Heated Rivalry

“Did you bring everything?” Rozanov asked.“Yes,” Shane said. He was pretty sure he had everything. Lube and condoms, right?“Good boy.”“Fuck you.”“Yes.”

This, he realized, was why people were so wild about sex. He had never, ever felt like this with anyone before. And of course Ilya Rozanov, all of nineteen years old, fucked with the confidence and skill of, like, a sex god.

Rozanov was a lot of things, but he wasn’t boring. He frustrated Shane on the ice, and flustered him off the ice. Shane wanted to crosscheck him in the mouth, and then kiss it better. He wanted to forget about him, and he wanted to play every game against him. He wanted...He wanted to win this fucking Rookie of the Year award.He wanted to rub it in Rozanov’s face.He wanted to rub himself on Rozanov’s face.

Shane kissed him back, just as angrily. Because fuck this guy for doing shit like this. Hiding away all night on a fucking rooftop, smoking a goddamned cigarette in the dark like the worst cliché of a brooding heartthrob. Making Shane feel bad for winning an award that he completely fucking deserved. And then, on a whim, pressing Shane against a wall and kissing him like he would die without Shane’s mouth on his.

Ilya glanced up so see Cliff Marlow’s face peeking over the seat in front of him. Cliff was a year younger than him, a bit of an idiot, and probably Ilya’s best friend.

“You will move here?”“No. It’s just an investment, or whatever. And I thought it could be a safe place to...meet.”Hollander was damn cute when he was embarrassed.“Did you buy a building so we would have somewhere to fuck, Hollander?”

“Starving for it, yes, Hollander?” Ilya slid forward, positioning his body closer to Hollander’s face. To his mouth. Hollander’s chest was heaving beneath him, and he glared up at Ilya with dark, intense eyes. “Is okay,” Ilya said soothingly. He tapped the head of his cock against Hollander’s lips. “You can. Take it.”“I hate you.”“Yes. I know. Show me.”

He sent a text. Having a good time?There. That was cool and casual. Just a friendly “Hey, we’re both at the Olympics! Fun, right? Also, are you in jail?”

“Well?” Rozanov said.“Well what?”He gestured to the floor. “Are you not going to suck my dick?”Shane’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you! Why don’t you suck mine?”“Hmm.” He traced a finger over Shane’s clenched jaw—so gently it made Shane close his eyes and part his lips involuntarily. “Maybe ask nice.”

“Shouldn’t we—I mean. There are windows.” There were a lot of windows.“We are on the sixteenth floor.”“Yeah, but...”