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- - -
Coach inhaled sharply. “Go home. I will talk to management and we’ll decide what to do with you.”
“Am I...benched?” Shane questioned with a low voice, his nerves went cold at the implications. What to do with you. Then irritation snaps deep in his chest, crackling somewhere between his ribs and electrocuting his nerves. He fidgets with his fingers, praying to whatever divine that his claws weren’t extended from how much rage he’s feeling at the moment.
And without missing a beat, Coach roared back.“Yes, you’re fucking benched, Hollander! What did you think would happen?”
Shane’s whole body went rigid. He wanted to scream back in his coach’s face. He also wanted to disappear. The entirety of this shitshow would’ve made him snap him in half. But there’s still patience residing somewhere in him. He can control it. He’s been doing so for years.
He suppressed the immediate urge to lash, an unpleasant scent already oozing off his sweaty skin from the anger alone. Shane tries harder to drown the urge to emit his displeasure.
Coach sighed. “This order comes directly from Crowell. You and Rozanov.” He said the name like it was a particularly vulgar slur. “Until this gets dealt with, you’re both sitting.” The intonation dismissal, as if they weren’t big name players that have contributed for years in the league. Their name is sitting on the tip of Theriault’s tongue like it’s bitter—rotten.
“Dealt with?” He asked dumbly like the first question he asked. Still unable to stomach the fact that he’s being thrown aside like nothing. Like he had not contributed a fuckton to this team. Shane had known the consequences would follow suit after the exposure of their relationship, but it was still unexpected for him to face this kind of reality from his own team.
“And don’t even think about posting anything online about this. No statements. You’re in enough trouble already.”
“But—” Shane’s omega self cringed at the authoritative tone of his coach, it’s similar to the tone of any other alpha, pushing for order to others. The tone that conquers all.
“Go home,” Coach said again.
Realizing that arguing would be pointless right now, Shane left quickly. He’s exhausted, and every fiber of his being is screaming for Ilya’s comfort right now. Hurt would be an understatement to what he’s feeling at the moment. But above all, Shane felt like just sleeping the whole thing off in Ilya’s arms and coming back in whatever days or years to deal with the fall out of things. He’s exhausted.
And he had somehow known how his team would react, but this was beyond what he could imagine from them. It was appalling.
He wanted to abandon his belongings in the locker room, wanted to avoid the team, however cowardly that may seem. But his car keys were in his coat pocket. And no matter how much he wanted to run to Ilya, he had to face his team. The team that he had led for years.
Shane thinks of Ilya. His scent, his arms, his warmth. Shane steadied his breath and swallowed the lump in his throat to push forward into the other room.
When he entered back into the locker room, immediately all eyes were on him. Not a single one of them tried to cover their stares and glares.
He took a deep breath and tried to stuff every vulnerable crack back inside him. Feeling his breath stutter as he exhaled. “Okay, now you know.” His voice is steady despite his racing, angry and exhausted heart. “I’ve been contributing to this team for years, never stopping me once.” He highlights this last sentence in the silence of the room. “We won the fucking cup last year.”
It was an amazing number of victories, it’s known globally for fucks sake.
The most powerful male omega captain leading and winning the cup for years in a row. A legacy. Shane fucking Hollander, the omega who screwed the player alpha, Ilya Rozanov. Did. That. Shit.
“It’s fucked up,” Comeau said.
“You think I don’t know that?” Shane said, anger flaring deeper inside his chest, gurgling somewhere in his abdomen now. “That’s why I’ve been hiding it for so long.” His pheromones snaps from its brewing irritation and oozes off him, adding to the suffocating scent of the room.
Shane couldn’t care to note that his scent patches were failing him right now. He didn’t care what their reaction to his smell was. They’ve been with him for years, they should’ve got accustomed to Shane’s omega scent by now.
Hell, most of the time he was fucking drenched in Ilya’s scent.
In Lily’s scent.
“Not from everyone,” J.J. said angrily. A twitch in Shane’s brows came from that comment, he imagines if his ears and tail were out now, they’d be prickly and stiff at J.J. 's tone.
Shane tried to explain himself, face stiff and unrelenting. “J.J.,”
“Don’t want to hear it,” J.J. said. “Is Coach sending you home?” The stare J.J. gave him made Shane pull back. He knew J.J. wouldn’t lay a single finger on him but he never expected this anger from him as well. Anything was possible that day.
And to think that his only sin was loving Ilya.
“Yeah, but—”
“Then fuck off and go home.”
There were murmurs of agreement throughout the room. Shane’s eyes prickled with tears. He expected so much more. He had hoped so much when he continued to play with Montreal while Ilya was stuck in Ottawa.
The thoughts he had of the Ottawa team, and their constant losses. He was so sure that he wouldn’t lose his own team. The team that he had poured sweat and tears for. The team that his mother adored so much.
Shane pulled at his coat and left the room before the rest of the team could weigh in their opinions of him and his sins. As tears welled up in his eyes, Shane could hear the distinct voice of Hayden echoing in the back. He ignored the attempt and fled the building. Anywhere was better than here.
As he pulled into his car, he could feel the tension drumming on every surface of his skin. The bile he had stuffed down earlier in Coach’s office now threatening to eject from his throat. He pulled every bit of strength in him to keep himself from vomiting.
Shane strips off every scent patch itching and clinging to his skin and stuffs them by the pocket on his door, huffing at the sweaty adhesives.
He wasn’t sure how the Centaurs were handling the news and how Ilya was facing it with his own coach, but he was pretty confident that Ilya could take care of it. Better than he ever would. He feels fatigue wash over him in an instant, a distress noise coming from the back of his throat as his eyes watered again. He feels fucking pathetic.
