Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omegaverse, Nesting, Knotting, Omegaverse Alpha Bitching | Alpha Turning into an Omega, but it is temporary, gentle nudging of the timelines in certain directions that help this plot work but do not impact anything significantly, Whump, Fluff and Smut, Purring, Top Shane Hollander, Sort Of

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-18 Completed: 2026-03-21 Words: 10,720 Chapters: 2/2

Alpha Drop

Summary

The stress of Grigori's funeral has caused alpha Ilya Rozanov to experience an Alpha Drop. A rare and temporary hormone imbalance threatening his status as an alpha. Fortunately, it is very treatable.
All he needs to do is let it run his course. Which means experiencing a heat.

Notes

Idk something about ep6 when Shane was leading Ilya through the cottage talking about how he had food ready and showing him around always just screamed "pleased alpha" to me and this grew out of that.

Chapter 1

Alpha Drop was not meant to be a real thing.

 

They were a way for shitty little children to tease one another. Or a threat and insult for a man to hurl at his son after finding him with tears in his eyes and a puffy red nose.

Like how you’d threaten them with the boogeyman. 

Some sort of impossible thing that you didn’t take seriously as an adult. 

Ilya Rozanov was an alpha. 

It was an immutable fact.

Everyone knew this.

 

Someone really needed to explain it to Ilya’s doctor, and all of her pamphlets. 

 

“I know that Russia infamously does not put a great deal of stock in education around secondary genders. While this may be rare, it is natural.”

 

“No.” Ilya said, his arms tightly crossed. “Even if so, your tests are wrong. You will check again.”

 

“Have you been dealing with heightened levels of stress recently?” She plowed ahead. Her curt, no-nonsense nature had always been something Ilya privately appreciated about her. It was more difficult to appreciate now, with the question chafing directly against the too-raw nerve of his personal life.

 

Ilya returned from his father's funeral in Russia feeling like shit. The jetlag off a 12-hour flight from Moscow was never fun, but this had been something else. He buried his father who died while he was away. He cut ties with his brother. He poured his heart out to Shane and turned his back on the place that had once been his home, probably forever. He returned with his nerves fried and his sense of self scattered. 

 

He had not slept well. He finally dosed himself with a few slugs of good voka which helped crash him into a dizzying sleep - only to wake up a few hours later projecting it all straight into the toilet of his en suite bathroom. 

 

What had followed was the world’s shittiest hangover.

That proceeded to last for nearly two days.

 

Rather than getting better, it got worse. Ilya couldn’t keep any food down. He was wracked with cold sweats and a chill that refused to dissipate no matter how much he wrapped up. The only saving grace was that at least he was done for the season, and didn’t have any upcoming games to worry about. 

 

After forty-eight thoroughly miserable hours, Ilya had managed to drag himself to see his doctor to get his bloodwork done.

 

He had been expecting his doctor to prescribe him some antibiotics for a bad cold.

 

Not tell him that he had apparently failed so miserably at being an alpha his body had decided to just give up on it altogether.

 

“That is not what is happening. Not exactly.” She said evenly, after Ilya got her up to speed.

 

“The death of a family member is certainly a traumatic experience. It's not unheard of for this or some other major life event to serve as the trigger for this when the body has already been coping with low levels of stress or anxiety on an ongoing basis.

Now it is no longer asking. It is demanding that you seek help. And treatment.”

 

“Treatable, yes? Okay. How do we fix this.” Ilya clapped his hands, clinging to the notion.

 

“In most cases, it will fix itself.” She said, to Ilya’s immense relief. “With the exception of very extreme cases. Which this is not. You are alert, lucid. Your temperature is slightly elevated but are not currently in any pain. This is all good.” She soothed. “What is happening is that your alphapheramone levels are crashing. It’s going to trigger a cascading opposing effect in your body. It will be intense, but it should level out to normal levels in a few days.”

 

“Okay.” Ilya said warily. There was something about the look on her face, the tone of her voice that suggested there was another shoe ready to drop.

 

“What this effectively means is that your body is going to go into heat.”

 

The words crashed over him like ice. Ilya gripped his knees tightly, if only just to keep himself from reaching for the cross around his neck.

“Heat - what, like an omega? I am supposed to get pregnant?”

 

“You are not an omega. You cannot get pregnant.” She said evenly. “However, you will experience a heat that will follow all of the traditional symptoms that are experienced in omegas.”

 

“No, that is not possible.” Ilya laughed, shaking his head and looking around for the punchline as a flutter of panic seized the back of his throat.

 

“It's already started. Even as a beta, I can, well.” She sighed thinly. “Your scent is becoming… noticeable. I will get you blocker patches. There is an alpha escort service our clinic can recommend for you to get in contact with. They are very good, and discreet. They have an emergency number as well. This along with a referral note will allow you to submit it under your medical insurance.”

 

Ilya’s grip on his knees tightened as his stomach churned.

 

“No, no I can't do that…” It should have been stern, commanding and definitive. Ilya shouldn't sound as if he were begging.

 

“Omegas can heat alone. I will do this.”

“As your doctor, I cannot advise this.” She said sternly, leaning forward. “Many omegas can heat alone, in medically stable situations. Your body is very far from medically stable. Your blood pressure is far too high. Your hormones are dangerously unbalanced. Biological omegas have the benefit of transitioning from dry-heats to post-puberty wet heats when they start to actively seek out partners. It's an important step in development to manage their bodies and develop a foundation of emotional regulation during heat which - as an alpha - you do not have.”

 

Ilya closed his eyes tightly. It helped that she called him an alpha.

He was still an alpha.

 

But in order to get back there, he first had to experience a heat. He didn't want to believe her. But even now he felt himself struggling in a fight to keep his eyes from welling up. Ilya - who hadn't so much as sniffled in twelve years.

 

“If you don’t wish to contact a professional, is there anyone in your life who you trust to call that might be able to help you?” She pressed gently.

 

“I don't know. Marlow, maybe. He is teammate.” Ilya husked out.

 

Cliff Marlow had been close to Ilya since they were drafted. He was reliable. Not interested in gossip. He was also tall and strong and-

Ilya frowned, the image of him in his mind changing at once to another. Someone with dark hair, brown eyes and freckles. Someone whose mouth -

 

“Ah! Blyat-” Ilya doubled forward and gasped. He was arrested by a sudden, terribly strange and thoroughly unwelcome sensation.

 

“The bathroom is just through the door there.” She said evenly, as if Ilya had benignly asked for directions to it instead of slicking in his pants like a horny omega teenager.

 

Fortunately, Ilya managed to clean himself before it could stain his clothing - that was a humiliation he wouldn't have survived. Ilya took a few minutes to steady himself and breathe in the bathroom. He splashed cold water over his forehead and neck. In the enclosed space, it was harder to ignore it. The subtle, sweet scent. It wasn't exactly like that of a proper heat. Not yet.

 

When Ilya came out, he was offered a scent blocker patch for his neck which he accepted wordlessly.

 

“Do you have someone you can contact?” She pressed again.

