Chapter Text
March 2015
Ilya
They crawled into Shane's adorably boring nest, kissing hungrily every chance they got. Ilya maneuvered Shane, his hand still wrapped around his jaw, controlling the kiss's pace. A low, deep, reverberating sound filled Ilya’s ears and vibrated through him. What was that? It almost sounded like a purr… Shit! Was Shane purring for him? Warmth pulsated in his chest at the noise, soothing his inner alpha.
Ilya sat back in astonishment. "Are you purring for me, omega?"
"No," Shane said, face twisted with embarrassment and denial.
"Nyet? I hear you." Ilya crooned, amused.
Shane shook his head and went stiff beneath him. Ilya saw him tighten the muscles in his throat, ruthlessly squashing the sound.
"Noooo, Hollander! Don't stop! I want to hear you," Ilya cried. Pout, making his accent stronger as he tore his shirt off.
"Then get over here and make me," Shane chirped, nestling back into the pillows, eyes roaming over his body, appreciation clear to read in his expression. Ilya growled, challenge accepted.
Ilya scrambled off the bed and quickly shimmied out of his jeans, letting his large cock spring free. He hadn’t bothered putting on boxers, too stressed by Shane’s call to remember such an unnecessary piece of clothing. He watched with amusement as Shane's gaze locked onto his rigid cock, and his eyes went glassier as he licked his lips. Ilya grinned to himself.
He’d noticed that Shane had an oral fascination with his cock. Always so eager to suckle on it. Fuck! Since day one back in 2010. He’d dropped to his knees unprompted and wrapped those lush lips around his length, the only thing guiding him, desire and enthusiasm. He had nearly come down the Canadian’s throat right then and there, the erotic notion of Hollander's likely virginal status and his natural enthusiasm, and submissive nature, nearly too much for him.
Ilya forced his mind back to the present and the eager omega waiting for him. He clambered back onto the bed. Without being told, Shane bent his legs until his feet were flush against the mattress and dragged his heels apart, spreading his legs wide open, just the way Ilya liked him.
"So wet," Ilya commented, once he was settled between the man’s thighs, commenting on the omega’s cock. It looked like it was crying with need, clear liquid leaking steadily from the darkly flushed and turgid flesh. Glancing down further past his balls, he could see a damp patch on the blanket as his channel wept just as needily. Fuck he was gorgeous! Unable to help himself, Ilya bent down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Shane’s left inner knee.
"I have never seen you this wet! When did your heat start? Were you like this during the game?" Ilya asked, verbalizing his thoughts.
"I think so," Shane bit out as Ilya planted one open-mouthed kiss after another up his inner thigh until his face hovered over the desperate cock that held his focus. It twitched as he breathed on it, leaking more pre as it begged silently.
"I shouldn't be in heat right now. I don't know what's happening," Shane whimpered in distress. Ilya’s heart twisted. He’d been right, Shane was on suppressants. Of course, Shane wouldn’t let something as fundamental as biological need affect his hockey performance.
"Easy, omega…I got you now." Ilya soothed, sliding his hands up the trembling man's thighs, squeezing down into the crevice where leg met torso, trying to ground him to the present. He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not willing to let Shane suffer longer, he lowered his head and swallowed down Shane’s weighty cock. It stretched his throat, and he had to concentrate on relaxing and fall back on experience to accommodate his lover. Shane wasn’t the largest cock he’d deep-throated, and he was glad for it. Shane provided just enough challenge without being uncomfortable, making him eager to reciprocate Shane’s enthusiastic oral administrations on a regular basis.
Shane let out a loud whine above him. Ilya got to work, sucking and bobbing his head expertly as he swallowed rhythmically. Lewd noises accompanying his deft motions. Ilya felt more than heard Shane’s breath begin to stutter in and out of his chest.
He felt Shane interlace his fingers through his hair, before urging Ilya into a faster pace. Ilya’s eyes popped open, surprised. Shane had never dared to control his head so forcefully before. Glancing up, he saw the Canadian’s mouth agape, little sounds of, “Nghhh, Ahh, Al-Alpha, Ooohh, Shhhit, Rozzzz” tumbling from his lips, eyes closed in rapture. He looked desperate for relief and so god damn edible.
Fuck come to think of it, he tasted just as edible as he smelled. Shane’s delectable scent was so fucking strong, seeping out of the scent glands around his pelvis, that it changed his perception of Shane’s pre. Suddenly curious, he hollowed his cheeks and pulled back to lap up the endless dribble of precum. Yes, it was salty, but it now had notes of vanilla-sugar and warmed spices as well. Damn it, it went straight to his head like a deliciously flavored boozy ice cream. He dove back down the omega's delectable length, setting a new pattern.
Shane tried to fuck his throat desperately after a moment or so. Now that was too bold. He was already trying not to gag. Ilya pressed the hand he had resting on his lover's pelvic bone down, firmly holding his hips still. Ilya expected Shane to struggle; instead, his wordless command was heeded, and Shane melted into the mattress. Fuck, his submission was hot.
