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When Shane first brings it up, Ilya is, admittedly, taken aback.
It all started a bit ago. It had been a long day—a joint photoshoot for GQ headlining the NHL’s Hottest Hockey Couple of the Year; a fiery passion on and off the ice. Ilya always loved it whenever he got the chance to show off his husband to the world. The Shane Hollander, boasting a long list of accolades and three Stanley Cups under his belt. But, Ilya also knew how much the endless brand deals and sponsorships and photoshoots became simply too much for Shane. Today in particular was demanding: numerous wardrobe changes, Turn this way Shane, okay a little closer now, Ilya against the repetitive camera flashes, and they had even been hosed down with ice-cold water for several titillating shots of them in soaked white t-shirts. By the end of it all, Shane had worn the same face he did whenever the Centaurs lost a particularly onerous game.
The car ride back home was quiet, they ate dinner in silence, Shane showered alone tonight, and now they were sitting in bed side by side as they mindlessly scrolled on their phones. Ilya is surprised when Shane speaks first.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.
Ilya’s attention immediately drops from his Twitter feed. He fully turned towards Shane, “It’s nothing. Nothing to be sorry for.”
Shane shook his head, “I’ve been pissy all day, I know. You don’t need to pretend like I wasn’t.”
“Well, yes you were,” Ilya smiled amusedly, “But that is nothing to be sorry for. Today was, too much for you, I think. It’s okay.”
Shane chuckled, “Thanks, Ilya.”
Ilya lifted his arm up, Shane taking the invitation and leaning into his chest. He sighed, “It’s just, I don’t know. I’ve been feeling really out of it lately.”
Of course, Ilya knew that. Shane often had times where he would shoulder everything in his life—hockey, the media, his diet, their relationship—just until the weight was almost too much to handle, and then he would completely shut down and close off. But because he was the Shane Hollander, the implications of that already a weight on its own, it would only take him a couple of days until he was back on track. Rinse, repeat. Ilya had tried his best to be a rock for his husband whenever he needed it. Hell, if Ilya could shoulder all the responsibilities that Shane felt he had on himself instead, he would do it without a second thought.
This happened often, but it was a rare occurrence for Shane to open up and attempt to put his thoughts into words. Ilya nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.
“It feels so, noisy,” Shane made a gesture with his hands, “Everything feels like too much.” He started fiddling with Ilya’s necklace, taking the cross and the ring in between his thumb and forefinger. A comforting habit that he picked up from Ilya himself. One that he’d started doing with his own ring whenever he wore it.
“Like sometimes it’s okay, and you just have to deal, you know? I don’t even think about it, really. You just do things because you have to, I know. But sometimes I just want people to stop being like– Shane, Shane, Shane all the fucking time and just, disappear.”
Ilya frowned. The words had been too familiar, nearly a mirror of his own. He squeezed Shane’s arm, “You want to disappear?”
“No, not like that. Well, maybe.” Where his head rested, Shane could feel the steady thumping of Ilya’s heartbeat. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to disappear for a little bit, you know? Just a single day where I don’t have to be Shane Hollander.”
Ilya ran his fingers through Shane’s hair, “You don’t have to be any of that with me, lyubimiy.” He took Shane’s chin in his hand and brought his face up to kiss him. “In fact, to me, you are Shane Hollander-Rozanov anyway.”
Relief bloomed in Ilya’s chest when Shane laughed softly, his effort to lighten his husband’s mood succeeding. “There’s no way Hollander-Rozanov is gonna work on our jerseys, you know. Way too long.”
“There it is,” Ilya rolled his eyes, “You make everything about work. I’m trying to be romantic and you are talking about our uniform. No wonder you have stick up your ass all the time.”
Shane laughed again, wholly this time, “Sorry.”
When they eventually fall asleep for the night, Shane feels lighter than he did previously. But, he couldn’t ignore the lingering feeling of uneasiness in his chest.
Over the next few weeks, Ilya noticed that something had shifted in Shane. During practice, he missed basic passes and shots that Ilya knew he could do with his eyes shut and hands tied behind his back. When Ilya asked if he was doing okay, Shane simply waved him off and said that he was just distracted. At home, Shane had been more zoned out on his phone, frantically typing, eyebrows scrunched at the tiny screen, and agitated whenever Ilya so much as sat next to him. He would either shut his phone off completely, or Ilya would catch him swiping away numerous tabs in a hurry. Whenever Ilya would try to talk to him, he could tell that Shane’s mind was elsewhere, far away from their conversation.
Shane felt, absent.
Sure, he and Shane still had their secrets. It’s easy to fall back into the habit when most of their relationship had been built on one. But Ilya would argue that they had been better at opening up to each other, especially with more serious matters. This was the first time in a very long time that Ilya had seen Shane so protective of one of his secrets. Really, it scared him.
“What’s going on, Shane?”
The question caught Shane off guard. They had just gotten home from walking Anya and were unwinding on the couch. Ilya had offered to make them tea and asked Shane to pick a movie for them to watch. Which, okay, maybe he did forget to do so because the moment he had a fraction of time to himself, he was back to researching on his phone.
He didn’t think Ilya would’ve taken this much offence when he returned and their TV was still switched off. Shane frowned, “Nothing is wrong.”
“Sure,” Ilya set their cups down on the table, “Nothing at all.”
Shane scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know Shane!” Ilya suddenly raised his voice. Shane flinched, and he immediately regretted it. Ilya sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sat down on the couch.
“I’m sorry,” He exhaled, “It’s that, you have been different these days.”
Shane fidgeted with the fabric of his sweatpants, “Different, how?”
“I don’t know,” Ilya shook his head, “Just, you have been, not here. Somewhere else. Your mind is thinking very many things and I can tell.”
