Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Sexism, Omega Shane Hollander, Omega Ilya Rozanov, biting with some blood, Bodily Fluids, No Beta

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-09-23 Completed: 2026-09-29 Words: 31,668 Chapters: 2/2

Rich and Bitter on the Tongue

Summary

After they reunite at the 2017 All Stars Game, Shane asked Ilya to spend his heat with him. It was almost certainly a bad idea, but that never stopped them before and it certainly won't start now.

Notes

Quick FYI, since I know this fandom has brought in a lot a people new to fandom:
"In casual discussion, the term Alpha/Beta/Omega is often abbreviated and lowercased. Many fans have advised others not to write the abbreviated version of the term without slashes because in Australia it is a racial slur referring to Aboriginal people....Some Aboriginal fans have said that the abbreviation is offensive even with the slashes included." -from the Fanlore article 'Alpha/Beta/Omega' https://fanlore.org/wiki/Alpha/Beta/Omega

You can use 'omega verse' instead if you want a shorter version!

Chapter 1

The Warm Up - Shane

The first warning prickles hit Shane on Thursday afternoon at practice. He paged through his mental calendar as he ran a drill.  It was early, but not by much, so he was in good shape to tell medical that he'd need leave. It was massively irritating that his birth control still couldn't regulate him as precisely as it promised and it meant missing two games instead of one like he'd planned. Nothing did what it said when it came to omegas.

"You good?" Hayden asked, coming in close.  

"Yeah," Shane said. "Got the prickles." 

"You need to go home early?" 

"You wish," Shane snorted, shoving his shoulder against Hayden's. "You're not leading this one." 

"Yeah, cause that's why I was asking," Hayden said with an eye roll, shoving him back. "Think I want to wrangle this pack of idiots? I'll drop the package in your backseat, I've had it ready for a week."

"Thanks," Shane said wanly. "Tell Jackie thanks too."

"I could've done it by myself!"

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't," Hayden agreed, "God, she's the best."

By the end of practice, prickles had become the beginnings of cramps. Shane still had a day or two before they became the kind of cramps that meant even a light practice would be something to suffer through. He'd done it anyway before if he thought it was necessary. Shane always took the bare minimum of cycle leave. The alphas on the team luxuriated in stretching their ruts out three or four days even though they probably only needed two at the most. Shane should take a full week, but he tried to keep it to five days.

With care, Shane showered (in his designated separate stall, the Greek 'omega' bold on the door next to the handicap symbol and while having a handicap player wasn't likely, Shane did wonder what would happen if it came up. Would they take turns? Share? Start a riot over the vast incomprehensible inequalities of access? The last seemed unlikely, but sometimes Shane's fangs ached in a very specific way that he shoved down as hard as he could). 

Refreshed, Shane emerged mostly dressed unlike his team, who reveled in the knot measuring that followed a rowdy few hours. He used to be pleased that they didn't stop their posturing around him, but as he got older, he found it exhausting. What had once seemed like being included now seemed like a different kind of exclusion though it was hard to put his finger on how.

At twenty-six, Shane often felt fifty.  Of course, if he was fifty, he wouldn't be dealing with this anymore. He had heard nothing good about omega menopause, but he looked forward to it anyway.

Shane: Sorry, I'm early.  

He sent it as he pulled on his hoodie, swamping himself and the warmth was welcome. The fluctuations in body temperature had already started. Joy.  He didn't expect a response right away, it was only an item to tick off his list. The next thing was to go down to medical where Dr. Alan always insisted on doing a blood draw as if Shane couldn't tell what was happening with his own body. As if it hadn't been going on twice a year since he was sixteen. Shane never protested. He ground it between his teeth and swallowed it.

When the tests confirmed what Shane knew, Dr. Alan always seemed annoyed. Like this was the time he'd catch Shane out for lying. Did he even test the alphas? Shane could ask Hayden or J.J., but if they said, Shane wasn't sure what he would do with that.  

"I'll put in the leave for you," Dr. Alan said. "You know you can take up to seven days." 

"Yes," Shane said because that was the play they put on together. If Shane ever took the whole leave, he knew Dr. Alan would have to say that was fine and tell Coach not to bother him. And then he would resent Shane all the more for the confrontation. 

It was too much to think about. Shane had to concentrate on his prep list. He left the practice facility and headed home. From there, he took stock of his supplies and put in an order. He notified his housekeeping service, meal delivery service and then his parents. It was the point on his list that Shane marked 'do not come to my fucking apartment'. The first time he lived on his own and had to manage his heat for himself, he hadn't thought of that and it had been a parade of people going by his locked bedroom door. He'd spent three days huddled in misery AND fear that someone would make it past his bedroom deadbolt.

So. Yeah. That was an important part of the list.

Then it was the nest.

Shane fetched the usual box of blankets and cushions and set it down. This was something he could do on autopilot normally, but this time there was hesitation. Because, if he let himself think about it, it wasn't so rote this time.

That text, sent into the void, was the first of it's kind. A new message in a bottle and he was terrified that it would land on the shore and be ignored. A distant whine in the back of his mind as the senseless instincts of heat started to crawl to the forefront.

"Shut up," he said to himself, "not yet."

The basic assembly of the nest went quickly. His bed was high quality and had adjustable sides for heats. He locked them at the half position. Sometimes mid-heat, he'd pull them all the way up to make a true cave, but most of the time that was too claustrophobic for him. Cushions went along the sides then the waterproof covers followed by softer sheets.

The vacuum sealed package that Shane and Jackie exchanged back and forth twice a year was sitting by the box waiting. It had been lucky that he and Jackie were on opposing schedules and managed to stay that way through her pregnancies. It was lucky that he had a friend who loved him enough to welcome him into his little family pack even though Shane would rather cut off a limb than live at the Pike house.

So. Very. Lucky.

The bag opened with the usual gushing sigh and out of it rolled the scent of the Pike pack. No alpha smelled truly good to Shane, but Hayden's scent had never bothered him. Maybe because it was so inextricably entwined with Jackie's.

In with the usual hoodie from Hayden and a sweater from Jackie, there was a fluffy K-Pop Demon Hunter blanket. A piece of paper crinkled on top of it with a note in Jackie's slanted handwriting. The twins and Arthur wanted to scent something for their Uncle Shane. You don't have to use it, but they were very insistent I pack it!  

He ran his fingers over the vibrant microfleece. The twins were too young to have a scent, of course, but there was a faint trace of crayons and apple juice. It looked a little silly tucked in among Shane's practical neutrals, but he folded it in one corner anyway.  

The prickles made themselves known again. Shane set himself back in motion. Nest completed, he swept into his en suite and reluctantly brought out the box from under the sink. He had imagined this would be the first time he didn't need it's contents, but if he didn't hear back soon than maybe he was wrong. 

The prickles rolled into cramps. He really did not want to be wrong.  Heats twice a year since he was sixteen. Nineteen times so far. Of those nineteen, he had spent fifteen entirely alone. Some in this apartment, some at the cottage. It sucked, but Shane had never even been tempted to use an alpha service. The idea of the terrible acidic note of an alpha in his home when he was at his most vulnerable filled him with revulsion. Letting one touch him? Better to be alone. 

The box went under the bed instead of on top of his nightstand like usual. It would be harder to reach, but Shane wanted to pretend a little while longer that this one would be different.  Then it was back to the bathroom for a second, even more thorough shower. If he was cramping then it was coming on even quicker than he thought and he liked to start off as clean as he could manage to buy himself more time without having to leave his nest. 

Food came next, the minifridge nightstand that he'd bought for the purpose rapidly filled with high calorie density snacks, Liquid IV, water, and sodas. Two different kinds of soda though Shane was careful not consider that too hard. He cut up fruit himself, enjoying the simple task as the massive machine of his brain started to slow in preparation for what was to come. 

By sundown, everything he could do had been done. He sent out the last few messages he could manage. He did not look at the silent message thread.  

He did go to his closet and without letting himself think about it, sink down on his knees to open the bottom drawer and pull out a single soft black tank top. It wrinkled in his too tenacious grip until he finally brought it to his nest. It went into his pillow case. He absolutely could not smell it right now. It was for later. In case. Just....in case. 

That settled, the pacing started. He made loops around the apartment checking the windows (which could not actually open and never stopped him from checking), the door (locked twice over), and the vents (absolutely insane, but instincts were instincts).  When he was younger, he used to try to reason himself out of it. The years had taught him that it only made things worse later. So he paced and checked and paced and checked. Sometimes he stopped for a wave of cramps, breathing through the rolling wave of discomfort before starting again. 

His phone buzzed. Shane pulled it out so quickly it clattered to the ground and he scooped it up heart-racing. 

Lily: I'm here.  Door code? 

Relief cascaded through him so fast it almost doubled him over. Shane sent the code and then went to go stand by the front door, eagerness overriding any potential shame. The knock came and Shane swept the door open. 

Ilya stood on the other side, dressed like he'd come straight from the gym and smelling a little like it too. Under the sharp tinge of effort were the familiar notes of citrus and smoke. Most other omegas smelled nearly rancid to Shane, the milk note too thick in the back of his throat. Ilya didn't even have a milk note. Rarely, Shane caught something like butter instead, rich and mouth watering.

"You came," Shane said, standing to one side so Ilya could step inside. 

"Yes," Ilya said, a little uncertain as if he himself wasn't sure he was coming until he arrived. "You are very close. Too close." 

"It was supposed to start Monday," Shane grumbled, swiftly closing the door and relocking it. When he turned, Ilya was still standing right behind him. All his usual effortless cool seemed to have been left behind. He was watching Shane with a tightness around his mouth. "Thank you." 

Ilya shook his head once in tight denial. "I have not done anything to thank yet. We do not know if this will even work." 

"Why wouldn't it work? Plenty of people have pack members with them for heats," Shane said then froze. They hadn't said that officially. He thought it was implied after that night in Tampa.  "I mean. You know. It doesn't have to be anything more than company." 

Ilya's shoulders came down a fraction. "What do you need to do?" 

"Not much. I prepped everything already. I had enough time for that. If there's anything special you want, now is the time to say though. I can't handle delivery people once it starts." 

"I do not need anything. I brought this for you," Ilya said and slung a tote bag off his shoulder that Shane hadn't even noticed. He held it out. "If you want." 

Bemused, Shane took the bag. They hadn't even kissed yet and Shane wasn't sure what to make of that. Inside, there was a set of neatly folded sheets, very soft to the touch. Not clean though. Slept on. Ilya's scent drifted out of the bag, less intense than on his person, but very present. Much more so than might linger on a tank top last worn months ago. 

"I want," Shane said, pulling the bag in close to himself. "Does that mean you're not staying?" 

"Of course I am staying," Ilya frowned. "Hollander, you think I would drive five hours so I could give you sheets?" 

"You could have changed your mind," Shane said, the bag going from crushed to his chest to on the floor in an instant. Ilya hadn't just come to him. Ilya had ran. The distance between them was too far. He closed it and slid his hands around Ilya's waist. "I'm glad you didn't." 

"You asked for me," Ilya mumbled and then he was kissing Shane with all the usual hunger. 

They broke for a breathless moment and Ilya tentatively rubbed his cheek against Shane's. The movement was small, barely a scenting and Shane whimpered. 

"Bad?" Ilya froze. 

"No. More," Shane demanded and tilted his neck. 

"Greedy," Ilya laughed softly, but he did lean forward.  

They had scented each other a few times over the years. It was almost impossible not to in some of the positions they favored. Once or twice, they'd even done it on purpose after, a casual brush of wrists or cheeks. They'd both showered thoroughly before leaving each other, sending any exchange away as quickly as it had happened. 

There was no rush now. Ilya was here and would be here for several days. The butter note wasn't with him, citrus and smoke lingering alone. Someone with a more trained nose might say something more specific. It didn't matter to Shane. He'd know Ilya's scent in a crowded arena. Had, in fact, detected in there on more than one occasion long before locking eyes on him.  Words were a far second to that knowing.  

"You are very close," Ilya murmured. 

"Yeah, I think-" Shane hesitated. 

"What?" Ilya prompted. 

"I think you coming made it faster. I know that can't be it, but it feels like that." 

"Shane." 

"It's not rational. It feels that way, that's all." 

"Okay," Ilya kissed his neck. "Time for nesting?" 

"Yeah." 

Picking up the bag of sheets, Shane led the way to the bedroom. He had no idea what Ilya would make of his nest. Shane had never been invited into any one else's nest and certainly never shown anyone his.

Opening the bedroom door, Shane prepared himself for a chirp at least. The nest to his eye now looked over-engineered, the work of a compulsive omega who had studied nest architecture in books instead of having an innate understanding of what was needed.  

Ilya said nothing. He drifted toward it and ran his hands over the railing at the foot of the bed that Shane had diligently padded and covered. Then he inhaled and tilted his head slightly.

"Pike?" he asked then another inhalation, "Pikes?" 

"I spend a lot of time at their house," Shane said defensively, "My parents can't scent anything. Mom tilts alpha, but not enough for a scent and Dad is centerline beta. I need someone's scent around or I want to climb the walls." 

"Svetlana," Ilya said a little stiffly, "she gives me things. I do not have other people either." 

"Oh," Shane said, "she doesn't keep you company for them?" 

"No." 

"No," Shane repeated, trying not be happy about that. "So. Pikes." 

With a wrinkled nose, Ilya shook his head, but he said no more about it. He only turned to Shane. Waiting. For what? It was getting a little cloudy now, the fog rolling in.  

"Shane," Ilya said, amused, "get in." 

Oh. Right. Shane lowered the railing on the left side and got in. With a frown, he shifted a few more things around, perfecting the shape now that he could see it from the inside. He layered in Ilya's sheets, spreading them out on top of the blankets so the scent would predominate over his own for now. Ilya was still standing in the same spot. He was so patient like this that Shane could barely reconcile him to the prodding shit stirrer he was used to.  

"Come in," Shane demanded, "it's getting cold, asshole." 

"Okay, okay," Ilya laughed and the last of the tension drained away. Ilya slid in next to Shane and watched as Shane used the little remote to raise the side again.  "Very fancy." 

"You don't have one?" 

"No, not like this," Ilya said, taking the remote out of Shane's hand and inspecting it. "I do not nest on the bed." 

"Where then?" Shane asked. 

Ilya didn't answer. Instead, he drew Shane in for another kiss and then another. Questions evaporated, dissipating as if they'd never been. 

The cramping came on hard as they made out and when Shane shuddered, Ilya's already roving hands found their way to Shane's stomach, pressing down lightly. The heating pad Shane usually used to relieve them might never see the light of day again. The rough pads of Ilya's fingers, the heat of his palms and close attention on his face beat out electricity and polyester any day of the week. 

"Good?" Ilya checked. 

"You're never allowed to move," Shane groaned. "That's so good." 

Ilya chuckled and dropped his forehead onto Shane's shoulder. "Tell me how it goes for you usually." 

"Uh, okay. First day, I'm usually mostly uncomfortable. Cramps, chills, fevers. I know you're supposed to get crazy horny right away, but I never have." 

"I do not either. It is almost the opposite," Ilya said, mostly into Shane's neck. "I do not want touching, you know?" 

"Yeah, I can get like that. My mom used to offer to try soothe me when I first presented and I almost bit her head off," Shane admitted, "I know some people like their parents crooning for them, but the idea of even having them in the room made me a little sick." 

"I understand not wanting them," Ilya said and Shane winced. How could he have forgotten how recently Ilya's father had died? That his mother was gone too.  Before he could apologize though, Ilya went on. "Maybe I would have let my mother, but she was already gone. My father would never and I would not have accepted." 

Shane didn't ask about his brother. He thought he had the shape of Ilya's family now and it wasn't the kind that came with a warm enough sibling bond to cuddle during a heat. Not even close. 

"Have you ever had someone with you though?" 

"No," Ilya said. "Alone was easier. You?" 

"No," Shane said. "I read about it a little. What people do." 

"You had to read about it? The knots in your room don't talk about it all day every day?" Ilya asked with a surprising edge. 

"I thought you liked alphas," Shane said, bemused. 

"I like some," Ilya said, "I like men, women, alphas, omegas, betas. I don't care. I do not like listening to ignorant knots talk about slick and holes like they know anything about them except sticking their dicks in them." 

"Yeah," Shane said, breathless suddenly, "they think because they got a heating pad, knotted, and didn't let their omega die of dehydration that they're gods gift to a heat." 

"So tough because they went a few rounds," Ilya scoffed, "They would never survive a heat from our side. Ruts are so simple. Oh no, you are a little more horny than usual for two whole days. How sad." 

"Holy shit," Shane snickered, "why didn't we talk about this five years ago? I thought I was getting old and cranky or something. It's so annoying!" 

"You are old and cranky," Ilya said fondly and pulled back enough to kiss Shane again. "It is very boring." 

"I hate you," Shane said, his heart beating a little too fast. "Uh, so day two." 

"This is when it hits you hard?" Ilya guessed. 

"Very. I usually lose time, so I don't know a hundred percent what it's like," he admitted ruefully. "I taped myself once just to make sure nothing dangerous happened, but it was mostly just....yeah, what you'd expect. I get a little emotional too." 

He did not say that he'd deleted it halfway through watching because he'd seen instinct-driven Shane curl up around a pillow and very clearly start weeping. It had been so disconcerting that he'd eradicated all evidence and then thrown out the hard drive it had been on.  

"I am always saying this about you," Ilya snorted, "very emotional. What is okay for me to do? How much do you want?" 

"I don't know," Shane admitted reluctantly. "I want you here. I want you to touch me. All the usual stuff we do should be good." 

"Bites?" Ilya asked, like the word itself had teeth. 

Ilya's fangs were wicked things. They'd never dropped when they were alone together, so Shane had only caught glimpses of them on highlight reels when Ilya was really getting into it with a ref or less often, another player. Maybe Shane had freeze-framed on them once or twice to catch the way they curved a little, long enough to descend over Ilya's lower lip. Alphas paid good money to private dentists to get them like that.   Shane liked his own too, dagger-straight and razor sharp.  They had nipped playfully at each other over the years, blunt-toothed and teasing.  It had never been anywhere near a scent gland.

"Would it last?" Shane asked. 

"I do not know. I wanted to read about it first, but uh..." Ilya grimaced. "I was nervous. A little." 

"Me too," Shane admitted. "Maybe only on the thighs? It'll chafe, but if they last, they'll be easier to hide." 

A proper alpha mating bite in heat would stick around for months, healing to shiny red gloss. Then they should be visible long enough to make it to the next heat when it could be easily renewed. Omega bites only lasted if the alpha had already bitten them. Or that was the common knowledge anyway. Omega relationships without an alpha weren't very well documented.  

"You want me to bite you?" Ilya asked. "You are sure?" 

