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A distant rumble of thunder pulled Ilya from the last vestiges of sleep, shifting against Shane’s chest as he began to register the pitter-patter of raindrops against the darkened glass of their bedroom window.
Groaning as he stretched out his legs, Ilya felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips as he heard Shane laugh lightly above him, tilting his gaze up to see his husband smiling at him so fondly it momentarily took his breath away.
His husband.
It had been a month since that fateful day when he and Shane had gotten married in their backyard, all of their closest friends in attendance. It had been a month since they had committed themselves to each other forever (though there was never going to be a world in which it wasn’t going to be Shane for him, so to Ilya, the marriage was merely a formality. There was no Ilya without Shane and no Shane without Ilya. They completed each other in every meaning of the word. And now they were husbands—legally, spiritually, physically, in every way that it mattered).
“Hey sleepyhead,” Shane teased lightly, reaching out to cup the side of Ilya’s face as he adjusted the pair so he could bring their mouths together in a gentle kiss. “Have a good nap?”
“Mmm,” Ilya hummed in acknowledgement, pulling Shane back down and deepening the kiss, though he truly had no intentions of taking it further, simply enjoying the feeling of his husband’s lips against his own. “Sorry I fell asleep.”
“I don’t mind, I did too for a bit.” Smiling softly once more, Shane shifted his hand so that it was running gently through Ilya’s golden curls, his lips stretching further when he heard the contented purr that pulled from his husband’s chest as he did. “I should probably stop before you fall back asleep, hey?”
“Maybe,” Ilya sighed begrudgingly, rolling away from Shane’s touch until he was flat on his back on his side of the bed, turning to look out the window as another boom of thunder shook the cottage, a flash of lightning illuminating the dark indigo waters of the lake. “Weather is so bad. No walk for us. What do you want to do instead?”
Watching as Shane shifted out from under the covers and rose to his full height, Ilya admired the six foot Adonis that was his husband as he walked around their room towards the bathroom, his naked skin brightening with another flash of lightning through the windows.
“Don’t judge me,” Shane started as he slipped through the doorway, emerging a moment later with a stick of his deodorant in his hand. “Want to play NHL 21?”
“Ahhh, that’s my husband,” Ilya grinned, his face lighting up with the suggestion. “We have not played video games all summer! This is the best suggestion, Shane, good choice!”
“We were in Ibiza for the last four weeks, what did you want me to do? Bring the PlayStation with us?”
(I mean yes, but that’s fine).
“I am going to kick your ass,” Ilya teased in place of an answer as he also moved to rise from the bed, following Shane into the bathroom where he moved through their after-sex routine, wiping himself down (though Shane had done the same for him earlier after Ilya had fallen asleep), applying his own deodorant and brushing his teeth for good measure, smiling when Shane handed him his already loaded toothbrush.
“You wish,” Shane teased back, placing a gentle hand on Ilya’s back as he walked past him out of the bathroom. “Do you need a sweater?”
“Yes please.” Brushing his teeth quickly and using mouthwash for good measure, Ilya re-entered the bedroom a few minutes later to find a whole outfit laid out for him on their perfectly made bed, not realizing that was what Shane had been doing over the noise of his own brushing.
Tugging the clothes on and masking another yawn, Ilya left the room, finding Shane heading towards the back door with Anya close on his heels.
“I got it,” Shane laughed as Ilya moved to follow, shooing Ilya away. “Go get the game setup, I’ll take her out to pee and grab some drinks and be right there, okay?”
“Ahh, you spoil me moy lyubimiyy.” Clapping a hand dramatically over his heart, Ilya’s grin once again grew wider at the fond exasperation he saw reflected on Shane’s face, sending him a mock salute before turning on his heel and heading to their media room in the basement.
Plopping down onto the couch cushions once he got there, Ilya turned the TV and PlayStation on with a little wiggle of glee, genuinely having missed the opportunity to goof around and kick Shane’s ass in one of their favourite games.
As he waited for everything to boot up, Ilya pulled open his phone, smiling when he saw messages from Svetlana, as well as a conversation between Cliff and Dray in the trio’s group chat about … the appropriate shorts length?
“No short is too short 👅,” Ilya chimed in unhelpfully, grinning ruefully as his phone began to ding in rapid succession as the boys both answered, flipping his phone over and tossing it on the other side of the couch so he could focus on his task.
