Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hybrids, dog hybrid ilya rozanov, Human Shane Hollander, and they were ROOMMATES, Past Abuse, Past Trauma, Past Child Abuse, Domestic Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Domestic Fluff, Bickering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Shane Hollander, Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Scenting, Alpha Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Drunk Shane Hollander, Boxer Ilya Rozanov, Minor Injuries, Knotting, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Mating Cycles/In Rut, Oral Sex, Face-Fucking, Sexual Overstimulation, Prostate Milking, Soft Ilya Rozanov, Soft Shane Hollander, Sexual Tension, Creampie, Marathon Sex, Caught Masturbating, Come Marking, Sexual Free Use, Kind Of, Unrealistic Sex, Depressed Ilya Rozanov, no beta we die like ilyas dad okay

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-25 Words: 40,829 Chapters: 1/1

i'm not a violent dog

Summary

Nobody moves for a moment as Shane stares the woman down, and he’s seconds away from sawing the damn thing off himself, when the woman nods to the men surrounding the hybrid. And then there’s a flurry of movement, a clicking sound and then the men stand back to reveal Ilya in his bare faced glory, unobstructed by the muzzle.

Shane takes him in, inhaling softly at the sharp cheekbones, the moles dusted over his face, the pillowy lips that are set in a firm, displeased line. Shane wonders how big his fangs are. If he was a fighter, they must have been sharpened regularly.

Shane doesn’t want to think about the damage this wall of a hybrid had inflicted on others, the damage he could inflict on Shane. The hybrid stares at him, expression hard to determine but the intensity of it has Shane holding back a shiver. He’s staring at Shane like he can see every thought inside of him, calculating. As if they were on opposing sides of a ring, ready for the bell to chime and for Ilya to go in for the kill.

Shane gets roped into fostering a troublesome hybrid with a bad track record. Except what begins as a cordial arrangement turns into something much more complicated.

Notes

did i write this as a way to procrastinate writing my other stuff? yes i did.

do i regret it? no i do not.

turns out i really like writing human shane + wolf/hybrid ilya (for those of u fans of walk him like a dog u already know this hehe). i also only read this through once so any errors you notice are completely my fault.

note that the moments of ilya and svetlana talking in italics is them talking in russian.

“No.”

“But Shane--,”

Shane levelled Rose with a look that had her blinking up at him innocently, and not like she had just asked him the most ridiculous, out of this world thing ever.

“It wouldn’t even be for very long, it’s just until the agency can find someone more long-term.” Rose continues, waving her hand around to emphasise her point as if what she’s suggesting is entirely harmless.

Shane leans back in his chair as the brunch spot Rose had found on TikTok bustles around them. It was all dark wood furnishings and white walls, a minimalist look that was clean yet fashionable, along with rock hard sourdough that took a saw to cut through it and flower garnish on practically everything. Shane’s plate of smoked salmon and poached eggs lies half eaten in front of him. He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

“Rose, I am not going to be a foster placement for a hybrid, especially one that apparently no one else wants because of their awful behaviour. I’m not even on the approved register for any of this anyway. What makes you think this would possibly be a good idea?” Shane shoots back and Rose’s lips part to argue further but he cuts her off as he continues.

“Besides I have a life of my own, there’s no room for looking after a hybrid. Not that I would even want to anyway. I’m sure there are better people for this sort of thing.”

Rose shoots forward to cling onto Shane’s forearms, tugging on them insistently. “But Shane,” and Shane huffs as Rose pleads with him.

“I swear this would only be for a few weeks at most. And I’d help you! And so would the agency! He only needs a safe place to stay where he can be left alone. Which is perfect for you, you wouldn’t have to do anything other than just make sure he eats and doesn’t, you know, die or something.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “How inspiring of an offer.”

Rose leans back suddenly. “Besides,” she pointedly looks down at her plate, and spears a piece of waffle onto her fork, “I sort of already told them you’d do it.” She finishes quickly before stuffing her mouth.

Shane blinks, mouth dropping open in shock as his mind scrambles to compute what his best friend had just said. He stares as Rose continues to avoid his gaze for a few more seconds before he comes to, shocked back to life as his brain processes the words.

“What?” Shane squawks out so loudly that a few diners nearby turn to look. He flushes immediately and sinks into his chair for a moment before he shoots forward, eyes bulging almost out of his face.

“Rose Landry, what did you do?” He hisses with gritted teeth. Shane had a sudden urge to strangle the strawberry blonde, no matter how many years they’ve been friends. Friendship be damned. Rose could go find a new best friend for all Shane cared.

Rose has at least the decency to look guilty. Her shoulders slump as she looks at Shane almost pleadingly with her hands clutched in her lap.

“I’m sorry, okay? And I know you’ll hate me for a little while, but I swear it was either you take him for a little bit or he gets sent to those awful correctional kennels for the hybrids that the system deem beyond saving. And you’ve seen them haven’t you? He deserves a chance, and you’re one of the kindest, most generous people I know.”

Shane continues to stare at Rose, glare still unimpressed.

Rose sighs, defeated, crossing her arms to match Shane. “Okay fine, and you have a spare bedroom.”

Shane’s jaw clicks as he shakes his head. “I can’t believe you.” He mutters in disbelief as he looks off to the wall filled with shelves of glass jars of coffee beans and tea bags on the far side.

Signed up to look after a temperamental hybrid? Was Rose serious? Shane had a life. He didn’t have time to look after a troubled hybrid that clearly the system can’t seem to support, Shane doesn’t know the first thing about hybrids or their needs! And so what if that life isn’t as exciting as most people, but still he had a good thing going with his 10pm bedtime and 6:30am gym sessions six times a week. He had a routine. Something Rose clearly hadn’t considered before she signed him up for something that really shouldn’t be allowed considering he is in no position to do any fostering. Did the agency even know he was an unwilling participant in this whole exchange? Surely they should have done a house inspection before siphoning hybrids off to stranger’s homes? This is all just unethical.

The sound of a chair squeaking has him flinching slightly, but he continues to stare at the wall with a scowl.

Fingers creep up his arm to wrap around his bicep, squeezing slightly as knees knock into his own, legs coming to cram under his side of the table. He exhales sharply through his nose as Rose seems intent on invading his personal space as well as his apartment with her unethical decisions.

“Shane.” She says softly. Shane grumps a little more, continuing to scowl off into the distance.

“Shane.” Rose whines and Shane finally relents, head twitching to the side to look at her with a frown.

“Pleaseeee,” Rose drawls, “I swear I’ll make it up to you. It won’t be long, and just think about all the good you’ll be doing.”

Shane tuts. “That’s not the point Rose, you didn’t ask for my permission before doing all this. It’s unethical and unfair. What if I really said no?”

Rose perks up a little, eyes sparkling with hope, manicured nails digging into his bicep in excitement as she squeezes. “So you’re saying yes?”

Shane rolls his eyes, sighing. He looks at her for a moment before giving up. What was the point anyway? Rose had already signed him up for it.

“Well I can’t exactly say no when you’ve already told them I would, can I?” He grouchily points out. Because whilst he isn’t happy about the situation, Shane is also not the sort of person to not be charitable. He was a good person, and Rose knew that with annoying clarity. The sneaky minx.

Rose squeals, clapping her hands but stops immediately when Shane glares at her. She sombers her expression, clearing her throat. “Sorry, just–I’m so glad! I think you’ll be really good for him. He’s had a hard time, and you’re the exact sort of calming presence he needs after everything he’s been through.”

Rose’s tone turns soft and a little sad by the end and Shane can’t help the way his heart lurches.

Hybrids were a relatively new phenomenon, a development in the last fifty or so years. A blackmarket lab development for less than pure intentions. The meshing of genes to create half human, half animal people as it were and keeping them as servants and pets. It was a vile practice, with many, if not all, hybrids mistreated. Most were kept as prizes of the filthy rich and privileged. Whether as sex slaves, trophies to traipise around and keep imprisoned in high places, gifts, or as lethal weapons. The practice was officially outlawed worldwide, but it didn’t mean that hybrids and the active production of them wasn’t still happening. Some countries were more lax than others in the crackdown of prosecuting those responsible for perpetuating the trafficking of hybrids.

Hybrids were frequently rescued by the Hybrid Protection Agency, or HPA, and placed in adoptive or foster placements to help them assimilate into human society and heal from trauma. The end goal was ultimately to see hybrids live freely, either in their own communities or integrated with human ones. Although prejudice and discrimination did exist, it was on the most part, working.

Shane had followed the advancements with a vague eye, life otherwise busy with other responsibilities and things. Although he knows Rose is a frequent charitable donor to the HPA, and has many hybrid friends. She was on the board of the Hybrid Assimilation Efforts and had frequently told Shane about her work (and the horror stories of how some hybrids were found). So really, it was only a matter of time before she roped him into her work in one way or another. Shane had only hoped that he would’ve at least been told about it before she did.

But here he was. A future foster placement for a troubled hybrid who apparently has been struggling to adapt after being rescued from whatever squalor the HPA had rescued him from.

Shane’s scowl inevitably softens as he resigns himself to his (albeit temporary) fate. “Okay, well I’m assuming I’ll get an instruction pack on what the hell is involved in this thing?” He asks expectedly.

Rose nods vigorously with a broad smile. “Of course, I’ll drop it by later and talk to you about it. Plus I can get someone from HPA to talk to you, you should expect them in two days anyway.”

Shane blinks, before straightening. “Two days? They are coming in two days? Rose, you've given me two days to prepare for this?”

Rose smiles sheepishly, shrugging before maneuvering her chair to sit opposite him again now he looks further from murder than he did a few minutes ago.

“Well I knew if I gave you less time, you’d have less time to panic and stress yourself into an early grave. Besides, Shane, you’ll be fine. You’re organised! And I’ll help you obviously.” She replies chirpily, resuming eating her waffle.

Shane slumps back in his chair and raises his gaze to the ceiling in disbelief. “I forget why I’m friends with you.”

A raspberry hits his cheek and he looks at her with an amused glance, the fruit rolling along the floor beneath their table. Rose is glaring at him with narrowed eyes as she chews around some waffle.

Shane bends down to pick up the raspberry missile and places it on the table. He sighs for what it seems the hundredth time that morning before fixing Rose with a look.

“Fine. Can I at least know the hybrid’s name that I’m expected to take care of in two days?” Shane asks and Rose grins, undoubtedly pleased by Shane’s acceptance of her meddling antics.

“His name’s Ilya.”

Shane would consider himself as good a Samaritan as the next person, but this was a lot to ask from someone who really liked his early bedtimes and alone time. Shane wasn’t exactly known for his wide social skills. And housing a troubled hybrid? Surely that would require skills beyond Shane’s own. He’s not a therapist or anything, his job as a private physiotherapist who works with the Ottawa’s Centaurs really doesn’t include mental health. A strained muscle he can fix, sure, but this? Fuck no.

But Rose had reassured him (as had the HPA) that Ilya is receiving hybrid support already and the only thing he needs is a stable home environment to facilitate development and social adaption. And Shane can provide that, he guesses. Well he kind of has to. Because of Rose fucking Landry.

The HPA had shared Ilya’s file with Shane the day before, and even if with certain details omitted, it was a harrowing read. Shane had stayed up all night, hunched over it as he read about his impending arrival, and by the end of it Shane had struggled to breathe over the sharp pains in his chest that echoed from his heart.

Ilya was a Caucasian Shepherd Dog hybrid, and a terrifying one at that. Shane had read his measurements, the hybrid stands at an intimidating 6 '3 and weighs over two hundred pounds, with a muscle distribution that had Shane imagining what kind of hulking dog hybrid-man-person would turn up on his doorstep. It had also classified Ilya as an ‘alpha’, which Shane had to look into and had ended up with furiously blushing cheeks. The file notably did not include photos.

Ilya, or full name Ilya Rozanov, is originally from Russia and had been rescued from an underground hybrid fighter network in Boston, after the hybrid was bought by a new owner about a year ago. Bought. The word had made Shane shudder as he had read the words on the many paged pack of information. It was a routine bust of hybrid blackmarket activities, and Ilya was one of many hybrids rescued, although Shane had noted that the hybrid had to be sedated by triple the dose of usual sedation to enable his extraction.

Shane read that Ilya’s own mother had been a hybrid. Shane had read with a wrenched heart that Ilya’s mother was a sex slave to a powerful Russian businessman who was a well known proprietor of hybrids’, but who has been so far unpunished for his notable hybrid rights violation. Hence why the man never left Russia, considering he had been declared on the ‘Wanted’ persons list of the worldwide HPA corporation.

It seems Ilya had been sold into the underground fighting rings as a boy, where he had fought for over seventeen years and had been transferred to multiple owners throughout his time. He was the same age as Shane - twenty six. Which meant that Ilya had been nine when he had been sold to the vultures of the hybrid blackmarket.

Shane had cried over that particular fact in the darkness of his bedroom with the papers clutched in his hands.

Not much had been detailed about Ilya’s past other than that, some information carefully omitted and otherwise unknown. Notes on Ilya’s file indicated that the man (hybrid? Dog? Shane wasn’t sure how to refer to him) was particularly aggressive, prone to fighting with other hybrids and humans (which Shane had read with much enthusiasm - not), standoffish to any physical contact and prone to snarling instead of talking. He was labelled as a ‘problematic’ rescue that required constant monitoring. Therapy and previous rehabilitation efforts had so far proved futile.

And that apparently meant that he was going to be living with Shane–someone who didn’t know a damn thing about hybrids. Fan-fucking-tastic. Again, Shane would like to point out the questionable ethics of the whole thing. But apparently there were no other foster placements Ilya hadn’t already been placed in or had the space to take him in. And if he was to be released into society and adapt to his new found freedom, he had to be shown to try and well, essentially be less of a dick. Shane would argue that was hard to do when the hybrid was clearly traumatised and had been reared with a heavy and exploitative hand that showed no love or affection.

But what did Shane know? Nothing, clearly.

And yet, the hybrid was due to arrive any minute and Shane had already paced a path around his living room about fifty times in his nerves. There may as well be grooves in the floor from where his feet have been.

He had made up the guest bedroom, put fresh towels on the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. He had gone grocery shopping and stocked up (as well as googling in depth about the ideal alpha hybrid diet) on so much food that Shane’s confident that they could see through an apocalypse.

He had deep cleaned his apartment twice. He had changed three times, not sure what to wear. In the end he settled on a pair of comfy grey sweats with his favourite soft blue hoodie. Shane figured it was good to give off the vibe of homely if it was his first time meeting the hybrid–Ilya. He wasn’t going to greet him in a suit. Obviously. Not that he put one on or anything. Obviously.

On the whole, even after Rose’s in depth explanations as well as HPA’s, Shane felt horrendously underprepared, and the way his heart raced left little of that panic unfelt.

What the fuck was he doing? Although Shane had no more time to ruminate on that thought when he heard a firm knock at his door.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Shane takes a deep breath, flicking out his hands by his sides before going and placing his hand on the handle, staring down at it for a moment before pulling the door open in a swift movement. He tries to channel a neutral yet welcoming expression on his face. He didn’t want to smile like a fucking idiot. He was, after all, Shane at the end of this.

He’s greeted by a middle aged woman a little shorter than him with her hair tied back, a polite smile on her face.

“You must be Shane, lovely to meet you. You were expecting us?” She says evenly, extending a hand and Shane shakes it on instinct, nodding and stepping aside to let her in. What he doesn’t expect is the three burly men that follow, shouldering into the room in a blur.

Shane blinks, closing the door slowly. “Uh,” He begins, eyeing the men in bewilderment who still have their backs to him but are fussing about something that Shane can’t quite see. The woman turns to him and catches his stare.

“Oh, my apologies, were you not informed? We’re required to bring in extra assistance escorting some of our, well,” She pauses, “more volatile hybrids.” She finishes it with a polite smile and Shane frowns, the woman folding her hands in front of her like the politicians Shane sees on TV.

“What?”

And then Shane realises that the apparent group of bodyguards currently fence in a figure that Shane had missed in the blur of their entrance. The man’s height is level with the men that surround him, perhaps an inch taller, his shoulders broad and knocking against the bodyguards seemingly boxing him in. It was sort of ironic that this hybrid needed a foster placement, if anything he looked like he was here to look after Shane from the size of him. Shane sucks in a breath, eyes widening as his gaze lands on a pair of icy blue ones that are seemingly narrowed in his direction, framed by long golden lashes. Similarly golden curls are coiled by his ears, glimmering a little in the warm glow of the living room light. Large, fluffy, pointed ears are nestled amongst the curls, a soft brown colour intermingled with white and blonde. They twitch slightly as they hold eye contact.

But what really catches Shane’s attention is the muzzle the man is wearing.

It obscures the lower half of the man’s lower face, a thick leather that hardly looks comfortable. And it makes the man wearing it look sharper, more lethal. The insinuation that this man needs a muzzle has something unsettling coiling in his stomach uncomfortably. The man must be Ilya. The hybrid Shane had up until now, had only read about. And he was undoubtedly handsome, like really handsome.

Ilya was hot. Was it normal for hybrids to be so attractive? Even if his face was half concealed behind a leather muzzle.

The realisation was uncomfortable but proved fleeting as Shane focused on the accessory essentially making the man look like a feral animal. Shane was half tempted to sarcastically ask why they hadn’t chained his ankles together too. Wasn’t this whole thing about not treating hybrids like property?

Shane flits his gaze up to the man’s with a frown, their eyes locking for a moment in a wordless exchange before Shane tears his eyes away to look at the woman.

“Sorry, why is he–why is he wearing a muzzle?” Shane questions flatly, thoroughly unimpressed and crossing his arms.

The woman’s eyes tighten slightly, smoothing the front of her black blazer. “It’s to prevent any incidents, to ensure the safety of our staff and the hybrid.”

Shane’s frown deepens into a scowl at ‘the hybrid’. Why couldn’t she just say his name? What the fuck?

Shane clears his throat, straightening. “Well I’d appreciate it if it was removed. Now.” He demands and the woman simply smiles at him tightly.

“For precaution I’d rather–,”

Shane cuts her off bitingly. “I don’t care, remove it.”

The woman bristles. “Sir–,”

“You’re in my home and his care is about to be transferred to me, which means I decide if he needs to be muzzled. And I’ve decided he doesn’t need one. Remove it.” Shane grits out, voice hard and unforgiving. His scowl is less so.

Nobody moves for a moment as Shane stares the woman down, and he’s seconds away from sawing the damn thing off himself, when the woman nods to the men surrounding the hybrid. And then there’s a flurry of movement, a clicking sound and then the men stand back to reveal Ilya in his bare faced glory, unobstructed by the muzzle.

Shane takes him in, inhaling softly at the sharp cheekbones, the moles dusted over his face, the pillowy lips that are set in a firm, displeased line. Shane wonders how big his fangs are. If he was a fighter, they must have been sharpened regularly.

Shane doesn’t want to think about the damage this wall of a hybrid had inflicted on others, the damage he could inflict on Shane. The hybrid stares at him, expression hard to determine but the intensity of it has Shane holding back a shiver. He’s staring at Shane like he can see every thought inside of him, calculating. As if they were on opposing sides of a ring, ready for the bell to chime and for Ilya to go in for the kill.

The now unmuzzled hybrid doesn’t move but his bodyguards tense as if waiting for him to pounce. Instead he stares at Shane intently, neither frowning or smiling.

Shane clears his throat, before deciding to be brave and steps forward a little, hand outstretched.

“Nice to meet you Ilya, I’m Shane.”

The hybrid doesn’t acknowledge the hand waiting in midair, gaze never leaving Shane’s although something darts across his eyes too fast for Shane to catch what it could mean. After a few seconds of silence, Shane blinks away and lets his hand fall to his side.

Right. Maybe hybrids don’t normally shake hands? Was that weird? Shane has the mind to worry about looking like an idiot when the woman speaks.

“Right, well,” Shane turns to her, ignoring the burning feeling of being stared at by a man built like a fucking fridge probably with canines to match.

“I know you’ve signed the majority of paperwork already but I just have a few more for you to look over before we release Ilya to your care. Shall we?” The woman motions to the sofa behind them and Shane nods, trailing after her but not before glancing over his shoulder at the hybrid who remains standing stock still, shoulders tense, biceps bulging beneath his black t-shirt, eyes tracking Shane’s every step.

The woman pulls out a flurry of paperwork and nudges a pen into Shane’s grasp. She babbles about fostering technicalities and repeats a lot of stuff Shane already knows.

“So as previously discussed this will be an indefinite foster placement until we find a more permanent arrangement—,”

Shane’s mind screeches to a stop.

“Wait what? I was told it would only be for a few weeks.” He says with a furrowed brow and the woman’s mouth twists with tension as she nods slowly.

“Well yes, we say ideally it would take a few weeks for us to find a permanent residence, but sometimes it can take longer.”

Shane’s mouth opens and closes before he nods stiffly, shuffling in his seat. That makes sense, but also not what he was originally told. Jesus Christ, what kind of organisation was this?

The woman brightens at his nod, steam rolling on. “And of course we will leave the muzzle in your possession in case you need to use it.”

Shane frowns. “I won’t need—,”

“We have to insist I’m afraid, just for legal reasons.” She cuts him off quickly and Shane bites back a sassy retort.

The sooner this pose of suits leave, the better. They were beginning to annoy the fuck out of him.

Shane signs everything quickly, only half listening as the woman drones on. It was hard to concentrate with a pair of eyes on the back of his neck. Shane could practically feel the indentation of the hybrid’s teeth in his neck. The woman seems unnoticing of the tension in the room as she packs up her things.

And with a handshake without a backward glance, they are gone. Shane realises belatedly the woman had not once uttered Ilya’s name the entire time of her visit.

Shane closes the front door with a resounding click, taking a deep breath as he attempts to steady his racing heart. He could do this, he could so do this.

Everything was going to be fine.

And with that thought, Shane turns around slowly, back to the door to see Ilya standing where the HPA had left him, not having moved from the spot. And yet the hybrid seems to fill the space easily, his dominating presence effortless and making the walls feel like they are creeping in slowly. Shane can feel the cool wood of the front door at his back and uses it as an anchor.

Shane can’t help the way his breath catches as neither breaks eye contact. They were alone now.

Shane forces a small smile, kicking off the door and shuffling around Ilya, giving him a wide berth.

“Shall I show you your room?” He asks and begins to walk down the corridor, throwing a look over his shoulder when he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him. Ilya stands rooted to the spot in the living room, staring at him.

“Ilya?” He asks, the name rolling off his tongue surprisingly effortlessly. Shane catches the way the ears on top of the man’s head - the only thing notably hybrid about him considering the man doesn’t have a tail - twitch in his direction.

A beat passes and then Ilya slowly begins to walk after him, large frame casting a shadow as he trudges down the corridor after him.

Shane turns to lead Ilya to his bedroom and can’t help the way the back of his exposed neck prickles. What was it they used to say on the nature channel?

Never turn your back on a predator.

And perhaps if Shane had remembered that particular line, he would have seen the way Ilya’s gaze had sharpened darkly, fixed on his retreating figure, and how his nostrils had flared in interest, large hands twitching at his sides as if to reach out and snatch.

But Shane remains blissfully unaware as he pushes open the bedroom door and shuffles inside, fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

He waits until Ilya appears in the doorway, and then gestures to the room with a waving hand. The bedroom was a good size, with cream sheets and sage green walls. Shane had tried to make it look cosy yet also bare enough that Ilya wouldn’t feel like he’s intruding.

“So this is your room, um—,” Shane stumbles a little as he darts a glance at Ilya who stares blankly into the room. Jesus, talk about hard to read.

“This is your space obviously, so I won’t come in here or anything. And there are some towels on the bed for you to use. And you can use the wardrobe and drawers to store your things of course.”

The mention of personal belongings has Shane looking Ilya over. He doesn’t recall any suitcases being brought with the hybrid. Only Ilya and a large rucksack over a broad shoulder. Maybe they’ll send more clothes? Or Shane can buy him some. The hybrid can’t exactly go around naked.

The mere thought of Ilya being naked has Shane blushing, blinking rapidly as he tries to banish it from his mind. He tells himself even the idea is incredibly inappropriate. Shane is his foster placement, it would be unethical to think of the hybrid in any circumstances that aren’t fully clothed. Even if Ilya was a grade A hottie who would’ve been on a poster that Shane would have plastered above his bed as a teenager to jerk off to.

Anyway. Best to burn that train of thought now.

Shane shakes his head slightly to rid himself of such a horny tangent, missing the way Ilya’s nose twitches and his gaze darkens.

Shane fixes Ilya with a polite smile before pointing beyond the bedroom out into the hallway. “And I’ll show you the bathroom.”

Shane moves to leave but Ilya remains blocking the exit. Shane looks at the hybrid and his mouth dries at the sudden proximity between them. They were so close, Shane could see the way Ilya’s eyes had a bit of green in them too.

Suddenly being face to face with their noses inches apart also meant Shane noticed other things about Ilya that he had previously not noticed. Like the thin white scars peeking out from under the neckline of Ilya’s t-shirt, the one cutting through his eyebrow and another tracking from behind his ear to curve upwards over his jaw. Shane tries to not stare, but his stomach flips at the obvious reminder of what Ilya has been through.

