Chapter Text
Shane was nervous. And excited. But mostly nervous. The bags were packed. The binder with their entire itinerary, reservations, pit stops suggestions, tourist stops to make, and more, sat shining and crisp was safely tucked in his backpack. Shane was itching to get it open on the plane and double check everything for their 3-week road trip across half of the continental US. Maybe at the airport.
Or maybe double check it now.
Quietly, Shane pulled the binder out and began to flip through it to double check (ok, quadruple check) that their flight times were actually 8AM and that they would get to the airport on time. Ilya, had of course, made fun of Shane relentlessly for this stupid and boring binder, but Shane knew that keeping them on schedule would maximize their vacation time. Leaving this trip up to Ilya would only result in no hotel reservations, no cars, no ideas of where to go. Shane wasn’t willing to let their first vacation post-retirement be left in Ilya’s chaotic hands.
Thumbing through today’s itinerary made this trip seem easy enough. First a flight to New Orleans that first stopped in Chicago. After a couple of nights in New Orleans, they would make their way to Austin, then out to west Texas to experience what Ilya called ‘the authentic cowboy experience’. From there, they would go to Santa Fe, the Grand Canyon, up to Salt Lake City, and then finally, end their journey in Portland. In total, if they stayed exactly to schedule, they would take 24 days to complete their journey.
Shane heard Ilya fumbling his way downstairs. A 5AM wake-up call was never how Ilya wanted to start his day so before Ilya could even let out his first yawn after walking into the kitchen, Shane shoved a cup of espresso into his hand.
“Ok, are you going to shower before we leave? If so, do it now, no more than 5 minutes. Doing only carry-ons buys us some time, but we need to be wheels on the ground in 30 minutes to get to the airport by 6AM. That will give us plenty of time to get through security and get to our seats. It’s a short flight to Chicago and our flight to New Orleans isn’t until 5PM, so I figured we could get a few hours in Chicago. I was thinking the Field Museum? If so, let me know now so I can see if they have any tickets available for today? And—“
”Hollander, is 5AM. So many words, so fast. Please stop.”
The Russian man sat at the table, shirtless and still in his pajama pants, and took a sip of his espresso. Ilya sat there for a few moments before Shane started to impatiently tap his foot.
“What?” Ilya groaned.
“Are you going to shower? Get changed? I’m already ready.”
“Uuuuuuuuuuugh.” Ilya rolled his head back dramatically and downed the rest of his espresso. “I shower now. Will be down at 5:30.”
Shane tried not to let out an annoyed sigh. Ilya was trying, he was just not a morning person. Shane decided to make Ilya another espresso—today seemed like a double shot kind of day. Sure enough, Ilya made his way back downstairs at 5:30 sharp, freshly showered and dressed, and greedily grabbed the fresh cup of espresso.
“See, I said 5:30. Scheduled Uber is already outside and ready. Let’s get our bags and go, sweetheart.” Ilya winked and threw back his espresso before quickly washing it and setting it on the dish rack.
The ride to the airport was a mix of giddy anticipation. The two had been talking about this trip for almost the entirety of the season—their final season. This trip was supposed to be the start of the brand new chapter of their lives and Shane had spent the last 6 months between moments where he wasn’t focused on hockey painstakingly planning each moment of this trip.
The first of the plans hinged on an on-time departure from Ottawa to Chicago. It was July, so the weather shouldn’t be bad. And it’s an early flight, so no delays for the plane coming from another airport. The only thing that could delay them from an on-time departure would be something like a mechanical issue with the plane. Shane’s foot began to anxiously tap as he looked at his phone to ensure the plane was still on time. It wasn’t until Ilya placed his hand gently on Shane’s knee that he realized how hard and fast his leg was tapping.
Ilya looked over at him and stared stupidly at him with that crooked grin. God Ilya looked tired, but even with those tired eyes, Shane could see them glower with the love and passion his husband held for him. Shane placed his hand on top of Ilya’s and laced their fingers together, letting out a large exhale. This trip was going to be great.
The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence. To Shane’s delight, security was fast to get through and it allowed Ilya to hunt for a greasy breakfast sandwich for himself. As Ilya was up, Shane pulled out the binder from his backpack and began to thumb through the schedule for the next couple of days.
“Did you put tabs in that thing?” Ilya looked incredulous as he put a yogurt with granola in front of Shane before sitting and taking his breakfast sandwich out of its wrapper.
“Yes, there are tabs. One for each city we’re visiting and then 3 sub tabs for hotels, reservations, and sites to visit.”
Ilya groaned and thunked his head on the table. “Hollander, this is vacation. Do we really have to use a fucking binder every time? We’re retired now! We don’t need to have every moment scheduled now. Just toss that fucking thing.”
“Ilya, this has all of our reservations in it!” Shane emphatically pointed at the binder.
