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Shane was glad that after five years of being the captain of the Montreal Voyageurs, he finally got his own room for away games. Especially on days like this, when they lost a game in New York on Valentine’s Day and the other guys had their wives and girlfriends to cheer them up, and all Shane wanted to do was take a long, luxurious shower with hot water that never ran out, maybe order some room service, and sleep off the loss so he would be refreshed and ready to fly to Dallas the following afternoon.
At least, that was the plan, back when he was under the impression that he would be returning to an empty hotel room.
Instead, after Shane double and triple checked his room number and the handle lit up green, he entered his room to find all of the lights turned on. Which was weird, because Shane never left hotel room lights on before a game. It was one of his superstitions. (Sure, they’d lost the game that afternoon regardless. But if Shane left the lights on, they would definitely lose the game. If he turned them off, there was still a chance of winning.) Cautiously, Shane put his bag down by the door and crept forward. He wasn’t exactly scared of what he would see—he was a big, strong professional hockey player; he could take a guy down if necessary—but it was still a little unnerving to think that someone was in his room uninvited.
There sure was someone in his room uninvited. Or at least, Shane hadn't invited him. It seemed, based on the rolling cart holding a 5-gallon bucket of rose petals, an ice pail with two bottles of champagne, a mountain of heart-shaped pillows, about 45 battery-operated candles, and a few other items Shane couldn’t name at first glance... it seemed that the man bent ass-up over the end of the bed was on the hotel staff. And that man was just finishing arranging a heap of flower petals in a heart that covered the entire expanse of the king sized bed.
Shane couldn’t help but notice the perfectly round curve of the man’s ass. Like, it was literally impossible to miss. Shane knew he should probably stop staring soon, before he finished fussing with the flower petals and inevitably turned around, but his eyes roamed around the expanse of the guy’s back. Dear god, he was huge. Easily six feet tall, maybe more, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms shifted under his black button-up as he meticulously placed each petal, guiding them back into place if they were displaced under his ministrations.
Shane’s phone buzzed in his hand, and Shane screamed. Not a full horror movie scream, okay, just a yelp from being caught off guard. The man tensed up, preparing to turn around, and Shane was sure his cheeks had turned bright red to match the ridiculous red suit jackets the team wore for their Valentine’s Day walk-in. Shane glanced down at his phone to see a text from Hayden, which he thought might’ve said “enjoy your surprise,” but that didn’t make any sense so Shane looked back up at the guy in his hotel room, which didn’t make any sense either, so Shane was stuck in a continuous loop until he heard a voice in front of him.
“Sir? Are you alright?”
The voice was deep, accented. Eastern European, if Shane’s short circuiting brain could correctly recall hearing similar accents in his teammates. There was also an unmistakable sense of concern, which, yeah, Shane was standing frozen in the entryway of his hotel room and screaming, anyone in their right mind would be concerned.
“Oh, I’m- I’m fine,” Shane said, reaching up to loosen his tie. “What are you doing?”
Shane finally focused enough to look at the man, who had taken a couple steps toward him. Wow, he was gorgeous. Furrowed eyebrows sat low above bright blue-green eyes, a nose carved from marble elegantly adorned the center of his face next to a prominent mole on his cheek, accompanied by a few other beauty marks scattered over his features. His hair was a light golden-brown and curled around his forehead, and generous sideburns framed either side of his face, cascading toward one of the sharpest jawlines Shane had personally ever seen. The guy’s lips... Shane had to look away from his lips. He didn’t want to think about them. Shane glanced up to the ceiling, toward the window across the room, hell, even back over his shoulder to see if the door had closed behind him when he entered (it had).
When Shane turned back around, the guy’s lips (damn it, don’t think about his lips!) had drawn up into a smirk, and his left eyebrow was raised.
“I was doing my job, before I was interrupted by a scared bunny barging into the room,” the guy said, gesturing toward the rose petals on the bed and other miscellaneous junk on the rolling cart.
