MeetMeInTheDark



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    ‘Who’s the freak stealing Ilya Rozanov’s game-worn jerseys?’

    A series of targeted thefts turns into a league-wide mystery. The entire league is obsessed. Ilya is unconcerned. And Shane…

    Shane is locking himself in empty bathrooms, sniffing and stroking himself raw over the stolen fabric like a total pervert.

    He thinks it’s a secret. Ilya knows better.

    Translated in Russian

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    19 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “You get wet like a girl,” Ilya murmurs, sliding his thumb across the slit of Shane’s dick, tracing through the pre leaking from him like a faucet. “Soft hands like a girl, wet like a girl,” his head ducks, mouthing at his jaw, grinning, then he hears Shane whimper. “Get fucked like a girl.”

    “I’m not—” Shane huffs, frustrated, but despite that, his hips twitch upward, chasing Ilya’s touch.

    “No, no. You are not a girl, sweetheart,” A nip to the sensitive skin just below his jaw, quickly soothed by a swipe of tongue. He tastes like clean sweat, freshly showered before coming to the hotel room, he’s sure, but glistening with sweat now that he’s beneath Ilya’s hands, beneath his mouth, wrapped in his words. “But you are my girl. You want to be a good girl, hm? Yes?”

    Within his grasp, Hollander’s cock twitches, another pulse of slick mess dripping down the side of him, smeared across the pad of Ilya’s thumb. “Rozanov.”

    OR

    Shane isn't a girl, but he sure doesn't mind when Ilya calls him one.

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    19 Jan 2026

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    Shane hums and turns his head back away from him as he slowly tucks his thumbs under the elastic of his briefs and pushes them down until they fall around his ankles. He tries not to, but he does ultimately fold them and add them to the rest of his discarded clothes after he steps out of them.

    He barely has time to turn around before large hands grip his waist and pull him onto the bed. He's under Ilya again within a second. Ilya's face, this time, is red—despite Russians never blushing—and the look in his eyes is nothing short of possessive. "That is real?" He asks. His voice rumbles in his chest, and Shane can feel it from here.

    "Yes. I got it for you," Shane answers, pleased with the reaction he's gotten out of his boyfriend. "Do you like it?"

    or: shane gets a tattoo of ilya's initials

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    19 Jan 2026

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    Ilya’s thumb rubs slow circles into his hip, gaze dark and locked on him. “You’re doing so well, moya lyubov'.”
    Shane whimpers.
    “Such a good boy. Look at you—riding me like a slut.”
    “Just—just for you,” Shane chokes out, blushing hard, hips stuttering. “I—f-fuck—”
    “I know,” Ilya says, sitting up a little now, his mouth curving into a grin, holding steady on Shane’s hips. “You’re so good for me.”

    ---
    or: shane is overstimulated. ilya takes care of him afterwards.

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    19 Jan 2026

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    “Hey, listen, I know you keep denying that you have a girl here in Boston, but we both know you're lying. You've been seeing her for years. Why don't we text her? Maybe you can spend the night with her at her place or something.”

    Shane frowns. What's Hayden even talking about? “Don't have a girl,” he mumbles.

    “Shane,” Hayden says, his voice firmer now. “I’m gonna text Lily.”

    Shane's eyes widen at that name, only now understanding what Hayden's talking about. Because he might not have a girl in Boston, but-

    “No, you can't text Lily.”
    __________

    Shane gets drugged at a club. Ilya takes care of him.

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    19 Jan 2026