Home games against Boston were more exciting than ever. Now that Ilya had decided to play for Ottawa next season, he was on a mission to make this his best season at Boston. He played fiercely, and, though he got slammed against the board multiple times by the defense line, he still managed to win Boston the game 4-2.
Shane was excited because it would be the first time Ilya would come over to his Montreal apartment. His real Montreal apartment. He would have to leave in the middle of the night to make it to his room and be on time for his morning bus without raising any heads, but he would be in Shane's home. For some reason, it felt huge. Like Shane was finally stepping fully into his relationship with Ilya.
Lily: Here
Shane went to open the door and, sure enough, his boyfriend was standing there with an overnight bag on his shoulder and his most annoyingly handsome smile on.
"Come on in," Shane said, suddenly nervous.
Ilya came in and immediately crowded Shane against his own door as he closed it. His bag hit the floor with a loud thud, then Ilya's hands were on his face, pulling Shane into a heated kiss.
They kissed desperately, as if every second apart had been torture. Shane knew that it was torture for him. To know that he had a boyfriend who loved him but who was in a different country most of the year was driving Shane insane. Not for much longer, his brain supplied helpfully. After this season he will be 2 hours away the whole year.
His thoughts were quickly interrupted by Ilya's mouth peppering kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting softly right where his neck met his shoulder.
Eventually, they moved things from the door to the living room, and Shane enjoyed the way Ilya couldn't stop smiling into their kiss as he walked them back until Shane's knees hit the sofa. Shane brought Ilya down with him as he lied on the sofa, still kissing, always kissing, his body fitting on top of Shane's perfectly.
"Missed you," said Shane while Ilya roamed his hands under Shane's t-shirt.
"I missed you more," Ilya answered, still kissing Shane's neck.
"Good game today," Shane said the next time he took a moment to breathe from Ilya's feverish kisses.
"I scored a goal for my boyfriend," Ilya said.
"Only one? Who was the other goal for then?"
"Me."
"You're such an asshole," but Shane kissed him again, and all of his thoughts evaporated in the taste of Ilya's lips on him.
They were still kissing when Ilya groaned, seemingly in pain, on top of him.
"What is it?" Shane asked.
"My ribs are killing me," he said, grimacing.
"Did you hurt your ribs tonight?" Shane asked, though the answer seemed obvious by Ilya's face. "When?"
Shane remembered Ilya going against the boards a couple of times, but he didn't think much of it. Not when Ilya shook it off and kept playing like his game hadn't been affected by the roughing up his team gave him.
"Is nothing. Just small fracture," Ilya said, shrugging.
"Fracture? Ilya!"
"Is nothing, I said."
"Let me see."
Ilya sighed and sat up, he groaned when he pulled his shirt up and Shane saw the purple bruises flourishing on his beautiful chest. Shane sat up and touched his fingertips to Ilya's chest, mapping the contours of the bruises visible on the edges of the tape.
"Ilya…"
"Is no big deal. Doctor said we'll take it week to week."
"We're not having sex if you have a fractured rib," Shane said with a frown.
"Shane." Ilya actually pouted. "No celebration sex? Even when I won excellent game against second best hockey player in the world?"
"Shut up. You should not be exerting yourself after an injury like that."
Shane got up from the sofa and padded to the fridge where he kept spare ice packs for particularly bad hockey days. He took one to Ilya who rolled his eyes at him but took it and placed it on top of his bruises over his t-shirt.
"Happy now?" Ilya asked.
"Happier."
They ended up watching a movie on Shane's sofa and kept their hands mostly to themselves the whole time. At around midnight, they went to Shane's room, Ilya looked around, as if taking in every detail of Shane's bedroom, with a smile to his face.
"I can't believe I'm in your bedroom," said Ilya.
"Is it all you ever dreamed of?" Shane teases.
"Better," Ilya replied, crossing the distance between them.
Shane's mouth opened under Ilya's immediately. Their kiss was intense, tender, and just the right amount of filthy for Shane to go weak at the knees. Ilya ran one of his hands down his chest, grabbing and squeezing, brushing his thumb against Shane's nipple, and Shane moaned.
"Ilya—" he tried, knowing that the last thing Ilya needed was the exertion that came with fucking Shane. "You should rest."
