Daybright294



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    The first time they’d done this, in Ilya’s bed, Shane had been mystified at Rozanov’s insistence that he not enter the nest without Shane’s permission. Now, Shane feels something akin to smugness flexing its claws in his chest. A primal satisfaction at the rightness that he is the one with the power - at present, if not for much longer - alpha just outside the nest and at his mercy.

    Like Shane will only yield for someone who has earned it. He can draw out Ilya’s suffering just a little longer, make him earn it.

    Shane rakes his gaze over the delicious chest and bicep muscles bunching above the edge of the nest. “Waiting for something, Rozanov?”

    “Are you going to let me into your nest, omega?” His pronunciation of the endearment is more Russian than English, accent thickening around the syllables.

    “Depends. You gonna give me your knot?”

    “Hm, does not sound like begging yet to me.”

    Some months after Shane recovers from rejection sickness in Ilya's bed, they share their heat/rut together at the cottage, both clinging to the delusion it's still casual.

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    21 May 2026

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    Still, he’s felt like absolute shit for weeks, and the idea of sitting in his hotel room, where he would probably masturbate, cry, and have another night of fitful sleep, did not make him feel any better. Getting to be skin to skin with Ilya Rozanov did. And surely Rozanov wouldn’t be demanding Shane make a nest in his damn bed if he didn’t fully intend on actually kissing him in it and keeping him there until morning, right?

    Maybe that would be enough to pick Shane up out of this drop, keep it from happening again.

    OR

    After not sending the "we didn't kiss" text, Shane's omega hormones go into distress mode. Despite trying to hide his symptoms and play through the misery, when Ilya Rozanov finds out what's going on, the alpha Shane's body wants most is determined to fix it.

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    20 May 2026

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    It was during this hysterical lament that Ilya realized what was wrong, what was off. The initial softness, the confusion, the vulnerability. It was out of character — Shane was so often in control of himself, of what he said, even when emotions were high . . . with one exception.

    If Ilya fucked him particularly . . . intensely, if he got Shane feeling a lot, he'd get soft afterwards. Quiet, a little ditzy, emotional. The first time it'd happened — or the first time he'd recognized it — was years ago in Las Vegas after winning MVP. He remembered the look on Hollander's face when he left — wide and teary-eyed, lip trembling, tripping over himself.

    Since then, with a little trial and error, Ilya had learned how to manage it. Had grown to love it. If he treated him right, he could buff away all of Shane's sharp edges and be left with the soft, gooey inside. Floating and tethering himself to Ilya.

    Now, Shane was out there, floating, without anyone to tether himself to. Falling. And suddenly Ilya was panicking, too.

    or: shane, trying to get over rozanov, has sex with someone else and and falls into subdrop. scared and confused, he calls ilya.

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    17 May 2026

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    Ilya Rozanov is a natural caretaker. Shane Hollander is a natural clutz who keeps getting into situations where he needs taking care of.

    Or: 5 times Ilya took care of Shane, and 1 time the favour was returned.

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    17 May 2026

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    The doorbell rings just as Shane is finishing brushing his teeth – the first thing they rose to do, because he wants to kiss Ilya good morning – and he and Ilya exchange a confused look in the bathroom mirror. It's barely dawn, and Ilya's curls are adorably tousled from sleep as he scratches his ribs lazily, toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

    Shane hesitates, then rinses his toothpaste out and runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, it's probably anti-doping."

    No one else would be here at this hour – unless it's an emergency.

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    17 May 2026