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Shane fell on the mattress, panting. Rozanov leaned on him, panting himself, coming down from the high of the orgasm.
This was so hot.
Shane found himself thinking, and that made him laugh softly.
“What?” Rozanov said from behind him, probably catching the laugh.
“Nothing,” Shane replied, with a smile. His face was still smushed in the mattress, so Rozanov didn’t see it. He slowly pulled himself out of Shane, prompting a sigh from the man, and then flopped down on the mattress too. Shane turned on his back. Maybe it was the high after the sex, or he was just stupidly giddy, he found himself asking.
“How about that vodka?”
Roz looked at him and huffed in surprise, “Yes. Give me a minute.”
Shane’s limbs were jelly, and god he would be thinking about this night until the next time he met with Rozanov. Speaking of the other man, he got up from the bed and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he handed Shane a wet washcloth and walked out of the room, still naked. Shane sat up, leaning against the headboard and he found himself coming down from the giddy feeling as the reality of the situation crashed on him. He slept with Ilya Rozanov yet again, even after telling himself not to. Even after all those excruciating six months of silence.
Fuck.
He heard some sounds from outside, of glass clinking, until Rozanov came back and kept a glass of vodka on the side table as Shane promptly wiped himself down with the washcloth. The embarrassment was creeping in on him. He didn’t regret the sex, obviously; he never could. But he should not have come here. He should have left Rozanov alone in the bathroom earlier. God, he should have never slept with Rozanov the first time after that CCM shoot. But he never could stop. He kept coming back for this. He shook his head; there was no point in thinking about all this.
Rozanov sat down on the bed beside him with a cigarette and lighter, and with another refill of his vodka. Shane took a sip of his own drink and found himself grimacing. It was awful. Why the fuck would Rozanov even like such a drink?
Beside him, Rozanov lit the cigarette and took a long drag. Shane realised then that he should probably leave. This is what they did in their previous hook-ups. Leave immediately after. But Shane still had his vodka left, maybe he could just stay until he downed all of it.
“So, Russia this year was something else,” Shane said, hoping Ilya would answer. “It’s intense there.”
Ilya didn’t say anything, and Shane wondered if he had misstepped by reminding Ilya of his loss at the Olympics.
“So, are you heading back soon?” he tried again by changing the topic.
“Back?” Ilya asked, taking another drag.
“To Russia, for the summer?” Ilya looked at him for a second and then nodded, flicking the ashes of his cigarette in his now-empty glass.
“Oh yes.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Do you have to?”
Ilya shook his head, “There is no “have to”. It’s…it’s home.”
He didn’t look back at Shane after saying those words.
Shane frowned, “yeah, but I don’t know. Is it safe?”
“What do you mean, safe?”
“I don’t know. Do you…do you even like it there?” Shane’s heart raced in his chest, hoping he didn’t misstep again. By Rozanov’s confused expression, Shane thought he didn’t.
“What difference does it make?” Rozanov implored, as if it didn’t actually make a hell of a difference that he was putting himself in danger by going back to a country which was actively making laws against queer people.
Shane huffed, “A pretty big one, I think.”
Roz looked away, and now Shane was pretty sure he had made a mistake by bringing this all up.
“I need to sleep.”
Rozanov took one last drag of his cigarette and then threw it in the glass.
“Oh, yeah, me too. I should uh…” but Shane didn’t move to get off the bed yet. Like he didn’t want this night to end. Just not yet. Despite the sex being good, he found something lacking. He couldn’t quite name it, but it kept him in bed long enough for his rival to look back at him and frown in confusion again.
Shane would probably regret this later, would call it a stupid decision, but at the moment, he found himself leaning forward and cupping Rozonov’s face with one hand, before kissing him on his lips. For a moment, Rozanov didn’t return it, but then he kissed back, and Shane felt the familiar tongue enter his mouth.
Like a puzzle piece settling into its place, Shane felt relief. So this was what he was missing tonight. And he realised that Rozanov didn’t make a single move to kiss him after the bathroom downstairs.
Shane pulled back and looked at Roz. The other man seemed a little dazed, but overall surprised that Shane even kissed him.
“We didn’t even kiss.” Shane found himself saying.
“We just did,” the other man shot back because, of course, he has to be a dick right now.
“Fuck you,” Shane said, before kissing Rozanov again. He shifted his weight to lean a little more forward so he could spread small kisses all over Rozanov’s jaw, and the man just let him. Soon enough, Shane climbed on Rozanov’s lap, turning these short kisses into a makeout session. Ilya pulled back once, only to suck on Shane's neck, enough to leave a hickey there. Shane didn’t care about his rival leaving a mark on him at the moment; call it liquid courage, but he didn’t get to kiss Rozanov the entire night, so he wasn’t about to stop now. He tightened his hand in those thick curls and brought Rozanov’s face back up. Roz, surprisingly, looked pliant enough. Shane brought his thumb up and ran it softly against his rival’s lower lip, before looking into those blue, stormy eyes.
What the hell are you doing to me, Rozanov?
Slowly, Shane kissed Ilya again, and this time, Ilya brought his hands up to hold Shane by his waist, as if finally yielding. But he did yield before. The second he decided to touch Shane that night, he had surrendered to his desires. When they pulled back from the kiss, Shane smiled yet again at how things turned out. Ilya removed his hands from him quickly, letting him go, and Shane realised he should leave now. He got up from his rival’s lap and awkwardly looked for his boxers, which had fallen by the chair where Rozanov had sat earlier.
Should he even wear it again? But he can’t just wear his pants without his underwear.
Seeing his dilemma, Roz laughed, and Shane blushed.
“Shut up, asshole,” he grunted, finally deciding to just wear the underwear again. This was not the first time he and Rozanov had thrown their clothes on a hotel room floor. Without giving another look at his rival, he went to the living room and finished dressing up quickly.
“So, I’ll be leaving…”
“Goodbye, Hollander!” Rozanov said from the other room. He sounded a little more cheery than the occasion required.
With a nod, Shane left. In the elevator, he fetched his phone out of his pocket and opened his chats.
Lily
With a loud gulp, Shane typed:
See you next season!
He hit send quickly without another thought.
The next morning, a new text from “Lily” read:
Oh, you will.