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They were only playful in flashes - laughter as dark surrounded them, teasing remarks that were seen as invitations that always ended in moans - but mostly that was a line they rarely crossed. Not fully, and if they did, not for long. Shane knew better than to ask things of Ilya. Knew better than to want things like that.
Most times, he didn’t even notice when they were teetering on the line of uncharted territory until afterward, when his brain refused to listen to him and started straying. But sometimes, when he allowed himself a moment to be present in more than bodily ways, those flashes would catch him off guard. It could be found in the way Ilya would whine into his neck afterward, when they were both worn out and needed to peel apart before this got too serious. It could be found in the way Shane would pretend something Ilya tried didn’t feel good when it clearly did, always said with a laugh that had Ilya pinning him to the bed.
But it was always the quiet moments that had Shane snap into the reality of the situation. The mundaneness of it all, which once hadn’t been a part of all this and had slowly been creeping into it when they stopped exclusively having sex in hotels. It shouldn’t have surprised him that a bedroom with comfortable pillows and blankets in case you got cold would be different to the staleness of hotels, but he blinked into the darkness that very first time he realized something was changing and he didn’t know what to do with it.
That was Ilya’s fault, mostly. It was difficult to think when someone was tickling you.
To his credit, he had no idea he was doing it. To Shane’s credit, he was really fucking good at staying still.
Ilya was good at aftercare. He was good at all of it, but the aftercare had surprised him the first time. Grabbing towels, stroking his hair, saying things under his breath which were comforting either way. Recently he’d started taking his time with it. Shane wondered, during weak moments, if he was stalling on purpose. He spent ages running his hands over skin, even though they were breathing normally. Who was Shane to deny him this quiet desire?
But this was different. He couldn’t just turn his brain off and overthink it later. This was physical. This was bodily. “Hng.”
“Hm?”
“What?”
“Did you say something?” His voice was low in the dark, as if hesitant to slice through it.
“No.”
“Okay.” His hand kept running up and down his side, so very gently. If he only put slightly more pressure into it Shane would’ve been fine, but acknowledging it was forbidden. They didn’t do that. They just didn’t.
He slipped his eyes shut and tried to breathe through it. He hadn’t yet hit that spot just above his hipbone that always made itself known, but he kept cutting close, which was almost worse. The way they were laying, with Shane resting his head in the crook of Ilya’s neck, twisted in a way that made it easy for him to access the left side of his body and very difficult for Shane to move away at all. This could get ruined so easily, and despite his ticklish predicament Shane wasn’t ready for him to get up and shower and leave. Wasn’t ready for a night accompanied only by his racing thoughts.
So he fought it. He really really did fight it.
But in his plight he seemed to have forgotten that Ilya knew every inch of his body and, even though they both refused to admit it, his mind as well. “Is this okay?” There was something in his voice that Shane couldn’t fully identify.
“Yeah, of course.”
“You are stoic.”
“What?”
“You know.” He snapped his fingers, giving Shane momentary relief. “Still. Uncomfortable.”
“Tense.”
“Yes, tense.”
“I’m not.”
“You are lying.” He placed his hand back on his side, though he kept it still. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
He was acknowledging this. He was acknowledging it because he thought Shane was uncomfortable.
Jesus Christ.
“You’re not doing anything wrong, Rozanov,” he mumbled.
Ilya huffed. “Okay. I can keep going?”
“Sure, yeah.”
“You like what I do?”
“Of course.”
“It’s not ‘of course’. You were tense. How am I to know?”
“I’m sorry- ah.” He resumed his stroking without warning, and Shane couldn’t help the way he twitched away now. “No, no, keep going.”
But Ilya was leaning back in an attempt to look at him. “Hollander.”
“Y-yeah?”
“You are ticklish.”
“What, no, not at all.”
Ilya laughed then, and had it been brighter in there Shane was sure he would find a shit-eating grin. His laugh alone was certainly terrifying. “I understand now why you were tense. You did a good job keeping still. I’m proud.”
“Oh, shut up, it only tickled a little.”
