The Long Game: A Gay Sports Romance (Game Changers Book 6)
The Long Game: Chapter 34

“Are your parents still here?” Ilya asked as soon as he’d finished kissing Shane hello.

“No, I told them they could go home. I loved having them here, but I, um…”

“Want to be railed by your boyfriend?”

Shane’s eyes darkened. “Fuck yes.”

Their mouths crashed back together. Ilya gripped Shane’s hair, still mostly wet from the shower he’d obviously just taken. He smelled like seaweed shampoo and sport bodywash and tasted like toothpaste. Ilya wanted to devour him.

“Make me forget everything,” Shane murmured. “Just want to feel you.” He started walking backward toward the living room, clutching Ilya’s coat, pulling him closer.

Ilya broke the kiss to check on Anya. She’d found one of her toys on the living room floor and was chomping happily on it in her dog bed.

Ilya removed his coat and sneakers, leaving them in a pile by the door. “This way,” he said, and took Shane’s hand.

“The hell?” Shane said when he realized Ilya had led him to his trophy room.

Ilya just smiled at him.

“No way,” Shane said. “Weird.”

“Is it?” Ilya asked, trailing a finger along Shane’s jaw. “I thought you need a reminder, before our meeting tomorrow.”

“Reminder of what?” Shane said faintly as he tipped his head to the side and closed his eyes.

Ilya kissed just under his jaw, then in front of his ear. “Of who the fuck you are.”

Shane gasped and grabbed a fistful of Ilya’s T-shirt, as if to steady himself. “Yes,” he whispered. “Remind me.”

Ilya hauled him over to a leather armchair in the middle of the room. It was facing a wall of glass shelves that held miniature versions of Shane’s three Stanley Cups, and of all the individual trophies he’d won during his career. Other shelves displayed various game pucks that were mounted and labeled with their achievements. There were also frames displaying his Team Canada jerseys from the World Juniors and the Olympics. On a smaller, lower shelf, boxes displayed his Stanley Cup rings and his gold and silver medals.

“Look at all of this,” Ilya said as he bent Shane over the chair with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. “You almost need two rooms.”

Shane didn’t say anything as he braced himself on the sturdy arms of the chair with both hands, but his breathing had sped up. Ilya yanked Shane’s gym shorts and underwear down together and let them pool at his feet. He slid his T-shirt up his back until it bunched across his shoulders and left it there.

Ilya bent over him, putting his weight on Shane’s back for a moment. He brushed his lips against Shane’s ear and said, “Stay there.”

Then he straightened and headed for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“To get lube,” Ilya said easily. “You know how sex works by now, yes?”

“Hurry up, then,” Shane said bitchily.

Ilya, of course, took his time. He headed up to the bedroom, grabbed a bottle of lube and a clean hand towel, then, after a moment’s consideration, went back to the nightstand and retrieved the vibrating cock ring he’d given Shane for his birthday last year.

He went back downstairs but didn’t return to the trophy room right away. He checked on Anya, found her asleep in her bed, then went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He drank it slowly, trying to ignore how badly he wanted to race back to that room.

But that wasn’t the game they were playing. He’d leave Shane in that room, naked and bent over a chair and surrounded by his proudest moments, because it was what Shane needed.

Finally, Ilya sauntered back into the trophy room. Shane hadn’t moved a muscle. Ilya had to fight to control his breathing, to not give away how exquisitely Shane was destroying him with his obedience.

“Fucking finally,” Shane snarled. “Did you go to the store or something?”

“No,” Ilya said. He rubbed some lube on the silicone cock ring, keeping it out of Shane’s sight. Then he loosened the toggle to expand the ring and reached around Shane’s body to replace his—of course—rigid cock.

“Oh shit,” Shane said when he realized what Ilya was doing.

“Would be easier to do this if you were soft. But you never are, so.”

“I am sometimes,” Shane argued.

“Not when I am around.” Ilya went to one knee beside him so he could get a better view of what he was doing. Once he got the ring in place, he tightened the toggle behind Shane’s balls.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed.

Ilya cradled his cock in one hand, gently rubbing a thumb along one prominent vein. “How does this feel?”

“Like my heart is in my dick. Like everything is in my fucking dick.”

“Mm,” Ilya hummed. He slid his thumb over the angry red head of Shane’s cock, and pushed into the slit.

Shane’s body jerked, and he sucked in a breath. “Jesus.”

“Which is your favorite?” Ilya asked conversationally as he continued to rub the head of Shane’s cock. “Of all of these trophies?”

