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It’s the morning of their first full day in the cottage and Shane wakes up feeling groggy. It takes him a minute to remember where he is, body still half stuck in playoff mode, even after the brutal end to their run in game seven against fucking Tampa.
It does take long for the memories of the night before to come back to Shane. Ilya had kept him up most of the night, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of him, one for every point Shane had over him in the scoring race (his reward); Ilya’s first season with Ottawa was rocky from a team perspective, but he still managed to keep up with Shane points wise somehow.
The five point difference before the playoffs (Ilya had been generous enough to not count the playoff points, considering Ottawa came second last in their division so didn’t even have a chance at securing a place) didn’t seem like a huge gap; but by the end Shane had been sobbing, going from clawing desperately at the bed sheets, the headboard, Ilya’s back, until Ilya had taken his wrists and tied them down and Shane had finally gone limp.
Once Shane’s reward was finished, Ilya fucked him, deep and slow, unbothered by Shane’s cries of please, stop. I can’t take it. Content to build up to his own orgasm at his own pace. You can do it, baby. You are so big and strong, no. You can take it.
Now Shane was feeling it, his wrists were sore from when he had started struggling again as it became clear Ilya intended to make him cum one last time before he did, and his abs ached with every breath from tensing up hard enough to give himself a cramp once he had cum dry one last time before Ilya finally filled him up.
He’s not tacky or sticky at all though, Ilya did a very thorough job of cleaning Shane up, even after Shane had passed out. But he feels tender and fragile. There’s a fuzziness to his head that Shane usually associates with particularly intense sex, when he starts to lose the ability to think clearly and his world narrows down to just Ilya and the ever hungry pit of need that exists inside him, but it never usually sticks around this long.
The bed is empty beside him, it’s uncommon for Ilya to wake up first and a part of Shane is disproportionately upset at this realisation. But by the way the sun is shining into the bedroom, it’s much later than Shane usually gets up. He swallows, unsure of what to do and Ilya’s absence doesn’t help. Shane feels strangely small, lonely. The thought of leaving the bed to go look for Ilya is daunting.
He remembers getting to the cottage last night, how walking in through the door hand in hand with Ilya felt like a weight being lifted from his shoulder. There had been a smile tugging at his lips all night, and he clung to Ilya as they tried to find something to eat before they went to bed. Ilya had been sweet, attentive. Letting Shane hang off of him as he mostly got in the way. The disappointment of losing out on his chance for the cup was muted, hard to feel when it was finally just him and Ilya together.
Shane was already feeling a little floaty then, just from being in the cottage. He always gets a little more free here, more loose-limbed. Hockey and all its pressures couldn’t touch him here, and the mask of Shane Hollander, Captain of the Montreal Metros, could slide off him and he became just Shane, or baby, or sweetheart, or whatever cute pet name Ilya could think of in Russian. Shane was able to just be without the expectation of having to perform. Which, for some reason, made him kinda childish apparently.
Ilya had commented on it their first time in the cottage together:
“You are like baby kitten here.”
“Kittens are babies. Also, what?”
“Playful, more silly. Like a little baby.”
Shane hadn’t known what to say then, had glared at Ilya and changed the subject. It had made him feel weird, overly perceived, and like all the things that make Shane feel off, he had suppressed it into the far reaches of his mind and vowed not to think about it again.
But alone in the bed now, Shane can’t help but remember that. How Ilya had treated him last night, gently, but not in a romantic way, not really. Almost sickly sweet, on the edge of condescending; even when he was torturing Shane, he spoke to him like he thought Shane was silly. Small.
He clenches and unclenches his fists in the blankets, blinking rapidly. Thinking about it has Shane’s mind clouding further and Ilya’s absence goes from mild disappointment to creeping panic. It’s not normal to feel so untethered just because Ilya isn’t here, like some sort of child throwing a tantrum. Shane knows this. He’s used to reigning his panic in and getting on with it, but whatever techniques he’s gained over the years feel useless, sitting here in the middle of a bed that seems too large for just him.
Before Shane can work himself up into one of his pathetic states, Ilya pokes his head into the room.
“Oh, you’re awake!”
And just like that, whatever fear and panic that was building in Shane’s chest disperses, like it was never even there.
Shane smiles, wide and unashamed. “Ilya!”
