Work Text:
He should warn Ilya.
Shane watched as the morning sun reflected off his boyfriend's pale eyelashes. Light filtering through the trees outside their window cast soft patterns on Ilya's back. He looked warm. Undisturbed.
The heat growing in Shane's gut since last night surged. It curled around his intestines and clenched. His jaw ached, thinking about sinking his teeth into the exposed skin laid out before him. Nausea followed quickly behind.
They rarely talked about this. Shane had made a real effort not to talk about this, despite Ilya's probing. Heats. Ruts. The fact that Shane, for all his trying, was still an omega. He still functioned like one.
Ilya had brought it up several times now. The first time, before they were even official. It had been a joke then, an attempt at being sexy.
Shane could still hear nineteen-year-old Ilya's rough voice as he whispered in his ear;
"Poor Hollander, you should send me pictures the next time your heat rolls around."
He could still remember each of his muscles locking up and his erection flagging, the look of confusion, even concern, flashing across his rival's face before Shane distracted him with his tongue.
Shane had told him, in the early days, he didn't share his heats, but topics like that tended to keep coming up.
Sometime at the cottage, Ilya broached the subject of heats again.
"I could spend it with you, now that we are together. Your heat. I wouldn't mind."
They had been eating dinner, Ilya looking at him from the side. Not right at him, like he didn't want to spook the horse.
"Did you watch the last Admirals game?" The topic change had been as unsubtle as it was final. Cutting off the conversation before it even began. Ilya, bless him, had dropped it.
There were other times, too, casual mentions of Shane's omega status that were anything but casual. And, of course, fights.
And now here it was. In the chaos of the offseason and Ilya's move to Ottawa looming, he had slipped. Unforgivably.
Shane shifted in the satin sheets. The sweat-damp cloth did nothing to ease him.
The medical-grade scent patches he wore to bed were starting to itch. He longed to pull them off, to let his scent finally mix with Ilya's. He could smell Ilya now. Musk and a hint of something sweeter, along with sweat. He must've gotten hot because of Shane. The bed felt like a furnace.
In a moment of weakness, Shane moved forward. His elbow propped him up as he pressed a kiss into Ilya's stubbly cheek.
He knew it was a mistake immediately. Ilya's scent was stronger up close. The soft give of his cheek made everything in Shane's head go to a screeching halt. It would be easy to sink his teeth into the tender flesh. He wanted to be closer. He wanted to open Ilya's mouth and crawl inside. Make a home for himself behind the alpha's molars. Curl up in the warmth of his gums.
A soft hum from Ilya brought reality hurtling back. Shane tore himself away. Ripping the damp sheets off his legs, he catapulted from the bed.
"Malysh?" Ilya's pale blue eyes were open. Shane wanted to press his thumb between his brows and smooth out the furrow. "You okay?" His sleep-rough voice did nothing to help.
"Yeah," Shane was already moving further backwards, putting more distance between them. "I just need to get a run in before lunch at Hayden's."
Ilya groaned at that. His arms reached above his head in a long stretch. The movement made the muscles in his arms tense. Shane's mouth flooded with saliva.
"I'll see you in a bit."
Shane didn't wait for a response. He moved quickly. Grabbed his running clothes from the closet. Yanked them on at breakneck speed.
------
The methodical slap, slap, slap, of sneakers on pavement served as a metronome for his thoughts.
He had been ten when the doctor had told him he would present as an omega. Deep in the trenches of hockey obsession, he had been so sure of his future. He was going to be an alpha playing for the NHL. He was going to be six foot two. He was going to be the team captain. And in one afternoon, it had all tipped sideways.
The plastic examination chair had stuck to the backs of his thighs, making an awful peeling noise every time he shifted. The buzzing fluorescent lights made his skin crawl.
The doctor, Doctor Silas, had been kind about it. Gentle. But the delivery didn't matter; the outcome would always be the same.
