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

“What am I even supposed to wear to this thing?” Shane called from his walk-in closet.

“Do you have a leather, um. What is it? Like, for a horse…?”

“A harness. And shut up.”

Ilya laughed quietly to himself. He honestly couldn’t wait to see what kind of outfit Shane put together for Fabian’s show.

“Just wear a jock,” Ilya suggested. “And sunglasses.”

Shane poked his head out of the closet. “What are you wearing?”

Ilya was in the process of tugging his tight-fitting pale pink T-shirt into place. It was a recent purchase, and he looked amazing in it.

“Jesus,” Shane said.

“Nice, right?”

“They didn’t have it in your size?”

Ilya grinned. Shane was full of shit, and the heat in his gaze was telling on him. “Wear something light. It will be hot in the club.”

“Okay. Um.” Shane disappeared back into the closet. He emerged a minute later in stylish black pants that tapered at the ankle and a light gray linen shirt that he’d left open at the collar.

“Good,” Ilya said, which was a massive understatement. The shirt stretched tight across Shane’s wide shoulders, and the cuffs of the short sleeves accentuated the bulge of his biceps.

“Yeah?” Shane asked.

“Mm.” Ilya pulled Shane in for a kiss. “You look hot,” he murmured against his lips. “I will be thinking all night of what I want to do to you later.”

“Shit, let’s at least get to the club before you start making me want to leave.”

Ilya smiled and kissed him again. “You will love the show. I have heard Fabian is very good.”

“Oh yeah? Who told you that?”

“Harris. You know, the—”

“The social media guy who I haven’t met but you can’t stop talking about? The adorable gay one? You did say he was adorable, right?”

Ilya laughed softly and dipped his head to kiss the hinge of Shane’s jaw. “He invited me to Fabian’s show in Ottawa last year. But I had to rest an injury.”

“So you’re being invited on dates with adorable gay guys, are you?” Shane was probably trying to sound angry, but his voice was a bit strained and he was tilting his head to give Ilya better access to his neck. “To sexy music shows?”

“Yes. All the time.”

“Is Harris going to be there tonight? Am I going to be in your way?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to text him?”

Shane was remarkably skilled at glaring and smiling at the same time. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

Fabian’s show was every bit as sexy and mesmerizing as Harris had described it, and every aspect of it felt dialed up, because Ilya had Shane standing next to him.

Not as close as Ilya would have liked, but still. Next to him.

Ideally Ilya would be behind Shane with his arms wrapped around him, holding him close against his chest. Ilya would rest his chin on Shane’s head, and kiss his hair whenever he felt the urge.

Instead, Ilya was standing between Shane and Ryan Price, at the back of the crowded bar. Ryan had explained that he always watched from the back, because of his size. Ilya and Shane had decided to keep him company.

Onstage, Fabian was holding his audience captive. Despite the enormous number of people there, the room was almost silent except for his ethereal voice, and the music he was making alone using a keyboard, a laptop, an assortment of pedals, and his violin. He was wearing billowy white pants, sheer enough that the stage lights shone through them. He was bare chested, but wore several sparkling chains around his neck, and a few more around his narrow waist. Gold armbands snaked around his biceps, and even from the back of the room, Ilya could see he was wearing a lot of makeup. He looked magical and sensual. A prize for sure. Ilya couldn’t be happier that Ryan was the one who’d won him.

“He is beautiful,” Ilya told Ryan, when Fabian finished his song.

“I know,” Ryan said, without taking his eyes off the stage. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt and black jeans, and was probably going to be mistaken for a bouncer a few times tonight. Though, Ilya supposed, Ryan basically was a bouncer because he would definitely be the first one to intervene if anyone did anything even slightly threatening to his boyfriend. Fabian couldn’t have had a better protector.

“It must feel powerful,” Ilya said. “Knowing everyone in the room wants your boyfriend.”

The smile that curved Ryan’s lips was the most sexually charged expression Ilya had ever seen on the shy man’s face. “It does.”

Yeah, Ilya could see how going to these shows would be some heady fucking foreplay for Ryan.

He glanced at his own boyfriend, who was watching Fabian intently with his arms folded. He may not be onstage, looking like a glittering diamond, but he was achingly beautiful. The sharp line of his jaw and straight slope of his nose in profile were more fascinating to Ilya than anything else in the room.

He took a step closer to him, and brushed his arm against Shane’s elbow. Shane moved away, arms falling to his sides, and said, “He’s really good.”

“I know.”

“And, like, captivating. You can’t look away from him, y’know?”

“Yes,” Ilya said, without glancing away from Shane’s face. He wanted so desperately to touch him.