Suddenly, Shane needs Ilya close to him, on top of him, as soon as possible. Has to have his skin under his hands, Ilya’s rough palms dragging across the sensitive dips of his waist. The need is so strong the words get stuck in his throat, so Shane throws his arms out, opening and closing his fists in a grabbing motion. It feels natural, simple, but Shane finds it hard to reach for his words right now. The relief and all consuming joy of having Ilya back has wiped his mind clear of anything but IlyaIlyaIlya.
Shane doesn’t doubt that Ilya will understand what he needs. He always does.
Ilya seems surprised, but his eyes are sharp, darting around Shane's face and before Shane can do something humiliating like kick his feet in frustration for having to wait even a second longer, Ilya is bounding across the room and pressing Shane into the mattress with his body.
The skin to skin contact and pressure of Ilya’s body feels soooo good that Shane can’t help but sigh, deep and satisfied. His head falls against the pillow and he blinks languidly up at Ilya, who’s watching him with uncontained fondness.
“S’nice,” Shane slurs, testing his range of movement and goes even more boneless when Ilya presses down on him harder.
“So sweet,” Ilya’s teeth graze Shane’s cheek, which is all bunched up from how wide he’s smiling. “Is my baby feeling needy?”
Something warm and squirmy settles in Shane’s chest, making him wriggle his toes and then his hips when he can’t contain the feeling. Distantly, Shane knows he’s not acting like himself. Or well, not like his usual self at least. But that worry is so far away, a voice barely audible in his head. It’s hard to reach for it when all Shane can think about is my baby and needy. The words fill him up, drowning his mind until his thoughts skin with them, leaving him empty headed.
Shane manages a nod and Ilya’s teeth bite at his jaw now, tugging a little at the skin and leaving a sharp sting that makes Shane whine. All the aches and pains that were upsetting Shane when he was alone feel sooo nice now, all marks given to him by Ilya, little reminders that he gets to carry around. He wonders if this one will be another for his collection.
“You like it,” Ilya’s lips are against his ear now, a statement rather than a question, his words soft and Shane shivers. “Being my baby? Do you feel very small, squished under me?”
Shane is sinking, his vision going hazy and soft. He does like it, he likes it a lot. He doesn’t even really understand what it is, but he trusts Ilya. It feels like more than just being Ilya’s baby, but maybe it isn’t? Maybe it’s as simple as that and Shane doesn’t need to worry about it, doesn’t need to worry about anything really.
“Too little to answer me?” Ilya pulls back to look at Shane fully, there’s something wild in his eyes that has Shane’s heart beating faster in his chest.
Shane smacks his lips dumbly, his ability to respond once again lost to him. He can only watch Ilya, his eyes big as he blinks up at him. He sucks his bottom lips into his mouth and smiles. Ilya likes it when he smiles.
A hand cups up to cup Shane’s cheek, the palm is wide and it’s warm, comforting, as it strokes the side of his face.
Ilya is saying something, but Shane doesn’t understand. His mind is spinning, nothing really making sense except for Ilya’s hand on his face and his body weighing him down. Not even words can reach him anymore, slipping through his brain like sand.
He wants to close his eyes, soak in it. Let Ilya do whatever he wants, dress him, feed him, wash him, all things that are too much for Shane alone to do. He needs to be looked after, diligently guided through every task. Because he is small, little. Not big enough anymore to do it by himself.
But he recognises a word, something pulling him out of his haze that makes Shane realise Ilya isn’t speaking English. Ah, so Shane still has words, just not Russian ones. Or at least, not a lot. Because he recognises–“Papa.”
Ilya blinks at Shane’s interruption, his sentence cut off. And then a smile breaks out across his face, sun breaching the horizon and streaking across a frozen lake, warm and bright and everything.
“Ah, I forget my baby is genius.” Ilya sounds so happy, so fond, nuzzling his face against Shane's cheek and all Shane can do is giggle. “Understanding Russian perfectly, don’t even have to try.”
“Papa,” Shane says again because it feels important. He wiggles until he can free one of his arms out, poking Ilya’s cheek, right above his mole. “Papa.”
Ilya laughs now, loud and filling up the room with the sound of it. It turns into a growl as he gathers Shane into his arms, using brute strength to roll them over until Shane is sitting in his lap and Ilya is holding him up, arms wrapped around his waist. Shane squeals and giggles the entire time, flushed red and smiling when he’s settled into his new position, feeling dizzy and light.
“Yes, Papa,” Ilya says very seriously, pointing at himself. “And you,” he points at Shane now, “are the smartest baby ever.”
Shane’s heart clenches, feeling shy all of a sudden. “Daddy,” he tries too.
