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THE COTTAGE, AFTER SHANE'S PARENTS FOUND OUT ABOUT THEM
Shane and Ilya were lying in bed. Ilya stared at the white ceiling, thinking about the future. Would they come to the cottage in the winter? I wonder if there’s heating here. Do they turn off the hot water in this area, and if so, does Shane have a water heater? It wasn’t that Ilya was afraid of the cold - he had grown up in Russia, after all - but it saddened him that Canada was almost as cold, though thank God in the literal sense, not in the sense of how it had received him. Canada could never compare to Russia in terms of how low the temperature drops in winter, but it was really damp here, which made it easier to freeze and get covered in ice. In Russia, the dry frost used to kill him when he went to sports camps in Siberia. The dry, icy air made the skin on his cheeks and knuckles crack and bleed, and the blood would freeze instantly and crack again. It’s a good thing Shane applies his moisturizing cream to Ilya every night. In Moscow, winter is mild - you could say he got off with a scare, but the weather was unpredictable, so one winter it could be -5°C (23°F), and another -25°C (-13°F).
Shane stretched out like a cat and groaned, burying his nose in the pillow: “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing. First about the heating, then about Russia,” Ilya muttered in a half-whisper.
“Heating? Since when are you interested in heating, Ilya?”
“In Russia, they turn off the heating from mid-spring until the end of fall. And they cut off the hot water a couple of times a season, no matter the time of year. I just don’t want to freeze, that’s all. I don’t know how the heating works in this area. How often is there no hot water here? Do you have a water heater?”
Shane looked genuinely surprised, since Ilya hadn’t used to worry about such things before. He used to buy apartments without a second thought just because they were close to the rink or Montreal, without even looking inside.
“Um… what do you mean they turn off the hot water? Like, completely? Well… I have in-building heating, a heating-cooling unit, and a water heater here. Didn’t you have that? I mean, in Russia?”
“When I…” Ilya scratched his nose, feeling awkward - it was always awkward and melancholy to talk about his home country. “When I was in school, around 13 or 14 years old, my friends and I would build a fire behind the school to keep warm. Gospodi… (god…) No, we didn’t live in stone caves or anything like that, but in public buildings… schools, hospitals… there are no fancy boilers, no… how do you say… central heating. I had a boiler at home, but not right away. Not until I became an adult and started making good money.”
Shane, afraid of ruining the moment, barely breathing, moved closer to Ilya to hear him better and to offer support through his presence.
“It was May. Yeah, yeah, it gets really hot in Canada in May. But not so much in Russia. Spring in Russia is deceptive and treacherous. The first week of May was hot, around +25°C (77°F). Then the temperature dropped to 0°C (32°F), and then to -3°C (21°F), and it started snowing. Green grass all around, birds had flown in from the south, and snowflakes were falling from the sky! It was awful. I didn’t want to get up for school that day; the floor in the apartment was icy, and they’d cut off the hot water that very morning. Well, I got ready, pulled on my pants, shirt, leather jacket, and scarf, and stuffed my hat into my backpack, because hats are only worn by, and I quote: gondoni (rude way to say “losers.”) It was cold at school. Me and the guys were watching the girls huddling together to stay warm. It wasn’t a bitter cold, but we wanted to be warm. So during the twenty-minute break, we ran out to the school’s backyard. I pulled cigarettes out of my pocket; I had matches in there too. I lit a cigarette with a match and threw the same still-burning match into a pile of dry branches, which the janitors had probably gathered after the snow melted. I called the girls over so they could warm up. Although I’ll say this, I was being pretty dramatic, and that cold wasn’t life-threatening… even though I wasn’t even in Siberia…”
Ilya fell silent, lost in thought, unconsciously bringing two fingers to his lips as if holding a cigarette, apparently to recall what happened next. He wasn’t smiling anymore; he just pulled Shane closer.
