawl home ended, side by side in the driveway, the garage too full of boxes from two lives settling into one. It was okay, though. It was only late summer. There was still time before the brutal cold and heavy snows made parking outside unpleasant at best.
Ilya slid out of the driver’s seat half a second before he heard Shane’s door open. They shut their doors half a step out of sync. Grabbed their bags out of their respective trunks. Shane’s SUV chimed, signaling it had been locked. Shane’s keys jingled as he pulled Ilya’s keyfob up to lock his doors for him. Ilya lived in too good of a neighborhood for him to worry about locking his doors, but Shane had never met a rule he didn’t want to make out with, so his good practice had become routine.
“Were you behind me that whole time?” Shane asked as they made their way up the driveway to the front door.
“Had to make sure you knew where you were going,” Ilya said.
The thing was, Ilya had not exactly formed a plan on the way over. He’d formed an idea, thought good enough, and was now in the process of winging it. But this was a good story. He was warming to it already.
“What?”
“You are new here, yes?” Ilya asked. “Team rookie. I have invited you over, and I was making sure you did not take any wrong turns on the way.”
“Excuse me?”
Shane squinted against the afternoon sun looking equally annoyed and confused. Ilya had to work very hard not to unlock the front door too slowly lest he be caught admiring how unbearably sweet and bitchy his husband was, but he couldn’t help but let the moment stretch on just a bit longer than necessary.
“You heard me,” Ilya said. He pushed open the door. “Inside. I do not think you want to have this conversation where neighbors can hear.”
Anya helped sway him inside, darting at them so fast she slid a little rounding the corner into the foyer. Remembering her training at the last possible second, she stopped just short of barreling into Shane’s legs. He gave her head a firm pat and told her she was a good girl. So true. Ilya wanted to gnaw on the moment with his teeth.
Unfortunately, that was not a possibility because scientists hadn’t yet figured out how to let the world have anything good, so all he could do was take an off-center photo and add it to the monumental folder of Shane + Anya. An unlocked folder. Because he got to keep any photos of Shane he wanted now.
He knelt to take his turn with Anya. He gave her an acceptable amount of ear scritches and hugs, then said, “Wait here. I will let her outside, then we will talk.”
He walked Anya to the backyard, set her up with a bowl of water just in case she got thirsty, and gave her a treat just for having a perfect face. And also allowing him to kick her out of the house while he had…some sort of conversation with her other father.
When he came back inside, he found Shane leaning against the front door, exactly where Ilya left him. He was staring up at the ceiling in obvious annoyance, fiddling with the strap of his gym bag. Beautifully obedient.
When Shane Ilya had returned, he transferred his glare from the ceiling to Ilya. It was truly a struggle to not smile or get hard, but somehow he managed.
“Why am I standing in the foyer?” Shane asked.
“Because, Rookie,” Ilya said, drawing out the word rookie just to be obnoxious, “your captain has invited you over for a little chat, and you are respectfully waiting for him to ask you to have a seat. Good job. You pass.” He winked.
“What is this.”
“Can I get you anything?” Ilya asked instead of answering. “I have water, soda, Gatorade. I can make a really gross smoothie with spinach and sand if you would prefer.”
“I do not put sand in my smoothies,” Shane said.
“Okay, so I will not make you the smoothie. Water? You seem like you would like water.”
“Ilya.”
“I am your captain, Rookie. You should address me with more respect.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “I suppose you want me to respectfully suck your dick, Captain? You are such a cliche.”
Well. That hadn’t actually been Ilya’s plan, bare as it was. His vague outline had only ever included poking at Shane’s sore spot until he blew up and finally talked about what had been making him so uptight since his first practice with the Centaurs. Ilya had an idea, but he needed Shane to say it. He was pretty sure Shane needed to say it, too.
However. Dick sucking. That was an intriguing offer.
“Oh?” Ilya said. He put his hands in pockets and took a casual, predatory step forward. Then another. Crowding Shane back against the door, he said, “I do not believe I mentioned anything about sucking a dick. Curious that is where your mind went. Did you do that for your other captains?”
“Fuck you.”
