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Shane Hollander.
It was a name Ilya was almost too familiar with. Even after hearing it for the first time all those years ago when he – playing for Russia – faced Canada in the World Juniors, it still sent a strange thrill of curiosity through him. Shane was considered the best, maybe even better than Ilya himself, and Ilya had wanted nothing but to test that theory from the moment that name dropped from someone’s lips.
When they’d both been drafted to the Ottawa Centaurs after fighting for the top spot in everything, Ilya thought finally, this will be my chance to actually know him, figure out how he works, and do everything in my power to be better than him. But there was something else there, too, something in the back of his mind that he didn’t often entertain. He had this strange instinct to protect him, even when they were rivals. Any time he saw Shane’s careful, neutral expression slip, even for a second, that instinct threatened to rule him completely.
But Shane, being a beta, had been put on a two year rookie contract and sent down to the AHL. All hockey players that weren’t alphas were treated likewise, regardless of size or skill. Ilya wasn’t exactly a fan of the automatic separation, seeing as some betas and omegas were better than some alphas, but he was also a young alpha and was going to take any chance he could to get the hell out of Russia and away from what was left of his family. If that meant leaving the very intriguing Shane Hollander behind, then so be it.
But things were different now. He was different now.
Ilya had gone from rookie to captain faster than any alpha ever had in the history of the NHL. He’d finally felt like he got his footing in Ottawa – a city in a country he’d spent admittedly little time in – and then his captain had been forced into retirement mid-season after a career-ending broken leg. None of them had been prepared for it, and the comfortable routine that Ilya had found himself getting used to was immediately upset. He thought he’d have more time to settle in. He hadn’t thought he’d lose his captain and mentor so quickly.
When Robbie informed the team from his hospital room that he was out for good, he’d stated, under no uncertain terms, that he wanted Ilya as captain, but he was still a rookie. The alternate captain had led in his stead until the end of the season, but when the season came to a close, Bood stepped down without question. He’d never truly wanted that coveted C on his jersey, he just wanted to support whoever wore it, and in the end, the rest of the team agreed with Robbie’s request, and Ilya had every intention of taking up the mantle as best he could. He wanted to do the work. He wanted his team to be good. He wanted to be the best leader he could be, even if most members of the team had at least six years on him. He wasn’t going to let them down. This next season was going to be the one that brought the Stanley Cup home to Ottawa for the very first time. Ilya would see to that.
And while all this was happening, he heard whispers about Shane Hollander. How he should be in the NHL based on skill alone. How he had just as good of a record as Ilya did. How he was the star of hockey. How he would absolutely be giving Ilya’s records a run for their money if being a beta hadn’t forced him down to the AHL.
With all of that change in the span of 12 months, Ilya had thought, finally, he’d be able to take a breath. He’d have time off to actually process the events that had led him to this spot, and when they got back to practices, he’d be ready.
And now he was here, in his coach’s office, hearing the name Shane Hollander directed at him for the first time in almost a year. The office had the same sterile smell as the rest of the arena. Everyone wore scent patches when they were here, and the lack of scents still made Ilya’s skin itch sometimes, but that wasn’t important right now.
“Since you’ve moved up to captain, we have an open spot, and Hollander’s skating circles around the others in the AHL,” Coach Wiebe said. Ilya tapped his fingers on his knee, translating as fast as he could in his head. There were days like today, when he was bone tired and still feeling the anxiety of having to lead this team one year into his professional hockey career, that it took him longer than usual to comprehend English.
Coach Wiebe was staring at him expectantly, and Ilya realized he’d zoned out trying to pick up on the meanings of every word. “Sorry, Coach. I missed the last bit.”
Coach Wiebe gave him a sympathetic little smile. “I was just wondering if you’d spoken to Hollander since you were both drafted.”
Ilya shook his head. “No. First year here was very busy.”
“Understood.” Coach Wiebe leaned forward. “I know you know this, but I want to say it anyway. Hollander is going to be one of three betas on this team, and from what I’ve heard, he doesn’t like to be treated as less than just because he’s not an alpha.”
“I would never—” Ilya began, but Coach held up a hand, and he stopped talking immediately.
“I know you wouldn’t. And I know most of your teammates wouldn’t either, but you never know, especially in hockey. They’re going to follow your example, so when he gets here for practice later, make sure he’s taken care of, alright?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And there’s another thing … we don’t know how long we’ll have him. Whether this is a more permanent move or if he’ll be sent back down, only time will tell. When I spoke with him, he didn’t seem keen on getting permanent housing right away. His parents live close by, but I know how young men are. The minute you give them a taste of freedom, they want to run with it, so I doubt he’ll be staying with them.”
“And you don’t want him in hotel for long?” Ilya asked, and Coach Wiebe gave him a curt nod.
“Exactly. I know you lived with Robbie for the first six months you were here, and I thought maybe you’d be willing to board him until we know more about his long term.”
Ilya tried not to feel the loss of his former captain too heavily these days, but when he wasn’t expecting it, the mention of his mentor and his friend still sent a small wave of sadness through him. He allowed himself to feel it, though, because he was trying very hard to be an alpha his mother would have been proud of, and that meant letting his emotions exist.
Ilya also felt a little wary about this idea. “I … I have the room, yes, and he is welcome. But he might not … I mean, I am alpha and he is not. He may be … uncomfortable.”
“I hadn’t considered that.” Coach Wiebe’s brow furrowed. Ilya wasn’t surprised. His coach was an alpha, and alphas of his generation didn’t often consider the implications of such a situation. He wasn’t a bad guy by any means. In fact, he was one of the most respectful alphas Ilya had ever met. But sometimes unlearning and relearning took time. Ilya knew that better than most. “Maybe we do a trial run, then? A week, maybe two, just to see how he’s feeling. And if it’s not working, we can figure something else out.”
“Yes, I think that is good.”
Coach Wiebe smiled and stood, and Ilya followed suit. “You are going to be a great captain for this team, Rozanov. And I know you’ll make Hollander feel welcome just like Robbie did for you.”
“I will try very hard,” he said in response, and Coach Wiebe nodded and gestured towards the door.
“Oh, and one more thing?” Ilya turned back. “I’m gonna let you make the calls today at practice. It’s your first day as captain. I think you’re ready for a little extra responsibility.” Coach Wiebe winked at him, and Ilya took that in stride, making his way into the brightly lit hallway and closing the door behind him.
He took a deep breath, his fingers fiddling with the cross around his neck. Shane Hollander was going to be in this building in the next hour. He might already be here; Ilya remembered how early he liked to arrive for things. And even though they were the same age, had come up together, had been drafted together, Ilya was now his captain. The responsibility settled like a familiar but still slightly scary weight on Ilya’s shoulders, and he straightened, letting a little of that innate alpha bravado fill him.
This was his moment. The moment he proved himself worthy of that C on his chest. And he was not going to waste it.
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Shane was already in the locker room when Ilya entered 40 minutes later. He stood in front of the lockers, observing, and turned when the door closed behind Ilya.
Every feeling that Ilya remembered having about Shane from the moment they’d set eyes on each other that first time came rushing back with such force that it nearly knocked Ilya on his feet.
Shane looked exactly as he had the last time Ilya had laid eyes on him. Shorter than him by a solid three inches. Deceptively lean. A splash of freckles across his nose. Jaw sharp and clearly tight with what was probably a mixture of nerves and determination. He was, by all means, a very attractive person, something that Ilya had tried very hard to forget.
Ilya clenched his jaw against that heady desire to protect and stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Centaurs, Hollander.”
Shane studied him for a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. His handshake was firm, sure of himself, which didn’t match the slight panic in his eyes. “Rozanov.”
Ilya was used to the culture of using last names, but for some reason, hearing it out of Shane’s mouth felt wrong, too formal. He didn’t like it.
“Ilya, please,” he said, trying to keep that wrongness out of his tone. “You find everything okay?”
Shane nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Just … weird, finally being here.” His eyes flickered up to Ilya’s for a second before looking away. “I didn’t think they’d ever let me.” He grimaced before the sentence was even fully out of his mouth. “I don’t know why I just told you that. Sorry. I’ll just … what do you need from me, Cap?”
Shane’s posture had gone stiff, and he was now forcing his gaze up to meet Ilya’s, like he had something to prove. Ilya wished he could ease his worries. He remembered his own first day in this locker room, how everyone had seemed so much older and put together and comfortable in their existence, and Ilya had wondered if he’d ever get there. If he, an alpha, felt that way, he couldn’t even imagine how a beta or an omega would feel in the same position.
But Shane clearly wanted something to do. Ilya could sense the same restlessness in him that he had, that overwhelming desire to be useful so there would be less time to think about how everything might go wrong. He would give Shane what he needed.
“Right now, just get dressed. Check that all your gear is here. I will introduce you when we have team meeting before practice.” Ilya swallowed. “And if you need something, I am here.”
Shane gave him a curt nod and turned to his locker, which their equipment managers must have set up while Ilya was warming up (see: hiding) in the gym. There was also a small basket with some snacks and protein powder and a Centaurs t-shirt. Harris, their social media manager, made them for all the newcomers. Ilya himself had received one just last year. He’d have to remember to thank him when he saw him later. Harris’s omega status might have kept him from more promising opportunities, but Ilya was grateful they had him. He brought much needed fun to an otherwise grueling and violent sport.
It was another ten minutes or so before the rest of the team began arriving in groups of three or four. Everyone seemed happy to introduce themselves to Shane, which Ilya was slightly grateful for. He wasn’t all that good with the awkward silences that came with introductions, anyway.
He locked eyes with Wyatt just as he was finishing putting on his pads, and Wyatt came over immediately. “Hey, Roz. Good to be back at it, eh?”
“Yes,” Ilya said, hoping his voice wouldn’t carry too much. “Listen. I need you to look out for Hollander. You and Luca.”
“Yeah, no, for sure. Wouldn’t want him to feel left out. Luca will be pleased that our beta duo is now a trio,” Wyatt said with a laugh.
Ilya stared at Wyatt. “Is that yes or no? I am confused.”
Wyatt snorted. “Keep forgetting you’re not Canadian. You think the accent would give it away. Yes, we’ll take care of him.”
“Good. I want him to feel welcome, but I don’t want him to feel like … less,” Ilya said, stumbling over his words as he tried to find the right one. “I am not beta, so I can’t understand.”
Wyatt’s easygoing expression turned serious. “Don’t worry, Roz. We’ve got him.”
“Thank you.”
Wyatt turned and headed for Shane, clapping him on the shoulder and pulling a smile out of him. Ilya’s heart did a weird little flutter at seeing Shane happy.
As he pulled on his socks, he heard Shane start talking to Wyatt.
“How is it having Ilya as a captain?” Shane asked, angled away from Ilya as if trying not to be obvious. He’d picked the wrong person to attempt to be coy with, however.
“Ilya? No, no, we don’t call him that around here. He’s either Roz or Yaya.” Wyatt caught Ilya’s eye and Ilya huffed at being caught. Wyatt just smirked. “Make sure you call him Yaya at every possible opportunity, actually. He hates it.”
Shane glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why Yaya?”
“Oh, that’s a story only he can tell,” Wyatt said, winking at Ilya. Ilya would have to strangle Wyatt later. “As for him as captain, I wouldn’t know. Today’s his first go at it,” Wyatt added, shoving his foot into his skate. “Though if he was good enough for Robbie to hand select him after only six months of playing with him, I suppose he can’t be all that bad.”
“Robbie was the captain before, right? Broke his leg right before the All Star Game?”
Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, it was a fucking nightmare. But he seems happy being retired. Sent us all an email, because he’s ancient, with pictures of himself and the wife and his kids on a beach somewhere. Lucky bastard.”
Ilya tuned himself out of the conversation and gave the locker room a quick scan. Everyone was here in various states of dress, but it was as good a time as any.
He took a deep breath, trying to focus. This was his first speech to what was now his team. He had to get it right. Robbie always managed to channel the enthusiasm that had them ready to dominate, even if they rarely won a game. He climbed onto a bench and cleared his throat.
“Everyone,” he called, his voice booming over the commotion of the room, and the murmurs of conversation died as the team – his team – turned to him. “It is good to be back, yes?”
There were a few whoops and cheers, but everyone stayed mostly silent. Ilya refused to let it get to him.
“It is the start of new season. And with new season comes new team members.” Ilya nodded to Shane, whose cheeks flushed as several sets of eyes turned to fix on him. “Shane Hollander has joined us in Ottawa from the AHL. He is strong. He is fast. He is one of us now. You will make him feel like part of team, yes?”
This time, there were more noises of ascent and more smiles, even from some of the older alpha players who Ilya knew still leaned towards looking down at beta and omega players. It bolstered him, and he couldn’t help but smile a little as he looked down at his team.
“I know it is strange, having me as captain. Robbie gave me … what is the phrase … big shoes to wear?”
“Close enough, Yaya,” Bood said from the back corner, and the snickers that followed were good natured.
Ilya kept going. “I promise I will work hard. I promise to earn this,” he pointed to the C stitched onto his jersey. “I’m ready. I want to lead us to Stanley Cup. I know we can do it. So let’s fucking do it.”
Now the locker room rang with noise, and as Ilya stepped off the bench to get into his skates, he saw Luca and Wyatt throw their arms around Shane, and he felt a little lighter. Wyatt and Luca were good hockey players and good people. They would help Shane where Ilya couldn’t.
“Oh, and Hollander?” Ilya called, and Shane turned to look at him, his jaw set as though expecting a reprimand. “You take my place as center today.”
Shane blinked at him in surprise and then nodded once to show he understood. As Wyatt and Luca led him away, Ilya thought he saw a triumphant smile flicker across his face. That feeling of finally getting past Shane’s seemingly impenetrable wall of professionalism settled in his chest next to his burning desire to get out on the ice, to hear the swishing of his blades, and to slam a few of his teammates into the boards.
God, he loved hockey.
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Ilya showered off fully in the communal shower for the first time.
Normally, it was a rinse and go situation for him. He preferred to shower at home where he had perfect temperature control and all the products he liked. He also hated how sticky his scent patch got when he showered with it on, so he usually waited until he was in his own space.
But tonight, Shane was coming home with him. He hadn’t had time to clean or to remove his scent, which was surely saturating every inch of his house, but the least he could do was not overwhelm Shane in his car when he took his scent patch off. A sweaty alpha had a much stronger scent than a clean one, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure Shane didn’t feel threatened by him.
As Ilya scrubbed his body down with soap he’d borrowed from Evan Dykstra, he thought back over their first practice of the season. It had been a pretty damn good one, if he said so himself. Everyone was skating as if they hadn’t taken any time off at all, and Shane … well, he was dominating. There was no other way to describe it.
Shane skated like he’d been born to do it. Every movement he made was effortless and perfectly executed. Ilya had made him take his spot at center on the top line with his linemates – Troy Barrett and Zane Boodram – just to see how Shane read the ice and how his own fellow teammates worked with someone else on their line. He’d come away with a vague worry in the back of his mind that Shane might just be better at his own position than Ilya was.
It hadn’t, of course, been perfect. After warm ups, Ilya had split them into two teams to play a little against each other, following the tactics Robbie had used when he was captain. Troy had gotten a little attack heavy at one point, slamming Luca so hard that he’d needed to sit out for a few minutes, but Troy was immediately apologetic. He confided lowly to Ilya that his rut was days away and he hadn’t wanted to call out of the first practice, and Ilya understood. Troy was a loyal player. Ilya probably would have done the exact same if he were in Troy’s position.
And then, of course, Shane had spent a little too much time trying to crush Bood into the boards. Ilya knew what he was doing – Bood was the biggest alpha on the ice, and Shane wanted to prove himself. If he could get a hit in on Bood, then maybe he’d feel worthy. Ilya couldn’t pretend to understand that need, not exactly, but he didn’t need anyone getting hurt before the season had even begun. He’d swapped out with him after that, and Shane had watched from the bench, his eyes darting around and taking in everything he saw.
Ilya knew Shane would say something about it whenever he got the chance, and he tried to figure out what his response would be. He didn’t want to infantilize Shane in any way. Shane deserved better than some canned response that had slightly racist undertones, especially from his captain. Hence the forethought.
Ilya dried himself off quickly, realizing he was one of the last people still showering, and wrapped the towel around his waist as he made his way back to the locker room. Dykstra was tying his shoes and mouthing off to Nick Chouinard, who was letting him with barely disguised mirth on his face. Bood was headed out the door, and he nodded to Ilya as he left. Everyone else was gone except Shane, who had his shoes sitting in front of him, waiting for something.
When he caught sight of Ilya, he looked away as he started pulling on one shoe, then the other. As Ilya tugged on boxers, track pants, and a large t-shirt that had long since grown soft and stretched, the locker room emptied around them until it was only them who remained. The air felt suddenly thick as Ilya waited for Shane to speak.
As predicted, the first words out of Shane’s mouth were an apology.
“I’m sorry for taking it too far with … with Boodram. I shouldn’t have gone after him so hard.”
Ilya shrugged. “Is nothing. You were trying to prove yourself. I am not upset.”
Shane looked up at him. “But you took me out.”
“Yes.” Ilya had thought his intentions were obvious, but clearly, Shane had taken this move from Ilya the wrong way. He sighed and sat down on the bench next to Shane. “I did not do it to punish you. I thought you would want to … observe.” The word sounded weird on Ilya’s tongue, but Shane didn’t seem confused, so it must have been the correct word. “We have same position. I watched you, and you watched me. Is important for good team dynamics.”
Shane studied his face. Ilya wondered if he was looking for some kind of indication that Ilya was lying, but he clearly found none, and finally stared down at his shoes. “So. Is living with the captain a requirement? You trying to keep an eye on me or intimidate me or something?”
Ilya was confused. Where was Shane getting that idea? Had Ilya given him that impression? He didn’t think so, but he was still learning how Canadians acted with each other. His fellow teammates had, on occasion, called him out for being too serious, too blunt, but he’d been sure he hadn’t done any of that today.
But maybe Shane was just trying to show Ilya that he wasn’t going to be fucked with. If Ilya were in his shoes, a beta surrounded by alphas and living with his captain, he might have acted similarly. That alpha pride clawed at his chest every single day, no matter how unnecessary it was. For a beta to be faced with entering an alpha’s space, it must feel ten times more powerful.
“No, is not required. It is more … to ease you in.” Ilya shook his head. “No, that isn’t right. I mean …” Ilya thought hard about how to go about this. “I lived with my captain when I first came to Ottawa. I was new to this country, new to Centaurs, and did not have money for a house. My captain wanted me to feel safe. Is what I’m doing for you now.”
“Yeah, but wasn’t your captain also an alpha?” Shane spoke that last word quietly, as though he didn’t want other people to know he was thinking like that. But it was a natural thing to be worried about. The world had changed, but not that much. There were many alphas who had learned to respect betas and omegas and considered them equals. And then there were alphas like Ilya’s father and brother.
“He was.” Ilya stood and reached for his hoodie. “Is not permanent, you staying with me. If you are uncomfortable, I will not be offended. Coach says we will do trial run. If it does not work for you, we will help you find something. Okay?”
Shane’s shoulders slumped. He seemed relieved. “Okay. I’m sorry, I’m just …” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m sure your home is lovely.”