When Shane didn’t respond, Ilya scooted closer to him and placed his hand on his thigh. “What are you thinking about, moy lyubimiy?”
Shane glanced at him—nervous, scared. Ilya didn’t quite know. He didn’t know what Shane could have possibly been suppressing to make him this tense. Ilya rubbed his thumb up and down in reassurance.
“Ugh,” Shane buried his face into his hands, “Okay. You have to promise not to think differently of me.”
Ilya raised his eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
“Ilya,” He whined, “Please. Just promise me.”
“Okay, okay. I don’t even know what you’re going to say, but I promise.”
Ilya held his pinky finger out for intentionality. Shane gave him an exasperated look, but intertwined their pinky fingers together anyway.
Ilya had been expecting something earth-shattering. Ilya, I want to retire early. Shocking, for sure. He would’ve had to take Shane for an MRI scan to ensure that everything in his brain had been working properly. Though greedily, Ilya wouldn’t mind the idea of Shane as a WAG. Or, Ilya, I accidentally leaked one of your nudes. He wouldn’t even be mad. He would just feel bad for everyone else knowing that Shane Hollander had him all to himself. Maybe even, Ilya, I murdered someone and I need help hiding the body. Honestly, whatever Shane wanted. If he killed anyone, Ilya would believe he had a good enough reason to do so.
An ugly thought manifested in Ilya’s mind. Ilya, I found someone else.
He convinced himself that the other three options were more realistic. Shane wouldn’t. He would never. Would he?
But what comes out of Shane’s mouth, Ilya would have never guessed.
“Have you ever heard of pet play before?”
Ilya blinked at Shane, long enough before he remembered that he needed to answer.
“Uh, I think so? It’s when you pretend to be animals while fucking, yes?”
Shane winced, “Well, I mean that’s part of it, sure. But it’s way more than that too.”
When Ilya raised an eyebrow at him, Shane continued. “Look, I’ve been doing some research, okay? I was initially just looking up stuff about, you know, feeling like not wanting to be myself, essentially. And then I wanted to see if anyone else was feeling the same and had some advice on how to deal with it, and then someone on Reddit mentioned something about pet play as a form of escapism, and being in a completely different headspace, and I read a bunch of forums and articles about it, and–”
“Okay, hold on,” Ilya interrupted when Shane started rambling hastily, “Shane, you are saying many words that I don’t know. What is this escapism and headspace you are talking about?”
“Well, headspace essentially refers to your state of mind,” Shane gestured, “And in pet play, you basically embody the state of mind of an animal and remove yourself from being, well, human. This can affect how you speak, act, or even interact with your surroundings.” He continued, “And I read that a lot of people use pet play as a form of escapism—a way to temporarily get away from your daily life and responsibilities.”
Ilya nodded slowly, doing his best to absorb the information that Shane had been spewing. “So, people just pretend to be a dog or cat and it is, relaxing?”
“Yeah, I guess. There are different roles too. Like, a lot of it is obviously pretending to be the pet, but your partner could act as an owner.”
“Hm,” Ilya narrowed his eyes, “They act like owner and their pet for a bit and then they fuck after?”
“I mean, I’m sure a lot of people are into that,” Shane explained, “But from what I read, it doesn’t have to be sexual either. You simply just, be handled or do the handling.”
“Okay,” Ilya hummed, “And this is what you want?”
The question made Shane tense up, as if answering it would have cemented it into reality.
“Maybe?” He confessed, “I’m not sure. I’ve obviously never done anything like this before, but maybe it’ll help? To just, pretend?”
When Ilya didn’t say anything, Shane attempted to backtrack.
“Or not! Yeah, this is pretty weird, I know.” He shook his head, “Forget I said anything, this idea is stupid–”
“What animal?”
Shane blinked at Ilya. “What?”
“I said,” Ilya grinned amusedly, “What animal?”
Huh.
Shane’s mouth dropped open into an ‘o’ shape. He wasn’t actually expecting Ilya to think about, let alone agree to, fulfilling his curiosity.
“Oh.” Shane’s brain malfunctioned. He had given this thought over the last few days—which animal he would want to encapsulate. “I was thinking of maybe,” He felt the heat in his face spread throughout his neck and to the tips of his ears, “A cat?”
“Ah. Moy kotyonok,” Ilya smirked, “Is that why? You like when I call you my kitten?”
Shane buried his face in his hands. Maybe he did like it, okay? He would never admit that to Ilya out loud though. “It’s embarrassing when you say it like that.”
“No, no.” Ilya tutted, gently grabbing Shane’s chin and lifting his face up to meet his gaze. “Do not be embarrassed. I think you will be very cute cat.”
Shane’s eyes widened, “Really? You think so?”
Ilya nodded, “I can imagine it already. You, wearing your cat ears, drooling on my cock like it is catnip.”
“Oh my god,” Shane shoved Ilya’s shoulder with no real force, “You’re the worst.”
“Sorry,” Ilya laughed, “You are fun to tease.”
Shane shook his head. Then he laughed too, almost hysterically. He couldn’t believe that Ilya was actually considering this idea with him, for him.
“Okay, okay,” Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand, “What do we need to do?”
The two of them spent the rest of the day unpacking where to even begin. When would they even do this? How do they even do this?
They start easy by discussing boundaries. Yes, Shane was interested in the sexual aspect of it (Ilya had been more than eager simply imagining Shane in cat ears). However, he had mainly been drawn in by the emotional, escapist side of the roleplay. The two of them were already far into this feat more than Shane had expected, so he figured there would be no point in lying.
