Chapter Text
March 2015
Ilya
Ilya woke to warmth and wetness on his cock. Glancing down with sleepy eyes, he found Shane crouched between his legs, with sinful lips wrapped around him.
Ilya was already mostly hard. Shane's pheromones naturally enchanting his body, forcing it to maintain a low simmer of readiness even in sleep.
Ilya gave himself over to Shane’s delectable administrations with a throaty moan. Shane's technique had dramatically improved since their first time together, even if enthusiasm still outweighed skill. Ilya truly didn’t care that Shane hadn’t learned to control his gag reflex and couldn’t deep throat him without discomfort.
Okay, that sounded insensitive…he did care that it caused Shane discomfort, which was why he never tried to control the depth at which Hollander took his massive length. But he was ridiculously glad Hollander hadn’t mastered that sexual skill yet because…because… fuck it made him sound like a jealous asshole just to think it…because it strongly implied that Hollander was only practicing with him and no other man. Like it should be. Ilya growled away his possessive thoughts and gave in to the devastatingly sexy, single-minded focus of the omega before him.
Ilya's hands carded through Shane’s straight black hair. He just rested there, never trying to control him, just needing the contact. He was hardening steadily now. Ilya inhaled sharply and slid his other arm under his head to help prop it up so he could more easily gaze upon the delectably divine view before him.
"Da, Hollander," he gritted out, spreading his legs a little wider in invitation. "Just like that. Taking my cock like a good omega," he panted out as Shane aggressively tongued the underside of his dick.
Shane didn't look up, didn't preen, didn't even make the small, pleased sound he usually made when Ilya praised him. Ilya blinked. That was odd… Shane always responded to praise… always. A frown drew Ilya’s brows down.
He studied Shane more sharply now. His scent was notably stronger, impossibly richer and more fertile than it had been earlier. His normally porcelain skin was pinked all over, and he could see that the scent glands at his neck were slightly puffy. Shane was far deeper in heat than before.
Come to think of it…much deeper in heat than he had ever seen an omega in person. A knot of arousal and appreciation sat low in Ilya’s belly at the sight. He had read somewhere that breakthrough heats could be strong. But shit, Shane looked nearly feral, operating on pure instinct and need. A vague memory surfaced unbidden to the forefront of his mind.
A memory of a porno he’d watched when he was in rut as a teenager, where two alphas had tied down a female omega and left her to suffer through her heat without any way to have orgasmic stimulation until she went feral. Only cutting her loose once her eyes grew lamp-like. She had wanted their knots so bad she had taken both at the same time without protest. It had been the sexiest and cruelest thing Ilya had ever seen. The only thing that gave him comfort was that she had consented to the scene long before her heat had started, according to the post-credit interview with all three porn stars.
Concerned, Ilya studied Shane’s closed eyes, with his pretty long lashes falling to rest atop his gorgeous freckles, and wondered what color Shane’s eyes were right now… When he opened them, would they be his doe-like brown or would they glint with his inner omega, lit from within, lustrous and luminescent? He wasn’t sure what he wished for… on one hand, he had always fantasized about being with a feral omega in heat after watching that porno…but on the other hand, he didn’t wish any of his lovers to suffer such a total loss of control and ability to consent while in his bed.
Between his racing thoughts and Shane’s mouth, Ilya was fully hard by this point. Shane worked him a moment longer before pulling off him with a wet pop, lips swollen and slick, a string of saliva connecting him to Ilya's cock. Ilya braced himself on an elbow and slid his other hand out of Shane’s hair to wipe away the mess from his lips with his thumb. As soon as he finished his task, he pressed the digit to the center of his lips. Shane immediately opened his mouth and sucked him deep, obeying the silent command for admittance. Ilya curled the rest of his fingers under his chin and gently but firmly tilted Shane’s head up, finally catching the avoidant omega’s gaze. It was still doe-like, made all the more so by how blown his pupils were. Relief swept through him. Not so gone after all…good.
"Need me to fuck my knot into you, omega?" Ilya crooned. Shane’s eyes glinted for a second, momentarily turning their rich, chocolaty depths luminous. Shit, never mind. He’s right on the cusp, so deep in heat, yet so trusting, unafraid of his desire or his chosen alpha. He knows he’s mine. Knows his alpha will take care of him.
Shane didn't answer. Well, not with words anyway. He whined — high-pitched and needy before releasing Ilya’s thumb and turning over, presenting and just waited…waited for Ilya to take what he offered. Submissive and patient, ass leaking copious amounts of slick down his balls. Certain Ilya would take care of him.
