Chapter Twenty
The next day—Moscow
Ilya would fly back to Boston tomorrow.
Andrei was the executor of their father’s estate, what little of it there was, and Ilya had fulfilled his duties as a son. He was done.
He’d realized, over the past few days, that he truly had no reason to return to Russia. He probably would, someday, but he couldn’t see spending another summer here. Any obligation he had felt had died with his father.
He had made an impulsive decision to give his Moscow condo to his brother. Andrei could sell it, or meet his mistresses there. Ilya couldn’t care less; he just didn’t want to deal with selling it. There wasn’t even anything in it that he wanted.
He sat on his bed in that condo. It would be his last night sleeping there.
He could think of one thing he would like to do to commemorate the occasion.
Ilya: Are you home?
The reply was immediate.
Jane: Yes.
Ilya smiled and wrote, Skype?
He waited, and wondered if Shane understood what Ilya was suggesting.
OK, Shane texted back. Just a sec.
Ilya decided to make things a little clearer for Shane, just in case he didn’t get it. He pulled his T-shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then stacked some pillows in front of the headboard and settled himself on the mattress. He sent Shane a video call request.
Shane accepted, and then there he was, filling the screen of Ilya’s iPad. He was wearing a hoodie and...glasses?
“Holy shit, Hollander! Do you wear glasses?”
“Oh!” Shane reached up and touched the frames of his glasses, as if he didn’t believe Ilya. “Just when I read. It’s, um...new.” He pulled them off.
“No!” Ilya said, grinning. “I like them.”
“Well...” Shane said, and damn if he wasn’t blushing already. “I can see you a lot better if I leave them on.” He slid the thick black frames back into place. “What?” he asked, because Ilya couldn’t stop smiling.
“What were you reading? Your boring hockey book?”
Shane’s eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “Are you just calling to make fun of me?”
“No. Not only that.”
He watched Shane bite his bottom lip. God, he’s cute.
“Were you thinking we could, y’know...do stuff?” Shane asked nervously.
“Yes. But first, show me your bedroom. I am dying to see it.”
“Really? All right.” Shane tapped on the screen and flipped the camera. Suddenly, Ilya was looking at a king-size bed with a navy blue comforter.
“That’s the bed,” he heard Shane say off camera.
“Oh, is it?”
“Fuck you. You asked for this. Here’s the dresser. And the bathroom is over there. And the closet. And here’s the view...”
Ilya decided he didn’t care about the view or the bedroom anymore. It was as boring as he had been expecting. It could have been a hotel room.
“Why don’t you get on the bed?” he suggested.
“So much for small talk, I guess.”
“And take your shirt off.”
“Bossy.”
Ilya waited as Shane put his tablet or whatever down, causing the screen to go black. He heard rustling noises, and then Ilya was looking at the end of Shane’s bed.
“Better?” Shane asked.
“No. Turn the camera around.”
“Oh, shit. Here.” And now a shirtless Shane Hollander’s face and shoulders (and glasses) filled the screen.
“Better.”
“How are you? I’ve been...thinking about you.”
Ilya’s heart flipped. He hoped it didn’t show on his face. “I am okay. I might not come back here, after today.”
“Is that scary?”
Ilya shrugged. “Right now it feels...good. Like, um...”
“A weight has been lifted?”
“Yes. Maybe like that. Is there a way I can see more of you?”
“Oh. Yeah...maybe I can...just a sec.”
Ilya propped his own iPad up on his nightstand and stretched out with his hands behind his head. When Shane reappeared on the screen, it seemed he had done something similar because now Ilya could see from the top of his head to the waistband of his sweatpants.
Ilya wanted, more than anything, to be able to cover Shane’s body with his own. To kiss his way down his chest and stomach.
Shane smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”
“I’d like to see you wearing nothing but those glasses,” Ilya said.
“I don’t think my camera can show that much at once.”
“Next time we are together, then.”
“Yeah. Next time.”
Ilya let his head sink into the pillows. He kept it turned, facing the camera. “Do you remember, after the NHL Awards in...what year was it?”
“Two thousand fourteen,” Shane said quickly. “Yeah. I do. I... I think about that night a lot.”
“Do you?”
“It was memorable.”
“It was,” Ilya agreed. “You put on a show for me.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into that.”
“I think you like to be told what to do, Hollander.”
Shane sucked in a breath. “Maybe. A little.”
“And you’re a little show-off.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You love praise. You want everyone to see how good you are.”
“Yeah, well. So do you.”
“No. I know I am good. I don’t care what people say.”
Shane leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger at the camera. “Bullshit. You love the awards. The good press. The fans. You love beating me.”
