The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

Besides, winning stuff always made Shane horny, so Ilya considered himself the real winner.

“I will tell him you said that,” Ilya said, “next time we are showering together.” Shane elbowed him in the arm. “Shut up.

“If we did it again right now, I would probably win.” “Well, you should have won the first time, dickhead.” Wyatt furrowed his brow at them. “You know, you two don’t have to sit together.”

“Hollander told me you want to coach our camps.” “One of them, maybe. Yeah.” “What are your qualifications? We have a boring guy already: Hollander.” “You know what? I might be busy this summer after all.”

“Is Kip happy you are retiring this year?” “Fuck off. I’m not retiring this year.” Ilya widened his eyes in mock surprise. “No? But your body is so old!” “Okay,” Scott said, and began to stand. “Good night, Rozanov.” “Do you remember where your room is?” “Shut up.” “Do you need help?” Scott kept walking and didn’t reply.

Ilya stepped into his space. “You are too slow.” “Not according to the skills competition.”

Nothing mattered but Ilya. The man he loved. His future husband.

The ring glinted on its chain against his dark chest hair, and god, sometimes Shane forgot. It seemed impossible to be able to claim this man forever.

“You are a better hockey player than me.” Shane gasped, both from the intrusion and the admission. “I’m just—just on a better team.” “No,” Ilya said calmly. “You have always been better. Always.”

“I can’t believe you fucking chatted with him while you were fingering me,” Shane hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Wrong with me? I am not the one who fucking loved it.” “I did not.” Ilya rubbed his thumb over the head of Shane’s leaking cock, making Shane suck in a breath. “Your cock loved it.” “My cock loves being touched, not whatever weird shit you’re into.

Shane watched Ilya’s face as he pushed inside. His eyes were wide like the sensation still surprised him, after all these years. Like he hadn’t been expecting Shane to welcome him inside so easily. Like he somehow didn’t know he belonged there. “I love you so much,” Shane whispered.

“What if they could see?” Ilya’s voice was low and quiet and his words made Shane’s cock twitch. “If that wall was a window.” Shane squeezed his eyes shut, which only helped him to imagine it. “Fuck,” he said. “They could see how well you take it. How much you love it.”

“I am glad you are staying.” “I’m not saying I’m not nervous about it.” “I know. But I hate when you are so close but not in my arms.” Shane’s heart wobbled. “I suppose we’re almost married. So.”

“Next year we will be the first married NHL All-Stars.” Shane’s whole body tensed. “Oh my god.” “What?” “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Rozanov,” an exhausted-sounding ref said, “could you give it a rest for once?” “Anything for you.”

“Just one thing,” Troy said. “I’m dating Harris. We’re together. I’m gay.” Ilya had to respect how efficient the speech was. He began to clap loudly, and everyone else joined in, cheering and whooping. Ilya loved this team. He watched Troy step down off the bench and into Harris’s arms. Then he bent Harris backward and kissed the hell out of him, in front of everyone.

And of course he shouldn’t resent Troy for being able to come out, announce his relationship with Harris, and basically adopt a wonderful dog all on the same day. “It’s okay,” he said to Chiron in Russian. “My day is coming.”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Did you fuck every woman in Canada and had to move on to men?” Ilya rolled his eyes. “That’s not how it works.”

“You’re blushing,” Svetlana said, delighted. “Ilya Rozanov, are you in love?” Ilya couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his face. “Extremely.”

“Is it Shane Hollander?” she hissed. “I’m afraid so. Yes.”

“Can I suck you?” he asked. “Wanna feel you get hard in my mouth.” Ilya’s expression melted into pure desire. “You should hurry.”

Finally, Ilya said, “I hope you did not like that pillow.” Shane laughed. “That bad, huh?” “My whole body just shot out of my dick.” “Do we count that as a lower-body injury?”

“What would you name your son?” “Roger Crowell.”

“Roger Crowell Rozanov.” “Stop.” “Or...” Ilya rolled on top of him, grinning. “Roger Crowell Rozanov-Hollander.” “God, that’s a mouthful,” Shane said as his heart melted into goo. “Hollander-Rozanov is alphabetical, though, so...” “Sounds worse.” “Maybe we could combine our names. Hollanov. Rozander.” “Roger Rozander. Terrible name.” “We’re not naming our kid Roger, you sack of shit!”

“Will Chiron be there?” Troy’s lips curved up a bit. “Yeah. And a bunch of other dogs.” Well. Ilya could probably make time for a bit of dinner.

Harris’s sister, Margot, stood to offer Ilya her armchair, but Ilya waved her off and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Are you sure?” Margot asked. Ilya already had three dogs trying to climb into his lap. “Yes,” he said. “All of my friends are down here.”

“I never thought—” Troy shook his head. “I just didn’t think I could have this, y’know? Have all of it. Being openly gay. Playing hockey. Being with someone as great as Harris. I feel, like, a million pounds lighter.”

“We love dogs here, but we don’t have room for one more at the moment.” Ilya narrowed his eyes. “Harris. Are you trying to set me up? Is this a blind date with a dog?” Harris smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, pal. This is just a friendly dinner with a sweet dog who needs someone to love her and give her a big, fancy house to explore.”

