Archive of Our Own

December 24, 2015

Shane was sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging the clean sheet to his chest as he stared into the distance. He was still in his other apartment. The one he had bought as an investment. At least that’s what he told people if they asked. The truth was that he had bought this entire fucking building just to have somewhere to be able to meet people discreetly. 

Well, not people. Not really. It was only one person. One very annoying, very Russian, very hot, person. He, Shane Hollander, the picture of logic and reason, owned a building just so he could fuck his rival in it. 

Every single time he actually thought about it, he told himself that he should get rid of this building soon. He should sell it. The renovations were done, and had been done for quite a while. But he just…couldn’t. He couldn’t sell the only place where he could actually be himself. Where he didn’t have to hide parts of himself. So instead, he just spent as little time there as possible. They met up when Boston played in Montreal, and between these meetings, Shane just paid the bills and tried to not think about it. Tried to not think about every single thing they had done here. Tried to not think about how Rozanov took him apart and put him back together again. 

Shane almost always left right after he sent Rozanov off in a cab. He hated staying here by himself. It felt wrong. It felt empty. Just like it did now. Today, he had woken up here for the first time… god, he didn’t even know how long. He had just been so fucking tired last night. They both had been tired. Maybe they should have cancelled, but the thought of losing one of the rare nights they actually had together felt like torture, so Shane had done no such thing. 

So now he sat here, the memories of last night playing on a loop. The way Rozanov had pushed him up against the wall before even saying hello. The way he had gotten on his knees to congratulate Shane for winning. The way he had teased Shane and edged him just because he was a sore, fucking loser. 

Shane had loved every second of it. 

They had only spent an hour together. Rozanov had an early flight and Shane had been too tired to do much of anything. They had ended the night in the shower where Shane had pressed his body against Rozanov’s and then kissed him as though he was trying to make up for lost time. Which, he supposed, he was. Rozanov came with Shane’s hand wrapped around his dick, and Shane hated that they didn’t have more time. That they never had enough time. He wanted to do so many things with Rozanov, but all they had were these stolen moments.

Shane glanced at the clock on his desk now. It was almost noon, and he had a few hours to kill before he had to get in his car and drive to Ottawa. It was Christmas tomorrow and he would spend two days with his family, as always. NHL players always had three days off over Christmas, and Shane always drove to his hometown on the 24th and then back on the 26th. He did enjoy the fact that the Christmas celebrations always looked the same, but he felt tired just thinking about the small talk and the relatives asking if he had a girlfriend and the fact that everyone expected him to forget about his diet just because it was Christmas. He did love his family, and he enjoyed seeing his relatives, but he always felt even more tired after Christmas. It was supposed to be a break, a few days to see your family and relax, but Shane couldn’t relax. He didn’t like that his routine had to change. He had always liked his daily routine, and he sometimes secretly wished that he could just spend Christmas playing hockey. It was easier. No stupid questions. No annoying Christmas music. Just him, the ice and the game. Hockey made sense to him. 

He wondered how Rozanov celebrated Christmas. Did they have different traditions in Russia? He had never asked. It’s not as though they actually talked to each other, but Shane found himself reaching for his phone just so he could google Russian Christmas traditions. But before he had even unlocked his phone, there was a new message. 

From Lily. 

Shane stared at the notification and dropped the sheet he had been holding. He let it fall to the floor. Shane didn’t believe in fate or whatever you would call this, but it was a bit…odd that Rozanov texted him out of the blue just as Shane was thinking about him. 

Lily: What are you doing?

Shane read the message multiple times. Had Rozanov actually meant to text him? He should be back in Boston by now. And Shane should have left hours ago, but something had kept him here. He told himself that he had stayed just so he could clean the place and do some laundry, but he actually paid people to do that. Sure, they didn’t work over Christmas, but there had been no need for him to scrub the shower and wash the sheets on the long program. But maybe he had needed to do that? Maybe this need to clean was actually just a need to wash away the memories of last night? He couldn’t exactly have them playing on repeat in his mind when he was sitting down at Christmas dinner with his family. He couldn’t sit there, next to the tree, pretending to be happy about the socks his grandmother had knitted for him (like every year) while thinking about Rozanov’s perfect fucking cock. And his perfect mouth. And his perfect…

Lily: Are you dead?

Shane: No, I’m just not glued to my phone. 