“I love beating everyone, but yes. You the most.”
“Why?”
Ilya shrugged. “Because you are the best.”
“I’m not. What about Scott Hunter? You like to beat him too. You’re always talking shit about that guy.”
Ilya waved a hand dismissively. “Hunter is a million years old and he’s terrible this year.”
“He’s like three years older than us, and he’s been on fire lately.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about Scott Hunter.”
“I think you just have a fetish for good boys.”
Ilya laughed. “Is that what you are?”
“That’s what you say,” Shane said. “What everyone says.”
“Mm. But I know the truth about you. I was the one in that hotel room in Vegas with you, yes? No one else.”
“Yeah,” Shane breathed. “Just you.”
“Are you hard right now, Hollander?”
“What do you think?”
Ilya smirked. “Show me. Get on your knees. Face the camera. Show me.”
Shane obeyed immediately, which Ilya found incredibly hot. His head went out of the frame, but Ilya could see his abs, and the way his sweatpants pulled tight against his obvious bulge when Shane spread his knees wide on the mattress.
“You too,” Shane said, off-camera. “I want to see.”
Ilya copied Shane’s position, showing Shane exactly how aroused he was already. Fuck, he wished they were together somewhere.
“I wish you were here,” Shane said, before Ilya could.
“Yes. What would you do?”
“I’d take those pants off.”
Ilya smiled, though Shane couldn’t see it now. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his track pants and slid them down off his hips. When he looked up, he saw Shane stroking himself through the fabric of his sweatpants.
“No underwear,” Shane observed. “You were planning for this?”
“Maybe.” He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it slowly. “My pants are off. What would you do now?”
Shane dipped down into the frame. His head was cocked and his hair flopped to the side. It was fucking adorable. He smiled at Ilya. “I think you know exactly what I’d do, after all these years.”
“Still want to hear it.”
Shane’s face left the screen. He gripped himself harder through his sweatpants and moaned. “I’d take you in my mouth. I’d suck you all the way down. Fuck, I... I wish I could. Right now.”
“Mm. Me too. Love your mouth, Hollander.”
He loved a lot of things about him.
“Would you want me to fuck your mouth? Or just keep still and let you do the work?”
“Keep still. I’d do it. Make you feel so good.”
And now Ilya moaned.
Shane yanked his pants and briefs down so they were stretched wide across his spread thighs. He stroked himself, sliding his thumb over his slit. Ilya knew it must be wet; Shane always leaked like a fountain.
They both stroked themselves without talking for a minute or two, and then Ilya saw Shane’s hand pause and drop to his side.
“Hey, um, Ilya?”
“Yes.”
He watched Shane’s hand lift out of the frame, probably so Shane could run it nervously through his hair. Ilya stilled his own hand.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. But... I think I’d rather see your face.”
Ilya was grateful that Shane couldn’t see his face at that exact moment, because he was pretty sure it had the world’s sappiest expression.
“Sure, Hollander,” he said gently.
Shane laid himself back down on the bed with his head nestled on one of his pillows. He reached and pulled his tablet closer to his face and smiled shyly. Ilya melted a little more, and positioned himself the same way on his bed, pulling his own iPad close.
“I forgot about the glasses,” Ilya said. “Already.”
“You really like them, huh?”
“I do.”
Shane beamed at him. Ilya couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. It felt like they were really in bed together, facing each other. Talking at the end of a long day.
Shane’s eyes fluttered closed and Ilya knew he was touching himself again.
And Shane had been right—this was better.
Watching Shane’s face so closely as he pleasured himself was far more intimate than if Ilya had been watching his hand on his cock.
Not being able to see what Shane was doing to make himself sigh and moan was intensely arousing.
“You are very beautiful,” Ilya said.
Shane smiled without opening his eyes. “Come on.”
“Is the truth. Your freckles.” Ilya grazed a fingertip over his own cheek. “I am nuts about them.”
“I have no idea why. I hate them.”
“Noooo...” Ilya moaned. “Hollander. They are stunning.”
“Stunning?”
“Yes. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my breath?”
“Wow. All right.” The skin under Shane’s freckles turned very, very pink.
“The first time I met you. Those freckles...”
“The first time? You mean at the World Juniors? In Saskatchewan?”
“Yes.”
Shane huffed out a surprised laugh. “You were such a dick to me.”
“Mm. I did not like you. Just your freckles.”
Shane shook his head a little on the pillow. “Thanks, I guess.”
“I told you...” Ilya grinned. “You love praise.”
When Shane didn’t reply, Ilya said, “And you like to hog it all for yourself. You asshole.”