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The evening was winding down to night, the cottage quiet except for the low murmur of the TV playing repeats of Top Gear USA.
"Ilya, can I ask you something about before?” Shane asked gently, as they lay on the couch.
Ilya lifted his head from where it rested on Shane’s chest. Shane was chatty these days, always asking little things like this. Ilya was content to just accept their new relationship – he was thrilled they even had one – but Shane seemed to need to understand the past.
“What is it, moy pomidor?”
Shane chuckled at the endearment. “When did you start to have feelings for me?”
Ilya was quiet for a long time, before he gave out a shaky breath. It was still hard sometimes; to think about the past and not be transported back to those heady, hopeless feelings. “After we made love.”
Shane grinned. “Okay, but, which time?”
Ilya frowned up at him. “The first time.”
Shane’s smile dropped. “What? But, Ilya…” Shane couldn't comprehend that. “The first time, as in, when you fucked me?”
Ilya shrugged. “I think so. Hollander, it was a long time ago.”
“Obviously! But like… you had plenty of sex with people.” Shane had that dorky open expression of confusion that Ilya loved, like one of those kitten posters.
“Yes,” he answered patiently.
“So…why was I different?” Shane asked, sitting up a bit.
Ilya shuffled so he was looking up at Shane. “Oh,” he said, mirthfully, “maybe because I waited for two years to get beautiful Shane Hollander in my bed–”
“Technically it was my bed,”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “–Naked and opening for me, and coming on my dick.” Ilya patted Shane's cheek. “I am, what is the expression? I am a goner.”
A slow grin crept up Shane's face. “That's all it took?”
“All? You kissed me!” Ilya said in an aggrevied tone, pointing to his forehead. “Here!”
He looked so outraged, Shane had to laugh. “No one else kissed you?” He couldn't believe that.
Ilya shook his head. “Of course they did. Lots of girls want to be Mrs Rozanov, try to make me fall in love with them,” he scoffed. “But…” Ilya took a moment to wrap his arms around Shane. “You were sweet. And… you had not had sex before.”
Shane spluttered. “I wasn’t a virgin.”
“You had never had a man fuck you. So I was extra gentle with you.”
“You were.” Awkward and scary as it was, the way Ilya had cared for him, kept him safe that night – it was one of Shane's fondest memories.
“Yes. And then good boy perfect Shane Hollander comes so sexily hands-free, and then gives me soft kisses afterwards. Boom. Feelings.”
Shane couldn't help kissing his boyfriend’s forehead, and then they lost a few minutes when Ilya climbed up to straddle Shane, caging him in against the sofa the way Shane loved, their lips finding each other again and again. Ilya relished these unhurried kisses, the gentleness of this time spent doing nothing in particular except being together. Being in love.
“Ilya…” Shane’s heart squeezed. It was impossible to reckon with the way he felt about him. To hear that these feelings weren't new for Ilya was mind–blowing. Although–
Shane kept his expression neutral. “If that's true, why did you ghost me for so long after?”
Six-plus-foot of Russian hockey player suddenly stilled and went limp. It was like being crushed by a very warm and attractive rock. Shane took a deep breath and petted his hair.
“I'm not angry, Ilya. I just… it made me sad.”
Ilya sighed and nuzzled into Shane's neck. “I am sorry. I could not stop thinking about you. And I keep thinking I wanted to see you again, even though I should not. See your pretty smile again. I keep fantasising about if we are just two ordinary American boys–”
“Gross,” interjected Shane.
“Oh! So what! Two Canadian boys, whatever. And suddenly I am wanting things. Not hockey or money or cars. I wanted like a normal person. Not a Russian hockey player superstar. Things I could not have.”
Shane felt he understood the words Ilya couldn't reach. Normal twenty-somethings would date, go to restaurants, go to movies. Get to know each other. They'd be excited about each other. “You had a crush on me?” Despite everything, the idea made him giddy.
Ilya looked up at him like he was an idiot. They were literally planning their life together and Shane was trying to tease him about having a crush.
