Archive of Our Own

Jannik sat in the front row of the player box with his knees pressed together, trying to keep his posture straight and composed under the eyes of the cameras and the thousands of people packed into the stands around them. He wore a soft, delicate white cable-knit tennis sweater draped over his shoulders, the sleeves tied loosely across his chest to give him something to hide behind while the humid New York heat settled over his pale skin.

He was supposed to be the pristine, supportive omega, sitting quietly next to Samuel and the rest of the team, keeping his hands folded in his lap and his expression neutral while the match unfolded down below.

But the air inside the box was saturated with a thick, dizzying cocktail of smells that kept scrambling the delicate pathways of his brain. It smelled like expensive aerosol sunscreen and fresh grip tape, the sharp tang of mineral water and the clean laundry scent of his own tailored shorts, but underneath all of that was the heavy, residual aroma of his alpha. 

Carlos’s scent was everywhere, soaked into the towels draped over the chairs, clinging to the fabric of the team’s polo shirts, drifting up from the court in dark, overwhelming waves of hot earth and crushed pine that settled right in the bottom of Jannik’s stomach and made his pulse stutter.

Down on the court, Carlos tossed the bright yellow ball up into the blinding glare of the sun. He was wearing a tight, sleeveless kit that left the sheer, terrifying bulk of his arms completely bare under the harsh stadium lights. Jannik watched him arch his back, the movement pulling the fabric taut across the thick slabs of muscle on his chest before he snapped forward with a brutal, explosive violence. 

The sound of the racket connecting with the ball echoed like a gunshot through the arena, followed immediately by a deep, guttural grunt that vibrated straight through the plastic of Jannik’s seat and settled deep in his bones.

Jannik swallowed hard, his throat clicking dry while a slow, heavy heat started to pool low in his pelvis. The tournament rules they had set for themselves were strict: no sex. Jannik had agreed to abstinence easily enough back in Europe, convinced he could handle a little discipline. But sitting up in the box and actually watching the way Carlos moved made keeping that promise feel like physical torture

He couldn't stop staring at the size of him. Carlos had always been strong, but looking at him now, pacing behind the baseline while he waited for the return, he just looked massive. His shoulders were incredibly broad, thick and heavy with muscle that bunched and flexed under his tanned skin with every step.

 The sleeveless top did nothing to hide the thick, roped veins standing out on his forearms, the sheer circumference of his biceps making his wrists look huge and capable of crushing things without a second thought. Jannik shifted in his seat, rubbing his own long, pale fingers together in his lap, feeling a fuzzy, honeyed warmth creeping up the back of his neck as he pictured those massive hands wrapping all the way around his narrow waist.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to focus on the score, but the numbers glowing on the giant screens above meant absolutely nothing to him anymore. His brain was melting down into a soft, useless puddle of need.

The roar of the crowd washed over the box, a deafening wave of noise that sounded muffled and distant through the thick haze filling Jannik's head. He opened his eyes and watched Carlos pump his fist, the alpha roaring right back at the crowd, his chest heaving under the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Sweat poured down the sides of Carlos's face, gleaming against his buzzed, shaved head. The military-short haircut only emphasized the sharp, aggressive cut of his jaw and the thick column of his neck, making him look rough and intimidating and so incredibly hot that Jannik actually let out a soft, pathetic little whine that he had to quickly muffle behind his hand.

Samuel glanced over from the next seat, his brow furrowing a little in concern, but Jannik just offered a weak, shaky smile and pointed a pale finger down at the court as if he was just reacting to the incredible passing shot.

Inside, he was falling apart. Jannik crossed his legs, squeezing his thighs together to try and chase away the empty, hollow feeling, but the friction only made the hypersensitive flesh burn hotter.

He imagined Carlos coming back to the hotel room looking just like this, dripping with sweat and high on the adrenaline of the match, bringing all that heavy, crushing bulk into the quiet space of their bedroom. Jannik’s mind wandered away from the stadium, building a soft, dizzy fantasy where he was pushed down into the mattress by those hands, pinned under the weight of Carlos’s chest while the alpha used all that size to hollow him out and fill him up until he couldn't even remember his own name.

 The thought of being manhandled by arms that thick, of being folded up and handled like he weighed absolutely nothing, made another rush of wet heat spill between his thighs, sticking his skin to the fabric of his shorts.

Carlos walked over to the towel box in the corner of the court, wiping the sweat from his face and the back of his head. He threw the towel back and grabbed his water bottle, his chest expanding with deep, heavy pulls of air. Even standing still, he radiated a dense, dominating energy. Jannik watched the way the muscles in Carlos's back shifted under the shirt as he unscrewed the cap, shoulders looking wide enough to block out the sun.

Jannik felt so small sitting up in the box, wrapped in his soft white sweater, his pale skin hidden away from the sun. The contrast between them was driving him insane. He was all long, fragile limbs and soft angles, while Carlos was built out of thick muscle and blunt force. The urge to be crushed by that force, to let Carlos use every ounce of that size to breed him deep and heavy, sent a hot flush right up into Jannik's cheeks, turning his skin a mottled, feverish pink.

The match continued, an endless cycle of serves and punishing rallies that just kept putting Carlos's overwhelming physique on display. Every time Carlos hit a backhand, the twisting motion of his torso highlighted the thick trunk of his waist and the heavy, solid lines of his obliques. Jannik kept his eyes glued to the court, his lips parted slightly, breathing through his mouth because the air coming up from the stadium floor was so thick with Carlos's dark, possessive scent that it felt like he was drowning in it.

He rested his chin on his palm, letting the white sleeve of his sweater cover his mouth so no one could see the slack, drooling mess he was becoming. The heat of the afternoon sun baked into his shoulders, but the real fever was burning in his blood, making his joints feel loose and uncoordinated. He felt fuzzy, his thoughts drifting away from the match and settling firmly on the heavy, blunt reality of Carlos's arousal, wondering if his alpha was aching as much as he was, wondering how much more of this deprivation he could actually take before he just dragged Carlos into a locker room and begged him to fix it.

Carlos hit an ace down the T to close out the second set, the ball moving so fast it was just a yellow streak against the blue court. The stadium erupted again, the noise vibrating in Jannik's teeth. Carlos turned toward the player box, raising a sweaty fist in the air, his dark eyes scanning the row of seats until he found Jannik sitting there wrapped in his white sweater.

Jannik uncrossed his legs and planted his feet flat on the concrete floor, trying to ground himself before he slid right out of his chair. He offered a small, trembling wave down to the court, his fingers curling shyly against his palm. He wanted to curl up in a ball. He wanted to strip the sweater off and let Carlos see how flush and needy he was. The dizzying, honeyed fog in his head grew thicker, clouding his vision until all he could see was the shape of his alpha standing victorious in the sun.

Down on the blue court, Carlos dropped his racket. He let his head fall back, his chest heaving under the tight fabric of his sleeveless shirt, and let out a raw, guttural scream of victory that carried straight up into the player box.

The match was over, the deprivation they had forced on themselves for the last week and a half was inching closer to the end, and the realization made Jannik’s knees go weak. He stayed in his seat while the rest of the box stood up around him, clapping and cheering, because he knew if he tried to stand his legs would just give out. The heavy, pooling ache low in his pelvis was a constant distraction, a slick, wet reminder of how desperate his biology was to be crushed under the weight of the man walking toward the net to shake hands.

Jannik watched Carlos pack his bags with blunt, efficient movements. He slung the straps over his shoulders like they weighed absolutely nothing. The thick, roped veins on his forearms stood out in stark relief, wrapping around the heavy muscle as he grabbed a fresh towel and wiped the sweat from his face.

Then Carlos looked up. His dark eyes found Jannik in the box, and the predatory, aggressive edge of the match melted away into something warm.