"Mmm, no," Ilya replied, kissing the side of Shane's face. "I want to fuck my boyfriend on his boring bed with boring bed sheets until he's begging me to come inside."
"I'm not gonna— Ilya—" his thoughts were interrupted by Ilya's hand cupping his dick through his sweatpants. Once Shane felt like he could speak again, he said, "we should not have sex tonight."
"Shane," Ilya pulled back, pouting. "I'll let you do all the work… I'll just lie on bed and you sit on my dick."
"Romantic," Shane said, sliding his fingers under the waistband of Ilya's pants, but not moving his hands any further. "I'm serious, Ilya. A broken rib is no joke."
"So you will do all the work, yes?" Ilya's hand on his dick squeezed just enough to draw a gasp out of Shane.
"Lie down on the bed," Shane replied, pushing Ilya back slightly.
Ilya smiled and took off his shirt, throwing it on the floor without a care in the world. He sat on the edge of the bed to take his pants and boxer briefs off with only mild grimacing. Lastly, Ilya took off his socks by pushing them off his his feet. He lied down on the bed, using the pillows to stay half-seated, and watched Shane, eyes dark with lust.
"Come on, I want to see you."
Shane took off his t-shirt, carefully folding it and leaving it on top of the unused chair in the corner. Then he stripped off his pants, taking his time to fold them and set them down on top of his t-shirt. He took off his underwear next, glancing in Ilya's direction. His boyfriend was looking at him with a fond smile, as if he could not get enough of watching Shane do something as terribly mundane as fold clothes. By the time Shane was naked, Ilya was already hard, lazily stroking his cock.
"So, what do you want to do?" Shane asked.
"Want to fuck you."
"Ilya—"
"If you ride me, you'll be doing all the work."
Shane shook his head and walked to the side of the bed, getting a bottle of lube from the nightstand. "Do you want me to do this too?" Shane asked cheekily.
"Yes, I want to watch you."
Shane had a flashback to other times when Ilya had asked to watch, and his dick twitched in interest. He climbed on the bed, then lounged on the bed at a respectable distance, angling his ass so Ilya could watch. Once he was comfortable enough, he slicked his fingers with lube and started working himself open for Ilya. He started with one finger, but didn't wait too long before slipping a second finger in. Ilya cursed under his breath, squeezing the base of his dick, and Shane got a jolt of satisfaction from knowing the man could get so worked up from watching Shane only.
Shane's own cock felt heavy with arousal, leaking precome as he scissored his fingers inside. He was about to slip in a third finger when Ilya said, "come on, Shane, I want to fuck you."
"Mmm, maybe I'll just fuck my fingers and come from this. So you won't have to do anything after all."
"Shane…" Ilya whined.
"Yes?" his voice came out more strained as he slipped a third finger in.
"Please, please ride my dick."
Shane's cock had some strong opinions on how hot it was to hear Ilya beg to be ridden. He pulled his fingers out and climbed on top of Ilya, careful not to settle all of his weight on top of the man. He sat on Ilya's thighs first, running his hands over Ilya's abs, over the tape holding his ribs together, over his clavicle.
"You'll tell me if anything hurts?" Shane asked.
"Nothing hurts right now, meds are still working magic. Just a little uncomfortable."
"Then you'll tell me if anything feels weird or out of place or—"
"Yes, yes, I will tell. I will do anything if you'll sit on my dick right now."
Shane shook his head and moved closer to Ilya, positioning himself right on top of his boyfriend's dick. He reached back and lined Ilya's cock to his entrance, then slowly sank down, a moan making its way through his throat as Ilya gripped his hips tight enough to bruise.
He stayed there for a minute, catching his breath at the feeling of fullness he got whenever he was in this position.
"Okay?" Ilya asked, when Shane didn't move immediately.
"Yeah, just— give me a second," Shane said with a groan. Then he moved up slightly, sitting back down with a moan.
"Hey, Shane, look at me," Ilya said. Shane didn't realized he had closed his eyes, so he looked down at Ilya as watched as his boyfriend frowned slightly. "Wanna switch positions?"
"I thought you would let me do all the work," Shane said, rolling his hips slow and sensual.
