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Shane had taken quite a hit in their last game against Toronto, more than a month ago, right into the boards reinjuring his collar bone. He’d been told to rest if he wanted back on the ice in time to play in the playoffs and boy he wanted!
So he’d been a very good boy, just don’t ask Ilya.
The doctor had said it could be only six weeks down if Shane rested and babied it. And to Shane’s credit, he had been a very good boy about it, again, if you didn’t ask a certain Russian who really had no room to talk on the subject.
His last scan had come back clear and the doctor had said he could start practicing again next week. Shane was annoyed he couldn’t be back for that night’s game if all was well already, but the doc had insisted Monday. Quite firmly and in front of his team captain who he also happened to be married to.
He’d sulked the entire time Ilya had gotten ready to go to the arena, it was a home game, Shane wanted to play. Ilya had wagged a finger at him and told him to be a good boy and take a nap, before leaving for the arena. Well fuck Ilya.
Shane grinned to himself and scrambled out of the bed. He hopped into a steaming shower and did his hair the way Ilya liked in a messy bun. He put his glasses on which he knew would be obvious, but didn’t care. Then he tossed on his tightest jeans, the ones he rarely wore that hugged his ass perfectly and left nothing to the imagination.
He topped it off with one of Ilya’s spare centaur jerseys. Rozanov 81 emblazoned on the back. This wasn’t one you bought in the gift shop but an actual game worn jersey that had accidentally come home with them and somehow not been returned as of yet.
Happy with his life choices, Shane hopped in his car and headed to the stadium. He knew there were risks here, he’d definitely be recognized, he was going into the belly of the beast, tickets weren’t an issue though, and he got good seats.
The little brat proceeded to text Harris letting him know his exact seat number asking him to make sure the Jumbotron panned to him for at least long enough for Ilya to notice.
Harris thought it would be brilliant optics, Shane who’d been out for a month and a half coming to a home game to support his husband.
The moment came just as they were getting ready for the first break. Shane spotted himself on the massive screen, stood up, winked at the camera, tipping his glasses at it before spinning around so his back was being videoed, grabbed each of the shoulders of the jersey to pull it up a bit, both showing off his ass encased in tight denim and letting the camera see the name on his jersey lreally good, gave a little shake for emphasis and the moment the camera panned away, Shane bolted for the exit.
Leaving the stadium just before the break was risky. He did in fact get swarmed but Harris was waiting for him and got him out of the thick of it helping him back to his car.
“You’re braver than I am, God speed Hollzy.” Harris chuckled.
OoOoOo
Ilya was unprepared to see his husband in his jersey on the Jumbotron, mostly because said husband was supposed to be home resting. However he couldn’t help how his mouth went dry seeing him sporting the name Rozanov, over his upper back spanning his massive shoulder blades. It did something to him that was entirely inappropriate on the ice and he was having a love hate relationship with the confines of his jock and cup though he was grateful it was providing coverage.
It was torture to try and focus on the game with the image of Shane in his jersey painted across the back of his eyeballs. Fuck, he was going to kill him, or fuck him. Maybe both. It was a good thing the doctor had cleared Shane for activity, because it meant Ilya could finally, finally ravage him properly tonight, and spank him. The thought made Ilya grin, and then he was off down the ice at speed leaving Toronto’s defencemen in the dust to score a goal unassisted.
Shane made it home to watch the rest of the game. He stripped down so he was wearing nothing but Ilya’s Jersey, the hem of which barely touched the undercurve of his naked bottom.
Every time he scored, Ilya would seek out the camera to raise his brows meaningfully, knowing Shane would see it. By the end of the game, he was beside himself. He showered in record time, threw his things into his bag and said a hasty goodnight to his teammates.
By the time Ilya got home Shane was lounging back in the middle of their bed in only the jersey that barely gave him modesty and his glasses and socks. He really hoped he hadn’t misjudged this or he could be having a very different evening than he planned.
Suddenly he was a bit anxious and he swallowed thickly. Surely Ilya would know he was playing with him right? He wouldn’t be in for a real punishment… surely…
His butt cheeks clenched and he squirmed a bit, less relaxed and sure of himself than he had been.