He sighed and sent another message.

Shane: I’m going home soon. Why?

Lily: You are not home?

Shane: No. I accidentally fell asleep here last night and then I had to take care of a few things. Need to make the place ready to sell. 

It was a little white lie. Shane hated lying, but sometimes it felt like he spent most of his days lying anyway. This one wouldn’t hurt anyone. It’s not like he could tell Rozanov that he had fallen asleep on the pillow that smelled like him. That his scent made him calm. That it made him want. 

Lily: Don’t leave. 

Shane: What? Why not?

Lily: My flight was cancelled. Do you have plans today?

Shane: I’m driving to Ottawa tonight. 

Lily. So no plans. 

Lily: Don’t leave. 

Lily: I will be there in 45 minutes. 

Shane read the texts as they came in, feeling himself panic. He hadn’t planned for this. They needed a plan. Didn’t they? 

Shane: You were just here. 

It felt like a stupid thing to write, but Shane had no idea what to say. He felt panicked and giddy all at once. He was used to waiting weeks before seeing Rozanov again, and now he would actually get to see him twice in less than 24 hours. Shane almost pinched himself just to make sure that this wasn’t a dream. 

God, he was pathetic. 

Lily: Yes, but I forgot to give you your Christmas present. 

Shane: Did you get me a gift?

Should Shane have gotten him a gift too? 

No, of course not. It’s not as though he could have known that Rozanov’s plane would get cancelled. 

Lily: See you soon. 

Shane stared at his phone until the screen turned dark. He was coming here. Rozanov was actually coming here. 

They had more time. 

Shane was very happy that no one could see the smile on his face. 

He stood up and pocketed the phone. Bending down, he picked up the freshly washed sheet. He needed to make this room presentable. 

He hoped everything would smell like him later. 

49 minutes later, there was a knock on the door. 

“You’re late,” Shane said as he let Rozanov in. 

Rozanov rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. “Shut up,” he said in that accent that made Shane want to to stupid things, and before Shane knew what was happening, he was once again pushed up against the wall, Rozanov’s thigh nestled between his own. Like so many times before.  

I missed you, was the only thought that came to Shane at that moment. It was a dangerous thought. It was something he would never be able to say out loud. They had to keep this fun. Not serious. There could be absolutely no feelings. They could definitely not go around missing each other. Which was why Shane still referred to Rozanov by his last name, even in his own head. He couldn’t risk using his first name. He wasn’t ready for what that would mean. 

Rozanov kissed him as though they hadn’t seen each other just last night. His lips never left Shane’s even as he slipped off his jacket and tossed it in the general direction of the front door. Then Rozanov’s hands were cradling Shane’s face, angling it just the way he wanted it. Shane slid his own hands up Rozanov’s back, just so he could tangle his fingers in his curls. When Rozanov moved his leg against Shane’s aching dick, Shane couldn’t help the moan that slipped out. He could feel Rozanov smile against his lips. 

“So eager,” he murmured and kissed the corner of Shane’s mouth. “Always so eager for me.”

He was, but there was no way in hell he would actually admit that right now, so he stayed quiet. 

Rozanov kissed Shane’s cheek. His jaw. Just below his ear. 

“Did you get yourself ready for me?” he whispered, and Shane could feel a shiver run down his spine. He nodded, because of course he had. They hadn’t had time to fuck last night, but they had the time now. And god, did he want it. He had even jerked off in the shower just so he would last longer. 

“So good.” Rozanov placed another soft kiss on Shane’s neck. “Happy my flight was cancelled?” he teased and gently bit Shane’s earlobe. Shane was embarrassed by how hard he was already. He needed to calm down. Needed to make this last. 

“Why…why was your flight cancelled?” he asked, trying to regain some sort of control. Questions were good. Questions gave him time. 

“Snow storm. In Boston.” Rozanov was kissing a path down Shane’s throat and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. 

“That sucks,” Shane breathed, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “Will you be able to get back in time for Christmas?” 

“It is not Christmas for me.” 

“What? What do you mean?”

With a groan, Rozanov moved so he could look Shane in the eye. Shane usually didn’t like eye contact, but he didn’t mind this. 

“In Russia, we have Christmas in January.”