Ilya hummed. “So you won’t mind if I continue?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay.” Oh his tone was lethal. “Can you keep still or will I have to restrain you?”
Shane felt his whole body blush. “I can keep still.”
“Uh huh.” He was scraping his nails slowly over his skin now, moving toward his stomach, which really wasn’t much better than his hip. “We’ll see about that.”
“Rozanov.” Shane pressed his face into his chest and tried to breathe. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Liar.”
“Oh, but you don’t always want nice, Hollander. Not my fault.” He was moving back toward his side, opting for his previous route of going up and down it, only this time he was much more thorough. This time he went from upper ribs to hip, which would be Shane’s demise.
It was strange, giggling into Ilya’s skin and squirming in his arms and having him be so very gentle about it all. Uncharted territory, but not something they could ignore in the moment. You couldn’t just ignore someone tickling you like that. Couldn’t just ignore someone allowing himself to be vulnerable with you like this.
“You were doing so good,” Ilya said, having flipped them around so that he could pin Shane to the mattress. “Maybe I will reward you for it.”
“Oh yeah?” Shane was still blushing. Shane would be blushing for the rest of the weekend.
“Or perhaps I should punish you. I haven’t decided.”
“What would my punishment be?”
“A very ticklish blowjob, I think.”
Shane almost choked on his own spit. “And my reward?”
“Oh, the same.”
He became an expert at staying still after this, but he knew he only succeeded because Ilya wanted him to. Because he kept the touch so light and slow that Shane was able to keep at least an ounce of control when it started. It was slightly embarrassing to know that Ilya knew exactly what he was doing now and did it anyway. Lazy fingertips over his collarbones. Lips kissing gently over his lower back.
It was, he had to admit, a miracle he’d been able to keep his sensitivity a secret for this long. It was different during sex. Shane didn’t feel ticklish then, only turned on, desperate, wanting to be touched. It was the moments after, when he was exhausted and vulnerable and extra sensitive, that could make him squirm like that. And other moments of his life, which Ilya hadn’t had the privy to witness yet. Sitting on the couch and having his mother scribble her fingers over his sole while walking past. Hayden wrestling him onto the floor when he wouldn’t tell him about Lily. Ilya hadn’t seen those moments because Ilya only really existed tangled up in sheets.
They were in a hotel room this very snowy night. Shane hadn’t missed those - all stale lighting and impersonal wall decor - but he did appreciate not having to drive all the way home, which always took longer and always left him exhausted. Ilya’s team had crushed them and he felt pissed enough that he needed him to pin him to the nearest horizontal space they could find and fuck him senseless for him to feel okay about this. A hotel room worked just as well. Maybe it was better, keeping things impersonal.
Ilya was in a good mood, that fucker. Strutting into the room and looking around, as if it mattered at all what it looked like. Shane grabbed onto the belt loop of his pants and he allowed himself to be pulled in, only he placed a finger on Shane’s mouth when he leaned in. “Ah ah. Patience, Hollander.”
“I will kill you, Rozanov.”
“How will you do that? When all I need to do is tickle you to overpower you?”
That was the first time it had been acknowledged aloud since the discovery. Shane really wasn’t in the mood to blush, so he shoved him away and started undressing on his own. Ilya leaned against the wall and watched him, head tilted in that way that drove him feral. When he’d stripped down to absolutely nothing, Ilya was still fully dressed, hoodie and all.
Shane grabbed his chin. “Fuck me.”
“Soon.”
“Now.”
“Oh, but you are all wound up and angry and I do not like that.” He put his hand on the side of Shane’s neck, thumb brushing his jaw. “I help you relax, okay?”
“You can help by fu-”
“Hollander.” He laughed when Shane snapped his mouth shut. “You will do as I say or I will not be touching you at all.”
“Stupid fucking Russian menace,” Shane muttered and turned around to grab his boxers. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”
Ilya tutted behind him. “Who said I want you to get dressed?”
He was pushing him toward the bed the moment Shane turned around again, being rough enough about it that he felt a brief wave of satisfaction when he hit the mattress. He climbed on top of him, one hand in his hair while the other had a firm grip of his hip. Ilya grinned when Shane exhaled.
