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His thigh was bouncing up and down from the penalty box. Ilya had been acting too recklessly the past few games, and it had finally caught up to the Russian.
And of fucking course that cocky bastard Hollander decided to purposely skate past the box and smirk at Ilya, winking cautiously before continuing on with the game.
Ilya swore in Russian under his breath, clenching his fists in anger towards himself.
He had to get himself under control.
Stupid Hollander.
He watched the game continue from the bench, his eyes following around Hollander as the Canadian man pushed one of Ilya’s teammates into the board with a resounding crack.
And Ilya hated himself for how he wished that it was he that Hollander was having his way with.
Once he was given the signal that his time on his timeout was finished, he zoomed back onto the ice and joined his team. His eyes caught the tail end of a heated stare from Hollander, and his plan-free night suddenly became full.
⛸️
But before Ilya could escape to the safety of a hotel room, he was grabbed by his large-handed teammates.
“You better have the finest tuxedo that money can buy, Roz, we are going out and celebrating yet another victory against Hollander and the pathetic Montreal Metros.”
Ilya wished he could say no, but he didn’t want to disappoint his team after the fabulous victory that they added to their belt.
He nodded, accepting the offer of going out in Russian as he grabbed his phone from the cubby, his teammates heading to the shower as the jets in the bathroom announced them hitting their marks in the large locker room bathroom.
Ilya: Celebrating at the club, I want to see you
Jane: It’s too risky
Ilya: We won’t dance together if that’s what you’re worried about
Jane: I don’t dance
Jane: Fuck off and celebrate your victory
Ilya: I want to celebrate with your mouth around my cock ;)
Ilya: All nine inches of the cock you like so bad
Jane: Fuck off
Ilya smirked, texting “Jane” the details for the specific club and scurrying his phone into his bag before heading into the showers for the quickest clean he’d ever performed.
The quicker he got to the club, the quicker he could stalk into a hotel room with Hollander.
But Hollander had ulterior motives.
He was feeling bratty.
And he would find a way to get under Ilya’s skin.
⛸️
The thumping music of the club was working its way through Ilya’s body as he danced in the crowd, girls grinding against his front as other girls were behind him and letting their hands explore his tensed up body. But his eyes remained glued to the entrance of the club, waiting to see the losers from tonight’s game.
More specifically, Ilya was waiting to see him.
And he hated the fact that he was excited to finally see Shane, even if it was for the second time that evening.
But the energy was always so different off the ice.
And Ilya hated how much he enjoyed it.
The music thumped, as if it were coming from his soul, and Ilya struggled to breathe as the atmosphere grew too tight, but slowly, it was as if something was released from his body. And that was when his eyes connected with Hollander’s from across the club.
His breath caught at how stunning the man looked, suited and booted in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.
Ilya gasped, so glad that the music was too loud because he could have been caught just from that sound alone. He was about to be in so much trouble if he was caught out. Ilya discarded the sound as he twirled out from the grasp of the girls and headed to the bar, where several of his teammates were, and had been watching him.
Luckily, they couldn’t hear. Just watch him.
Like some creepy pervs.
“Enjoyed the show?” Ilya murmured as he placed his order of a vodka shot, knowing that it wouldn’t be the proper stuff, but it would do the job for now. He tried to make friendly conversation as quickly as possible so that he could find a way of being close to Shane.
“I’m not into voyeurism, Roz.” One of his teammates rolled their eyes as Ilya downed the shot and swiftly ordered another.
Time to get back on the floor.
Ilya was back on the dance floor, and his eyes caught Shane’s once again, smirking at the Canadian before winking at the man.
“Come dance with me.” Ilya wished that he could say to Hollander.
He wants to trail his hands across Hollander’s body and grind his cock into his ass, teasing the man until he is begging to be taken to bed. Ilya could only wish that one day it would become true, and Ilya could ruin Hollander in public for anyone to watch.
“Risk it.” Ilya wanted to say.
“Let me ruin you.” Ilya mouthed the words, making sure that Hollander’s eyes were on him as the words formed in his mouth, and he watched Shane’s eyes flicker with something. Though the words in English he knew couldn’t describe what he was seeing, he knew that he wanted to explore whatever it was.
Shane floated around the dark edges of the dancefloor, his eyes watching Ilya as he wished he could be on the floor with him instead. He despised hiding but was terrified of what would happen if they were ever caught.
He winked at Ilya, licking his lips timidly before scurrying out of the club. He had been here long enough and wanted to hide in an alleyway to allow his breathing to calm down. Shane couldn’t handle all of this, so much for him being a brat tonight.
But he had unknowingly been teasing Ilya all night. And Ilya was right on the edge that he too needed to leave. He didn’t even excuse himself to his teammates as he disappeared into the darkness, exiting the club and spotting the back of Shane Hollander.
⛸️
Ilya followed a safe distance behind Shane until they got into the hotel lift. Ilya kept his hands at his side, gripping them into tight fists as he focused on Shane’s stuttered breathing. The lift finally dinged to signal their floor, and they no longer kept a distance between them.
Shane remained as the leader until they were in the hotel room, and the dynamics changed instantly.
Ilya forcefully removed Shane’s jacket and threw it across the room — knowing that it would make Shane angry — but they didn’t have time for the hot Canadian to stop and fold up his suit jacket.
“Bend over.” Ilya left the instruction open as he watched Shane panic as he realised he was in so much trouble.
Ilya’s large hand wrapped around Shane’s neck from behind and slowly moved him until Shane was bent over the hotel room's leather sofa. He thrust the evidence of how tortured he was feeling against Shane’s arse, and the Canadian whimpered.
“Always have to act like little brat everywhere you go. I’ll teach you a lesson, Hollander, that you won’t forget.” Ilya uttered the words in Shane’s ears, smirking as he captured the man’s lobe and sucked hard.
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