Shane felt stupid. He had no idea that there were people who didn’t celebrate Christmas in December. “Really?” he asked. “I mean, I know that some people celebrate today, on the 24th, like the Swedes. But I didn’t…”

“God Hollander,” Rozanov groaned. “Do you want history lesson about orthodox church, or do you want your Christmas present?” The last part of that sentence was delivered with a little wink. Shane hated how much he liked that. 

“Did you seriously get me a gift?” 

In answer, Rozanov held out his arms, the gesture reminding Shane of a night many months ago, in a hotel room in Las Vegas. 

“So, you’re my present?” Shane tried to look bored. He probably failed.

“Just what you wanted,” Rozanov answered with a cocky grin that Shane wanted to kiss right off his stupid face. It was the same grin he had seen so many times on the ice. 

“Not really.”

Rozanov hummed and bent down to kiss him again, their lips just barely touching. 

“I’d rather get socks or like…a ladle,” Shane lied.

Rozanov stared at him. “What the fuck is a ladle? Is it sex toy?”

Shane had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He really didn’t need the mental image of Rozanov using a ladle as a sex toy. “Never mind. I just meant that I would rather…”

“Hollander,” Rozanov interrupted, his hand cupping Shane’s jaw. “You talk too much.”

Shane swallowed and met his gaze. He could almost see the same desperation there that he felt in his entire body. He needs this too. The thought made Shane feel brave. 

“Why don’t you shut me up then?”

The grin that spread across Rozanov’s face told Shane that he had said exactly the right thing. When their lips met again, there was nothing slow or teasing in the way they kissed. It was hungry. Desperate. A little bit sloppy. Shane moaned when Rozanov tightened his grip on his jaw. He murmured something in Russian and then he was turning Shane so that his front was pressed against the cold wall, and the hand that had just held his jaw was now in his hair, tugging it lightly. Rozanov’s body was hot against Shane’s back and when he moved his hips, Shane could feel just how much Rozanov wanted him. 

“Tell me this is what you want.” He ground his cock against Shane’s ass again. “And don’t lie.”

One of Rozanov’s hands found its way underneath Shane’s shirt, lightly caressing the skin just below his belly button. Shane would say anything just to get him to move that hand lower. 

“This is what I want.” And it was. It really fucking was. 

Rozanov kissed his neck and murmured against his skin, “Will you be good for me?” His hand moved lower, cupping Shane through his sweatpants.
“Fuck… Yes, yes. I’ll– I’ll be good.”

Rozanov hummed and sucked Shane’s earlobe into his mouth. “I’ll give you what you need.”

“And what do I need?”

“You need to be told what to do.”

“Yes,” Shane breathed, unable to keep himself from pressing back against Rozanov, trying to get closer. 

“I know,” Rozanov murmured and removed his hand from Shane’s cock. “I always know what you need.”

Without warning, Rozanov stepped away, leaving Shane cold and alone in the hallway. This is not what I need, Shane thought to himself as he turned around and watched Rozanov kick off his shoes and walk further into his apartment. He stopped at the kitchen island and motioned for Shane to follow him. And like a fucking dog, Shane did.

Shane stood in front of Rozanov, glancing up at his stupidly perfect face, waiting for…something. Anything. He just needed Rozanov to talk to him and tell him what to do and never stop. 

Rozanov leaned his hip against the kitchen island and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take off your clothes.”

Shane swallowed. This felt very familiar, and just like that time in Las Vegas, he felt both exposed and excited at the thought of stripping in front of Rozanov. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way his gaze seemed to darken when he watched Shane. 

And he would definitely be lying if he said that he hadn’t pleasured himself to the memory of Rozanov watching him in that Vegas hotel room like a million times this past year. 

Shane held his gaze and pulled his shirt over his head. He draped the white t-shirt over the back of a chair. Then he removed his sweatpants, feeling very happy that he had decided to put on underwear today. He folded them and put them on the chair with the t-shirt. He looked back at Rozanov. He was still just standing there, arms crossed and with a bored expression on his face. 

“Are those not clothes?” he gestured to Shane’s underwear.

Shane glanced around the open concept apartment. At the big windows covering almost an entire wall. 

And as if Rozanov could read his mind, he said, “No one will see.” 

Shane knew this. Logically, he knew this. The only buildings he could see from his window housed offices, and they were all empty today. And from this distance, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway. But it still felt so… 

Shane hadn’t noticed Rozanov move. He was standing closer now, one hand coming up to rest against Shane’s cheek. “It’s a good apartment,” he said, making Shane focus on him instead of the windows. “Good for murder and discreet fucking.”