“The principal put me on probation. My father came to the school himself. It was… painful, I guess. The teachers saw me smoking. My father made me smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in one go right in front of him. Prevention, as he put it. Yeah, what was even more humiliating was that I had to join the cadets for six months to get my name taken off the list. My father’s a cop; he expected more than just hockey. ”
Shane gently ran his thumb over Ilya’s cheek. He wanted so badly to protect this frozen, pretentious, slightly foolish boy. Shane was surely imagining the cold in his head to be even worse than it was, but Ilya couldn’t say for sure either, because he always downplayed his problems too much.
“You didn’t tell me you were a cadet,” Shane whispered, his eyes darting over the blond boy’s beautiful, sad face, which, in his typical manner, pursed his lips when he spoke of something emotional.
“It doesn’t matter. I just marched on Victory Day, guarded the eternal flame, and sang songs. They didn’t make me ride bears, shoot guns, or anything like that, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“God, you’re such an idiot,” Shane snorted, without taking his gentle gaze off him. “Are you really afraid of freezing? Russians aren’t afraid of some cold, aren’t those your words?”
An uncomfortably long pause. “Yes, I am. The cold killed people in the nineties, Shane. I saw the dead bodies of homeless people in the cold snow… Damn, no, I don’t want to scare you.” Ilya rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why did this even get like this? How did we end up here? I’m just saying I hope we don’t freeze to death in your fucking wooden summer barn.”
“Cottage.” Shane smiled very foolishly, and if he could have seen himself from the outside, he would have stopped. “Cottage. Yeah, I have unlimited access to heat.”
Shane wasn’t smiling because he was happy to hear about his lover’s traumas, but because his lover had opened up to him and told him about his childhood. Hollander knew very little about Ilya’s childhood, so he grasped every little detail, every slightest mention, and held it tightly in his heart. Even if they were terrible memories, even if they were things Ilya would have preferred to forget. The desire to understand Ilya was stronger than the fear of the truth.
“I hope you never feel the cold I was in. Still, that’s unlikely now, with such a hot boyfriend…” Ilya began to calm down and drift away from his memories, so he started clinging to his beloved more actively with hugs and kisses, as if Shane were some kind of puppy. “I’ll never let you freeze… let the only thing cold for you be ice cream…”
⸻
KINGFISHER, ILYA AND SHANE HAVE BEEN PLAYING TOGETHER FOR THE CENTAURS FOR A LONG TIME
Ilya sat at a VIP table at Kingfisher, watching the team and Shane from afar. Shane was apparently telling a funny story, which made the guys around him laugh. Hollander turned to Ilya with pride, and Ilya couldn’t help but smile either. Clubs and bars in Canada were more boring than clubs in Russia. There were never any police raids here, and almost no one got into fights. Ilya loved it, loved that calm atmosphere, though he would never admit it.
There were many clubs in Russia; they were especially popular during Ilya’s teenage years. And yes, gay clubs weren’t uncommon there either. And let the centaurs still think that Ilya would have been shot upon entering Russia for being gay. The only thing that seriously threatened him was 10 years in prison and/or revocation of citizenship and a ban on entry. The situation took a turn for the worse around 2014, when new restrictions on LGBTQ people were introduced. But in reality, before that, gay people were seen as a joke and not taken seriously, so it wasn’t that scary to show up at certain clubs.
Ilya went to those clubs. There were cute guys there, but what annoyed Ilya more was that they were timid as soon as they left the club, so it usually ended up being quick sex in the bathroom on the same floor. Svetlana was the one who accompanied him to such places. Especially when they were 16. They always managed to tag along with a group of older guys, and from there they figured things out on their own.
Ilya still secretly watched the news from Russia, even though he knew Shane would be really upset about it. After all, it was never good news. He even texted Sasha when he heard about the police raids on gay clubs, asking if he was safe.
Ilya looked up at his husband and his friends. Some were dancing, others were standing at the bar. A rainbow flag hung on the wall. It made Ilya smile. After so many years, he could finally be himself openly. He stood up from the table and took Shane by the arm, pulling him onto the dance floor without a word. Ilya was a little rough with his lover, pressing his face greedily against his neck while some Spanish music played in the background.
