Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Multi

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Luca Haas/Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Luca Haas, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Kinktober 2026, Day 22: Lactation/Sharing, Omega Verse, Pack Dynamics, Omega Shane Hollander, Alpha Ilya Rozanov, Alpha Luca Haas, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, drink play?, this time it's milk AND cum in a smoothie, Wet & Messy, Freak4Freak Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, getting fucked while your tits get sucked: the shane hollander story, POV Luca Haas, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), probably too much worldbuilding for a pwp fic, hint of mommy kink right at the end

Language:

English

Series:

Part 45 of heated rivalry masterlist, Part 7 of kinktober masterlist

Collections:

Kinktober 2026

Stats:

Published: 2026-10-22 Words: 6,235 Chapters: 1/1

i'ma go where i always go, drinks are on the house

Summary

Luca shakes his head blinking rapidly at him, fighting the urge to go over and lap at the bead of milk, clinging to the edge of Shane's areola. He's dizzy with lush want, and can tell his scent is spiking into the warm heated thrum of an aroused alpha; something that would embarrass him if it was anyone other than Shane watching. Or, well—something that would feel life ruining if he couldn't scent the notes of warm approval spilling through the air.

Shane laughs again, his mouth curling up. "Of course, Ilya normally fucks me as I pump, if he hasn't latched on, the greedy asshole," he says, everything else fading out but the curl of his mouth, the glint of his teeth. "How else would it be the best it can be?" He shakes his head, tsking faintly. "Being plugged up with Ilya's knot—" He sighs dreamily, his scent spiking into something nearly obscene with desire; it's all nutty oak and sweet cream, the faint aroma of slick. "It's the best; it makes me the best."

OR: Luca's thirsty for a lot of things. Good thing Shane and Ilya are providers.

Notes

another hollanovaas fic for leah, who is so funny and brilliant and makes me laugh whenever we chat. here's to hollanov (+ luca) being freaks year round!

• Inspired by and i ain't sippin' on a mixed drink pinkie out, lips pink by sargeantwoof

By the time Luca figures out just what the fuck is in the smoothies Shane and Ilya have been bringing in for the rookies, it's too fucking late.

He's already hooked on the smooth, creamy taste, the familiar notes of vanilla and almond, the intoxicatingly odd cool-warmth that dissolves in his stomach. It tastes like nothing he's ever had before, dense and thick, sliding down his throat and leaving a pool of embers in his stomach, despite the soothing coolness.

It's become a standard part of their pregame ritual; if they play at home, Shane and Ilya show up with four protein shake bottles, all personalized for each of the rookies, handing them out with the faint scent of satisfaction wafting through the air from Ilya, an edge of a preen from Shane.

Neither of them make it a big deal; there was no production the first time, just Ilya shoving the bottle—aptly labeled #1 best boy, (something that made Luca's stomach churn with nerves the first time and generates prickles of heat that he poorly buries every time after), and decorated with hockey sticks—into his hand, before continuing down the line of them. The only sign that anything was different was the expectant air as he headed back over to Shane and bent his head to murmur in his ear, the two of them continuing with their usual pre-game routine.

"Alright," Bergie had said, glancing around at the rest of them, before he'd popped the lid, the click of the hinge nearly swallowed up by the noise from the rest of the team. He took a tentative swig, before brightening and tipping more of it down his throat. "Holy shit," he managed, after draining half of it. "Cap, Hollzy—that's so fucking good."

Shane's mouth had quirked, an odd air of delight suffusing him, his cheeks a faint pink, and Ilya had grinned, smugly satisfied, but that had been it, no mention of anything else.

Luca hadn't hesitated after Bergie's words; he'd taken a sip and been irrevocably changed.

Now, he feels almost like a dog, waiting eagerly for the smooth, rich taste. It's almost like he's attuned to the rattle of the plastic against one another, twisting eagerly to find Ilya as he enters the locker room.

