Work Text:
‘I need some air.’
Rose called after Shane as he wadded through the crowd to the back door. He shouldn't have come to this party. His parents would lose it when they found out he'd snuck out. He'd only come when Rose said… Well, nevermind.
As the cold Ottawa air hit his chest, he calmed a little. There wasn't anyone on the terrace thankfully. He leaned on the railing, head down. Deep breaths, like he'd practiced with his mom.
‘Are you okay?’
Shane froze at the Russian accent. He closed his eyes, attempting to block out the memories. The glances across the field. The hands that pulled him into the empty locker room. The soft lips that smirked before they kissed him.
‘Shane? You are having panic attack?’
Shane felt a hand on his and he opened his eyes. Ilya looked ridiculously good, somehow pulling off an open leopard print shirt and black vest.
‘I just… just…’
Ilya put his hands on Shane's shoulders, turned him towards him. Shane’s gaze lingered on Ilya's pink lips.
‘Kiss me.’
Ilya leaned in, nudging Shane's nose with his own. His hands slid up Shane's neck. Shane's breaths were short and frantic.
‘You sure?’
They both knew there was no going back after this. Shane nodded.
Ilya kissed him fiercely, almost pushing him back. Shane’s hands found Ilya’s hips, his fingers slinking under the edge of the vest. Ilya’s tongue slipped into his mouth, it set him alight. He felt crazy, courageous even. Ilya pulled back for air and Shane kept his bottom lip between his teeth for a second. Ilya watched, completely entranced.
‘Fuck. Hollander.’
He grabbed Shane's hand and pulled him down the stairs, round a corner and pushed him up against a darkened wall. Shane gasped as Ilya kissed him again, their swollen lips fighting for more and more. Ilya moved down his neck, Shane's eyes rolled back as he licked down the column of his throat. Shane felt Ilya’s hand at his trousers, they should stop but he was gone, complete putty in the Russian’s hands. Ilya's nimble fingers undid the button as they heard a voice call out.
‘Shane? Are you out here?’
Rose. Shit. Shane cursed under his breath, Ilya hid his laughter behind a hand. Shane gave him a shove.
‘Asshole.’
He said it with a smile. Ilya smirked and folded his arms over his taught chest. Shane redid his button.
‘Next time?’
‘Next time.’