Carlos walked toward the edge of the stands, moving with that heavy, rolling gait that just took up so much space. The crowd pressed in around the lower bowl, screaming his name, holding out giant tennis balls and hats, but Carlos ignored them. He walked straight to the wall right below the player box and looked up at Jannik.

Jannik finally managed to stand, his legs shaking inside his tailored shorts. He stepped up to the railing and leaned over, the soft white cable-knit sweater slipping off one of his pale, delicate shoulders. He looked down at Carlos. The angle made the alpha look even wider, the thick trunk of his neck supporting the sharp jawline, his chest expanding with deep, heavy breaths.

Jannik reached his hand down over the railing. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of Carlos's shoulder, tracing the curve down to his bicep.

"You're getting bigger every day," Jannik whispered, leaning over the railing, his voice coming out soft and breathless. He let his thumb drag over a thick vein popping against Carlos's skin. "How's that even possible?"

Carlos looked down at Jannik’s hand resting on his arm, and then he looked up into Jannik’s flushed, feverish face. He broke into a bright puppy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, looking so sweet and boyish that it caused a violent contradiction in Jannik’s chest. He was a hulking, terrifying beast of an alpha, but he was looking at Jannik like he hung the moon.

He cupped Jannik's jaw, his thick thumb resting against the pale skin of Jannik’s cheek. Carlos pulled himself up on the railing, using his upper body strength to lift his heavy frame closer. He pressed his lips against Jannik’s in a quick, sloppy peck that tasted like salt and hot sun and pure alpha.

Carlos pulled back just an inch, keeping his face close, his hot breath washing over Jannik’s lips.

"Wanna be a strong alpha for you," Carlos murmured, his voice a rough, low rumble that vibrated right against Jannik’s mouth. He stroked his heavy thumb over Jannik’s cheekbone, his dark eyes dropping down to look at Jannik’s flat, soft stomach. "And for our future babies."

The word dropped into the space between them.

Flashing another bright, sweaty smile, he gave a wave to the rest of the team in the box, and turned to jog back toward the center of the court for his post-match interview.

Jannik stayed leaning over the railing. He didn't move. He couldn't move.

Everything around him dissolved. The noise of the thousands of cheering fans, the voice of the interviewer booming over the stadium speakers, the heat of the afternoon sun — it all faded away, swallowed by the deafening echo of that one word bouncing around inside his brain.

Babies.

Jannik gripped the metal railing with both hands just to keep himself from sliding straight down to the floor of the box. His knees shook violently. A deep, heavy flush spread up his chest, turning his neck and his cheeks a mottled, dark pink. He opened his mouth, trying to drag some oxygen into his lungs, but the air felt too thick.

Did Carlos mean that?

He knew Carlos wanted a family someday, they had talked about it in soft, sleepy whispers in the dark, but hearing it right now, smelling the raw, heavy dominance pouring off his alpha while staring at the man who wanted to put those pups inside him, it broke something fragile and essential in Jannik’s head.

Jannik sank back into his seat, letting the white sweater slip down to pool around his elbows, pressing his knees tightly together. A desperate, helpless attempt to manage the sudden, overwhelming flood of slick soaking into his underwear. 

He stared blankly out at the blue court, seeing nothing but the vision blooming behind his eyes. He pictured himself lying in their hotel bed, pinned down. He imagined those huge, tanned hands holding his thighs open, the blunt, tearing stretch of Carlos’s size pushing deep into him, hollowing him out to make room.

Jannik thought about looking down and seeing his own pale, soft stomach swollen and round, stretched tight with Carlos’s pups. Of being filled up and ruined and reshaped by an alpha so big he could fold Jannik in half without breaking a sweat.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the dizzy, honeyed fog clouding his vision, but the image was stuck there. 

Our future babies. 

He felt so small. He felt so soft and empty, a fragile little thing waiting to be consumed by the giant pacing around on the court below. Jannik felt like this no sex rule was going to kill him. He had to wait for the final and he had to wait days before Carlos would finally come to the hotel room and tear this delicate white sweater off him, before those huge hands would finally grab his hips and make good on that heavy, whispered promise.

He sat there in the baking sun, surrounded by cheering people, completely lost in the sloppy, wet, mindless haze of wanting his alpha to breed him until he couldn't see straight.

The days leading up to the championship match blurred into a strange, agonizing fever dream.

Jannik spent most of his time in the penthouse when he wasn't required at the courts, hiding away from the cameras and the relentless noise of Manhattan. The hotel suite was sprawling and perfectly climate-controlled, but it felt suffocating. 

Carlos had left his things scattered everywhere — a damp wristband tossed on the glass coffee table, a pair of scuffed sneakers abandoned by the door, an oversized grey hoodie draped over the back of the sofa.

Jannik lived in that hoodie. The fabric draped off his narrow shoulders and swallowed his hands, the hem falling halfway down his bare thighs. He kept the hood pulled up, burying his nose in the collar just to breathe in the lingering scent of hot pine and salt. 

He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master bathroom, the cold marble chilling his feet. He pushed the oversized fleece up around his chest and looked at his own reflection.

His skin was stark white under the harsh vanity lights, his ribs pressing faint shadows against his sides when he breathed. The line of his hips was sharp and prominent, framing a stomach that was flat and empty. He traced a trembling finger down the center of his abdomen, tracking the shallow dip of his navel.

The word from the stadium kept echoing in his skull, bouncing around in the quiet bathroom. Babies.

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching as a hot rush of slick wept into his cotton underwear. He pressed his palms flat against his own stomach, trying to visualize the space stretching out. He imagined the pale skin pulled taut, rounding out into a swollen, undeniable curve. Carlos kneeling in front of him, pressing his tanned face against the swell of Jannik's pregnant belly, those hands wrapping around to support the extra weight.

Jannik whimpered, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. The idea of carrying pups for his alpha consumed every single one of his thoughts. He dragged his hands down his thighs, his fingers curling into tight fists because he wasn't allowed to touch himself. He just had to let the fever burn and pool until Carlos finally came back to claim him.

By the time the championship match rolled around, Jannik didn't even know how much he was holding anymore.

He sat in the player box wearing a pair of tailored navy trousers and a thin, silk-blend button-down shirt that clung uncomfortably to the sweat beading on his spine. The New York humidity was brutal, but the real problem was the friction of the fabric against his hypersensitive skin. Every time he shifted in his seat, the seam of his trousers pressed against the damp, swollen ache between his legs, sending a jolt of electricity straight to his brain that made his eyelids flutter.

Down on the court, Carlos was dismantling his opponent.

It was terrifying to watch. When Carlos crouched at the baseline to receive a serve, his thighs bunched into thick, solid blocks of muscle that looked like they could snap a baseball bat in half. The yellow grip tape on his racket looked ridiculously small wrapped inside his palm.

Jannik bit down hard on his lower lip, tasting copper, his eyes tracking the violent torque of Carlos's torso. The alpha scrambled side to side, his footwork aggressive and loud, his sneakers screeching against the acrylic. He chased down a drop shot, lunging forward with a sprawling, desperate stretch that pulled his shorts up high on his thigh, exposing the roped muscle of his quad.

Jannik forgot how to breathe. The ambient noise of Arthur Ashe faded into a low, rushing hum.

He watched Carlos recover, pushing off the ground with an explosive grunt that carried up into the box. Jannik let his mind slip, picturing that exact same explosive power directed at him. He imagined lying on his back in the hotel bed, his legs pushed all the way up to his chest, helpless while Carlos drove into him with that same ruthless rhythm. 

"Incredible angle, no?"

Jannik jumped a little, his shoulder bumping into Samuel sitting next to him. The coach was pointing down at the court, a proud, tight smile on his face as the crowd applauded a passing shot.

Jannik missed the point. He forced a stiff, jerky nod, his face burning a deep, embarrassed crimson. "Yeah. Perfect."

