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Ilya cannot remember the last time that he had cried like this.
It’s ugly, his face buried in Cliff’s pillows, as his friends try and do whatever they can to comfort him. But how can he be comforted when he doesn’t even know what’s fucking going on? One minute he’s getting ready to leave work, excited to see his pregnant mate, and the next he’s being told to stay at Cliff’s house for the night because Shane’s husband is in town. The same husband who still believed that Shane loved him; that still believed the pup he carried was his. Ilya trusts Shane implicitly.
Matthew is a whole other story.
He doesn’t know the alpha’s intentions and that’s what scares him.
He’s run through every awful scenario in his mind by the time he hears the door to Cliff’s apartment opening, the scent of his mate enveloping the small space. Ilya is on his feet, wiping clumsily at his eyes as he follows the milky scent of vanilla out into the living room. The relief hits him like a truck, eyes scanning his mate for any visible injuries, anything that bastard could have done to have him looking so frazzled. His eyes soften, frown deepening as he sees his poor omega standing there in just his socks.
Immediately Ilya gets to scenting his mate, reclaiming him. Every inch of Shane will be his by the end of the night. Thankfully his friends take the hint, quickly clearing out of the apartment. Ilya wouldn’t have cared, he was going to have his mate whether they were watching or not.
Ilya is careful as he carries Shane through the apartment, past the couch and to the bed he had just been crying in, the pillows still damp. It’s not the first time he’s fucked an omega in Cliff’s bed, but Shane is certain to be the last. Shane is it for him. He is more than he ever thought he deserved and now he just needs to spend the rest of his life proving to Shane that he has not made a terrible mistake by choosing him as a mate. Ilya needs to prove he can give him a better life.
“I told him...” Shane murmurs as he’s laid on his back, his shirt riding up over his growing bump. Ilya can’t help but push it up higher, over his pecs until he can get a handful. “I didn’t... I don’t want to lie anymore. I don’t want to pretend.”
There had been a part of him, a tiny, microscopic part, that had worried that maybe, maybe, Cliff was right. Maybe he really was always going to be the other alpha forever. At first he had been fine with that prospect, back when it was just sex, when it was just a modeling opportunity. At first the bondmark on Shane’s neck had turned him on. There’s an ego boost that comes with fucking a mated omega, and Ilya was no stranger to seeking out that thrill. He liked to feel desirable, he liked to feel so wanted that an omega would give themselves to him, despite the mark of ownership on their neck, despite the trouble that could come from it.
Ilya thrived on the knowledge that he was better.
Now when they make love Ilya covers the mark on Shane’s neck with a gentle hand.
“You told him about us?” Ilya asks, because really he just needs to hear it. He needs to hear the confirmation that Shane is his, completely.
“I did. Ilya, all I want is you,” it comes out a gentle whimper, “us.”
“And you have me.”
Ilya makes quick work of Shane’s clothes, desperate to feel the warmth of his bare skin. Instead of discarding them off the side of the bed like he usually would he starts to form a nest with them. It’s not like theirs at home, but he hopes it will be enough. His own clothes add to the pile forming around Shane’s head, the both of them naked now. He watches as his mate’s pupils dilate further and further, as he’s surrounded by their pheromones.
“Fuck,” Shane breathes as he turns his head to the side, nose buried in his alpha’s boxers, lips parted.
Ilya stares down at his mate, at the blissed out expression on his pretty face. He gets this for the rest of his life, he realizes. For the first time in God knows how long things in his life feel stable. He has a home, he has a family, he has a mate that he loves. He has everything he’s ever wanted but never thought he deserved.
Shane says it first before he can.
“I love you,” comes the soft whimper, muffled by the makeshift nest. “I love you so much, pup...”
Ilya’s breath catches, carefully guiding Shane’s head from the clothing, holding him gently by the jaw so the omega has to look up at him. Those pretty brown eyes glisten. “Say it again, please.”
“I lov-”
Ilya presses their mouths together, swallowing down the rest of the declaration, devouring Shane’s love.
“I love you too,” Ilya murmurs against his lips.
Shane smells so incredibly sweet. Milk and honey permeate the air and Ilya is sure he is drunk off of it, the omega’s pregnant pheromones drowning him. He’s not surprised to find him soaking when he carefully slides a hand over his swollen belly and between his legs. The touch earns him a whimper, muffled by his lips. His fingers rub gentle circles on Shane’s dripping hole, just barely pressing in, teasing the poor thing.
“So wet for me, so sensitive here, yes?” He chuckles softly, kissing down to his jaw, his neck. His lips continue lower as his fingers work their way into his omega, his slick allowing them to slide in easily. Ilya crooks his fingers inside of his mate until he feels him clenching down around them. He rubs against the swollen gland until Shane is trembling beneath him, trying to squirm away from his touch.
“You sound so pretty,” Ilya praises, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.
“Shut up...”
“You do. Sound pretty... Look pretty...”