“I really want to go all out,” He admitted to Ilya, “Like, maybe not to the extent of crawling around our house or anything like that. But, I do want to try stuff like sleeping on your lap, playing with toys, have you do things for me.”
Ilya nodded understandingly. He could tell that it was a lot for Shane to be revealing all of this. His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing, and he wouldn’t meet his gaze. His lips trembled whenever he spoke, and he stuttered over his words. Honestly, it had been quite surprising and a very new territory for Ilya as well. However, he would do his best to navigate all of this with his husband, his own unfamiliarity aside.
“That sounds good,” Ilya reassured, “We can get you whatever toys you want. Uh, would you want something like cage or cat bed too? Pet bowls for your food, maybe?”
Shane knew it was a serious question, so he felt bad for laughing. Really, Ilya had been so sweet and patient that Shane still couldn’t believe that he was having this conversation so openly with him.
“I think I’m probably good on the cage and pet bowls. Anya’s got that.”
Ilya chuckled, “You are right.”
“But,” Shane coughed, “A bed sounds nice, though.”
“Yeah?”
Shane nodded timidly, “Yeah. Like, one of those really big foldable ones. They seem really comfortable to sleep in.”
Ilya made a mental note, “Okay, I will get you the biggest pet bed. Memory foam, very cozy. Nothing less than 4.8 star reviews on Wayfair.”
Shane kissed Ilya then—short and sweet, smiling as their lips connected. It was a silly comment, and Ilya had said it in all his genuineness. Shane couldn’t stop the fluttering feeling in his stomach that someone could, does love him this much.
They continued to talk about accessories—a collar? Yes. Leash? Probably not. Some cat ears? A cat tail? Of course. Absolutely not a litter box. When they settled on a list of props, they considered the actual roleplay.
“So, I’d still like to be somewhat independent,” Shane started, “But, if you were okay with it I’d like to give you more, um, control over what I do.”
“Control? Like what?”
“Like, feeding me, bathing me,” Shane knew he was properly red. He barely whispered the last part of his sentence, “Telling me to do things for you and praising me for it after.”
Ilya’s lips curved upwards, “Hm? Kotik wants to be good for me?”
Shane nodded shyly, “Yeah, I do.”
“Hmm,” Ilya pretended to contemplate, tapping his chin like a caricature, “We’ll see if I’m in the mood for it.”
“Asshole.”
“You like it.”
Shane ignored him, “I also would appreciate a lot of physical touch. Petting, cuddling, all of that.”
“Of course.”
“And all of this can be the same for, you know…”
Shane trailed off. Ilya had no problem finishing his sentence for him. “Ah. For when I eventually fuck my little kitten, yes?”
“Ilya.” Shane groaned.
He shrugged, “What? I am right?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to say it so bluntly.”
“We must have clear communication when establishing boundaries, Shane,” Ilya tutted, “You should know this.”
Shane couldn’t even bite back, not when it loomed on him that this was all real. He had convinced Ilya to try pet play with him, for real.
They decided that Saturday, one of their days off, would be when they would do this, about a week from now. Everything that they ordered should be arriving by then as well. Time dragged slowly, but with each passing day, Shane simmered with anticipation.
The weekend finally dawned and Shane is woken up by the empty space on the bed beside him. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, glancing around their bedroom—no Ilya. His phone had also disappeared from their bedside table and had been replaced by a neatly folded black t-shirt. On top, there was a small piece of paper with a scribbled note.
For you, kitten. Come to kitchen when you wake up.
Shane blushed at the endearment. He set the note aside and threw the t-shirt over his head. It was Ilya’s. They had always been around the same build, hundreds of pounds of pure muscle shaped by rigorous workout routines and over a decade of hockey. But, Ilya was slightly bigger and taller. The t-shirt fell loosely on Shane, covering up part of his briefs as he made his way to their kitchen.
Ilya was in a pair of grey sweatpants, hair damp from a fresh shower, and flexed back on full display as he made work by the stove.
“Good morning,” Shane mumbled, taking a seat at the bar, “You’re up early.”
Ilya turned around and grinned, “Morning. Of course, I had to get everything ready for today.”
Shane’s face warmed, “You didn’t have to.”
Ilya walked over and pressed a kiss on his forehead, “Shut up. I made breakfast.”
A bowl of oatmeal littered with various fruits, a plate of two slices of avocado toast, and a glass of apple juice appeared before Shane. He swallowed. He doesn’t remember the last time he had anything more than a protein smoothie in the morning. His stomach churned—in uneasiness. In hunger.
Ilya sat down beside him, setting down a plate of homemade eggs benedict on the counter. He immediately sensed Shane’s hesitation, watching as his husband stared at the plate in front of him as if it were poison.
He gently placed his hand on the back of Shane’s neck, “It’s okay, kotik.” When Shane worried his bottom lip red, Ilya began rubbing his nape comfortingly, “You’re okay today. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about anything.”
Ilya spooned a bite of oatmeal, making sure to get the blueberries and raspberries on top, and held it close to Shane’s mouth. “Will you let me?”
Shane’s breath stuttered. He contemplated the food in front of him, before slowly taking half of the bite. He chewed, almost methodically, working through the barely-solid textures, now foreign on his tongue. When he managed to swallow it, he took the second half in his mouth. Ilya stroked his hair, “Good job, moy lyubimiy. You’re doing so well.”
Ah. Shane felt his eyes watering. It was embarrassing, really. How much the flavour of plain oatmeal and a few berries lingered deliciously in his mouth. How much Ilya caressing him and whispering praises as he continued to feed him his breakfast slackened his body instantly. He tried not to think about how he’d probably regret the heaviness in his stomach tomorrow. Right now, the weight settled bearably. It was barely nine in the morning and Shane was blinking back tears over some store-bought apple juice.
