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Shane Hollander is a lot of things. The best hockey player in the league (statistically), the first ever omega star center, and, very unfortunately, in love with Ilya Rozanov.
Their night after their commercial shoot was a mistake, he can acknowledge that. It’s the craving afterwards that kills him. He’s always been on top of his suppressants, not having a heat cycle since fucking eighth grade. But something about Rozanov throws it off.
“Alpha allurance,” his doctor explains. “Your hormones are kickstarting a heat to more strongly attract this alpha to you.”
Shane takes a moment, takes a breath in for four, hold for six, out for eight. No. He shakes his head.
“Maybe it’s just a stressful season,” Shane insists. “Maybe I’m actually fine.”
His doctor shrugs, and writes something down on his notepad before handing it to Shane.
“Well, should you decide it’s overwhelming, I can prescribe you this.”
It’s a stronger heat suppressant, not guaranteed. But Shane nods anyway. He has his new suppressants by the end of the week, just in time to play Boston again.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane Hollander is so fucked. Nineteen years old, fucking obsessed with Ilya Rozanov, plagued with increasingly concerning thoughts related to him.
Ilya is expected to mate with and marry a female omega, sure. If he mates with a male he’d be banned from his home country. But, he’d be banned from his home country.
He could be with Shane, forever. It doesn’t even sound like Ilya likes his family, or at least, it doesn’t sound like they even like Ilya, not from what he’s heard.
Shane likes Ilya. He likes Ilya maybe a little too much. So much that it scares him.
Maybe it’s his omega hormones, maybe he’s just fucked in the head. His brain is too fried to care. He stops taking his fancy new suppressants.
He’s in preheat during their next game together, and Shane knows he has to have Ilya’s pup. Ilya mumbles his room number to Shane under his breath, Scott Hunter side eyes him before speaking to Shane.
“What’d he want?” He asks.
Shane shrugs, “Just… being an asshole.”
Scott laughs. “Tell me about it, I get to be right next door to him.”
That night, Ilya opens the door when Shane rapidly knocks.
“Someone is chasing you?” Ilya asks, almost like it’s a statement and not a question.
“I’m standing in the hallway like an idiot and fucking Scott Hunter is right next door.” He sounds mad, but Ilya laughs under his breath and Shane…
Well, Shane needs. He kisses Ilya quickly, deeply. Ilya groans into it, pulling back just to-
“Get on your knees.” He commands, Shane is so quick to hit the ground.
Shane’s throat is so fucking wet, tight around him. It feels so good, almost… safe? Hollander is a good boy. Knows how to behave. He wants to cum, knot Shane’s throat but he pushes Shane away, shivering when the omega whines at the loss.
They end up on the bed, Ilya on top of Shane, burying his nose in Shane’s scent gland.
It’s a little strange, what it does to Ilya.
Ilya nuzzles further into Shane’s neck, purring quietly in between pathetic little whines. His giant, alpha hands, trail their way up Shane’s body and start kneading at his tits, his teeth scraping just a little against Shane’s scent gland. He’s not threatening to bite, in fact Ilya isn’t posing any threat at all. He’s almost… docile. The exact opposite of the alpha he typically sees on the ice.
Shane bares his neck a little more, his pheromones kicked up by the smell of needy alpha nearby. It doesn’t help that outside of his stupid omega brain, he’s fucking… in love with Rozanov.
Rozanov kisses down Shane’s body, taking a budded nipple into his mouth and suckling just a little bit, his hips stuttering and grinding his cock onto the bed. He shifts downwards, eats Shane out sloppily, grabbing one of Shane’s tits in his hand and continuing to manipulate the tissue.
“On your stomach.” Rozanov insists once he’s snapped out of his trance. Shane obeys.
Ilya traces his pussy with two fingers, dipping the first knuckle of his middle finger into the slick hole.
“Has anybody ever touched you here?” He asks, sliding it in with zero resistance. Shane hesitates.
“You are scared.” Ilya says. Shane shakes his head.
“M’not scared.”
“No, is okay.”
“Sh- shut up, fuck. I’m trying to say I have a… thing.”
Ilya shrugs. “A thing.”
“You know, a… knotting toy.”
Ilya stills his one finger. “What… color?”
“Fuck you.”
“Is big?”
“I’m leaving.” Shane huffs, shuffling away. Ilya grabs his waist and pulls him back, rutting his fucking huge cock against Shane’s hole.