Ilya looked at him, operating entirely on instinct — this beautiful, wrecked, trusting man — and felt the gut-punch of it land hard. What would Shane have done if Ilya hadn't come? He had already pondered this depressing line of thought once tonight, but seeing him so controlled by his secondary gender, which screamed to be bitten and bred, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts go dark again. Not with the afterimage of that omega porn star burned inside his mind.
Would Shane have let any available alpha into his bed just to ease his cramping, too far gone to be selective, too desperate to care? Would the alpha have taken advantage of him? Bitten and bred him without consent? Or would Hayden have taken him to a clinic somewhere that sedated him and left him to wait out his heat alone in some sterile omega ward? Every possibility felt like a fist closing around his heart. He didn't like any of the what-if’s his mind was running through…not a single one…
Swallowing down his morbid thoughts, he blindly reached for the nightstand. His fingers floundered for mere seconds before he found the roll of condoms. He made short work of putting one on his straining cock before he shifted behind Shane and pressed in without warning, swift but careful.
Shane took him with a happy keen, body needing no preparation for the sudden intrusion, already so open, slick, and heat-primed. Ready in a way that made Ilya's thoughts go briefly, blissfully white.
"This what you need, omega?" Ilya snarled, immediately setting a hard, punishing fast pace.
Shane only keened louder and gushed more slick onto Ilya's cock, drenching his balls as well. That was enough of an answer for him. Ilya inhaled sharply through his nose and gritted his teeth.
Ilya let Russian fall from his mouth, praise and command tumbling out unfiltered as he gripped Shane’s hips and fucked him, harder, deeper, and more frantically than he had ever dared to before, never wanting to frighten his beta-presenting Canadian. He still wasn’t over the fact that Shane had hidden his true secondary gender from him. Yeah, definitely still miffed about that…they could have been having far more interesting sex…
Ilya didn’t bother trying to translate his words into English. Shane wasn't comprehending his words anyway — he was hearing tone, feeling sensation, responding to the primal undertones underneath all spoken language. Besides, it was easier to talk dirty in his mother tongue than English. Yeah, that’s totally why he was speaking in Russian… it had nothing to do with the fact that he could be more tender in his praise, endearments falling from his lips, without fear that Shane would understand him. No, nothing at all to do with that… and he definitely didn’t need to unpack that while fucking Shane…nope, definitely not going to do that.
Shane, for his part, mewled, clenched, and fucked himself back onto Ilya's cock with the desperate certainty of someone who had found exactly what they needed and intended to take everything offered to him. They were both climbing fast to their respective peaks, so in sync that it was a little scary.
Ilya watched Shane match his brutal pace tit for tat, as animalistic sounds of pleasure and need tore out of the man below him, clutching at the sheets, and had a thought…
Shane was so thoroughly heat-primed and needy, he wondered if he could come just from his knot. Testing his theory — Ilya kept his hands off Shane's cock entirely, and shifted his hips so as to stop his brutal stimulation of Shane’s swollen prostate. Not to say no stimulation was given to the needy organ, given how large Ilya was. Shane wailed at the sudden decrease of sensation and tried to shift his hips, but Ilya’s hands gripped him harshly, and Shane gave up, heeding Ilya’s non-verbal command.
Ilya grinned crookedly and felt a heady rush at Shane’s eager submission. The rush fueled his pleasure and had him quickly hurtling towards his peak. His knot swelled fast — like it normally did. Though the sudden expansion always caught him slightly off guard, no matter how many times it happened, he was amazed by his own biological ability to go from the size of a plum to a peach to an apple to a large mango in the span of a few seconds choking off his ability to thrust into the needy hole before him until he was fully locked inside. Ilya growled and came hard as it finished expanding, filling the condom with his massive load. He came so fucking hard he swore his balls tried to empty his soul into the willing omega. Christ!
Shane came the instant Ilya’s knot fully popped. His cock spurted untouched with such force that Ilya fucking heard it hit the bedding. “Fuuuuck Hollander! Just like that! Let it all out for me!” Ilya commanded in Russian.
His words were drowned out by the noise Shane was making. He cried out loudly — something between a wail and a howl, a sound Ilya had never heard from him before, raw and unguarded and stunning. Shane came for long heartbeats as his body locked up before immediately going boneless, slipping out of Ilya's hold to hang bonelessly off his knot.