His brows furrowed and Shane finally let himself loose. His teeth ache at first, then his fingernails. Shane tries not to think deeply about the shift as he drifts his thoughts on something else more important.
Ilya.
Oh Ilya.
Shane reaches for his phone and opens to Ilya’s texts clumsily, his natural claws attempting to open the chat before succeeding, eyeing the last few messages they shared before heading into each of their coach’s offices.
I love you, moya lyubov
I love you too Ilya
- - -
Hours had passed since he’s been in his Montreal apartment. And for the hours that he had spent calming himself, doing all sorts of self-soothing routines he had ever committed in his life, Shane still felt restless.
He still hasn’t turned back into his normal human form. Still stuck in his omegan half-form.
His claws are still extracted, pretty and flawless. Clean. Groomed to perfection. Ears and tails popped out since he got into his car, still in a state of distress. He’s been scratching and rubbing viciously at his scent glands, suffocating at the lack of his alpha’s smell.
He had taken a long bath. He tried meditation to ease the transition and shift back. He had taken calming pills and ate a few more of his favourite snacks that he rarely indulge himself in, considering that he cares too much of his diet to stay in shape to play for fucking Montreal Metros.
Fuck!
Shane had long pulled Ilya’s emergency, heavy-scented jersey from his closet and wore them throughout the evening. And even then, it didn’t calm him enough. He was still stressed. Still pissed. Still so fucking angry at the thought of it all.
It’s all fucking unfair.
He played so well. He played by the rules. He played beautifully everytime it fucking mattered.
Who fucking cares he got dicked down by Rozanov while all of that was happening?
Fuck.
Shane curses to himself as he lays in his bed alone in Montreal. If he’s fucking benched and possibly getting kicked out of the team. Then what’s the fucking point of staying in Montreal?
What is the fucking point hockey at this point?
He feels like a failure. He feels like he failed his team. But despite those emotions, he knows that he wasn’t at fault. But this was one of his nightmares too. Even worse than the time his own father caught him and Ilya at the cottage.
Shane sat up in his bed with an angry huff, the scent of his alpha’s jersey did splendidly to calm him a little, but it wasn’t enough. He’ll be fully calm if Ilya was actually here instead.
A fucking fabric drenched in his boyfriend’s pheromones won’t tame out this anger in his heart.
“Fuck it. Fuck!” He curses louder, tossing the sheets off and walking to the kitchen to pull out the long-lost gift he had received way back. Once he grabbed the small sized snack, he tore the wrapper open and shoved the whole size of it in his mouth.
Feeling like he had to prove something.
When the clock hits ten o’clock, when he feels like he has exhausted all of his options, he finally has the energy to send Ilya a text.
I ate a Snickers bar.
Ilya’s response was immediate. A Facetime request filled up his screen and Shane answered the call with exhaustion written all over his face.
“You’re wearing the emergency jersey.” Ilya notices as he eyes his own jersey worn by him. Shane nods and buries deeper into his pillow as he huffs out a sigh. “Yeah.” Then his eyes flit to the top of Shane’s head, the sight of his wolfish ears tucked flat on his dark hair—Ilya’s eyes softened immediately.
Shane focuses on Ilya’s face, worry on his frown and his bare neck showing, wearing a simple sleeveless black tee he loved to wear. He would love to be in Ilya’s arms right that moment. He wanted to hold him. Wanted Ilya to comfort him.
“Did the chocolate make you feel better?” Ilya asked, eyes softening even more at the sight of Shane’s pathetic self. He wanted to crawl deeper into the sheets and rot.
“No,” He grumbled instead. “Maybe. It was really fucking delicious, even thought it was old.” His face pinched in realisation. “I think it was the one you bought me a long time ago.”
Shane sighed. “You gonna gloat about it?”
Ilya’s face pulled into a deeper frown. It’s no longer ‘worry’ painted across his face now. Now it’s ‘pity’. Shane felt the distinct difference of team reaction played dramatically in his head. Ilya got off easy. He didn’t.
Even though they’re both benched. Shane knew that the Centaurs were somewhat kinder than the Metros. He heard it time and time again from Ilya.
In the years of their competitiveness, he never expected to feel like he lost to Ilya in this aspect too. Ilya got the kind team. Shane didn’t. Shane had to face discrimination from the team he played for years. And maybe he’s being kind of a dick, but if Ilya was still with Boston, maybe they would’ve been less ruthless than the Voyageurs, because despite all—Ilya Rozanov was a household name within the Boston team.
“No, Shane.” Eating candy was basically hitting rock bottom for him. Ilya knew this.
Anger laps up at his heart again, this time more prominent, despite its exhaustion of remaining there the whole day.
Shane sniped back. “Why not? Isn’t this what you want?” He rolled his eyes and looked away from the screen, imagining the countless times Ilya had brushed this kind of thing easily. Breezy.
“Fucking relax, Hollander, right?” No big deal. You’re being pathetic, it’s simple. You’re being too fucking dramatic. Stop being such a little bitch, Hollander. You fucking useless excuse of a male ome—
“Sweetheart,” Ilya said gently. He wasn’t even using any condescending tone. It was just Ilya. Soft, gentle and comforting.
His familiar tone pulled Shane from his rage. And Shane realises his eyes waters up once again, his vision blurry from anger, from sadness. From everything that has gone wrong.
“Moy dorogoy,” Ilya whispers, his camera shifting a little as his face pulls farther from him. Shane notices that he is standing now, probably walking. “Hey, hey, Shane. It’s okay.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed at his eyes, unable to contain his angry tears anymore. “Sorry, Ilya. I’m sorry—” He choked on a sob, turning his face to the other side and almost letting go of his phone.
“Shane,” Ilya’s voice echoes loudly in his room. “Moy lyubimy, I’m here. I’m still here with you. Tell me what you need.”