Sometimes Ilya was so starved for touch he felt like screaming. He felt it most when Shane was close, like he was now, but off-limits. Ilya used to go to clubs like this one all the time, in just about every NHL city. He’d find someone he liked, make out with them, then go home with them. Sometimes he would skip the club and just text one of his regulars, depending on where he was.

He didn’t miss that. Not really. He was devoted to Shane, wholeheartedly, and their sex life was beyond anything he had experienced with another person. But he missed being touched. He missed the endorphin rush he used to get from hooking up with people, and how relaxed he’d felt after. He missed meeting new people, talking to them, charming them.

Most of all, though, he missed the comfort he got from human touch. Right now, in this club in Montreal, he wanted that comfort from the man he was in love with.

He took another step toward Shane, closing the slim gap between them again. This time he trailed a fingertip down Shane’s arm from his elbow to his wrist. Shane flinched, and stared at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“What?” he asked.

Kiss me, Ilya wanted to say. Kiss me and hold me in front of all these people. Pull me onstage and do it. I don’t care anymore. Please. I’m dying.

“Nothing,” Ilya said, and stepped away. “Nothing.”

Shane was so turned on he felt like he would burst into flames.

The sensuality of Fabian’s performance—his whole deal—combined with having Ilya so close had created electricity that coursed through Shane’s body. He wished he could grab Ilya and pull him closer, kiss him against the back wall of the club until they were both panting. But he didn’t mind waiting. The forbidden aspect of their relationship—the discipline it took to hide how hot they were for each other—still did it for Shane. It was sexy.

Here, in public, Shane didn’t mind pretending that they were two bros, hanging out with their retired NHL player friend. He didn’t mind keeping his hands to himself, because he knew as soon as they were alone they would thoroughly take each other apart and it would be perfect. Their reward for a job well done. Shane thrived on that sort of thing.

But, fuck, Ilya looked hot tonight. That tight pink T-shirt was just barely holding itself together, stretched tight across Ilya’s muscular chest and shoulders. That fucking loon tattoo staring Shane in the face, practically a brand on Ilya’s skin.

Mine, Shane thought. The world doesn’t need to know, because I know.

He wondered if Ilya was as horny as he was at that moment. He kept glancing at Shane sideways, so probably. Also, it had been nearly a week since they’d last been able to have sex, and if the drought was affecting Shane this much, it must actually be killing Ilya.

Shane remembered the last time they’d been in any kind of club together. It had been years ago, before they’d admitted their feelings for each other. Shane had been with Rose at the time, had been out with her and her friends that night, and Ilya had happened to be at the same Montreal nightclub with some of his teammates. Shane had abandoned Rose on the dance floor, drawn to Ilya like a moth to a flame, and had helplessly watched Ilya make out with a beautiful woman.

There’d been a brief, terrifying moment when his and Ilya’s eyes had met. When Ilya had discovered him. Then Shane had fled, embarrassed that he’d been caught watching, and horrified by how jealous he’d felt.

He’d needed to pull over while driving home that night because he hadn’t been able to see the road through his tears. He’d been so confused and scared and devastated. He should have been going home with Rose, his gorgeous movie star girlfriend, not crying on the side of the road, alone in his car, over an obnoxious Russian hockey player.

He’d been in love with him, though he’d refused to even consider it at the time.

Now, he felt the light brush of a fingertip at his elbow, and tensed as the finger trailed down to his wrist. Ilya shouldn’t be touching him like this.

“What?” Shane asked, because there had to be a reason why Ilya would break their most important rule.

For the briefest moment, Ilya’s eyes looked sad, and even a bit scared. Then he blinked, and schooled his expression into something more neutral.

“Nothing,” Ilya said as he stepped away. “Nothing.”

Ilya turned his gaze back to the stage, but Shane kept watching Ilya. His shoulders were slumped, and his jaw was tense. He looked…defeated.

Shane glanced around. The room was dark. It was crowded, but everyone’s attention was locked on Fabian, and he and Ilya were at the very back anyway. Shane chewed his lip, and made a quick decision before he started overthinking things.

He took a sideways step so his hip brushed against Ilya’s, then placed a hand on the small of his back. It wasn’t much, but Ilya’s whole body relaxed as he leaned back into the touch. He glanced down at Shane and gave him a small, grateful smile.

Shane smiled back, and traced a little heart on Ilya’s back with his finger. Ilya raised one hand toward Shane, and it hovered in the air for a moment before Ilya pulled it back to rest over his own heart. He nodded at Shane, then turned his gaze back to the stage.