“Nooo, Hollander, I want to fuck you.” He whines, nuzzling into Shane’s neck again. Shane sighs, pressing his pussy onto Ilya’s hard cock. Fuck, that’s good.
Ilya must notice too, because he’s teasing the tip right at Shane’s hole.
“Don’t be an asshole.” He whines again, open mouthed, muffling himself into the pillow.
“You think I am asshole?”
“I know you’re an asshole.”
Ilya sinks the tip in, just enough for Shane to become dead weight underneath him.
“You want?” He asks, sinking just one more inch inside.
“Fuck- just fuck me.”
Ilya laughs quietly, then fucks all the way in. Shane grips the sheets, pushing his ass back to meet Ilya’s pelvis that little bit more.
The sex would be so gross if Shane wasn’t so fucking turned on. He hardly forms any words, just chirps, whines, and trills at Ilya. He moans when he’s doing well, growls into the pillow when it’s not as good.
Ilya is a good boy. Knows how to treat his omega. Fuck, he sounds so pretty. It doesn’t take too long before Shane cums, shaking through his orgasm. He bares his neck but Ilya bites just under it, choosing to press his nose into it instead when he knots Shane, cumming so deep that Shane is sure it’ll take. He purrs.
Is he a bad person?
He and Ilya exchange phone numbers and Shane goes back to his room, tilting his hips up with a pillow in hopes his chances increase.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane’s dilemma as to whether or not he was a morally sound person completely disintegrates when he finds out he’s not pregnant.
“Completely normal,” his doctor assures. “Your first heat off suppressants is usually just your body getting it’s groove back. Did you maybe want to take some fertility supplements? You’re young, but plenty of omegas your age want to get it over with so you can be done before you’re old.”
Shane nods, he starts taking his prenatal gummies that night. He reads carefully over the ingredients, cataloging and setting information aside. He ultimately decides they’re safe. But knowing why he wanted this made him a little sick with himself.
Whenever he sees news articles saying
‘BOSTON RAIDERS CAPTAIN ILYA ROZANOV SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY OMEGA’
It makes him double down on his decision.
Before he puts his plan into second gear, he calls up Hayden and asks about the odd behavior he saw in… well, he says a porn video.
“Oh, that’s not that weird. Sometimes it just happens when an alpha was taken away from their mom too soon.”
Oh. Is that why Rozanov hasn’t ever mentioned his mom?
☆ ★ ☆
The next time they fuck is at Shane’s apartment. Shane is fully in heat, desperately dragging Ilya to his nest.
“So pretty, Hollander,” He coos. “Is for me?”
“Shut up.” Shane demands, making quick work of getting Ilya’s clothes off. “I need-“
“I know what you need, moya lyubov’.”
Ilya presses Shane onto his back in his gorgeous nest, folds his legs up so his knees are damn near touching his ears, and fucks Shane so hard that he passes out for just a few minutes when he cums.
Ilya makes sure to wait to cum until Shane is awake again so he could feel his knot lock into place.
“You are… on suppressants?” Ilya asks inbetween waves of Shane’s heat, his nose pressed into Shane’s scent gland, kneading at Shane’s pec again.
“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Shane says.
Ilya hums. He only asked because he wanted Shane to tell him what he already assumed. When omegas are on suppressants, their heats are very mild if even at all. He knows Shane isn’t on them. He doesn’t mind.
If Shane had his pup, he wouldn’t have to worry about going to Russia ever again. The thought made him so happy to think about. He didn’t care that Shane wanted to have a pup now. Why not? They’re both young, both hot, both amazing at hockey.
If Shane got pregnant right now he’d still have years of amazing hockey to play.
It felt logistical to Ilya, at least that’s what he assumed Shane was planning by. Statistics.
Really, Ilya just longed to have a family. One with an omega as beautiful, talented, funny, smart as Shane? Well, that’d just be winning the lottery.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane paces his bathroom, increasingly frustrated by the amount of negative results he gets. Sure, this plan is fucked up, but he’s doing everything right!
He knows they’re too young to have a pup, their careers are too fresh, but it’s the only way he can think of to keep Ilya in his life forever. It’s absolutely jumping the gun, he met one alpha with a ridiculously huge dick, sexy accent, and a jaw that never locks and he’s ready to risk it all?
It’s unlike him, and part of him knows that. The bigger part of him is screaming for a pup. Baby fever to the absolute highest degree.