Shane clears his throat, eyes flitting up to Ilya’s for a moment before skittering away to look beyond Ilya’s muscled shoulder to the hallway.

“Bathroom is through that way.” He nods and hopes Ilya gets the message to move out the way. Shane isn’t small by any means, he goes to the gym regularly and is almost six foot, but standing so close to Ilya makes him feel tiny. And Shane wonders if he’d be able to move Ilya out of the way even if he tried. The hybrid was all muscle, muscle that was used in fighting rings, carved from survival.

Ilya doesn’t move for a moment and Shane’s heart picks up a little at the idea of being trapped in a room with Ilya with no escape. But then the hybrid shifts to the side, leaving barely enough space to pass through - but space nonetheless.

So Shane takes it, but it means he has to turn sideways so their chests are pressed together. Shane can feel the firm muscle beneath his own as he sidles past quickly with red cheeks and an averted gaze, the heat radiating from Ilya’s body burning through Shane’s t-shirt.

Shane can’t help the way he holds his breath as he passes, rushing out in a swift whoosh as he gets into the hallway and fumbles with the handle of the bathroom. He opens it so quickly it bangs against the wall as it flings wide.

“And this is the bathroom. I got you a toothbrush too. Um, and shower gel and stuff like that.” Shane rambles, turning to blink at Ilya with his hands limp at his sides to gasp softly.

The hybrid had moved to stand right next to Shane, although the dark haired man hadn’t heard him appear, a large hand coming to rest against the doorframe by Shane’s head. Ilya stands by Shane’s shoulder, warm breath fanning the nape of Shane’s neck to make him shudder. The hybrid’s curls look soft and Shane is tempted to reach out and coil one around his finger. The hallway light catches on Ilya’s ears and Shaw wonders if they also feel as soft as they look. He notices though one of the hybrid’s ears has a hole along the edge, almost as if someone had sunk a blade into it and dragged it down quarter of an inch, along with a smattering of scars amongst the fur. He wonders what the hole was for.

Shane can feel his ears burning as he freezes for a moment, eyes wide. Ilya watches him silently, still not speaking a word. Ilya’s gaze slides to the bathroom and flits his eyes across the room before returning to Shane.

“I can show you how to use the shower later.” He croaks and then quickly ducks out under Ilya’s arm resting on the doorframe and into the hallway. Ilya turns to watch him, large hand tightening slightly on the wood.

Shane shifts his weight and looks anywhere but the very attractive hybrid still staring him down and not saying anything.

Ilya’s file said that he could speak English and that he wasn’t a mute. However the hybrid was yet to say a word. Maybe he was a man of few words. Or a hybrid of a few words.

At least he wasn’t a chatterbox, Shane would rather die. Although this was not about him, this was about an abused hybrid who had spent his life on the black market in underground illegal hybrid fighting rings.

Shane clears his throat, throat bobbing nervously. What now? He hadn’t thought about what came after the initial meeting and settling in.

“So, um, you’re free to you know—,” Shane waves a hand around the apartment with a limp wrist. “Do whatever, chill in your room or in the living room. There’s food in the fridge and I’ll probably make dinner for six, so we have a few hours yet. So yeah, just do whatever and let me know if you need anything.” Shane wants to wince at how inept he sounds.

But what else do you do with an adult hybrid that’s crashing at your place for the time being? Braid each other’s hair and tell each other stories? Shane doesn’t think so. Something also tells him that Ilya would literally bite his hand off if he tried anything like that anyway.

Not to mention the details in the hybrid’s file detailing his violent and disruptive tendencies in previous placements following his rescue.

So Shane smiles brightly, or at least tries to and hopes he doesn’t look too pained. “Okay so, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the living room.”

And then he scurries off down the hall and hopes to God that the evening will bring less awkwardness, and maybe less staring. Even if the feel of Ilya’s gaze on him makes a delightful shiver wrack his body in a way it never has before.

But Shane won’t examine that feeling too closely. Not at all.

Shane hasn’t seen hair nor hide of Ilya since the afternoon when the hybrid had been strong armed through the door, muzzle and all. Shane had heard the bedroom door click shut and it hadn’t opened since.

Shane doesn’t think about what the hybrid could possibly be doing in there.

He decided on lightly seasoned chicken, rice and vegetables for dinner. One of his staples although Shane makes a point of adding more butter and flavouring to Ilya’s half. It’s ready by six but there’s no sign of the hybrid.

Shane isn’t exactly surprised. He thinks he’d do the same too if he was in Ilya’s position. He waits until ten minutes have gone by before he picks up the hybrid’s plate and a knife and fork, padding out of his open plan kitchen to stand outside Ilya’s door. He sets it down on the floor with a napkin before knocking twice and then walking back to the kitchen.

All because Ilya lived with him now didn’t mean they had to spend time together, or even speak to each other. Although Shane hoped they would at least be on speaking terms, it would definitely make this whole thing less awkward.

But later when he goes to take a shower after dinner he lets a small, pleased smile take shape as he sees the empty plate scrubbed clean outside Ilya’s door, knife and fork neatly stacked together on top.

At least he knew Ilya was eating.

Shane doesn’t go to the gym the next morning, but still gets up at six thirty anyway and decides to do yoga in the living room instead. He thought it would be better to not leave Ilya alone in his apartment so soon.

In fact, Shane was hoping he’d catch the hybrid at some point and they could have a simple, cordial conversation instead of Shane talking and the hybrid just staring at him. To break the ice more than anything.

He’s in the middle of evening out his breathing with downward dog as he nears the end of his yoga flow, pedalling his heels into the mat when he hears footsteps. He whips his head to the side to find Ilya stood there in all his glory in a pair of grey sweatpants that lie precariously low on his hips to reveal a distracting smattering of hair down from his navel leading to below the waistband. The hybrid’s also shirtless.

Shane chokes out on a yoga breath and almost goes crashing to the floor as he loses his balance and crumples forward onto his hands and knees with a jolt.

Ilya’s eyes flit over his figure in what looks like interest, gaze dragging across his body to have Shane feeling like he was on fire. His cheeks burn as he quickly stands up, tugging his shorts down his thighs self consciously. Ilya’s curls were wild from sleep, his ears twitching a little as Shane tries to not gawp at the shirtless hottie standing in his living room.

Shane thinks distantly that he really needs to get laid sometime soon.

“Good morning.” Shane says quietly.

Ilya’s eyes roam shamelessly over his body before they meet his. The hybrid grunts, a deep rumbly sound from his chest.

“Hello.”

Shane blinks as he realises Ilya just spoke. The hybrid’s voice is gravelly (what Shane presumes is from sleep), accent thick and rumbling over each letter.

“Hi. Did you—did you sleep okay?” Shane asks, fingers twiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. His eyes dart past Ilya’s shoulder, catching on the ears poking out from his messy curls before flitting back to the hybrid.

Ilya shrugs, pecs bouncing with the motion and Shane has to swallow hard to not look down at them. What man has that much muscled boob? It was greedy.

Shane bends and quickly rolls up his yoga mat before turning to Ilya, slightly out of breath. “Do you want breakfast?”

Shane doesn’t wait for his reply, tucking his mat away and breezing past the hybrid to start rifling through the cupboards. He could make pancakes, it was a Sunday after all. Pancakes felt like something you’d have on Sundays. Right?

Did hybrids have special diets? Ilya’s file didn’t say anything about specific dietary requirements. Shane turns to fix Ilya with a hesitant look from where he stands by the cupboards.

“Do you eat pancakes?”

Ilya stands across the kitchen island, watching him curiously. The hybrid crosses his arms against his chest, biceps bulging with the motion.

“I have never had them.” Ilya grumbles, staring at Shane with a borderline bored expression.

Shane bites his lip, feeling guilty. Right, of course. It’s not like they would have had pancakes in the underground fighting rings would they?

Shane distracts himself by moving to the fridge for milk. “Okay, well we’ll have pancakes then.”

Ilya says nothing, seemingly content with standing and watching Shane whisk batter and heat up a pan.

Shane decides to not make the protein ones he usually has if he wants to treat himself. And as he stacks four large pancakes on a plate with a generous drizzle of syrup and rashers of bacon, Shane bitingly admits to himself that they sure as hell look a lot better.

He pushes the plate across the counter and takes a seat diagonal from the hybrid on a stool. Shane doesn’t expect Ilya to stay and so he blinks up at him to see the hybrid already looking at him.

“You don’t have to eat with me if you don't want to, no pressure or anything.”

Ilya says nothing, and then glances down at the plate of pancakes almost suspiciously. And then he’s pulling out a stool and sitting down to Shane’s surprise.

“I will eat here.”

Shane can’t help the way his eyes widen in surprise before nodding quickly, secretly a little pleased that the alpha hybrid wants to sit and not eat in his room. They eat in silence, Shane sneaking glances at the man sitting nearby from time to time. He reasons it’s to make sure Ilya likes the pancakes. That’s all.

With Ilya shirtless, it also means Shane can see the scars littering the hybrid’s body. Scars varying in thin white ones or thicker scars webbed over flesh in a light pink, stretching across the alpha’s torso, his ribs, some near his hip bones. As Ilya shifts, Shane spots some long thick ones across Ilya’s back. Shane’s heart lurches at the realisation that they look an awful lot like lashes from a whip. He tries not to think about when Ilya had gained his first.

Once their plates are clean, Shane grabs Ilya’s without thinking and goes to load them in the dishwasher. He turns to find Ilya watching him, again.

“Did you want to take a shower or anything?” He asks, before tacking on, “I can show you how to use it.”

It earns an amused quirk of Ilya’s lips. “I know how to use a shower.”

Shane blush rivals the temperature of the sun. He looks down at his feet self consciously, “Yeah no of course, sorry. I–sorry.”

Jesus, Shane was treating the guy like an invalid. Of course he knows how to use a shower.

“Is fine.” The voice sounds much closer now and Shane looks up, sucking in a breath as Ilya seems to tower over him even if he is only three or so inches taller. Shane can hear his heart pounding in his ears like a rapid drum, throat suddenly incredibly dry. He can’t help the way he swallows harshly at the proximity.

Ilya’s gaze drops to his throat almost knowingly before he smirks, an expression that makes the hybrid look even more dangerous than his normal intimidating blank stare because it offers Shane a glint of a sharp canine peeking out to scuff against his bottom lip.

Ilya leans forward, head crowding in and Shane holds his breath, pupils blown wide as he freezes in anticipation.

Ilya’s nose brushes his, hot breath fanning Shane’s face as he speaks. “Do not worry Shane,” Ilya encroaches further into Shane’s space to mutter hotly into his ear. “I do not bite–unless asked.”

And then Shane jolts as he feels something sharp catch on the soft skin of the shell of his ear, Ilya nipping the flesh playfully before pulling back with a grin that shows off the aforementioned canines with glee. And then Ilya turns and leaves, the muscles of his back shifting under the scarred skin and constellation of moles.

Shane can only gawp after him, guiltily half hard in his yoga shorts as Ilya’s words run in rapid circles in his head like a carousel on steroids, leaving him with only one thought.

What the fuck?

Shane tries to forget what Ilya had whispered in his ear. Simply passing it off as the hybrid trying to get under his skin–especially when Ilya’s file shows he had a less than stellar record for good behaviour.

Days pass and Shane tries to not get so close to the alpha hybrid again. They share most meals together, but sometimes Ilya will take them in his room. Other than that, Shane barely sees him which makes him wonder what Ilya spends his time doing in his room for so long.

Shane had taken a week off work in an attempt to help Ilya settle in but it seems the alpha doesn’t need the help. Which isn’t surprising considering he was twenty six and a full on adult. So instead Shane had started going to the gym again in the early mornings, reading, and catching up on work from his laptop, having online consultations with Ottawa in the run up to his return.

One thing Shane notices though is that he doesn’t really see much of the behaviour he had been warned about in Ilya’s file. Shane had stuffed the muzzle in the bin soon after Ilya had moved in, not wanting to look at it ever again. If anything, Ilya was cordial, and yes a little gruff, in their interactions–but nothing troublesome. Instead Shane would describe Ilya as cheeky, with a constant gloating, mischievous glint in his eye that had Shane’s eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Or there were other times where Shane stared wide eyed. Like the time Ilya had emerged from the bathroom at the same time as Shane went for the handle. The hybrid had a towel wrapped dangerously low on his hips, water droplets glistening like sexy glitter on the tan scarred skin. Shane had no choice but to stare as one made its way down his trail of hair that was lined by the sharp muscled V of Ilya’s hips, disappearing beneath the material, almost tauntingly. Shane tried not to think about what lay beneath that thin cotton towel. The notion of Ilya being an alpha was not lost on Shane - in all its knot detail.

Besides having inappropriate thoughts about Ilya, Shane also learnt that the hybrid’s appetite was practically a black hole. Which shouldn’t have been surprising, but still. Ilya could certainly put it away without hesitation or complaint of a belly ache - the hybrid’s abs remained annoyingly intact no matter the amount of food he ate.

It had been four days since the hybrid had moved in, and Shane already had to go grocery shopping. He guessed Ilya wouldn’t want to come, the hybrid having been a recluse besides the few odd interactions. So Shane knocks on the hybrid’s door, shuffling on his feet as the door swings open.

Shane hasn’t been in Ilya’s room since he showed the hybrid to it on the first day living together, having read in detail how hybrids, particularly alpha’s, get highly territorial about their space. So Shane remains firmly behind the threshold in the hallway. But as Ilya opens the door, filling out the space of the doorway like a looming shadow, Shane can see just past the hybrid’s shoulder that it wasn’t as messy as he expected it to be. The bed was made, the sheets albeit crumpled from where the hybrid must have been lounging on top of them, a window was cracked open and the curtains half drawn, a drawer left open and what looked like a pair of socks on the floor. The hybrid is bare chested - a habit Shane realises that the hybrid thinks nothing of even if it always has Shane’s cheek pinking slightly and averting his gaze - with a pair of black sweatpants slung low on his hips, headphones slung around his neck, golden curls mussed and a little frizzy.

Shane blinks, realising he’s staring as Ilya looks at him with a ghost of a smirk and a quirked brow the longer the dark haired man goes without speaking and blatantly gawping. Shane ignores how his face is practically on fire and clears his throat.

“I’m going grocery shopping, did you want anything in particular?” Shane asks, fiddling with the reusable shopping bags in his hands.

Ilya stares at him for a moment, gaze flitting down to the bags before meeting Shane’s eyes. “You are going out?”

Shane nods at the question, jerking his thumb in the direction of the front door. “Yeah we need more food so I’m going in a sec. So did you want anything?”

Shane blinks his warm brown eyes at the hybrid in question and then Ilya’s jaw clenches for a moment that passes so quickly that Shane doesn’t catch it.

“Wait.” The hybrid orders, voice gruff before closing the door in Shane’s face. Shane blinks in confusion, frowning at the door handle before sighing, leaning against the opposite wall.

Maybe the hybrid had made a list for him, Shane reasoned, looking at his feet as he waited.

And then the door opens and Ilya steps out in blue jorts and a black cut off tank with some sort of graphics on the back and white socks.

Shane takes him with a frown. “You’re coming?” He asks in surprise.

“Yes.” And then the hybrid is breezing past him to the front door to put on his shoes. Shane’s mouth opens and closes before trailing after him.

“You don’t have to, you can just tell me–,”

“No I want to come.” Ilya cuts him off before tugging the shopping bags out of Shane’s now limp hands. Ilya stands at the door expectedly, crossing his arms against his chest to make his biceps look so much bigger in the cut off shirt. Ilya looks ruggedly handsome, the ears nestled amongst his curls fluffy and ever so soft.

“We go then? Or do you need something else.” The hybrid questions and Shane’s blush deepens as he scrambles to put his shoes on, mumbling that no he didn’t need anything else.

So they go grocery shopping. Which isn’t something Shane had expected to do together, but he didn’t really know what to expect at all when it came to being a foster placement for a grown up hybrid even after all of Rose’s tips. Especially one with such a bad track record as Ilya.

The drive is uneventful, although the hybrid had looked at Shane with a dead pan expression and asked why do you have grandpa car?. Shane tried not to take that too personally, only rolling his eyes and shoving past him to open the car door whilst rattling off the facts as to why actually his Jeep was a sound investment thank you.

Ilya had spent the short ride to the store fiddling with the radio constantly, huffing about stupid Canadian music, the hybrid clearly unenthused by mainstream pop. Shane was happy to drive in silence, although he didn’t say anything as Ilya jumped between stations with a scowl, large calloused fingers spinning the volume dial.

And here they were, cruising along the aisles as Shane steered the shopping cart, stopping every so often to throw things in and ticking items off his carefully bullet pointed list sorted into categories. Ilya was somewhere behind him, picking up things constantly with an inquisitive hum before trying to get them into the cart without Shane noticing.

Shane takes the time to wonder if Ilya had ever been grocery shopping before. Shane hasn’t asked the hybrid about his time in the other foster placements and what happened. He seemed to be able to understand and speak English well enough, including reading it. Shane wonders how he had found the time in his time under captivity from such a young age. But something tells Shane not to ask just yet. The reminder of Ilya’s file being a good enough reason not to. Although the Ilya now standing in front of the shopping cart with three huge bags of chips cradled in his arms is not exactly the volatile hybrid that he had read about.

Shane immediately narrows his eyes at the sight. He squeaks the cart to a stop, locking eyes with Ilya who looks at him almost innocently.

“You are not having three bags of chips, put them back.”

Ilya blinks. “But I want three bags.” He says, as if that’s a good enough reason for his clear gluttony. Shane rolls his eyes and huffs.

“Ilya, no. They’re full of crap, choose one and put the other two back.” He argues and the Ilya doesn’t move, in fact he cradles the bags of chips closer to his chest, ears swivelling a little in Shane’s direction at the mention of his own name.

“My file says I need three bags of chips. It is for my trauma.” The hybrid argues with an upturned nose, sniffing dramatically and Shane balks, jaw dropping open in disbelief. This was apparently the same Ilya who got kicked out of his last foster placement for pissing all over the owner’s furniture and getting into fights with other hybrids over a jar of peanut butter.

Cheeky fuck.

Who would have known that the hybrid who had hidden himself away for the past four days was such a talkative brat. The supermarket too, being the catalyst for it of all things. Maybe they should put that in Ilya’s file. Will talk to you at the promise of food.

“You can’t use your–your–” Shane stutters out in soft rage as the hybrid maintains his heartbroken expression, sighing extra loudly.

“It is fine, you clearly do not care for a traumatised hybrid.” Ilya says, looking off to the side, the bags of chips crinkling as he shifts.

Shane splutters before crossing his arms over his chest, scowling. “Stop playing dirty all because you’re a greedy fuck.”

Ilya’s gaze slides to his, the hybrid’s eyes and smile alight with something that shows a clear spark of interest as Shane swears. Ilya tuts playfully, edging closer to appear at Shane’s shoulder, leaning towards him with a smirk, blue eyes glinting playfully but with an edge of something darker lingering amongst it all.

“My, my, Shane has a potty mouth.”

Shane tries to ignore the lick of heat in his belly at the way Ilya says his name with a lazy, teasing drawl. He’s never heard the hybrid say his name up until now, and the way Ilya says it has him swallowing harshly.

“Shut up.” Shane scoffs, before pointing at the chips still in Ilya’s arms. “You can choose one.” He emphasises, refusing to budge.

Ilya crowds closer, coming so close that their noses are inches apart. “But what if I want more than one?” He mutters and Shane has to pinch his bicep to not look away from the hybrid’s intense gaze, fighting off a rapidly spreading blush at the proximity.

“Well I’m paying, and I say only one.” Shane says back and Ilya smirks, drawing back.

“Ah, but they send you money for keeping me, don’t they? What if I’m a good boy? Then can I have three?” Ilya asks, a tongue licking over his sharp canines as he grins, gaze roaming over Shane’s figure in barely concealed interest.

Shane’s ears redden, flustered by Ilya’s lingering gaze and mischievous continuations. He grabs a random bag of chips out of the three Ilya holds, not looking before flinging it into the cart and walking away quickly, muttering under his breath. He can’t help the way his heart beats a little faster as he hears the deep timbre of Ilya’s chuckle behind him.

“Is that a yes?” A rumbly mutter comes against the shell of his ear and Shane gasps quietly, jerking away and to the side, the movement meaning Shane brushes the soft fur of one of Ilya’s ears.

“Fuck off.” Shane mumbles, averting his gaze as the heat from Ilya standing directly behind him has his mind scrambling slightly. Shane clears his throat, looking down at his list blindly, fingers shaking slightly from where they hold the piece of paper before striding off. Shane has a half mind to wonder if the hybrid was like this with all his other (failed) placements.

“Freezers.” He calls over his shoulder, not daring to look back at the way the hybrid remains standing in the aisle and watching him with a sharp gaze, licking his lips, canines sharp and aching to bite.

Shane is in the middle of squabbling with Ilya over ice cream - the hybrid very interested in all the flavours Ben & Jerry’s has to offer when he hears someone call his name. Shane turns, and Ilya takes the opportunity to hide a tub of cookie dough ice cream under a bag of spinach.

“Shane!” Rose calls, grinning widely and practically skipping down the aisle with a basket in hand, arm swinging with the motion. Shane smiles automatically, and allows himself to be swept up in a tight hug, Rose’s perfume tickling his nose.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages! How are y–” Rose’s eyes widen slightly as they flit behind him, “Oh, hi! You must be Ilya?”

She smiles brightly and Shane glances over his shoulder to find Ilya right behind him, scowling and nostrils flaring a little, hot breath fanning the back of Shane’s neck. Shane frowns slightly at the standoffish display, edging to the side a little so Ilya isn’t looming over him.

Ilya says nothing, simply staring at Rose with a scowl, ears twitching a little.

Shane clears his throat, taking over. “Oh yeah, Rose this is Ilya. Ilya is this Rose.” He turns to Ilya, looking at him warily as the tense line of Ilya’s shoulder refuses to smooth out.

“Rose is my friend, she’s the one that, er, organised me being a placement for you.” Shane explains and Ilya slowly tears his scowl from Rose to look at Shane, sharp eyes flitting over his face before he looks back to Rose who seems unperturbed by the hybrid’s unexplained hostility. Ilya simply grunts before muttering out a very unenthusiastic, “Hello.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ilya.” Rose says warmly but Ilya’s mouth simply twists, jaw clenched as he nods.

Rose glances at Shane quickly, who simply shrugs helplessly. Rose’s eyes suddenly light up, gasping in delight. “Oh, Ilya you’re from Russia right?” Rose doesn’t wait for a response before turning to Shane, hand coming to clutch at his forearm in excitement.

“Shane I didn’t tell you, I met this hybrid who works on the hybrid employment outreach committee, she’s Russian too.” Rose looks between both Shane and Ilya expectedly.

“I wondered if you wanted to meet her, Ilya? Shane? I could always set up a meeting if you were interested? I thought it would be nice, you know, to be able to spe–,” Rose explains with a flick of her hands, addressing Ilya when the hybrid huffs impatiently cutting her off with a grumble.

“All because she is Russian does not mean we will be friends. Russians do not need friends.” Ilya grouches and Rose blinks, mouth parting a little at the rebuttal. Shane frowns at Ilya but the hybrid ignores him, instead seizing forward to take control of the shopping cart and steering it away.

Ilya begins to walk off and Shane turns to Rose with a wince. “Sorry, he’s not–I don’t know why he was so rude. That sounds great though, message me maybe?” Shane says and Rose smiles, nodding before hugging him goodbye.

“Don’t worry, it’s hard for hybrids like Ilya to adapt. It’s why he’s with you.” Rose says and Shane smiles politely before walking after Ilya.

Shane rounds to the front of the cart, stopping it in its path. Shane gives Ilya an unimpressed look.

“That was rude.” Shane points out, and Ilya huffs, blowing a rather loud raspberry with his mouth.

“Whatever. What is next on the list?” The hybrid tries to change subject, reaching out for the list between Shane’s fingers.

Shane scoffs, leaning back to wave the list in the air as Ilya’s arm reaches past to try and grab it, his eyes narrowing.

“Ilya. Rose is my friend, you need to be nice to people.” Shane argues and Ilya stares down at him, jaw clicking with tension, pursing his lips.

“People have not been nice to me, so why should I?” The hybrid says quietly and Shane blinks, wilting a little, sucking in a breath at the statement that sounded so simple and juvenile on the surface but revealed a world of pain. Because Ilya had a point. He had spent a life abused, exploited and enslaved. The world had treated him harshly without apology, so what did he owe the world in return? One could argue nothing.

But Shane knew that that wasn’t what needed to happen for Ilya to have a life worth living.

Shane’s eyes soften in sympathy, lips parting to say something although he’s not sure what, when Ilya takes the list from Shane’s fingers, not even looking at it before he makes off with the cart, muscles bunched up and hunched over slightly, ears slightly drooped. Shane watches him go, fingers tangling together as his mind swirls.