“Hollander? Hollander!” Ilya called as he hurried through the front door, stopping to fuss over Anya with difficulty. His princess would be upset with him if he didn’t give her love first. Besides, once he got her settled in the office, he could deal with his scheming husband. Ilya couldn’t wait.
Shane’s eyes went wide and he severely doubted the intelligence of his plan anymore.
“Hollander, where are you? I want to fuck you!” Ilya called in a singsong voice.
Shane jumped at the voice but then realized what was said and grinned, sighing relieved. He wiggled into what he thought was a sexy position on the bed, his back to the door so Ilya would see his name on Shane the moment he walked in, Jersey barely containing his ass.
“Bedroom!!” Shane called.
Ilya smirked as he leaned down to kiss the top of Anya’s head. “Come, printcessa. I will get you something nice to eat and take you for walk later, yes?” He asked, knowing it wouldn’t have been long since Shane had taken her out.
He got her settled downstairs before setting off for the master bedroom, fully prowling like a predator might hunt his pray.
Shane tried not to wiggle anxiously.
It was only another minute when Ilya arrived at their bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway with a gasp, muttering in Russian. His voice was full of awe at the sight of his husband waiting for him like that.
Shane looked over his shoulder at him, his glasses sitting high on his nose.
“Fuck, Hollander. First you disobey me and then I come home to this?” Ilya growled, eyes full of lust. “You wore these to the game, hmm?” He asked as he stalked over and leaned in, tapping the frame of the glasses meaningfully.
“Yes sir,” Shane agreed with a nod, licking his dry lips a little anxiously.
“Such a naughty boy, what should I do with you?” Ilya murmured as he leaned forward, bracketing Shane with his arms. He nipped at the shell of Shane’s ear as he spoke.
Shane squirmed onto his back, within the confine of Ilya’s arms to peer up at him sweetly. “I just wanted to see you play…” his voice was like saccharin as he batted his eye lashes innocently.
“In all… this?” Ilya purred in his ear. “No, I think you just wanted to be spanked, yes?”
Shane looked wide eyed and shook his head. “No sir. I’ve been a good boy. You can’t treat your good boy like this.” He pouted for good measure.
Ilya chuckled. “Oh, I think I know exactly how my good boy wants to be treated,” he said, catching Shane’s wrists above his head with one hand so that the jersey rode up. He leaned down to nip at Shane’s inner thigh with his teeth. “Starting with nice, red bottom.”
Shane made a soft grunt and squirmed moving his legs up and away from Ilya, or at least he tried to. He really only spread and exposed himself more for the other man. “But I’ve been good.” He protested half heartedly.
“Oh, good? You think so? Showing all this off to everyone? Showing my husband off.”
Shane wiggled more face heating up. “Siiiirrrrrr,” He whined, bottom lip stuck out in a massive pout. “I just wanted everyone to see.”
“To see what, moy lyubimyy?” Ilya purred. He loved hearing Shane admit he was Ilya’s.
Shane wiggled a hand free, which Ilya let go, and reached up and grabbed Ilya’s shirt, searching his face a moment making sure he wasn’t reading it wrong, that Ilya wasn’t actually mad, just playing. “That I’m yours, my jersey says so.” He said, voice soft, almost unsure.
Ilya smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. “Good boy,” he whispered, soft enough not to ruin the illusion while holding Shane’s gaze so he could see the adoration there. He winked, grinning at the blush that spread over Shane’s face.
“I don’t think I need to be spanked.” He said playfully, shaking his head.
“Oh you don’t?” Ilya raised his eyebrows in amusement. “And you are expert in handling brats, yes?”
Shane nodded easily, giving him a cheeky grin.
“Interesting, because I am expert in what my husband needs, and I say he needs beautiful red bottom.” Ilya turned Shane over enough to land a playful smack to his full backside.
Shane gave an exaggerated yelp. “Ow! You’re so mean to me!”
“Oh yes, I am very meanest,” Ilya agreed. “Good thing we both love it, hm?”