"Ah," Ilya murmurs, grinning at the four of them. It's their final game of the week, after a nice stretch of home games; they're playing Tampa, an easy win at this point, though Luca doesn't like to assume. He straightens up, along with the other three, eagerly awaiting the cool taste. "Bergie, LP, Young—for you. Luca—" He pauses his head tilting, his large hands empty. "Shane has yours down the hall—I did not grab it today. He is in the room at the end, across from the PR office, yes?"

Luca nods, offering Ilya a smile, and heads down the corridor, waving to Harris and Troy as he passes them, their mating bond bites flashing under the lights.

He knocks, a light, gentle thing, and slips through the door at Shane's low come in, softly shutting it behind him, before he turns to face him.

"Ilya said you had my—"

He freezes, all words sliding out of his head at the sight of Shane. He's shirtless, which isn't shocking, but the bright red circles on his chest are. Even more shocking is the sight of a fucking breast pump, clearly just used, droplets of milk collected at the bottom.

With something that Luca almost wishes was horror, but is absolutely bright, glitchy arousal, his eyes fall onto the lid of the smoothie Shane's screwing on, a faint smile on his face. Immediately a scythe of shameful want scores down the center of him, heat spilling into his veins. No wonder the drink is addictive; of course, Luca and the rest of the rookies have grown closer and closer, their pack bonds cinching in tighter and tighter. Everyone knows that being fed from a pack omega only makes the pack stronger.

It's embarrassing how dizzy he gets as the realization thunders through him. He's always tried to be careful to not to think about Shane in any desirous way, at least not around him or Ilya—though, he's pretty sure he's failed. Fuck, he knows he's failed, but at least it was always hidden in the blossoming of pheromones from the whole team. But now, in an instant, all his precious dignity and deliberate hiding washes away. His cock hardens immediately, and he can smell the curl of deep-pleasure that blooms from him, another level of humiliation; alphas only pump out such fragrant devotion when they've scent-locked onto an omega.

"Don't worry," Shane says nonchalantly, shaking the innocuous bottle vigorously. Hs doesn't seem phased by the scent of greed pulsing from Luca, but it's hard to be comforted by that when the ache of wanting is only growing the longer he's in the room with Shane. Luca can't figure out where to look—the flex of his arm, the damp spread of his mottled-red chest, the fucking dregs of milk in the bottle of the pump—he's hardly aware of anything except for how unmitigatedly fucked he is. He can feel his dick twitching in his pants, the heady rush of arousal swamping him. "It won't be as as sweet today, but next time, it—"

Luca, embarrassingly, cuts him off with a moan as another wave of realizations crash through him. It fizzles through him, another heady puzzle piece snapping into place.

The sweetness—holy shit, Shane needs to stop talking or he's going to do something humiliating like cum in his fucking pants.

"Oh?" Shane says, his own scent thickening in return, dizzyingly intoxicating. He laughs, a light airy sound, smug delight infused throughout. "I thought you knew, Luca."

Luca shakes his head blinking rapidly at him, fighting the urge to go over and lap at the bead of milk, clinging to the edge of Shane's areola. He's dizzy with lush want, and can tell his scent is spiking into the warm heated thrum of an aroused alpha; something that would embarrass him if it was anyone other than Shane watching. Or, well—something that would feel life ruining if he couldn't scent the notes of warm approval spilling through the air.

Shane laughs again, his mouth curling up. "Of course, Ilya normally fucks me as I pump, if he hasn't latched on, the greedy asshole," he says, everything else fading out but the curl of his mouth, the glint of his teeth. "How else would it be the best it can be?" He shakes his head, tsking faintly. "Being plugged up with Ilya's knot—" He sighs dreamily, his scent spiking into something nearly obscene with desire; it's all nutty oak and sweet cream, the faint aroma of slick. "It's the best; it makes me the best."

For a moment, the room is quiet, outside of the rattle of Shane's shaking and the quick pants of Luca's mouth. The click of plastic as he sets it down, before he slides it across the table, is loud between them, as Luca's breath catches and his eyes widen.

"Well?" Shane says, crossing his arms and smiling. It's not a particularly nice one. "Go on, then."

Luca's fingers are trembling as he reaches out, keenly aware of how intently Shane is watching him.

