ONE NIGHT ONLY (HOLLANOV FANFIC)

CHAPTER ONE.

It was rare for Shane to feel truly bored. He was almost always surrounded by people, and he liked that. He liked being admired by everyone, being the center of attention. He had people praising him constantly, saying how good he was. His inflated ego made him seem like an unattainable man to many. Hollander was the greatest player in the NHL, and that meant several zeros in his bank account. His face was on magazine covers and all over the streets. He was Canada's pride.

The only person who could truly stand up to Shane was the Russian, Ilya Rozanov. He received treatment similar to Shane's, but unlike Shane, he did not force friendliness. He had a strong personality, was blunt, and did not make an effort to be overly polite the way Hollander did. Still, that did not matter. He was admired anyway, after all, everyone wanted to be close to the only man who could get Shane Hollander worked up.

No one really knew who was better. They were at the same level. In six seasons, each of them had three NHL trophies. They had the same number of Stanley Cups, the same number of titles. Most importantly, they gave the public exactly what it needed: rivalry.

The season had ended three days earlier, with New York's victory. Shane's and Ilya's teams had not managed to reach the playoffs. Boston had been eliminated because the goalie had suffered a fracture, and Montreal played without three players. Even though Shane was one of the best players in the league, he could not do everything alone. It was impossible.

Shane did not want to go back to Montreal. He was too upset, so he decided to travel to Boston. It was still a very busy area, but he would stay anywhere that was not Ottawa, much less Montreal.

The house he had rented was far from the city. He had visited that place some time ago at a party thrown by one of his teammates, and he had really liked it. There was a deck that led down to a river, but there were also pools and a garden with several fruit trees.

On top of that, he could not hear the noise of cars, helicopters, or construction. His neighbors were two elderly men, and their house was about ten minutes away. The only downside was that it was far from convenience stores, and when the food in the fridge ran out, he only realized it when it was already five in the afternoon.

He grabbed the car keys. It was a 2015 Range Rover, brand new at the time, good for a region like that, whether in the snow or in the mud during rainy days. The nearest convenience store was about twenty or twenty-five minutes away, and that was not a problem since he liked driving alone. The shop belonged to an elderly couple who did not seem to recognize him, which was good, because that was exactly what he wanted right now.

"Kid, make yourself comfortable," the old man said from behind the counter.

"I'm going to grab some vegetables. Maybe I'll have soup tonight," he said with a smile.

"If you want help," the old woman smiled, "I can help you choose... we have fresh salmon and pork. It's good for making noodles."

"That's a good idea," Shane smiled. "Could you help me? I think I'll have noodles tonight."

"Come along, dear," she smiled. "You can add sliced carrots." She helped Shane pick the vegetables.

After about thirty minutes talking with the woman, getting recipe tips, and sharing many laughs, Shane paid for everything and left extra money as a way to thank them for being so kind to him. He promised he would come back later that weekend. The Canadian put his groceries in the back seat and started the car. On the radio, a song by Ariana Grande was playing, "One Last Time," to be more specific.

"Nice song," he said, turning up the volume.

It did not take long for him to notice that the car was not gaining speed, and soon smoke started coming out from the front. He pulled over on the road, in the middle of nowhere. He hoped there were no thieves or even wild animals around, and maybe... maybe he was too afraid to get out of the car. But if he wanted to leave that place as quickly as possible, he would have to deal with the situation.

He opened the hood and a lot of smoke came out. He stepped back, coughing. He had no idea what he should do. He did not know how to do much beyond driving a car. Everything else he paid someone to take care of. He took his phone out of his pocket, and there was no signal.

"What the hell, now what?" he said, stressed. "I can't believe I'll have to stay here waiting for someone to pass by." He got back into the car and turned on the headlights.

It took about an hour before Shane saw a car coming from the opposite direction. He flashed his headlights two or three times and got out of the car. It was a sports car, probably owned by someone rich who would recognize him and help him. The car soon slowed down and stopped in front of him. Shane still had not managed to see the driver's face, but as soon as the person got out, he rolled his eyes.