Another swat landed to prove his point.
Shane gave another dramatic yelp and tried to crawl away.
Ilya held him steady. “Come, moy lyubimy. Let’s get you warm and ready for me.” Ilya settled his weight against Shane for a minute so that he could lean in and press kisses along his jaw.
“Or you could be nice to me.” Shane was trying to rile him up a little.
Ilya paused, thinking for a minute. He smiled to himself as he realised what Shane was looking for. “Oh, I am being very nice to you only spanking your naughty bottom with my hand. Up, is time for me to teach you lesson about who this body belongs to.”
Shane pursed his lips and scrunched his nose adorably. “Fucking make me.”
Ilya grinned, eyes twinkling. It was shark like to anyone else. “Okey,” he agreed easily, easily lifting Shane up and depositing him over his knee as he got comfortable.
Shane squealed and squirmed. He loved being manhandled though and Ilya knew it.
“Much better, exactly where I want you, Hollander.” Ilya rubbed at Shane’s ass, kneading lightly while waiting for him to relax.
“I’ll be good, I don’t need a spanking.” He made a mock plea.
“Ah, is too late for that, naughty husband of mine. Is okay. I fix.” He gave Shane’s perfect right cheek a squeeze before landing a smack, smiling as he watched the cheek flush a little. “Mm, beautiful…” he murmured, unable to hold it back.
“Ow!” Shane yelped dramatically. “That’s so hard, sir. It hurts!”
“Oh, it does?” Ilya asked, with faux concern. “My poor boy.” He brought his hand down again on the other cheek.
Shane kicked his legs theatrically. “You’re being so mean to me! Ilya, ow, ow!”
“Yes, is very sore I’m sure. Is what happens to naughty boys who show off for hockey stadiums.” Ilya landed more firm swats as he spoke, just the right side of painful.
Shane played up the squirming but was careful to stay put and balanced over Ilya’s lap as he did, so Ilya could spank him.
Ilya smirked as he turned his husband’s ass a nice rosy pink, pausing to rub intermittently to ease some of the sting.
Shane whimpered and whined, hamming it up. It stung but it was just the way he liked it to. The whining had the effect he wanted as Ilya settled into a rhythm that Shane liked. He squeezed the pink cheeks beneath him, admiring the pink fingerprints it left behind on Shane’s skin.
Shane gave a theatrical sniffle. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll be good.” He promised. He didn’t want it to stop yet, but that wasn’t part of the game.
“Hm, I do not think you are sorry yet…” Ilya rumbled thoughtfully, swatting down again with his hand.
“Ow! I am! Ilya!” Shane whined pathetically.
Ilya grinned. “What are you sorry for, mm?”
“I’m sorry you can’t appreciate your sexy husband coming to cheer you on.” Shane told him.
“Oh, this is game you want to play? Okay, Hollander. I can show you how much I appreciate…” With that, Ilya sped up the swats, still keeping them the right side of painful.
Shane yelped and whined. “You’re so mean to meeeee!” He bucked his hips away from Ilya’s hand which drove his hard cock into his thigh.
Ilya chuckled. “Ah yes, I am mean to naughty boys,” he agreed. He shifted Shane a little so that he could settle Shane’s dick between his thighs, increasing the friction anytime Shane bucked.
Shane moaned lowly, gasping a little breathless at the increase in friction. “Fuck…” he cursed. “Sir, please!” He added in a whimper.
“Yes, lyubimyy?” Ilya asked, a little breathless himself. Fuck, Shane was so hot like this, spread over his lap with Ilya’s handprints adorning his ass.
“I can’t… I’m gonna…” he bucked against Ilya’s thigh and panted desperately. “Please! Ilya, please!” He begged, knowing during a scene like this he definitely needed permission.
“Hm, I don’t know. Why should I let my naughty boy cum, hm?” He asked, pretending to be undecided. He paused the spanking to trail his hands over Shane’s red cheeks.
“Ilya!” He whined, trying and not succeeding to still his hips.
“Yes, kotenok?” Ilya hummed, stilling his hand.