Ilya smacks a kiss on his cheek, then his mouth. “Perfect, so good.”
Shane tucks his pleased smile into his chest, chin ducking down and nods. “Mmh.”
He shifts in his spot, feeling restless with all the toogoodtoomuch feelings trapped inside him. He rocks his hips and it’s the first time since waking up that he realises he’s naked.
Uh, oh.
Embarrassment floods through him, his eyes going wide as he looks down and sees his… his privates are out! And they’re rubbing against—he’s getting Daddy dirty!
Covering his face with his hands Shane whines, but at the same time he can’t stop moving his hips. It feels so good, his thing sliding against Daddy’s hairy belly. He’s all wet down there, like he’s wet himself but not really because when Shane pees it’s always a lot.
The hands Ilya had on Shane’s waist now clench around him harder, causing his breath to hitch, and then they slide down and grip his butt. His naked butt!
Daddy likes to touch him there sometimes, Shane knows that. But it feels… weird, when he’s small like this. Wrong. That Daddy is doing it now because daddies aren’t supposed to touch little boys like this, Shane thinks.
But it doesn’t stop Shane from moving, or making little noises as he chases the tingling pleasure growing in his tummy. It feels even better with Daddy’s hands on him. Touching him like he does when Shane is big. If anything, the naughtiness of it all makes it more exciting, has his toes tingling and he chews on his lip and peeks down at Ilya from between his fingers.
“What’s this?” Ilya asks, squeezing Shane’s butt, who yelps. “Feeling shy?”
Ilya is smiling and his teeth look sharp, like he wants to gobble Shane up, swallow him whole until there’s nothing left. Shane’s hips stutter in their movement, his tummy clenching and his penis gets even wetter.
“Daddy,” Shane shakes his head, not knowing what to say. He clenches his thighs around Ilya’s hips, feeling stretched open and vulnerable. “It feels good.”
Ilya’s face twists, getting all sharp and hungry like a bear. But it isn’t scary, or at least it doesn’t just make Shane afraid, it makes him feel all squirmy and excited.
“Hmm, I bet it does,” Ilya is staring at where Shane is starting to rub himself against Daddy’s tummy again and Shane feels the need to reach down and cover himself.
“Stop looking, Daddy.”
“Ah, so you can rub your little cock all over Daddy, but Daddy can’t look?” Ilya squeezes his butt, forcing Shane to move his hips with more purpose.
“Daddy!” Shane’s face burns underneath his hands, his cock twitching hard despite his scandalised tone. “That’s naughty.”
A spank lands on his butt with a loud slap and it makes Shane squeal, then pout. “Mean.”
“I am mean,” Ilya pretends to be surprised, but he soothes the sting with a rub from his big palm and it makes Shane shiver, humping his hips a little faster. “Me? I don’t think so. You are naughty, getting Daddy all messy. Greedy little boy, aren’t you?”
Shane shakes his head, bottom lip jutting out. He stops covering his face, instead holding his fists under his chin, fingers clenching tight as he moans softly. It feels really good and there is a feeling building up in his belly, warm and tingly. It feels kinda like he has to pee.
Shane startles when a finger slips between his cheeks, prodding at his hole and slipping inside when he rocks his hips back into it.
“Oh!”
“You’re so loose here,” Ilya says, sliding another finger inside. He sounds fascinated, like he thinks Shane’s body is a wonderful, interesting thing.
Shane goes still, shaking on Ilya’s lap as the fingers prod around, stroking the sensitive walls inside him. It’s so embarrassing having Daddy’s finger inside him like this, touching him like he’s big, even though Ilya keeps acting like he’s small.
“No m’not,” Shane feels the need to defend, biting his lips when Ilya slips in another dry finger.
“Your little hole got stuffed full last night. You don’t remember?” Ilya feigns concern, blinking innocently up at him like Shane is dumb. “Is nice and open now, because of Daddy.”
“T-that wasn’t…” Shane trails off, he wants to argue but he can’t think of anything to say. He doesn’t like that Ilya is acting like Shane is silly. Maybe he is silly? What Daddy is saying is true, but it just feels different. Shane doesn’t know.
“Wasn’t what? Don’t lie.” A pinch to Shane’s ass, right where he was smacked, has Shane crying out, losing his train of thought.
It all feels very far away from Shane now, last night, where he was not quite little then but not big either. He doesn’t want to admit to any of it, doesn’t want to do anything but rub himself against Daddy’s stomach until the feeling building in him bursts.