The plastic is cool beneath his questing fingers, familiar beneath the whorls of his fingertips. He's had this drink endless times before, has sucked it down before games for months now, has gone so far as to scoop the dregs out with his fingers under Shane and Ilya's watchful eyes, shameless with his greed for more.

Here, now, having Shane watch him pop the lid, listening to the click of it, having the sight of his alternate—one of the men who made him very aware he is gay—tits out, a faint glossy sheen clinging to his nipples, the fading indents of a pump on his chest, watching him—

Luca can't look away, as he lifts the shaker up, and takes a sip.

It tastes nearly as it always does, warm and filling, a little less sweet than usual, maybe even a little less creamy, but Luca can't help himself as he downs the whole thing, his eyes locked onto the smug, knowing smile that unfurls across Shane's face.

"'Course," Shane says, as he finishes the drink in one steady pull, embarrassment warring with hunger, Luca's clear aroused scent spilling through the air, before the filters click on overhead and whisk it away. "Ilya didn't add his addition today either, pup."

"His?" Luca repeats hoarsely. He can hardly understand what the fuck is happening, as he stares at Shane. Everything feels like a dream as he sets the bottle down, a filmy edge of arousal fogging his view. He's so turned on he's shaking a little, his fingers trembling as he nudges his bottle back towards Shane.

Shane sighs, reaching over to tug on his shirt, both of them ignoring the way Luca lets a whine slip out, his cheeks flaring a dull red, even as he can't look away. "Well, it'd be improperly balanced, you know?" he says, conversationally, his head easily sliding through the too big collar. "All fats need a balance of protein, yeah? And alpha's make—"

All of Shane's words fade out to a high pitched drone as awareness roars to the forefront of Luca's mind. I've been drinking milk and cum, he thinks, and locks his knees to avoid dropping down and begging Shane for his own dosage of protein.

"Shane," he manages, his cock so hard for a moment he thinks he might pop a fucking knot. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, the sweet scent of perfumed pleasure rising to the air before it's whisked away. "Are you—do you—Shane."

Shane coos at him, a mean little smirk curving across his face. "We wants our boys big and strong," he murmurs, some layered thrum of indulgence underneath the patronizing tone. "Maybe one day you'll taste straight from the source."

Luca can't help himself; he yips, a sound he hasn't made since he found out he was joining the Cens, a high-pitched yowl of glee that rings through the air even as he bites down around the sound. For a second, Shane stares at him, before his gaze shifts into something warmer, more genuinely delighted.

"Luca," he says, ignoring the way Luca moans in distress and buries his head in his hands, hiding his bright red face from Shane, for all the good it does him. "Oh, honey, I didn't realize how—oh, wow."

Luca groans, folding over even more, as Shane steps over to him, extending a hand that smells of winter and cream, the nutty burst of oak that denotes his deep-seated pleasure at Luca's reaction. He smooths a hand over Luca's hair, smearing his wrists' scent gland across the crown of his head.

All of Luca stills at the pointed claiming action—the unspoken assurance of it's all okay—before he peels himself out of his shameful fold and drops his head on Shane's shoulder, soaking in rumbling purr that rises from his chest. He's operating mostly on instinct, on that keen bite of make omega happy that's always rolling distantly through his mind; though, of all the omegas on the team, it's Shane and Young who incite that reaction the most.

He rubs his cheek against the edge of skin he can feel, blatantly seeking more of Shane's happy noises.

"Alpha," Shane says fondly, before he tugs at Luca's ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Next time I nest, you can come over, okay? Get it straight from the source."

Luca groans, heat rushing through him at the very thought, even as his cheeks pinken up. "Okay," he murmurs, even though they both know it wasn't a real question. Luca was always going to go; he'd drag himself there if need be. "Yes. Please. I'd—fuck, Shane—I'd like that."

"I know," Shane says, smugness radiating from him. It peels away from him slowly, the glints of hedonism Luca can scent, until all that's left is his normal game day smell. "But, c'mon. We've got a game."

Luca doesn't whine, even though he wants to. Instead, he lifts his head up, flushing even deeper at the knowing look Shane nails him with.