The sentiment was somewhat undercut by the way Shane’s pupils dilated and his voice went just the slightest bit unsteady. The way Shane reacted to the idea of being a slut would have been funny if it wasn’t so brain-meltingly hot.
Not touching, but very close, Ilya said, “I do not mind. If you want to suck my cock. If that is what you need, I will give it to you. I am a very giving captain, after all.”
That earned him a look of disapproval. Like he wasn’t mad, he just found Ilya to be a little uncouth.
“Come on, Rookie. Let’s see if you have what it takes to excel in the MLH,” Ilya said. On the one hand, he did want to push Shane back into that slutty little pocket in his brain that lit up at the idea of pleasuring his team captain. That seemed like a good place for Ilya to be in sex-wise. On the other hand, the bad porn dialogue was kind of fun. He wanted to see how long it would take Shane to crumble under the weight of it.
“I’m not sure I understand how blow jobs correlate to hockey,” Shane said dryly.
A little longer, then.
“Ah, you see, that is where you are wrong. It is very relevant. For instance, can you take direction like a good boy, or are you stubborn? Will cause friction with team?”
He leaned forward and took Shane’s earlobe in his mouth just long enough to give it a little nip and a brief lick. He heard Shane’s breath hitch as he let his own breath wrap around the shell of Shane’s ear. Goosebumps rose along the skin of Shane’s neck, and Ilya nosed down the path they created, then back up to the soft hair behind his ear. Ilya inhaled the hint of Shane’s natural scent that was just beginning to peek out from beneath the artificial pine of locker room soap. His lips pressed close enough to Shane’s neck to graze sensitive skin with every word.
“Do you have stamina?” Ilya asked. “Will you work hard to take what your captain gives you? All very relevant hockey questions.”
“You’re such an idiot,” Shane said breathily.
“I will not force you to do anything.” Ilya pulled back to catch Shane’s gaze. “But I think you will want to do it anyway.”
“Why’s that?”
Ilya hummed, pretending to think about it for a moment, and said, “Because I will be very hard on you at practice if you do not. How else will I be able to assess your skills?”
Shane smirked. “Seems like you’re pretty hard on me already.”
He gave the visible chub in Ilya’s athletic shorts a pointed look, then let his eyes travel slowly back up to meet Ilya’s.
Yes, Shane was very hot. Unfortunately for him, Ilya had an iron will when shenanigans were afoot. He took a pointed step back and shrugged.
“Okay. If you do not want to, that is-”
“No, I-” Shane’s hand shot out to grab Ilya’s forearm. “I’ve just never, uh, done this before?”
The hesitation in his voice was so deeply charming. He was following a script Ilya had written half of and then immediately set on fire; of course he was a little unsure of where to go next. Lucky for the both of them that he managed to land on an idea so stupidly sexy Ilya was shocked neither of them had thought of it before.
The thing was, Shane had once been a shy, young, nervous rookie losing a version of his virginity to Ilya in an okay hotel. Ilya loved the confident, experienced man he married, but he also loved that eighteen year old version of Shane so fiercely it almost burned. Their first time had been good. Great, even. It had tempted them both into doing it again and again and again. Shane’s first time paired with Ilya’s knowledge of everything that made Shane pant and writhe and beg not yet, I want- I wanna last-? Ilya could think of nothing he wanted to do more.
“That is okay,” Ilya said. He stepped back into Shane’s space and ran a gentle hand down his face, then held his jaw in a firm grip. “I can teach you. You will learn from the best, yes?”
“At hockey or blow jobs?” Shane asked.
Ilya let his hand trail down Shane’s neck to his shoulder. He pressed down until Shane got the hint and sank to his knees. He ran a gentle hand through Shane’s hair in reward.
“Both,” Ilya said.
Shane looked up at him then, eyes sparking with mischief. He said, “I didn’t realize Shane Hollander was here. I’d love to meet him.”
“He does not enjoy when pretty boys get on their knees for him,” Ilya said dismissively. He tightened his fist around the hair at the back of Shane’s head. Only good boys received caresses. He forced Shane’s head back far enough to ensure he met Ilys’s gaze head-on, no coy glances through lashes.