“It is,” Ilya said, pride leaking into his voice. He’d been very selective when choosing a home. He made sure it was close enough to the rink that he’d never be late to practice, even if he had to walk or take the train, but far enough away that it wouldn’t be overrun by overzealous fans before and after games. Ilya loved what he did and he loved Ottawa’s fans, but he also loved his privacy.
Shane didn’t have a response to that, but instead stood and tugged his bag over his shoulder, waiting and watching as Ilya got his things together. Ilya couldn’t wait to get home. He had leftover pasta and a new episode of his latest TV show to watch.
“You ready, Hollander?” Ilya asked, and didn’t wait for him as he headed out of the locker room.
“You can just call me Shane,” Shane said, almost like he was admitting defeat.
“Shane,” Ilya said, just to test it out. It came out a little softer than he’d intended, and he was sure if he looked over at him, Shane would be blushing beneath those freckles. He wasn’t sure why that filled him with satisfaction.
The ride home was relatively quiet. Ilya usually had his music on pretty loud, but he cranked it down so it was barely a murmur. He didn’t know what Shane liked, and he wasn’t the type of person or alpha to just insert his will over his own spaces like that. If he was sharing a space, he actually wanted to make room for the other person.
When they pulled up to Ilya’s house and he entered the key code for the gate, Shane whistled lowly. “Wow. This place is … big.”
Ilya couldn’t help himself … he laughed. He looked over at Shane to see him smiling and chuckling under his breath, and his heart did that little flutter thing again.
“Yes, it is big. Big enough for me, I think.”
Shane didn’t say anything more, instead staring out the window as the house came into view. Ilya knew it was probably a gross display of his sudden wealth upon getting signed to the Centaurs, but he’d always wanted to provide for himself and his future mate, and a nice house was a good first step.
It was then that Ilya realized, probably far too late, that he still had his scent patch on and Shane was about to be assaulted by his scent the moment they walked through the door. He knew he had a strong scent, and oftentimes he was embarrassed by the notes in it – chocolate, orange, and a spiciness he didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t really the kind of scent an alpha had, according to his father and brother, but it was still pretty strong. He parked the car but didn’t turn it off, and Shane looked over at him curiously. “I, uh …” He pressed his lips together. “I think maybe I should take off scent patch here. So you can … be accustomed to it. It is strong, my scent. Even betas can smell.”
Shane’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “I’m in your car … caught a decent whiff of it already.”
Ilya felt his face flush. Of course … he hadn’t even thought about how his scent would be all over the car. He felt a strange wave of guilt overcome him. “I … I am sorry. I should have thought about this.”
Shane shrugged. “It’s okay. You smell nice. It’s not overpowering at all.”
Ilya’s blush deepened. No one had ever told him something like that before. There was a warmth spreading through him as Shane’s words replayed in his mind. It felt … good. Good wasn’t something Ilya was used to experiencing when it came to his alpha qualities.
“But you can, if you want to. If it would make you feel better,” Shane continued quickly. “It’s your car. Your house. I don’t want to get in the way of your routine.”
Ilya merely nodded, still stuck on the ease at which Shane had complimented his scent. He reached up to his neck and peeled the now extra sticky scent patch off, rubbing at the spot to get the extra bits. He stretched his neck, baring it a little more than he probably should have, and Shane’s nostrils flared. Ilya tried not to find that hot.
They didn’t speak again until they were standing in the foyer. Shane toed off his shoes and then stared, puzzled, at Ilya, who had taken several steps into the house already. Ilya stood there, wondering what was happening, and then he remembered. Canadians were very … adamant about no shoes in their houses. He wasn’t used to that particular habit quite yet. He quickly kicked off his shoes and dumped his bag as Shane stared up at the vaulted ceiling.
“You can pick any room,” Ilya said, waving his hand at the stairs, which curved up to the right. “Mine is at end of hall to the left. If that matters. I will make food.”
Shane nodded slowly, his eyes roaming around the space as he walked towards the stairs. Ilya left him to his own devices and headed for his kitchen, his stomach rumbling. He was definitely hungry enough to eat all the leftover pasta he had, but he split it as evenly as he could into two bowls and put them in the microwave. He leaned against his counter, letting out a long breath.
Shane Hollander was here in Ottawa.
Shane Hollander was playing on his team as his rookie.
Shane Hollander was in his house.
Ilya wondered why it felt so monumental.
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In the end, it was an uneventful evening. Shane came downstairs long enough to eat his pasta and scroll on his phone as Ilya watched TV. They existed in this shared space with the same decent level of awkwardness that Ilya remembered having on his first night with Robbie.
Robbie had been the one to start all their conversations, drawing Ilya out of his shell one anecdote and one stuttered English sentence at a time. He had given Ilya space even when Ilya hadn’t known how to ask for it. Now it was Ilya’s turn to do the same for Shane.
“You do not have to stay here with me,” he said quietly. Shane’s gaze flickered over to him before zoning back in on his phone. “If you want privacy.”
Shane’s fingers paused mid-typing on his phone, and he let out a small sigh. “I wasn’t sure how to do this.”
Ilya cocked his head to the side. “Do what?”
“You know …” Shane waved his hand around. “This. You. I mean … you’re Ilya fucking Rozanov.”
Ilya shrugged. “And you are Shane Hollander.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “It’s not the same. You’re basically a legend. First captain straight out of your rookie contract, first rookie to score more goals than anyone in the league.”
“And yet I have heard your name more often than my own this last year,” Ilya countered. “You are good, Shane. Great. You will be good asset for Ottawa. And good friend off the ice, I am sure.”
Shane took Ilya’s words with more grace than Ilya had with Shane’s compliment earlier. “Thanks,” he muttered. “But I’m still … I’m not nervous, but I’m …”
“I understand,” Ilya said, saving Shane from agonizing over finding the right word.
“I don’t know if you do,” Shane said quietly. His tone pulled at Ilya’s heart.
“Maybe not. But I will try.”
It was a phrase Ilya had been repeating to himself every single day since he was drafted. He didn’t understand the language, but he would try. He didn’t understand what it was like to constantly live in fear, but he would try. He didn’t understand how to interact with betas and omegas without offending them, but he would try. He’d done a lot of work to leave the aggressive alpha act that his father and brother thrived in behind, and he thought he’d done a decently good job. But there was still much for him to learn.
Shane looked back up at him, his eyes glimmering in the dim light of the TV. Ilya’s stomach flipped pleasantly. Shane was quite beautiful. He hadn’t truly noticed before. Or maybe he hadn’t let himself notice.
“We should—” Ilya began, but Shane’s phone interrupted them, buzzing in a way Ilya could tell wasn’t from a text. Shane tore his gaze from Ilya’s and stood up abruptly.
“I, uh, I have to take this.”
Ilya nodded. “Yes. Go. See you in morning. Breakfast?”
“I eat anything,” Shane answered as he left the room, already bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, Hayden. Yeah, it was fine.”
He was getting further away; Ilya could hear his feet on the steps. But he caught the very end of his next sentence.
“... staying with him. His house is fucking huge.”
Ilya leaned back into his couch, not even paying attention to the TV anymore. It had been a very long time since Ilya had felt genuine attraction to someone. Sure, he’d spent a lot of his free time at Ottawa’s bars, picking up men and women, alphas and betas alike, but it had all been as a means to an end. A way to take the edge off if he was getting close to his rut or just fancied a good fuck.
But the way Shane had looked at him just now, the way Ilya’s gaze had lingered on his freckles, it felt different.
And Ilya couldn’t allow that. He was Shane’s captain, for fuck’s sake. He was supposed to be a safe space for Shane, not the idiot alpha who thought every alpha, beta, or omega should just automatically want him. No, he had to shut this down right now.
So he would get up and do the dishes, and he would go upstairs and go to sleep, and he would wake up the next morning and greet his teammate for breakfast and not think about this again.
Everything would work itself out. Ilya would make sure of it.
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Despite his determination, Ilya found himself thinking about Shane more and more as each day passed.
He tried to convince himself that it was purely for professional reasons. Shane was new to Ottawa and didn’t know how they usually ran practices. He didn’t know his way around the rink and the facility yet. Ilya wanted to make him feel comfortable and welcome so that it wouldn’t feel so new and awkward. Shane was part of his team and Ilya was determined to make sure that any unease with the new dynamic was ironed out before the season truly began.
But he couldn’t really write off the amount of time he spent daydreaming about Shane’s freckles, or the way his gaze lingered on Shane’s body when he was facing away from him. He couldn’t pass off the way his whole being reacted when Shane accidentally brushed against him in the mornings, bringing with him the sweet scent of roasted coffee, vanilla, and lavender, as professional. Ilya had never smelled such an enticing combination, which confused and excited him at the same time. Most betas had no scent, so they were able to curate their own scent with cologne and lotions in a way that omegas and alphas couldn’t really manage. Shane clearly had his scent palette perfected, just like everything else in his life.
Ilya, even with all his usual discipline, found him very difficult to ignore.
As they approached a full week of practices and team gym sessions and filming for promotional videos, though, Ilya was unsure if he’d truly helped Shane adjust at all. Shane still kept mostly to himself during everything (though Ilya had seen him laughing at something Luca had shown him on his phone two days ago. That was something.). When they were on the ice, Shane had a one track mind. He never wavered from his objectives – scoring goals and proving that he was just as strong and willing to throw himself into the fray as any alpha on the team, or indeed in the whole league. And when they were at Ilya’s house, Shane spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom. When Ilya passed the door, he often heard Shane talking to the same Hayden he’d gotten a call from that first night.
Well, if Shane didn’t want to open up to him or other members of the team, he at least had this Hayden that he could talk to.
“Ilya, do you have a minute?”
Ilya turned, his head already half out of his hoodie, to see Harris standing there with his phone and his usual grin.
“Hello, Harris,” he greeted, letting his teammates pass him on their way into the locker room for afternoon practice. “Having good day?”
Harris nodded. “The best, actually. Troy should be back tomorrow, by the way.”
Ilya hummed. Troy had been out for his rut the last few days, which had been a good opportunity to have Shane try right wing, but he’d missed his friend. “Good to know. He is missed.”
“I’m sure.” Harris fiddled with his phone. “It’s just … I’ve been trying to get Shane Hollander to do a sit down interview about being brought up to Ottawa and he doesn’t seem interested.”
“Was he rude to you?”
Ilya didn’t think Shane was the type, but he had to ask. It wasn’t only alphas that were dismissive of omegas sometimes.
Harris shook his head. “No, not at all. He just seems a bit wary of the whole thing. I don’t know if he’s just not comfortable around us yet, but the season is only a few weeks out. I want to get this out there, and I really don’t want to be a bother.”
“I can talk to him,” Ilya offered.
“I don’t want to make him talk about anything he doesn’t want to discuss, but I thought maybe a few little questions so the fans could get to know him?”
“Yes. Sounds good. I will see.”
Harris grinned. “You’re the best. Have a good practice!”
Ilya turned and headed back into the locker room, pulling his hoodie off all the way and propping his foot up on the bench to untie his shoe. Shane sat there, already dressed and ready to go, and Ilya couldn’t help but smile to himself. Always prepared … that was the Shane he remembered. The Shane he had always found himself fascinated by.
“Did you hear about the omega they brought up to Montreal?” Dykstra said as he fastened his pads.
Ilya hadn’t, but he’d been rather busy trying not to think about Shane to check hockey news. “No. But good for him, I think.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Dykstra said. “I just worry about them, you know?”
“Me too,” Nick said, tugging on his jersey. “Clearly he’s good enough to be drafted, but I’ve seen too many serious injuries end omega careers before they even begin.”
Ilya wrinkled his nose at that. It was true – omegas did have a higher injury rate, though Ilya suspected it had less to do with the fact that omegas weren’t capable of keeping up and more to do with alphas fucking around because they didn’t want them there – but that shouldn’t stop them from doing what they loved. And it certainly shouldn’t incite pity from alphas, especially since betas and omegas excelled at other parts of hockey that alphas didn’t.
“Sometimes I think it would be safer for them if they had their own league, you know?” Dykstra said reasonably. “They’d be safer, probably more comfortable, and we wouldn’t have to worry about hurting them with a regular check against the—”
“You want to alienate omega hockey players so you don’t have to worry about injuring them?”
Shane’s voice seemed to echo around the locker room, and all side conversations ground to a halt. Ilya looked up from his intense concentration on his shoes, shocked. Shane hadn’t raised his voice in all the time Ilya had known him, or known of him.
Dykstra gaped at him, color appearing high on his cheeks. “I … I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”
“You meant exactly what you said. You think omegas aren’t strong enough or good enough to play with alphas.” Wyatt chimed in, looking annoyed. Ilya glanced at Shane, whose usually impassive face was angry, his brow furrowed and his mouth tight at the corners.
“Well, they are biologically smaller and less able to withstand hard hits, that’s just a fact,” Nick added, and Shane rose to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides.
“So? Omegas work twice as hard as any of the alphas in the league to build up that strength you say they’re lacking. Not to mention the courage it takes to do something that everyone assumes omegas will be bad at based on their gender alone. And then to have guys like you pretending like you care about hurting them when you just want to kick them out entirely?”
Ilya knew he should step in. He knew it was his job as captain to mediate these kinds of conversations, but he was too wrapped up in Shane’s words, too stunned by his sudden expression of any emotion other than extreme focus.
“Soon enough, you’ll be saying the same about betas. Might as well just admit you want an alpha league, Chouinard,” Wyatt grumbled.
“Fuck you, neither of us said anything about that,” Nick challenged, taking a step towards Shane and Wyatt. Shane didn’t even flinch, despite Nick towering over him.
“And fuck you for depicting all omegas and betas as delicate dolls who don’t have what it takes,” Luca snapped back, appearing next to Wyatt and Shane with nothing but his shorts on. “We’re far more agile on our skates than alphas. You might have size on your side, but we have speed. I fucking dare you to beat one of us in a speed skate.”
“Guys,” Ilya said warningly, seeing that spark of alpha aggression ignite in Nick’s eyes. Dykstra had him by the arm, but he looked just as furious. Nick turned his angry gaze to Shane.
“What would you know about it anyway, Hollander? Oh, that’s right, you spent every moment of the last year skating with them because you betas need just as much extra help. And now we’re stuck dragging you along behind us.”
Shane launched himself at Nick, but hands reached out and grabbed him – Wyatt and Luca – holding him back before he could land a punch. The locker room filled with noise as people began shouting, taking sides and throwing slurs around like it was normal.
“Enough.”
Ilya’s alpha voice seemed to shoot through every player in that room, and the fighting stopped immediately as all eyes turned to him. He didn’t like using it, but this had been one of those rare moments where it needed to be done.
“I will not have this kind of talk in my locker room,” Ilya said tightly, putting a firm hand on Nick’s chest. “We do not talk about beta and omega players like they are less. They are not. They work hard, just like us. They play hard, just like us. They deserve to have chance to win Stanley Cup, just like us. We are not superior because of gender.”
Nick opened his mouth to say something, but Ilya silenced him with a glare. “You will apologize. And mean it. Or you will be off ice for rest of week.”
Nick’s face turned red with embarrassment and rage, and he huffed, shaking both Dykstra and Ilya off of him and turning to face Shane. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was … wrong. You guys are great players.”
Ilya nodded. It was a pretty pathetic excuse for an apology, but they had practice to get to. He would speak with them both later when there was more time. He turned to Shane, who immediately ducked his head and shrank back against Wyatt and Luca. He refused to look up at Ilya.
“And you, Hollander. I agree with what you said. But we need to save fighting for on ice against other teams, yes?
“Yes, Cap.” Shane’s voice shook just barely, and Ilya had the strange urge to pull Shane to his chest and hug him. He didn’t, instead opting for a solid clap on the shoulder.
“Everyone on ice, now. Laps and practice shots until I am ready.”
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It was one of those evenings where Ilya wanted nothing more than to punch the shit out of his fellow alphas.
He didn’t understand it, the idea of one’s biology making you inherently better or worse. In his experience, it was often the opposite of what was expected in society. The omegas and betas he’d been around as a child, though admittedly few, had been his favorite people. They had always treated him with care and respect and listened to him when he had things to say. They were the ones that took him to hockey practice and taught him how to properly care for his gear and how to nurse his injuries. They were the ones who actually showed up for him, especially after the loss of his mother.
The alphas in his life – mostly his father and his brother – were some of the most abhorrent humans he’d ever had to exist around. It was the way they spoke with such disdain about anyone who wasn’t a rich white alpha like them, like it pained them to even acknowledge that they existed in the same spaces. It was the way they talked to Ilya, like his kindness and emotions were his biggest weakness, like he couldn’t be a proper alpha unless he talked shit about everyone else.
The world was built to favor alphas, and so long as no one took a stand, it would remain that way. It was one of the reasons he’d been so relieved to find his way out of Russia. Canada wasn’t perfect, but it was better. They allowed betas and omegas onto their professional teams. They let different people coexist. Being surrounded by people of all ages and sizes and genders was, to Ilya, its own kind of freedom. But he knew he was in the minority in that respect.
It was a lie. He did understand it, it just made him furious.
He’d pulled Nick Chouinard and Evan Dykstra aside after practice and told them, in no uncertain terms, that the way they’d behaved today was unacceptable, and they should probably consider another team or another career in general if they wanted to continue to act like pretentious alpha assholes. They had been sincerely apologetic, especially Dykstra, and had promised to do better, and Ilya believed them. They were good players. They had treated him kindly during his first year and he didn’t want any bad blood between any members of his team. But the conversation had drained him. He felt like a fraud. He was three years younger than Dykstra and five years younger than Chouinard, and yet here he was reprimanding them for things he’d allowed his father and brother to say in front of him for years. It left his mouth dry and his stomach unsettled as he and Shane drove home that night.
Shane was quiet as usual, but he kept looking over at Ilya like he was going to say something. Ilya figured it was best to wait until Shane came to him, lest he add himself to the list of alphas that had pissed Shane off today.
The sky had long turned to inky black and Ilya was halfway through doing the dishes before Shane ambled into the kitchen and finally spoke.
“Do you really agree with me?”
Ilya looked up from the soapy water, his eyes having glazed over with the repetitiveness of the work. “What?”
Shane’s throat bobbed. “In the locker room, you said you agreed with what I said. I just … I don’t think any alpha has ever said that to me.”
“I am not like other alphas,” Ilya said quietly. “At least, I try not to be.”
“I know that,” Shane said, like it was a given. Ilya felt color rushing to his cheeks. “Are they always like that?”
“No. They have not been like this with Wyatt or Luca, at least not in front of me. Then again, I do not think I have ever seen either of them stand up to alphas on the team like that before. I think …” Ilya didn’t want to give his teammates too much grace, but something about Shane’s eyes made him want to be honest. “It is hard to unlearn things when you have been surrounded by people that allow them your whole life. Sometimes, you fall into old habits. But someone has to teach them. Today, that someone was you.”
Shane was quiet for a moment, playing with the handle to the silverware drawer. “It just felt nice. To have someone like you sticking up for me.”
Ilya shook his head. “I do agree with what you said in locker room. But I do not agree with how you talk about you and me. Like I am god or something, and you are beneath.” He took a deep breath, focusing his gaze on Shane and waiting until Shane’s eyes met his. “By that, you … you … der’mo (shit),” Ilya cursed his tenuous grip on the English language.