His voice sounded reedy and breathless. He crossed his legs tightly, curling his toes inside his loafers, desperately trying to lock down the wet, messy reality happening inside his trousers. He felt like an imposter sitting among the coaching staff. They were analyzing spin rates and tactical adjustments, while he was just a fuzzy, drooling puddle of omega hormones, consumed by the size of Carlos's biceps and the desperate need to get bred.

The match stretched into the fourth hour. The floodlights kicked on, casting long, dramatic shadows across the hardcourt.

Carlos was sweating profusely, his shirt plastered to the broad, sweeping lines of his back. The camera zoomed in on his face, projecting his image onto the stadium screens. The sharp cut of his jaw was clenched, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to catch in the hollow of his throat. 

The championship point played out in a blur of blinding, violent movement that left a ringing silence in the split second before the ball bounced a second time outside the lines

Down on the court, Carlos dropped his racket and fell flat onto his back, his arms spread wide across the blue acrylic, staring up into the blazing New York sky.

Jannik stood up, his hands instantly gripping the edge of the barrier in front of him because the blood was rushing out of his head so fast he thought he might faint. He watched Carlos roll over, pushing himself up off the ground with a flex of his shoulders that looked too easy for a man who had just played four grueling hours of tennis. Carlos jogged toward the net to shake hands, moving with that rolling, dominant gait, his dark skin coated in a thick layer of grit and sweat.

The trophy ceremony was still a few minutes away, but Carlos didn't wait. He turned away from the umpire's chair and started running toward the player box, tracking straight through the chaos to find the pale, shivering figure waiting for him.

Carlos didn't bother looking for the stairs. He reached the wall and jumped, grabbing the railing with his taped hands and hauling his frame up over the barrier. 

Samuel and the rest of the coaching staff swarmed him, clapping his back and screaming in Spanish, but Carlos just waded through them. He reached out and grabbed Jannik by the hips, his large hands wrapping effortlessly around the narrow circumference of Jannik’s waist, and hauled him in.

The kiss was messy and public and tasted like salt and hot dust. Jannik melted into it, his hands coming up to grip the broad slope of Carlos’s shoulders to anchor himself. His arms banded around Jannik’s back, pulling him flush against the hard, solid wall of his torso, lifting him an inch off the concrete floor without even bothering to brace his stance.

Jannik felt his knees go slack. All he could feel was the bruising grip on his waist, the scrape of Carlos's stubble against his chin, and the overpowering, dark scent of victory and raw pine pouring out of Carlos's scent glands. 

"Go get your trophy," Jannik breathed against Carlos’s lips, forcing himself to pull back just enough to break the kiss. He let his fingers drag down the slick, tanned skin of Carlos’s bicep. "They are waiting for you down there."

Carlos stared down at him, his pupils blown wide and black, his chest rising and falling. For a second, it looked like he was going to throw Jannik over his shoulder and carry him right down into the locker rooms, ignoring the cameras and the officials pointing toward the podium.

Jannik pushed gently against Carlos's chest, offering a watery, trembling smile. He was hot all over, slick already gathering.

"I'll be at the hotel," Jannik whispered, smoothing his hand over the damp fabric of Carlos's shirt. "Go celebrate with the team. Take your time."

Carlos leaned in and pressed his open mouth against the side of Jannik’s neck, right over his pulse point, inhaling a deep, ragged breath that made Jannik’s spine arch involuntarily. The alpha let out a low, rough growl of acknowledgement, squeezing Jannik’s hips one last time before turning back to face the roaring stadium.

Jannik slipped away while the cameras followed Carlos down to the presentation podium. He navigated the crowded VIP tunnels under Arthur Ashe with his head ducked, flanked by a security guard who guided him toward the private loading dock. He entered the card, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the tinted SUV window, watching the blur of the highway lights streak past. 

He was aching so badly it made his teeth chatter.

The car glided to a stop in front of the towering luxury hotel in Midtown. Jannik slipped out into the warm night air and took the private elevator up to the penthouse suite, the numbers ticking upward on the digital display while the knot of tension in his stomach wound tighter and tighter.

Dropping his keycard onto the marble console table as sun as he entered the suite, he kicked off his loafers, and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor into the living room. He shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of an armchair, and sank down onto the plush sofa facing the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He was supposed to wait. He had told Carlos to celebrate with the team, to enjoy the media tour and the champagne popping in the locker room. It was what a supportive partner did.

But his body didn't care about the press conference. His body was weeping slick onto the expensive upholstery of the sofa, his internal muscles clenching in slow, empty spasms that made him whine out loud in the empty room. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He felt hollowed out, a fragile shell waiting to be cracked open and consumed by the man who had just conquered New York.

He thought about Carlos taking a shower in the locker room, the water sluicing over those broad shoulders and thick thighs. He thought about Carlos putting on a fresh set of clothes, his dark eyes turning toward the hotel, locking onto the scent of the omega waiting for him.

A sharp vibration interrupted his thoughts.

Jannik jolted, his head snapping toward his phone resting on the coffee table. The screen lit up in the dim room, casting a pale glow over the glass.

He reached out, his fingers fumbling with the device, swiping the screen to open the message. The name at the top read Carlos, followed by a single line of text that sent a shockwave of heat straight down Jannik’s spine.

Team dinner tomorrow. Tonight, I'm coming straight to my omega.

Jannik dropped the phone onto the cushions. He let his head fall back against the sofa, his mouth opening in a silent, jagged gasp. Carlos was skipping the celebration, leaving the champagne and the sponsors behind, because the urge to claim his omega was stronger than anything else.

A wet sob tore out of Jannik’s throat. He slid down sideways onto the plush cushions, curling his long limbs together, pressing his face into the fabric. He let the fever take over, giving up the fight to stay composed and rational. He was just a mess now, a soft, dripping, waiting thing lying in the dark, watching the lights of the city blur through his tears while he counted the minutes until that door opened.

Jannik pushed himself up from the cushions, his limbs felt loose and uncoordinated, his joints melting under the rising temperature of his blood. He stumbled slightly as his bare feet hit the hardwood floor, catching his balance against the back of the armchair. .

He made it to the kitchen island, his hands shaking as he picked up the receiver of the hotel phone. It was simple, just room service, pressing the cool plastic against his flushed cheek. When the attendant answered, Jannik had to clear his throat twice to find his voice. He ordered a bottle of Carlos’s favorite champagne, requesting it be left on a cart outside the door.

In the master bathroom, Jannik walked straight to the deep, freestanding soaking tub sitting in the center of the room. He reached down and turned the chrome handles, twisting the hot water valve all the way open. The pipes groaned, and a rushing waterfall crashed against the porcelain, instantly sending plumes of steam curling up into the chilled air of the bathroom.

Jannik stood beside the tub and began to strip. He pulled the silk button-down over his head, wincing as the fabric dragged across his overly sensitive nipples, tossing the ruined shirt onto the floor. He unfastened his trousers, pushing them down his hips along with his damp underwear, stepping out of the tangled pile of clothes and kicking them away.

He was bare in the warming room, skin stark white against the dark marble flooring, a long, unbroken canvas of limbs and sharp angles. He looked pristine, untouched, lacking a single bruise or bite mark or heavy fingerprint to break up the smooth surface of his body. 

The only color on him was the deep, feverish flush painting his chest and throat, and the dark, wet pink of his arousal. He was already hard, a soft, weeping ache that dripped clear, viscous slick down the inside of his thigh. He shivered, wrapping his arms around his ribs, feeling the frantic thud of his own heart beating against his palms.

As the tub filled quickly, Jannik reached over and shut off the faucet, leaving the room submerged in a sudden, echoing quiet, broken only by the sound of the water sloshing against the porcelain. He climbed in, lowering himself down into the scalding heat.

It soaked into his aching joints, melting the tension from his spine as he slid down until the water lapped against his collarbones. He let his head fall back against the rim of the tub, closing his eyes, letting the thick, humid steam wrap around him like a blanket.