Ilya collapsed on top of him quickly, not wanting his knot to tear Shane as the omega’s sudden dead weight was held up by the fragile ring of muscle. "Such a goooood trick. Coming untouched on my knot…. All empty, huh, sweetheart?" Ilya panted in heavily accented English, stroking Shane's sides soothingly, amazed by the way he was able to play this man like an instrument, pluck his string so perfectly, build him to such a crescendo so easily…like no other.
The only reply to his question was a small, contented purr from the boneless man.
❖❖❖
Ilya had to physically lift Shane to reposition them both into something more comfortable. Shane was heavier than usual, all dense muscle completely lax, offering no assistance whatsoever. Ilya didn’t mind, though. Enjoying how easily he could manhandle the slightly smaller omega.
He maneuvered them carefully, mindful not to strain Shane’s ass clamped around his knot. He settled them back up toward the headboard in a cleanish spot and only relaxed once they were properly spooned together. Shane allowed all of it with the cooperative looseness of someone too thoroughly fucked and drifting in post orgasmic bliss to have opinions about logistics.
However, once settled, Shane began to move. Not frantically or with discomfort. He undulated slowly, sleepily, and seductively. He still seemed to be in a trance-like state. Ilya thought it resembled subspace.
Shane twisted back and rubbed his jaw along Ilya's shoulder — long, deliberate drags — then moved on to his arms, marking every inch of accessible skin with his scent. His channel gave little involuntary kisses to Ilya's cock and knot with every small shift of his body. Ilya hissed at the overstimulating pleasure of it, but didn’t stop Shane. Letting the omega scent him as his instincts demanded. It wouldn’t hurt anything.
Shane’s motions slowly grew bigger, all the more sensuous, arching his back and rolling his hips before pressing backward and rubbing his back firmly against Ilya's chest, all while tangling their legs together. He repeated the bold undulations, rubbing his bare skin against Ilya’s wherever he could reach for a time before he grasped the alpha’s left wrist and ran it across his own chest and stomach, pressing Ilya's scent gland deliberately against his skin. Marking himself with Ilya’s scent.
Ilya’s pleasure grew as Shane’s motions caused his channel to suckle Ilya all the more desperately. It left the alpha slightly lightheaded and giddy, swept along on the intoxicating happy-pheromones pouring off Shane and the lightning-like sparks that electrified his oversensitive dick.
Ilya distracted himself from the sensation by the endearing display. He found Shane’s actions sweetly, devastatingly erotic. Unable to stop himself, Ilya started rubbing his jaw against Shane's shoulder. Reciprocating the earnest scenting. He slid his hand up the omega’s toned chest to grasp his meaty pecs and give an appreciative firm squeeze. Shane's purr deepened as Ilya began to take a more active role in the scent-marking the omega had started. The more powerful vibration of Shane’s purr added to the maddening stimulation of Ilya’s knotted cock. Ilya, panting at the additional sensation, started shuddering uncontrollably, overstimulated in the best way possible.
And Shane just kept going — slow, rhythmic, ceaseless — completely absorbed in the project of getting Ilya's scent all over himself, utterly indifferent to what all of it was doing to the alpha locked inside him.
Small, helpless sounds started to escape Ilya, which he would later totally deny making. He felt so floaty. Like he was a boat left adrift in the ocean of his omega’s scent.
Shane licked up his forearm. Ilya absently noted Shane’s fangs were dropped as they lightly dragged across his skin. Things all happened so fast after that. Too fast for Ilya’s foggy mind to catch up to.
Shane suckled harshly at his scent gland, mouth open wide, fangs pressed to either side of his meaty wrist. In the same motion, he pressed his back against him again, perfectly stimulating Ilya's nipples and simultaneously rolling his hips, and clenching down hard on his knotted cock.
Ilya came unexpectedly. A snarl tearing out of him with the pleasure-pain of it before he could stop it.
He didn’t know he could do this! Yes, he had felt his pleasure building. But not with any urgency or hint that he could come again while still knotted. And shit, he was still coming!
A thought so terrifying ripped him out of his blissful mid-orgasmic state…
The condom! Fuck — the condom! It held two loads now! Or did it? Had it just broken?! Knotting orgasms always produced more seed than regular ones. Shit, shit, shit—
Shane nipped him on his scent gland with his fangs, not breaking skin, not yet, but the intent was there. Ilya could feel it, and he felt his pleasure spike sharply at the idea of the silent promise of it. Shit, it had him climbing sharply upwards towards a third peak as Shane nipped him again harder. He hadn’t even come down from his last orgasm!