“Reinforce?” Shane suggested carefully, and Ilya nodded.
“Da, yes, reinforce. You reinforce idea that you are separate because of beta status. You and I are same. We are great hockey players. We hold almost every record between two of us. You may be beta, and I may be alpha, but those are just words to me when we are on the ice, and it should be same for you.”
Shane flushed, but for once, he didn’t look away. He took a step closer. “You actually believe that, don’t you?”
“Why would I say so if I did not believe?” Ilya placed a dish in the drying rack, the hum of the dishwasher filling the otherwise silence of his kitchen. “Listen. Being beta is your superpower. Being omega is an omega’s superpower. You dare to continue to exist and thrive in world that is cruel. I could not do what you do.”
“Oh,” Shane whispered. “I … never thought about it that way.”
Ilya merely hummed and threw the drying towel over his shoulder. He stepped towards Shane, and Shane stayed where he was, their eyes locked onto each other. “Think it. Believe it. Show it on the ice. You are amazing player and good person, Shane. Make them want to be better just by watching you.”
Shane nodded once, his expression one that Ilya was having trouble placing. A waft of lavender and vanilla and coffee hit him then, sweet and enticing. He almost wanted to ask Shane what products he used, if they were this strong.
“I, uh, think I should go to bed,” Shane said then, his voice deeper than it had been before. Ilya hadn’t realized how he’d drifted closer at the detection of Shane’s curated scent. They were almost chest to chest, and if Ilya had less control, he might have buried his face in Shane’s neck.
Ilya cleared his throat and took a deliberate step back. “Yes. Of course.”
“I’ll … tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” Shane hesitated a moment. “And thanks. For what you said. I needed to hear it.”
“Is no problem,” Ilya said, keeping his words as nonchalant as possible. Still, he felt like a certain level of gentleness still tinged those very same words. Shane’s familiar stoic expression relaxed into a smile.
“Goodnight, Ilya.”
Then Ilya was alone in his kitchen with the lingering scent of Shane. He leaned against the counter, horrified to find himself half hard. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen.
He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but when they were in Juniors together, Ilya definitely had a crush on Shane. He wasn’t even sure he recognized it for what it was in full at the time, but he knew that, in addition to liking to beat Shane at every opportunity, he also liked watching Shane. He liked being around Shane. He liked hearing Shane’s laugh. When Shane had been sent down to the AHL, Ilya had thought in the back of his mind that he could finally move on from that crush. It was a silly childhood fantasy that would never really have any possibility of becoming anything.
But time had done nothing to ease those feelings. Here they were again, and it was too late. It was already happening.
Ilya was falling for Shane Hollander.
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When Ilya awoke the next morning, he wasn’t exactly sure what had woken him at first. Normally, his body was primed to wake with his alarm, but something else had pulled him from his dreams.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and then it became apparent. He could smell breakfast.
Ilya looked down at himself, then at his closed bedroom door. He pinched himself on the arm and swore under his breath. Okay, he definitely wasn’t asleep, then.
Crawling out of bed and tugging on a pair of worn sweatpants, he headed into the hallway and towards the stairs. He detected peppers and onions and spices he hadn’t even remembered he had. He also caught a whiff of oranges and the now ever present mixture of coffee, lavender, and vanilla that seemed to linger on Shane’s skin.
He padded down the stairs and into the kitchen to find Shane at his oven, three skillets going at once with a blender full of an already blended smoothie behind him on the island.
“What is this?”
Shane jumped and a few onions flew across the kitchen from the spatula he’d been holding. Ilya snorted.
“Fuck, I didn’t even hear you come in,” Shane said, his eyes lingering on Ilya. Ilya then realized that he’d forgotten a shirt. He was so used to living alone and not having to be presentable to people before a certain time of the day. He pretended, only to himself, that he wasn’t feeling a streak of pride at the way Shane’s eyes roamed over his chest.
Not that Ilya was any better. Shane was wearing a ratty tank top that still seemed to cling to every muscle in his upper body. His joggers did nothing to hide his ass or … other parts of him, which Ilya quickly tore his eyes away from. His arms bulged subtly as he flipped what looked like omelets, and it made Ilya’s skin prickle.
“Sorry. I did not think you would be awake,” Ilya said honestly. “You cooking breakfast for me now?”
Shane nodded. “This isn’t a hotel, Ilya. You’re not supposed to be waiting on me. I figured it was high time I step up. And …” Shane flipped all the burners off and started plating. “I wanted to do something to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Ilya said, accepting the plate Shane shoved at him. He hadn’t smelled something this good in ages, and he considered himself to be a very good cook. He took a seat at the island and Shane slid him a glass filled to the brim with what looked and smelled like his favorite morning smoothie.
It was only after Shane sat down that he seemed ready to talk. Ilya was noticing that about him, how he needed to prepare before he said things. How he tended to go silent while he thought, and once he’d completed his thought process he would say something. The single exception to this had been yesterday in the locker room, but he doubted Shane wanted to talk about that.
So Ilya sipped his smoothie – which was perfect – and waited patiently.
“What you said last night … you were right.” Shane spoke each word deliberately and slowly. “I have been putting you on a pedestal. And it’s not that you don’t deserve to be, but it’s just this automatic response that I’m sure other … non-alphas can relate to.” He took a breath. “When you’re not an alpha, you grow up knowing that alphas will see you as less. That there might be the odd one or two that won’t care, but otherwise, you’re one of two things: a nuisance or an incubator for pups. And I know it’s not as bad now as it was before, and I’m sure it’s different here than in Russia, but … after a while you just start to believe it. You expect to be treated a certain way and it gets in your head until you’re feeding into it without realizing it. And that’s all outside of being a hockey player.”
“I see,” Ilya said. He picked up a little bit of everything on his fork and took a bite of his omelet and veggies. His eyes closed as flavor exploded on his tongue, and it took everything in him not to moan in delight. He’d save the praise for after Shane said what he needed to say.
“From the beginning, my parents knew that no matter how good I was, no matter how hard I worked, I’d be put in the AHL. And they tried to talk me out of it for a while. They wanted me to find a career I could thrive in without having to work so hard just to be seen. They wanted me to be happy and far away from that scrutiny, but … well, clearly you see how well that worked.
“But there was always something about hockey that came naturally to me. Yeah, I’ve worked really hard, but I always looked forward to the work. And I’ve always been … better than the other betas and omegas I trained with. And then I go to juniors and I meet you and it’s like finally, someone who challenges me, someone I can actually compete with, and for a second I forgot. I forgot that you were an alpha and I wasn’t, and that our paths would always be different. And we got drafted to the same team, and then … you went up and I went down, and it was the biggest wake up call. It was a reminder that no matter how the world had changed, this hadn’t.”
Shane’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes, when he finally looked up at Ilya, were bright with unshed tears.
“I don’t want you to think I’m just some bitter kid, because I’m not. Or I try not to be. But I was so sure I’d get here and you would have transformed into the same alphas I had to share a training space with when I was a teenager. I prepared myself for it. I expected it. And you just … aren’t like them.”
Ilya wasn’t sure what to say to that. He studiously ignored the voice in his head, which sounded a lot like his brother’s constant mocking tone, telling him that he wasn’t good enough, that he needed to step up and stop being an emotional little shit, because he knew Shane didn’t mean it like that.
“You lead with kindness, not with dominance. You respect every single one of us and treat us as equals. You see what the world considers a weakness and say no, that’s strength. It’s … admirable, and it’s what everyone should be doing. So … I wanted to thank you for that. And for letting me stay here. And for letting me prove myself.”
Shane finally stopped, seemingly out of breath, and blinked rapidly. Ilya felt like melted butter. He was not used to compliments like this. The whole room seemed suddenly warmer.
“I … I am glad I could help,” Ilya said, poking around at the last of his eggs. “I think this world … world of hockey, I mean, can be so alienating. I do not want that for you, or for rest of team. I want us to be a unit. No, no, a … blueprint? Like for other teams to do the same.”
Shane nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“But you really do not need to thank me. I am merely doing what others should be doing. If anything, I should thank you for delicious breakfast.”
Shane’s lips turned up in a small, surprised smile. “You liked it?”
“God, Hollander, you make fucking good eggs.”
Shane’s grin was blinding.
“And …” Ilya started, not really sure how to say this without it coming off as him hitting on Shane, but he needed him to know. “You are not a guest here. This is home for you too, for now. Please feel free to be in same space as me if is what you want, yes? Here, we are friends.”
“Friends. I’d like that,” Shane said quietly.
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Ilya was not an eavesdropper. He tended to mind his business, because when he didn’t, he felt the consequences from his father, and later his own brother. After one too many black eyes that weren’t a result of hockey, Ilya figured it was better to keep to himself.
But the door to Harris’s office was ajar as he passed it on the way back from the gym, the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon that lingered on Harris’s bag and jacket reaching his nose. And he heard the all too rare sound of Shane’s laugh drifting out through that crack. And even though, due to their conversation a few nights ago, he might consider Shane to be a friend now, there was still this wall that Shane was keeping between them that Ilya didn’t know how to crack without being an overbearing alpha.
Clearly, Harris had cracked the code, and Ilya needed to know how.
That’s how he ended up hovering outside the door a good two feet away, closing his eyes so as to focus his hearing on what was going on inside. He’d mentioned to Shane on one of their many car rides together that Harris wanted to do an interview, and though it had taken Shane a few days to warm up to the idea, he’d eventually gone and scheduled something with Harris. He hadn’t known it was happening today, though.
Harris was mid-sentence. “ … you ever do anything for fun in Ottawa as a kid? You grew up around here, right?”
Ilya could almost imagine in perfect accuracy Shane’s little nod. “Yeah, I did. Just outside of Ottawa actually. My parents would bring me here for free skates.”
“So you’ve always been a skater?”
“Always. The ice is the only place I’ve ever felt I truly belonged. Naive of me, I know, but it’s still mostly true.”
“And what do your parents think about you being drafted here?”
Shane cleared his throat. “They’re thrilled, of course. I think me choosing hockey instead of figure skating scared them a lot, but they want whatever makes me happy. They’ll be at every home game, they promised me.”
Harris gave a small little awww, and Ilya couldn’t help the stab of jealousy that ripped through him. The idea of his father or his brother ever showing up for one of his games was laughable. Shane was lucky that his parents loved him that much.
“Okay, just a few rapid fire ones and then we’re done,” Harris said, and Ilya heard the rustle of paper. “Regular bacon or maple bacon?”
“Maple, obviously.”
Ilya cringed … he’d been serving Shane regular bacon for the first week he’d been here. He resolved to go shopping as soon as possible, or at least tell Shane that he could buy whatever he wanted.
“Obviously. Warm or cold?”
“I run cold, so I prefer heat. The higher the temperature, the better, if you ask me.”
Ilya felt even worse now. He kept the temperature of his house lower than most because he ran super hot. No wonder his blankets had all gone mysteriously missing in the last few days. He was the worst host ever.
“Couldn’t agree more,” Harris said with a chuckle, and Shane’s laugh rang out again. Ilya’s heart stuttered in his chest. To his horror, he felt a low growl of pleasure building in his chest at the idea of holding Shane to keep him warm. He shut that down immediately by digging his nails into his bare arm. “And finally, what brings you joy?”
“Oh, wow. That’s a loaded question,” Shane said. He was quiet for a few moments, thinking it over, and it made Ilya think too. What brought him joy? Hockey, obviously. Reality TV, he supposed, though that was more so he could make fun of other people and not feel badly about it. And … and the way Shane looked right after waking up, his hair all over the place and a high flush on his cheeks and bleary, beautiful brown eyes.
Ilya shook himself. No. Bad. He couldn’t keep letting himself think of Shane like that.
“Ah, okay. I mean, hockey is an obvious answer, but I guess … being out in nature, somewhere quiet and secluded where the only sounds are the water and the wind and the loons. My parents have this cottage on the water and it’s my favorite place in the world. Maybe I’ll get my own someday. But yeah. That, and cuddling. I love a good cuddle.”
If Ilya was a stronger man, he would have walked away long before this. Obviously, Harris would edit this and use the parts that he deemed okay for their social media, and obviously Ilya would see that, but he was pretty sure Shane would be embarrassed if he knew Ilya had heard the rest of it. It felt like he was intruding on something, that he was learning about a part of Shane that he shouldn’t be allowed to know unless Shane himself revealed it. But Shane made him weak, and Ilya again felt that overwhelming need to protect him from all the bad things in the world.
But he couldn’t do that. For one, Shane would hate that. He was fiercely independent and absolutely didn’t need someone like Ilya pretending that he needed a protector simply for their own desires to be said protector. For another, they were teammates. Friends. Anything more than that stood to take them both away from the thing they loved. Here, hockey was what mattered, and if Ilya was more concerned with Shane and his needs, he would be a pretty shitty captain.
Ilya pushed himself off the wall and walked quickly past the door, heading for the locker room. This was going to be his last moment of weakness when it came to Shane. If Shane knew him, really knew him, he wouldn’t want him anyway. Of all the things his father and his brother had ever said to him, that was the one he was most sure was the truth. Ilya wasn’t the kind of alpha most people looked for in a partner or a mate, and he certainly wasn’t the kind of alpha Shane deserved if he even wanted that in the first place.
He needed to forget about all of it. He would survive the next few days and then help Shane find a home of his own, and then he would go back to his solitary life with hockey as his one and only focus. He could do that. He was Ilya Rozanov, for fuck’s sake. Ignoring everything in favor of hockey was in his blood.
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“Come on, Ilya, have another!”
“Yeah, Roz, show the rook how it’s done!”
Ilya rolled his eyes but accepted a fourth shot from Bood. He knew this bar only had the best Russian vodka money could buy, which meant he would only grimace a little as he drank it.
Ilya smirked at Shane, who was watching him from between Wyatt and Luca, a challenge bright in his eyes. He’d already had three himself and had capped himself at that, even though he had started off the night determined to beat Ilya after Ilya had shaved three seconds off their end of practice shooting competition.
Ilya lifted the shot glass to Shane in a toast, and Shane merely raised his eyebrows. That was Ilya’s cue. He downed it quickly, trying valiantly not to make a face. His teammates cheered him on, slapping him on the back and sloshing their own drinks around in their excitement. The bartender made eye contact with Ilya, but Ilya shook his head.
“Sorry about them. Club soda, please.”
As the bartender got that ready, the team seemed to disperse into the bar, off to play darts or dance or pick up. Ilya slid into a seat next to Wyatt and ran a hand through his still damp hair. “You want anything else?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Nah, but thanks. I think this was a great idea, coming here with the team.”
“Thought we could all use it after today,” Ilya agreed, taking a sip of the club soda the bartender placed in front of him. Maybe he was crazy, but it already made him feel a little less out of his own body.
He looked around the bar, taking it all in. He loved coming here, but sometimes all the scents could be a little overwhelming. Tonight, there was a heavy alpha presence amongst the patrons. All the heavy, overpowering alpha scents mixed in the air, reminding Ilya of Russia. Nearly all of the bars had been alpha owned, alpha run, and alpha attended. It made him feel slightly ill, but the others didn’t seem to mind so much.
Except for Shane. He looked like he was in pain. Ilya saw his nostrils flare from time to time as a more powerful scent passed them by. It was strange … Ilya hadn’t known many betas who were affected by alpha scents like this. Or maybe he’d just become desensitized to them over the years.
“You going to take someone home tonight, Roz?” Luca asked, sipping on his whisky.
Shane looked at him quickly. “Ah, so that’s what this is for. To get laid.”
“Well, not entirely,” Wyatt explained. “Sometimes it’s just nice to have a night out when we know we can be hungover the next day.”
“But Ilya here, he’s usually on the hunt,” Luca added.
“I don’t think there’s ever been a time we’ve been out together that Roz hasn’t gone home with someone,” Wyatt said. Ilya blushed. He’d been trying to get away from that lifestyle in recent months, and Shane not knowing that side of him had been a perk. Until now, anyway.
“Is not every time,” Ilya said, but Wyatt and Luca both laughed.
“Sure. Okay. Tell that to half the betas and alphas in here.”
Ilya didn’t want to see the look of disappointment – or worse, a look that suggested he’d been expecting to hear exactly that – on Shane’s face. He knew it sounded bad, but he didn’t really regret it. He liked sex, and he was always safe, and he shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to be intimate. And it shouldn’t even matter what Shane thought, anyway. They weren’t together, and they never would be. His opinion on Ilya’s sex life was nothing.
When he finally got up the courage to look at Shane, all he saw was a tiny crease between his eyes, like he was thinking hard. Ilya found that he hated that even more.
Downing the rest of his club soda in three gulps, he wiped his mouth and handed the bartender his card. “I think I should be going.”
“Aww, come on, let Hollander stay out at least a little longer,” Luca begged. “We were just looking around for a nice alpha for him.”
Ilya didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. He instead directed his next words to Shane. “You can stay, if you want. You can share Uber to my house after.”
“Oh, I …” Shane looked awkward. “I’m good, actually. I think I’ve had enough for one night.”
Wyatt and Luca complained some more, but Shane was insistent. Ilya tried very, very hard not to look into the implications of Shane choosing to come home early with him instead of staying out late with his new teammates and possibly getting laid.
It might mean nothing. Shane had been slightly slower than usual at practice today, missing shots he shouldn’t have and getting knocked around more than usual. Maybe he was just tired.
“Tell Bood he is in charge. Be safe, yes?”
“We got you, Roz. Sleep tight!”
Ilya headed for the door, craving the cool night air and the distinct lack of hundreds of scents. He knew he was a little past tipsy, and he wanted nothing more than a greasy burger to bring him back into his body a little.
He could feel Shane behind him, and he slowed his walk so that they ended up next to each other. “Really. You can stay,” Ilya offered, giving him one last chance. “I will not be good company tonight.”
Shane scratched his neck awkwardly. “It’s okay. I think I drank too much. Feeling a little warm. And it’s … the scents are a little overwhelming.”
Ilya nodded. “Yes. That is problem with public spaces. No consideration.”
They reached the Uber Ilya had called just minutes ago and slid inside. Shane seemed to relax a little, sinking into the back seat and letting his eyes slip closed. “Better.”
Ilya didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet as the Uber driver pulled out onto the road and headed in the direction of Ilya’s house.
Now that they were alone and in a confined space, Ilya felt almost overwhelmed by Shane’s scent palette. Had it always been this strong, or was Ilya really that drunk? Or was it just because the car was scent neutralized?
He closed his eyes too. He didn’t want to think very much right now. He wanted his couch and a bottle of water and that burger.
Peeling open his suddenly tired eyes, he tapped away on his phone, ordering food for himself. He nudged Shane, who lifted his head slowly. “Hungry?” he asked, offering Shane his phone. Shane took it, their fingers brushing together. That touch went straight to Ilya’s cock.
Nope. No. Think of anything else. Smelly hockey socks. Bad tuna, Ilya thought furiously. Truly, tonight was the last time he let this happen. Tomorrow was a new day, a clean slate, the day Ilya would wake up and decidedly not have a massive crush on Shane Hollander.
Shane handed him back his phone, his order added to the cart, and Ilya placed the order just as the Uber pulled up to his gate.
“Thank you,” Ilya said to the driver, rating the drive 5 stars and dropping in a generous tip. The car was gone before they’d opened the gate. Shane stood close to him, their arms touching, as Ilya typed in the code and they walked through towards the house.