"What happened to you?" Rozanov asked with that Russian accent.

Shane was deciding whether he would be rude or simply answer Rozanov. After all, at that moment he was not in a position to demand anything. He was the one who needed help.

"I'm not really sure. Smoke just started coming out from inside," he explained.

"The car was smoking and you stayed inside it?" Ilya said seriously.

"What else could happen?" he honestly did not know.

"You're slow as hell," Ilya snorted and walked closer to the hood. "If a car is smoking, it might be overheating. Did you know gasoline is flammable? That thing could have exploded with you inside."

"Are you going to lecture me, or are you going to help me?" he replied sharply.

"I should leave you here so you start paying attention to things." He looked at some parts of Shane's car. "And what kind of car is this? Wasn't there a better option?"

"It was what came with the house I rented," he rolled his eyes. "There wasn't a better option... why am I even explaining myself? That makes no sense," he muttered.

"How far is the house from here?" Ilya asked, lowering the hood.

"I don't know, maybe about twenty minutes," Shane shrugged.

"That's a lot," Ilya said seriously. "I don't think my car's tow can handle much more than that."

"Looks like it's not only my car that's a piece of junk," Shane replied.

"Yeah, but my car is a luxury car. It wasn't made to tow big vehicles. Still, I'll help you this time." Rozanov went to his car, grabbed a chain that came with the hitch, and attached it to the underside of Shane's car. "You're lucky this road doesn't have much traffic and the terrain isn't terrible. So we can take it to my house."

"Your house?" Shane asked, curious.

"Do you have a better idea?" he said seriously, looking at the Canadian, who stayed quiet. "That's what I thought. Get in your car before I change my mind."

Of all the possibilities of people who could have shown up there, the one who appeared was exactly the person he currently hated the most. He watched Ilya connect the cars, and since he was wearing a tank top, even though it was cold, his muscles were visible. Somehow, that reminded him of the movie he had watched on the plane a few days earlier. He swallowed hard and got into the car.

The flight would still take a few hours before landing in Boston. Shane knew that kind of suspended, empty time between one place and another very well, and to quiet his mind he usually turned to movies. He was traveling with his parents, but he had made a point of keeping some distance. They were on the other side of the plane, while the two seats next to him remained empty, a small secret he had paid for himself just to guarantee a few hours of silence.

He loved his family, truly. But he knew his mother would spend the entire flight talking about hockey, statistics, games, and players, and at that moment all Shane wanted was to ban that subject from his existence for the next three hours.

He opened his MacBook with an automatic gesture and accessed the streaming site he paid for monthly. He never chose anything very carefully. He liked clicking on the first title that caught even a little of his attention. This time, he ended up on a movie about rugby players. He did not understand much about the sport, but he had always liked the aesthetic, the strength, the almost brutal physical contact. He put on his headphones and pressed play.

At first, it seemed like just another sports story, maybe a drama, maybe a documentary in disguise. Shane relaxed in the seat, his eyes following the images without many expectations. Then the tone changed. The narrative deepened, the looks between two characters began to carry something more, and suddenly they kissed.

The discomfort came quickly, almost automatically. Shane shifted in his seat, feeling his body react before his mind could organize what was happening. He tried to convince himself it was only surprise, a passing curiosity. But the scene continued, the intimacy grew, and something inside him began to warm in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He realized he was paying too much attention, too absorbed in the screen. His heart was beating a little faster, his breathing no longer as steady, and the sensation was disconcerting, intense, unexpected, unsettling. Shane closed the laptop abruptly, as if that could erase what he was feeling.

He stared at the emptiness in front of him for a while, the noises of the airplane slowly returning, the world taking its place again.

"What is happening to me?" he murmured to himself, almost voiceless.

The car smelled like cigarettes, so Shane opened the window. He hated that smell, smoke mixed with nicotine. He did not know the Russian smoked, but that did not surprise him much. Rozanov got into the car and noticed the Canadian sitting in the passenger seat, not quite knowing what to do.

"Thanks," Shane said, breaking the silence that had settled after Rozanov started driving. "I probably ruined your night."