Ilya earns himself another pretty whimper when he eases his fingers out of Shane, watching as his hole flutters around nothing now. Shamelessly he brings his digits to his mouth, sucking the slick from them one by one, savoring it. He maintains eye contact, and when Shane goes to look away he holds him firm by the jaw.
“Eyes on me, mama,” he commands softly.
The hand at Shane’s jaw squeezes, forcing the omega to open his mouth. He’s such a good boy, so obedient for him. Ilya leans down, spitting Shane’s slick onto his own, outstretched tongue. Before he can swallow, Ilya slides his tongue along Shane’s, tasting him together.
“Please, pup,” Shane mewls and it isn’t enough for Ilya.
“Use your words,” Ilya instructs, slowly fisting his own cock with the remnants of Shane’s slick.
Shane’s nose scrunches up and he can’t help but chuckle, leaning down to kiss those pouting lips.
“I know, is so hard when you feel this good, yes?” Ilya asks. His own cock throbs against his palm, desperate to be inside of Shane. “Tell papa what you need.”
“Please... Need you... Need you inside me,” Shane is begging so sweetly, reaching between them to try and wrap his fingers around him, to guide him into his dripping hole. The sheets will need to be washed. The sheets might need to be burned.
Ilya has a hard time deciding whether to watch Shane’s hole or his face as he eases himself inside his mate, a low groan leaving his lips. His eyes flick back and forth before finally settling on his omega as his head tips back, as those pretty lips part. Ilya can’t help but lick into that perfect mouth, tasting the remnants of his sweet slick. Ilya doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against his mate’s ass, until he’s taken every last inch of him.
“Fuck... so perfect,” Ilya groans.
Shane is so tight around him it nearly makes him dizzy.
One hand slides up the back of Shane’s thigh, pressing it upwards and out, opening him up further to fit just a bit more of himself inside. The added depth pulls the sweetest whine from his mate, his back arching up off the bed.
“Ilya... fuck! Please move,” Shane whimpers, his arms moving around Ilya’s neck to pull him in even closer. “Now. Please.”
“Easy, mama,” Ilya chuckles softly, his hips slowly withdrawing until only the tip remains inside. He lets Shane’s hole flutter around the head of his cock before he’s plunging back in, punching a cry from his precious omega.
Ilya doesn’t give his mate time to adjust. The grip underneath his knee tightens as he begins to move, fucking Shane like he was made for it.
He loves this. He loves to be balls deep in his mate, fucking him like he’s trying to knock him up again, as if his pup wasn’t already growing in his belly. He’s even tighter than the first time, he thinks, his body squeezing him like a wet, velvety vice. Shane is perfect for him, and in return he gives him all that he can. There isn’t a moment where his hips falter or he loses sight of what Shane needs.
Ilya fucks to worship Shane.
“You look good like this...” Ilya pants, looking down at his mate, at the cockdrunk expression on his face. His eyes are glazed over, lips parted in a gentle pant, a series of mewls and whimpers leaving them. “So full... Full of our pup... Full of me,” he muses, his hand sliding over Shane’s belly, over the cute little bump.
Matthew could never give this to him.
Already he can feel the telltale signs that Shane is getting close. His hole clenches, over and over, pulsing around his cock. The scent of his slick is all encompassing, getting stronger as he gets closer.
“Ilya fuck... Ilya I’m gonna-I’m gonna-fuck!”
Shane’s nails dig into the flesh of his arm, the other hand wrapped up in Cliff’s bedsheets. Ilya’s eyes never leave Shane’s face as it scrunches, as it twists in his orgasm. Shane gets so tight he nearly comes right then and there.
“You’re so fucking beautiful...” Ilya grunts, watching in awe as Shane paints his swollen belly white with his release.
Ilya slows down momentarily, only enough to shift positions. He maneuvers Shane carefully onto his side, laying behind him so he can get even closer, his chest against his back now. It’s close, intimate. Ilya can really hold him like this, without crushing his belly.
“That’s it, sweetheart... You can take more, yes?” Ilya pants against Shane’s ear, hot breath causing him to shudder. The omega squirms when he takes the lobe into his mouth, sucking on it until Shane is whimpering. It’s music to his ears. “Feel so good... I don’t want to stop...”
Shane nods his response, unable to form any coherent sentences. Anything that gets past his lips is just babble, pathetic, beautiful sounds.
Shane is always so pretty when he’s overstimulated.
There’s no end to Ilya’s stamina. He’s a young alpha who fucks like he has something to prove. And maybe he does. Maybe he wants to prove to Shane, over and over, that he is the superior mate; that he is worthy of sharing his nest.
Somehow he picks up the pace. Somehow he fucks Shane even harder than before. He wants Shane braindead, spent, and so fucked out that he won’t even feel the pain of the bonding bite. Each hard fuck into his mate has the poor thing sobbing, tears collecting on his cheeks as he’s pushed further and further towards the edge. Just a little more. Shane can take a little more.
