Heated Rivalry - Somewhere In Between
Episode 1
Ilya woke up to the sound of loud breathing. Still dizzy from sleep, he rolled over to face Shane, lying cuddled up against his shoulder, breathing very fast and heavy with his mouth slightly open.
Ilya couldn't help but smile at how adorable he looked while sleeping. He lost himself staring at Shane's peaceful gaze, tracing the countless freckles on his face with his fingers. Suddenly, Shane's breathing grew more intense and rapid. Confused and concerned, Ilya sat up slightly in bed to get a better look.
Ilya
Shane?...Hollander, hey!
He slowly brushed his thumb over Shane's parted lips, which released short, deep breaths. Shane started shaking his head, slowly at first, then more frantically.
Ilya couldn't stay calm. With Shane still asleep and unresponsive, worry grew. He touched Shane's shoulders, shaking them gently, trying to rouse him from what seemed like a nightmare.
Ilya's hand rested on Shane's chest, which rose and fell slowly. He tried to calm him, unsure what was happening.
Caught in the moment's intimacy, Ilya didn't notice Shane's breathing steadying or his eyes fluttering open. He ran his fingers down Shane's abs, pressing passionate kisses to his chest—lost in the vulnerability, drinking in every detail of Shane's face, not in a lustful way, but one that made him feel deeply loved and loving.
Shane
Ilya...wh..what is going on? W..what are you doing
Ilya froze at Shane's deep, sleepy voice, realizing he could no longer just look without wanting more.
Ilya
Hollander, you fucking scared me. You were breathing like you are having panic attack. You okay now, yes
Shane
What? What are you talking about Ilya it's okay. I tend to have nightmares sometimes. I'm sorry I woke you up, I didn't..
Ilya moved closer, his face nuzzled against Shane's shoulder, cutting him off.
Ilya
Shane..! It's oke. I was awake already
He looked up at Shane—sleepy face, messy hair, a rare, unguarded sight. Hockey hair, sweaty under a helmet, was one thing. This? It twisted Ilya's stomach in a way only Shane could.
Ilya
Oh fuck you Hollander, I know what you were thinking. I was not being...what's the word...uh?
Shane
You were not being an asshole
Shane smirked, teasing Ilya about his occasional struggle with English, even when he pretended otherwise.
Ilya
No, no, Hollander. I was not being asshole. I was just looking at you
Ilya's tone was teasing, feigning offense—though they both knew he wasn't.
Shane turned his face, lifting Ilya's chin with two fingers to see him better, smirking.
Ilya
Oke listen , you breath very loud, so I woke up. And later I was looking. Just..uh...curious,
Ilya blushed at "curious"—the word that had drawn them together before their first kiss, nearly nine years ago. He loved Shane. Always had. And now, it didn't hurt anymore.
Shane blushed too, reacting the same way to "curious."
Shane
Fuck Rosanov you were just staring at me the entire time while I was having a nightmare and you didn't even try to wake me
Ilya
Well..yes, I tried to wake you, but...well.. I guess I was being too gentle
Ilya moved closer, pressing kisses from Shane's ear to the corner of his mouth. Shane moaned softly, leaning in.
Ilya
Was it worth waking up, Hollander
Shane waited, desperate for Ilya to stop talking and continue.
Ilya
Oh, you will, yes Hollander
Ilya kissed Shane fiercely, making speech impossible.
The kisses deepened. Ilya pushed himself up, hovering over Shane, kissing him wildly.
Shane's hand slid to Ilya's lower back, fingers scratching the rim of his boxers, pulling them down slowly, tracing the elastic's indent on his skin. He pressed Ilya's lower back down, their hard dicks brushing. The sensation nearly made Ilya lose control, but he wanted to make Shane wait—to beg. To hear him say it.
Episode 2
Shane
Fuck Ilya.. ju..just..
Ilya runs his fingertips down the inner side of Shane's thighs. Shane is hard, desperate for relief, but he knows Ilya won't give in easily.