Would their pup look more like Shane? Or more like Ilya? Would they have gorgeous golden curls like Ilya? Would they like hockey or hate it?
Shane can hardly contain his small smile anytime he thinks of it.
Sometimes it eats at his conscience, though. He’d probably be pretty pissed if this was the other way around, Rozanov baby trapping Shane for whatever reason. Maybe he’d do it so he wouldn’t have much competition on the ice.
The thought, stupidly enough, gets him wet. Ridiculously so. He pulls out his phone and texts Ilya
Jane :
Wyd
Lily :
Waiting for the next time I get to fuck you.
Jesus. Okay.
Jane :
Weird.
Lily :
??
Jane :
I was gonna say the same thing.
Shane watches as Ilya types, his free hand dropping down to his clit to rub gentle circles into. He can’t press down too hard, not at first. He’s too sensitive for too much too fast.
Ilya is always so good about starting gentle when he eats Shane out. At the beginning, he just kisses his pussy, growling lowly against his clit. The vibration always sends a shock through his spine. Then, he sucks Shane's clit into his mouth and moans, reaches his stupid alpha hand up and kneads at his pec from there, his eyes glaze over while he suckles and Shane is so…
Fuck.
Shane takes a picture of his pussy to send to Rozanov.
Lily :
Fuck. Hollander. Call me?
He does. Ilya answers immediately.
“Hollander,” he starts, he’s damn near purring under his throat. “You need it that badly?”
Shane nods.
“Yeah, fuck. I need it.” He moans, pressing his fingers down just a little harder. He’s always been so reactive. Ilya loves that so much about him.
“Show me.” Ilya asks- no, demands, again.
Shane angles his camera down to his pecs, watching Ilya’s eyes glaze over just a little. He pinches one nipple between his thumb and his index finger, a small jolt of electricity running through him, making him jump just a little. He whines quietly, taking in how Ilya’s breath seems to catch in his throat.
He angles his camera down further, showing Ilya just how wet his pussy is, how shakily he’s rubbing circles into his clit.
“Fuck, Hollander. You want me this bad?” He asks, moving his camera so his stiff cock is in frame.
“No,” Shane pants. “I don’t want. I need you.”
Ilya fists his cock quicker, urging Shane to rub tighter circles onto himself.
“Fingers, Hollander,” Ilya growls. “Use your fingers.”
Shane whines as he complies, sinking his middle and his ring finger into his soaking wet pussy. He gasps at first, then, he starts angling them upwards to catch that spot inside him that Rozanov seems to hit so effortlessly.
Shane cums first, obviously. Even if his fingers aren’t as accurate or good as Rozanov's cock, they get him there. It was mostly Rozanov’s encouragement that made him cum.
“Da, good omega, Hollander.” Or “Fuck, Hollander, you want my knot so bad?” But his favorite was “Omega bitch, so stupid for cock you needed to call me at this hour?”
Rozanov came not long after, knotting his fist and groaning as he spewed shot after shot into his fist. Shane wished he was there to lick it up, to let Rozanov unload into his cunt.
“YA tozhe, mama.” Rozanov groaned, jerking himself again before another pathetic spurt of cum landed on the mess on his chest.
Shane was in so fucking deep.
☆ ★ ☆
The next time they fuck is in Vegas. Rozanov had been ignoring him for months, and Shane is going fucking feral.
What if he had found another omega? What if it was too late to put his plan into place?
But Rozanov had corralled him into the bathroom, made him beg, then had Shane come up to his room after the award ceremony.
Shane put on a little show, taking his pretty lace panties off and throwing them at Ilya while he sat across the room to watch him.
“Come here.” Shane insisted. Ilya raised an eyebrow.
Shane palmed his hand over his tit, squeezing gently, moaning under his breath. Ilya gets out of his chair, crawls onto the bed with Shane. He bows his head to eat Shane out, taking desperate, gentle licks against his pussy. He reaches his hand up to knead at Shane’s pec, whining against Shane’s cunt. Fuck, this shouldn’t be so hot.
Shane eventually turns over and lets Ilya mount him. It takes three minutes for Shane to cum for the first time that night around Ilya’s cock, and Ilya spills inside him after twenty more.
Shane lies there afterwards, letting Ilya turn him back over so he can bury his nose in his scent gland and knead some more. While it’s still super sexy to him, he can’t help but feel guilty.
