Work Text:
“You guys ever heard of the Rice Purity Test?”
Shane looks across the room at Chouinard, who’s frowning down at his phone.
“Sounds like something Shane would buy to make sure our food is organic enough.”
“Fuck off,” Shane grumbles at his husband, who grins at him and throws his sweaty practice jersey at Shane. Shane pretends to be grossed out, but it smells like Ilya. Combined with how fucking impressive he was at practice today, Shane is about ready to drag him out of here.
“It’s like… a purity test,” Zane chimes in as he rolls on deodorant.
“Wow, astute observation, Bood.”
“Astute?” Bood fires back at Ilya.
“Yes, astute, fucker.”
“He’s right,” Luca speaks up, looking oddly bashful like he does whenever it’s brought into question that his internet history might be the craziest of anyone on the team. “Basically you start at 100 and lose a point for every ‘impure’ thing you’ve done.”
Chouinard visibly pales. “Oh my god, I’m gonna throw up. She’s twelve.”
“Who’s twelve?” Troy questions.
Chouinard—having moved from potential vomit to sucking on a lemon—waves his phone in the air like they’re all supposed to know what’s on the screen. “Max,” he says, referring to his oldest daughter. “She got in trouble at school for talking about it with her friends. She’s twelve,” Chouinard repeats.
“You do not want to know what my score was at twelve,” Ilya mutters.
Shane barely suppresses an eyeroll. Ilya talks a big talk, but Shane knows that he lost his virginity to Svetlana at 14 and it was awkward as hell until they figured out what they were doing.
“Well, yeah, you’re a manwhore,” Hayes calls out, and Ilya beams proudly.
“Was. Now I am a very happy house husband.” He blows a kiss to Shane, who does roll his eyes this time.
“Shane turned that hoe into a housewife,” Dillon says, looking like he wants to dab Shane up for it. Shane is too busy correcting his husband.
“You are not a house husband. We are literally at work.”
Ilya pouts. “You wouldn’t want me at home? Waiting for you to come back from a long day working to provide for our family?”
“Fuck, no. I like beating your ass.”
“We are on the same team.”
“Does not mean I did not just kick your ass in practice.”
“Oh my god, Hollander. It was one—”
“Can you two stop flirting for one minute so we can go back to dealing with my problem?” Chouinard calls out.
“What is the problem?” Ilya asks, and Shane tries not to laugh. His husband is such an asshole sometimes, but, well, Shane loves it.
“That my daughter is having sex!”
Ilya frowns. “Says who?”
“Uh, the test?”
“Not all the questions on there are about sex. One is literally holding hands,” Barrett points out.
“How do you know that?” Hayes grills, and Barrett’s eyes briefly widen.
“Harris.”
“He made you take it,” Ilya decides.
“What? No. But he’s like… on the internet, or whatever. Not the point,” Barrett mumbles, and Ilya grins.
A second later, he’s pulling out his phone, presumably to do research of his own. “‘Danced without leaving room for Jesus’,” he reads with clear disgust. “What decade was this made?”
“It’s from like the 20s, dude,” Barrett chimes in again, and the entire locker room turns their attention to him.
“How do you know that?” Dillon balks, and Troy stammers.
“Again, Harris—”
“We should all take it,” Ilya decides, saving Troy from his embarrassment.
Shane feels his face go warm. He’s not exactly sure what kinds of questions are on this quiz, but he has an imagination. Other than a few drunken comments he has let slip at Bood’s cookouts, Shane would prefer his team not to know the exact freaky shit they get up to. “Rozanov.”
Ilya gives him a placating smile. “Is okay, Hollander. Someone has to be the most pure on the team. Although, that probably goes to Luca.”
Luca gives a squawk of protest that gets aborted halfway through, like he decided it’s better to accept than to be grilled on why Ilya is wrong about that assumption.
“You know that’s not true,” Shane mutters before he can help himself. He ducks down and finishes unlacing his skates.
Ilya calls him his little slut all the time. It’s just not… something he advertises. It’s like when Hayden used to tease him about being a blushing virgin when in reality he knew what it felt like to have Ilya Rozanov’s tongue deep in his asshole.
“Roz is probably at zero,” Bood chimes and Ilya fake gags.
“Fuck no, there’s beastiality on here.”