“Sir, please?” He squirmed and begged.
“Please what?” Ilya purred with a grin.
Shane groaned, his face blushing bright red around his ears and down his chest. “You know.” He mumbled, suddenly shy.
“Mm,” Ilya hummed in acknowledgement, kneading his glowing cheeks. “Tell me what you want, Hollander.”
Shane just squirmed more which was really not helping his problem at all.
“I can wait all night, Hollander, is no problem for me.” As if to prove his point, Ilya brought his palm down firmly.
Shane gave a real yelp this time. “Ow hey!”
“Come now, be good boy for me. Ask for what you need…” Ilya murmured as he rubbed out the sting he’d left behind.
“I don’t want to.” Shane mumbled. He sometimes struggled with this part which was why Ilya delighted in pushing it.
“Such a shame that my naughty boy does not want to cum tonight…” Ilya cooed, pressing his thighs against Shane’s dick.
Shane gasped and let out a long, low moan. “Ilya, please!!” He cried out desperately.
“Then ask, Hollander. Come on, I know you can do it. And then I will make you cum many times tonight,” Ilya promised.
Shane groaned he didn’t know why this was so hard for him to do sometimes, but fuck he had to come so bad. “Why are you mean to me?”
Ilya’s brows rose. “Oh, I am mean to you?” He asked with faux innocence.
“Yes!” Shane insisted.
“Mm, okey. Yes, I can show you mean.” Ilya started swatting again, letting Shane try not to squirm.
Shane yelped and cried out, Ilya was smacking hard and he couldn’t help squirming which only made his other problem worse. He toyed with the idea of just cumming and letting the consequences fall where they may, but he didn’t want to actually be in trouble. “Sir!!!” He wailed.
Ilya hummed, lightening the swats again. “If you want to cum, you ask me nicely. I can keep turning your bottom nice and red all evening. Is very nice way to spend evening for me, but I think you will explode soon.”
Ilya wasn’t wrong which was so fucking frustrating. He really wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer so with a whine pitched just right to be annoying as fuck to Ilya he begged. “Please let me cum!”
Ilya squeezed him roughly in answer but hummed. “Ten more smacks. You hold on for them, you get to cum. You think you can do it?”
Shane whined loudly again and tried to wiggle away. He wasn’t sure he could do it. “You’re so mean to me!!” He cried.
Ilya leaned forward so he could speak low in Shane’s ear. “Colour, lyubimyy? Is it too much?”
Shane took in a deep breath. “I just… I need a second.” He admitted not sure he was quite yellow yet though.
“Okay, my good boy.” Ilya loosened his thighs a little, giving Shane the chance to catch his breath. “Always so good for me.”
Shane whimpered softly at the loss even though it was what he needed at the moment. He dragged in deep breaths trying to calm a little.
“Good, so good. We continue when you’re ready, moy lyubimyy,” Ilya murmured, rubbing his back.
Shane relaxed over his lap, his head pillowed in his own folded arms. His cock ached, but he was safe and content laying over his husband’s knees as the edge backed off.
“There we go, very good,” Ilya murmured. “You are okay. I have you. How are you feeling?”
“Mmm,” Shane sighed. “I’m okay, was just too stubborn,” he admitted. “Let myself get too close.”
Ilya smiled. “Ah, yes. That is my Shanya. Ready for more or no?”
Shane took another deep breath and nodded into his arms. “Ready.” He mumbled, hiding his face again.
“Very good,” Ilya praised. “Ten more and then you are allowed to cum, yes?”
“Yes sir,” Shane agreed easily.
“Good boy.” Ilya closed his legs again, knowing Shane liked a challenge. He slid his free hand into the jersey, gripping the material tightly and further exposing him, then tapped the heated skin. “Ready?”
“Yes sir, I’m ready.” Shane moaned softly trying hard to be still. He couldn’t get all worked up again already.
Ilya grinned down at him, admiring his red ass as he tried not to squirm. He brought his hand down abruptly. “One. Say thank you, Hollander.”
“Oooof! Thank you, Hollander.” Shane sassed.