 

“Yes.” Ilya lied, pressing the patch to his suddenly tender and swollen scent gland.

 

He was not contacting Marlow. And he definitely wasn't contacting the alpha that came to his mind’s eye that caused his body to react that way. He wondered if his doctor suspected that, the way she insisted on taking the pamphlets - along with the one for the alpha escort service.

 

-

 

Ilya knew what an omega needed for a proper heat.

He also knew his home was sorely unequipped to host an omega in heat.

 

He didn't have any of the toys an omega on their own would need.

Did he - would he have to build a nest? Ilya didn't know how to do that.

 

There were specialty shops one could go to. Places that had fancy nesting materials, special pillows and heating pads. Ilya pulled into a pharmacy that was on his way home. It has a dismally small section for heats, wedged between baby care products and a much larger makeup section. Ilya was able to grab a few essentials and tear through the self checkout with his head bowed low.

 

It wasn't until Ilya stumbled back through his front door that he grimly remembered that he had just returned from a week long trip to Russia - his house had basically no food. 

 

Whatever. 

There was no time to go out again.

Not without others noticing. His car already had the unmistakable scent of heat clinging to the interior. He would have to get it detailed when this has all blown over. He couldn’t risk someone smelling him - god forbid recognizing him - smelling like an omega in heat. 

 

Ilya knew it was a recipe for disaster. The press would have a field day. His career would be over. 

 

Once his heat kicked in, he wouldn’t even be able to leave the bed. Something vicious and ugly, deep down his gut knew that and simply didn’t care. It felt that it was what Ilya deserved. Letting this happen to himself. If he was going to have a heat, then it was going to be a shitty fucking heat and it would be what he deserved.

 

Maybe it would kill him. 

 

Ilya doubled over with his elbows on his countertop, the giddy intensity of the thought arresting him in his tracks. 

He forced himself to breathe, gathering his thoughts. 

 

You can’t do this alone.

His doctor reminded him sternly.

 

Ilya groped blindly for the pamphlet of the alpha escort service. 

It featured tasteful color and black-and-white photos of various men and women in various angles that made them look commanding but considerate. 

 

There was plenty in there about being able to select preference and style. Different packages based around intensity and duration of heats. The last-minute emergency dedicated line had been circled twice by his doctor in pen. 

 

He tried to imagine it. Some strange alpha in his home. In his bedroom. 

Scruffing him by the back of the neck. 

Pinning him to his own mattress and-

 

Ilya’s stomach roiled, his own natural desires and inclinations at vicious war with his churning biology that was screaming for it. 

 

He - he didn’t want - that. He couldn’t even imagine it.

He screwed his eyes up shut, desperately shaking off the thought of it. 

 

The closest he had ever gotten to something like that was when he and Shane had playfully wrestled as a part of their foreplay.

Shane always lost - of course. But there were one or two times he got the upper hand, pinning Ilya down and making some dumb joke about pupping him - mostly to goad Ilya into snarling and grabbing him and fucking him senseless.

 

Shane would probably be an incredible heat partner. 

Kind, considerate. 

Hot as hell.

But Shane wasn't attracted to omegas. Ilya didn't think so anyway. He had confessed as much to Ilya at the All Star game. 

 

But he would be so good…

 

Ilya’s chest rumbled and thrummed. His arms were up over his head, hugged close to his body. 

Shit. He was purring.

It was thin and reedy, a desperate self-soothing gesture.

Like he was a child. 

 

Ilya attempted to squash it, though he didn’t know how. He tried holding his breath, twisting it up in his lungs until his shoulders quaked and seized. 

When he finally sucked in a breath, it came out as a whimper. 

It was an undeniably omega noise. The distinct, pitiful sound that meant - Alpha! Help me! 

 

No, no! Ilya could do this. 

He needed - he needed a nest. 

That helped omegas in heat. Made them feel safe. Like they weren’t about to come apart at the seams and blow away in the wind. 

 

Ilya trudged to his bedroom, dumped his meagre supplies and trawled through the linen closet. 

His spare sheets and duvets smelled musty and stale. Ilya tossed them onto the bed, feeling foolish. Ilya had slept with plenty of omegas, of course. But he never was close enough to anyone that they would trust him with something as important as their heat. 

 

He knew from porn it was generally sort of like. A circle. 

He pushed the blankets around, not feeling anything. 

Not comforted, or protected.

Just like his stupid sheets were in a stupid circle on his bed.

 

Ilya sat on the edge of the bed, grimly looking up tips and pointers for omegas managing their first heats with an arm wrapped tight around his stomach. This information was probably on his pamphlets that the doctor gave him, but suddenly the living room seemed impossibly far away. 

 

Ilya searched through half a dozen articles with heavy eyes - most of them geared for preteens dealing with their first dry heats. 

 

Relax, follow your instinct. Seek out fabrics and textures that you find pleasing to touch.

 

Almost all of them listed first and foremost the importance of incorporating scents from those you loved or trusted to comfort you. 

 

For teens and preteens still experiencing dry heats, the platonic scent of parents, loved ones, or even pets could be useful for helping young omegas feel calm and at peace. 

 

Well shit. 

If only Ilya had any loved ones.

 

He screwed his eyes up tight, trying to take a steadying breath.

 

There had to be something else he could do.

 

Ilya searched a few more articles, feeling a miserable sort of fugue state start to settle over him. His body felt leaden. 

 

Ilya woke up a few hours later, no longer feeling like shit.

He felt roughly a million miles worse.

 

His body was tacky with sweat. The curls of his hair were plastered against his forehead. His body ached and prickled all over with uncomfortable heat. 

 

He felt - empty. Not just his body, but something deeper than that. His soul? Maybe not that dramatic. But it was a clawing sort of loneliness that felt so strong, so wrong.

 

I need… I need…

 

As Ilya pushed himself up onto his elbows, he drew in a breath that came out as another pining, desperate, awful omega whimper. 

Crying for an alpha he didn’t have. 

Ilya gave up trying to hold it back. It wasn’t like anyone could hear him. And it felt good in a way, cathartic. Some primal part of his hindbrain suffused in emergency omega pheromones clearly thought this was helping.

 

When he finished embarrassing himself, Ilya forced his way to his feet and into the bathroom.

 

Cold water on his face and neck didn’t help nearly as much as it had in the doctor’s yesterday. Ilya still felt like he was burning up from the inside out. He kicked off his clothes and stood under the cold spray of the shower with his forehead pressed against the tile.

 

Fuck, how did omegas survive this? 

Ilya leaned over the bathroom sink, drawing in deep, steady breaths. 

He didn’t want to think about Shane.

Every time it did, it felt like he lost a little bit more of his grip on his sense of self.

Slicking, purring. He was going to end up humping one of the pillows on his bed. 

Or, no. 

Ilya was going to have to use that toy from the pharmacy. The plastic cock with the fake inflatable knot. 

Ilya squeezed his eyes and his knees shut, trying to pretend he wasn’t slicking up again at the thought of it. 