He should have felt pathetic. Weirdly enough, he simply felt free.
Ilya cleaned up after breakfast and prepared Anya’s food as well. Shane used the time to linger around their home. His brain already felt hazy, not necessarily in a bad way. Just, different. He tried to recall what all the articles suggested to encourage a kitten headspace—grooming, curiosity, sensory relaxation, exploration.
Shane sat down in one of the loveseats in their living room. It was situated right by the large windows, enveloped in the morning sun. The more Shane thought about it, they rarely sat here. In fact, a lot of their furniture and things remained unused, a thin layer of dust collecting on them. Because they simply had too much, too many rooms for a family of three. Shane wasn’t ungrateful or anything of the like. With how fast their lives flew by, he just forgot.
As he sank into the cushions, he wondered why he didn’t sit here often. The sunlight was warm, inviting. Shane, as best as he could with his height and physique, curled up on the seat. He brought his knees up to his chest and cuddled his arms close together. He let his eyes flutter shut, humming in satisfaction. Behind him, he could hear the pattering of Anya’s paws as she bolted to the kitchen at the sound of her kibble rattling in her bowl. Outside, Shane could hear several birds singing in conversation and the sprinklers going off in sync. Shane never paid attention. It was so, quiet.
A gentle hand rested on his arm from behind, “Shane.”
Shane stirred, steadily blinking awake. He could’ve not been asleep for more than five minutes, but it felt like an entire night. He doesn’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep so quickly.
He turned onto his back, the sun glaring in his vision. Ilya hovered above him, his skin glimmering and eyes a lambent blue in the light. He was so beautiful.
Ilya smiled, wide-toothed and his eyes crinkling, “You are more beautiful than I could ever be.”
Shane’s eyes widened, “Did I just say that out loud?”
“Yes,” Ilya captured his lips on his own, “No takebacks now.”
“Whatever.”
Ilya stroked his cheek with his thumb, right where his freckles collected in a mass. “I will prepare bath for you, okay?”
Shane leaned into the touch, “Okay.”
Ilya ran the bath hot, just on the brink of scalding, just how Shane liked it. He had tossed in a lavender-scented bath bomb and a few colourful animal-themed bath toys that floated on the surface of the water. On the nose, Ilya knew. But they were too adorable to resist. He called Shane over, who stood by the door skittishly when he entered.
“Come here.” He motioned. Shane obeyed easily. Ilya gestured, and Shane raised his arms for Ilya to pull his t-shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it off to the side. He did the same with his underwear, helping Shane strip them off.
They had seen each other naked plenty of times. But right now, Shane looked incredibly vulnerable. Ilya took his hand in his own, “Be careful.” He guided Shane into the tub, allowing him to settle in the heat. Once he was submerged, he leaned back against the tile wall, letting out a contented noise.
“How are you doing, moy kotyonok?” Ilya squatted beside the bathtub so that he was at eye level with Shane.
“I’m good.” Shane hummed, head falling to the side. He flicked water at one of the toys—an orange shark with eyes much too big for its head. “Cute.” He mumbled.
Ilya smiled in satisfaction, “Very.”
He grabbed the shampoo bottle and squirted a generous amount into his palms. Once his hands massaged into Shane’s hair, Shane fully relaxed, his head bobbing and his shoulders slumping backwards. Ilya bathed him as Shane poked and prodded at the toys floating in front of him. Shane has a distant memory of playing the same way he did as a kid—comforting all the same.
When they finished, Ilya dried Shane off and helped him back into his clothes. Shane’s eyes had been lidded in tranquillity. He let out a long yawn.
“Tired?” Ilya asked.
“Mhm.” The mix of a solid breakfast and being sedentary rendered him lethargic already.
“Perfect, come.”
Ilya took Shane’s wrist in his hand and walked him over to one of their guest bedrooms, tucked away in the corner of their house. When Ilya opened the door, Shane gasped quietly at what greeted them.
Inside, Ilya had shifted the bed against the wall. In the middle of the room, a large dog bed-like sofa sat flush on the ground. It was upholstered in dense foam padding along the sides, accompanied by oversized plush cushions at the head. Thick, fluffy blankets and pillows covered its surface, and numerous stuffed animals and small cat toys were scattered all over on top. Shane felt his heartbeat in his ears. It was so much.
When he didn’t say anything, Ilya frowned, “Do you not like?”
Shane shook his head. He glanced at Ilya, “It’s perfect. So perfect.” He cupped Ilya’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together. “Thank you,” He whispered in between their breathless kisses, chasing each other’s mouths, “Thank you, thank you.”
Shane walked them backwards until his shins hit the bed, Ilya toppling on top of him into the soft cushioning. They broke out into tender laughter. Ilya rolled onto the side and sat up, Shane following.
Shane took everything in—he wiggled his toes against the blankets, sighing at the softness. He cuddled against the stuffed animals, collecting a few in his arms and nuzzling his face into the pile. Amongst the variety of cat toys, he even noticed that Ilya had bought him one of those interactive puzzle toys. Shane flushed when he picked it up, curious. Ilya only smiled at him in encouragement. Shane started to prod at the sliders, surprised when they revealed that Ilya had filled them with mini chocolate chips.
“Your treats,” Ilya nodded. “Small enough to fit in there.”
Shane looked at Ilya, then back at the chocolate chips. The familiar seething in his stomach returned. Shane gripped the toy tightly, willing for the escalating alarm bells in his head to go away.
It’s just chocolate. Shane thought to himself. Just chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate–
Before he could obsessively spiral over the sweet, Ilya gently took the toy from Shane’s hands and shook a handful of the chocolate chips into his palm. He lifted his hand towards Shane.
