LLTJ



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    “Is disappointing, no?” Ilya hummed thoughtfully, dragging a thumb lightly over the slit. “To be so close to something you really, really want.”

    “Fuck you, Rozanov.”

    “Mm. You would like that. But no. Tonight is important lesson in humility.”

    "Big word there. Don’t hurt yourself.”

    "You played good game tonight, Hollander." He punctuated his words with a firm stroke, earning him a small groan that tumbled through Shane's lips before he could catch it. "Must have been too easy."

    "Oh, screw you-"

    "In here, it will be different." Shane opened his eyes to glance up at the other team captain, who sported a wicked grin on his face.

    "Tonight, I remind you what it's like to work for what you want."

    Ilya Rozanov does not like to lose, especially to Shane Hollander. And when the Montréal Metros crush the Boston Raiders in a humiliating 8-3 score, a certain team captain shows up at his door with a toothy grin and little too much pride in himself. So now, off the ice, it's Ilya's turn to show Shane just how fun it can be to settle a score.

    A.K.A my take on the "one goal for each inch that you want" texting scene, with a twist :p

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    23 Jan 2026

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    Every quarter, Ilya has a new obsession in the cottage, from planting absurd amounts of maple trees, to organizing themed events such as a Night at the Frozen Lake Challenge and Drinking Ginger Ale Against the Clock, to participating in the largest tomato competition. When he starts neglecting his usual household duties because of this, Shane throws divorce papers on the table.

    OR: That was supposed to be a joke. But Ilya only reads the names Hollander, Rozanov, and the word "divorce", and he panics.

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    23 Jan 2026

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    “I missed you.” Shane blurts out, a force bubbling out of his chest like he can’t contain how much he loves him.

    Ilya’s smile grows impossibly brighter as he steps into the row and leans down, placing an arm on the seat in front of him, cornering him in and making Shane look up at him. “You miss me?”

    Shane could only nod. He knew he looked dopey but he didn't care.

    ie. Shane and Ilya get roasted by the Centaurs about being codependent but they make a game out of putting some space between them (a sexy game obvs.)

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    23 Jan 2026

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    The heels are red. They’re deliciously high, sleek and sharp and exactly the kind of fuck-me heels Ilya has imagined Shane wearing. They’re absolutely perfect.

    Then he lifts his eyes. Sees the panties.

    Fuck. The panties.

    The panties are virgin white.

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    23 Jan 2026

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    “Come on, baby, once in a while does not hurt. Rookies say that drunk cigarettes don’t count, have you ever heard that? I think is funny,” Ilya tries, his kisses softer now, trying to work Shane into the soft, pliant mess he loves.

    It doesn’t work. In fact – “What’s that, Ilya?”

    Ilya is biting anywhere he can find, “I don’t have gun license, so I must be happy to see you.”

    But that doesn’t work either. Shane finally moves – only to grab at Ilya’s collar, pulling it so that it digs into the back of his neck, which has Ilya pausing as Shane inspects. “That, Ilya. What’s that.”

    or, Shane finds some (perfectly explainable) lipstick on Ilya's collar, and they both go through emotional saw traps

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    22 Jan 2026