Chapter Twenty #2
Shane laughed, and his nose crinkled. The freckles got all bunched up under his glasses, and Ilya nearly died.
“You’re very attractive, Ilya,” Shane said, in an exaggerated, placating tone.
“Not good enough. I want details.”
Shane opened his eyes, and rolled them. But he said, “That crooked fucking smile of yours. I can’t even tell you...that smile haunts me.”
“Haunts you? Like a ghost? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“It is. And your eyes. I love your eyes.”
“So romantic, Hollander.”
“Fuck you. You asked for compliments. Are you even doing anything down there or am I the only one doing any work?”
Ilya laughed. “You’re not the only one.”
“Good.”
Off camera, Ilya hauled his pants the rest of the way down and off.
“Hold on,” Shane said. “I need to grab the lube.”
Ilya took the opportunity to do the same. “Surprised you even need it,” he said. “You get so wet.”
Shane snorted. “As if.”
They were quiet for a minute, just gazing at each other as they stroked themselves with slicked fingers.
“Do you ever think of me?” Shane asked. “When you’re doing this? Alone?” He blushed furiously as soon as he said it. Cute as hell.
“Yes.”
“I do too. A lot. All the time. Maybe...every time, honestly.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Every time?”
He saw Shane’s shoulder lift in a tiny shrug. “I’ve never...had anything. Like this. With anyone else.”
“You have not been with another man?” Ilya may have held his breath as he waited for the answer.
“I have.”
Ilya exhaled. Of course he had.
“Who?” He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but it was too late to take it back.
Shane pressed his lips together. “No one. Stop distracting me.”
But now Ilya was curious. Shane was so careful. Who would he risk having sex with?
“Tell me. Was it another player?”
“No.”
Ilya decided the only way to get this information out of Shane was to make it sexy.
“Did you go to a bar? Did you see someone you could not resist?”
“I went—fuck—I went to Mexico with Hayden and a couple of the other guys. A few—ah, god—years ago. We went out one night and, yeah, I was terrified but...fuck, it had been so long.”
“You don’t let yourself have release enough, Hollander. I don’t know how you do it.”
Shane laughed, a little darkly. “I haven’t come since I saw you last, you know that?”
Ilya inhaled sharply and sped up his hand. It occurred to him that he hadn’t had an orgasm in a couple of days himself, which was an epic drought for him.
“Tell me about this man in Mexico.”
“There’s not much to tell. He was big. He looked like he was, y’know, what I was looking for.”
“A big, strong top?” Shane looked so embarrassed, Ilya took pity. “Was he? What you needed?”
“No. I mean, sort of. But...”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. He just wasn’t...”
Ilya needed to hear it. “Wasn’t what?”
Shane clenched his eyes shut and said, “You. He wasn’t you.”
Ilya damn near lost it. Shane was going to ruin him, saying things like that.
“Was he the only one?” Ilya couldn’t stop the questions from falling out of his mouth now.
“There was a guy in L.A., at a club. I went out by myself. I was desperate.”
“And?”
“We sucked each other off. I was nervous the whole time.”
“Aw.”
“And that was it. Two guys. And you.”
God. “Mexico top. Hollywood blow job guy. And me.”
Shane laughed. “Yeah. And a bunch of disappointed women.”
“A bunch?”
“A few. Anyway, I’m trying to jerk off here, so...”
Ilya laughed. They both went back to the task at hand.
“Hey,” Ilya said. He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “Do you think you can beat me?”
It took Shane a second. Then he laughed. “You want to race?”
“Come on, Hollander. Let’s see what you got.”
Shane shook his head, but he was grinning. “You’re an idiot,” he said affectionately. “Fine. Bring it.”
And those words of challenge caused a bolt of desire to rocket through Ilya. He should have no problem winning this battle.
“I think...” Shane said, his voice strained already, “I think the winner should be whoever holds out the longest. More impressive.”
“No way. You would cheat.”
“I would not! Cheat how?”
“I can’t see your hand. You could just stop.”
“I won’t.”
Ilya shrugged. “Fine. You always shoot off so fast anyway. Will be an easy win for me.”
Shane scowled at him, but then something caused his eyes to squeeze shut and he let out a quiet little gasp.
Ilya chuckled. “Fucking hopeless,” he said.
Then Shane opened his eyes and there was definitely something dangerous in them. “You know the night of the draft, in that hotel gym?”
Ilya groaned. Fuck. “I wanted to pin you to the floor,” he confessed. “I could not stop staring at your mouth. I thought you would notice.”
“I didn’t. I was too busy trying to stop myself from straddling you. Kissing you.”
“Fuck, Shane.”
“I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to. It terrified me. I had never...”
“Never wanted a man?” Ilya huffed.
“No. At least, I didn’t think I did. But you...god, Ilya. I went right back to my room and jerked off thinking about you.”
Now Ilya squeezed his eyes shut. He stroked himself harder, faster. He suddenly couldn’t care less about winning this dumb contest. He gasped out, “Me too.”
Shane groaned, and they both worked themselves roughly as the room filled with the sounds of their breathing.
“I can’t wait to touch you again,” Shane murmured. Then he sucked in a breath and let out a high, manic sound, and Ilya knew if he just held on for another minute he would win because Shane was definitely about to come.
“Ah, fuck. Dammit. I’m so close,” Shane gasped.
Ilya couldn’t even respond. He forced his eyes open so he could lock his gaze with Shane’s.
“Oh fuck,” Shane said quietly. “I’m coming.”
And normally Ilya would want to see it, but in that moment he couldn’t imagine anything sexier than Shane Hollander’s face as he came. Ilya felt pleasure flood every part of him as he climaxed hard, covering his fist and his stomach with his release.
“Holy fuck,” Shane panted. “That was huge. I’m a mess over here.”
Ilya flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“I’m fucked,” he murmured in Russian. “I am so fucking in love and it’s horrible.”
When he looked back at the screen, he could see Shane’s sex-drunk eyes gazing longingly at him from behind his glasses. “It’s sexy when you speak Russian. You know that?”
“Because I don’t sound ridiculous? Like with my accent?”
“Tell you a secret? Your accent doesn’t sound ridiculous. At all.”
“No? You like it?”
“I do. And I want to learn Russian. I wasn’t kidding about that.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Shane smiled so wide and bright, Ilya almost had to look away.
“I should let you sleep,” Shane said.
“Da. Yes. Okay.”
And then...
Shane kissed the tips of two fingers and reached out and touched them to the screen.
And Ilya’s heart fucking stopped.
“Good night, Ilya.”
Ilya felt an awful lump in his throat. He had buried his father yesterday, but he hadn’t cried.
He hadn’t cried in over ten years. But he knew, in that moment, that he had to end this thing with Shane.
It was never supposed to have gotten to this point.
He was never supposed to have fallen in love with Shane Hollander.
He should have ended it long before because now it was going to hurt so fucking much.
What on earth else could they do? If they kept this up it was only a matter of time before they got caught, and that would be a fucking disaster.
Ilya didn’t think the NHL had an official rule about being romantically involved with a rival player, but only because the league couldn’t possibly imagine one being necessary.
That’s how shocking a revelation this would be if Ilya and Shane were found out.
Ilya’s deepest fear was that he would be kicked out of the NHL—or at least not be offered a spot on any team—and then he might have to go back to Russia, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen to him then.
Ilya’s stakes were higher, but he knew their relationship would only negatively impact Shane’s career too. And, despite what the hockey world believed, Ilya didn’t want that.
“Good night, Shane,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible. As soon as he closed the window, he covered his face in his hands and released all of his anguish and frustration and fear into the lonely apartment.