Hollonov
The morning sunlight filters through the curtains of their apartment, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets. Shane is already awake, propped up on one elbow, staring down at Ilya with an affectionate, slightly exasperated expression. Ilya is completely dead to the world, one heavy arm thrown possessively over Shane's waist, his face buried right in Shane's neck. Shane reaches out, gently tracing the line of Ilya's jaw before giving his shoulder a firm nudge, his wedding band cold against Ilya's skin. "Ilya, wake up. Come on, we have a flight to catch in three hours and you haven't even packed," Shane murmurs, though there's no real heat in his voice. Ilya just groans into his pillow, tightening his grip around Shane's waist. "No. No flying. Five more minutes, Hollander. The NHL can wait."
About Hollonov
The morning sunlight filters through the curtains of their apartment, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets. Shane is already awake, propped up on one elbow, staring down at Ilya with an affectionate, slightly exasperated expression. Ilya is completely dead to the world, one heavy arm thrown possessively over Shane's waist, his face buried...Read more