Ilya chuckled, squeezing Shane’s dick with his thighs. “Try again.”
Shane yelped and tried to levitate off of Ilya’s lap. “Fuck!”
“Shanya, say thank you properly and I let go.”
“Holy fucking shit!” Shane gasped as trying to get away just caused more stimulation. He wasn’t going to make it. “Thank you, sir,” he panted. “Please!”
Ilya hummed in approval and loosened his hold again. He landed two in quick succession, recognising Shane was being pushed to the edge of what he could manage.
Shane gave a breath of relief followed by a deep moan. He was so close again, but he trusted Ilya to know what he could handle.
“What do you say, Malysh?”
“Ilya!” He whined. “You’re supposed to be nice to me now. This isn’t being nice to me.”
“It will be worth it when I make you cum so hard you forget your own name…” Ilya murmured. “You trust me, yes?”
Shane nodded without hesitation. “Yes sir. With my whole heart.”
“Such a good boy for me,” Ilya murmured, heart swelling at the trust in Shane’s voice. His dick pulsed with need but he tried to ignore it. “Then you will trust me now. You are going to be good boy and say thank you when I tell you. If you do, you will have very great orgasm. If you are naughty? Well… I think maybe you will have to spend tonight hard.”
Shane gulped. “Sorry…”
Ilya chuckled and rubbed Shane’s rosy ass for a moment before bringing his hand down firmly landing four firm strikes across alternating cheeks before pausing and squeezing. “Go on, Shanya.”
Shane couldn’t help but squirm which only led to his yelp being followed by a moan. “Owwww… Ahh! Ilya…” he complained softly. He was trying not to feel stubborn about it. Sometimes all it took to make Shane dig his heels in about not doing something was Ilya telling him he needed to. “Thank you, sir.” He grumbled eventually.
“Such a good boy for me,” Ilya purred. “Maybe when you have cum I will lay you on your stomach and eat you out, mm? Or maybe I will lay you on your back so I can see you whimper and sigh.”
Shane squirmed. He both loved and hated when Ilya talked to him like that.
Ilya’s hand descended again smartly, swinging upwards so he could admire the reverberation on contact, then another on the other cheek. “What do you say, hmm?”
“Ow! Thank you sir.” Shane’s face flamed as his cock throbbed.
“Last one, my Shanya.” Ilya tightened his thighs around Shane’s dick for the last one. He brought it down sharply, feeling Shane’s cock jump against him. He squeezed his knees a fraction more. “Cum for me, solnyshko.”
Shane cried out, squirming madly over his lap, breath catching in his throat. He gripped the duvet in his fist and came hard against Ilya’s leg, entire body seizing up. Ilya rubbed and squeezed his ass through it, milking him for all he was worth. “Good. Very good.”
Shane whimpered and panted, collapsing in an exhausted puddle across Ilya’s lap.
Ilya smiled fondly, releasing his grip on Shane’s dick. “So good for me, Shane. So good,” he cooed, rubbing Shane’s back under the jersey while he caught his breath.
Shane squirmed, this time wanting to get up and be held. The orgasm had been overwhelming and he needed closeness.
His husband knew immediately when he was ready to move and gathered Shane up into his arms, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. “I have you, shh.” he soothed.
Shane kissed back but then turned himself to hide against Ilya’s chest. Sometimes he got so overwhelmed and overstimulated when they played. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was that his nervous system short circuited and he needed calm gentleness and the feeling of safety to come down softly on after.
“Is okay, solnyshko. I have you,” Ilya murmured, scratching his scalp lightly with sure fingers. He knew exactly how to do it to to sooth his husband.
Shane made a soft whining sound and tightened his fists where they wound in Ilya’s shirt, demanding, what he didn’t know.
“I know. Breathe with me,” Ilya coached, breathing in deeply and holding it knowing Shane’s body would instinctively copy him. He wrapped his free arm around Shane’s torso, pulling him in tight to his chest.
Shane scrunched his face, but automatically matched his breathing, his body recognizing what to do from years of doing it with Ilya.
