Chapter Text
Lionel Messi was not used to not being in control. He had taken his last suppressant the night before, ignoring completely the fact that he’d run out of pills on a match day. A El Clasico, of all the possibilities. His body felt too hot, his house felt too cold. He was hungry, but he didn’t want anything specifically.
If his coach found out, he’d be put on the bench. Or worse, he’d be sent to his cold house again. But he had watched the news. Real Madrid was taking the lead, he had to play, despite being on the edge of a heat.
The adrenaline worked in his favor, but not for long.
It wasn’t strange to find Omegas among footballers, but still, it was dangerous for a unmarked Omega, like Leo, to play without his pills. There were, at least, twelve Alphas that would, under the influence of his pheromones, gladly fuck him on that pitch, in front of 40.000 fans.
But he had to risk it. He’d do anything for Barça.
He noticed the looks, the prolonged handshakes. His blood froze when his hand met Cristiano Ronaldo’s. He had met the guy before, but today, he seemed a lot taller than most days. It was difficult for Leo to let go, for some reason. Their eyes met and Leo knew Cristiano also knew.
Leo felt his eyes on the back of his head as he made his way to his position. When he turned around, Bale was bringing Cristiano back to his position.
And, before Lionel could take a breath, the game started.
The other players were running faster after him, Leo noticed. Most of them were taking their sweet time returning to their positions, their gazes always on Leo.
Leo didn’t have time to make mistakes. He watched his own back, unable to trust the other players, his brothers. The defense was open, sloppy. The ball was no longer their aim and Leo was able to take advantage of that. Leo was small, but agile, fast. He was light on his feet.
But not when it came to Cristiano, no. Their bodies were close when Leo stopped him from scoring. It was not his role to play, but he did it anyway. Leo hated the way this man looked at him. Leo knew he understood the situation, surprised Ronaldo hadn’t shown another reaction. Worst case scenario, one word from him and Barça would be disqualified.
The next time Ronaldo neared the goal, Leo left it to the goalkeeper. Ronaldo scored, obviously. Leo wanted to say they were settled, even, but it was not enough.
His jersey seemed heavier today, and the grass seemed to be holding him back. The game seemed endless. Leo felt naked in front of all those people, but those were his fans, he told himself.
After the halftime, Leo scored three times, winning the match. 3X1, Barcelona. Leo did what he always does when Barça wins: he claps for the fans. Despite that, he was the first out of the pitch. He quickly walked past the photographers, the fans, the coach, his teammates on the bench.
The pain in his stomach was unbelievable. Leo threw up as soon as he walked into the bathroom. He locked himself in one of the stolls, knowing the switch wouldn’t keep an interested Alpha away.
But, still, no one came looking for him. He heard voices calling out his name, but Leo didn’t answer. When the need for water became too great, Leo walked out, holding himself up. His dick was already hard against the soft fabric of his shorts, his mouth dry.
Leo walked to find an already empty locker room. There were no personal belongings besides Leo’s. He grabbed a towel and made his way to the showers. On his way there, he stopped to have some water. He drank cups and cups, never feeling like it was enough. His body was warm, overheating and there was nothing he could do about it.
Leo turned the shower to the cold. There was a small cement bench for their things, and Leo sat there, the cold of it gone as soon as it came into contact with his body.
His hand dropped to his lap and Leo knew he couldn’t fight it anymore.