Shane had cried so hard he'd thrown up. Yuna had rubbed soothing circles into his back as the pancakes he had eaten before his appointment came back up. All the while, she had murmured reassurances and statistics about omegas in the NHL, how his dream was still possible, how he would just have to work harder.
And work harder he did.
They marketed him as a beta-like omega. Fully in control of his instincts and scentless. Montreal had been a godsend. As long as he kept the scent patches on, and his heat didn't interfere with work. As long as every part of him that could possibly be seen as omega was neatly tucked away, he was allowed to succeed.
It took years, but after no slip-ups, not even one, the public and the league eased off. The eyes were ever-present, but it was like people forgot his designation.
Ilya, of course, was a problem. A mark on his perfect record. But betas hooked up with alphas all the time. At least, that's how Shane justified it at first.
And he was respectful. More than any other alpha would have been.
Although the first time he had stepped into Shane's newly purchased Montreal apartment, he hadn't been entirely pleased.
Shane remembered him walking through the door and sucking in a large breath, his broad chest inflating before he frowned.
"This place does not smell like anything." Ilya had looked at him almost accusingly, "Where is your scent?"
"I wear scent patches for twenty-four hours, and I'm on suppressants. Is that a problem?" Shane's tone had been clear. If it were a problem, Shane would have no issue throwing Ilya out.
"Even at home?" Trust Ilya to push the issue.
Shane had glared then. A look he had been perfecting.
"Would you like to leave?" Ilya had gone still and dropped the topic soon after.
It was starting to get hot. The sun was finally out of her bed of trees, peering down at him. Shane's workout shirt was nearly translucent with sweat. His watch read six miles. Double his daily three.
Panic grabbed him. He needed to get back. He needed to shower. To form some kind of plan on how he was going to tell Ilya that, after all the fuss he had made over the years about containing his status, he was in preheat. An unplanned preheat. Shane wondered if Ilya would laugh, or leave, or demand something from him. All three options worsened his nausea.
Maybe he could hide it. Tell Ilya he was coming down with something and needed to quarantine at his parents' house. If there was any universe in which Ilya believed the lie, he would go for it. But Ilya Rozanov hadn't gotten where he was in life without being perceptive.
To make matters worse, Shane's heats weren't anything like the cheap heat porn that the voyageurs sent in the team group chat, no matter how many times he told them to stop. It didn't matter that it made him uncomfortable. It was probably the point. He didn't feel sexy during his heat like the girls in the videos clearly did, or god forbid, powerful.
He just felt sad.
The majority of his once-every-two-year heats were spent at an expensive heat house, sobbing his eyes out. He paid the nurses well to be discreet. Ilya didn't need to know about that. Nobody did.
------
Shane braced himself before stepping into the cottage. Running for nearly eight miles altogether meant his scent patches were mostly useless, and with his suppressant shot running out, he undoubtedly smelled rank to anyone who got close. Like miserable omega.
He prayed to the God he had denounced ages ago that Ilya had gone for a walk, or was on the back porch, or had decided to go back to sleep. Anything. Sucking in a breath and willing himself to be brave, he stepped inside. Shane toed off his shoes and padded into the kitchen.
Ilya sat at the kitchen counter. Sleep rumpled and beautiful, he was sipping on a mug that read "WORLD'S BEST GRANDMA". A gag gift from Marleau. He smelled like something Shane wanted to bathe in.
Ilya's head snapped up, he nearly shattered the mug slamming it down. The coffee splashed out of the sides. His nostrils flared.
"Shane?"
"I-- I have to shower." Shane felt like he was talking through a mouthful of marbles. He felt sick. He couldn't stay here, looking at Ilya's alarmed face any longer.
He turned. Moving to go towards the shower in the master bedroom so that he could wash off his shame.
Ilya moved quicker. Throwing the chair he was sitting on back in his haste. He was in front of Shane in two quick strides.
"Sweetheart, talk to me." His eyes were desperate. "I smell--Are you okay?" His hands reached towards Shane's now trembling form.