He waits a moment before sighing, walking after Ilya to continue their shopping trip, deciding not to mention what Ilya said for the rest of their time in the store.

It’s later in the evening after dinner, their cupboards stuffed full to the brim with food and Shane is flicking through Netflix for a film, curled up in the corner of the sofa with a blanket over his lap.

The rest of the grocery trip had been uneventful, Ilya seemingly back to his new teasing and trouble making self, poking at things on the shelves and chirping at Shane constantly about his food choices. The hybrid had also been intent on bagging the groceries himself and had refused to let Shane carry any of the bags as they walked to the car. He had even snarled a little when Shane had tried to cause a fuss about it, which had Shane shutting up quickly - and also a zing of heat shooting down his spine at the animalistic display of his fangs. Shane had noticed too that after seeing Rose, Ilya had been a lot more touchy as they walked the aisles. Not anything major or particularly noticeable to the vacant eye, but Shane felt hyper-in tune with Ilya. Shane wasn’t sure if it was because Ilya is technically under his care now for the time being, or perhaps because the hybrid is supposedly quite dangerous with a violent past. Or perhaps that it was something else that Shane took care not to pay much attention to.

Ilya had taken to letting his hands linger on Shane’s hip as he moved him out the way, a finger pinching the back of Shane’s shirt to trail after him and not let him get too far away, hands brushing for a moment too long as the hybrid took a packet of granola from Shane to put in the cart.

Shane figures it’s all accidental. Maybe hybrids were touchy with each other? Maybe it’s a sign that maybe Ilya trusts Shane, and doesn’t want to piss all over his stuff like the previous owners. Shane can only hope - his sofa did cost a lot of money.

They had made dinner together, which was also a first, Ilya lingering as Shane had begun to get out pots and pans, lining up ingredients on the counter. Well, cooking together mainly consisted of Ilya stirring the pot of spaghetti bubbling away and constantly trying to lick the spoon that Shane had used to cook the sauced mince. They had sat together silently, and then Ilya had gone off to shower. Which left Shane where he was now, trying to pick a film. Overall, the day was a vast and rapid improvement from the previous four days. Shane thought it would take so much longer for Ilya to talk to him so much, tease him, touch him–even if it was fleeting.

Shane settles on a low stakes comedy, something to watch and let his eyes glaze over as he thinks of other things. He’s just snuggled deeper into the cushions, doughy cheek squished against the back of the sofa when Ilya appears in the doorway to the living room, just behind Shane.

Shane tilts his head back, cheek still pillowed by the couch as he blinks at Ilya. The hybrid is wearing sweatpants again but this time with an oversized black t-shirt, curls slightly wet, the fur of his ears damp and flickering at the sight of Shane glancing back at him.

It’s an unusual sight, so far Ilya has spent every evening after dinner in his room. But now the hybrid moves slowly, rounding the sofa to sit a little way away from Shane, thighs splayed out.

“What are you watching?” Ilya asks quietly, voice rough.

Shane watches him for a moment, before turning his gaze back to the TV. “Some sort of comedy, meant to be funny.” He shrugs, nuzzling his cheek into the sofa absentmindedly.

Ilya glances at him, edging a little closer with Shane watching the screen. “You do not know if it is funny?”

Shane looks back to find Ilya already staring at him, head cocked to the side a little in curiosity. Shane shrugs, fingers playing with the blanket.

“I don’t know, I don’t always get jokes people tell. But the reviews said it was funny, so.” Shane shrugs, glancing at Ilya as the hybrid’s lips quirk in what looks like amusement.

“Ok-ey.”

Shane fidgets, before clearing his throat and looking back to the TV. Ilya rises and Shane shoots a glance over as Ilya disappears behind the couch into the kitchen. Shane watches as Ilya collapses back into the couch, this time closer so when the hybrid’s thighs come to rest splayed out on the sofa, Ilya’s knee touches Shane’s blanket covered thigh. Ilya holds the bag of chips he had managed to get Shane to agree to buying earlier that day, munching on a salted tortilla chip loudly.

Shane catches Ilya’s eyes and the hybrid shakes the bag in Shane’s face expectedly with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, no thanks.” Shane says, and Ilya frowns.

“You don’t want chip?” He asks, almost incredulously. Shane can’t help the small smile that quirks at the edges of his lips as the hybrid stuffs more into his mouth.

“No I’m good.” Shane says and looks back at the screen. Suddenly a salted tortilla chip is hovering in front of his face, bumping into his lips. Shane turns to Ilya wide eyed and the alpha hybrid simply looks at him with an unknowable expression, holding the chip to his mouth, letting the salt smear across his plush lips as he taps at his mouth.

Shane’s tongue darts out to lick up the salt on instinct and Ilya’s nostrils flare, ears twitching and gaze sharp. Shane can’t seem to tear his gaze away as Ilya rests the chip against his bottom lip. Shane lets them part, letting Ilya nudge the chip against his tongue and Shane bites down, can’t help but hum at the pleasantly salty taste. But Ilya’s fingers take a little too long to withdraw, so as Shane’s lips close around the proffered snack, they also close around the tips of Ilya’s fingers, tongue darting against them lightly. The sounds from the movie blurs a little and Shane has to remember to breathe, inhaling sharply.

Ilya grunts, popping his fingers out of Shane’s mouth almost mournfully before he stares at Shane a little longer, entranced as the freckled man chews with blushing cheeks. Shane flits his gaze away, mumbling out a thanks before keeping his gaze fixed on the TV, feeling the everpresent mark of Ilya’s stare on the side of his face.

Ilya doesn’t offer him another, and Shane is secretly thankful as he tries to calm his racing heart. Ilya was just being nice, he reasons with himself. Yeah - nice.

Shane struggles to follow the movie though, mind too busy flitting about in confusion, trying to decipher how eating a tortilla chip could give him a boner, the room now filled with unresolved tension.

Shane yearns to talk, to do anything that means the air in the room feels thick and suffocating. So he clears his throat pointedly, catching how Ilya turns to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

“So, how are you finding it, um–living here?” Shane asks, glancing at Ilya with wide eyes before flitting away nervously. Jesus that was a crap question, why couldn’t he have thought of a better one?

Ilya doesn’t answer for a beat, eyes fixed on Shane before glancing back at the TV. “It is fine.” He grunts out, hands coming up to rest on his thighs.

Shane nods, secretly relieved. Part of him was worried Ilya would turn around and say that actually, he hated it. So fine was good, in fact fine was great. And because Shane can’t help himself, his mouth opens again.

“Is it different from your other placements?”

Ilya’s jaw clenches slightly and Shane watches it happen with bated breath, wanting to take his question back immediately. But also a part of him was curious - Ilya’s file detailed a lot of stuff but it didn’t say how it happened. Like the fighting where a fellow foster hybrid had to get stitches, or tearing up furniture and snarling at anyone that tried to get close. Or how Ilya himself felt about being constantly ferried around between homes that never wanted to keep him. The image of Ilya appearing at his door, muzzled, comes to mind to make him shudder.

“Yes. You are too boring to be that annoying.” Ilya says and Shane can’t help the laugh that breaks free, squinting playfully at the hybrid from where he is snuggled under the blanket. Ilya turns to him with a ghost of a smirk.

“Asshole.” Shane mutters, kicking out a foot against Ilya’s thigh. The hybrid catches it easily, hand wrapped around Shane’s ankle before slowly sliding off, the skin warm from where his fingers had been.

Ilya grins, fangs glinting in the light from the TV.

“Is true.” The hybrid inhales sharply, face scrunching up a little as if lost in thought.

“You do not treat me like–,” Ilya hands come up for a moment before slapping back down to rest on his muscled thighs, frowning as he tries to find the words, looking at the ground. Shane stills, holding his breath.

“Like a scary thing, you know? You leave me alone but not in a bad way. Like I am a person, not just an animal.” Ilya explains with a frown, picking at a loose thread on his sweatpants.

“They muzzled you when you first came.” Shane says quietly and he watches as something flashes across Ilya’s face, the way his hands flex, the muscle in his jaw twitching, fluffy ears wilting slightly. Shane thinks of the way the hybrid had stared at him when Shane had demanded they remove it, how Ilya had looked at him almost curiously. Shane wonders if he was the first person to suggest the hybrid didn’t need the muzzle, to see beyond the volatile creature everyone had pinned him as.

Ilya takes a breath, face suddenly slack with emotion, lips downturned as he continues to stare at the floor.

“I am not violent. Not really,” he glances at Shane then, gaze guarded but bleeding with something softer, more fragile that Shane can’t help but answer with his own gaze, equally feeling. “I do not know why I–,” the hand resting on his thigh grips the muscle sharply, gaze flitting away from Shane to look at his lap, fangs digging into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I do not know why I bite. Why I do the things I have done.” He finishes quietly and Shane’s frowns sadly. A shot of anger courses through him at the reality that even the people that rescued Ilya from that underground hellhole still viewed him the same way his captors had. As something with sharp fangs built for violence, and nothing else.

Incapable of anything else.

Shane wonders, if things had been different, who Ilya would have been if he was reared on love instead of violence. Not even that, but who Ilya is below the surface of the dog hybrid who was used for fighting matches, traded on the black market for the strength of his left hook and the size of his canines. That there was undeniably more to him than that, but no one, even those who said they were there to help him, had bothered to find out.

And seeing the hybrid frown down at his lap, tongue darting out to trace the sharp jut of his fangs absentmindedly, Shane wants to reach out and touch him. But he isn’t sure if he’s earned that yet, so instead Shane lets his foot brush against the side of Ilya’s leg. The hybrid looks at him with the movement, blinking rapidly, and a large hand comes to rest on top of the foot, anchoring it there against the hybrid.

“I know.” Shane whispers, smiling comfortingly as Ilya’s eyes flit between his. And just because Shane can’t stand to see the sadness emanating from the hybrid, he adds.

“You really like chips too.”

It earns a weak snort from Ilya, who squeezes Shane’s foot. And then they both turn back to watch the film.

The rest of their time on the couch is intermingled with quiet conversation, Ilya asking what Shane does, listening patiently as Shane explains the fundamentals of his physiotherapy job with the Ottawa Centaurs, how he was a single child and sees his parents semi-regularly. Shane learns Ilya’s favourite colour is red, but he also likes black too. Ilya also learns that Shane likes the gym, the hybrid perking up as Shane explains his routine - which is how they decide that Ilya will come with Shane on his early morning gym sessions.

Shane does not ask about Ilya’s past, before or after being rescued.

And after that, a routine is established. They go to the gym together, Ilya half awake and snoring against the car window, jolting awake as Shane parks and nudges him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. The hybrid’s car dozing doesn’t mean, however, that Ilya isn’t able to out-bench Shane–annoyingly. By the time they’re finished, both men are panting and slick with sweat, half wrestling each other as they walk to the car, seeing who can get there first as the other shoves them across the parking lot. They have breakfast and dinner together, Shane having to eventually go back to work. Though Ilya occupies himself, playing on the HPA issued laptop, watching animal videos, mostly bunnies, but also researching jobs and diving down Wikipedia rabbit holes. Ilya had greeted Shane one time after work with a TED talk on the Titanic. He had even expressed interest in joining a recreational hybrid hockey team that met every week, which Shane had encouraged. Shane had tried to ignore how the image of Ilya snarling on ice and shoving someone into the boards gets him a little too hot and bothered.

The hybrid seems intent on being productive, which is good to see. Shane has been updating the HPA with Ilya’s activities and how well he’s been settling in. They even came and did a welfare check and left with no complaints, the surprise evident on their faces at just how content the alpha was–even if he did scowl at them the entire time, sat on the couch, sharp gaze following them round the apartment intently. He also begins seeing a therapist online, a mandated activity by the HPA if Ilya hopes to leave placement to live independently. Shane tries not to pry about how the sessions go, the result is never consistent. Sometimes Ilya can have a pep in his step, other times he will slam doors and stare off into the distance, a low growl rumbling from his throat. Sometimes it would mean Shane doesn’t see him come out of his room even if he calls him for dinner. On those days, Shane simply leaves it outside his door and retrieves the empty plate afterwards.

There was one occasion where Ilya had shuffled into the living room as Shane had been watching hockey re-runs, the hybrid suddenly slumping onto the couch beside Shane.

“Hey.” Shane had murmured distractedly, eyes glued to the screen as a Montreal Voyager went flying into the boards. There was shuffling to his side and then suddenly a weight was pressing against Shane’s shoulder. Shane had glanced sideways as Ilya had leant his head against Shane’s shoulder, curls soft and tickling Shane’s chin as he looked down at him.

“You okay?” And Ilya simply nodded stunted, so Shane didn’t push. Instead he carded his fingers through the hybrid’s hair distractedly, enjoying the feel of the strands coiling round his forefinger. The proximity was less unusual nowadays, Ilya always finding a way to touch Shane in one way or another, hands lingering on his hips, or the small of his back. Sometimes the hybrid would lean down and sniff at Shane not so discreetly, nose snuffling behind Shane’s ear to have the darker haired man jerking away with the beginnings of a ticklish giggle, the alpha following after him distractedly. Ilya had simply explained that it was a hybrid’s way of saying hello. So Shane had grown quite comfortable with the way Ilya’s nose drags along his hairline, the curve of a shoulder, the jut of his jaw, head butting into him as the hybrid sniffs away at him.

Ilya had done it subtly then, head slumped against Shane’s shoulder, humming lowly at the feeling of Shane petting him. And then Shane had decided to do something he normally wouldn’t do–but it was something he had always been curious about.

Ilya’s ears were fluffy, always well maintained and groomed besides the obvious slices through the tips of them where either claws or something more sinister had cut away at some of the flesh. They twitched often, mostly whenever Shane started speaking, swivelling in the direction of Shane calling the hybrid’s name. Shane tried hard not to stare at them, not wanting to make it obvious. It felt rude, somehow. But he had always been plagued with the urge to see if they truly felt as soft as they looked. And in that moment, with Ilya silent and a little wilted like a flower left out in the sun, Shane had thought–why not? And if Ilya bit him, then he’ll have learnt his lesson.

So Shane had carefully moved his fingers through Ilya’s hair until they nudged at the base of one of them, the tips of his fingers brushing against it lightly. He kept his eyes on the TV, but held his breath, feeling the soft fur of Ilya’s ear twitch a little at the touch. Ilya didn’t move, and so Shane had let his fingers pet Ilya’s ears first hesitatingly and then when Ilya had begun to lean into it, he no longer held back. And then Ilya had moved, sliding forwards so his head had lain nestled in Shane’s lap, facing the TV. Shane had stilled at the movement, hands hovering but once the hybrid had gotten comfortable, nose brushing against Shane’s thigh, Shane had resumed his gentle pets. It’s when Shane scratched the base of one of his ears that he heard it. A soft, continuous rumbling sound over the commentators shouting on the TV. And that’s when Shane realised that Ilya was purring. Something Shane had read in the information pack for new foster placements that only occurred when a hybrid felt completely and utterly safe. Wholly content.

And Shane had blinked back surprise tears, trying to pretend everything was fine as he continued to watch the screen, eyes flitting down every so often to glance at the golden haired man with his head in Shane’s lap. The hybrid had fallen asleep like that, with Shane petting his ears softly, scratching at them, a purr coming from deep in his chest, vibrating against Shane’s knees, face half turned into Shane’s thigh. And Shane’s heart had threatened to burst at the seams. Instead he had remained still, until he ended up drifting off and waking with a crick in his neck at 6am. Neither had discussed it, but from then on, Shane had taken to scratching Ilya’s ears absentmindedly if he walked past the hybrid sitting at the kitchen island or walking past the back of the couch.

Sometimes Ilya would tilt his head a little, eyes drifting shut as Shane pets at his ears, groaning lowly before Shane retracts his hands, not even thinking about it as he carries on with what he’s doing.

Two weeks have passed since Ilya moved in, and it was comfortable. They were more like roommates than anything, and Shane found he enjoyed the company surprisingly—even if Ilya sought to annoy the crap out of him every day.

Shane had gotten back from work and the pair had eaten dinner, with Ilya saying about wanting to start a new TV show he had seen. Although the hybrid had not appeared in the living room like he normally does at seven thirty. Shane knew he had been in the shower, had heard the water running as the alpha usually went in after Shane.

After waiting a few minutes, Shane meandered from his position on the couch to knock on the hybrid’s door. Shane rocks on his heels absentmindedly as he waits for a reply, frowning as nothing comes.

“Ilya?” He calls and he thinks he can hear a grunt in response, hand coming to wrap around the handle and pushing the door open.

“Did you still want to watch—,” Shane’s question is cut off with a gasp, freezing in the doorway as the image before him materialises.

The curtains are half drawn, the room cast in a half shadow. And Ilya sits propped up against the pillows, naked, head tilted back with beads of sweat dotting his collarbone like gems with a fist wrapped around his cock, jerking himself off.

The sound of Shane’s gasp has the hybrid blinking to the door, chest heaving and yet the hand on the thick cock never ceases its movements, if anything Ilya goes faster. Shane can’t help but stare, his wide eyes likened to a child in a candy store for the first time. Except there was only one lollipop Shane would really like to get his mouth around. Ilya’s cock was thick and perfect, uncut, tip a flushed red and leaking as the hybrid squeezes it with a large hand, dragging down the length as if to show off its length to the man frozen in the doorway. As Ilya’s hand moves, Shane’s eyes are drawn to the bulge at the base. Knot, Shane’s mind helpfully points out.

Shane’s mouth fills with saliva and he swallows, throat bobbing as Ilya continues to pleasure himself all within Shane’s sight, seemingly unbothered by his presence. Shane drags his gaze from the hybrid’s hard cock almost mournfully, eyes tracing the hard lines of Ilya’s muscled abdomen, his full pecs, the golden necklace the hybrid never seems to take off, to land on the hybrid’s face. Shane can just about hear the slick sounds of Ilya’s wrist working his cock above the pounding of his heart in his ears.

The look in Ilya’s eyes has Shane’s breath leaving him, snatched from his lungs with an iron fist. The cornflower blue eyes lock with his, sharp and full of a heat, a darkness to them lingering at the edges that isn’t entirely helped in the dimly lit room. The shadows make the hybrid look sharper, more ominous, and a thousand times more sexy. Shane can’t look away–sort of doesn’t want to either–and Ilya’s lips part slightly on a breathy groan, sharp canines digging into his bottom lip, tongue darting out to lick the plush lip to have Shane following the movement unconsciously.

Ilya clearly wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed about being caught jerking off–like so many other people would be. No, instead the hybrid seems to preen under Shane’s attention, wrist moving faster. Ilya looks at him like he wants Shane to look, gaze almost daring him to look away. Shane feels like he’s in a trance, not aware of anything else except Ilya naked, cock out and looking at him as if he’s something to eat.

Shane can feel his half hard cock against his own thigh, pressing against the soft cotton of his shorts, the way his hand clenches the door handle as if he’s about to break it off the smooth wood. And then Ilya’s lips curl up in the beginnings of a smirk, eyes glinting and it has Shane jerking back with a louder gasp than before, face the shade of a tomato, scrambling back and slamming the door closed without a word. He’s gasping as he leans against the now closed door, trying to calm his racing pulse, the heat in his ears and cheeks refusing to abate. A shaking hand comes to tug at his hair, wide eyes dancing around the space like a frightened bunny.

And then Shane’s moving, practically skidding on the floor as he bursts into his room and slams his bedroom door closed and collapses on his bed face first and groans into the pillow. Shane rolls over and blinks up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the fully fledged erection now pressing against his shorts almost as if in taunt.

Shane scrubs at his eyes to try and get rid of Ilya sweat glistened, jerking himself off without a care in the world, but it refuses to budge. If anything, the image is imprinted to the back of Shane’s lids so every time he blinks he can still see it, the way Ilya had looked large and imposing against the pillows, the way the hybrid had stared at him, daring him to look away. Shane beats a fist against the mattress.

No. That was not what was happening. Shane had invaded Ilya’s privacy and had embarrassingly taken far too long to leave. He had stared. This was meant to be a safe place for the hybrid. Shane should apologise. But the idea of seeing Ilya again, especially as now Shane knows what the hybrid had been…doing, has Shane’s cheeks flushing with renewed heat and mortification.

No. Maybe Shane needs an early night. He blinks up at the ceiling, clutching his still rapidly beating heart, swallowing harshly around the rock in his throat.

Yeah. An early night is what he needs.

And when Shane is tucked up in bed half an hour later, his hand drifting to the boner that has not flagged since he was frozen in Ilya’s doorway, Shane reasons it’s to help him sleep after a stressful day at work. And if he comes with a muffled whine of Ilya’s name, gasping into the mattress, then Shane would say it never happened.

And he most certainly does not go to sleep and thinks about what Ilya would do with a cock like that, if he knew how to use it. How he’d treat his partner in bed. If Ilya would look at them the way he had looked at Shane, hold him down with those calloused hands that are capable of so much damage, make him take it, knot him. Would he run his mouth like he usually does? Tease him? Make him cry and wipe his tears with a fake sympathetic croon even if he doesn’t stop? Shane also takes care not to acknowledge how his thoughts shift from a faceless ‘partner’ to ‘him’.

They do not discuss the incident.

Shane takes care to make sure things are as normal as possible–which Shane would argue he is really good at doing. Namely ignoring things and hoping they go away eventually.

Except ever since he laid eyes on Ilya’s cock in all its naked glory, Shane can’t stop thinking about it, dreaming about it. Every time he and Ilya look at each other, whether that’s mid-conversation or passing each other milk for cereal, or as the hybrid spots him at the gym, all Shane can think about is that stupid fucking huge cock. And it’s getting annoying. It has Shane grouchy at times, gaze constantly flitting around the tall hybrid as he speaks to him.

I mean seriously, who needs all that cock? Shane can’t help but think grumpily as he suds himself in the shower, hands skirting over his chest as he frowns at the shower tiles, steam curling up to the ceiling from the hot spray.

It was excessive, truly. And it was also very typical that of all people, Ilya had to have the biggest one Shane has ever seen. What the fuck was up with that? Shane huffs, hands stilling in their efforts to wash himself.

I bet he doesn’t even know how to use it. Shane reasons with himself as his gaze drifts off to the side, hands soaping up his strong thighs and ass. That’s what they all said, right? Guys with big dicks never know how to use them properly, relying on length alone to do the job instead of skill. And Shane wasn’t jealous. Not at all. In fact, Shane would say his own size isn’t too shabby, and has been complimented by previous partners on its thickness and decent length, thank you very much. Even if he isn’t in the habit of using it. But this isn’t about dick measuring, not at all. But then when Shane tries to think about what it is actually about, his consciousness skitters back in fear of acknowledging what his grumpiness is really about.

Because Shane just knows that Ilya is the kind of guy who would know how to use it. Shane is sure Ilya’s fucked other hybrids even in his time as a underground fighter. Especially with that body. Thickly muscled, broad shouldered, large hands arranging Shane however he wants to get past, pecs that Shane could practically gnaw on–Shane slaps his forehead in reprimand.

“Stop it.” He mutters, water from the shower spilling into his mouth. After that he makes quick work, deciding that his shower thoughts were slowly spiralling down a drain that was thick with desire and would only end with him in highly dangerous and inappropriate waters as Shane is technically Ilya’s carer. Even if they are the same age and are basically roommates. And besides, this was temporary. Ilya just needed to show signs of adapting to human society and then he’d be on his way. The HPA had said they will be doing a formal check in two weeks time to determine how much longer Ilya would need to remain in Shane’s formal care. They had told Shane that they were pleased Ilya had settled in so well, the surprise not unnoticed in their emails as Shane had confirmed that no, Ilya had not done anything worthy of being kicked out of Shane’s apartment.

Except maybe eating all of Shane’s fucking snacks. And having a cock that is haunting Shane’s every waking conscious thought.

What’s more frustrating is that the hybrid seems to know how distracted Shane has become. Every time Shane tries to avoid his gaze mid conversation, the hybrid simply tucks a finger or knuckle under his chin and nudges Shane to meet his gaze again, refusing to let him shy away. And it always has Shane stumbling over his words slightly, eyes widening a little as Ilya looks at him with an unknowable (yet dangerous) glint in his eyes.

The touching has also increased.

Ilya makes a point of cornering him before Shane goes to work to sniff at his neck, his jaw, snuffling there like a needy pup, but his hands are firm as they anchor him to the spot as Ilya nudges his face against Shane’s skin, the heat of his nose dragging against it making him shudder a little. The hybrid will also sometimes occasionally intermingle his sniffing with an inconspicuous lick against the part of his neck that joins with his shoulder. The first time Shane had felt it he had jerked back but Ilya had dragged him right back with a grunt, fencing Shane in against the kitchen counter.

“Don’t move.” The hybrid had grumbled against his ear. And Shane had blushed, smacking Ilya’s bicep.

“Don’t lick me, Jesus, that’s enough now anyway, I’m not a dog.” Shane had complained half-heartedly as Ilya’s hands squeezed at his waist.

