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It was out there. Everyone knew about them. His team, Shane’s team. Even the commissioner of the fucking NHL knew about them.
And Shane was struggling, Ilya knew. His teammates were not supportive like his own team had been, and some part of him felt guilty at that. But as glad as he was to no longer be hiding, he hated the dark circles building under Shane’s eyes.
It was worse, he knew, since the playoff game where he’d tripped, when his own team had joined in with the voices of the pathetic Montreal fans, accusing him of throwing the game.
Ilya had been forced to focus on playing New York instead of being there for Shane, which had been hard, made more impossible still by the distance.
As gutted as he had been for his team to lose, he’d never been happier to walk through the front door of his home and into Shane’s arms.
“Are you okay?” Shane asked him, his voice muffled by the way he’d buried his face in his chest.
“I should be asking you this,” Ilya said, resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder, breathing him in, his arms locked tight around him.
“I’ll live,” Shane mumbled. “Just need you.”
“And you have me,” Ilya assured him, soothing one hand down his spine. “I’m right here, moya lyubov.”
Shane looked up at him, and Ilya released him to instead cup his cheeks, frowning at the bruised skin beneath his eyelids. He looked pale, too, drawn. Exhausted.
“You need rest,” he said. “I can see you have not been sleeping well.”
Shane shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not tired,” he insisted. But there was an undercurrent to his voice, a tension that Ilya could feel in the tremors running through him. He was spiraling, and Ilya hated to see him like this.
He considered him, looking him over carefully, noticing the dullness to his eyes, the scruff of stubble over his cheeks, the oversized sweater that hung off his frame. He catalogued it all, and then he bent down slightly, grabbing Shane around the thighs and lifting him into his arms.
“Ilya!” Shane gasped, clutching at his shoulders. He didn’t sound annoyed, but he was concerned. “You shouldn’t be picking me up like this after the series you just played.”
“I’ll live,” Ilya echoed his earlier words, carrying him towards the bedroom. “Right now, I must make love to my fiancé, and then I will fuss over him. Okay?”
Shane sighed but nodded, tucking his face back into his neck and wrapping his arms around him, letting himself be carried.
He was gentle as he deposited Shane on the bed, helping to divest him of his clothes, stroking his hands over his skin in soothing patterns.
“What do you need?” he asked, kneeling before Shane and taking his hands in his own.
“I just-” Shane said, closing his eyes, his expression pained. “I need to get out of my head.”
Ilya understood that. He knew exactly what he needed. A flash of guilt constricted his chest. He’d been playing hockey while Shane was at home, stressed and sad and alone and needing him. It didn’t seem so important, now.
“I am sorry you had to wait so long,” Ilya said, squeezing Shane’s hands. “But I am here now, I will take care of you.”
He stood and ducked in, pushing Shane’s hair back to press a kiss to the center of his forehead. Shane took a shaky, shuddering breath and nodded.
Ilya padded over to the closet, pulling out the box of toys and ropes, pulling a few out. He pushed his own exhaustion aside. This was what they both needed after so long of being apart.
All he wanted was to be close to Shane, to make him feel good, to love him.
The plush rug was soft under his feet as he slowly walked back. Shane tracked him across the room, tilting his head up for a kiss that Ilya was more than happy to bestow on him, cradling his face in his hands as he sipped from his mouth in slow, drugging kisses.
Shane responded beautifully to him, sighing sweetly against his mouth, melting into his hands.
He pulled away reluctantly, his heart full as Shane chased his mouth with a whine. He pressed one last, soft kiss to his lips and stepped back completely. He looked at Shane, at the bed, the headboard, contemplating how best to tie him up, how to make him comfortable so that Ilya could take him apart and then put him back together again.
It had been months now, since he’d first started this thing with the ropes, and he had so many ideas, so many things he wanted to try with him. At some point, he wanted to try some actual suspension, though that would require more preparation and stronger ropes.
For now, though, he would be content with just tying him up all pretty and fucking him until all he could do was cry and moan, just a tight, sweet sheathe for his cock. He was already hard as a rock in his sweatpants, but there would be more than enough time to take his pleasure later.
“Scoot up the bed for me,” he instructed. “On your back, get comfortable.”
Shane nodded and quickly followed his instructions. Ilya stood there watching him, transported back in time to Vegas, to Shane showing off his body for him, that defensive look in his eyes as he did what Ilya told him.
He’d been on the edge, barely holding himself back from dropping to his knees and begging Shane to never leave him.
Now, with Shane only weeks away from being his husband, a ring hanging from the golden chain around his neck, he knew Shane wasn’t going anywhere.