What the fuck was he doing? What was he thinking? It was so unfair to Rozanov to try and fucking… baby-trap him.
Shane felt sick. Ilya whines against his neck.
“Chto sluchilos’, mama? YA chto-to sdelala ne tak?”
Shane huffs. He has no fucking idea what Ilya is trying to say to him. He shuffles out from underneath Ilya, ignoring how forlorn the alpha looks.
“I’m sorry I…” I tried to baby-trap you and now I feel terrible. “This was a bad idea. I have to go.”
Ilya takes a moment to snap back into his right mind.
“Hollander,” he tries. Shane bolts for the door. “Hollander!”
But Shane is already too far away to turn back, even though he wants nothing more. They didn’t even kiss.
☆ ★ ☆
Montreal starts to struggle. As much as Shane wants to win the cup, he is ill. Not in a way he can ignore at all, either. He’s not playing his best. He’s dizzy, hardly able to eat. The guilt weighs on him like nothing else.
Rozanov has texted him thirteen times since Vegas. Which is maybe a lot, but it’s been a few months. He wants to text back so badly but he can’t. What he did was horrible, awful. He doesn’t deserve to text Ilya.
He goes for a quick checkup, his wrist hurts a bit but it doesn’t feel serious. He's gonna get back on his suppressants, it was weird as fuck of him to get off of them in the first place.
“Congratulations, Mister Hollander,” his doctor hands him a stack of papers. “You’re expecting.”
Shane throws up in the trash bin beside him.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane doesn’t text Ilya. He’s too far along for termination, so he needs to see this through. It was his original plan anyway, but now he feels like he can’t tell the father of his pup.
How horrible, how awful. He baby-trapped the alpha of his dreams and now he’s just nineteen and pregnant and can’t fucking tell his… well, the alpha that knocked him up.
That doesn’t feel fair. Ilya would be a good dad. He’d probably take over every night when the baby cried so Shane could keep sleeping, he’d probably buy ice cream every day after school just because their pup asked, shit, he’d probably fucking personally teach them how to skate on the ice so they could surprise Shane with it.
It makes him tear up. Everything makes him cry nowadays. He doesn’t tell Ilya, even when he’s throwing up at 3 AM because he ate nothing but popcorn all day. He doesn’t tell his parents, even when all he wants is some spring rolls that just don’t hit the same when it’s takeout. He doesn’t tell Hayden, even though Jacki may be able to help guide and help him after four pups.
It all makes him so sad. He wishes he would’ve saved this for maybe when him and Ilya were really official, if that’d be ever.
☆ ★ ☆
Ilya can’t fucking breathe after Vegas.
He did good, he knows he did. He made Shane cum six times in an hour. He did good.
But even after he tried to pull Shane closer, snuggle up with him, maybe even keep his cock inside him to plug him up before fucking him again, Shane ran away.
He texted Shane thirteen times since then. It hurts his heart to a degree he never knew was possible. It feels like Shane took his finger tips and weaved them inbetween his rib cage, pulling at each bone until it hurt to fucking breathe.
He couldn’t do anything about it. The only thing that he thinks would maybe help would be his omega at least texting him back.
He plays like shit but he still scores twelve goals in the next few games. Which is so ridiculous but he wants to impress Shane so bad that he’s just… on autopilot. Nothing matters except proving to his omega that he’s worthy, that he’s dependable.
He throws up after every meal, drinks until he can’t see, fucks his fist until he cries. If he’s lucky, when he cums he can maybe imagine a whiff of Shane’s scent against his pillow.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane Hollander has his pup alone in the hospital room surrounded by doctors and nurses. No medication, no help, just doing what he could since he got there too late. Since his pup was already crowning, he couldn’t get an epidural.
4:37 a.m., measuring 21 inches, 8 pounds 7 ounces, his little butterball baby girl.
Her name is Elise Hollander. Shane didn’t bother finding out the gender before he gave birth but while he laid on his couch, tummy poking out, he could see her little feet pressing against the surface, and somehow he knew her name.
She was blonde, curly haired, and had freckles. Perfect. Everything he ever wanted.
Stupidly enough, we wondered if maybe she was just Russian from birth. She had sweet, almost sad Slavic eyes that made him hope that maybe she’d understand Russian at the very least. Maybe they’d learn together. Fuck, he missed Ilya.