Clicking through the home screen, Ilya loaded up a World of Chel match between Boston and Montreal, never having stopped choosing his former team even after moving to the Centaurs, in part because he and Shane had begun as Boston and Montreal players and it felt like an homage to the beginning of them, and in part because beyond this past season, the Centaurs really did suck most of the time.
Content that the game settings were exactly as they wanted, Ilya shifted onto his knees so he could grab his phone once more, pulling the screen back open as he replied to the onslaught of messages from his boys, smirking as their nonsense filled up his phone and nearly missing the sound of Shane and Anya coming down the stairs.
Looking up just as Shane entered the room, Ilya felt his breath catch in his throat, his heart pausing its ministrations as he watched Shane take in the sight of the screen, realizing a beat too late the mistake that he had made.
“Oh fuck. Shane, I’m…” Trailing off into silence, Ilya’s heart fractured in his chest as he took in the pained expression on Shane’s face, the corner of his eyes pinched and his lips pressed together in barely contained agony as he took in the sight of his former team on the screen. The team he had won three cups with. The team he had captained for 10 years. The team that had turned their backs on him for the mere reason of Shane being gay. “I’m sorry, dorogoy. It was habit, I did not think.”
Without a word, Shane stepped further into the room, placing their drinks on two coasters that Ilya frantically rushed to place down, looking sadly at Shane’s glass of water and his own glass of Coke with a wedge of lime tucked into it, just the way he and David liked.
“Thank you,” Ilya said quietly, placing his hand onto Shane once he sat down and gently rubbing soothing circles into the large expanse of his husband’s back, never taking his eyes off Shane’s face who Ilya could see was processing his hurt in real time.
Reaching forward and grabbing Ilya’s controller, Shane backed out to the main screen, Ilya’s heart failing to make a full beat as the pain of his mistake washed over him, his breaths coming in short gasps, his heart stuttering once more in his chest as he desperately combed through the recesses of his mind in an attempt to figure out what he could possibly say to ease Shane’s suffering.
But instead of turning the game off like Ilya had expected, Shane merely selected a different mode, loading up HUT Co-op and selecting the Centaurs for the both of them.
“You…want to play together?” Ilya pressed hesitantly, the pair never once having played on the same team in all the years they had battled it out on late night gaming sessions, a routine that pre-dated their getting together officially, but not by much.
“I mean, we’re going to play together for the rest of our careers,” Shane replied, his voice thick with emotion, sending a knife straight through Ilya’s heart before he continued. “And also, fuck the Montreal Voyageurs.”
And with that, Ilya watched as Shane loaded up the game, putting he and Ilya on the same team and choosing their opponent as Montreal, Shane dashing through the settings to make the game as hard as possible, adjusting everything he wanted before moving to sit properly against the couch cushions, turning and handing Ilya his controller back with a guarded expression on his face. “You ready?”
Nodding mutely, still too overcome with grief at the pain he saw reflected on his husband’s face, Ilya gulped audibly, dropping his head and closing his eyes as he took three deep breaths to calm his splintering heart, grateful when he felt Shane’s calming touch on the back of his head.
“Ilya, I’m not mad. It's okay.”
“I’m sorry,” was all Ilya could mutter in response, avoiding looking Shane in the eye as he pulled away to sink more fully into the couch cushions, tucking his feet underneath himself and shrinking down as small as he could, afraid to take up space in the charged room.
“Ilya,” Shane huffed, shifting onto his knees and pulling his husband’s face up until the pair were eye-to-eye. “We’ve always played Boston and Montreal for the last, what? 5 years that we’ve been playing each other in these games? It’s okay, milyy. Really. I’m not mad.”
With that, Shane leaned down, pressing their lips together in a kiss that held all of their shared grief, pressing his tongue against Ilya’s tight lips until the latter relented, his shoulders loosening as the pair got lost in the kiss, their breaths intermingling within their chests.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispered as Shane began to pull back, dropping his forehead against his husband’s.
“Ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu,” Shane answered easily, Ilya’s heart swelling as the Russian words for ‘I love you so much,’ tumbled from his husband’s lips. “Now focus. I want to destroy Montreal.”
Letting out a surprised bark of laughter, Ilya smiled tentatively as Shane moved back to his seat, Shane motioning for Ilya to begin the game, the former still a little shell-shocked from his own mistake.
