“Ah, fuck.”
“What, did you hurt yourself undressing?”
“Shut up, you,” Dany said, tossing his t-shirt at Ilya, who calmly watched it
land about four feet to his right. “It’s sore.”
“Four whole stitches.”
“Aw, weren’t you terrified when I got hurt?”
“No, I was just glad you were cut so we could have 4 minutes on power play.”
“You’re a horrible boyfriend.”
To Dany’s eyes, Ilya looked way too happy to have that distinction. Though he
did stick his tongue out, a deadly threat to be sure. “But I gave you
assist on third goal, I must be good.”
“Oh, please. You shot, missed the net, and the puck came off the
boards to me.”
“Well, whatever.”
Dany sat down, swinging his legs up to recline on the bed. “Christ, I’m
tired.”
“Want me to go home?”
Dany studied him carefully. Really, not much in their relationship had
changed, yet, except that Ilya was happier all the time. “No, I don’t,”
he decided, finally. “I want you to stay.”
Smiling in response, the Russian crossed the room and collapsed beside Dany,
resting his fingers lightly on Heatley’s bare chest. “I want to stay.”
Dany watched Ilya’s fingers continue to trace the contours of his chest and
abdomen, squirming a little because it tickled. “I love you,” he heard
himself saying softly.
Shifting, Ilya leaned over him, kissing him very lightly. “Ya tozhe tebya
lublyu,” he whispered against Dany’s lips, kissing him again, harder this
time. Heatley didn’t catch all the words of the phrase because Ilya’s
voice was accented with emotion and besides, Dany noticed he changed the
order of the words like everytime he said it. But the Canadian understood
the sentiment. He understood it more now, as he opened his mouth and let
Ilya deepen their kiss.
It lasted for an eternity and an instant. Then Ilya pulled away from Dany’s
mouth and left him panting while he licked and kissed and nipped his way
down Dany’s jaw and neck and across his clavicle. Then he sat up and his
eyes bore into Dany’s. “Saychas ti eta khachesh dyelat?”
Dany shuddered under the intensity of his eyes and the roughness of the
unfamiliar Russian that rolled off Ilya’s tongue so easily. “English,
buddy,” he said softly.
A slight shake of the head as if to clear it, and Ilya said, “Da, izvini. You
are sure that you want this now?”
Dany was quite sure that he had never wanted nor needed anything more in his
entire life. “Yes, Ilya. Please. Yes.”
And then Ilya’s warmth was covering him again, and soon it was Ilya’s skin
scalding against his and Dany lost himself in passion and desire and the
most intense feelings he’d ever had.
And later, when his eyelids were half-closed and he was somewhere very close
to sleep, when Ilya was curled so closely he was having trouble
distinguishing between the two of them, when he could feel the steady rise
and fall of the Russian’s chest and the warm puffs of breath against his
shoulder, Dany wondered how things had been so complicated to begin with.
Fin.