Rozanov was not driving as fast as he wanted. He knew how much his car could handle, and he could not go past the limit, or he might cause an accident and even damage the vehicle.

"You ruined it because now I have to look at that idiot face of yours," he scoffed. "But I wasn't going to do anything special anyway, just going to get some food. I'm starving."

The silence continued for the rest of the drive. Ilya's house was not very different from the one Shane had rented, maybe it was even smaller, but the outside was just as beautiful.

"Get out and pull the handbrake on your car," Rozanov ordered.

"You're bossy." He got out of the car and heard Ilya mutter something in Russian.

Shane got into his car, pulled the handbrake, and then grabbed his groceries from the back seat.

"What's all that?" Ilya asked, looking at Shane holding several shopping bags.

"What do you think about noodles for dinner?" he said, a bit hesitant. "As a thank you."

"Are you going to poison me?" he said while removing the chain from Shane's car.

"Do you think I would poison the only person who can compete with me on the ice? That would get boring," Shane said honestly.

"So you like this rivalry?"

"You have to admit it makes our games more interesting."

"I'll agree with that."

The two of them walked toward the front door, and Ilya let Shane enter first. The Canadian took off his shoes and looked around the Russian's house. It had a comfortable feeling, different from what Shane might have once imagined. Ilya's house was tidy. Everything looked clean and smelled nice.

"The house is messy. I wasn't expecting anyone," Rozanov said, not too concerned, but not wanting to gain a reputation for being disorganized.

"Your house isn't messy. I'm actually surprised," he laughed, and saw the Russian roll his eyes.

"The kitchen is over there," he said, ignoring the comment and pointing the way.

"Hey, I'm not going to cook alone while you sit there."

"Why not?" Ilya was already about to sit on the couch.

"First, how am I supposed to know where things are?" he replied, obviously. "Second..." he thought for a moment. "I need someone to help me cut the vegetables."

"You're very annoying, Hollander," he scoffed, getting up.

"Do you want something to drink? Something with alcohol? I have several options," Ilya asked as soon as they reached the kitchen and watched Shane start taking the groceries out of the bags.

"Beer?" Shane suggested.

"That's a boring and predictable answer, but fine." He grabbed two beers and handed one to Hollander.

"I need you to look up the recipe on Google," Shane said to Ilya, who rolled his eyes.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Do you eat pork?" Hollander asked, ignoring Rozanov's tone.

"Yes, but does pork go well with noodles?" he asked, taking his phone out of his pocket.

"My mom makes it with pork." He walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

"Your mom makes this recipe and you still need Google to make it?"

"Can you stop judging me? It would be nice if we did this together," Shane rolled his eyes. "Besides, it would be faster."

Rozanov had not expected his day to end with Shane Hollander in his kitchen, but he knew the Canadian wanted to thank him somehow. Considering how hungry he was, he would accept it. He got up and went to the sink to wash his hands. Rozanov helped Hollander find the utensils needed to start cutting the pork, and soon began cutting the vegetables.

"So, where do you like going the most when we're in season?" Shane asked Ilya. The silence had settled again, and it was somewhat uncomfortable.

"Vegas, Los Angeles," Ilya replied while cutting carrots. "Places with lots of people, lots of parties and sex." He smiled. "And you?"

"Ottawa, because that's where I live," he replied with a smile. "But I like warm places too, like Los Angeles."

"I like Vegas because there I can find attractive women and men," Rozanov said, noticing Shane tense up.

Very few people knew that Ilya Rozanov was bisexual. He liked to keep his relationships private, but he knew Hollander would never tell anyone. He was too polite and refused to get involved in controversies.

"You're bisexual?" Shane asked, just to be sure, and watched Ilya nod. "That's cool. I hope everything's alright..."

"Very few people know," Ilya said, noticing a certain interest from Shane about the topic. "I like to keep my relationships private."

"Being careful is always good," Shane said, going back to cutting the meat.

"Are you straight?"

"Why?"