"Yeah, I want it," Shane said, reaching down to cover Ilya's hands with his own. "I want everything everyone else gets during heats." 

"Ah, I cannot do everything," Ilya said wryly. "You may want a knot."

"No," Shane leaned in and kissed him softly. "I have a toy if I need it, but I never liked using it much."

"Mm yes, your dildo friend," Ilya said with interest, "Do I get to meet him?"

"Shut up. Only if- no. I hope not. But there's a plug that I thought would be perfect. It's got a wide base, so after you fuck me, maybe you could work it into me? It would do the same thing and I know I like it. I've used it before."

The growl that rumbled through Ilya's chest made Shane grin. 

"Yes, we do that. And what about protection? I brought, but I did not know if you use something else." 

"I take birth control," Shane said, "Don't you?" 

"Why would I?" Ilya asked. 

Good question. Of the two of them, Shane was the only one putting himself in that position. He'd seen Ilya with alpha women though. He knew some of them enjoyed omega men for pretty specific reasons.  Rose had only leaned alpha, not enough to have a clit big enough to fuck Shane with which was probably a good thing. He might've talked himself into some truly long term stupidity if she'd been up for that.

"Well, I take it. So we're good there. I haven't been with anyone else since the last time I was tested. If you have-"

"Ah, no," Ilya said.

"No?"

"No," Ilya confirmed and kissed him again.

"Really?"

"It is no big deal," Ilya scoffed, "you are getting all heat brained already."

It was hard to argue since Shane was starting to find the next thought harder to grasp onto.

"No protection. Biting is good. Plug for after. There's food and things in the minifridge. I tried to get some things I thought you'd like too."

"You did?"

"Yeah," Shane said with a frown, "I didn't want you to go hungry. I mean, you can leave and get stuff. I don't know how I'll be about that, but you're not a prisoner. I though it would be easier though if you had-"

He was getting kissed again which was really nice. Thinking was overrated, he decided. Fuck thoughts. More kissing.

 

The Fever - Ilya

For nearly a decade, Ilya had measured himself professionally against the ruler of Shane Hollander. Any time he came up short, he felt it like a mortal wound. Unfortunately, he failed more often than he would ever admit outside the privacy of his own mind. On ice, Shane was barely human. People called him a hockey robot, but they were missing the obvious. Robots could only do what they were programmed and what Shane could do relied entirely on the man's ingenuity and instincts. He was a hockey wolf, clever, sharp-toothed, and guiding his pack to victory.

It had comforted Ilya a little when he was licking his wounds that at least he was a better omega. There weren't stats for that, of course, but Ilya knew how the world saw them both. In one corner, demure and polished Shane, who off the ice maintained a distance between himself and the world. If anyone asked him about his secondary gender, Shane had a series of pat meaningless answers that danced off in the breeze. No matter how hard the media tried, they could not pin a potential mate on Shane's tail.

They called him 'Negative O in crasser places than mainstream media and it had taken Ilya far too long to understand the depth of the insult. It implied that Shane, beautiful, strong, fierce, was not even a lonely omega, but somehow a null of a person. Sexless and pathetic for it. It must soothe a lot of alpha egos to believe it so.

Meanwhile, Ilya was regularly papped with beautiful women of all designations. It was even allowed for him to be a little scandalous, spending his time with omega women though the implication was always that they were friends. After all, what kind of sick omega wanted another omega sexually? A beta was already pushing it.

Ilya had been featured in lascivious spreads on male omega athletes so often that he'd lost track. Despite being ranked one of the hottest players, year after year and a brand ambassador for high end goods, Shane was never praised for being the 'most wanted omega'.

For a long time, that had soothed Ilya's soul in a way he wasn't particularly proud of.

In private, Ilya had always known it to be a lie. A perfect omega image did not make for a decent real omega. When they got to know him, Ilya was the kind of omega that alphas complained about. He presented to no one, allowed no one to knot him or even come close. The few alphas he'd actually gone home with over the years had told him just how short of expectations he came. Only Svetlana had accepted him for what he was, and even she had no desire to keep him.

Shane, vicious in his element and polite outside of it, was a perfect omega in bed, except for the person he was perfect for. Perfect omega Shane existed, if Shane himself was to be believed, only for Ilya. For a brief horrifying month, Ilya thought he had lost the hazelnut coffee and cream of Shane forever to the epitome of a feminine alpha, but Shane had confessed to him in Tampa how badly that had gone.

Brave Shane, who had asked without any expectation of acceptance, if Ilya would consider spending his heat with him.

Consider it.

As if Ilya hadn't sat in his own small nest in the comfort of the dark and hallucinated Shane beside him at the height of his own fevers. He had no idea what Shane would even do to help, his imaginings ending with his presence. Ilya was terrible omega and the idea of someone approaching to 'ease his heat' made him furious. Yet, in the throes, Shane lay beside him and whispered things to him, impossible to remember later. It was the only thing that stopped Ilya from tearing himself to pieces.

So yes, he wanted to be there for Shane's heat. He didn't know what he could offer, but he would be there. He had said as much. He had promised. When the text came through, he had stood paralyzed in front of a rowing machine for long enough that Marley had noticed.

"Bad news?" Marley asked.

"No," Ilya said, "important, but not bad."

"Good, you've had enough bad news for like three years," Marley said with a nod. "You gotta head out?"

"Yes," Ilya said, shaking himself out of his daze.

"To where?"

They were alone in the gym, their routines reliably longer than the rest of the team. Omega bodies could build and maintain strength like an alpha's, but it took more effort. Ilya had never shied away from that. Marley was, as far as Ilya could tell, simply never tired and could not stand to stop moving. It had made them friends over time, a thousand casual conversations between reps. Cliff's complete disinterest in omegas helped.

"No offense," Cliff had said when it came up halfway through their first season together. They'd been talking about hitting the clubs as Cliff spotted Ilya. "I just never got why everyone goes so feral for them. I don't want kids and beta women are so much chiller about that."

"And omega men?" Ilya had asked because he could never stop himself from picking at a scab.

"Not into men," Cliff said without any particular inflection. "I mean, if I was, you'd be number one with a bullet, brother, trust and believe."

So that had been that. Cliff didn't want omegas or men. He'd never said anything sideways to Ilya despite saying fifteen dumb as shit things a day. If Ilya could be said to have a best friend on the team, then it was Cliff. If Ilya could be said to have any real friends at all aside from her, it would be Cliff. Not an impressive collection, but Ilya was used to a solitary life surrounded by people that claimed to like him.

Now they were here, alone. Cliff didn't know shit about omegas, but he knew Ilya.

"I offered to be a heat partner to a friend," Ilya settled on.

"You have an omega friend?" Cliff asked, "Since when? I thought you hated other omegas, honestly."

"Why would I hate other omegas?" Ilya turned to stare at him.

Cliff shrugged, "You got me. I figured it was territorial or something. You won't let Val do your physio."

"Because she makes Carmichael worse every time. I do not have to find how for myself," Ilya said.

"You don't hang out with the WAGs."

"I'm not a fucking WAG," Ilya spat. "If I spend time with them then it is 'oh, yes, Roz is just like a woman' or 'that is where he belongs'."

"Huh," Cliff blinked a few times. "People say shit like that?"

"All the time. You do not hear how they talk about male omegas?"

"Honestly, when the other guys start talking about omegas, I put in my headphones. It's fucking gross."

"Must be nice to not listen and not care," Ilya snarled.

"Woah! Okay. Yeah, I guess that sounds shitty," Marley held up both his hands. "Sorry. I'll be a better…what? Ally? Is that the right word?"

"I don't know," Ilya grimaced and went to get his discarded hoodie.

Shane needed him and he was standing around talking to Marley. He was already bad at this.

"Do you need to tell coach that you're headed out? Heat is a few days, right?" Marley asked.

"Yes," Ilya said, "I told him this might happen. I only have to say when. I have not missed a game for my own leave this year so it will be fine."

"Want me to tell him then? You seem like you're in a rush."

"No, I-" but that would actually help. One less thing. "Yes. Thank you."

"You got it!" Marley said, the tart strain of distress in his usually relaxed scent dissipating. "Anything else I can do?"

"You will be captain for tomorrow's game," Ilya reminded him. "Do not let the refs get away with bullshit."

"You got it, cap! What do you want me to tell the other guys? None of their fucking business, so you know, we can do a good lie if you want."

The offer reached deeper into Ilya than the rest of it. Marley wasn't a liar. He was barely a good truth teller, his facts muddled beyond use outside of his narrow lane.

"Tell them I am on my leave for me. I have taken time for my heat before, they will think it is the same," Ilya decided. It was only sheer luck that his heat had timed out over the league's holiday break this year.

"Got it," Cliff said, "and we'll beat the shit out of Detroit for you."

That should have been the end of it. It was only fear that made Ilya a hair too slow as he gathered his things together. The bag with his sheets had been in his car for a week already in anticipation as soon as Shane had dropped a date in their text chat without other context.

"Okay, I gotta ask," Cliff said, before Ilya could clear the threshold, "is this Jane?"

Shit. Ilya weighed a dozen answers. "I cannot-"

"Look, I know people are fucked about omegas not hooking up with alphas, but I really could give a shit. She's the only person that's made you smile far as I can tell. I won't say anything. I just- it's good. If you're happy."

Ilya rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest. Fuck.

"If you tell anyone else what I'm about to do, I will say you are a liar and punch you," Ilya warned.

"What?"

With a groan, Ilya pulled Cliff into a rough hug and for the first time in his professional career, Ilya scented another player. Team omegas were supposed to do it all the time. Ilya had gotten several lectures in his early career about not being a 'team player' for withholding himself. Bad omega was the implication, sometimes not even implied, but said outright. Not since he joined the Raiders, thankfully. It was one of the reasons he'd stayed. Sometimes an individual player would harass him about it, but they quickly learned the error of their ways. The soft affectionate parts of Ilya were not for these assholes.

Today, he swiped his wrist over Cliff's back and let their neck glands touch for an instant. When he pulled back, Cliff was staring at him like he'd seen the face of a god.

"Roz," he said reverently.

"Not a fucking word," Ilya warned and grabbed his bag again. "Win the game, Marley."

"You got it," Cliff said, his nostrils flaring. "See you in a few days. Say hi to Jane for me."

"Absolutely the fuck not," Ilya growled and stormed out.

The drive had done nothing to soothe Ilya's raised hackles. Shane needed him. Shane wanted him, more importantly. What could Ilya give him? Do for him? He had no knot to soothe that terrible deep ache. He wasn't very good at making people feel better in ordinary situations. Sure, he was excellent at making them laugh, cajoling them into his bed, or into winning or losing a game, but that was where his skills began and ended.

This was going to be a disaster.

Ilya arrived with a tote bag full of sheets, and no fucking clue how to proceed.

Then Shane answered the door, the hazelnut coffee of him reaching and pulling Ilya inside. The cream beneath that was usually a subdue background note was so strong that Ilya could taste it. There was no question of turning back. Not when Shane's eyes were already a little glassy and he was trembling faintly.

Naturally, Shane had a fantastic nest. Well-constructed, thoroughly cozy and pack-scented. Ilya wanted to roll in it, despite having to contend with Pike's scent. Even that had been mitigated by circumstance. Pike's scent wasn't agitated like Ilya usually experienced it. Instead, it had all the markers of a happy, calm alpha woven through with an unfamiliar and similarly relaxed omega with traces of pups mixed in. It was hard to take much offense to that.

They had a very calm adult discussion in that nest. Everything was sensible and clear.

And then Shane went under and Ilya was at sea. They kissed for a long time which was always good. Their meetings were frantic things usually. Having all the time in the world to kiss Shane was new and heady. With the knowledge of the coming heat, Ilya didn't feel compelled to turn things to sex too quickly. There would likely be plenty of that coming.

"Clothes," Shane mumbled and tugged irritably at Ilya's sweatshirt.

"Off?" Ilya asked with a laugh.

"Yes," Shane said. "Off."

Now that was an order Ilya didn't mind obeying. He peeled off his sweatshirt and started to toss it over the side. A blur whipped past his face and then Shane had the sweatshirt in hand. He stared at it like he wasn't sure why he'd done that.

"You want to keep it?" Ilya asked and then hardly daring to hope, "Make it part of the nest?"

Without a word, Shane turned and started tucking the sweatshirt into the side of the nest. When Ilya started to tug off his shirt, Shane put out his hands expectantly. Dutifully, Ilya handed off his shorts, socks and underwear. Everything found a spot around the bed. It was no big deal. Ilya was already here to help Shane's heat, of course Shane would want his scent in the bed. It was nothing.

"Okay?" Shane asked, his hand gentle on Ilya's face.

"Of course," Ilya said, but it came out a little choked.

Shane studied him then kissed him again. He pulled away and started stripping off his own clothes. It seemed early for Shane to be that overheated, but maybe he was getting an early hit of horniness. Delighted by the thought, Ilya watched as more of Shane's skin came on display. Shane naked was a superior version of an already nearly perfect product if anyone asked Ilya. It was a damn good thing nobody ever did.

"Do you want-oof," Ilya exhaled roughly as Shane barreled into him.

"Sorry," Shane said, sounding not at all sorry.

Ilya was getting snuggled within an inch of his life by a man that might be part boa constrictor. Shane tucked his face against Ilya's neck, crossed his arms behind his back and shoved one leg between both of Ilya's. Ilya waited for Shane to start something, but instead, his breathing slowed and he simply went heavy in Ilya's embrace.

"Shane?" Ilya asked quietly.

Deep, even breathing was the only response. Shane had fallen asleep in an instant with almost every one of their scent glands touching. With an amused chuff, Ilya indulged himself in running his wrists over Shane's back and into his hair. In his sleep, Shane shifted minutely. Ilya paused and when Shane didn't stir again, went back to thoroughly scenting his hair.

The sound started up a minute later. At first, Ilya thought Shane was snoring which would have been hilarious, something he could stow away for later to tease him about. When it got a little louder though, Ilya's breath caught in his chest.

The purr was rusty and deep, catching on Shane's inhalations. Ilya buried his face in Shane's hair pulling him in impossibly closer until he could feel the vibration in his own chest. He hadn't heard someone purr since he was a pup. For the most part, he'd forgotten it was something one could do.

No, not forgotten. Buried. How could he live in a world where he remembered the soothing continuous noise his mother had made that had stopped abruptly when he was ten when his father deemed him too old to enjoy it anymore? After that terrible night, his mother hadn't purred even when his father wasn't home.

Now Shane was purring and passively scenting him. Ilya was so fucked. He had been invited into Shane's nest and he was never going to leave it unless Shane picked him up bodily to toss him out. This wasn't even his and it was the best heat of Ilya's life. Despite the early hour, Ilya fell deeply asleep.

He woke up from a dream of fire to find himself in a puddle of sweat. Hours must have passed, all natural light having fled, leaving the only illumination in the room coming from the cracked bathroom door. Shane was pressed close, no longer purring and absolutely on fire with heat. The length of Shane's cock was pressed to Ilya's hip like a brand and the cream note of his scent had gotten impossibly more intense until the hazelnut coffee was almost lost entirely.

Should Ilya wake him? Let him sleep? Ilya tried to sleep through as much of his own heats as possible, but that was doing it alone. Would he want to be woken up?

Indecision was a stranger to Ilya and he wasn't enjoying the experience. He'd found early in life that the best way to move through unfamiliar things was to choose a path like you knew exactly where it was going and march down it. It had gotten him unarguably far in his career. It had even muscled him through some bad moments with Shane over the years.

This was different. Ilya couldn't fuck this up. It was becoming rapidly clear that this was some final round audition for a role that Ilya was now certain he wanted to be cast in. A role he couldn't have, of course. One that Shane wasn't even offering and Ilya shouldn't take if he was.

What a fucking mess.

"Fuck," Shane muttered, pulling away from Ilya to stretch without opening his eyes. It showed off the incredible length and breadth of him like a slumbering lion waking up before a hunt. "Ugh, I'm a thousand degrees."

"Two thousand," Ilya said, "I have never been this hot in my life."

"You don't get feverish for your heat?"

"I do, but that is only my body. Where is your water?"

"Minifridge," Shane said, pointing towards his nightstand.

Ilya climbed over Shane and made to get out of the nest. A low furious growl filled the air and Ilya froze.

"You don't want water?" Ilya asked carefully.

"What? No. I do," Shane groaned. "I just- don't leave?"

Ilya considered the distance between the minifridge door and the nest. "I will fall on my ass and break something trying to reach that. You are trying to take me out for the rest of the season?"

"Shut up. It's fine. I'm being nuts."

"No," Ilya said sharply, sliding back into the nest to kiss him. Shane ducked away, so Ilya grabbed his face and kissed him hard. Shane opened up to him immediately, melting into the bed. "Come with me. We will use the bathroom, get water and snacks and then we will not have to leave for hours."

The idea of leaving the nest did not land well with Shane, the face he made epically pissed off. He didn't say anything though and after a minute, sighed and pushed Ilya off him.

"Fine, but let's make it quick."

It would have gone quicker if Shane would let go of Ilya for even a second, but Ilya wasn't about to comment on it. Pissing in front of someone else was old hat for both of them though Ilya couldn't say he'd ever done it with someone plastered against his back. After washing their hands, Ilya found a washcloth that he dunked under the cool water and pressed against Shane's neck.

"Holy shit," Shane moaned, forehead dropping to Ilya's shoulder, "that feels so fucking good."

"I put some in the fridge for myself sometimes," Ilya said. "Do you want me to do that for you?"

"The fridge?" Shane's voice cracked. "How did I never think of that? Yeah, yes."

So they took an extra minute to wet a few more washcloths to tuck into the fridge, replacing the water and food they were removing. Shane insisted they eat at the foot of the bed even though they had nothing that would shed crumbs.

"We are already eating in bed, what does it matter?" Ilya asked.

"I would know," Shane said like it was a pronouncement of death.

"Okay," Ilya conceded.

He waited for the touch aversion Shane had mentioned to start. They finished eating and Shane glued himself back up against Ilya. Shane was still hard, but he seemed almost oblivious to it. Instead he fished around under a pillow and pulled out a tablet.

"I want to watch the highlights," Shane said.

"Right now?"

"I hate falling behind and tomorrow I'll be too out of it, probably."

"But-" Ilya started then cut himself off. "You are so boring."

"Heat is boring," Shane said, "don't you think?"

"No," Ilya said, then actually thought about it. Four days of sweating and feeling like shit. The loneliness pressed in from all sides while he tried to make blankets and pillows a sufficient replacement for company. The unrelenting tedium took a backseat to other discomforts,but it was there. "A little boring alone, but maybe not with someone else?"

"I guess we'll find out," Shane said with a small smile, "watch with me?"

"Yes, fine."

It was disgustingly nice to watch the highlights with Shane even as his body temperature soared again and every place he touched Ilya got sticky. The heat didn't dim Shane's skill and he dismantled teams then rebuilt them on the fly.