“What’s going on? You grabbed me so suddenly… have you been drinking?” With a loving smile, Shane pulled away slightly from Ilya to look him in the eyes.
“I was just thinking about how I want to have sex with you in front of the whole club…” - and before Shane could roll his eyes, Ilya burst out laughing. “...just kidding, I was just remembering all the time I spent in clubs and regretting that I used to press strangers against the wall instead of you.”
Young appeared from the side, holding a glass of something clearly very alcoholic. “Cap, are there gay clubs in Russia?”
Shane tried to cut the rookie off so he wouldn’t ask about that part of Russia, thinking it would really scare Ilya.
“Yes, there is. I used to go there a lot when I was seventeen or twenty,” Rozanov replied calmly. “There were certainly some sexy boys there, but they’re too timid compared to the Canadians. Although I do know a certain timid, sexy Canadian boy.” Ilya leaned in, kissing Hollander on the neck again, sending shivers down his spine.
Young’s eyes lit up as if he’d been looking for copper but found gold. “Holy shit! God, guys think you only discovered gay culture when you started playing for international teams!”
Ilya laughed, because the newbie was saying the silliest things. “Of course Russia has its own gay culture. It’s different from Canada’s, but it’s very gay too. Do you think I only started wearing leopard-print shirts and styling my hair every time I went out here? I’m gayer than Shane, even though I’m not even gay.”
Young ran off to the other centaurs as if he’d just uncovered the most valuable information in history, though Ilya didn’t find that surprising.
“…but I like your silly, flashy shirts…” Hollander whispered. He was drunk, too. He was practically hanging off Ilya. “Though I still want to know about… the sexy boys? I’m a little jealous…”
⸻
MATCH: CENTAURS VS. ADMIRALS, BEFORE SHANE STARTED PLAYING FOR THE CENTAURS
“Ai! Blyad!” (Ugh! Fuck!) Ilya slammed his stick on the ice and skated backward. “Eto ebaniy proval!» (This is a fucking disaster!) He was yelling something furiously in Russian; the score left much to be desired. 3-1 - not the best day for the Centaurs. Spitting on the rink, he lined everyone up to leave the ice as losers. Today Ilya was angrier than usual; he was in a terrible mood, and the loss had just finished him off.
In the locker room, Ilya gave a short pep talk, though it was clear he was doing it for his teammates’ sake, not because the loss wasn’t really bothering him. Troy came up behind him and started whispering something. Ilya turned around, his jaw clenched with anger. “Kakogo huya (what the fuck), can’t you see I’m not in the mood?”
“Whoa, sorry, man. It’s fine, I just wanted to ask about summer camp. Okay, Cap, I get it.” - Troy raised his hands in surrender and backed away from Ilya, giving him an understanding look.
But then Ilya’s anger gave way to self-disappointment. He was just like his Russian coaches, who used beating with sticks as punishment. What if Ilya snapped at a kid at summer camp? What if he hurt him? What if he became just like them?
When he got home to Shane, Ilya didn’t even bother discussing the loss with him. He sat down on the couch, staring sadly at a single spot. Shane slowly, silently approached from the side and sat down next to him, thinking that Ilya was upset about the loss.
“Sometimes that happens. It doesn’t define you as a team.”
“I snapped at Troy, Shane. I’m an asshole. I snapped at him because the loss pissed me off. Fuck, what kind of captain does that? Oh, I know! Russian coaches do that! And then they start whacking you in the ass with a stick so you don’t dawdle! They grab you, throw you around, so you understand that hockey is an aggressive game!” Ilya was so emotional that he even started gesturing wildly. “What if this summer, when I see this bunch of little, delicate kids whose brains process information around the clock, I’m rude? What if I do something bad? Damn it, I’m just like them… oh, yeah! I’m probably not far from being like my father! I’ll go crazy and torment my sweet fiancée, who doesn’t deserve me!”
