Chapter Text
Ilya’s stomach is filled with butterflies. Particularly, every time he makes eye contact with Shane Hollander. He’s nervous for his first photoshoot, he tells himself. Perfectly normal. It meant nothing that night 6 months ago in the hotel gym when he shared his water bottle with Hollander and, possessed by some sex demon, whispered “more” at him while he was drinking. Hollander was clearly also possessed by the same demon when he winked in response.
Ilya had promptly snatched his water bottle back, scrambled off of the gym floor, and scampered back to his room to totally not jerk off.
So what if the butterflies intensified when he and Hollander were giggling like school children during their serious face off shots. So what if they intensify now, as Ilya follows behind Hollander at craft services and watches him load a plate with food and then a second plate dedicated solely to dessert. Ilya fills his own plate and sits quietly at one of the folding tables. Hollander plops down next to him.
“Having fun?” Hollander asks, taking a big bite of one of the two sandwiches he selected.
“Yes, I don’t like the makeup so much though.” Ilya responds.
“Why? You look pretty.” Hollander grins. Ilya feels himself blushing.
“Shut up.” Ilya grumbles.
“So when did they tell you that we were doing the commercial together?” Hollander asks.
“Two days ago.” Ilya replies. “Why, when did they tell you?”
“They didn’t. It was my idea.” Hollander says.
Before Ilya can respond, an incredibly put together woman with long dark hair appears out of nowhere.
“Shane, I need you to- really, Shane?” She cuts herself off, eyeing Hollander’s dedicated plate of dessert. Hollander just shrugs, shoving more food into his mouth. She sighs and continues, “I need your electronic signature on this agreement with Reebok.” She thrusts her phone at him. Hollander taps away and hands the phone back. “Thanks, honey.” She says and rushes away.
“Reebok?” Ilya asks, feeling a pang of jealousy. Not about the brand deal. About Hollander’s mom’s apparent level of involvement with the whole thing.
“She tried to get me a deal with Calvin Klein. They rejected me.” Hollander laughs and pats his belly. Ilya’s mouth goes dry. “You could probably get a deal with them though.” Hollander says, gesturing vaguely towards Ilya. He starts in on his plate of desserts.
“I am not much of a businessman.”
“Your parents can’t help you with it?”
“My father is in Russia.”
“Makes sense.” Hollander says, not pressing the issue.
After lunch, it’s time for them to do solo shots skating around the rink and showing off their stick handling. Hollander volunteers Ilya to go first.
“I ate too much. I need a minute before I can get back on the ice.” He says. Ilya feels a swoop of arousal.
When the shoot is over, Ilya slinks into the showers to find Hollander is already soaping himself up. Ilya averts his eyes, but not before he gets a direct view of Hollander’s impossibly round and plump ass and girthy thighs. Holy shit. He busies himself with his own shower, trying to feel very normal about Hollander being so naked so close. Ilya has showered with other men thousands of times. No big deal.
It’s going great until Ilya steals another glance at Hollander. Ilya is immediately drawn to the gentle curve of Hollander’s belly. It looks so soft. Ilya wants to poke it. He feels his cock twitch to attention. Oh fuck. He tries to think about anything besides Hollander’s soft midsection. Unhelpfully, his mind supplies an image of Hollander’s voluptuous ass instead. Fuck, he’s getting hard now. He can feel himself blushing.
He makes the mistake of glancing over to Hollander, just to reassure himself that Hollander is paying no attention to him, only to find that Hollander is paying a great deal of attention to him. Staring directly at him, in fact. Hollander raises an eyebrow, eyes locked on Ilya’s half hard cock.
“I was thinking about something else.” Ilya sputters.
“Right…” Hollander responds, clearly unconvinced. Ilya goes back to rinsing his hair. When he opens his eyes again, he can see motion out of the corner of his eye. Against his better judgement, he glances over at Hollander, who is stroking his cock and starting directly at Ilya. Ilya freezes. He stares long and hard at Hollander pleasuring himself.
“Not here.” Ilya eventually chokes out.
“I’m in 1410. Come up at 9:00.” Hollander says casually, like he doesn’t really care whether Ilya shows up or not. Ilya nods silently, unable to manage more than that. Hollander shuts off the water and leaves the showers without so much as glancing back at Ilya.
***
At 8:58 Ilya is in the elevator, nervous and unsure of what to expect. Maybe this is a giant prank. Maybe Hollander is going to out him to the world. He almost turns back, but the thought of getting his hands on Hollander’s supple body propels him forward. He knocks on room 1410 and for a split second is filled with dread that Hollander purposely gave him the wrong room number. But Hollander opens up, looking impossibly soft and cozy in a hoodie and sweats. Ilya feels overdressed in his jacket and nice jeans. Hollander steps aside and lets Ilya into his room. Ilya immediately clocks the two empty room service plates sitting on the desk near the door. Ilya feels heat in his lower stomach twist around excitedly.