So yes, Ilya licks him now. But just a little. But Shane ignores that and puts it down to Ilya being friendly and it being a hybrid thing that Ilya had vaguely explained they do with friends. And Shane is there to make Ilya comfortable, so if licking and sniffing at him constantly makes Ilya comfortable, then so be it. It’s all about the wider purpose of Ilya’s stay after all–helping the hybrid be prepared to enter society, well adapted and healed from his past.

Besides the licking, Ilya has also just been touching Shane more. Like when they watch something on TV, the hybrid takes care to sidle up close either with his head in Shane’s lap and dragging one of Shane’s hands to his ears to indicate he wants Shane to play with his hair and pet his ears. Or slinging Shane’s feet in his lap, massaging the soles or squeezing his ankles. Or when they are in the kitchen and Ilya comes up right behind him, bare chest hot against Shane’s back as the hybrid leans across him to take something out of the cupboard. But again, it’s all about the wider purpose. Making Ilya feel comfortable, being a good foster placement.

Ilya still accompanies Shane shopping every week, as well as the gym. Shane takes him to the hybrid hockey team that practices every week on Saturday’s. One time Shane had stayed to watch the hybrid play and had been transfixed by Ilya skating across the ice like a whippet, slamming other players into the board with a sharp grin, and stealing the puck without the player even noticing until Ilya is halfway to the goal. Seeing Ilya so primal in those plays had Shane’s thighs shifting together, fists clenching.

And if Ilya knows Shane is watching, the hybrid will make a show of looking at him up in the stalls, eyes glinting as he flashes his fangs, before playing even more aggressively. Shane had hoped Ilya would make some friends whilst skating on the team but it seems the hybrid is only interested in skating and scoring goals, preferably with Shane watching. Although Shane is hoping with enough time, Ilya will make at least one friend. Friends or not though, the hybrid was a weapon on ice, and Shane took care to remark how the coach of the hybrid team had also taken notice. His boss had even cornered him at work when he was in the middle of a physio session with the Ottawa Centaur’s centre to ask about the hybrid.

So yes, it seems Ilya was comfortable albeit clearly getting a little bored if the way he constantly bugged Shane as soon as he got home was anything to go by. Which is what made Shane message Rose about organising that meet up she had mentioned that time in the supermarket.

So here they were, the four of them sat in Shane’s living room on a Saturday afternoon. The hybrid Rose had talked about was called Svetlana, a cat hybrid also originally from Russia. She was rescued from a rich Boston businessman years ago, a trophy house pet. Now she was one of the heads of the hybrid employment outreach committee. A hybrid run committee that organised employment for hybrids coming out of foster placements. Which, at some point in the near future, would be Ilya.

Shane thought Svetlana meeting Ilya was a good idea, although the alpha hybrid did need some convincing. Shane had mentioned it to Ilya on Thursday and the hybrid had simply stared at him blankly before flicking his hand dismissively.

“No.”

Shane had blinked, before frowning. “What? Why? Don’t you want to make friends? You’re both from Russia, won’t it be nice to meet someone you can speak the same language with?”

Ilya sometimes muttered in Russian occasionally, and had taken to calling Shane zaychik or solynshko. However when Shane had asked what it meant, Ilya had simply said it meant moron. He had earned a slap on the arm and a very intense scowl for that. Besides the point, Shane did think it would be good for Ilya to speak in his native language to someone that at least understood him. Right?

Ilya’s expression had remained unimpressed. “No.”

Shane had crossed his arms, now equally unimpressed at the hybrid’s stubbornness. “Ilya.”

The hybrid had blinked at him before replying, “Shane.”

The response had made the dark haired man scowl, huffing in frustration. “Ilya. You’ve said yourself you’re bored, so this is the chance to make friends. You can hang out with each other.”

Ilya blows a raspberry, continuing to shovel chips into his mouth from where he sits at the kitchen counter, sucking the salt off his lips obnoxiously in the way he knows Shane hates. “I do not want friends. They are annoying.”

“Friends are annoying?”

Ilya nods and Shane can’t help the way his lips pucker a little into a pout. “But we’re friends.” Shane had pointed out.

Ilya’s gaze slid up to his, tongue curling around his pointer finger slowly, appraising Shane silently with a hum as his eyes flickered over Shane’s face. Shane couldn’t help the way he fidgeted under the casual roaming gaze.

“Yes, we are friends.” Ilya had confirmed with a low tone and Shane had to look away, glancing down at the counter shyly. He clears his throat before turning around to rifle through the cupboards, desperate for a distraction from the way Ilya’s gaze lingers.

“Well, it’s too late. They’re coming on Saturday.” Shane had announced, which had cued Ilya to start complaining immediately, huffing and puffing. And then when Saturday had arrived and Shane had taken the time to make Ilya plump the cushions and straighten the throw on the sofa as he arranged snacks, Ilya had grumbled the entire time, slapping the cushions with too much force and scowling at the bowl of chips as if he wanted to murder it.

“This is stupid.” Ilya had said loudly as Shane was busy texting Rose who had said they were five minutes away.

“Shut up, no it’s not.” He replied without looking back.

“Yes it is. Most stupid thing in the world.” Ilya had shot back and Shane had rolled his eyes, pocketing his phone in his back pocket after shooting off an affirmative text back to raise his eyebrows, glancing down at the hybrid sat on the sofa with his thighs spread and arms crossed like a child put in time out.

“Ilya, I’m doing this for you. And who knows, you might get on really well. I just don’t want you to be alone in the apartment all day. It must get lonely.” Shane reasons, trying a softer approach, not trusting the hybrid’s ability to cause mischief or to simply stay mute the entire time when Rose and Svetlana arrive. Shane wouldn’t put it past him. Ilya was petty.

Most of all, he also wanted Ilya to have friends. It must be awfully lonely, especially coming from a life of exploitation. Surely he’d want to speak to people who would perhaps be able to resonate better than Shane could?

“I did not ask you to do this for me.”

Ilya pouts, glaring off to the side. Shane sighs, hands hanging by his sides in defeat.

“Can you at least promise to be nice?” Shane asks and then because he’s desperate for this meeting to not go to shit, he tacks on a semi-pleading, “Please?”

Ilya looks at him then, looking at him curiously even if his eyebrows remain scrunched up in a scowl. A beat passes and then Ilya rolls his eyes, sinking deeper into the sofa with his arms still crossed.

“Fine. I will try.” He acquiesces and Shane snorts at the sore lack of enthusiasm in the hybrid’s voice but then the doorbell buzzes and Shane goes to open it, but not before bending down slightly to waggle a finger in Ilya’s face pointedly.

“You better.” He warns and Ilya smirks before leaning forward to nip at Shane’s outstretched finger softly with the tips of his canines. The touch has Shane inhaling sharply as he feels the sharpness of Ilya’s fangs press lightly into the pad of his finger before the hybrid leans back into the cushions to link his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out between Shane’s who stands over him, smirking.

Shane recovers quickly, matching Ilya’s playful gaze with his own as he yanks on a golden curl lightly in return, a confidence suddenly surging to the forefront that he’s never felt before.

“Bad boy.” He mutters before smirking, watching the way Ilya’s smirk falters a little, gaze sharpening before Shane is walking round him to get the door.

And that’s where it left them currently, Rose sat on the same sofa as Shane, babbling about something he can’t quite keep track of but nodding politely at intervals as he tries to keep Ilya in his field of vision from the corner of his eye. Svetlana was gorgeous, tall and slim, had breezed through the entryway with her auburn curls bouncing, dark cat ears adorned with golden jewellery, long nails similarly fashioned with rings and a gold and emerald bracelet. The cat hybrid looked effortlessly glam, equal to Rose of course. It was intimidating. She had given a cursory glance over Shane, her nose twitching as her eyes had taken on a curious sheen, as what looked like a smirk had twitched at her lips before extending her palm to shake Shane’s hand. She had practically purred her name as she introduced herself before cocking her head round Shane to glance at the head of golden curls and brown fluffy ears peeking out from the top of the sofa to say something quickly in Russian.

Her words possessed a teasing lilt, smile playful as she crossed her arms to reveal her perfectly manicured nails. Ilya hadn’t turned around but had shot something back in Russian. Whatever the hybrid had said made Svetlana laugh, grinning with her teeth as she had flitted her eyes between the mop of blonde hair that still refused to turn in their direction and Shane’s wide eyed, curious stare. Shane had ushered them over to the sofa, Rose trying to say hi to Ilya but blatantly being ignored except for a rude grunt. Shane had kicked Ilya’s shin as he passed him to sit on the sofa diagonal from the one Ilya is sitting on. Ilya had rolled his eyes before grouching out an incredibly unenthusiastic, “hello.”

“Svetlana, this is Ilya. Ilya, this is Svetlana.” Shane rushed out, staring daggers into the side of Ilya’s face pointedly before the hybrid huffed quietly before glancing up at the cat hybrid who had sat at the other end of the sofa Ilya was occupying.

“Hello.” And then Ilya had gone back to staring at the chip bowl.

Shane felt a vein in his forehead pulse in annoyance. But then Svetlana had surprisingly laughed, throwing her head back as her earrings jingled. She leaned back into the cushions as she looked at Ilya with a smirk, arms folded.

“My, my, they did not teach you manners at home?” Svetlana drawled and Shane tensed, waiting for Ilya to snap his teeth, maybe snarl and then this whole attempt of socialising Ilya beyond Shane would end in a disaster and maybe a call from the HPA. But Ilya’s gaze had simply slid to the cat hybrid watching him intently before biting back.

“Not all of us can be privileged little house kitties.”

Svetlana bares her teeth, her fangs smaller in comparison to Ilya’s but still terrifying and hisses. Shane flinches slightly as both he and Rose watch on silently with wide eyes.

“Careful mutt, I sharpen my claws to deal with disrespect.”

Ilya places a hand against his chest in mockery as he croons, accent thick. “What are you going to do? Paint my nails and braid my hair?”

Shane winces, already preparing himself to get up in case he has to get in between them. They weren’t even five minutes in and this is already a disaster. He and Rose share a tense look.

“I mean your hair is a frizzy mess, so someone clearly needs to do something with it.” Svetlana replies, picking at her nails.

Ilya’s curls weren’t actually that frizzy, well maybe a little–Shane knew the hybrid used special shampoo for curly hair.

Ilya splutters, crossing his arms as he narrows his eyes at the cat hybrid who now seems entirely unbothered even if she had just hissed and bared her fangs. Svetlana was scary, Shane concluded.

“What part of Russia are you even from? ” Ilya accuses, ears twitching ramrod straight atop his head.

“Moscow. What part are you from? The peasant one with no manners?” Svetlana asks airily and Ilya bares his teeth for a moment before gritting out a reply.

“Moscow, the part where stupid cat hybrids don’t live.” Ilya snaps back snottily and Shane realises that the pair of hybrids weren’t arguing near to violence, but just…bickering. Almost like they are old friends. And the realisation has Shane sinking back into the sofa a little, a small smile threatening to take over as he also realises that Svetlana’s initial goading remark was intentional. That the cat hybrid had deliberately pushed Ilya’s buttons to make him talk, basically ragebaiting him into making conversation.

Huh. That was one way of doing it, Shane surmises. Although it’s not a tactic that is probably encouraged with a hybrid like Ilya who has a penchant for fighting other hybrids and biting people.

The two continue to bicker in English a little more, Ilya challenging Svetlana on knowledge of Moscow landmarks and branding her a ‘Fake Russian who's only been to Russia once because of her parents and calls herself a local’ before they switch into Russian. Shane figures it’s a win that at least Ilya was talking, even if it’s unclear whether he actually likes Svetlana or not.

So there they were, Rose talking to Shane about a new brunch place that had opened up that they had to try and Ilya and Svetlana conversing in Russian. Shane tried to concentrate on what Rose was saying but it was hard when his ears kept snagging on Ilya’s voice, specifically the way his mother tongue rolled out of him effortlessly, voice gruff. It sent tingles up Shane’s spine unwillingly, and he blinked rapidly to try and guide his attention back to Rose.

“Did you piss on him or something? He stinks.” Svetlana drawled, eyes sliding over to look at Shane pointedly before glancing back at Ilya with a perfectly manicured raised eyebrow, a smirk on the edge of her lips.

Ilya glares at her, looking at Shane quickly before glancing away before their eyes inevitably catch, shrugging in feigned innocence. “We live together, it is normal. And he does not stink.”

Svetlana snorts loudly, thoroughly amused. “Please. I thought he was another hybrid when I first saw him. Does he know you’ve been scenting him?”

Ilya huffs, looking away from the cat hybrid’s knowing gaze. “I am just making sure that other hybrids don’t bother him.”

Svetlana stretches a leg out to kick at Ilya’s thigh softly to have the dog hybrid turning back to her with a guarded expression. “Marking your territory, you mean?”

Ilya rolls his eyes at that, although revealing a pleased smirk that stretches his lips to have Svetlana cackling in delight. “Goodness, found yourself a mate have you? How unconventional. The motherland would be turning in its grave.”

“He is not my mate.” Ilya points out but Svetlana simply hums, glancing at Shane who is distracted by Rose showing him something on her phone with a soft expression.

“Not yet then.” She replies, and Ilya says nothing, hands picking at his jean clad thighs. She rests her chin on a fist as she admires Shane. “He is very handsome. Kind eyes. And god, are those freckles?” She muses out loud.

Ilya then turns to scowl at her, ears flickering and pin point straight, fangs bared as he growls low in his chest, quiet enough for Shane not to hear. “Don’t look at him. Find your own. He is mine.”

Svetlana stops ogling Shane to look at Ilya with a teasing smile, hands coming up in front of her placatingly with a huff of laughter.
“Okay puppy, Svetlana will not touch. Not my type anyway.” She says playfully, deliberately not looking at Shane as Ilya continues to watch her suspiciously for a few moments before grunting, seemingly satisfied.

“So, how’s it going?” Rose leans forward with a conspiratorial whisper, and Shane laughs softly at her serious expression.

“It’s good actually. We’re basically just roommates.” He shrugs good naturedly and Rose hums, glancing over at Ilya before fixing Shane with a raised eyebrow that promises trouble.

“He’s hot too.”

Shane splutters, eyes widening in shock. “Rose!” He hisses, gaze flitting to the pair of hybrids on the other couch in case they hear.

Rose leans back against the sofa, shrugging. “What? It’s true. He’s hunky, and totally your type.”

Shane slaps her thigh, ears fire hot as he avoids Rose’s gaze. “So? That’s not the point. I’m his foster placement, that would be highly inappropriate and unethical.”

His response, however, has Rose shooting forward with a gasp, eyes bugged out and alight with interest.

“Oh my God, has something happened?” She squeals quietly, and Shane shushes her, eyes frantically looking for any sign that Ilya can hear what they are saying, but the hybrid seems deep in conversation with Svetlana, although the alpha’s ears occasionally twitch in Shane’s direction. But they do that a lot.

“No! Jesus, what are you crazy?” Shane insists, cheeks red but Rose is unperturbed.

“But you want there to be right?” She asks, before shaking Shane by the shoulders a little. “Oh my God, this is so cute. I see the way he looks at you too.”

Shane frowns, glancing up at Rose in confusion. “Wait what? What do you mean? Looks at me how?”

Rose tries and fails to bite back a smile which only has Shane growing wary. “Nothing, well I mean in the supermarket he was totally being all possessive alpha boyfriend, if looks could kill I’d be in the grave right now.”

Shane gawps at her and then snaps his mouth shut as he tries to argue. “That is so not true, shut up. You’re imagining things.”

“Ask to see his dick, then you’ll know if I’m really imagining things. I bet he’d drop his pants as soon as you’d say the word–,” Rose’s words are cut off by Shane slapping a hand over her mouth with a panicked look.

“Rose!.” He whispers and Rose rolls her eyes before batting his hand away.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop. But I’m calling it now.”

Shane breathes a sigh of relief as his best friend stops talking about Ilya and his cock. Shane is half tempted to say that actually, he’s already seen it, but he really doesn’t need to give her any more ammunition than she clearly already has.

Rose turns then to the hybrid’s on the sofa and watches them talk to each other in rapid Russian. “So, you think they are getting on?” She asks and Shane turns to watch them.

Svetlana says something that makes Ilya laugh and the sound is unexpected but its warmth curls around Shane’s spine like a hug.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m glad we did this.” He answers, admiring the relaxed line of Ilya’s shoulders as he and Svetlana continue to bicker.

They stay for a few hours, with Svetlana getting Ilya’s number and saying that she’ll take him to one of the best pelmeni spots in Ottawa. So at least now Ilya has one other number on his phone. The hybrid uses it mostly to watch Youtube and harass Shane over text to ask when he’s coming home from work.

Svetlana hugs Ilya goodbye, and Shane watches as the alpha hybrid freezes for a moment, eyes wide and unsure as his hands hover hesitantly over Svetlana’s shoulders. They settle lightly on her back, patting lightly as the cat hybrid withdraws with a smile and murmurs something in Russia to him. Ilya nods once, before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

After they’re gone, both of them are sprawled on the sofa and eating the leftover chips. Shane’s exhausted, mind slightly fried from multiple hours of non stop socialising. He’s strewn out across the sofa, his feet in Ilya’s lap, the hybrid watching the TV and mindlessly drawing shapes on the top of Shane’s foot. The touch is slightly ticklish, the feeling of Ilya’s fingers dragging against his skin making Shane’s toes wiggle.

“Did you have a nice time today?” Shane asks quietly and the hybrid pauses his shapes on Shane’s foot before resuming again, still looking at the TV.

“Yes, was nice.”

“You liked Svetlana then?” Shane pushes and Ilya nods, not looking at Shane. Ilya looks down at his lap, fingers tugging on Shane’s toe playfully.

“Yes. She is funny.”

“High praise huh?” Shane teases and Ilya rolls his eyes, pinching his pinky toe before looking at him with a glint in his eye.

“Careful, I will eat all your piggies. They will not need to go to the market.” Ilya punctuates his threat with a playful growl, snapping his teeth lightly to make Shane laugh under his breath.

Shane settles back into the pillow behind his head, watching Ilya with a soft expression, eyes searching. “I’m glad you made friends.”

“Yes.” Ilya agrees before adding on in a softer, more fragile tone, “I do not consider Russia home. But it is nice sometimes, feels less lonely. Svetlana, I think, reminds me of the better parts, even if I did not get many of those. But what I think would have been the better parts, if I was still there. Though I am glad I am not.”

Shane can’t help the way his heart clenches, as something dark and mournful passes over Ilya’s face, shuttering out the light like a heavy fist punching the sun out of the sky.

“Then I’m glad you met her.” Shane utters quietly and Ilya glances at him, face shadowed with memories the hybrid clearly wishes he didn’t remember before he nods, sinking further into the couch and pulling Shane’s feet over his lap to massage at his calves.

“We watch hockey now.” Ilya announces, flipping the channel to the latest game. And Shane lets him, letting his gaze drift but not missing how Ilya clings onto his legs like he’s afraid Shane is going to get up and leave.

A few days later Shane realises that getting Ilya to meet Svetlana was probably one of the best decisions he made in the entire time of accepting the foster placement. Svetlana did indeed take Ilya to the best spot in Ottawa for pelmeni the next day and had even introduced Ilya to more hybrids, having taken him to a hotspot for hybrid friendly bars. Shane would often come home to find Ilya on the phone, speaking Russian as he makes dinner–something the hybrid has taken to doing more and more now. Not that Shane is complaining, turns out Ilya is rather a good cook and also seems to enjoy it, will often not start eating until Shane has taken the first bite. The hybrid also likes making Shane taste it as he is mid-cooking, a spoon dipped in sauce coming to his lips as Ilya cups his hand just below it, motioning for Shane to open his mouth, telling Shane “now say ah.”

Shane lets him, humming in delight at the explosion on his tastebuds, and Ilya smiles, pleased as Shane gives him a thumbs up.

Ilya continues to manhandle Shane round the house, but Shane also makes a point of knocking loudly on Ilya’s door and not opening it until Ilya does so himself after, well, the incident. Aka, seeing Ilya jerking off.

Even if Shane knows deep down that he wouldn’t mind seeing that particular sight again.

Ilya also continues to sniff and lick at him.

And so, another week passes like that, their relationship being moulded into something a little more than roommates or friends, a grey in between that Shane takes care not to think about too much. Mainly because it’s just nice. And who would want to ruin a nice thing?

It was nice to be around someone who just got him too. Ilya knew his routines, and respected them–didn’t call him weird or think he was being too anal. He knew what went into Shane’s smoothie every morning and would get out the ingredients ready for when Shane shuffled into the kitchen in the early hours of the morning. And Shane learnt things about Ilya too–his curly hair routine and how he takes grooming his ears very seriously, will sometimes even ask Shane to brush through the fur as he sits on the floor between Shane’s legs to watch TV as the human sits on the edge of the couch. The banter is easy, the constant chirping, the wrestling too as they try and race each other to the car. Ilya was annoying, yes, but they both knew Shane secretly loved it. The pair looked forward to arguing with each other over who stupid things like who can hold a handstand for the longest–Shane won that one, thank you yoga. Shane has never felt such a connection with anyone else, even those he would consider his closest friends. So he was thankful in a way that Ilya ended up in his apartment under his care. The idea of the hybrid eventually moving out had Shane wilting every time he thought about it, so he took extra care not to.

And then Rose talks Shane into a night out, which he begrudgingly agrees to because his attraction to Ilya has not tempered in the slightest and it’s exhausting. There are only so many times a person can jerk off shamefully to release the tension Shane feels. And the next best thing is clearly, obviously, a night out.

Not that Shane is planning on drinking a lot anyway, but it would be good to maybe have a beer or two and have Rose drag him to the dancefloor unwillingly.

It’s over dinner that Shane brings it up, a little nervous for some reason over how Ilya will react. It’s not like Shane has never left him alone, but normally it’s for well reasoned things. Clubbing doesn’t really count.

“So, um, I’m going out tonight. With Rose, so I probably won’t be back until late.”

Ilya shoots his head up, a forkful of carbonara in his mouth. The hybrid chews quickly as his eyes flit over Shane’s face and awkward fumbling of his pasta as he waits for the hybrid to reply. “You are going out?”

“Yeah, but I won’t be super late though I’ll try not to wake you up.” Shane adds, and Ilya sets his fork down.

“You are going out with Rose.” He states and Shane nods slowly, eyebrows creasing a little.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Where are you going?” Ilya asks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair opposite Shane, face blank.

Shane shrugs, looking down as he swirls some pasta around his fork. “Dunno, Rose has some club in mind. I normally just go where she tells me.”

Shane looks up as he eats, observing how Ilya’s jaw ticks, gazing off to the side.

“Means you can have the apartment to yourself, could always invite Svetlana over if you wanted.” Shane suggests and the hybrid’s gaze cuts to his, holding him there mid chew.

“Perhaps I will also go out. Sveta says there is only one decent club in Ottawa.”

Shane chokes a little on his pasta, gulping down water at the idea of Ilya going clubbing. “You’re–you want to go clubbing?”

Ilya shrugs, resuming his eating as he smirks at Shane. “Yes, why not?”

Shane stares at him as the hybrid quickly finishes and then takes his plate to the sink, fishing out his phone to call Svetlana. Ilya tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder as he taps Shane’s bowl with a quirked brow and Shane nods, letting the hybrid take it.

Shane watches as Ilya rinses them and stacks them in the dishwasher before turning, wandering off to his room as he murmurs in Russian, winking at Shane as he passes to make him blush. Shane twists in his seat to watch the broad backed alpha leave before turning to stare at the counter.

The idea of seeing Ilya out in a club has Shane’s nerves heightening. Would he pick someone up? The hybrid is handsome enough, well more than handsome enough. People will practically be lining up for a chance, Shane is sure. God he hopes they don’t run into each other, that would be mortifying.

The music is, unsurprisingly, too loud and Shane can’t hear himself think, which is a great start.

He was three shots deep and was currently nursing a vodka lime and soda, all courtesy of Rose. He had left before Ilya, calling out from the front door that he’s leaving. The hybrid had shouted something unintelligible back, and Shane had then scurried out the door.

He was wearing his nice dark blue jeans that hugged his ass and a plain white t-shirt that showed off the broadness of his shoulders and contrasted nicely with his tan skin. He’d even spritzed some of his expensive cologne, something he doesn’t normally do and had styled his hair. He looked nice, as confirmed by Rose who had wolf whistled when she saw him just to make him flush with embarrassment.

“Wowza hot stuff, who are you dressed up for?” She’d asked when she spotted him, even if she was similarly dressed up herself.

Shane had huffed, mumbled out a no one and had ushered her to the bar for a drink. It was half-true. And well, if he did see Ilya on the off chance, at least he’d look good. Even if Ilya has seen him in a much worse state at home.

They had already been at the club for an hour or so and the alcohol had sunk into Shane’s system like a fuzzy blanket, making him blink slowly at the strobe lighting, laugh a little too loudly at Rose’s awful jokes.

He’s leaning against the bar, giggly, red cheeked and glassy eyed when a presence sidles up alongside him, too close.