They kept cooking together, sharing the narrow kitchen space like two players who instinctively know each other's position on the ice. The sound of the knife tapping rhythmically against the cutting board blended with the hiss of the pot on the stove, while questions came and went with the natural flow of a well-calculated pass. They talked about recipes, about travel, but always ended up returning to hockey, as if the topic were an inevitable magnet pulling the conversation back to the center of the arena.

Ilya watched as Shane spoke, his eyes lighting up with an almost youthful glow whenever he mentioned decisive matches, unlikely goals, historic comebacks. There was something visceral in the way he described the sport, not just as a profession, but as a destiny. And Ilya realized, between adjusting one seasoning and another, how genuine that passion was, almost sacred.

They had the same amount of time in the league, seven exact years, seven winters of ice, impact, and headlines. They had collected awards, call-ups, magazine covers. And inevitably, their names almost always appeared side by side, not in partnership, but in confrontation. The Hollander and Rozanov rivalry had practically become a trademark, repeated by commentators, printed in newspapers, debated by fans as if it were an eternal classic.

Here, however, far from the stands and the spotlights, there were no shouts or glowing scoreboards. Just two athletes sharing a kitchen warmed by the stove, exchanging stories like people lowering their guard for a few minutes and discovering that, behind the rivalry, there was something unexpectedly similar.

"Man, who are you? Like, without hockey?" Rozanov asked seriously while they were plating their food.

"What are you now, an analyst? A therapist?" Shane arranged Ilya's plate.

"No, it's just that I can talk about something other than hockey," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I can talk about things that aren't hockey... do you have chopsticks here?" Shane asked Rozanov.

"Should I?" He watched Shane stare at him seriously. "Yeah, that's not going to happen. I don't have those. A fork and a spoon should work."

"It works, but it's not fun." He picked up his bowl and walked to the kitchen island that worked as a dining table.

Ilya ignored Shane once again that night and brought a fork and a spoon for both of them. He set his bowl of noodles on the table and went back to the fridge. He needed something to drink.

"Juice or soda, Hollander?"

"What options do you have?"

"Coca-Cola and orange juice."

"I only like ginger soda, so I'll go with orange juice."

"That soda is good, even though I prefer Coca-Cola." He poured the juice into a glass and handed it to Shane, who thanked him. Then he grabbed his can of Coke.

"About your question, I like doing yoga, I practice meditation, I like reading and watching movies," Shane answered, trying to keep the conversation going in a friendly way with Rozanov.

"You practice yoga?" Rozanov looked surprised. "You must be pretty flexible." He winked at Hollander.

"Could you stop flirting with me?" Shane laughed.

"Fine, if you prefer." He shrugged. "What was the last movie you watched?"

"'In from the Side,' something like that. About rugby," Shane answered without thinking much, assuming Rozanov would not know it.

"You were watching a gay movie? With hot, hairy men playing rugby?" Rozanov said, making Hollander choke on his juice.

"What?" he coughed. "How do you know that movie?"

"I watched that movie on a plane a while ago." He shrugged. "It's a good movie, by the way." He took a bite of his food.

"You watched the whole thing?" Shane asked after recovering.

"Yes." He finished chewing. "I liked it a lot, and the sex scenes are great."

"You're impossible."

"You didn't watch the whole thing?"

"No. It's not the kind of movie I like."

"You didn't like watching two men having sex? Or did you get so hard that you decided to stop watching?"

"I think I should leave," he said, standing up. "It's getting late."

"How are you going to leave?" Rozanov smiled.

"Damn... Can't you take me home?" Shane asked, embarrassed. He should have thought before announcing that he was leaving.

"I'll take you home after you finish eating and agree to have some wine with me. What do you think?"

"I don't usually drink wine."

"Hollander, it's summer and we have two weeks off. You won't die if you drink a glass of wine."

"Alright, but just one."

Rozanov led Shane to the living room with the calm of someone performing an old ritual. Each of them held a glass of wine, the red liquid catching the golden reflections of the room as if it held small flames inside it. Ilya came right behind him carrying the bottle by the neck. When he arrived, he leaned down and placed it on the coffee table with a soft touch of glass against wood, a quiet sound that seemed to seal the silence of the room.

