Work Text:
Shane has never done anything like this before. Matthew had (embarrassingly) been his first, and at this point in his almost forty years of life, his only. What a waste that had been! They had been together for almost twenty years, and for the most part Shane had believed that Matthew had been loyal. There had been The Incident, the one where Shane had caught his alpha in bed with another omega. “He was the only one!” Matthew had pleaded with him and, like an idiot, he had believed him.
Tiffany & Co.
Shane considered himself to be a smart man. When he had seen the charge on their shared bank account he hadn’t made excuses or tried to explain it away like he might have five, ten years ago.
Matthew was cheating and that’s all there was to it.
This time he wouldn’t believe that it was just the once. He had believed that thirteen years ago and look where that had gotten him; a dry marriage with a cheating mate, a bond mark that meant nothing, and a young alpha on the way to his bedroom in the SoHo House.
Right. Fuck. Ilya.
Ilya Rozanov, the alpha with the charming smile, with the strong arms, with the voice that drove him absolutely crazy, that made him slicker than he had been in years.
“I can smell he does not fuck you right.”
It had played in his head over and over since the last time he had seen the man. Was it really that obvious? Could he really smell it? Could other people smell it? He knew his pheromones weren’t the strongest, his scent muted, but could the young stud really tell from scent alone that he was unfulfilled in bed? The idea was haunting.
The floodgates were open now, and Shane had made it very clear that he would like Ilya to come to his room that night.
By the time there’s knocking on his door, he’s one glass of wine and one text freak out to Rose deep. He’s feeling more confident than he had ten minutes ago, but there’s still that gnawing feeling at the back of his head. What if he’s laughing at you?
Shane is aware of his age and he’s certainly aware of Ilya’s. Young. Very young. And handsome. Ilya could have whoever he wanted, surely, but it’s his door he’s standing in front of now.
Have fun. Be safe.
Shane checks himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair one last time before he goes to the door. Once it’s open there’s no going back. He is going to cheat on his husband, his mate, his alpha.
And there isn’t a bone in his body that feels bad about it.
When Shane opens the door Ilya has his hand raised to knock again. Their eyes meet and his lips spread into a slow, lazy grin. “Hi,” he murmurs, accent thick, his voice a rumble in his chest as he takes a step forward. “I can come in, yes?”
There’s an audible swallow and he nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. Ilya needs no more invitation, his hands grazing his waist as he passes by him into the room. The door is shut quickly, Shane’s back pressed to it as he watches the alpha look around the room. There’s a moment where his brain betrays him, where he wonders just how many rooms in the SoHo House Ilya has been in, how many other members he has slept with like this. It’s self-destructive, he knows, and he would have started spiraling if Ilya hadn’t pressed their lips together at that very moment.
Ilya’s mouth is warm against his own, his hand firm on his jaw, holding him in place. It’s commanding, it’s domineering in a way that already has him weak at the knees. Their kiss in the bathroom had been hard and desperate and short.
Now, Ilya takes his time with him.
When his tongue slides along the seam of his lips he opens for him, letting the alpha lick into his mouth. The hand on his jaw skims down to his neck, Ilya’s thumb grazing over the sensitive skin of his scent gland, rubbing against his bondmark. It makes something in his tummy twist. The anticipation of cheating on his husband, maybe. But the lips kissing a trail to his ear have momentarily silenced any second thoughts.
“Is going to be problem?”
Shane starts to shake his head before quickly nodding, before shaking his head once more. Is it going to be a problem? He can only imagine his alpha’s reaction if he was ever to find out about this; about Ilya. He won’t be happy, that much is for sure. A mate who constantly accuses him of cheating is not going to take it well if he’s proven right.
But, really, that isn’t his problem anymore. Matthew made sure of that with a singular purchase to Tiffany & Co.
“No. No, I don’t think so...” Shane mumbles, his lips pulling into a half smile.
He can feel the alpha grinning against his neck, breath hot over his bondmark. Ilya's teeth graze the spot before nipping at it, pulling a pathetic little whimper from Shane’s lips. What would it be like to be bonded to a stud like Rozanov?
“I will not tell... promise,” Ilya murmurs, hands trailing down his chest, over the white t-shirt he had put on after his post-pool shower. There’s no hesitation as he tugs the hem up and over his stomach, his chest, and finally his head. Something hot and Russian leaves Ilya’s mouth as the shirt lands on the floor unceremoniously.