But as the game got underway and Ilya realized that Shane was playing as Ilya, laughter began to rumble in his chest to the tune of the thunder outside their home.
“Shane, you cannot play me!” Ilya gasped between his guffaws, shaking his head and reaching for Shane’s controller, laughing again when Shane jumped up and over Anya to get away, a matching grin spread across his husband’s features.
“I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to be a Centaur!” Shane teased, looking at Ilya and winking.
“Worst team in sports!” Ilya parroted proudly, warmth replacing the sickly feeling that had overtaken his chest as Shane huffed a snicker, pausing the game and dropping his head into his hands.
“You’re ridiculous,” Shane replied fondly, looking up at Ilya with love and adoration. “But deal with it. You can be Troy today. I want to play as you.”
“Yes, yes,” Ilya acquiesced, giving up without a fight, just grateful to see a smile on Shane’s face once more. “You can play me moy pomidor, though, is weird we are playing against you now, yes?”
“Eh,” Shane deflected, though Ilya could tell that he was looking at his own character on the now enemy team. “Fuck that guy. I think I prefer the Shane Hollander who plays for the Ottawa Centaurs.”
“Shane,” Ilya laughed himself, smiling at the proud look that had overtaken said man’s face at the comment. “You are so weird. But okay, let’s beat the Montreal Voyageurs.”
Focusing his attention back on the screen, Ilya chanced a look at Shane as the game got underway, brow furrowing as “Troy/Ilya” stole the puck from “Pike,” passing the puck to “himself/Shane,” his chest doing a complicated flip of emotions as he tried to steady himself enough to intercept his/Shane’s pass, hating the feelings that were swelling up in his chest as he tried to lock in on how wrong this whole thing felt, already vowing to give away every copy of NHL 10-21 once NHL 22 came out and he and Shane were (rightfully) on the same team.
Missing a pass, Ilya groaned as a Montreal player on screen picked up the puck, the players rushing down the ice where Montreal’s winger took a shot on goal, “Wyatt” easily deflecting the pass directly back on to Ilya’s stick, Ilya using the controls to turn back around and head back up ice, swiftly skating through the neutral zone and carrying the puck into Montreal’s end, mashing the keys to throw a hit along the boards just as he passed the puck back to himself/Shane, beaming with pride as he/Shane one-timed the puck over Drapeau’s shoulder, directly into the back of the net.
“Take that!” Shane yelled at the screen, momentarily surprising Ilya who jumped a foot, looking at the triumphant look on his husband’s face for two long seconds before dissolving into laughter, Shane and Ilya both collapsing onto Anya’s back and petting her fondly as their cheeks split open with the force of their smiles.
“You are going to have too much fun with this, moy zaychik.”
“I think that’s the point.”
Two hours later found Ilya red in the face as he panted with exertion, growling as he fought off fictional Shane in the corner, getting the upper hand and moving towards the center of the ice, smiling with gratitude when human Shane pulled a defensemen off of him, opening up a lane that Troy/Ilya took full advantage of, rifling the puck into the back of the net, both he and Shane cheering in time with the thunder that rumbled above their heads as the score clock changed to 5-3 Centaurs.
“Damn, nice goal,” Shane said appraisingly from where he sat reclined on the other end of the couch, his posture completely relaxed now, his feet crossed over each other as the players on screen lined back up at center ice, Shane easily winning the face-off like it was any other game..
But instead of joining in, Ilya instead crawled across the couch, Anya having long since gone to curl up in her bed, pulling the controller out of Shane’s grasp and pausing the game before tossing the controller over his shoulder and promptly climbing into Shane’s lap.
“Oof,” Shane heaved as Ilya adjusted himself above him, shifting until he was fully bracketing Shane’s body beneath his own, his husband going along willingly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Ilya repeated, moving to brush his knuckles against Shane’s freckles. “You are looking very pretty today, moy kotenok.”
“You say that every day,” Shane countered softly with a fond shake of his head, tilting his face up in a silent request for a kiss.
“That is because it is true every day,” Ilya replied just as softly, leaning down to capture Shane’s lips.
“Is there a reason you are in my lap?” Shane asked once the pair had pulled apart, his cheeks flushing with happiness and arousal.
“You look so beautiful when you are mad at the Voyageurs,” Ilya answered honestly, his grin growing wider at the genuine bark of laughter that slipped through Shane’s already plumping lips, the pair giggling at his words. “Is it so bad that I want to make love to my husband?”