"No, no," Ilya interjected, "look at the way Ally moves, I would put him on Diamante's line, they are both slow, but in a way that works together."

"Sure, but they won't make each other speed up, you know? That would work in the AHL, but you know we'd cream through them here."

One video turned into three into ten until Ilya woke up with the tablet still playing quietly to the ceiling with Shane purring again beside him. They must've made it through the night, light having returned. Carefully, Ilya disentangled from Shane and made it out of the nest on his own, darting to the bathroom with his ears pricked in case Shane stirred. His escape attempt was successful though and he was able to freshen up, retrieve a few things from the minifridge and even get in some stretching before Shane made a distressed noise.

"Right here," Ilya assured him and got back in.

He was met with a furious glare, Shane sitting up from a pile of blankets. There was no telling now if Shane's scent was getting more intense, Ilya had gone noseblind with it. Any variations of mood would have to be read off of Shane's face and body language which was always a little harder.

This was not difficult to read though. Shane was radiating low level fury at him.

"I had to use the bathroom!" Ilya protested. The glare only got more intense. "You were sleeping. I should have woken you for the bathroom?"

Shane hissed at him. A real, angry warning hiss that rattled over Ilya's nerves. He sat back on his heels and dropped his chin. The implicit submission squirmed hot and ugly inside him, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop.

"No, no," Shane said and Ilya's chin was in his hands being pulled up, "Sorry, sorry."

"For what?" Ilya asked. "You asked me not to leave and I did. You can hiss at me."

"Don't submit to me," Shane begged and wrapped around him. "Please don't do that."

"You don't want? It could be hot," Ilya said though the words were ash in his mouth.

"It isn't. Don't," Shane pleaded.

"Okay," Ilya sighed in relief and hugged Shane back. "Maybe do not hiss at me for getting you drinks, pretty omega."

"Shut up," Shane groaned. He undermined himself, rubbing his cheek against Ilya's neck. "Don't call me that."

"Pretty or omega?" Ilya asked, dancing fingers up Shane's spine.

"Pretty," Shane said.

"My handsome omega," Ilya dared.

"Am I yours?" Shane asked. How was he so brave?

"Yes, I think so," Ilya said, pulling back enough to study Shane's face and finding only sincerity there. "If I am yours."

"You want to be my omega? Really?" Shane asked as if nothing could've been more delightful.

Heart pounding, stomach churning, Ilya could do nothing, but nod. "I want this."

"Thank fuck," Shane breathed out and pulled him in for more kissing.

At this point, Ilya assumed they might kiss their way through Shane's heat which was bewildering, but fine. They made out for long minutes and Ilya was already trying to think of other ways to occupy a heat-sopped, hockey-obsessed brain when Shane shifted to straddle Ilya's waist.

"Fuck me," Shane demanded, "or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

It was Ilya's turn to growl, rolling Shane over onto his back, shoving up his legs and bending his head to lick clean the slick coating Shane's thighs. Ilya's world narrowed in focus, his whole attention on eating Shane out like a starving man with a steak before him. When they hooked up before, Shane was never this wet. There might be a little slick, evidence of arousal, but they'd still needed lube to get things done. It had always delighted Ilya that he'd coaxed even a little from Shane. Now he was drowning in it and he wasn't sure he'd ever be satisfied with a bare trickle ever again.

That it was a direct inverse to how Ilya felt about his own slick was something he'd shoved in a box in the back of his mind a long time ago.

"Fingers, please, Ilya…more," Shane demanded.

Instead of the careful single finger, Ilya tempted fate and notched two fingers against Shane's hole under his tongue. When no protest came, he pushed in and Shane only moaned and shoved against his hand. They were definitely in it now. Shane's body was preparing for the knot Ilya couldn't give him. So instead, Ilya would give him everything else.

"You want me to fuck you? Make you come over and over? Scratch that itch that's building in you,my omega?"

"Yes, yes," Shane panted, arching his back and shoving himself even harder against Ilya's hand. Like he wanted Ilya in him up to the wrist. "I need more."

Ilya pulled back and shoved in three fingers. The pleased moan he got for that wrapped around his spine and squeezed. He pulled out and before Shane could protest, Ilya shoved his thighs back further, lined up his cock and started to push in. Even after rimming and finger, Shane's body usually fought him inch by inch even as the man himself demanded Ilya move faster. Today, Ilya was suckerpunched by how quickly he slid in to the hilt. No hint of discomfort flickered over Shane's face, only concentration followed by relief.

"Please," Shane moaned.

"So polite," Ilya praised. "My gorgeous omega."

"Move, Rozanov," Shane growled.

With a feral grin, Ilya moved. The slow ramp up, the careful questioning and soft little kisses disguised as nips Ilya usually used to warm Shane up into a good hard fuck were tossed aside. He slipped into high gear immediately, fucking into Shane like a piston while Shane writhed and growled 'faster, harder' under him. The blur of pleasure, Shane and his, smeared together like watercolors. When Shane came in Ilya's hand, arching off the bed and clamping down hard, Ilya growled himself. His orgasm hit hard and he buried himself deep in Shane.

Later, he wouldn't be able to recall if he'd even finished coming when he sank his teeth into the fevered muscle of Shane's thigh. The two sensations overlapped each other, irrecoverably intertwined. Ilya had used his fangs on partners before, usually with alpha females who had a taste for bloodshed. He had never put them anywhere near a scent gland though and certainly never latched on.

This was a latch, the gland pressed tight to his tongue as Shane scream-groaned beneath him. Instead of the intense brininess of slick or the metallic tang of blood, Ilya's mouth flooded with soft cream and nuttiness. All his other senses shut down for a moment, scent, sight, even touch gone. There was only this taste and the firm press of his lover in his mouth. The release was slow and tender. The two puncture marks he'd left behind immediately started to ooze blood and Ilya lapped at them carefully.

There was a hand in his hair pushing through his curls. He pulled off with a whine.

"No, it's okay," Shane murmured. "Keep going. I just want to touch you too."

Pleased, Ilya returned to his work and relaxed into it as Shane went stroking over Ilya's hair. It was only when Shane stopped tasting like blood that Ilya pulled away. He examined the puncture wounds. A deep satisfaction settled in him. For the first time, he had left a mark on Shane that would linger. For at least a few days, Shane would feel it every time he walked somewhere.

Hands tugged at him and Ilya followed them to settle over Shane, nuzzling into his neck and littering it with kisses. Shane's arms went around him, holding him there in approval. The nuzzling was returned, Shane's nose shuffling through Ilya's hair.

"Again?" Shane asked, barely five minutes later.

Ilya figured he could suck Shane off and finger him, maybe get the toy if he needed, but when Shane rutted his hips up against Ilya, his cock responded immediately. Ilya prided himself on a good recovery time, but that was insane.

"Hollander," he breathed out, "what the fuck?"

Shane reached down and seized Ilya's cock in his hand, giving it a hard pump with a pleased growl. "Mine."

"Yes, fine," Ilya groaned, rocking into his grip, "you want to present, my handsome omega?"

With a speed that almost had Shane's elbow catching Ilya in the face, Shane turned over, chest flush to the bed and ass in the air, legs spread with Ilya's bite gleaming on his thigh. If Ilya could've taken a picture, it would've become his prized possession immediately.

"Beautiful," Ilya said, kissing the arch of Shane's back.

It was likely perverse to present for another omega. Even more perverse to be an omega mounting another omega. So what? There was no one here to tell them off for it. Ilya was perverse by nature. If someone tried to take this from them right now, Ilya might actually tear their throat out.

"Please," Shane breathed out, "please fuck me."

He was still open and dripping with slick. Ilya pressed himself into Shane, watching for any sign of pain or rejection, but Shane's body was his to take today. They moved together, Shane's hips setting the pace as much as Ilya's, the demand unrelenting. The room had gone humid with Shane's feverish skin, their panting, and sweat. When Shane came, Ilya ground down into him. He had never wanted a knot. They were so ugly when they were deflated and hung like a small second ball sac. Fucking was fantastic without one, over when it was over. No having to hang around because biology had locked you up like handcuffs.

Now though, Ilya understood the appeal. He wanted to keep himself sealed away in Shane, taken into him safe and held. Unbidden, he whined.

"S'okay," Shane slurred out, collapsing down toward the mattress. "Plug."

"Where?" Ilya demanded.

"Box. Under the bed."

That meant pulling out. It also mean leaving the nest. "You want it?"

"Now," Shane said with a very tired growl.

Ilya moved. His dick still glistening and half-hard as he swung over the side of the nest and landed on all fours. The box under the bed was nondescript. Pulling it out, Ilya flipped it open. Inside was a neat arrangement of heat toys. The dildo with a knot in it made Ilya hesitate. He had teased Shane about it's existence years ago, but seeing it now made throat close up a little. This was what Shane had had instead of an alpha all these years. Ilya touched it like it might explode.

"Leave it," Shane said. He loomed above Ilya, arms folded over the side of the nest. "Whatever joke you have, I don't want to hear it."

"No joke," Ilya said, his hand drifting to the plug beside it. It was a decent size, but not as wide around as an average knot. The color was odd, neither the utilitarian black Ilya had expected or the candy color he had hoped for. Both toys were a deep bloody red. "You sound more clear."

"Yeah, I think a few orgasms helped," Shane said, watching him. "You got hard again really fast."

"I am a stallion," Ilya said with a wink, launching himself back in with the plug in hand.

"The sides go down," Shane reminded him.

"This is more fun. You want this still?" Ilya waggled the plug at him.

"Fuck, yes, kind of," Shane said and rolled back into that perfect presentation pose. He was every illicit drug rolled into one sexy blunt and Ilya was higher than the ISS.

Seating the plug was almost more filthy than fucking Shane in the first place. Ilya watched in fascination as Shane's body accepted the intrusion, closing around the fattest part of the plug to leave only the flared base snugly on display. Shane moaned with it then moved onto his side to study Ilya.

"Food and water for you," Shane ordered.

"I'm fine," Ilya said, "you are the one slicking so much you will need all the Gatorade in the city."

"We both need it. Come on."

Ilya played fetch again. They ate at the foot of the bed. When Shane sat up, his eyelids fluttered briefly, but that was the only sign he gave of the plug settled deep in him. As in all things, heat made Shane more beautiful. He was sweaty, but it made him glow. The glassiness of his eyes made them seem all the larger and darker. The flush of warmth made him look alive. Ilya hadn't taken a selfie of his own heat, but he knew how it felt. There was no way he came off better for it.

"Handsome omega," Ilya declared.

"Drink your Gatorade," Shane snarled at him.

"So cute," Ilya cooed and drank.

"I'm in heat, you're supposed to be nice to me."

"Ah, this you did not say when we were talking before and now you are under, so," Ilya shrugged, "too late for more rules."

Instead of a retort, Shane smiled wider at him. Their knees touched. Ilya ate a protein bar, then fished a strawberry out of the tupperware full of fruit. He was about to eat it until his eyes snagged on Shane's lips. A compulsion he was incapable of fighting turned his hand. He held the lush berry out to Shane, close to his lips.

"Ilya," Shane said with a frown.

"Eat," Ilya urged.

Shane's eyes went wide and he didn't argue. He leaned forward and took the strawberry between his teeth. The long sharp line of his fangs didn't descend, but Ilya could see the tips of them laying in wait.

"You will bite me back," Ilya said as if it were fact.

Shane chewed and swallowed, then nodded, "Yeah. Can I suck your dick first? Don't come though, I think the next wave will be here soon."

"Are you fucking kidding?" Ilya reached for a piece of canteloupe and held it out. "I cannot get hard again."

"You already are," Shane said, eyes dropped to Ilya's lap.

Ilya followed his gaze. His dick was already rising again without even sending a warning arousal to his brain.

"You are a witch," Ilya decided.

"Shut up," Shane groaned, taking the canteloupe. "It's hormones or whatever. Alphas talk about it happening, right?"

"Because they go into rut when the omega has a heat," Ilya said without as much certainty as he'd like. "If that happens with us, I should also have a heat, maybe? But this?"

They both studied his erection almost clinically.

"You should fuck me again," Shane decided.

"Eat first," Ilya said. He held up a chunk of watermelon to Shane.

"Only if you do too," Shane said, picking out another strawberry and holding it out to Ilya.

Fine then. Ilya leaned in and licked it out of Shane's fingers.

They did manage to finish the fruit before falling back into each other, but it was a close call. Shane shimmied down to suck down Ilya's miraculous hard on with only half his usual finesse. It barely mattered, Ilya was so turned on he would have gladly rubbed himself off on any part of Shane's body and thanked him for the privilege.

Then Shane pulled off with a wet pop and turned his head to press a sticky kiss to the inside of Ilya's thigh. The scent gland there tingled with the stimulation, rising a little to meet Shane's tongue.

"Do it," Ilya said.

Shane's fangs descended, catching the light. They were pearly perfection and then they were inside Ilya's flesh. It happened so quickly that the pain lagged behind the action. When the red alert of agony reached Ilya, his erection didn'tflag. His hand landed on the back of Shane's neck in a caress instead of yanking him off. The pain was the sharpest, sweetest discomfort Ilya had ever felt. Pulling out, Shane's tongue when flat and wide to lap over the wound. As quickly as it had come the pain washed back out, Shane's diligence taking care of the worst of it.

It was only wishful thinking that Ilya could feel a thrum of pleasure that wasn't his own sitting at the back of his mind. Bonds were for proper alpha-omega couples. Still. It felt good, even if it was his own imagining.

"Sweet omega," Ilya praised.

With a soft hum, Shane kissed Ilya's scent gland and pulled back. There was blood on his chin. It was easy to overlay a memory of Shane on the ice, lip split and dragging the back of his hand across the wound.

A second later, Ilya was pulling out the plug, casting aside and burying himself in Shane again without preamble. Shane must've approved given the way his legs went around Ilya's back to lock him in closer. Face to face again, Ilya couldn't keep his eyes off Shane's red painted mouth. When he leaned in, he could taste the blood and the comfort of his own scent thick on Shane's tongue.

"Ilya," Shane crooned, "my omega."

"Yours," Ilya promised, "fuck, all yours, Shane."

They came one after the other and Ilya was sure he was shooting sawdust at this point, even as Shane still spurted like it was the first time. Exhausted, Ilya attempted to move off, but Shane held him fast.

"You want me to fall asleep on you like this?" Ilya snapped.

"Yes," Shane said flatly.

Well. Fine. His fucking funeral. Ilya pillowed his cheek on Shane's chest and closed his eyes. Quietly at first, Shane started to purr again. Ilya smiled, and tried not to move. If he twitched and drew attention to it, Shane might stop. One of Shane's hands danced up Ilya's back to sink into his hair again, running through it over and over as the purring got louder. The vibrations lulled Ilya as much as the sound.

A new timber entered as Ilya drifted. It was a little deeper and less pure, more like a growl that was learning how to be something else. Shane's hand stilled in his hair and then he chirruped, an interrogative. It was a sound Shane had made before when he was relaxed after sex and Ilya was being confusing. So Ilya had actually heard it fairly often. He was a very confusing entity in general, but he seemed designed to particularly vex Shane.

But right now he was just laying here. Listening to- no Shane had stopped purring because he wasn't subtly vibrating anymore. The growl-purr continued. So unless some very content omega had broken into Shane's apartment mysteriously, the conclusion was right in Ilya's fuckdrunk face. Or in it.

The noise stopped. Shane chirruped at him again, this time with a note of sadness.

"I don't do that," Ilya told him, "Never."

The hand in his hair started again.

"I think you do," Shane said, "but kind of shittily."

"You," Ilya grinned, "are an asshole, my omega. You are making fun of me for having a bad purr when I have never done this before? All my life I thought I could not and I do and you are telling me it sucks?"

"Practice makes perfect," Shane said without a hint of remorse. "Is mine bad?"

It was on the tip of Ilya's tongue to return all that sass to sender, but he couldn't get there.

"No, yours is fucking perfect," Ilya sighed. "Do it again."

"I don't know how I did it in the first place," Shane admitted, "I haven't actually done it before either."

"You did last night in your sleep," Ilya said.

"Bullshit!"

"You did. Do it again."

"I can't do it on command."

"Practice makes perfect," Ilya mimicked, "Big talk."

"Eat a bag of dicks," Shane snapped.

Like the beautifully competitive dickhead that he was, Shane settled in to prove himself and sure enough a minute later he started purring again. Of course, Ilya was also a competitive dickhead so he closed his eyes and tried to summon the sensation of the purr in his own chest. When Shane started petting him again, the switch flipped and there it was.

His purr did sound shitty, even combined with Shane's rusty one. Come, saliva, blood and slick was lacquered over both of them, starting to itch. Their combined stench was giving Ilya a headache.

It was easily the best night of Ilya's life. He could live piled on top of Shane in his nest, purring at each other until the end of time. Instead, his body gave up the ghost, and he fell asleep. Treachery of the highest order.

It was probably a good thing though because Shane woke him up not nearly long enough later with a growled 'Now, omega' and Ilya was put back to work. That round made them both hungry enough that even Shane reluctantly got out of the nest, pulling Ilya towards the kitchen. Clever preheat Shane had bought a rotisserie chicken. They pulled it apart and ate it with their bare hands. As Shane was rending the last bit of meat off a tiny bone, the grease must've tipped over the 'acceptable heat dirt' meter in his head.

"Shower," he declared, "if I get back into our nest like this, we'll leave a grease trail."

Ilya practically picked him up and dragged him there, capitalizing on the moment. He sluiced them both clean as quickly as possible, Shane's discomfort with the level of squalor very clearly at war with his desire to be comfortably back in the nest. Washing his hair did make Shane relax a little and bought Ilya time to do a second round of scrubbing of their groins and legs which had gotten the worst of it. As he knelt down to get the last of the suds off Shane, he took a moment to study the bite mark.

It was almost entirely healed over. Instead of an angry red, the two marks were pink and shiny. The glossy telltale sign of a successful mating mark. Whatever noise Ilya made drew Shane's attention.

"Is it infected?"

"No," Ilya said and kissed the mark gently.

"You're sure?"

"Very," Ilya said. "Do not worry."

It was probably a fluke. It was no use alerting Shane to it if Ilya was wrong or it was only a heat mark that would return to normal in a day or two. Although after Shane got out, barely stopping to towel himself off before gunning back towards the nest, Ilya lagged behind and cautiously inspected his own wound.

Pink and shiny. He rubbed his thumb over the two points. By rights, they should be furiously painful. Shane's fangs were no joke. Two years ago, some branded water company had hired Shane for a shoot and decided it'd be edgy to have him tearing into their bottle with his teeth. It had kickstarted a very long text chain between them as Shane complained bitterly about how gross and uncomfortable it had been. Ilya had teased him relentlessly about being a spoiled brat omega. He'd sent him pictures of diamond encrusted mating collars asking if they were good enough or if he was too fancy for something so simple. That had gotten him so many middle finger emojis that Ilya had been genuinely impressed by Shane's typing stamina.

