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No one likes to work out. It hurts, it burns, you get all sweaty and out of breath… all in all, not an enjoyable experience for most. Ilya, though, had to suffer it consistently during the off-season, lest he fall out of shape and disappoint his whole fanbase, team, and country. The upside was that he went to a gym that was meant for athletes, so no one much cared that he would wander about completely shirtless. The downside of that, of course, was that everyone could see the litany of marks all over his torso.
“Jesus, Roz,” one of his teammates hissed, staring wide eyed as he jogged on a treadmill, greatly wishing he was still in bed.
“What,” he panted.
“You’re covered in fucking bites.” He clicked the treadmill off, standing on the sides to stare incredulously at his teammate.
“What are you? A virgin? Never had a girlfriend?” The older man huffed, socking him in one of the largest bruises on his bicep.
“Your girlfriend must have a big-ass mouth,” he teased. Ilya smirked, corners of his lips turning up in a self satisfied smirk.
“She certainly does,” he murmured, soft and possessive. He barked out a surprised laugh.
“Fuck, Ilya, that’s gross!” He just grinned.
Shane received a picture of Ilya in the gym mirror, arms and muscles in his back flexed and sweaty. There were red bruises on his neck, climbing up his spine. On his biceps, ribs and barely visible along his hips, under the waistband of his shorts, were dark purple teeth indentations. The night before the start of the off season meant one thing to Shane, and it was that he could mark up his man as much as he liked. So he used him like a goddamn chew toy, biting into his collarbones and arms, watching as Ilya winced, but still panted with pleasure. Under the photo, he’d written ‘courtesy of my girlfriend and her big mouth 😉’
‘Fuck you.’ Was all he said back, but he was grinning widely around the toothpick in his teeth. The ‘my’ was everything to him, even if it was followed by ‘girlfriend’. Ilya was walking around with Shane’s teeth imprinted on his skin, and even if people thought it was from a girl, they still knew that he was taken.
~~
The name of a hotel, followed by a room number lit up Shane’s phone, followed by ‘xoxo, Lily.’ they were two months into the off season, and Ilya was supposed to be in Russia. Once the season was over, he’d hang around Boston for a week at most, get way too drunk with his teammates, make out with girls in public, and annoy reporters with non-answers, before fucking across the ocean and going silent until winter. He kept in fairly good contact with Shane, of course, mostly through dick pics and teasing comments, but he’d never left home early. He loved Russia, even if being around family wasn’t the best for him, so being in North America rather than at home was odd. Either way, Shane wasn’t going to take it for granted, he very much appreciated being able to see him early. The hotel was only 10 minutes away, and it was a fairly small one. A roadside square building with an outside pool and a no-questions policy. It was known for hookers and teenagers losing their virginity, and now, Shane being a cross-continent booty call. He was mostly okay with that, if it meant getting laid.
“Took you long enough,” Ilya muttered an hour later, grabbing Shane by the side of his neck to haul him into the room and press him against the door.
“You didn’t exactly give me a time to come over,” he bit back, suppressing a smirk when Ilya’s hands quickly danced across his body, one slipping under his open jacket to grip at his waist, while the other clamped around the side of his neck.
“I would expect that my dick is good enough for you to come quickly.” He blinked, as if thinking over what he said.
“And I mean that in both ways.” Shane rolled his eyes.
“I have a life, you know. I’m not going to drop everything just because you’re horny.” Ilya hummed, dragging Shane back by his biceps, before pushing him onto the cushy bed.
“But I came all the way here…”
“Why did you? Surely not just to get laid?”
“Yes, Hollander, I got on a plane and flew here for 12 hours just to fuck you,” he said drily, dropping to the floor between Shane’s spread legs. Something in his chest squeezed at seeing him like that, but he was quickly distracted by Ilya tugging his shoes off and pulling at his shorts hintingly.
“No, clearly you got on a plane and flew here for 12 hours just to suck my dick, which is even cuter.” He pouted vaguely, hand slipping up his thigh, fingers tracing along his most sensitive skin.
“You know, my teammates call you The Vampire," Ilya retorted. Shane's face pinched. “What do you mean me?"
“Well, not you you. My ‘girlfriend’, you.” He blushed, placing a foot in the middle of Ilya’s chest to push him away.
“What are you on about?” He smiled, and stood up, before lifting one arm up, wrapping it around his head to reach back and touch his opposite shoulder blade. He tapped a softer part of his skin, completely unblemished.