He stayed there for a long time, just letting the heat penetrate his bones, trying to slow the racing, dizzy spiral of his thoughts. He pictured Carlos in the back of the black SUV, his jaw clenched, his dark eyes watching the city blocks tick by. He wondered if Carlos could already smell him. Alpha instincts were terrifyingly sharp, and Jannik was practically broadcasting his submission into the atmosphere, a sweet, overripe beacon calling the predator home.

Jannik opened his eyes and reached for the row of bottles lined up on the marble shelf beside the tub. He bypassed the expensive hotel soaps and picked up the dark red bottle he had packed specifically for this trip.

Carlos had bought it for him months ago. It was a ridiculously sweet strawberry body wash, a bright, artificial scent that Carlos had buried his face into one morning and groaned over, claiming it made his mouth water. Jannik squeezed a generous amount of the thick, pink gel into his palms, rubbing his hands together to work it into a rich, blooming lather.

The smell of crushed strawberries exploded in the steam, bright and sticky and sweet. Jannik dragged his lathered hands up his throat, working the soap over the boiling scent gland tucked just under his jawline. As the strawberry mingled with the hot, damp skin of his neck, it collided with the rich vanilla of his natural omega pheromones.

Jannik washed his chest, smoothing his soapy hands over his ribs and down the flat, pale plain of his stomach. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his own skin. Every touch felt electric, his nerve endings dialed up to an agonizing frequency. He kept his hands strictly above his waist, terrified that if he touched the aching, swollen heat between his legs he would fall apart before Carlos even made it through the door.

He rinsed off, submerging himself under the water until the bubbles dissolved and the slick residue washed away. When he finally pulled the drain plug and stood up, the humid air of the bathroom hit his wet skin, making him shiver.

He stepped onto the plush bathmat, grabbing a white towel from the warming rack. He didn't dry off completely, just dragged the terrycloth lazily over his shoulders and legs, leaving his skin damp and glowing in the dim light. He dropped the towel on the floor and walked over to the sprawling vanity, wiping a circle of condensation away from the mirror with the side of his hand.

Jannik stared at his reflection.

His damp ginger hair curled wildly around his forehead and ears, darkening to the color of wet copper. His eyes looked huge and green, the pupils blown wide to swallow the irises, giving him a wild, feverish look. His lips were parted, swollen and red from where he had been biting them. He looked like an omega running purely on instinct, his logical mind completely eroded by the sweet, suffocating vanilla and strawberry fog filling the room.

Leaving the bathroom, Jannik padded softly back out into the bedroom. He cracked the front door open just an inch, finding the room service cart parked quietly in the hallway. He grabbed the silver ice bucket containing the champagne and pulled it inside, locking the deadbolt behind him with a solid, echoing click.

He carried the bucket into the living room, setting it down on the glass coffee table. It was Carlos's favorite vintage, a small, grounding detail in the middle of this chaotic, biological storm.

Jannik moved methodically around the perimeter of the room, turning off the lamps and the overhead fixtures until the suite was plunged into deep shadows. He picked up a long box of matches from the console and began lighting the thick, white pillar candles scattered across the side tables and the mantle.

Small, teardrop flames flickered to life one by one, casting a warm, amber glow against the walls. The light danced over the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting Jannik’s pale, naked reflection back at him against the backdrop of the glowing Manhattan skyline. The city looked like a scattering of crushed diamonds laid out on black velvet, vast and endless.

The king-sized bed sat in the center of the room, an ocean of crisp white hotel sheets and thick down pillows. He pulled the heavy duvet back, folding it neatly at the foot of the bed, exposing the clean white expanse of the mattress.

He sat down on the very edge of the bed, his feet resting flat on the carpet. The air conditioning hummed softly from the vents, a cool breeze drifting over his damp, fragrant skin.

He rested his hands on his thighs, his fingers curling slightly against his own skin. He was dripping. A slow, steady bead of clear slick gathered, dropping silently onto the pristine white sheets beneath him, leaving a small, dark circle of moisture in the cotton. He just let the evidence of his desperation pool there, waiting for Carlos to see exactly what the deprivation had done to him.

Every second that ticked by pulled the string of tension tighter. He felt fuzzy and warm, his head drooping forward slightly, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion of the fever began to drag at his muscles. Jannik took a deep, shuddering breath, tasting the strawberry sugar on his own lips, and waited.

The metallic click of the deadbolt sliding back echoed through the quiet suite, a sharp sound that made the breath catch in Jannik’s throat.

He stood up from the edge of the mattress, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. He didn't bother reaching for a robe or a towel. He just walked toward the doorway separating the bedroom from the living area, his skin damp and flushed, letting the sweet, cloying cloud of vanilla and strawberry drift through the air around him.

Carlos stepped through the threshold. The hallway light spilled in behind him before the heavy door clicked shut, sealing them inside the amber glow of the candles. 

He looked exhausted and triumphant all at once. He was wearing a dark green polo shirt that stretched tight across the wide slope of his shoulders, the short sleeves biting into the flexed muscle of his biceps. The buzzed haircut made his features look stark in the shadows, highlighting the sharp, stubborn angle of his jaw and the dark stubble dusting his chin. The adrenaline of the stadium was starting to bleed out of his posture, leaving behind the raw, underlying reality of an alpha returning to his den. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against the cotton, his dark eyes tracking the sweet scent hanging in the air until they landed on Jannik standing naked in the doorway.

Jannik didn't wait for him to speak. He crossed the hardwood floor, moving through the dim light, and stepped right into Carlos's space.

Carlos let out a rough, ragged exhale. His arms came up instinctively, catching Jannik before they even collided. Jannik wrapped his arms around the thick column of Carlos's neck, burying his face in the crook of the alpha's shoulder, breathing in. His wide palms flattened against Jannik's bare back, the rough skin scraping deliciously against the smooth canvas of his spine as he pulled the omega flush against his belt. 

Jannik melted into the hold, his knees going soft, his entire body going boneless. He felt the solid wall of Carlos's chest pressing against his own ribs, the blistering heat radiating through the damp cotton of the polo shirt and soaking into his shivering skin.

Carlos buried his face in Jannik’s damp ginger hair, inhaling deeply. He groaned, a deep vibration that started in his chest and hummed right against Jannik’s collarbone. The alpha dragged his nose down the side of Jannik’s neck, finding the boiling scent gland tucked beneath his jawline, tasting the lingering moisture of the strawberry wash mixed with the dark, desperate vanilla.

Jannik tipped his head back, offering the sensitive skin, a soft sigh slipping past his lips. He let his hands slide down the broad expanse of Carlos’s back, his long fingers mapping the solid ridges of muscle shifting under the fabric. Jannik was all exposed, soft skin and fragile angles, while Carlos felt like a warm, unyielding statue wrapped in cotton.

"You smell like sugar," Carlos murmured against the pulse beating in Jannik’s throat, his voice raspy and low. He kissed the skin there, his lips hot and open, leaving a patch of moisture behind. "Like dessert."

"And you smell like the court," Jannik whispered back, tilting his head to catch Carlos's mouth.

The first kiss was slow and searching, a gentle collision of soft lips and shared breath. Carlos tasted like salt and adrenaline. Jannik tasted like sweet wine and fever. The kiss deepened naturally, their mouths opening to let the heat inside, tongues sliding together in a wet, sloppy rhythm that tasted like homecoming. Jannik’s fingers tangled in the short, bristly hair at the nape of Carlos’s neck, holding him close, chasing the overwhelming taste of the man he had been deprived of for weeks.

Carlos’s hands drifted down Jannik’s back, mapping the sharp dip of his waist. His fingers were so long they wrapped effortlessly around the sides of Jannik’s torso, his thumbs brushing against the bottom of Jannik's ribcage. He held Jannik there, tracing the prominent hipbones, letting his palms absorb the trembling heat radiating from the skin.