He couldn’t tell him. He had his pup, and that was that. He’d be able to still play by the beginning of the season.
Three days later, when they were cleared to leave the hospital, he was stopped by security.
“Sorry, sir,” they explained. “You can’t leave unless you have a proper car seat.”
Shane scowled, so angry at himself for forgetting this step. He had a car seat at his house, but when his water broke in the middle of the night, he just had to leave. No car seat, no prepacked hospital bag. Hell, his underwear hurt him so bad but he didn’t complain because he just wanted to go home.
He had no choice but to call the only person he thought might be able to help him.
The phone rang once.
“Shane!” Hayden sang. “I was starting to think you disappeared!”
“Can you come pick me up at Sacred Heart? Bring a car seat, a good one.”
He could tell Hayden had questions, but all he said was
“Yeah. On my way.”
Before the line went dead. Shane waited twenty minutes, despite Hayden being fortyfive away.
Hayden pulled up at the entrance to the hospital, Jacki in the passenger seat. She jumped out to show Shane how to properly fasten her seatbelt. Despite his extensive internet research, he trusted her more.
Once he got into the backseat next to his daughter, Hayden locked eyes with him from his rearview mirror.
“Shane…?”
Shane, embarrassingly, burst into tears. “I fucked up.” He sobbed, “I fucked up so bad, Hayden.”
Elise fussed from her car seat, Shane shushed her the best he could. Jacki turned in her seat, petting at Shane’s hair.
“It’s okay, Shane. You did good, yeah? You called us instead of doing it alone? Who else knows?”
She asks. Shane sniffles.
“You, Hayden.”
Jacki raises an eyebrow. “Her dad doesn’t know?” She asks, voice soft and neutral. Maybe that’d be better for Elise, she seems to be distressed when Shane is.
“No,” he begins, catching his breath. “He can’t know.”
Jacki nods, not pressing further.
“Do you want us to stay the night? Our sitter doesn’t mind. Or even I could just stay, I’m still producing in case you’re not quite there yet.”
Her offer is tempting, Hayden doesn’t argue, just pulls into Shane’s driveway. Shane shakes his head.
“Could you maybe just come pick me up tomorrow so I can get my car from Sacred Heart?”
Hayden and Jacki nod. “Of course.”
☆ ★ ☆
Life is a nightmare any downtime. Ilya’s heart longs for his omega that he imprinted on, but he can’t have him. He won’t answer.
He goes back to Russia for a little bit in between games. He feels so lost, like no matter where he goes, home doesn’t exist.
For the first time in what feels like forever, Shane texts Ilya.
Jane :
Congratulations.
Ilya can hardly contain himself. He’s drunk in a hotel room, laying on his bed all alone.
Lily :
What do I get for winning?
Nothing. Ilya jerks off, cumming against his belly, thinking about Shane. It hurts. He did everything right, he thinks. Maybe he just wasn't good enough, not high enough caliber for Shane.
His heart tugs in his chest, equally as painful as it’s been since the day he met Shane.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane retrieves his car from the hospital, Jacki sets Elise in Shane’s nest.
It’s where Elise stays for a few days.
Shane moves her, of course. But he’s terrified to pick her up. She cries for him a lot, and Shane can usually roll onto his side so she can rest against his chest and breastfeed, but he’s too afraid to pick her up and carry her around the cottage.
He likes to imagine Ilya sometimes. He thinks Ilya would take her all around the house, showing her the top of the fridge and inside the cabinets, just because she hadn’t ever seen them before.
Sometimes he feels like he’s robbed Ilya of something. This beautiful babygirl, who favors Ilya so heavily. It hurts to think of.
So he tries to not think of it at all.
☆ ★ ☆
Before the next few games, he tells his parents he had a pup. He saves the details, and they’re hurt he didn’t tell them sooner, but they’re so excited. They’re a little concerned he doesn’t want to wait longer to get back on the ice, but not surprised in the least.
Because they can’t come to every Montreal game, Shane gets a traveling nanny, when Jacki isn’t available. She’s a nice girl, a beta. She has black hair and no freckles anywhere.
He’s very transparent with the press that yes, that is his daughter. No, he won’t answer any more questions on the subject.
Every goal he scores, he skates up to the shielding and holds up a heart for her little face to see. His pup has soundproof headphones on so she can’t even hear Shane shout “I love you!!!” over the crowd.
Ilya keeps a close eye.