"If you get a hat trick, you can come over Saturday," Shane says, grinning at him with a mouth full of razor sharp omega teeth. He looks gorgeous, unveiled as the filthy conspirator that he is. "Think of it as a little motivation."

"Yes," Luca says. He'd feel bad for what's about to happen to Tampa but, well, he'd be lying. "Hat trick. And then, Saturday."

Shane grins at him again, his sharp teeth back to being hidden. "You got it, Luca," he says, clapping him on the shoulder, another waft of his pleased scent washing over him. "Let's ruin their day."

In the end, the hat trick is the easiest part of the whole night. What's much harder is not getting hard every single time he looks at Shane or Ilya. He knows Ilya knows about their plan, just by the sly grins and exaggerated winks he keeps sending his way.

But it's Shane's approval he's chasing after all night, his skates biting deep into the ice as he races across the rink at his side. It's Shane's grin he's seeking, that warm miasma of delighted glee, and it's one he gets when the game is over, easily slotting himself under Shane's arm when he tosses it around his shoulders.

"Good fucking game," Shane murmurs, sweaty and joyous, the heady pulse of glittering satisfaction underneath the swampy scents of the locker room. He ruffles Luca's hair, smiling wide enough that his whole face is crinkled up with joy. "We'll be expecting you Saturday."

Luca ducks his head, but doesn't even try to fight the broad smile that sweeps across his face, anticipation churning in his stomach.

Saturday, he thinks gleefully, and doesn't hide the bloom of pheromones that rise from his glands, too eager for it already.

***

It's not as nerve-wracking as he expects, knocking on their door. He can smell the sweet scent of pack bonds, the rind of orange, a hint of pepper that tends to swamp their locker room. Underneath that, Shane and Ilya's sheer infatuation with each other is strong enough that it leaks through the nullifiers, too, the tart burst of cherry and snow wafting from their home.

It's soothing, to smell it like usual; Luca hates it when they have to patch for games. He knows it's only to make things supposedly "fair on the ice" but he hates that he can't smell them or the rest of their pack. He feels like a lost pup in the aftermath sometimes, when they pour back into the locker room and everything is dead-scented, before the patches come off.

It helps, too, that at this point Shane and Ilya have hosted the whole team enough times that it almost feels as though it's perfectly normal for him to be here.

Almost.

"Haasy," Ilya says cheerfully, yanking the door open as he gestures him in, Luca's eyes immediately dropping to his bare chest, a blade of desire lodging neatly in his gut. He's already hard, he knows, and is sure that Ilya can smell it wafting from him, his own sugar spun desire made palpable. "Come in, come in. Shanya is getting the nest ready, you know how it goes."

At Ilya's words, another bolt of hunger lances through his stomach, and he flushes at the press of greed that spikes cleanly through his already heavy honey scent, the familiar echoing sweetness that melds easily with Ilya's persistent almond. Ilya doesn't even seem phased by it, smirking as he steps past him, kicking off his shoes as usual.

"Are you—" Luca starts, before he falters, flushing. "Is this—we did not talk, really, before this." He peeks at Ilya before returning his gaze to the floor. He's not really sure how much is allowed; the last thing he would want to do is overstep, even as his instincts scream at him to follow the slow drip of Shane's scent he can smell. "Are—is—should—"

"You do not have to be scared," Ilya says, tossing an arm around his shoulders, but Luca can see the glossy sheen of his teeth in the corner of his eye, the wicked amusement smeared across his face. He looks like he does when Troy's accidentally teed him up to share something utterly filthy, some blunted edge of cheerful derangement on his face. "We are both very—hm. This has been a long time coming, I think."

Luca shrugs, even though he agrees. No one on the team has been especially subtle about how pleased they all are that Shane's here. He's sure it was only a matter of time, before they both felt the usual need to show off to the pack, to prove that they could be the best providers. Luca had just never expected this to be the way it played out.