“What?” Shane asked him as Ilya just kept staring at him, shifting nervously on the bed.
“I was remembering Vegas,” he admitted. “How beautiful you were for me, how perfect.”
Shane’s cheeks tinted red. “God, that was such a messed up night. I remember I was so confused.”
“Me too,” Ilya said. Shane had been perfect for him, and Ilya had kept him at arm’s length even as he’d wanted to kiss every inch of his body and worship him. “Wanted to kiss you and tie you to the bed and never let you leave.”
He watched as Shane gave a little laugh, shaking his head ruefully. “I was so sad that you didn’t kiss me,” he confessed. “If you’d done that, I don’t think I would have been able to bring myself to leave.”
“I hated letting you go,” Ilya agreed. “We were very young and stupid, then.”
Shane nodded. “It’s been so hard,” he said, his voice quiet, looking up at Ilya with those shimmering eyes. “But it’s all worth it, because it led us here. I love you so much.”
“I would do it all again in a heartbeat,” Ilya said with a shaky sigh. “Even the hard things.”
“We’re such saps,” Shane said with a watery laugh. “Hurry up and fuck me, Rozanov, before we spend all night just crying in each other’s arms.”
“Okay, okay,” he said with a firm nod. Shane was right. They were both going to be more emotional with how tired they were. Spiraling about how lucky they were to have made it here was pointless and would only make them sad.
That was the opposite of what he wanted.
He climbed onto the bed, kneeling up beside Shane’s head and taking one of his hands, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. He wrapped the rope around his wrist in a simple knot and fastened it to the headboard. It was tight enough to constrict but give him some movement. The last thing he wanted was for Shane to injure himself while they were having sex, so it was important for the rope to have a bit of give to it.
Slowly, he trailed his fingers down Shane’s wrist, his forearm, squeezing at his firm bicep with an appreciative sigh.
“So strong,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his skin, following the trail of his fingers.
The look on Shane’s face was heated as he turned to watch him, and Ilya smirked down at him. Already, there was more life to his eyes, more fire. He loved to see him like this, all of that focus and attention fixated solely on him. It was a heady feeling, one that Ilya was addicted to.
He settled over Shane’s lap and took his other hand, bringing it up to join the first, using the length of rope to secure it in place there as well.
“Feels okay?” he asked.
Shane flexed his arms, testing the give, and nodded. “It’s fine,” he said. “Not too tight.”
“And okay in here?” Ilya asked, tapping the center of his forehead with a finger. “You feel safe?”
The heat in Shane’s eyes softened. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I always feel safe with you.”
Well, that had to be rewarded with a kiss, and so Ilya braced himself with a hand on either side of Shane’s chest so that he could press their lips together, kissing him with all of the love he felt thundering through his chest. Shane sighed into it, relaxing into his kisses and opening his mouth to greet his tongue with his own as Ilya deepened it.
The taste of him was addictive as well, and Ilya was panting lightly as he pulled away. Fuck, how had he ever thought he could walk away from this perfect, beautiful man?
“I love you,” he said, shifting his weight to one hand so that he could brush his knuckles over Shane’s flushed cheek, running his thumb over those beautiful freckles he adored so much.
“I love you,” Shane echoed.
Ilya smiled at him and then retreated, choosing a second rope.
He wanted something pretty, but functional. Something he could hold onto. He thought for a few moments and then grabbed a pillow, nudging at Shane to lift so that he could slide it under his ass. Shane complied, and it left enough of a gap under his back for Ilya to work.
They fell into a meditative silence as Ilya wound the rope around his lower back and stomach, criss-crossing and knotting, linking down to one thigh and then the other. Shane shivered as his fingers brushed along his inner thigh, and Ilya paused, flicking a look up his body, lingering on the way his cock was hard and leaking against his stomach.
It was so gratifying, the way Shane loved this as much as he did.
He met Shane’s gaze and winked, his fingers sliding under the rope currently constricting around his inner thigh.
“Fuck,” Shane groaned, his cock twitching and hips bucking.
“So sensitive,” Ilya cooed, charmed as always by the way Shane responded to him. “You are always so needy for me, moya lyubov.”
“Always need you,” Shane agreed, straining against the rope to look down at him. “Fuck, Ilya.”
He smiled at him, his deft fingers working on Shane’s other thigh, his touches a deliberate tease.
Shane was staring at him like he hung the moon as he tied off the rope, tucking the end of it under the last knot.
Ilya sat back on his heels, admiring his work. Shane’s lower body looked delicious like this, the ropes framing his hard length, a piece of art that Ilya took his time to memorize. “Perfect,” he sighed.
“Please,” was Shane’s whiny response. “Ilya, need you.”