Shane kept his hand on Ilya’s back for the rest of the show, removing it only briefly to applaud after each song. He felt like he was getting away with something, the way his palm pressed into the heat of Ilya’s sweat-soaked back. The way each of Ilya’s silent breaths felt loud against Shane’s fingers.

The song Fabian was performing had sex-drenched, murmured lyrics and sudden, unexpected acapella breaks where he would sigh out lyrics that sent actual shivers through Shane. Everything felt and sounded and smelled like the promise of sex, and Shane was losing his mind a little. How was Ryan not rushing the stage right now? Shane almost wanted to, but not as much as he wanted to grab Ilya’s sweaty T-shirt and pull him into him. Shane wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever fuck someone in a public place, but this was the most he’d thought about it.

Maybe ending a week of celibacy with a concert by Ryan’s sex sorcerer boyfriend hadn’t been the best idea. Shane hoped no one noticed as he carefully adjusted his erection so it wouldn’t be quite so obvious against the tight fabric of his pants.

Ilya, of course, noticed. His smile sent a fresh shiver through Shane, and he bit his bottom lip, gaze locked with Ilya’s.

Soon, Ilya mouthed.

Shane was far too distracted to be driving right now. He was so horny he felt drunk.

He’d insisted on driving tonight, because he’d had enough of putting his life in Ilya’s hands, but now he doubted his decision. His body pulsed with the need to press his skin against Ilya’s. To taste him and take him apart and show him everything he’d been thinking while Ilya had been standing so close to him in that stupidly tight T-shirt, his skin hot and glistening with sweat.

Also, Ilya was massaging Shane’s dick through his pants as he drove.

“D-don’t,” Shane said weakly. “It’s not—fuck—not safe.”

Ilya chuckled and removed his hand. Shane bit back a whimper from the loss. He took a slow breath, steadying himself, and focused on the road.

“You’re so hard,” Ilya observed.

“I’m also driving.”

“I’m not.”

Shane glanced over and saw that Ilya had cupped his own dick through his shorts.

“Don’t do that either,” Shane said, forcing himself to look away.

A soft moan floated over from the passenger seat. Ilya’s eyes were closed, head tipped back, lips parted.

Fuck. Shane was ignoring the road again.

“Stop it,” Shane said. “Seriously. We’ll be home soon.”

“Mm. Not the way you drive.”

Shane’s jaw tightened. “I’m not turning this into a game.” He did his best to ignore how hot the idea of trying to get home before Ilya came was. “I’ll get us home safe and then you can touch all the dicks you want.”

Ilya laughed and held up both of his hands so Shane could see he’d obeyed him. “Fine.”

Shane blew out a breath. “Almost home,” he said, mostly to himself.

“How many dicks will be there? Did you invite some people?”

“You wish.”

“I think you would like it,” Ilya said. “Having an audience.”

Shane wriggled against the leather seat. He really wouldn’t like to be watched, but as a purely imaginary scenario, it fucking did something to him.

“Would you show me off?” Shane asked quietly.

He could feel the heat of Ilya’s gaze even without looking. “I would never stop showing you off,” Ilya said. “If I could.”

“Fucking hell,” Shane muttered.

They made it home, and even got through the door before they crashed into each other, kissing and grabbing, trying to get closer while they struggled to get each other’s clothes off. Ilya won that race, getting Shane naked and pressed against a wall with his hands pinned over his head. Ilya kissed him forcefully while Shane arched toward him, aching for more.

“Want,” Shane murmured mindlessly as Ilya kissed his neck.

“You will get it,” Ilya said in a delicious, low rumble. He was still wearing his shorts, though they were unzipped and barely clinging to his hips. “Was fucking dying in that club.”

“Me too.”

“All fucking week I have been dying.”

Shane’s body rippled against Ilya’s. “Show me.”

Ilya nipped at Shane’s jaw. “Tell me what to do.”

It was a power move for Ilya because he knew how awkward Shane got when he had to ask for things in bed. He was absolutely aware of the battle raging in Shane’s head right now, as Shane tried to ignore his embarrassment in favor of bossing Ilya around.

“Suck me,” Shane tried.

“Like this?” Ilya sucked at the pulse point under Shane’s jaw, making Shane squirm.

“Don’t,” Shane panted, “be an ass.”

Ilya laughed, released Shane’s wrists, then took a step back. He quickly removed his own shorts and underwear, then went to his knees. He ran his hands over Shane’s waist, hips and thighs as he gazed up at him in a blatantly admiring way that made Shane preen.

“So beautiful,” Ilya said. He leaned in and kissed the tip of Shane’s cock before parting his lips to suck the head in.

Shane let out a long, low moan, his head bumping back against the wall behind him. “Fuck, Ilya.”

