“You don’t approve, Doctor?” Ilya guessed.
Lisa, a doctor at the local children’s hospital, said, “It’s the sharing germs that bothers me, not the weed. But you guys are full-time disgusting, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“We’re not disgusting,” Bood argued.
“Dude,” said Lisa, “I watched you pick up your mouth guard with your gross hockey glove, carry it around for a minute, and then put it back in your mouth. Last night.”
Bood shrugged. “It was on the ice. The ice is clean. My gloves just have my own sweat on them. It’s all part of this beautiful body.”
Everyone laughed. Zane Boodram did have a beautiful body, with light brown skin, a six-pack that he was very proud of, and muscular arms that were sleeved in tattoos celebrating his Trini heritage.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be a father,” Lisa teased.
“Look, I still can’t believe I’m married,” Bood said with a grin. He glanced across the patio to where his visibly pregnant wife, Cassie, was talking to Nick Chouinard’s wife, Selena. “But everyone else was doing it, so I figured what the hell.” He nudged Ilya. “Except this guy.”
“Roz is never settling down,” Tanner said cheerfully. “He’s a fucking legend.”
“Nah. He’ll meet the right one someday,” Bood said. “Boom! Head over heels. Won’t even know what hit him.”
There was more laughter, then the conversation shifted to something else. Ilya found, after several minutes, that he was no longer paying attention, and was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be alone. He stood and said, “I am going to…” as he waved a hand in the general direction of the house. He left without waiting for their reaction.
He walked straight through the party and upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Again he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the large mirror that stood in the corner, but he didn’t still think he looked stunning. He thought he looked ridiculous. And sad.
He removed the cape and tossed it on his bed before picking up his phone from where it was charging on his nightstand. There was a message from Shane from over an hour ago. Don’t take that costume off.
Okay. Whatever that meant.
Ilya: How is your night?
He waited several minutes for a reply, then gave up. Sighing, he fell backward onto his bed, wincing as he landed weird on his fake sword. He removed it and tossed it across the room as if it were the source of all his problems. He just needed a few minutes alone, then he could return to the party.
He’d already met the love of his life, and he was head over heels, and he couldn’t tell anyone and it fucking sucked.
He let himself sulk for twenty minutes, then forced himself to stand up, adjusted his expression so he looked less miserable, and headed back downstairs. He left the cape and sword behind. The costume looked sexier this way anyway, with only the straps from the breastplate crisscrossing across his bare back.
By midnight, most of the guests had left. Babysitters needed to be relieved, and morning fitness schedules needed to be kept to. The stragglers—mostly kids—made after-party plans and called cabs when they noticed Ilya glaring at them. He may have tarnished his reputation as a fun party guy, but he didn’t care.
At twelve thirty, Ilya received a text from Shane. Party still going?
Ilya: No. Everyone is gone.
Ten minutes later, his doorbell rang.
Shane was standing on the doorstep in a puffy jacket, looking a little embarrassed.
“I didn’t want to use my key and scare the shit out of you,” he said. “Oh wow. That costume is even better in person.”
Ilya blinked, unable to find words.
Shane let out a shaky breath. “This is probably so stupid. I have to be back in Montreal for a practice tomorrow morning and—”
He didn’t get to finish that sentence, because Ilya was hauling him into the house and kissing him at the same time. He pressed Shane against a wall inside the door and devoured him while Shane ran his hands over Ilya’s mostly bare back. He couldn’t believe he was here. All night he’d been dying inside, wishing he could have the man he loved at his side. Wishing Shane was in his arms, in his lap, in a ridiculous costume, in front of everyone.
“You smell like weed,” Shane said when Ilya finally let him breathe.
“You’d know.”
“I know what weed smells like,” Shane said testily.
Ilya grinned at him. “You’re here.”
“Yeah.” Shane smiled shyly. “Is that okay? You sent that photo and I’ve just been—fuck, I missed you so much.”
Ilya kissed him again, then said, “You want to get fucked by a gladiator, Hollander?”
Shane gazed up at him through his dark lashes. “I put a plug in before I left.”
Holy shit.
With a growl, Ilya began stripping Shane of his puffy jacket, and then all of the rest of his clothes. “Fucking help me,” Ilya snarled as he tugged at Shane’s track pants.
Shane laughed and pressed his smile into Ilya’s neck as he toed off his sneakers, then stepped out of his pants and underwear. Once Shane was naked, Ilya grabbed his thighs and hitched him up until Shane’s strong legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist. Ilya carried him to the living room like that, kissing him the entire way. He slid a hand down to Shane’s ass, found the base of the plug, and pressed on it.
“Oh fuck,” Shane gasped.
“You drove the whole way here with this in?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That,” Ilya said as he carefully tugged at the toy, “is very slutty.”
“Not as slutty as that costume.” Shane relaxed his legs from around Ilya’s body and stood back. He ran his gaze appreciatively over Ilya. “Jesus.”
Ilya smiled. Maybe the costume wasn’t so ridiculous after all. “Worth the drive?”
“Fuck yeah.” Then Shane was back in Ilya’s arms, kissing him with a hand gripping the back of Ilya’s neck.
Ilya played with the toy some more, tapping the base, then pulling it nearly out before slowly pushing it back in. Shane shuddered, then whimpered, then bit Ilya’s shoulder.
“Is it safe even,” Ilya asked, “to wear a plug for so long?”
“Yeah,” Shane said breathlessly. “I Googled it.”
Ilya grinned, imagining it. He was going to tease him some more about it, but Shane cut him off by dropping to his knees.
“Been thinking about this all night,” Shane said, gazing up at him with dark, lust-drunk eyes. Then he flipped the front of Ilya’s skirt up and hauled Ilya’s underwear down. Ilya hadn’t even finished stepping out of them before Shane wrapped his lips around his hard cock.
“Shane,” Ilya breathed. Shane didn’t need any costume pieces to look like a fantasy. He was absolutely beautiful, on his knees for Ilya. He was always so beautiful.
Ilya’s eyes prickled with tears as he watched him, which was weird and alarming. He closed his eyes, hoping Shane hadn’t noticed. Ilya had felt oddly fragile all night, and the wonderful surprise of having Shane here combined with the fervent way his dick was being worshipped was too much.