Page 28 of Heated Rivalry 1
“Have you ever touched yourself,” Ilya asked, circling his finger again, “here?”
Hollander’s face flushed bright red, and Ilya grinned.
“Jesus Christ,” Hollander muttered.
“You are embarrassed.”
“Well!”
“You don’t play with your ass? It makes you gay?”
“Oh my fucking god...”
“You know what makes you gayer?”
“Rozanov...shut the fuck—”
“Sucking my dick. You were doing that a minute ago.”
Hollander sat up. “I’ve played with it, all right? I’ve—I’ve got a...thing.”
“A thing?”
“A dildo! Okay?”
Ilya grinned so hard it hurt. “What color?”
“Fuck you!”
“Is it big?”
“I’m leaving.”
Hollander moved to get off the bed. Ilya quickly covered him and pinned him back down. He held him down by the wrists, and Hollander made a halfhearted attempt to fight him off, but stopped when Ilya kissed him.
“I want to fuck you, Hollander,” Ilya said against his ear.
Hollander shuddered, and Ilya was sure he was going to say yes, but instead, “I...no. I can’t. Not here.”
Ilya considered his answer, and nodded. Not here. Not in a hotel surrounded by their fellow NHL players. By the media. By fans. Not now, when they would both have to be as close to silent as possible when Ilya entered him for the first time...
“Okay,” Ilya said, nipping at his throat. “Next time, then.”
Hollander snorted, but he was smiling hopefully. “Next time?”
Ilya shrugged one shoulder. “We play in Montreal in two weeks.”
“That doesn’t mean we can... I mean, howwouldwe?Wherewould we?”
“Are you homeless?”
“No.”
“Well then...”
“So, what? You’re just gonna sneak out of your hotel? What will you tell your teammates?”
“The fucking truth! I’m going to get laid! Like every city we play in!”