“Your job? Who told you to do that?” Shane spluttered.
“My boss told me. He says, ‘Ilya, here is the list of rooms you must decorate for Full Lovebird Experience.’” The guy, Ilya, apparently, accentuated the last three words with dramatic hand gestures.
“Lovebird...?” Shane wasn’t expecting anyone to come over, just another sad Valentine’s Day alone in a hotel. Unless...
Shane checked his phone again, swiping open the notification from Hayden to read it again.
Enjoy your surprise! L♥ve, your team ;)
“God damn it, Hayden,” Shane said, running his empty hand through his hair and tugging.
“No, Ilya,” Ilya said, pointing to himself.
“Not you- god, my idiot teammate-” Shane took a breath. “You can stop, Mr. Ilya. Sir. I’m not expecting anyone, I, uh, I’m Shane, I play hockey, and my team must’ve set this up as a prank. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”
“Do not worry, seeing a hot flustered man is never a waste of time.”
“Well, th-thank you,” Shane stuttered, blushing hard enough he could physically feel the heat on his cheeks, “but don’t you, uh, have other... rooms? to uh, decorate?”
Ilya took half a step toward Shane, clearly giving him all the time in the world to stop him, or escape, or otherwise put an end to the encounter.
Shane stood still, exactly where he was.
“No,” Ilya drawled. “This was the last room on my list.”
“What were you going to do after?”
“Mm, probably go back to my apartment, alone.” Ilya stepped closer still, his voice quiet enough that Shane had to strain to hear. “Very sad, for one so sexy as me to be alone tonight, yes?”
Shane’s gaze was very firmly planted on Ilya’s lips, suddenly addicted to watching them form the syllables, hanging on every word.
“Yes,” Shane said, almost in a trance.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, it’s very sad. Very sexy.”
“No, what did you say earlier? Yes, who?”
Shane was sure he couldn’t possibly blush any harder. All of the blood with nothing better to do was already rushing to his cock. And yet.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Ilya cooed, finally closing the distance between them so they were standing toe-to-toe.
Ilya reached up, hooking his fingers under the knot of Shane’s loosened tie, and pressed their lips together. Shane released the tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding in his shoulders and sighed into the kiss. He closed his eyes and let Ilya lead, placing his other hand on the small of Shane’s back and pulling him even closer. Ilya opened his mouth slightly, giving Shane the option to deepen the kiss, and Shane was glad to take the invitation.
Their tongues met just as Ilya used the hand on his back to hold him still while Ilya pressed his leg between Shane’s thighs. The hint of friction was enough to pull a broken moan from Shane’s lips. Shane was distantly aware of the muted thud as his phone fell from his grip and onto the plush carpet, but he found he didn’t really care, as both hands were now free to touch Ilya. He grabbed at his waist first, before dragging his hands up the length of Ilya’s back, whimpering around Ilya’s tongue as the muscles flexed under his touch.
It felt like Ilya’s hands were everywhere: pushing Shane’s jacket over his shoulders, gripping his biceps, tracing over the outline of his jaw, threading into the hair at the back of his head. For once in Shane’s life, he was grateful that his barber couldn’t fit him in before a road trip if the extra length gave Ilya the leverage to ball his hand into a fist and tug.
Shane moaned in ernest as they separated, sad for the loss of contact but glad Ilya saved him the embarrassment of passing out from lack of oxygen. His breathing was ragged, and hitched every time Ilya pressed his knee firmly into Shane’s cock, now fully hard and desperately leaking precome inside of his clothes. Shane began fumbling with the buttons on Ilya’s uniform shirt, earning a breathless chuckle.
“Desperate already, are you?” He teased, but took pity regardless, unbuttoning his shirt himself.