Ilya took his time, tracing and teasing him with his tongue, lighting Shane up. Shane dropped a hand to the back of Ilya’s head and threaded his fingers into his slightly damp curls.

“You’re so fucking good at that,” Shane said breathlessly. He rolled his hips, just slightly, hoping Ilya would take the hint.

Ilya grunted and slid his hands up the backs of Shane’s thighs, up to his ass, where he dug his fingers into the muscles there, pulling Shane closer, deeper. His throat muscles flexed around the head of Shane’s cock, and Shane’s fingers tightened in Ilya’s hair, pulling slightly.

“Holy shit,” Shane gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe as Ilya swallowed around him.

Ilya stayed like that for another couple of seconds, then pulled back slowly, dragging his tongue along Shane’s length, until he reached the end and let Shane fall out of his mouth.

“I could make you come right now,” Ilya said.

“Don’t,” Shane said, almost meaning it.

“Bedroom?”

God, that seemed far away. Shane glanced at the stairs mournfully, but then nodded. “Yeah. Hurry.”

They scrambled up the stairs, naked and laughing and holding hands. They probably looked ridiculous, but Shane didn’t care. He shoved Ilya against the wall at the top of the stairs and kissed him.

“Fucking love you,” Shane murmured against his lips. “Want you in me.”

Ilya growled and slapped Shane’s ass hard, once, the sharp sound reverberating in the empty hallway. “Come to bed, then.”

Shane backed Ilya into the bedroom, kissing him and practically trying to climb him. Ilya sat on the end of the bed when he reached it, pulling Shane into his lap and kissing him fiercely until they both fell to the mattress in a squirming tangle of limbs.

Ilya laughed into Shane’s mouth and kept kissing him. Shane wondered if Ilya was as dizzy with happiness as he was. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe they were actually together. That Shane could have this.

Shane crawled on top of him. He spread his thighs wide, straddling Ilya’s hips, still kissing. Ilya’s strong hands glided up Shane’s back to his shoulders, then back down to his ass.

Lube. They needed lube immediately.

Shane stretched across the bed and opened his nightstand drawer. He felt around for one of the bottles of lube they stored in there among their growing collection of sex toys and pulled it out.

Ilya took the bottle and got to work. Shane groaned with relief at the first brush of Ilya’s slick finger against his opening.

“Hurry,” Shane said.

“So impatient.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking impatient. It’s been a week.” He knew, once the summer was over, he’d have to go far longer without sex. But those weeks wouldn’t be full of being close enough to Ilya to smell him. Wouldn’t be full of hearing Ilya’s unguarded laughter when he was playing with kids, or of seeing the way Ilya’s eyes smoldered sometimes when he looked at Shane. When Ilya thought no one would notice. When he couldn’t help it.

Those weeks he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Ilya, listening to him breathe in the dark, and sometimes hearing him whimper. He wouldn’t be able to press himself against Ilya and kiss the back of his neck and whisper that he loved him. When he thought Ilya wouldn’t notice. When he couldn’t help it.

Those would be different weeks. Right now, Shane needed everything he could get from Ilya.

Ilya took his time, opening him with careful fingers as he watched Shane’s face. He reached his free hand up and caressed Shane’s cheek.

“My beloved,” Ilya murmured, in Russian. “So beautiful.”

Shane let his eyes close for a moment, letting Ilya know he understood. Ilya couldn’t hide behind his native tongue anymore when he wanted to be sweet and soft. It was something Shane had worked for; while Shane’s teammates were playing poker or games on their phones on the plane, Shane was studying Russian.

“Enough,” Shane said, also in Russian. “I’m ready.”

Ilya hummed and continued his slow penetration with two fingers. “I like this,” Ilya said, switching back to English. “Let me watch you a bit longer.”

Shane huffed and clenched around Ilya’s fingers. It wasn’t enough. In frustration, he wrapped his hand around his own rigid cock and stroked.

“Even better,” Ilya said, smiling. “Here.” He hovered the bottle over Shane’s dick and drizzled some lube on him. Because Ilya was full of good ideas.

“Oh shit,” Shane gasped. Ilya started stroking Shane’s prostate in time with the glide of Shane’s hand over his cock. Heat flared low in Shane’s belly, burning up the last of his control. “Ilya. Please.”

Ilya withdrew his fingers. A moment later, Shane felt the head of Ilya’s cock tapping against his hole. “This?” Ilya asked.

Shane didn’t answer. He just shifted his weight and sank down onto Ilya’s slick cock. He went slowly because they didn’t do it this way very often, and because he wanted to draw out Ilya’s delicious groan.