“It’s okay, Shane.” He reassured, the same way he did this morning. “Just try.”
The chocolate chips shifted in Ilya’s palm as he moved them closer to Shane’s mouth. Shane’s throat felt dry at the sight. Before he could change his mind, he stuck his tongue out and collected a few pieces in his mouth.
Fuck. Shane swallowed. It tasted so good. He lifted Ilya’s hand until he could flatten his lips against him, licking up the rest of the decadence and savouring the aching sweetness.
Ilya petted his head, “Good, good kitten.” His heart twisted strangely. Really, Ilya could admit that he never completely understood Shane’s obsession with his diet, with food in general. They played a sport, yes. But Shane had already been in perfectly good shape, even before dieting became all he thought about. In the beginning, Ilya would tease him about it constantly—Hollander, eating air for breakfast again today? It was funny at first. Then, Ilya’s comments eventually became laced with concern. Until over time, Shane’s annoyance turned into misery. Until the food consumed him more than he consumed it.
Ilya watched as Shane savoured the bits of chocolate, as if he finally allowed himself for the first time in a long time to want. It was bittersweet, and Ilya had to swallow the pitiful bile that attempted to come out. He then reached for the puzzle toy and handed it back to Shane. “Come on, kotik. You have to work for the rest of your treats.”
A switch had flipped in Shane’s brain. He nodded fervently, swiping and rotating the sliders, flicking open the lids, uncovering the secret compartments, until he collected every last bit. Shane’s chest tightened as the last handful of chocolate chips melted in his mouth, a new feeling of being rewarded for completing a task so simple. No big trophy he needed to win, no commentators or fans to analyze every play he made. Just him and Ilya, who reverenced admirations in Shane’s ear.
“Such a good boy,” Ilya praised, fondling Shane’s ear, “You deserve all the treats.”
Shane purred at the touch. He reached behind him for one of the stuffed animals, cradling it in his arms before he slumped down and nestled into Ilya’s chest. Ilya reached over for one of the blankets and threw it over them. He then wrapped his arms around Shane, who snuggled deeper into the warmth of his embrace.
“Sleepy.” Shane mumbled, eyelids heavy and breathing evened out.
“Sleep.” Ilya whispered, kissing the top of his forehead. “I will be here.”
And so he did.
Time is fuzzy around the edges when Shane wakes up. If he had to guess, it was probably early in the afternoon, around 3 p.m. He can’t recall the last time he spent one of his days off merely sleeping. Typically, he felt a little gross sleeping in any time past 9 a.m., convinced his day was ruined and his routine derailed. Today, however, his body alleviated in the rest.
Ilya had been snoring softly beside him, sleep having taken over him as well. His golden curls rested against his forehead as steady breaths slipped in between his pink lips. Shane traced his finger over the dip in Ilya’s chest, connecting the moles that scattered all over, quietly admiring how perfectly crafted his husband was.
Shane prodded his nose into the soft flesh. Warm. He hummed into the touch, digging his face deeper and inhaling his skin. Shane always sought solace in Ilya’s presence.
Temptingly, he stuck his tongue at his chest. A featherlight touch, merely a kitten-lick. Ilya shifted lightly, but unfazed otherwise. Shane repeated the action, leaving tiny licks all over. He nibbled softly in between, teeth grazing over the muscle. Mine. He thought, eyes shut as he licked, and bit, and kissed. Mine. His lips moved downward until they latched onto one of Ilya’s nipples. Mine. Shane sucked languidly, purring as his tongue swirled in circular motions over the nub. He lifted his hand and grabbed onto Ilya’s untouched pec, squeezing and giving it its much-deserved attention.
Ilya stirred awake then. “Hm? Shane– Oh.”
The pleasure hit Ilya all at once. Shane looked up at him past his eyelashes, mouth still making work on his nipple. Streaks of drool glistened on his chest as Shane continued to purse his lips around the sensitive area.
“Oh, Kitten,” Ilya cooed, hands finding Shane’s hair, “What is this?”
Shane finally pulled back, his lips swollen when he did. “Need you.”
“All of a sudden?” Ilya smirked.
“Always.” Shane whispered, “Always, Ilya.”
Fuck. Ilya’s breath hitched. He curled his fingers into Shane's scalp and brought their lips together. Shane barely had time to gasp at the impact when Ilya swallowed his breath whole. His teeth immediately found Shane’s bottom lip, sucking on it messily before pressing his tongue inside. Ilya swirled into Shane’s mouth until he felt like he was suffocating.
“Ilya,” Shane stuttered when they hardly pulled apart, Ilya chasing his mouth and breathing open kisses against his lips, “Ilya.”
“Mhm?”
“I want,” Shane panted, “I want more.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Ilya knew what he meant; his dick was already bulging in his sweatpants. Shane inhaled sharply when Ilya nibbled at the soft skin of his earlobe. “There’s a box in the bathroom,” Ilya whispered. “Waiting for you, moy kotyonok.” Shane let out a soft ah, nodding. He then pulled away from the touch and captured Ilya’s lips with his own. They pressed their bodies against each other, kissing slowly with desperate need.
“Okay.” Shane rasped when they finally parted, gently pushing Ilya away by his bare chest. “Wait for me.”
Ilya nodded, his dilated pupils engulfing the bright blue of his eyes. “Okay.”
As Shane unravelled on his own two fingers, he imagined Ilya inside of him instead. He whimpered at the thought, his hand moving faster to work himself open.
When he was finished, he stood naked in the middle of their bathroom. The box sat on top of the vanity, already slightly open and daunting. Shane approached it warily, as if it would detonate upon contact.
When he reached for the items inside, his heart raced in his ears.