Shane’s mouth watered with each new inch of skin Ilya revealed. His pecs were almost as big and round as his ass, nipples a warm pink and framed with softly curling hair that continued down his chest and over his abs, growing dense as it disappeared under the waistband of his slacks. Ilya’s pecs flexed as he tugged his shirt down his arms, tossing it behind him so it landed on his cart. Shane and Ilya worked together to remove Shane’s clothes. One of them was decidedly more helpful than the other, seeing as Shane could barely even hold still while Ilya’s knuckles brushed his sternum. But Shane did pull his tie over his head all by himself, a feat of determination and physical prowess comparable to his two Stanley Cup wins, as far as he was concerned at that moment. He was also able to kick off his dress shoes at Ilya’s instruction, allowing Ilya to remove his dress pants and briefs.
Ilya bent to remove his own slacks, and Shane was shocked and impossibly turned on by the fact that Ilya wasn’t wearing any underwear. Shane took his cock in his hand at the sight; his palm was dry but the glide was made easier by the copious amounts of precome smeared around the tip.
Shane whimpered at the feeling of some significant relief, and Ilya’s head snapped up to look at him.
“Did I say you could touch?” Ilya accused, draping his pants and socks over the cart along with his shirt.
“N-no, sir.” Shane grumbled. He immediately let go of his cock.
“Good. Now get on the bed. Try not to ruin my hard work too much.”
Ilya turned to watch Shane struggle to follow both directions at the same time. Somehow, Shane managed to sit in the center of the heart without disrupting too many rose petals. He planted his feet and bent his knees, spreading his legs and leaning back on his hands. Then he looked up at Ilya through his eyelashes, and ran his tongue over his kiss-slick lips for good measure.
Ilya crossed to the bedside table, where a basket was artfully arranged with all kinds of sex accoutrements, and selected a condom and a travel sized bottle of lube.
“This is what you want, yes?” Ilya asked, holding up the condom.
Shane nodded.
“Words, Shane.”
“Please fuck me, Ilya,” Shane said breathlessly.
Between one blink and the next, Ilya was kneeling between Shane’s legs and pouring lube onto his fingers. He pressed one into Shane’s hole, and Shane hissed at the initial intrusion but quickly adjusted to the sensation. He told Ilya he was ready for another, which Ilya complied immediately, gently thrusting with both fingers as Shane began to relax around them. Ilya murmured praise the whole time, soon adding a third finger to repeat the process, until they both grew impatient.
“‘m ready, c’mon,” Shane complained, knowing he probably should wait a little longer given the fact that he was due to be on a plane in under twelve hours, but staring at Ilya while he fingered him open was making it very hard to hold out even a second longer.
“Bossy, bossy, Shane,” Ilya tutted, but pulled his fingers out anyway.
Shane whined at the feeling of emptiness, even though he literally asked for it himself, but was quickly distracted by the sight of Ilya rolling the condom over his long, thick cock. He leaned closer to Shane, using a hand on his shoulder to push him back so he was lying on the bed, then guided his legs up to allow for easier access to his hole.
“You are still ready?” Ilya confirmed.
“Yes, sir, please,” Shane said flatly, equal parts flattered and annoyed that Ilya was asking again.
Ilya lightly bit the inside of Shane’s calf, pressing the head of his cock into Shane’s waiting hole. They moaned in tandem; Shane’s was breathy and caught in his throat, while Ilya’s was more like a growl. Ilya pushed in further, muttering in accented English and another language Shane couldn’t understand, the combination shooting a current of pleasure into his stomach. Finally, Ilya was buried to the hilt within Shane. He stayed still despite the way he was visibly straining from pulling back and thrusting immediately. Shane breathed deeply, willing his body to chill the fuck out so they could get on with their evening.
Eventually, Shane gave the signal, and Ilya pulled back about halfway before slamming forward. His hips hit Shane’s ass with the force of a slap, punching a sound out of Shane that he wasn’t sure he’d ever made before. Ilya set a brutal pace, fucking Shane hard enough that his back slid toward the headboard, pushing the rose petals out of their meticulously arranged heart shape. Ilya leaned forward to seal his lips around one of Shane’s nipples and sucked hard. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and Shane cried out, which seemed to only encourage Ilya as he did the same to the opposite nipple before biting and kissing a path from Shane’s pecs up to his throat.