Shane jerked back. His skin felt three sizes too small, and like ants, burrowed in deep, now crawling all over under the surface. Ilya reeled back. He looked like he had been slapped.
Shane could cry. Maybe he already was. The image of Ilya in front of him was getting blurry.
"Just let me shower, Ilya. I need to shower." He sounded undone even to his own ears. "Please."
It wasn't fair. If it were Ilya coming into their home smelling like the world was ending, Shane wouldn't let it go. But then again, the alpha had always been better.
Ilya looked near tears, but he nodded.
Shane brushed past him, inhaling his warm, worried scent as he passed by. God, it was day one of his preheat, and he was already fucking everything up.
----
He turned the shower to the coldest possible setting. The freezing water quickly went from soothing to biting at his skin. Shane could feel each frigid droplet ricocheting off him. Perfect.
---
It had been one big argument, really, that sealed the conversation of his designation away for good. One argument made the topic so taboo that even Ilya, lover of landmines, avoided stepping on it.
Six months into their official relationship, Illa asked about his nest.
"I have been meaning to ask. Where is it?" Ilya had been lounging on the couch in Shane's Montreal apartment, feet propped up on the coffee table. The picture of causal.
"Where is what?" Shane had been sitting next to him, a healthy distance.
Over ten years on strong suppressant shots meant sometimes his body reacted weirdly. Some weeks, he couldn't smell anything at all. The food he ate was tasteless. Other weeks, everything was dialed to a thousand. The scents were so overwhelming, he was liable to get scent drunk just from sitting next to Ilya. That day, he was woozy from all the smells.
"...Your nest?" Ilya had drawn the question out, eyebrows raised, head tilted. Patronizing. It wasn't a good start.
Shane had reeled back. It was a topic they had miraculously avoided until then. Mostly because it was definitely not a conversation people in a casual relationship talked about.
"Why the fuck do you want to know that?" It had come out harsher than Shane intended. His hackles had been raised. His throat had suddenly gone dry.
Then it was Ilya's turn to be defensive. He had drawn back, pulling his feet off the coffee table and planting them firmly down on the shag carpet.
"Why are you making such a big deal? We are together now, no? You can tell me these things." His voice had lost all playfulness.
"So what? Now that we're boyfriends, you want the full package? The real omega experience?" Shane had known even then that he was being ridiculous.
Borderline hysterical.
But he had been overwhelmed with scents all day, and his skin felt like it could slough off at any moment.
And the real hard truth of the matter was that he didn't have a nest. He'd broken that habit years ago. It didn't fit the brand. He made one slip-up in his rookie year, but never again.
"What? What are you even talking about, Hollander?" The use of his last name had raked against him.
"You knew when we started this how it was going to be. I'm not going to scent you. I'm not going to roll over and share my heats with you. And I don't fucking owe you a nest."
Shane had stood then. His chest had been heaving. He could remember barely being able to catch his breath.
It was true, though. Even back when they were strictly casual, Shane had been clear he wouldn't be going off suppressants or taking off his scent patches. That heats were absolutely off limits.
"Just treat me like a beta. That shouldn't be hard for you." He had said all those years ago.
"Who the fuck said anything about owing me? I just asked you where it was." Ilya had stood too then. Their small height difference never felt so large. "You do have one, don't you?"
The last question felt like a puck to the throat.
"If you want a nest so bad, how about you go find someone else." The words had hung in the air, dropping the room's temperature ten degrees.
That had been the breaking point. As quickly as the adrenaline had come, it left. Shane could no longer stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks. He remembered hating himself then, for saying that to the man he loved, and for letting the tears fall. Another trait he couldn't train away.
"Shane..." Ilya's face had crumpled. And because he was just so good. Better than anything Shane could possibly hope for. He had stepped forward and wrapped his strong arms around Shane. Squeezing him tightly.