The dog put her front paws on Ilya’s shin, her mouth stretched in a smile as if she knew what Ilya was thinking. “Anya,” Ilya said, smiling back at her. “I think her name is Anya.”

It was not a small amount of toys. As soon as Shane reached Ilya’s living room he spotted at least a dozen brightly colored things on the floor, and on the couch, and there was what looked like a chunk of rope on the coffee table. There was also a luxurious dog bed near the fireplace. “So, um,” Shane said. “When did you get Anya?” “Yesterday.” Shane laughed. “Glad you didn’t go overboard shopping for her or anything.”

Shane smiled at the little red boots Ilya put on Anya’s feet. “Is to protect from the salt,” Ilya explained. “And keeps her little paws warm. At the spa they said she does not need a sweater because her hair is long. Too bad because there was a sweater that looked like a strawberry and was so cute.”

“Does the hotel have a live camera so you can watch her?” “Of course it does,” Ilya said. “You know you can’t use the coaches’ iPads to check on her during games, right?” Ilya was silent a few seconds too long, then said, “I know.”

The room was quiet, and so full of love it was almost suffocating. And if someone had told Shane that morning he’d rather pet a dog until she fell asleep than have sex with his boyfriend, he never would have believed them. But life was full of surprises.

“If anything freaks Anya out, it’s going to be this weird creepy-faced stuffed banana toy you bought her.” Ilya heard the squeak of a toy being squeezed over the phone. “Do not wear out the toys before Anya gets to play with them, Hollander.” Shane laughed and squeaked the toy twice more. “Better hurry, then.”

“Anya stays at a hotel for dogs when Ilya’s away,” Shane said. “Like a kennel?” “No,” Ilya said irritably. “Is a hotel.” “He takes her to a spa,” Shane said. Hayden laughed. “Jesus, I’m jealous of this dog.”

“Yes, but it is not so different,” Ilya said calmly. “We were going to tell people ourselves, but now we do not have to.” “Because they saw us kissing on the internet.” “At least they know we are great at kissing.” “It was a pretty top-tier kiss,” Hayden agreed.

“There we are,” Ilya said. He was quiet a moment and then said, “Oh yes. This would be hard to deny.” He huffed. “We are really going for it.”

“It’s not funny.” “Is very funny!” Ilya squeaked out. “Hayden’s stupid FanMail video. Oh my god. This was somebody’s birthday greeting. Someone named Brad.” “Sorry, Brad,” Shane mumbled.

The ice shelf that Ilya had built up in his chest began to crumble and slide away. “I love him,” he said quietly. There was a long silence. Ilya stared at his coffee and waited. “And I’d say the feeling is mutual,” his coach finally said. “Based on that video, anyway.” Ilya’s lips curved up. “It is very much mutual.”

Ilya’s lips curved up. “This team is very gay.” Wiebe laughed. “Technically, I’m bisexual. To be clear, I love my wife. I’m not hiding anything.” Ilya’s smile grew. “Bisexual! Great. Yes, me too.”

“But that weirdness goes away, and then you’re going to have to live with how shitty you were to Shane when he needed his fucking boys the most. So think about that.”

It was after ten o’clock at night when Ilya’s phone finally lit up with a text from Shane: I ate a Snickers bar. Ilya sent him a FaceTime request right away.

“I will leave first thing tomorrow. After I walk Anya.” Shane smiled at that. “I’m glad you got a dog.” Ilya grinned back. “Me too! She is so good! I will send you more pictures.” “Awesome.”

Nice. Better than what he would have written himself, which probably would have been along the lines of, We’re in love and fuck you.

Ilya passed his neighbors’ house—the one where Willa and Andrew lived—and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a large hand-drawn sign attached to the tree near the end of their driveway: We love you, Ilya! Underneath the sign was a little shelf that held two Funko Pop figures: one of Ilya, and one of Shane.

“The hell?” Shane said when he realized Ilya had led him to his trophy room. Ilya just smiled at him. “No way,” Shane said. “Weird.” “Is it?” Ilya asked, trailing a finger along Shane’s jaw. “I thought you need a reminder, before our meeting tomorrow.” “Reminder of what?” Shane said faintly as he tipped his head to the side and closed his eyes. Ilya kissed just under his jaw, then in front of his ear. “Of who the fuck you are.”

“Look at all of this,” Ilya said as he bent Shane over the chair with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. “You almost need two rooms.”

“Where the fuck are you going?” “To get lube,” Ilya said easily. “You know how sex works by now, yes?” “Hurry up, then,” Shane said bitchily. Ilya, of course, took his time. He headed up to the bedroom, grabbed a bottle of lube and a clean hand towel, then, after a moment’s consideration, went back to the nightstand and retrieved the vibrating cock ring he’d given Shane for his birthday last year.

“Would be easier to do this if you were soft. But you never are, so.” “I am sometimes,” Shane argued. “Not when I am around.”

“Which is your favorite?” Ilya asked conversationally as he continued to rub the head of Shane’s cock. “Of all of these trophies?” “Rookie of the Year,” Shane said quickly, and smugly. Ilya huffed. “Fucker.” He flicked Shane’s dick, making him yelp, and then moan.