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    “Good game,” Ilya snarks, he can’t help it, and Hollander shoves him hard enough into the wall that he only narrowly avoids banging his head. “You looked so hot, that goal in the second, you deserve reward—”

    “Shut the fuck up,” Hollander says, and he slams into Ilya with hardly less ferocity than they’d hit each other during the game, crushing their mouths together.

    Ilya’s vision whites out, his knees nearly buckle. He’s grateful for the wall as he grabs at Hollander and pulls him in tight, shoving a thigh between Hollander’s legs, sucking and biting at his lips, groaning loud and uninhibited as Hollander’s hand comes up to the back of his neck, fingers twisting into his curls. The kiss is furious and wet and hot and so much, Ilya is so fucking hot for it, he’s been thinking about this for weeks, reading through his text thread with Jane, jerking off almost every night with the memory of the last time playing in a loop behind his eyelids.

    He’s never wanted anything like he wants sex with Hollander, and it sort of feels like they’ve already been going at it for hours, every glance and chirp and hit on the ice has been building to this, working him, driving him fucking crazy.

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    20 Apr 2026

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    Shane Hollander is a man who thrives on structure, routine, the solid ground of a ten-year plan. Ilya likes that about him, likes the embracing squeeze of having a life organized in tandem with Shane.

    No one would call Ilya a man who thrives on structure. But it’s there, if not in his DNA then in the patterns of his brain. A call-and-response of: they do this, I do that.

    When Ilya’s life is flayed open for the world to dissect, how will they push-and-pull their way back towards what was once a well-organized life?


    “I thought we could go through the schedules and figure out what days we’ll be in the same cities this season, or when either of us have a couple of days off in a row. Maybe make a shared calendar, so we c—”

    “A sex calendar? Your parents are arriving in thirty minutes, and you are proposing making a sex calendar?” Oh, this was delicious. He’d be able to eat out on this for years, if Shane was willing to give him that long.

    “It’s not a sex calendar! It’s just … when we might be able to see each other,” he finished, already sounding defeated.

    “And what are you planning on doing when we are seeing each other? Not fucking?”

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    19 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    AU where one of Shane’s rookies comes out early on in his career. Organized in chronological order.

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    18 Apr 2026

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    “You don’t mind, do you?” Shane asked, before he could stop himself.
    Ilya looked at him like he’d said something stupid. Shane cringed. “No, it is good for me,” Ilya said, his lip curling up. “Healthy competition.”

    After Sochi, Shane starts sleeping with another man. After Vegas, he picks back up with Ilya, too.

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    04 Apr 2026

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    "We are actually so fucking washed," Shane bitches. "I'm never getting better and you are stuck on a losing team that sucks. Everyone is going to forget about us."

    "Don't make me trip you," Ilya says, calmly. "Let's do another lap."

    "No," Shane barks. Ilya raises his eyebrows.

    Shane refuses to accept this. This perpetual cycle of suck. When he invited Ilya to his cottage almost four years ago now, he didn't expect their relationship to turn into their fucking burial ground.

    Shane finds himself grounded in Ottawa for the foreseeable future. With his newfound free time, he hangs out with his family, eats Costco Rotisserie chicken, and whips Ilya Rozanov back into a champion.

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    03 Apr 2026