"I just want you. I'm sorry, I will not bring it up again. Okay?" He had rubbed soothing circles into Shane's back, let his comforting scent unfurl, and had rocked him gently.
He kept his promise.
----
Shane could no longer feel his fingers. The cold shower was numbing him all the way through. He was shivering uncontrollably now.
"Shane? Malysh, are you still in the shower? Can you let me in, please?" Ilya's voice came in muffled through the door, along with a knock.
How long had he been knocking? Shane felt like time was slipping past him.
He wanted Ilya.
It took all of Shane's coordination to turn the water off with numb fingers and stumble out of the shower. He hardly had a towel wrapped around his waist before he wrenched the bathroom door open.
And there Ilya was. His hand was raised, poised to knock again, his brows once again drawn together. He smelled amazing. Under the scent of worried alpha, it was all Ilya, warmth, pine, and something sweet.
Ilya's eyes went wide. "Shit! Your lips are blue." He reached past Shane then, snagging his own towel from the hanger, and wrapped it firmly around Shane's shoulders.
"Sweetheart, why did you have the water so cold?"
Shane couldn't respond. His skull rattled with how fast his teeth were chattering. Instead, he tucked himself under Ilya's chin, looping his arms snug around the alpha's waist.
He smelled divine. The alpha's scent glands were only inches away. Shane sucked in a long breath; the chattering ceased.
"Got hot on the run," Shane muttered, rubbing his nose into Ilya's neck like a cat. "Needed to cool off." He sounded drunk even to his own ears. Ilya was just so warm, though. A rumble, like a siren's call, started in Ilya's chest, making them both vibrate. It was like a shot of chamomile tea to the veins. Shane would've sunk to the ground without his alpha holding him steady.
"I think maybe we should sit down, moye lyubov." Ilya placed a firm kiss on Shane's forehead. If he hadn't locked down his ability to purr ages ago, Shane would've answered Ilya's rumble.
BZZZZZT BZZZZZZT BZZZZZZT
His phone was ringing. It took a herculean effort for Shane to peel himself away from his lover. Every dormant instinct in his body screamed at him to stop putting space between them.
"Malysh." Ilya admonished, gripping his elbow to keep him steady. "Leave it."
The buzzing shocked Shane out of his trance. He was now hyper aware of the fact that he had been rubbing against Ilya like some sort of feral animal. Fuck. Shane's cheeks burned as he reached for his phone on the bathroom counter.
A tug on his elbow, "I said, leave it. They will call Yuna if it is important."
Shane ignored him. "It's Hayden. I have to answer, it's probably just about lunch."
"Fuck lunch. Fuck Pike. Shane, do not—" Shane clicked answer, pressing the phone to his ear.
"Hey, what's up?" Shane prayed he sounded normal. Ilya's rumbling stopped.
"Heyyy buddy," Hayden's voice filtered through, "I know we said one, but honestly, you could come over now if you want. The kids are going a little crazy. They're like bouncing off the walls, excited to see you."
Shane could feel Ilya's stare burning into the side of his face. He'd be lucky if the alpha didn't snatch his phone.
"Oh. Uh, we're excited to see them too." Shane dared a glance at Ilya. His expression was unreadable. "We'll head over soon. I'll text you when we're in the car."
"Sounds great! See you in a bit. I hope Rozanav is ready for an epic game of hide and seek," Hayden joked.
Shane forced a laugh. "Yeah. See you in a bit."
The line clicked as the call disconnected.
The bathroom was silent then, save for the sound of the still dripping shower head. Shane would need to fix that soon.
"You should've told Pike to fuck off." Ilya's expression had hardened, his jaw set. "You are obviously sick, and he can take care of his own fucking kids."
Sick. Despite how painfully obvious Shane was being, how loud his omega was screaming, Ilya thought he was just sick. It stung, though Shane couldn't quite name why. To Ilya's credit, Shane definitely looked sick, and it wasn't like Ilya had ever seen him in preheat before. Perhaps the thought of Shane Hollander going into preheat, unannounced, on a random Sunday, was too abstract a concept to grasp.