“The fuck he doesn’t,” Shane said.
There was the barest hint of laughter in his voice that Ilya had to fight not to return. He had serious business to attend to.
“He likes getting on his knees,” Ilya clarified. “How would he teach you what you need to know if you are both down there?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Shane said. He did not argue, though.
Ilya freed his now achingly hard cock and tapped it against Shane’s lips as he said, “Now, be good and open wide. Watch for teeth.”
Shane gave him an affronted look. Of course he knew how to give a good blow job, but did the sweet rookie on his knees right now know? Did the virgin in front of him understand what it took to get Ilya off?
“That’s it,” Ilya said, almost sighing as Shane took him into his mouth.
Shane set a fast pace immediately, slapping Ilya’s hand out of the way to stroke the parts of Ilya his mouth wasn’t able to reach just the way Ilya liked. It was clear he had something to prove, and he was damn well going to prove it if Ilya didn’t slow things down here in a moment.
“Is not race,” Ilya said, even though it almost certainly was in Shane’s mind, that little competitive freak. Two had always played this game, though, so he raked his hands through Shane’s hair and tugged on it again when Shane refused to give Ilya a goddamn breather. “Relax. Slower.”
His beautiful, beautiful husband’s hand eased up on both pressure and pace in response to the instruction, too quick for it to be a conscious effort. He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath through his nose while Shane licked at his tip, which was all he could reach with the way Ilya was currently holding him back.
When Ilya got himself back under control, he crooned, “Better. Good. I know you are eager. You cannot help it, no?”
Shane ignored him in favor of getting lost in the job at hand. His mouth sank lower when Ilya freed him, but he kept the new pace.
Without any pushback or backtalk from Shane, Ilya let himself get lost in the fantasy. A young, bright-eyed Shane Hollander was back in front of him. It was after that silly little photo shoot Ilya had secretly arranged for them to do, and Ilya was going to go after the boy who had plagued his thoughts on and off for years. Knowing his Shane’s penchant for exhibitionism, could he have pushed just a bit harder and gotten something going in the locker room instead of waiting an agonizing 47 minutes to head to Shane’s hotel room - half of which was spent pacing in his own room trying to play it cool?
There was only one way to find out. Casually, he said, “I’ve seen how you look at me in the showers.”
Shane froze.
“Do not worry.” Ilya said. He stroked a hand down Shane’s cheek condescendingly. “It is only natural. You see a beautiful man with a large cock and you begin to wonder how it tastes. How it feels inside you.”
He watched as Shane’s blush steadily darkened and spread down to his chest where it disappeared under the collar of his shirt. So pretty. He couldn’t wait to trace that path with his tongue later.
“I have wondered too, you know,” Ilya said. “How could I not when you flaunt your tight, enormous ass in front of me like you want me to look.”
“I don’t,” Shane pulled off to say. Immediately after his denial, he swallowed Ilya down deeper than he had before, like he wanted to hide his face against Ilya’s skin. It was too much too quick, especially for Shane, who had never quite mastered deep throating, and he was forced to back off with a light gag. He was so delightfully stubborn, and Ilya certainly wasn’t going to tell him to give up on his dreams.
“Agree to disagree,” Ilya said. His voice was a bit too soft, unable to truly hide his affection in the moment, but it would have to do. “You can want me to look, and it is okay because I am looking. I have been waiting for you to come to me and take what you need. Isn’t this easier than fighting me?”
This was what he’d been waiting for. Shane had no quip or fight left. He simply hummed in agreement, lost in the moment. Ilya pushed his bangs back to get a better view of glossy eyes peeking up through damp lashes. He held Shane’s head steady and thrust into his mouth just far enough that it could be considered a tease for both of them. Shane was visibly relaxed and easy, as he always was at a certain point. It was one of Ilya’s favorite things in the world, getting to that place.
“Touch yourself for me,” Ilya said.
Shane made a soft noise around Ilya’s dick, and his hand disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts.
“Ah, no,” Ilya said. “Take it out. I want to watch.”