The fireplace crackled, spreading restless shadows across the walls. The main lights were off, and the space was lit only by the amber glow of a lamp in the corner and the living dance of the fire, which traced warm outlines across their faces and stretched their silhouettes across the rug. The air smelled of burning wood and freshly poured wine, dense and intimate.

They sat on the couch side by side, as if that simple gesture carried the weight of something imminent. The cushions sank under their weight, and for a moment the only sound was the snapping of the firewood and the quiet breathing between one sip and another, as if the night itself were waiting to hear what would be said next.

"Can I ask you something? But you have to promise you'll be nice to me."

"I can't promise anything."

"I'm serious, Rozanov," he said, looking into his eyes.

"Alright." Rozanov sat facing Hollander.

"When did you realize you were bisexual?" Shane felt a knot in his throat.

"I think I always knew," Rozanov answered honestly. He took a sip of his wine, and the Canadian did the same. "I always wondered what it would be like to kiss boys. Then I wondered what it would be like to sleep with them, and that was never a problem for me."

"Even when you were in Russia?" Shane took another sip of wine.

"Yes. There are gay people everywhere, you know that?" he joked.

"I know, but I think I expressed myself wrong... I want to know if you were already doing those things back in Russia, because I know that the way the government treats gay people there is pretty worrying and scary."

"I understand your point. But yes, I was already doing that in Russia." He watched Hollander for a moment, noticing how his pink lips looked at that angle. "Have you ever been with a man? Be honest. I was nice to you."

"No, never," he answered truthfully. He set his glass on the table, satisfied. "I don't even have much time to think about women."

"That's depressing." He noticed Hollander roll his eyes. "I'm serious. You should think about more things besides hockey. You're twenty-eight years old."

"You're definitely a therapist."

"No, I'm right," he said, setting his glass on the floor. "You should think less about hockey and more about yourself. You should worry about living your life, not about making the NHL richer with money you won't even enjoy half of."

"You talk too much." Hollander sat on Rozanov's lap and kissed his lips.

The kiss was calm, it was just a meeting of lips, until Ilya held Hollander's waist and deepened the kiss. Their tongues danced in perfect harmony, the taste of wine was still there and as much as it seemed crazy, Rozanov loved having Shane sitting on his lap, so surrendered.

"Oh God" Shane distanced himself.

"No, you won't freak out now" he held Shane's waist firmly.

"I shouldn't."

"If you want we can stop" Rozanov wouldn't do anything to him.

"I prefer... I want..."

"What do you want?" Ilya whispered.

"I want to stay here tonight."

"Great."

They kissed, but this time it was more intense than the first time, different from what it was with women, Shane seemed to know where to put his hands, still clumsy, but he knew, he took his hand to Rozanov's neck, and saw that the other was sensitive to that touch. Ilya, on the other hand, put q no in Shane's ass, and squeezed, that took a moan from the Canadian.

Shane took his hand to Ilya's penis that was hard in his pants.

" Damn, Hollander." He murmured "do you want to test putting it in your mouth?"

Shane was embarrassed, but nodded in agreement, he left Ilya's lap and watched the other stay only in his underwear, his cock was marked in the white underwear. The Russian has a beautiful body, with some hair, but he was kissed by the sun, or had his own shine, it was as if he were the son of Apolus.

Shane kneelt on the living room floor.

- Take off your shirt, I want to look at your body - ilya ordered, and Shane didn't take long to take off his shirt giving the view the Russian wanted - you're too hot.

- Thank you - Shane helped the Russian get rid of his underwear quickly, and soon put his penis in his mouth.

- Fuck, Hollander - Ilya moaned, feeling Shane's hot mouth on his penis.

The Canadian was so good at that, he swallowed Ilya's penis so hungry, that he felt his whole body tremble, his hair stood on end.

- Are you sure this is your first time.. - he moaned as soon as he felt Hollander's skilled hand hold his balls - This is not your first time.

- Why? Is it bad? - He looked into Ilya's eyes.

- No, on the contrary - pulled the Canadian to stand up. - Finish taking off your clothes.

