It was weird, watching himself being pleasured, but it was also hot as hell. Ilya was watching too, gaze fixed on the mirror, eyes blazing intensely.
“Ilya,” Shane said breathlessly.
“You see,” Ilya said. He gently tugged the elastic at the back of Shane’s head, and the hasty ponytail Shane had pulled his hair into for his workout fell apart. Ilya nuzzled into the long strands that now brushed the tops of Shane’s shoulders.
Shane reached one arm back, looping it around the back of Ilya’s neck. He twisted his head and caught Ilya’s mouth in a messy, urgent kiss. Ilya allowed it for a moment or two, then guided Shane’s face back to the mirror.
“You are going to watch yourself come,” Ilya said.
“Fuck,” Shane said, but nodded. He was way too far gone to do anything but watch and feel his orgasm build, hot and pulsing in his stomach, in his spine, in his balls.
Ilya pinched one of Shane’s nipples, and Shane hissed and writhed against him. “Want,” he moaned, not sure at all what he was asking for.
Ilya chuckled softly against his neck. “I know. Almost there, yes?”
“Yes. So fucking good.” Shane tilted his head back slightly, still watching himself in the mirror. “Want to make you feel good too.”
“You are. I love this.” Ilya brought his lips to Shane’s ear. “I love when you let go like this.”
Shane loved it too. Loved that Ilya could do this to him. It was terrifying and wonderful to feel so free in this man’s arms.
“Ilya,” Shane panted. “Ilya. I’m going to come.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the dam began to break inside him.
“Open your eyes,” Ilya commanded softly. “Watch.”
Shane’s eyes flew open at the same moment his cock began to spurt over Ilya’s fist and onto the floor. He could see how tight the muscles in his chest were, the way his abs and thighs trembled as his whole body rocked with pleasure.
When it was over, he slumped back against Ilya and huffed out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Fucking hell.”
“Good?”
“Yeah,” Shane sighed. “Yeah. That was just a lot before breakfast, y’know?”
Ilya nipped his earlobe. “It was very hot.” He wiped his hand on Shane’s stomach.
“Ugh. Gross,” Shane said, and squirmed out of his arms. He stepped out of his shorts and then used them to wipe the floor. He knew Ilya was probably rolling his eyes behind him about how fussy Shane was about mess, but he didn’t care.
“Take a shower, Hollander. I will make breakfast.”
“What about...” Shane stood and gestured to the very obvious tent in Ilya’s shorts.
“Later.” Ilya smiled. “We have all day.”
Shane kissed him. “Okay.”
“Is chocolate pancakes good for breakfast?” Ilya asked.
“Uh—”
“I am kidding. I will make your gross protein shake.”
“It’s not gross,” Shane lied.
“Go. Shower.”
Chapter Twenty-One
December
“Do you have many friends?” Galina asked.
“Tons,” Ilya replied quickly, slightly offended. It was his third appointment with his therapist, and he wasn’t sure he was making much progress.
“I mean, do you have many people you can confide in? That you trust?”
This time Ilya didn’t answer so quickly. “I love my teammates. We have fun together, and support each other, but, no, I don’t talk to them about...myself.”
“What do you do, when you aren’t playing hockey, and when your boyfriend isn’t around?”
Ilya shrugged. “Not much. Stay home. Watch TV. Play video games.”
“Is that how you’ve always spent your free time?”
He shook his head slowly. “No.”
“What did you used to do, when you played in Boston?”
Ilya huffed out a laugh. “I had sex. Like, all the time. I went out, picked up. I went to clubs and parties and had a great time.”
“But now you’re in a monogamous relationship?”
“Yes. And I’m glad. I love being with...him, and I don’t miss...” He rotated one hand in the air. “Sleeping around. It was fun at the time, but I only want...him.”
Ilya and Shane had talked about other people. A couple of years ago he’d told Shane, as casually as possible, that if he wanted to have sex with other men when they were apart—which was most of the time—he could. Since Shane had figured out he was gay around the same time he’d realized he had fallen in love with Ilya, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to want to explore sex beyond what Ilya could give him. What did it matter as long as his heart belonged to Ilya? That’s what Ilya had told himself.
Shane hadn’t taken Ilya’s offer well. He’d thought it had been Ilya’s backhanded way of letting Shane know that he’d cheated on him, or that he wanted to. Ilya had told him that he didn’t believe in cheating because he didn’t own Shane. It had ended with Shane storming out of Ilya’s house in Ottawa and driving back to Montreal, which had been a horrible waste of a rare night they could have had together. He’d ignored Ilya’s texts for three days after.
Then, on the fourth day, he’d called Ilya from his hotel room in Philadelphia and said, “You really wouldn’t mind if I had sex with someone else?”
And that was when Ilya had realized how much he would mind it. He’d felt sick at the idea of someone else touching Shane, and he hadn’t been sure if Shane was asking because he’d already done it, or if he was about to or what. Maybe someone had been heading to his Philadelphia hotel room at that very moment.
But all Ilya had said was, “Of course not. If that is what you want.”
“I don’t want, you fucking moron,” Shane had spat. The relief had been so intense that Ilya had nearly sunk to his knees in his living room.
“We’re happy together,” Ilya said now, to his therapist.
“But when you’re apart?”
“I’m miserable,” Ilya admitted. “More than he is, I think.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“He has friends, family. He lives near where he grew up, his best friend knows about us. He has another close friend who knows about us. He’s not alone.”