Jannik pulled back from the kiss, his lips swollen and slick. He kept one hand resting on Carlos’s chest, feeling the steady, thudding heartbeat beneath the muscle, and reached his other hand toward the glass coffee table.

He picked up the dark green bottle resting in the ice bucket, pulling it out with a quiet clatter of melting ice. He poured the champagne into a crystal flute, the pale liquid bubbling up to the rim, turning back and pressing the cold glass into Carlos’s warm, taped hand.

Carlos took the glass, his dark eyes never leaving Jannik’s face. He drank the champagne in three long, continuous swallows, his throat working as the cold wine washed away the dust of the stadium. He set the empty flute down on the console table behind them without looking, a careless motion that ended with a soft clink of glass on wood.

Then Carlos reached out and pulled Jannik right back in.

He backed Jannik up against the floor-to-ceiling window. The cold glass pressed against Jannik’s bare shoulder blades, a shocking contrast to the burning heat of the alpha crowding his space. Carlos boxed him in, resting his forearms against the window frame on either side of Jannik’s head. The city sparkled behind them, a sprawling ocean of lights that felt a million miles away.

Carlos leaned in, his gaze dropping down the pale length of Jannik’s body. He took his time looking. He traced the line of Jannik’s throat, the hollow of his collarbones, the flat, nervous plane of his stomach. He saw the flush painting Jannik’s chest and the dark, wet pink of his arousal nestled between his thighs. He saw the clear, viscous slick dripping slowly down the inside of Jannik’s leg, shining in the candlelight.

"You're leaking for me," Carlos said softly, the words a dark, honeyed rumble in the quiet room.

Jannik flushed a deeper shade of red, turning his face to the side to press his cheek against the cool glass of the window. He nodded, a small, jerky motion, unable to formulate a sentence to defend himself. He just wanted to be looked at, wanted Carlos to see exactly how ruined he was.

Carlos brought a hand up, brushing the knuckles against Jannik’s cheek, coaxing him to turn his head back.

"Don't hide," Carlos whispered, leaning in to press a wet, open kiss to the corner of Jannik’s mouth. "I spent the last three sets thinking about you looking exactly like this. Just waiting for me. Smelling like vanilla and dripping all over the floor."

Jannik whimpered, opening his mouth to catch Carlos's lower lip between his teeth, pulling him into another kiss. This one was deeper, sloppier. Carlos groaned, dropping his hands from the window frame to grab Jannik’s hips. He pulled the omega forward, slotting their bodies together, pressing the rough denim of his jeans directly against Jannik’s bare, aching erection.

The friction drew a sharp gasp from Jannik. He arched his spine, rubbing his slick heat blindly against the abrasive fabric covering Carlos's thighs. The contrast of the rough denim against his hypersensitive skin was blinding. He clutched at the collar of Carlos's polo shirt, his fingers bunching the fabric, trying to pull the alpha closer, trying to eliminate whatever space was left between them.

Carlos obliged, walking Jannik backward along the glass until they were pressed firmly into the corner of the room. He kept his hips ground forward, a blunt, unyielding pressure that pinned Jannik in place.

"Missed my bed being full," Carlos murmured against Jannik’s jaw, his breath hot and damp. He dragged his nose down to the curve of Jannik’s neck, his teeth scraping lightly over the boiling scent gland. "Missed having my hands on you. Missed feeling how small you are when I hold you down."

"Carlos," Jannik whined, the name slipping out in a breathless, broken string of vowels. He pushed his hips forward again, chasing the friction, a wet spot already blooming on the denim of Carlos's jeans.

Carlos slid his hands down Jannik’s sides, his thumbs tracing the curve of Jannik's waist. He gripped the soft flesh, his fingers squeezing gently. The span of his hands covered so much territory, locking Jannik against the glass.

"You watched me win," Carlos whispered, pulling back just enough to look into Jannik’s blown-out eyes. He reached down with one hand, his thumb catching a bead of clear slick from the inside of Jannik’s thigh. He brought the moisture up, rubbing it slick and wet over Jannik’s bottom lip. "You watched me lift that trophy. And you came back here to get yourself ready to take my pups."

Jannik tasted his own slick on his lips, mixed with the strawberry sugar and the salt from Carlos's thumb.He nodded frantically, his hands sliding down to grip Carlos's thick biceps, feeling the roped muscle bunched tight under the polo shirt.

"Yes," Jannik sobbed, the word slipping out wet and messy. "Please. I'm so empty. You're so big."

Carlos’s eyes darkened, the last trace of the gentle, exhausted champion burning away to reveal the pure, hungry alpha underneath. He let out a dark, vibrating growl, a sound that resonated deep in his chest and settled directly between Jannik’s thighs. Carlos reached down, grabbing the back of Jannik’s thighs, and lifted him straight off the hardwood floor.

Jannik gasped, his legs automatically wrapping around the thick trunk of Carlos's waist. He felt weightless, being carried away from the glowing city lights and dragged toward the dark, quiet expanse of the bedroom, where the waiting sheets were already stained with his own desperate heat.

He felt the steady, rolling shift of Carlos’s hips with every step, the ease with which Carlos carried him making Jannik feel weightless. He rested his chin on Carlos’s shoulder, watching the candlelight flicker against the walls of the hallway, his vision swimming in a warm, honeyed haze.

They crossed the threshold into the bedroom. The space was cooler, the air conditioning blowing a steady draft over Jannik’s bare, flushed back. Carlos stopped right at the edge of the king-sized bed. He slid his hands from the back of Jannik’s thighs to his hips, his fingers gripping the prominent bones there, and let Jannik slide down the front of his body.

Jannik’s feet barely brushed the carpet before Carlos pushed him backward.

The mattress dipped with a squeak of springs. Jannik fell back into the center of the bed, his spine hitting the white sheets, the impact forcing a soft, stuttering sigh past his lips. He sprawled out instinctively, his legs parting as he sank into the plush down of the duvet. The spot he landed on was already damp, a cool, slick circle of moisture from earlier that pressed right against the feverish heat pooling between his thighs.

Carlos stayed standing at the foot of the bed. He reached down and grabbed the hem of his dark green polo shirt. The fabric snagged over the bunched, pumped muscles of his shoulders as he dragged it up over his head, tossing it blindly onto the floor.

Jannik swallowed hard, his throat dry. The dim light filtering in from the city skyline caught the sheen of sweat still coating Carlos’s chest, making him look like he had been carved out of dark, hot stone. The cuts of his abdomen were deep and rigid, framing the dusting of dark hair trailing down toward his belt. 

Carlos reached for the silver buckle, the metal clinked loudly in the quiet room. He unfastened his jeans, pushing the rough denim and his dark boxer briefs down his thighs in one swift, impatient motion. He kicked the tangled pile of clothes away, stepping out of his shoes, leaving him bare at the edge of the mattress.

Jannik stopped breathing.

His alpha arousal was right there, jutting out angry and thick against his stomach. Carlos's thighs were tree trunks, dense and roped with muscle from years of sprinting across hardcourts. His chest expanded with slow, rhythmic breaths, casting a long, dark shadow that swallowed the bottom half of the bed and fell right over Jannik’s trembling knees.

Carlos didn’t move to climb onto the mattress right away. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch out, his dark eyes sweeping over the bed.

He took his time looking at the prize he had won. Jannik lay there looking like a ruined painting, his pale, unblemished skin glowing against the white hotel linens. Where Carlos was all blunt force and tanned, scarred muscle, Jannik was fragile and trembling. The strawberry sugar and dark vanilla scent pouring off Jannik was so thick it that made Carlos’s nostrils flare.

Jannik twisted his fingers into the bedsheets, pulling the fabric tight. The alpha’s stare felt like physical touch, burning a trail from his flushed collarbones down the flat plane of his stomach. He felt so exposed, so incredibly vulnerable lying open for a predator built to consume things much larger than him.