A laugh escaped Shane’s lips. He hated that this man was not only the hottest man he had ever seen, and also the only person that he had ever enjoyed sex with. No, he also had to be funny, the asshole. 

Rozanov pulled at the fabric of Shane’s black boxers. “Off.”

This time, he did what he was told. He could feel Rozanov’s eyes on his body. On his hard cock that always seemed too fucking eager and ready whenever a certain Russian was near. 

“Come here,” Rozanov murmured. He held Shane’s face in his hands, his thumb caressing his cheek. “Pretty.” The word was barely more than a whisper and Shane tried to not let it show what it did to him. Then Rozanov stroked Shane’s lip with his thumb and without having to be asked, Shane opened up, letting Rozanov push his digit inside. Shane held his gaze as his lips closed around Rozanov’s thumb. He sucked, trying to show him just how good he could be. 

“Fuck Hollander,” Rozanov groaned, his nostrils flaring. “Get on your knees.”

Shane didn’t have to be told twice. This was exactly what he wanted. Exactly where he wanted to be. What he needed. He hadn’t been able to taste Rozanov yesterday, but he was aching to do so now. He wanted to feel his hard cock in his mouth, in his throat. Wanted to taste him and feel him and pleasure him. Wanted to be so very good for him. 

Shane looked up and waited as Rozanov undressed. He threw his black shirt somewhere behind him and kicked off his pants and underwear. Rozanov always undressed quickly, as if he was in a hurry. And he always left a trail of clothes on the floor. 

Shane secretly loved it. Loved how desperate it seemed. As though he couldn’t wait to get naked.

Rozanov took his cock in his hand and stroked himself once, twice. He was looking down at Shane with a look in his eyes that Shane couldn’t decipher. He tapped the tip of his cock against Shane’s lips, the other hand going to his hair. “Open,” he ordered. Shane did as he was told. 

“Put your hands on my thighs.”

As soon as Shane’s did, Rozanov slid the first inch of his cock into his mouth. Shane had to really focus to keep himself from whimpering. God, he had missed this. 

“I will fuck your mouth now.” Rozanov said it so matter of factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Why the fuck did Shane find that so hot?

“Tap my thigh when you can’t take more.” He pushed in just a little bit more. Shane closed his eyes, focusing on the taste of Rozanov’s cock. 

“No, eyes open.” 

Shane looked up at Rozanov. He wondered what he was thinking. Did he enjoy seeing Shane on his knees just as much as Shane enjoyed being there? 

“Tap twice if you need me to stop.” It was all the warning Shane got before Rozanov pushed half his length into his waiting mouth. Shane’s lips stretched around the cock and he could feel saliva at the corner of his mouth. His eyes never left Rozanovs, not even when Shane’s started to fill with tears. 

“Okay?” Rozanov gritted out and stilled. Shane could only hum around his length in answer. He was getting close to his limit, but he breathed in through his nose and relaxed his throat. He heard Rozanov mutter something in Russian as his cock hit the back of Shane’s throat. 

“Fuck,” he swore, this time in English. “You have been practicing?

Only with you, Shane though. Only for you. 

Shane tapped Rozanov’s thigh once and he immediately stopped. “Good,” he murmured and stroked Shane’s hair. Shane wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling of Rozanov being so soft with him, but he hadn’t been told that he could do that, so he kept his eyes open, trying his best to breathe. 

Not that he needed air. No, he only needed this. Needed to be on his knees in front of Rozanov. Needed to do exactly what he was told. Needed to make him feel good. 

Fuck. Why was this so good? Why was it also so good? 

It made it impossible to stop. 

Rozanov pulled out of Shane’s mouth slowly until only the tip was resting against his tongue. The hand in Shane’s hair tightened, and then Rozanov was fucking his mouth. Slow, at first. Letting Shane get used to it, but never going past his limit. And then, faster. But never too fast. It was perfect. This was perfect. Shane forgot his own name and his worries and his plans. He was nothing but a mouth and it was so, so very perfect.

“So pretty like this, Hollander,” Rozanov gritted out between thrusts. “Should always be on your knees for me.” 