 

Another wave shook him. Heat cresting up from the small of his back up to the crown of his forehead. Ilya whimpered again, uselessly. 

Thoughts hazy, Ilya dragged himself entirely unwillingly toward his dresser. 

 

Don’t… he warned himself sternly. Do not… 

 

He pulled open the drawer, rooting around under his socks and underwear. 

As he shifted some of the clothing aside, the scent rose up and hit his nostrils. 

Ilya sagged against his dresser with relief, fisting the garment and bringing it to his nose. 

 

Shane had left so quickly after that disastrous day with the tuna melts. Flung on his hoodie and left without his t-shirt. Ilya knew he ought to get rid of it, instead of folding it and tucking it reverently in the corner of his dresser. 

 

That was months ago now. The scent of it was nearly gone. 

Shit. 

He didn’t know if it was better or worse. If having the last few dregs of Shane was a balm or just another ridiculous way to torture himself. 

 

He crumpled onto the bed, burying his nose in the fabric. 

A single shirt didn’t make a proper nest, but maybe it was all he deserved. 

 

A few weeks ago, Shane had asked Ilya to go with him to his Cottage. 

Maybe. He had said. 

It was all he could say. He had gone to see Shane with the plan of ending things, but he hadn’t been strong enough to carry through with it.

Not strong enough.

Never strong enough.

 

Ilya whimpered into the shirt. If he was stronger, maybe he could have stopped himself from imagining some scenario where he had taken Shane up on that offer. 

 

Spent his heat in Shane’s cottage. Being with him, all around and suffuse in the scent of him.

Not having to hurt.

Having someone to hold him and touch him and…

And.

Ilya didn’t even know.

Just not being alone, right now, would be enough. 

 

-

 

Shane was having a good day. 

He had just come back from his last physical therapy appointment. He was two weeks out of his sling now. He hadn’t felt any twinges or pain for the past two sessions. It was to be expected from some of the top physical rehabilitation specialists in the country. 

 

He had just finished texting his parents the good news, when he was surprised to see an incoming call… 

 

From Ilya. 

 

Shane blinked down at it in surprise. 

It was the first time Ilya had called him since Russia. 

 

Shane glanced around and ducked into his house as he answered it. 

He genuinely had no idea what to expect. Phone and video calls were still a strange, unfamiliar territory for them. 

 

“Hey!”

 

“Shane…”

 

His breath caught short. 

Ilya sounded… bad. 

 

“Ilya? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 

There was a long pause. So long Shane had to check to see that the call hadn’t disconnected. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and twisted. 

 

“... no…”

Was Ilya - did he sob?

 

“Where are you?” Shane demanded. “Are you safe?”

“Safe.. yes… I’m home. Boston.”

“Ilya, what’s wrong? Why do you sound like that?”

“I… I can’t say.”

“What the hell? Ilya, tell me!” Shane yelled, entirely out of fear. He punched the video call button, which was quickly denied from the other line.

 

Instead, an attachment was sent across to Shane. 

A… doctor’s note?

He read it, his eyes going breathless and wide.

 

“Ilya, how long ago did your heat start?” Shane asked. He tore his jacket off the wall. 

“I don’t know…”

“Are you at a clinic?”

“A what? No. I don’t, I can’t leave. I just…” Ilya took another long breath to steady himself. “I just wanted to hear your voice… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

 

Shit, shit. Ilya sounded really bad. He sounded miserable.

 

It killed Shane to say it, even as he was charging down the driveway to his car.

“Is there anyone nearby you trust who can help you?”

 

Miles away in Boston, Ilya buried his face into his pillow.

The words crushed over him. He dug his fingers into the soft fabric, fighting tooth and nail every clawing urge to whimper and cry.

It was no good. 

The fabric was wet. He was crying, for the first time since his mother died.

 

Because he had finally called Shane Hollander.

And he wanted him to go find someone else to help him.

A blackness settled over him. 

 

“Yes, okay…” He croaked out, his vision swimming.

“You do?” Shane sounded relieved. Across the call, Ilya could hear a car door opening and closing.

 

Even though he logically knew they were miles apart, that Shane wasn’t physically there, wasn’t getting in a car and driving away from him, the soft animal of his body despaired.

 

No, don’t go! Don’t leave me, please! Please! 

I can be good! Tell me what I can do!

I don’t have anyone else!

 

Ilya hung up the phone, throwing it off the bed before he could do something truly foolish.

Shane owed the Metro’s travel coordinator a big fat favor, which was likely going to come in the form of attending his nephew’s birthday party sometime in the next few months.

 

The two of them had somehow managed to wrangle a seat on an Air Canada flight to Boston, as well as arrange for Shane to get rapid access through the airport guided along by the security staff in order to get there and get seated in under an hour. It was the type of fuss that Shane typically shied away from. But today, he was only viciously grateful for it. 

 

Once he was in his seat, he chartered a car from the airport to Ilya’s address. 

It was only after all that he tried to call Ilya again.

Maybe just to have the guy say he’d linked up with an alpha to help him through his heat and for Shane to fuck off. 

And that would be fine -

 

The line rang out.

Shane called again.

 

He just needed to know Ilya was okay.

 

 He spent the rest of the flight looking up everything he could about alpha drop and what to expect when he got there.

 

-

 

“Ilya?”

It was dark when Shane finally arrived at Ilya's house.

The door was unlocked. Which was convenient, but infuriating. 

Even from the entryway, he was hit by the heady scent of unhappy omega in heat.

 

Shane blinked in rapid succession, trying to take it all in at once. There was that usual scent of woodsmoke and spice that meant Ilya Rozanov, but something foundationally shifted in the musky base of the scent. Now it was… sweet.

 

Shane’s mouth watered.

His heart ached. Because it was wrong.

Shane had never smelled an omega in distress before. Not in a real way, anyway. Not in the way that meant stress or anxiety. But danger. Threat.

He had read romance books about it, where authors aggrandized about how it could make an alpha’s heart wrench and their instincts roar. He always thought they were just being a little over the top. But Shane found his hand braced on the wall to keep himself from - from he didn’t even know.

Breaking something?

He wanted to break something. 

He wanted-

 

“Ilya!” He called out, charging forward to the bedroom. 

As he rounded the corner he heard it.

 

A weak, pining whimper.

 

It ran up Shane’s spine, the air rushed out of his lungs.

 

The bed was a mess of sheets. One of them was trailing off of the bed in a long white arch. Ilya was crumpled at the bottom of it - like he had fallen or maybe tried to get up but found he didn’t have the strength to support his body. His form was curled, his arms wrapped around his head on the floor.

His skin was shining with sweat, his back shook with each breath.

 

He pulled in a shuddering breath, breathing out another weak whimper.

 

“Ilya-”

“What are you doing here?”

With tremendous effort, Ilya pulled himself upright. His hair plastered to his face. His eyes were glassy and dark. 

“Are you real?” His voice was so weak and hoarse. 

“I thought you were going to call another alpha!” Shane crossed the room to him. 

Fuck, Ilya was burning up. He got another breath of him. 