Ilya felt the instant it all became too much for Shane. Shane choked and sputtered, forgetting to breathe as his body locked up and his cock pulsed his release down Ilya’s eager throat. Ilya kept sucking drunkenly, greedy for every last drop of this omega’s divine flavor. He kept going until Shane was pushing feebly at his head, babbling something unintelligible, clearly oversensitive.
Ilya pulled off with a wet pop and stared down at Shane with his signature slow crooked smile. Shane looked utterly wrecked, chest rising and falling rapidly, pulse fluttering frantically in his neck, beautiful brown doe-like eyes shimmering with unshed tears, lips wet and pinked from biting, skin flushed in a way that made his maddeningly gorgeous freckles along his face, shoulders, and collarbones stand out even more. He pressed a tender kiss to his hip bone, unable to stop himself from worshipping this divinely crafted man.
As he staired his fill, he let his fingertips trail down, past Shane’s balls to press lightly between his cheeks. Shane was drenched, the normally tight ring of muscle puffy, lax, and weeping a heavy stream of slick that slid down his ass to pool on the bed. Fuck!
Shane had always produced some natural slick, but having thought him a beta, Ilya had always supplemented the natural-lubrication with lube, but there was no need for it now. Come to think of it, Shane’s body was weeping more profusely for him now than some of the female omegas he’d bedded. And he had never needed to spend much time spreading him open either. God, he had missed so many clues!
"Fuck you're wet, Hollander," he breathed, rubbing reverently over his already sloppy hole. "Don't even need to open you, do I, omega?"
Shane shook his head frantically in agreement. "Alpha, please! Don't play with me! Fuck me! Need you now!" Shane begged desperately.
Ilya ignored his declaration. Humming in pleasure, he pressed three of his fingers into Shane anyway. He needed to be sure. While he had never hurt any of his lovers with his knot, it was a very near thing and avoided because he had always made sure to thoroughly prepare them first, despite their eager claims that they didn’t need him to prep them. Hell, judging from the pharmacist's reaction, he was well above the average in that regard. His fingers sank in easily, Shane’s body giving no protest at the sudden intrusion. Shit! It normally took ten or so minutes of prep to get Shane to take this much comfortably. His cock leaped in arousal so hard it slapped his chiseled abs.
It made sense, of course, Shane’s body was begging to be bred. Heat making him ready to be fucked at a moment's notice. Ilya pulled out briefly before pressing back in, adding his pinky. Fuck he took the added intrusion just as easily. Like he was made to take my knot. Ilya had never dared push Shane this far before. The beta status he'd hidden behind had convinced Ilya he wouldn't welcome something so massive, despite how eagerly he'd always taken everything Ilya gave him. Ilya rubbed his thumb teasingly at the skin already stretched thin by the palm of his hand, tempted by the idea of slipping it inside the desperate man.
Instead, Ilya satisfied himself by curling his fingers up inside the sopping channel, mimicking a knot, the way he had done for other lovers who were too nervous to fully commit to taking him. This should help soothe Shane.
Shane gasped and rocked his hips, taking his fingers deeper before reaching up to tug his own hair, eyes squeezed shut, elbows pressed into the mattress, body arching perfectly to display his incredibly muscled physique. He looked distraught and helplessly unsatisfied. Apparently not.
"Okay, easy, easy there," Ilya soothed immediately, removing his fingers instantly. This wasn’t working.
"Present to me," Ilya commanded gently, hearing the question lacing his demand.
He had never asked Shane to present for him. Would he do it? Was it asking too much? Presenting was deeply personal, and he could count on two hands how many former partners had trusted him enough to present for him, gifting him with the intimate position, and he could count even fewer the number of times he had asked for it.
He held his breath and waited. Shane stiffened noticeably, and his breathing stalled.
"Only if you want to," Ilya quickly reassured the likely scared omega.
It appeared to be the right thing to say because Shane took a deep breath and slowly rolled over onto his stomach. He worked himself up onto his knees, keeping his chest pressed firmly to the bed, arching his back down, offering up his magnificent ass to Ilya. Ilya’s breath caught, honored, and light-headed at the sense of dominance his willing submission caused in him. His own cock pulsed and leaked at the magnificent sight before him.
"Fuck me, alpha. Give me your knot,” Shane whispered, face buried in the sheets.
"Are you sure?" Ilya asked once more, even as his instincts demanded the slide in deep and lock this sweet omega and claim him as his. Condom or no. Consent or not. Fuck what was going on with him. Unable to stop himself, he pressed up against Shane’s thick thighs, his heavy cock resting between his ass cheeks, slick soaking into his cock, making the spot where his knot would expand pulse at the sudden topical intake of the omegas' pheromones.
"I do not want you to have… what's the word…regrets." Ilya felt obliged to add, struggling to translate his Russian thoughts to English. Ilya noticed as Shane’s body gave a sudden full-body clench, muscles going rigid, sides rippling, and he felt an immense dollop of slick burp out of the cramping omega to further wet his cock. Shit… he felt his knot try to pop prematurely. Oh no, you don’t. Ilya clenched his jaw and forced his body into submission.