Shane thinks for a second, sniffling quietly. What does he need actually?
This anger was misdirected. He shouldn’t be mad at Ilya for anything. The man had abandoned his country to be with Shane. Even before they were official boyfriends. Ilya had put up with so much for him. He had gone through hell for Shane. Working his way into a barely surviving team. He works hard for him. For a glimpse of a future with him. For a chance of them being mated, married and settling here in Canada.
And here Shane is bitching that Ilya somehow felt satisfied at the outcome of the Metros.
God, he’s so fucked up.
Shane pulls his camera up and stares at Ilya’s worried and frantic face. The pout on his lips and the intense gaze of his eyes, clearly distressed that he let his omega be on his own in times like these.
And Shane thinks, what he really needed was just Ilya.
The Metros already knew it. Hayden and J.J. too. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the general public thinks of him anymore.
The worst case scenario already happened. The Metros will kick him out by tomorrow or next week, who fucking cares? Because even if they don’t, even if they decided to keep him around for months or years to come, Shane won’t give more of his effort and time to the people who thought of Ilya as Shane’s sinful mistake. He’ll quit the team himself.
Fuck the rest of them.
He wanted Ilya. Just him alone.
“Ilya,” He replies after a moment of silence and dry tears on his cheeks.
“Yes, Shane?” Ilya replies back, anticipating his request. Ilya must’ve expected him to request simple words of affection and affirmations to get him through the night. But Shane had other ideas.
“I just need you. I’ll come home.” He replied with determination across his face, ears no longer flat on his head and now standing tall with eagerness.
Ilya’s face melts into a soft smile and he opens his mouth to offer the sweetest thing he’ll hear all day.
“Stay put, solnyshko. I’ll drive there to you, yes? It’s only a few hours away,” He grins, his phone moving along with him as Ilya runs to grab his belongings.
Shane let out a delightful laugh and buried his face deeper into Ilya’s jersey. “Okay. Drive safely, please.” He warns gently, watching Ilya rush through the front door and into his car already. “Drive slowly, Ilya.”
Ilya’s eyebrows were up to his forehead at the gentle reminder, the visuals of him now are propped up on the dashboard. “Okay Shane, I’ll drive so safely that I’ll be there in…” He looks at the time on his phone and leans in for a kiss and a wink. “...a blink?”
Shane’s laughter fills the air between them and he reciprocates the kiss. “Okay. I’ll be on standby downstairs, text me when you are here?”
“Always, moy lyubimy. I love you.”
“I love you more.” Shane exhaled, smiling dopily on the facetime before Ilya drops the call to focus on getting where he’s at.
- - -
When Shane was busy getting dressed comfortably for the inevitable long drive back with Ilya, he had expected a text from him to signal his arrival downstairs.
But instead, Shane gets a surprise knock on his door as he was leaving his luggage by the shoe rack, preparing for a smooth take off once he gets the text signal.
Shane didn’t need to open the door to recognize who was behind it. Ilya’s smell was already ingrained into his system that it’s hard not to know where he was. So he opens the door with eagerness that hasn’t been felt since that morning.
Ilya was standing in front of the door with a beaming smile, and all of Shane’s worries dissipated at the sight of him. He pulls Ilya inside and jumps at him.
“Ilya,” He breathed in his scent, arms wrapped tight around his middle as he buried his face in Ilya’s neck. “Oh god, why didn’t you text?”
Ilya’s chuckle vibrated through the thick hoodie he’s wearing, arms surrounding Shane in comforting grasp as he replied cheekily. “This is more fun, no? I get to surprise you.”
Shane buries his face further and lets out a shaky exhale, relief flooding him instantly just with Ilya’s presence. It’s ridiculous to think that his teammates are so angry at this. At Ilya—for loving Shane.
It gives him clarity at least, where their support lies when it comes to him being true to himself. Years of dedication and effort on his part—discarded the moment Shane was finally being faithful to a version of himself where he wasn’t putting on a mask.
Years of holding himself together and keeping their relationship under wraps, and Shane was proven that his fears were warranted. Especially coming from his home team.
Pathetic.
“Wanted to hold you for a minute,” Ilya whispered softly, broad palms reaching up to caress Shane’s hair and ears, tickling them at his leisure. Shane huffs in response but nodded in agreement at his words. He couldn’t lie that this hug was probably needed since he entered his coach’s office. He needed this hug since yesterday. Ilya has been his rock throughout all of this, ever since their first little getaway at his cottage.
Unchanging, strong and calm.
Shane pulls away from him and looks at Ilya, at this man, this brute of an alpha, and he couldn’t feel anything but love for him. “Kiss me now, Ilya.” He orders instead, feeling pouty, needy. It’s ridiculous. But today has been so shitty that he needed to feel better with ten million kisses. No, maybe even more.
“That,” Ilya whispers, caressing his cheeks and rubbing his thumb against his freckles. “I can give.” He smiles and leans in for a gentle peck. Then he gives another. And another. Until Shane was breathing heavily and whining into his mouth, pulling him by the collar and dragging him inside the house further.
The alpha does what he does best whenever it comes to comforting his omega, years of practice served him well and Shane couldn’t help but feel pampered and going into a pre-heat after Ilya spoiled him rotten under the sheets.
By the time Shane rides in the passenger seat beside Ilya, wearing the same hoodie Ilya had worn on his drive there, his lips were all swollen and red, never experiencing dryness even for a second. That, and the fact that his body was satiated with Ilya’s love making and pampering.
- - -
“Are your parents going to be here later?” Ilya asked when they finished kissing Shane after their shower. After their long drive back, both of them were knocked out the moment they reached their bedroom. Now, after a good night’s sleep and their usual routine of rolling out of bed late, cleaning up for a walk and a light breakfast, they found themselves fooling around in the shower; continuing what they had missed doing the night before.