“Can I buy you a drink?” A voice murmurs in his ear, and Shane jolts forward, turning sluggishly with a frown at an unknown face. The man was attractive, dark brown hair pushed back and blue eyes that glinted in the dim club lighting. He was about Shane’s height and had good teeth, all bared as he smiled flirtatiously at Shane.

And Shane did need to get laid. But something curdles in his stomach at the thought of it not being with a certain someone who shall not be named.

“Uh,” Shane replies intelligently, brain a little cottony at the edges but then Rose is clutching at Shane’s forearm.

“Yes you so can, I’ll leave you two.” She winks at Shane before she disappears into the heaving crowd behind them to leave Shane staring after her. He turns slowly to smile weakly at the guy who leans closer, a hand coming to rest on the bar behind Shane, fencing him in.

“What are you drinking?” The man says in Shane’s ear to be heard above the pounding music and Shane has to fight not to flinch back.

“Vodka, lime and soda.” He shouts back and the man waves down a bartender before sliding his card across the sticky counter, Shane not being able to hear what the man shouts to order.

He turns back around and smirks at Shane, shamelessly checking him out. The attention has Shane’s shoulders hunching up shyly, playing with his straw like a child.

“So, what’s your name pretty? I’m Matt.”

Shane clears his throat, trying to shake off the weird feeling settling in his chest at the petname. It wasn’t a bad petname as such, it just felt a little sleazy coming out of the stranger’s mouth.

“Shane.” He answers and the man steps closer so their chests are almost touching and Shane unknowingly backs into the bar, clutching his glass like a lifeline.

“Well Shane, good to meet you. I haven’t seen you here before, how come?”

“Oh, I don’t go out much.” Shane replies lamely and the man smirks, a hand coming to curl a piece of hair behind Shane’s ear.

“Really? That’s a shame, because if I had seen you around I would’ve bought you a drink much sooner.”

Shane forces a laugh, taking a sip of his drink as his eyes flit past the man’s shoulder to the dancefloor, looking for Rose. Maybe the club wasn’t a good idea after all, Shane wasn’t very good at talking to strangers. Nausea was slowly rising in his throat.

The bartender slides drinks across the bar, as well as two clear shots that have Shane grimacing a little at the sight of them. He really doesn't want to do any more shots. The fun buzz of the alcohol has mellowed out a little and he doesn’t have an urge to drink any more than his carefully nursed vodka soda.

The man, Matt, picks up a shot and gestures for Shane to take it but he shakes his head. “No thanks.”

Matt raises his eyebrows, nudging it against Shane’s lips insistently to have the bitter liquid spilling slightly and making Shane draw back with a frown and twisted lips.

“Oh come on! Have a bit of fun!” Matt shouts and Shane swallows nervously. He opens his mouth to argue again, shoulders tense but then a hand that is achingly familiar reaches in front of Shane’s face and snatches the proffered vodka shot that Matt is currently wiggling in Shane’s face. Shane turns in shock as Ilya appears at his side, snatching the shot and downing it in one without a grimace, eyes fixed on Shane.

“Wha–hey!” Matt complains, scowling at Ilya. Ilya doesn’t bother looking at the affronted man, simply handing the now empty shot glass back to him, which Matt, funnily enough takes back with a startled expression, staring at the shot glass, to Ilya and then to Shane.

“Thank you.” Ilya says as he passes the glass back like Matt is a waiter, and Shane stares open mouthed at the interaction. Matt’s face reddens in anger and he cranes his head to try and get Ilya to look at him. The hybrid’s gaze never leaves Shane’s. Shane can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out.

“Listen dude, we’re busy–,”

“You want to dance?” Ilya asks, still ignoring Matt.

Ilya is wearing black jeans and a dark button shirt that is only secured by three buttons in the middle, so Shane’s eyes are drawn immediately to the expanse of muscled chest right in front of him. Ilya has the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing some of the light pink scars smattered across them. Ilya’s curls are shiny in the club lighting, pushed back slightly, and Shane notices a silver hoop pierced through the original hole that was on one of the hybrid’s ears–Svetlana’s doing, Shane guesses. Ilya looks hot, dangerously so.

It takes a moment for Shane to answer but eventually he nods silently, placing his half finished drink on the bar. And Ilya doesn't waste a second, snatching his hand and tugging him towards the dancefloor so Shane is in front of him, a large hand coming to rest at the small of Shane’s back as he guides him through the throngs of people.

Matt’s indignance is lost in the music, the man ignored completely except for when Ilya throws a glare behind his shoulder and bares his fangs menacingly to have the man going white as a sheet and scurrying away. Not that Shane notices.

Ilya guides them to a less crowded area, in the more poorly lit section of the club in the corner. Ilya’s hands land on his waist and drag him closer so they’re chest to chest, staying there. The heat of them scorches through Shane’s t-shirt and Shane doesn’t think as he slides his hands around Ilya’s neck, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of Ilya’s neck. The buzz of the alcohol still lingers beneath his skin and he leans forward to speak into Ilya’s ear.

“Where’s Svetlana?” He asks and he pulls back to look at Ilya curiously. The hybrid leans in, doing the same thing by shouting into Shane’s ear.

“Dancing somewhere.” Ilya answers and Shane laughs, which then makes Ilya smile.

Ilya sways them to the music, a hand gliding under Shane’s shirt to palm at the bare skin of his waist, thumb moving in circles soothingly as Shane nods his head to the music, eyes glassy as he watches the disco ball change colour in wonder.

A deep laugh has Shane blinking, to find Ilya staring at him with a fond smile. A thumb comes to trace the curve of the apple of his cheek.

“You are cute when you are drunk.” The hybrid says and Shane scowls.

“I’m not drunk!” Shane argues, and Ilya croons playfully, pulling Shane closer.

“No?”

Shane shakes his head so vigorously it makes him dizzy, clutching onto Ilya’s shoulders. Usually Shane doesn’t drink at all, so the three shots alone were enough to have him more drunk than usual but then the vodka soda seems to be hitting him now with Ilya’s arms around him.

“I don’t–don’t usually drink this much.” Shane says into Ilya’s ear, hand coming to cradle the side of Ilya’s face to keep him close so he doesn’t wobble around too much as he speaks. He pulls back a little to show off a dopey grin at Ilya who’s eyes narrow a little in concern.

“You want to go home?”

Shane shakes his head again, too fast, and he giggles at the rush of blood in his head.

“No!” He whines, “wanna dance.”

He drags Ilya into him so their noses bump together and Ilya clutches at his hips. Ilya lets Shane spin them around on the dancefloor, swaying together until Shane grows tired and droopy eyed, the drunken buzz shifting into something that lingers heavily on his limbs, clutching onto Ilya more than he is standing on his own two feet. Shane thinks he sees Rose come up to them but he’s too busy slumping his head against Ilya’s shoulder with a yawn, nuzzling his nose into the hybrid’s shoulder.

Ilya must be wearing some sort of cologne, and whatever it is, it smells fucking good. It has Shane digging his nose into Ilya’s collarbone and inhaling deeply.

“Smells good.” Shane mutters under his breath and then there’s fingers carding through his hair and a kiss being dropped on his cheek and the smell of Rose’s perfume. And then they’re moving, Ilya half walking, half carrying him to the exit.

Shane is pretty sure he’s put in a car, can smell the leather and hear some mumblings, and catches Ilya’s knowable rumble. Shane blinks his eyes open as Ilya reaches across to buckle him, Shane watching him do it with slow blinking eyes, their gazes catching as Ilya leans closer, their faces inches from each other. Shane lifts a finger and taps it against Ilya’s cheek with a lazy smile, before scratching at Ilya’s ear.

“Woof.” Shane says around a yawn, and he thinks he hears Ilya huff a laugh before a hand is petting at Shane’s hair and his head being nudged down against something hard yet soft. Shane closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again he’s being carried through their apartment, the walls of their living room passing in a blur.

He makes a soft, inquisitive noise, snuffling slightly with his nose buried in a chest as he twists his head in question. He looks up to see Ilya looking down at him with an intense look before being shushed, a hand gently nudging him back down against Ilya’s chest.

“M’heavy.” Shane tries to argue sleepily but not fighting it as Ilya tucks him against him.

“Good thing I am so strong.” Ilya replies and Shane frowns with his eyes closed, opening them to squint up at the hybrid.

“I’m stronger.” Shane claims, although half of it comes out as a drunken, sleepy slur. Ilya smiles down at him, humming good naturedly as Shane looks up at him with a pout. Technically, it’s not true considering Ilya can bench more than him, but now isn't the time for reason.

“Say it. Say m’stronger.” Shane says loudly, a hand flinging out to catch on a doorframe blindly. It has Ilya jolting to a stop, rolling his eyes at Shane who glares up at him.

“Shane–,” Ilya tries to untangle Shane’s fingers from their iron grip on the doorframe but Shane doesn’t budge.

“Say it.” He repeats and Ilya tilts his gaze to the ceiling before looking at Shane with a sigh.

“Of course you are stronger moya lyubov. The strongest in the world.”

Shane nods, happy, before letting his grip slip and allowing Ilya to enter his bedroom. Ilya sets him down on his bed gently before bending down to take off his shoes. Shane lies back with a hum, blinking up at his ceiling, yawning loudly.

“It’s bedtime now?” Shane asks quietly, turning over onto his belly to nuzzle into his sheets like a kitten. A laugh sounds from somewhere behind him as hands come to tug his jeans off. Shane lets them, wiggling his hips to help as the fabric struggles to go past the curve of his ass cheeks, the fat jiggling with the motion.

“Yes. Drunk Shane needs his beauty sleep.” Ilya says as he wrangles Shane’s jeans past his ankles.

Shane whines a little. “M’ not drunk. I’m tired.” Then he pauses, thinking, “maybe a little drunk–I had three shots.” Shane holds his fingers up to show off his count of three.

Ilya hums as he manhandles Shane to lie horizontal with his head against his pillows. “Did you have a good night?” The hybrid asks quietly as he pulls back the covers.

Shane shifts his legs to scooch underneath them to lie on his belly, hands coming up under his pillow as his eyes flutter closed. He hums, thinking for a moment.

“Yeah, was good. You were there, was fun.” Shane answers easily, words half muffled by his pillow. Ilya tucks him in, fussing slightly, petting at him softly.

“Good. Even though you were talking to a stupid man.” The hybrid says and Shane doesn’t quite catch the possessiveness in Ilya’s tone, too sleepy and happy and cosy with Ilya’s hands patting him down into bed.

“Yeah, I need to get laid.” Shane mutters with a groan and the hands on his body stills.

“You do not do that with losers from the club, Shane.” The tone is darker and less agreeable than Ilya’s previous amenable musings to a drunk and sleepy Shane.

Shane giggles sleepily, turning his face to the side to look at Ilya from under his lashes, cheek smushed to his pillow.

“Why? Y’want to offer?” He asks cheekily and Ilya’s gaze is sharp as he stares down at him. Shane blinks slowly, lashes long as he looks up at him, the epitome of sin. The hand settled on his back grows heavier for a moment before it pulls back, Ilya exhaling sharply.

“Because I’ve seen it.” Shane whispers conspiratorially as if letting Ilya in on a secret he knows nothing about.

“I wouldn’t mind.” He tacks on innocently and then he yawns again and lets his eyes fall closed, drifting off as Ilya stares at him with flared nostrils and a dark heated gaze that traces the flushed apples of Shane’s freckled cheeks almost obsessively.

Ilya takes the opportunity to lean forward and trace the tip of his nose across the jut of Shane’s jaw, nuzzling lightly and inhaling deeply as Shane makes a sweet, sleepy noise, head tilting back before snuggling deeper into the pillow with a sigh. Ilya leaves a kiss against his forehead, before pulling the cover up to his chin and turning to leave, glancing back at the angelic sleeping figure with devilishly doe eyes before clicking the door closed and flicking the lights off.

Shane, predictably, does not remember asking Ilya to fuck him. If he did, he would’ve escaped to the Canadian wilderness and offered himself up to a bear. He does, however, wake with a pounding headache.

He’s grimacing over a cup of black coffee, hunched over the kitchen counter when Ilya strolls in, as usual shirtless, and towel drying his hair and fluffy ears as he comes to a stop upon seeing Shane looking worse for wear. The hybrid wolf whistles to make Shane wince, coming closer with a grin.

“Well, well, look who is hungover.”

Shane flips him off with a scowl, staring down into his coffee. Ilya leans forward with the towel draped around his neck, biceps bulging as his gaze flits over Shane’s crumpled, hungover form.

“Do you remember much from last night?” He asks and Shane shakes his head but then stops when it makes his headache worse.

“I remember shots, and then a guy, and then you and then dancing. Maybe an uber? Wait,” Shane looks up with a startled look, “did we wrestle? I remember talking about being strong.”

Ilya simply smiles, reaching across the counter to take a sip of Shane’s coffee as he watches him with a mischievous glint in his eye above the mug. He sets it down before leaning back.

“No, we did not wrestle. You were just very tired. You are a cute drunk, you know.”

Shane scowls at Ilya’s words even as his cheeks heat up. “Shut up asshole.”

“You were much nicer last night you know.” Ilya quips, before turning to rummage in the fridge.

“Yes, well, vodka will do that to you.”

Ilya only hums, eyes sliding to Shane’s figure for a moment before returning to look in the fridge, smiling to himself as his hands curl around a carton of milk.

Yes, indeed.

As much as there are good days, there are also bad days. Simply because nobody is perfect. It was a Thursday of the week following their night out and Shane hadn’t seen Ilya properly in two days. The hybrid wouldn’t be present for breakfast, had grunted through the door when Shane had knocked to say he’s fine, just tired. And when Shane gets home, there is no dinner already bubbling away on the stove like there normally is.

The food that Shane leaves outside of Ilya’s door goes untouched. Shane even contacts Ilya’s therapist, Galina, to see if he’s attended his Tuesday session. She confirms that he was a no show, which has Shane worried. When he had ventured into the hybrid’s room on Wednesday evening he had found Ilya buried under his duvet, staring aimlessly at the wall, eyes so void of anything it had scared Shane. Ilya had simply murmured that he was tired and not to worry but Shane found it hard not to when the hybrid was clearly not okay. When Shane had tried to push, the hybrid had simply rolled over and feigned sleep.

So Shane had simply run a hand through Ilya’s curls and brought him a glass of water and a plate of crackers on his bedside table, and cracked a window for some fresh air. He calls Ilya’s therapist that Wednesday evening about it, where the woman reveals to him that Ilya is clearly suffering a particularly bad major depressive episode. The phrase ‘depression’ has Shane screeching to a stop.

Galina had given Shane some tips on how to help and had indicated that upon seeing Ilya again, she would recommend Ilya to go on antidepressants moving forward. Apparently it is not the first time the hybrid has been like this. Shane had nodded along, pacing his bedroom as he chewed at his thumbnail. After the call had ended, he had sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall, mind tumbling over itself in an attempt to think of a solution. But there was no easy solution, this wasn’t something you could fix in a day - Galina had made that clear. What Ilya needed was support.

So Shane had ensured that Ilya’s glass had remained topped up with water by his bedside, and his plate of crackers endlessly filled. Thursday morning he had come into Ilya’s room, scratching at the hybrid’s ears as he murmured that he was off to work. The hybrid hadn’t replied, head half under the duvet but his ears had twitched. Shane took that as a response. He left a sandwich too, in case Ilya was feeling up for lunch. Shane wanted to take the day off but he had an appointment he couldn’t miss, so he left with a regretful glance back at Ilya under the duvet before heading off.

Ilya was once again a no-show for dinner–the sandwich Shane had made him gone uneaten. Shane sighed hard as he settled into bed, feeling uneasy. He didn’t want to impose into Ilya’s space, making the hybrid uncomfortable when he was clearly going through a hard time. What could he do? Shane didn’t know the right answer. Every other solution was too vague for his liking. And so Shane had drifted into a fitful sleep, eyebrows furrowed as he dreamed of Ilya falling down a black hole and Shane scrambling to catch him before he vanished from his sight forever.

Shane wakes to see his alarm clock blinking back the numbers three thirty am at him. He squints, wondering why he’s awake when he hears noise coming from the living area. Shane perks up suddenly, heart racing.

Was he being robbed? Jesus, now? Of all the fucking times. The thought of someone breaking into his apartment has him scowling, unusually grumpy when normally he’d be on the phone to police immediately or at least a bit more fearful.

Not today.

Shane gets out of bed and grabs the baseball bat he keeps under his bed, opening his door silently and creeping through the hallway into the open plan living area. He has the baseball bat raised above his head, trying to continue to breathe steady as blood roars in his ears when he hears a familiar voice.

“Blyad–”

Shane drops the bat and flicks the light on to his right. “Ilya?” He asks incredulously and the hybrid spins around but half stumbles in the turn with a wince. The sight of him has Shane dropping the baseball bat with a thud, gasping.

The hybrid looks like shit. He’s in all black, sporting a busted lip and a cut above his eyebrow. Shane’s gaze catches on the split skin of his knuckles with wide eyes, one clutching the countertop that he clearly walked into. The hybrid stares at him, frozen in place.

“What the fuck happened to you? Where have you been?” Shane questions, voice shrill and panicked as he strides forwards, hands automatically coming up to trace the cut above Ilya’s eyebrow gingerly. The hybrid looks down with a frown, tongue darting out to lick up the blood from the cut on his lip.

“Nothing. I went out.”

Shane rears back with a confused expression, eyebrows almost to his forehead. “Out?” He repeats incredulously.

“You went out? In the middle of the night? You look like you’ve been beaten up.” Shane questions, suspicion–and worry–rising as he makes Ilya sit down on the stool behind him, shoving the hybrid down with a harsh push of his hands on Ilya’s broad shoulders.

Ilya slumps down with a huff, gaze averted. “I was doing something.” He says evasively and Shane scoffs, tilting Ilya’s chin so the hybrid is forced to look at him.

“Yeah? Doing what? Throwing yourself against a wall?” Shane questions and Ilya scoffs which only angers Shane further.

“Wait there.” Shane orders harshly before going to the bathroom to look for some antiseptic wipes, plasters, and a bandage. He returns to the kitchen to find Ilya thankfully, exactly where he left him, large form hunched over and looking a little sullen.

Shane stands between Ilya’s legs as he wipes the blood off his cuts, before moving to his knuckles. Ilya barely makes a sound, even though the antiseptic must sting. It’s silent for a few minutes, Shane frowning as he cleans Ilya’s wounds.

“Where were you?” He asks quietly as he wipes blood from Ilya’s eyebrow, glancing down at Ilya who stares up at him. Ilya tears his gaze away, looking down at his ravaged hands with a clenched jaw, ears wilted and flattened against his curls.

Shane sighs, dabbing lightly at the cut. “I won’t be mad, I just want to know.” He adds softly.

“I was fighting.” Ilya replies quietly and Shane freezes, mid-clean to look at Ilya in shock.

“Fighting?” He repeats, and Ilya winces at the phrasing, the fear in Shane’s eyes.

“Not in the streets. For money. They do underground fights, I heard about it from one of Svetlana’s friends. So I went.” Ilya explains with a mumble, avoiding Shane’s gaze.

Shane’s hands fall limp to his sides. “Wh–why would you do that?”

The idea of Ilya willingly entering an seedy underground fighting ring for money of all things has Shane balking. Especially after everything Ilya has been through—the scars on his body are physical proof of that. Shane can’t bear to think of the scars it has left on the parts of Ilya not visible to the seeing eye. The most fragile thing of all, the heart.

The muscle in Ilya’s jaw twitches as he looks at the floor, trying to avoid the disappointment he thinks he’ll see in Shane’s eyes.

“I have done it for a long time, I’m good at it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ilya,” Shane begins, balling up the wipe and placing it on the counter near Ilya’s arm. “It is a big deal if you are going out to intentionally get hurt. I haven’t seen you in three days and suddenly you’re beaten up in our kitchen, claiming it’s not a big deal.”

Ilya frowns, staring at the wall. Shane sighs, hand tilting Ilya’s jaw to get the hybrid to look at him. “Is this about money? I’m sure we can fix that, or if it’s more independence you want, we can talk to Svetlana about finding you a job—it’s what she does.”

Ilya’s nostrils flare in frustration, finally meeting Shane’s gaze. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

Ilya stares at him for a moment before scrunching his eyes shut before opening them again.

“Sometimes I just need to—,” Ilya grunts, mouth twisting as if in pain and Shane places a hand on Ilya’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“I just need to feel something.” The hybrid finishes, expression split open with anguish and eyes searching Shane’s. Shane swallows, staring at Ilya wide eyed as he tries to understand.

“You—you want to hurt yourself?” Shane asks hesitantly.

“No.” Ilya denies immediately before crumbling a little. “It is hard to explain.”

Shane makes a soft noise from the back of his throat, sitting on the stool next to Ilya so their knees knock together. “Then try, I’ll listen.”

Ilya watches him for a moment, a hand tracing Shane’s exposed knee as he begins to speak, eyes cast downwards.

“I have fought for a long time, since I was a child. It’s all I’ve known, and I’m good at it. I won a lot of fights, people placed bets on me knowing they would go home rich. It was nice to know that people were shouting your name, even if at first you didn’t want to be there.” Ilya says quietly.

“They would treat me better afterwards too. Get more food, they’d look after you if you won.” Ilya glances off to the side, eyes lost in a memory, eyebrows pinched.

“They would make you fight the older boys to toughen you up. And if you didn’t they’d kill you.”

Shane can’t help but think of a ten year old Ilya who hadn’t yet had his growth spurt, being flung into a ring with someone twice his age. And his heart falls to his feet, blinking back rapid tears at the image of a small boy with blue eyes and blonde curls looking around the ring in confusion, wondering where his mother is, blinking against the bright lights and the screaming voices of spectators.

“When I have bad days,” Ilya continues, “I just want to feel something. Sometimes it is like there is nothing,” Ilya taps at his heart with a bruised knuckle that is split and bloody.

“But if I fight, there is something. I feel strong, like a winner. Instead of someone pathetic.” Ilya finishes and Shane squeezes Ilya’s arm.

Ilya glances at Shane warily but all Shane does is get off his stool and stand between Ilya’s legs, shuffling closer until a hand comes to cradle the back of the hybrid’s head, nudging it down until it rests against the crook of Shane’s neck.

Shane isn’t usually a hugger, normally he stands there and waits for it to be over, patting at the person’s back half in a plea for them to release him. But this was different, because Ilya made him feel different. So Shane coaxed the hybrid into his arms and hoped it was a good hug. Shane rested a palm against Ilya’s back and squeezed him slightly, the other hand gently petting at the hybrid’s flat ears. Ilya tenses at first, taken off guard but then he’s slumping into it, weight collapsing into Shane with a cut off, quiet whine as hands come to wrap around Shane’s waist.

“You’re not pathetic.” Shane states quietly over the top of Ilya’s curls. “Bad things happened to you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Ilya snuffles into Shane’s chest, nose digging below Shane’s jaw and resting there.

“But you can’t go back. Not ever. Promise me.” Shane says, pulling back slightly to look at the hybrid who seems reluctant to leave the safe space of Shane’s neck. Shane looks at him imploringly, soft brown eyes glittery in the dim light of the kitchen. Ilya’s eyes flit between his before he nods finally, large hands squeezing Shane’s waist.

“I promise. I’m sorry.”

“And you’ll tell me if you feel like this again, okay?”

“I will try.” Ilya acquiesces, gaze honest.

Shane nods and then after a moment tuts, tugging on a curl lightly. “Stupid.” He says with a huff and Ilya’s lips quirk, smirking.

“Yes, very stupid.” Ilya agrees, ears perking up slightly as Shane smiles down at him even though he rolls his eyes. Shane steps back though Ilya refuses to let go of him.

“Come on, you need to go to bed.” Shane says, taking Ilya’s hand and tugging on it as he goes to leave. Ilya remains seated, staring at their joined hands for a moment.

“What?” Shane questions, about to drop the hybrid’s hand but then Ilya is getting up, squeezing Shane’s hand and letting himself be guided into the hallway. Ilya makes a confused noise when Shane nudges him into the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” Ilya asks as Shane makes him stand by the sink before turning around and fiddling with the shower.

“You’re not going to bed looking like you’ve been jumped, you’ll get blood everywhere.” Shane argues firmly as he tests the water now rushing from the showerhead.

Ilya scoffs, tugging on a curl unconsciously as he admires the curve of Shane’s ass bent over. “As if anyone would jump me, I’m too big and strong for someone to rob.”

Shane rolls his eyes, turning around to narrow his eyes, missing the way Ilya’s gaze struggles to drag itself from his behind to his face.

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

Ilya grins, sharp fangs glinting as hands go to the hem of his black t-shirt, lifting it up to reveal the fine hair of his happy trail that Shane has thought far too much about. “If you wanted me naked, you should have just asked zaychik.”

Shane huffs, ignoring the blush threatening to spread across his cheeks as he flicks Ilya with water from the shower stream. “Fuck off, I just meant to stop wasting time and get in the shower.”

Ilya simply smirks. “Can I have music at least?”