“Food will be here in a few minutes,” Ilya said quietly as the front door closed behind them.
“I’m gonna change,” Shane said just as quietly, and then he was off, leaving behind the lingering smell of lavender.
Ilya trudged to the kitchen and pulled out two bottles of water and some Advil, placing them on the table in front of the TV just as his phone dinged with a notification.
Ilya jogged out to the gate to meet the delivery person. The smell of grease and fried potatoes and meat made his stomach growl, and he hurried back to the house, locking the door behind him.
Shane was sitting on the couch, halfway through his own water and looking extra cozy in a hoodie that was far too big for him. Ilya would have to ask where he managed to find oversized clothing one day.
“Here you go,” Ilya said, plopping down right next to Shane and handing him his burger.
“You might just be my favorite person right now,” Shane groaned, unwrapping his burger and taking a massive bite out of it. “Fuck, this is so good.”
Ilya chuckled and eagerly unwrapped his own burger, devouring half of it in the next few minutes and savoring the taste of it on his tongue. For the first time since Shane had moved in, the silence between them was almost comfortable. Ilya probably would have thought it meant something if he wasn’t so focused on soaking up those shots with the fries now sitting on his coffee table.
“Did you have good time?” Ilya asked as he swallowed the last bit of his burger.
“Yeah, I did, actually. I know things got a little heated earlier this week, but tonight I really felt like part of the team, you know?”
Ilya nodded. He did know. He remembered the first night out with the Centaurs after he’d been drafted. Coming from Russia, he knew how to hold his liquor, which resulted in him doing exactly what Shane had done tonight – challenging his captain to shots. Robbie had won, but barely, and Ilya had danced the night away and gotten his cock sucked in the bathroom by a beautiful alpha man he barely remembered.
“Are you, uh, disappointed that you did not get to get laid?”
Shane wrinkled his nose. “Not in the slightest. I’m not really a casual sex kind of person.”
Ah, that was new information. Information Ilya was sure Shane wouldn’t have admitted if they didn’t have alcohol in their systems. “I see. Did you have bad experience, or …”
“No, not … exactly. It’s just … I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve always wanted that connection that people talk about. The one where you meet randomly and your stomach flips and you want to be near them all the time. The one where you catch their scent and you know instinctively that you belong together. And it’s hard to search for that when you have to be home by nine so you have time for homework and hockey.”
“I see. I can imagine it must be hard, being a beta and wanting that,” Ilya said. “As alpha, I know my mate is out there, but for betas, is different, yes?”
Shane’s expression faltered slightly, but a resigned smile replaced it so fast, Ilya was sure he’d imagined it. “Yeah, I guess.”
They lapsed into silence for a little while longer, but that silence felt charged. Ilya wasn’t sure what he’d said to incite that change, but he didn’t have to wait long.
“Wyatt said you take home alphas and betas.”
Ilya winced. He should have seen that coming. “Is true, yes. I do not have preference. But Wyatt was … exaggerating, I think is the word. I am not careless with partners.”
“I didn’t think you were,” Shane mumbled, but his tone suggested there was more to it. “But … you don’t date omegas?”
“I …” Ilya swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “No. Not really.”
“Why?”
Ilya chanced a glance at Shane, expecting to see judgement. There was a little bit of a challenge in his eyes, but his expression was more curious than anything. Ilya was glad he was tipsy for this. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to be honest if he were sober.
“It is not for lack of liking them. I have found many omegas attractive. But …” Fuck, Ilya was going to be sick. That last shot was finally catching up with him. “My home life in Russia was … not so good. My father, my brother, they are bad kind of alphas. Aggressive. Unfaithful. Demeaning to anyone who is not like them.”
“And your mother?”
Ilya forced himself to meet Shane’s eyes. “Dead.”
Shane’s face fell. “Ilya … I’m sorry.”
“Is okay,” Ilya shrugged. “It was long time ago. But … being surrounded by alphas like that, I never learned how to be good alpha to omegas. I had to teach myself. I had to learn. I made mistakes. I never want to be the reason an omega feels unsafe. I am scared I will lose myself in instincts and hurt them.”
Shane’s expression looked pained. “I don’t know that side of you at all. You aren’t that kind of alpha.”
“But I could be. Is in me, all the alpha instincts. I work hard to control them. To be more than them. At any moment, it might not be enough.”
“I’ve never met an alpha like you,” Shane said quietly. He tugged at the neck of his hoodie. Now that Ilya really focused on him, he could see that Shane’s forehead glistened with sweat.
“Are you okay?” Ilya asked, leaning forward as if to touch Shane. He stopped himself at the last minute.
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m just … I’m really warm. Must be the alcohol,” Shane said, and though his tone was even, his eyes were saying something else.
“You were off at practice today,” Ilya pushed. “Missing passes. You don’t miss.”
“Everyone misses sometimes, Rozanov. It was just a headache. I’m fine, really. I’ll sleep it off.”
Ilya knew it would be wrong of him to keep pushing, but it was that protective urge that was using his inebriated state to slip past the walls he’d erected around it. He took a deep breath and tried to reign it in, and as he did so, the sweet scent of vanilla nearly knocked him backwards.
Shane was watching him, his hand on the back of his neck and his expression back to carefully neutral. Ilya’s eyes flickered to his lips, and part of him really wanted to lean in and kiss him, just to see if those perfectly pink lips were as soft as they looked. He shook himself mentally. They had both shared a lot this past week, and it was getting late. Ilya felt like a wrung sponge, and it was clear that Shane needed sleep just as much as he did.
“We should sleep. You can … I will clean up, yes?”
Shane nodded, standing and swaying slightly on the spot. Ilya caught his elbow instinctively, and he could feel Shane shudder at his touch. He tried not to pull away too fast, not wanting to make it awkward.
“Get some rest, Shane.”
Ilya turned his back to gather the empty take out bag, and when he turned back, Shane had disappeared, leaving his scent behind. Ilya bit down hard on his lip as he felt his cock twitch in his pants. He was too drunk to talk himself out of thinking of Shane right now. He’d have to save that for tomorrow morning.
Right now, he could only hope that he could sleep without dreaming of him.
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
On days off, Ilya preferred to sleep in. It was a rare day when Ilya was asleep past 7am, and that was being generous. Hockey was time consuming, and travel for hockey even more so. It was days like today that he found himself craving mid-season, and he had been determined – among increasingly sexual thoughts about Shane Hollander – to use this day to its fullest potential, and that started with sleeping until noon.
But once again, he was awoken far before he intended to be awake, and it confused his vaguely hungover brain to the point that he lay face down in his bed for several minutes, trying to find a good enough reason to get up and investigate.
But unlike the other morning, it wasn’t the smell of a well-cooked breakfast that piqued his interest. It was the distant whimper of pain that Ilya certainly had not made.
Ilya groaned and sat up, yawning, sure he had imagined the sound, but then it came again, louder and more anguished this time. He frowned. Maybe Shane wasn’t as fine as he had claimed. Maybe he had been sick last night and Ilya hadn’t noticed because he was too busy trauma dumping and stopping himself from kissing Shane’s perfect mouth.
Ilya dragged himself from beneath his covers and pulled on shorts and an old t-shirt and opened his bedroom door.
The smell hit him like a truck. Every inch of the hallway was filled with coffee, lavender, and an overwhelming note of sickly sweet vanilla. Ilya stood there, shock freezing him in place as his mind started to put the pieces together.
Shane had never actually discussed his secondary gender with anyone, and certainly not Ilya. Ilya had just assumed he was a beta because what else was he supposed to think? As far as he knew, Shane hadn’t given his heat or rut schedule to Coach Wiebe, which was required if you were anything other than a beta.
But now it was starting to make sense. The way Shane had picked up on Ilya’s scent right away in the car. The way he’d reacted when Ilya had used his alpha voice. The way he always looked a bit … off whenever anyone called him a beta, even if he never corrected anyone. The way he had reacted to Dykstra and Chouinard’s comments about the omega on Montreal’s team, like he was personally offended and not just offended on behalf of someone else. The way that scent had been getting slowly stronger over the last two weeks, seeming to linger even when he wasn’t around. How it had gotten stronger that one night in the kitchen, almost like he …
Fuck, this scent was Shane’s scent, but not a curated one. It was his scent. Because Shane wasn’t a beta at all. And if Shane’s scent was this strong, there was only one thing that could be happening right now, and Ilya … he was terrified.
Finally, after taking a few deep breaths through his mouth, Ilya forced himself to move down the hallway towards Shane’s room. He’d chosen one on the other side of the stairs, and as Ilya approached the door, he could see that it was ajar. He reached out a hand and knocked twice.
“Hollander?”
When all he received was a groan of pain in response, Ilya knew he had to go in. He had to be sure before he could decide anything else. He had to make sure he wasn’t completely losing his mind. Mostly, he had to make sure Shane wasn’t hurt.
Ilya pushed the door open, and Shane’s scent became stronger still. It pulled at Ilya’s insides, filling him with a need to lick, to claim, to knot. Ilya clenched his fist so hard, he felt his nails digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood.
And then he saw Shane.
Somehow, Shane had managed to collect every blanket Ilya owned, and he’d piled them up on the bed where it touched the wall. He’d made … a nest. And right now, he was curled around himself inside it in only his underwear, visibly shaking, every inch of exposed skin glistening with sweat. When the door squeaked, Shane turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes wide and dilated. His face creased with pain when he met Ilya’s gaze.
“I … I think there’s something wrong,” he panted.
Ilya didn’t move. He wasn’t even sure he could move. “You … you are in heat.”
“I think so,” Shane responded. His hand was trembling, twitching towards his lap where Ilya was absolutely not going to look right now.
“But I thought … we all thought—”
Shane was still clearly in pain, but he rolled his eyes. “I let you think it. I let … fuck, I let everyone think it because I didn’t want to explain to them that I’m broken.”
Ilya took those words in, still pointedly looking at Shane’s face and not a single inch below. “Being an omega does not make you broken.”
“No, it’s not … shit, Ilya, I’ve never had—” Shane’s sharp words disappeared into a moan, and Ilya’s body was starting to realize exactly what was happening before him. He could feel that innate need building in his chest. He wanted to stride across this room and take Shane right here and now. He wanted …
“No,” Ilya growled to himself, and Shane immediately bared his neck to Ilya, his eyes pleading. Ilya’s heart dropped, and he pinched his own thigh hard. “No, no, I am sorry, I did not …”
“Alpha, please,” Shane whined.
It was too much. All of it was too much. Ilya couldn’t be here a moment longer. He had to go now before things got bad. If he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He would do exactly what he should not do, and he couldn’t do that to Shane.
Ilya turned on his heel and closed the door behind him, forcing himself to walk away from the needy cries of the omega in his house. He took the steps two at a time and got as far away from Shane’s room as he could, still breathing through his mouth.
Fuck, Shane was an omega. He was an omega in heat. His first fucking heat, and the only other person in the house was Ilya. An alpha. Shane’s fucking captain. Ilya was afraid to breathe. No, no, he couldn’t fucking breathe.
Ilya fumbled in his pocket for his phone, pacing his kitchen as he tried to find the right contact with shaking hands. His cock hung heavy between his legs, his body clearly not getting the memo that Ilya didn’t want this.
Except he did. Every part of him wanted to go back to Shane’s room and knot him over and over again. And he hated it.
He finally pressed the call button, his ears ringing as he fought to find air that wasn’t saturated with Shane’s scent.
“Ilya? It’s so early, what’s wrong?”
“Harris …” Ilya was choking on his words, the English and the Russian muddled in his panic. “Shane, he is … Chert, ya ne mogu yasno myslit (damn, I can’t think straight).”
“Ilya, you sound out of breath, what’s going on? Is Shane hurt?”
“Nyet. Not hurt. He is … in heat.” There was silence on the other end for much longer than Ilya could take right now. “Did you fucking hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard you, I’m just … are you sure?”
Ilya wanted to scream. “Da, yes, I am very sure. Scent is everywhere. He is … begging for me, and I cannot … Iisus Khristos (Jesus Christ), I do not know what to do.”
“Okay, okay. First, you need to calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down? I am using every willpower not to go up there and take him. I know he does not want that, but I do not know how to—” Ilya was losing his mind. He couldn’t find the words he needed. He kept drifting further out of the kitchen and towards the stairs as he paced. His heart was pounding out of his chest and he just wanted it all to stop.
“Ilya, listen to me. He will be able to smell your stress. It will only make things worse for him, and I know you don’t want to hurt him. Just open a door and take in some fresh air, clear your head, okay? Trust me.”
Ilya nodded to no one and stumbled to the back door, further away from Shane. The cool morning air filled his lungs and his head began to clear, but his hands were still shaking.
“Better?” Harris asked after a few moments.
“A little.”
“Okay. I need you to give me as much detail as you can. When did it start?”
Ilya felt like he shouldn’t be doing this. Shane had kept it a secret for a reason, and here Ilya was, just telling people. But he couldn’t do this alone. He needed help, and Harris was – sadly – the only omega he knew. The only one he’d spent enough time with to trust with something like this. “It has been coming for a while, I think. Is his first heat. I don’t know why is so late after presentation.”
“His first heat … well, I guess with the stress of hockey, that could happen,” Harris mused to himself. “What else can you tell me?”
Ilya wracked his brain, which was still all over the place. Shane’s scent still lingered on his clothes. “He was off at practice. Distracted. Told me it was headache, but I guess not so much. And last night, he said things about being warm.”
“Okay, yeah, that makes sense. He’s probably been in early heat for a day or two, and something last night kickstarted it,” Harris said. His voice was steady, calm, not at all panicked, and Ilya tried to take heart in that. If Harris wasn’t worried, maybe he shouldn’t be either? “Where is he now?”
“Upstairs. In his room. I … I went in to make sure it was heat, and he … he begged for me.” Ilya’s voice broke, his breathing picking up again at the memory of the anguish in Shane’s voice. “I ran away.”
Harris sighed. “Well, that was your first mistake, but it’s okay. Shane’s going to be okay and so are you. But I think you should talk to Troy.”
Ilya felt his face drain of color. He was embarrassed enough at having to call another omega for help. Talking to another member of his team about what Shane was going through? Having to admit that he was terrified to another person? “What? Why?”
“He’s been really great through my heats. He knows what to do and how to do it respectfully. I think he’s going to be more helpful at this stage than I will.”
Ilya considered hanging up and just hiding out here until it was over, but he knew that wasn’t the right choice. Shane needed help, and whether or not Ilya was capable of physically doing so, there must be other things he could do.
“Fine, fine. Put Troy on phone.”
Ilya heard a bit of rustling and mumbling and then Troy’s voice was in his ear.
“Hey, Roz.”
“Help me,” Ilya pleaded, all of his fight gone. The words felt wrenched out of him, but he couldn’t do this anymore. He needed someone to tell him what to do.
“I’m gonna do my best, okay? But Harris is right, you need to find a way to get calm. Shane is probably terrified right now, and he needs support in whatever way you can give it. If you go up there smelling like stress, it’s going to make it harder to help.”
“I am fucking trying,” Ilya hissed through his teeth.
“I know you are, bud. And I know you’re scared. But it’s going to be fine. Your instincts will take over. You’ll know what to do.”
“Is what I am afraid of, Barrett,” Ilya admitted, his face feeling hot. “I do not want to hurt him.”
“You won’t, Ilya.”
“But I could. I do not want to lose control. I would never forgive myself.”
“What makes you think you would?” Troy’s voice got quieter. “Have you before?”
“No, no, I …” Ilya pressed his lips together and looked up at the sky. “I have never been with an omega.”
“Never? Not even … but you go home with people a lot,” Troy said, confused.
“Never. I do not want to be alpha like my family. They are unkind and brutal and I … I am scared of being same as them if I let instincts guide me.” Ilya felt tears in his eyes and he hated himself for that. He waited for the inevitable chuckle from Troy, the reaction he was so used to from other alphas if he ever expressed something like this.
But it never came.
“Ilya, listen to me. I know you. You are kind and you are gentle and you shouldn’t be afraid of yourself. If I didn’t think Shane was safe, I would have told you to leave. But I’m not. He needs an alpha right now, and you’re there with him. And don’t hate me for saying this, but you haven’t exactly been subtle in how you feel about him.”
Ilya sat down in a heap in the middle of his yard. “That is … embarrassing.”
“Well, Shane feels the same way about you, so it’s not so bad,” Troy said.
Ilya tried not to let that get to him, but his treacherous heart soared anyway. “He does?”
“Of course he does.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s one way to respond, sure,” Troy laughed. “But listen. You don’t have to help him in that way if you don’t want to. If Shane asks you for something that you’re not ready for, you’re allowed to say no. You’re not obligated to fuck him just because of biology.”
Ilya let out a shuddery breath. “Okay. Yes, okay, I understand. But … if not sex, then what do I give him? What does he need?”
“Well, from what Harris is whisper yelling at me from across the room, first heats are usually quick and brutal, two to three days at the most. With an alpha, it could be even shorter. But he’ll need food and water and juice, things that will keep his energy up so he can keep getting off.”
Ilya took a mental tally of what he currently had in his house, and nodded to himself. “I have juice and food.”
“Good, good. Make sure it’s within reach for him. You could also leave some of your clothes. Sometimes an alpha scent is enough to help. And … well, I’m sure you know this … when you’re going through heat or rut alone, it’s nice to have toys. Something to take the edge off enough so it’s not excruciating.”
Ilya thought about the box he kept under his bed and grimaced. Using someone else’s sex toys was weird. That would be a no go.
“And then … if I am not in room with him, what should I do?”
“Go about your day as normal. Try to make sure he has his own space and wait for him to come to you when it’s over.”
“Okay. Yes. I can do that.”
Ilya finally felt like he could breathe again. This was mortifying, the whole mess he was in right now, but talking to someone helped. Hearing that he could be useful without having sex helped. He felt a little less terrified now, and a lot more in control of his alpha tendencies.
“You good, Roz?”
“Yes. I am just … thinking ahead. If heat is two days, Shane will miss practice tomorrow. And … I do not want to leave him alone, which means …”
“I can let Bood know he’s standing in as captain tomorrow if that would help.”
“Just … don’t tell him the truth. Is not my secret to share,” Ilya said firmly.
“Of course. I’ll make something up, don’t worry. Just go take care of Shane, okay?”
Ilya swallowed. “I will do my best.”
Troy hung up, and Ilya lay back on the dying grass, staring up at the sky. It was rare that he missed his mother so viscerally, but he was sure that if she were still here, Ilya would be far less panicked about this situation. She would have taught him what to do, how to care for an omega, and he wouldn’t be this mess of an alpha hiding from his teammate and crush in his own backyard.
“Vstavay, idiot (get up, idiot),” he muttered to himself, and then he was on his feet, walking back towards his house with purpose.
He could do this.
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
Ilya’s arms were so full of things, he could barely open the door to Shane’s room.
He might have gone a little overboard, but he figured it was better to be overprepared than be missing anything that Shane might need.
As soon as he’d forced himself back into his own house (and the very enticing scent of his rookie), he’d gotten to work. He gathered every juice he could, as well as a whole case of ginger ale that Shane must have bought at some point. He found some sliced fruit from the other morning’s breakfast and some old protein bars in a cupboard, and after he was done curating all of that, he stood in his kitchen for several more minutes, trying to talk himself out of his panic.