For about the hundredth time since waking up, Shane wanted to cry.
But he didn't. Instead, he straightened and put on his 'I mean business' voice. "We agreed to this months ago, Ilya, we can't just cancel now. And we're not going over there to babysit. We're going over there to see our friends."
"You weren't sick months ago," Ilya countered immediately, "Even Pike would understand."
"I'm fine, and I'm going." Shane felt like a child. The conversation was spiraling out of his control.
Ilya seemed to agree, his face folding into a scowl. "That's bullshit, malysh, you're not fucking fine. Let me call Pike." He leaned forward, as if to grab the phone.
"No."
Shane stepped back. He felt like he was outside of his body, experiencing the argument from a bird's-eye view.
"I said I'm going!" Shane was yelling now. "You can stay here if you hate my friend that much. Don't come." It was a low blow. A scratch at an old argument that needed to be buried. Shane couldn't help but cringe. The cold shower was wearing off. Once again, his skin felt like it was on fire.
If Ilya wasn't pissed before, he definitely was now. The smell of angry alpha burned Shane's nose.
Shane needed to breathe. He needed to pop his emergency suppressants in the medicine cabinet before he lost his head. He needed a door between himself and that still tantalizing alpha scent. His body leaned the wrong way.
"This isn't about Hayden fucking Pike." Ilya spoke through gritted teeth, "This is about my om- my boyfriend, clearly not feeling well and lying to me about it."
Shane's eyes burned along with his nose. He set his jaw and swallowed, matching his boyfriend's stance.
"I'm fine, Ilya. I just want to go to lunch."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes, fine. I will start the car." Somehow it didn't feel like a win.
—————
Shane popped three suppressant pills before walking down to join Ilya in the car. The pills wouldn't stop his heat. It was way too late for that, but they would make the next several hours more bearable. Hopefully, the deluxe scent patches would also help. They were the ones he used on the ice.
When Shane finally slipped into the passenger seat of the Jeep, he was assaulted by the smell of absolutely nothing. Ilya sat stone-faced and looking out the windshield. He was wearing scent patches. Fuck.
He knew he had no right to say anything, to demand Ilya take them off. Not after what happened in the bathroom. Not when he himself was wearing some. But still, Shane felt like screaming.
It reminded him of the call he received a month after the great nesting argument. Ilya was due for a visit the next day when he called Shane to cancel.
He had started that call like he always did, bluntly.
"I'm in prerut."
"Oh. Um—"
"I will stay in Boston for it. But I will come up right after. I promise, dorogoy."
"Right, of course."
"It is not that I don't want to spend it with you. I just… I will get upset. Not being able to smell you. I will say things— make you uncomfortable."
"O-okay. Yeah, I mean if that's what you want."
"I love you, Shane. I will call you when I can."
"I love you too. Take care of yourself."
The call had ended, and suddenly Shane was ten again. Except this time, he was throwing up in his $400 porcelain toilet.
Ilya kept his promise of coming to visit right after his rut, but he wore scent patches the whole time. Shane had been miserable.
And now the scent patches were back. It felt like a punishment.
The drive to the Pikes' didn't take long. Jackie's sister Angela had a house in Ottawa that she rarely used, so the Pikes spent most of their summers there. It was a nice place, only 15 minutes away from the cottage.
Shane usually felt some semblance of excitement pulling up to the house. Now all he felt was dread.
----
The twins met them at the car, screaming. They quickly ushered Shane and Ilya around to the backyard. Hayden was leaning over the table, setting up the patio for lunch. He took one look at Shane and decided to make his day worse.
"You made it! But you look a little rough, man. You feeling okay?" He stepped forward, slinging an arm around Shane's shoulders.
Ilya stilled beside Shane but said nothing. A very bad sign.