“No, I told them we needed time alone. To talk. Since we’ll have that meeting with Crowell soon.” Shane replied sheepishly. “But I, um…”
Ilya catches on immediately. “Still want to be railed by your boyfriend?” He smiles, caressing Shane’s cheeks gently. “Not sore enough from yesterday?”
Shane’s eyes darkened. “Are you complaining?”
Ilya grins and shakes his head before crashing their lips back together, gripping his hair. It was still wet from the shower they’ve taken, but he doesn’t care. He would’ve taken him right then and there in that bathroom. Ilya wanted to devour him.
“Make me forget everything,” Shane whispered. “I need you.”
Ever since yesterday, Ilya’s embrace and presence had made Shane so clingy and craved for more. For his scent. He’s too aroused easily, and maybe he could reason with the fact that his emotions were in a haywire before Ilya ever got to him, but there was something else entirely now.
Shane stood in front of him with the anger and want he felt since yesterday. Anger at the state of his world, at his teams and management that were supposed to have his back. But the want he felt for Ilya overwhelms the rest of it. He’s been so agitated and pissed at others, that he wanted nothing more than to just crawl under Ilya’s skin and make home there.
He wanted to be surrounded in nothing but Ilya’s pheromones and scents, marking him all over, leaving traces on his skin permanently that no one else could ever deny that they belonged to one another.
Speculations be damned, he wanted to give the world the real confirmation that the famous alpha of Boston, now Captain of the Centaurs, Ilya Rozanov—is his, and his alone.
“This way,” Ilya kisses him softly, making Shane sway on his feet as he inhales every breath from his boyfriend’s lips, feet moving automatically—obediently—towards the direction where Ilya was leading him.
As he trails behind Ilya with their hands intertwined, Shane stops in his tracks as Ilya pulls them inside the trophy room. Walls stacked with various trophies kept behind glass displays, every milestone of his career was proudly stacked and arranged in the room, clear for any visitor to see.
“Ilya—“ Shane stops behind him, fingers gripping around Ilya’s own and scanning his face to gauge any amusement or joking intentions. “What?”
Ilya stood in front of him, hand caressing his jaw as he let Shane take in the sight of his own trophy room, with them both standing there in nothing but towels around their waist, fresh and clean from the shower.
“I thought you needed a reminder, before our meeting with Crowell.”
There must’ve been an incredulous look on Shane’s face as he gazes up at Ilya, blinking curiously. “Reminder of what?” His voice faint, almost quiet as he breathed in his alpha’s scent.
Ilya closes the gap between them and trails kisses on his jaw, every sound of his lips leaving marks of wet kisses echoes to Shane’s ears. There’s a palpable tension in the room, the kind that makes Shane’s heart race in the best way possible. It’s evident since last night, since Ilya decided to surprise him in his Montreal house and fucked him and his stress away. Making Shane all gooey and limp on the drive back.
But now, he felt the tension in his body tenfold than before. Shane knew that Ilya would spoil him so badly. He would take care of him in his own way that would make Shane go straight into heat and never wanting to be apart from Ilya for days. Clingy. Needy. And all of the occurrences that had happened lately, Shane feels that he might just submit to it. Submit to the nature of himself for once and let loose.
He didn’t care what would happen after this.
All he wanted now was just Ilya.
So when Ilya has hands roaming all over his body, and his lips leaving trails of kisses that make Shane tremble, and his whispers of sweet Russian praises falling from his lips; Shane clung to every bait that Ilya has given him.
“Reminder—of who the fuck you are.”
He whispers, voice like caramel to Shane’s ears and all he could do was gasp in response, grabbing Ilya’s arms as if to steady himself and nuzzle against Ilya’s neck. “Yes, Ilya—remind me.”
They’re both easily erect by then, with all the kisses and touching that they've had done. Shane had always been easy to arouse whenever Ilya was involved, he couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t affected.
Ilya turns him suddenly, bending him against the leather sofa, towels undone and pooling by his feet. The anticipation buzzed inside him, knowing what’s to come. But he was still aching for his alpha’s kisses. He couldn’t get enough.
And it seems his intentions were heard loud and clear as Ilya rested his broad shoulders and chest against his back, pulling him close by the waist as he pressed his hard erection against Shane’s cheeks. Warm hands roamed his body as Ilya pressed another kiss on his neck, hot breath fanning against the sensitive skin of his scent glands—which reminded him to release the shuddering breath he’s been holding.
“Which is your favourite, baby?” Ilya nips at his ears, busy hands cupping his chest and grinding his erection further against him. Shane barely registered the question as his entire body felt like they were on fire. The electrifying buzz on his skin heightened at every caress and teasing touches of Ilya’s hands, he could barely focus on anything else. “Of all these trophies?”
His senses feel like they are on overdrive as Ilya continues to tease him everywhere. The sense of pre-heat he felt from yesterday’s sex now ignited into a full blown heat in his gut. His body was screaming for his alpha, for a claim. He expresses them through his smell instead, falling apart just from mere touches and light kissing by the strong burst of heated pheromones filling the room.
He could hear the sharp inhale that Ilya made when he swallowed the thick scent from him, and it pleases Shane to know that Ilya acknowledged it with that reaction.
Shane Hollander let out another shuddering breath before answering. “Rookie of the Year.” He tilts his head slightly to give access for his alpha to scent him, directly to his scent glands. It drives him crazy whenever Ilya does it, mixing their scent like that, so close to his skin as if he’s wearing an exclusive scent patch that has Ilya Rozanov’s pheromones.
“Fucker,” Ilya’s response to his reply was a simple curse and a low growl in his voice, arms tightened around him as he pressed Shane harder against the back of the leather chair.