“Could you... Can you really smell it on me?”
Ilya’s hands are on his own shirt now. It’s not the uniform he usually wears, which means he must have changed sometime between the end of his shift and coming to his door.
“Smell what?” comes out muffled into the tank top he’s taking off, tossing it onto the clothing pile that’s started on the floor.
“You know,” Shane mumbles, his cheeks already hot at the idea of having to repeat the dirty things Ilya had said to him in the bathroom. “That he doesn’t...”
“Ah. Does not fuck you good?” Ilya chuckles softly, grabbing at his waist, pulling him in close until their bare chests are pressed together. Ilya is warm and firm and so much bigger than Matthew in a way that has his head spinning. “Yes, well... Maybe more I don’t smell it?”
Right. A properly taken care of omega should smell like their mate, at least a little bit. But at that point in Matthew’s visit they hadn’t even scented each other, let alone slept together. Of course he hadn’t been giving off the pheromones of a satisfied omega; perhaps his distress, his anxiety, had him smelling a bit sour even. No wonder Ilya came to that conclusion.
“And that... upset you?”
“Yes...” the alpha all but whines. “You are so pretty... I want to fix.” There’s something about an alpha so desperate, sounding so pathetic for him, that has him absolutely dripping. The air smells sweet with his arousal now, and he knows Ilya can smell it too by the look on his face, the smile that’s on his lips. “Mmm I think... I am already fixing, yes?”
There’s no time to answer before their lips are crashing together once more. Ilya is eager and desperate to prove himself, and it only turns Shane on more to feel so wanted.
They maneuver the hotel room blindly, unwilling to separate for even a moment to get their bearings. Miraculously they make it to the bed without any casualties, falling onto the mattress together.
“I want to see you, Mr. Hollander,” Ilya groans, greedy hands already going to the waistband of his sweatpants. The title has Shane short circuiting, and he’s not sure if it is entirely too hot or if it just makes him feel like a skeezy old man.
“Y-you don’t have to call me that…”
“What? Mr. Hollander?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Hmmm okay…. Sir?”
Shane shakes his head. It might be even worse, actually. There’s a power imbalance, he knows that, and he’d really like to not be reminded of it.
“Shane. Just Shane is fine.”
Ilya’s grinning at this and Shane smiles too, softer, as the alpha gives a little tug to his sweatpants.
“Shane… Shane, please let me see,” he practically begs, seeking out that last little bit of permission given in the form of a nod before he’s pulling his sweatpants the rest of the way off. The relief is palpable as his cock is finally freed, hard and leaking, the tip already glistening. He’s even wetter between his legs, the sweet scent overwhelming. It’s the scent of a young, fertile omega; not one pushing forty like he is now.
Ilya is on his feet, promptly removing his belt and all Shane can do is sit up on his elbows to watch as he pops the button of his jeans and slides his fly down. “You want?” he’s asked. Shane dignifies the cocky question with a nod, eyes flicking from his crotch to his face.
Ilya’s hand splays over his abs, sliding down over his happy trail until he’s obscenely squeezing the bulge of his hard cock. “Come and get.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. At the command Shane is shifting, moving to his knees on the edge of the bed, his hands eagerly going to the man’s boxers.
“Kiss,” Ilya murmurs, barely above a whisper as his fingers tip his chin upwards. When their lips meet, it’s filthy. Ilya leads with his tongue, the hot muscle invading his mouth. The alpha’s breath hitches and Shane swallows down the moan that follows when his hand finally wraps around his cock. It’s big, just like the rest of him.
“You like?” Ilya is asking against his lips.
“Y-Yeah. I like… very much,” Shane breaths, pulling back enough to look down between them, where he has Ilya’s cock in his hand. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth as his hand slides downwards, pulling the alpha’s foreskin with it. It’s embarrassing to think that this is the first uncut cock he’s ever touched. For a moment he thinks about the years Matthew had robbed from him; of the experiences he could have had. But then Ilya’s dick is throbbing in his hand and he’s moving without thinking.
Shane cannot remember the last time he had presented himself. Now, in a hotel room of the SoHo House, Shane is on his knees; back arched, presenting his slick hole for an alpha that is not his mate, for one that is half his age.
He should feel dirty.
He should feel dirty and disgusting and all sorts of other emotions that come with being unfaithful to your mate. And yet all he can think about is how good it’s going to feel when the man finally sinks his cock inside of him.