“You mean the same reservations that you put on to our shared calendar? Don’t glare at me like that. Da, Hollander, I read the things you send me.” Ilya huffed and took a large bite of his breakfast sandwich.
Shane grimaced and took a bit of his yogurt before thumbing at the black binder again. The binder wasn’t stupid—it had saved their asses a few years ago when their phones died while travelling in Japan and they got lost. Had Shane not kept detailed directions to each destination in the binders, they almost certainly would not have made it back to their hotel in time to make their dinner reservation. Ilya had said the reservation didn’t matter and they would find their way to the hotel eventually, but Shane had made that dinner reservation with the concierge the second they got checked in to that hotel in Kyoto. The binder wasn’t stupid.
After finishing breakfast, the two made their way to the gate, the binder tucked safely in Shane’s backpack. Boarding time still wasn’t for another 45 minutes and Ilya took the time to pull his hoodie over his eyes and try to sleep while Shane, yet again, thumbed through the binder. If they landed on time and took the L, they would have 4 hours in Chicago. Just enough time for lunch and a drop-in to the Field Musuem, or if Ilya was feeling adventurous (when wasn’t he), a trip to Willis Tower. Shane went ahead and made reservations for both sites. Just in case.
The flight was uneventful and after landing shortly after 9AM, Shane dashed down the concourse to catch the next train. Ilya, of course, sauntered, but they still made the train and were downtown by 10:30AM. That left them 3 hours to wander, so maybe not the museum, but definitely lunch and time for Willis Tower.
It was after lunch that the first hiccup came—their flight was delayed until 7PM. Ilya waved it off like he normally did and said it gave them more time to enjoy the walking around. Shane could admit that Willis Tower was a blast, at least not when Ilya gave him a gentle nudge to get him to walk on the glass overhang. But after a few minutes of prodding, Ilya was successful in getting Shane to penguin waddle, then walk across the floor. They took stupid selfies, Ilya insisted on taking a video for Yuna to show Anya, and Ilya plopped a fat, wet kiss on Shane’s cheek as he tried to catch a sneaky solo picture of Ilya. While Shane refused to lay down on the glass floor overlooking the streets below, Ilya excitedly threw himself back and begged Shane to take pictures of him sprawled across the floor.
After the adrenaline wore off from Willis Tower, Ilya then suggested the blood tempering spot of the Art Institute to see a Wassily Kandisky exhibition. It was while they were sitting admiring a particularly beautiful Renoir that the flight was delayed to 8PM. Then 9. Then it was cancelled and rescheduled for 7AM the next day. They hadn’t even left the Art Institute yet.
Shane couldn’t believe it. Of course this would happen. Now they were going to be out of their hotel for New Orleans and lose a precious night. Shane had been looking forward to dragging Ilya to Fremont St. to listen to jazz and then the WWII Museum tomorrow, which Ilya really didn’t want to visit because he said it would be too depressing. In reality, the man just really didn’t like listening to history lessons.
Frantically, Shane began to call the hotel to adjust their reservation. Thankfully, Shane had purchased insurance at every hotel, so cancelling for the night was no issue, but that left them with no room in Chicago tonight other than the airport hotel their airline was trying to stick them in.
As Shane took steadying breaths trying to find a room for the night, Ilya yet again, placed a hand on Shane’s anxiety-ridden leg.
“Shane, it is ok.” Ilya looked at him in the eye. “Is just a hiccup. While you were changing our reservation in New Orleans, I made us a reservation for a little boutique hotel just on the other side of the river. Let’s finish up here and go checked in. Then I want to go to the Navy Pier and play tourist carnival games with you and drink an awful margarita at Margaritaville and then eat a Chicago dog. Maybe after Chicago dog, we can find a jazz club. Sounds good, yes?”
Ilya gave Shane’s leg a soft pat and Shane gently exhaled, trying not to cry. That sounded really nice. Maybe it wasn’t New Orleans and coffee and beignets at Café du Monde (not that Shane would have eaten the beignets), but it was still jazz in the Big Easy. Shane was definitely missing that.
———
Shane was surprised Ilya found such a nice hotel on such short notice. He was afraid to ask how much it cost, but then Shane remembered that it was a vacation and they worked hard and destroyed their bodies for the millions of dollars they made—splurging every once and a while was just fine.
The two made their way up to their room, and happily thunked their heavy backpacks on the couch. Shane barely had a second to think before Ilya was on him, his mouth locked on and tongue desperately searching to get past Shane’s lips. Eagerly, Shane let him in and gently suckled on the Russian man’s tongue. Both moaned into the kiss as Ilya began to rip off Shane’s clothes. Shane gasped as Ilya took one of his nipples between his teeth and bit hard.
“Shower,” Ilya growled in Shane’s ear as he took a hearty handful of his bare ass. “Now.”