“Okay, if anyone reports back with a zero, you’re kicked off the team.”
“So we’re all taking it, yes?” Ilya questions. A chorus of agreements fill the room, some a little half-hearted and dismissive. “I’m serious. You all have homework tonight! Captain’s orders!”
—
They don’t get back to the topic for several hours. Shane is adamant on dinner first and then Ilya wants to walk Anya before it gets too dark out. By the time they’re both relaxing for the night, the sun has long since set, their bedroom illuminated only by the glow of two lamps.
“Okay. Time to see how pure and innocent I am,” Ilya decides, patting the space on the bed next to him. Shane snorts a laugh, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside his husband.
“You haven’t been pure and innocent a day I’ve known you,” Shane mutters. Ilya just waggles his brows before ushering Shane to get out his phone so they can do it together.
By the time Shane has finally navigated his way to the website, Ilya is clicking away on his own screen. Shane frowns, until he actually looks at the first dozen or so. A lot of them are easy checks because they’ve done them together. Ilya laughs at ‘holding hands' and 'kissing on the lips', doing both right after they read the listed items just to ‘make sure he meets the criteria’. The first one that truly causes them to pause is ‘played a game involving stripping’.
“Ah yes,” Ilya murmurs before checking the box on his own phone. “Playing against awful Vegas had its perks.”
Shane frowns, glancing over at him. “Huh?”
“Kotenok, you never played strip poker in Vegas. I am terribly shocked.” He brings his hand up to his chest in a dramatic gesture, but Shane only narrows his gaze before returning it to his phone, checking the box with a little too much force. He pins his gaze back on Ilya, who actually does look shocked this time. “Who did you strip for?”
“You, asshole.”
Ilya frowns, and then his face morphs into a relaxed, easy smile with a hint of guilt. “Ah. How could I forget sexy strip Scrabble?”
“You did forget!” Shane points out, trying to ignore that he actually does feel a little butthurt about it.
It was that first summer at the cottage, when Ilya started pulling board games off the shelf in one of the living rooms. They had two full glasses of wine, a board full of wooden tiles, and not much else. The more he thinks about it, the wine is probably to blame for the fuzzy memories on Ilya’s end. Shane doesn’t remember much more than warm hands and Ilya playing every dirty word he could think of.
“I could never forget how you looked in nothing but your glasses,” Ilya coos before running his finger along the frames that sit on Shane's face. It’s not the same pair, years having passed since Ilya first saw him in them, but his reaction remains the same. “Okay, point for both of us.”
The next questions are all about masturbation, which they’ve done in just about every way, shape, and form. It was a necessity for years of distance.
“Have you ever done this?” Shane asks, thinking for a second before checking the box. “Masturbated with someone in the room?”
Ilya gives him a look like he’s lost his mind. “Yes. Many times. With you.”
Shane frowns. “I don’t think that’s what it means.”
“Oh, tell me what it means then, Mr. Expert.”
“Like…” Shane shrugs. “Someone who didn’t know you were masturbating.”
A slow grin spreads over Ilya’s face. “And yet you have your little box checked.”
Shane shrugs again. “Not a lot of privacy on the road.”
Ilya looks positively gleeful at this. He shuffles closer, nosing along Shane’s jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Did you touch yourself thinking about my cock with Hayden Pike sleeping in the other bed. Hm?”
Shane looks at the ceiling as Ilya continues to kiss his jaw. It’s not not what he did. “Jesus Christ.”
“Is okay,” Ilya murmurs, sitting back. “I did too.”
“Touched yourself with Hayden Pike in the room?”
Ilya fake gags. “I would rather die than share a room with him.”
“So dramatic.”
“My teammate. Whoever had the pleasure of rooming with me,” Ilya unnecessarily corrects, and Shane hums, feeling an odd sense of connection.
They breeze through the next 10 easily, having touched every part of each other’s bodies. It gives Shane a sense of pride to know that Ilya could complete most of this list with just him alone, not even having to consider his other hookups for a lot of these.
“Ah, shit,” Ilya mutters as he looks at the list again. “I have not done this.”
Shane peers over at his phone, seeing Ilya hesitating over ‘cheating in a relationship’, and his heart sinks. It should be a good thing. Shane should be over the moon to know that Ilya has never cheated on someone, but it’s not exactly news. Shane is his only relationship, and Shane knows Ilya has never and would never. Shane on the other hand…
“What?”