He smelled amazing.

He smelled wrong.

Shane had to fix this. He had to. He felt like he would die if Ilya didn’t let him. 

His mouth ached behind his canines. Even if the idea of putting a claiming mark on Ilya Rozanov was a ludicrous one in concept. It was difficult to resist as Ilya practically fell into his arms, nuzzling him and scenting him needfully. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

“Hey, hey, no. It’s okay…” Shane’s arms were around him at once, pulling him in. One hand was braced behind Ilya’s head, drawing him into the crook of Shane’s neck to lick and kiss an suck at his scent gland. 

Ilya continued to moan muffled apologies as he did it. 

 

Sorry that Shane had come all the way here.

That Ilya needed him like this.

Sorry because Ilya knew he was sweaty and disgusting, and Shane probably hated it. Hated his scent, all sweet and miserable and wrong.

Sorry that he couldn’t be stronger.

 

But for the first time in nearly three days Ilya felt the horrible, twisting pain in his gut ease - soothed by the fresh, clean scent of Shane.

 

“Ilya, you - fuck, you really need a knot-”

“I know.” Ilya croaked. 

He’d find someone to knot him, he would. He just needed a few more seconds of this. Of Shane’s arms around his back, rubbing up and down. He was coming back, he was circling down a bit. The clawing, awful mania settled into a more manageable (though mounting) pool of heat in his stomach. 

“Where is your nest?”

Ilya sobbed openly. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

 

I don’t have one.

I don’t know how.

All I have is a shirt that smells like the worst day of my life.

 

“Ssh, hey. No, Ilya it’s okay. I’m going to help you, okay? Is that alright?”

Shane didn’t even bother trying to lift him up onto the bed. He was tugging Ilya’s sweatpants off. Ilya rolled over and pressed his forehead to the floor between his elbows, presenting shamelessly. 

Ilya’s cheeks burned brightly, the shame threatening to fully engulf him and burn him alive.

He was a mess, he knew he was.

Ilya had been plagued with fitful dreams of Shane’s scent and his body - waking up in twenty-minute intervals for countless thoroughly restless hours. He’d given up trying to keep himself in check. His thighs were shiny and wet from slick. It had gone into overdrive from the moment his body caught a whiff of Shane.

 

Behind him, Shane swore softly. 

“You have to tell me it’s okay.” He sounded pained.

“Fuck! Yes, fucking knot me - please!” Ilya burst out. Fat, crybaby tears were stinging his eyes and rolling down Ilya’s cheeks.

 

What the hell was Shane doing? Did he seriously fly all the way out here just to ask Ilya’s permission? After all this? Ilya felt like he was going to die and Shane-

 

The thoughts left him as something blessedly hot and thick breached him with impossible ease. 

As alphas, they often had to spend considerable time on prep if they wanted to have sex comfortably. Ilya didn’t imagine it could feel like this. He took the entire length of Shane’s cock in one smooth, slick motion that scattered stars behind Ilya’s eyes.

 

Shane started to move in earnest. His hands braced Ilya’s hips as he snapped forward into him rhythmically. Ilya sobbed openly, any pretense of dignity forgotten. The room smelled like Shane and like sex - sex when it was the two of them. And for this one moment that made everything right - even if things were as far away from right as they possibly could be. There was a wild, slick sound as Shane thrust into him that made Ilya’s toes curl. 

 

Shane was hard. Hard, even though Ilya was an omega in heat.

 

“Knot me, please - please Shane,”

“I will, it’s okay, I’ve got you, fuck-” Shane bowed his head forward, his bangs brushed against Ilya’s shoulders. Ilya was swearing mindlessly in Russian. His legs were trembling, he was only kept upright by Shane holding him there, pulling him back onto his cock with each thrust. 

 

“Fuck, Ilya I’m not wearing a condom-” Shane realized.

“Блять, клянусь! Don’t you dare pull out Hollander!” Ilya roared.

Shane doubled over, coming hard and messy deep inside Ilya. He furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw - fighting the very real instincts to seize Ilya and dig his jaws into the flesh of his neck. His knot swelled, filling Ilya out beautifully - perfectly. Ilya was shuddering and clenching around him, going beautifully limp. 

 

He could smell the change in the air at once. Ilya’s body flooded with oxytocin and a dozen other feel-good chemicals that rewarded omegas from getting nice and knotted. Ilya breathed out any lingering pain in his body at last. His body was still squeezing Shane, milking his cock for every drop he had to give. 

“I got you, you’re okay…” Shane slid down, wrapping his arms up under Ilya’s and wrapped tight around his chest.

Ilya whimpered again. Though this time it was warm. Relieved.

 

“That’s it. You’re okay.” Shane nuzzled into Ilya’s neck, scenting him desperately. Ilya grasped at Shane’s hand, their fingers interlocking together. 

He breathed with Ilya, guiding him with a hand pressed against Ilya’s stomach.

Deep, and slow. 

After a short while, Shane wondered if Ilya might have fallen asleep. 

He smelled exhausted, even though his heat was still picking up. 

 

“A condom, really?” Ilya laughed weakly. It still sounded a bit like a sob.

Shane snorted, placing an apologetic kiss on the back of his neck.

“I don’t know. I panicked.”

“What are you doing here?” Ilya breathed out. He sounded wondrous. 

“I, uh…” Shane squeezed Ilya tight. “I don’t know. It just sounded like you needed me.”

 

Ilya squeezed Shane’s hand tightly. 

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

I was going to split this out into two chapters, but decided to do it all in one shot instead. Thank you for reading!

Eventually, Shane’s knot went down. Enough for him to ease out, though Ilya whimpered again at the loss. He half lifted Ilya off of the floor, helping him up onto the bed. 

 

Shane ran his fingers through Ilya's sweat-mussed hair for a moment before pulling away.

 

“No! No, please…” Ilya begged mindlessly, clinging to Shane’s wrist. His stomach churned. He felt like the most pathetic creature there ever was. 

 

This wasn't a part of their script.

 

They got together, they fucked. They didn't stay the night. Not even after the All Stars game, when they finally had something that felt like a real conversation.

 

Ilya dropped his hand, his vision swimming.

 

“Sorry, I mean,”

“I'm just going to get you water, okay?”

 

Ilya’s voice was cracked, his lips were chapped. Shane wasn’t sure how long he had been here, trying to brute force his way through a heat on his own  - past the point where he couldn’t even move.

 

He looked wrecked. There were heavy bags under his eyes, his skin was still clammy and pale. Ilya had passed out almost immediately on Shane's knot. He was surprised to see Ilya even had his eyes open.

 

Shane picked up his shirt from the floor where he had discarded it and handed it over cautiously to Ilya.

He'd just knotted Ilya. So. Maybe something that smelled like him would help.

Shane felt a little twinge of satisfaction when Ilya took it and buried his face in it, perhaps to take in his scent as well to hide his own embarrassment. 

 

Shane returned shortly with a tall glass of water and kept his hand on the small of Ilya’s back while he drained it.