“Oh? Is that what you think is happening here?”
“Oh yes, I know so,” Ilya hummed decisively as he moved to plant his feet on the floor, reaching his large hands under Shane’s thick thighs and pulling him into his arms, the pair lavishing each other with kisses the second their faces were back together.
“You going to fuck me, Rozanov?” Shane panted as the pair pulled apart, Ilya now moving them towards the door, huffing a laugh as Shane reached around him to flick off the light as they passed through the doorframe.
“You will barely be able to walk by the time I am done with you, moy lyubimiyy.”
“Oh fuck,” Shane sighed contentedly, pulling Ilya’s face up as they crested the top of the stairs and ravishing Ilya with a kiss so filthy that Ilya was glad he was about to have Shane naked underneath him.
Kicking the door closed behind them as they entered their bedroom, Ilya placed Shane down on the bed with more care than their frenzied actions warranted, grabbing the hem of Shane’s sweats and dragging them down his body along with his socks, laughing as Shane eagerly pulled his shirt off and then shivered in the cool temperature of the room.
Stepping back to yank his own clothes off, Ilya growled as Shane’s underwear cheekily struck him in the face, his face morphing into a smirk that had Shane shivering for a different reason before Ilya pounced on his husband, pinning his hands above his head in a tight grasp, though they both knew Shane had no desire to move out from their current position.
Leaning down, Ilya captured Shane’s lips in a bruising kiss, the pair battling with their tongues while Ilya sneakily pulled out the rope from underneath their pillows, sitting up on Shane’s hips and smirking once more at the frown that crossed his husband’s face before Shane felt the rope wrap around his wrists, looking up over his head in surprise and groaning in delight as his cock jumped underneath Ilya’s hips.
“One of you is happy to see me,” Ilya teased, lifting his weight off of Shane’s hips so as not to hurt him and smirking as he leaned forward to tie a quick and efficient knot around Shane’s wrists, pinning the latter’s arms above his head so that Ilya could have his way with him.
“Ilyaaaaa,” Shane whined, tugging at the restraints when Ilya raised an eyebrow in silent question, Shane flexing and clenching his fingers until he was satisfied that the ropes were comfortable. “Feels good. Now fuck me please.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Ilya chided, reaching down and jerking himself off once, twice, three times before grasping the base of his dick and guiding it towards Shane’s open lips, adjusting their position until he was fully straddling Shane’s chest. “Good boys have to earn their fucking, yes?”
Nodding mutely, Shane stuck out his tongue in invitation as Ilya’s cock neared, moaning with gratitude at the weight of Ilya’s cock in his mouth as Shane eagerly sucked at the tip, Ilya’s eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of Shane’s warm mouth around his member, gently pressing further in and groaning as Shane took him with ease, both men loving the feel of the other in their mouth.
Reaching down and supporting the back of Shane’s head, Ilya once again groaned as Shane began working his cock between his lips hungrily, his eyes closed as he took Ilya fully into his mouth, Ilya barely able to stop himself from pushing forward when his cock hit the back of Shane’s throat, pulling out and reminding himself that he was here to worship Shane and not the other way around, almost relenting at the whine that Shane emitted into the air between them as he chased Ilya’s cock as far as the restraints would allow him to go.
“Shh, moy lyubimiyy, this is not about me. Turn over.”
Grumbling, Shane followed the order, rolling to his right and leaning onto his forearms, his tied together hands outstretched before him as he spread his legs and arched his back, presenting himself to Ilya without needing to be asked.
“Ahhh, my perfect husband, presenting so good for me,” Ilya hummed appreciatively, placing a kiss on each globe of Shane’s ass before sticking his tongue out and trailing it towards Shane’s tailbone and then down, down, down until he was lapping at Shane’s hole, the man in question moaning loudly into the space around them.
“Fuck,” Shane grunted, widening his legs even further as Ilya pulled back, shifting off the bed to grab some lube and coming back to his original position. “Ilya, please.”
“Please what, dorogoy?”
“I don’t know, kiss me, fuck me, anything, but I need you inside me like yesterday!”
Smiling at the need that was evident in Shane’s tone, Ilya returned to his earlier task, licking fervently across Shane’s hole, sinking his tongue inside after a few minutes, pulling back only to suck at Shane’s rim and feeling his husband tense as a wave of pleasure crashed over him.