Shane couldn’t agree more. He couldn’t explain it, nor could he understand it, but he always felt so good like this. It was as though his brain was finally quiet. As though he didn’t have to worry because Rozanov would take care of him. He was taken care of. 

Rozanov held his face as he fucked him. “Fuck Hollander, you mouth…” 

Shane wanted to touch himself. His cock was dripping precum and he was so turned on, he couldn’t think straight. When Rozanov pushed in, holding himself on the edge of what was comfortable, Shane could feel a tear run down his cheek. Rozanov caught it with his thumb. 

“Perfect,” he said as he slid that thumb into his own mouth. “So pretty when you cry for me.”

Shane could feel his eyes roll back. If Rozanov continued talking to him like this, he would probably be able to come without being touched. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Rozanov pulled out then and Shane whimpered at the loss. He wanted to put Rozanov’s dick back in his mouth. Wanted his come down his throat. 

As if Rozanov could read his mind, he said, “Don’t want to come yet.”

Shane nodded, his head feeling a bit fuzzy. Rozanov offered his hand to help him up. The way he looked at Shane made him feel very exposed. And very needy. Rozanov bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Shane’s mouth. 

“Okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. 

“Yeah,” Shane said with a stupid grin on his face. “Very okay.” 

“Good.” Rozanov kissed him again and again and again. “Bedroom,” he murmured against Shane’s lips and they never stopped kissing. Not even when Shane almost tripped over Rozanov’s pants. “Shouldn’t leave them on the floor,” Shane said, never breaking the kiss.

“Shut up.”

The bedroom was darker. Shane had drawn the curtains earlier and turned on the small lamps, making the room bathe in a golden glow. 

“Get on the bed,” Rozanov ordered. 

“Are you going to watch me again?” Shane asked as he took a step toward the bed. 

“No. Not watch.” Rozanov walked over to the desk chair where Shane had put his suit yesterday. He had re-folded it this morning. Rozanov picked up the tie that was draped over the back of the chair and slid the navy material between his fingers. 

Shane sat with his back against the headboard. He had put all the pillows on the floor since that’s usually where they ended up anyway. “Are you going to gag me?” he half-joked. 

Rozanov rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the small smile forming on his lips. “So many questions.” He put his knee on the bed and Shane couldn’t help but to lower his gaze to look at the perfection that was Rozanov’s cock. It looked even better when it was wet with Shane’s saliva. “But no,” Rozanov continued, “I will not gag you.” He gently traced a finger along Shane’s bottom lip. “You make such pretty sounds when I fuck you.”

“So, you are going to fuck me?”

He didn’t get an answer. Instead, Rozanov held out his hand. “Give me your hands.”

Shane did as he was told.

Rozanov used the tie to tie Shane’s wrists together. “Is this okay?” he asked as he made sure that it wasn’t too tight.

Shane nodded and stared at the dark, silky material around his wrists. He liked how it looked.

“Use your words.”

“Yes.” Shane barely recognized his own voice. He was so turned on, it was getting ridiculous. 

Rozanov glanced somewhere above Shane. “This headboard is not so good.”

“What?” 

“It is sturdy. Good for holding onto when I fuck you. But there is nowhere to tie you up.”

Shane knew that he was blushing. God, he was hot all over. They had never done this before. He had never in his life been tied up in any way, shape or form. 

He already knew that he was going to like this a little bit too much. 

“Lie down.” 

Rozanov helped him get into a comfortable position on the bed and placed Shane’s hands above his head. “Keep them there.”

“And if I don’t?” Shane teased. 

“Ah,” Rozanov trailed a finger down Shane’s arm. “But you will.” He placed a soft kiss on Shane's chest. "Because you want to be good for me. Yes?"

“Yes," Shane answered quickly. A bit too quickly. 

The cocky smile on Rozanov’s lips made it very clear how much that answer pleased him. 

He kissed Shane’s cheek and stood back up, which gave Shane the opportunity to appreciate Rozanov in all his naked glory. God, this was truly the most beautiful man Shane had ever seen. He looked as if he had been carved out of marble by a god. It wasn’t fair. Nobody should be that attractive. 

“Wait here.” And with those words, Rozanov turned around and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Shane naked, lonely and tied up on the bed. Sure, he could move. He didn’t have to lie there. He wasn’t actually tied to anything. But god, he wanted to see Rozanov’s reaction when he came back to find Shane in the exact same position as the one he left him in. 