Shane breathed shakily. He glanced at himself in the mirror, a warm pink spreading underneath his freckles. Compared to everything they had done today, this was definitely the most out there. However, the newness of it all had been thrilling.
Ilya had been lying comfortably on the bed when Shane walked into the room. He was half-hard and fondling himself underneath his sweatpants, and he had simply been waiting for Shane. The fact had subdued Shane’s nervousness and replaced it with a simmering excitement.
But nothing could compare to the way Ilya’s mouth fell open, his entire body straightening up, and his gaze frantic at the sight of Shane standing in front of him.
A pair of black, fuzzy cat ears was nestled into his hair, seamless with his natural hair colour. As Shane adjusted the headband slightly, Ilya’s eyes trailed down to the dainty collar around his neck. A small bell adorned the pink leather, and it jingled faintly with every small movement. Ilya could tell that Shane was already dazed—in embarrassment, in arousal. His eyes were lidded, gently grazing his own thigh up and down as he kept his legs pressed together. His hands forced themselves away from his hardening length.
“Do you like it?”
Ilya’s dick twitched. He swallowed, “Yes. Fuck Shane, I love it.”
Shane let out a breathless laugh, as if he were waiting for Ilya’s approval.
“Wait, there’s more.”
When Shane turned around, Ilya fully short-circuited.
In between the curvature of his ass cheeks, a fluffy black tail dangled in between his legs. Shane looked over his shoulder, met Ilya’s dark gaze, and made a show of gently tugging on it. He let out a soft gasp, clenching around the plug that was buried tightly in his hole.
Ilya was drunk on the sight. It took everything in him not to shove Shane into the bed and replace the tail that filled him up. He would savour today, palming his cock that desperately craved contact.
Ilya patted the space on the bed in front of him. “Come here.”
When Shane began climbing into the bed as normal, Ilya tutted and lightly pushed him backwards. Shane tilted his head in confusion.
“Not like that, kotik,” Ilya drew the nickname out, “Come here properly.”
When realization dawned on Shane, he nodded shyly. He whispered a small okay and bent over the edge of the bed. Ilya leaned back against the cushions, creating a small distance between the two of them. Shane propped himself on his forearms before lowering himself down to nuzzle his cheek into the back of his own hand.
“Ilya.” He purred, eyes fluttering shut.
He repeated the action, rubbing against himself soothingly. Ilya watched, enamoured as soft hums of satisfaction continued to leave Shane’s lips. He desperately wanted to reach out and caress his face, melting at the endearing action. But Ilya remained patient.
Shane began to gradually raise his legs up onto the bed until he was on his fours. His torso remained pressed closely against the fabric, but he lifted his hips in the air as he began to crawl towards Ilya. His tail swayed with the motion, the intrusion of the plug throbbing as he did. He placed his hands on Ilya’s bent legs and spread them further apart, exposing the wet spot where his cock leaked against the thin material.
When Shane licked his lips at the sight, Ilya chuckled lowly. “Does my kitten want another treat?”
Shane looked up at him and nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.” Ilya rubbed his thumb over Shane’s bottom lip, and he gave it a small lick in response.
“Hmm.” Ilya hummed. He stuck his thumb into Shane’s mouth, who immediately started sucking on its entirety. Shane swirled his tongue over the digit, a silent plea for more.
When Ilya retracted his thumb, Shane let out a petulant whine at the loss. He began pawing at Ilya’s clothed length, crawling further upwards to nudge his nose into the heat. Ilya shook his head, tangling his fingers through Shane’s hair and pulling his head upwards.
“I think you forgot. Kitten has to earn his treat.”
Ilya forced Shane up onto his knees. He nodded at him, “Touch yourself.”
When Ilya released his grip, Shane fell back onto the heels of his feet. He glared at him, no real tension behind it.
“Tease.” He huffed. Ilya shrugged, raising his eyebrows as if to say Well, go on. Despite all the years they have been together, and the many years beforehand exploring every part of each other’s bodies, Shane still felt a tingling shyness under Ilya’s scrutiny.
Shane let his gaze drop from Ilya’s, coaxing himself instead as he let his fingers slowly trail over the leather around his neck. He flicked at the small bell, the ringing sound dissipating into the room. His other hand moved downwards, fondling his chest and squeezing. His breathing began to falter once he rubbed one of his nipples between his fingers. Shane stuttered forward when he tugged, the brown nub hardening instantly.
The hand that had been on his neck quickly fell to his inner thigh. Shane kneaded into the skin, leaving it tender as he continued to pleasure himself with his nipples, pinching and twisting. When the heat in his stomach started to burn, he finally wrapped his fingers around his cock.
“Ah!”
Shane trembled at the first stroke—the sudden contact overwhelming. He stroked again, and another breath punched out of him. Shane continued to move his hand up and down in a steadying motion, leaking strings of pre-cum onto the blankets and coating his length. He whimpered Ilya’s name every time his thumb came into contact with his wet slit.
“Ilya,” He rasped, “Ilya.”
Ilya had been sitting like a rock, his composure crumbling by the second. He had been chewing on his lip until he tasted blood, fisting the blankets into wrinkles. Shane twisted his wrist and jerked his hand intensely. The new angle caused his legs to buckle until he fell on his fours again. He moaned, his chest pressed against the bed as he continued to stroke. Shane then blindly reached behind him, fidgeting until he finally felt the plush fur of his tail. He gripped onto it and tugged, the plug pressing against the inner rim of his entrance.
“Oh, fuck– Ngh!” His other hand instantly dropped from his length. The intensity of the feeling had Shane burying his face into the bed. This time, he found the base of the plug. With a curious finger, he pushed it inside, even deeper than he had it before, against the tender walls of his hole.