"Look at you," Carlos rumbled, the sound vibrating low in his throat.

He rested his taped hand on his own hip, shaking his head slowly. The look in his eyes was dark, hungry, and possessively fond. He took a step closer, the side of his knee brushing against the edge of the mattress.

"I leave you alone for a few hours," Carlos murmured, his gaze dropping to the wet, shining mess pooling between Jannik’s legs. "And you melt all over the bed. You can't even keep it inside."

Jannik whimpered, a high, broken sound that echoed in the quiet room. He tried to press his thighs together to hide the slick, a pathetic attempt to salvage some shred of dignity, but his joints felt like water. His hips bucked up off the mattress involuntarily, a blind twitch chasing the heat radiating from Carlos's body.

"Come here," Jannik babbled, his voice a raw, breathy whisper. He reached his arms up, his fingers curling empty in the air. "Carlos. Please."

Carlos climbed onto the bed.

The mattress groaned and the springs compressed, pulling the sheets taut and rolling Jannik sideways down into the divot created by Carlos's weight. Carlos crawled forward on his hands and knees, stalking up the center of the bed. The tendons in his forearms stood out in sharp relief as he moved, a slow, predatory crawl that made the breath catch in Jannik’s lungs.

Carlos settled over him, bracketing Jannik’s hips with his thick thighs. He didn't drop his full weight yet. He hovered just above Jannik, his chest blocking out the ceiling, trapping the sweet strawberry scent in the small pocket of air between them.

Jannik looked up into Carlos's face. The alpha's buzzed head was a dark silhouette against the ambient light of the window. Carlos lowered his head, pressing his nose right against the center of Jannik’s chest, inhaling a deep, ragged lungful of the vanilla pheromones. The hot, damp exhale brushed over Jannik’s skin, causing a violent shiver to rip down his spine.

"You smell so ready," Carlos whispered against Jannik’s sternum. He dragged his open mouth up the center of Jannik’s chest, his stubble scraping a deliciously rough path over the skin. "You smell like you want me to break you in half."

Jannik’s hands flew to Carlos’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the hard, slick muscle. He tried to pull Carlos down, needing the friction, needing the heavy, crushing pressure to anchor him to the bed. "Do it," he sobbed, the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, blurring the room into a watery, glowing smear. "Break me. Put it in. I want you."

Words spilled out of Jannik without any filter, a sloppy, desperate confession. He squirmed beneath the cage of Carlos’s arms, his hips grinding up, rubbing his slick, weeping length against the hot, taut skin of Carlos’s abdomen.

Carlos let out a harsh groan, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the contact. He reached down, his hand sliding over Jannik’s flat stomach to grip the pale, trembling thigh. His fingers wrapped all the way around the back of Jannik’s leg, his thumb pressing deep into the soft, sensitive flesh on the inside of the knee.

"So impatient," Carlos growled, his voice turning rougher, the affectionate teasing bleeding away into pure, demanding alpha dominance. He pushed Jannik’s leg up, bending the knee toward Jannik’s chest, opening him wider to the cool air of the room. "You think you can take all this right now? Look at the size of you, cariño. Look how small you are."

Jannik looked down.

It was dizzying. Carlos’s dark, tanned hand looked huge wrapped around Jannik’s leg, his cock resting right against the slick, pink entrance of Jannik’s heat.

"I can take it," Jannik pleaded, his chest heaving, his nails leaving red half-moon indents in Carlos's shoulders. "Make it fit. Carlos, please, I'm burning up."

Carlos shifted his weight, his knee pressing deep into the mattress beside Jannik’s hip. He brought his other hand down, his long, callused fingers brushing against the dripping slick coating Jannik’s entrance. The rough texture of his fingertips grazing the hypersensitive, swollen flesh drew a sharp, jagged scream from Jannik’s lips.

"I'm going to make you so round," Carlos murmured, his thumb sliding through the hot, viscous wetness, gathering a generous coating of the strawberry-sweet slick. He brought his hand up, pressing the wet thumb directly into Jannik’s parted mouth. "Taste it. Taste how sweet you are for me."

Jannik sucked the slick off Carlos’s thumb, his eyes rolling back in his head. The taste of his own desperation mixed with the salt on Carlos’s skin was narcotic. He babbled around the digit, a sloppy, wordless hum of agreement, surrendering the last piece of his mind to the alpha pinning him to the bed.

Carlos pulled his thumb free, a thick string of saliva stretching between them before snapping. He moved his hand back down, coating his long, thick fingers in the pooling slick. His fingers were coated in the thick, sweet syrup pooling between Jannik’s thighs. He didn't rush. The alpha took his time, dragging a slick-covered thumb over the swollen, hypersensitive knot of nerves right at the entrance, painting the moisture over the aching flesh.

Jannik’s spine bowed right off the sheets. A high, breathless keening sound escaped his throat. He tried to close his eyes, but the sight of Carlos looming over him, backlit by the amber glow of the candles, was too magnetic to look away from.

Carlos pressed the blunt tip of his middle finger against the tight ring of muscle. The entrance yielded instantly, weeping more clear fluid to welcome the touch. He pushed inside, burying the digit all the way to the knuckle.

Jannik's internal walls clamped down around the finger, greedy and desperate, pulsing in a blind attempt to draw more of the alpha inside. Carlos's skin was rough. 

"So wet," Carlos breathed out, his voice dropping into a dark, vibrating register that rattled Jannik’s ribs. He withdrew the finger slowly, drawing out a wet, sloppy sound that echoed in the quiet room, and then pushed back in with two.

Jannik gasped, his fingernails digging blindly into the mattress. Two of Carlos's thick fingers took up more space than Jannik was used to, stretching the entrance and pressing down against the swollen tissue inside him. Carlos curled his fingers upward, striking that sensitive cluster of nerves with a deliberate, blunt force.

A shockwave of blinding pleasure rolled up Jannik's spine, melting the last remaining coherent thoughts in his brain. He thrashed his head against the pillow, his damp ginger curls tangling in the cotton. He babbled a string of nonsense vowels, his tongue feeling too thick to form actual words. The hypnotic rhythm of the fingers sliding in and out, accompanied by the wet, rhythmic slapping sound, pulled him deeper into the messy headspace his body created.

Carlos added a third finger.

The stretch became too much. Jannik cried out, his hips twisting, trying to escape the pressure while simultaneously pushing back against Carlos's hand to take it deeper. He felt hollowed out, his body being meticulously and ruthlessly prepared to take something impossibly large. 

"You're melting around my hand," Carlos whispered, leaning down to drag his open mouth over Jannik’s collarbone. He bit down on the delicate skin, his teeth sinking in just enough to leave a mark. "Making a total mess. My sweet, dripping boy. You want it so bad."

"Want it," Jannik sobbed, the words tumbling out wet and unstructured. "Please. Carlos. Empty."

Carlos withdrew his hand. The sudden loss of pressure left Jannik whining, a pathetic, high-pitched sound of protest. He tried to chase the touch, his pale legs tangling with Carlos's solid thighs, but Carlos caught him by the waist.

The alpha's fingers wrapped all the way around the pale skin, reaching around to press into the muscles of Jannik’s lower back, while his thumbs stretched across Jannik’s flat stomach to meet right over his navel.

Carlos was holding Jannik's waist inside his two hands.

It was a suffocating, beautiful trap. Jannik looked down through the dizzying fog of his own arousal and saw those tanned, taped hands completely eclipsing his midsection. He couldn't move. He couldn't twist away. A fragile toy pinned to the bed, completely at the mercy of whatever Carlos decided to do next.

Carlos shifted his hips forward, aligning the blunt, weeping head of his own erection right against the slick, stretched entrance.

"Take a deep breath," Carlos commanded, his voice a rough, uncompromising rumble in the dark.

Jannik opened his mouth, sucking in a ragged lungful of air, his chest expanding under the candlelight.

Carlos pushed forward.