“I know,” Ilya said, patting his thigh. “You will have me, do not worry.”
He stood and stretched, letting his body’s aches and pains announce themselves. It had been a hard fought playoff series. He was littered with bruises and minor injuries, and he was tired in a way he could feel in his bones.
But none of that mattered, not just then. Not when Shane looked so pretty and sweet in their bed, eyes wet with unshed tears as his need grew.
Ilya walked around to the bedside table, pulling out a condom and the bottle of lube. He put them within easy reach and then finally stripped off his clothes, letting out a sigh of relief as he freed his hard, aching cock from its confines. Looking down at Shane, he pumped it a few times, feeling pleasure zing along his spine.
Pushing Shane’s legs open, he settled between them and uncapped the lube. He drizzled some on his fingers and watched Shane’s face as he slowly opened him up. His mouth fell open on a silent moan, his eyes closing as he concentrated on the feeling of Ilya’s fingers stretching him open.
As always, Ilya was struck by how tight and hot he was, the greedy way his body swallowed his fingers and clung to them, like he didn’t want to let them go. It was just about the hottest thing in the world, second only to the needy, whiny noises he was making as he tried to writhe down onto his fingers.
He wanted to take his time, but Shane always made it so difficult, his need always igniting Ilya’s, until he was just as desperate to be inside Shane as Shane was to get him there. This time was no different, and Ilya groaned as he slipped the condom over his length, squeezing at the base to stave off how close he was just from being in proximity to his beautiful fiancé.
“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Ilya said, looking down at Shane as he slicked lube down his ensheathed cock. “Spread out like a buffet, just for me.”
“All yours,” Shane agreed impatiently. “Get in me already, Rozanov.”
Ilya smirked but did as he was bid, guiding the head of his cock to Shane’s puffy hole, slipping the head inside.
Shane was a vice around his cock as he slowly pushed his way into his body, and Ilya clenched his teeth at the intense heat of him. He ground his way inside, bottoming out and resting there a moment to try and catch his breath.
Below him, Shane watched him through lidded eyes, already panting, his arms straining at the ropes holding him against the headboard. The tension in his body was coiled tight. Ilya would need to fuck it out of him.
“Ready?” he asked. He couldn’t wait any longer. Shane wasn’t the only one who was tense, and it had been far, far too long since they’d last had sex.
Shane nodded eagerly. “Fuck me.”
He pulled most of the way out, and gripped onto the ropes on either side of Shane’s hips, using them as leverage to thrust back in. Shane gave a strangled groan and Ilya echoed him, unable to stop the grunts that fell from his mouth as he fucked into him again and again. Shane fell apart beneath him, unable to do anything but take it and moan his name, begging him to go faster, go harder, and Ilya did his best to comply.
Sweat was pouring off of him, making his grip on the ropes slippery, but he just held them tighter, leaning over Shane’s body as he pistoned his hips. His body was screaming at him, but the pleasure was louder, the need was greater, and he pushed through it, his eyes zeroing in on the wild look on Shane’s face as he got closer and closer to the edge.
“Please, please, Ilya, fuck,” Shane begged breathlessly, moaning loudly. His stomach was messy with precome, and Ilya could feel it against his skin as well as he leaned over Shane to claim his lips in a hard kiss, basically bouncing Shane’s on his cock as he licked into his mouth.
“You feel so fucking good around my cock,” he growled against Shane’s lips. “So tight and perfect for me, hmm?”
“Yes, yes,” Shane moaned. “Just for you.”
“Are you going to come for me?” Ilya asked him, pulling back just far enough to study his face, still fucking into him with a roll of his hips that he knew was grinding his cock into Shane’s prostate.
Between that and the added stimulation of his cock being trapped between their bodies would be enough to take him over the edge, he knew.
Shane moaned again in response, his eyes fluttering closed, his cheeks flushed and hair damp with sweat.
So fucking beautiful. Ilya could feel his heartbeat in his cock, his brain woozy and fuck drunk as the sheathe of Shane’s ass tightened around him.
“Close,” Shane whined.
Ilya sat up and drilled his prostate as fast and as hard as he could, fucking into him with an almost feral savagery, his teeth bared as he gave him everything. He was so close it was painful, but he held on for as long as he could, finally crying out when Shane bore down on him, his whole body arching up off the mattress as his cock pulsed, covering his stomach and chest with dripping pearls of come.
With a loud groan of Shane’s name, Ilya emptied himself into the condom, grinding into Shane to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible as his whole body shuddered through his release.
He felt like his soul was leaking out of his dick, and his arms shook as he pushed himself up off of Shane.