Shane anticipated more, a harsh kiss, another rough and dry hump against his cheeks or even a teasing bite—but Ilya had done none of it.
Instead, Ilya pulled him off from the back of the chair to push him down on top of it. Shane went from being bent over the chair to sitting on it, but instead of getting his face shoved in Ilya’s crotch, he finds the alpha standing between his legs instead.
“Present yourself,” The alpha commanded, both arms on each side of the arm rest, caging Shane in between as he leaned closer. “I want to eat you.”
Blush filled Shane’s cheeks in an instant, but he obliged. He nods sheepishly, which he shouldn’t, because they’ve done this countless times. Ilya had eaten him out and played with his slick numerous times before, and Shane had enjoyed every last one of them, but there was something just now that made Shane a bit sheepish. Maybe it was the way Ilya’s command had sounded or maybe it was the fact that he’s going into a full blown heat just from the thought of Ilya fucking him with his tongue.
And whenever Ilya’s fangs scraped against his skin, it would drive Shane insane. He would certainly need to experience that again.
So he spreads his legs obediently, leaning into the leather chair comfortably and raising his legs high up until both of his arms are tucked tightly under his knees.
Ilya watches him as he folds himself in half willingly, head hanging. Shane cranes his neck and adjusts his head before batting his eyelashes up at Ilya.
“Alpha,” He calls softly, spreading his legs obediently and giving Ilya his feast.
Ilya rakes his gaze over his entire naked body, spread and folded, just for him. He swallowed thickly and his mouth twitched with a smirk as his eyes landed on the soft pucker between Shane’s legs, growing increasingly wet from the beads of slick pouring shyly.
“Good boy,” he praises, leaning in to give him a chaste kiss before dropping on his knees. Shane watches him for a moment, witnessing the desire in his eyes before they turn into full blown lust craze that only alpha’s could have.
One palm spread him open, while the other took hold of Shane’s aching cock, pumping it slowly in his grip as Ilya Rozanov buried his face in between his ass cheeks—foreplay begone.
The instant he feels his alpha’s wet tongue laps up at his pucker, Shane knew he was gone. The heat coiling in his gut burns furiously inside him as his alpha eats him diligently, tongue and teeth scraping and shoved in him, eager to taste more of him. Shane breathed out a string of curses as Ilya growled in between his plunge, the deep guttural sound echoing between them as his alpha drowned himself in Shane’s heated slicks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Ilya,” His toes curled as he tried to compose himself, but it’s difficult when he’s folded and spreaded out like this. He didn’t want to come so quickly, but his alpha was enjoying his meal a little too much at the moment, and Shane could only handle so much.
“Such a slut for it,” Ilya muttered as he pulled apart from him, only for a moment, just to look into Shane’s eyes with his slick dripping from around his lips and down to his chin. “Going into heat for me, kitten?”
Shane shuddered in response, blinking and pleadingly winking at Ilya with his pucker, begging for more. Ilya notices the winking and grins widely.
“Ilya—“
He dived in without another word, tongue shoved deep inside as he exhaled, blowing hot breath against his skin and making Shane tremble entirely. Every part of him starts to tighten up, his toes curled and his fingers are digging deep into the back of his knees, and before he even realised it, Shane felt the wave of orgasm wash over him violently. He burst into Ilya’s hand, cum splattering messily in his grip as he tried to muffle his moans.
“Oh fuck—“ He whines, body jolting from post orgasm. Shane cradled his folded knees and curled onto himself, basking in the fleeting climax. He wanted to purr from the pleasure of it all, but Ilya had other ideas.
Instead of his usual teasing, Ilya pulls apart from his pucker to give him a deep kiss instead, rubbing his slick against Shane’s own face. He protested with a laugh, legs falling down automatically to make space for Ilya to settle between them, curling and resting around Ilya’s waist instead.
The alpha teasingly tries to kiss his face with his dirty lips, but with Shane’s soft protest and bubbly laughter, the alpha didn’t dare to burst his giddiness.
“I feel like I just tongue-fucked a king just now,” Ilya says instead after wiping his face and the splattered fluids with the towel he wore before.
Shane’s giggle was still present but he replied with a confused tilt of his head instead. “What?” He wraps both arms around Ilya’s neck, pleasantly purring now.
“Do you know how powerful this feels? Making the king come in his throne room with just my tongue?”
Shane purred deeply in response, nuzzling against Ilya’s nose, lips lingering close to his own. “Yeah?” He teases further, reaching down with one hand to tug at Ilya’s cock, the one who had been neglected for quite some time now.
“Wonder what else you can do for the king…” He whispers against Ilya’s neck, amplifying his scent and broadcasting his want and desire with clear intention. There’s no doubt that he wanted Ilya to knot him. He communicated that loud enough with how he’s gripping and rubbing at the base of Ilya’s cock, where his knot would swell later.
“Shane…” Ilya shuddered from his neck, fangs scraping against his scent glands. “I need to grab condoms,” He added softly, jaw tensing slightly despite his gentle voice. Shane shook his head, diligently stroking his alpha’s erection as encouragement for him to do it raw.
“No, Ilya,” He breathes, turning Ilya’s head to face him. “I want it as is.” Shane angles himself to press Ilya’s tip against his hole, tugging him closer to show exactly what he wants. “Just like this.”
There’s a brief second of recognition in Ilya’s eyes, Shane’s suggestion registering in his brain as he gazes at his omega. “Fuck, Shane—“
Their lips clashed in a heated mess as Ilya thrust in without warning.
Shane let out a high pitched moan in his mouth, while Ilya let out a deep groan as he buried himself deep in him. The slick doubled to accommodate Ilya’s intrusion, and it truly has been awhile since they’ve done it raw like this. So the pleasure hits them harder.