Sensing that Ilya was overreacting and starting to worry too much, Shane kissed him on the shoulder, looking at his beloved with his big puppy-dog eyes. - “That doesn’t define you, Ilya. You don’t have to be perfect, and I know you think otherwise, but you’re not a monster. You’re not like your father or your coach or whoever else. You snapped at Troy, and that was certainly wrong, but you didn’t do it out of hatred. You’re probably just tired and upset. That’s normal. Sometimes you don’t have time to think before you direct your emotions in the wrong way”
Ilya roughly wiped his tears with his fist, leaving red marks from his knuckles on his cheeks. Hollander immediately ran his fingers over those marks to smooth out the roughness. “I knew you’d been treated badly, but I didn’t know exactly how. And don’t ever talk about yourself like that again. If you’re going to torment me, it’ll only be in bed.”
Hearing this, Ilya smiled and finally looked up. “Sorry. I can be such a drama queen sometimes. I don’t think Troy will mind a little discipline. But when it comes to the kids… I think I’m really afraid of hurting them. I remember what I was like, and honestly, I was way too vulnerable. Easy to hurt”
“If I had to trust someone with the kids, it would be you without a second thought. You’re the only one at the kids’ hockey camp who really understands kids!” Shane was smiling lovingly again without even realizing it. “I think if you weren’t a hockey player, you’d be a nanny or a teacher…”
“A teacher? Hollander, where’s your homework… I’m going to have to ask you to stay after class; I need to have a private word with you.” Ilya leaned in forcefully toward Shane, grabbing him by the waist. Shane laughed and turned away.
“Ugh! Ilya, what the hell!” Shane fell back onto the cushions. “I take that back - you’d be a terrible teacher.”
“Well then, a terrible teacher and a good student, huh?” Ilya grinned and pressed Shane harder against the couch, leaning toward his neck, which immediately eased the tension in Shane’s body. Ilya was so kind with the kids. He genuinely feared hurting or pressuring them, yet at the same time he was damn fair and maintained discipline. Seeing this, Shane thought that Ilya might be completing some kind of gestalt. The main thing was that he was good at it. But Ilya still shouldn’t know that Shane sometimes dreams about future kids, otherwise he’d go crazy, start teasing him, or something like that.
⸻
BBQ AT BOOD’S, SHANE AND ILYA PLAY TOGETHER FOR THE CENTAURS
All the centaurs, their partners, and their children are sitting in Boodram’s backyard. It was very cozy there; Zane had always been a responsible family man and was always doing something around the house. He especially loved his backyard and was constantly improving it. There were cozy outdoor sofas and tables there. Shane and Ilya were sitting next to each other; tired and full, Shane rested his head on his lover’s shoulder, and Ilya possessively held him close. Harris sat on a chair near them, sipping some overly sweet drink. A couple of meters away, Troy was rolling around on the floor with Chiron and Anya; Luca and the other newbies sat nearby discussing the puppies. The coach and the rest stood over the food, shooing Dykstra away from the music speaker.
“Ilya, I know you’re pretty experienced when it comes to sex,” he brought up. Hearing this, Shane slid even lower on the couch, hiding in Ilya’s embrace.
“Yeah, so? I just knew Troy was a loser in bed,” Ilya replied calmly, grabbing a bottle of non-alcoholic beer from the table.
Harris laughed. “Hah, no. That’s not about it - Troy and I have really great sex. Maybe it’s just your image, Ilya. But in reality, you’re the master of the missionary position.”
Ilya stood up, feigning indignation, and Shane, who had already been sitting uncomfortably, sank deeper into his hoodie.
“Me? Me?! Because of me, people can’t walk for weeks! You’ve never even dreamed of tricks like that! And Shane! Shane is totally—” Hollander shut Ilya up; his blush blended with his freckles into a single shade.
“What’s this about, Harris? What do you want to ask?” - a little irritated, Shane ended the argument, adjusting his hoodie.
“Oh, right, sorry. So, Ilya, are you the top or the bottom? I’m not asking about your relationship with Shane, but just in general, how it’s been with others. If you’re uncomfortable, don’t answer, okay?” Harris finally asked, shifting his gaze from Shane to Ilya.
