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    Summary

    "Never have I ever fucked my student," Ilya said. Shane narrowed his eyes at this, parsing the words.

    "That's a stupid one," Shane said, his defenses lowering and his words slurring a bit. "You don't have your own students." He kept his remaining fingers raised, and purposely did not take a sip to show Ilya his answer.

    "Hmm, very interesting," Ilya said. "So this is special occasion." Shane did not have the faculties to further parse Ilya's words, so he used one of his defenses when he was overwhelmed: he closed his eyes. He realized how tired he was, sort of all of a sudden, probably due to the alcohol. And from pretending I don't want him, his traitor brain added. He rested his head on the back cushion of the couch, feeling the day and his pushed-away thoughts wash over him.

    He suddenly felt Ilya's body weight rest on his legs. His eyes flew open, meeting Ilya's gaze as his face got closer to Shane's.

    "Ilya," Shane started to protest. "We shouldn't."

    OR: Shane Hollander, coach of the McGill men's hockey team, invites his team captain, Ilya Rozanov, to spend the week of Christmas with him at his cottage.

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