“Did you not beg for my cock?”
Shane’s bottom lip trembles.
“You were the one that got on your hands and knees,” Ilya whispers it like it’s a secret, like he’s trying to spare Shane’s feelings. “Said that you would make me feel so good. Even when I said no, that’s not right, you are just a baby, you can’t take it. You promised me you could. Are you taking that back now? Playing little victim, violated by his Daddy.”
“No! I—yes, Daddy,” Shane wails, he doesn’t remember that. It’s not how it went, but Shane also isn’t sure. Why would Daddy lie to him? Would Shane have done something so shameless? “I don’t knoooow.”
“No one would believe you.” Ilya says softly, like he feels sorry for Shane. Like he’s doing him a favour for being so sweet about it, trying to spare him the embarrassment. “Not when they see how badly you want it, how wet you are for it.”
Shane is rocking back on Ilya’s fingers and he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, feels too good to stop. His mouth is open, drool spilling down his chin because he can’t control it anymore, can only stare dumbly as Ilya’s words wash over him, painting him in filth. Everything he’s doing is proving his Daddy right.
“You want to take your Papa's cock, need it. Greedy little boy.”
Unable to stand it anymore Shane collapses forward, burying his face in Ilya’s neck with a sob. “Papapapa—Daddy.”
“I try to resist,” Ilya keeps going, using his free hand to run his hand up and down Shane’s back, almost mocking in it’s parody of soothing him but not really, because it works. Leaving Shane quivering in his arms and clinging on tighter. “Because it’s not right. For a Daddy to fuck his boy, not when you’re so small. But you’re such a slut, can’t take no for an answer.”
“It’s not trueeee, Daddy. Nooo.”
“Shh, it’s okay. Daddy will give you what you need,” Ilya curls his fingers, stroking against a spot inside Shane that has him gurgling, clawing at Ilya’s shoulders. “At least you can trust me, hm. A worse man would take advantage of a sweet little thing like you.”
Shane shudders, he doesn’t want it, not like this, but it’s too late. Ilya has found something to slick his cock with and is sliding it into Shane with one rough thrust of his hips.
“Ahh—!”
The feeling, it’s cresting again. His tummy getting tighter and tighter, he doesn’t know what it is. It feels good, but sharp. Too much. Ilya’s cock inside him is so big, splitting him open and Shane feels tiny, ripping apart at the seams. He chokes on his tears and sucks his thumb desperately into his mouth, face smooshed into Ilya’s chest.
“Oh, baby.” Ilya tilts Shane's head up so he can see and Shane sucks his thumb harder when he’s forced to sit up in Ilya lap. It’s humiliating, for some reason, even as it makes him feel better, muffles the sounds Ilya is punching out of him with every snap of his hips. Drool spills out of his mouth and down his knuckles.
Ilya’s eyes are crazed, wild and without warning he flips them around. Shane yelps when he lands on his back, thumb falling from his mouth and he’s quick to suck it back in.
“That feel good?” Ilya asks, voice strained as he eyes where Shane’s thumb disappears between his lips “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
Shane’s tummy clenches again, flushing hard. “Uh huh.”
Ilya hisses something in Russia and yanks Shane’s legs over his shoulders.
“Have to suck your thumb while Daddy fills you up. Filthy boy.”
Shane gnaws on it now, eyes screwing shut and Ilya starts pumping his hips at a speed Shane can’t keep up with.
“Daddy, too much, oh no,” Shane’s thumb slips from his mouth now as he clings desperately to Ilya’s shoulders, hitting them weakly as he cries and begs, assaulted by pleasure so overwhelming he can’t even hear the words coming out of his mouth. “Daddy, please, I-I–”
When Shane cums he barely even notices it, Ilya’s cock is stretching him open, hitting him a spot inside him that has sparks shooting through his nerves with every thrust so intensely he feels numb everywhere except for his insides. He’s wailing, arms wrapped around Ilya’s shoulder, who grunts into Shane’s neck, hissing dirty, mean things against his ear.
“Everyone’s gonna know. They're gonna know you let your Daddy touch you. They won’t blame me, not when they see how tempting you are. Can’t control myself, you need it too much.”
Shane’s cock is pressed between them, swollen and sticky with his own cum. Ilya doesn’t let up, if anything he gets more aggressive once Shane has covered them both with his spend.
“You had accident? Daddy’s cock fucked it out of you, can’t even hold it anymore, no?”
