Title: Curious
Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV)
Length: 1015 words
Rating: Mature
Author notes: Tried and failed to write this a couple of weeks ago, so I appreciate the second chance! Set later than the TV show, no plot spoilers for The Long Game.
Summary: Shane's still learning what he likes.



Ilya's body was warm and firm against Shane's side, and his hand soothing where it stroked his hair. Shane could feel the tension of the day begin to dissipate with each strand that fell between those long fingers, each pass that caught them all back up again and gently shepherded them back into place.

Or near enough.

He could fix it later. This was more than worth the odd hair across his face, tickling his nose. He wrinkled his face up to try to dislodge one, pressing closer to Ilya, and smiled as Ilya carefully gathered it up and continued with that smooth, even rhythm.

If you'd told Shane, back when they first met, or even just a few years ago, that one day he'd like nothing more than to curl up on a couch while Ilya Rozanov played with his hair, he'd have—

Shane snorted, unsure if it was at past him or here and now him.

Ilya's hand paused. "Okay?"

"Mmmm." Shane butted his head against Ilya's palm like a puppy wanting head scritches. He could feel heat rise in his face. That was embarrassing, right? Yeah, it was. But it was okay, this was just Ilya. Ilya who would poke fun at him in every way but those that would really hurt.

He pushed past it and swallowed hard. "Don't stop."

"But your hair will get all messy," Ilya said, low and raspy. His fingers slowly spread wide across Shane's scalp as he picked up where he left off. He leaned in, his breath warm against Shane's ear, and Shane closed his eyes. "Maybe I stop now."

"'S a good kind of messy," Shane mumbled.

He hadn't pinpointed what it was that made some things yes, that, rather than make it go away but it lay somewhere in terrain that was being marked out gradually by Ilya's sure hands, the solidity of his body, and the rhythm of his heartbeat. The way he was always there, in spirit if not always in flesh. They were mapping that unknown terrain together; an exploration with success measured in soft exhales, and the weight Shane gradually allowed Ilya to take.

One gentle revelation after another.

Shane contained continents he'd never known existed. Might never have known without Ilya in his life.

There was a country on that map for Ilya too, of course. The difference was Ilya had known the lay of that land for a long time: his first curiosity had been about himself.

Shane found Ilya's other hand and clasped their fingers together.

He sometimes wondered why Ilya could so often tell what he needed before he knew himself. Why even though they were both heading into the unknown, he was still certain Ilya could guide him.

Mostly he was just grateful for it.

"Oh, yes?" Ilya hummed under his breath. "That is a shame, if you want it to stay this way."

Something cool and hard tapped against the back of Shane's hand.

"I thought, maybe you might like…" Ilya trailed off as Shane met his eyes. A questioning lift of the eyebrows as Shane turned the hairbrush over in Ilya's hand.

That was—Shane ran the brush through his hair when he needed to, but he almost always kept it up or tied back. He'd never paid much attention to it beyond general tidiness and not in his face, but…

Before he could second guess it, he wriggled, sliding over Ilya's legs and settling on the floor between his knees. Ilya chuckled as Shane made himself at home.

"Duhroguhy."

"What, no vocab test?" Shane said, rubbing his cheek against Ilya's leg. "You going easy on me?"

"Never." Ilya pulled at Shane's t-shirt. "Take this off."

Shane huffed out a breath, but he started pulling it up over his head. "I need to be shirtless for you to brush my hair?"

"Yes. Is the rules." Ilya said firmly. He yanked the t-shirt out of Shane's hands and flung it somewhere over the back of the couch.

"Hey!"

"Shut up," Ilya said, but he smiled as he leaned down to tilt Shane's chin up and press a quick kiss to his lips. "We will try this, yes?"

Shane rolled his eyes. "It's just hair brushing, Ilya."

"If you say so." Ilya's voice sing-songed in his ear, then there was a strong hand pulling his hair back.

Shane's breath hitched.

Oh god.

The brush tugged gently as Ilya moved it through the handful of hair he was still holding. Shane thought about that time Ilya had pulled it like that, just a little, when they were in bed, to get his attention, and he'd maybe had a jolt of oh? but hadn't been sure, and he'd been distracted by Ilya fucking him into the mattress three seconds later and--

He might be into that. He might be really into that.

He might have just whimpered.

"What are you thinking about?" Ilya's voice was amused as he moved to slide the soft bristles of the brush across Shane's scalp, letting the hair fall free from his grasp.

"Just… adding something to the list," Shane said, and nuzzled Ilya's leg. He shivered as Ilya brushed through the full length of his hair again. He wondered what it was that made him feel so good.

They could work that out later.

"Maybe a couple of things," he admitted. It was still a little nerve-wracking, the idea of asking for things. Asking for sex type things.

He was ridiculous. A tiny part of him still sometimes wondered what if Ilya thought so too. What if something he wanted was too much, too little, too stupid to ask for? And yes, thank you, he knew it made no sense, but that didn't stop the thoughts from crowding in and shit--

"It's good we have a long weekend then, yes?" Ilya murmured.

He rubbed along Shane's shoulder, and Shane pressed into it, feeling the tension start to dissipate from his body once more.

"Yes," said Shane, and as the brush started up again, he let himself stop thinking and just feel.