 

“You really need a nest.” Shane remarked plainly. Without one, Ilya would probably cry every time Shane so much as got up to use the bathroom. No wonder he hadn't been sleeping.

 

Now that Ilya had knotted, had some water, and was sitting with his shoulder pressed warm against Shane's side, composure returned somewhat. 

“I know. I, uh. I never made one before.” Ilya’s mouth twitched miserably.

“I can show you. If you want.”

Ilya looked over at him in surprise. He didn't answer for a long moment. When he did, his voice was delicate.

“Yes, okay.”

 

It still wasn’t anything terribly special. But Shane had the idea to bury the stale hallway sheets under Ilya’s existing bedspread - which at least smelled a little bit more like him - so the thing had a bit of structure without smelling too much like a closet. He also did a methodical search through Ilya’s condo, retrieving the duvet from  the guest bed and several other blankets to stack up within arms reach of the general structure of the nest.

 

Shane’s clothing was woven through it, his shirt and socks and pants tucked up strategically in the linens. It wasn't perfect. Jeans made for notoriously terrible nesting material, but they were better than nothing.

 

Shane rooted through Ilya's dresser, finding a change of clothing in worn, soft cotton. Once Shane spent a few hours in them, they'd have his scent and they could swap them out then.

 

And it was… nice. Grounding.

 

Being tucked up in a nest was still embarrassing for Ilya. But it meant he was more comfortably surrounded by the scent of Shane and of Ilya - mingling together in a way that was deeply soothing on a primal level. The grasping, clenching anxiety around his heart eased.

 

“You smell so much better now.” Shane praised, nuzzling Ilya’s neck. He had a needy sort of way of scenting Ilya that had always been deeply endearing, no matter what Ilya’s messed up hormones were doing. 

“I smell like omega.” He protested. Ilya slumped back on the sheets, finally relaxing enough to let his exhaustion creep up.

 

“You smell like Ilya.”

 

He still wasn't sure what Shane was doing here. How he'd even managed to get hard enough to fuck him.

 

Shane slipped into the nest behind Ilya, wrapping his arms around him. Typical omega heats came with an important ritual around inviting alphas to join them in their nest. He was glad that Shane didn’t ask. Ilya wasn’t an omega.

Shane didn’t need to ask.

 

“Sheets are dirty.” Ilya reminded him somberly.

“Well, yeah. It's a nest.”

 

He said it with simple clarity. Like Ilya had remarked that the ice might be cold. If there was some strange exemption to Shane's preference for clean sheets when a heat was involved, Ilya wasn't going to complain.

 

How long was Shane going to stay? A night? Would he be gone in the morning? Would it be enough for Ilya to get through the rest on his own?

 

“Move your leg.” 

“Hm?”

Shane was shifting, spreading himself over him.

 

“You’re starting to smell anxious.”

“I’m fine-”

“I'm going to knot you again.”

 

Ilya swore softly. He doubled over, his lower half convulsing as his body slicked eager and willingly for it.

 

“What, no-”

“You'll sleep better with a knot.”

 

It was the last warning Ilya got before Shane pushed back inside him. The muscles of Ilya's body flexed against it, his body doing all it could to pull Shane in and keep him there.

This time was slower. Shane's hips worked in a steady, rolling motion. Each push tried a slightly different angle until he found one that caused Ilya to arch and cry and beg. Once he did, Shane thrust against it with steady, machine-like efficiency.

 

Ilya could practically imagine it, even with his face pressed into the sheets of his nest. Shane with that intent, focused look on his face that he used when he was trying out some complex maneuver on the ice that he made to look effortless. Because of talent, yes. But also a ruthless focus to perfection that was currently being applied toward wringing out another desperate, clawing orgasm from Ilya.

 

Ilya came back down to earth just as Shane came with a deep shudder, filling him up again. Shane gripped Ilya's hips, keeping him pinned flush against his body as his knot swelled.

 

Ilya had been semi-delirious when they fucked on the floor. Now, it was harder to resist how good the knot felt. As an alpha, a knot should have been intensely painful. But now the muscles in his lower back stretched around and accommodated it, sending electric signals up his spine that made him-

 

He pined and gasped in disbelief as a watery spurt of white leaked out of his currently useless cock.

 

Shit. Did he just come again, just from the knot?

 

It was his last lucid thought before his body crashed with relief, sinking into a deep, boneless sleep.

 

-

 

When Ilya woke up, he was alone.

He peeked hazily up over the shallow walls of the nest. The bathroom door was open, but the lights were off. 

A questioning whine bubbled up out of his throat.

 

Ilya looked around, finding his phone had been placed on his dresser with the charger plugged in. A yellow post-it note was attached to the face.

Ilya,

 

I went to get supplies. Text me if there is anything you want. 

I left at 9AM, I should be back around 10:30. 

 

 

• S

 

 

Ilya re-read it a few times, settling the frantic little animal that had taken up residence in his chest. 

 

He left.

He’ll be back. 

He said he’d come back. 

 

Ilya pawed idly at his chest in the bed, trying to assuage the flutter of panic. 

He knew he was being ridiculous.

He couldn’t help it.

 

Ilya picked up his phone from the bedside table. 

Two minutes past 10AM.

 

> Can you get chocolate?

 

He held the phone tightly, watching the speech bubbles in a dazed sort of panic. 

Then, three dots. 

Then a message.

 

> Yeah, what kind?

> Kitkat bar

 

Shane replied with a thumbs up. Ilya breathed out.

Shane was coming back. 

He wasn't getting on a plane, or driving home. He was going to come back. 

 

Ilya fell back into the sheets. A strange jolt shivered through him as his body nudged something. Tentatively, Ilya reached back and buried his face in the pillows as his body flushed deep red all over.

There was a plug in him. 

The one with the flared base and the inflatable false knot.

Shane must have replaced it with his own knot when he left the bed, while Ilya was still asleep. Like he was fucking Indiana Jones.

 

Ilya pined, biting back another wave of embarrassment at the visual. It was honeyed over with a deep, unshakeable warmth. His body clenched around the knot, each time sending a little pulse of pleasure through his body. 

The nest smelled like Shane and like Ilya and alpha.

He was okay.

He was good.

 

-

 

And sure enough, at 10:28 Ilya heard the door open and movement in the kitchen.

 

“Hey! I wasn’t sure what kind of kitkats you wanted and I was already in the checkout, so I just grabbed a bunch. I hope that’s alright.”

 

Shane was calling out to him from the kitchen. 

 

“I also grabbed some sandwiches. I'll bring one to you- oh hey.”

 

Shane gave Ilya his half-quirked grin as he stacked the cold things in the fridge.

 

“You should stay in bed, Ilya. I'm surprised you're even on your feet. Or managed to get pants on.”

 

Ilya leaned on the doorframe, taking in the sight of it. 

There was Ilya’s kitkat bar. There were about ten of them, from the look of it. But also a decent stack of groceries. Mostly food that was pre-made and easy to eat cold - sandwiches, cut meats and cheeses, platters of cut fruit. There were also some painkillers - basic as well as those specialized for heat relief. Bottles of water, scent-neutral shampoo. 