“Shane, how do you think we got here?”
Shane frowned. “I picked you up from the airport.”
Ilya smiled at Shane, the warm, full smile he got shown when he was so… Shane.
“No, Hollander. Here in this relationship.” He breathed in, taking Shane’s hand. He was about to say something irredeemably soppy. “I am Ilya Rozanov, sex god–”
Shane snorted.
“–but now all I want is to hold your hand.” His mood turned darker, and he adjusted his grip on Shane, as if scared he would disappear. “But I cannot hold Shane Hollander’s hand. I cannot talk to you at the Olympics because you will be kind to me and I will want more things. To hold you. To keep you. It is too dangerous. Cannot risk everything for a Canadian boy with pretty freckles.”
Shane clutched at Ilya and breathed him in as tears started to well in his eyes. They had been so lonely, for so many years, and for what? Because laws prevented Ilya from being queer in his country. Because the MHL, the public, would judge them. How much of their lives had been wasted because of other people's backwards opinions? How much more would they have to endure?
“I had a crush on you too.” he said, chuckling through watery eyes.
Ilya kissed Shane’s hands. “Yes. I probably knew that.”
Ilya got the sense that Shane was going keep talking, like the dam had burst and the water was pouring through.
“You didn't kiss me,” Shane blurted out. “In Vegas.”
Ilya tried to think back through a haze of memories. “Uh, yes I did. On the roof. You were very mad.”
Shane adjusted his hands to rub small circles on his boyfriend’s back.
“The year you won MVP. We presented the award together. You had me… perform for you.”
Ilya sat up and looked at Shane urgently. “Fuck, yes. It was so hot. We should do that again.” His hands fell on Shane's belt and started to work it open.
“No!”
Ilya’s hands stilled and he raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“Not, no, just… wait.” Shane pretty much never turned down sex. Ilya was obsessed with that fact. “I just… I want to know why you didn't kiss me. Even when we were fucking, it was like you didn't want to touch me. If that makes sense. You were never like that again.” Ilya's kisses, more than anything, were the most addictive thing Shane had ever known, and he was generous with them. Shane vaguely understood that maybe this wasn't the way queer men having hookups were meant to behave, though who wrote those rules and how you were supposed to learn them had never been made clear.
“I kissed you! In the bathroom. I was going to leave you alone, get over this stupid crush. I don't come backstage until the last moment so I don't have to talk to you, but then I cannot help myself so I followed you into that disgusting bathroom because of your big soft eyes. And you are so angry with me, it's adorable. I kiss you and invite you to my room because I am not able to stop.”
“Oh.” Everything Shane thought he understood about that evening suddenly turns on its head. “You liked me too much?”
“Yes. But then we kept seeing each other and I couldn't resist you. And I tried to learn to kiss you but not to hold your hand.”
“How's that going for you?” Shane asked with a smile, looking at their joined hands.
Ilya took Shane's face back in his hands, and treated Shane to a long slow, needy kiss. As their lips touched, Shane's bottom lip slid easily between Ilya’s, and Ilya pulled on it slightly. Shane whimpered, before opening his mouth and sliding his tongue against Ilya’s. It was healing, to talk like this, to kiss with so much open affection. Shane kissed him harder, as if they could send this feeling backwards in time to the confused boys who hadn't figured out how to be together yet.
Ilya pulled back, looking very serious. “Perfectly. Now stop with your questions. I am a boyfriend now. I get privileges.”
Shane grabbed both of Ilya’s hands and pulled them back to his face. “Good word. What privileges?"
“I get to hold your hand. And you get to suck my dick.”
They'd have to leave each other in a few days. The last 10 days had been a wonderful break from reality. Hockey would take over again, but at least now they had a plan. They would be together, even if they were apart. They could hold each other's hand, even if (for now) it was only in secret.
Shane grinned, but didn't resist when Ilya started to shuffle them around so he was underneath Shane. “Tell me you love me again.”
“I love you. So… suck my dick?”