Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega/Omega, Omega Shane Hollander, Omega Ilya Rozanov, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, POV Shane Hollander, set in the year post cottage pre ottawa ilya, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, there's no topping in this fic but if there was a top it would be ilya

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of hr rare kink buffet fills, Part 2 of all dwk heated rivalry fics

Collections:

Rare Kink Buffet 2025: A Prompt Fest, Hollanov ABO, Goodfluffforme

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-19 Words: 1,080 Chapters: 1/1

pre-game

Summary

As soon as the door shuts behind Shane, Ilya is on him like a leech.

Notes

Prompt:

omega x omega where they're both crazy possessive over each other

As soon as the door shuts behind Shane, Ilya is on him like a leech.

There’s no time to talk, not that Shane is really interested in that right now either. It’s been way too long since they last saw each other in person, and he’s going fucking crazy with how much he misses Ilya.

It’s an easy thing to tip his head back, to let Ilya suck kisses and bites into the skin of his neck. His scent gland throbs under the attention, begging for something they can’t have yet.

With their bodies pressed together, the door a solid pressure behind him, Shane can feel all of him. His broad shoulders, his thick chest, the tapered size of his waist, his cock insistent and leaking in the crease of Shane’s thigh. Ilya helps him lift first one leg and then the other, wrapping them around his waist easily so that their dicks can finally get some fucking friction.

“Ah, fuck,” Shane pants, reaching up to hold Ilya’s jaw. He drags the gland on his wrist on whatever bit of Ilya’s skin he can find, covering him with his own warm scent.

“You like?” He rasps, fucking up sharply. Slick leaks out of Shane at the motion, wishing—needing—it to be real. Ilya inhales and laughs, shoving his nose so far into Shane’s neck that it almost hurts. “I think you do.”

“Yeah, I like.” He slides his hand back to push through Ilya’s sweaty curls, to grip them in his fingers. 

When he pulls, Ilya moans like he’s dying, hips moving so fluidly it seems like he won’t be able to stop until he’s cumming in his pants. 

“Uh, fuck, Shane, fuck,” he whispers, body trembling under his hands. His scent fills the air around them, deceptively sweet, heady with lust and longing. It reaches out to Shane like a flower looking for the sun, fills his lungs until he can’t smell anything but Ilya, Ilya’s need, Ilya’s slick. There’s just a hint of it, hidden under all the other layers between them, but it’s still there.

In the past, it’s always taken a while for Ilya to slick. No matter how horny he is, it only tends to happen at the end when he’s inches deep inside Shane, both of them so worked up and frantic it smells like a heat room. “Ignore it,” he panted the first time Shane noticed it, pounding into him so hard that Shane couldn’t even pretend to care about what was happening.

But now… Shane’s only just got here, and Ilya’s wet. Heat pulses through his body, and he feels like he could explode, it’s so fucking hot. He loves him so, so fucking much.

Shane’s head falls back and hits the door with a thunk. Smacking Ilya’s shoulder, he says, “Bed. Now.”

Ilya doesn’t move away, rolling his cock desperately against Shane’s body. Even through their pants, heat radiates from him. “Let me just—I’m close.”

Other people might have laughed at how quick it was, or how close Shane was too, just from having his boyfriend in his arms, needy and beautiful. But it’s not funny to Shane, who inhales his sweet omega scent and feels himself slick more in response. 

“No, c’mon,” he whines lowly, though he makes no moves to stop Ilya or push him away. “I wanna fuck.”

“I will fuck you,” Ilya groans. The door rattles slightly under their weight, but neither of them pay it any attention. There’s no one else on this floor of the hotel, and even if there were, it’s not the same one either of their teams are staying in. 

“We’re not doing it against the door,” Shane pants, arching and gasping at the slight change in position. “Not when there’s a perfectly good bed right there—fff-uck.”

Ilya doesn’t reply, shoving his face against Shane’s neck and smearing his scent everywhere. His fingers grip Shane’s hip with a vice grip, surely leaving bruises, but neither of them can possibly care in that moment. 

“You need to smell like me,” he growls, puffing air over Shane’s goosebumped skin. The sound sends shivers throughout Shane, and he abruptly feels like he’s on the brink, his body overheating, his hole clenching around nothing, his cock twitching and getting harder. “I fuck you after. When everyone know you’re mine.”

Shane shudders, so close he can taste it. Ilya thrusts against him, the long line of his dick pressing in all the right places, the damp fabric between them dragging in the best way.

Gasping, he says, “I am, I am yours.”

“You smell like Pike,” Ilya says dangerously. 

“He’s my roommate—“

“Don’t care. You should only smell like me,” he snarls, and Shane doesn’t have any time to react before Ilya bites. Thankfully it’s through Shane’s shirt, and not in so visible of a place, but those are thoughts Shane has later. In the moment, all he can think is a loop of his, I’m his, he’s mine, please mate me, Ilya, make me smell like yours, fuck, I love you.

They’re not mated, not officially, but the bond they share is strong. A feedback loop of heat flows through their bodies, and Shane is cumming, body jerking, his own scent wrapping around them like a cocoon. Ilya groans, wrapping an arm low around his hips to keep them pressed together. He can’t stop rubbing his face all over Shane, his skin and his clothes, until any outside scents are gone.

Everything smells like sex, like slick and cum and happy, sated omega. There’s no room for anything else.

Coming down, Shane pets Ilya’s hair and murmurs, “Such a good omega, so good to me, I love you, I love you so fucking much.”

It takes a few moments for Ilya’s brain to come back online, and when it does, he murmurs, “Ya tebya lyublyu,” and presses kisses over Shane’s damp skin. “Perfect omega. Mine.”

Shane pulls his head up so they can kiss, languid and deep. Their mouths move together in sync, and he’s reluctant to end it even minutes later. But the door behind him is starting to hurt, and for fuck’s sake, there’s a perfectly good bed right there. He’s been aching to nest with Ilya and fuck him in it for weeks.

This time, when he tugs on Ilya’s hair and says, “Take me to bed,” Ilya hitches him higher on his hips so he won’t fall, and obeys.

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