Rozanov had never said it, but Shane knew that his obedience turned him on. 

When Rozanov came back, he was carrying something. Some sort of fabric, and a glass with a clear liquid in it that he placed on the small table next to the bed.

“Thirsty?” he asked, and Rozanov only shrugged. Now that he was closer, Shane could see that he was also holding one of Shane’s hats. A black one. Knitted. 

“Are you cold?” 

“So many questions,” Rozanov sighed and put one knee on the bed. He straddled Shane’s waist. “It’s not for me.” Shane wondered if Rozanov had developed some sort of kink for winter appropriate outerwear as he slid the hat onto Shane’s head. He pulled it down until Shane’s eyes were covered, and that’s when it dawned on Shane that this might be a very different kink. 

Everything went dark. 

“Is it okay?” 

“I–I think so.” Shane hadn’t exactly had the time to think about it. 

“You will tell me if it isn’t.”

“Okay.”

“Hollander,” Rozanov grabbed his jaw, making him focus. His touch felt more, somehow. “It is important that you tell me if something is not good, okay?”

“Okay,” Shane whispered. “Yeah, I will. I promise.” He couldn’t really think of a single thing this man could do to him that he wouldn’t like. There were so many things that they had done together that Shane had never even thought of doing before, and he had liked them all. 

“Good.”

“Will you tell me if there’s something you don’t like?” Shane asked, because it was suddenly very important to him to offer Rozanov the same sense of security that he felt. 

It took a while for him to answer. Shane wished he could see his face. 

“Yes. I will tell you.”

Rozanov bent down and kissed Shane. It was a short kiss and Shane felt himself chase Rozanov's lips as he sat back up. He could hear Rozanov pick up the glass. Could hear the ice when he took a sip. 

And then, Rosanov bent down again, his hair tickling Shane’s cheek. He expected Rozanov to kiss him just below the ear, on that spot that always drove him a bit crazy. But instead of his lips, there was only cold. 

Shane gasped. Rozanov moved slightly, and so did the cold feeling against Shane’s throat. 

Fuck. Did he have an ice cube in his mouth? Shane shivered and Rozanov continued to move down Shane’s body, the ice leaving a cold, wet trail along his neck, his collarbone, his chest. When he felt it on his nipple, his hips seemed to move involuntarily, fucking up against nothing. 

“Fuck Rozanov,” he groaned. 

Down and down Rozanov went, and Shane had to concentrate really hard to stay still. To not move his arms and grab a fistful of Rozanov’s hair. 

The ice moved in a spiral around his stomach, the water pooling in his belly button. Shane felt like he was about to burst. He was so turned on and without his sight, he could feel everything a thousand times more. It was pleasure and torture and perfection. 

The cold disappeared, and Rozanov pressed a kiss to Shane’s hip bone.

And then his lips were around Shane’s cock. “Fuck,” Shane groaned, not really knowing how to react to Rozanov taking him deep into his cold mouth. He had never felt anything like that before. Blowjobs were usually just wet and warm and great, but this…this was different. But not in a bad way. Definitely not in a bad way. 

“Yes,” Shane moaned when Rozanov cupped his balls. “God, please. Yes.”

He was going to come. This was too much. 

It was not enough. 

Rozanov let go of his dick just as his mouth started to feel warm again. There was a pause, and then Shane could feel ice on his inner thigh. He swore again, and he could hear Rozanov chuckle. “It’s okay?” 

“Very.”

The ice melted quickly against Shane’s hot skin and he heard the pop of a lid, felt a hand moving his thigh so that his knee was against his chest. He knew what was coming, yet he still gasped when he felt Rozanov’s finger against his hole. 

“Wanted to do this yesterday,” Rozanov murmured. “Wanted to fuck you.”

Shane let out a shaky breath. “I guess the weather gods were on your side today, then.”

“Weather gods,” Rozanov repeated and pushed the tip of his finger inside Shane. “Or maybe it was Santa.”

Shane laughed. God, he loved that he could laugh like this during sex. That it didn’t feel weird to do so. Every single time he had been with a woman, it had felt very serious. Like a performance he couldn’t mess up. Something he had to concentrate very hard on. 

But here, with Rozanov, he could just…be. It was nice. 

“You must have been very good this year,” Rozanov continued, his finger now almost fully inside Shane. “You did get a very good present.” 