“I had your teeth on my arm for three weeks. And they noticed. So now, you are Vampire.” Shane frowned, stretching his leg out to hook his foot behind his knee and pull him back.
“They’re all gone.”
“They weren’t going to stay forever.” Ilya raised his eyebrows, a conceited open mouthed smile growing in his face.
“What? You want to put them back?” Shane didn’t reply. He clambered onto the bed, lying down while the younger man stared back at him.
“Well? Come on, Hollander, do your thing.”
“You’re not going to make fun of me?” His eyes sparkled.
“Maybe a little bit.” Shane crawled over top of him, squinting down at him with worry. Ilya raised one hand, cupping one side of his face as he smirked up at him.
“Why do you do it? The biting and the kissing and the bruises?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t.” He leaned down, placing kisses against his chest, licking up to his collarbone.
“It’s like there’s a part of me with you even when I’m not there,” he whispered, before sinking his teeth into Ilya’s collarbone. The older man didn’t get the chance to reply before a whine dragged itself from his throat. Shane licked over the mark as if to soothe it, and Ilya grabbed his face with both hands, squeezing his head to hold him in place and rub behind his ears.
“You’re like a fucking cat,” he said softly. Shane shrugged. Those large, calloused hands he loved so much began to rub through his hair, scratching against his scalp and massaging the muscles at the base of his skull. He let out a soft groan, thumping his forehead against Ilya’s chest. He smirked, continuing to pet over his hair while the other man halfheartedly sucked marks onto his pecs.
“You gonna tell me why you’re here?”
“Do you really need to know?” He sat up, removing Ilya’s hands from his body to stare at him. The other man groaned, rolling his eyes. As much as he loved feeling in control, and being in control, he knew that Shane was really the one in charge. And even if he wasn’t, he was strong enough to get himself in control.
“I could give you an answer that would make you happy,” he offered, sliding a hand along Shane’s thigh. He slapped it away.
“That wouldn’t benefit me, it would just help you get off.”
“But wouldn’t it be sweet for me to say I missed you?” He crooned, sitting up and grabbing his face, leaning forward to bump their noses. Somehow, Shane still didn’t fold for him, just raised an eyebrow and waited. Ilya grumbled nonsensically in Russian, as he normally did before having to be honest with the younger man.
“I fought with my father, he said he was ashamed of me, I said I hated him, blah, blah, blah. So I went to the airport and bought the first ticket I saw to North America.”
“And it just happened to be one to Montreal?” Ilya smirked at the smooth way Shane’s voice went from English to Quebecois, but shook it off.
“It almost went to Vancouver, but then I realized I don’t know what the fuck Vancouver is, so I got a different ticket.”
“We’ve played against each other in Vancouver before.” He shrugged, deciding that he’d explained himself enough, and wrapping his arms around Shane to flip them over.
“You are not in Vancouver,” he muttered, pressing a slow kiss to his lips.
“So why would I go somewhere that you are not?” He kissed him again, hands holding Shane’s head still while he slowly licked into his mouth, ignoring how Shane tried to nip his lips and suck on his tongue. No matter how the night ended, it would end with him covered in even more of Shane’s bites, and while he wouldn’t admit it, that was why he was there.
As they adjusted, and came to the conclusion that Ilya was much too jet-lagged for anything more than a half hearted hand-job, Shane found himself in the prime position to leave his mark on the older man. He was slightly sweaty from all their wrestling, and readjusting, making him look like a goddamn glazed donut. He kissed along the older mans bicep, nipping his skin as he went.
“What are you doing?” Ilya asked sleepily.
“Nothing,” Shane said back, drawing out his word teasingly.
“I thought we agreed to do in the morning,” he grumbled.
“And we will.” Then he bit down, sharp canines digging against the muscles in Ilya’s arms. The older man let out a surprised noise, before sighing loudly.
“Pravda, kot?” Shane lifted his head, eyes darker than usual.
“What’s that mean?’
“It means ‘fuck off’.” He dug his fingers into his side, wriggling them while Ilya grumbled, and tried not to laugh.
“I know that’s not how you say ‘fuck’ because you swear at me in Russian all the time. What does it mean?”
“I called you a cat! Will you stop torturing me now?” Shane hummed, and ducked under his arm, happily settling against him on the bed. Ilya returned to petting over his hair and scratching his scalp.
“Khoroshiy kot,” he said softly. If he could, Shane would’ve purred. He resorted to biting him once more.