His hand slides up from where he has a vice grip on his pec, all the way up to his neck until his thumb can graze the bondmark that does nothing but taunt him.
“Shane...”
He only gets a whimper in response, his mate completely cock drunk. The freckles on his cheeks are damp from his tears, a vision of overstimulation. His swollen belly is still covered in the remnants of his first orgasm, his big, useless cock hard all over again.
“I know... I know,” Ilya coos softly, his hips never stopping, driving deep into his omega’s willing body. “You are doing so well, so good for me.”
They’re both close, and Ilya knows he has a very short window of opportunity to do this right. Bonding over an existing mark would be painful, but if he could time it during the come down of Shane’s orgasm then it shouldn’t be quite so bad.
“Look at me.” When Shane doesn’t listen his hips slow just a bit, the hand on his neck sliding up to his jaw, turning his face enough to look at him. “If you don’t look at me I stop. Look at me, mama.”
The threat of stopping is enough to get his omega to open those pretty eyes of his, so watery, so blown out they’re almost black. Ilya smiles softly. He wants to make sure that Shane is still with him when he does this, that there isn’t a single doubt in his mind that he wants the bond as much as he wants to give it.
“There he is. There’s my omega,” he praises, picking up the pace again, his hips slapping against Shane’s ass. “You are okay, yes? Ready?”
They both know it’s another step further, another line that cannot be uncrossed. Everything changes after this. There will be no other alpha with a claim over his mate, just an old man getting served divorce papers.
Shane nods, and Ilya can tell it’s a struggle for the poor thing to even keep his eyes open right now, his lashes fluttering.
“Can you come again for me? Can you come for your pup?” Ilya practically begs, nuzzling into his neck from behind. “I have you. Let go. You can do this, yes? Tell me.”
“Mhmm,” comes the whimpered response. He can tell Shane is really trying to concentrate on the English language, on constructing a coherent sentence. “I-I can... I can, pup... oh my god... oh fuck... oh fuck-coming.”
Ilya fucks into his mate until he feels him clenching around his swelling knot, until he hears those strangled cries of relief. It’s really dawning on him now that he’s going to have this for the rest of his life, that this is real.
Shane is babbling incoherently, but he can make out two distinct words being said over and over again between sobs.
Bond me.
It’s instinct to want to sink his teeth into the neck of the omega he loves, the omega that for all intents and purposes already belongs to him. The pup in his belly proves it. But he wants the world to know too. He wants the world to know that Shane Hollander belongs to him now.
Ilya fucks Shane through a second orgasm, as his own climax punches him in the face. It’s hard and fast, his knot swelling to lock them together. Shane trembles in his arms as he holds him close, one arm under him, wrapped above his belly, the other on his jaw to keep his head in place.
“Mine, mine, mine,” Ilya can’t help but growl, his hips rocking desperately, moving as much as his inflated knot will allow him.
“Y-yours... Make me yours-- fuck... baby... puppy...” Shane sobs.
Ilya does not need to be asked twice. His teeth sink into the scent gland at Shane’s neck, breaking the delicate skin, tearing through the old mark. His poor mate tenses in his arms, and he knows that it must be hurting him. The formation of a bond is never painless, and he only wishes he could ease the burden, could take it on himself. He holds Shane until the trembling has stopped, until the omega starts to relax in his arms again.
Slowly Ilya extracts his teeth from Shane’s neck, staring down at the wound, at the blood smeared over the bond he’s made. It’s red and angry and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
Shane is his.
His tongue drags over the mark, wanting to clean and care for his mate. He mumbles praises between licks, needing his mate to know he’s done so well, has taken his bond so beautifully. Ilya can’t even begin to imagine the emotional comedown his mate must be experiencing.
Ilya listens to Shane as his breathing slowly evens out, as the omega purrs in his arms, in their makeshift nest, his knot still locking them together. Ilya meets Shane with his own gentle rumbling, nuzzling at the new mark on his neck, at his mark. His hand stays splayed over his belly, possessive. Protective.
“Thank you... Thank you for giving me this...” Ilya murmurs softly, his hand cradling Shane’s belly carefully.
“I’m so lucky...” Shane breathes. It’s the first thing he’s said since Ilya sunk his teeth into him. It’s spoken so softly, he barely even hears it.
It’s hard to comprehend that someone like Shane could consider himself lucky to be with him. When Shane had first told him of the pup he had felt an immeasurable amount of joy, followed by a sinking dread. Shane was more than well off, with a successful career of his own and a highly reputable social standing. So what did he have to offer an independent omega like Shane? A dead-end modeling career and the pitiful wages he made at the SoHo House? Ilya decided then he could either wallow in self pity, or he could prove to Shane that he could be the mate he deserved. That he could make something of himself, that he could provide for them, for their family.
That he could be someone worth loving.
“Nyet, I am lucky one,” Ilya says, pressing a gentle kiss to the fresh bond mark.