- You're very sly - Shane distanced himself and took his shirt that was on the floor and folded it, leaving it on top of an armchair, took off his shoes and socks, leaving them organized, and did the same with his shorts, leaving them on the armchair.

- The underwear too, Hollander - Ilya was loving to watch Hollander undress for him, even more so when he was clumsy, and that was attractive to the Russian.

Hollander just nodded, and took off his underwear, leaving them organized along with his other clothes. The Asian's body was like a monument to Ilya's eyes, hairless, with many muscles, the brown nipples and the big ass was what most attracted Rozanov's attention the most.

- Come here - Rozanov let Hollander sit on his feathers, their penises touching each other. - I'll take care of you today.

Shane let himself be kissed by Rozanov, their tongues danced in an exciting rhythm, the moans called made the body of the two react in the most comfortable way possible. Ilya stopped the kiss, and took his hand to Hollander's cock and the tall Asian moaned, and left his head on Ilya's shoulder.

- You're so sensitive, Hollander - went up and down with his hand on the Canadian's penis who let out a sequence of moans - you're already so wet. - he put his other hand on one of the brown nipples and the moans increased.

- If you don't want me to cum, you better stop - Shane whispered.

- You can't cum yet, I haven't finished doing what I want with you.

- What do you want to do with me? - Shane asked with a smile.

- I still want to get here - he put one of his fingers in the other's hole.

- Oh God - his body shivered only with Ilya's fingers in his hole.

Rozanov laid Hollander on the couch and made him hold his two legs very close to his own chest, so Ilya could have a perfect view of Hollander's hole, smiled and approached, Shane had no hair, nowhere, Ilya passed his tongue in Shane's hole for the first time, and saw the positive reaction of the Canadian as soon as he did that once again.

- Ilya - Moaned - more.

- Calm down, Hollander - sucked Shane's hole and felt Hollander's hand in his hair, he was asking for more.

- Ilya - Shane was a mess, he was asking for more, he wanted more.

Ilya stopped sucking Shane's hole, and put the Canadian's penis for the first time, he was big, but he was willing to swallow everything, his hot mouth, went up and down on Hollander's big cock, while he rolled his eyes with pleasure.

- I'm going to cum, Rozanov - Shane announced and felt Ilya continue doing what he was doing, but this time he felt something in his hole, it was one of Ilya's fingers - Oh shit... Rozanov, you better take your mouth off now... - He came inside Ilya's mouth.

- How many times can you cum? - Ilya asked getting between Hollander's legs.

- I don't know... - he smiled as soon as Ilya kissed him. - You haven't cum yet.

- I want to cum with my cock inside you.

- Just, eat me soon.

Ilya couldn't think much with Shane so surrendered, he just spat in his hand and passed it on his penis, then took the head of his member to Hollander's hole and penetrated slowly.

- Fuck, Rozanov - he took his hand to Ilya's face.

- If you want me to stop, you need to talk. - He waited a while until Shane got used to his penis inside him, so he could start fucking him.

- You can move....

- All right - Ilya started fucking Shane willingly.

- That...please - Shane was begging for more

- Touch yourself - Ilya ordered while going faster and deeper into Shane, opening him perfectly with his penis. - You're already so hard, Hollander - He kissed, and now it was possible to hear the sound of Ilya's body meeting Shane's. - Fuck, Hollander, you're so tight.

Shane was touching himself, his cock was still sensitive from the first cumshot, but he was ready for the next one, he came as soon as he felt, Ilya's hot liquid inside him.

- Fuck, Hollander. - He took a deep breath, he was lying on top of Shane - We should do this more often.

- Of course, we'll do this more often - Shane confirmed.

Shane wouldn't say that that had been the best sex he had had, he wouldn't inflate Ilya Rozanov's ego.

- I should take a shower - Ilya said getting up - and you too.

The two took a separate shower in the bathroom of Ilya's room upstairs, Shane's had been longer, and when he got out of the shower, the Russian was already lying in bed wearing underwear.

- When are you leaving Boston? - Rozanov asked as soon as Shane appeared in the room.

- I don't know, I rented the house for the weekend - he shrugged.