"God, yes, Shane, fuck."
"Then shut up and let me do the work," Shane mumbled, then he leaned forward to catch Ilya's lips in a kiss. It was messy and hungry and, as Shane moved his hips setting a slow rhythm that barely brushed against his prostate the right way, he felt Ilya's grip tighten.
They kissed until Shane felt dizzy, Ilya's cock going deeper and deeper with every roll of his hips. Ilya's hands moved up Shane's sides, touching every inch of skin he could, his short nails grazing his skin with just the right pressure to make his skin feel electric.
Shane opened his legs wider, sinking deeper into Ilya's dick until it started hitting his sweet spot with every roll of his hips. Ilya thrust deeper, fucking into Shane with the same stamina he had when he didn't have a broken rib to take care of.
"Fuck, Shane," Ilya mumbled against Shane's lips. "Can I come inside?"
Fuck. That would be extremely hot. Messy and dirty and just right. Shane felt his insides tighten in anticipation.
"Yes, yes, come inside, I want you inside me, Ilya."
Shane rode his dick harder, faster, without stopping to think of anything else but the feeling of Ilya inside of him.
"Shane…"
“Not yet, not yet, don't let it be over yet,” Shane begged, biting his lip, stroking himself to the edge.
Ilya's hand came up to grab Shane's face and he kissed him, hard and sloppy, and Shane knew he was done for. Ilya grabbed Shane's cock, stroking fast and dirty, and it was more than enough to send Shane over the edge and have him see white. At the same time, Ilya groaned and Shane felt Ilya's cock throb as he came inside.
Shane kissed Ilya once more before he climbed off him, feeling his ass drip come down his thigh.
"That was so hot," Shane said, lying next to Ilya, his hand drawing slow circles on his boyfriend's chest. "Are you okay? Your ribs—?"
"Mmm, yes, my ribs are okay," Ilya said, sliding an arm around Shane's shoulders, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss. "See? Nothing bad happened."
"You say that now but you're gonna feel like shit in the morning," Shane replied, starting to feel a little disgusted by his sweat and the come sliding out of his ass. "Do you want to shower with me?"
"I thought I was on bed rest," Ilya teased.
"Shut up." He started to get up, but Ilya pulled him back down to his chest. "Come on, Ilya, I need a shower."
"Mmm, but you look so pretty like this," Ilya turned to his side slightly, kissing Shane's mouth, his chin, the side of his face. "All sweaty and gross for me."
"I won't make you shower if you don't want, but I want to," Shane said.
"I want. I want to see if I can get a blowjob out of it."
Shane laughed at that. "You literally just came in my ass. Besides you should sleep soon. Let that rib heal."
"Shower blowjob does not count as exercise, Shane."
Shane pulled away from Ilya's sweaty body, and got up, feeling more of Ilya's come flow down his thighs. He walked to the ensuite bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited for the water to heat up for a minute before getting in. He was lathering his body in shower gel when Ilya came into the bathroom. Shane caught a slight grimace as he walked.
"Does it hurt?" Shane asked.
"Not really," Ilya said, getting into the shower. "It feels… tight, I guess, when I breathe in."
Shane frowned. "Maybe we shouldn't have—"
"Shane, I'm fine. Now will you pass me your weird shampoo?"
He rolled his eyes, but took the bottle of shampoo and squeezed a big dollop of it on his hand, then he gestured at Ilya to wet his hair before he started washing his boyfriend's hair with his shampoo. Ilya let himself be moved this way and that, letting Shane rinse his scalp.
Once he was done, Shane gently pushed Ilya until his back was against the wall. Ilya raised an eyebrow at him, but all Shane did was roll his eyes as he started applying shower gel all over Ilya's body, taking special care not to rip the kinesiology tape off his body. He tried to keep it as non-sexual as possible, but the moment he crouched to get Ilya's thighs, he noticed Ilya's cock was half hard already.
He glanced up, knowing that Ilya loved seeing Shane look up at him when he was on his knees. Ilya cursed. "Do you know how pretty you look on your knees?"
Shane rubbed his cheek against Ilya's hardening dick, just enough to tease, then continued lathering Ilya's body with shower gel, knowing that Ilya would eventually be ready to go again.