“Holy fuck!” Shane shouted, tugging at his restraints helplessly, his fingers grabbing onto the sheet beneath his grasp and fisting them tightly as Ilya repeated his actions. “Ilya, please. More. I need more. I need you.”
“Yes, yes,” Ilya hummed as he pulled back, sinking his teeth into the tight muscle of Shane’s ass and chuckling as Shane hissed above him. “But first, you must earn it, remember?”
“Tell me,” Shane panted, whining as Ilya pulled back. “Please. Tell me what I need to do.”
“You know three things game, yes?” Ilya started, not missing the look of confusion that crossed his husband’s face as he did.
“Yes?” Shane answered, the question mark evident in his voice. “You want me to say three nice things about myself before you’ll fuck me?”
“No,” Ilya whispered into Shane’s ear as he once again bracketed his husband’s body, catching Shane’s earlobe between his teeth and tugging gently before pulling back and trialing kisses down the length of Shane’s spine. “I want you to say three mean things about the Voyageurs and then I will consider fucking you, moy khoroshiy mal'chik.”
“Fuck,” Shane groaned louder than he ever had, his dick twitching at the very thought. “That’s so fucked up, Ilya.”
“Mmm,” Ilya agreed easily, reaching around Shane and grasping his husband’s cock in hand, tugging at it roughly until Shane was panting. “You do not seem to mind that much.”
“Okay,” Shane replied quietly, dropping his head down towards the bed as Ilya re-positioned himself at the base of the bed, once more leaning forward to lick a thick stripe across Shane’s fluttering hole.
“Whenever you are ready,” Ilya teased, popping open the cap of the lube loudly and drizzling it onto his fingers, dropping the bottle and rubbing his fingers together to warm up the liquid, his right hand gently caressing Shane’s hips while he waited for his husband to follow his orders.
“Um…” Shane started, his face going red as he pushed back into the air, wiggling his ass seductively at Ilya, though the former wasn’t willing to take the bait.
“‘Um’ is not dissing the voyagers, moy baklazhan.”
‘You’re an eggplant,” Shane huffed in response, cheeks flushing a darker red before he relented in a surprisingly steady tone. “The Montreal Voyageurs are a stupid, homophobic team.”
Without hesitation, Ilya sunk his middle finger as deep into Shane’s hole as he could go, the latter keening as Ilya began to stroke his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion, relishing in the sounds pouring from Shane’s mouth as he pushed back against the intrusion, profanities slipping through his lips.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shane chanted, tugging at his restraints and grunting when they wouldn’t move, shifting farther up on the bed so the pressure on his wrists lessened, Ilya easily following him along as he warmed Shane up silently. “More, Ilya. Please, I need more.”
Fully in control, Ilya stayed silent as he continued his movements, pulling his finger all the way out and sinking it back into Shane roughly, grinning when Shane began panting with want, his head thrown back.
“Okay, okay,” Shane gave in with a loud whine, pulling a devilish smirk onto Ilya’s face, the latter more than aware that Shane would eventually relent and do what he had been told.
“The Montreal Voyageurs are so stupid to ever let you and I sign to the same team.”
“Otlichno.” Pulling his fingers out just long enough to add a bit more lube, Ilya returned to Shane’s hole, planting a kiss over top before roughly shoving two fingers deep inside his husband, his own dick twitching with need at the sound that slipped through Shane’s lips as he did.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Shane groaned, adjusting his position slightly so he could push back against Ilya’s fingers, the pair meeting in the middle as Ilya twisted his fingers inside, sending Shane jolting across the bed as the latest strike of pleasure shot through his spine.
“You are taking me so well,” Ilya found himself praising, not meaning to speak, but unable to stop himself from loving on his husband, drinking in the sight of Shane writhing under his fingers, his face red and his skin flushed with the full strength of his desire. “Now, I want another.”
“The…the…fuck,” Shane groaned, whining when Ilya pulled his fingers out once more to add more lube, stilling the tip of his middle finger just inside Shane’s hole as he waited for his husband to obey, smirking when Shane tried to push back and cried out in frustration as he pulled his fingers away.
“Another, Shane.”
“Fuck.” Dropping his head down against the bed, Shane whined, panting as his hole fluttered pathetically around the absence of Ilya’s fingers, turning over his shoulder to look at Ilya who was watching him with the most fucked out expression on his features. “The Montreal Voyageurs are really fucking stupid if they think I tripped on purpose.”