Fuck! No! If he came a third time, there was no question that the condom would break.
“HOLLANDER, NO! SHANE, STOP!” Ilya shouted. He had no idea what language he used to yell out the Canadian's name. Far too panicked to think clearly.
Shane bit down harder. Still not enough to break skin, but Shane wasn’t stopping! Wasn’t listening to his command.
The shock of it — the danger of it — hit Ilya like ice water. Wiping out his pleasure entirely. If Shane bit down fully, sunk those adorable little fangs into his scent gland—
Absolutely not!
Giving into instinct, a warning growl ripped out of Ilya. Low, sharp, laced with something dangerous. Shane was too far gone to process language; he knew that. The sound itself carried command, carried threat—stop.
At the same moment, he rolled Shane onto his stomach in one motion, pinned him with his full body weight, and yanked his hands above his head — removing them from his skin, removing the fangs from the equation, removing every variable from Shane’s control.
Shane made a startled noise. His sudden fear tinged the air, like burnt maple sugar. The omega knew he'd done something wrong. Ilya could sense that Shane could feel his displeasure, thanks to Ilya's own scent — sharp and laced with dangerous wildfire. Shane peered over his shoulder with wide, tearful eyes, his eyes glowing brightly with his inner omega, doe-like quality gone, replaced with breathtaking luminosity. Clearly unable to figure out what he’d done to displease his chosen alpha.
Ilya immediately felt like an asshole. His omega had gone feral. Shit.
He pressed his mouth to the back of Shane's neck, below the hairline, and bit down — scruffing him. A soothing physical command. He softened his growl as he did so, the danger draining out of the sound, changing his wordless command: Stop, alpha’s got you, relax.
Shane stilled instantly, closing his luminescent eyes.
The fear left his scent as quickly as it had come, replaced by a burst of floral notes. Content and deeply settled. His purr swelled— deeper and louder than it had been all night — until Ilya could feel it moving through him, a vibration so profound it seemed to reach his bones.
Ilya breathed through the mouthful of Shane's neck and waited for his own pulse to come down.
That had nearly been a disaster. Shane had almost mated him. And it would have been entirely Ilya’s fault — Shane was lost to his heat, acting on instinct and biology—had gone feral. Fucking feral… omegas rarely did that! He’d been looking for it and managed to miss the moment it happened. Ilya felt slightly sick to the stomach. Not liking how his fantasy had come true. Guilt swamped him. It was his job to keep Shane safe. Even from his inner omega. And from his alpha’s stupid desires.
He held onto Shane’s neck until the anger at himself faded — helped along considerably by the waves of calm, happy pheromones Shane was producing. After releasing his teeth, he pressed his lips to the same spot, briefly. An apology. An apology for what he wasn’t sure...for not letting him mate you, asshole.
He blew out a breath, pushing away such a stupid thought, and released Shane's wrists. The omega stayed exactly where he had put him. So perfect for his alpha.
Relieved at Shane’s continued obedience, Ilya reached down and pinched the base of his cock and felt his knot deflate rapidly, not wanting to wait it out naturally. He wasn't willing to risk it. Not with two loads in the condom.
He withdrew as soon as he was able. Shane's purr stopped instantly. A miffed, disgruntled keen rose in the back of his throat — indignant. Ilya rubbed the back of his thigh in reassurance and turned his attention to the condom.
It was ballooned largely around his cock, filled with creamy white seed. Stretched far past what he was comfortable with. But it hadn't ruptured. Nothing had leaked. He didn’t even see stretch marks in the thin latex.
Relief moved through Ilya so completely that it left him lightheaded. He rocked back on his knees to sit on his heels. He let his head drop and said a quiet, private prayer of gratitude, rubbing his mother's crucifix for the second time tonight.
❖❖❖
By the time he opened his eyes, Shane had fallen asleep on his stomach — right leg pulled up, arms wrapped around a pillow, head resting atop it, turned to his right. So thoroughly, devastatingly cute. Ilya looked at him for long heartbeats, enraptured.
He pressed a kiss to each of Shane's little back dimples before stripping himself of the engorged condom, tying it off deftly, and disposing of it.
He drank some water before setting the bottle back on the nightstand. He contemplated going to the bathroom for more warm, damp facecloths again to clean them both, but was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to do so. He wished distantly that he'd had the foresight to buy wet wipes. He added it to the mental list of things he should have brought and hadn't.
Sighing, he draped himself over Shane’s overly warm, bare back and fell asleep instantly.