Heated Rivalry

by Rachel Reid

  “You are.”

  “No. I want...”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to be in your lap when you fuck me. Facing you. Holding you. I...ahh. Fuck, yes...”

  He trailed off when Ilya wrapped his hand around both of their cocks.

  “I want that too,” Ilya said. “I love you.”

  They moved quickly, Ilya sitting with his back against the headboard and Shane straddling his lap. They kissed for a long time like that, as Ilya continued to stroke their cocks together.

  “Oh god,” Shane shuddered. “I have to—you have to stop. I need you inside me.”

  “Mm. Not yet. Stroke yourself for me.”

  “Can’t. Ilya, I’ll come. I swear—”

  “Stroke yourself. A little. I think you can do it and not come.”

  Ilya had no idea why he got so much enjoyment from causing Shane distress, but he did. He loved to see him all agitated and struggling to keep control.

  “If you love me...” Ilya added obnoxiously.

  Shane’s eyes narrowed. “I’m starting to question that.”

  Ilya shook his head, grinning. “You love me. Show me how much. Stroke yourself and maybe I will fuck you.”

  As if there was even a chance that Ilya wouldn’t.

  Shane wrapped trembling fingers around his cock and very carefully dragged them up the length of his shaft. Ilya gasped at this display of obedience. He knew Shane wasn’t lying about how dangerously close he was. His slit was dripping precome.

  “I love how fucking wet you get, Shane.”

  “Sh-shut up.” Shane’s whole body was shaking. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

  Ilya chuckled. “Your dick wants you to go faster.”

  “Can’t go faster,” Shane gritted out.

  Ilya lightly cupped Shane’s balls, causing Shane to hiss out a breath and a string of profanity. “So tight, Hollander. Keep going.”

  Shane whimpered. “You bastard. You have to fuck me.”

  “Soon.”

  “Now.”

  A fresh bead of precome spurted out and Ilya caught it on his fingertip. Shane watched, wide-eyed, as Ilya sucked the finger into his mouth.

  “God, Ilya. You are—fuck. Would you please fuck me?” Shane panted.

  All right. Enough was enough. Ilya reached for the lube and a condom from the bedside table and got himself ready.

  And, oh, god, when Shane sank down on him, his whole body trembling with need, it was the most incredible thing Ilya had ever felt. He rocked up into Shane’s body as Shane held Ilya’s face and kissed him.

  He felt Shane everywhere.

  Shane braced himself with a hand on the headboard, and the other on Ilya’s shoulder, and used all of his considerable strength to ride the hell out of Ilya’s cock. He trapped Ilya’s hips between his solid thighs, and pounded that perfect ass down on Ilya’s lap over and over and fuck.

  Shane threw his head back, and Ilya watched his cock bounce in the space between them. Ilya wondered if Shane would shoot instantly if he touched it.

  He wondered if Shane would shoot anyway, without any contact on his glistening cock.

  “So good, Ilya. Holy shit. Fuck. I am so fucking close.”

  And suddenly Ilya realized that he was too. He had the endurance of a stallion with most partners, but he couldn’t ever seem to control his body when he was with Shane.

  “Do it, fuck. Give it to me, Hollander. I’m right there.”

  “I love you. I love you. Oh, shit. Here it comes—”

  They both cried out as Shane’s release splashed against Ilya’s chest. His body spasmed around Ilya’s cock and Ilya was hurled over the edge, coming hard with a garbled “I love you.”

  “Oh my god,” Shane wheezed. His forehead landed on Ilya’s shoulder. “That was perfect.”

  “Yes. Perfect.” Ilya wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. As close as possible.

  Eventually, Shane eased off him, and Ilya disposed of the condom. They cuddled together in bed, both men quiet and sleepy and deliriously happy.

  “What was your mother’s name?” Shane asked suddenly. His fingers were tracing the chain around Ilya’s neck.

  “Irina.” Ilya hadn’t said her name in so long, it felt strange in his mouth. “Why?”

  “I was just thinking.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “The charity we start, I think we should start a hockey school. Like, we could have summer hockey camps in Ottawa and Montreal.”

  “And we give the money away?”

  “Yeah. I think we should give the money to mental health organizations. Maybe...suicide prevention?”

  Shane was looking away, as if he were embarrassed, but Ilya held his chin and guided his face toward him.

  “It was just an idea,” Shane said quietly.

  And Ilya was not going to cry right now.

  “Shane,” he said, “I love that idea.”

  “Yeah?” Shane smiled.

  “Yes. It’s very...” Fuck. What was the right word? Was there a right word for everything Ilya was feeling in that moment? He couldn’t think of one, so instead he said, “She would have loved you.”

  “I wish I could have met her.”

  “Yes. Me too.”

  Shane yawned and snuggled against Ilya’s chest. “Sorry. I’m exhausted.”

  “My fault, I suppose.”

  “Absolutely your fault. But I forgive you,” Shane said with another yawn.

  “Goodnight, Hollander.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Mm. Can you say it in Russian again?”

  Ilya pulled Shane’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”

  “Ya-loo-blue-tee-baa,” Shane murmured back.

