Chapter Text
Shane Hollander’s knee bounced up and down beneath the table as he stared at his phone. Still no message.
He let out a huff as he stood up, grabbing a banana from the basket of fruits in the corner of the kitchen.
8 minutes. The plane had landed exactly on schedule 8 minutes ago, which Shane knew because he had been tracking the flight approximately every 10 minutes for the entire morning.
He sat back down, knee quickly starting its rhythm again as he peeled the fruit and took a bite. He couldn’t help it, he’d been waiting for today for ages. Well, more like 2 weeks, but it had felt endless.
The first few days after the Metros were eliminated from the playoffs, a disappointing 2-3 loss in overtime against New York, Shane had kept busy. There were the usual end of season events: media chaos, interviews, final team meetings.
But things had settled down a bit after that. He spent a few days visiting his parents and shooting a commercial, then headed back to Montreal where he met up with Hayden and some other guys from the team. All the time, he watched the tournament; as Boston made a decisive win against New Jersey, and New York beat Carolina to secure the two spots in the Eastern Finals.
And it had been fun, watching Rozanov and his team perform so well. Shane felt a soft bloom of pride watching Ilya in his element, charging through the rink with a strength and ease no other player could keep up with. Well, except himself maybe.
But as happy as he was that Ilya was playing well, he also could hardly wait for Boston’s season to be over. It had been a long few months, and they had seen far too little of each other. The stolen nights they had managed to spend together when they found themselves in the same cities had been few and far between. And the texting and phone calls, always carefully hidden away from prying ears, had done little to fill the giant Russian-asshole-star-hockey-player sized hole in his heart.
So in the end, he wasn’t all too disappointed when Boston didn’t make it to the finals.
It was a play in the sixth game that had cost them the win. Shane still cringed at the memory; how Connor Halverson, the huge Scandinavian defenseman had collided with Ilya, who spun out uncontrolled, hitting the boards with enough force that Shane had felt it in his bones. In the few seconds it had taken for him to get back up, the puck had already sunk into their goal. A disappointing end to the season for Boston.
But now they could finally, finally, spend a well deserved summer together. Almost two months of break at the cottage, just the two of them. Well, not entirely. Now that Yuna and David knew about them, Shane had promised they would stop by regularly for dinners. And they both had a few obligations throughout the offseason.
Ilya was negotiating a contract with Ottawa for the coming season. If everything turned out as expected, he would be moving all his things to Canada before the end of the summer. And Shane had a few commitments with brand deals he would have to attend. But overall, it was much more time together than he’d had yet dared to hope for.
His phone chimed on the table and he all but lunged at it.
[Lily]: Leaving airport now, be there in 2 hours
He quickly typed back, trying to school the ridiculous grin off his face.
[Jane] Sounds good, drive safe!
✦ ✦ ✦
Shane was out of the door as soon as he heard the crunch of gravel. His heart beat a little faster as he watched the black car slowly come to a stop in front of the house and the familiar figure step out.
His body moved as if pulled by a string, until they collided together, arms wrapping around Ilya’s waist as the Russian pulled him in for a deep kiss. Shane was breathless by the time he pulled back.
“Miss me?” Ilya smirked, syllables rolling in the deep Russian accent that sent butterflies straight to Shane’s stomach. He didn’t wait for an answer, leaning back in and pressing soft kisses against Shane’s jawline and neck that pulled a soft groan from his lips. Maybe he would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t so incredibly happy.
“I missed you too.” Ilya whispered, lips pressing against Shane’s mouth one final time before he turned back to the car.
Shane cleared his throat, a blush blooming across his face. “How was the trip?”
“Was fine.” Ilya grabbed two bulky bags from the back seat. “I do not think anyone recognized me.” Shane didn’t miss the slight wince as he straightened back up.
“You okay?” He grabbed one of the bags from Ilya’s hands and began to reach for the second one as well only to be stopped by a glare.
“I am fine. Just a bit sore, I can carry bag.”
Shane frowned, but didn’t argue as he followed him into the house.
The long season seemed to have taken its toll, if the slight stiffness in Ilya’s steps was anything to go by. But that’s exactly what summer was for, Shane reminded himself. He’d already gotten the chance to recover a bit. Now he could make sure Ilya did too.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can make us some lunch.”
“Da. I am starving.”
“I was thinking salmon?” Shane led the way to the kitchen, leaving Ilya to sit at the counter as began to pull out ingredients.
“You bought enough food for whole summer, Hollander?” he teased as he saw the fridge stocked to the brim.
“Maybe. I don’t want to waste our precious time together having to buy groceries.”
“Ah, but this time we finally have long time together, yes?”
“Exactly. I stocked up accordingly.” He said defensively.
“Clearly.” Ilya let out a soft chuckle as Shane set out a cutting board and pan.
“Too bad about the game yesterday. Were the guys very disappointed?” Shane asked.
“Yes a bit, of course. Was a stupid mistake.”
“No.” Shane quickly disagreed. “It was a dirty hit, is what it was.”
“Maybe.” Ilya gave him a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his golden-green eyes. Shane frowned, and was about to double down on his statement when Ilya stood and wrapped his arms around Shane from behind.
“Let me help you,” he said, chin resting on Shane’s shoulder. “What can I do?”