 

And - hell, did Shane have more bags?

 

“You probably don't want your nest changed at this point but we should really put down some lining pads, they'll make cleanup a lot easier after I got a few types because I wasn't sure-”

 

Ilya could only observe passively and dumbly as the same thought circled around in his head. 

 

“You bought me food.” 

 

Shane paused, setting down the last of the bags at the base of the counter.

“Yeah. We shouldn’t have to leave now for the rest of your heat. Are you hungry?”

Ilya was gently flush. He nodded brusquely. He took one step toward the countertop - at the same time Shane moved toward him. The scent of fresh conifer and rain-clean air came with him, making Ilya's knees go a bit weak.

 

“Hey,” Shane said softly. “You should go back to the nest. I’ll bring you something to eat, okay?”

“What, why?” Ilya went rigid. Had he done something wrong?

 

“Because.” Shane laughed, the way he did when he clearly thought something was meant to be obvious. “You’re in heat. You’re supposed to have food brought to you. That's how it works.”

“I’m not an omega.” Ilya protested, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “This is not - it’s going to wear off in like three days.”

“Yeah.” Shane tilted his head. He crowded further into Ilya’s space, who took a reflexive step back. He was being herded back toward the bedroom, something the omega in him was positively preening over. 

“You’re in a heat triggered by an alpha drop. Which means you need to be taken care of.” Shane said, coolly and clinically, as if they were discussing a fractured tibia. 

 

“Oh, Mr. Alpha is expert on omega heat?” Ilya planted his feet on the ground, though Shane didn’t stop his approach. It left him groaning into Shane’s shoulder. “You take seminars on omega heat in your Canadian schools that teach you about alpha drop?”

 

“Well, yeah. In health class.” Shane said plainly. “You didn’t?”

Ilya’s sharp retort melted on his tongue as Shane’s hand found the back of Ilya’s neck. 

 

No, no no no-

 

Ilya only had a split second before the pressure dropped. Shane scruffed the back of his neck, causing him to go hazy and pliant under the touch. Any sort of fight he might have had soothed over at once. His world shrank down to alpha’s hand on the back of his neck. Heavy, solid. Steady. 

Good.

 

 Shane turned his head, his lips touching the shell of Ilya’s ear.

 

“You called me here. I’m going to take care of you. So you can feel better.” He spoke calmly, evenly. It wasn’t a demand or a request, just a simple fact. A bystander might not have even caught the steady rumble of an alpha’s timbre under his words. To Ilya, they were everything. His axis tilted, his world reshaped around them. 

“Now, you’re going to go back to your nest. And wait for me there. I'm going to bring you food.” He paused for a moment, waiting to make sure it had sunk in. “And you're going to put that false knot back where I left it, okay?”

 

Ilya made a soft, keening sound. His jaw worked. He nuzzled dumbly against Shane’s neck.

“Okay,” Ilya breathed out. 

 

Shane wasn’t sure what to expect from all this. He knew about Drops, sure. But he never helped someone through one.

Maybe he was pushing too much?

 

But the guides he read did stress that anyone going through heat - whether they were an omega or an alpha experiencing a Drop - it was important for them to feel that the situation was under control. That they were being looked after. 

If they didn’t, it could lead to complications with their hormone levels after the heat had ended. 

 

It had been odd, some of the things Shane had read about Alpha Drops. Society in general seemed a bit torn on why exactly they happened. He had always been taught it was like a… bonding thing. Alphas who were overworked and stressed needed a hard reset. Let others care for them and support them for a while. Back when they were all living in caves and hunting mammoths. It encouraged alphas to need others and reinforce family bonds.

 

There was apparently a pretty vocal part of the world that seemed to think Alpha Drops were a way of weeding out “weak” alphas. Those who couldn't hack it being reduced to miserable, shunned creatures who would have to wander off and die in a ditch somewhere.

 

Well, that wasn't happening to Ilya. Even if it seemed like he had been following that credence down to the letter.

 

A little bit of influence from Shane's alpha voice was probably fine.

 

Besides, it wasn’t like Shane had threatened not to feed Ilya if he didn’t follow orders. And it was Ilya Rozanov. The guy got snarled at by alphas on the ice every day with the full force of their timbre. Shane had barely used it at all. 

 

By the time Shane returned to the bedroom, he fully expected to see Ilya sitting in the nest, or maybe even the edge of the bed, looking catty and petulant. 

 

He didn’t expect to see him half-curled in the sheets, just finishing working the inflated toy knot inside himself. His fingertips were slick and shiny as he pawed at it clumsily. His toes curling in the bedding of the nest as he struggled to acclimate to the sensation. 

 

Ilya lifted his head up as Shane returned. 

He was embarrassed, of course. But it was harder to access that cloying feeling of shame over the hazy softness that came from clamping down around something vaguely knot-shaped.

 

“Hey.” Shane sat down next to Ilya, offering him another bottle of water. “Good, you did so good.” 

Ilya made a soft, questioning sort of sound. It was silly, praising him over literally nothing. It was sillier that Ilya bloomed over warm from it.

 

The muted, rational part of his mind laughed over the idea of Shane reading some of those same articles, the ones that stressed the importance of positive vocal reinforcement as well as physical touch during your heat.

 

He couldn't bring himself to feel indignant about that. Ilya loved being praised, he always did. It was half the reason he threw himself into hockey the way that he did. 

 

It wasn't that Shane was ever withholding. Most of the fun of being with him was riling him up and taking him apart until he was mindless and babbling about how amazing Ilya's cock was.

 

But this… was nice too.

Shane pressing soft kisses against his temples and jaw. Telling him he was good.

 

Shane helped him sit up, handing him a sandwich cut into four pieces one triangle at a time. Ilya was likely half starved by the smell of him. It would still be important that he ate slowly. 

 

Whoever Ilya's trainer was with Boston, they were likely going to be pissed. A heat was a massively calorie-intensive ordeal. Shane remembered it being described as the body doing nonstop cardio for three to five days straight. Going even a few hours without food was an unthinkably dumb thing to do, especially for an athlete. He wasn't sure how long Ilya had gone without, but he was lucky that he had the off-season now to rebuild whatever muscle mass that his body had burned through. 

 

“Thank you for not getting me kale.” Ilya said stiffly, taking another quarter of the sandwich.

They were good. Roast beef, red pepper and cheese on a pretzel bun. 

“No, you need iron right now. And salt. I got you gatorade also.”

“Is it-”

“It’s blue, yeah.” Shane scrunched his nose in a way that Ilya managed to find adorable even now. “I don’t get why, but I got it for you.”

“Is best flavor.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

 

They had this conversation before. It was grounding - it made Ilya feel more like himself and not like some squishy caricature of his own person. 

He ate what Shane told him to, and drank what he was given. 

 

“Lie down.”

“You going to take this thing out of me?” Ilya complied. He spread his legs just a bit as he settled on his stomach. 