☆ ★ ☆
On their next away game, Shane agrees to leave Elise with his parents. At least for the game, considering they were at the same hotel. He mumbles a room number to Ilya and he shows up, despite his nerves.
Shane shuts the door quickly when Ilya enters, blocking the exit.
“You had a pup?” He asks, sounding almost frantic.
Shane nods. “I did.”
“Who is her dad?” He asks desperately. “Who, Hollander?”
He grabs at Shane’s shirt, but Shane shoves him away.
“Don’t worry about it.” He insists, despite Ilya’s pleading, blue eyes. The same blue that Elise’s are.
“Could… I maybe meet her?” Ilya asks, he sounds so small.
Shane wanted nothing but to tell Ilya the truth. That his puppy was his. That she responded better to Russian syllables than English. That her sweet little blue eyes needed sunglasses in the snow because she was still too sensitive.
Instead, he said, “you should go.”
It hurts so badly to say. “My daughter will be here any minute and I don’t want the smell of mystery alpha bothering her.”
Ilya chooses to just nod sadly, turning on his heel. But before he leaves, he takes Shane’s jaw in his hand and kisses him.
“Congragulations, Hollander,” he starts, a deep pit in his voice. “For everything.”
Shane chases Ilya’s face and kisses him too, just for good measure. “I’ll see you next game.”
Elise sleeps so soundly, presumably, Shane thinks, because she can smell her daddy lingering in the room.
☆ ★ ☆
Shane is on the top of his game this season. Partly because he’s happy to actually be back on the ice, after a few short months, partially because his pup is in the crowd watching him.
She has seen him play this season, but he was a little rusty after giving birth. But he’s too stubborn to actually wait the recommended amount of time as per his doctors, he wants to show Miss Elise what he’s the best at.
He does his best for paparazzi to not get any pictures of her, but some things do slip through, namely fucking TMZ.
He has no idea that Ilya stares at her picture the MINUTE it gets leaked on Twitter.
Ilya feels a little weird about it, but he can’t help himself. She’s a beautiful pup. Beautiful freckles, curly blonde hair, blue eyes…
Ilya felt the gears in his head shift into place. No. He goes to Wikipedia.
Shane Hollander is the first omega to be star center for the NHL. In January he quietly welcomed a baby girl, Elise Hollander. He had been very secretive about who his pups sire is, however he’s not sporting a mating bite nor a wedding band.
Ilya feels fucking sick.
Lily :
Is she mine?
Jane :
Call me.
There’s not five minutes between Shane’s text and Ilya’s call.
“Hollander, tell me the fucking truth.” Ilya demands, but it holds no real anger behind it. It’s desperate, almost scared, he needs to know. He hears Shane take a deep breath from the other side of the line. There’s a long silence, Ilya is fucking shaking.
“She’s… yeah, she’s yours.” He finally whispers.
Shane hears Ilya whine, he can tell that he’s pacing around his apartment.
“I need to see her.” Ilya’s voice breaks on her, Shane finds himself instinctively purring to try and soothe him before he corrects himself.
“Can we… could we just talk first, before you do?” It’s a long shot, but Shane really does want to explain, maybe apologize. There’s no way Ilya would ever want to see him again but he just-
“Yes. Of course. Boston plays Montreal in five days, we meet then?” He sounds almost… hopeful?
Shane nods, despite knowing Ilya can’t see him. “Yeah, we can. After the game.”
☆ ★ ☆
Montreal wins 4-3. Ilya just can’t wait to get off the ice.
He knocks on Shane’s apartment door an hour later, his heart beating in his throat. Shane opens the door gently, holding his index finger over his lips.
“She just fell asleep.” He explains, hushed.
Ilya nods, and doesn't speak. Shane takes a deep breath, clearly nervous. If it wasn’t written all over his face, it’d be obvious from the way he smells.
“After Vegas, I found out I was pregnant. It was too late to terminate. And since we stopped talking-“
“You stopped talking to me.”
Shane swallows. “…right. After that, I just figured… I figured it’d be better if I just did it alone.”
Ilya’s scent turns from nervous to a mix of angry and sad, fat tears threatening to spill over his eyelids.
“You just decide this for me?” He asks through gritted teeth.
“I… I’m sorry, you have to understand I-“
“No, Hollander. I don’t understand. I thought you-“ his voice breaks before he gathers himself. “I thought you wanted this. Us. I’ve always wanted a pup, to be good father, and you took this opportunity away from me. Why? Why would you think I would want to not be a part of my pups life?”