He breathed and remembered everything Harris and Troy had said. He couldn’t go upstairs stressed or worried or panicked. It would make things harder for Shane, and he’d already abandoned him once. He needed to be calm and kind and he didn’t have to stay with him – no matter how much Shane asked him to – if he didn’t want to.
His hands trembled with the effort he was exercising to ignore the alpha inside him even as he picked everything up and made his way slowly upstairs. Every step he took made Shane’s scent stronger and his cock harder, and he started to feel guilt creep in.
Ilya had feelings for Shane. There was no denying that. He would have wanted this with Shane regardless of his secondary gender and regardless of heat. But what if Shane didn’t feel the same way, despite what Troy had said? What if Ilya was just a means to an end for Shane, and once it was over, Shane wouldn’t want anything to do with him? Or worse, what if Shane felt like Ilya took advantage of him? What if, in the wake of everything, Shane thought that Ilya should have said no and left him there even though he’d begged for him to stay? Was Ilya taking advantage of Shane by even thinking about doing this?
He groaned through clenched teeth, wishing he had more than the word of a fellow hockey player, that player’s omega boyfriend who also happened to be the team social media manager, and his limited knowledge on the subject of heats. But he couldn’t do this now. In reality, he’d already made his decision, and he’d have to deal with whatever outcome came to pass. He was fine. Shane would be fine. Everything was fine.
He paused just outside of Shane’s door, his heart aching at what he might find once he opened it. The hesitation and fear threatened to creep up on him again, but he forced it away, drawing the fruit closer to his nose to steady himself. Troy had said it himself – he wouldn’t have told Ilya to help Shane if he didn’t trust Ilya to be around him like this. Ilya had to learn to trust himself too if he was going to be of any help.
He used two fingers to turn the knob and slipped into Shane’s room. He left the door open just slightly, not wanting to close it and make it seem like he was locking them in together. Not knowing what kind of state Shane was in right now, he didn’t want to do anything that might even seem unwelcome.
Shane was where Ilya had left him, still shivering, and his boxers were soaked through with what Ilya could only assume was slick and come. He bit his own tongue as a pleased rumble threatened to rip its way out of his throat.
“Ilya …” Shane said breathlessly when he caught sight of Ilya. He looked so uncomfortable, and Ilya had to restrain himself from throwing everything on the floor and kissing that pout away.
“I am sorry for running away,” Ilya said, the script he’d been practicing for the last ten minutes on loop in his head. “And for using alpha voice. I was … fighting myself.” Ilya dumped all the drinks and food on the small table in the corner of the room, which would be within reach if Shane moved to the other side of the bed. “I brought you what you need. Fruit and sugars and protein. I hope it is enough.”
Shane’s eyes were wide and shiny, his lips slightly parted as he took everything in, and Ilya took several steps back, clasping his hands behind him so Shane wouldn’t see how hard he was clenching them. He needed to breathe.
“I’m sorry. For … what I said. I shouldn’t have … fuck, I shouldn’t have asked you to stay,” Shane said, his brow furrowing in pain. His hand was already back on himself, and Ilya’s cheeks flushed. “I d-don’t need … you can go.”
There it was. Ilya’s out. He didn’t have to stay and risk hurting Shane. He didn’t have to worry that he was taking advantage of a newly presented omega, if that’s even what was going on here. Shane was telling him to leave. But Shane’s words didn’t match his tone or his eyes or his body language. Every part of Shane seemed to lean towards Ilya, needing him, and Ilya – while he had rarely admitted it to anyone – he liked being needed.
“Is okay to need something, or someone, for this,” Ilya said quietly, feeling his cock twitch as Shane’s hand slid beneath his ruined boxers, almost like he couldn’t help himself. He hoped Shane couldn’t see it. “If you need an alpha … if you need me, I will stay.”
He’d made his decision before he’d come back inside. He was more scared about this than he’d been about anything in his entire life, but Shane was scared too. If Ilya could help, he would help. If Ilya being there would make Shane feel less alone, he would do it.
Shane’s hand moved faster, his head tilting back into his nest. “I can’t … I can’t ask that of you.”
Ilya took a small step closer. “You are not asking. I am offering. If it is what you want.”
“What if … what if after, we’re—”
“Don’t worry, lyubimyy (darling),” Ilya said, quieter still, the endearment falling from his lips easily. He said the words to Shane, but he felt them in his own chest. “Later is later. Right now, we worry about the present, yes?”
Shane’s bottom lip quivered. His leg jerked and a gasp escaped him, the sound driving through Ilya like a knife. He needed to be in that bed, in Shane’s nest. He needed to feel Shane’s sweat-slick skin under his hands, his lips. Ilya was so desperate for it, but he had to do this right, before Shane lost the ability to think rationally.
He stopped just short of Shane’s bed. “Need you to tell me with words. Do you want me to stay?”
Shane nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I need you, shit, Ilya, please—”
Ilya nodded, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it onto the floor. “Can I get in your nest, omega?”
Shane’s entire body shuddered as the final word left Ilya’s mouth. He moved a few inches closer to the wall, opening up the space. Inviting Ilya in.
This was his final chance to leave, to say he couldn’t do it and walk away and never have to live with the possibility of hurting someone he cared about this much. But getting to have Shane like this? Shane allowing Ilya to see him at his most vulnerable? Making Shane feel good? That desire was more powerful than his fear.
Ilya crawled into the space Shane had made for him, completely immersing himself in Shane’s scent. His mouth was watering as he pressed his face into his blankets, now completely drenched in that beautiful combination of lavender, coffee, and vanilla. “God, Hollander, you smell good.”
Shane let out a whimper that went straight to Ilya’s cock, and he reached down to palm himself. He watched Shane’s eyes track the movement and he was suddenly desperate to get them both naked.
“Going to get these off, yes? Will feel much better,” Ilya promised, his hands reaching for the waistband of Shane’s boxers. Shane ripped his own hand away from his cock with a barely contained moan, his jaw clenching. Ilya worked carefully but not slowly, sensing the urgency in Shane and in himself, as he peeled Shane’s soaked boxers off his body and threw them over his shoulder. Shane seemed to relax immediately, and he took himself in his hand once more.
Ilya had seen Shane’s body before. Communal showers were a very common thing in the hockey world, and they’d been showering in the same room for two weeks now. But this was different, and it stole the breath from his lungs.
Shane’s cock was smaller than Ilya’s, which was to be expected, but he was still above average, hard and rosy at the tip and curved into the crevice of his right hip. His thighs were shiny with slick and the flush on his face had traveled to his chest, splotchy and oh so beautiful.
“Wow,” Ilya breathed, and Shane looked away from him, almost shy. “No, it is just … you are beautiful.”
“Fuck,” Shane said brokenly, the blanket beneath him darkening with a rush of slick. God, Ilya was so fucked.
Ilya’s body seemed to know what to do as he moved to hover over Shane, his cock pressing against his sweatpants almost indecently. He let his hand glide over Shane’s hip, his fingers barely caressing the warm skin there, and Shane reacted immediately, his hips coming up off the bed as he searched for friction that wasn’t to be found.
“So sensitive, moya lyubov (my love),” Ilya purred, the growl that he’d been holding back all morning, and perhaps since the moment Shane had walked into that locker room, escaping him. “Going to take such good care of you.”
“Please touch me,” Shane begged. “Make me come, alpha.”
Ilya couldn’t help but smile. Shane was utterly gorgeous like this, all desperate and needy and laid out before him. Ilya had to taste him.
Without preamble, Ilya shifted himself until he was laying between Shane’s legs, and, bracing his hands on Shane’s hips, he took Shane’s cock into his mouth.
The sound Shane made could have had Ilya popping his knot immediately, but he was determined to wait until he was inside Shane. He concentrated on what many alphas and betas in the area had complimented him on time and time again, his tongue swirling around Shane’s cock as he bobbed up and down, his nose nearly touching Shane’s pubic bone and the soft, neatly trimmed hair there.
Shane’s hand was tangled in Ilya’s hair, hanging on for dear life as mumbled words streamed from his mouth. “Fuck, your mouth … ah, just like that, yes, fuck—”
Ilya didn’t have to hear Shane to know he was already close. He’d already been working on himself, and as Ilya’s movements became faster, Shane’s legs were tightening around Ilya’s body and his hips kept stuttering upwards, meeting Ilya’s mouth halfway. Ilya’s hands were firm on Shane’s waist, pushing him down into the bed as he took what he wanted from Shane’s body.
“Shit, I’m … Ilya, I can’t stop, I’m gonna—”
Shane’s sentence morphed into a drawn out moan as Ilya let the barest hint of teeth glide over his shaft, and then he was coming in Ilya’s mouth. Ilya took everything Shane gave him, savoring the taste on his tongue. Only when Shane hissed in sensitivity did Ilya pull off him with a pop, his hand rubbing up and down Shane’s side.
“Taste so good,” he said hoarsely, already thirsty for more. His cock was fully hard now, and he could feel his knot threatening to pop just from sucking Shane dry. God, what was this omega doing to him?
“Come up here,” Shane insisted, and Ilya crawled up Shane’s body. Shane’s hands came to cup his cheeks and then they were kissing. Shane moaned as their bodies aligned, and Ilya smirked into the kiss, licking his way into Shane’s mouth and forcing Shane to taste himself.
Shane’s lips were bruised and shiny by the time Ilya managed to pull himself away, and even so, he leaned their foreheads together, not wanting to not be touching him as much as possible.
“Want you to fuck me,” Shane said breathlessly. “Need your knot, alpha, please.”
Ilya’s cock twitched, very interested in that idea, and it was then that he fully realized he still had clothes on. Shane’s release was now half on his stomach and half soaked into his sweats. Ilya sat up, intent on pulling them off, but Shane pulled him back down and pressed their lips together again.
“Love … love how you kiss,” he said against Ilya’s lips, and Ilya tightened his grip on Shane’s waist, kissing him harder. Fuck, if he didn’t stop, he would come.
“Have to take these off,” Ilya said, kissing Shane gently on his mouth, then his cheek, and then his neck, right over his scent gland. That was a terrible idea, because Shane smelled strongest there. Ilya’s tongue flicked out to lick over the same spot, his body begging him to bite down, but he settled for mouthing over the sensitive skin instead. Shane’s words were starting to slur and he would soon lose himself to his heat. Ilya had to remain the clear-headed one here.
Ilya finally pulled himself fully away from Shane and shucked off his sweatpants, leaving himself naked. He gave himself a few tugs and groaned, the feeling of his own hand a welcome relief. Shane’s eyes widened when they saw his cock.
“Wow. That’s … wow,” he said, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.
“Do not worry. It will fit,” Ilya said jokingly, and Shane let out a huff of laughter. Ilya looked around the room then, a thought coming to his mind. “Do you have …”
Shane shook his head, his forehead creasing in worry. “I don’t.”
“Is no problem. I have what we need. But I will need to leave you for a moment.”
Shane’s face fell and he clung to Ilya, his fingers digging into Ilya’s arms. “Please don’t go …”
“It will only be a minute, I promise,” Ilya reassured him, leaning in and pressing his face to Shane’s neck once more, scenting him gently. Shane’s body went boneless under him, and he felt Shane’s sigh tickle his neck.
“Hurry,” Shane huffed, and Ilya ripped himself away from Shane and practically sprinted down the hallway.
Even as Ilya threw open his bedside table and his fingers closed around a string of foil packets, he could hear Shane’s moans from down the hall as he touched himself. Ilya wished he could bottle that sound.
By the time he made it back to Shane’s room, Shane was already three fingers deep inside himself and panting, his cock fully hard again and his wrist coated in slick.
“I am here,” Ilya said, throwing the condoms on the table with the snacks and ripping one off as he practically tripped over himself to be back in Shane’s arms. His mouth found Shane’s immediately, more teeth and tongue than anything else, but he swallowed Shane’s sounds with pleasure, drinking in his scent like he’d been gone for days instead of a few breathless minutes.
Shane’s free arm clung to Ilya’s waist, pulling their cocks together, and Ilya let out a sound he’d never made before, his head spinning with need. He needed his cock inside Shane right now or he wasn’t sure what he would do.
He pulled back as best he could and ripped open the condom, rolling it down himself. “You … you are on medicine, yes?”
“What?” Shane’s voice was syrupy and dripping with need, and it only served to make Ilya harder.
“For preventing pups?”
Shane gave a jerky nod. “Yes, yeah, I’m on- fuck—”
Ilya reached for Shane and let his fingers trace the shape of him, moving from his shoulder to his collarbone and down over his chest, pausing at his nipples. He thumbed over the left one, watching Shane slide a fourth finger into himself almost like he couldn’t help it, and then he lowered his head and sucked Shane’s nipple into his mouth.
“I had a feeling you would like this,” Ilya murmured into his skin, Shane’s whines like music to his ears. He wanted to fuck him so badly, wanted to give Shane his knot, but he didn’t want to rush into it either. He knew once he did this, there was no going back for him. It would take him months, maybe even years, to forget how it felt to be inside Shane.
But Shane was more than ready, and had waited long enough. Ilya let his teeth close around Shane’s nipple as he pulled away, just for the pleasure of watching Shane’s expression contort. He could feel it in himself now, the desire to just let go of his control and let his instincts take over. It pressed against his insides, begging to be let out, and he heard Troy’s words in his head again.
I know you.
You are kind and you are gentle.
You shouldn’t be afraid of yourself.
Ilya bit his lip, looking down at Shane in all his glory, sweaty and open and desperate. This was someone cared for, someone who was trusting him with his vulnerability. Ilya wouldn’t ever hurt Shane, even if he let some of that rigid control drop, because hurting him would hurt Ilya. Ilya would feel it so deeply that he would stop whatever he was doing just to make sure Shane was okay.
“Do you want it here or from behind?” Ilya asked, his voice deepening automatically. Shane’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“From … from behind.”
“Turn over for me, omega.”
Shane scrambled to comply, his legs and arms shaking as he got up on all fours, presenting himself to Ilya. His slick-wet skin caught the light from his thighs to his balls and all the way to his stretched hole, and Ilya felt a rumble of pleasure in his chest. This was his, all his, to have.
He wasted no time in lining himself up with Shane, but before he pushed inside, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Shane’s shoulder. “Is okay?”
Shane choked out a yes, and Ilya moved his hips slowly forward, slipping into Shane’s body easily, like they were tailor-made for each other. A groan left Ilya as his hips met Shane’s ass, and Shane fell face forward into his nest, his arms giving way. Ilya was worried for approximately one second before Shane’s voice reached his ears.
“Need it hard, alpha.”
Ilya was great at following directions, especially when they were given to him in that tone, and he gripped Shane’s hips, pulling almost all the way out and shoving back in. Shane’s moan was muffled by the blankets, but he was nodding, his hands gripping the edges of his nest.
“Like that, fuck, yes …”
Ilya set a brutal pace, and the only sound in the room was the slap of skin on skin and their mingled sounds of pleasure. Ilya was sure his fingertips would leave bruises, but he had a strange feeling that Shane would like that. He leaned over Shane’s body, his hips moving instinctively, and peppered open mouthed kisses all over his skin, letting his teeth sink in when the mood moved him.
He could feel Shane tightening around him, could hear just how wet he was. He was going to come, and just as well, because Ilya’s knot was so close to popping, he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t already. He started pulling Shane’s body back to him, meeting him in the middle as his knot nudged at the stretched skin of Shane’s hole. Shane turned his head so he was looking up at Ilya from the strangest angle, and Ilya thought he saw the barest traces of a smirk.
“You … you gonna come for me, Rozanov?” he asked breathlessly, and Ilya growled low in his throat, switching his pace from brutal to punishing. God, Shane was so fucking sexy when he talked like that. How he had the wherewithal to do so in this state, Ilya didn’t know, but it turned him on more than he could have ever imagined.
He blanketed himself over Shane and nipped at his ear. “Fucking make me.”
Shane’s cry pierced the air, his whole body tensing, and then he was coming, splattering the bed and the blankets and his own chin. Ilya felt his own pleasure reach its peak, and he braced himself on the bed, forcing his knot past Shane’s rim as he released into the condom.
Ilya collapsed on top of Shane, who was already immobile underneath him, still feeling pulses of come leave him. He hadn’t been this wiped out by an orgasm in … well, ever. There was just something about Shane and his neediness and that touch of snarkiness and his beautiful fucking body that made Ilya crazy, and a part of him still couldn’t believe they were doing this, that Shane wanted him here, even as their bodies remained connected by Ilya’s knot.
Breathing hard and trying desperately to slow down his heartrate, he pressed gentle kisses into Shane’s hair, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him. “You okay?”
Shane mumbled something unintelligible, and Ilya moved his head slightly to hear him.
“The bed’s all dirty.”
He sounded drunk or sleepy, Ilya couldn’t really tell which, but he laughed. They’d just had mind-blowing sex and he was in the middle of his heat and that’s what he was worried about?
“Glad to know I did good job,” Ilya said through his chuckles, and he saw the corner of Shane’s mouth twitch up in a smile.
“You did. M’tired.”
Ilya’s heart melted, and he turned them carefully on their sides, away from the many messes Shane had made, pulling Shane’s body into his and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Sleep, dorogaya (sweetheart). I am not going anywhere.”
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
Ilya wasn’t sure how long he sat there, running his fingers up and down Shane’s side as he slept, but he felt the moment his knot went down enough for him to pull out.
He did so carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping omega next to him, and crawled out of the nest and the bed. Shane shifted slightly, his brow furrowing in his sleep, but didn’t wake up. Ilya pulled off the condom and tied it off, throwing it in the small trash can, and then went about cleaning up the room.
Shane’s soaked boxers were ruined, so he tossed those as well, and managed to tug one of the dirty blankets out from under Shane. Ilya got the sense that Shane wasn’t a huge fan of the mess. He might even have been embarrassed that he was unable to control it, that most of it was his doing, and Ilya couldn’t have that.
Once the room was a little less filthy, Ilya placed his shirt and his sweats (facing down so Shane’s release wasn’t visible) into Shane’s nest, remembering what Troy had said about clothes that smelled like an alpha, and then slipped out of the room.
He was back a moment later with a wet cloth and soft towel, and he lowered himself to his knees in front of the bed, wiping the cloth over Shane’s sticky skin. He started with his stomach and his thighs and then moved to his ass and his cock, doing his best not to get Shane hard. Shane was going to need food when he woke up and Ilya was pretty sure that if Shane woke up hard and asked for Ilya to fuck him, he wouldn’t be able to say no, and he needed to be a good alpha above anything else.
When he finished drying Shane’s body, he selected a bottle of orange juice and one of the protein bars and curled up behind Shane again, but sitting up this time so he could run his fingers through his silky hair. Ilya had secretly always wanted to know how soft Shane’s hair was, and he was not disappointed. He let his fingers scratch at Shane’s scalp gently, remembering how much he used to love his mother doing that to him as a pup. At the first press of his fingernails, Shane burrowed into his nest, sighing in his sleep, and Ilya couldn’t help the soft smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.
His only job now was to wait.
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
As it turned out, Shane’s heat lasted almost exactly two days.
Ilya only allowed himself to sleep when Shane had been taken care of, and more times than not, he was woken by Shane’s lips on him and his cock hard against Ilya’s thigh. It was an experience he wasn’t likely to ever forget.