“Shit, Hollander,” Ilya rasped.

God, Shane loved it when Ilya used his last name, the way he’d used to, before. Back when they’d used to fuck but before they were…this.

Shane lifted a bit and sank back down, earning another groan. He grinned at the man he loved and said, “Hold on to something, Rozanov.”

Ilya gripped Shane’s hips, digging his fingers in hard while Shane rode him. It was exciting to watch Ilya like this, sprawled out beneath him, chest heaving as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Love your dick,” Shane panted. He had one hand planted on Ilya’s chest, the other gripping the back of Ilya’s left thigh. “Love taking you like this.”

“You just love,” Ilya gritted out, “exercise.”

Shane let out a shaky laugh, adjusted his angle, and rode him harder.

Ilya was falling apart beneath him, murmuring in Russian so garbled Shane couldn’t translate it. He didn’t need to. “You gonna come for me?”

Ilya sucked in a breath. “Too soon. Fuck.”

Shane stopped his ruthless bouncing and switched to a slow grind.

“Ah,” Ilya cried out. “Fucking…fuck!”

Shane smirked, loving the power he held. Loving how much he could make Ilya feel. Loving what he could reduce him to.

“Too slow?” Shane asked, his voice surprisingly steady considering how close to the edge he was himself.

“Yes,” Ilya said. “No. Fuck, you are perfect.”

“Yeah?” Shane rolled his hips, careful and controlled. “This all you need?”

Ilya huffed and reached for Shane’s dick. He wrapped his fingers lightly around him and just held him for a moment, his gaze locked with Shane’s.

“Is this enough?” Ilya asked as he gently grazed his hand over Shane’s cock, barely touching.

Fuck, it almost was enough. Shane arched and clenched around Ilya’s dick involuntarily as he tried to thrust into Ilya’s hand.

Ilya laughed and pulled his hand away. Shane whined in protest.

Ilya placed his hand on the back of Shane’s neck and pulled him down until Ilya’s lips were against his ear. “I think,” he said, in Russian, “you need to be fucked properly.”

Shane gasped and nodded, and seconds later he was flat on his stomach, face pressing into a pillow. Ilya grabbed his thighs and hauled his ass into the air, then thrust inside.

“Is this what you need?” Ilya asked in a low, rough voice.

“Yes,” Shane said breathlessly. “Hard.”

“Stroke yourself.”

It didn’t take long after that. Not with Shane ruthlessly jerking himself while Ilya pounded into him, making the headboard slam against the wall with every thrust.

“Now,” Shane panted. “Fuck, I’m coming.” His whole body shuddered as he began to spurt over his hand and onto the sheets.

Behind him, Ilya only said, “Hollander,” before he stilled and pulsed inside him.

Ilya didn’t pull out immediately. He carefully lowered himself until he was almost resting his full weight on Shane’s back, breathing hard against Shane’s neck. For several long moments, they just breathed together.

Eventually, Ilya began peppering Shane’s shoulders with gentle kisses, and his softened dick slipped out of Shane’s body. He kissed down Shane’s spine in an adoring way that made Shane sigh happily.

“Love you,” Shane murmured into his pillow. He reached a hand back, clumsily searching, and Ilya took it in his own.

“I will be back,” Ilya said. He squeezed Shane’s hand, then released it and shuffled off the bed. Shane heard footsteps, and then the bathroom door closing.

He was dimly aware that he needed to get up himself and get cleaned. The bed sheets should be changed too. But Shane was so loose and sleepy that he wondered how important any of that was.

Ilya seemed to take longer than usual in the bathroom. Eventually, he returned and tapped Shane on the shoulder. “Your turn.”

“Mmpf.”

Ilya laughed quietly and rumpled Shane’s hair. “Come on. You hate to be dirty.”

Shane couldn’t argue that. He dragged himself to the bathroom.

When he returned he noticed that Ilya had already changed the sheets and was sitting on one side of the bed, staring at the wall.

“You okay?” Shane asked.

“Yes,” Ilya said. He sounded distracted.

Shane got into bed, enjoying the crisp slide of clean sheets against his skin. “I’m zonked.”

Ilya hummed in agreement and got under the covers beside him. He curled against Shane, wrapping an arm around him and holding him close. Shane fell asleep in minutes.

He woke some time later, blinking at the darkness as he felt Ilya crawl back into bed beside him. He had no idea what time it was or how long Ilya had been gone, but he smelled the sharp aroma of cigarette smoke.

“You were smoking,” he complained sleepily.

“No.”

“I can smell it.”

Ilya kissed his shoulder. “Maybe your house is on fire.”

Shane huffed and fell back asleep.