Shane put down the knife, turning to face the Russian. He was once again struck by how incredibly beautiful he looked in the soft afternoon sunshine. His curly hair was slightly longer than the last time they had seen each other and the deep v-neck of his shirt gave a peek of hard toned muscle beneath.
“You,” he said, pushing him gently back toward the stools, “can sit and watch while I cook.”
Ilya pouted but sat down again. “If I sit and behave, do I get reward later?”
He blinked at him with innocent eyes. Shane snorted. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Is that… good thing?”
Shane grinned. “Never mind.”
Ilya leaned forward anyway. “No. Explain. What is this…incorgible? I need to know if I should be offended.”
Shane shook his head with a laugh.
By the time the food was done cooking, Ilya had abandoned the stool in favor of the couch.
“Mmh thank you,” he smiled softly, shifting to make room as Shane brought over two steaming plates.
“Of course.” Shane settled beside him.
They both took a bite, when Ilya sighed dramatically. “This is bad.”
Shane shot him a look.
“Now I will expect this from you all summer.”
“Fuck you!” he bumped Ilya’s shoulder, whose smile widened.
“Later,” he winked.
When the plates were empty, Shane leaned back against the couch cushions with a sigh. Ilya grinned and slid closer tugging Shane against his chest. Hands found their way to Shane’s chin, tipping his head up until his mouth was captured by Ilya’s.
“God, I missed you.” Ilya whispered so softly, Shane could hardly discern the words before a hot tongue was pressing into his mouth, a hand snaking through his hair, keeping him pulled close.
“Fuck, Ilya.” He whispered, repositioning his body so he was fully facing him, straddling his lap.
“Da, lyubímyy.” His hands snaked up Shane’s shirt, scratching softly up his back, sending shivers down his spine.
He gasped, feeling almost dizzy with pleasure as rough hands pulled his shirt away and soft lips connected to his bare chest. He let out a groan as Ilya kissed down his stomach, a hand ghosting with feather light touches towards his boxers.
It was too much and not enough all at once. He pushed his hips forward, wanting more. The other obliged, pushing more roughly with his hands while a tongue licked across his nipple. He let out a low whine, hands tangling into the soft brown curls.
“Come here.” Ilya groaned, wrapping his arms around Shane and carefully maneuvering him until his back was against the cushions. He settled on top and pulled off his shirt, and Shane felt more blood rushing south as he took in the view of toned muscles and smooth skin.
Ilya bent down, pressing kisses up his chest as Shane’s hand scrambled to find purchase on the fabric beneath him.
His eyes were squeezed shut, breaths coming in soft gasps, so that he almost didn’t register the sudden hiss from above him.
His eyes flew open just in time to see a glimpse of a wince on Ilya’s face before it was gone. “You ok?”
“Shh, I’m fine moya lyubov.” He lowered his head again before Shane could argue, kissing further down.
Shane’s head pressed back against the cushions as a hot mouth pushed against his boxers. He moaned as he tried to keep his hips still. Fuck, it had been way too long.
Thank god, Ilya didn’t tease him for very long. Kissing his way back up his body, and lowering himself so that their hips were pressed against each other's, he leaned in towards Shane’s lips.
Only to suddenly freeze, body going tense.
Shane’s heart skipped as he watched Ilya’s eyes squeeze shut, a groan leaving his mouth. Not the deep, breathy groan Shane was used to hearing; The one that sent a familiar heat curling low in his gut, that made him absurdly proud of how easily he could undo Ilya Rozanov. No, it was a bit higher, more strained.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He quickly pushed himself more upright, hands hovering but hesitating to touch Ilya’s still frozen form.
“I’m…I’m ok.” Ilya blew out a breath, face slowly relaxing as he gingerly pushed himself back upright. “Just a bit sore.” He tried to give Shane a reassuring smile, leaning back down to give him a kiss, when Shane caught sight of his back.
He let out a gasp, scrambling upright. “Ilya!”
All previous thoughts vanished from his head as he took in the full sight of Ilya’s back. It was a grotesque display of blue and purple; A brutal splotch in the middle from which uneven streaks spread up and down along the sides of his spine.
“What the fuck?” His voice had an edge of panic as stared at the mottled skin. It looked tight and faintly swollen beneath the impressive display of colors.
“I’m fine. Is nothing.” Ilya tried to turn away but hissed again as he aborted the motion and was forced to give Shane a sheepish grin.
“It’s clearly not nothing. Holy shit. Please tell me you got that looked at.”
Ilya rolled his eyes but his expression was soft as he grabbed Shane’s hands in his. “Yes, physio checked me after the game. Looks worse than it is. I’m fine.”
Shane blew out a breath and felt Ilya squeeze his fingers more tightly.
“They said just muscle,” Ilya went on, softer now. “Just needs rest, that’s all.”
Shane nodded, feeling his heart calm slightly from the frantic rhythm it had taken on.
“Let me get you some ice. Or - or heat. What do you need?” He stood up quickly, but Ilya didn’t let him go.
“What I need,” Ilya said, tugging him back toward the couch, “is my boyfriend.”
Shane hesitated before letting himself be pulled back down. “Ok, but nothing but resting for you,” he said firmly.
Ilya smiled, lazy and fond. “I can rest while my boyfriend sucks my dick, no?”
Shane huffed out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Please,” Ilya blinked at him with those goddamn golden-green eyes, full of desire and warmth.
And fuck, Shane knew he could never, in his life, say no to that.