Shane gains a puzzled expression. “Music?”

Ilya nods, “I usually have music when I do a strip tease.”

“Ilya!” Shane splutters, face bright red as his eyes widen, scandalised. Ilya takes that moment to make a show of taking off his t-shirt, playful gaze never leaving Shane’s as he tosses it onto the floor and flexes shamelessly.

“Like what you see Shane?”

Shane throws a towel at the hybrid’s head in answer, muttering an asshole as he leaves the bathroom and slams it shut, Ilya’s laughter muffled through the door.

The hybrid is awfully peppy after their emotional moment in the kitchen and the fact he’s bruised and bloody. But Shane thinks it might just be an Ilya thing.

He takes the opportunity to go into the hybrid’s room and get out fresh pajamas, and cleans up the rubbish from the nightstand. He even takes the diffuser he has in his own room and plugs it in, adding a few drops of lavender oil and letting it pulse out into the hybrid’s room. The sound of the door creaking open has him turning to see Ilya standing in the doorway, towel round his waist.

The bruise on his face has darkened slightly, but the cuts look clean. Shane figures they’ll scab over in a few days. There are a few bruises blooming on the hybrid’s ribs that have him making a concerned noise from the back of his throat and he doesn’t think as he crosses the room to trace his fingers against them.

“Does it hurt?” Shane asks, blinking up at Ilya in question. The hybrid stares at him and then his eyes drop to the hand still touching his abdomen.

“No.” Ilya says, voice suddenly guttural and scratchy. Shane frowns nonetheless.

“Tomorrow we’ll put ice on it.” Shane states and then he turns with Ilya’s pajamas in his hands and holds them out. The hybrid takes them with an amused smile.

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

Shane rolls his eyes, before turning to fuss with the duvet and pillows to make them look inviting.

“Clearly not, besides it’s technically my job you know. Foster placement and all.” Shane reminds and then he pauses, glancing over his shoulder quickly before tacking on, “and we’re friends.”

Once he’s finished plumping the pillows he turns to look at Ilya for a moment as the hybrid stares at him. Neither says anything but Ilya gives a little smile that has Shane breathing out a sigh of what it feels like relief.

“Okay, well.” Shane looks around the room, twiddling his thumbs mindlessly as a string of nerves begins to tug at him. “I’ll let you get to sleep then.”

Yet Shane doesn’t move, only biting his lip and watching Ilya nervously. He feels hesitant to leave all of a sudden, not liking the idea of leaving Ilya to fall asleep by himself.

“Stay.” Ilya says and Shane blinks at him. The hybrid’s hands tighten on the clothes in his grasp, curls wet, fluffy ears flickering slightly.

Shane takes a breath, gaze dropping to Ilya’s bare, freckled shoulder and the white scar that runs across it in an almost zig zag. “You want me to stay?” He asks softly, flicking up to look at Ilya from under his lashes.

Ilya’s muscles tense and the hybrid nods stiffly. “If you want.” And then the hybrid speaks again, louder this time. “I want you to.”

And so Shane stays, turning around as Ilya gets changed, staring down at the bedsheets as he reminds himself that staying means sharing a bed. But then Ilya is telling Shane he can turn around with an amused laugh, clearly finding the human’s embarrassment of seeing him change humorous. Perhaps also considering Shane has seen the hybrid’s cock already.

Ilya looks cosy when Shane turns, having forgone the t-shirt Shane had given him and only wearing the soft sleep shorts. They both smile at each other, a small hidden thing that has Shane looking away.

Ilya likes to sleep on the right side of the bed so Shane takes the left. Shane can’t help but feel tense as he sits under the covers and waits for Ilya to join him. He feels a little stupid, but he pushes that thought away. They were just having a friendly sleepover, that was all.

Ilya gets under the covers alongside him and the silver hoop in the hybrid’s ear glints. Shane reaches out to touch it absentmindedly, before petting the soft fur. They turn in Shane’s direction and the hybrid’s gaze locks with his.

“When did you get that?” Shane asks and Ilya hunkers down, letting Shane continue to pet him, eyes drooping a little at the touch. He hums, tilting his head into it.

“Couple days ago, Sveta said I may as well make my ears look nice. The hole was already there from my tag anyway.” Ilya murmurs, a steady rumbling sound beginning to emanate from his chest as Shane scratches an ear.

Shane’s eyebrows crease, fingers pausing. “Tag?”

Ilya butts his head against Shane’s hand, sliding down to rest against the pillow and dragging Shane down with him to lie facing each other, grabbing his hand and slapping it lightly to make Shane resume the ear scratches.

“Yes,” The hybrid answers with eyes drifting shut, “tag, to identify me. It’s how they knew who to bet on. Every fighter gets a number. Is also for their owner.”

Shane’s gut twists at the idea of Ilya being tagged like livestock. “What was your number?” He can’t help but whisper, nudging closer to admire the strong line of Ilya’s nose, his long golden lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.

“Eighty one.” He answers gruffly, blinking his eyes open to catch the wounded expression on Shane’s face. The hybrid makes a contemplating noise, a thigh coming to sling over Shane’s and a thumb coming to smooth the crease between Shane’s eyebrows.

“Don’t look so sad zaychik, I have a cool new hoop now.” He says and Shane swallows, hand ceasing its scratches to rest in Ilya’s curls.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Shane murmurs and Ilya’s gaze is watchful as a hand comes to tuck a dark strand behind Shane’s ear, lingering there.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, I like it here.”

Shane can’t help but smile shyly. “You do?”

Ilya hums, smiling playfully as he tugs on Shane’s ear, using the hook he has on Shane’s leg to tilt him closer so the gap between them lessens. “Hmm yes. Even if you are very annoying.”

The hybrid inches closer so their noses nudge together, and Ilya’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight shimmering through the thin curtains. Shane huffs a laugh, pulse skittering as Ilya smooths a hand to grasp Shane’s hip, thumbing at the exposed strip of skin that his t-shirt reveals. And instead of overthinking the touch for the first time ever, Shane lets it happen with a soft sigh, revelling in the hybrid’s attention and the way Ilya’s gaze drops to his lips.

And perhaps it’s the way the alpha has always looked at him from the beginning, the way his hands had always lingered, Shane always looking for Ilya to find him already looking at him, that has him unravelling without a care in the world. Either way, Shane tries not to question it, in fact a part of him wonders if what is about to happen was inevitable from the moment Ilya had been shouldered through his front door all those weeks ago now. That Ilya maybe knew too, from the way he looks at Shane now, his thumb dragging a warm pattern against his skin.

“You’re annoying too. You eat all the food in the house.” Shane whispers, eyes flitting down to Ilya’s lips before meeting his eyes. The hand at his hip tightens and Shane’s thigh shifts forward to go between Ilya’s legs.

“You like it.” Ilya argues softly although the smirk that usually accompanies the hybrid’s many quips is nowhere to be seen. Instead he leans in slightly, nudging Shane’s nose as he tilts his head to the side a little. And Shane finds himself mirroring the action, the hand in Ilya’s hair sinking deeper into the curls, moving to hook behind Ilya’s ear.

Shane’s eyes flutter closed and the first touch of their lips is gentle, testing even. Ilya pulls back an inch and Shane’s eyes open to half mast, sucking in a breath at the unbridled hunger sparking in Ilya’s eyes. And then the hybrid is growling softly, and using the grip he has on Shane’s jaw to drag him in again, their lips meeting on an open gasp. All thoughts of appropriate boundaries fly out the window with a single kiss, and Shane lets himself sink into it, letting his desires take over. It feels right, kissing Ilya. Like everything Shane has been missing is right there in the hybrid’s mouth.

Ilya kisses him like he’s searching for breath in Shane’s mouth, and Shane moans softly into it, hands pulling at Ilya’s hair to bring him in closer, parting his lips as Ilya licks into his mouth to hear Shane gasp softly. Shane lets him, feels the hybrid’s sharp fangs nip at his lip, can taste the metallic tang of the blood lingering on Ilya’s lip from the cut left there by someone else. Shane sucks Ilya’s lip into his mouth before letting it go with a pop to hear the hybrid groan deep in his chest.

Neither are in a hurry, and the longer they claim each other’s mouths, the sleepier they get. And as the drowsiness sets in, the kisses turn sloppier, Ilya sucking on Shane’s tongue before kissing him deeply. Their saliva slick lips slide against one another, Shane whining softly. Ilya’s naked chest beneath his hands is hot, hotter than usual, skin almost burning beneath his palms. The hybrid is growling low in his chest with each press of their lips, grip tight on Shane’s hips to keep him in place. Yet neither move to progress it beyond making out, both happy to simply swap kisses and moan into each other’s mouths, clutching at each other.

Eventually they part, both breathing heavily, Ilya perhaps moreso. The hybrid nuzzles under Shane’s jaw, dragging his tongue across Shane’s pulse point insistently. Shane sighs into it, letting Ilya nudge his head back against the pillows as his eyes droop, hand cradling Ilya’s head against his neck. And the intensity of their early morning fiasco catches up, and Shane drifts off, to the sound of Ilya purring, nosing at his neck, chest hot against his t-shirt clad one.

Shane doesn’t pay any mind to the fact that they’ve undeniably crossed a boundary, is too kiss drunk to do anything but sleep. The kiss has pulled apart all defences to leave both men blown open and exposed. And as Ilya’s grip tightens on Shane, tucking the human under his chin, gaze sharp and pupils blown, Shane doesn’t get a chance to realise just how exposed he really is. Especially to a predator that is intent on making him his.

Shane wakes slowly, face buried in a pillow and face feeling a little puffy. He groans softly, nuzzling his nose into the soft, nice smelling pillow beneath his cheek as he comes to. As he blinks his eyes open he realises the bedroom is unusually light for the early morning, and his vision focuses immediately. As do the rest of his senses, like the ability to clock the hand slung over his waist and the presence glued to his back.

Shane sucks in a breath as he remembers last night, fingers coming up to trace his lips as his eyes widen at the memory of kissing Ilya. Shane blushes at the way he had whined into Ilya’s mouth as the hybrid had sucked on his tongue.

Oh my God.

Embarrassment hits Shane hard and fast. And on instinct he moves forward, going to get up and scurry away in cowardice but a deep growl emanates from behind him making him freeze, and the arm tightens, pulling him deeper against Ilya’s bare chest, Shane feeling him snuffle at his hair.

The arm doesn’t loosen, and Shane has the mind to realise just how scorching Ilya’s skin is against his back. The hybrid is breathing heavily, hot puffs of air ruffling Shane’s hair.

And the longer Shane lies there, Ilya attached to his back like a tortoise shell, the more he realises that in fact, Ilya is unusually warm. Shane frowns, and drifts his hand down to feel for Ilya’s pulse on the inside of his wrist and his eyes widen in alarm at the rapid beating underneath the scarred skin.

Shane moves slowly, twisting in place to face the hybrid, still asleep yet unyielding in his grip. It’s like he’s afraid Shane is planning on going somewhere. Shane rests the back of his hand against Ilya’s forehead, noting how Ilya seems to be sweating profusely, curls stuck to his forehead.

The alpha hybrid is running a high fever. Immediately Shane panics. Is he unwell because of the fight? Has he gained an infection from his wounds? But they had looked superficial, nothing too serious. But perhaps Shane was wrong. Ilya was showing signs of a severe infection, or illness.

Shane kicks off the duvet, the temperature sweltering underneath it and grips Ilya’s shoulders to shake him lightly.

“Ilya?” He says worriedly, and the hybrid’s eyes snap open, gaze sharp and pupils blown, a rim of what looks like almost red around them. Shane gasps softly but recovers, worry taking over.

“Ilya are you sick? You’re burning up.” He murmurs, moving to sit up. The hybrid watches him silently even though his chest heaves, the hands on Shane’s waist not budging as Shane sits up on his knees.

“How do you feel?” Shane asks, and Ilya simply stares at him, unblinking. The look in his eyes is slightly unsettling, and has Shane squirming a little. “Ilya?” He tries again but still no answer.

“I’ll get you some meds–wait crap what time is it?” Shane balks, head whipping round for his phone. He spots his phone on the nightstand and snaps it up, realising it's nine in the morning and technically he should be at work.

“Shit! Okay, wait there, let me just–,” Shane babbles, deciding immediately to call in sick to work, not wanting to leave Ilya alone especially after the week he’s had. He’s in the middle of shooting off a text to his boss as he goes to scramble off the bed, about to hunt for some Tylenol. Maybe he should call a doctor? Or Rose? Or the HPA?

Shane’s mind flies at a thousand miles an hour as he gets a foot off the bed but then he’s being flung backwards, yelping as he goes crashing backwards onto the bed. He blinks up in shock at Ilya who leans over him with his teeth bared, and the sight of the hybrid’s fangs have Shane’s lips parting, eyes wide.

Ilya snarls softly, and Shane flinches. But then Ilya does the unexpected and leans down to nudge Shane’s head back to drag his nose against the underside of his jaw.

“Ilya?” Shane squeaks out and the hybrid only grunts into Shane’s neck, tongue coming to suck at his pulse point that has Shane stuttering on his words.

“We–I need to call a doctor I think, you’re not well.” Shane says weakly but Ilya ignores him, continuing to lick and sniff at him. And then Ilya pulls back and drags Shane into his chest, effectively trapping him against the sheets as he lies half on top of him. Shane is still clutching at his phone and manages to twist slightly to text Svetlana, thankful he got her phone number. Maybe she’ll know what’s going on. Maybe this is a trauma response to being beaten up?

He manages to type out a shaky text to the cat hybrid, sneaking a glance at Ilya who seems intent on tugging on the neckline of Shane’s t-shirt and trying to stick his nose under it.

Suddenly Shane’s phone is ringing and it makes him jump, almost dropping his phone. The sound has Ilya’s eyes cutting to the offending device with a growl, fangs sharp and pronounced.

Shane answers it quickly, hand coming to pet Ilya’s ears in an attempt to calm down the agitated hybrid. Ilya’s growl quietens at the touch, only soft grumbles coming from his throat, watching Shane answer the phone with narrowed eyes.

“Hello?” Shane says and he only gets the word half out before Svetlana is cutting him off.

“You said he is running a fever?”

Shane nods before realising she can’t see him. “Yeah, and his heart is racing. He’s also sort of–,” Shane chances a gaze at the hybrid who has inched closer, scowling at the phone held to Shane’s ear.

“Kind of what?” Svetlana demands, voice sharp across the line.

“He’s gone non-verbal kinda, won’t answer anything. He keeps growling. I tried to–,” Shane blushes as he realises he is about to reveal that they slept in the same bed. “I tried to leave the bed and he wouldn’t let me. Is this a trauma response, do you think? Should I call a doctor?”

Shane has to place a hand against Ilya’s chest, skin burning hot beneath his palm as he pushes the hybrid back slightly as he tries to reach across Shane to grab at the phone.

Svetlana doesn’t say anything. “Svetlana?” Shane tries again, voice tight, taking the silence as a bad sign.

He hears her curse in Russian before she speaks again. “Okay Shane look, it sounds like Ilya is in rut. Listen, do not let him leave the house okay. Normally we have more time before it hits, can I assume you didn’t know about this? There were no pre-rut symptoms?”

Shane blinks, mind screeching to a halt. “Rut?” He parrots back.

“Yes, rut. Ilya is in rut, Shane. His breeding cycle. Usually they put him on suppressants though, has he been taking them?”

Shane sits up, knocking aside Ilya’s creeping hands up his shirt as he tries to stop the panic from tornadoing into a total shit storm (at least one not bigger than the one he is in right now). The movement has Ilya snarling but Shane ignores him.

“I don’t know. He’s been–,” Shane thinks of the last few days of Ilya comatose in bed, refusing to eat or drink, to shower. Shane’s gaze flits to the cabinet at the opposite side of the bed and spots a pill case. Even from here, Shane can see the white tablets still in their respective boxes, untouched. Shane had a vague idea of Ilya taking suppressants, it was one of the things the HPA person had babbled on about when they had first arrived but Shane hadn’t taken any notice. He remembers reading that hybrids usually went to facilities purposely built for heats and ruts.

“Oh fuck.” Shane says under his breath. Svetlana sighs over the phone.

“I’ll take that as a no. Look, do not tell the HPA. Especially if he’s already in it, they’ll come in and remove him and if he’s already acting territorial it’ll make it even worse. You don’t want him in distress.” Svetlana orders and Shane swallows, the idea of Ilya muzzled swirling in his brain like a nightmare he can’t seem to wake up from.

“No, no I won’t. But what do I do?” Shane asks, voice high with panic. He feels sharp teeth nipping at his shoulder and turns his head to see Ilya’s face half buried behind his shoulder, looking at him darkly, eyebrows sharp. Hands creep around his waist, skimming under his loose t-shirt to trace Shane’s stomach and the touch has Shane’s breath hitching, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to focus.

“Is he with you?” Svetlana asks.

“Yes, he’s very…touchy.” Shane finishes with a blush, a little mortified. He feels the brush of Ilya’s curls by his ear and shudders a little.

“That’s normal. He trusts you clearly. Look, the most you can do is make sure he eats and drinks enough. Maybe cuddle him or something. If you have sex toys, give them to him. He’ll need to fuck something eventually. Usually he would’ve been given another hybrid in the rings, but that’s not possible now.”

Shane blinks at the idea of Ilya needing to fuck, hungry for a hole to sink his massive cock into along with his knot. Shane wonders how many partners Ilya’s had for his ruts. The large hands roam further up, tenting the fabric of his t-shirt and Shane fumbles to catch them as Ilya scratches his nails over Shane’s nipples lightly to have the dark haired man arching his back slightly in response. Shane clutches at one of Ilya’s wrists, anchoring him there as he tries to even his breathing.

“O–okay. How long does it usually last?” He asks quietly, trying to keep the breathiness out of his voice as Ilya begins to suck behind his ear.

Svetlana’s voice crackles across the line as she answers. “Depends on the hybrid. Ilya is an alpha, so probably at least three to four days. He’ll be pretty out of it though.”

Shane swallows harshly at the idea of Ilya being in a fuck frenzy for four days. Jesus Christ. What the hell is Shane meant to do?

“Right okay, um thanks.”

Ilya wrangles his wrist from Shane’s grip to squeeze at his waist, fingers dipping under the waistband of his shorts. Shane’s fingers tighten around his phone.

“And Shane?”

Shane blinks at the call of his name, clearing his throat to make it less obvious that Ilya is shamelessly feeling him up as Shane is on the phone. “Uh, yeah?”

“Make sure you have plenty of lube. Alpha’s have knots.”

Shane blinks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he pauses. “Wait what–,”

But Shane is cut off by a snarl, a large hand reaching round to wrench his phone from his grasp and fling it across the room. It bangs against the wall and falls to the ground, and Shane can only gape after it. Ilya, it seems, has had enough of someone else having Shane’s attention.

He turns, anger surging and ready to tell the hybrid off, Ilya’s name falling off his lips but then the alpha is moving like lightning, shoving Shane to lie on the bed, bouncing off the mattress and coming to hover over him. Ilya pushes Shane’s t-shirt up to his neck to expose his belly and chest and leans down, placing gentle kisses and sucking marks into the tan skin.

“What are you–Ilya we need to–,” Shane tries to say but cuts himself off with a gasp as Ilya makes his way up to suck a nipple into his mouth, fangs nipping at it to have Shane’s fingers tangling in the hybrid’s hair. Shane bites back a moan, trying to half heartedly tug Ilya away. What was happening? The hybrid was clearly confused.

“This is–Ilya, listen I need to make sure you have everything you need for your r-rut.” Shane stutters out as he tries to inch his way from underneath the blonde haired man but Ilya just yanks him back down the bed with a snarl, nipping at his hipbone in reprimand, eyes glinting dangerously.

Shane sits up on his elbows, blinking rapidly to try and focus, looking down at the hybrid with what Shane hopes is a look of determination. “Ilya, seriously. You need to let me off the bed.”

Ilya simply stares back at him. Shane begins to move slowly and Ilya grabs at an ankle but Shane sticks a finger out.

“No, stop it. Just stay there, okay? I’ll be right back.” He tries to reason and Ilya only frowns, beginning to growl, hand tightening on Shane’s ankle.

Shane huffs, inching closer to the edge. “Stop growling, Jesus. You’re acting like a puppy.”

Shane bats Ilya’s hand away from his ankle and the hybrid surprisingly lets him go, but he crawls on all fours to the edge of the bed, muscles shifting as he sits up on his knees to stare at Shane suspiciously, tracking his every move.

Shane breathes a sigh of relief as he stands, attempting a smile to try and placate the unsettled hybrid. “Okay, good. Now stay and I’ll make sure you have everything you need and then you can–,” Shane waves his hands around to try and find his words, “do whatever you need to do, okay?”

Ilya simply cocks his head, but not in innocent curiosity, more so in humorous observation. As if what Shane just said was funny.

Shane gives a thumbs up because he doesn’t know what else to do and slowly backs away. The increasing distance has Ilya tensing, shifting to move off the bed and stand, muscles bulging from the effort to not reach out and grab Shane.

Shane fumbles behind him for the door handle, and opens the door without looking, still keeping eye contact with Ilya and holding a hand out. Ilya doesn’t move further, but an unhappy grumble still vibrates from the hybrid’s chest. But Shane will take it.

“Good boy.” The phrase slips out, mostly out of delirium borne from the situation Shane has woken up to find himself in. Ilya’s ears twitch nonetheless and Shane smiles before darting out of the room. Shane doesn’t waste any time, practically sprinting to collect an armful of water bottles from the fridge and raiding the cupboards for protein bars and any other snacks that he thinks would be useful for the hybrid’s rut. Except that Shane knows fuck all about what the hell to give to a rutting alpha hybrid.

He dumps the snacks and water by Ilya’s door before turning in the direction of his bedroom, hesitating for a moment. He shakes his head and bursts into his room and yanks open his bedside drawer and plucks up his mostly full bottle of lube, Svetlana’s words ringing in his ears.

Shane figures that jerking off a lot would mean requiring lube–right? That must be what she meant.

Like a dragon with his horde, Shane kicks open the door, stepping into Ilya’s room. He makes it a few steps when he pauses, glancing around the room as he realises the hybrid isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“The fuck?” He murmurs, heart racing at the idea of losing Ilya so soon. This was already going terribly wrong. Shane turns to set Ilya’s supplies on the bedside table when hands come to wrap around his waist from behind, heat against his back and sharp teeth sinking into the nape of his neck. Shane gasps loudly, dropping everything in his arms, jolting, but he can’t go far as the teeth in his neck pinch harder, essentially scruffing him. The bite has all the fight leaving him and as Ilya pulls him into his chest, Shane goes willingly, heart racing. Shane’s willingness to be held (and scruffed) has a happy rumble vibrating from Ilya’s chest, the sound warming Shane’s back to have tingles shooting down his spine.

They stand surrounded by a scattering of water bottles, protein bars and bags of chips, plus the sole bottle of lube by Shane’s feet. Ilya releases his teeth from Shane’s neck, lapping over the bite gently as his hands nudge up Shane’s t-shirt insistently.

Ilya shepherds Shane to the bed, Shane almost stumbling as Ilya’s feet catch with his as the fuzziness from the scruff lingers. In his confusion and attempt to turn around and talk to the non-verbal hybrid who seems intent on licking Shane in every place imaginable, Ilya seizes the opportunity to yank Shane’s t-shirt over his head. The exposed skin of Shane’s upper half has the hybrid grumbling excitedly and pushing him onto the bed, crawling over him to drag his nose from hipbone to hipbone. Shane releases a shaky breath, fingers tangling in Ilya’s hair and tugging on it to try and speak some sense into the clearly very horny hybrid if the hard length pressing into Shane’s knee is anything to go by.

Images of Ilya’s naked cock flash in Shane’s mind and he squeezes his eyes shut to try and push them away even as a shot of heat curls around his own cock. He hears a snarl and he opens his eyes to find Ilya’s nostrils flaring, crawling up Shane’s body to hover over him, golden necklace brushing Shane’s lips.

Shane doesn’t know what to say, not really. Yes, they kissed last night. Well, the better phrasing would be made out. But still, a rut, sex is different. Ilya isn’t in a clear mind, and it felt unethical to take advantage and let Shane’s horniness find its desperately wanted release. And he’d hate for Ilya to come to in a couple days and regret it. Even if his hands have never ceased their caresses and his eyes never losing their hungry gleam as they stare at Shane.

“Ilya,” Shane tries, and the hybrid’s ears prick up on high alert, blinking down at him. “You don’t want to–not with me. I know you think you do, but you don’t want to,” Shane blushes, “fuck me.”

Saying it out loud has his heart clenching a little but Ilya seems to not really be listening.

“I fuck you.” He repeats around his nodding, entranced by Shane’s lips. Shane blinks, hands coming to squeeze at Ilya’s forearms.

“No, Ilya you don’t understand, you’re in rut.” Shane argues, albeit weakly. He needs Ilya to understand, to abate the guilt of wanting to simply give in.

