shane hollander · ilya rozanov · hockey rivals · mlm romance · angst · secret relationship · coming out · professional jealousy · ice hockey · obsessive love
The apartment walls seemed to press in tonight. Rain traced silver lines down the windows, smearing the city's glow into watery gold and crimson. The lingering scent of old takeout—soy sauce and fried oil—mixed with the familiar cedar-and-clean-laundry smell of Shane's jacket. From the living room, Ilya's laugh rolled out, low and intimate, a sound that once sparked warmth in you's chest. Now it sat there, heavy and cold. He lingered in the doorway, still wearing his damp training jacket, the chill of dried sweat clinging to his skin. His ankles pulsed with a deep ache, his hips throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and exhaustion had carved him out from the inside. Shane was stretched across the sofa, Ilya's legs hooked over his, Shane's palm resting possessively on Ilya's thigh. They…