The resulting photos from the shoot had leveled Ilya. He bought the magazine with it's glossy spread and hidden it away. The look in Shane's eyes and the brutal decimation of helpless plastic, did things to Ilya's brain. Today, Ilya was the water bottle, punctured and decimated.

"Ilya," Shane's voice broke into a whine on the second syllable.

No time to have a breakdown about it. Ilya was on the clock.

Ilya lost track of time after that. They fucked, cuddled, purred, ate, slept and fucked again. Every time Shane wanted him, Ilya's dick rose to the occasion and he stopped questioning it in favor of using it. The plug got a workout too and Ilya grew attached to the lump of silicon. It kept Shane full of Ilya's desire and satisfied his omega entirely. At no point did Shane cry out for a knot. He asked only for Ilya and sometimes the plug.

On the third night, Shane was already starting to come around and their conversations went on longer than a few sentences and chirrups. It was almost over.

"I liked this," Ilya whispered into Shane's ear as they curled up for sleep again.

"You liked seeing me a mess?" Shane asked wryly.

"Yes," Ilya said, "I like perfect Hollander a mess. I liked how long it was."

"Yeah," Shane breathed out, "I wish I'd been more with it. I liked spending this long with you too."

Which had been what Ilya had actually meant.

 

The Cool Down - Shane

It was midnight. Shane hadn't been aware of the time for days, but the fog was lifting now. Beside him, Ilya was deeply asleep, his breathing so quiet that the only real sign he was alive was the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Shane had his tablet in his lap and even under only that soft glow, he could see the toll his heat had taken on Ilya. The man was exhausted, bruised in some places where Shane had clutched at him too hard, and scratched to hell and back. Yet, his face was calm and every so often, he purred a little in his sleep.

The returned purr in Shane was more consistent as he concentrated on evening it out. It was still not the pretty little noise Shane had heard some female omegas make, but it was a little less chainsaw-like now. Though he really liked the roughness in Ilya's freshly found purr. It was soothing.

Distractions. Shane forced himself back to reading. The thread was long and the studies it linked to were dense. Shane had no regrets about skipping college, but sometimes he could see the places where it would've been useful. Still, he muddled through. The remains of his heat told him this was more urgent than it was and he was too worn out to fight the instinct. He read and thought and read and thought.

Around two am, the tablet died, the light leaving him. He tossed it onto the bedside table where a mountain of debris had washed up. Tomorrow, he knew he would itch to set everything right. Tonight, he was still under enough to like the rich scent of the chaos. In the darkness, he went on thinking.

At three am, he leaned over and put a hand on Ilya's shoulder.

"Ilya," he crooned. Oh. Shit. Crooning too? Great, add that to the repertoire of noises he didn't think he could make. He was assembling a one-man omega orchestra at this rate. "Ilya."

"You need?" Ilya asked, eyes cracking open.

"No, it's not that," Shane said.

"What?" Ilya yawned wide, curls mashed up to one side and pillow creases on his cheek. He was so fucking cute it made Shane want to bite him again.

"When do you usually have your summer heat?"

"Mid-July," Ilya said promptly. "Why?"

"I usually have it in early August," Shane considered that. "Okay, okay it could work."

"What could work?"

"Come to my cottage this summer. Don't go to Russia, okay? Come with me. I want to switch birth control pills, so I might be able to re-time mine. We could sync up and spend it together. I know it'd be better for me to clear headed the first time we did yours together, but I don't think we want to do a duel heat for the first time over the winter break. It'd be too close in the timing. The summer would give us a lot of extra time. We could get through it together and then have a week or two still to hang out."

"Hollander, what?" Ilya blinked at him. "Why sync?"

"I feel incredible," Shane told him, "I always feel like shit when my heat breaks. Like the worst hangover. Instead, I feel like I took a vacation or got a massage. I mean, a little sore, obviously, but otherwise fucking fantastic. So I finally read a little and Ilya, holy shit, it's so fucked up. This omega institute has been doing heat studies and you know what they found out? Omegas who share their nest with other omegas during heat, sexual or not, consistently report feeling better rested, happier, and more fulfilled afterwards. It doesn't matter if an alpha was also there or not. They think it's a instinctual thing from back when we lived in packs. Having another omega was probably safer- anyway. It doesn't matter because they argue about that a lot. The point is, we could've been doing this the whole time and instead of suffering, we could've been flying high. And they said that if two omegas go into heat together, it's actually ideal."

"Ideal," Ilya repeated, "I need less words. I am so tired and it is very late."

"That's it exactly," Shane said, and nuzzled his nose against Ilya's temple. "If we got into heat at the same time, we won't be so tired from it. We'd both feel good. Think about what that would mean for us. Heat partners. Christmas break and summers. We could do it."

"You want this. With me?" Ilya asked. Shane cursed how thick his own scent was in the room because he couldn't tell at all what Ilya was feeling from his.

"I never want to do this without you again," Shane said.

"Fuck," Ilya mumbled.

He was up and over Shane, kissing him desperately. Shane kissed him back. He rubbed his wrists over Ilya's neck and down his back, unnecessarily scenting him again. A feeling of deep contement intensified in Shane.

The trouble with Ilya Rozanov was that he was excellent at thinking he'd handed you answers and you wouldn't realize until he was gone that your hands were empty.

With the worst of Shane's heat over, they both struggled to justify Ilya staying longer. There was another long span of sleep, a long thorough shower and heavy meal. Sated on every level, they regarded each other across the kitchen island. It was the farthest they had been from each other for any real length of time since Ilya had arrived.

"What if…" Shane started than trailed off.

"I have to go now," Ilya decided and before Shane could lash out, he added, "or I will miss practice. Then the game, maybe."

"Yeah," Shane said, possibly a little wetly, "okay."

He meant to stay in the kitchen to clean, but Shane wound up trailing Ilya as he packed. It felt pathetic and he tried to make it look like he had other buisness in the room like stripping the bedding. Which brought him to Ilya's sheets.

"You should have these back," Shane said, "but they need to be cleaned first."

"Oh, you think?" Ilya snorted. "They will need fire for this."

"I'll take care of it," he said, stripping them off along with most of the nest bedding.

Shane's housekeeper generally did his laundry, but he would be taking care of this personally and immediately. Yet even as he bundled the sheets into his arms, he had to resist the urge to bury his face in them. The thought made him queasy on multiple levels. He forced himself to drop them into the hamper. He reached for the remote and lowered the sides of the nest until they neatly disappeared again, leaving his regular bed behind.

"You never use this when you're not in heat?" Ilya asked as he plucked his long ago discarded shirt off the floor and put it on.

Wait. Had Ilya only brought one shirt with him? Come to think of it, he'd only had the tote bag with the sheets in it and he had used Shane's toothbrush this morning which Shane had at the time assumed was Ilya being obnoxious.

"Not usually," Shane said, "sometimes when I'm sick I'll put them up or hungover. It's nice then."

Ilya nodded once, curiosity apparently assuaged and then he was hiking the tote bag up over his shoulder like it has some weight to it. The pantomime made Shane have to hide a smile. Cool, collected Ilya had raced from wherever he'd been to Shane. The hours that Shane had spent fretting that Ilya wasn't coming had been for nothing. Ilya had always been on his way as fast as he could.

"You will be good now? Take a day before you go back?"

"I don't really need one," Shane said, "It's like I was saying, I feel fucking great."

Ilya raised his eyebrows and then out of nowhere smacked Shane on the ass. It wasn't a hard hit, but it was enough to send a shocking reminder through Shane of how many times Ilya had fucked him over the last few days.

"Motherfucker!" Shane swore, "What was that for?"

"Take the fucking day," Ilya said placidly. "They give us leave for a reason."

"Yeah, but if we use it, then you know we get a side eye."

"Oh?" Ilya rolled his eyes. "You think I haven't noticed? But you are not taking all of it. Five days is not ten. No game tomorrow. Rest your ass, so you can kill Toronto the day after for me."

"I wouldn't be doing it for you," Shane huffed.

"Okay," Ilya shrugged, "for you or Pike or your coach, who the fuck ever. Don't go back on the ice tomorrow."

"Fuck off," Shane said.

"I am fucking off," Ilya pointed out and headed back out into the living room.

They met at the front door and Shane wanted him to stay so badly, it made his fangs start to descend. He could grab Ilya by his shirt, drag him back to the bed, put the walls of the nest all the way up, and keep him there for at least another week.

Ilya kissed him. Once, twice, soft and wanting. His wrist pressed to Shane's neck, scenting him a last time, then he was gone without so much as a parting smartass comment. There one moment, gone the next, leaving Shane to stare mournfully at the closed door.

Shane's hands had balled into fists and he forced them open. Empty. Ilya had never said if he would come to the cottage. How had Shane failed to secure that? How was Ilya the slipperiest asshole known to man?

With a groan, Shane put himself to the task of starting laundry. He washed the things from the Pikes separately from the worst of the bedding. The blanket he washed twice. The kids didn't have heightened senses yet, but it was the principle of the thing.

It was only when he brought everything back to the bedroom to fold that he spotted the tank top folded neatly on the dresser. The tank top that he had put under his pillow before Ilya had gotten here. Shame burned through him at the thought of Ilya discovering it. What had he thought? That Shane was a desperate thief? When Shane plucked it up, a rich wave of citrus and smoke greeted him.

Ilya had re-scented it for him.

Shane sat straight down on the floor and buried his face in the defenseless cotton. His ass throbbed and his chest ached. One more day at home suddenly seemed like a great idea.

A week later and he was still grateful for that extra day. Despite some nascent anxiety, Ilya had gone back to texting him like nothing had changed. They bantered their way through their days. Hayden took back the bag of carefully packed things and invited Shane over for dinner. He spent the evening sitting on their living room floor with Hayden, several cardboard boxes and the twins vivid imaginations. It was a good night.

So why was there a sense of sadness tinging it? Shane knew he wasn't the most introspective guy in the world, but he did generally know the state of his feelings. Sure, he was a little worried about where things stood with Ilya, but that was the constant background radiation of life. Otherwise, the season was going well and he was with people he cared about. Usually, Shane left the Pikes feeling good.

He did feel good. It was only that under that was a well of sadness. It also wasn't how Shane usually experienced sadness. To him, sadness was uncomfortable and a very close sibling of anger. It tied his stomach in knots. It lived in his throat and the back of his eyes, a threat of tears that he worked hard to never let loose. This was something else. It was like a second set of bones, grafted to the first. It was heavy, but also omnipresent.

"Bed time!" Hayden declared, getting to his feet. He swept the girls up, one under each arm as they laughed and squealed. "Say good night to Uncle Shane."

"Good night!" they chimed.

"Good night, girls," Shane said.

He got up and the seam of his jeans pressed against the mark on his thigh. After ensuring that the wound seemed to be healing, Shane had firmly ignored the two punctures. They were easy not to look at, tucked away from sight. Protected.

Now though, the seam touched him and Shane thought about the foreign sadness. Omegas couldn't bond each other. They simply couldn't. Alphas had the strange alchemy in their saliva that allowed for mating bonds. An omega's bite was only good for reaffirming things. Some alphas even saw it as an insult if their omega bit them back. Like they were saying that the alpha's bite wasn't good enough on it's own. An omega's bite could only ever be a pale imitation.

"Fucking bullshit," Shane breathed out. He went into the kitchen where Jackie was having a cup of tea, crooning a little to baby Arthur, who was already sleeping on her chest. "Jacks?"

"Headed out?" she asked.

"In a second, yeah. Can I ask you something a little personal?"

"Of course," she said with a smile. "As long as it's not about breastfeeding."

"Why would I ask about that?" Shane stared at her.

"It's all the other WAGs wanted to talk about today in the group chat. Rancid opinions everywhere," she said.

"Okay," Shane decided not to touch that with a ten-foot pole, "it's about your mating bond. Is that too much?"

"No, it's okay," she said, rubbing Arthur's back a little. "You're pack. That feels like pack business if you're worried about it. But what did we-"

"No! No. I'm not worried about your bond," he said quickly. "I'm just curious about something."

"Oh, good," she said. "What is it?"

"Do you guys feel each other through it? I've heard people say that's like fairy tale stuff and other people say it's true and I've never felt like I could ask."

Jackie visibly softened. "We can feel each other a little. I think the fairy tale stuff is that people say they can read thoughts or even scent each other over long distances. That's never happened for us. And it's not like it's all the time, but if one of us has a very strong feeling than the other one knows. It's not invasive, more like…hm. If I can't watch the game, I still know if you guys win because I get this fizzy feeling in my chest. Hayden says he can feel my heats coming on because he feels really itchy for no reason at all. Things like that."

Things like sadness sitting heavy on your bones.

"Thanks," Shane said, "I think I get it. Thanks for having me. I'm going to go home."

"Okay," she said, "but Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good. Even when the feelings are bad, it's good," she said without looking up from Arthur's downy head. "Sharing the burden and the joy. If you let it, it can be the best, actually."

"I'll keep that in mind."

One of the things that had allowed Shane to unwind enough with the Pikes to call them pack was how infrequently they asked followup questions. Whether it was from respect or lack of curiosity, Shane didn't care. It made them intensely lovable to him. He could exist in their presence and disappear when he was done like a lone wolf warming itself by the fire before loping into the dark again.

Though maybe not alone anymore. Shane got back to his apartment and went straight to his bedroom. He shucked off his pants and underwear, then sat on the edge of his bed to examine his thigh.

Two marks, pink and glossy, remained where Ilya had made them. Cautiously, Shane touched them, imagining the gloss as a scab that would come away. It didn't feel different from the surrounding skin despite the strange glistening.

Jane: How are you?

Lily: Watching porn. You?

Jane: I didn't ask what you were doing. Are you okay?

Lily: I am alone with my dick in my hand. You could make me much more okay very fast.

Shane's hands opened, closed, and when he hung up they were still empty. Metaphorically, only. Objectively, they had come on them. When he got up to wash his hands, he did feel a little lighter though. The sadness had abated some. In the morning, it was back. A theory emerged and Shane rolled it around in his head through practice, then the game itself. They won and Shane wondered if Ilya felt fizzy with it.

They were about to go on a two-week roadie. That was too long to wait to do something about his theory, so Shane had to rush a little. It wasn't ideal, but he thought he got things adequately situated. Pen in hand, Shane hesitated, then decided he might as well amuse himself while he was at it.

Three days and two games later, Ilya texted.

Lily: Are you alone right now?

Jane: Give me five minutes.

Shane locked his hotel room door with extra care. For the first four years of his career, he had quietly defied convention and insisted on rooming with Hayden instead of being quarantined away like the league wanted all good little omegas to be. It was something he and Ilya had agreed upon, long before they talked about anything else meaningful.

"They think we will suck their souls out of their dicks while they sleep maybe," Ilya had said dryly.

"Or that we'll get knocked up and prove them right about us," Shane said with equal bitterness.

"Then we show them. If we both do this at the same time, it will work."

And it had. The only quiet solidarity they had ever shown and they never publicly acknowledged it was happening. Somewhere, far above their heads, a phone call had been made and two tired alphas compared notes on their difficult omega players. Certainly someone said, Hunter never gave his team trouble like this and someone had responded Hunter never played like them.

Four years felt like enough to make his point. Shane was an experienced player now and the captain at that because they couldn't deny him anymore without looking stupid on top of bigoted. Taking his own room now was his right, not a punishment for existing. He used it liberally.

The video call connected almost as soon as Shane pressed the button.

"Hi," he said.

"Hollander, why the fuck to I have a package from 'Jane Pike'," Ilya spat at him.

"No, see this is the point in the conversation where you also say hello," Shane said politely.

"Hello, fucker, now say why," Ilya demanded.

"Maybe Hayden has a cousin who's a fan of yours," Shane said.

"You are such an asshole."

Shane's chest fizzed. There was no other word for it. Jackie had nailed it.

"Open the box," Shane said.

"Oh, is this an order from my omega?" Ilya asked.

The last two words were quieter than the rest of the sentence as if Ilya wasn't sure he wanted Shane to hear them. They hadn't been said since Shane's heat ended. He could stand to hear them a few thousand more times.

"Yeah," Shane said. "Your omega wants you to stop being butt hurt about a name on a box and open it."

"I think it is your butt that will hurt," Ilya said.

A knife appeared in Ilya's hand. Not a box cutter or even a switchblade, but what was very clearly a decent kitchen knife.

"You can't use that!" Shane protested. "You'll get adhesive on it then cut up food with it and poison yourself."

"I will not," Ilya said affronted even as he stabbed into the box, "this is the box knife."

"You use a chef's knife on boxes?"

"It has a blade. It opens tape. Who cares?"

Did Ilya cook? Shane didn't actually make much of his own food and he had witnessed Ilya making eggs. What if someone picked up the 'box' knife in his kitchen and used it anyway?

Thank fuck for Ilya's bizarre habits because it distracted Shane enough that he didn't worry about the contents of the box until Ilya's hands were plunging into it. Right on top was an absolutely hideous Hawaiian shirt that Shane had wanted for Ilya as soon as he laid eyes on it. It was the same violent shade of orange as Ilya's Lamborghini patterned with a parade of tiny candy colored sports cars.

"This is the ugliest thing I have ever seen," Ilya said with wide reverent eyes.

"It should come with sunglasses," Shane agreed, "because it is blinding."

"I will burn it," Ilya declared.

"You've got the worst manners," Shane repressed a laugh. "That's a gift!"

"Jane Pike has terrible taste in gifts."

The shirt was set very gently. Ilya tugged out the smaller white box which delivered out a much more tasteful mug. It hadn't even been part of Shane's plan, but when he'd gone out to the flea market in a last ditch attempt to find something, the whole table had caught his eye. Handmade ceramics fit neither of their aesthetics, except that these mugs had been dipped in what seemed like liquid onyx. They were so dark they ate the light. The handle had been decorated with the thinnest lines of gold.

Ilya held the mug in both hands, eyebrows knit tight.

"I got two," Shane explained quietly, "and I kept the other one."

It had been a silly thought that they could be tied together that way. Shane couldn't shake it though. The image of them in their far distant kitchens drinking coffee from the same mugs had rooted into him and wouldn't let go.

"Shane."

"Yeah," Shane said roughly, "there's one more thing."

"It is not my birthday."

"I know, your birthday is in June," Shane said. "These are something else."

"What are you doing?" Suspicion clouded between them.

"Get the last thing out."

"Bossy," Ilya muttered and set down the mug next to the shirt.