Shane chews his bottom lip, his stomach heavy with guilt. “Rose,” he reminds Ilya, and Ilya raises a brow at him.
“You’re cheating on me with Rose Landry?”
“No. Obviously not, but… I basically cheated on her the whole time I was with her.”
Ilya frowns. “We did not see each other then.”
“I know, but… emotionally.”
Ilya blinks at him for one prolonged second and then huffs. “Oh my god, Shane. Shut up. You were together for like 30 seconds.”
“Oh, well then if it was only 30 seconds I really don’t see why you had any reason to be jealous.”
“I said shut up. Moving on,” Ilya quickly says, and Shane takes his advice.
He leaves that number unchecked. Rose knows that he had been pining over Ilya the whole time they were together, to which Shane was only met with a gleeful, ‘that long!’ when he revealed how many years Ilya and he have been involved.
The questions seem to have no specific order. They’ll jump from sex to condom use back to sex and then spending the night. If these are an increasing order of intensity, Shane isn’t sure why actually sleeping in someone’s bed is further down the list than sending a dick pic. Then again, he thinks of how many years passed before he knew what it was like to sleep next to Ilya. Shane’s busy mentally reordering the list to come up with something more sensible when Ilya barks out a laugh.
“What?”
Ilya turns to him. “Been walked in on.” He gestures to Shane’s phone. “Just thinking about the time we scarred Pike.”
Shane blushes scarlet and, because he’s an idiot whose brain decides this would be better than thinking about the time Hayden saw Shane sucking Ilya’s dick in the Pike’s guest bathroom, he blurts out, “Better than when my mom walked in on us.”
“Blyat,” Ilya shouts, slapping his hands over his ears like a five year old. “Shane! You promised you would never speak of this again!”
Shane doesn’t want to particularly think about that horrible morning either, so he’s more than happy to move on. “Okay, what about these?” he asks, his eyes roaming over the list of drug and alcohol questions. He checks most of the ones related to drinking, but all of the drug ones go untouched. He’s never even tried one of Ilya’s cigarettes, not that he wants to, but he’s not sure what exactly Ilya’s history holds when it comes to his party days.
“Ah,” Ilya murmurs quietly, rubbing his nose in that habitual way he always does. Shane watches quietly as Ilya checks all the boxes but one. It’s safe to say he’s relieved when it becomes clear Ilya has never tried horse tranquilizers or heroin. The only one that Shane didn’t explicitly know about is ‘a drug stronger than marijuana’. Shane thinks that’s pretty fucking broad, but with the way Ilya has talked about the people he has known in Russia and how half of Ilya’s salary became his brother’s cocaine fund, it’s not hard to figure out where Ilya might have dabbled.
“It was mostly summers in Russia. A little before I ever came to America. Never during the season and not often,” Ilya explains quietly, and Shane lays a hand on his arm.
“Hey, I’m not judging,” he assures.
“It was not for me, anyway,” Ilya adds. “I much prefer my boring, drug-free life in Canada.”
Shane gives him a deadpan look. “I know you smoked last night.”
Ilya groans. “It was one!” Shane hums again and Ilya sighs. “I’m trying, moya lyubov. I am.”
Shane exhales quietly, dropping his lips to Ilya's shoulder to kiss gently. “I know. Thank you.” They shift, Ilya’s arm coming around Shane’s shoulder while they forget about the phones. “If we could’ve been together back then, do you think we would’ve even made it?” Shane asks quietly, unsure of where the question comes from.
“What do you mean?”
“I spent my summers reading and hanging out with my parents and doing endorsements and you were snorting coke off a stripper’s ass.”
“Well, I don’t think I said there was a stripper.”
Shane pinches Ilya’s thigh because there’s no way there wasn’t at least one stripper, right? “I know I’m boring and I know you like that, but is it because you got to do all the partying first? Got it out of your system?”
Ilya goes quiet for a moment and Shane lets him figure it out, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. Unsure if there even is a right answer. They’re so far past the stage of revealing things about themselves in a way that’s supposed to be attractive or correct. Now, Shane asks questions simply to know.
“I don't know, maybe,” Ilya finally says.