“Such a good boy for me,” Ilya murmured. He kept focusing on his breathing, giving Shane’s body time to calm down. He’d get Shane into a hot shower soon, knowing from experience how calming it was for him, but for now he let him focus on breathing.
“Sorry,” Shane mumbled out against Ilya’s chest, but didn’t emerge from hiding.
“No, never sorry, Hollander. You’re so perfect for me. Always. I love you, moy lyubimyy.”
“Love you more.” Shane said on a sigh, melting in against Ilya now.
Ilya squeezed him tight. “Okey?” He checked, wanting to make sure Shane was okay.
Shane nodded against his chest with a soft hum slowly starting to feel more settled.
“You want me to clean you now or not yet?” Ha asked gently, running a hand up and down Shane’s back.
“I’m sticky,” Shane groaned.
“I know. Come, we clean you up. Hot water will help.”
Shane nodded, sliding onto shaky legs looking to Ilya pleadingly.
Ilya smiled as he stood, easily scooping Shane into his arms bridal style. He leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Let me take care of you tonight, Shanya.” He set off for the en-suite, aware of the ridiculous heart eyes he had for Shane.
Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya’s neck far past the point in their relationship where he’d protest being carried around pretending he didn’t want it. He liked it. Plain and simple. He liked that despite how heavy Shane’s own muscled body was, Ilya had no issue carrying and throwing him around. They were both massive mountains of men, but Shane liked being able to feel small with someone, especially his person where he was safe to feel small.
It worked for Ilya too; he loved being able to carry around his Shane, to be safe for him. It made him feel like he could be the kind of man his father had never modelled for him. It felt especially good when Shane was so pliant in his arms after an earth shattering orgasm. That was very important to Ilya. He got them into the bathroom and leaned over to turn the rainfall shower on, cranking the heat up to where he knew Shane liked it.
“What about you,” Shane asked. “You didn’t cum. Tonight was supposed to be for you.” The dark haired man actually pouted.
Ilya chuckled. “What, you don’t remember how to get on your knees on a bathroom floor?” He teased. “Relax, I am good. That was fucking hot, Hollander. I think maybe I will have to throw these sweatpants out,” he admitted.
Shane blushed madly a little irritated that his husband could still make him blush after all these years.
Ilya grinned and kissed him. “But no, is okay. Tonight was very, very good for me.”
“Promise?” Shane asked anxiously because he still got anxious sometimes that he’d mess things up.
“I promise,” Ilya assured him with a soft smile. “I think maybe I will even put on a show for you, one you’re less sticky. Will be good show, yes?”
Shane’s face brightened and he nodded eagerly. Ilya was better than Shane could ever hope to be at putting on a show, though Shane had learned a lot over the years.
Ilya chuckled. “Okay, my love. But first we shower, yes?”
“Yes sir.” Shane agreed easily, not wanting to be sticky anymore.
With that Ilya stripped Shane out of the jersey, then reached down to strip his own clothes off. It would be easier to clean Shane off in the shower if he was in there too.
Shane made a soft sound at having to let go of Ilya, his eyes wide and sad.
“I know,” Ilya soothed, undressing as quickly as he could. He wrapped his arms around Shane again, easily sliding his hands over Shane’s ass and lifting him to walk them into the shower.
Shane leaned into him, a bit more clingy than usual, but that happened sometimes and Ilya never minded Shane needing more from him at those times.
Ilya held him, stepping under the spray and giving the water a chance to soothe Shane’s nervous system before he started washing them both.
Shane laid his head against Ilya’s chest as he warmed under the water, letting him move him as needed to wash him. “I love you.” He murmured to Ilya, sounding reverent.
“I love you more than anything in this whole world, Hollander.” Ilya told him as he kissed his forehead. “I am luckiest husband in the world.” His English always got a little more fractured when he was home with Shane where he could relax a little.
Shane beamed at him. It wasn’t that long ago they didn’t think they could have this and look at them now, Shane proudly wearing Ilya’s jersey to a game, flirting in public. Shane was over the moon with how his life ended up even if it wasn’t how he thought it was meant to go.