The alpha’s hips stuttered for a mere second before he found his pace, thrusting in with deep and impactful rhythm, driving the omega over the edge easily.
Shane cradled Ilya’s face in his hands and kissed him stupidly, sloppily, eagerly—desperately. Exactly how an omega in heat would be. Because he is. And he needs more than just Ilya’s cock fucking him stupid. He needs Ilya’s knot to get stuck inside him while he pumps his stupid seeds inside, filling up Shane’s insides until it reaches his womb.
No, he definitely wanted Ilya to fuck him raw. Without restrictions. And if they keep at it enough, he’ll definitely get pregnant.
Shane could feel the desire unfurl inside his chest as the clarity erases the haze in his mind. His heart beats a tad bit quickly at this newfound desire.
Ilya was still lost in kissing him, fucking him, and moaning in his ridiculously, hot way that he always does. So Shane tries to take charge instead, especially since he now has a mission to complete.
“Alpha,” Shane moans sweetly, bursting his sweet pheromones near Ilya’s nostrils for good measure. “Wanna ride you, please—“
“F-Fuck, okay—“
Ilya cradled Shane’s body and lifted him off the leather chair easily without breaking contact, and he switched their position.
As soon as Shane was on top of him, straddling his hip and adjusting himself, getting comfortable—Ilya hisses from the tightness, the overall position of both of them. But neither made any effort to move as they locked lips together again. He was beginning to feel lightheaded from it all, the greed and desperation burning under his skin, primal instinct telling him to pounce the alpha and wring him dry until he’s positively bred.
His knees dug on both sides of Ilya’s hips, sinking into the leather as he started to move, starts to grind his hips and recklessly bounce on Ilya’s laps, with his fingers digging into the head of the chair, head thrown back from ecstasy.
“God, Ilya,” Shane moaned shamelessly, body arched and pulled apart from his boyfriend, blessing him with the view of his toned, sweaty body. Ilya barely could string coherent words in English, switching to Russian flawlessly as he indulges the sight of Shane’s body on top of him, eyes never parting from the top of Shane’s head, then down to the sight of his dick bouncing up and down and rubbing against Ilya’s stomach.
The alpha looks drunk and Shane could tell that he himself was the same, they both were overly heated and the room definitely helped to amplify it.
Sitting here, positively and happily bouncing on Ilya Rozanov’s dick, surrounded by his glory and reminders of his successes, Shane Hollander thinks; I am a King. I should have it all.
His gaze catches Ilya’s and again, the heated spark inside him ignites further. Primal instincts screaming at him to make Ilya his, to make this alpha tied down to him permanently. To erase every doubt of their bond with each other.
And Shane thinks how foolish he was to dance around not being marked by Ilya, simply because he’s afraid of people’s reactions. How foolish it was to prioritise other people’s opinions over their own. Over Ilya’s.
He sees how lovestruck Ilya was. Always had been. The way his eyes softens even when he’s fucking Shane open like this, even when the setup right now leans more to playful naughty than sweet, sappy romantic love-making. Ilya always chose him first.
And Shane is choosing him now.
I want his bite, Shane thinks.
So he bares his fangs at Ilya, his entire body shuddering at the brief shift of his ears and tails appearing, clearly going into a deeper state of heat. The one that will acquire Ilya’s knot for a few more rounds.
The alpha blinks, mouth falling open as he tightens his hold around Shane’s waist, pulling him closer so their lips could meet. But instead of a kiss, Ilya whispers gently; “What is it, moy lyubimy?”
Shane licks his own tiny fangs and darts his tongue out to lap at Ilya’s. “Want.” He mutters, a whine escaping between his licks. “Ilya, I want bites.”
Ilya hums in response, the curious sound sending shivers down his spine as his alpha takes a second to recognize Shane’s request. It is a big ask. They had never bitten each other before. Hickeys were normal, in places no one would ever see but even then it was scarce. With Shane’s paranoia and anxiety, he barely wore any mark that Ilya could give during the seasons. Scent-wise… well that is a story for another day.
But bites? Marks? Bond marks? In Shane Hollander’s vocabulary, that is basically announcing marriage.
They agreed that it will happen one day. But they had never discussed the timeline for it to occur. As with everything in Shane’s life, it must be planned ahead. Though this was spontaneous in some angle, Shane knew that it was long overdue. He could argue that this was bound to happen sooner. Cat’s out of the bag and all.
So Shane understands the slight hesitation on Ilya’s part. They didn’t establish when they’ll be bonded. And the alpha was genuinely trying to gauge if it was the heat talking or if it’s a sincere request by Shane. Ilya cradled his face with one hand, his thumb inserting between Shane’s lips to graze at his little fangs.
“Hickeys? Or bites?” He seeks for clarification in the midst of it all, pulling Shane’s heat-filled being back to planet Earth. “Like…” He presses his thumb against his fangs, breaking through his skin easily and Shane licks the seeping blood willingly. Ilya catches his eyes, pupils blown wide as Shane proceeds to suck on his thumb. “…Mating bite?”
Shane swallowed finally, breathing heavy. His ears flickered once, tail swishing behind as he took in Ilya’s expression. It was dark, heavy with intention to pounce, but there was still hesitation.
To fully eliminate any more doubt, Shane stood up and turned, swallowing the whimper from the loss of Ilya inside him—Fuck it. He’s my alpha.
He sat back down, flesh filling him up easily as he did, like it never left. A soft groan echoed behind him as Ilya circled his arms around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. They’re fully naked, skin to skin, sweat and slick making things slippery in certain places. But he’d kill if anyone would make him part with Ilya that moment.
It’s pure bliss. Ilya kisses his neck and nuzzles against his scent glands, inhaling deeply. Shane purrs sweetly and bares his neck, presenting himself openly.