It’s weird to think about them as marrying ‘late’. They were thirty, and maybe in some parts of Canada alone that’s considered geriatric and for others they’re just two idiot kids, but Shane does know they’re an anomaly in the hockey world. For more reasons than one. It’s so common for guys in their league to marry young. Hell, Hayden had four kids before Shane even told someone he loved them. Shane would’ve never been ready for a family by 22. He knows Ilya wouldn’t have been either.
“I think if I would’ve had you back then, I wouldn’t have felt the need to as much,” Ilya adds. “It was fun. I had fun, but I was also lonely.”
Shane kisses Ilya’s shoulder again, a sign that he’s listening.
“I like sex. But I had to hook up a lot because I didn’t have someone that was mine. Maybe I would’ve been happy if I had one person every day. I know I would’ve been if that person was you. And I went out because I didn't like being in my house alone. People and parties and clubs were my company. Now, you are my company.”
“I like sex, too,” Shane confesses, like it’s some big secret. “I just didn’t know how much until I met you.”
“Yes,” Ilya agrees. “Now I’ve turned you into a little sex demon.”
“Like you’re any better,” Shane mutters, and Ilya tilts his chin up to kiss him soundly.
“A perfect match.”
Shane thinks it doesn’t matter so much about the hypotheticals, not when it worked out the way it did.
“You can skip the next ones,” Ilya says as he returns to the quiz. “I know Mr. Perfect Student never got sent to the principal.”
Shane ducks his head, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well…”
Ilya gasps, firmly grabbing Shane’s thigh. “What?” He cries out. “Why have you never told me this? Do you not love me?”
Shane can’t even acknowledge the absurd latter question. “I don’t know, it never came up.”
Ilya’s grin turns wolfish. “Bad boy Shane Hollander got sent to the principal? What did you do? Tell me immediately.”
To be honest, Shane is surprised his mom has never told Ilya this story. She’s sure done her fair share to embarrass the hell out of Shane by revealing all his weird childhood quirks and behavior. “It was dumb,” Shane mutters. “I was seven, maybe? Some kid in my class said hockey was dumb and I got mad. So I stomped on his toy car.”
Ilya’s eyes sparkle with delight. “No wonder you hate my cars so much. Unresolved childhood trauma.”
Shane scoffs. “No. I hate your cars because you think speed limits are a suggestion.”
Ilya flaps his hand in disregard. Like he does with speed limits. “I did not know I was married to such a troublemaker.” He tilts his head to the side, looking away before reconsidering. “Well, maybe I did.”
He accompanies his comment by walking his fingers up Shane’s thigh. Shane squirms from the ticklish feeling and pushes away Ilya’s wandering hands. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Uh uh,” Ilya opposes. “You were trouble before me.”
“That was the first and only time I ever got in trouble at school.”
Ilya sits back, wincing slightly. “You do not want to know how many times I did.”
“I am not surprised in the slightest.”
Ilya gasps. “You wound me, Hollander.”
“Go back to your questions,” Shane tells him with a chuckle.
They’ve both skinny dipped (that cottage water has seen some things), but Ilya is the only one who has streaked. Both of them have been to way too many hockey players bachelor parties to have not seen their fair share of strippers. Shane learns that one time during Ilya’s rookie year, he brought a girl back to his hotel while Marleau slept in the next bed over and Ilya teases Shane for every booty call and 100-mile trip for sex they’ve both partaken in. Ilya’s the only one of the two of them who has taken someone’s virginity. Shane doesn’t bother asking who else when he knows he’s one of them. They both get to check off all the questions pertaining to sex in a specific location. It’s a little disappointing, if Shane’s being honest. They don’t even have some of the best ones listed on here.
When they get to question #69, Shane pauses. “I don’t think mine loaded right.”
“What do you mean?”
Shane tilts his phone towards Ilya. “There’s no question. It’s just a question mark.”
Ilya smiles at him. “Yes, Shane. That is the question.”
“What is the question?”
“Shane. Look at what number you are on.”
Shane blinks at his screen, and then realization dawns on him. “Oh.” A small, involuntary smile takes over his face. He checks the box.
Shane focuses on his own questions for a moment, but when he looks back at Ilya’s phone, an uncomfortable feeling washes over him. Shane has left threesome, orgy, and two or more people in 24 hours blank, but Ilya has checked two of the three.