  Ilya laughed, and turned off the lamp.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ilya bounced on the balls of his feet and felt the dock bob in the water beneath him.

  “Is this the dock that you do yoga on?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t do yoga on here. This was just where the camera crew asked me to...wait. Did you watch that thing?”

  “Yes. Was great. I needed help sleeping.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  They watched in silence as a couple of ducks swam by. This was what passed as entertainment here in the middle of nowhere.

  It was late morning and the day was already hot. Shane, like Ilya, was wearing only shorts. They had slept late after keeping each other up most of the night.

  The sun shone on every inch of Shane: his skin, his hair, his freckles. He looked so achingly beautiful and happy.

  It was a shame that Ilya was going to ruin it. A shame, but there was no choice about it: Shane Hollander was standing on the edge of a dock, and now his back was turned to Ilya. Like an idiot.

  “How’s the water?” Ilya asked.

  “What?”

  That was all the warning Shane got before Ilya pushed him off the dock with both hands. Shane let out most of a “motherfucker” before his head submerged beneath the dark water.

  When he popped back up, he continued to splutter and swear as Ilya doubled over with laughter.

  “Fuck. You!” Shane yelled, and he punctuated it with a mighty sweep of his arm that sent a wave of water at Ilya. It mostly hit Ilya’s calves.

  “Asshole!” Shane yelled.

  Ilya ran off the end of the dock and plunged into the water in a perfect cannonball, right next to Shane. As soon as his head was above water again, he splashed Shane right in the face, just for good measure.

  Shane tried to punch his shoulder, but Ilya grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. He kissed him quickly, and Shane pushed him hard in the chest.

  “What if my phone had been in m
y pocket?” Shane complained.

  “It wasn’t. You left it on the table. On the deck.”

  “Well...”

  Ilya kissed him again. It was a little awkward to do when they were both treading water. Shane tasted like cool, fresh water.

  As if to prove that it was still perfectly safe and functioning, Shane’s phone started ringing in the distance.

  “Uh-oh.” Ilya smirked.

  “It’s fine. I don’t need to answer it.”

  “No.” He kissed Shane again, and this time he turned them so he had Shane’s back pinned against the end of the dock. It was probably very uncomfortable for Shane, but he didn’t seem to mind. They kissed enthusiastically, and Ilya planted his hands against the wood of the dock on either side of Shane’s shoulders. Shane, to Ilya’s surprise, wrapped his legs around Ilya’s waist and pulled him tighter against him.

  Ilya loved these rare moments that Shane was able to get out of his head and just let go. He loved that he could make Shane do that.

  He loved Shane. God, he loved Shane.

  They made out for a while like that before Shane reached back with both hands and hoisted himself up out of the water. Ilya quickly followed him. He pressed down on Shane, kissing him and forcing him to his back. He reached to grip Shane’s erection through his wet shorts.

  “Someone could see. By boat,” Shane panted.

  “Then keep a lookout.” Ilya plunged his hand into the waistband of Shane’s shorts and was rewarded with a delicious little whimper.

  Shane’s phone rang again.

  Shane tilted his head back to look in the direction of the phone. “Fuck off,” he yelled at it.

  Ilya laughed and continued stroking Shane’s cock. He was rutting a bit against Shane’s thigh. The dock bounced vigorously in the water beneath them.

  He nipped along Shane’s jawline, and kissed his smile. He didn’t think Shane was watching for boats at all.

  “You like this, Hollander?”

  “Yes. Yeah I...I’ve wanted this for so long.”

  “Wanted what? Tell me.”

  “You. Here. Outside like this.”

  Ilya sucked in a breath. “What do you want me to do to you?”

  “Anything. I don’t know. Everything.”

  “Tell me one thing.” Ilya rocked harder and faster against the hard muscle of Shane’s thigh.

  “I...thought about you...fucking me. Outside. On the deck. Or...against a tree.” His face flushed bright red, but Ilya smiled.

  “Fuck, Hollander. You only had to ask.”

  Shane gasped and arched his back. Ilya stroked him faster.

  “Maybe we could canoe or something. Out to one of these little islands,” Ilya said, his lips brushing Shane’s ear. “Totally alone, and I’ll fuck you there, out in the open where no one will see.”

  “Oh fuck. Fuck. Ilya.”

  “Maybe someone will hear you. From their boat.”

  “Ahh.”

  The heat of Shane’s release mingled with the cold, damp fabric of his shorts. Ilya thrust a few more times against Shane’s leg and cried out as his own cock pulsed and spurted into his shorts.

  He collapsed on top of Shane, panting.

  Shane laughed breathlessly. “Wow. What the fuck?”

  Ilya smiled and nuzzled Shane’s neck. “I don’t know. Couldn’t help it.”

  “I can’t even remember why we came down to the dock in the first place.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Shane turned his head and kissed him quickly. “No.”

  * * *

  After a minute, Ilya pulled himself up into a push-up position over Shane, then quickly kissed him before sliding back into the water. Shane followed him, figuring it would at least clean his shorts a little bit.