“You think very highly of yourself.”

Rozanov hummed and found that spot inside Shane that had him seeing stars. “You don’t like your present? I can leave.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Rozanov added a second finger and Shane didn’t even care about his loud moans. No one could hear him here. They were safe. They could have this. 

“Look at you,” Rozanov bent down and licked Shane’s cock. “So desperate for me.”

“Yes,” Shane moaned. “It’s so good. Fuck.”

“Want more?”

I want everything you will give me. 

“Yes. More. Just… please.”

“Hmm, asking so nicely.” 

They both knew that Shane was very good at begging. 

And they both knew that it drove Rozanov wild when he did. 

Rozanov fucked him with his fingers. Opening him up. Getting him ready. He felt vulnerable, but it was somehow better when he couldn’t see. He could just focus on the feeling. 

It didn’t take long before Shane was ready, his entire body screaming for Rozanov to just fuck him already. 

Rozanov positioned himself between Shane’s thighs, the head of his cock exactly where Shane needed it. 

“Please,” Shane whispered, not entirely sure what he was asking for. 

“Are you still okay?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah, I just… I think I want to see you now.”

The dark fabric disappeared, and when Shane opened his eyes, he was met with Rozanov’s gorgeous, perfect face just inches away.
“Hi,” Shane whispered. He couldn’t hide the smile that was forming on his lips. 

“Hi.” Rozanov bent down to kiss him. Shane had to grab the pillow above him just to keep his hands where they were. 

Shane still wasn’t used to how good it felt to be filled up by Rozanov. They fit together, and Shane hated to think about the fact that Rozanov probably fit together with a lot of people. For Shane, nothing had ever come close to this. When they were together like this, the entire world disappeared. In the beginning, he thought that he felt like that just because it was so new. Rozanov was the first man he had ever been with, and there was a new feeling of danger that came with fucking your rival, so surely, it wouldn’t feel so special when it wasn’t so new anymore. But all these years later, and the feeling hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten even more intense. 

Rozanov fucked him slowly now, his cock stretching Shane past the point of bliss.

“Hollander,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.” Rozanov’s lips found Shane’s again, and it didn’t take long until they were full on making out. Rozanov fucked him harder and Shane fucking loved every single second of it. How could something so wrong feel so good? How could it feel so right? 

“Harder,” Shane gasped against Rozanov’s lips. “Please, fuck me harder. I want…” 

He never got to finish his sentence because Rozanov rested his hand against Shane’s neck and gave him exactly what he asked for. 

“So fucking good.” Shane loved how Rozanov’s accent seemed to get thicker the closer he was to coming. He was looking down at Shane now, his hand never leaving Shane’s neck. His thumb caressed Shane’s bottom lip, silently asking him to open. So Shane did. 

He expected Rozanov to put his fingers in his mouth and order him to suck, but he didn’t. He just held Shane’s gaze as he spit into his mouth. At first, the surprise of it all made Shane freeze for a second. He should find that disgusting. Should tell Rozanov to get out and fuck off. 

But oh, my fucking god. That was the hottest fucking thing that had happened since Rozanov stepped inside his front door. Shane swallowed, his eyes never leaving Rozanov’s. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and that seemed to do something to Rozanov. Shane could almost see the shift in his eyes. Could almost feel it in the air between them. 

Rozanov buried his face in Shane’s neck, and the friction on Shane’s cock when they were in this position was almost too much. Rozanov mumbled something in Russian against his skin and Shane was falling. 

“Fuck, Rozanov. I’m gonna– Please, fuck.”

“You gonna come for me?” 

Obviously, Shane almost said. 

Rozanov reached between them and wrapped his hand around Shane’s dick. “We come together.” Rozanov kissed him again and it felt like a claiming. 

And in that very moment, for just a fraction of a second, Shane hated that Rozanov was wearing a condom. He wanted him even closer than this. Wanted to feel all of him. Wanted to be truly filled by him. They would probably never be able to fuck without protection, but god, Shane wanted it. He wanted to be fucked and filled and used and adored. 

It didn’t take long before Shane was right there. Stars seemed to burst behind his eyes, and when he came, Rozanov swallowed every single sound of his pleasure. 

Rozanov collapsed next to Shane on the bed, both men trying to catch their breaths. 