Shane licks his lips, hesitating before asking, “Was it ever… I mean was I one of the people in 24 hours? Like me and someone else?” Ilya looks at him and Shane immediately feels stupid. “You don’t have to answer that.”
He pauses, and then shakes his head. “I do not think so, but it’s hard to remember, Shane.”
Shane nods slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Blue eyes meet his, deep and searching. “It was never because I couldn’t wait to fuck someone else after you.”
“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t so repulsing you had to replace the memory of me,” Shane says with a small chuckle that doesn’t come out all that convincing.
Ilya doesn’t smile. He doesn’t look the slightest bit amused. Instead, he’s focused on Shane with such a devoted concentration that it makes Shane feel almost shy. “Never.”
Ilya cranes forward, planting a strong kiss on Shane's mouth before a softer brush of lips.
Shane’s fingers dance along Ilya’s chin, giving him a coy smile before saying, “Can I say I’m surprised you never had an orgy?”
Ilya’s jaw drops and he angles his head to try and bite at Shane's fingers. Shane laughs, pulling away, but a tooth still grazes his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “You think I was at crazy sex parties?” Ilya asks, and Shane laughs again.
“I don’t know!”
He feels a little embarrassed, like he often does whenever his naivety is made clear.
“What do you think is an orgy?”
Shane shrugs. “Like. A lot of people.”
“A lot like 5 or 500?”
“Probably less than 500. That sounds like a logistical nightmare,” Shane mutters.
Ilya laughs. “I love you so much.”
Shane feels warm all over like he often does when Ilya blurts out the way he feels, like it would kill him if he held it in any longer. “What’s the most people you’ve been with at once?” he asks, feeling brave from Ilya’s words.
Ilya gives him an incredulous look. “Do you want me to answer this?”
“Yes. If you want. You’re mine now, right? And now you’re only ever going to be with one.”
Ilya arches a brow. “You?”
“Fucking better be me,” Shane practically growls before Ilya lips press to his.
“Four, I think,” Ilya decides when he pulls back.
Shane blinks. The image of four mouths kissing all over Ilya’s body curls unpleasantly in his stomach. It’s in the past, he reminds himself. “Oh. Okay.”
Ilya frowns, shaking his head. “Wait. Four including me. Uh, Marly and I each brought a girl back to the hotel once. Fucked them in different beds but… together? If that counts.”
He almost sounds shy, if Shane didn’t know any better. Instead his tone is more contemplative, as if truly wondering if that counts as a foursome if they didn’t all touch each other. To Shane, who has never had anyone watch him have sex, it certainly does.
“Yeah, I think that counts,” Shane huffs. Ilya shrugs like he’s still not sure. With the mention of Ilya’s former teammate, Shane’s mind wanders. If he and Cliff hooked up in the same room, what else have they done? “Have you and Marleau ever…”
Ilya raises a slow brow at him and then smirks. “No. You’re the only hockey boy I’ve kissed.”
Immense relief fills Shane. It’s stupid. Even if Ilya did have sex with a different player in the league, that doesn’t take away what they have. It’s not like he would’ve had some decades-long affair with them. That’s just Shane. Even so, it’s nice to know that everyone else was easy and Ilya still didn’t want them for keeps. Shane was undoubtedly the most complicated person for Ilya to have sex with, and yet, they both kept coming back.
But then a traitorous thought of Vegas fills Shane’s mind. Just because Ilya didn’t kiss anyone, doesn’t mean he didn’t do anything.
“What about other stuff?” Shane asks quietly. Before he can look up, Ilya is in his space. His body crowds over Shane’s in the bed, a strong hand on his chin forcing their eyes to meet.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever touched. Ever made cum.” Shane gasps, their lips brushing teasingly. “Ever loved.”
Shane smiles, meeting Ilya’s lips for a real kiss. Ilya slips a tongue in like he does more often than not. “Good,” Shane says firmly when they pull apart.
Ilya stares at him for a prolonged moment before letting out a sound that Shane can only define as a giggle. “Oh my god. Of course Mr. Hockey cares more about making sure he’s the only player I’ve fucked than anyone else.”
Shane averts his gaze, blushing slightly as he feels absolutely transparent. “It’s our thing,” he mutters.