The entry was agonizingly slow. It felt like being slowly impaled by a burning, solid rod of iron. The air was punched straight out of Jannik’s lungs in a silent, jagged gasp. His mouth hung open, his eyes rolling back as the width of the alpha pushed deeper into his melting heat.

Jannik’s internal muscles screamed, stretching tight around the thick circumference, fighting the invasion before yielding to the relentless, downward drive of Carlos’s hips.

"Carlos," Jannik finally screamed, the sound tearing out of his throat, raw and desperate. He clutched at Carlos's thick forearms, his fingernails digging into the sweaty skin. "God, too big. You're too big."

"I know," Carlos growled, his jaw locked tight, the muscles in his neck cording with the effort of holding himself back. He didn't stop. He kept pushing, burying another inch, forcing Jannik to accommodate the impossible width. "Take it. Open up for me, amore. Take your alpha."

Jannik sobbed, a wet, messy sound of pain and absolute worship. The stretch burned, a bright, agonizing line of fire that slowly muted into the deepest, most crushing fullness he had ever experienced. Every millimeter Carlos gained sent a fresh wave through Jannik’s melting brain. He was being rearranged inside. The hollow ache that had plagued him for the last week was being violently, thoroughly eradicated.

Carlos pushed his hips forward one final, brutal inch, burying himself to the hilt.

Jannik shattered. He couldn't feel his fingers or his toes and the world shrank down to the burning, stretching pressure in his core and the massive weight of the man crushing him into the mattress. He let go of Carlos's arms and just let his head loll to the side, tears streaming freely down his cheeks, soaking into the pillowcase.

Carlos collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of Jannik’s neck. The alpha was breathing like he had just run a marathon, his broad chest heaving against Jannik’s ribs. He kept his hands clamped tightly around Jannik’s waist, holding them perfectly still while the initial shock of the entry settled.

Inside, Jannik’s body throbbed, his muscles involuntarily clenching and unclenching around the massive, buried heat. Every spasm pulled a rough, rumbling groan from Carlos's chest. The tight, burning stretch slowly transitioned into a deep, radiating warmth. The pain dissolved, leaving behind a heavy, honeyed pleasure that left Jannik completely mindless.

Jannik was full, so full and loved.

Carlos pulled his hips back, retreating just enough to let the cool air of the room touch the slick, swollen entrance, before driving forward again. The motion was slow, deliberate, the blunt width of him slid through the pooling strawberry syrup, a wet, dragging sound that echoed loudly over the hum of the air conditioning. 

He hit the very back of Jannik’s heat with a solid, echoing thud, grinding his pelvis right into the sharp jut of Jannik’s hipbones.

Jannik’s jaw snapped shut, his teeth clicking together. A strangled, breathless whine vibrated behind his lips. His hands, previously gripping the sheets, flew up to claw at the bunched muscles of Carlos's shoulders. The rhythm started as a slow, grueling crawl. Every time Carlos pulled out, Jannik felt incredibly empty, his internal muscles clenching in a blind panic that he was being abandoned, only to be violently, thoroughly stretched open again a second later.

The slick was everywhere now, coating Carlos’s thighs, soaking into the mattress, making a loud, sloppy, slapping sound with every downward drive.

"Look at me," Carlos grunted.

Jannik forced his eyes open. His vision was swimming, the amber candlelight blurring into bright streaks, but he found Carlos's face hovering right above him. The alpha's jaw was locked, a bead of sweat tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone before dropping off his chin to land right on Jannik’s flushed skin. Hazel eyes staring down at him in a feral way, stripped of the smiling, polite boy who played tennis for the cameras. 

"You take it so well," Carlos rasped, his breath hot and ragged, smelling like the champagne they had just drank. He anchored his hands next to Jannik’s ears, caging him in, using his upper body strength to brace his weight as he increased the pace. "Opening right up. Taking every single inch."

The rhythm accelerated, shifting from a slow stretch into a brutal, punishing pound. Carlos drove his hips down.

Jannik lost whatever precarious grip he had left on his sanity. The world narrowed down to the bruising impact at the base of his spine and the scorching heat filling his stomach. He started to babble, a continuous, unstructured stream of Italian and broken whimpers that spilled out of his open mouth. His head tossed side to side on the damp pillow. He was drowning in it. 

Carlos reached down, sliding one hand under the small of Jannik’s back. He hauled Jannik upward, arching the omega's spine off the mattress to meet the downward thrusts. The new angle allowing Carlos to bury himself even deeper, hitting a knot of incredibly sensitive nerves tucked high inside the slick heat.

Jannik screamed. The sound tore out of his throat, raw and entirely unguarded. His eyes rolled back, a white-hot flash of electricity arcing from his pelvis straight into his brain. He clamped his legs tighter around Carlos’s waist, his heels digging into the slick, sweating skin of the alpha's lower back, desperately trying to lock him inside.

"Yes," Carlos growled, catching the scream with his own open mouth, kissing Jannik hard and messy. Their teeth clashed. Carlos’s tongue pushed inside, tasting the sugar and the metallic tang of blood where Jannik had bitten his own lip.

Carlos didn't let up the pace. The bed frame began to rock, a rhythmic, wooden groaning that banged against the wall of the suite. Carlos was sweating profusely, the moisture making his tanned skin shine in the dim light, slipping against Jannik’s pale chest with every thrust. 

But Carlos wasn't satisfied and he pulled back abruptly, withdrawing from the slick, swollen heat.

Jannik collapsed flat against the sheets, a wet, devastated sob ripping out of him. He reached out blindly, his fingers curling into empty air. "No, no, please, put it back. Carlos, put it back."

"Quiet," Carlos commanded, the word slicing through the frantic begging.

Carlos grabbed Jannik by the forearm and the opposite hip, flipping him over. The world spun in a dizzying blur of white sheets and dark shadows before Jannik found himself planted face-down in the mattress.

Before Jannik could even process the new position, Carlos grabbed his hips and pulled him backward. He folded Jannik into a tight, kneeling arch, pressing Jannik’s chest and face flat into the damp pillows while elevating his ass into the air.

Jannik whined, his cheek mashed against the cotton, his damp curls falling into his eyes. He felt exposed, legs spread wide, his knees digging into the mattress, leaving his dripping, thoroughly stretched entrance entirely visible to the alpha kneeling behind him.

Carlos ran his broad palms up the back of Jannik’s thighs, his hands scraping over the soft flesh. He traced the curve of Jannik’s ass, his fingers digging into the pale cheeks, spreading them further apart.

"Look how wet you are for me," Carlos said, his voice echoing in the quiet room, dark and utterly depraved.

Carlos didn't bother with a slow re-entry. He aligned himself and drove his hips forward, burying his entire length in one move.

It hit deeper than before and Jannik choked on a scream, his hands gripping the edges of the pillow tightly enough to rip the seams. Carlos locked his hands around Jannik’s narrow waist. His thumbs pressed deep into the divots right above Jannik’s hips, anchoring the smaller body in place. 

"You went back to the room just to wait for this," Carlos taunted, his breath hitting the sensitive shell of Jannik’s ear as he leaned his torso over Jannik’s back. "Just sitting in the dark, leaking all over the furniture, waiting for your alpha to come put a baby in you."

Jannik’s insides clamped down hard, a blind, desperate spasm that tried to swallow the thick heat filling him up. Hearing Carlos pull those pathetic, dirty little thoughts right out of his head and whisper them out loud while folding him in half against the bed melted whatever was left of his brain.

"Yes," Jannik sobbed into the pillow, completely abandoning any remaining pride. "Waiting for you. Just a hole for you. Please."

"Tell me you want my pups," Carlos demanded, his grip on Jannik’s waist tightening until it bruised, hauling the omega back into another punishing impact. "Dilo. Tell me what you want me to do."