At the bottom of the box was the reason for the whole package. Shane had put a lot of thought into the order: the joke shirt to break the ice; the mug to prepare for what was to come; and then the vacuum-sealed bag with Shane's heart on his sleeve.

"For your nest," Shane said, "I- maybe I'm wrong, but you said you don't use your bed for it, so maybe you don't have to take it apart between heats."

For once, Ilya had nothing to say. He held the bag and swallowed thickly.

"I want to see it, if you want to show it to me," Shane coaxed.

"You will not like it." The words broke out Ilya in the same way 'You don't like me' had not long enough ago.

"It's yours," Shane said, "Of course, I will."

With a tiny denying headshake, Ilya turned his face from the phone camera. He took a few shuddering breaths. Anxiety raced through Shane and it sucked because it was his and it was Ilya's.

"Please, my omega. I want to be in your nest with you. Okay? Take me there."

Ilya's eyes squeezed shut and then his hand lashed out. For a moment, Shane was sure the phone would be sent clattering to the floor to leave him with a view of the ceiling. Instead though it was seized and carried along. Ilya was moving quickly without care for the camera, so Shane got quick flashes of the rest of the house. There went the gleaming kitchen, then the ill-fated couch that had been perfect for a golden five minutes, followed by the blue sheets of the bed where they had first slept together, and the art piece over Ilya's dresser that Shane had stared at while he hurriedly pulled his pants back on.

He really had to go back there and make some new memories.

Ilya stopped abruptly and Shane's mouth was flooded with bitterness that didn't belong to him. The camera rose and steadied out, pointed away from Ilya's face to a closed door.

"Ilya-"

"Don't," Ilya said.

The door opened. Ilya's walk-in closet was huge. Not surprising, considering the rest of the house. At a certain bracket of wealth it was actually harder to find a home that didn't come equipped with a closet that could be a small bedroom. Shane's was only smaller because he'd chosen apartment living to be closer to the rink. It had been done up like the rest of Ilya's place: minimalist and calm. All the shelving was behind cabinet doors so the chaos of tidily folded t-shirts wasn't on display. There was a display of watches that wouldn't look out of place at a luxury jeweler's shop.

In the far corner though, there was an anomaly. The cabinets continued normally from chest height and above, but underneath hung a single thick black curtain. Even as Shane tried to reject the thought, Ilya moved closer to it. A hand appeared in the frame, resting the curtain for a moment like the beginning of a magic trick.

Heart sinking, Shane watched as Ilya drew aside the curtain. The mattress wedged into the space was twin size. They sides sloped up a little to create a depression in the center. There were several pillows and a few blankets. It was hard to tell with the shadows, but there seemed to be almost no personal items except for a single stray item of clothing only discernible because the baby blue jumped out against the dark blankets.

Before Shane could summon words, the camera moved again. Ilya was sinking down, ducking into the tiny space. The curtain closed. Some of the borrowed bitterness in Shane's mouth dissipated. No matter what he thought of Ilya's nest, it did it's work. It comforted him, at least a little.

The camera turned at last. If the nest had a light source, Ilya didn't turn it on, so he was solely lit from the phone screen. His face had gone to the neutral cool blankness that had sent Shane running so many times before. It wouldn't work now. It couldn't. Not when Shane felt Ilya's turmoil so intimately.

"Such a safe nest," Shane murmured, "very smart, my omega. It's a good nest."

It shouldn't have worked. It was the kind of thing that made Ilya snarl usually. But maybe he could feel Shane's sincerity or maybe…maybe every omega really did want to hear that sometimes. Maybe it wasn't only Shane, who was so hungry to know if Ilya was satisfied with his own precisely arranged nest.

"It is what I can do," Ilya said, "so. Now you know."

"Now I know," Shane agreed, "and I know that it's good."

"It doesn't smell of anything," Ilya said listlessly. "Of me, a little. Sometimes I sleep here."

"The bag," Shane reminded him. "Open the bag."

What had started as a faint hope that Ilya might be cheered by Shane's scent had become a very desperate wish. Shane chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched Ilya crack the seal. Inside was an entire outfit, everything Shane had worn the day he had prepared the box. He hadn't jerked off on it like some of the guys talked about doing because if Ilya did that to him, he would've been more grossed out than turned on. Instead, Shane had gone for a drive out to a lake that he liked and taken a long walk. He'd stopped at a restaurant he liked, but rarely ate at and forced himself to concentrate on how much he liked the food, instead of looking at his phone. Back home, he called Rose and wandered around the apartment while they caught up. Then he'd stripped down and packed the box.

What Shane wanted to give Ilya was a day where his scent was calm and content. It had seemed silly. He had no idea if scent could hold onto the particulars of a day long enough to make it into cloth and stay there, even with a scent-lock bag.

It no longer seemed laughable as Ilya buried his entire face in the plain gray hoodie and the sadness in Shane cracked into something deeper. A warmth embraced him entirely and he hugged himself with the arm not holding up his phone, trying to send the sensation back to Ilya tenfold.

"Shane fucking Hollander," Ilya said for all the world like his old self, "how are you in my life?"

"Persistence, mostly," Shane said. "You don't make it easy, but I hate easy."

The laugh crackled through Shane and he laughed along with Ilya in sheer relief. To his delight, Ilya immediately started lining his nest with the things Shane had sent him. When Ilya turned the conversation to the game he had played the day before, Shane let him.

If they fell asleep with the call still going, Shane above the covers fully dressed and Ilya on his side in his nest, then that was fine. Unlimited data plans existed for a reason.

The Metros and the Raiders slid into the playoffs then right back out of them. It wasn't for lack of trying. Their points race was the only thing worth adding up, both of them long since out of records to shatter. The first year, Shane had seethed at ever 'First Omega to Ever…', but even the worst of the outlets had to admit now that it was 'First Player to Ever…' most of the time.

Shane gave lip service to Dr. Alan about following his regime for the summer. After one conversation where Shane was roundly shot down, he accepted the prescription for his usual birth control. Three days later, he went to the omega clinic he had nearly made an appointment at a thousand times over the years. He'd even let the call connect before and listened to the receptionist say, 'Full Spectrum Omega Clinic, how may I help you?' a few times, before hanging up in a panic.

Last week, he'd called sitting in the middle of his bed, Ilya's tank top spread over his lap. The receptionist said her line.

"Hi, can I speak to someone about scheduling a visit as a high profile person concerned with privacy?"

They had protocols already in place as it turned out. When Shane arrived, he found the backdoor open as promised and he went up the utilitarian stairs where another door was cracked open. An employee in scrubs was waiting for him, checking his ID against her tablet. She led him past a break room directly into an exam room.

"Dr. Klein will be with you shortly."

Shane already knew Dr. Klein from photos. He'd done his research. She was one of the best omega specialists in Ottawa. He wanted someone close to his parents and the cottage, in case of an emergency in the off season. Seeing someone in Montreal felt impossible anyway. When she entered the room, sensible scrubs and her hair pulled back in a claw clip, Shane braced himself for a lecture or speech.

What he got was crisp clinical questions and her obvious immediate trust that he understood his own body. He had come in intending only to talk about the birth control. She looked at the prescription he'd been given and met his eyes.

"Mr. Hollander, may I be a little more candid with you than I should be about a colleague?"

"Yes."

"Your current physician does not understand male omega biology. You should also switch pharmacies. No one should have allowed this to be filled for you. Male omegas have different hormonal balances and this was pill would eventually do some serious damage to your body's ability to regulate itself."

"Fuck," Shane gritted out, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. Let's get you on something more realistic."

"With a switch like that, would I be able to shift my heat a little?"

"By how much?" she asked.

"Three weeks."

She considered that, "Earlier or later?"

"Earlier. I was due in mid-August, but it would be better to have it in mid-July."

"That works out well. You need to take the new one for several weeks prior to heat for it to work at maximum efficiency, but you have more than enough time for that."

He had to do the birth control anyway. If Ilya went back to Russia, then…well. A heat had to happen one way or another. Shane might as well be alone and miserable in July instead of August.

"Is there anything else you wanted to discuss while you're here?"

Her gaze was frank and ready. Shane had jumped through hoops to be here. There were multiple levels of assurances that anything he said in this room stayed here. Everything on the clinic's site and in their reviews said they were queer-friendly.

And fuck was Shane tired of googling.

"I had a partner for my last heat. He's also an omega," he said.

He waited. Dr. Klein waited too, apparently expecting more. Eventually she broke the silence.

"Did something bad happen during this heat?"

"No!" Shane said quickly. "No, it was great, actually. But we exchanged bites. I didn't think much would happen, but it seems like maybe it stuck around? Like a real mating bite."

"Ah, I see," she said without any visible change in expression. "I understand your confusion. There are a lot of misconceptions around mating bites. It often eclipses reality."

"What is the 'reality'?"

"That we know far less than we would like to believe," she said. "Did you know betas can take mating bites effectively?"

It hadn't even occurred to Shane that anyone would try to bite a beta. "I didn't."

"It's rare, but it can happen. In my practice, I've seen successful bonds between any combination of partners you can imagine. Some only mate once, some renewed for years. Would you like some information to take home about bonds? I have a brochure I give freshly bonded couples. You might know most of it already, but it's useful. "

Shane took the paper, too aware of it in his pocket. He'd have to put it through the shredder after he'd read it. As he folded it away, he considered leaving. There would be other appointments, he decided. He wanted to come back here to the pleasantly neutral exam room and the pleasantly neutral doctor that listened and had answers. He didn't have to ask everything at once.

If only Shane were built that way.

"I have another question," he said.

"As many as you like," she assured him.

"My heart partner nests different than me and it worries me a little. I don't really know a lot of omegas I can ask about what's normal or not."

"It's not my area exactly, but as long as it's not a harming them, it likely falls within a very wide margin of the norm. I have a book recommendation for you if that would be helpful?"

"Very."

She took a pen off the desk and wrote the title out for him. "My only caveat is that it's very female omega-centric with the language, but I haven't found a good gender neutral equivalent yet. All the information is solid."

Building Home: Why We Nest and How We Do It did exclusively talk about female omegas and each 'she' and 'her' rankled as Shane read it. He persisted because the language was clear and factual. A few times, it made him stare out into space as something he thought was a quirk of his own turned out to be something shared by many people. Apparently, it was only mildly unusual about being turned off by alpha and omega scents. Some omegas had 'heightened sensitivity' that went along with being more territorial than average. Considering how few people Shane let into his space that felt about right.

Sleeping in your nest regularly outside of heats was one of those things too. Plenty of omegas reported preferring a nest to a regular bed. Some said it was cultural, some a lifelong preference and still others reported shifting to it after they had pups. It actually sounded nice the more Shane read about it. Why did he feel so compelled to scrub away any evidence of his nest? It wasn't that he didn't like it. Maybe he should try sleeping in it himself.

The penultimate chapter was ominously titled Nests as Trauma Responses. When Shane reached it, he put the book down for a full two days. The Admirals made it to game four without Hunter choking.

 

Lily: Where are you watching the final?

Jane: With my parents. What about you? Watching with your team?

Lily: Only me and Svetlana this year.

 

Instead of assembling the bravery required to ask Ilya about his summer plans, Shane spent what little he had left on reading the trauma chapter. There was an entire section on people that hid their nests. One woman apparently only nested underneath her bed and would lash out at anyone who attempted to join her, even her own pups. The crisp explanation of why she had formed that behavior was rendered down to a few lines. Shane wished he could unread them.

Lily: Whatever you're doing right now, stop it.

Jane: What do you mean?

Lily: Everything smells burnt.

The panic that Shane had been fostering gutted and disappeared. It was the first time either of them had admitted to each other the bond was working. Tentatively, Shane concentrated on settling his breathing. He imagined being at practice, not with the whole team, but on his own. It was easy to summon the motions, the way he could cut across the ice without looking for anyone else.

Jane: Better?

Lily: Yes. You were under attack? Running from the police?

Jane: I was reading.

Lily: A manual to building a bomb?!

Jane: No! Just a book. I guess I was thinking of something else.

Lily: What was it?

A plausible lie would definitely come to him any second. Shane waited. Nothing. Fuck.

Jane: It's about how omegas live. Made me think about some stuff.

Lily: You are an omega that is living. Why do you need a book?

Jane: I only talk to two other omegas and you're not exactly a well of information.

Lily: What information about being an omega made you so upset?

Jane: I thought I was weird and it turns out I'm not.

Lily: The book is wrong. You are a little weird.

Jane: Fuck off, you know what I mean.

Lily: Maybe I should read this book.

If Ilya read it, he'd know what had upset Shane. Panic started to rise again and Shane forced himself into calm. Was it a bad thing if Ilya knew? If he understood that Shane was worried for him because he cared? Would Ilya hate it?

Jane: If you want. I got it as an ebook so I can't lend it to you.

Lily: I can afford a book.

Jane: Ok. I'll send you the title.

Maybe Ilya wouldn't read it. He was only jerking Shane's chain like usual and would forget the conversation in favor of other mild torments soon. Or maybe he'd read it and he'd be furious with Shane for perceiving him or something.

Fuck it. Shane sent the title. Then he headed down to his car. Four hours later, he was on his parents' couch watching Scott Hunter kiss a man on the ice. Not only a man, but a man with a tiny flag patch sewn onto his denim jacket: diagonal pink and white stripes. Omega pride.

His phone rang in his hand and Shane was off the couch like a shot. He couldn't say what either of them were feeling, only that it was the same, magnifying the strange buzz all over Shane's body.

"July 18," Ilya said urgently, "Can we do that?"

"Yes," Shane said, already doing the math on his new prescription. "We can do that. Come up on the 15th? That will give us some time together first. Can you stay after too?"

"I will stay."

Shane listened to Ilya tell someone else in his house something in Russian. Across from Shane, a picture of himself at seventeen held up a gold medal for him to survey. If only that kid had known what he might win someday. Ilya Rozanov was coming to his cottage. They were going to try a heat together. That was worth a gold medal or two to add to the collection.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Thank you for all your kind comments on the first half! I'm behind on comment answering, but I promise I have read all of them and they fueled me though getting the second half out this fast. <3

The Surface - Ilya

Having someone else living inside him had not made Ilya any less himself, for better or for worse. He still had his still ugly days when nothing made him feel right, even his Shane-scented nest. There were nights out with too much drinking and nights in with too much thinking.

When the Raiders had been knocked out of contention, Ilya retreated back to his house to lick his wounds. He was planning his return trip to Russia. His family had disintegrated with his father's death, but he had trained every year there with the same group of rough vets in the rink he'd first learned to skate. They vaguely despised him for being an omega, naturally, but they also vaguely despised everyone including each other. Ilya was fond of them. 

Preparing to leave was a mostly solitary event, but Ilya could no longer be alone, even in the privacy of his own home. 

The trickles and pops of Shane in him were the punctuation of Ilya's day now. They kept him company in the gym, on the ice and in his nest. At first, he'd resented it, the way Shane could creep into him at any hour of the day. Until Ilya been making himself breakfast the day before what would be their last game of the season. It had been a bleak morning, deathly quiet when he woke and now raining in the cold incessant way Boston could produce in the early spring.

Somewhere, in the distant reaches of Canada probably (definitely, Ilya knew Shane's game schedule), Shane was already awake. Ilya could feel the quiet thrum of his existence and awareness on the level of his awareness of his own breathing. Most of the time, Shane seemed to exist at a base level of being stultifyingly fine. He didn't share Ilya's wild swings, simply humming along at the back of Ilya's mind attending his boring regulated life.

That morning though, Shane surged to the front. It wasn't the blood rush of victorious joy, the tightness in the throat of unease or the hot flash of shame which seemed to be Shane's go-to strongest feelings. Instead, it was a sharp electric snap of irritation, muscle snapping to attention and fangs tingling. Not anger exactly, Ilya had no idea what Shane's full bore anger would feel like. This was, Ilya was certain to his core, the same kind of pointed annoyance that he rose in Shane himself. Someone was teasing his omega.

It vanished almost as soon as it had come, so whoever had done it knew what they were about and hadn't kept pushing. Ilya drank his smoothie running the feeling through himself over and over.

Unfortunately, Ilya concluded that it was adorable. The quick gnash of fang and huffing wasn't the fury of the massive beast that was Shane Hollander on ice. Instead, it belonged to the soft wanting creature that bit through Ilya's skin and muscle to make a nest inside him.

From that moment on, Ilya found himself reaching for Shane's feelings whenever he was getting low. With the steady rhythm of games and practices ebbing away, Ilya needed something else to think about. So he let himself be carried by Shane's practical steadiness. Shane ran in the mornings like Ilya did and it wasn't hard to get up a half-hour earlier, so they could share the rush of endorphins. Their paths diverged after that, Shane's day peppered with tiny escalations from his baseline, mostly cycling through annoyance, happiness, curiosity and the rush of warmth that seemed to come almost every time Ilya texted.

Was Shane feeling things from him? Did Ilya's low moods translate as nothingness or did Shane feel numb too?

Those were the questions that were simmering in Ilya's gut when Scott fucking Hunter creaked his way to the Cup and then into the arms of a pretty omega man. They sat with him for the next two weeks as he wrapped up everything he needed to do in Boston, including having a very awkward talk with Svetlana.

"You're going to Canada," she repeated, staring at him.

"Yes."

"I'm glad you're not going back, but Ilyusha, what the fuck?"

They had grown up as two sides of the same coin, the only omega boy and only alpha girl in their year. If Ilya could've easily said he loved anyone, it would be her. Yet even now, he couldn't find all the words he needed to explain himself to her.

"I have something to do there," he said looking away.

"Something or someone?" she asked without and edge. "Your Jane?"

He closed his eyes. Shane was in his neutral mode, his breath in Ilya's lungs, but quiet otherwise.

"Maybe," he said.

The exasperated sigh-growl was a very Svetlana noise. "You're spending your heat with him."

Reluctantly, Ilya nodded once. "You do not have to give me anything. I know it is-"

"Shut up," she said, definitely more growl than sigh now. "We're not any less pack because you've decided to mate without telling me."

"How did you know?" He demanded, his eyes snapping back open. "You didn't see the mark."

The triumphant smile on his face told him everything. He'd been had.

"I hate you," he grumbled.

"Like you hate Jane?" she teased.

He hit her with a pillow. Not particularly hard, but he thought it got his point across even if she snatched it out of his hands and hit him back with it.

"It's not mine to tell yet," he said when they'd settled down, both flushed and giggly with it. "When he's ready, I will."

"I can accept that," she said and rested her head on his shoulder.

Sometimes, when he was with her, Ilya could understand the desire for a bigger pack. Family was one thing, Ilya was sick of family and their obligations, but a pack was different. The idea of being cozy with Pike was disgusting, but Ilya was envious of Shane's ties to him and his big family anyway.