“Mate.” He utters, gripping Ilya’s hands around his waist and letting himself be cradled, kissed and pampered.
“I want to be mated to you. Ilya. I need your bite.” He clarified, grinding down with effort. He’s so full, inside and out. But his neck was still aching for that bite. So until Ilya gives it to him, he’ll beg. He’ll plead. He’ll do anything to be mated with Ilya.
“I-I know we didn’t…” He suppresses a groan as Ilya moves his hips, thrusting up into him now. “But I need… they need…”
Ilya growls, caught off guard from Shane’s choice of word. “They?”
Shane presents his neck again, reaching behind with his hand to gesture at his nape, glancing behind his shoulder into Ilya’s eyes.
“They need to know I belong to you. And you belong to me.” His finger brushes at his nape, right where the perfect mark of Ilya Rozanov’s bite will be. “I want a more worthy trophy that I can carry.”
The ache is growing painful now, it’s making him itchy. His omega’s patience getting thinner, it won’t take much longer until he perceives Ilya’s hesitation as rejection. He needs his bite now.
“Ilya please,” His breath hitches, purring loudly as he leaned back against him, nuzzling his alpha’s neck and kissing his jaw. “Ilyaaa…” He whimpers, chest rumbling with more persuasive purring.
The alpha tightens his hold around him, chuckling deeply as he witnesses Shane’s beautiful pleadings. All doubt and hesitation flew out the window when Shane felt the obvious swelling of Ilya’s knot inside him.
“Sweetheart. Fuck, my baby.”
He was so absorbed in begging that he failed to notice the rigid throbbing of his alpha’s cock inside him. Shane counts it as a success when the knot begins to swell, and he burrows deeper on his alpha’s lap to settle comfortably.
He knew it was better for them to be laid in bed, with Ilya mounting him and burying his fangs into his neck. But sitting here like this in the trophy room, mating in front of his achievements… Shane preferred that thrill than the soft comfort of his bedsheets.
Ilya pulls him into a kiss, and after the rightful teasing and begging from Shane’s part, the alpha finally starts to move. He held his knees up and apart, spreading him wide as Shane held on each arm rest, fingers gripping tightly while Ilya fucking hammers up into him—swollen knot forcing in and out of him delectably.
Again, not Shane Hollander’s first knot-fucking experience but it still drove him crazy.
Both of them were a vocal mess by the time they chased their climax, with Shane’s whines and whimpers spilling past his lips while Ilya’s string of sweet Russian nicknames recited repeatedly for Shane.
“Bite, mate—“ He shuddered, swallowing thickly. Ilya acted quickly and cradled his face gently, pulling his nape closer to his lips as his fangs grazed his sensitive skin. He could feel every inch of his alpha and his neck ached for the final claim. He needed it desperately.
Ilya’s fangs break through the skin on his nape easily. His jaw snaps into place on his omega’s neck, fitting into place like the final piece of a puzzle. Shane could feel it. He could hear it.
Their pace grinded into a halt the moment Ilya sunk his teeth in. Both of them locked into place as euphoria hits them like a train. It was—
God—
Shane Hollander came the second time on that chair with a fucking knot pumped deep inside him and an alpha’s bite locked tight on the back of his neck. The sensation drove him to a tremble, every nerve on his body betraying his self-restraint and making him shake like a leaf as he rode out his orgasm.
Ilya wasn’t any better. His ears and tails popped out in the midst of their heated mating, added with his fangs buried deep in Shane’s neck and his knot—he could only guess how much Ilya had spilled inside him. Not that he cares if it overflows once he pulled out later, he’ll just get Ilya to fuck another round into him when his heat re-ignites once more.
He’s filled up with his alpha’s seed and knot, while he’s bitten.
The instant bond that it forms, thrumming under his skin once Ilya pulls his lips apart from his neck, tongue lapping up the wound mark gently. The rows of emotions he felt since yesterday, since the incident, since everything—now untangling loosely by Ilya’s gentle caresses. Gentle hands laying his legs down and cradling his entire body in his embrace, arms surrounding him, safely guarding him. Lips that never ceases to stop kissing and tongue licking him clean, not wanting to part from its creation.
Shane feels at peace. He was purring with his eyes closed, lips parted to mutter words of gratitude. His alpha, his beloved. His Ilya.
“Thank you,” Shane buried his face in the crook of Ilya’s neck once he sat comfortably in his embrace. “I love you,”
Ilya. I love you. Thank you. Alpha. I love it. Thank you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Ilya nuzzles back, kissing his temple and reaching a hand out to caress his omega’s cheek. “Moy lyubimyy. Fuck, I love you too.” He whispers, buzzes and content from breeding and mating his omega. All of his desires and wants, fulfilled within that moment. “Shane,”
Shane melts under his touches, emitting another buzzy, pleasant purr as his hands curl around Ilya’s neck, pulling him into a soft, chaste kiss.
They both stayed in that position on that leather couch, which Shane has no doubt that is ruined and stained in more ways than one. But he couldn’t find the energy in him to care about it when his alpha was kissing him gently like this. It makes him drunk, it makes his head get all dizzy and there’s butterflies in his stomach again.
Shane licks at Ilya’s fangs, the one that pierced through his neck just then. He licks it diligently, admiring Ilya’s canines and the strength it holds if Ilya uses them to its full potential.
Being in the world of sports, it’s not uncommon to witness players going feral. With Rozanov’s track record, Shane wonders how Ilya never managed to snap anyone’s neck thoroughly with these deadly, sharp pearly teeths.
But nonetheless, these pearly fangs are his now. Officially.
“Mmm…” Shane purrs, smiling dopily with his eyes closed. “Ilyusha.” He says instead, nuzzling against his alpha’s neck.