When Shane craned his neck, crying at the pleasure, Ilya could no longer hold back. He lifted his hips to pull his sweatpants off in one swift motion. It was almost comical how loudly his dick had slapped up against his stomach, an angry purple and gushing at the tip with clear liquid. He kneeled in front of Shane, grabbing his chin and forcing him at eye-level with his cock.
“Good kitten,” Ilya grunted, “Moy kotyonok, fuck.”
Shane glanced up at him, eyes hazy behind his eyelashes. He inched closer, collecting a large drop of Ilya’s pre-cum with his tongue and swallowing. Ilya seethed through his teeth.
“Please.” Shane begged, breathing hot against Ilya’s tip.
Ilya held his cock in his hand and brought it up to Shane’s mouth. He stroked himself a few times before tapping the head on Shane’s lips, the other welcoming him inside obediently.
Ilya moaned loudly at the heat. Shane’s mouth immediately stretched over half of his length in habit, tongue lapping at the underside of his dick. He hummed in satisfaction at the heavy weight in his mouth, saliva pooling in his cheeks.
“God, Shane.” Ilya stroked his hair in praise, toying with the cat ears as he did.
Shane leaned into the touch. He pulled his head back slightly to suckle on Ilya’s tip, tongue prodding at the slit. Ilya jerked into him whenever he flicked at it teasingly. Over the years, Shane knew exactly what made his husband fall apart—the varying pressure he would apply, the pace of his suction, when his hand and lips met as he sucked and stroked him in tandem. Pride swelled in his chest whenever he watched, tasted, Ilya come undone with just his mouth.
Shane returned to swallowing him deeper, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head up and down. Ilya used one of his hands to encourage a faster rhythm, curling into Shane’s scalp and guiding his head back and forth as he rocked his hips. His other hand traced down the extent of his spine, all the way down to his ass. Ilya tucked Shane’s tail off to the side, exposing the puffy hole that clenched and unclenched around the silver metal.
Ilya smirked. He grabbed Shane’s right cheek, squeezing. Then, his index finger began to lightly circle around the sensitive skin by his entrance. Shane moaned at the touch, thrusting back and begging for more. Ilya danced his fingers against the base of the plug, before pushing on it.
Shane swallowed deeper into Ilya’s cock in response, whimpering at the pressure. Ilya then used two of his fingers to move the plug in circles and– Fuck, fuck. Shane felt so full, Ilya stuffing him on both ends, and his eyes watered, mouth drooling, face buried deep into Ilya’s musk as he started thrusting into him at an unforgiving pace. His throat closed around each inch, his entrance swelled at the overstimulation of Ilya manipulating the plug, and all he could do was pathetically take, take, and take.
“Kitten,” Ilya growled above him, the veins on his forehead prominent and beaded in sweat, “Always so good for me.”
Shane rutted against the bed, his own cock rigid and untouched. His eyes were blurry with tears as he stimulated himself further. If he pressed down a little more, chasing the tiniest bit of friction, he was so close, so close–
Ilya suddenly grabbed Shane by the back of his collar and pulled him off his cock. Shane choked on the sudden tension around his neck, a string of saliva connecting from Ilya’s tip to his swollen lips. Ilya gripped where his head met his shaft, eyebrows furrowed and groaning loudly as he forced the intense pressure of his orgasm down. He slumped back against the cushions, his dick throbbing angrily in his grip.
Shane sobbed at the complete loss, a broken whine leaving his throat. The tight coil in his abdomen began to unwind as the sensation painfully eased off. He frantically crawled towards Ilya, slotting himself in between his legs.
“Why?” He stammered, “Why would you–”
“Shh.” Ilya shushed him, pulling Shane onto his chest. “It’s okay.”
“But, I was so close–”
“I know,” Ilya interrupted, “You were such a good boy, lyubimiy.” He rubbed Shane’s tear-streaked freckles, pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “Always a good kitten. Did you enjoy your treat?”
Shane sniffled, “Yes.”
“Do you want another treat?”
Shane curled into his husband’s lap, the dimples of his ass pressed against his hard-on. Ilya held Shane steadily by his hip. “Yes,” Shane pleaded. “Please.”
Ilya smiled into Shane’s hair, reaching down and gently wrapping his fingers around his cock. Shane twitched, whimpering when Ilya kept his hand there. When he attempted to thrust upwards into the touch, Ilya held him down.
“Be good, kotik.”
Shane stilled. He sighed weakly, head falling into the crook of Ilya’s neck. Ilya stroked him lazily, his hand frustratingly slow. Shane furrowed his eyebrows with each languid stroke. “Oh god, please.” He leaked pre-cum onto Ilya’s hand, gushing as Ilya kept bringing him closer and closer to the edge with no release.
“Ilya,” Shane whined again. “Please, please.” The word was worn out on his tongue, begging repeatedly. Ilya only shushed him, reaching behind him to fondle with his tail. It drove him insane—Shane, who was so fucking big, muscles shaped by years of athleticism, looked so small as he squirmed in his lap.
“So fucking needy, Shane.” Ilya grunted, his fingers sticky as he worked his hand up and down. He would increase his pace, right up until Shane convulsed at the brink of his release, before slowing back down—a torturous pattern. Shane shuddered under his touch, mouth falling open. More, more.
“Please, god, I’ve been such a good boy,” Shane sobbed, “Please fuck me, please let me come– Ah. Nghh, please, Ilya. I’m your kitten, only yours. I’ll do anything– Fuck, fuck–” Shane knew how desperate he sounded, slumping against Ilya’s frame. He couldn’t stop, not when Ilya started to toy with the plug in his hole again. Not when he could feel Ilya, his breathing erratic, just as wet as he was against his back.
