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Shane was standing outside of Ilya’s apartment. He was uncharacteristically exhausted after this game. Boston had played well, and won. Shane had left everything he had on the ice. It just wasn’t enough for today. After stopping at his hotel to change, he had taken a ride share to Ilya’s apartment.
Ilya opened the door and let him in. He was wearing low hanging grey sweatpants and a black tank top. Shane didn’t think he would ever get over how hot Ilya was. Ilya backed them against the front door like he couldn’t possibly wait for Shane. Like maybe he had been waiting all day for this moment. His mouth was warm and inviting. They kissed deeply and eagerly.
They hadn’t even said hello. Eventually Ilya moved from his mouth to his jaw.
“Hello Ilya,” he whispered. This was newer for them still, saying each other's first names. Not hiding behind the hostility created by people who were not a part of their secret special moments.
“Hello Shane,” Ilya said smiling, and then kissed him on the cheek.
“Good game tonight,” Shane said bitterly. Ilya was still kissing him wherever he could.
“Yes, I am a great hockey player,” Ilya said smiling, “You played okay.”
Shane smiled, “God, you’re such an asshole.”
“And you are my number one fan,” Ilya replied. Ilya began leading Shane to his room. This was not Shane’s first time in Ilya’s apartment but he tried to take it in as much as he could anyways. It was warm, homey, but Shane’s favorite part was how it smelled like Ilya.
Shane yawned. They were in Ilya’s bedroom and Shane started to do what he always did at this point. He began to take his clothes off, one article at a time. This time was different though, because Ilya was standing right in front of him. Shane took off his jacket and Ilya took it from his hands and folded it.
Shane stared at Ilya, “What are you doing?”
“You like clothes folded neat,” Ilya replied simply. Then he tugged Shane’s shirt up over his head, and folded that too. Ilya’s hands started at his shoulders, dragged down his torso, and landed on the button of his pants. Shane whimpered. He undid the button.
“Why?” Shane asked. He needed to know what this meant. Not only that Ilya had noticed this about him, but also that he cared enough now to help him.
"You are tired. You look sleepy,” Ilya shrugged then, like it was obvious. Obvious that Ilya would take care of him. Ilya pulled his pants down and Shane stepped out of them. Ilya folded them. All of Shane’s clothes were folded neatly on a chair in the corner of Ilya’s room and now Shane was just in his briefs.
“I am kind of tired, but I wanted to see you,” Shane said, and he found Ilya’s mouth again. He always felt so relaxed with Ilya. Their secret scared him, but it also made him feel free.
Ilya led him to the bed without breaking their kiss, until Shane was laying down and Ilya was between his legs. The kissing slowed, and Ilya looked at Shane nervously.
“What?” Shane asked, suddenly feeling self conscious that he had told Ilya he wanted to see him tonight. Maybe that was too much?
“I want to sleep with you,” Ilya said sheepishly.
“We are–I mean I thought we were about to– like we are both hard and–” Shane wasn’t sure why he was stuttering, it’s not that they've never slept together before.
“No Hollander, I want to sleep and you sleep next to me” Ilya said, this time he said it steady, like he was absolutely sure.
“Oh,” Shane said, feeling light, like he might float away. This was so intimate and he wanted it so much. He wanted it more than he wanted an orgasm.
“You said you were tired. You do not want?,” Ilya asked him.
“I want,” Shane said and because he couldn’t help it he kissed Ilya, just to show him how much he wanted it.
Ilya shifted in the bed, and wrapped his body around Shane’s, holding him as close as he could to his chest.
“I am big spoon because you are tiny,” Ilya joked.
“I’m 5’10,” Shane replied angrily, but he had a big smile on his face.
“tebe tak khorosho v moikh ob"yatiyakh (you feel so good in my arms)” Ilya mumbled in Russian. Shane loved when Ilya slipped into the other language. Usually it happened when Ilya felt so good English wasn't good enough to explain.
Shane had been practicing something for Ilya. He looked the phrase up on google translate. Drunk on the feeling of Ilya around him Shane said, “ty mne ochen' nravish'sya (i really like you)”. Shane peeked at Ilya, and he looked so happy.
“Me too,” Ilya replied in English, “Sleep, Sweetheart.”
And so Shane did.