He stood up again and kissed Ilya, slipping his tongue inside Ilya's mouth. Ilya gasped when Shane's hand found his dick, stroking slowly as Ilya's hands grabbed his ass.
"I could fuck you again," said Ilya against his lips. "You're still stretched open for me, ready for me to fill you with my cock."
Shane's dick was certainly interested in that idea, but fucking in the shower was a bit too risky for Ilya's ribs, so when Ilya kissed his neck, he said, "too much exercise for one night."
"Come on, Shane…"
"I can still do all the work," he added, going back to his knees, swallowing Ilya's dick without another word.
"Fucking hell, Shane."
Shane put his considerable blowjob skills to good use, twisting his tongue in just the right way, sucking with just the right pressure, reveling in the way Ilya moaned with pleasure.
Ilya's hands found Shane's head, steadying him to thrust into his mouth. Shane put his hands on both of Ilya's thighs and pulled back from his cock.
"Stop that. Let me do this," Shane said.
"Are you going to swallow?" he asked, his breath catching in the last word.
"Are you going to keep still?" Shane countered.
"Yes."
Shane went back to sucking Ilya's dick without another word, bobbing his head up and down, sucking as if there was no tomorrow. As far as Shane was concerned, there wasn't, all there was was this moment, when Ilya's moans mixed with Russian curses that Shane took as positive reinforcement.
He made the conscious effort to open up his throat, and Ilya thrust inside, making him gag. Shane pushed Ilya's body back against the wall, keeping him firmly in place as he sucked. He was vaguely aware of Ilya warning Shane that he was going to come, but Shane wanted to taste Ilya on his tongue, so he kept going, sucking until Ilya came with Shane's name on his lips.
Shane didn't swallow immediately, but kept all of Ilya's come on his tongue as he pulled out, then tapped on Ilya's leg to get him to look at him. Ilya's hooded post-orgasm eyes zeroed in on Shane's mouth, on Shane's tongue streaked with white, and he slid a thumb inside. Shane sucked the thumb into his mouth and swallowed, closing his eyes.
"Fuck, Shane."
"Mmm, you are terrible at letting me do all the work," he said, standing up.
Ilya caught his mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding into Shane's mouth as if it belonged there. When he pulled apart, Shane was panting, extremely aware of his own erection rubbing against Ilya's hip.
"Yes, very. Can I suck you off now?" he asked.
"No, go lie down," Shane ordered.
"But—"
"Ilya," he warned with as much seriousness as he could.
"Fine, but next time—"
"Next time," confirmed Shane, smiling as he kissed his boyfriend one last time before he pushed him out of the shower.
Shane watched Ilya as he grabbed one of Shane's towels, wrapped it around his waist, and left the bathroom. Shane took his erection in his hand and jerked himself off to the image of Ilya's ass before it disappeared under the towel. It didn't take long, not that Shane was worried about lasting at all, and then he was coming with a gasp.
After he rinsed himself off, he shut off the water and got out of the shower. By the time he made it into his bedroom, Ilya had already changed changed the ruined duvet from Shane's bed and had settled inside the bed.
"I told you to lie down, not to change the bedding," he admonished.
Ilya rolled his eyes and groaned. "Will you get into bed already?"
Shane dried himself off quickly and got into bed with Ilya. "What time do you have to go?"
"The bus leaves at 7," Ilya replied.
Shane glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw it read 1:35 am. "You're not gonna sleep much."
Ilya smiled at him. "Worth it."
"How many games will you miss?" Shane asked as he got into bed.
"I don't know. Doctor said week to week."
Shane pushed further. "Didn't he give you an estimate?"
"Four weeks if I take good care of it."
"Fuck," Shane said. Those were a lot of games where Boston would not have their star center with them. It made Ilya's ambition of raising a last cup with Boston a little more impossible.
"Is fine, I'll be back for playoffs."
Shane didn't point out that for that to happen his team had to make it into the playoffs first.
Later, Shane fell asleep with his head on Ilya's chest, on the side that was not taped for a broken rib. When Ilya's first alarm rang, Shane was up immediately. He put on the same pair of sweatpants he was wearing the previous night and went to the kitchen to get some quick early breakfast ready for Ilya.