“Now,” he said, tugging lightly at his hair. “What do I have to do to get you to be happy, hm? Except fuck you, I mean.”
Shane whined. “I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“Let us win the next game.”
“Oohh, don’t be stupid, Hollander.” He suddenly dug into Shane’s hip. “You know I can’t do that.”
Shane grabbed his wrist. “Fuck, dohon’t!”
“But it makes you laugh, so it makes you happy, no?”
“That’s not how it works- stop!”
Ilya used his other hand to dig into his side, and none of this was gentle but all of it was playful. Though they were teetering the line of something else, something sensual which was making Shane embarrassingly hard. Maybe the combination of Ilya teasing him while also overpowering him was making him confused, but whatever it was, it really didn’t help his case here. Ilya ignored his pleas and instead noticed his predicament, causing him to tickle him harder.
“Okay, okay, I am happy, I am, just stop!”
“I didn’t think you would give up so quickly.”
“Oh, fuck you!”
“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
“I do- shit!”
Ilya grabbed both his hips and pulled him closer. “So be good and maybe I will.”
“For fuck’s sake, Rozanov.”
He leaned down suddenly to press his mouth to Shane’s hipbone, biting it slightly in a way he knew drove him crazy. “This is your consolation prize.”
Shane gripped the sheets with a moan. “Lucky me.”
“You can’t be cocky when I have your sweet spot under my mouth, Hollander.”
Maybe his team should lose to his more often, he briefly thought, knowing he wasn’t thinking straight.
Shane was tired. Honestly, it wasn’t unusual for them both to melt into the mattress after. The sex itself combined with a taxing game always had that effect on them, but this particular night Shane felt sleepy. Curl-into-a-ball-and-mumble-incomprehensibly-and balance-the-line-between-sleep-and-awake kind of sleepy.
“Hollander.” Ilya didn’t sound much more awake, though he still seemed to have the ability to speak. “You said you needed to shower twenty minutes ago.”
Shane hummed. “Soon.”
Ilya slapped his arm lightly. “You told me you need to get up early tomorrow. You will be tired.”
“Why do you care?”
“Oh, I don’t. Just don’t want you to be whiny tomorrow. You get so annoying.”
Shane snorted. “You’ll barely be seeing me tomorrow.”
“You whine on text.”
“Hah. Funny.”
He felt Ilya shuffle next to him. “You really are falling asleep.”
“Tired.”
He felt a poke on his back. “Hollander.”
“Soon.”
Another poke, this time on his side. “Hollander.”
Shane groaned. “Don’t.”
Obviously Ilya never listened to him and poked him once more. “Get up.”
“Don’t wanna- stop.”
He wasn’t being particularly rough about it, but this was familiar enough to them that Shane felt no need to pretend it wasn’t happening. Therefore, even though he would deny it to his core the very next day, Shane started giggling.
The situation seemed to have reenergized Ilya, because he was now leaning over him and poking all over his back and sides, ignoring his pleas for mercy. “Get up,” he kept saying over Shane’s laughter, the lilt to his voice almost the worst of it all.
Shane cried out each time he switched spots, which left him in a limbo of constant noise that he couldn’t control. He would’ve been embarrassed had he been more alert. “Rozanov, please, I’ll get up!”
“But it was just getting fun.” Ilya gripped both of his sides. “You still feel sleepy, no?”
“Well, yeah-”
“So I must tickle you more to properly wake you.”
“Wait, no- no, no!”
He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle his giggles, even though they were at Ilya’s place and no one could hear him. It was second nature to them, trying to keep quiet. One simply didn’t stop after this many years. Maybe that was why Ilya wasn’t being overbearing. This was rare enough that it made them both slightly uncertain.
That was what Shane would tell himself anyway, much later, when he’d showered and driven himself home, having spent five minutes squirming under Ilya’s hands and pretending that he wouldn’t be spending the rest of the week thinking about the kiss he pressed to the nape of his neck when he was done. It never did him any good, thinking too much of this. Only recently he found he couldn’t stop.
But that was a problem for another night.