The words from the stadium echoed in Jannik’s ruined brain. Our future babies. He could feel the blunt crown hitting the deepest part of him, knocking against the barrier, demanding to be let in. He visualized the heat pouring out of Carlos, filling him up, overflowing, taking root inside his fragile body and stretching him round and heavy.

"Want your pups," Jannik babbled, his voice a hoarse, wrecked mess. He pushed his hips backward, actively chasing the violent impacts, completely addicted to the pain and the fullness. "Make me round, Carlos. Breed me. Stretch me out and breed me right now."

"Good boy," Carlos praised, the dark, vibrating approval sending another shockwave of pleasure through Jannik’s system. "Such a good, desperate little omega. I'm going to fill you so deep you won't be able to walk tomorrow."

Carlos abandoned the measured rhythm and hammered into Jannik with a frantic, unhinged pace, his chest slapping wetly against Jannik’s back with every thrust, pulling a continuous stream of sloppy, viscous slick out of Jannik, coating them both in the sweet, sticky mess.

Jannik couldn't form words anymore. He couldn't think. His mouth hung open against the pillow, drool spilling past his lips, his eyes rolling back until all he saw was darkness.

Carlos reached one hand around to the front, his taped wrist brushing roughly against Jannik’s side. He wrapped his long fingers around Jannik’s weeping, neglected erection, giving it a single, tight squeeze.

"Take it all," Carlos roared, a guttural, primal sound that signaled the end was coming, his hips driving down with a terrifying, absolute force as the rhythm reached a fever pitch, preparing to lock them together in the dark.

Jannik could do nothing but take the impact. His fingers remained curled into tight, white-knuckled fists against the damp pillows, his face turned to the side, his lips parted in a continuous, breathless wail that had long since lost any shape of language. 

His head was spinning out of control. He felt the change happening right at the base of Carlos’s cock.

The pressure inside him began to multiply, the blunt crown was seated so deep it felt like it was pressing right against his stomach lining, but the base was expanding, swelling outward with a terrifying, undeniable speed. 

Carlos let out a raw, guttural roar that vibrated against the back of Jannik’s neck. The alpha locked his arms, bracing his weight over Jannik’s trembling spine, and slammed his hips forward one final time to seat the swelling knot perfectly past the tight ring of the entrance.

Jannik shattered, back arched off the mattress, a sharp, jagged scream tearing out of his throat as his climax hit him like a tidal wave, sending violent tremors radiating from his core all the way down to his toes. His body milked the alpha dry, his internal muscles spasming and clenching frantically around the expanded knot in a greedy, rhythmic milking motion. He spilled over his own stomach and the white hotel sheets, a messy, uncontrolled flood of slick and heat that ruined the pristine cotton beneath him.

The clenching of the omega's heat dragged Carlos over the edge right alongside him. The alpha groaned, the sound breaking into a harsh, ragged bark. He drove his pelvis flush against Jannik’s rear and held himself there, completely rigid, as the first pulse of his own climax hit.

A thick rush of fluid filled Jannik, painting his insides and overflowing almost immediately to slip down the inside of his thighs. Jannik sobbed into the pillow, his mind whited out. Violent aftershocks of the climax rolled through them for minutes, neither of them capable of moving or forming a coherent thought.

Carlos collapsed forward, dropping his chest flat against Jannik’s sweat-slicked back. The air was punched out of Jannik’s lungs under the sudden weight, but he didn't care. He let his cheek rest against the damp pillowcase, his eyes squeezed shut, a soft, dopey smile pulling at the corners of his mouth while he rode out the dizzying, honeyed aftermath of the tie.

The room grew quiet again, the silence broken only by the harsh, labored rasp of their breathing and the wet, sliding sound of their skin shifting against each other as Carlos tried to find a comfortable angle. 

Carlos pressed his face into the curls sticking to the back of Jannik’s neck. He dragged his nose along the fever-flushed skin, his breathing slowly evening out as the adrenaline bled from his bloodstream. He brought his large hands up, wrapping his arms securely around Jannik’s ribs to hold him tight, pressing slow, lingering kisses over the sensitive shell of Jannik’s ear and the slope of his shoulder.

"Mine," Carlos whispered, the word a rough, exhausted rumble that vibrated through Jannik’s chest. "So good. You took all of it for me."

Jannik could only manage a weak, watery hum in response. His tongue felt useless, his brain reduced to a soft puddle of love. He let his hands fall limp against the sheets, fully giving himself over to the sensation of being held, of being trapped beneath the sweltering heat of the man who had rushed across the city just to ruin him.

They stayed locked in the awkward, sprawling position until the swelling at the base of Carlos’s arousal finally began to subside. The burning stretch slowly softened into a dull, lingering ache. Carlos shifted his weight, his knee pressing into the mattress as he carefully, slowly pulled his hips back.

A loud, sloppy sound echoed in the quiet room as the connection broke, leaving Jannik feeling painfully hollow despite the mess coating his thighs. A cool draft from the air conditioning hit the sensitized skin, making him shiver violently and curl his knees upward toward his chest, trying to hold the warmth inside.

Carlos didn't leave him exposed for long. The alpha moved off the bed, his bare feet padding across the carpet toward the bathroom. He returned a moment later carrying a bundle of warm, damp towels he had run under the tap.

Jannik kept his eyes half-closed, watching through his eyelashes as Carlos knelt at the edge of the mattress. Carlos wiped the sticky, cooling slick from Jannik’s thighs and stomach with slow, methodical care. 

Once the mess was cleaned away, Carlos tossed the towels onto the floor and reached for the thick white duvet folded at the foot of the bed. He grabbed Jannik by the waist, easily hauling the limp, pliant omega upward, and flipped him over onto his back.

Jannik sighed, his head lolling sideways on the pillow. He watched as Carlos pulled the heavy duvet up, dragging it over Jannik’s legs, over his waist, tucking the edges firmly under his sides until he was cocooned in a secure, restrictive pocket of warmth. 

Carlos climbed under the covers next to him. The mattress dipped, rolling Jannik right back into the familiar, solid wall of the alpha’s side. Carlos draped a large, protective arm across Jannik’s chest, hauling him close until Jannik’s head rested comfortably in the hollow of Carlos’s shoulder.

The lights from the Manhattan skyline bled through the massive glass windows, painting the ruined white sheets in a soft, amber glow.

Carlos dragged his hand down under the duvet, his palm sliding over the smooth skin of Jannik’s stomach. The touch was incredibly gentle now, his fingers mapping the flat plane of the abdomen, resting directly over the spot where the alpha’s heat was currently pooling. He rubbed slow, soothing circles into the pale skin, a quiet, possessive gesture that made a fresh wave of tears prick at the corners of Jannik’s eyes.

"You did so well today," Carlos murmured into the quiet room, his voice barely louder than a breath. He pressed his lips to Jannik’s forehead, leaving them there as he spoke. "Sitting up there, being so patient. Looking so pretty for me."

Jannik shifted closer, throwing his leg over Carlos’s thigh to anchor himself, letting the scent of his alpha wash over him. He pressed his nose against Carlos’s collarbone, breathing in the lingering smell of the tennis court mixed with the champagne.

"You were staring at me," Jannik whispered back, his voice scratchy and tired.

"I couldn't stop," Carlos admitted, his thumb continuing its slow, rhythmic circle over Jannik’s belly. "Every time I looked at you, I just wanted to leave the court. I wanted to drag you down into the locker rooms and make sure everyone knew exactly why you smelled so sweet."

Jannik smiled, a soft, sleepy curve of his lips against the dark skin of Carlos’s chest. 

Carlos kept his hand resting over Jannik’s lower stomach, his fingers splayed wide to cover as much territory as possible. He fell quiet, his breathing evening out into the long, deep pulls of sleep, but his grip never loosened. They lay tangled together under the hotel linens, watching the city lights slowly blur and fade as the safety of the alpha's den pulled Jannik down into the deepest, quietest sleep he had known in weeks.