If he popped his knot now, there would be no hope of knotting the omega for at least fifteen minutes. Shane cried out, twisting his hands into fists in the bedding. Yeah, Shane would likely go feral if he had to wait that long.
"You'll regret it if you don't fuck your knot into me now," Shane snarled, turning his head to glare over his shoulder at him, eyes blazing, demure patience gone.
"So aggressive for an omega," Ilya growled, repeating his words from earlier, talking mostly to himself. He couldn’t suppress his own pleased purr from lacing his voice. Damn, he liked it when Shane was demanding, advocating for his own needs so confidently.
Ilya rushed to grab one of the knotting-condoms he had tossed into the nest when he undressed. He tore open the foil with his teeth. Shane relaxed fractionally at the sound. Ilya smirked as he slid the condom on, making sure it rolled all the way down his massive length. He blew out a relieved breath. It fit well and was comfortable. It was thinner than his preferred Russian brand. Hopefully, that would be fine… Reaching up, he adjusted his mother’s crucifix; he prayed it would.
He turned his attention to the graceful omega before him and slid his hand down Shane’s spine, captivated by his perfect arch. It made his chest ache with rightness. "You look gorgeous like this. So submissive. You should do it more often."
Shane nodded. Ilya grinned as the smell of their shared arousal made the room sharper, headier. Yeah, Shane liked the idea of spending their few and far between nights presenting for him, didn’t he? Or was it the praise that had made his scent blossom further?
He was lost in the quandary, rubbing the blunt head of his cock through Shane’s slippery cheeks, when Shane whined high-pitched and needy. Ilya watched, enraptured, as the adorable blush Shane wore spread across his neck and rushed down his back. Damn, that was cute. He looked like an erotically rouged, delicately freckled porcelain doll. He could just eat him up. Fuck why hadn’t he tasted him yet!
Unable to resist, he swiped his thumb through Shane’s dripping slick. Ilya popped the digit between his lips. A deep, satisfied groan-growl erupted from him as Shane’s flavor exploded in his mouth. It was perfection, better than he could have imagined, richer, sweeter, laced with spice and floral notes. His brain struggled to comprehend everything he was tasting.
"You taste as sweet as you smell. Like vanilla-sugar and cinnamon." Ilya growled. No, it was more than that, but he couldn’t even quantify it himself. He just tasted right.
Shane preened at his praise, and Ilya pulled back enough to admire what praise did to this wrecked man. His gaze locked to his sweet asshole as it clenched and forced more fucking slick out to slide down his crease and drip off his balls at the comment, adding to the mess on the bedding. So, it was praise that worked Shane up. Hmm, he’d have to remember that.
"Alpha," Shane begged, reaching between his spread legs, frantically trying to grab a hold of him. So uncoordinated, he missed.
"So desperate for my cock," Ilya commented, with a smirk. "More than usual, that is…you should invite me to your next heat. I like you this way." He praised his little cock slut. Not that he'd ever say that word aloud — Shane would only hear the ugliness in it, not the reverence Ilya meant.
Shane nodded again. Ilya’s smirk morphed into a toothy snarl of satisfaction. Then a thought struck him so erotic and so tempting that he couldn’t help but share it.
"I'll make you a deal. If you do, I'll do the same with my rut. That would be fun, da? You as my rut partner. Taking my knot again and again until I'm satisfied." His voice deepened into a growl as he thrusted his desperate cock teasingly against Shane’s ass, gathering up more of his slick, prepping himself for the upcoming invasion. As he did so, he noticed Shane’s sides quiver.
"Only if you fuck me, now," Shane demanded harshly. That could be arranged. Shane’s next words were spoken in a small voice, trembling with pain and need, which caught Ilya off guard, “Need you. It hurts…" He inhaled sharply, trying to control his desire that blazed bright in his belly. How could he deny Shane anything?
But if he took him with the wild abandon that his instincts pressed him to, he would likely break the sweet little omega’s ass. Desire battled with protective instincts. He grabbed his desire by the throat and bared his fangs at it. He would never let anyone hurt Shane, not even himself.
Ilya grabbed his cock and gave it a strangling squeeze before notching his cock head at Shane’s weeping opening, before he pressed in, unable to ignore the omega’s heartfelt plea for relief. He’d had omegas beg for his cock, plead for his knot, but none as sweetly as the Canadian before him.
Ilya sank in slowly, savoring the sensation of spreading the omega delicious ass open. God, the first stroke always felt right, soothing something in the back of his mind, but now it felt like coming home, relaxing a small, cramped part of his soul while setting him on fire at the same time. Shane’s channel rhythmically and harshly cramped around his shaft, as if kissing it with reverence. Fuck that felt divine. Shane wailed loudly as he bottomed out.
"Fuck, Hollander," Ilya moaned. "The whole hotel is going to hear your mating call."
"Let them," Shane gritted out. "Don't stop."
Fuck, Shane was so lost in heat. The Shane he knew would have buried his face in a pillow or bit his lip in an attempt to quiet down, the idea of discovery terrifying him. The only time he had heard Shane this loud was when Shane bottomed for the first time in the sanctuary of his Montreal condo.