“No, you need to wait fifteen minutes after eating. You’ll get a cramp.”

“That is for swimming!” Ilya bit back.

“It’s the same principle!” Shane laughed, even though he was tugging off his shirt and stuffing it into the makeup of the nests. “I’m going to put my scent on you some more in the meantime, okay?”

“Okay.” 

At the same time Ilya said it, Shane’s hands were on him. The pads of his thumbs rolled against the back of Ilya’s neck. They dug just so into his pinch points that made him feel beautifully hazy and slack-jawed. Shane repeated the motion, massaging the pressure points. Scruffing him. Ilya always hated the idea of it - maybe even more than he had hated the idea of taking a knot.

 

But all he could feel now was content.

Safe.

Shane kneaded the pressure points on Ilya's neck until he was delirious with it. His sense of self tucked away under a hundred layers of serenity.

 

Then, Shane continued down to rub into the muscles of Ilya’s shoulders and back.

 

Ilya had gotten plenty of sports massages before. They were clinical things more interested in results than how Ilya felt. They weren’t bad - but they were challenging. The way an ice bath wasn’t exactly meant to be relaxing. 

This was heaven.

Shane wasn’t any sort of professional masseuse, but just having the skin-on-skin contact soothed the still-aching wound of the first thirty-odd hours of Ilya’s heat where he’d basically done everything in his power to stress himself to the point of heart failure. Shane let his wrists drag across Ilya’s shoulderblades, his sides, down his arms. 

 

The clean scent of pine and rain mingled with his own woodsmoke. Normally Ilya’s scent was sharper - something like cloves or pepper. But now it was sweet, like honey. Ilya took slow, deep breaths as his syrupy slow mind took it in. 

 

“You’re really tense here.” Shane pressed into the small of Ilya’s back with his palms, earning a deep groan of satisfaction. 

 

It took a little while for Ilya to find his words. His first attempt was a garbled mess through the haze of deep contentment.

 

“Yeah, no shit…” Ilya finally managed. “I have a thing the size of your forearm up my ass-”

“It’s not that big.” Shane corrected him irreverently, giving the tight muscle another pass with his hands. 

“Is supposed to be your job.” Ilya whined into his pillow. 

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Shane smirked. 

 

Ilya shifted. He glanced back up at Shane, then look away.

“Maybe I worry a little.” He admitted. “I thought you didn’t like doing… this sort of thing.”

 

Shane sat back a bit, letting Ilya roll over onto his back.

 

“Yeah. But I mean, come on.” Shane laughed. “I can top you if it means saving your life.”

Ilya pulled a face. 

“I would not die from heat.”

He tugged Shane down into the nest with him, gently knocking their foreheads together. 

Shane frowned down at him. Ilya could see in his eyes that Shane knew exactly what the stats were for omega heat death, and how close Ilya had gotten to contributing to the numbers. 

 

“Well.” He said instead. “Then. I top you, if it means getting to share a heat with you.”

Ilya let out a small breath that he had been holding. The two moved forward at the same time, sharing a slow, deep kiss. 

 

They made out for a long while, unhurried and indulgent. 

At some point Shane shifted onto his back, and Ilya had arranged himself over Shane’s thighs. The toy knot was removed, and in the same motion Ilya slid down onto Shane’s cock.

 

Ilya whimpered into the feeling of it. He followed the encouragement of Shane’s hands on his ass and started to move. 

This angle was… better. Him above Shane, rocking into him (onto him) and watching his sweet expression dissolve into blissful pleasure was more familiar to him. In short order, Ilya was well on his way to another knot. Without the desperation looming over them, they were able to take their time a bit more. Luxuriating in the absolutely frictionless fuck that came from a slick omega in heat. 

Ilya could see why omegas turned into such helpless sluts during this. With an alpha there, taking a cock while in heat felt incredible. Before this, Ilya had experimented with bottoming once or twice (though never with Shane). It had been… fine.

This felt like singing. His body burning hot in the most delicious way, his world narrowed down to Shane's perfect alpha cock taking him apart. He wanted to cling to this moment and crawl inside it and never leave.

 

“Shane…” Ilya said it like a prayer. His body moved on its own, a deep red flush from his cheeks spread across his shoulders and down to his chest. 

“Ilya-” Shane’s head tipped back, his voice tapered off at the end as his body arched and stuttered.

Fuck. He loved Shane saying his name.

 

Ilya took the knot, gasping and palming his own cock uselessly. He felt like he was on the brink of one of the most intense orgasms of his life, and he was barely even hard. His knot was happily disinterested in the ongoings, even when Ilya climaxed so hard the world went black for a second. 

 

Ilya came to slumped against Shane’s body, arms slung loosely around his neck. 

His mouth was mindlessly tonguing against the scent gland of Shane’s neck, feeling full and sated and good. 

It was more than just the absence of pain - he felt better. 

Better than he did even before the Drop began. His mind floating high on a cocktail of happy chemicals that left him buzzing.

 

“Ah… Ilya, that feels really good…”

“Hm?”

Ilya blinked through the contented pink haze that had settled over him.

He was purring again, he realized.

 

Only this was a proper one now. Bone-deep and satisfied. The perfect contentment of a happy omega.

Shane nuzzled into him, pulling him close and pressing his chest up against Ilya’s where the vibrations were strongest.

 

Purring was good for alphas as well. There were all sorts of nonsense studies about it. How it lowered blood pressure and reduced anxiety and stress. Ilya knew it. Having an omega sit on your lap and purr after a good long fuck was the best.

 

Did Rose purr for you like this? Ilya tried to shake the thought before it landed.

 

“Hey, you okay? You stopped.” 

“Oh, sorry. I, uh. I don’t know how it works.”

“Do you need water?”

“No.” Ilya said dumbly, wishing he wasn’t trapped here like this. Face-to-face, without much wriggle room to get any real distance. The knot was making it hard to think reasonably, to keep the carefully curated walls of his persona intact. Ilya was like an open nerve, delicate and exposed.

 

“How did you know how to make a nest?” He asked. His forehead was touching Shane’s collarbone, if only so he could avoid eye contact.

“Huh?”

“You told me you never slept with omegas. Last time you were here.”

Before you ran out.

“Did you-” Ilya worked his jaw a bit. He couldn’t keep the words in. “Did you nest with Rose Landry?”

 

“What? Ilya, no.” Shane’s hands were on his back, rubbing low, soothing circles. “I told you back at the All Star Game. It’s not, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then how do you-”

“I presented as an omega as a kid.” Shane said, so casually Ilya thought he had misheard him. 

“What?”

“Yeah.” Shane leaned back, looking up at him with his big, pretty brown eyes. “I only ever had a couple dry heats. My mom wanted to pull me out of hockey but I didn’t let her.” He shrugged. “Then, instead of getting a wet heat I went into rut instead.”

“This does not happen.” Ilya said flatly.

“It does, yeah.” Shane quirked a smile. “I can call my family doctor if you want to ask him. It’s not like, super common but. I don’t know. All the hockey and whatever.”