“Zamechatel'no.”
With that, Ilya pulled out the loudest gasp from Shane that session as he unceremoniously sunk three fingers into his husband, targeting Shane’s prostate and tilting his fingers just right until he was pushing upon his pleasure spot with each and every twist, Shane keening so loudly that Ilya decided he would need to make him a tea for his throat once they were done.
“So perfect,” Ilya praised as he moved his fingers in and out, his own dick rigid with want, Ilya barely managing to stop himself from lathering up and pushing inside, determined to get his husband to say exactly what Ilya wanted him to. “One more, dorogoy.”
“F-f-fuck, you said three!” Shane cried out indignantly, gasping with need.
“One for each finger,” Ilya agreed easily, now more determined than ever to get Shane where he wanted him. “But you want to be fucked do you not?”
“Oh my word,” Shane complained, pushing back as hard as he could and full on growling when Ilya fully removed his fingers to lube up his own dick, turning once more to look over his shoulder so he could glare at his husband. “I did what you told me too!”
“And you will continue to do so,” Ilya smirked, making eye contact with Shane as he began stroking himself, breaking Shane’s gaze to tilt his head back, one hand stroking himself roughly and the other running across his chest and pinching his own nipples, Shane whining when he reached for Ilya and was jerked back towards the head of the bed by the restraints. “Ahhh, you want, Hollander? I think you know what you need to do to get fucked, moy khoroshiy mal'chik.”
“The Montreal Voyageurs are a bad team,” Shane panted, the words falling from his tongue with the speed in which he said them.
“Try again.”
“Fuck you!” Shane heaved, dropping his head down once more before relenting. “The Montreal Voyageurs are going to suck next year without me.”
“Mmm, no,” Ilya decided, lining himself against Shane’s hole and teasing the rim, pulling away when Shane pressed back. “But closer.”
“I hate you,” Shane grumbled, though there was no heat in his voice, both men well aware by now what Ilya was looking for.
“Say it, Shane,” Ilya demanded, pressing the head of his cock just past the rim and pulling out once, twice, three times until Shane was a crumpled mess on the bed.
“I made the Montreal Voyageurs what they are and I can unmake them,” Shane finally spoke, his mouth shaky, before steadying as he continued, his voice turning angry as the words flowed from his lips. “I’m Shane Fucking Hollander. I built that team. Fuck them for ever thinking they could be anything without me.”
And with that, Ilya sheathed himself fully, both men crying out as Ilya plowed into Shane, the former meeting his thrusts hit for hit, the only noise in the room the pattering of the rain against the window, the filthy slap of skin and skin, and the moans dripping from both men’s lips as they chased their pleasures together, Ilya lifting his right knee up so he could plant his foot on the bed and drive into Shane with reckless abandon, his orgasm crashing into him with such velocity as Shane clenched around him that Ilya was barely able to catch himself as he collapsed onto Shane’s back, rolling the pair away from Shane’s release and down into the safety of their bedsheets.
“Holy fuck,” Ilya muttered into the back of Shane’s head, dropping a kiss into the sweaty skin there and reaching around his husband with tired arms to untie the knot and release Shane’s hands, the latter pulling off Ilya's dick and rolling over as soon as he was free and octopusing around Ilya’s body.
“That was the hottest thing I think we’ve ever done,” Shane admitted as he came down from his high, his face a dark shade of purple from the exertion of their tryst, breaths coming in gasps as he leaned forward to capture Ilya’s lips in a passionate kiss, Ilya meeting him halfway.
“There’s more where that came from,” Ilya said unsteadily as the pair pulled apart, cupping Shane’s cheek under his palm. “You are so perfect, Shane. You did so good. You are okay? Brain is okay? Wrists are okay? Hole is okay?”
“Yes, yes, yes and yes,” Shane chuckled, dropping his head down onto Ilya’s shoulder and sinking fully into the safety of his husband’s arms. “That was the sexiest thing ever and I really don’t know what it says about me, but I liked that a lot more than I was expecting.”
“Is not a bad thing,” Ilya comforted softly, placing a lingering kiss on Shane’s head. “And anyways. I will always take opportunity to say fuck the Montreal Voyageurs.”
“I’m sure you will.”