Ilya prayed no one heard them, especially Shane’s team, as he set a steady rhythm, in and out. Shane rocked back to meet his thrusts. He didn’t pound into him, not yet, giving his lover's body time to acclimate. It didn’t take long. The frantic clinking of his channel subsided, and Shane sagged into the bed with relief. Ilya wondered how much pain he really had been in, body begging to be fucked. If he hadn’t come, what would Shane have done? It didn’t bear thinking about.
"Thank you," Shane breathed, muscles in his back relaxing visibly, presumably as his painful cramping eased.
"Thank you?" Ilya repeated, in awe. Shane had never thanked him. Warmth spread in his chest. Only Shane would thank him for fucking him while deep in heat fog.
"Fuck you," Shane spat defensively.
Ilya grabbed his hips, pulling Shane back into a powerful thrust that startled a yelp out of him. "Oh?" Ilya teased, amused.
"Stop playing and fuck me," Shane whined petulantly.
Ilya smirked and nodded in agreement. Enough was enough. He wasn’t an asshole. While not really, and not when it came to satisfying Shane Hollander. His omega needed him.
He’s not yours. He is for tonight. His inner alpha argued with his rational mind.
Ilya blocked out the argument and focused on fucking the omega hard and fast, aiming his thrusts to slam into his prostate. Driving the complicated thoughts and feelings out of his mind with every thrust of his hips. He dropped his head before closing his eyes and focused on controlling his knot. It pulsed, threatening to pop thanks to the white-hot pleasure that lanced down his dick with every punishing thrust.
Lost in his own pleasure, he slid his hand from his waist up to the back of Shane’s neck and used the controlling hold to drag him back into his thrusts. He let his body curl around Shane’s, breathing him in, feeling buzzed, needing the closeness. He planted an open-mouthed kiss, filled with everything he didn’t dare think about or attempt to put into words, between Shane’s quivering shoulder blades.
Christ, he smelled enticing and dangerously addictive. His fangs throbbed with the desire to sink into the tempting gland so near. He had never been tempted to mark, to mate, any of his other lovers. What was so different about Shane that made him want such a thing?
"Oh fuck," Shane whimpered. "Alpha, please."
"What do you need?" Ilya asked softly, pulling his full attention back to the man beside him. Now was not the time for such thoughts; he needed to take care of Shane right now.
Ilya opened his eyes and caught Shane gnawing on his bottom lip, clearly distraught. He seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words, his mind muddled by the heat. Was it time to knot him?
"Mark me," Shane pleaded.
Ilya’s mind went blank for a second. He had to have imagined it, Shane saying that. He must have… There was no way Shane had said what he was thinking! Ilya's hips stuttered but didn't stop pounding into Shane.
"Bite me—mark me as yours. Wanna be your omega," Shane stuttered out, tilting his head and baring his neck, tantalizingly and beautifully submissive. Yes, of course…mark your omega. No, he couldn’t!
"Hollander," Ilya warned, voice gruff. "Shut up. No, you don't. You can't—" want this. Not really. Not as much as he wanted this. This wasn’t really what Shane wanted. Shane was lost to heat fog. If he bit him, mated him, there would be no consent. The idea sickened him.
"No! I do! I want it so much it scares me," Shane insisted, oblivious to Ilya’s inner turmoil. Instinct and want warring with reason and reality. The more Hollander spoke, the harder it was to think clearly. "You're already my alpha," he growled possessively. Fuck! Always yours.
Ilya stayed quiet, hips never stopping as he tried to claw his way out of a primitive desire so strong it scared him. God, he wanted to just give in and take what Shane offered. Angry at his problematic inner alpha, he dug his fingertips into the side of Shane’s neck, trying to satisfy it. Shit! He was so fucked up in the head.
"Il—Alpha—" Shane stuttered. Had he been about to use his first name?! "Alpha, please!" Shane begged, tilting his head even further to the side. And just like that, Ilya’s resolve crumbled. Okay. Okay. He’d mark him. Not fully, but yeah, he could give them both something.
This wouldn’t be the first time he had marked an omega. He’d given hickeys and bruising bites that soothed them and set them on fire while in heat. But this felt different… devastatingly hollow…a hollow promise…a promise that would scar their soul more than a real mating bite would. He was so fucked.
"Shh, easy, Hollander," Ilya whispered. "I'll mark you." Only mark you, God help us both. He halted his hips, needing to concentrate. If he was fucking him and biting him, he was likely to lose control of his fangs. He couldn’t afford to take the risk. But at the same time, he couldn’t bear the idea of pulling out of Shane. So, he compromised, tucking himself in deep and letting himself rest fully against the sticky and slick flesh of Hollander's thighs.
Ilya focused all his attention on controlling his fangs as he leaned down and kissed in between his shoulder blades, once more testing his control. His kiss was tentative and reverent. His teeth and gums ached, but his fangs stayed retracted. Thank Christ. Growing bolder, he licked up the hollow of Shane’s spine, collecting the pheromone-rich sweat. Still retracted, good. Spotting a maddeningly adorable smattering of freckles that dotted Shane’s shoulders, he detoured momentarily to feather tender kisses across them before his mouth found the crease where neck met shoulder. He slid his hand up to hold Shane's head firmly at the base of his skull, making sure Shane didn’t move and trigger his fangs to drop.