Ilya pauses, as if sensing Shane’s stress and leans back to allow Shane to sit up properly. Shane’s eyes are glassy as they look up at the alpha hesitatingly.

“I don’t want you to regret anything. And I know we kissed and I liked it, a lot actually,” Shane begins to ramble, gaze trailing to land past Ilya’s shoulder as his anxieties take over. “But–,”

Ilya croons softly, hands petting at Shane’s sides in comfort, nose nudging at Shane’s hairline and huffing away. And then surprisingly, the hybrid speaks–seemingly finding the skill to talk in the midst of Shane’s clear anxiety.

“Shane, you are my carer yes? Guardian?” He gruffs out and Shane frowns at the direction Ilya is going in.

“Uh yeah, I guess? Although not really–,” Shane thinks, he’s never really considered himself to be Ilya’s guardian as such. If anything he’s just someone who makes sure Ilya doesn’t do anything crazy. But Ilya barrels on, nudging his nose against Shane’s cheek to grumble into his ear, hot breath fanning the sensitive shell of his ear.

“So it is your job then, hmm? To look after me?” He punctuates his questions by sucking Shane’s earlobe into his mouth, fangs tracing the shell of his ear to nip at it gently as his hands come up to thumb at his nipples.

Shane lips part, biting back a moan as his eyes threaten to close. “Y-yeah I guess?” He murmurs, brain leaking out of his ears as Ilya begins to kiss up Shane’s throat.

“So a good guardian would help me wouldn’t they?” Ilya asks, sounding a lot more lucid than he was minutes before when he was growling at practically everything. Instead it’s Shane who has seemed to lose all sense of understanding and logic.

Shane nods blearily, gasping as Ilya sucks a bruise under Shane’s jaw. “Yeah,” he breathes out but his eyebrows furrow. “But–,”

“So you’re going to help me aren’t you?” Ilya croons as his mouth moves over Shane’s cheek, leaving a kiss at the corner of Shane’s mouth as Shane unconsciously goes to chase it with a whine, hands curling around Ilya’s shoulders, cock rock hard in his shorts and tenting the fabric shamelessly.

“Yes?” Ilya repeats, lips hovering a hairbreadth away and the teasing has Shane strung out, making him nod frantically, breathing heavily, desperate for Ilya now to do anything but ghost his lips with his own. He’s not sure how the power dynamics have shifted, but he doesn’t think anything of it as Ilya captures his lips in a filthy kiss that has Shane whining into the hybrid’s mouth, hips jerking upwards as Ilya licks into his mouth. It’s different to the kisses they shared last night, where they were sweet in moments, the way Ilya’s mouth captures Shane’s now is downright filthy, a heated fervour that leaves Shane breathless.

“Going to let me use that pretty little hole aren’t you?” Ilya murmurs between wet kisses and Shane is dizzy with them, can’t quite remember what was holding him back before as he nods, hands coming to clutch at Ilya’s jaw so he can’t go far.

“Let alpha take care of you? Breed you?” Ilya taunts and Shane’s breath stutters as Ilya’s words land nearer the nerves connecting his cock than his brain. Fuck it. Shane has been so good, had done everything he thought a good guardian would do. And this was one of them, right? To make Ilya feel better. And the hybrid was asking so nicely.

Shane moans loudly, legs coming to lock around Ilya’s waist, slurring out his answer between kisses, lips swollen and slick with spit.

“Y-yeah, please. You can–can use me.”

Ilya grins, fangs gleaming as a tongue comes out to trace them. “Good boy.”

Shane blinks and then Ilya is tearing off Shane’s shorts, a resounding rip catching on his ears as Shane is turned over on his stomach. Shane gasps at the manhandling, resting his cheek against the cool sheets as his eyelashes flutter at the feel of Ilya grabbing his ass in two large hands and jiggling the fat with a groan.

“Fuck look at you, perfect.” Ilya growls mostly to himself, leaning down to bite down on one to have Shane’s hips jerking into the mattress with a shocked, ah.

Ilya settles himself between Shane’s legs and spreads his cheeks to admire the brown furl of Shane’s hole practically begging for his tongue.

“Can smell you, you know. Can hear you say my name, whining it like a little slut.” Ilya says darkly as he leans forward and lets a string of spit drip from his mouth to land on Shane’s hole.

Shane whines at the feel of it, pupils blown and squirming against the mattress as he inhales sharply at the realisation that the alpha knew all this time about Shane’s dirty little crush. Had heard him get himself off to the thought of him.

Ilya uses a thumb to spread his saliva before leaning down to press a wet kiss against his hole to hear Shane’s breath hitch. Ilya tugs Shane’s hole open with the pad of his thumbs before dragging his tongue up from his taint, up to his hole to suck loudly. Shane moans brokenly, the sound half muffled by the sheets.

Ilya draws back to spit on his hole again. “Did you use your fingers too? Wishing it was me?”

Shane buries his face into the sheets with blushing cheeks, muffling out a “Yes,” that has Ilya fucking his tongue into him to make Shane whine, leaking cock trapped between his belly and the sheets. Ilya’s weight against him shifts for a moment before a cap being popped open resonates in the room and Shane looks over his shoulders, eyes glassy as Ilya pours the lube directly over his hole. The coldness of it has Shane jerking on a gasp but Ilya’s hand presses down on the small of his back to prevent too much wiggling.

“My cock is much bigger than your fingers zaychik, but I’ll make it fit–going to take my knot aren’t you?”

Shane whines in answer and Ilya grins, all teeth, sweat glistening at his collarbones–the few signs that the alpha is in the beginnings of his rut. And then two fingers are sinking into the knuckle and Shane moans at the burn but can’t help the way it has him shuddering, cock twitching with need. Ilya drags his fingers against his prostate to have Shane moaning, lips parted and drool beginning to collect at the corner of his mouth. Ilya fingers him fast and hard, purposeful, stretching him out to take him. He punctuates the thrust of his fingers with biting and sucking at Shane’s ass, leaving an array of marks with his canines. Shane cants his hips back with every push of Ilya’s fingers, moaning wantonly as Ilya’s cock nudges against his hole.

He doesn't know when the hybrid had removed his shorts but he doesn’t really care. The only thing his mind can focus on is getting Ilya’s cock in him as soon as possible. Ilya nudges Shane’s legs further apart, stuffing a pillow under Shane’s hips to tilt them upwards. Shane wants to turn around and look at Ilya’s cock because the last and only time he had seen it was a week ago and he’s hungry to trace the curve of it now. But Ilya pins his face to the sheets with a hand on the back of his neck, growling as he tries to move, nipping his shoulder in reprimand.

It seems that the idea of finally sinking into Shane has the rut taking over in its entirety, Ilya snarling as the head of his cock catches on Shane’s slightly gaping, wet rim. Ilya’s hand grips Shane’s hip, the other palming the fat of Shane’s ass, before pressing in and filling Shane in one hard thrust.

“Good boy.” Ilya mutters, half of it lost to a growl and Shane cries out at the sudden fullness, Ilya’s hips smacking against Shane’s ass, Shane twisting the sheets in his fist with his mouth parted, face smushed against the mattress–pinned there by Ilya’s hand.

And then the alpha sets up a punishing pace, growling low in his throat with each thrust that sends Ilya’s balls slapping against Shane’s taint. The position has Shane’s legs pressed together, only his hips propped up by the pillow beneath him, trapping his leaking cock and making the glide so much tighter, wet with Ilya’s saliva and the copious amounts of lube. Ilya presses his chest to Shane’s back, crowding over him, straddling him as the hybrid holds himself over him, hips slamming away to have Shane’s ass bright red and jiggling from the impact.

Shane can’t help the way he whines with each thrust, moans choked out into the pillow, fingers twisting into the sheets for grip as he bounces slightly on the mattress with the force of Ilya’s hips. The alpha’s cock is huge and Shane’s barely stretched enough, the thick length tugging on his rim but the feeling of Ilya’s cock bullying its way in to make a home for itself has Shane drooling, babbling endlessly, hole clenching down on it as his cock twitches where it lies trapped between his belly and the pillow. The hybrid is truly using him like Shane said he could, had given him permission to. Sex has never felt like this before, all-consuming, almost having a drugging effect on his mind, everything blurring to the sensations of the moment as Ilya drills into him like a feral beast.

“S’good,” he can’t help but breathe out dreamily, hiccuping on a moan.

Because Ilya is using Shane like a cocksleeve, hand pressing against the back of Shane’s neck, snarling in his ear, nipping at it as the nudge of his knot begins to stretch Shane’s rim. It should be too much, beyond human capabilities to take anything that big, Shane knows it can grow up to the size of a fist and he just knows that Ilya’s will be the same–the hybrid was big everywhere. Instead the feel of Ilya’s knot only has Shane practically singing, hole clutching at it desperately for more.

“Oh fuck,” Shane keens as he feels it, toes curled as his eyes roll back as Ilya’s thrusts quicken, long deep ones that ensure that the hybrid fucks his growing knot past Shane’s rim with each pass. The alpha leans forward to grumble in his ear, fangs catching on the shell of it.

“Breed you now.” The hybrid promises on a growl and Shane tries to nod drunkenly, lashes fluttering but the scruff the hybrid has him in makes it impossible to move.

“Y–yeah, yeah. Please.” Shane can only murmur, moaning lowly as Ilya fucks his half formed knot past Shane’s rim. The image of the hybrid somehow getting him pregnant has Shane drooling, round with a litter of pups that Shane shouldn’t want but now so desperately needs–even if it defies human biology. The alpha slows for a moment before suddenly he picks up the pace tenfold, hips jackhammering but not being able to go far with how their knot locks them together to have Shane almost flying up the bed if it wasn’t for the alpha pinning him against the sheets, forced to take every aborted fuck of the alpha’s cock into his puffy and stretched rim. The rough treatment has stars bursting behind his eyes, and Shane cries out as Ilya sinks deeper, cock hitting his prostate on every limited thrust forward and then the knot begins to inflate. Shane’s mouth parts on a silent scream and his eyes cross, as Ilya moans lowly before snarling, grinding against Shane’s ass as the alpha begins to fill him up. The pressure is obscene, Shane thinks he can feel Ilya’s cock pressing against his stomach. In all of his previous hookups, Shane’s always used a condom so the experience was a new one, being filled. And god, the feeling of being claimed from the inside, especially from a feral alpha hybrid had his body collapsing into a feverish heat of desire. He doesn’t think he could ever go back to condoms after this. The feeling of Ilya thrusting into him as he fills him with his cum, knot locking them together has Shane coming untouched, quivering against the sheets as he blacks out for a moment.

Shane blinks back to consciousness, moaning softly as he feels Ilya’s hips rocking into him still, the hand removed from the back of his neck as the hybrid snuffles at his hair, chest rumbling softly, pleased. Shane’s belly feels inexplicably full, and he wants to move his hand down to feel the swell of it but he can’t move, hands flopped against the sheets uselessly.

Shane makes a soft sound and Ilya’s rumbly purr grows louder, the vibrations against Shane’s back soothing. And then the hybrid is turning them on their sides, being careful to not let his knot tug too much against Shane’s rim as they remain locked together. Ilya spoons Shane from behind, flinging the cum covered pillow from under Shane’s hip over the side of the bed. Ilya gets them to rest against the pillows somehow, hands petting possessively over Shane’s skin now dried with sweat. Shane’s breathing is shallow, hand flapping around at his stomach to link with Ilya’s hand that is busy rubbing at the obvious bulge in Shane’s lower belly from his cock and the copious amounts of cum the hybrid has fucked into him. Shane can’t help the way he clenches down on Ilya’s cock as he too feels the roundness of his usually taut abs softened by the hybrid’s need to breed him. The motion has Ilya growling, nipping at the juncture of Shane’s neck, squeezing their joined hands together.

Shane only gets a minute or so before Ilya hooks a hand under his knee and lifts it, his hips beginning to fuck into Shane again, his knot deflated slightly but cock still as hard as it was before. Shane slumps into Ilya’s chest with a broken gasp, clutching onto Ilya’s thigh desperately on an overwhelmed, delirious sob as cum spills out from around the hybrid’s length now pushing back into him. A filthy schlick sounds out from each thrust as Ilya fucks him deeply, the alpha’s seed providing an additional layer of lube as Ilya’s thrusts pick up as the hybrid begins to pant, rut surging again. Shane can only cling on, head tilted back against Ilya’s shoulder, eyes half closed and breath shuddering as Ilya begins to fuck him again, the soft clapping of their skin colliding sounding out above the squelching of Ilya’s cock tugging at his rim leaking the alpha’s cum.

“Fuck–Ilya,” Shane murmurs on a breathy plea but the hybrid in question only grunts, hips tilting slightly to nail his prostate.

It’s when the hybrid slides a thumb in alongside his cock, tugging on his rim and smearing the cum frothing around Ilya’s knot across his ass that Shane feels his spent cock twitch back to hardness, trying to keep up with the alpha feverish with rut and the incessant need to fuck him.

It shouldn’t be humanly possible to be fucked as much as Shane has in such quick succession–and yet it was. Ilya had a way of defying all science to get what he wanted. And what he wanted was to claim Shane in every way. The hybrid fucks him twice more after their first time, Shane babbling endlessly with every jolt of his body across the bed as Ilya had fucked his cum back into him, body tingling with overstimulation and cock wrung dry as Ilya finally takes a little mercy. Except when the hybrid had pulled out Shane had whined at the horrible empty feeling, hole gaping around the loss of it, cum spilling out in rivulets. Shane had lain on his back with his feet tangled with the hybrid’s, a hand clutching at Ilya’s sweat slick shoulder as an anchor to the world as his brain leaked out of his ears, trying to catch his breath, eyes closed and thighs quivering. Shane’s head had been lolled to the side, encouraged by Ilya’s hand hooked beneath his jaw as the alpha hybrid had claimed his mouth in a filthy kiss that involved Shane simply letting Ilya lick into his mouth, too fucked out to do anything than moan weakly and try and kiss back. The alpha had nipped at his bottom lip, tugging on the plush swollen mouth as two fingers had sunk back into Shane to have the dark haired man gasping, hips jolting and trying to squirm away.

“S’sensitive, Ilya,” Shane had cried softly against the hybrid’s lips, limp hand lying across his chest moving down to try and catch Ilya’s wrist but the alpha had simply growled softly, kissing him again to shush him as his fingers withdrew, cum soaked, to then smear his fingers across Shane’s belly. He swirled it across Shane’s stomach that is extended from the amount of cum Ilya had filled him with, playing with it with a sharp, focused gaze. Shane had blinked his eyes open at the feeling, looking down confused as Ilya dips his fingers past Shane’s rim again, scooping up more of his cum to smear it across his thighs, even spreading some against the juncture of Shane’s neck that Ilya always likes to lick and sniff at. Shane couldn’t help but try and cringe away as the alpha had raised his coated fingers to his neck but Ilya had bared his teeth, his other, cum free, hand coming to pin Shane to the mattress. So Shane let him, watching silently wide eyed as the alpha had marked him with his come, rumbling happily as his gaze lasered in on his neck with fervent obsession.

And then Ilya had raised his fingers smeared in his come to Shane’s lips, tracing the shape of them slightly and then pressing them insistently against his mouth, watching silently. Shane had looked at him hesitantly, but then his tongue had unconsciously darted out to taste the saltiness lingering across his bottom lip and had almost moaned at the taste of it. Something about it, beyond the salty musk, was irrevocably Ilya. It was addicting, and Shane wanted more. So Shane had parted his lips and let his tongue dart out to lick up Ilya’s fingers, swallowing the hybrid’s come with a hum, looking up at Ilya under his lashes as the alpha had propped himself up on his elbow. Ilya’s eyes had flashed dangerously, nostrils flaring, before he pushed his fingers into Shane’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue as Shane had suckled them clean, cheeks hollowing. The taste was heady and saliva had rushed his mouth as he swallowed, lathing at the digits desperately for a better taste with flushed cheeks and droopy eyes.

Ilya had watched him with a heated intensity, before leaning back and licking Shane’s cheek, and then licking into his mouth to suck on his tongue to have Shane moaning, before drawing back and grunting a guttural “Good boy,” against his ear.

The praise had sparks flying down his spine though his cock had been too spent to make a movement, though Ilya seemed to sense his arousal, rumbling as his nose dragged across the underside of Shane’s jaw, nipping at it lightly with his fangs, fluffy ears tickling Shane’s cheek before slinging an arm around his waist. Ilya had nestled his nose behind Shane’s ear, breaths huffing against Shane’s hair as he squeezed his grip, and Shane had drifted off, the hybrid’s come drying on his skin.

When Shane awoke, it was to his tummy rumbling and his skin tacky and crusty where Ilya had marked him with his seed. Ilya remained in the same position, yet the heavy snores against Shane’s ear confirmed that the hybrid was clearly in a deep sleep after fucking Shane three times without pause, although he hadn’t knotted again since the first time. Shane blearily checks his phone and realises it was three in the afternoon. They had missed breakfast and lunch, and Shane was hungry. And incredibly thirsty, his throat sandpaper dry from all the screaming and whining he had done earlier. The memory of Ilya fucking him so thoroughly and playing with the cum leaking from his hole has Shane flushing.

Shane gazes at the protein bars scattered on the floor on the far side from where Ilya had flung them, and Shane has the mind to try and untangle himself to reach them. But first he needed water, ice cold preferably. But he knows he has to be quick, having a feeling that Ilya won’t let him leave like he did initially before to collect supplies. The dark look in the hybrid’s eye as Ilya had gazed down at him with Shane’s fingers in his mouth had solidified any notion that Ilya would let Shane leave his sight.

But Shane was thirsty. And Ilya was fast asleep. Shane reasoned he’d be back before the hybrid noticed he was gone. And then the hybrid could go back to sniffing at him all he wants, plus other things. Although Shane’s hole was undeniably sore and puffy from use. Shane cringes as he shifts slowly at the feeling of the dried come smeared across his body, inching forward and clasping Ilya’s hand that is slung over his waist to gently remove it. Shane interlinks their fingers, squeezing slightly as he gets out from under Ilya’s grip. The hybrid grunts, eyebrows scrunching, snores cutting off and Shane freezes, looking over his shoulder as Ilya’s ears prick up slightly from their position flat against his sex mussed curls, yet his eyes remain closed, still sleeping. Shane moves on auto-pilot as he pecks the hybrid gently, copying what Ilya does and nuzzles under his jaw, leaving soft kisses against his neck and the scar there.

It seems to do the trick and Ilya relaxes, allowing Shane to move off the bed whilst holding his breath, snagging his t-shirt from off the floor and tiptoeing out of the room. Part of him feels a little ridiculous, creeping about in his own home especially as technically he’s not doing anything wrong. His ass hurts, obviously, but the pain was more achy and sore than sharp. And Shane kind of liked it. Rut Ilya is kind of scary–in a good way though. The growliness is hot, Shane surmises as he edges into the kitchen and fills up a glass of water. Ilya had snapped his teeth at him a few times and whilst it had his heart racing, Shane knew Ilya would never hurt him. If anything, Ilya seemed to be doing all that as if to reprimand Shane, like when he had tried to move away from the place the hybrid had put him. It was kind of cute in a way, whilst also making him horny.

Shane was onto his second glass of water, droplets dribbling down his chin as he leaned against the counter, facing the island as he greedily drank. Finishing it, he set it down on the marble counter with a sigh and wiping his mouth, humming softly. He’s in the middle of ruminating how fucked he and Ilya’s relationship has become now that the hybrid is quite literally trying to breed him. Ilya’s tongue has been in his asshole. How are they ever going to come back from that? Shane secretly hopes they never do.

It’s then that Shane hears a vicious snarl, making him gasp loudly and spin around, the counter digging into his back as he turns to find Ilya breathing heavily, fists clenched by his sides and muscles bulging as he glares at Shane. The hybrid’s ears are pricked up in alert, nostrils flaring aggressively and Ilya stands butt naked, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs as his gaze remains fixed on Shane with a dark expression. The scars littered on Ilya’s body gleam under the kitchen light, making an intimidating sight.

Shane swallows, thighs rubbing together as he tries to tug the hem of his t-shirt down to cover himself. Who cares if Ilya’s seen him naked and his tongue has been in places not many others have been–the way the alpha was staring at him had Shane wanting to cower back and hide under the sofa. Shane sucks in a breath as Ilya begins to slowly prowl towards him silently, limbs stealthy as he moves across the room like a predator cornering its prey.

Shane can’t help the way he fidgets, stammering to try and explain to the feral alpha why he was not in bed and where the hybrid had put him. Shane could feel the come across his skin dried in streaks from Ilya’s ministrations as he shifts.

“I was just getting a drink.” He rushes to explain, voice breaking halfway through as his eyes flit nervously over the looming form that approaches, licking his lips. Ilya doesn’t answer, lips pulled back in a snarl as he nears, arms reaching out to cage Shane in against the counter. There isn’t a massive difference in size between them, but the way Ilya seems to tower over him makes Shane feel like a frail little lamb and not the almost six foot, two hundred pound man that he really is. A little lamb whose cock is slowly beginning to harden at the primitive display.

“I–I was going to be quick–,” Shane is cut off as Ilya darts out a hand to squish his freckled cheeks together, making his lips come together in a duck pout, squeezing the pudginess of his chubby cheeks between the hybrid’s calloused fingers.

Ilya has stopped snarling, mouth turning downwards into a scowl, eyebrows furrowed. Slowly, he leans forward to drag his nose up the long line of Shane’s throat, snuffling loudly before licking up Shane’s chin to his mouth.

“Bad boy.” Ilya mutters inches from Shane’s lips, words slightly slurred from his fangs that seem more pronounced in the alpha’s rut. It has a weak whine catching in Shane’s throat at the idea of not being good and he can’t help the way he tries to protest even if he can’t really talk with the way Ilya has his cheeks squished together.

“I wasn–,” He tries to say but Ilya darts forward quickly to nip at his bottom lip in reprimand.

“You stay where alpha puts you.” Ilya grumbles into the small space between their lips, gaze sharp as Shane inhales sharply, blown pupils blinking rapidly and eyes glassy. He tries to nod on instinct, entranced by the way Ilya stares down at him but he can’t move from how tightly the hybrid grips his face. Ilya releases his face before his hands wind round Shane’s back, fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt that falls just below his ass cheeks. Hands glide under it to skim at the fat of Shane’s cheeks, before they ruck up the hem to his hips, palming at his ass appreciatively. Shane rocks forward into Ilya’s naked chest, hands coming to rest against the hybrid’s pecs, lashes fluttering as Ilya tugs his cheeks apart, squeezing the fat in his hands as it spills between his fingers. Ilya growls, pleased, as he plays with Shane’s ass, a finger rubbing against the gaping rim that has not managed to quite close since he took Ilya’s knot.

Shane bites back a moan, head tilting forwards to rest at the junction of Ilya’s neck, mouthing at the pulse there mindlessly, tongue dragging against the skin salted with dried sweat. Leaning closer has Ilya’s hard cock nudging against Shane’s thigh and he peers down at it, gaze greedily taking in the flushed red and thick length. Shane can’t help but reach out and touch it but before he can get his hand around it, Ilya spins him around so his hands grip the counter. Shane feels dizzy from the speed of it but then Ilya is rucking up his t-shirt and nudging Shane’s legs apart with his own as he lets his cock nudge against Shane’s puckered rim. Shane looks down, eyes hazy as his knuckles whiten as they cling onto the counter, already panting as Ilya slides a hand round to lie open palmed and heavy against Shane’s belly, pushing up the hem to reveal Shane’s cock hard against his belly. Already dripping in anticipation.

Shane can’t help but interlock their fingers where Ilya’s hand rests against his abdomen, desperate for a grounding touch as his head falls backwards against Ilya’s shoulder on a whine as the hybrid pushes in one, deep thrust. There’s no need for lube, not with the amount of cum Ilya has fucked into him.

“Such a good breeding bitch.” Ilya murmurs in his ear and Shane’s eyes threaten to roll back as Ilya hums, as if his hips aren’t smacking against Shane’s ass hard enough to leave a mark. The idea of being Ilya’s thing to knot, a cocksleeve to breed and make him round with the alpha’s pups has Shane’s hips kicking back with a choked out whine. It’s not something that he’s ever thought he was into before but Ilya had a way of knocking him sideways and leaving him gasping for breath as his world is turned upside down by a bratty hybrid with a massive cock, who seems intent on scrambling his brain.

Shane reaches up to tangle a hand in Ilya’s messy curls, fingers brushing the side of Ilya’s ears. The touch has the hybrid clutching Shane to him tighter, dragging Shane back onto his cock roughly, fingertips pressing into his skin to leave marks. Shane’s mouth hangs open as his cock slaps against his belly with every thrust. Every time Ilya fucks his cock back into him, its tinged with a sparky kind of pain that should have Shane wincing, instead it sets small little fires underneath his skin. It shouldn’t feel good to be used in this way, but he couldn’t help it. And he wanted more.

With each slam of his hips, Ilya punched out little uh uh uh’s out of Shane that dropped from his lips like a breathy melody that only spurred the alpha to fuck him harder.