Easing out, he tied off the condom and disposed of it, before crawling back over Shane and pressing soft kisses to his slack cheeks. He stirred slowly, murmuring into it, turning his head to seek his lips in a kiss that was lazy but sweet.
“Better?” Ilya asked, smoothing his sweat-damp hair away from his forehead.
Shane hummed his agreement, his eyes hazy as he looked up at him, the tension gone from his body.
Ilya smiled at him, pressing one last kiss to his lips.
He went to the bathroom and returned swiftly with a few items. Some damp washcloths, massage oil, a bag full of Shane’s various ointments and products he used when he needed a spa day. He’d purchased a copy of every single product Shane had in his bathroom in Montreal, making sure that he’d have everything he needed here in Ottawa as well.
This was Shane’s home, too.
Shane’s eyes were closed when he re-entered the room, and Ilya took a moment to admire the picture he made, reclined on the middle of their bed, arms still locked above his head, pearls of come dotting his skin.
God, he really was the luckiest man in the world. The universe, even. To have found Shane, who was everything he could have ever dreamed of in a partner. There were no words to describe how incredibly blessed he was.
He set the things down on the bedside table and the quiet click made Shane stir, turning to look at him. Ilya smiled, ducking down to steal a kiss.
“I will untie your arms, now,” he said. “It will probably hurt a bit, so I am sorry, but I will make it better.”
Shane gave a tired nod and Ilya settled on the bed beside him, his hands moving quickly to untie the rope, releasing his left arm. He heard Shane hiss and caught it with both hands, carefully lowering it to the bed. Grabbing the massage oil, he squirted some into his palm and warmed it between his hands.
He went to work immediately, gliding up and down Shane’s arm, focusing on his shoulder and massaging blood back into it. Slowly, the pained grimace on Shane’s face faded, and he flexed his fingers with a quiet grumble.
“Okay?” Ilya checked.
“Just pins and needles,” Shane mumbled. “It’s just annoying.”
Ilya hummed and kept up the touches, digging his thumbs into the tight muscles until he felt them relax under his hands.
“Other one, now,” he said.
He followed the same process, easing Shane’s arm down, rubbing at the stiff, sore muscles until Shane went pliant underneath him.
Ilya settled over his lap, rubbing his hands over the oiled skin smoothly, from his shoulders to his biceps, his biceps to his forearms, down to his delicate wrists. He dug his thumbs into his palms, caressed each finger.
“Gonna melt if you keep that up,” Shane slurred. “Feels good.”
He smiled and slid his hands back up, rubbing his shoulders again.
“You want more or you want me to clean you first?” he asked.
Shane squinted one eye open. “Wanna be clean,” he admitted. “Please.”
“Of course,” Ilya said. He grabbed one of the damp cloths and brought it to Shane’s chest, shuffling back so that he could gently wipe him down. Shane sighed happily, watching him with lidded eyes.
The second cloth dipped down between his legs, wiping away the lube, and Shane squirmed, his cheeks turning pink. Ilya just winked at him, a fond smile stretching his lips apart. He loved doing this for Shane, loved making him feel good and then looking after him. He loved that he got to have this, to dote on him, and treat him nicely and make him all sweet and pliant underneath him.
The trust Shane showed him always humbled him. He trusted him to take him apart, yes, but also to put him back together afterwards. It was his favorite thing.
“Better?”
Shane hummed his agreement and Ilya went to dispose of the cloths, rinsing them in the sink and hanging them to dry.
This time when he returned to the bed, he laid down beside Shane, rolling him into his chest so that he could kiss him. Shane melted into it, letting him cradle him in his arms as he pressed soft, lazy kisses to his mouth.
He looped one arm over Ilya’s back and opened his mouth to him, and Ilya drank from his mouth happily, dipping his tongue in to taste him.
“Sweet boy,” he murmured, pulling back and gliding his lips over his cheek. He hummed happily, nuzzling into his neck, running his hands up and down his back. Shane was so warm against him, so lovely. He wanted to stay right here in this bed with him forever.
“You’re the sweet one,” Shane whispered back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head that had Ilya blushing. “You’re so good to me.”
“Stop,” he complained, though he was pleased at the compliment. He wanted to be good to Shane, good for him. He wanted him to be happy and carefree and safe, here with him always.
“Never,” Shane said, smiling softly as Ilya pushed himself away, resting his chin on Shane’s chest as he rolled onto back.
Ilya kissed over his heart, and Shane blushed. He hid his smile in his stomach, kissing his way down his body until he was perched between his legs, examining the ropes that still framed his body so beautifully.
“Time for this to come off, probably,” he murmured. “I don’t want your pretty skin to bruise.”