“Baby,” Ilya chuckles. “Oh my sweetheart, you’re so gone, aren’t you?” His arms surrounded Shane’s limp body and as if he’s Shane weighted like a doll, Ilya carried him with ease all the way back to the bedroom. “My kitten, sleep. Just go to sleep.”
Shane nods, obeying him without words and lulled into slumber as Ilya tucked them both back into bed.
“My omega. Safe in my arms,” he whispers, settling behind him easily. “Sleep, I’ll be here.”
- - -
Shane Hollander couldn’t recall what day it was.
He'd been in such bliss when Ilya had claimed him in that trophy room, that he’s now left wondering how many days had passed since then.
Currently, being on his stomach, with a large, strong Russian alpha on his back, mounting him recklessly without hesitation. Like Shane was nothing but a hole for him to pound into the mattress.
But he’s not complaining though, no. He’s right where he belongs.
Ilya’s knot filled him up quickly, and before Shane could muster another muffled scream, he’s filled up yet again with his alpha’s seeds.
“…Moy lyubov…” Ilya huffs, licking at his claiming mark at the back of Shane’s neck. “Mine.”
“Yours.” Shane replied, blinking drowsily as he settled yet again into this heavenly bliss. He’d never want to get out of the bed ever again. He feels like he could melt in Ilya’s arms and they’ll do it again and again.
The alpha pulls apart from him almost too quickly for Shane’s liking, pulling up the familiar plug by the bed side to put it in him. To make him savour it. To let it seep in. Shane rolls to his back and does his best to lift his hips, pulling Ilya into a deep kiss while he places the plug in.
“Comfortable? Hurt anywhere?” Ilya mutters against his lips, pulling apart slightly to scan for pain or discomfort, but Shane showed none. He shakes his head and replies verbally for further confirmation. “No, I feel so good.”
He nuzzles against his nose and tugs at Ilya’s bottom lips. “So full.”
The alpha growls playfully and kisses his face. “Tease me again and I’ll tell Yuna and David that they’ll have grandchildren soon.”
He laughs as Ilya’s ticklish kisses, hands wrapping around his back as the man climbs on top of him to settle and lay comfortably. “Yeah? Grandchildren? You gonna get me knocked up with your litter, Ilya?”
Ilya’s gaze bore into Shane’s at that moment, a hint of genuinity and desire flashed between them at the question hanging in the room.
Excitement from Ilya pops up visibly through his ears and tail shifting, wagging behind him in big whips as his ears perked up with interest.
“And if I did…?”
Shane gazes at him fondly, at this alpha who was sporting Shane’s small bite mark on the side of his neck, wound fresh and deep. He caresses the bite mark and reaches up to scratch at Ilya’s dog ears, his fur soft and thick under his fingertips.
He had thought of it. About children. About carrying Ilya’s pups. Had thought of it a million times whenever Ilya helps him with his heat. Whenever Ilya was knot-deep inside him and whenever he’s full of Ilya’s seeds. Like right now.
And each time, he knew that he was accepting of it. But time and circumstances were never their friend. He plays full time and they weren’t even committed to each other years ago. And now, after so much deflection and dancing around each other, Shane thinks that they’re finally ready.
Maybe not at this moment. But definitely ready.
Ilya nuzzles against his chest as Shane keeps scratching his ears and combing through his hair, deep in thoughts. He won’t pry. Ilya knew asking for children was a big ask. They hadn’t even thought of the steps after being bonded and marked, let alone getting Shane pregnant. But it was a high possibility.
And after what had happened, Shane thinks;
Fuck everyone else.
“I think,”
He caresses Ilya’s jaw, tugging his chin so he can stare into his eyes earnestly.
“That children can be discussed, once I leave the Metros.”
Ilya’s ears perked up immediately, his eyes darting back and forth between Shane’s eyes, letting his words sink in slowly.
“You’ll leave?”
“What’s the point of staying?” Shane shrugs, running his fingers along Ilya’s shoulders as he speaks. “Coach is definitely finding ways to get rid of me without it being labeled as discriminatory. I don’t want to stay where I’m not welcomed.”
Ilya’s face broke into something heartful, Shane couldn’t tell whether it was worry or pity.
“You’re so brave,” Ilya mutters close to his heart, kissing the skin of his chest. “My love, so, so, so brave.”
Shane hums and tugs Ilya up closer, catching his lips in a soft kiss.
Once he proposes the idea out loud to Ilya, it feels real now. It feels like it could be done. Shane wasn’t being tossed aside. Montreal Metros was. And Shane Hollander could wipe his hands clean off that mess-of-a-team once and for all. He carried them enough.
It’s time for him to carry himself and Ilya’s.
Shane snuggled with Ilya, crowding the large bodied alpha in his arms as he breathed in their mixed scent. An addicting scent that is now forever intertwined. An unbreakable bond, now belonged to them.
He closes his eyes and thinks of the future.
Maybe he’ll come out with a formal statement that Ilya was his. No more hiding. No more playing.
He’ll show off to the world that Ilya and him are not a joke. Not a prank or an edited background of Hayden’s video.
They’ll get married, properly. Legally.
Then maybe Shane will carry Ilya’s pups as promised.
But would it be better to get pregnant before or after joining a new team? Which team? Ilya’s? The Centaurs?
That sounded too good to be true. But Shane would have to talk to Ilya about that.
As for the pregnancy timeline—
“My baby, sleep please. You’re thinking very loudly,”
Ah, he’s caught.
“Sorry baby,” Shane apologises sweetly, kissing Ilya’s temple. “Let’s sleep now.”
Shane exhales and falls back into slumber, scheming quietly this time, about how they’ll meet with Crowell soon.
- fin -