Maybe it’s stupid. So much of their relationship is hockey, but hockey isn’t the only thing they have. Not anymore. Still, Ilya never makes him feel stupid. Shane hopes it means as much to Ilya too.
“Yes,” he says resolutely. He kisses Shane again—once, twice—and then rolls away and picks up his phone. “We need to finish this so we can do more of our thing.”
Shane wants to groan in protest. For Ilya to delay sex, he must be obsessed with this stupid quiz. Shane isn’t quite sure what the obsession is, his husband probably just wants to brag about his low score to the guys, but his dedication to a checklist is oddly turning Shane on so he doesn’t mind watching his furrowed brow as he starts scrolling again.
There’s less than ten questions left at this point, and Shane huffs a laugh at ‘anal sex’ as if that’s some crazy, kinky shit and not just the way they can be intimate as two men. With a glance over at Ilya, he watches as his husband also selects period sex and then, more shockingly, pregnancy scare.
“Pregnancy scare? When?” Shane demands.
It’s not totally unreasonable, Shane supposes, with the amount of casual sex Ilya has had. There’s the thought of what would’ve happened had it been more than a scare, though. Would Ilya have tried to make it work with the girl? Would he even have tried to be with Shane if there was a baby in the picture? Suddenly, Shane wants to send the biggest fruit basket to the maker of Ilya’s preferred condom brand. Probably birth control pills too. Hell, the entire contraceptive industry deserves a massive round of applesauce as far as Shane is concerned.
Ilya shrugs casually. “When you were feeling sick for a few mornings earlier this year.”
Shane rolls eyes. As much as Shane would love for Ilya to fuck a baby into him, pregnancy as a whole sounds like his absolute nightmare. “No seriously, who did you get pregnant?”
Ilya fixes him with a look. “Nobody. That’s why it was a scare.”
Shane blinks a few times. He feels like he should’ve known this, that there was a time where Ilya was probably terrified out of his fucking mind. “Actually?”
“Yes, the year I made Captain. She was late, called me freaking out. I hardly knew her name.”
“Jesus, Ilya,” Shane mutters.
“Hey, I was prepared to step up. Be a good father,” he says ostentatiously, but Shane gets too distracted to chirp him about boasting when visions of Ilya comforting a hurt child or parading one around on his shoulders fill Shane’s head.
“You would be a good dad,” he murmurs.
Ilya purses his lips to think. “Not hard when I am basically big child myself.”
Shane shakes his head, even if he comes home with more glitter on him than the Pike twins sometimes. “I’m serious. I can’t wait to start a family with you.” Shane licks his lips, not wanting to push or pressure or imply anything, especially when he isn’t ready himself. “One day.”
“Yes. Three more cups at least, first.”
“At least,” Shane plays along, even if he’s not quite joking himself.
“What about you? Pregnancy scare?”
Shane snorts a laugh. “With who?”
“You and Rose Landry never worried about little nepo baby?”
“That would mean staying hard long enough to—” Ilya bursts out laughing and Shane feels his cheeks flush. “Fuck.”
He never went into detail with Ilya. He’s never wanted to go into detail with Ilya.
“Hollander, you are so gay,” Ilya says in delight.
Shane huffs a laugh. This isn’t exactly news to his husband. “Well, yeah.”
Ilya keeps beaming that wide toothy grin that makes him look like a child, even though he probably never had a reason to smile like that when he was a kid. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
Shane groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, stop. This is why I never told you the details.”
Ilya pries his hands away, kissing all over his face and dodging Shane’s attempts to push him away. “No, no, no. I want to know everything about little baby gay Shane.”
Shane bites his lip, feeling brave and bold and open all of a sudden. “Everything?”
Ilya blinks at him, giving him a smile that screams ‘duh’. “Of course.”
“Okay.” Shane pauses, picking a piece of Anya’s fur off of Ilya’s chest. He meets his husband’s eyes. “In that case, the only reason I could even get it up in the first place was because I was thinking of you.”
Ilya’s gaze grows dark and hungry. “Fuck, Shane. You cannot say stuff like that.”
“You asked!”
“Yes, but now I have to kiss you a million times and we cannot finish quiz and you will fail your homework.”
He pulls Shane forward, making good on his promise by delivering about a dozen now.
“I’ve never gotten an F in my life,” Shane mutters as Ilya kisses his lap.