“Wow,” Shane whispered, which made Rozanov chuckle. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Right back at you.”

Rozanov helped Shane untie the tie around his wrists. He kissed the sensitive skin there and turned his hands over to make sure that he was fine. “Are you okay?” 

Shane smiled. “I’m still okay.” He wanted to kiss Rozanov again. “That was really hot.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and Shane wondered if he had been nervous. Rozanov always seemed so confident and sure of himself, but maybe he also felt nervous sometimes before their meetings? But he didn’t ask. They didn’t really talk. “You enjoyed everything?”

“I enjoyed everything.” Shane moved to his side and Rozanov lay down next to him. Shane moved his body so that he could rest his head on Rozanov’s chest. 

“Me too.” Rozanov kissed the top of Shane’s head. Shane closed his eyes and let himself enjoy this moment. The warmth, the comfort. It was nice. Almost too nice. They didn’t do nice. Or, they weren’t supposed to. But these past months, something had changed, and even if things couldn’t be more than this, Shane still let himself enjoy these small moments that felt like something.

“Here,” Rozanov moved to reach for the glass on the bedside table. “You should drink.”

Shane accepted the glass. The water was still cold but the ice was almost gone. 

“And eat.” As if by magic, Rozanov held a chocolate bar in his hand. He motioned for Shane to take it. 

“What?” Shane stared at it. “Where did you get this?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not mine.”

Rozanov rolled his eyes and opened the wrapper. “Of course it isn’t. You only eat grass and boring shit.”

“Exactly,” Shane couldn’t help but grin. Had Rozanov brought chocolate with him? Had he stopped somewhere to buy it before coming here? “I can’t eat that.”

“You need energy,” Rozanov said matter of factly. “This is energy.” He took a bite and offered the rest to Shane. “Please.”

And that was the magic word. Rozanov almost never used it, but when he did, Shane was gone for. He reached for the chocolate bar and tried to not think about how good it tasted. 

“Good,” Rozanov said and kissed his shoulder. “Drink more.”

“So bossy.”

“You love it.” 

And god help him, Shane did. 

When he was alone again, Shane stood in his hallway, staring at the door. The ghost of Ilya’s parting kiss still lingered on his lips. He could still feel Ilya everywhere. On his body, in his heart.

In his soul. 

Shane buried his face in his hands and groaned. 

He was so fucked.

___________________

January 7, 2016

Jane: Merry Christmas

Ilya stared at his phone. He had just woken up and he wasn’t really sure if he was dreaming or not. Hollander never messaged him if they didn’t have plans to hook up. Ilya was almost always the first to text, so this was definitely a surprise. 

He looked at the date on his phone. The 7th of January. 

It was Christmas. Not that Ilya celebrated it. His family hadn’t celebrated anything after his mother died. It just never felt like they had anything to be happy for.

Ilya couldn’t remember telling Hollander the exact date of when they celebrated Christmas in Russia. Had he looked it up? The image of Hollander googling Russian Christmas traditions on his phone made Ilya feel a bit giddy. This was the first time in years that he had woken up with a smile on his face on Christmas morning. 

Ilya: Thank you. What will I get as a present?

Three dots appeared and disappeared just as quickly. Then they appeared again. 

Jane: What’s on your wish list?

You. In my bed. 

It was the first thing that came to his mind, but it was the last thing he should be thinking. Of course he wanted Hollander in his bed, but lately, he wanted Hollander to stay in his bed. He wanted to wake up with him. Wanted to make him dinner. Wanted to just…spend time with him. He wanted to fuck him too, obviously. He wanted to claim him and mark him. Wanted to take him apart and put him back together. But he also wanted…more. 

There were so many things that Ilya wanted that he could never have. 

He tried not to think about it. 

Ilya: You tied up like Christmas present. In my bed. 

It wasn’t a lie. Ilya really wanted that, especially since last time when he had seen just how much Shane liked having his wrists tied. Just the thought of that day made Ilya hard. 

But it wasn’t the whole truth either. He would never be able to tell Hollander the truth. 

He wasn’t even able to think it to himself. 

The truth was impossible, so he wouldn’t let himself dwell on it. 

Jane: I think that can be arranged. 

Jane: We play in Boston in two weeks. 

Jane: What color ribbon should I bring?

Ilya had to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling. He was definitely not blushing. Absolutely not. 

Russians did not do this.