“Do you want to talk?” Ilya asks Hollander.
“Not really.” He replies. He crowds Ilya against the closed door. He kisses Ilya. It is surprisingly tender. Hollander’s hands skate over Ilya’s abs as he kisses him. Then he grabs Ilya by the waist and roughly pulls him even closer. He grinds his erection against Ilya’s thigh. Ilya thinks absently about the fact that Hollander is already rock hard. He thinks about the fact that Hollander was eating at some point before Ilya arrived. Hollander takes off his hoodie. He’s wearing a skin tight tank top underneath. Ilya swallows thickly, mouth watering at the way the shirt clings to his meaty pecs and the little pooch at the bottom of his belly. Ilya sinks to his knees.
“Someone’s eager.” Hollander teases. Ilya realizes a moment too late that he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s gotten blow jobs from girls before, two to be exact, but he’s not sure that makes him an expert on giving them. He knows he can’t stop now though, so he grabs Hollander’s sweatpants and briefs and yanks them down. He takes a deep breath and then takes Hollander’s hard cock into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around a little. Then he takes him deeper, as deep as he can without gagging. Hollander’s hands tangle in Ilya’s hair and he moans. Ilya starts bobbing up and down, feeling somewhat robotic. He starts to find a rhythm, and then suddenly Hollander is pulling him off of his dick.
“Sorry, sorry.” Ilya apologizes feeling his heart beating wildly. “I’m sorry if it was bad-“
“No, it wasn’t. It was good. Too good.” Hollander says. “Have you done this before?” He asks.
“Not with a man.” Ilya breaths. “Have you?”
“Yes.” Hollander answers, with all the confidence in the world.
“Really?” Ilya is surprised. “With who?”
“My neighbor, back in Ottawa.” Hollander says casually. “Did you like sucking my dick?” He asks. Ilya nods. “Use your words.” He commands.
“Yes. I liked it.” Ilya says. Hollander leads Ilya towards the bed. He takes his pants the rest of the way off and then his tank top. He folds them neatly and drops them on the chair next to the bed. Ilya knows he’s openly staring.
“Like what you see?” Hollander smirks. Ilya nods. “Not fair.” Hollander says gesturing towards Ilya who is still fully clothed. “I want to see you.”
“You saw me in the showers.” Ilya says.
“Yeah, and I want more.” Hollander replies. Ilya hastily takes his clothes off and leaves them in a heap on the floor. Hollander is waiting for Ilya, sitting on the edge of the bed. His belly isn’t nearly big enough to rest on his lap. Ilya thinks that’s a shame. He shuffles up to the top of the bed, and Ilya joins him, leaning against the pillows. Hollander grabs Ilya’s hair at the nape of his neck and kisses him. It’s much more desperate this time. Ilya pulls away and situates himself between Hollander’s thighs. He gets his mouth back on Hollander’s dick. He grabs the top of Hollander’s shaft and strokes in unison with his bobbing. Hollander moans.
Before Ilya knows it, Hollander is pulling him off of his cock again. He keeps jerking himself for a moment and then he’s spilling all over his hand and soft stomach. Ilya is overcome with the sudden desire to lick Hollander’s release off of his belly.
“Can I…?” He asks shyly, pointing towards Hollander’s cum covered midsection. Hollander grins.
“So polite, Rozanov.”
Ilya takes this as a yes and leans forward, gently lapping up Hollander’s release. His belly feels soft under Ilya’s tongue. When Ilya is finished cleaning Hollander off, Hollander says,
“Let me show you how it’s done.” He’s smirking. Ilya scoffs. They switch spots on the bed and Hollander wastes no time getting his mouth around Ilya’s cock. Ilya cries out when Hollander starts sucking and bobbing on his dick, taking him deep in his throat. Ilya feels himself hurtling towards an orgasm, heating building in his stomach.
Suddenly, he’s cumming down Hollander’s throat with strangled cry.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think -“ Ilya says as Hollander pulls off his dick.
“What, that you would cum so fast?” Hollander is smirking again.
“Fuck off.” Ilya grumbles. Hollander lays down next to him. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?” Ilya asks.
“No, I am going to tell everyone.” Hollander says sarcastically.
“I’m serious. Nobody can know about this.” Ilya says, starting to feel a little panicked.
“Rozanov, I’m not going to tell anyone.” Hollander says, sounding almost gentle.
“Okay.” Ilya nods. "I should get going. Early flight.” He adds after a brief silence.