“Fuuuuck,” Ilya groans, and without hesitation his hands are on his ass, spreading his cheeks to see the way his tight, little hole glistens. He can’t remember the last time he was this slick without lubrication. It’s all natural now, for an alpha that must deserve it. “So wet for me... Begging for my fucking cock...”
Shane’s cheek presses against the Egyptian cotton of the sheets as he looks back at the alpha. Ilya’s eyes are on his asshole, an almost dreamy look on his face. Before he knows what’s happening Ilya’s face is buried between his cheeks, the flat of his tongue dragging over his hole, tasting him, his slick. It’s heavenly, the feeling of his tongue teasing his tight, little pucker.
Matthew had never been a fan of going down on him, but Ilya is more than eager. If the man is as skilled with his dick as he is with his tongue...
The alpha’s chin is glistening when he finally pulls back, a wolfish grin on his face, and Shane can’t take it anymore.
“Please...” he whines, shifting, presenting himself to an embarrassing degree now. His hips sway back and forth in an attempt to allure the alpha.
“Please what?”
“Please... Fuck. Please fuck me… alpha” Shane says for the first time to a man that is not his husband.
It’s like he’s said the magic words; Ilya’s eyes light up with a sort of manic energy, and Shane is sure he can see all 32 teeth in his mouth as he grins.
“Condom? You have?”
There’s a breathless chuckle and a shake of his head. For a moment he thinks about everything he could say to Ilya right now, how he could explain, but trauma dumping (a term Rose had taught him recently) about his inability to have pups seems like the perfect way to kill the mood.
“No. Please. I want to feel you...” Shane opts for instead.
It’s enough for Ilya. There’s no follow up questions about birth control or pups and for that he is more than thankful.
“Good. Yes. Okay.”
Ilya’s on the bed with him now, his chest pressing against his back. His pheromones are overwhelming like this, completely surrounding him in leather and smoke. It’s intoxicating, and maybe now he understands what other omegas mean when they talk about being scent drunk. This feeling isn’t just from one glass of wine, he knows that much.
He pushes back against the man in desperation, lips parted, fingers fisting the bedsheets. He needs more than Ilya’s mouth at his scent gland and the head of his cock rubbing over his hole. If Ilya doesn’t put his dick inside him right this fucking second he might die.
Ilya is not gentle, and really, he’s thankful for that. Shane would be embarrassed by the noise that had escaped his mouth if it wasn’t for the nine inches of alpha cock that’s currently buried deep in his guts, turning his brain to mush.
His body is given no chance to adjust before Ilya is moving, setting a punishing pace. He holds his hips with a grip that is sure to cause bruises, holding him right where he wants him. Every hard thrust punches a pathetic whine or cry from his throat, and when he goes to stifle them with his hand Ilya is grabbing it, pinning it to the mattress.
“Nyet. I want to hear you,” Ilya growls.
And who is he to deny him? The alpha is giving him the best dick of his life, if he wants to hear him he can hear him.
“Fuck Ilya!” Shane practically sobs into the sheets. He can feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed with a pleasure he didn’t know was possible.
Sex with Matthew was... fine... but he had always wondered if it could be better, if there was more out there. Now he knows there is. Now he knows how it can feel when an alpha really takes an omega. It’s hard and deep and all consuming. The only thing he can smell is their mixing pheromones.
He feels drunk off of it, drunk off of Ilya.
“So good... So good for me... So pretty,” the alpha pants, harsh and ragged as he puts his all into fucking the sad house husband he had become. “Does your mate fuck you like this? Does he make you feel good?”
Shane shakes his head, another pathetic whimper leaving his throat.
“Words. Tell me.”
“N-no! Fuck! You’re... You’re so much better, alpha,” Shane tells him between broken sobs. “S-nghh-so much better!”
His words only spur Ilya on, he can tell. The man redoubles his efforts, a hand moving to his throat, pinning him down to the bed, while the other hikes his hips back up from where they had been sinking closer and closer to the mattress. His body feels like putty, fucked completely boneless. Ilya could have him in any position he wanted and he would happily be put in it.
“I can-ah! I can feel you... in my belly...” Shane babbles incoherently.
“Mmm, good... where I belong.”
Shane likes that. He likes the idea of Ilya carving himself a permanent place in his body, leaving his mark with bruised hips and a dripping hole.
