Lesbihonestbabe



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    “Sure, I can edge you.”

    “Maybe ruined orgasms and stuff, too?” He always felt so small when he requested things like this, like he’d never had sex before, especially when Ilya raised his eyebrow about it. He, who had been much more adventurous than him, who knew that he could drop Shane into subspace with a single word, was listening to him talk about ruining orgasms.

    You want ruined orgasms.” His lips curved up into an amused smile. His coffee was almost done.

    “Uh huh.”

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    12 Jun 2026

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    Ilya and Shane get outed via instagram live… as friends. The world reacts as their friendship becomes the most talked about thing in the hockey world.

    Being openly friends affords them more freedoms to be together, but all the more easy to lose it all.

    AKA

    Shane has a touch of Hudson Williams to him

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    12 Jun 2026

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    From my headcanon:

    Shane and Ilya never play boardgames together like normal people. It always gets intense and they always wind up nãked in the end, the loser prone. Shane's favorite? Strip Trivial Pursuit, easy to figure out. Ilya's? Anything that frustrates Shane into pushing the pieces off the table and climbing into his lap.

    I started writing, and Shane wanted to play Trivial Pursuit first, so I let him do his thing.

    Enjoy.

    It's 1AM and I have work in the morning, hope you heathens like this smut fic I wrote for us.

    <3

    Not beta-red, just Grammarly and a prayer. If you see anything that needs fixing, let me know.

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    12 Jun 2026

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    One side of his brain is going: this is insane, don't do this, just stay in this room, what can he do? Whether you like it or not, he's hurt you, and chances are you've hurt him too, because you can't read a situation for shit, so what are we trying to do here? Get some fucking sleep instead.

    The other side of his brain is going: He's hurt you, and you've probably hurt him too, and what if this is your only chance to talk about it? What if Paris makes the difference?

    Five months after Sochi, Shane's set to play a charity hockey game in Paris. So is Ilya.

    They run into each other in the lobby of their hotel the night before. Twelve hours stretch out in front of them, and Ilya suggests something different: no phones, no expectations, no past, no hockey. Just the city, and whatever they can be when nobody else is watching.

    It's obviously a terrible idea, but Shane says yes, anyway.

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    31 May 2026

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    Loud beeps from his phone startled Ilya, and he slowed down, reaching for the device he’d put on the bar between his legs. Jane. He smiled to himself when he saw the notifications, and, checking Marlowe was absorbed in his own fitness, opened it quickly, smiling in anticipation of Shane's words.

    The smile was wiped off his face almost instantly.

    The blood drained from his face, and Ilya felt like the bottom had just fallen out of his world.

    *****

    Maybe he was naive, but Ilya always thought he had time. Time with Shane. Time to tell him what he truly meant to him.

    That, somehow, one way or another, Shane would always be there.

    But a text message late one night threatens to destroy the future that Ilya has spent the time carefully constructing in his mind.

    Maybe Shane wasn't always going to be there. That Shane would be cruelly snatched away from him before he had a chance to be honest.

    That he would be left behind. Alone.

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    04 May 2026