Chapter Text
I
The season ended three days ago, but Oscar was only waking up now, wrapped in the sheets of a hotel room in Abu Dhabi. He’d been misfortunate with the timing of his heat. It dropped in, out of the blue, on race night. Luckily, he’d managed to make it through the race, and he had his team to thank for getting him out of all his other duties successfully.
Aside from a little soreness and grogginess, he could tell it was over. The sun peaked through a gap between the two curtains covering the room's windows. It cast light right over the bed, perfectly waking Oscar.
He didn’t remember much—he never seemed to, in any case. It was his first heat since Lily. He groaned, not even wanting to think about it. He missed her. They broke up for the right reasons, but he still missed what she meant. He missed her friendship, her stability. Everything had gotten so complicated after they broke up—the trials and tribulations of being one of two omegas in Formula One.
Oscar felt different. In a weird, unusual way, he felt different. He didn’t feel wrong, or sick, just different. Something had changed from three days ago. He was trying to figure out what.
He should probably get up. He needed to figure out when he was flying home. He wanted to shower to clean himself of this past heat. The good news about it all was that now it would be easier to line up with breaks. He just needed to suppress it properly to be a week or so later.
Oscar tried to move, and it was then that he noticed the weight settled on his body. He looked down. An arm was wrapped around him, a hand settling flatly on his bare chest, the longest finger settling between his collarbones. Oscar breathed out in surprise. He definitely should’ve remembered that. He definitely would’ve remembered spending his heat with someone, even if it was all fuzzy like it was normally. But he didn’t, that was strange.
Okay, it’s totally normal. They probably found him an appropriate heat partner. Oscar didn’t mind all too much, it did make things easier because it went faster. He’d probably rather have chosen all of this before he was out of his mind, but he understood sometimes there was no time, no options. He trusted his team.
He examined the hand from his position. It was familiar to him. Oscar did his best to glance back, a heavier breath on the back of his neck stopping him.
“¿Se acabó?” A voice said, deepened by sleep. Oscar recognized that voice, even with the hoarseness of waking up coating it. Shit.
It was still fine. Just not ideal.
“What?” He asked, not understanding the words.
“Lo sie- I’m sorry,” Carlos responded, not clarifying. “I would not have, but they said you were asking for me,” Oscar shrugged, shifting out of Carlos’s arms.
“It’s fine,” he remarked, swinging his legs around the bed to get up. Oscar stretched, walking to the window to take a peek outside. Carlos seemed to move around, rustling the covers. “I’m going to shower,” Oscar remarked. “Thank you for helping me. I’m alright now. You can leave,” Carlos breathed out audibly. Oscar knew he was just trying to regain his bearings. He didn’t expect to stay. They weren’t like that. It was already an anomaly to wake up with the Spaniard.
Oscar turned around and looked at Carlos again. He rubbed his temples with one hand, half sitting up in Oscar’s hotel room bed.
Carlos looked him up and down in a way that made Oscar feel far too exposed to be in the room with the same man who just spent three days inside of him. Then Carlos’s eyes settled on his face for a moment before dipping down and freezing, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Oscar squinted, glancing away for a moment, feeling awkward.
“Mierda,” Carlos muttered, cutting through the thick silence. Oscar looked at him, confused, then noticed Carlos’s hand traveling up to touch his neck.
Oscar realized instantly that something was very, very wrong. It had to do with the dull, throbbing pain that radiated from his neck. He reached up, almost not wanting to believe it, and pressed his hand to his scent gland. He ran his fingers along it and met abnormal ridges, creating two crescent shapes.
Carlos’s hand moved away from his own neck, and Oscar noticed a similar wound on the man’s scent gland.
They’d- he’d- what had they… how was this-
Oscar exhaled in shock.
They’d bitten each other… they were mated. Carlos had bitten him. He’d bitten Carlos. They were mates.