On the third morning, Ilya woke up alone, and his stomach immediately dropped before he heard the telltale sounds of the shower running. Shane must have been feeling better. Ilya could relax.
He’d done it. He’d gotten Shane through his heat. He had somehow kept his instincts in check and hadn’t hurt him. He felt strangely proud of himself, and he leaned back into Shane’s messy nest, breathing in his scent with a smile.
He managed to drag himself out of the bed ten minutes later and started cleaning up once again. He left the blankets in a pile, knowing Shane would want to decide what to do with them, and he picked up condom wrappers and protein bar wrappers in equal measure, tossing them into the trash.
He heard a buzzing noise and found his phone half lodged under the nightstand. He didn’t even remember bringing it in with him, let alone tossing it across the room, but it wasn’t just the omegas that entered a hazy state when they were in heat. Ilya’s memory of the entire affair was pretty solid, but it was like looking through fog. It felt weird, and he could only hope that Shane was doing okay after all of this.
“Oh. You’re awake.”
Ilya turned around, his phone in his hand, and stood up to his full height. Shane stood in his doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin slightly pink tinged from the shower.
“Yes. I thought I would clean up.”
“That’s okay. I can do it.”
Shane’s voice sounded off, and Ilya took a step towards him, reaching out for him. Shane flinched, and Ilya froze where he stood.
“Is something wrong?”
Shane shook his head, but his body language said otherwise. He was stiff, skirting around the edge of the room instead of coming straight across, and he wouldn’t look at Ilya.
“No, I just …” Shane cleared his throat and stopped at the edge of the bed, only a few steps away from Ilya. Ilya didn’t move, afraid that he might upset Shane further. Because he was clearly upset about something, and Ilya was afraid to ask what. Shane’s fists opened and closed, his eyes lingering on Ilya’s sweats. Ilya realized then that these were the ones that had stains from Shane’s come on them. Shane’s cheeks flushed, and then, like it was costing him every ounce of willpower he had, Shane’s eyes met his. “Thank you for … for everything. But I can take it from here.”
Ilya didn’t understand. “I …”
“It’s not that I don’t … I mean, what you did, it was … but I think …” Shane bit his own lip, and Ilya caught his scent through his body wash. The coffee that usually smelled sweet was bitter, almost overwhelming the notes of vanilla and lavender. Shane was nervous. Ilya hated that he noticed, but how could he not? He’d spent so much time learning Shane’s scent these last few days that now it felt like second nature. “I think I need to be alone.”
Ilya’s throat felt strangely tight. He tried to clear it, but couldn’t. He simply stood there, not sure what to do with his hands, until he realized that Shane had made a request and he wasn’t complying. “Right. I will … leave now.”
Shane nodded once, and that was confirmation enough. Ilya turned to leave, refusing to turn back like he wanted to. He closed the door to Shane’s room behind him and went to his own room in a bit of a daze, turning the last two days over in his mind.
He supposed it made sense that Shane didn’t want to see people right now, especially Ilya. He knew how he got after his rut – he needed space to come back to himself and shake it off, and he was absolutely going to give Shane whatever he needed. But Shane’s hesitation, his awkwardness, his dismissal, stung a little anyway.
Ilya knew Shane wasn’t his to have. He had known right from the start that there was always the possibility that helping Shane through his heat would be something temporary. But as he turned on the shower and stepped under the steaming water, Ilya came to the realization that scared him more than anything.
Somewhere along the way, or maybe even from the start, it became more for him.
He scrubbed his skin and his hair, ridding himself of any evidence of the last few days, as his thoughts became muddled, desperate to try and figure out what exactly had caused Shane’s change in mood. He hadn’t accidentally bonded Shane, which would have been a massive overstep on his part, no matter how accidental it might have been. He hadn’t admitted any sort of feelings, even if those feelings had grown with every touch and every breathless kiss. He hadn’t even scented him properly, though there were many moments where he’d wanted to, and Shane probably would have let him. He couldn’t understand what had gone so wrong that Shane didn’t even want to look at him now that it was over.
He remembered Shane’s words from before, how he’d been about to say something concerning the aftermath of what they were about to do. Ilya had soothed him, had promised him that they’d worry about it when they got there. Well, now they were here, and Ilya didn’t know what was wrong or how to even go about asking.
Ilya turned and let the water fall over his face, his hands fisting in his wet hair. He felt strangely empty, like a part of him was missing. Like Shane had taken it and he would never be able to get it back. He missed Shane, despite him being only three doors down the hall. He’d been so worried about how this would affect Shane, what he might do to Shane, how Shane would handle sharing his first heat, he hadn’t taken nearly enough time to think about what it might do to him.
Stepping out of the shower, he toweled himself dry and looked into the mirror. He looked tired – the bags under his eyes were pronounced and his skin was a little pale, but he also looked … sad. And as he stood there, staring at himself, he let that feeling sink in.
Ilya was sad. He’d done everything in his power to do this right and somehow it still wasn’t enough, and it was no one’s fault but his own.
He cleared his throat, feeling tears prick in the corners of his eyes, and went about his normal routine. When he was finally dressed in a fresh t-shirt and sweats, he sat on the edge of his bed and scrolled through his missed messages. He had quite a few, which surprised him.
Bood: Troy told me I’m captain today?
Bood: That’s fine, but … are you okay?
Bood: Practice went well.
Bood: The team’s worried about you and Hollander.
Dykstra: Hope you feel better!
Dykstra: I texted Hollander too, but he didn’t answer. Is he still upset with me?
Harris: Let Shane know he can talk to me whenever he wants, okay?
Harris: I know what he’s going through.
Troy: I went with food poisoning, just to let you know.
Troy: Figured that was the most believable thing for both of you being gone
Troy: I hope everything went well
Troy: You can call me when it’s over, if you need to talk
Troy: Will you be at practice today?
Ilya closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. Fuck, they had practice today. He was fine and felt good enough to play, but what about Shane? Would he want to be around people this soon after getting out of heat?
He answered each person one by one, trying to sound normal. Could you even convey tone through text without emojis? He wasn’t exactly good at this. Hiding his own secrets? Sure. Hiding someone else’s? That was a different story entirely.
Finally, his thumb hovered over Troy’s contact. He wasn’t even sure he’d know what to say, but he felt out of his depth right now and dangerously close to either hitting something or sobbing, and he needed someone to tell him this was normal before he had a panic attack.
Troy picked up on the second ring. “Ilya, hey. I was just about to text you again. How … did everything go alright?”
“I think so,” Ilya said slowly, not really sure how to describe the mess in his head.
“You think?”
Ilya huffed out a sigh. “I did what you said. With the food and juice. And he asked for my help and I gave it to him. Everything he wanted. I did not lose control.”
“Well that’s good news,” Troy said, and Ilya could hear his smile through the phone. It made his stomach twist uncomfortably. “So what’s bothering you?”
“I feel … wrong.” Ilya licked his lips. “I miss him. He is right down hallway and I miss him.”
Troy chuckled. ‘That’s normal. After Harris’s heats, I don’t want to leave his side. I’m basically glued to him. It wears off eventually, but yeah, you might feel a little off for a day or two.”
“Is not just that. He, um … he would not look at me after. He asked to be alone.” Ilya felt like an idiot as a lump formed in his throat at the memory of that conversation, at how stilted Shane’s voice had sounded. How it felt like Shane was rejecting him and he didn’t know what to do with that.
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. This was his first heat, and he was in an unfamiliar environment. And you’re his captain. He’s bound to be a little embarrassed that you saw him like that, even if he needed it and asked for it and enjoyed it.” Troy paused, and Ilya was almost sure he could hear Harris whispering to him on the other end of the line. “Harris says he’s probably processing and you shouldn’t worry.”
“And let him know he can talk to me,” Harris called from somewhere, and Troy laughed.
“Yes, and that. You two coming to practice today?”
“I will be there, yes. I will ask Shane. He seemed … present, I think is the word. Free from haze of heat.”
“Okay, cool. We’ll see you there. Oh, and don’t forget to give him a scent patch. He probably isn’t used to wearing them,” Troy said, and Ilya nodded to himself as he hung up.
He sat there for a few more minutes, trying to gather himself. He needed to be Ilya Rozanov, captain of the Ottawa Centaurs today, not Ilya the alpha watching over Shane the omega. He couldn’t get on the ice with all of this clouding his mind. He would have to pack it away until they had time to talk about it, or at least until Shane was ready. He wouldn’t push him.
Ilya dragged himself to his feet and packed his bag before heading downstairs, throwing his bag towards the front door, and heading into the kitchen.
Shane was already there, devouring a plate of blueberry pancakes. Ilya’s eyes found the second plate, already made up with a bit of butter and syrup. Shane looked up as Ilya stepped into the kitchen, and he nodded his head towards the plate.
“I made extra in case … I figured you’d be hungry.”
He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. Ilya already felt a little lighter just being in the same room as Shane, and the fact that Shane had made him breakfast? Maybe Troy was right. Maybe things weren’t as bad as Ilya was perceiving them to be. Maybe Shane just needed time.
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Shane did in fact feel well enough to go to practice. Ilya hadn’t even had to ask. He’d simply come back downstairs from brushing his teeth and jamming a hat on his head to see Shane waiting by the door, his bag slung over his shoulder and his usual impassive expression set on his face. His cheeks still had a healthy flush to them, which deepened when Ilya reached around him to open the door.
Ilya ignored the quickened beat of his heart.
Once they were in the car, Ilya reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a sheet of scent patches. He tore one off and offered it to Shane. “Here. You will need this.”
“Oh … right,” Shane said quietly, staring down at the patch.
Ilya pulled aside the collar of his hoodie and pressed his own to his scent gland, rubbing around the edges to get it to stick. “Like this. It will hold for whole practice.”
Shane nodded, following Ilya’s movements, the patch blending perfectly into his skin. Ilya couldn’t stop staring at his fingers as they brushed over what had quickly become Ilya’s favorite spot to kiss. But he couldn’t be thinking about that right now.
“We do now so it has time to start working before we get there,” Ilya explained as he pulled out of his driveway and through the gate. Shane didn’t respond, and Ilya felt that awkward drop of his stomach. He wanted to ask Shane what was wrong. He wanted Shane to trust him with his feelings like he’d trusted him with his body. But even if Shane had been ready, now was not the time for that conversation. They both needed to focus if they were going to be any use to their team today.
As they pulled into the parking lot, Ilya found his voice again. “Troy told team that we had food poisoning. If anyone asks, you can tell them that.”
“Won’t they be able to … smell it on us?”
Ilya smiled lightly and tapped the side of his neck. “Not with scent patch.”
Shane flushed. “Right.”
Ilya turned off the car. “And if … Harris is here, if you need someone.”
Shane’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything more. Ilya stayed in the car a beat longer, taking a few deep breaths. If Shane could walk into practice like nothing happened, so could he.
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Three days.
That’s how long it took for Ilya to start fully panicking.
From anyone else’s perspective, everything was relatively normal. Everyone showed up for practice unless they had scheduled time off for their rut, Coach was pleased with everything he was seeing, and the team really seemed to be gelling. If Ilya didn’t know any better, he’d say this was the most prepared and most calm he’d felt before any season he’d played with any team.
But there was something wrong with Shane.
The rest of the team hadn’t noticed, which Ilya didn’t blame them for. None of them had spent the last two weeks or so memorizing every single flicker of emotion on Shane’s face. They hadn’t had their eyes glued to him whenever possible, tracking every single miniscule movement he made. To them, everything was fine. To Ilya, everything was wrong, and by the time they reached their third practice after coming back from Shane’s heat, Ilya was ready to crawl out of his skin.
For the hundredth time, Ilya thought about asking Shane directly, but Shane had made it very clear that he didn’t really want to talk to Ilya right now. Their drives to and from the rink were silent. Shane spent most of his time locked in his room when they were at home, except to make himself meals or eat what Ilya left aside for him. The few times Ilya had dared approach his room for any reason, he could hear Shane talking in a low voice to someone on the phone – probably Hayden – and he hadn’t wanted to interrupt.
Shane was acting strange during practices too, just small little things that Ilya’s too sharp eyes noticed. There was this hesitation when he faced down other alphas on the team. Like if he got too close, they would be able to scent the omega on him. Ilya knew that wasn’t true, and so did Shane, but that didn’t stop the momentary jerk of Shane’s knees right before he slammed Dykstra into the boards or the steadying breath he took as he met Ilya himself at center ice.
As they’d headed back to the locker room, Bood came sidling up next to Ilya. “Hey, Yaya.”
“Do not start with me, Bood,” Ilya grumbled, even though he was secretly grateful to hear the playful tone of Bood’s voice.
Bood laughed. “Alright, alright. I just wanted to ask if Hollander’s okay.”
Ilya nearly walked into the wall. “Why?”
“I don’t know, I just … I get the feeling he’s nervous or something? Which wouldn’t surprise me, since this is going to be his first season in the NHL, but …”
“But what?”
“He’s hesitating. I don’t think anyone else has noticed except you and me. But he wasn’t doing that before you both got sick, and now it’s there. I know you’re seeing it too.”
Ilya swallowed as the doors to the locker room came into view. “I think you said it already. He is nervous for first season.”
Bood looked at him, as if he wanted to pry more, but to Ilya’s relief, he didn’t. He just nodded and held the door for Ilya as they headed in to strip out of their gear and hit the showers.
Now it was hours later and Ilya was sitting in near total darkness in front of his TV. His phone was in his hand, his screen locked as his thoughts battled against themselves in his mind.
It had reached the point where Ilya was starting to think that this was his fault. The only thing that had changed between them was Shane’s heat. Ilya had given in to Shane’s request for help. And now, everything was messy and he didn’t know how to fix it without crossing someone’s boundaries.
But he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. What if something was seriously wrong with Shane? What if it really was his fault and he just ignored it because he didn’t want to face the reality of it? What if, by his own self-preservation, something happened to Shane or the team? How was he supposed to live with that?
He opened Instagram again and typed in the first few letters of the person he’d searched at least twice a day for the last two days. Hayden Pike’s page came up immediately and Ilya studied it.
The picture Hayden had chosen was one of him with his arms crossed, trying to look serious but failing. His bio was simple and to the point, and his posts were semi-frequent. If Ilya scrolled back a little, he’d see pictures of Hayden with Shane, both of them smiling like they didn’t have a single care in the world. He’d posted four days ago, a picture of himself with a beautiful pregnant woman, with a simple caption: Grateful.
Ilya rolled his eyes, but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t go away. If anyone was going to know what was going on with Shane, it was Hayden. And if Ilya wanted to help Shane, he had to talk to Hayden. And since he couldn’t just go upstairs and ask Shane for Hayden’s number, this was the only other way. His finger hovered over the follow button, hesitating as he had done twice today already, and he let out a frustrated growl, throwing his phone down onto the couch. He rubbed over his face with both hands, raking through his already messy hair.
He picked up his phone again to close the app when he saw that, somehow, he’d pressed that follow button in his haste to get rid of his phone. He was now following Hayden. Hayden would have gotten that notification. Hayden was probably at this very moment texting Shane a bunch of question marks with a screenshot of said notification or something equally ridiculous. Ilya groaned and swiped out of the app.
That was enough deliberation for today. He’d give Shane till the end of the week, and at that point, he’d just outright ask him, silent boundaries be damned.
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“Have you seen Hollander?”
Wyatt looked up from where he was retaping his stick. There was a bruise already forming on his cheek that was Ilya’s own doing. He only felt a little bad about it. It had been a hard practice for all of them. “He was just in here a second ago. You didn’t pass him in the hall?”
Ilya shook his head, looking around the locker room once more just to be sure he hadn’t missed him. “No. He is usually waiting.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Check the showers, or maybe Harris’s office? He said something about talking to Harris the other day.”
Ilya nodded and clapped Wyatt on the shoulder before making his way out of the locker room and down the hall. He opened the door to the showers and peered in, but Shane wasn’t there. Ilya figured he wouldn’t be. Shane was usually the first one in the showers and the first one out.
Ilya backed out, closing the door firmly, and then headed in the opposite direction towards Harris’s office. He wasn’t sure if Shane had ever taken Harris up on his offer to talk, but it would be a likely place for him to be. Maybe Shane had needed a few days before he was ready to talk. Ilya had the sudden worry that Troy would also be there, but both of them had kept silent about Shane’s heat thus far, so he trusted that he could say what he needed to in front of both of them.
He raised his hand to knock on the door and it opened with a whoosh. Harris stood there, his lip caught between his teeth in worry. Harris wore a scent patch too, but it appeared to be wearing off, because Ilya caught the bittersweet scent of green apples and cinnamon.
“Ilya, there you are.”
Ilya dropped his hand. “You were looking for me?”
Harris scratched the back of his neck. “Not exactly, but … Shane was just here, and he wasn’t making a lot of sense, and I thought maybe you could calm him down, but …”
And now Ilya’s vague worry solidified into something a whole lot more real. “What did he say? Was it about … the food poisoning?”
“No, it … like I said, he wasn’t making sense. He said something about how he’d lied and he was going to let the team down and he didn’t want to do this anymore, and when I brought up the idea of talking to you – just as his captain, mind you, not anything else – he clammed right up and said he was going to talk to Coach Wiebe and disappeared.”
“What …” Ilya had no idea what to make of that. But before he could even hazard a guess or get anything more out of Harris, he heard someone calling his name from further down the hallway. He turned to see Coach Wiebe coming towards him, his face unusually grave, and Ilya’s heart sank straight into his stomach.
“Rozanov, good, I caught you. In my office, please.”
Ilya shared a fleeting look with Harris, who just raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then followed Coach Wiebe a few doors down.
“What is going on?” Ilya asked the moment the door was closed. Coach rounded his desk and sank into his chair, his eyes remaining focused on Ilya.
“I just had a very interesting conversation with Shane Hollander.”
“You have seen Shane?” Ilya nearly yanked the door back open to see if he’d missed Shane standing out in the hallway. “Harris said he was … not himself.”
“I’d say that’s quite the understatement. He has requested that his contract be terminated and that he be released from the Centaurs and the NHL entirely.”
Ilya’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
Coach Wiebe nodded. “That was my exact response. And then he told me about some things that he’d neglected to include in his paperwork. Namely, that he is an omega and that he’s known that since before he was drafted.” He leaned over the desk. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”
Ilya thought about lying. He thought about faking shock and possibly slight outrage, but he couldn’t do that. It wasn’t in his nature, and Shane had already told Coach the truth, so he wasn’t outing him by admitting anything.
“I … was made aware very recently, yes,” Ilya said slowly.
“I see. And he also mentioned that he did not have food poisoning this past weekend.”
Ilya swallowed, but it was clear that Coach Wiebe wanted confirmation of what he already knew. “No, sir. Shane was in heat. First heat ever.”
“Then it would stand to reason that you, the alpha that I suggested he live with, did not have food poisoning either,” Coach Wiebe said, his words in the same measured tone that Ilya had never been able to figure out.
“I did not.”
Ilya maintained eye contact with his coach, but it was a hard thing. He prepared himself for a reprimand, and he knew he deserved it. He should have brought Shane straight to him after it had happened. Any good captain would have done exactly that.
