Work Text:
2014
As soon as their lips connected Shane knew he was fucked. It wasn’t as electrifying as the heady make out sessions he had with Ilya whenever they hooked up, but it was so different to anything he had ever experienced. It was downright terrifying. He had kissed girls before, he used to have a girlfriend for god's sake, but those kisses were always accompanied by a tightness in his chest. They’d kiss him and he would try his best to reciprocate, he’d allow them to take, to get their fill, to be able to check off that teenage experience.
First kiss? Check!
Then they’d pull away and Shane would be left with such a nauseating sense of wrongness, which more often than not would end up with him hyperventilating in his room. When he would finally manage to get himself together he’d file away that shameful, ugly feeling and push it so far down that it would only rear its ugly head when another girl wanted to kiss him. Or when mortifyingly he would daydream about kissing other boys.
He had resigned with the fact that he would probably never enjoy kissing. That was until… well, until Ilya.
Hayden pulled away and Shane resisted the urge to chase his lips. They were both panting, catching their breath and Shane hoped and prayed he didn’t just ruin his one actual friendship. Suddenly, Hayden groaned and looked dejectedly at Shane.
Shane felt his heart drop to his stomach. His blood freezing.
The panic must have been evident on his face because Hayden immediately spoke. “No, no Shane, that was great. It’s just…” he sighed, obviously disappointed. “I’m definitely straight.”
What?
“Which sucks dude,” Hayden continued. “Because you’re a total babe, like definitely the best looking dude in the entire league, hands down,” he flopped down onto the bed and sighed even more dramatically. “But I’m straight.”
Shane was trying desperately to keep up with the tonal shift of making out with your best friend to him then complaining about being straight and not gay for you specifically. Was Hayden making fun of him? Was this some kind of cruel joke?
From a relaxed position on the bed Hayden asked, “Did that do anything for you?”
The sudden urge to strangle him overcame Shane. He was going to be ostracized from the MHL, not for being gay, but for murdering a fellow player.
“Yes.” Shane mumbled. “I'm gay, Hayden.”
Something flickered across Hayden's face and he looked almost… relieved? “Did you just figure that out or am I your gay awakening?”
Shane's face softened and the tension in his shoulders loosened slightly. “Fuck you.” He grumbled. “And no, I think I've known for a while,” He huffed out a breath, god this was embarrassing. “This just helped confirm it.”
Hayden sat up, “Wait, wait am I your first guy kiss?”
He thought back to Ilya's hot mouth and the way he would suck on Shane’s tongue. Fondly, he remembers a time where they had spent at least forty minutes just kissing and grinding on one another, while Ilya had him pinned against the wall.
Shane could feel his face heat up. “Definitely not.”
Hayden's eyes widened and Shane wanted to laugh in his face. “You've kissed other men?”
“Well, one other guy to be exact.” He replied sheepishly.
“Dude!” Hayden shook him by the shoulders. “Was he better than me?”
“Absolutely.”
And Shane could picture Ilya's stupidly handsome crooked grin at his answer.
2023
Ilya didn’t even remember how the conversation started.
During the off season, the evenings spent at the cottage were one of Ilya’s favorite things. More often than not the nights would end up hot and heavy, and he loved being able to see Shane Hollander in all his glory, right on Ilya’s cock where he belonged. There were quieter evenings that ended with them just lying side by side in bed; Shane, propped up, with his stupidly attractive glasses on, reading some boring hockey biography. While Ilya lazily scrolled twitter on his burner account hunting through Hollander fan accounts looking for any photos of his husband he had yet to see.
There would be occasional banter, if Ilya managed to find an especially good-looking photo or Shane wanted to share a piece of information he found particularly interesting, but then it would lapse into a comfortable silence, which filled Ilya to his core with warmth. The silence from his childhood was cold and lonely. He remembers vividly a few times when he found his Mama crying silently and how he learned quickly making noise, especially sounds of weakness, would incur the wrath of his father. The silence was terrifying, he was always tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But here, in this small piece of heaven he and Shane had worked so hard for, the silence was not so scary. He knew he was safe. He knew it was home. He was with Shane, his husband.
So, like any other night, their occasional conversation somehow veered into the discussion of first kisses.
“You did not have your first kiss when you were nine, Ilya.”
Ilya held his arms in mock surrender. “It is true Shane. I swear it.” He crossed heart and everything.
Shane just gave an amused snort, a sound only Ilya ever managed to get out of him, and went back to his boring book.
“What about you?”
Shane’s brow furrowed. “About me?”
Ilya huffed. “Your first kiss, Hollander. What was it like?”
Shane just shrugged. “I don’t know. It wasn’t that important.”
