Chapter Text
It was Ilya's fault, of course. That's what he will say. That's Shane Hollander's final thoughts on the matter. That's all you will get out of him.
Fucking Ilya Rozanov and his stupid obsession with Shane's freckles.
If Ilya were here, he would be cursing Shane out and crying at him about how perfect his freckles were, but he is not here. Instead, Shane is sitting in his car trying to breathe and staring at his phone as it vibrates into the next dimension, while Ilya is somewhere in the stadium grinning like a fool.
His agent has called him 12 times, his mother has called him 15 times, his texts are in the hundreds, and the emails have already passed 50. The internet is forever, and he has never been more aware of this. His social media has been muted, simply because his high tech phone can't take the notifications anymore.
It wasn't like the world had ended, but it was out, he was out, Ilya was out, and he may have made the most rash decision of his life while talking down two microphones.
Shane didn't even want to look at his phone. Still, if he didn't deal with it now, then Ilya would be the feral chaos goblin he is and make that decision for him, probably by trolling people on Twitter, only this time it would be under his actual profile and not his other one.
If only Shane could go back and tell past him that getting revenge on his feral boyfriend was never going to work, and it was definitely not going to work when he was mic'd up.
90 mins ago, he was on the ice about to play said boyfriend and kick his ass. 85 mins ago, he was outed on national television because his dramatic boyfriend couldn’t handle seeing concealer on his freckles.
The day had gone well for the first 45 minutes, until Shane had tripped over Ilya's stupid go bag lying in the hall. Next, he couldn’t find his game day Boston socks that he swore he had left on the dresser last night. But the dresser top was empty, and his spare pair was dirty.
Then, finally, Ilya Rozanov, the traitor, had stolen his last granola bar from his hand and distracted him with a kiss so possessive he had to sit down to calm down. At the same time, the goblin practically legged it out of the door, cackling with his prize and the last of Shane's sanity.
He really shouldn’t have been so distracted by the kiss; he blamed himself. But Ilya's mouth had been so forceful, and god Shane had felt the echoes of the previous night in those lips. The way Ilya had held his thighs open and left bruising kisses and bites along his groin and inner thighs. The way he had fingered him open for what felt like hours, thick fingers teasing and massaging his prostate until Shane was so close to the edge.
He had held Shane down while he begged to cum before filling him with his thick cock just as he finally came. Shane didn't even have the breath to scream before Ilya was yanking him back on his cock again and again. His hands were gripping Shane's hips as he pulled him half onto his lap. It wasn't the best angle as he was reduced to little more than a doll for Ilya, but he hadn't cared.
Ilya had fucked him through a second orgasm until Shane was shaking, whimpering and crying. He had passed out for a moment or two, enough time for Ilya to disappear and come back to guide him gently to the already running shower.
God, Shane loved his boyfriend; his hands were so gentle and warm. Ilya had washed the cum off and held Shane as he swayed, legs still shaky from the orgasms. He had changed the sheets while Shane sat on the toilet lid, brushing his teeth.
They cuddled the rest of the night, Ilya's hand cupping his chest and spooning him from behind. Shane felt safe and satisfied. It was the easiest sleep he had had for the last 3 months. The best sleep since the last time Ilya and he spent more than a few hours alone, if he admitted it, waking up to Ilya was perfect in every way.
Ilya had woken up first, which was unusual, but the result was waking up to tender kisses on his face, so Shane had no complaints at that point. He had even managed to get a morning yoga session, so he wasn't sore from the previous night, while Ilya cooked his ridiculous fry up. It had seemed like the perfect morning at that point. How mistaken he was about the rest of the morning.
After the disaster of his morning routine being run through a wood chipper on a Boston game day of all days, Shane was furious. Ilya had gone, and the source of his irritation had vanished, but he wasn't satisfied. Ilya needed to pay this time. Punishing his boyfriend was not easy, and it required careful knowledge of his weaknesses—Shane himself, hockey, and cars.
Since targeting hockey was off the table, Shane wasn’t about to fuck with the game because he was pissed. That left two options: Ilya was in Montreal visiting, so none of his cars were here, so that was eliminated. That just left Shane himself. How was he going to punish Ilya with himself? With a heavy sigh, he rummaged through the fridge for something to eat, thinking.
No granola bars, no bananas and no protein pancakes. Shane really should have gone shopping before jumping on Ilya last night. He did not want to grab a fast food bagel before the game, but it was the only option left. Shutting the fridge door, grumbling at his stupidity, he caught his reflection in the shiny surface and paused.
His murder kitten look, as Ilya called it, was in full force, making his face red and his freckles stand out even more than usual, much to his irritation and Ilya's daily delight. But it did give him an idea.
He stared back at his reflection and grinned. He had concealer, which Rose had given him when he had a huge hickey on his neck before a game, and he had a need for revenge. A plan was in motion.
Whatsapp chat with: Bestie Rose🌹
Today
Sent Message: Rose I need the biggest favour 10:15 
Do you have time? I'm on a revenge mission 10:15
Received Message: Shane hollander plotting revenge. 😬 👀 10:17
Received Message: Either someone really deserves it or you have snapped 10:17
Received Message: and I am here for both 😂 10:18
Received Message: how can this humble actress assist ye 10:18
I need to cover up my freckles 10:20
Received Message: SHANE NO 10:20
Received Message: THAT'S EVIL, WHYYYYYY 10:20
Received Message: your freckles are so pretty 10:20
exactly 10:20
Ilya loves them 10:21
it's the perfect revenge, he won't be able to say anything during the game and it will drive him mad 10:22
I love him but he has driven me insane this morning 10:22
Received Message: I mean, I'm here for it, but slight overreaction maybe to him annoying you 10:23
Received Message: But then again, if anyone deserves to be trolled, it's your feral boyfriend. 10:24
Exactly, I won't even need to say anything because my face will be secretly chirping him all game. 10:25
Received Message: Alright bestie, lets go. I'm gonna send you a link, watch this video, yeah. It's my make up girl's YouTube channel. If you are still clueless after then facetime me and Mama Rose will fix it over the phone. 10:26
Received Message: and send photos when you are done yeah. I need them for tormenting ilya at a later date 😇 😈 10:27
best ex girlfriend ever 😂 10:28
Type a message
30 minutes and half a bottle of concealer later, he was ready to grab his stuff and go. He had Facetimed Rose once the makeup was done; her screech of joy was still echoing in his ears. He felt like his face was a clown show, but the freckles were gone.
It was rather strange to look at his face; it looked as if something was missing, and his features just didn't look right without the freckles. Maybe his mother and Ilya had been right all along.
Shane got in his car and headed to the arena; part one of the revenge was complete.