 

“So when we met-” Ilya had stars in his eyes.

“I had my first rut at fifteen, Ilya, come on.” Shane laughed, scruffing his hair roughly.

Even that was quite old for a rut. The idea that Shane might still have been having dry heats at seventeen was just ridiculous.

 

“I was an alpha when I met you.”

“Hm, that is a shame.” Ilya nuzzled into Shane's neck. “You would not have been able to resist my scent. Would have been very cute.”

“All I could smell when we met was cigarettes.” Shane teased, causing Ilya to groan with indignation.

 

Ilya settled against Shane's chest, feeling confused but content with the answer. Two years. If he had met Shane just a bit earlier, he might have met him as an omega. If Ilya hadn’t just been fucked to the moon and back - wasn’t actively sitting on his alpha knot - the notion of it would have rendered him ravenous. It probably still would. He tucked it away for later consideration. 

 

Shane's fingertips continued to explore and stroke the hard planes of Ilya's back, until the deep, bone-rattling purr thrummed through the absolute peace of the moment.

 

Ilya and Shane slept.

They woke up. 

Fucked again - loose-limbed and sleepy. Shane rocked into him from behind, both of them spooning tight against one another and taking their time. 

 

Ilya’s heat was starting to settle in properly now, as if his body had been waiting for him to get his act together. The gaps of lucidity between sex grew shorter and further between as Ilya sank into it like a warm bath.

 

Shane bullied him a bit into eating more healthily, along with his other comfort foods. Though he made it up to him after by sucking his cock in the shower. They had done this a hundred times over the years. But now Ilya’s cock was hypersensitive and tender. It didn’t take long to reduce Ilya to tears, sitting on a corner shelf in the shower with Shane’s head between his thighs. 

 

Ilya slept a lot. Either on Shane's knot or with the toy inside him. Or perhaps sleep wasn't the right word. It was a gentle, floating sort of contentment that existed between bouts of blazing horniness so strong that it threatened to rip him apart.

They were fleeting though, Shane was always there - guiding him through it with his laser-focused intensity. He kept a notebook to record times between sex like he was tracking a personal fitness regimen. It was ridiculous and such a Shane thing to do Ilya couldn't help but find it helplessly endearing.

 

Ilya lost track of time. Possibly somewhere on the third day of his head it finally happened. 

Shane had his hand braced on the back of Ilya’s neck, fucking into him nice and deep and steady. 

“You’re so good… so good for me Ilya, Ilya-”

“Shane-”

“You’re doing so good-”

“Shane… I love you,” Ilya sobbed, the words pulled out from the back of his throat. 

 

Shane paused, frozen in the act. 

He took his hand off the back of Ilya’s neck. 

Ilya’s mind moved slowly, trying to process what he said. 

 

No, no. Not like this!

 

“Are you -” Shane faltered. “It’s not just the heat, is it?”

“No.” Ilya rolled onto his side, his hair falling over his eyes, tears streaked down his cheeks. “Since before this - for so long-”

“I love you too.” Shane said, sounding so heartbreakingly sincere.

 

Ilya took a moment to process, unable to believe the words. 

Was he just placating Ilya? 

No, if he was, Shane wouldn’t look so terrified. 

 

They collapsed on to one another, ungraceful and groping, pulling each other in tight. 

Their mouths met, open and clumsy and desperate. 

 

“Say it again, please.”

“I love you,”

“I love you so much.”

 

-

 

The next day, Ilya’s temperature was a bit lower.

He woke up feeling a bit more lucid. Less weighed down in his own skin.

 

Ilya felt good enough to leave the nest - taking a walk around his condo and doing some stretching exercises on the floor of his living room. 

 

Almost well enough to pick up his phone and deal with the consequences of falling off the map for the better part of a week. His agent was going to be pissed.

 

Shane took his blood pressure with a home monitoring kit Ilya's doctor had supplied him with and he emailed her the results.

 

Ilya teased the idea of going outside for a walk around the block, if only to rile Shane up enough to drag him back to the nest and fuck him until they were both teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Ilya fell asleep spooning Shane, smug and glowing over it.

 

-

 

Ilya's heat had all but subsided by the afternoon of the fourth day. They both could tell, even if it went unspoken between them. Having a few days to just relax in the same space together had been… nice. Different.

 

“So, what else do you know about Alpha Drop?”

Ilya was playing Candy Crush on his phone. Shane was tucked up against his chest, putting together a pin board with some ideas for a kitchen renovation.

 

Shane paused, thoughtfully.

 

It’s typically an early warning sign for depression.

 

Was the first thought that came to mind. But Ilya was comfortable and relaxed. He'd slept and eaten and was freshly fucked and Shane didn't want to disrupt the peace of the moment.

 

It'd be something to discuss after, once Ilya's body was convinced he was once again an accepted member of his tribe and could go back to being a mammoth-hunting alpha.

 

“Well, it'll take a few weeks for your knot to get back to full size.”

Ilya groaned, throwing his head back on the pillow.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Shane bit his lip to fight a smirk. “You know.” He turned about, resting his head on Ilya's chest. “It would probably be a reasonable size for me to take it.”

Ilya's pupils went wide.

“You think so?”

“We'd need to do a lot of prep first.” Shane cautioned. “And we definitely can't if we have any sort of game coming up- ah!” Shane was flung onto his back and straddled by Ilya, fire in his eyes.

 

“Yes! I want that.” 

Ilya pinned Shane’s wrists above his head, grinning viciously. 

“Going to knot you so good you’ll wish you were omega again.”

 

Shane laughed. 

“That might actually sound intimidating if you didn’t still smell so sweet right now.” He brought his hands up to Ilya’s waist, squeezing him where he knew he would be most sensitive. Ilya yelled, crashing down into Shane in a tussle on the nest. 

 

Their nest. 

 

“Going to make you sit on it. You will be full of pups.”

“Don't you dare!” Shane yelled back, scandalized. “I’ve still got three more Stanley cups to win before I retire!”

“Fine, yes. Cups first. Then we make baby with beautiful freckles.”

 

They wrestled on the bed, laughing and tussling as the nest was kicked apart. If Ilya noticed, he didn’t mind. 

 

“Hey,”

The two were in the shower, washing off the lingering scent of heat. Shane was shampooing his hair, chewing over the question in his mind.

“So. I still have some time before pre-season starts.”

“Yes, I do as well.” Ilya started washing Shane’s back. Shane moved in time to accommodate him, the two easily navigating the shared space. 

“Well. Had you thought more about,” Shane kept his gaze trained carefully ahead, drawing a little nonsense shape in the steam on the glass. “About what you wanted to do with your summer?”

“The cottage, you mean?” Ilya smiled. His hands slowed around Shane’s hips. “You are not sick of me?”

“No.” Shane answered immediately. “Are you-?”

“Of course not.” Ilya placed a kiss just below Shane’s ear, appreciating how even now it made him shudder. “I could never.”

Ilya nuzzled Shane sweetly, nipping the lobe of his ear. 

 

“Not when my alpha is so sweet to me.”