- I got your clothes. - he pointed to the armchair in the corner of the room.

- I think I'd better go...

- Hollander, it's almost two in the morning... - he complained. - just put on your underwear and ly down, tomorrow we'll solve your car problem.

- All right - Shane put on his underwear and lay down on the bed next to Rozanov, he didn't know how to react so he just lay down against ilya's body - Good night, Ilya.

- Good night, Hollander.

Some time later, the two were still awake, but kept silent, ilya decided to get closer to Shane and bring his body close to his, and put his hands on his waist and his nose in his hair.

- That's good - Shane murmured.

- Very good.

That night they slept hugging.

The next morning, Shane was sore, and alone in bed, he didn't feel Ilya's body close to his, he felt strange, not that he expected Ilya to wake him up with a kiss or something like that, after all they had nothing, but that was Rozanov's house, logically he was the one who was supposed to have disappeared that morning. He got out of bed, put on his clothes and began to hear a noise coming from downstairs, so he went downstairs, that's when he heard a car being turned on, as soon as he arrived in the living room, he approached the window.

Ilya had called the mechanic, the two were trying to make the car work, he didn't know if he thought it was cute, or just thought about the possibility that Rozanov was doing that just to get rid of him soon.

Shane distanced himself from the window, and decided that he would not leave, after all no one could know that the two of them were in a house together, he walked to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator to prepare something for breakfast.

Rozanov had a lot of fruits, so he decided to prepare vitamins, with toast, egg and bacon. He prepared everything slowly, imagining that Ilya would still take a long time. Shane felt something in his stomach, he was nervous, it was all strange, he had never made breakfast that way, and thinking that he was doing it for him and Rozanov, made the situation worse.

After thirty minutes, he heard the front door open, and soon appeared in the kitchen an Ilya Rozanov shirtless and with shorts on his face had a wide smile.

"Good morning, Hollander" smiled and approached Shane and left a quick kiss on his lips.

"Good morning, Rozanov" his cheeks were pink "I made breakfast."

"I see" he smiled and washed his hands in the sink "your car is ready."

"Then you tell me how much I have to pay you, I imagine the mechanic's work was expensive." Shane said and approached the stove to turn off the stove.

"You don't owe me anything" Ilya took some plates to serve the toast.

"I imagine you did this so I could leave soon" Shane smiled.

- Not really, I thought your presence would be inconvenient - Ilya served the food - that doesn't mean you're less boring, but I've already created a strategy to have a nice conversation with you.

- What's the strategy? - went to the fridge and took the two glasses of vitamin and handed one to the Russian - I'm curious.

- First, I need to eat you hot - he says with a naughty smile - and second I can't talk about hockey.

- We can talk about hockey - Shane said seriously and bit the toast with a little egg, he skipped the bacon and made it only for Rozanov.

- You're an interesting player - Rozanov replied after swallowing a piece of toast - Our rivalry makes the sport cooler.

- We are the best players in the league - Shane took a sip of the vitamin - It's obvious that our games are interesting to me, when I play without our rivalry, the games are too easy.

- You have a very inflated ego - Rozanov scored.

- You think the same thing, you idiot.

- What I mean is that you're an interesting player, but Hollander off the rink is more interesting, boring? Yes, but even more interesting.

- I think something similar, you're less annoying and troublemaker and more understandable and affectionate. - he said and got pink cheeks. - I think I should leave.

- No, I'm still going to eat you this morning - Rozanov replied.

- You act like you live in an eternal scenario of fifty shades of gray, my god - Shane rolled his eyes.

- Don't go, my dear lover, I still want to lie down with you and make love to your body, delight in your love this Sunday morning, be mine, once again - I said poetically - have you improved?

- You're an idiot - Shane rolled his eyes and laughed.

They had sex, but not only that morning, all day long, until Shane received a call from his mother, confirming the recording of an advertisement for Rolex in the middle of the senana, so that meant he had to go back to Montreal.

- It was good to spend this day with you - Shane said as soon as they left Ilya's house.

- It was really good - Rozanov smiled - See you next season?

- See you next season.