Coach Wiebe sat back in his chair and let out a long breath. “I’m not angry with you, Rozanov. In fact, I might even go so far as to say I’m proud of how you handled this, both as an alpha and as his friend. But that’s not the conversation I want to have right now.” He steepled his fingertips under his chin. “I thought you should be aware that Hollander now feels like an outsider on this team. He feels like he let the team down by not disclosing his secondary gender from the start, that he’s now a liability, and that he does not deserve to be here.”
“He …” Ilya choked on his words, a deep sadness taking root in his chest. “Does he truly believe this team would not accept him?”
“It appears so, though it seems to me like he was angrier with himself than any future possibility of a poor team reaction,” Coach Wiebe said. “What I need you to know is that I don’t plan on entertaining any of his requests. I told him to really think about it and to give me his decision tomorrow before practice.”
“And what did he say?”
Coach Wiebe sighed. “He thanked me and left. Not much more too it. It’s not unheard of for omegas to have a shot at playing for the NHL and decide that they aren’t up for it. There are many alphas who still intentionally aim to end omega careers, and if I were in an omega’s shoes, I don’t know if I would be brave enough. But that’s not the Shane Hollander I know.”
“Shane is brave enough,” Ilya admitted quietly.
“Shane is exceptional. He is quite possibly one of the best hockey players in the league right now, regardless of his secondary gender. I would hate for hockey to lose him.”
Ilya knew Coach Wiebe had to be professional in his wording, even if it was just Ilya in the room, but he could see it on his face … this wasn’t just about hockey. Somehow, he knew that losing Shane like this would hurt Ilya, and he cared about Ilya’s wellbeing. It was almost enough to make Ilya cry.
“I will talk to him. Captain to rookie,” Ilya said firmly, and without another word, he sprinted out of the office.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket several times and pulled it out as he ran, hoping it was Shane.
It was definitely not Shane.
hpike35 has followed you.
hpike35: what the hell did you do to shane?
Ilya saw a few more messages pop up, but before he could open them, he heard his name being called for the second time today.
“Roz, hang on!”
Ilya spun around and saw Luca Haas hurrying towards him. “I am late, Hazzy. Hollander is waiting for–”
“He’s not.”
Ilya froze where he stood. “He … is not?”
Luca shook his head. “He left. Called an Uber. It just left a few minutes ago, and I thought it was weird because you drove him here, but—”
“Blyat (fuck),” Ilya muttered to himself, his voice deepening as his brain caught up with him. Shane was trying to run for it. He was trying to leave before Ilya could talk him out of it. Ilya didn’t know how he knew, but he could almost feel it in his chest, like there was an invisible string tying him to Shane and it was getting tighter. It might snap at any moment. “I have to go. Thank you, Hazzy. You are life-saver.”
“Glad I could help!” Luca called after him as Ilya sprinted to his car. He wasn’t wearing his hoodie and an unseasonably chilly wind blew through his t-shirt, but he didn’t care.
He had to get to Shane.
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Ilya turned his car over and yanked his phone out of his pocket, opening Hayden’s messages. He read through each one three times, making sure he was seeing things correctly.
hpike35: what the hell did you do to shane?
hpike35: he’s talking crazy
hpike35: says he’s leaving the Centaurs and coming to stay with me.
hpike35: i know this is your fault you fucking alpha knothead
Ilya had never wanted to get home faster in his life. His fears were confirmed: Shane was trying to leave. And Hayden seemed to think it was his fault. He quickly typed back a flurry of messages and threw his car into reverse.
ilyarozanov: I did not do anything.
ilyarozanov: He has not wanted to speak to me since his heat
ilyarozanov: I have been trying to respect boundaries
Ilya knew texting and driving was dangerous, especially considering how he was feeling and how quickly he was trying to get home right now, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of choice, and it didn’t seem like Hayden gave two fucks.
hpike35: yeah, bc respecting boundaries means stalking his best friend
hpike35: that’s why you followed me, right?
ilyarozanov: No. I followed because I am worried about Shane
ilyarozaonv: I care for him a great deal.
ilyarozaonv: He has not been himself
ilyarozanov: And is apparently trying to leave NHL
Ilya slammed on his brakes as he noticed the red light just in time, taking a deep breath before looking down at his messages again.
hpike35: of course he is, because he doesn’t feel safe
hpike35: are all alphas this thick-headed, or is it just you?
Ilya blew a frustrated breath out of his nose, a growl muffled behind clenched teeth, and typed out a few more messages before the light turned green, the sentences only half translating as he typed.
ilyarozanov: I thought I did everything he needed.
ilyarozaonv: I stayed with him so he wasn’t alone.
ilyarozaonv: I kept him safe and fed him when he could not do so.
ilyarozaonv: I make sure no one knows unless he tells them
ilyarozaonv: I did not know knotting him would cause this.
Ilya turned down a side road to avoid traffic and his speedometer pitched upward, 15 miles over the posted speed limit. He reached his next turn before another message from Hayden came through.
hpike35: y0u knotted my best friend?
Ilya could have thrown his phone out the window. He absolutely had not needed to divulge that information. And apparently, Shane hadn’t seen fit to do so either. God, all of this was so fucked up.
ilyarozaonv: He did not tell you?
hpike35: he only said he had a heat and he had help
hpike35: he didn’t say it was with you
ilyarozanov: I think there are more important things to focus on, maybe, yes?
ilyarozaonv: Why does Shane want to leave?
Ilya turned onto his street with a screech that surely woke every sleeping creature in a mile radius, but he didn’t care. He could see the gate to his driveway. He could see an Uber parked outside with its blinkers on. He whipped into the driveway and lowered his window.
“Why are you here?” he asked, dipping into his alpha voice almost unconsciously, and the Uber driver jumped, nearly upsetting the very large soda in his hands.
“I … I was told to wait. Mr. Hollander said he would only be a few minutes, and that I was to take him to the airport.”
Ilya clenched his teeth against the growl that was lingering in his chest. “You will leave now.”
“But—”
“Do not make me say it again.”
The Uber driver went pale and nodded furiously, putting his cup down long enough to shift into drive and peel out of the driveway.
There. One problem solved. A thousand more to go.
Ilya punched in his combination wrong three times before he got the damn thing to open, and the car was barely in park and off before he was jumping out of it and hurrying towards his front door. He pulled out his phone and saw several more messages from Hayden.
hpike35: i thought he was leaving because of you. because you did something
hpike35: if you’re telling the truth, then i guess i was wrong
hpike35: i don’t trust you, rozanov, but i’m worried about Shane too
hpike35: he gets in his head about things sometimes. especially about being an omega
hpike35: if you actually care about him, don’t let him do anything stupid
Ilya had absolutely no intention of letting Shane go through with any of the rash decisions he was surely seconds away from making. He would do everything in his power to get Shane to stay, and if that wasn’t possible, he would at least find out the truth so he could live knowing what he’d done to cause this.
He yanked open the front door and went to throw his bag down before realizing he didn’t have it with him. In his haste to leave, he’d left everything behind in the locker room. But none of that mattered, because Shane had appeared at the top of the steps, a duffel bag in one hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Oh,” he said, taking the steps quickly as though Ilya’s appearance in his own house was nothing but a minor convenience. “I thought I’d be gone before you got here.”
“Surprise … I am here,” Ilya said, trying to keep himself calm. That innate alpha anger was screaming to be released in a tirade that would have Shane crumpled and begging on the floor, but Ilya shut that down immediately. He would not stoop to the levels of his father and his brother. He would not make himself part of the reason that Shane was trying to leave hockey behind. He was going to do what he could to help Shane talk through this, even if it ended in his own heartbreak.
“We need to talk,” Ilya said firmly, standing in Shane’s way as he tried to pass by him to get to the door.
“No, we don’t,” Shane shot back, venom lacing his voice. He was trying to scare Ilya, but he’d forgotten that, without a scent patch, Ilya could smell his true feelings. Right now, Shane was sad and scared, and Ilya wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug and scent him until he was calm.
But that wasn’t his place.
“Yes. We do.” Ilya’s hand shot out to grab Shane’s elbow. “Hayden is worried about you.”
That seemed to do the trick. Shane stopped moving immediately and turned back to face Ilya.
“You … you talked to Hayden?”
Ilya shrugged. “Well, we did not talk so much as he yelled at me. And then he asked that I not let you do stupid things.”
“And I guess that includes leaving?” Shane said, deflating just a little. Ilya was getting somewhere. He just had to bring it home.
“I would say so, yes,” Ilya said, giving Shane’s elbow a gentle squeeze. “Please.”
Shane sighed and dropped his duffel on the floor with a thump. “Fine. But you can’t make me stay if I don’t want to.”
Oh, yes I can, Ilya thought to himself.
“If we are done talking and you still want to leave, I will not stop you.”
Ilya found that he wasn’t actually lying. There was no part of him that wanted to keep Shane here against his will, and if Shane asked Ilya to let him go, he probably would. But he was too desperate to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Shane that he was willing to make promises he didn’t want to keep.
This seemed to satisfy Shane, and he pulled himself out of Ilya’s grasp and headed for the kitchen. Ilya followed him, discarding his shoes along the way.
Shane had parked himself in his usual breakfast spot, his arms resting on the island and his eyes averted from Ilya. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”
Ilya reached for the cross around his neck, letting the warm metal press into his fingers hard enough to leave dents. It was all he could do to calm himself, to keep his scent in check so he didn’t accidentally overwhelm Shane with it. It was an involuntary thing that Ilya hadn’t ever had an issue with in the past, but he’d also never spent significant time in the presence of an omega that he had this level of feelings for either.
“Coach Wiebe told me you want to leave hockey. Why?”
Shane’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want to leave hockey. But I have to.”
“Why?” Ilya repeated.
Shane snorted. “Of course you would ask why. As if you don’t already know.”
“I would not ask if I knew,” Ilya said steadily. “And I want to hear it from you, not others.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then make me understand, Hollander.”
Shane glared at him, and Ilya glared right back. He was going to be calm, sure, but he wasn’t going to back down without a fight.
“Why should I even bother, when neither of us are going to change our minds about this?” Shane said sharply, standing and starting to pace.
“Because I do not think is what you want,” Ilya admitted. It was a dangerous move, to lay out his truth on the table like that, but he could see Shane’s spiral, and what Shane needed right now, rather than platitudes, was honesty.
“Oh, and you know what I want?”
“Sometimes, yes. You are not so hard to read.”
“Fine. Fine. You want to know why I’m so sure this is the only fucking choice for me now? Because I don’t fucking belong here!” Shane yelled, his voice echoing around the kitchen with more force than Ilya had ever heard him use, even when he was seconds away from punching out Chourinard’s teeth.
“Who told you that?” Ilya said then, keeping his voice even and calm, even though the idea of anyone on the team saying something to Shane made his blood boil. But he knew no one had, because Shane hadn’t told them. The only three people who knew – himself, Troy, and Harris – had kept it quiet. Shane had reached the point where he was finding any excuse to validate his need to leave. Ilya had to pull him back or they’d get nowhere. He’d tried honesty. Now he needed to ground him in reality.
Shane opened his mouth, but Ilya spoke again before he could get a single syllable out. “No, Hollander, I actually want answer. Who on the team told you that you do not belong?”
“I …” Shane licked his lips, his mouth turning down in a frown. “No one. No one told me that. But you heard them in the locker room. They might not have known they were talking about me, but I doubt it would have gone any differently if they had known.”
“Then why do you say it like it is fact?”
Shane let out a frustrated breath. “It doesn’t matter if they haven’t said it yet, because they will. If I keep playing, I’ll have to submit my heat schedule to Coach. I can’t—” Shane’s hand raked through his hair forcefully. “If I told everyone, they’d treat me differently. I wouldn’t be Shane Hollander, the beta rookie on the Centaurs. I’d be Shane Hollander, the omega who lied about his identity and probably doses just to keep up with the alphas.”
“You would not have to tell people if you did not want to,” Ilya reassured him. “That information is private between coach and player. Those of us that know, we would keep quiet.”
Shane just shook his head. “Hiding it would be worse, because if anyone found out, if anyone even suspected, it would be the talk of the league. And then it wouldn’t just be my problem, it would be the team’s problem as well. You’ve seen the backlash Montreal is getting for having an omega player on their team, and they’re actually out there winning cups. For this team? It would be infinitely worse. I can’t be responsible for that.”
“I guess you were right. I do not understand,” Ilya said slowly, and Shane’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Because you are better than most alphas in the league. You are omega, and you are better.”
Shane finally stopped pacing to look at Ilya, and Ilya could see tears in his eyes. He kept going. “You have the skill. You have desire to win. You love hockey more than anything. Is all that matters to me, and to rest of team too.”
“Ilya, I’m not—” Shane’s lip wobbled.
“You are.” Ilya walked around the island and stopped just short of Shane, leaving a chair’s distance between them. “Listen to me, Shane. You are scared. I know this. I have been scared before too. Living in Russia and not being type of alpha my family expected of me, it was scary. I feared for my life often. But I got out.”
“You’re braver than me,” Shane mumbled.
Ilya shook his head, taking a miniscule step closer. “I did what I had to, and I am not omega, but I think …” Ilya took a breath. “People, they look at you and they know one thing and they decide they know all. Is not true. You are more than omega or beta or alpha. You are Shane fucking Hollander, and you are brave too.”
Shane’s face crumpled and all the fight went out of him. Ilya moved just quickly enough to catch him and keep him from dropping to his knees. He wrapped his arms around Shane and held him as he cried, tears soaking through Ilya’s thin t-shirt. He didn’t care.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Shane said, finally pulling himself away from Ilya and wiping roughly at his face. “I didn’t mean to … it’s been a lot, and I … I’m sorry.”
“I do not mind,” Ilya said softly, his hand going once again to the cross around his neck. “My mother always said feelings were good thing to have and express.”
“I wish it were that easy,” Shane mumbled, and Ilya nodded.
“I do too.”
Shane pulled out the chair he’d been sitting in before and dropped into it. “I didn’t mean for it to get this fucked up.”
“I know,” Ilya said, taking a seat next to him.
“I’m sorry,” Shane repeated again, and this time his cheeks flushed. Ilya’s nostrils were filled with heavy vanilla.
“For what?”
“Well, for a lot of things, but … for lying to you, and the team. I should have disclosed my secondary gender, even if I didn’t think I could have heats. It wasn’t right of me to hide behind the anonymity of a beta.”
The words were on the tip of his tongue, the ones where he promised Shane – again – that it was okay and he didn’t care and that it was his choice to share or not share that part of himself, but Shane kept going.
“But I’m mostly sorry that you had to help me with my first heat.”
Ilya blinked. Shane had not once brought this up since it had happened, and Ilya had resigned himself to the fact that it would never be resolved, that they would never talk about it, and the memory of Shane bare and begging and beautiful would remain just that … a memory. But that reluctant limbo was no more. It was out there in the open, dangling between them in Ilya’s kitchen like forbidden fruit, and Ilya wasn’t sure which would be worse … ignoring it and brushing it off, or taking it off the vine and eating it.
“I did not do so out of obligation,” Ilya said, each word measured. “You … you asked for my help. I gave it willingly.”
Shane ducked his head in shame. “You’re my captain and my friend and I never should have asked you to cross that line. I knew that you were scared of hurting omegas, of hurting me, and you never should have had to make that choice between sticking to your needs and helping me with mine. I … I promise to never put you in that position again.”
But what if I want you to, Ilya thought. What if that’s all I want?
“If that is what you want,” Ilya said with a nod, ignoring the twisting of his insides.
“It’s not like you ever would have looked at me like that otherwise,” Shane continued to ramble. “If I were a beta or even an alpha, you probably wouldn’t … it was biology. Nothing more.”
“It was more for me.”
Ilya almost clapped a hand over his own mouth. He had no idea what had compelled him to say such a thing, but now the words were out there, and Shane was staring at him like he had two heads.
He had no choice but to explain himself. Shane had been honest with him. It was only fair.
Ilya swallowed. “I, um … I fought with myself. About helping. I knew you would ask, and I knew it would mean more to me because I was already looking.”
Shane looked like he’d been smacked. “You were …”
Ilya felt his cheeks flush. “Yes. Since first day in locker room. Since junior world championship, probably. You were, are … mesmerising to watch. Omega, beta, alpha, it made no difference then, and does not now. Is just … you.”
Shane’s eyes were wide and shining. Ilya felt a lump rising in his throat. Being this vulnerable didn’t come easy for him.
“So you … you stayed, knowing that I might break your heart?”
“I did,” Ilya said. “You needed me.”
“But … but you were terrified.”
“So were you. Being scared together made it better, I think, yes?”
“Ilya …”
Ilya shook his head, a lone tear splattering onto his cheek. He wiped it away quickly with his thumb. “Is nothing. Is okay if you do not feel the same. I will respect your boundaries.”
“Fuck boundaries,” Shane said, and he surged forward. Before Ilya could take a breath, Shane’s mouth was against his, and every other thought in his mind was wiped blissfully away.
Ilya had been so sure that the first time he kissed Shane Hollander would be the last. He’d thought that his heat would be his only chance, and he’d poured as much of his adoration and feelings into those moments as possible. Had it been selfish? Maybe.
But it was happening again, here and now, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the level of need that rose instantly at the pressure of Shane’s lips.
His hands found their way into Shane’s hair, holding his head steady as he licked into his mouth. Shane made a whimpering noise and Ilya was hit with a wave of sweet vanilla. Fuck, Shane was getting wet.
Ilya used every ounce of his strength to pull away from the kiss. His cock was embarrassingly hard from just a kiss, but judging by the flush of Shane’s cheeks and the continuing scent of vanilla, he wasn’t much better off.
“Are you sure?” Ilya asked, cringing at how whiny his voice sounded. “I do not want you to think I am taking advantage …”
“For fuck’s sake, Rozanov, just kiss me,” Shane insisted, reaching for him again.
This time, Ilya met him in the middle.
Shane tasted like mint gum and sweat, a combination that Ilya had never considered working well together, but on Shane, it did more than that. Ilya kissed Shane like he was starving for it – and maybe he was – and Shane responded with such enthusiasm that he ended up half in Ilya’s lap, grinding his cock against Ilya’s thigh as his hands tightened in Ilya’s hair.
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya growled into his mouth, and he felt something damp seeping into the knee of his joggers.
“You’re so … god, I want you everywhere,” Shane mumbled. “Need your knot, alpha, please.”
“Whatever you want, omega,” Ilya purred back, reaching around Shane to ghost his fingers over Shane’s soaked sweatpants. He pulled away from Shane’s eager mouth just enough to press his own fingers into his mouth, and Shane’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan. “Will you let me taste you?”
Shane fell against Ilya’s chest, desperately riding his thigh now. “Want … want you to. Wanna come on your tongue.”
Ilya chuckled. “Such a dirty mouth on you. I like it.”
Shane moaned into Ilya’s neck, his nose pressed against Ilya’s scent gland, and Ilya turned his nose into Shane’s damp skin, finally scenting him properly for the first time. He shuddered as his senses were overwhelmed with lavender and coffee and that sweet, sweet vanilla top note that he would have hated otherwise, but on Shane, it was perfect.
“Shit, Ilya, I’m … fuck,” Shane panted, his tongue brushing over Ilya’s scent gland in a way that made Ilya shudder and grip Shane harder. “You smell so good, I never … never let myself notice before … ah—”
“Come for me,” Ilya said lowly, nipping at Shane’s neck, completely overwhelmed by the man under him.