This close to the weeping gland, Ilya felt his resolve slipping. Why couldn’t he mate him? Because Shane wasn’t thinking straight! Oh yeah, that's right. Biting him like this would amount to a forced mating. Maybe not in the eyes of the law — but in reality, that's exactly what it would be. The idea of such an assault, so violating and sickening, had Ilyas' mind clearing, leaving him feeling dizzy and hungover. No, he would never do that to Shane…to his omega.
Ilya kissed his neck in a silent apology for his despicable thoughts before sucking down, leaving a hickey. More…could give him more…needed to give him more… Experimentally, he nipped Shane. He twitched but otherwise stayed still, not urging him to take more. Ilya ran his tongue over the abused skin. Good. Stay like that. Don’t let his control slip. He wrapped his other arm around Shane’s hips, preventing him from bucking when he carefully opened his mouth and sank his teeth down.
Shane crumpled beneath him, at the gently increasing pressure of his teeth. Ilya held him in place, keeping his cock buried in him. Ilya breathed hard and bit down harder. His gums burned, and his mind screamed for more, but he ignored both, focusing on the force and depth of his bite. Enough to leave indents and bruises but not enough to break skin… not enough to draw blood… not enough to scar the tender gland… not enough to bind their souls together. Ilya felt like crying with sorrow. Wasn’t that fucking stupid…they weren’t even boyfriends… how could they ever be mates… Ilya let go regretfully.
"Wha—?" Shane gasped brokenly.
"That's all I can give you," Ilya whispered with a kiss, begging for understanding and forgiveness. He had hurt Shane emotionally. He could smell it. Burnt sugar and stale spice souring his delectable scent.
Shane let out a choked, pained whimper. Ilya felt his heart break with the sound. Fuck he had meant to comfort him, not hurt him. How could they both be so deeply affected by his denial?
"Shh, Hollander, you’re okay…da?" Ilya begged, as much to convince himself as to convince Shane.
He needed to do something…anything. "Still want my knot?" He asked, placing kiss after kiss on top of his mark in apology. He felt like he was crumbling into broken little pieces with every pained tremor that racked through Shane, as he suppressed sobs.
Shane nodded jerkily. Ilya blew out a breath and pulled his front from Shane's back. He felt so sick to his stomach. His pleasure lay sour in his gut, and his knot no longer pulsated with the need to be released. He hoped he could pop his knot. He began to move again, trying to focus on how right Shane felt wrapped around him, trying to stoke the embers of pleasure back to life. Ilya closed his eyes, unable to stand looking at the miserable omega beneath him, and concentrated.
Fuck he felt good. Pleasure licked across his dick, and all too quickly, he felt the base of his cock begin to throb again with need. He relaxed and let his knot swell. It didn’t pop suddenly like it often did, but rather swelled slowly. Ilya gritted his teeth and let himself enjoy the torture sensation, fucking the now plum-sized knot in and out of Shane's lax ring of muscle.
Shane mewled and pressed back into him, body begging for more. And that’s exactly what he gave him. Letting instinct take the lead, he breathed low into his belly and let his knot swell slowly to the size of a large peach, stretching Shane’s suddenly tight hole. Maybe it was a good thing he was struggling to pop his knot…if he had let it go when desire burned bright, he would have likely scared Shane. As it was, he could feel Shane slowly tense in apprehension beneath him, hips slowing, unsure as his knot swelled to that of an apple.
Ilya changed his rhythm. No longer popping his knot in and out of his body fully, just stretching Shane’s opening with the back end of his knot, while fucking him harder to make up for the now partial strokes.
"You okay? Still want?" Ilya asked gently, not wanting to take Shane past a limit the omega didn’t realize existed in his own mind and body. Shane had stopped breathing. Ilya rubbed his thumbs soothingly over Shane’s hip bones. If he was going to change his mind, now was the time, while he still could withdraw.
Shane nodded jerkily and blew out his held breath. He tilted his hips slightly, letting Ilya’s knot slide fractionally deeper. Ilya rewarded him by angling his own hips and focused on trying to nail Shane’s prostate with his now pear-sized knot.
“Vsegda takoy neterpeliviy dlya menya (Always so eager for me),” Ilya snarled in Russian.
Every thrust pushed the limits of the omega's body. Stretching it likely further than it had ever been before.
"Ty tak khorosho prinimayesh menya (Taking me so well)," he praised, so lost in his own pleasure he couldn’t translate anymore.
Shane twitched and writhed as his body accommodated his knot and his prostate was ground mercifully. "Da blyat, moy khoroshiy malchik (Fuck yes, my good boy)”
Fuck he was taking him so well. Ilya panted, and gripping Shane’s hips was so hard he was sure he would bruise. Yes, mark him as yours… let him remember this… remember you.