Ilya chuffs, a low, easy rumble of soothing noise, and all of Luca goes pliant under his arm, relaxing at the firm and exacting approval. "Next time, we will invite the other rookies," Ilya murmurs, pulling him in closer to bump his nose against his temple. The familiar claim settles the last of Luca's nerves; he hadn't wanted to accidentally start some sort of alpha posturing with Ilya. "But Shane wanted to try, with just one, to make sure he could—" He pauses, his mouth curving into a filthy smirk. "Well. He's now very in his hindbrain. Lots of instincts, little speaking; it's incredibly hot. You will see."

The closer they get to the open doorway, the more potent Shane's scent gets, the heavy pump of it a clear sign that he's eager. It kicks up the thrum of arousal high enough that he can tell Ilya is inhaling shallowly, careful to not swallow down too much of his honey-soaked greed.

"Sorry," Luca manages, as the open doorway comes into sight, the faint sounds of Shane moving around inside a siren call. He can't tear his gaze away from the opening, straining for some glimpse of him as his cock leaks in his briefs.

He's panting, he realizes distantly, as if it's happening to someone else. He can't quite get a full lungful of air in, every inhale sending a dizzying pulse of need throbbing through his stomach. He'd known that Shane's pheromones were potent—it's part of the reason he settled into their bonds so easily—but he's never experienced anything like this before. It feels like he's high, like the world is rushing past him as he moves in staticky motion, turning his face to follow the mesmerizing scent that's billowing from the doorway as Shane moves into view, dressed just like Ilya is.

"Oh, you are out of it, too, hm, shchenok?" Ilya murmurs, and abruptly there's a warm clamp searing across his nape as Luca groans at the feeling, the syrupy thrum of anticipation fading into something a little softer as he blinks dazedly up at Ilya who's grinning at him.

He shakes him, a pleased look on his face, and deep within their pack bond, Luca can feel the echo of hunger ringing between them.

"Please," Luca slurs, glancing at Shane. He can see the sheen of liquid on his chest, the smear of white on his pebbled nipples. Fuck, he thinks as a pit of voracity opens up in his gut, was Ilya tasting him earlier? Is he getting his alpha's sloppy seconds? Sheer agonizing want lances through his stomach, his cock twitching at the very thought. Fuck, he wants to be trapped here forever, glutted on whatever they want to fill him with.

He has to shove his own disastrous thoughts away to be able to spit out the last of his eager words, the shape of them tangling in his infatuation-clumsy mouth. "Want—I need it, Ilya, Captain, alpha—please."

Ilya shakes him again, his nails digging into his skin, before he's gently shoving him forward. "Say hello to Shane, Haasy," Ilya orders, as Luca nearly trips over his feet in his haste to get closer to Shane. "He has been waiting for you all day."

Shane huffs, but all of the annoyance bleeds out of him as he catches Luca's arm. "Hi Luca," he says, laughing when it takes Luca a moment to peel his eyes off his chest to meet his gaze. It's just—he can't help it. Shane's always attractive, but there's something so indulgent about seeing him bare chested and happy in his own home, welcoming him into their pack nesting room. And yes, of course, Luca is drawn to the glittering droplets of milk that cling to his nipples—who the fuck wouldn't be?

He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind, which isn't helped by Shane curling an arm around him and ushering him further into the room that's absolutely flooded with the warm cream of his own desire. "Hi Shane," he manages after a beat of taking more shallow breaths. He's pretty sure he's never been harder, squirming at the thought of both of them seeing, even though he hopes they will.

He wants them both to tuck him in tight, to curl around his ribs and crack open the web of anxiety that makes him up. He wants them to dig into their vibrating bonds and pluck out his synapses, wants them to drink in and examine the bright pool of devotion he feels that saturates everything. For years now, Luca has known that there are no higher gods in hockey than Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov; to have this, now, to have them—

Well. It makes sense why he can hardly get a breath in. He thinks it'd be crazier if he was just normal about this.

"Ilya," Shane says, and Luca catches the flicker of skin out of the corner of his eye, twisting to find Ilya completely naked, his clothes gently tossed over the edge of the basket by the door. His gaze drifts down his chest, landing on his dick, his eyes rounding at how heavy his cock looks, how red the head is.