Shane moans softly, gripping the bedsheets. He remembers their first time at the cottage, away from hockey and the world. They'd been apart so long, Ilya couldn't keep his hands off him.
Ilya
I'll do anything if it'll make you touch my dick right now.
That moment, followed by their first "I love you" later, replays in Shane's mind. He loves those memories, but right now, all he can think about is Ilya inside him, making him come.
Ilya smirks, using the playful look he reserves for 'Fun'—the one they use in crowds to slip away to the bathroom, returning with messy hair and shaky knees, unnoticed.
Ilya teases with slow, passionate kisses on Shane's inner thighs, occasionally kissing the top of his dick. Shane shivers, almost coming, but Ilya isn't done yet.
Shane moans, pushing his hips toward Ilya, begging with his body. Ilya is stubborn, but Shane loves it—longer teasing means better orgasms, and Ilya knows that.
Ilya
Hollander, are you listening?
Ilya pushes himself away from Shane's crotch, looking at him with an intense, angry look. The sudden stop makes Shane sit up, confused.
Shane
Ilya, please. I can't hold in any longer. Just fuck me already.
Ilya
Well, Hollander, you'd have to ask nicer than that.
Shane
Please? Please fuck me?
Ilya smirks, crawling up to lay on top of Shane, their bodies aligning. His chain dangles between them, lips almost touching.
Shane leans in, pulling Ilya down by the neck. The kiss starts warm and soft, quickly growing wild and intense. Shane runs his fingers down Ilya's back, pushing him closer. Their hard dicks rub against each other as Ilya moves, driving both crazy.
Shane
Fuck Rosanov! You're such an asshole.
Shane rolls his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically, then laughs. He looks at Ilya, expecting a smirk, but Ilya's expression is dead serious.
Ilya
I mean it. Say it or I won't fuck you. I'll touch myself and let you watch, but you're not going to get anything.
Ilya
No, you don't. And you want me to fuck you. So, say it.
Shane racks his brain, trying to remember the Russian phrases Ilya taught him—'useful phrases' he'd whispered in Shane's ear, sometimes first thing in the morning.
Ilya rubs Shane's neck, his hand gliding lower.
Shane
Rosanov what the fuck are you doing.
Shane notices Ilya's breathing change, opening his eyes to interrupt his thoughts.
Ilya
Hurry up, Hollander. Or I'll finish without you.
Ilya moans, his hand starting to stroke his dick.
Shane
Oh my fucking god. I hate you so much.
They both know he doesn't mean it—quite the opposite.
Episode 3
Ilya was breathing harder. Shane lay helplessly next to his boyfriend, every twitch of Ilya's biceps sending a jolt through him as he struggled to remember what 'Fuck me please' meant in Russian.
Ilya
Oh god, Shane, I'm coming.
Shane
No! Rosanov. Ilya. Stop it. Don't you dare.
Ilya's moaning grew louder, more uncontrolled. The situation was intense, hectic. Shane knew remembering that phrase was the only way—deviating would only make Ilya tease him, make him wait longer.
Shane
Oh! Oh my fucking god! I know! I remember! Hey, the fuck Rosanov stop jerking of!
Slowly, Ilya let his hand settle on his thigh, releasing his dick. He looked at Shane, almost mockingly.
Shane
Thrakni meya pozhalusta.
Shane's breath shook. He glanced at Ilya's dick, still pulsating, and couldn't help cupping it, stroking up and down, thumb circling the tip—the move that drove Ilya wild. He looked back, waiting, wondering if he'd gotten it right.
Ilya
Fuck Hollander! Fuck, it was close enough.
Shane practically jumped on Ilya, kissing him wildly. Ilya kissed back, flipping them over mid-kiss. He thrust hard, making Shane gasp with pleasure.
Moments later, they lay tangled, moaning into each other's ears, coming over the sweat and pre-cum soaked sheets. They stayed like that, legs shaky, savoring the intimacy.
Ilya
Worth the thinking, Hollander?
Shane
Oh shut up. You're such an asshole.
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