"Yeah, maybe a little under the weather, but nothing fresh air won't fix." Shane paired the comment with a—hopefully believable—laugh. He thought he heard Ilya snort beside him. "Where's Jackie?"
"She's inside, grabbing drinks from the basement. Rozanov, you mind helping her?"
"No problem." It was the first time he'd spoken in twenty minutes, and it was directed at Hayden no less. Shane was really starting to sweat.
The pills were already failing him. Shane could feel the gravitational pull towards his boyfriend getting stronger. If Ilya left his sight for more than five seconds, Shane was going to scream.
His hand moved like it had a mind of its own, intertwining his fingers with Ilya's. Shane tugged him closer.
"How about you go help your wife, Hayd. We haven't seen the kids in months." It was a hairline away from being too snippy. Too territorial. Shane tried to grin, but he was sure it looked like a grimace. Ilya squeezed his hand. Shane didn't dare look at him.
Hayden, bless him, just laughed.
"What's this about helping me?" Jackie, an angel sent from above, stepped through the sliding glass doors. She was lugging a small cooler behind her. Hayden leapt forward to take it from her.
Somehow, they all ended up around the table. The twins were absent, playing in the grass. They were at the age where they could entertain themselves. Amber sat happily on Jackie's lap, while Arthur threw food at his dad from his highchair throne.
The warmth that the pills had fought off was back in full swing. Ilya's hand was the only anchor Shane had to the present. Conversation buzzed around him.
Shane rubbed at Ilya's wrist with his thumb. The soft blue veins peeking out above his scent patches branched off like rivers, flowing up Ilya's palm.
"Jesus. These guys are such fucking assholes sometimes."
And just like that, Shane was off the lazy river and back in his body. Ilya tensed.
"Who?"
Ilya asked at the same time, Jackie barked, "Language."
"Don't worry about it, dude. Shane don't check the groupchat. I'll get them to take it down."
"Take what down?" Ilya was turned in his seat now, facing Shane.
Shane didn't look at him. Instead, he reached for his phone, pulling it from where it was wedged in his shorts' pocket.
Immediately, he regretted it.
At the top of the Montreal team group chat, there was a video sent.
Comeau: Check this out lol
OMEGA TWINK RAILED IN LOCKEROOM BY WHOLE TEAM DURING HEAT.
(hearted 6 times)
Drapeau: LMAOOOOO
JJ: Delete this.
Hayden: Ever heard of professionalism? Fucking delete this
Comeau: Chilllllllll
Drapeau: R we sure hollzy even has heats
Shane almost wanted to laugh; they really had a sixth sense for cruelty. The phone was yanked out of his hand.
"Ilya, wait."
Too late.
"What. The fuck. Is this?"
Despite the heat that had been scorching Shane all day, it felt as if the patio had dropped twenty degrees. In his effort to look at the phone, Ilya had pulled his hand away from Shane. The loss made Shane feel even colder.
"Someone fucking explain. Now."
"Whoa, dude, I'm gonna need you to take a breath." Hayden had his hands raised. His eyes darted between Shane and Ilya as if trying to put a complex puzzle together.
"Take a breath? TAKE A BREATH?" Ilya pushed back from his seat. His eyes were black. His chest was heaving. He loomed over the table, the phone still clutched in a white-knuckled grip.
"I'd like to be clued in as well, if you don't mind." Jackie interrupted. One of her hands, not holding the baby, rested on Hayden's arm to keep him seated.
Hayden handed his phone over silently. His eyes never left the furious alpha in front of him. Ilya swore in Russian.
Jackie looked at the phone and grimaced. "Ugh, this shit again. I wish your coach would do something about this. It's just awful," She turned her sympathetic gaze towards Shane, "I'm so sorry you have to deal with this, Shane. It's unacceptable behavior."
"This has happened before? Shane?" Shane once again couldn't meet the alpha's eyes. Instead, he opted to stare at his now-empty hands.