It's not unfamiliar to see him naked, not after locker rooms and pack bonding rituals and the really drunken scent bath thing they all participated in over the summer after the Cup win, but there's something so different about knowing that he's about to be fucking Shane. That he's going to be showing Luca just why he's the pack alpha, why they both are the leaders of their scrappy little team.

He can feel his cheeks searing a bright, hot red, the throbbing of his cock in his pants kicking up a notch as he shudders under Shane's arm. Shane's purring, a low rumble vibrating through the air and sinking into him.

"Ilya's gonna settle in and then we'll get ourselves situated," Shane murmurs in between his purrs. "Don't worry, Luca," he soothes, skating a hand through his hair. He drops his hands briefly to shove his shorts down, bending over to pick them up, before Ilya scoops them out of his hand and tosses them over to the laundry basket. Luca just barely picks up on the rumble of annoyance in Shane's voice, too caught on the rush of slick-scent that fills his mouth, before it fades as Shane straightens. "I have it all figured out."

Good, Luca wants to croak, but that requires too much brain power as his gaze darts from Ilya sitting down, to the milky sheen on Shane's chest, to the bladed grin unfurling across Ilya's face, to the heady perfume of desire that's saturating the entire room.

He's drifting out to sea, high on the pheromones of pleased packmates, on the bloom of hunger that rippling from both of them. He's hardly able to focus as Shane carefully guides them down, keeping a hand on him, even as he drops down over Ilya's cock, sheathing it inside of his cunt in one easy roll.

He gasps, as if he was impaled, his gaze immediately falling onto the curve of Shane's cock, the rocking of his hips as a filthy, wet noise hits his ears. Heat simmers in his navel as drool pools under his tongue, hunger rising. All he can smell is sex and satisfaction, the glittering crush of pleasure coiling deep in his bones.

"C'mere," Shane orders breathily as Ilya grins at him from over his shoulder. His eyes are ringed in burgundy, the only sign that he's an alpha—or, Luca rectifies in his mind—the only sign so far. Once he knots Shane, it'll be hard to even think about anything other than him being an alpha. "Shirt off, Haasy."

Luca's stripping before he can even blink, caught in the gravity of Shane's attention, pausing with his hands on his waistband when Shane clicks his tongue.

"Only your shirt," Shane says, reaching up to pinch at his nipple. Luca's whole world fades out aside from the lilt of Shane's voice and the droplets of milk leaking from his tits as he drops down to his knees, scooching in closer as Shane's tug on his wrist. "You'll get messy otherwise."

"Yes," Luca says. He'll agree to anything Shane says. "Yes. Of course. Shane—Shane, can I—may I—"

"Oh, honey," Shane murmurs. "C'mere."

Luca tilts forward, completely uncoordinated, and lets Shane and Ilya adjust him as they want, as he laps at the streaky trails of milk, whining high in his throat at the rich taste. He's never tasted anything as potent as this; he doesn't think he'll be able to go back to the muted shakes. Not even after licking up these thin tracks; already, he feels drunk on it.

"We want you to get big and strong," Ilya says as Luca pants against Shane’s chest, dizzy at the taste. "And that means feeding our boys the very best, no?"

Our boys echoes, hunger growing in the pit of his stomach. He's pretty sure he's never going to be the same after this, but it doesn't matter; he doesn't want to go back to ignorance. He wants to stay here, in the nest Shane built for them, soaking in their pack-alpha's scent, and listening to his omega.

Luca moans against Shane’s skin, sloppy with want as he laps at his nipples, milk and spit streaking across the swell of his pectoral. He fights the urge to latch on and suck, well aware that he'll lose his mind, and unwilling to lose it so soon; he doesn't want to miss any of this.

It's a moot point anyways, as Ilya's hands slide up and cup the curve of Shane's tit. "Come here," he murmurs, stern expectation in his voice. "Shanya did not pump last night, because he was waiting for you."

Static want fritzes through his veins, drugging heat swirling in his stomach. His jaw drops, drool spilling across the satin of Shane's skin, before Ilya's other hand comes up and clutches at his jaw. He shakes him, once, as if an unruly puppy, and Luca flushes as he tongue drags over Shane's pebbling nipple, suddenly desperate for a real taste.