  They swam for a while longer before they both decided they were hungry and headed up to the house. Shane was just about to step through the sliding glass doors when Ilya grabbed his wrist and tugged him back toward him.

  “Is it okay if I tell you I love you again?” Ilya asked. His crooked smile was adorably shy.

  Shane smiled back. Hell, he probably beamed back. “It’s okay.”

  Instead of saying the words, Ilya kissed him. It was slow and deliberate, his tongue pressing against Shane’s own, his fingers resting delicately on Shane’s waist. Shane felt like his legs might give out on him. He made a contented little noise and stepped in even closer, so he could feel Ilya pressed against every inch of him. His hands slid over the lake-cooled skin on Ilya’s back, eventually finding their way into his damp hair.

  Ilya huffed and tilted Shane’s head back, kissing him deeper and more possessively. Shane felt dizzy with happiness. To be held like this and kissed like this by the man he loved—the man who loved him back—here at the place he loved more than anywhere else in the world...

  They both heard a noise.

  They both whipped their heads around.

  They both saw Shane’s dad standing inside the house, staring, frozen, at where they were wrapped up in each other on the deck.

  For a moment, no one moved. No one made a sound. Everyone. Just. Stared.

  Then, very quickly, Shane’s dad turned on his heel and walked toward the front door of the house. Shane let go of Ilya and said, “Shit!”

  “Your father, yes?”

  “Yes! Fuck. Shit. Okay...”

  Shane held his head with both hands. “Fuck!”

  “Should you—?”

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just...you wait here.”

  Shane walked quickly through the house to the front door. He opened it just in time to see his father’s car disappear down the wooded road.

  He stood there for a few minutes, wearing nothing but the wet shorts that he had very recently ejaculated into and a look of pure panic.

  “Shane?”

  He heard Ilya calling him, but he couldn’t find his voice to respond.

  “Hollander?” He felt a hand on his elbow. “He was already gone?”

  “Yeah.”

  They both stood there in silence. Shane assumed that Ilya, too, was letting the enormity of this moment wash over him.

  “This is bad,” Shane finally said.

  “You should go. Talk to him.”

  “Yeah. Shit. Yeah, I should. Probably best to do it now.”

  He heard Ilya snort behind him.

  “It’s not funny!” Shane snapped at him.

  “A little funny.”

  Shane turned around, ready to glare at him, but when he saw Ilya’s face he started laughing too.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said. “So much for easing them into it.”

  Ilya laughed harder. “Maybe he did not notice?”

  They both cracked up. It was pure nerves, but Shane laughed until his eyes watered. His plan had been to tell his parents—soon—that he was gay. He had planned to give them time to digest that, and then he would tell them—eventually—that he was in a relationship. That he was in love.

  And then, once all of that had settled with them, he would drop the real bombshell.

  Now everything was happening in the exact opposite order.

  “What the fuck am I going to tell them? So, you’re probably wondering why I was making out with Ilya Rozanov...”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Shane was surprised by this offer. Did he want that? Would that make things even more awkward? He certainly felt like he could use the support.

  “I don’t know. Would you really do that?”

  Ilya took his hand and squeezed. “Yes. If it helps.”

  Shane nodded. “It might. It will be awkward as hell, but...I’d like you to be there, I think.”

  “Okay.”

  “We should probably get dressed first.”

/>   “Yes.”

  They got dressed quickly. Shane put on a T-shirt from a charity hockey camp he helped coach last summer, just to remind his parents that he was a good and normal person.

  Ilya was wearing a Boston Bears T-shirt. Shane made a face. “That’s not going to help.”

  “Oh, do they not know I play for Boston?”

  Shane rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  The drive to Shane’s parents’ cottage took about ten minutes, but it seemed way, way longer this time.

  “Okay,” Shane said as he parked behind his father’s car. “Just...let me do the talking.”

  “No problem.”

  “Fuck, maybe you should wait in the car.”

  Ilya raised an eyebrow at him.

  “No,” Shane said. “No, never mind. Come on.”

  He exited the car and Ilya followed. Shane wondered if his parents were watching them through a window.

  He didn’t bother to knock. He never did, with them. He opened the door and said, as calmly as he could, “Hello? It’s me. It’s...Shane.”

  His parents stood from where they had both been sitting on the couch. It was clear that his dad had told his mom what he’d seen.

  “Shane?” his mother said. She said it like she’d never heard the word before.

  “Mom. Dad. I...I think we should talk.”

  “We forgot to buy dishwasher tablets,” Dad said. He sounded shell shocked. “I just wanted to see if I could borrow some. I didn’t know you had...company.”

  “Dad, it’s okay. I’m sorry. You...shouldn’t have found out that way.”

  “Found out what, exactly?” Mom asked. Her eyes were locked on Ilya, just over Shane’s shoulder.

  “Well, I...I’m gay. Which I was going to tell you. Soon. I just...sorry. I wish I’d told you.”

  His parents didn’t say anything. They were both looking at Ilya like he was a mountain lion that was about to attack.

  “Um, and this is...Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.”

  “Hi,” Ilya said.

  “And he’s been...visiting. He’s...we’re, um...”

  What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with.