"It's—It's just locker room talk. They don't really mean anything by it. And it's not like I care." It was the mantra he told himself every time a video was sent. Saying it out loud made it sound even more pathetic. Of course, they meant something by it. Of course, he cared. He felt sick.
"Locker room talk?" Shane wasn't sure he had ever seen Ilya this mad. The man was vibrating. Veins bulged in his forehead. "Locker room talk? This is not fucking locker room talk. This is sexual harassment and fucking disrespectful. How long has this been going on?"
"It's fine, Ilya—"
"How long, Shane?"
The patio was silent. Even the birds seemed to get the memo, not letting out a peep. Shane's throat clicked shut. Any words he had dried up and died.
Hayden, the traitor, spoke up across the table. "It's been going on pretty much since Shane joined the team."
"...Since you joined the team?... Almost ten years." It came out as a whisper. The drastic tone change made Shane finally look up. He wished he hadn't.
If total devastation had a face, it would be Ilya Rozanov.
"Why did you not tell me?"
Shane didn't answer.
Because telling Ilya would be admitting it bothered him.
He couldn't slip up, not ever. They were like sharks, and the only way to survive them was to never ever bleed. Instead, Shane dragged his gaze away from Ilya's crushed face and towards the Pikes sitting across from them, shell-shocked.
If they were finally going to talk about this, it couldn't be in front of the entire Pike family.
"I—I'm so sorry. We should head home."
Hayden and Jackie both leapt to their feet. They assured Shane it was fine. No, they didn't have to help with cleaning. Were they okay to drive? Shane barely registered any of it. He just nodded. His preheat left him floating five feet away from his body at all times.
Jackie gave Shane a bone-crushing hug on their way out. Grounding him once more. It shouldn't have surprised him when she wrapped Ilya in the same bone-crushing hug.
-----
If the drive to the Pikes' home had been painful, the drive back was like descending the nine circles of hell.
Ilya was silent.
Eerily so.
He sat straight-backed with two hands gripping the wheel at ten and two. He was even driving the speed limit. For the first time ever, Shane desperately wanted him to ignore the law.
Sweltering heat pressed against Shane on all sides. He felt like he was burning from the inside out. Deliriously, he thought of unbuckling and climbing into Ilya's lap, of ripping the scent patches off of Ilya's neck and burying his face there until the alpha forgave him. But the center console between them felt like a ten-foot concrete barrier, so his body stayed glued to his seat.
Shane tipped forward, his forehead pressed against the cool plastic of the front dashboard. It gave very little relief. He felt like he was melting into a puddle, seeping into the car floor, oozing out the cracks of the JEEP. It was so fucking hot. There was a high-pitched whining noise filling the car. It took Shane a moment to realise it was coming from him.
Vaguely, Shane heard Ilya say something, but Shane couldn't wade through the molasses of his brain to understand him. Then a hand was gripping the back of his neck, almost scruffing him.
"We are almost home, solnyshka. Stay with me."
Stay with me. Like Shane would ever leave. Ilya would have to order the jaws of life to unteather himself.
The hand on his neck began to rub gently until finally the car eventually did come to a stop. The hand left. Shane curled further in on himself. Cramps wracked his body.
Then his car door opened, and with it came a rush of cool air and the smell of Ilya. He'd taken his scent patches off.
"Come on, my love, work with me." Gently, like he was delicate and not a 200-pound professional athlete, Ilya slipped an arm under Shane's thighs. The other arm supported his back as he lifted and pulled Shane from the car.
Pressed against the alpha's body, Shane felt each of his muscles relax. Finally, he stuffed his face in Ilya's neck and breathed in.
Shane didn't register how long it took to get inside, only that Ilya sat him ever so softly on the couch, murmuring into his hairline something about getting him water.
Shane mourned the loss of him. His only comfort was the scent still stuck to his nose. Being in the cottage settled him, though. The smell of Ilya permeated the air. The alpha was obsessed with scent marking everything that Shane came into contact with, which left the whole place smelling like the alpha.