Shane nods. It was stupid and selfish, he already came to terms with that.
“When you always came around smelling like sex, I thought…” Ilya searches for the right words, so overcome with emotion. “I thought maybe you wanted to try. On purpose.”
The room is very quiet for a long beat. Ilya… knew? And was okay with that?
When Shane finally finds the strength to speak, he opens his mouth, and Elise starts crying.
It’s incredible to see how quickly Ilya goes from emotion torn to parental mode, despite never meeting their daughter a day in his life. He doesn’t move, though. Not until Shane nods.
“You can come.” He insists. Ilya follows very carefully, maybe almost tiptoeing behind Shane. They go into the room, Elise in her temporary nest, and Ilya watches as Shane lays down next to her. He wouldn’t dare enter a nest, even if it were for his pup, uninvited. He watches as Shane carefully rolls to his side to pick Elise up.
“What is this that you’re doing?” Ilya asks.
“Picking her up? She’s crying.”
“Yes, I see this. Why like that?” Ilya wonders, before reaching his arms down as an example before-
There’s only a split second before Ilya’s arm and Shane’s mouth are covered in blood. The sound of an omegan growl and a pup’s cry filled the shocked silence. It takes Shane just a moment before pulling back, startled by himself.
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry. Here let me-”
“No, is okay. You are protective, strong. Is good.” Ilya reassures.
Ilya steps out for a moment to wrap his arm in paper towels. Maybe Shane didn’t have a ton of time but fuck his jaw was quick. And strong.
He walks back in carefully, but Shane doesn’t startle. Elise is still fussy, but not outright crying now. Ilya sits crosslegged on the floor.
“She uh- she likes to be held,” he starts. “Jacki calls her a velcro baby.”
Ilya smiles and laughs softly, Elise smiles as wide as her little face can stand and smacks her hands on Shane’s sore chest with glee. Shane smiles at her but winces, Ilya’s arms go out instinctually. This time, Shane hands her over.
Ilya can’t even hear Shane as he looks into his daughter's eyes for the first time. She giggles quietly, moving her little nose into Ilya’s neck to sniff. There’s a small rumbling against his chest and-
“Oh, yeah. She purrs a lot. My little lovebug.” Shane declares.
Ilya nods, a deeper, stronger purr vibrating his whole body, as a stream of tears runs down his face.
Shane moves out of Elise’s nest to sit next to Ilya, “subtly” scenting him for comfort.
“No, Hollander,” Ilya insists, still moving his nose to sniff at Shane’s neck. “Not sad.”
“Happy?” He asks.
“Very.” Ilya affirms.
The three of them sit together for some long minutes before Elise drifts back to sleep. Before Ilya sets her back down, Shane shoves a sock in his direction for him to scent for her.
They travel to the living room together once they’re sure Elise is asleep. Ilya has the biggest frown on his face.
“Hollander-“ he tries, but his voice breaks. Shane is hugging him within just a second, hushing him and rubbing his back as Ilya sobs into his shoulder.
“Tell me,” he begs. “I want to know.”
Shane nods, leads Ilya to the hotel rooms couch.
“She was born on June sixteenth.” He starts. Ilya smiles.
“What?” Shane asks.
“Is day after my birthday.”
Shane smiles, his heart pangs in his chest.
“I had her… alone. Just the doctors and nurses in the room with me. I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant. I basically hid out at my cottage the entire time, crying and eating pickle ice cream.” He laughs. Ilya doesn’t. “But when I had her, I couldn’t get discharged because I forgot my car seat when my water broke. So I called Hayden.”
He braces, ready for Rozanov to be annoyed by his name. Instead, Rozanov nods.
“And he helped you?” He asks. Shane nods.
“He did. Him and Jacki. They came and got us and Jacki showed me how to set up a car seat and she’s watched Elise a million times over.”
Ilya smiles.
“She’s beautiful.” He concludes.
“She’s got your hair.” Shane counters.
“She’s got your freckles.”
“She’s got your eyes.”
There’s a small silence, only for half a second.
“We’ll have to see if she’s good hockey player.” Ilya hums.
“Huh? Of course she’ll be.” Shane says.
“Yes, but if she’s good, then she has my hockey genetics. If she is okay, then she has yours.” He teases.
Shane punches Ilya in the arms.