Ilya sat up straight and looked at Shane with a serious expression, seeking his permission. Shane, realizing that Harris was his friend and wasn’t going to judge him or spread the word, nodded to Ilya and curled up again under his arm, pressing himself against his side.
Ilya cleared his throat and shot Shane another warning glance: “Well, I don’t care. I’ve been the bottom, the top, I’ve been with several people at once…” - Shane straightened up again, surprised, even though he understood that Ilya having been the bottom was normal and not surprising in itself. “...right now I’m tied to one person, and in that I’m always the top. BUT that doesn’t stop us from doing things you’ve never even dreamed of.”
Shane blushed a little: “I’ve always been the bottom... Even with other people. And Ilya and I haven’t talked about his past experiences, so I’m a little shocked.”
Harris narrowed his eyes and looked down at Ilya. A muscular, six-foot-tall Russian man with leadership qualities. Interesting. Harris couldn’t picture him in any other role, but that wasn’t his concern. Then he shifted his gaze to Shane. Muscular, stubborn, stern. Interesting. All in all, they’re such an unusual couple; no wonder they’ve been together so long and never get bored with each other.
“So, here’s what this is all about. I’m just thinking about toxic masculinity. Doesn’t it demean people like you to be in a position like this? Of course, it’s not actually humiliating, but you understand - hockey, Russia… it teaches men the wrong things.”
Ilya fell into thought. He’d never had any trouble accepting his bisexuality; it had always been a given. As for his sexual desires… Ilya loved to please, loved doing what he was asked to do. It didn’t matter what it was: going down, bending over someone, to held down, bending over himself. If some guy he’d brought back to the hotel asked him to spread his legs, Ilya would just smirk and not resist.
What he liked about Shane was that he let Ilya do whatever he wanted. He made it clear that earning respect or recognition in their relationship wasn’t necessary, and that they accepted each other just as they were. Rebellious, rough, tired, unsexy.
Ilya knew he wouldn’t have refused to be pinned to the mattress, wouldn’t have refused to see Shane being dominant with those big puppy eyes. But that’s how it turned out, and Ilya was thrilled. This was what he wanted to do. This was how he envisioned their dynamic with Shane.
Shane stared at a single spot on the floor, chewing on the drawstring of his hoodie. He had trouble accepting that side of himself. Of course, he wanted to emulate toxic masculinity and never explore his submissive side. Ilya was the perfect example. Muscular, rough, a leader - all the women want him. But the more Shane got to know him, the more he began to understand that it’s okay to have those desires. Ilya went to gay clubs without shame, wore flamboyant, bright shirts without shame, and talked without shame about how much time he spent in front of the mirror to get his hair just right. So Shane stopped being ashamed of being vulnerable, of being gay, and of asking for protection.
Harris regretted asking that question and bringing up the topic in the first place, since Ilya and Shane had been sitting in silence with unfocused gazes for several minutes now. He decided to break the silence: “Sorry, I was just thinking recently about how Troy perceives our dynamic, knowing the kind of society he grew up in. Ilya, you’re his best friend, that’s why I asked…”
Ilya snapped out of his trance: “No, it’s fine. I’d let Shane fuck me without a second thought. I wouldn’t even think twice. But Shane and I are already so comfortable with each other, and we know each other really well.”
Shane smiled, pursing his lips slightly, and spoke more quietly than Ilya: “I’ve actually always been ashamed of myself. Of all this, really. But Ilya always proved to me that it’s normal. He never put me in an awkward position because of what I like. Actually, I’m surprised, because I’m a terrible pervert…” Shane giggled.
“Shane!” Harris laughed, raising his glass for the Hollanov love. Ilya’s eyes lit up and he smiled just like he did when he found out Shane had hired a stylist. He hugged him even tighter, kissing him passionately on the temple.
Disheveled Troy walked over to Harris, kissing him on the top of his head: “What are you laughing at?”
“Shane admitted he’s a pervert,” Ilya said proudly.
“I never denied it! It’s just that for some reason you all decided I was a chaste monk!” Shane spread his arms with a smile on his face, feigning indignation, but he was actually having a lot of fun.