“Fuck, alpha” Shane sobs out, thoroughly overwhelmed as his back arches, his leaking cock splattering precum across the counter with the force of Ilya’s hips. It’s when Ilya skims a hand up to pinch at his nipples, cock brushing past the spongy spot inside of him as the other hand reaches down to wrap a fist around Shane’s flushed cock that has him keening that he comes, eyes rolled back and spine taught against Ilya’s chest. Ilya strokes him through it, sinking his teeth into the back of Shane’s neck with a snarl as his hips jerk, emptying himself inside Shane.

Shane can feel the copious amounts of Ilya’s come leak around the hybrid’s cock, dripping down his thighs. It should feel gross, much like the sight of his come on the kitchen island should make him grimace. Instead, he simply blinks slowly, turning his head where it lies against Ilya’s shoulder to nuzzle into the hybrid’s neck. His thighs shake and the only reason he hasn’t collapsed is because of Ilya holding him up, hands now petting his sides gently. Ilya tugs Shane’s shirt up and over his head, taking a moment to haphazardly wipe the counter clean before he turns Shane around and hooks his hands under his thighs, lifting him up effortlessly. Shane clings on like a koala, not entirely sure he can feel his bottom half as Ilya carries him back to the bedroom.

Ilya deposits him gently on the bed, tucking him under the covers, still only communicating in soft grunts, skin still feverishly hot, cock still hard between his legs–as if he hadn’t just railed Shane against the kitchen counter. Shane lets himself be manhandled, eyes drooping shut as Ilya crowds over him, nuzzling at his jaw, leaving gentle kisses and nipping at his skin to leave behind mottled bruises that Ilya traces with his tongue. Shane lies on his back, head turned into the pillow, humming tiredly as the hybrid skims a hand up and down his belly, head bent to kiss at the place above his heart. It’s a far cry from how the hybrid had fucked his cock into him, had snarled at him for daring to leave the bed without permission. He reminded Shane of a puppy. Not an alpha hybrid with a knot intent on leaving an imprint inside of him.

“Pretty.” Shane hears him mumble and he can’t help the way his blood fizzes at the praise, lashes fluttering but he’s too exhausted to properly respond. Instead he sighs, a hand resting in Ilya’s curls, scratching at an ear with sluggish fingers before he finally lets sleep take over.

It’s as Shane’s hand turns limp in Ilya’s hair, breathing evening out as he falls asleep that he misses the tail end of Ilya’s possessive murmurings, the way the alpha tilts his head to gaze up at Shane, chin digging into the muscle of Shane’s chest as large hands squeeze his hips to utter, “mate.”

That’s how they spend the next few days, Shane managing to let work know he won’t be coming in for the foreseeable when Ilya finally lets him leave the island that is their mattress with its come soaked sheets that has the dark haired man grimacing. Although Ilya had followed him practically glued to Shane’s back, glaring at the phone in Shane’s hand like it had done something egregious before tugging Shane back to bed.

Ilya’s interests in rut as it turns out do not only include fucking Shane into the mattress but also other things. Like eating him out until Shane cries, squirming against the hybrid’s tongue to try and get away from the onslaught of overstimulating pleasure. Or fingering him lazily, lapping at his soft cock as if Ilya’s just passing the time. It’s like the hybrid’s set a personal challenge to learn Shane’s body from the inside out. Like he’s something to be worshipped, which is the only thing Shane can surmise from the way Ilya looks at him, how he kisses him.

And Ilya really likes to kiss him, will growl if Shane pulls away too soon, jerking him back with a tight grip on his chin to suck on his tongue.

Safe to say Shane is delirious, isn’t entirely sure what day or what time it is. His hole is red, puffy and sore. His lips are swollen from Ilya’s mouth, his body littered in bruises and love bites that Ilya insists on leaving on his skin, his hair mussed from the way the hybrid had run his fingers through it lovingly as he had Shane cuddled against his chest or yanked on it whilst taking him from behind. The hybrid’s appetite has no end in sight. Shane never knew ruts could be this intense–how on earth did Ilya survive them normally? Shane half wondered if he hadn't absorbed some of Ilya’s rut himself, because above the tenderness of his ass, the exhaustion in his bones, Shane craved Ilya’s touch as much as the hybrid craved his. Shane would say his sexual appetite was regular, perhaps even a little below average–he’s been going through a dry spell recently. Well, not anymore. But something about Ilya has a fire lighting up under his skin and burning him through to the bone to have him panting, salivating for more. The hybrid is scratching an itch that Shane had never realised existed until he had first seen Ilya jerking off in his bedroom all those days ago.

Shane, regardless of the heat of Ilya’s rut on his mind and senses, still manages to get them both to drink and eat something. Except Ilya will only eat if Shane feeds it to him himself. Shane had to resort to shoving pieces of protein bar in the alpha’s mouth as he had ridden his cock, kissing him in between bites as encouragement. Or when he had been stuck on the hybrid’s knot with nowhere to go, encouraging Ilya to drink some gatorade.

Shane only had to blink wetly at the alpha, murmuring a hoarse, “Please? For me?” and Ilya will open his mouth to receive whatever food Shane wants to give him. Ilya rarely spoke except for little words and phrases growled or grunted out, the sound of the hybrid’s voice guttural and unused. The alpha was feral.

But he couldn’t fuck Shane all the time, even if the rut still remained as a feverish need under Ilya’s skin. So they had resorted to Ilya fucking Shane’s thighs, even his tits–the alpha pushing Shane’s pecs together with a dark glint in his eye, tongue licking at his canines as he had straddled Shane’s chest. Shane jerked him off, letting Ilya come wherever he wanted–whether that be his ass, his belly, his hips, even his face which the hybrid had done with a feral snarl and had pinned Shane down after to lick it all up afterwards. Shane liked most of all when Ilya finished in his mouth, letting his drooling tongue hang out and letting Ilya smack his cock wetly against the appendage with a hiss, jerking himself off to coat his tongue in the milky white substance. Shane always swallowed it with a hum, sucking on the head lightly to draw more out of it, Ilya’s fingers tightening in his hair, thumb stroking his bottom lip as he watched Shane’s throat bob as he swallowed. Shane doesn’t know why he likes it so much–it’s not a desire he’s ever felt with anyone else. But the way Ilya marks him with his come has Shane wanting to have the alpha’s seed in and on him in every way possible.

Shane had tried to suck the alpha off a few times but Ilya had always tugged him away, petting his hair softly and distracting him with kisses or his fingers or his cock. Shane thought it was unusual and the more Ilya denied him, the more he wanted it. Shane liked sucking dick too, it was one of his favourite parts of sex with previous partners. Plus he was good at it–at least he liked to think so. And Ilya had a cock that was made to be sucked, worshipped. To put it simply, Shane wanted it in his throat, and he wants it now. Fuck, he wanted it as soon as he saw Ilya for the first time, muzzle and all.

He wants his throat to be bruised and his voice hoarse from Ilya fucking his face. Is it a little slutty? Maybe. Does Shane care? No, not really.

Blame it on the rut.

It’s a miracle that Shane wakes up during a momentary break in Ilya’s rut and the alpha is asleep on his back, one arm splayed out to cradle Shane’s head from where it rests against a solid bicep, the other bent above his head. Ilya’s chest rises and falls steadily, face relaxed and lips parted slightly on a gentle snore. The rut is clearly taking its toll–the periods between fucking have grown longer and less incessant. Instead shifting to Ilya mostly feeding Shane and practically lying on him, sniffing at him constantly with a pleased chuff.

Shane tilts his head to look down to find the alpha’s cock half hard and resting against his hip, the bulge of his knot at the base a teasing hint that has Shane’s mouth watering. Shane admires it for a few moments, before a hand skims down Ilya’s muscled abdomen to wrap a loose fist around it, feeling the weight of it in his palm. Ilya grunts at the touch but his snoring is otherwise uninterrupted. Shane watches the hybrid for a moment, looking for any sign of waking before shuffling down slowly, kicking back the covers so he can lie between Ilya’s legs. He inhales greedily the smell of the alpha’s musk, nose dragging up the half hard length and tongue darting out to lick a vein up the shaft. Shane bites back a moan at the taste, breathing heavy.

His gaze darts up to the sleeping alpha whose ears twitch as Shane kitten licks the head leaking a bead of precum. The first proper taste has Shane almost drooling and he has to swallow thickly to not try and take it in his mouth all at once. No, he wanted to savour this. Take his time until he can't take it.

So Shane begins to lap at the head of Ilya’s cock, letting the head coat his lips in a glossy sheen from the precum collecting at the slit, breathing open mouthed as he smacks it lightly against his lips with a soft moan. He lathes his tongue on the underside, sucking on Ilya’s balls before finally letting the head slip into his mouth, resting on his tongue. Shane sucks on it lightly with a hum, lashes flattering and letting the spit from his mouth drip down it, hands coming to twist the base as he works more of the alpha’s length into his mouth. He feels Ilya shift beneath him, a soft growl reaching his ears but Shane can’t tear his attention away from drooling all over Ilya’s cock like a slut. Shane pops off, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he drags it along the side of the alpha’s thick cock, now fully hard and dripping precum over his knuckles from where they squeeze at the knot at the base.

Shane can’t help but moan wantonly, perhaps a little too loud considering he was trying to be quiet but all fucks have gone out the window. He sucks the head back into his mouth and begins to bob his head, hollowing his cheeks as his eyes threaten to cross at the feel of Ilya’s cock nudging the back of his throat. He lets it, and then swallows, his eyes slipping closed as the movement allows the length to slip further down his throat. Shane greedily takes more, moaning around it hungrily as he quickens his head, drool running down his chin as filthy glugging sounds begin to be pulled out of every time he fucks his throat down on Ilya’s cock.

Suddenly there is a hand in his hair and it yanks him up and Shane’s hands come to grab onto Ilya’s naked hips for balance. His eyes fly open as his mouth is dragged off the alpha’s cock until only the head remains in his mouth. Shane latches on desperately, tongue swirling around the underside as he blinks up at Ilya who is staring down at him with a dark expression, jaw tight and lips parted to show his fangs. Shane lets his eyebrows tilt in a desperate look as he tries to sink further down, wants it back in his throat but Ilya’s grip in his hair tightens. So Shane whines, isn’t even aware that he makes the sound in his cock drunk state, doe eyes glistening in a plea that has Ilya snarling with his fangs banged and the animalistic display has Shane moaning softly, suckling harder to draw more of Ilya’s precum onto his tongue.

Ilya shifts to sit up against the pillows, dragging Shane with him by the hair–the dark haired man’s mouth still attached to his cock. Shane follows obediently, scrambling to follow and lying with one of his knees bent to accentuate the curve of his ass. Shane cradles the base of it with his two hands, releasing the cock from his mouth to lathe at the head, tongue digging into the slit.

Ilya simply stares at him with pinched eyebrows, chest heaving and glistening with sweat, a hand tight in Shane’s locks.

“Please, alpha” Shane lisps out whilst tonguing the ridge under the head that has Ilya’s jaw clicking, Shane blinking sluggishly up at him, lashes framing the soft brown eyes that remain cloudy and a little unfocused.

“Zaychik wants to suck alpha’s cock, hmm?” Ilya teases with a mean lilt, crooning softly as Shane nods eagerly regardless, trying to lean forward to take more of the length into his mouth. Ilya tuts, holding him back by his hair. And it seems that the alpha has recovered enough from his rut to form words–and also to be a teasing little shit.

Ilya smirks, teeth glinting as Shane whines, being forced to draw back and off his cock to let it bob in front of his face, shiny with his spit. Shane's eyes flit between Ilya’s face and his cock that remains in front of him rapidly like a teasing carrot. It’s cute how he tries to look at Ilya whilst his gaze is constantly dragged back to the cock in his face, before flicking back to Ilya with extra effort.

Ilya knocks Shane’s hands aside from where they grip at his cock, taking himself in hand to slap the glistening head against Shane’s flushed, freckled cheek. The wet sound of flesh on flesh has Shane fidgeting, trying to catch it in his mouth as Ilya smirks, tutting softly. He finally lets Shane suck it into his tongue, eyes glassy and not at all there.

Shane’s lashes flutter, threatening to close as Ilya sinks two hands in his hair, gripping it tightly as large palms cradle the side of his head. Shane sinks into the feeling of the hybrid holding him so gently. He looks up at Ilya with a half lidded gaze, tonguing the head in his mouth almost absentmindedly. The sight of him has the alpha’s nostrils flaring and his grip in Shane’s hair tightens to almost painful but it evokes a delicious zing from his scalp down to his cock that Shane can only moan softly, trying to grind his hips down onto the bed.

“Want alpha to fuck your mouth?” Ilya rasps, tongue licking the sharp edge of a fang as Shane nods stunted against Ilya’s hands in his hair. Ilya smirks with all his teeth and shifts his legs so his feet plant flat against the mattress, and then he’s jerking his hips up to fuck his cock down Shane’s throat. The hand in Shane’s hair keeps him still as he gags wetly, eyes watering immediately but remains plaint as Ilya fucks his throat with a hiss, feeling the way the alpha’s length drags against his tongue, the thickness of it splitting his lips wide. Shane can only whine as Ilya handles him roughly, swallowing around the copious amounts of spit that the hybrid’s cock pulls from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and echoing a wet plap sound every time Ilya’s balls slap against his chin.

Ilya groans wildly, watching with a borderline crazed look at how Shane simply slowly blinks and takes it, as a tear breaks free from his lash line and spills down his freckled cheek. Ilya takes a moment to tilt his head back, hissing through clenched teeth as Shane tries to swallow around his cock every time it slides into his throat, frantically trying to remember to breathe through his nose as Ilya plugs his mouth.

Ilya slows his hips, panting and curls stuck to his forehead as he shifts to simply moving Shane’s head and up down his cock by the hair, slowing his pace a little to let him breathe. There’s saliva everywhere, Ilya’s cock dripping with Shane’s spit, and Shane can’t help but love it.

Ilya watches him in awe as Shane’s eyes slip closed, moaning as Ilya continues to use his mouth like a fleshlight.

“So good aren’t you? Let me use your pretty little hole and now your mouth, hmm? Who knew you were such a slut.” Ilya muses and Shane can’t help but whine, hips continuing a desperate grind against the mattress for some relief against his aching cock.

“Would’ve fucked you sooner if I knew you were so desperate, would’ve made you suck my cock over breakfast. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Ilya teases as Shane garbles out incomprehensible sounds as he gazes up at Ilya wetly, mouth stuffed full with Ilya’s cock as he tries to push against Ilya’s slow pace to take more of it in his mouth. The idea of sitting on his knees below the kitchen counter and sucking the hybrid’s cock as he has his cereal has Shane dizzy with need, eyes threatening to roll back.

Ilya huffs a laugh at Shane’s frantic agreement, a knuckle brushing a chubby cheek. “Thought so. Now make your alpha come.”

Ilya finishes his filthy little speech by fucking up into Shane’s mouth savagely, keeping him still as Shane is forced to relax his throat and let the hybrid’s cock pull filthy wet noises as he tries not to choke from the rough treatment. Ilya snarls and Shane’s hands frantically massage at the slowly forming knot, albeit smaller than the first one. The pressure has Ilya moaning lowly, his hips jerking up faster.

“Fuck that’s it, good boy.” Ilya hisses out and Shane whines at the praise, eyes rolling back as Ilya makes him take it. And then Ilya is coming with a snarl, holding Shane by the hair with his nose nestled at the base as Shane is forced to swallow the come spilling down his throat. Shane moans at the taste of it, and Ilya releases him slowly, letting Shane tilt to rest his head against the hybrid’s thigh, mouth open to catch his breath, lips swollen and slick with spit, glistening in the light bleeding through the curtains. Shane’s eyes close, hands gripping Ilya’s other thigh as he floats off, coming down from the high of Ilya using his mouth so thoroughly. His untouched cock aches, still hard and as he shifts, Shane feels it brush against the sheets which has him gasping softly, hips jumping.

Ilya sits up before shifting Shane so he lies on his back, Shane’s head lolling to look at the alpha now above him, lashes fluttering as he leaves kisses over his face, hands petting his hair and sides.

“Did so good, baby. So good for alpha.”

Shane hums happily, boneless against the mattress as Ilya travels down, kissing down his chest before licking a stripe up Shane’s wet cock that has him gasping sharply, spine arching. Shane reaches down blindly to curl his fingers in Ilya’s hair, toes curling at the feel of the hybrid’s tongue. Shane runs his fingers across the fur of Ilya’s ears and then the alpha is swallowing him down in one go to have Shane’s eyes rolling back as his head lolls to the side, swollen lips parted.

And then fingers sink into his stretched hole alongside the hot suction of Ilya’s mouth which has Shane’s hips jerking away, overwhelmed at the onslaught of pleasure. But the hybrid pins him down by his hips, swallowing around him as the fingers knuckle deep inside curl expertly to massage the spot inside of him that has Shane babbling, twisting in the sheets.

“Hngh–Ilya!”

Shane is pretty sure he’s crying, can feel the saltiness of his tears on his lips–not just from swallowing Ilya’s cum, and he comes on a drawn out cry as Ilya doesn’t stop milking his prostate as he hollows his cheeks and bobs his head up and down his cock. Ilya pops off with a hum, sucking on Shane’s balls just to hear him give a weak whine from overstimulation before dragging Shane into his chest, letting the human play with his ears as a purr emanates from his chest, lulling Shane back to sleep.

Ilya’s rut ends on Tuesday. His final knot is when he’s fucking Shane face to face, murmuring praise, cradling Shane’s face as they kiss deeply, rocking into him slowly.

Shane’s breath hitches with every thrust, knees cradling Ilya’s hips, their eyes never leaving each other. With Ilya’s rut progressing toward the end, the sex had grown slower, softer, lined with Ilya soothing a hand along Shane’s side in admiration as he fawns over him. The hybrid has grown more lucid too, no longer snarling and growling as a form of communicating. Shane can’t help but feel a little sad that it is coming to an end, because then that means addressing what the fuck they do now their relationship has irrevocably changed.

But instead, Shane lets himself fall into the moment as Ilya jerks him off in time with his thrusts. And as they lie there panting against each other’s mouths, hands gripping each other as if afraid they will disappear forever, Shane lets slip the one thing he thought he would never say aloud–something he was afraid he’d be wrong about.

“I love you.” He gasps out quietly and Ilya stills for a moment and Shane blinks, realising what he’s just said.

He pulls back nervously, the hands on Ilya’s shoulder tightening as he fumbles. “I–,”

“I love you too.” Ilya says back, gripping Shane’s chin between his forefinger and his thumb, muttering it against his lips before kissing him softly.

Shane can’t help the way he gazes up at the hybrid in trepidation, pulling Ilya in closer with his knees. “You–you do?”

Ilya nods, hand skimming Shane’s cheek to push a strand of hair behind his ear. “Yes, you are very easy to love.” He says simply, as if he hasn’t just said the one thing Shane has always worried about.

And Shane pulls Ilya down into a deep kiss, moaning softly as Ilya’s hips kick up a notch, thrusting deeper to have them both spilling at the same time, gasping out each other’s names as Ilya’s rut finally comes to an end.

Yet as one thing ends, another begins.

And as the Wednesday morning breaks, they are left with the undeniable question of what now?

Although they put it off a little while longer by lazing in bed a little more together, cuddling and murmuring things to each other. Eventually though, Shane insists they clean up, Ilya stripping the bed and then both of them showering, scrubbing away the copious amounts of dried cum on their skin, amongst other things. The bruises and lovebites Ilya had littered Shane’s body had darkened, blooming blue, purple, and brown–which had earned Ilya a slap on the shoulder as Shane had stared gawping at his reflection.

And then here they sat opposite each other at the kitchen island (also scrubbed clean considering previous activities), Shane drawing shapes on the counter as he watches Ilya nervously.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to agree to anything all because I’m your placement. I want you to be here because you want to, not because you now feel obligated to.” Shane says softly, averting his gaze as he bites his lip, finally giving voice to the anxieties that have plagued him.

Hands reaching across the marble to take his own has Shane glancing up. Ilya frowns at him lightly, ears turning slightly as the hybrid observes him. “Shane, this is not the olden times, yes? I have not taken your honour and now we must marry.”

That manages to draw out a little laugh, and Shane rolls his eyes, looking at Ilya properly as the hybrid shrugs. “I have fallen in love with you. Ever since you stomped your feet like a little rabbit and told them to take off my muzzle. Not because you let me live with you or whatever. But because I know you, and fell in love with you.”

Shane huffs, glaring. “I’m not a rabbit.”

Ilya simply grins. “Anything you say zaychik.” And then Ilya’s eyes soften. “Seriously Shane, stop worrying. We will figure it out, da? Now I have you, you are not getting rid of me so easily.”

Ilya finishes it off with a flash of something darker in his eyes before it quickly disappears. Shane smiles shyly, playing with Ilya’s fingers. “Okay, as long as I have you too, right?”

Ilya’s lips quirk as he squeezes Shane’s hand. “Of course solynshko.” A beat passes, and then because Ilya is a little shit, the hybrid adds, “besides, without you I’d be homeless, so.”

“Ilya!” Shane squawks, staring at the alpha wide eyed and smacking his hands away as he crosses his arms to glare. Ilya laughs with his chest, before he rounds the counter, trying to coax Shane into a hug as the dark haired man tries to wiggle away, batting at his hands.

“Nooo, moya lyubov please I was kidding okay, I’m also here for pretty freckled man who can’t handle his vodka and only let’s me buy one bag of chips.” Ilya moans into Shane’s hair as he manages to wrangle Shane against his chest, holding him tightly.

Shane huffs indignantly, face squashed between Ilya’s pecs, nudging his head up to glare, unknowingly looking like a rumpled kitten. “Anymore of that and I’m kicking you out back on the streets where you belong.”

Ilya simply smirks. “Thought you liked being fucked by a street rat?”

The hybrid watches obsessively as Shane flushes a vibrant shade of red, looking away quickly to jab at Ilya’s chest to mumble a, “fuck off.”

“Not like anyone will be able to satisfy you now anyway.” Ilya adds, puffing his chest out at the fact that to any passing hybrid, Shane will smell so thoroughly claimed inside and out that there will be no doubt as to who he belongs to. Not that the human knows that necessarily.

Shane rolls his eyes even though a smile threatens to break out. “Yeah right asshole.”

“You want me to prove it to you again? Make you come hands free?” Ilya purrs, nuzzling against Shane’s cheek and licking his face to hear Shane’s breath hitch, hands tightening around the hybrid’s waist.

“Maybe.” Shane mutters and Ilya grins before pinning Shane back against the counter and stuffing a hand down his sweats to prove himself once more.

It turns out it’s relatively simple telling the HPA that Ilya will be a permanent resident at Shane’s apartment and that his foster placement can come to an end. If anything the organisation was thrilled, as was Rose who had positively squealed at the news. Svetlana had only thrown Shane a knowing smile and muttering a congratulations to them both.

Ilya ends up permanently moving into Shane’s bedroom, leaving his room to be a guest room once more. And then they simply continue as they were before, except this time with a lot more sex and a lot more openly in love. Svetlana gets Ilya involved in helping young hybrids find an outlet for their stress and anger through ice hockey–a welcome change from the deadly violence the alpha grew up participating in. Ilya finds great pleasure in shouting at people and making them do bag skates. It also turns out that Ilya’s skills on ice have got people noticing and there’s talks of a hybrid hockey league starting up just to see him play.

Ilya does not sneak out again to fight. He also starts antidepressants. Shane had wondered if the hybrid would want to join a boxing club if he really couldn’t give up the fighting but Ilya had brushed it off immediately. Stating that he never wanted to enter a fighting ring again. He had told Shane that he had better things in his life now, which he punctuated with a kiss to Shane’s forehead.

Shane also learnt about the term, mates, something Ilya had murmured during his first rut together. Shane was a little scandalised at the idea that it is plainly obvious to other hybrids what they are up to–mainly Svetlana, which had Shane red as a tomato upon realising. But in the end, he kind of liked the idea of belonging to someone forever in such an intimate way. Although he was a little sad that he couldn’t reciprocate it, Ilya seemed unbothered, simply stating that he can be possessive enough for the two of them. Which he was–Ilya still glared and growled at people who he thought looked at Shane for too long.

However, since getting together, Shane had also begun to notice how people, especially hybrids, looked at Ilya. Which was an interesting experience. Shane usually wouldn't consider himself a jealous person, but it seems with Ilya, he definitely is–which Ilya was delighted by, practically preening as Shane scowls at whoever tried to flirt with him or had their arm on Ilya’s bicep for too long. One time Ilya had playfully tapped his nose, saying that if Shane had a bunny tail, it would be twitching in anger. Shane did not find that very funny.

And later on down the line, with Ilya’s mark on Shane’s neck and the pair wearing wedding bands on their finger, Shane will wonder what life would have been like if he had said no to Rose all that time ago in that cafe, but then he’ll cast a glance at Ilya snoring away in his lap, fluffy ears twitching every so often, and decide that he didn’t really want to think about that other option. Because there was always only going to be one.