Ilya's second alarm rang and Shane heard Ilya groan in the room, as he finished a skillet of eggs.
"What is this?" Ilya asked as he came into the kitchen.
"Breakfast."
"That is eggs on toast," Ilya said, plainly.
"Yeah.. is that not okay?"
"You don't eat bread," Ilya had a small frown on his face as he said that.
"I stocked up on some things before the game yesterday… just, things you liked at the cottage and—"
Shane couldn't finish his sentence before Ilya crowded him against the refrigerator and kissed him. It was soft and deep and perfect, and Shane wished Ilya never had to leave his apartment.
"Come on," Shane said, pushing Ilya back before they got sidetracked. "Eat something before you go."
"Will you eat with me?" Ilya asked.
"I'll drink a protein shake. I'll go on a run after you leave."
Ilya groaned. "Shane, go back to sleep. It's fucking 6 am."
"Eat something first."
Ilya sighed and went to sit down. He ate his toast with gusto, and Shane only mildly envied him as he drank his protein shake. Once they finished, Ilya requested a ride using his phone and they kissed against the door as they waited for Ilya's driver to get there.
Ilya's phone pinged with a notification. Ilya stopped kissing Shane to check his messages and said, "Marleau wants to know where I am."
"Where's your ride?" Shane asked.
"Two minutes away."
"You should go down." Shane held onto Ilya's sweatshirt as if he could extend their two minutes a little longer by sheer force of will.
"Hmm, not yet," Ilya said, kissing the side of Shane's face, the line of his jaw, then his mouth. Their kiss was slow at first, trying to savor each other before it was time to say goodbye.
Ilya's phone rang, and Ilya pressed his mouth urgently against Shane's, pushing his tongue inside Shane's mouth. Whoever it was hung up before they pulled apart.
Ilya checked his phone and cursed. "Fuck. Uber is here."
"When will I see you again?" Shane asked.
"You play Boston in two weeks," Ilya replied, kissing Shane's cheek. "I don't think I'll be ready to play yet."
"Two weeks then," Shane repeated, committing this to memory. "Take care of your ribs, okay?"
"Will do." Ilya kissed him again as his phone rang for a second time. "Fuck." Ilya picked up and said, "I'm coming down. Give me two minutes."
He hung up and looked at Shane with a small frown.
"I love you," Shane said.
"I love you too," Ilya said, kissing him a last time, harder, more pressing than before.
Finally, Ilya pulled back, resting his forehead against Shane's for a moment. Shane's chest felt tight with the need to keep Ilya close, to take care of him through his injury, to wrap him in a blanket and throw him in the sofa so they could cuddle all day long. Instead of doing any of that, Shane moved to open the door so Ilya could go.
"I love you," Ilya said, looking at Shane as he walked backwards towards the elevator.
"I love you," replied Shane, watching as his boyfriend left. He stayed at the door, watching Ilya until the elevator got to his floor and Ilya got in throwing a last sad smile in Shane's direction. Shane waited until the elevator left to go inside and lean against the door. His heart couldn't understand that Ilya was only leaving for a while, and Shane was left with nothing but a gaping hole where Ilya's presence fit into his life.
With a sigh, he went to his room and changed into his running clothes. Before leaving, he quickly checked his messages. He was about to ignore them all when his phone pinged with a notification from Ilya.
Lily: go to bed
Shane: can't. got a cup to win this season.
Lily: I will remember this in two weeks
Shane smiled at his phone like an idiot before replying, take care of your ribs or I will not even give you a handjob next time.
Lily: two weeks is long time to change your mind
At that, Shane laughed. He picked up his headphones from the coffee table and went out.
Two weeks. Shane could survive two weeks. He'd done it before, he could do it again. Next season would be different: Ilya would be living in Ottawa and he'd be two hours away the whole year. Sooner still, they'd have all of summer together at the cottage. Shane touched a hand to his chest as if he could soothe the emptiness left by Ilya's absence. Maybe he could convince Ilya to stay in Montreal while his rib healed.
He took a deep breath, let his hand fall to his side and shook his head. Soon, Shane repeated in his head, trying to remind himself he was playing the long game here.
Soon could not get here fast enough.