Shane managed a nod and stumbled his way into the bathroom. He got into the rainfall shower and turned the water on, letting the water warm to his skin. Shane felt Ilya’s hands slide around him. Ilya grazed Shane’s neck with his teeth and gently suckled—Shane moaned and threw his head back, begging for more. Ilya happily indulged as he placed kiss after kiss on Shane’s neck.
Only when Shane was a lifeless puddle in his arms did Ilya finally pull away, only to return moments later with soap in hand. Ilya started on Shane’s neck and massaged the tight muscles there then slowly lathered down Shane’s body with sure and strong touches. Shane was helpless in Ilya’s arms—he was barely able to stand and was leaning almost his full weight against his husband.
“I’m hungry.” Ilya whispered in Shane’s ear, gently nipping at his earlobe.
“Mmm, me too. Let’s finish this shower and go eat.”
Ilya snickered against Shane’s ear. “Yes, hungry for that, too. But first I need you to feed me something else.”
Slowly, Ilya slid down Shane until he was kneeling at his feet. With a light flicking of his tongue, Ilya began to take Shane into his mouth. Shane moaned as Ilya wrapped his tongue around the head and flicked it into Shane’s slit, sucking the precome that was beginning to leak out.
“God, Ilya.” Shane threaded his fingers through Ilya’s hair, urging his husband to take him deeper down his throat. ”Fuuuuuck.”
Ilya had taken him deep, swallowing hard around his cock. Every time Shane gave an encouraging thrust, Ilya moaned, seeming to love the sensation of Shane hitting the back of his throat. Ilya gripped the back of Shane’s thighs, encouraging him to go faster, to fuck his throat harder. He looked up at Shane, his eyes, welled with tears and thick with desire.
Shane needed no more encouragement to start snapping his hips erratically forward, all sense of rhythm lost as Ilya moaned each time Shane hit the back of his throat.
“Oh fuck, Ilya, fuck. Oh my god. I’m gonna come. Oh!”
Shane gripped Ilya’s hair hard as his orgasm erupted from him and down Ilya’s throat. Ilya hummed as Shane shot ribbon after ribbon of come, his fingers gripping Shane’s thighs so hard, he would surely have bruises. His legs trembled as Ilya let him slide out of his mouth and shivered as Ilya gave an appreciative suck of his oversensitive head before letting Shane fully go.
Ilya rose to his legs and crushed their mouths together. Shane couldn’t help but moan as he tasted the remnants of himself on Ilya’s tongue. Ilya pulled Shane close as Shane shivered again and peppered kisses on Shane’s wet hair.
“Mmmm, thank you. All full now.” Ilya purred into Shane’s ear. “Now on your knees.”
Shane obediently went down to his knees where Ilya’s massive cock stared him in the face. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as he looked at the head popped up out of Ilya’s foreskin.
“You want it?” Ilya gripped his cock and gave it a few languid strokes. “Dying for it?”
Shane stared at him, sitting obediently on his knees. Waiting. He licked his lips again. Yes. He was dying for it.
“Take it. Treat it nice. I’ll give you a reward for it later.” Ilya brought his dick closer to Shane’s mouth.
Taking his cue, Shane leaned forward and began to take Ilya in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, treat Ilya nice, be rewarded for it. Shane shivered in anticipation as he shoved Ilya deep down his throat and tugged at his balls in just the way he knew Ilya loved. Mr. Stallion was quivering and moaning in less than a minute—Shane hoped the bathroom was somewhat soundproofed with how loud Ilya had screamed his name when he came.
Ilya slid down on to the floor meeting Shane, panting as he watched Shane wipe his mouth, the remnants of him washing away. They both laughed as the two caught their breathes, both giddy in the haze of their orgasms.
“Fuck, Hollander. You been holding out on me?” Ilya laughed as his breath finally returned to him.
Shane thunked his head against Ilya’s shoulder and smiled, “Thought I’d pick up a new trick or two before our trip.” He leaned forward and pulled Ilya into a leisurely kiss.
———
After spending entirely too long in the shower, the two finally made their way out and got dressed. When the got outside on that mid-July evening, Shane didn’t know if he had felt better weather or had his steps ever felt lighter. The two walked together holding hands and playing tourist.
Sometimes, it shocked Shane when they had anonymity. Shane thought that surely someone in the course of the evening would recognize them shouting loudly at carnival and arcade games, laughing loudly as Ilya got ketchup all over himself after his first bite of his Chicago Dog, or their uncontrollable gagging from the margaritas at Margaritaville. But their evening passed with quiet delight.
Just the two of them.
It was all Shane could do to stifle his yawn when the fireworks went off at 9PM. Ilya wrapped his arm around him and hugged him close, deeply inhaling the smell of Shane’s hair.
”Let’s go back to the hotel after this. Early flight tomorrow.” Ilya murmured in Russian into Shane’s hair as a particularly spectacular firework went off.
All Shane could do was nod and curl deeper into Ilya.