“N-no marks,” Shane whined, knowing the tabloids and his teammates would have a field day if he showed up to the airport with his neck looking like he was mauled, but disappointed he had to make the request.
“Of course,” Ilya mumbled against his skin, and began gently kissing rather than biting.
Ilya’s thrusts slowed down, and Shane whined, hooking his ankles around Ilya’s back to press him further inside.
“Ah-ah,” Ilya scolded. He gripped Shane’s knees to free himself, and the next thing Shane knew he was lifted off the bed and deposited back down, this time with his chest pressed into the mattress and his hips in the air.
Ilya pulled Shane backwards, burying his cock to the hilt, and he was finally able to hit Shane’s prostate with their new position. Shane moaned into the duvet with every thrust, hardly able to catch his breath as Ilya pounded into him. He felt Ilya’s hands roaming over his back, reverently mapping over his stretch marks, his thumbs dipping into the dimples right above the swell of his ass. Ilya leaned forward to kiss his shoulder blades and over his neck. Suddenly Ilya went from brutally fucking Shane with all his strength to grinding his cock into him with shallow thrusts. Shane felt the tips of his fingers gently brushing over his upper back, and Ilya caught his breath to speak.
“You gonna come for me, Shane?” Ilya asked.
“Y-yes, please, I wanna come,” Shane replied, barely able to force the words out between gasping moans.
“He does not come,” Ilya said, dropping a rose petal to the mattress right in front of his face, “he is allowed to come.”
Ilya dropped another rose petal.
“No-” rose petal, “-yes-” another.
Shane cried out as Ilya’s other hand snaked around his waist to grip the base of his cock.
“Do you think there were enough petals stuck to your back? Will you be allowed to come, Shane?”
“Please, please, yes, wanna come, Ilya, please-”
“Let’s see, hmm?”
Ilya continued dropping rose petals on the bed, and Shane couldn’t look away. Each petal that floated in front of Shane’s face was torture, but the building desperation turned his head to cotton until he felt like he was floating.
“Ah, look at that, aren’t you lucky, Shane? I have one more petal,” Ilya said.
“Please,” Shane whispered, though he was unsure if it was even audible.
“Come for me,” Ilya commanded, dropping the final petal.
Shane was coming before the rose petal even landed on the bed. He clenched around Ilya’s cock and Ilya fucked him through it, spilling into the condom a few moments later. Ilya pulled out and disposed of the condom before rejoining Shane on the bed, softly drawing his fingers over Shane’s back and mumbling reassurances while Shane regained his breath. He let Ilya flip him to his back, graciously avoiding the puddle of come, and ran a gentle hand through the damp hair clinging to his forehead. Shane smiled shyly and met Ilya’s gaze.
“How are you feeling?” Ilya asked once it seemed like Shane could once again form coherent thoughts.
“Good, amazing,” he mumbled. “So good. Sweaty. Tired. Maybe hungry.”
“Well,” Ilya chuckled, “your friends’ prank comes with a dinner. Would be a shame to go to waste, yes?”
Shane blushed, but nodded.
“I will take a minute, wash up in the bathroom. Then you take nice shower. Will be all ready when you are done.”
“My room was really the last one of the night? You were really going to leave after?” Shane asked.
Ilya nodded, then started to speak.
“Stay,” Shane said, not interested in any excuse Ilya might’ve been planning to make. “You wash up, I’ll shower. Then we can have dinner together?”
“Kind of the wrong order for a first date,” Ilya teased, but Shane smiled up at him.
“I’ll guess we’ll just have to get it right for the second date, then.”
Ilya pressed a giddy kiss to Shane’s lips before walking toward the bathroom, not bothering to pick up any clothes on his way there. Shane was entranced, watching Ilya’s ass move with each step.
Shane could get used to that view.
He would have to thank Hayden and the team later. Maybe right before they got on the plane.