Suddenly, Shane felt Ilya grab at the base of the plug. It resisted on the first tug. But when Ilya jerked it the second time, it pulled completely out of Shane’s entrance with a slick motion. Shane barely had time to cry at the emptiness when two of Ilya’s fingers replaced the intrusion.
“Shit, you’re so fucking wet for me, kitten.” Ilya moaned. His fingers thrusted in and out of Shane frantically, his own desperation bleeding through. It didn’t take long for him to work Shane open, already loose from the plug. It takes all of Ilya’s willpower to pull his fingers out and reach over the bedside table, fumbling with the drawers until he finds the bottle of lube.
It’s hazy when Shane finds himself propped up with Ilya holding him by the hip. He hovered over Ilya’s erection as he lubed himself up, hands splayed over Ilya’s chest to steady himself.
“Shane.” Ilya rasped, eyes blown out and digging red marks on Shane’s hips. Shane trembled at the realization—Fuck. Ilya needed it as much as he did.
Shane sinks down, almost halfway onto Ilya’s cock, and then it’s a blur.
It’s too much and not enough. Shane bounced up and down, almost animalistically. He whimpered, cried out, choking on Ilya’s name every time he took him to the hilt. It’s bright red and tender where their skin slapped against each other repeatedly.
“Fuck, thank you,” Shane slurred hysterically, expression crazed, fucking himself hard on Ilya’s cock like he finally earned it. “Thank you, thank you– Ngh!”
“Oh god,” Ilya moaned, head falling backwards. His mouth hung open, letting Shane rock them back and forth, the tiny bell on his collar ringing wildly with each motion, until the familiar heat in his stomach began to rise quickly. “Shit. Shane, Shane wait– Fuck. Wait–”
He pulled Shane off of him in a hurry and flipped them over, before slamming back into him. Shane’s back arched off the bed as he sobbed. Ilya had him folded in half, knees against the side of his head as he pounded into him uncontrollably.
“Ilya–” Shane choked. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna–”
Ilya drove his hips into Shane, ramming into his prostate with each thrust. “Yes, fuck,” He growled, “Come for me moy kotyonok.”
He reached down for Shane’s cock. After pumping twice, Shane’s release exploded in Ilya’s hand. Shane sobbed loudly, thick strings of white coating his chest up until his chin and fuck– He was cumming so much that his dick continued to spasm in hot spurts.
The sight pushed Ilya over the edge—Shane completely flushed red, drool drying on the side of his mouth, hair sticking out in different directions and cat ears askew. He rutted into Shane, chasing his own finish until he finally released, burying himself deep with a low groan. Shane whimpered at the overstimulation, Ilya’s hips stuttering as he came down from the high. After he stilled, he collapsed on top of Shane, their bodies sticking together in a mix of various fluids.
The room around them is quiet. They panted heavily, foreheads against each other, breathing into each other’s mouths and lazily ghosting their lips together. It takes a few moments for their senses to adjust back to normal.
Ilya let out a breathless laugh against the corner of Shane’s mouth, “Fuck.”
“Fuck.” Shane parroted.
Ilya slowly pulled out, Shane wincing at the soreness of his entrance.
“Are you okay, moy lyubimiy?”
“Yeah,” Shane breathed, “Yeah, just, give me a second.” He could barely keep his eyes open when he felt Ilya gently taking the cat ears off his head and undoing the collar around his neck. Ilya traced the aggressive red mark that it had left. Shane’s head drooped sideways into the mass of stuffed animals that had been thrown around.
“You poor things.” Shane sighed.
Ilya chuckled, “I think they will be okay.”
“They’re scarred for life now.”
Ilya shrugged, “They got free show.”
“That’s gross, Ilya.”
Ilya simply pressed a kiss against Shane’s forehead, “We should shower.”
Shane wanted nothing more than to doze off. But he knew it would be best to wash off whatever liquids had been drying all over his body. He nodded, “Okay.”
Their shower was peaceful, Shane letting Ilya wash him. They leaned into each other’s warmth the entire time, soothing each other with tender touches. Once they dried off, Ilya had helped Shane change into clean clothes (another one of his t-shirts and this time, a pair of his briefs too).
“Do you want to stay in pet bed or our room?” Ilya asked as he dressed himself.
Shane hummed, “Our room is fine.” He pressed his thumb against his wrist, grounding himself. “I think maybe, I’m done for the day.”
“Are you sure? Do you need anything else before we are finished?”
Shane shook his head. “I’m okay,” He smiled at Ilya, “Thank you. For today, for everything.”
Ilya smiled back, “Of course.”
He walked over to Shane, cupping his face with his hand and kissing him softly. When they pulled away, he pressed his lips against his ear and whispered.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.”
Shane’s eyes fluttered closed.
“I love you too.”
It had been a lot, and they were exhausted. They moved throughout the rest of the day in a daze, intoxicated on each other’s presence, skin barely leaving skin. Ilya made them food, and they ate in comfortable silence. He eventually remembered to give Shane his phone back as well when they had both forgotten about it. While Ilya took Anya out to the backyard, Shane decided to see what he had missed.
His notification wall was flooded with unread messages from his mom, Hayden, the Centaurs group chat, emails that he really should get back to, and reminders for the day—workout, laundry, meal prep, and the like—that went unchecked. Normally, Shane would have been brimming with anxiety. How could he let everything crumble underneath him? How could he let himself fall behind? Tomorrow, maybe he would be. Tomorrow, he would be out of this drunken stupor and back to being the Shane Hollander.
But then, tomorrow arrives.
Shane woke. Ilya embraced him tightly, and the birds continued to sing their song.