Shane came with a high keening whine, his hips stuttering against Ilya’s upper thigh as he emptied into his pants. Ilya could feel the warmth of Shane’s release and his cock twitched, now fully hard and edging on painful. He relished in it, part of him still in awe that Shane wanted this, wanted him. It was overwhelming, to say the very least.
Shane was boneless against him, letting out little groans as he continued to come. Ilya could feel the exact moment that Shane realized how dirty he was, because his nose wrinkled against Ilya’s neck.
“Upstairs, come on,” Ilya insisted, hoisting Shane over his shoulder. Shane’s groan turned into a yelp, which only served to make Ilya laugh.
“What the … put me down!”
“I don’t think is what you want,” Ilya teased, those same words before taking on a whole new meaning as he took the stairs two at a time and turned towards his spare room … to Shane’s room. He dumped him gently on the bed and started stripping him out of his ruined clothes. Shane propped himself up on his elbows and watched, his face the perfect shade of pink and his freckles standing out against his cheekbones. Ilya had the sudden urge to kiss every single one of them, but he already had a mission. Maybe next time.
Once Shane was naked, Ilya tore off his own shirt, joggers, and underwear and plastered himself on top of Shane’s body, groaning deep in his chest when their cocks met. He found Shane’s mouth and sucked on his bottom lip. Shane’s hands snaked back into his hair, tangling in the messy curls. Ilya loved it when people played with his hair, and Shane did it instinctually. It made him even harder.
“Gonna taste you now, omega,” Ilya whispered against Shane’s skin as he made his way down his body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any inch of skin he could find. Shane had already pulled his knees to his chest, presenting himself to Ilya, and Ilya’s alpha preened. It was so familiar already, even though they’d only done this once before, but this time was better. Shane was fully with him, doing this purely for the reason of wanting to. Ilya wished he could suspend this moment in time. But he was also desperate to get a true taste of Shane.
He kissed up and down Shane’s thighs, his lips sliding over his slick-damp skin. His hands gripped Shane’s hips, needing something to hold onto, and Shane gasped as Ilya’s fingers dug into him.
“Feels … feels so good, shit. Need your mouth.”
Ilya took his sweet time, nibbling at the thin, sensitive skin of Shane’s inner thighs, so close to his cock that Ilya could feel it twitch against his face when his tongue slid over Shane’s balls. He took one in his mouth, then the other, sucking them clean, and Shane’s slick dampened the bed beneath them. Ilya’s mouth watered, and he pulled Shane closer, finding his hole with his tongue.
“Fuck,” Shane cried as Ilya dove in with enthusiasm. That first taste of Shane at the source only made him want more, and he took what he wanted, swirling his tongue around Shane’s entrance and lapping up whatever slick Shane offered him. He tasted like sunshine.
He only pulled back when he started getting dizzy from lack of air, though he gladly would have let Shane suffocate him in that moment. His mouth and chin and cheeks were surely covered in Shane’s slick, but Shane looked down at him like he was precious.
“So good, Ilya, need … need more. Need to come,” Shane gasped, his fingers digging into his own shins. Ilya nodded and went back down, his tongue poking past Shane’s hole with almost indecent ease. Inside, he tasted even better, and Ilya moaned against Shane, his teeth scraping the edges of his hole as he tried to go harder, deeper, almost delirious from the scent emanating from Shane.
God, he loved him. He loved this. He loved everything about these moments they were sharing together. He wanted more. He wanted forever.
Carefully, Ilya slid the tip of a finger in beside his tongue, searching around for that one spot that was sure to make Shane come, and he knew he found it when Shane’s entire body arched off the bed. He kept pressure on it, massaging and sucking at Shane’s rim until Shane’s body stiffened and his hole clenched around Ilya’s tongue and he came. Ilya didn’t stop until Shane’s shaking hands were pushing him away, and he finally came up for air, resting his chin on Shane’s thigh and laughing with pure joy.
“You … you’re too good at that,” Shane said, completely breathless.
“I aim to please,” Ilya offered, grinning, and Shane shoved him. “Oh, come on, Hollander, I know you do not want me to stop now. You want my knot, yes?”
“Yes, asshole, I want your fucking knot,” Shane grumbled back. Ilya loved it when he talked back like that.
Ilya pushed himself up onto his knees and kissed Shane long and hard, making Shane taste himself on Ilya’s tongue. When he pulled back, Shane looked beautifully fucked. “You will get what you want. But I want to see how many times you can come first.”
Shane snorted and tugged Ilya back down on top of him.
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
Hours later, Ilya woke to darkness outside.
He rubbed at his eyes and pulled Shane’s naked body closer to him, pressing them together. Shane mumbled something in his sleep but didn’t wake up, and Ilya nuzzled his nose into the back of Shane’s neck.
Shane had come two more times before Ilya allowed himself to fuck him, and then he’d embarrassed himself by only lasting a few minutes once the tightness and heat of Shane had surrounded him and his knot. They must have fallen asleep immediately after, because Ilya’s cock was soft and still partially inside Shane.
Moving carefully so as not to wake him, Ilya pulled all the way out and stripped off the condom, tying it expertly. He pressed a kiss to the side of Shane’s head and dragged himself from the mess they’d made of Shane’s bed and straight to the bathroom. He threw away the condom and tossed cold water on his face to wake himself up a little bit, and then set about finding a washcloth and a clean towel.
When he made it back to Shane’s room, Shane was blinking slowly at him, his smile growing when he laid eyes on Ilya.
“Sorry. I did not mean to wake you,” Ilya said, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Shane shook his head.
“You didn’t. I just … I missed you.”
Shane’s blush was the eighth wonder of the world, Ilya decided then. It brightened every room, and Shane didn’t even seem to be aware of the effect it had on him.
Ilya lifted the damp washcloth and began to wipe Shane’s body down, and Shane just watched him, his eyes wide.
“You … I can just get a shower, it’s not—”
“No. I want to take care of you,” Ilya said firmly. “Try not to get hard.”
Shane rolled his eyes but stayed where he was, his eyes following Ilya’s movements as he cleaned Shane’s body and then dried him off. When he was done, he tapped Shane on the thigh and Shane finally moved so Ilya could grab the comforter, which was now stained with slick and come. He tossed all of that into a corner for later and crawled back into bed, pulling Shane close and kissing him gently.
“You’re a really good alpha, you know,” Shane said quietly after a while.
“I had to learn. I was not raised this way,” Ilya said honestly. “I did not know if I would be good partner, but I am trying.”
“You’re better than good,” Shane insisted, kissing Ilya’s forehead. The warmth of his lips lingered on Ilya’s skin. “Wait … partner?”
Ilya’s heart stopped as he realized what he’d said. “I … I mean …”
“No, no, I … I like that. I want to be your partner. To be yours. If you’ll have me.”
Ilya’s eyes filled with instant tears, and for once, he didn’t feel embarrassed. “Is what I want too. But … I want to court you.”
Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “You … really?”
Ilya nodded. “Yes, really. You did not think I would ask you?”
“It’s not that, it’s just …” Shane gestured to the both of them, still very naked. “We’re a little past that, don’t you think?”
Ilya shrugged. “Maybe, but I want to do this right. I want to … spoil you, I think is how you say it.”
Shane laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“You deserve only best treatment,” Ilya said. “I want to give you that.”
Shane snuggled himself into Ilya’s chest, his head over his heart, and nodded. “Then I accept.”
Ilya sighed, relief settling in his chest. He didn’t truly think Shane would say no, but there was still that small part of him that didn’t believe this was real. That someone or something would swoop in and take away the first person he’d ever really loved like this.
“Hey …”
Ilya pulled away as Shane lifted his head. Their eyes met.
“Yes?”
Shane’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I think … I think I want to make a statement. About me being an omega.”
Ilya wasn’t necessarily surprised to hear him say that, but at the same time, he felt shocked that he’d come to that decision so quickly. Ilya would have needed several days to get his thoughts straight in his head. That said, he cocked his head slightly. “Like … to whole team?”
“Well, yes, the team, but also … everyone?”
Ilya opened and closed his mouth, taking Shane’s words in. That, he hadn’t been expecting. “You no longer want to quit hockey?”
“No,” Shane said. “I … I think it’s even more important now that I stay. That I play how I’ve always played, but as myself. Other omegas need to know that there’s a place for them in hockey. I am proof that we are capable of doing great things. I … I want to help.”
Ilya could do nothing but smile, and he pressed his lips gently to Shane’s. “You are so special. If is what you want, we will make it happen.”
“I want to talk to Harris, maybe ask him for help crafting the right way to say it. I want it out there before the season starts.” Shane looked up at him through his lashes. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Ilya answered.
“Right. Okay. Yeah, that’s …” Shane let out a shaky breath, and Ilya hugged him closer. “But that’s tomorrow. Right now, I need to eat.”
“Eat what?” Ilya asked, wiggling his eyebrows, and Shane shoved him away.
“Food, for fuck’s sake.”
Ilya laughed, giving Shane one last kiss before getting to his feet.
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
“Shane, are you sure about this?”
Harris had already asked that question four times, but Ilya understood why he felt the need to ask it a fifth time. Harris understood, probably better than anyone, the possible consequences of what Shane was about to do. His worry and Ilya’s worry were buried under scent patches, but Ilya didn’t need to smell the sharp cinnamon note on top of Harris’s apple scent to know that he was worried.
They’d arrived at the rink a full hour before practice was even due to start. Ilya knew that Harris came in early to take advantage of the quiet before his work with the team truly began, and Shane wanted to do things on his terms, so Ilya had agreed.
As they’d walked in, Ilya had pulled out his phone and opened Instagram, pulling up his messages with Hayden. He stared at the last one and smirked.
hpike35: if you actually care about him, don’t let him do anything stupid
He was pretty sure that Shane letting Ilya fuck him and knot him again would fall under something Hayden would consider stupid, but he didn’t need to mention that. Not unless he was feeling extra chirpy on the ice in a few weeks.
ilyarozanov: I fixed it.
ilyarozanov: Shane wants to stay. Wants to tell team and league everything.
The response was almost immediate.
hpike35: damn, i wasn’t sure you had it in you
hpike35: but … thank you. shane would be miserable without hockey
hpike35: you’re pretty convincing when you want to be, eh, rozanov?
ilyarozanov: You have no idea.
Ilya thought about throwing in something about how he was courting Shane, but he figured it was too early in the morning to give Hayden a heart attack. There were more important things to worry about right now. Like the fact that they were quickly approaching Harris’s office and Shane was slowing down, his fingers worrying at the hem of his shirt. No … at the hem of Ilya’s shirt. Shane was wearing his clothes. Fuck, that was hot.
Ilya reached out and put a gentle hand on Shane’s shoulder, getting him to stop just short of the door. “Hey. You ready for this?”
Shane bit his lip but nodded. “Yeah. Yes. I think.”
“Is okay to be nervous. This is big step for you.”
“I’m not—” Shane stopped himself. “Fine, I’m nervous, okay?”
Ilya just nodded and, after glancing around the empty hallway, pulled Shane into a hug, nudging his nose against Shane’s scent gland. He couldn’t smell anything due to the scent patch, of course, but the gesture alone had the tension slowly leaving Shane’s body.
“Okay. Okay. Let’s get this over with,” Shane muttered.
And now they were here, Shane fidgeting in his chair across from Harris and Ilya standing a few steps back by the door. This was Shane’s thing. He was only there for moral support. He didn’t want to seem like an overbearing alpha by inserting himself physically into the conversation.
“I’m very sure,” Shane said, his voice steady now that he’d said everything he needed to say. “I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to be gossip and nothing more. I want to be me. And I want to help other omegas feel safe. I want to fight for our right to be seen as equals in the league. I’m tired of all of us being conditioned to think a certain way.”
Harris nodded. “Alright. Then I support you 100%. I’ll draft something up and have you look at it early next week. I figure you want a little time for the team to settle with the idea before you put it out there for the world to see, right?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna tell them today, but … yeah, a few days to breathe would be good.”
“Perfect.” Harris’s eyes flickered towards Ilya, and a smile tugged at his mouth. “And just … while I’ve got you both here, I feel like I should say … I guess I’m just grateful you have each other. I’m so glad you called me, Ilya, or I don’t know where we’d be right now.”
Ilya felt his face flush as Shane turned quickly from Harris to Ilya and back again. “What … what do you mean, he called you? Called you for what?”
“Was nothing,” Ilya said quickly, not necessarily wanting to relive that moment of weakness, but Harris was fully grinning now.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?”
Shane shook his head and stared at Ilya. “Tell me what?”
Ilya cleared his throat. “I, uh …”
“Oh, he just called me fully panicking because you were in heat and he didn’t know what he was doing,” Harris said smugly. Ilya’s face burned, but a slow smile was spreading over Shane’s face. His eyes glinted with mirth.
“You didn’t …”
Harris let out a bark of laughter. “Yep, he absolutely did. And then Troy had to talk him through the basics. I’d say it took us about 10 minutes collectively to calm him down.”
Shane’s nose crinkled as he laughed silently, and Ilya rubbed a hand over his overheated face. “I hate you both.”
“No you don’t,” Shane countered.
He was right, but Ilya wasn’t about to admit that here and now. It felt like something better said in the comfort of Ilya’s home.
As Shane and Ilya left Harris’s office, Shane nudged him with his elbow. “You, Ilya Rozanov, panicked?”
“Is not a big deal, Hollander.”
“Liar,” Shane chirped back.
Ilya groaned. “Fine, but at least I had everything I needed. I probably would have hidden in at-home gym otherwise.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Shane said, his voice going soft, and Ilya’s heart skipped a beat as he felt Shane’s pinky graze his.
They weren’t planning to disclose their relationship quite yet, so every small touch felt like a victory, a tiny secret they were both willing to keep. Ilya hooked their fingers together for a second and then stepped away from Shane.
“I will go to locker room first. You go talk to Coach, yes?”
“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll … see you in a bit?”
“Yes.”
🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒
Ilya felt like he was more nervous about this part than Shane was. He put on his gear quietly, waiting for Shane to get back from Coach Wiebe’s office, only offering smiles to his teammates as they greeted him. He hoped no one noticed his strange behavior.
“You alright, Roz? Pretty quiet over there,” Bood said from across the locker room.
Fuck.
“Fine, Bood. Just tired, I think. I did not sleep well.”
That was technically true. After he and Shane had eaten dinner, they’d curled up on Ilya’s couch and watched a baking show, which then turned into Shane riding him on said couch. That and, despite what he told Shane, Ilya had that tiny voice in the back of his head worrying about the team’s reaction to Shane’s news. He felt like he could trust most of his team to be good about it, but he wasn’t stupid. There were always people who were just that good at hiding their bigotry until it was staring them in the face.
Shane came through the door then and Ilya’s head snapped up when he heard his voice. Shane was smiling, seeming perfectly confident, and this should have calmed Ilya’s racing heart, but it didn’t. His eyes tracked Shane as he made his way to the center of the locker room, and just as he reached the very same bench that Ilya had given his first speech on only two weeks ago, Coach Wiebe slipped inside as well, staying close to the door.
Ilya swallowed down his fears and met Shane’s gaze. Shane’s eyebrows moved a fraction, as if to ask now? Ilya gave him a nod and a smile, and Shane nodded back.
Shane climbed up on the bench and the usual chatter petered off into nothing. “Hey, guys, I … there’s something I need to tell all of you.”
“You gonna let the rook make the announcements now, Roz?” someone called, and the room filled with snorts of laughter.
“This is Shane’s news, not mine,” Ilya said calmly. “He is on bench, rookie or not. You will listen.”
Everyone turned back to Shane then, Ilya included. Shane’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath.
“I haven’t been honest with you all. There are things about me that you don’t know, and I feel like I owe you all the truth.” Shane’s throat bobbed. “I started hockey as soon as I started walking, and it’s been everything to me. It made me who I am, and honestly, I’m damn good at it. I worked my ass off to be here, and I couldn’t be more honored to have you all as my teammates. But … I’m not what you think I am. I’m not a beta. I never have been. I’m an omega.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the locker room. No one said a word. No one made a sound. Ilya wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
“I didn’t think it was important to disclose this information after I presented. There were some complications with … with that part of me, but now those complications no longer exist. I know that there’s a lot of concern about omegas playing in the NHL, even from some of the people in this room. I know that this information might make our team a target from the media, and from others with harsher opinions, but I don’t want to hide behind anonymity anymore. I’ve never shied away from the more violent aspects of this sport. I’ve never played at any less than 110% a single day in my life, and especially on this team. I … I’m one of you, and I just hope you all will accept me as I am.”
Shane pressed his lips together, his hands in his pockets so that no one, aside from Ilya, would know that they were shaking. When no one said anything at all, Shane cleared his throat. “Umm, that’s it. I’ll just …” He climbed down from the bench and started towards his locker.
“Wait …” said a voice, and Nick Chouinard stepped forward. Ilya tensed, but didn’t move from his spot in his stall. Shane stopped mid-step as all eyes turned towards Nick. “I know I said some things I shouldn’t have. I acted like a real idiot and I know I apologized already, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You … you’re so fucking good, Hollander. Better than me. Better than most of us.” Ilya clocked several nods out of his peripheral vision, but his eyes stayed locked on Shane. “I’m so proud to be on a team like this. Diverse, you know? I’m trying to be better. And I’m glad you’re here.”
Ilya felt that fear he’d been harboring since last night start to melt away as other members of the team expressed the same sentiment, and the tension in Shane’s shoulders started to disappear.
“I’m only a little sad that we can’t be the beta trio anymore, though,” Wyatt said with a dramatic sigh.
“We could be B.O.B.?” Luca offered, and the whole locker room filled with laughter. Shane was laughing the hardest.
“Yes. Absolutely yes, we’re doing that,” Wyatt said, pulling Shane and Luca into a hug.
“Group hug!” Luca yelled, and the team converged on Shane. Ilya allowed himself to be swept up into the mix, not knowing whose arms were around him, but it didn’t matter. This place and this team were more than Ilya could have ever asked for, and Shane, well, he was the best part of all of it.
Ilya couldn’t believe he was going to get to court him. It was one of those things he’d always assumed he’d have with someone somewhere, but over the years, he had accepted that he might not ever be able to give an omega what they needed, what they deserved. And now he had a chance. He wasn’t going to waste a single moment of it.
“Alright, Centaurs, to the ice!” Coach Wiebe called in his booming voice, and the massive pile of people untangled themselves and headed out of the locker room until only Shane and Ilya were left.
“That was amazing,” Ilya said softly, touching Shane’s elbow with gentle fingers. Shane’s cheeks flushed, but he was smiling from ear to ear.
“I feel amazing,” he admitted. “I didn’t realize how … free I would feel.”
Ilya smiled and leaned in, his lips lingering long enough on Shane’s to feel him gasp in surprise. “Sorry. I could not resist.”
“It’s … yeah, that’s more than fine,” Shane whispered. “Maybe one more?”
Ilya chuckled and pulled Shane close to him, his lips brushing the shell of Shane’s ear. He let his voice dip into a gentle purr. “Later, omega.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Shane grumbled, shoving him away. Ilya laughed.
“Are you hard already?”
Shane rolled his eyes. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”
“When it’s you? Always.”