“She is three months old?”
“Yes.”
“Why the fuck are you playing?” Ilya asks, and yes it’s very concerned, but his tone makes Shane laugh.
“Would you expect me to be any different?” Ilya shakes his head.
“No. You are most stubborn omega I know. You show up to me smelling like heat, have me knot you raw, ghost me, have puppy alone, then get back on ice after three months. You are stubborn.”
Shane smiles, but he’s staring at the ground.
“You knew I was trying? To… baby-trap you?” Shane whispers.
“Was not a trap. I walked into it willingly.” Ilya assures.
Shane swallows his nerves.
“Don’t go to Russia this summer. Come with me, to my cottage. It’ll be so fun. There’s a big backyard, a fire pit, it’ll just be the three of us. It’s so private, nobody has to know.”
Ilya nods. “Of course.”
☆ ★ ☆
It’s a long ass time before the season is over. Shane and Ilya meet up often so Ilya can at least see his pup. She loves pulling at Ilya’s curls and smacking his face. Ilya blows raspberries onto her tummy and has the hugest smile on his face everytime she squeals with glee.
He’s surprised when he finds himself with extra sweatshirts for nesting, already scented. His protein shakes already made in the morning. The way he jumps up in the middle of the night to comfort their puppy so Shane can sleep a little more when he invites Ilya to stay the night at his Montreal apartment.
He’s being courted. He can’t really find any reason to reject Ilya, not again.
When Ilya does get to the cottage, it’s so… fun. Ilya runs through the house, Elise held between his arms, listening to her giggle. She makes grabby hands for both Shane and Ilya.
Her first babbling little word is “da…”
Shane wants to be offended, but he gets it. Ilya is a fucking amazing dad.
When it’s just the two of them, they still kiss, but that’s it. Ilya is too afraid to go further, after last time.
So Shane takes it into his own hands. They kiss lazily on the couch one night after Elise is asleep, some shitty movie is playing behind them. And Shane trails his hands under Ilya’s shirt. Ilya groans and shifts, putting Shane on his back as Ilya nips at his scent gland. Shane puts it on display easily.
“Fuck, I need-“ he growls lowly. “Muzzle.”
Shane shakes his head. “No.”
Ilya growls lower, walks them back into Shane’s bedroom, and nips at Shane’s neck one more time before shedding them both of their shirts, his mouth trailing to Shane’s nipples. They’re full with milk now, and Ilya wastes no time to suckle and knead.
“You-“ Shane says, breathlessly. He’s so fucking wet. “Are you my baby, too?”
Ilya whines and nods.
“Ya tvoy malysh, mamochka.”
Shane leans his head back as Ilya drinks from his body. It makes him feel so useful, so needed. Ilya regains himself after a little while, his kneading hands slowing to a stop.
“Do you… want to…?” Ilya asks.
“Yes, I do.” Shane laughs under his breath.
The rest of their clothes are shed and Ilya is so careful about opening Shane up, using his tongue and his fingers. But he does hit Shane’s sweet spot with deadly accuracy. Shane is already shaking by the time Ilya presses his tip against his soaking wet hole.
“Can I…?”
“Hurry the fuck up.” Shane snarls.
Ilya presses in, and it’s almost like… coming home. For both of them.
Ilya moves slowly, taking in the feeling of Shane’s body around him. He’s so tight, and wet, and made for him. It makes him crazy.
No wonder he got so sick without him. No other omega will ever do. Shane is the one. He knows that. He grabs Shane’s jaw and tilts his neck up forcibly, but Shane doesn’t fight him. He hovers his canines over Shane’s scent gland.
“Do it.” Shane whines. “Bite.”
So Ilya does, sealing their bond in blood. Shane bites Ilya back, and it’s officially complete. They’re mated. Shane lets out a high, drawn out moan as he lies back against the mattress. Ilya’s hips jerk of their own accord, and in no time, he’s fucking railing Shane.
Shane tries his best to keep quiet, but he can’t help but let some noises slip. Ilya grunts and presses a thumb to Shane’s clit, watching Shane’s face scrunch up and feeling his cunt clamp down and gush around him.
Ilya pops a knot and cums almost immediately, Shane lets out encouraging trills every so often.
Ilya looks down at Shane while they’re still locked.
“This is… real?”
“Yeah, this is real. It always was.”
Ilya rests his forehead against Shane’s and finally feels like he belongs somewhere.