Shane’s dick was out of his shorts for a total of three strokes before he came all over his own hand and a little on his shirt. It was truly insane that Ilya just got to have this. Forever.
“I’m about to come,” Ilya said. Because how could he not. His voice was strained with the effort not to immediately come after that show, but he managed to ask, “Will you be a good little rookie and swallow for me?”
Shane quietly shut his eyes and began to suck again instead of just providing a hot, wet hole for Ilya to thrust into.
Ilya, who had always been powerless to deny Shane anything, came, one hand still fisted in Shane’s hair, the other pressed against their front door to keep his balance.
“That’s it,” Ilya said. He pulled out and wiped the corner of Shane’s mouth with his thumb. “Perfect.”
Shane nuzzled his cheek into Ilya’s palm, a sweet, pliant smile tugging the corners of his lips up. Ilya would love nothing more than to bottle this moment and live in it forever, but he knew Shane would be uncomfortable soon. Swallowing was a Special Occasion Only activity in the Rozanov-Hollander household as far as Shane was concerned.
“Up you get,” Ilya said. He tapped Shane’s cheek with his palm, then reached down to tug at his arms until he was on his feet again. Ilya tucked his dick back into his shorts, then did the same for Shane. His hand lingered on Shane’s soft length a moment longer than necessary, relishing the fact that Shane let him do whatever.
Ilya eventually pulled himself away and said, “I will get you a Gatorade to wash the taste out.”
“That tastes worse than your come,” Shane mumbled.
“So picky,” Ilya said with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Will you take a smoothie?”
Shane nodded. He dutifully trailed Ilya to the kitchen, washed his hands off in the sink, then took a seat on one of the metal stools at the island to wait patiently for his sludge. Once it was in hand and Ilya’s taste had been sufficiently smothered by moss and grass and whatever else, Shane asked, “You have a thing for rookies now?”
“I have a thing for my husband,” Ilya clarified. “And I will have you know I had actually not planned on sex being part of that conversation at all.”
Shane snorted.
“Is true! You think so little of me,” Ilya said.
“No, I don’t. I just know you.”
“And I know you. Which is how I know you are being weird. You have been weird for weeks now. At practice, but home, too. Sometimes.”
Shane’s shoulders visibly tensed. “Weird how.”
“You are all-” Ilya gestured to the way Shane was all slowly coiling muscle and unease. “You go prickly. Very intense, very focused. Is not a bad thing. I just want to make sure you are happy here.” With me, on this team we could make great together, he didn’t say.
“I’m always focused on the ice,” Shane said.
“I know,” Ilya said. “You seem to be more focused. Am I wrong?”
This was the first time they’d really played together on a team, but he’d seen glimpses of what Shane was like over the years. He’d seen Shane lead the Voyageurs through countless games. He’d been led by Shane at All-Stars years before. Even as uptight as he’d been then, it was nothing compared to what he’d been like recently.
Shane blinked down at the counter. After a moment, he said, “I guess I haven’t really thought about it. I just want to win. More than I have since before I won my first cup. Maybe it’s making me more intense than usual.”
“Ah. See? You are coming into a bad franchise with dreams of winning it all. Sounds a lot like Rookie Shane to me.”
Shane rolled his eyes, but his lips still twitched upward in an amused smile.
“Listen,” Ilya said. “They cannot take anything you accomplished away from you. We are going to win the cup as Centaurs because there is no way you and me together are not the best in the league, but even if you do not win any awards ever again, they do not own any of it. Your cups. Your titles. You do. You have nothing to prove because you’ve already proven it.”
Shane rode him right there on the kitchen floor.
The next day at practice, Shane’s shoulders were lower. He spoke up a bit more. He even smiled unexpectedly, sending a distracted Haasy headfirst over the boards. It was Ilya’s favorite practice of all time.
“Nice skating, rookie,” Ilya murmured low, just for Shane to hear as he passed to take his position in the next round of speed drill.
“How’s my stamina now?” Shane asked.
“Eh. We can work on it.”
“Unbelievable.”
Shane’s laughter followed him out to center ice.