“What? Did you not enjoy your first kiss?” Ilya teased.
Shane scrunched his nose, as he was wont to do when annoyed, and paused his reading. “I was sixteen, it was a stupid dare, and it was with a girl, so no, not really.” Shane resumed his reading and Ilya ruminated on his response.
“So, our first kiss in Toronto,” He paused, unsure if this topic was one to tread lightly or if Shane was truly indifferent. “Was that the first kiss you ever actually enjoyed or…?” He trailed off, looking for any signs of discomfort in his husband.
Shane just smiled and lowered his book. “Yeah.” He replied softly. “I mean it was my first kiss with a guy, and it was with Ilya Rozanov.” He was grinning now. “How could I not enjoy it?”
Ilya, honest-to-god, felt butterflies in his stomach.
“Wow.” He definitely had the cheesiest of grins. “Am I the only boy you’ve ever kissed?” He knew the answer but wanted to hear it from Shane’s lips.
Shane blinked. “Uh, no?
Apparently Ilya didn’t know the answer and the butterflies now felt like fucking rocks.
“What?”
Shane, who didn’t seem to notice Ilya’s world had been tilted on it’s fucking axis, just raised his book back to his eyeline. “You’re not the only guy I’ve ever kissed.” He sounded so nonchalant and Ilya had to fight the urge to spring up and demand answers.
“You have kissed other guys?” He was cool. He was so fucking cool.
Shane just shrugged again. “Well, just one other guy, it was before we were, y’know, exclusive.”
“Can I ask who?” So I can kill him, left unspoken.
“It’s kind of funny,” He was smiling and Ilya felt sick. “It was Hayden.”
That was not funny.
Ilya’s world careened into a car crashing halt. There was just no way those words were spoken so casually by his beautiful, loving husband. “I’m sorry, did you say you kissed Hayden? Hayden Pike?”
Shane had the audacity to not even look away from his book as he replied. “Yeah, it was years ago. I just wanted to see what it was like to kiss another man,” he turned a page. “And Hayden was bicurious or something.”
Ilya felt bad for Jackie at this moment because he was about to make her a single mother.
“What? You needed Pike to figure out you were gay?” He asked incredulously. “You did not know when you had my dick in your mouth or when I fucked—”
“Oh my god Ilya—!” Shane swatted at him with his book.
It was always easy to fluster Shane but each time Ilya managed to do it a sense of giddiness would explode in his chest. The rosy blush that would creep onto his cheeks would make his freckles stand out even more and suddenly Ilya was in love all over again.
Ilya shook his head, he could not get distracted by his husband’s beautiful freckles, Hayden Pike. Hayden Pike, that fucking rat had kissed his husband. And sure, they were not husbands at the time, they weren’t even dating, but that didn’t matter, it was the principle of it all.
“I knew he was in love with you.” Ilya blurted out.
There was a millisecond of silence and then Shane busted out laughing.
The sound was almost enough to make Ilya forget his anger.
Almost.
Shane thought he was jesting but no, he was deadly serious. He had seen over the years how Hayden would look at Shane when he thought no one was watching, practically checking him out. Maybe the true reason he hated Ilya, was not only because Ilya was an asshole, but rather he was jealous that Ilya got to ravish Shane whenever he wanted, while he was stuck with jerking it alone in the shower.
Well, maybe not alone, he did have a wife.
A wife, who was way too good for him.
“Ilya!” Shane was giggling. “Hayden’s straight.”
“Not so straight that he couldn't resist kissing you!” He surged up and crashed into Shane, knocking his boring book to the ground. They wrestled around on the bed, until Shane managed to remain on top and bracket him with his thighs.
God. That would be a way to go out.
Shane began to kiss at his neck with the occasional nibble that would make Ilya’s pulse flutter. One of Ilya’s hands snaked his way under his shirt to Shane’s chest and pinched one of his nipples. The gasp that Shane let out was a sound Ilya would remember until the day he died. This momentary distraction allowed Ilya to flip them over.
He began to kiss at Shane’s freckles. Shane’s eyes fluttered close and he hummed in contentment. “These are mine.” Ilya growled out. “You are mine.”
He felt Shane shutter beneath him.
“Pike would have to kill me and then kill me again before he could even think about getting to you.”
Shane huffed out a laugh. “Baby,” Ilya’s heart melted. “Hayden’s married, with kids, I don’t think we’re kissing again anytime soon.”
Ilya sat up, looking down at this beautiful man that was sprawled out beneath him. His world. His universe. His husband.
His. Husband.
Ilya smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure of that.”
Shane groaned. “Please, don’t murder him next time we play Montreal. I don’t think Jackie would ever forgive me.”
“No promises, Солнышко.”