Ilya scrapes his teeth along Shane’s jugular and squeezes his hip. “Except for fucking Rose Landry.”
Shane shoves Ilya away to the sound of Ilya’s laughter. “Asshole.”
Ilya hums, pawing at Shane. “Speaking off assholes…”
Shane helplessly surrenders into Ilya’s touch as he’s pressed into the mattress, a warm tongue mapping his throat. “We have to finish,” Shane reminds him weakly.
Ilya switches to the other side of Shane’s neck. “We did finish. Unless you’ve committed incest.”
Shane wrinkles his nose. “Gross, Ilya. You’re fucking disgusting.”
“Hey! It was quiz! Not me!”
“Do not fucking talk about incest when your dick is pressing into me!”
“It was the q—”
“Oh my god, shut up about the quiz and fuck me.”
Ilya freezes, and then surges forward. “Yes. Brilliant idea. My brilliant Shane.”
They finally calculate their totals once they’re sleepy and sated, and though Ilya’s is lower, he still presses his smile into Shane’s cheek. “My little izvraschenets.”
“What’s that one?”
“My little pervert,” Ilya translates proudly.
—
“Roz is single digits easily.”
“Okay, but Hollzy is probably like 50? Minimum?”
“Eh, Rozanov definitely corrupted him. I’m saying 45.”
“There’s no chance he’s lower than me. “
“Hayes, you’ve been with your girl since high school. You are not the slut you claim to be.”
The conversation between the Centaurs stops the moment Ilya and Shane push through the locker room door. About a dozen pairs of eyes land on them and Ilya grins, shouldering through like any other day.
“Morning, boys.”
“Morning, Cap,” Dillon greets, and everyone else remains silent.
Shane finally starts moving again, making his way to his stall while he feels the stares of everyone in the room.
“What?” Ilya asks. “Did you guys need something?”
A chorus of ‘fuck you’s rings out throughout the room. “Man, we thought you come in here yelling about your seven or whatever the fuck,” Hayes points out.
Ilya frowns. “Is not seven.”
“Fuck,” Young mutters, and Shane turns his head over to the rookie.
“Wait a second,” Shane says slowly, eyeing Harris who he finally realizes is in the room. Not at all suspiciously standing in front of the whiteboard. “Did you all bet on the scores?”
“I mean…” Barrett says slowly, and Dillon shrugs.
“Have you met us?”
Shane’s lips part, preparing to argue, and then he reconsiders. “I don’t know why I expected any different,” he agrees.
“I want to play along,” Ilya jumps in. “Who bet on me?”
Bood barks out a laugh. “Dude, no one. We all know you’re going to be the lowest.”
Ilya smiles like it’s a badge of honor to wear. “You are probably right. Unless someone has lower than twelve?”
“Damn, dog!” Bood calls out.
“Shit, Rozy. How has your dick not fallen off?” Hayes questions with a laugh.
“Fuck,” Luca mutters, looking a little dazed.
“Okay,” Shane speaks up, drawing the attention back to him. He feels a little smug. Possibly powerful. Definitely confident. Part of it is probably because he can still feel how hard Ilya took him last night when he shifts his weight. He knows for a fact that no one will get his right. “Do I get the pot when you’ve guessed my score wrong?”
They all blink at him, like they didn’t consider a possibility where they were wrong. “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Hayes accepts. “So? What is it?”
Shane meets their eyes, looking at his eager teammates before finally glancing at his husband. Ilya gives him a smug smile and a shrug before he addresses the room. “Twenty-eight.”
The silence that follows could be compared to the locker room before overtime during last year’s cup run, and then it bursts into chaos.
“No fucking way!”
“Hollander? What the fuck?”
“They grow up so fast!”
“Roz is corrupting you, man!”
Ilya proudly slings an arm over Shane’s shoulder, kissing the side of his head. Shane lets him get away with the PDA, especially when the rest of the team is too busy pulling up the list to guess which ones they could’ve possibly missed that Shane actually has done. As questions continuously bubble up throughout practice—’a sex tape?’, ‘no way Hollzy let Ilya hit it at his parents’ house’, ‘do you think he’s ever been questioned by the cops?’—Shane just shuts his mouth and plays hockey.
They can guess all they want. Knowing the score is as close as they’re going to get to knowing that Shane is, as Ilya says, a little slut.