Ilya’s strokes grew shorter, no longer willing to fuck Shane with the back end of his knot, not wanting to hurt his omega. He maintained his desperate rhythm, "Takoy chyortovski idealny (So fucking perfect)…Blyat da, moy prekrasny omega (Fuck yes, my beautiful omega),” Russian falling from him as his own pleasure built, before his knot suddenly doubled in size as he orgasmed and locked his mango-sized knot now in place. “Solnyshko, vot imenno tak (sweetheart, exactly like that),” Ilya cried as his cock twitched violently inside his omega's sweet belly, filling the condom. He moaned, low and deep as wave after wave of his orgasm swept through him, mind-numbingly powerful, eyes rolling back into his head.
He opened them in time to see Shane’s body lock up, before just as suddenly relax. Tension draining from Shane’s body at finally being fully knotted. Ilya’s hands were the only thing preventing Shane from hanging bonelessly off his knot as he came, cock untouched, spilling his load onto the already drenched bedding, a shocked 'Ahh—Alpha!' tearing from his throat.
Ilya sucked air through gritted teeth as Shane clenched hard and desperately around his knot rhythmically, forcing his body to pump out more seed. He let out a shout, “Fuuuccckk, Hollander," he gritted. "Shit—so good for me." He breathed heavily, struggling, drowning in the pleasure Shane tore from his balls as he strangled his knot perfectly. Through sheer force of will, he stopped himself from collapsing on top of the motionless omega. Shane wouldn’t enjoy being pressed into the mess below him.
Ilya wrapped his arms around him and guided them to the side of the mess to lie on their sides. Slowly, Ilya’s pleasure faded into little aftershocks despite how Hollander’s ass kept milking his knotted cock. Was he still not sated?
Ilya glanced at Shane’s cock. It was still rock hard and twitching. Ilya couldn’t help himself. He chuckled as he took hold of the omega’s needy cock. He brought Shane to another release with slow, tender, sure strokes, mindful of his oversensitive flesh. Shane quaked in his arms, but he didn’t tell him to stop. Little “Nghhh’s, Ahhh’s” falling from his plush lips. It only took Shane four minutes before he came again with a shuddering exhale, throbbing in his hand weakly. Not much seed left to spill.
"How are you doing?" Ilya asked, grabbing a tissue to clean off his hand before kissing along the nape of Shane’s neck, hoping the second orgasm would bring him out of the fog a little.
Shane trembled at every gentle kiss. Ilya was just beginning to think he wouldn’t answer him, still unable to process his words, when he spoke, "Better, the cramping has stopped," he answered. Pleasure and pride warmed Ilya’s chest.
"Good." Ilya purred, stroking his abdomen lightly. He could feel the gentle swell of his abdomen, where his knot pressed out his six-pack, making the rigid muscle feel all the more taut. "And I'm not too much?" he asked, concern flooding him.
Shane shook his head, "No, not too much. You aren't hurting me," Shane said, answering Ilya’s underlying worry. Relief swept through him so fast it left him lightheaded. But Hollander wasn’t done, "Just full…really full…It feels nice…like it…" He trailed off, voice growing quieter with every spoken word.
Ilya bared his teeth, pressing them against the skin of Shane’s shoulder in a wolfish grin, primal pride surging through him.
Ilya didn’t feel the need to say anything, so he pulled him closer and spooned around him more fully, letting his mind go blank, floating in post-orgasmic bliss, hand still ghosting over the little bulge of Shane’s belly, inner alpha entirely content.
Shane cleared his throat and wrapped his fingers around Ilya’s arm, pillowing his head. “I can't believe I'm in heat," Shane spoke suddenly.
Ilya raised his eyebrows and nosed at Shane’s shoulder. How was Shane still thinking after everything he had done to him? "Are the pills helping?" he asked bemusedly.
"Yeah, I think so…" Shane nodded. "I don't feel as… fuzzy in the head, I don't know how to explain it…I felt lost before… Untethered?" Hmm, hadn’t the pharmacist used that word? Was it commonly used in Canadian health classes or something?
"I'm glad. Knotting helped too, I imagine," Ilya added, pressing another tender kiss to the base of Shane’s skull.
"Yeah." Shane smiled awkwardly, twisting his head around enough to catch his gaze. There was something he didn’t like, flickering in Shane’s eyes. He looked like a kicked puppy. That got Ilya’s attention, and his brain tried to kick into gear. What was wrong? Was his pleasure fading? Was he in pain? His hand stilled its gentle strokes over his belly, fear running up his spine. "Um… I…," Shane trailed off, cheeks growing flushed. Okay, not pain, embarrassment. Over what though? Ilya took a gamble.
"I know. I got you. I have helped others through breakthrough heats before."
Shane winced at his words, but he didn’t correct him. His fingers loosened around Ilya's arm before settling again. Ilya relaxed. That’s what all this was. Shane was just embarrassed and needed reassurance; he’d never had a breakthrough heat. The break in routine was likely scaring him.
"When is your flight?" Shane asked.
"Not for a few days," Ilya answered. "You?"
"Montreal flies out in one, but I plan to fly commercial and meet them there in three. Hayden already let Coach know… he told him I've caught a stomach bug, I think." Smart. Pike might be mediocre on ice, but he seemed like a good friend to Shane, for which he was grateful.