Shane shakes his head, trying to deny it but not being able to form the words. All that comes out of him are pathetic little uh, uh, uh’s, but he doesn’t want Daddy to think he peed himself. He’s not that little, he’s an adult he thinks, maybe, probably. He doesn’t know what he is anymore; maybe he’s just a hole for Ilya to fuck, a toy for him to use, a baby for him to violate. He doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter, not when Ilya’s cock keeps carving a space for itself in his belly, rearranging him from the insides.
“Daddy, it’s, I can’t–s’not stopping,” Shane can feel something wet splashing in between them, his cock beyond sensitive now, still hard, still throbbing but sore. Whatever it is it’s spilling down his sides, soaking his bed. It can't be… Shane wouldn’t, he’s not like that.
Ilya pulls back, exposing Shane’s shame and they both watch how Shane’s cock jerks and spurts a clear liquid, diluting the cum on his stomach with each thrust of Ilya’s cock. Shane sobs, trying to reach down and cover himself, “I’m peeing, nooo–Daddy!”
Shane squeals when Ilya slaps his hand away, taking Shane’s dick into his hand, squeezing it and laughing when it continues to leak, the stream heavier now. Shane tries to curl in on himself, the touch overstimulating in a way that his teeth hurt with it, a deep, gut twisting ache in his core as a pressure builds and builds. He’s scared of it, suddenly. He can’t understand what he’s feeling, every inch of his body feels pushed to its absolute limit and all he has is his Daddy. He needs Ilya to make it better, make it make sense.
“Pissing on Daddy’s cock,” Ilya is breathing harshly, teeth gritted as he plays with the red, swollen tip of Shane’s cock, mess spilling down his knuckles. They’re both soaked in it, the bed damp beneath Shane’s back. “Did Daddy make you squirt like a little girl?”
Too soon, way too soon, Shane feels the thing that was building inside of him release and he’s coming all over himself again. It shoots out of him, spraying both of them in a way that would be funny if Shane didn’t feel like he was dying. He’s screaming, he thinks, tharshing against the bed as Ilya holds him down, letting go of Shane’s cock to start fucking him properly again.
Ilya must cum at some point, filling Shane with his cum and groaning as he bites a bruise deep into Shane’s chest. But Shane can barely feel his body anymore, laying limply against the wet bedsheets, sobs still hitching in his chest. Ilya collapses on top of him, the heaving, heavy weight of him comforting.
“God, fuck,” Ilya presses wet kisses up Shane’s neck, across his collar bones, “I don’t know what to do with you. You are… fuck. So good, so perfect. Just the sweetest best boy in the whole world.”
Shane buries his face against Ilya’s shoulder, soothed by the skin-to-skin contact. He mouths at the swell of muscle there, licking it and tasting salt and sweat.
“Papa…” he murmurs weakly and Ilya wraps him up tightly, squeezing him hard enough that Shane’s tears turn to giggles. “You’re gonna squish me.”
“I can’t control myself, you are too cute.”
Ilya bites Shane’s cheek, soft and gentle and Shane grins into it. “Shane.” Ilya sighs, the bite turning to a kiss.
“Ilya.” Shane replies, feeling warm and fuzzy and content. Full to the brim and grounded by Ilya’s body weight crushing him into the mattress. It’s starting to get uncomfortable but Shane can’t bring himself to pull away, he wants to exist here forever.
“Next time, I buy mattress protector I think,” Ilya glances at the wet spot on the bed.
Shane cracks an eye open, he hadn’t even realised he closed them. “You’re a sugar daddy now too?”
“Oh,” Ilya looks delighted, “The baby has jokes now? I see.”
“You’re silly.” Shane’s eyes close again, but he’s smiling so wide it’s hard to tell.
“Yes, yes. Your Daddy is very silly and very rich. Now he has to clean up because his baby is very messy.”
Shane blushes, pouting. “Hey!”
“Is true,” Ilya shrugs, “I don’t mind.”
“Shut up.”
“Ah, so you want to be spanked. Messy boy and rude boy.”
“Ilya!”
“I will remember this. Okay. Now lets get clean”
Shane tries not to look like he isn’t pleased about the idea of being spanked. Not very well though, if the wink Ilya gives him is anything to go by. There’s a part of him that recognises that he’s going to freak out about all of this later, scared by the version of himself he became this morning, but for now he basks in the safety and comfort of being cared for by Ilya. His Daddy.