Two days later, Svetlana hugged him goodbye. They scented each other quickly, the way they always did as if someone was going to catch and punish them for it even now. Their wrists swiped across each other, hands clutching for precious seconds before departing.

"Here," she said and dumped two scent-lock bags into his arms. "The second one is from your oversized teammate. He tracked me down and asked if it would be 'super weird' to give it to you. Apparently, he's been talking to an omega cousin."

"Marley gave you a scent-lock bag for me?" Ilya asked, certain she was going to correct him.

"He said he didn't want to see it if you got pissed about it and threw it away."

What the fuck. Ilya clutched the bag closer to him. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't understand your bromance," she said, then with a very tiny smirk offered, "He's cute."

"Sveta. No. Marley only likes betas."

"I'm sure he thinks that," she said with a cheery smile, "but you don't have to worry about it. We'll be across the world from each other. For a bit."

"I will never think about it again," Ilya decided.

They would make an awful couple. Probably. But there was a sick appeal to having two of his most tolerable people conveniently in the same place. Alpha couples weren't much more acceptable than omega couples, but people were less inclined to tell them so to their faces for obvious reasons. Svetlana would like having something to be ferocious about and Cliff would enjoy letting her take point on it.

Okay, maybe Ilya would think about it a little.

That kept him distracted until they were in the air and then there was nothing to do, but try to sort out his own nerves from Shane's. It was impossible. A shaken bottle of Diet Coke with Mentos dropped in would be calmer.

At least he didn't have to go to baggage claim. Ilya had considered packing more, but the idea of waiting around watching suitcases slowly rotate around in a circle for a half hour while Shane idled somewhere close seemed akin to torture. There would be at least four days when Ilya wouldn't need clothing anyway.

The moment he got into Shane's car and a slightly burnt coffee and hazelnut curled into his nose, Ilya's shoulders came down. They were barely five minutes out of the parking lot when their palms slid together and their fingers entwined.

"Are you okay?" Shane asked,

"Scared, a little," Ilya confessed. "Excited and scared."

"Yeah, me too," As if Ilya couldn't feel Shane's popping candy of giddy joy and worry.

A two-hour drive through fuckass nowhere Canada should've put Ilya into a coma. Instead, it might've been the best car ride he'd ever had. Everything out the window was the unmitigated wild green of summer. Inside the car, Shane's hand was in his, an exchange of scents with no clear ending. They talked, a meandering nothing conversation that soothed some of Ilya's frayed edges.

The cottage itself was even better in person. It smelled fantastic, something no film could capture. Shane's scent was embedded everywhere mixing with fresh air and traces of long gone happy visitors. Ilya listened to Shane rattle off amenities as he inhaled deeply. It was only when Shane rocked back on his heels, going quiet and expectant that Ilya found steady footing.

The first kiss after so long apart had never been this good before. Ilya wanted to devour him whole. They collapsed back on the enormous couch, Shane pressed to every inch of him with only the annoyance of clothes in the way. Shane's hand went down his pants and Ilya was already happily imagining all the ways that could end.

"I want," Shane started which sounded promising, "to talk about the bonded feelings stuff."

"Hollander," Ilya groaned.

"Come on," Shane laughed and kissed him again, "it's a lot and it doesn't seem like we can shut it off. So. I was thinking we could maybe tell each other why we're feeling that way sometimes. If we know."

"If?" Ilya asked.

"Do you always know why you feel a way about something?"

"I don't have feelings," Ilya said, sliding his hands up over Shane's ass. "Only winning and horniness."

"You're so full of shit," Shane grumbled. "Come on. Can we try?"

Ilya would rather stick his dick in the garbage disposal than explain every feeling he had to anyone, even Shane. On the other hand, getting to hear Shane explain himself sounded very good. Shit. Reciprocity would be required if wanted all of Shane's secrets.

"I will try," Ilya conceded.

"Okay, so there's one other thing-"

"You want me dead?" Ilya demanded, "You invited me here to kill me with sex withdrawal?"

"I invited you here because I want to spend our heats together," Shane said so earnestly that it hurt Ilya's teeth, "I want to spend time with you. As much as we can have."

"I want that too," Ilya mumbled, "almost as much as I want your mouth on my-"

"Shut up," Shane groaned, already moving down Ilya's body to deliver a truly stellar blowjob.

As Shane sucked him off, Ilya had a perfect view over his head of the woods and the lake. He'd gotten off the plane several hours ago, but it was only sinking in now that he'd made a safe landing.

Returning the favor was almost as good as getting blown. Getting on his knees for Shane never felt like submission. If anything, it felt like another way Shane submitted to him, cracking himself open for Ilya to run his fingers through his delicate insides. After Shane came, Ilya indulged himself, running the point of his tongue over the two pink and glossy scars on Shane's thigh.

"It hasn't faded," Shane murmured, one of his thumbs rubbing slowly over the scent gland on Ilya's neck. "They're meant to fade."

"I have very sharp fangs," Ilya said, pleased with his excellent work. "You would not understand."

"Oh, so yours faded?" Shane challenged.

"Ah, no." He kissed the marks than tilted his face up to regard Shane. "But I bit first, so it's because of me, I think."

"It takes two, asshole."

"Show me to my bedroom and I'll show you what takes two."

"Uh, about that. That's what I wanted to talk about."

"About what?" Ilya frowned.

"The bedroom thing."

"You want me to sleep here on the couch? Not very good hosting."

"No, it's not that," Shane said. Nerves crept back into Ilya. "Okay. Shit. I'm just going to show you. I had a thought about the bed and then I did a bunch of things. Do not be an asshole about this, okay?"

"I cannot promise this," Ilya said seriously. "What did you do?"

"It's not even a big deal," Shane said as he got to his feet and offered Ilya both his hands.

Ilya needed no help getting up, but he took both of Shane's hands anyway ensuring that their wrists brushed together. It was heady, to have that as much as he wanted it. 

He was led through the cottage, each new vista a revelation. The documentary people must've cleared out some of Shane's knickknacks or maybe he hadn't had them at the time. There wasn't anything like clutter, only signifiers of Shane everywhere: framed photos that Ilya mentally bookmarked to be examined later, a book left out on the counter, and a sculpture that might also just be a pile of wooden balls.

"This is my room," Shane said slowing in front of the door, "there's two other bedrooms though. So if you don't-"

"Oh my god, Shane," Ilya cut him off and pulled him in for a long filthy kiss, "You will pick the best bedroom for yourself and I do not do second best. Show me."

"Yeah, shit, okay," Shane mumbled against Ilya's lips.

They stepped inside and all of Shane's nerves made a sharp sudden sense. It was a beautiful room with it's two walls of windows and perfectly finished wood floors.

The bed dominated the space and not in the regular 'big jock needs a king size' way. The nesting railings had been raised on it, but they were much higher than Shane had had them for his heat. From there, sheets had been carefully draped and pinned to make what could only be described as tent. Very familiar sheets. Ilya's blue ones that he had left in Shane's hands on his way out the door months ago. The fabric cast the bare mattress below into shadow.

"I was thinking with the windows and the way you like to nest, you might not like it exposed. I know we have a few days, but you said you like to sleep in the nest normally- so. I wanted to make it welcoming," Shane said beside him. Did he know how tight his grip on Ilya's hand had gotten? "When I went looking, it turned out the nesting bed company makes a lot of addons, so I didn't have to get anything custom made. It's this thin metal boning and- yeah. Anyway. If you hate it, I can take it down."

Ilya let go of his hand and moved towards the bed. He touched the arch of the sheets perfectly angled upward like a professionally constructed blanket fort.  Gingerly, he sat down on the edge of the mattress then scooted a little so he could flop backwards and look up. Natural light still filtered through the fabric, but it was diminished.

After a moment, Shane crawled in beside him, laying down on his stomach so only their hips and feet were touching.

"You did this for me," Ilya said thickly.

"Heat is hard enough," Shane said, "I want you to be comfortable for it. I want you to be comfortable here."

"On a bare mattress."

"I want to make the nest together."

Fuck. Ilya hadn't even made it to a meal before Shane reached into him and casually rearranged every part of him. He turned on his side towards Shane and pulled him in close so he could bury his face against his neck. Shane wrapped arms and legs around him like muscular stoic octopus.

"You spent money on a blanket fort," Ilya said, even as he rubbed his cheek against Shane's neck urgently. "You cannot make fun of my cars again."

"Can and will," Shane snorted. "This is practical. Your cars are organ donation machines."

"My organs would be very nice for someone," Ilya said, barely listening to himself. "It will be too dark in here for you. You like the sun."

"I thought about that," Shane said, dotting a kiss against Ilya's lips, before reaching over him . He produced a comically tiny remote in his big hand. "Look."

At the tap of a button, strings of fairy lights laced through the metal boning came to life. Instead of the dark cave of Ilya's nest, Shane had made a beautiful hideaway. It wasn't only a place to lick your wounds and wait out discomfort. Heats in this nest would be kind.

"Shane," Ilya breathed out.

"Too silly?" Shane checked, "We can take them down."

"Ah, no," Ilya said, taking the remote out of Shane's hand and tossing it away before he could think better of it. "Leave them."

It was easy to segue that back into sex, making out until their bodies were ready to do what the rest of them wanted. They avoided getting the mattress dirty in ways that did necessitate them heading to the bathroom with sticky hands and ridiculous grins on their faces, bumping shoulders as they shared the sink.

"Are you hungry?" Shane asked, all doe eyes, "Or do you want to do the nest now and then dinner?"

"Nest now," Ilya decided.

If he gave himself any time to think about it, he might back out or say something that would send Shane spiraling away from him. Fetching his suitcase, Ilya blanked his mind as best he could. It was only as he saw Shane piling up blankets and pillows on his return to the room that it occurred to Ilya realized how little he had to add.

"Did Svetlana give you things?" Shane asked. There was a new tightness in Ilya's shoulders that didn't belong to him.

"She did. She used it to flirt with Marley," he said casually and the tightness didn't disappear, but it did ease. "If you do not want strange smells, I understand."

"You put up with the Pikes," Shane said with a shrug.

"I was not the one in heat," Ilya pointed out.

"And you will be now. So your pack should be in there too."

Which was true and also something Ilya was trying not to think about. He took the scent-lock bags out of his suitcase. They seemed pitifully small compared to Shane's mounds.

"Marley gave her things for me. I haven't smelled them yet and he has not given me things before," Ilya said neutrally. "If he stinks to either of us, they can go outside. Okay?"

"Okay," Shane said with a frown. "Why now?"

"Ah, I think maybe he did not like when I said he missed things in the locker room. He is not always very smart, but he is my friend."

"Yeah, Hayden is like that too sometimes, but I like having him around," Shane said. "Do not repeat that."

Delight that was purely his own surged through Ilya. "You think Pike is stupid?"

"I didn't say that," Shane protested. 

That gave him a surge of energy to open Svetlana's bag. To Ilya, she carried the scent of rain-soaked pavement and strong black tea. When they were twenty, the sharp tang of 'new car' worked it's way in and Ilya couldn't say if it was her work clinging to her or something intrinsic to her now that they were adults.

As soon as the bag opened, Shane closed down. For a ten whole seconds, Ilya couldn't even feel the silent thrum that had been his lifeline since March. There was no time to react to that. The ten seconds passed and the thrum returned. Shane plucked up Svetlana's soft t-shirt, the perfect slate blue of a cold winter's morning outside the school they had shared more than a decade ago. It felt like Shane was picking up that morning too, examining two half-feral teenagers that always stood back to back so they could protect each other from the rest of the world.

Shane held Ilya's broken childhood to his nose and inhaled without so much as a 'please'. It was incredibly rude and abrupt. Ilya's dick informed him that there was no help coming from him. He would have to deal with unbearable emotional erection on his own.

"Oh," Shane said with a small smile, "okay."

"Okay?" Ilya asked, incredulously, "what is okay?"

"She smells okay. A little acidic at the edges, but it's not bad. Do you like to keep her stuff at the head of the bed, the sides or the foot?"

"Middle bit," Ilya said, still blindsided, "on the side."

"That works," Shane decided and set Svetlana's shirt down on top of the bag that must have the Pike things in it, judging by the flash of hot pink Ilya could make out. "You want to do Marlow's now?"

What Ilya wanted was to pin Shane down and make him explain himself. Svetlana, of all alphas, smelled okay? Something about her scent had made Shane's jealousy evaporate in an instant. Was it a note that Ilya had missed?

"Usually he smells fine to me, but he washes with a nulling soap, so hard to know," Ilya said, opening the bag instead of confronting any of that.

"I don't know any alphas that use that," Shane frowned, "does he smell that awful?"

"Not to me. He does not like other alphas much," Ilya said, "or omegas."

"I don't like most other alphas and omegas and I don't null myself," Shane pointed out, but he didn't seem judgemental, only thoughtful.

"I will ask him next time we are drunk together, he might answer."

With that squared away, Ilya opened Marley's bag. Most people gave soft things worn close to the skin for the best scent transfer. In their younger days, Svetlana always included silky lingerie with a wink and a laugh . Somewhere along the way though, she had taken to giving him things that she wore for comfort instead. Did she know he secretly preferred that no matter how much he pretended to sulk? Probably. 

No one gave hard things. And yet, Ilya pulled tough fabric from Marley's bag. His beloved leather jacket. As far as Ilya knew, despite his wealth, Marley owned only two jackets. There was the long lined wool pea coat that he wore on the coldest days of the year and this leather jacket the rest of the time. The leather held only its own scent, but the lining was all Marley: wet paint and tequila.  

"Why would he give you his jacket?" Shane asked. "It's not going to keep the scent for long." 

"I think the inside might," Ilya said, both his thumbs rubbing over the worn leather that he had felt many times incidentally over the past few years. "This is his favorite. He wears it all the time." 

"That might help," Shane said and took it from Ilya's hand to give it a far less invasive sniff. "Fuck that's strong. Boozy." 

"He does not even like tequila," Ilya said. 

"You think it smells like tequila? I thought about rubbing alcohol or something. Medicinal." 

"Paint." 

"Yeah, okay, I can get that," Shane said. "In or out?" 

"It is your nest." 

"Our nest," Shane corrected. "In or out?" 

"In," Ilya said, "by the foot, we do not need that smacking our faces. Do we mix everything or keep it separate?" 

"I was thinking I can do one side and you can do the other," Shane said reasonably. "That way we both have things the way we like them." 

Too bad they were highly unreasonable people. As soon as they got started, it was a race. Ilya snatched prime pillows out from under Shane's grasp and Shane stole blankets from Ilya's side that were already perfectly tucked into place. When Ilya started his accordion folds, Shane did something that resembled braiding. They slapped at each other's hands, growled, and wrestled over each incursion. All the planning to keep things tidily separate went to hell with their tussling. The pack scents were smeared liberally around mixing in with their own.

"My side is better," Ilya declared when they were finally out of steam and everything had more or less found a place. 

The army of pillows and deep piles of blankets had created a perfectly sized divot for the two of them. It was nothing like Ilya's home nest, too small even for him at his full height and rarely graced with more than two pillows and an extra duvet. His home nest also had a serious lack of Shane Hollander. 

"You barely did anything to it!" Shane scoffed, his eyes dancing. "Mine is perfect." 

"I put all this hard work into making a nice nest and you say I do nothing? My omega is an asshole." 

Maybe they did have a little energy left to wrestle again. If the wrestling was interspersed with dotting kisses over Shane's freckles then no one could hold Ilya accountable for it. 

Stomachs decided their next move, rumbling in empty disapproval. Shane promised dinner and told Ilya to 'freshen up' whatever that meant. He did use the bathroom and availed himself of Shane's face wash which seemed more astringent than his own. Then he slunk back into the bedroom and headed straight for Shane's clothes, snatching up a t-shirt and basketball shorts. 

They ate outside, a pile of burgers and condiments between them.  The specter of Shane's parents loomed large here, lingering in Shane's uneven cooking skills, and Ilya prodded at the phantoms.

"Your parents are betas," Ilya recalled. "Your Mama alpha-leans."

"Not by a lot," Shane supplied. 

"This is where you get your pretty fangs from." 

He reached across the table to cup Shane's cheek, unable to help himself. Shane rubbed his cheek against his palm. 

"And your Papa has no lean at all."

"Dead center, he says, and he likes it that way." 

"So that's where you get your boring from." 

As if it counted as a retort, Shane told him about his father's hockey career and dull career with the treasury, annoyed and fond all at once.  

"You haven't told them about you." 

Shane shook his head, a snake of regret curling into Ilya's stomach that wasn't his for once. "Not yet." 

"Will they be bad about it?" 

"I don't think so. They were great when I presented. I think one of my dad's coworkers is in an alpha-alpha bond and he seems okay about that." 

"So why not say then?"  The look sunk into Ilya like a stone. "Me? I think you can tell them you like to fuck omega men without giving them a list." 

"There's no list," Shane said. "Done?" 

Ilya watched him gather plates and march back into the cottage. He stared out over the water. Loving beta parents, who would probably be okay with the queerest possible configuration of a relationship and Shane was still scared of telling them. Pressing his palm to her cross, Ilya wondered if he would ever have told Mama. Would she have loved him no matter what or would she have turned her back on him? Would she have prayed for him like it was something her saints could forgive?

He got up and followed Shane inside.  It was better to be near his prickly omega than to sit alone with a ghost that had never answered any of his questions. Shane washed his irritation away along with the dishes, especially once Ilya started slotting things into the dishwasher for him. He took Ilya on an actual house tour afterwards where he points out a thousand tiny things that clearly mean the world to him. Ilya didn't give a damn about any of it, but he listened and kept his teasing light so Shane wouldn't stop smiling at him again.

"Hey, you want to sit outside?" Shane asked when the last room was done. "I'll make a fire."

"Where?"

There was a firepit. Ilya sat and watched as Shane first rolled up his sleeves than discarded his flannel altogether in favor of building a structure of sticks to set ablaze. As soon as the flannel came to rest beside Ilya, he snatched it up and pulled it on.

"Ha!" Shane's triumph cut through the growing gloom of late evening.

The fire climbed the wood, turning quickly from tiny embers to a proper roaring flame. Ilya had seen a bonfire or two, but most of his experience was with gas fueled fire places in manicured mansions. This one released a heady thick smell and a wave of wanted heat. Even as Ilya prodded Shane about it, he was caught in the wild flames. The call of the loon was distracting (not frightening, he was no pup to be afraid of a bird call Shane), but eventually Ilya found the pattern of it all.

Slowly, he collapsed under the weight of Shane's arm to rest over his lap. The dense reality of Shane's affection, the warmth of the fire and Shane within him, burned through Ilya's resistance. Watching yellow and orange dance, he told Shane about his family.

"My mother wasn't terrible," he found himself saying, "she was great."