“Okay." Hollander says. Ilya gets up and starts putting on his clothes. Hollander lounges on the bed and watches him.
“Alright well, good night.” Ilya says awkwardly once he’s dressed.
“Good night, Rozanov.” Hollander says.
***
When the all-stars game rolls around, Ilya can think of nothing besides getting his mouth on Hollander again. He thinks it’s a good sign when Hollander taps Ilya's foot with his own during the press conference. Then he thinks maybe he’s delusional and Hollander simply tapped his foot by accident. The foot tap consumes his mind all the way until they’re participating in the skills competition.
Ilya has found himself at the end of the bench closest to Hollander. Maybe he should say something. He wants to say something. He wants a repeat of what happened last time he saw Hollander.
“Hey Rozanov.” Hollander calls.
“Hi.” Ilya says lamely. Then, “did you have fun last night?”
“Last night?” Hollander looks confused.
“You know, dinner with your team?”
“Oh yeah, dinner was great. I’m going to have an early night tonight though.” Ilya nods, feeling disappointed. So Hollander doesn’t want to see him again.
Someone calls Hollander’s name. He gets on the ice and skates away.
***
That night, the two teams are mingling in the hotel bar. Ilya is sitting at the bar with his vodka, feeling awkward per usual. Hollander is holding court at a nearby table that is laden with pitchers of cold beer and half eaten appetizers. Ilya glances over and witnesses Hollander absolutely going to town on a basket of mozzarella sticks. His dick twitches with excitement. He groans internally. He’s starting to get annoyed that Hollander hooked up with him at all in the first place. He thinks it’s worse that he got a taste of it than if he had never known what it felt like to have his hands all over Hollander; to have Hollander’s mouth on him. He downs his shitty vodka, and is about to stand up, when Hollander appears at his side. Ilya freezes.
“Could I get a couple more pitchers for the table?” Hollander asks the bartender. The bartender nods and starts filling the first pitcher. Hollander leans down. “1221. One hour.” He says very quietly. Ilya nods. The bartender hands Hollander the pitchers and he leaves Ilya alone once again. Ilya decides to leave the bar before he’s inevitably dragged into another conversation. He goes to his room to freshen up. He turns on the tv and then ends up pacing pretty much the entire hour he has to wait.
When he gets to Hollanders room, Hollander wastes no time getting his hands on Ilya. He pulls Ilya towards himself and takes off Ilya’s shirt. He ghosts his hands over Ilya’s defined abs.
“You really have a killer body.” He murmurs. He kisses Ilya’s throat. Ilya tips his head back and sighs.
“So do you.” Ilya responds dreamily. Hollander laughs and takes his shirt off.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me.” He says, grabbing Ilya by the hips and grinding their cocks together. Ilya’s breath catches in his throat. “I know I’m fat.” Hollander says, very matter of factly. Ilya shivers.
“Not fat. Just… soft.” Ilya replies. Hollander can’t weigh more than 215 pounds.
“Okay, soft is worse than fat.” Hollander laughs again, undoing the button on Ilya’s pants. “Soft makes me sound weak.” Ilya kicks off his pants. Hollander grabs him under the thighs and picks him up like he weighs nothing.
“Definitely not weak.” Ilya breaths. Ilya wraps his legs around Hollander’s waist. Hollander carries him across the room and deposits him on the bed. Ilya gazes up at Hollander and watches him take off his pants. It takes all of Ilya’s self control to not reach out and grab at the curve of his belly. Hollander’s briefs dig into his sides ever so slightly, giving him barely there love handles that Ilya wants to bite.
Before Ilya can stop himself, he blurts out,
“I like your body.”
“Obviously.” Hollander says, grinning. “You’re desperate for me.” He crawls on top of Ilya and kisses him. Ilya grabs Hollander at the waist. He digs his thumbs into the soft flesh above his hipbones. Ilya pushes Hollander off of himself so he can climb on top of him. He kisses Hollander’s neck, and starts trailing kisses down his collar bone, his pecs, and onto his stomach. It’s impossibly soft. Hollander actually whimpers when Ilya kisses the pooch below his belly button. Interesting. As much as Ilya wants to linger, he continues his path down until he reaches Hollander’s cock. He licks up the underside of his shaft and then takes him into his mouth.
“Would you want to fuck me?” Hollander pants out after a couple minutes. Ilya pulls off of his dick.
“Right now?” He asks, suddenly feeling very nervous. Hollander shrugs.
“Whenever.” He says. Ilya considers this for a long moment.
“Maybe next time. Is kind of weird being in hotel filled with hockey players.” He says.
“Oh, so there is going to be a next time?” Hollander asks, smirking. Ilya huffs and goes back to sucking Hollander off.