He doesn’t know if they’ll ever do this again. He doesn’t know if Ilya will want him again, or if he is a one and done alpha. He doesn’t know if after all of this he’ll go back to Matthew, pretend like he never saw the charge for Tiffany and Co., and go on with his comfortable life putting up with a mate he hates. All he knows is that tonight he wants Ilya Rozanov for as long as he can have him.
Ilya’s hands hold him in place as he rearranges his guts, one pressed firmly between his shoulder blades while the other crushes his face into the mattress. Every hard thrust is grazing his prostate now, engorged and sensitive. It’s the most stimulation it’s gotten in months and he’s not sure how much longer he can take Ilya pounding against it, abusing it in the sweetest of ways.
“If you were my omega,” Ilya growls as he leans down, breath scorching on his neck, “I would take care of you.”
He bites at his bondmark, drawing a whimper from his lips. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, but it’s hard enough to get his point across. “Bond you. Mate you. Make you mine.”
It’s tempting, to just let this alpha mark over his bond... but even as far gone as he is, speared on Ilya’s cock, he knows it’s a bad idea. The fall out will be catastrophic... and Ilya deserves better.
“Harder...” is all Shane can manage and Ilya, with all the stamina of a twenty-two year old, obliges.
“You like hard? You like to feel me here?” the alpha is asking as a hand slides down his side, splaying over his stomach. Shane practically wails, head spinning, as Ilya presses against his belly, no doubt trying to feel the bulge his cock is making.
“Ilya please...”
“Alpha,” he’s reminded.
He’s overstimulated, his pink cheeks wet with tears, and Ilya’s painfully sexy accent isn’t helping any.
“Alpha,” he repeats, like a good omega should.
The sounds echoing in the hotel room are ungodly. Wet. Obscene. Downright pornographic. The slapping of flesh meeting flesh and Ilya’s rough growls and Russian cursing is all he can hear above his labored breathing and sobs. If he hadn’t been so completely fucked stupid he might be worrying about a noise complaint, but all he can think about is Ilya’s cock and the way his knot is starting to catch on his rim with every drawback of his hips.
“G-gonna... fuck alpha... gonna come,” Shane announces pathetically as his belly twists, balls drawing tight to his body. “Gonna... gonna make me fucking come...”
“Fuck. Yes. Come for me,” Ilya hisses, and like a good pup he keeps his rhythm, he fucks him until he’s seeing stars, choking on a cry of the man’s name.
Shane makes a mess of the sheets; his orgasm hits him so hard he’s sure he blacked out for a moment. The pleasure is blinding, stars dancing at the corners of his vision. It borders on painful.Toes curling, hands fisting the sheets so tight he’s sure he’s going to end up ripping them.
He didn’t know it could be like this, didn’t know that an alpha could have him so drunk off his cock that he could come untouched. At thirty eight, it might be the hardest he’s ever come.
And now, absolutely incoherent, the omega is begging for things he had never asked of his own mate.
“B-breed me... please,” Shane sobs as the young alpha fucks him through his orgasm to the point of overstimulation. He’s so sensitive, his hole fluttering around Ilya’s knot, desperately trying to keep it inside of him as it inflates. His body knows what he wants, what he needs.
And that’s this alpha’s seed in his womb, his pups in his belly.
“F-fuck, put a pup in me... please... please... w-want your knot... knot me... knot me...”
This seems to send Ilya over the edge. Within three thrusts the alpha is burying himself as deep as he could possibly go, pinning him flat to the bed, forcing him to lay in the mess he had made.
“Oh fuck Shane. Take it. Take my knot, so good... so good, sweetheart,” he grunts. Shane’s lips are parted in a silent cry, brows furrowed so pretty as the man finally knots him, locking them together as he spills his seed into his useless womb.
There’s a moment of reprieve as they both catch their breaths, the alpha panting hot against his bondmark. Shane shudders, his body trembling with the aftershocks of such an extreme orgasm. This is when he expects Ilya to leave, to try and dislodge his knot before it’s ready as young alphas tend to do. But all he feels are strong arms wrapping around him, a nose nuzzling into his neck, and the deep rumble of the alpha behind him.
“Very good omega...” Ilya praises, pressing an opened mouthed kiss, slow and lazy, against the bondmark of another alpha. “He is idiot, you know. Does not, how to say it, deserve you.”
Shane chuckles. “Do you?”
“I do not know. Maybe... maybe not. I am just happy to have you now,” Ilya murmurs with another kiss to his neck.
He prays that the man can’t feel his throat bob as he swallows down the lump in it.