Mama, he's got his hand in my hair and he smells like the best cup of coffee I ever had. The first one I bought as a Raider, coming fresh off my first practice. I knew no one and I had to say everything twice to be understood. It was August and I had four hours before I had to be anywhere. I walked into a cafe that doesn't exist anymore. Pretentious kind of place with terrible music playing. There was a boy behind the counter, around my age, he had dark hair and dark eyes. He wasn't anything like Shane, but he was handsome and he smiled at me. I stared at these chalkboards with swirly handwriting and I did know the words, but my brain refused to work and I said 'Please give me your favorite thing' because that seemed charming instead of lost. He made me a hazelnut latte. Sweet as all American things are and with so much foamy cream, you could barely taste the bitterness of the coffee.

I sat there for an hour, hands around an ugly thick mug because I wanted to hold that warm ceramic like a hand. I held tight because I knew the smell already so well and hadn't found it's like in the world before. Holding it was like holding the warm hand that welcomed me to this continent, this new strange phase of my life where I was free and not free. The mug almost broke I held it so hard because it was a boy in a parking lot with beautiful freckles. My boy, Mama, my omega. My man.

He told Shane about her. Her life and her death. It was as close as Shane and Mama could ever get to meeting, tied together briefly in Ilya's mouth.

"Was she an omega?" Shane asked into the silence that followed.

"Beta with a heavy omega lean," Ilya said, "Papa wanted beta pups. Alphas are not so prized in Russia. Still worse to be an omega, of course, but alpha is not a brag like it is here. They are meatheads, you know? Out of control. Papa was furious with Mama when Alexei presented. He blamed her for saying she was a beta when she was so close to omega. It was not her fault, but that never stopped him."

"When did you present?" Shane asked. "You said she wasn't there."

"She almost made it. Only two months after she died," Ilya said as emotionless as he could manage.

"Twelve is so early," Shane said quietly.  "That must've been hard."

"It was good to know early. No wasted time. I knew what I had to do."

"What was that?"

"Get the fuck out," Ilya said with a joyless laugh, "and here I am."

"I'm glad," Shane murmured, his fingers running circles over Ilya's scalp.

"Me too," Ilya conceded.

The fires danced before then, a reminder of what was coming.

For a full twenty-four hours, they existed purely as Ilya and Shane. They raced each other in the lake, then dried off in the sun on the dock. There was indulgent food, games, and orgasms abound. The melancholy came away from Ilya like a broken chocolate shell and the ice cream beneath melted over Shane's hands eager to embed itself in every line and divot.

They even went for a walk. Not a hike or a run. Only a slow amble around the lake shore, their hands clasped and swinging together as Shane gave Ilya memories of his summers at his parents' cottage. A speckle of pink caught Ilya's eye and he bent to examine.

"Find something?" Shane asked.

With care, Ilya pried a perfectly flat smooth rock out of the wet sandy soil. It was pretty, swirled with pink and gray. He dipped it in the water, ridding it of clinking grit than presented it to Shane. With a little smile, Shane took it.

"It's a nice one."

"For you," Ilya said, his heart beating a little too fast for such a small thing, "For your pile by the sliding door."

"That's a cairn, not a pile."

"What is a cairn?"

"A stack of stones-"

"This is a pile."

"It's different!"

"Okay," Ilya said with a grin, "put it with your karen."

"Cairn."

"Shane, you are being very cruel about my accent."

"Oh my fucking god."

The rock did go onto the cairn when they got back. Right on top, a prized spot. Ilya made dinner that night, shooing Shane out of the kitchen to build another fire. He might have services feed him most of the time, but Ilya still knew how to make simple good things. Watching Shane eat the roasted chicken and vegetables that Ilya had made should not be so satisfying. Shane must've felt it too because he took his time and savored it, something Ilya had never seen him do before.

They switched positions watching the fire that night, Shane on his back looking up at the stars with Ilya's thighs to cushion his head and shoulders. Ilya's hand worked it's way under Shane's t-shirt to rest on his stomach.

"I was so angry when I presented," Shane said out of nowhere. Yet it did feel like a continuation of another conversation, the one they had been having in snatches for years.

"Because you thought it would take hockey away?" Ilya guessed.

"No, I knew it wouldn't. I wouldn't let it," Shane said in his iron-sure way, "But I was supposed to be a beta. I was certain of it. It threw everything off. I had to recalibrate. Go into the fucking omega draft instead of the general. I hated that. I knew people would take it less seriously even though we all wind up in the same place."

"Mm, yes, very terrible, but at least you were number two omega."

"Fuck off," Shane grunted, "I'm trying to tell you something."

"That you hate being omega? Yes, I know."

"I don't. I never hated it. I hate how people treat me because of it. Being one is fine."

"You pretend you aren't one."

"So do you," Shane said, "do you hate it?"

Did he? Ilya turned that over.

"I hate it sometimes, but mostly I like it. Sometimes I even love it."

"When do you love it?"

Above them, the stars shone cold and uncaring. Around them, insects sang and loons insisted on their spooky calls.

"When the most beautiful man I have ever seen told me he doesn't like alphas," Ilya said, "and instead he likes me."

Shane smiled up at him. "Yeah, see, that's what I'm trying to tell you."

"What's that? That I am very handsome too? Sexiest man you've ever met?"

"Yes, there's that," Shane said easily, "but also that I like being an omega most when I'm with you."

"Fuck," Ilya choked, "why?"

"Because with you, it doesn't feel like this whole big thing. I think I actually feel most like an omega when we're together because it feels like you get it and it's safe to be. Is that stupid?"

"No," Ilya said, "because I am very smart and it is the same for me."

"When do you hate it?"

"Mm, some the same as you. When people are treating me like shit because of it," Ilya considered, then because they were going to have to talk about it anyway, "and when I am in heat."

"What happens for you?" Shane put his hand over Ilya's, the shirt still between them.

"There are the cramps and the not wanting to be touched for the first day like we said, all that."

He wanted to shove Shane off and run from the conversation almost as much as he wanted to stay here in this moment and let Shane take all the private ugly parts of him to sort out and tidy up like he did everything else.

"I remember," Shane said, "what about after that? What do you need from me?"

"Nothing," Ilya said, purely reflexively than winced, "I don't know."

"It's okay," Shane said and it must actually have been because Shane stayed steady, "I get it. I didn't know either. What's it like alone?"

"I jerk off, but it does not feel very good. Only like if I don't than it will be worse," Ilya admitted with a twist in his guts, "I try to sleep. I get cold too which feels very wrong, but maybe this is more 'reactive rubberbanding'."

"You read the book." Shane's eyes went wide. "You really read it? I thought you were fucking with me."

"I was, but I thought it would be funnier if I read a little and then I kept reading."

It had not been an easy read, but Ilya couldn't seem to leave it alone. He'd toss his phone to the side and walk laps around his house, then find himself picking it back up again to keep going.

"I thought it was helpful."

"They wrote two more," Ilya said, unable to bring himself to even look at Shane.

"You read all of them?"

"If I am terrible to you in heat, will you forgive me?" Ilya asked, "I will not mean it, but I feel terrible and that makes me awful."

"Eh," Shane laughed, "you've been awful to me clearheaded and we still wound up here."

"I don't want to do that anymore," Ilya whispered.

In one fluid motion, Shane sat up and pulled Ilya into a tight embrace. "Ok, so we won't. If you're feeling shitty while you're under, I'll take care of you. If you want to be mean to me, kick me out of the nest for a bit instead."

"That would be meaner if you are also in heat. You did not want to go even for food. Very grumpy kitten about it," Ilya reminded him, trying to lighten things. 

"Better than saying something that'll make you feel bad later," Shane said, nuzzling his nose to Ilya's in a way that utterly disarmed him, "Okay?"

"Okay."

That was more than enough of that for one night. Ilya kissed him and made sure that one thing led to another.

In the morning, Ilya woke to familiar cramping. Tiny lights twinkled overhead and Shane was slumbering on his chest. The fury he usually felt at the interruption of his life didn't come. Instead, Ilya shoved his nose into Shane's hair and closed his eyes, dozing off again.

The Plunge - Shane

"Nothing?" Shane checked.

"Nothing," Ilya confirmed, "you bought all the things we need and we have no plans to cancel. What would I need to do?"

"You don't want to check the doors? Scent the cottage?"

Ilya stood at the kitchen counter, shirtless and sweating a little even though they hadn't done much yet today. They had anticipated that Ilya would tip over first, Shane's medication adjustments making everything a little less certain. Still, he was two days early and clearly unhappy about it.

"Your cottage with the very nice security system is suddenly unsafe?" Ilya asked wryly.

"No, it's just that's what I do," Shane explained, "I get territorial."

"You do?" Ilya said with mock shock.

"Fuck off," Shane groaned, flushing. He got Ilya's bubbles of amusement in his chest and it was really hard to pretend to be upset after that.

"If I tell you something, can you do like when I told you about my mother?" Ilya asked, the bubble popping as soon as it had formed, "Be very calm and do not look at me. Not too many questions?"

"I can do that," Shane said and let his gaze slide down to his long ago emptied plate. It wasn't like he loved eye contact when he was upset either.

"My father's house was not a good place for me and it was very much his. So, I could not have territory in it. Heat was not something we talked about. I went to my room and stayed there and tried not to be trouble. When I moved to Boston and had my first apartment, I did not even scent mark anything in it for two years. It is too big for that. I cannot hold all of it.  Easier to make my territory very small, just my nest."

"Can I ask one question?" Shane checked.

"Yes," Ilya conceded, "you would not be you if you asked nothing."

"I'll want to do it when my preheat gets intense. Do you want me to leave you in the nest and take care of it or do you want to come with me?"

There was a long silence and Shane wasn't sure what the stirring in his shoulders and neck meant yet. Not all of Ilya's feelings made sense to him. He'd promised not to look so he was taken off guard by how close Ilya was when he spoke again.

"Take me with you," Ilya said, his hand wrapping around Shane's chin to tilt his face up. "Always."

"Okay," Shane said.

A cloud passed over Ilya's face. "One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Do not try to fuck me. Not with a toy, not with your fingers. I do not want this. Not even in heat," Ilya gritted out.

"Oh. Fuck, good," Shane let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for months.

"Good?" Ilya checked, all the tension fleeing in the face of surprise.

"Ilya, what about anything we've done for the last nine years suggested I wanted to fuck you?" Shane asked bemused. "I would if you wanted me too, but it's not really my thing. Especially while I'm going through heat."

"Because you are such a good omega," Ilya said, the compliment muddled with a whining complaint.

"So are you," Shane reminded him and pulled him down for a kiss. "My perfect omega. You really don't want anything like that? When I'm going through it I think I'll lose my mind if I don't have something."

"I never want that, especially when I am in heat," Ilya said firmly, "There are no fancy book terms or bad memories. I have never liked it, not even my own hand."

"Even getting eaten out?" Shane asked, then winced. Maybe he was pushing it too hard.

A surprised chirrup left Ilya instead of a sound and then he groaned, his forehead knocking against Shane's. "I might like that, a little. Do you want to try?"

"Yeah," Shane said, hoping it came out cool and not with the slavering hunger he actually felt, "I wouldn't mind giving it a shot. I want ot know what your slick tastes like."

"You are obsessed with me," Ilya determined.

"Jesus Christ," Shane laughed, "never mind, you can stay on your side of the nest and watch me jerk off for all I care."

"Liar," Ilya said and shoved himself further between Shane's legs. His skin was already a little warmer.

By mid-morning, Ilya's discomfort was difficult to hide. Instead of being able to offer the comfort that Ilya had given him, Shane found himself banished to the other side of the couch. There was no malice in it. If anything, Ilya seemed genuinely torn, his toes still reaching to touch Shane's occasionally, before retreating again. He accepted the heating pad Shane handed to him and curled around it while they watched another movie.

"I get it," Shane assured him, the third time Ilya retreated as if he'd been shocked, "it's like static all over."

"It's good in a game," Ilya sighed, "like fuel."

"Sometimes, yeah. I've cut it close before to use it. Played a game and gone under a few hours later. I play well, but it feels like shit."

Another toe tap and retreat. It was kind of cute. It was a very new thought to Shane that Ilya could be adorable. The rough, jocular, needling man with eyes that could go as cold as the rink had this whole other side of pouting, sweet, cuddle-hungry boyishness. Right now, he more resembled an aggrieved toddler than a man in his prime about to enter the peak of fecund sexuality.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" Ilya asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

They had promised each other honesty. Also, Shane knew it would be hilarious.

"Because you're cute," Shane supplied and waited.

The burst in his chest of outrage mutated so quickly into embarrassed pleasure that it made Shane squirm a little.

"No," Ilya said.

"Yep," Shane said, "you can't argue me out of it. You're very cute. Adorable."

"I'm in agony and he thinks I'm cute," Ilya complained to an invisible referee, "this man is a monster."

"Do you want some snacks or are you still nauseous?"

"Snacks," Ilya declared, arms folding over his chest.

The plate Shane made up was more of a meal made only of components. Chips, carrots, cubes of cheese, a pile of raisins, sliced melon and a tiny mound of almonds crowded the plate that he set on the coffee table in Ilya's reach, then backed off to his own side again.

Ilya's hand hovered over the plate before descending on the carrots. The embarrassed pleasure redoubled, then ebbed away. The show they'd been watching picked up and Shane slowly got sucked in despite himself.

"Do you want to watch one more or-" Shane started after their third episode. His sentence died as his focus returned to Ilya.

His beautiful pouting omega had been dragged deep under into heat. There was a scarlet flush spreading from Ilya's chest up his neck and crawling up his cheeks, his lovely eyes had gone glassy and lost, and the butter note in his scent which was usually so hard to find had come to the fore. While Shane had been trying to work out who the murderer was, Ilya had been swept out to sea.

"Why didn't you say something?" Shane asked him, shutting the show off.

Ilya blinked slowly at him. If he was feeling anything, it didn't register in Shane's body. The cool swift line of Ilya that lingered in the background of Shane's life now was still there, but there were no spikes or bubbles or fizzing.

"Ilya," Shane said. Nothing. Reluctantly, Shane crossed the invisible boundary Ilya had drawn earlier in the day to rest his hand on ankle. "Ilya?"

"Tired," Ilya murmured.

"Do you want our nest, baby?" Shane asked, a bile of fear rising in him.

To his relief, Ilya registered that at least, giving a hopeful chirrup. He even moved some, his feet hitting the floor and the rest of his body mostly following. Standing up did not occur. Shane moved in front of him and offered his hands. Ilya slid his palms over Shane's, even those already superheated. Shane pulled him to his feet and Ilya swayed there.

"Nest?" Ilya asked, blinking at Shane a few times.

"It's upstairs," Shane reminded him, "Not too far. Come on."

He coaxed Ilya along and he followed, docile enough as long as Shane held his hand. When they reached the bedroom, the sight of the nest galvanized Ilya forward and he crawled in to curl up on his side. No clothing had come off, even though he was glazed with sweat. When Shane set his knee on the edge of the mattress, Ilya growled.

"Sorry!" Shane leapt back then paused, "Am I not allowed?"

The growl cut off and then there was small whimper.

"I don't have to come in," he assured Ilya, even though that was quickly going to become a problem if the warning prickles Shane was becoming conscious of picked up speed. "I can sleep in the living room if you want."

His chest hurt, Ilya's emotions coming back online with a raw confusion and desire that Shane was all too familiar with from himself.

"Come in," Ilya said at last, one hand held out to him, "our nest. This is our nest."

"That's right," Shane said with relief, taking Ilya's hand. The tug was stronger than simple help and Shane collapsed right on top of him. "Whoa, okay."

"Mine?" Ilya checked, searching Shane's face.

"Always," the answer was not changing from one growl that was for damn sure. "You're my omega and I'm yours."

The scenting that followed was the most thorough Shane had ever had and they had made some damn good attempts during his heat. Clothing stayed on, but was shoved ruthlessly out the way as required. Every single scent gland was pressed together and on the way between them, Ilya licked Shane's skin without any hint of erotic intent. It was a turn on anyway because Shane was breathing and Ilya had his mouth on him, it just didn't seem to be the point.

When Ilya reached the mating mark, he rubbed his thumbs over the two glossy points. He looked up at Shane with a trace of lucidity.

"Again?" he asked.

"You want to bite me again?"

They definitely should've talked about that before one of them lost contact with Earth for a bit. Nothing about the way Ilya had talked or acted suggested he didn't want to keep the bond going, but they should've spelled it out anyway.

"Mine?" Ilya asked with a note of doubt. The heavy second skeleton of the well of Ilya's sadness (grief? Shane wished he had time to do more reading. Why had Ilya read all the books? What had been in them that wasn't in the nesting one?) threatened to return.

Fuck, Shane wasn't going to fight him on this. If post-heat Ilya got mad about it, they'd deal with it then. Ilya in heat could have Shane's heart on a platter if he wanted it.

"Yours. Go ahead, my sweet omega."

The second bite hurt about the same as far as he could tell. Shane's memory of the first one was heat-drenched and overlaid with sex. Ilya didn't stay latched as long this time, pulling out almost as fast as he'd bitten in, settling in to lick the punctures with the same dedication he'd used on the rest of Shane's body. The purr started up. It hadn't gotten much better and Shane hoped it never would.

The fairy lights twinkled above them. Ilya rested his head on Shane's other thigh, purring with slowly decreasing volume. As he'd promised, the intensity of the heat he'd been throwing off remained, but Ilya started shivering anyway.

"Come up here," Shane coaxed, "I'll warm you up."

With a grumble, Ilya pulled himself up, only to collapse half over Shane with his face tucked against Shane's neck. He wiggled a little, grumbled again, then plucked up Shane's hand and put in his hair. Even nonverbal, Ilya apparently was capable of giving clear directions. Getting his fingers into Ilya's hair and mussing the already sweaty curls into a full on mess soothed both of them. Despite the humid heat, Shane pulled the edge of a blanket over his shivering mate. 

A cramp hit Shane as soon as he had Ilya mostly warmed up. His thigh ached with the bite and now his fucking stupid organs were kicking on line. It was coming for him quickly too. Some of the forum posts about about omega shared heats had suggested that happened, but there were as many personal anecdotes claiming that was bullshit as there were saying it was true.

Ilya put his hand on Shane's stomach and pressed down lightly. His purr got louder again, the vibration running all the way through Shane. The cramps eased.

"Thank you," Shane heaved out, "you don't have to do that right now. You can rest."

Ilya nipped at his neck. It didn't hurt with only Ilya's blunt teeth involved. The message got through.

They napped together. Night had come on fully when Shane woke again. The nest was still softly lit by the tiny lights. The room smelled overpoweringly of butter, citrus and faint hints of smoke. The better part of Shane wanted to stay in bed and revel in it. The part of him that was scaling the walls of his heat was hissing in his ear to get up.

He had barely started to sit up when Ilya's eyes flew open. He chirruped at him in annoyance and tried to drag him back down.