"Good. I can keep helping you through your heat." Ilya's hand slid down from Shane’s belly bulge to cup his soft cock, playing with the velvety skin teasingly. He expected Shane to slap his hand away and call him an asshole, but instead he hummed in appreciation and muttered, "If you don't mind." Of course, he didn’t mind. Sharing a heat with Shane had been one of his most secret fantasies.
❖❖❖
Shane fit against him perfectly. Not just in the way his body curled back into Ilya's chest, the length of him settling against him as naturally as breathing — but also in the way he took Ilya’s knot as no other lover had.
Ilya had been with many other omegas over the years. Some had been vocal about the discomfort of taking his knot, had asked him how long it would last, had shifted restlessly until he deflated. Others had tolerated it, like Svetlana, treated his knot as a challenge to endure rather than something to want. Even in heat, even desperate and mindless with need, his previous partners had eventually grown uncomfortable. Their bodies accommodating him but not welcoming him. Not like this. Not like Shane.
Shane had simply tucked himself further back into Ilya's chest and gone quiet with sleep. His channel showed no signs of distress, no flutter of rejection. Just warmth and slickness and the steady pull of his warm body holding Ilya inside him as if it had always been meant to. Ilya had a sudden, inexplicable suspicion that Shane would take his knot just as eagerly out of heat as he did now. The thought did nothing to help him think clearly.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Eighteen minutes. He normally deflated somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. He tested it, tugged back the smallest amount. Nothing. Still locked, still flush inside Shane, not a hint of give. Odd.
He had developed a technique to speed up the deflation of his knot. He'd used it before when partners had needed him to. A harsh pinching-pressure applied at the base of his cock, right above his balls. The sharp bloom of pain would force the swelling down rapidly. He'd never particularly enjoyed it. But there was no need to do so now. Not when Shane displayed no distress.
He dismissed the idea. There was no need to speed things along. Besides, he had no desire to leave Shane’s warm and welcoming body. He wanted to stay exactly where he was, buried deep in Shane, basking in his scent. The thought of rushing this felt almost offensive.
One day, this fucked up thing between them would be over. He didn't know when. He didn't let himself think about it too closely or too often. But he knew it would. And all he would have when it ended were the memories he made in moments like these, with this sweet, complicated, stubborn omega he could never claim. So. He wasn't going to hurry.
Shane stirred slightly against him, and Ilya's attention sharpened. Was his heat spiking again? He studied him closely. No — Shane's hand, curled slightly above his head in sleep, was moving restlessly against an exposed patch of hotel bedding near the edge of the nest. Rubbing at it. Pulling away. Rubbing again.
A memory surfaced without invitation. That of a lover from two years ago back in Moscow — an omega who had been emphatic during her heat about the fabric in her nest. Silk and satin only. Everything else she’d claimed felt like sandpaper against her skin. He'd thought her overly dramatic and accustomed to the silver spoon in her mouth. He hadn't taken it seriously.
But now, as he watched Shane's hand move against the sheet, he rethought that notion as he felt Shane shift his hips further against him, a little uncomfortable sound escaping his throat. Ilya reached up and experimentally felt an exposed patch of hotel sheets — laundered within an inch of their lives, stiff and faintly scratchy even to him. Shane was in heat, whole body oversensitive, skin a collection of exposed nerves; no wonder he was bothered. How could he not be? He deserved to be surrounded by silk. But there was nothing he could do about it, locked inside him, trapped in an insufficiently stocked hotel room. He blew out a disappointed breath.
He let his mind drift to what he could do. He needed to set an alarm so Shane could take another dose of over-the-counter suppressants in a few hours. It wouldn’t do him any good to miss a dose because he was sound asleep. He tested his knot again. Still nothing. He was going to have to contort himself to get his phone off the floor.
Carefully, moving in increments so as not to disturb Shane, Ilya reached down and over the edge of the bed. His fingers found the leg of his jeans on the floor and dragged them close. Pulling them up onto the bed, breathing slowly through the awkward angle. He fished his phone out of his pocket by feel. Shane made a small sound. Ilya froze, but Shane didn't wake. Ilya resumed his task and set an alarm for three and a half hours from now, before placing the phone on the nightstand where he could reach it easily.
He drifted then. Not asleep — his mind wouldn't quiet enough for that — but somewhere between thought and rest, loose and warm with Shane's weight against him. Time passed in that unfocused way it did when you weren't watching it.
He came back to himself when he felt the first real give of his knot beginning to deflate, and with it a sudden warm rush of slick escaping around the now broken seal. He reached down immediately, fingers finding the base of the condom. His stomach clenched. Checking its integrity by feel. It was still flush, still seated properly behind the knot, not overstretched, not compromised. Still holding. He let out a breath he hadn't fully realized he'd been holding.
Now that he knew Shane was an omega, not a heat-cycling beta incapable of getting pregnant, the idea of a failed condom sat differently in his gut. Heavily. Shane's scent had always been sweet, warm, and appealing in a way he'd constantly noticed and never been able to fully explain away. But now, deep in heat, the undertone of it had deepened into something else. Something that made Ilya's alpha instincts sit up and pay very close attention.