Shane gave him an amused look. “Too late for that,” he said. “Or have you already forgotten how hard you were pulling at the ropes?”
He gave him a smug smile. “I have not forgotten,” he said. “I will be dreaming about it for months.”
Ilya’s smile softened as Shane gave a low chuckle at that.
His fingers teased under one of the ropes at his side, and Shane’s laugh died in his throat, his eyes darkening. Ilya bit back a smirk as he dug his thumb into the mark that sat there, where a knot had dug in a little deeper.
Shane gasped, hips twitching up, his soft cock stirring to life.
So easy, Ilya thought, watching it swell with calculated interest.
He found the end of the rope and untucked it, unwrapping Shane like a present, taking his time. His breathing grew laboured as Ilya worked, thighs twitching under his hands. He was so beautiful that it made Ilya’s teeth ache. He wanted to bite down on his thigh until it bruised, to stake his claim here, even if it was only for the two of them to know.
The marks left by the ropes criss-crossing his thighs and stomach kept most of that feeling at bay, something primal in him elated by the red imprints of the rope on his delicate skin, the light bruises forming in the shapes Ilya had crafted on him.
“You are stunning,” Ilya said reverently as the last of the rope fell away, his fingers brushing over his masterpiece. “Fuck, Shane, just look at you.”
And Shane was gazing back at him, expression dazed again, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.
He held his gaze as he settled into place between his legs, nudging them apart with his shoulders to make room so that he could duck his head down, tracing his tongue up his cock. It hardened even more under his ministrations, leaking from the tip, and as he lapped up the precome, Shane’s eyes fluttered closed, a whine slipping from his lips.
After literally years of doing this, he knew exactly what Shane liked. The lightest touch of teeth as he pulled off, tongue tracing around the head and digging into his slit, a tight swallow with his nose nestled in his neatly trimmed pubes.
Shane’s hands sunk into his curls, breathy moans falling from his lips as he arched up to meet his mouth. Ilya let him, bracing his hands on Shane’s thighs as he slowly rutted up, his eyes focused on Shane’s face.
So beautiful. He would give Shane everything he needed and more. If he needed to get out of his head, Ilya would take him there. If he needed to take charge, Ilya would defer.
All he cared about was making him feel good.
“Fuck,” Shane hissed, blinking his eyes open and trying to focus on him. “God, Ilya, your mouth.”
Ilya hummed around his length, suctioning his cheeks as he lifted off of his cock and back down again, Shane’s hands helping to guide him back down.
He felt Shane’s fingers tighten as he held him there, giving tiny little motions as he ground into it, his cockhead rubbing against the back of his throat.
It was so fucking hot, and Ilya felt his eyes drift closed as he focused on the feeling of Shane’s cock sliding down just that bit further.
Above him, Shane cursed, his thighs trembling.
He collapsed back, and then he was coming, the bitter fluid flooding Ilya’s mouth. He swallowed it down, breathing through his nose as Shane trembled, each wave of his come pulsing into the back of Ilya’s throat.
When he was done, Ilya pulled off and licked his lips, resting his chin on Shane’s thigh as he looked up his body, admiring him. Shane’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes lidded as he gazed back.
“Good?” Ilya asked, pressing a kiss to his hip.
Shane sighed and nodded, looking adorable, all sleepy and sweet, like a big teddy bear.
Ilya kissed back up his body and claimed his lips. Shane kissed him back lazily. If he were some kind of cat, he would probably be purring, and Ilya smiled against his lips, charmed by him.
“Are you tired, moya lyubov?”
“Mmm,” was Shane’s response, his arms lax around his waist.
Ilya pressed a kiss to his temple, sliding onto his side and pulling Shane with him.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Under the covers, sweetheart.”
He helped Shane wriggle underneath the blanket and tucked him against his chest, arms securely wrapped around him.
“Love you,” Shane mumbled into his chest, nuzzling close.
Ilya pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his heart full. “I love you, too.”
He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of Shane’s body, feeling warm and happy and secure with his fiancé pressed all along the front of him.
In the morning, he would make him eat some real food and go outside and see some sunlight, but for right now, he was content just to hold him.
All of the pain and insecurity and uncertainty, all of it had been worth it. Because it had led him here, only a few scant weeks from marrying the man of his dreams.
A man who saw all of Ilya’s rough edges and loved him anyway, not in spite of them, but because of them. A man who met him and challenged him and supported him unconditionally. A man who was a little shy and awkward, yes, but who blossomed under Ilya’s hands like a flower turning to the sun.
His man. Shane Hollander. Soon, his husband.
Ilya tightened his hold, letting out a happy little sigh.
Yes, he was the luckiest man in the world.