"I'm going to check the house," Shane said, "do you still want to come with me?"

Eyes narrowed and there was a flare of disgruntled smokiness in Ilya's scent. The sticky sleepy feeling remained in Shane without any real spike of irritation. Ilya got out of the nest, arms folded over his chest, glaring at him.

"You could stay," Shane reminded him, clamoring out. "No one's stopping you."

An arm hooked around Shane's waist bringing him in close and another nip, this one to his jaw.

"Hey now," Shane protested weakly.

Ilya unglued himself from Shane enough that they could walk without tripping each other up. Their hands and arms stayed entwined and whenever Shane paused, Ilya's chin was on his shoulder.

"Lock is good," Shane said. He didn't usually talk to himself when he did this, but it felt wrong not to explain himself to Ilya. "I'm going to scent mark it."

He brushed his wrist over the lock on the sliding glass door. He started to walk away, but Ilya held him in place.

"You okay?" Shane asked.

Ilya's nostrils flared and then slowly, eyeing Shane up like he might stop him, he rubbed his wrist directly below where Shane had. Then he shrank back a little. Why? Did he think Shane would stop him? Be angry?

Maybe. Why wouldn't he think that given what he'd said about his past? Shit.

"Good work," Shane praised, "better if it smells like both of us. Come on, there's the front door and the cellar too."

Every lock checked and every door frame scented, Shane usually would feel compelled to make a second round. Ilya was flagging though, his steps slowing and he was starting to shiver again. Instead, Shane stopped at the main fridge and handed Ilya a protein shake to drink, taking water for himself. No use depleting the bedroom supplies this early. They drank them quickly and left the bottles behind.

Back in the nest, Ilya flopped down as exhausted as Shane had ever seen him. He was shivering and sweating at the same time which seemed unfair.

"My poor omega. Do you want fresh clothes?" Shane offered.

"I want you," Ilya said to Shane's surprise, "to lay down and sleep."

Who was Shane to argue? He did change quickly, unable to stand the clothes he had on a second longer. The impatient growl from the nest spurred him on fast enough that he put his shirt on inside out. Ilya gave him no time to correct it, pinning him down and pulling a blanket over both of them again.

It was claustrophobic, hot and uncomfortable. Shane fell asleep in minutes, butter on his tongue.

Shane dropped into heat sometime between then and the first early light of morning. As soon as he woke, Shane shed his clothes with extreme prejudice. The motion woke Ilya.

"Off," Shane said, reaching for Ilya's shirt. When Ilya moved away, he whined. "Please?"

Ilya hesitated, then reluctantly tugged his clothes off too. When Shane pulled him in close, Ilya molded around him again. They held each other, scenting and sharing warmth until Ilya relaxed. When Shane kissed him, Ilya surged in closer as if that was what it took to remind him what his heat was for. He reached down between Shane's legs to press two fingers into Shane's well-slicked passage.

Sex with two people in heat turned out to be messier than Shane could've imagined. Neither of them were coordinated or with it enough to make anything easier. Ilya actually missed a few times trying to drive his cock home and Shane snarled at him which halted the proceedings for a minute. Ilya whined in apology, shrinking away and Shane had followed him with coaxing kisses and return apology croons.

In the throes of it, Shane didn't pay much attention to what fluids were coming from where. He was soaked enough to take everything Ilya could give him and that was all that mattered. It was only when he surfaced a few hours later for a bit that he realized Ilya's thighs shining with slick. Ilya's slick. 

"Drink," Ilya said, shoving a bottle of Gatorade into Shane's hands as he downed his own.

Eating and drinking distracted Shane, but not for long.

"Can I?" He asked, drawing a line up the inside of Ilya's thighs with his fingertips. "Like we talked about?"

Ilya hummed in consideration, then tossed an empty water bottle out of the nest. "Okay."

He rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his cheek on his folded arms, knees tucked below him.

Presenting. Ilya was presenting for him. Shane reached for him hungrily, pressing his lips to Ilya's shoulders, then chasing down his broad back. Even in his heat-soaked brain, Shane knew he had to do this carefully and correctly. He settled in and kept one hand light on Ilya's waist.

The first tentative lick burst over Shane's tongue. Ilya's slick was a little more viscous than Shane's own, but less salty. It mixed with Ilya's butter and citrus to make a heady mixture. Shane's mouth flooded with saliva. Only years of careful discipline kept him from plunging forward.

Instead, he licked around Ilya's hole, familiarizing both of them with the sensation. When he'd gotten every drop of slick surrounding it, he delved closer. He danced his tongue over the tightly furled rim and the moan that crack of Ilya made Shane's cock twitch wildly. Urged on, Shane pointed his tongue and worked it around and around, swirling closer to his target. All the while, Ilya moaned and rocked a little in a silent plea for more.

Eventually the temptation was too great and Shane fucked his tongue into his omega's tight hole. Slick gushed over his tongue gagging him a little. Ilya tensed, but his pleasure sparked behind Shane's eyes. It spurred Shane on. He fucked Ilya with a familiar rhythm, turning his omega's preferences when he gave this service around on him. The trills of enjoyment rent the air, interspersed with deep groans.

It was only when Shane's own burning need started to rise again than he pulled away. Slick coated him from chin to chest. He trilled back at Ilya, issuing an invitation to pin Shane down in return. The RSVP came quickly. In very short order, come collected between their stomachs and deep inside Shane, both of them panting and wrung out with it.

Last time, this was when Shane had begged for the plug. He always wanted a knot at some point in his heat, a pointless desire at odds with his general preferences. The want didn't arrive. Growing soft, Ilya's cock inevitably slowly slipped from his body, but Shane didn't feel the loss in his gut. He was full of Ilya's satiated contentment instead. 

"So good, my sweet omega," Shane praised.

"Me?" Ilya laughed, rubbing his cheek over Shane's chest which had to be tacky and gross. "My omega rims me so well, I cannot feel my legs."

"I did?"

"Oh yes."

"Pretty impressive fucking for being legless."

Ilya grinned and rubbed his nose along Shane's neck. "Thank you for noticing. You didn't bite."

"I want to."

He ate Ilya out again first. That was just good manners and hot as hell besides. Biting Ilya the firs ttime remained a smeary mess of a memory and this go around was no clearer. Maybe it was a mercy. In his right mind, the idea of inflicting that kind of damage and pain on Ilya on purpose was an anathema to Shane. In his heat mind, it was a pleasant necessity. The blood was an added bonus, appeasing his most feral needs.

"Okay," he decided woozily, "we should probably shower."

"You want to?" Ilya asked, his hands plucking at the blankets, already pulling them closer.

"No," Shane admitted, "I think I should want to."

"This is heat. Fuck showers."

"Fuck showers," Shane repeated, then started to laugh.

"You are loopy," Ilya determined, laughing right along with him.

They forced down food, taking it only from each other's hands. Sleep returned.

Memory gave way. Time passed.

Shane surfaced first and quickly at that. One minute he was dozing in the aftermath of his umpteenth orgasm and the next he was acutely aware that everything was filthy and having skin was a mistake.

Beside him, Ilya was still fever hot and deeply asleep. With a spike of concern, Shane went looking for his phone and checked the date. Ilya's heat had not gone long, Shane's had been ridiculously short. Instead of the usual 80 hour marathon of discomfort, Shane had sped through all of it in a tidy 36 hours. No wonder Ilya was still in the thick of things. Tossing aside the phone again, Shane dusted a kiss over Ilya's cheek before slithering out of the nest.

As long as Ilya was still under, cleaning the nest itself was a no-go, but Shane could at least take care of himself. On very shaky legs he made for the bathroom. The vision he glimpsed in the mirror was not worth committing to memory. The shower corrected the worst of the horrors and he breathed a little easier as he chipped away at flaking layers of dried fluids.

Taking stock of his body, Shane found it much the same as the last heat. He had a few aches and a ton of hickeys. The bite marks were a little larger, red instead of pink, but they didn't hurt even when he cleaned them. No headache, no sluggishness or heavy hang of shame. It was like taking a long vacation. Everything had restarted fresh.

An unhappy trill broke his assessment. Ilya stood outside the glass of the shower. As awful as Shane had thought he'd looked in the mirror, Ilya was worse off. His gorgeous hair was matted on one side and his heat still had him flushed all over mixing with what might be beard burn on his neck. Shane didn't easily grow a beard, but his stubble could be rough. On top of that he radiated misery, even though he'd been happy as a well-fucked clam before he fell asleep. 

"You woke up alone," Shane realized, "Shit, I'm so sorry, baby. Can you come in here? Can I wash you up?"

Ilya was in the shower before Shane could finish the second question. He reached for Shane and when Shane reached back, he latched onto him. Shane rubbed his back and kissed his face, guiding them both under the water.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured.

Ilya said nothing and whatever sting of unhappiness Shane had missed initially didn't linger. Apparently, Ilya was content enough to let Shane wash him. When Shane reached his hair, Ilya started to purr and didn't stop even when Shane accidentally pulled on some tough knots. It was a long time to be away from the nest, but Ilya made no effort to rush Shane along.

Toweling them both dry should've been when Ilya got impatient. Instead he was passive. He watched Shane brush his teeth, chin set once more on Shane's shoulder. When Shane offered Ilya the toothbrush he'd set beside Shane's before they'd gone under, Ilya bared his teeth. There was no accompanying growl and it took Shane a second to realize what was being assumed.

"I'm not brushing your teeth for you," Shane sputtered.

Ilya shrugged and stayed plastered to Shane's back. He did not reach for the brush himself.

"Oh my god, you're fucking kidding me right now."

With an affectionate chirrup, Ilya rubbed his cheek against Shane's neck. His eyes were still glassy. There wasn't enough of Ilya home to be fucking with Shane. The heat had him deep. If Shane wanted to kiss him without two and a half days of ick, then there was only one way it was going to happen.

Brushing someone else's teeth was strange. Ilya was cooperative and didn't protest when Shane accidentally used to much pressure, only took a tiny step back.

"You want me to do your fangs too?" Shane asked, not hopeful that the words would get through.

Long curved bone slid out of their hiding spaces. Dutifully, Shane brushed them.

"They are very good fangs," Shane conceded. "The marks came out perfect."

The purr intensified, along with a note of smugness echoing in Shane.

"My pretty omega," Shane said experimentally.

Happiness bloomed in him, twining around his muscle and sinew.

Hand in hand they returned to the bedroom. The scent wasn't as awful as Shane feared. The nest was in a godawful state though. All their careful work had been undone and instead of a nest it was more of heap of laundry. Foul laundry. But Ilya was still under and Shane wasn't going to take the comfort of it from him.

"Maybe we could eat first," Shane tempered.

Ilya shook his head. He got in to the nest, kneeling on the edge of the mattress. Then he started taking it apart.

"Hey!" Shane protested.

Ilya huffed at him and shoved a pile of blankets in his arms. Shane took it, bewildered. As he watched, Ilya reorganized the nest in quick, efficient movements. The blankets and sheets that had been tucked away from the worst of their efforts became the new top blankets and sheets. Anything that had caught only some fall out were curled back into the walls. The dirtiest things Ilya seemed content to leave out of the nest entirely. In a few minutes, the nest back into a pleasing shape that wouldn't require a hazmat crew to clean. Ilya sat back down on edge, his feet on the floor. Shane waited for him to curl up, but Ilya stayed, watching him.

"Food?" Shane guessed. Ilya nodded. "How about a real meal? I can make something. You can stay here and I'll bring it to you."

The eye roll was unnecessary, in Shane's opinion. Ilya followed him to the kitchen. He was of no help, but he also didn't hinder Shane. Instead, he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the island. Shane was about to protest having a bare ass where food got made, only to see that Ilya had somehow pulled on underwear and shorts in the few seconds he'd taken his eyes off him.

"I feel underdressed," Shane joked.

"You are cooking. Maybe underwear," Ilya said, his accent far stronger than usual.

"Hey! Hi!" Shane surged to him, taking Ilya's face in his hands to kiss him. With Ilya on the island, he was taller than Shane which was interesting and kind of sexy.

Sexy. Ilya should still be all over Shane. Instead his gorgeous cock had been limp all through the shower. Now he had clothes on. Was Ilya better at heat than Shane? Had he mind over mattered it? Or was something wrong?

"Hello," Ilya said, crossing his legs behind Shane's back to bring him in closer. "I am very hungry, my omega. Feed me."

"You have to let me go for that," Shane pointed out, taking the opportunity to take a deep inhalation. Ilya didn't smell sick. The butter note was still prominent, so it was unlikely that he his heat was breaking.

"I do not like this," Ilya declared. He did release Shane though, so he must've been hungry. Hunger was good. Hunger was healthy.

Shane darted back to the bedroom for shorts. Ilya followed him, waiting in the doorway. Back to the kitchen and Ilya returned to his perch. Considering how toothbrushing went, Shane only made one big bowl and stepped back between Ilya's spread knees.

"Marinated shredded beef, veggies and rice," he explained as he held up a forkful. Ilya took it, eyes on Shane's face instead of the fork.

Every other bite, Shane took for himself. Between them, the decimated the entirety of what Shane had made then put down another round of protein shakes.

"You want to go back to the nest now?" Shane asked. "I want to tidy the kitchen and then I'll come up."

The answer was that Ilya wanted to drape himself over Shane's back while he worked. It made everything move far more slowly, but it was hard to get upset when Ilya's rumbling purr was vibrating through him and little kisses were being dropped on Shane's neck every few minutes.

Were they the same men who had sliced each other to ribbons over long wanting years? Or were they some newly birthed entities, made fresh with sharing this part of their lives?

Eventually, they climbed back into the nest, still half-dressed. Ilya threw his arm over Shane's waist, yawned widely and then fell asleep again. Shane meant to reach for a book or his phone. Instead, he ran his fingertips up and down Ilya's back and thought about the future.

"What time is it?" Ilya asked hours later. He sat up and scrubbed at his face.

"Noon. Are you through? Your temperature started coming down a few minutes ago."

"Yes, I think so. Fuck, you were right."

"About what?"

"This feels much better. No headache, no tense muscles." Luxuriously, Ilya stretched every part of himself, letting Shane watch with a wink. "You made me feel very good."

"It was easy," Shane admitted, "you were mostly sleepy and sweet the whole time."

"Sweet," Ilya repeated incredulously.

"You wanted to be close to me," Shane said, "and scent me a lot. That was kind of it."

Quiet descended between them. Ilya stared up at the fairy lights, before reaching across to take Shane's hand. "I wasn't mean?"

"Not even a little," Shane promised him. "The only time you growled at me was when I didn't cuddle you fast enough."

"Shane," Ilya frowned, "you can say what I did. I knew I would be bad."

"You weren't," Shane said, defensive of the tenderness Ilya had exuded, "I'm not hiding anything from you. Honestly, I'm worried I made you do things you might not have wanted."

"What things?" Ilya turned to face him.

Averting his gaze to the twinkly lights, Shane confessed, "Before I went under, you didn't want sex. I know we fucked a lot when we were both under. As soon as I surfaced though, you stopped being turned on. I'm worried I forced you or something."

"You did not," Ilya said firmly, "maybe you have good hormone soup so I can be hard for you, but you did nothing I did not want. I remember feeling very good fucking you, my handsome omega."

"Really?" Shane checked.

"Really. You want more now? I think I could get very hard for you now too," Ilya offered, his hand already stroking up Shane's thigh. "Also, you can eat me out whenever. You have a fantastic fucking mouth."

"Just my mouth?" Shane grinned.

"Mm, pretty good hole too."

"Only pretty good?"

The nest could stand one more round. Shane was even still slick enough not to need lube which was a treat. They both agreed it was time for laundry after that and they stripped the bed together. The laundry room barely managed to contain both of them as they brought in their piles. Eventually, Ilya hopped up on the dryer to let Shane work, still unwilling to leave his side.

"What was your mother's name?" Shane asked as he poured in the detergent, one hand on Ilya's knee.

"Irina," Ilya said with reverence.

"I was thinking, we could start a charity. For mental health and suicide prevention. Maybe centered on people that lean omega and omegas? If we have that, it won't be so strange for people to see us together. Let some other kids be rivals or whatever. We can be friends in public."

"Fuck, Hollander," Ilya said thickly.

Shane pushed, closing the door and hitting the start button. "And maybe…Ottawa? They haven't had a team omega in a decade and they could pay you what you were worth. You'd only be two hours away. We could meet up all the time and sync and I know it would-"

The kiss cut him off. He stepped between Ilya's knees. Beside them washer clicked to life, water rushing in and the scent of the detergent overrode the chaotic melange of their used bedding. Ilya pulled away first, but he barely left, their foreheads still tilted together.

"I love you," he said.

"Holy shit," Shane gasped out, his hands fumbling to bring Ilya in closer, "I love you too."

Three hours later, Dad would walk into the house with a well-meaning grocery supply because Shane hadn't told his parents his heat had broken or that he wasn't spending it alone. There would be a touch-and-go few minutes for Shane's mental health, then the strangest dinner of his life. There would be another ten days at the cottage to do all the things a freshly-minted couple wanted. The thousands complications of the life they chose would come hurtling at them over the next few months.

Eleven days later, Shane would morosely move around the cottage to tidy up the remains of Ilya's visit and discover a lilac-covered book with the inane title Ohs and Ahs: The Real Sex Lives of Omegas and Alphas underneath a stack of blankets that Ilya had folded. Shane would pick it up and start reading, caught right there in front of the running dryer. Halfway through, he'd sit where Ilya was now, the dryer rumbling through him as a poor substitute for his mate's purr and trace his finger along words that an insistent pen had underlined in a chapter halfway through.

Low-libido experienced by omegas during heat can challenge current norms. Rather than feeding into the concept of omegas as territorial hysterics that guard a territory with fierce single-mindedness to keep the best sperm for herself, it offers an idea wholly in opposition: omega as pack center.

Perhaps that is why that despite rampant omega discrimination, most businesses, teams, and families, will insist on having an omega in them. Once positioned as a gem in the crown of ill-gotten gains of territorial packs, maybe instead an omega is a pillar of their packs. A singular powerful support in a shaky world. 

Beside that, Shane would find scrawled in handwriting he hadn't yet had a chance to become familiar with: This is very stupid. Buildings need more than one pillar. Don't you think, Mr. Architecture?

Two years later, Shane would skate out for his first practice in black and red. Ilya would greet him with a wink and a playful chirrup. By moving through drills they had done a thousand times alone together, they made history: the first time two male omegas would play on a professional sports team. That they were mates with bites glossy on their necks confronting the world with their reality was almost beside the point for the rampant media. Not for them, of course. For them, it was the whole fucking point. 

All of that was in the future though. For now, they held each other among the piles of their deconstructed nest and argued about what to have for lunch without leaving enough room between them for light to get through.