Slowly, Shane came back to himself. The cramps eased, and he could open his eyes fully again.
"You are better?" Ilya had come back from the kitchen. He was holding a tall glass of ice water and a thermometer. "We must check your temperature first. Then you can drink."
Shane huffed a laugh. It scratched his throat on the way out.
"Ilya… Fuck." He took a steadying breath. "I'm not sick."
"You passed out in the car, Shane." The anger that had left Ilya seemed to come back, "You have been sick all day. Stop lying to me."
"I'm not lying! I'm in preheat."
The words hung in the air.
"I'm not due for another month. But suppressant shots lose effectiveness over time— I think. I'm not sick."
"Preheat?"
Ilya fell to his knees in front of him. Water and thermometer forgotten on the coffee table.
"Fuck, malysh." Ilya's warm palms rubbed up and down Shane's legs. "You should have told me."
"I know. I'm sorry—"
"No sorries. Just let me scent you. Please, moya lyubov, it will help. I need to scent you." Ilya's blue eyes were wide, begging.
Shane didn't speak. He just tore off the scent patches on his neck. Ilya surged forward. This time, the alpha was the one pressing his face into Shane's neck, sucking in his scent in great lungfuls. The rumble that had started and ended in the bathroom began again.
"Fuuuuck," Ilya's voice dropped an octave. Shane bit back a whine when Ilya pulled his face from his neck. His eyes were black. He closed them and took a deep breath. Shane rubbed his shoulders while he settled. Ilya’s body was unnaturally still.
“You have been dealing with this alone. All morning.” He said when his eyes finally opened, the darkness was still there.
“I should’ve told you sooner. I just—I didn’t want you to think less of me.”
“Less of you? Why would I think less of you, my love?” Ilya’s fingers intertwined with Shane’s, tugging Shane closer.
“I don’t know.” Shane bit his lip, willing the burning in his eyes to stop. “I’ve just spent so long curating this image for myself. This brand. And it’s all fake. I barely have a handle on my instincts. I can’t even control my own team.” He swallowed, “If people saw me, the real me, they’d think my team was right.”
“Fuck the brand. Fuck your stupid, ungrateful fucking team. They are lucky I do not know where they live yet. They were nothing without you. Do you understand? First omega captain in the history of the NHL. You score more points than all of them combined. You are better than they will ever be in every way. I do not think less of you. I could never think less of you. You are the bravest person I know.”
Shane’s stomach dropped as he watched tears pool in his alpha’s eyes, dripping down his rosy cheeks.
“I hate them. And I hate that you have felt this way for so long. It makes me want to wipe Montreal off the fucking map.” Ilya pulled a hand away from Shane to rub aggressively at his eyes.
Shane reached up, running his now free hand through Ilya’s golden curls.
“Sometimes I hate them too.” It felt good to finally say it out loud.
“Good. They deserve it.” The same hand he’d used to rub his eyes came up to cup Shane’s cheek. Shane pressed into it.
“Your preheat. And heat. How do you want it to go?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to stay? Or go?”
The thought of Ilya leaving made Shane want to throw up. But the thought of Ilya staying made his anxiety surge. What was the alpha expecting from this?
“I’m not like those omegas in the videos. I usually get really sad. And my cramps get pretty bad. I’m not… Sexy.”
The confession sat in the air between them for a moment.
Then Ilya spoke very slowly. “I do not want omega in video, Shane. I want you.” He leaned forward, smacking a wet kiss on Shane’s uncovered cheek. “And I will always think you are sexy.”
Something like relief went through Shane, but he had to be sure.
“I probably won’t want to have sex during. Are you okay with that? I usually- I’ll probably just want you to hold me.”
“Malysh, if you said no more sex for the rest of our lives, I would still choose you.”
This time it was Shane’s turn to cry. A single tear that Ilya brushed away with a rough thumb. Shane swallowed.
“Hold me?”
“Of course.”