“Rookie of the Year,” Shane said quickly, and smugly.

Ilya huffed. “Fucker.” He flicked Shane’s dick, making him yelp, and then moan.

Ilya grabbed the lube and stood. He slicked his fingers then, without any further warning, pressed his thumb to Shane’s hole.

“Oh fuck,” Shane whimpered. He stepped back, stretching his arms until they were almost as straight as they could go, so he could bend forward more and lift his ass.

Ilya palmed one muscular cheek appreciatively with his free hand. “Is this for me?”

“I swear to god, Rozanov…”

Ilya chuckled, then got to work. It only took a few minutes before Shane was loose and ready for him, but Ilya dragged it out anyway. He stroked Shane’s prostate and enjoyed the moans it shook out of him. He loved the way Shane was already rocking back against him, so eager.

Ilya reached around and turned on the vibrator, then went back to working Shane’s prostate.

“Fuck,” Shane panted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Problem?”

Shane’s back rose and fell in angry waves. “It’s just,” he gritted out, “a lot.”

Ilya hummed sympathetically and added a third finger.

“Something you want to ask for?” he asked when he noticed the tremors in Shane’s arms and legs.

“Fuck…fuck me.”

“With what?” Ilya kneaded Shane’s ass with one hand as he slid his fingers in as far as he could, then pulled them out completely.

This seemed to make Shane lose what was left of his patience. “Your stupid dick.”

Ilya laughed, then quickly got himself undressed. He stood directly behind Shane, where it would be hard for Shane to see him without straining his neck. He bit back the moan of relief he wanted to let out when he finally freed his aching cock.

He lubed himself up while Shane took slow breaths and clenched his fingers against the leather chair arms. When Ilya brushed the head of his cock against Shane’s hole, Shane raised his ass up in encouragement. They both let out loud moans of relief when Ilya began to slowly sink inside.

“Fuck yes,” Shane panted. “Finally.”

Shane was so tight, so perfect and hot, and the vibrations from the ring that was rumbling behind Shane’s balls felt incredible on Ilya’s cock. Ilya had to pause a moment, once he was fully inside, just to breathe and settle himself.

“Come on,” Shane complained.

Ilya chuckled and carefully began to move. “Such a slut for it,” he said after a couple of slow thrusts. “Is it me that made you so horny, or is it the room?”

“What,” Shane gritted out, “are you talking about?”

“Are you all turned on thinking about all of your…” He adjusted his angle and gave Shane two quick, hard thrusts. “Many. Accomplishments.”

“It’s you. It’s only you,” Shane gasped.

Ilya loved it when Shane got like this, when he was flying too high to be annoyed or embarrassed. “Do you want to know a secret?” He bent over Shane so he could speak directly in his ear. “I feel like I am fucking a king right now.”

“Ilya—”

He grabbed a handful of Shane’s hair and tugged his head back. “Do you know how powerful this feels, fucking a king in his throne room?”

“Fu—fucking hell, Rozanov.”

Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s chest and hauled him up, as easily as if Shane were a doll and not a two-hundred-pound man. He held him close, Shane’s back pressed against Ilya’s chest, as Ilya pounded into him.

“You are Shane fucking Hollander,” Ilya growled. “If you ever forget that, I will drag you back in here and fuck you until you remember.”

“We—we’ll share a trophy room someday,” Shane stammered.

Ilya smiled. “Yes. A fucking empire.”

Shane tilted his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “A dynasty,” he breathed. “Oh, fuck, Ilya. I love you.”

Ilya growled, and impulsively sank his teeth into Shane’s shoulder. Shane cried out, then clenched around Ilya’s cock as his orgasm rocked through him. His come splattered the chair, which Ilya knew would bother Shane as soon as he came down from his high.

Ilya didn’t give a shit about the chair. He jackhammered into Shane, never wanting to stop. He swore in Russian, told Shane he was perfect in Russian, then came hard inside him.

Finally, he fell forward, resting his forehead on Shane’s back as they both got their breathing under control. He realized that Shane must have turned off the vibrator while Ilya had been out of his mind.

“Holy shit,” Ilya finally wheezed.

“That got weird,” Shane said.

Ilya laughed, which made Shane laugh. Ilya kissed him between his shoulder blades, then carefully pulled out.

“I think I ruined the chair,” Shane said, sooner even than Ilya had expected.

“It is another trophy now,” Ilya said.

“Gross.”

“There is a towel here,” Ilya offered.

“Nah. I have some leather wipes I can use.”

Ilya smiled. “Of course you do.”