Shane smelled fertile. Not the way some male omegas smelled during heat. A biological performance, pheromones mimicking fertility without the underlying reality. He'd been with enough male omegas to clock the difference. This was different; it smelled real.
He knew the statistics. One in thirty male omegas could conceive. Shane smelled rare, smelled special to him, and smelled all too precious. Fuck, he hadn't thought to ask. He pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his eyes. He should have asked. It was a simple question, the kind of question any responsible alpha asked before getting involved with a male omega. But he hadn't known Shane was an omega until Shane was already in heat and already begging for sex, and the question had not exactly been the first thing on his mind. He rubbed his crucifix quietly in the dark and prayed the condom would do its job.
His knot was softening properly now, the deflation gradual but steady. While he waited, his mind turned to a more immediate problem. And hopefully one he could solve.
They needed more supplies. He hadn't known what he was walking into, hadn't known to prepare for more than the basics. If he'd known Shane was an omega in breakthrough heat, he would have bought more supplies. Food, water, electrolytes… better sheets if he could have managed it.
He couldn't leave to get any of it now. If Shane woke and found him truly gone, not just in the bathroom, but absent, clothes missing, door closed, his heat-addled mind would go to the worst possible place. Ilya could see it now, the normally nervous man calling out for him.
The alpha he'd called, the one he'd trusted enough to invite into his heat, had left. Had decided he wasn't worth staying for. Shane would panic. Might even go looking for him. The image of Shane stumbling into the hotel corridor in heat, searching for Ilya, was enough to make his chest hurt.
Leaving to go to the store wasn’t an option. So, he needed supplies brought to him. He could call room service… but a Russian voice asking for food delivery to a Canadian's room in the middle of the night would raise red flags and invite scrutiny they didn’t need. Fuck, the only other option would be for him to rent another room in the hotel. Order room service delivered there.
That was a thought. He could time it for six in the morning, early enough that most people wouldn’t be awake, and with a little luck, he could slip out between heat waves while Shane was down, get to the other room, collect everything, and be back before Shane woke with the need for his knot.
It was not a perfect plan. It was risky. But it was possible.
His now lime-sized knot finally slipped from Shane’s lax hole. Ilya blinked and pushed away his disappointment before fully separating from Shane's body. Slowly, carefully, with one hand braced at Shane's hip. Shane made a small, bereft sound when Ilya withdrew completely but didn't wake. Ilya carefully rolled out of bed before tying off the condom and disposing of it deftly.
He stood. He needed to make a call.
On his way to the bathroom, he froze, noticing Shane's hand had found the scratchy patch of hotel sheets again, as if trying to push it away in his sleep. Without thinking, he bent down and picked up his own shirt from where he'd dropped it earlier on the floor. It was cotton, worn to near-buttery softness from years of washing, and tucked it carefully under Shane's hand, between him and the offending sheet. Then he stepped back and watched.
Shane went still. The small, restless motion stopped. A low, rolling purr built in his chest and spilled out of him, and he snuffled forward pressing his face into the fabric of Ilya's shirt, inhaling slowly. His whole body seemed to droop into the mattress, heavier and more settled than before.
Ilya stood there and looked at the beautifully bare omega for a moment longer than was strictly necessary before slipping off to the bathroom to make his call. He kept his voice low.
Obtaining a room on another floor, paid for with the card he used for things he didn't want on his primary account. Room service delivery at six AM. He listed what he needed and hung up.
Task complete, he wet two facecloths at the sink with warm water, wrung them out, and headed back to the bedroom. He climbed slowly back into bed and crouched down next to Shane. He lovingly lifted one of Shane’s legs up to rest over his thigh, giving him access to his cock and channel. He moved slowly, not to wake Shane, and carefully and quietly went about cleaning Shane. Not willing to have him wake feeling crusty and uncomfortable.
Shane hated mess. Ilya had learned that early on in their dalliances, he had catalogued it the same way he'd catalogued every other little boring quirk of Shane’s, like folding his clothes before sex, putting on his left shoe before his right, and his inexplicable preference for ginger ale over alcohol. Tucked it away in his mind without fully examining why he was doing so.
He wiped down Shane’s cock and legs before moving on to his ass. He checked the omega visually while he worked. He saw no sign of injury. Shane’s rim was swollen, yes, but not concerningly so. He dipped his fingers into his channel and gently palpated, checking for tearing. Nothing. Just to be sure, he withdrew his fingers and sniffed. He scented no blood. Shane was fine. Well and truly unharmed. Ilya's chest unknotted, releasing the worry he hadn’t realized he’d been holding there. There was nothing the heat had hidden, no pain dressed up as pleasure.
He used the other facecloth on himself before draping it over the side of the bedside bin to dry, unwilling to walk back into the bathroom. He snuggled back into the nest and pulled Shane against him. Shane's adorably charming, continuous purr continued at a low, contented frequency. Ilya closed his eyes.
He slept. Slept deeper than he had since early childhood.