From SBTB, some NSFW language within. Like, I don’t even know what having a dump-truck tushie means. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Heated Rivalry: The Unbearable Lightness of Having a Dump-Truck Ass“

by Candy 

So right now I have a number of non-romance community friends coming up to me and saying stuff like:

“Oh hey sounds like some hockey fic finally made it onto TV, huh?”

“Yo Candy have you heard of the gay hockey romance TV show?”

“How excited are you about the gay hockey smut on TV?”

“Candy why is your entire Tumblr dashboard filled with naked asses?”

To which I say: excuse me, these are not just “naked asses.”

These are triple-platinum certified, AAA grade dumptrucks. Can dumptruck butts even be certified platinum, Sisqo hit notwithstanding?

Fuck you, they can now. These asses can do anything. These asses can fly you to the fucking moon. These asses were sculpted by the hand of God, after which God cut their own hand off because it had achieved perfection, so why sculpt anything else ever. Connor Storrie’s ass in particular is a mesmerizingly perfect hemisphere. He could never sneak into an enemy base because he is dummy thicc and the thunderclap of those asscheeks would absolutely alert the guards for miles around. Do you understand what I’m saying?

A | BN | K | ABBut the thing is, you need to watch the show — I can’t believe I’m saying this after what I’ve just said above — not for the asses, but because the actors are a delight to watch. It’s not that they’re beautiful, or at least, not only because of that.

It’s because they inhabit their characters to a degree that is frankly eerie.

Like: the way Connor Storrie holds his body as Ilya Rozanov in every scene. Man doesn’t stand like an American, though he very much is. (Storrie is a Texan. A Texan.) And what does “doesn’t stand like an American” even mean? Look, I can’t fuckin’ explain it, OK, but white American dudes tend to hold themselves A Way, and he doesn’t do it. It’s like porn (which this show delivers on, by the way). I just know it when I see it.

That’s not even going into Storrie’s near-impeccable Russian (which he apparently acquired over three weeks), or the things he’s able to do with his eyes, or the curl of an upper lip, or a flick of his eyebrow.

What, you think there wouldn’t be gifs? Come on now.

And then there’s Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander. Shane, the lawful good muppet to Ilya’s chaos gremlin freak. Williams nails every microexpression, especially in the scenes in which he’s texting Ilya: vulnerability, frustration, reluctant amusement, endearment—they all flicker across his face. He’s stiff and awkward, which you might initially mistake for bad acting, except no, that’s Shane: Shane is an awkward motherfucker! Shane Hollander has zero grace until you strap skates on him, or until he’s confronted by Ilya Rozanov’s dick.

Sure, sure, my friends say. Watch it for the acting. That’s what you say. That’s not what you’re reblogging on Tumblr, you thirsty bitch.

I mean, yeah. I’m mostly posting gifsets of dumptruck butts because I need everyone I know to watch this show, and while I honestly find this image of Ilya giving Shane the once-over when they first meet theee actual hottest thing, who the fuck cares about that who hasn’t seen the show already?

It’s pretty hot

That’s not going to grab people’s attention. Oh, look at this attractive white dude giving someone the ole bedroom eyes. Boh-ring. NEXT.

Ilya Rozanov, naked and glistening with water, jorkin’ it in the locker room showers while maintaining hideously uncomfortable eye contact with Shane? That’s an attention-grabber. And I’ve sold three different people into watching this show because of it.

Speaking for all of us…

So anyway, I’ve had to talk to several friends about this show, and about why I, a person who has worked hard all their life to achieve the perfect body (potato-shaped) care about sports romance, and I’ve come up with this Heated Rivalry explainer of sorts. Maybe you’ll find this helpful as you navigate conversations with other people in your life who are like, hey, I hear you like smut! What do you think of that smutty hockey show? Or, like, if you haven’t checked out either the book or the show, and somehow have avoided learning anything about either of them, maybe this will finally push you over the edge? In fact, I hope it does. Consider this me kicking you down a well lined with bare chests and fake team logos of dubious quality and screaming This! Is! Heated Rivalry!

What the hell is Heated Rivalry?

It’s not a fic, it’s a hockey romance novel by Rachel Reid. The two main characters are Ilya Rozanov, Russian hockey wunderkind, and Shane Hollander, Canadian hockey wunderkind. (And yeah, Shane bears a physical resemblance to Sid Crosby, and Ilya being Russian and playing for a rival team immediately raises the spectre of Alexander Ovechkin, but as far as I know, this isn’t scrubbed Sid/Ovi fic, even if, uh, the inspiration seems pretty clear.)

Shane and Ilya meet rookie year, find each other infuriating yet irresistible, rapidly hook up, and then continue to hook up over many, many years, only to slowly, excruciatingly, fall in love. It’s somehow both slow-burn and bangs immediately. You know U-Haul lesbians? These guys are the exact opposite. (Move-away gays? I’ll have to workshop that more.)

Anyway. The book is mostly sex scenes by volume, and not a single one is repetitive or wasted, because it’s how the character and relationship development happen.

It’s now a TV show, adapted by Jacob Tierney. That’s the same guy who brought you Letterkenny and Shoresy, neither of which I’ve watched, but which I’ve been aware of for years now because people whose tastes I trust have watched them and loved them and told me I should watch them. Sorry, guys, it took the power of gay hockey idiots to drag me into the Tierney-verse. I’m here now, and I love it!

The thing you need to know about this show is: it leans in. It fully commits to the bit. Look, I know I keep talking about how this show is worth watching above and beyond the sex and the beefcake, but the fact of the matter is, you can’t extricate the show from the sex and the beefcake, because it’s a show. About hockey players. Who fall in love because they fuck. A lot. Over many years. So yes, I’m going to talk about the sex.

OK! (snip-I can’t copy-paste their whole post; go read it, it’s great!)