"Look at him," Ilya says, smugness in his voice. "Milkdrunk already, the poor thing."

Shane hums, and then his warms hands are cradling Luca's cheek, gently guiding him impossibly closer somehow. "C'mon, Luca," he murmurs as Luca whines, the world blurry as he blinks slowly up at the omega's dark gaze. "You can do it, sweetheart."

Luca gathers enough sense to drag his mouth shut, his teeth scoring across damp skin, before he purses his lips and sucks.

Rich, creamy milk spills over his tongue, the taste a dizzying rush of sweetness. Warmth drips down his throat as he gulps down a mouthful of omega milk, his cock throbbing at the spike of sugar that coats his tongue as Ilya fucks up, filling Shane even more, the wet noise of his cock grinding into Shane loud in the nest.

Drinking straight from Shane is a revelation; it's all he wants to do for the rest of his life. He can taste the pure notes of love, the warmth suckled straight into his stomach. He feels blissfully intoxicated as he peels his eyes open to find Shane watching him, Ilya's teeth sunk into his throat, right over his bondmark.

"You needed this, huh?" Shane murmurs, his eyes flicking down Luca's body, before returning to meet his gaze. "It's hard being an alpha, isn't it, pup?"

Luca sucks even harder in response, and distantly realizes he's been grinding into nothing, his hips stuttering forward against the air. He can't help himself; everything is awash with pleasure. He can taste the vibrancy of their love in the thick cream spilling down his throat, the hunger that they have for each other, the way they both make each other better, always. He wants, as it washes down his throat. He doesn't even know what he's searching for, some deep-seated instinctual need in each suckling pull, but he knows Shane can provide it.

Shane coos, the sound wordless as it vibrates through the air, and then there's a hand sliding under the waistband of his sweats, cupping his cock, a warm palm pressing in against him.

Luca jolts as if he's been shocked, before sinking down into the blissful tide of decadent hedonism, the slick noises of Ilya fucking deeper into Shane, the rumbling purr of contentment stuttering through Shane's chest. He wants to sob with relief, waves of pleasure pouring down his nerves.

He grinds forward in time with each mouthful of milk, his eyes rolling back in his head as the strands of release begin to collect in his stomach. Everything is too good, too much, too wanted, for him to have any chance of stopping.

He cracks his eyes open at Shane's low sigh of relief, his suckle filling his mouth with far more of the creamy liquid than before, only to feel Ilya's knuckles as they brush up against his chin.

"I know you needed this," Ilya rumbles, his eyes dark as Luca drags his gaze through the sliver of air that isn't Shane that he can see, his whole body thrumming at the hunger in Ilya's eyes. His teeth are glinting as he talks, the points of them dripping with saliva, tiny tracks of drool sliding down Shane's chest. It smears against the lurid burgundy of Shane's bondmark, another frisson of hunger slipping down his spine at how clearly they both want each other. It's bewilderingly intoxicating to have been let in, Luca knows, even as most of his thoughts begin to drift away. "Both of you, hm? Your tits get so heavy, Shanya, so eager to feed our pack." He squeezes, purposefully, and another flood of milk spills into Luca's throat as he arches up against Shane's hand. "And you, Haasy. So hungry to be fed, yes? So eager to crawl into our pack nest and let my omega take care of you like all good pack omegas should."

Milk and spit slip out of Luca's mouth as he whines around Shane's nipple, unable to find the words, and absolutely not willing to pull off to try to talk. He wants everything Ilya's murmuring about so ardently he thinks he might be delirious; it's easy to slide into it as everything but the scent of Shane and Ilya, and the warm mouthfuls of each drugging pull, drip right out of his head. He's only a vessel to be stuffed full of whatever they deign to give him. He just gets to exist and drink and cum, bloated with pleasure until the end.

Ilya chuffs, dragging Luca's bleary attention to him. He hadn't even realized his gaze had wandered, fixed on Shane's pink cheekbones.

"You are going to be good for my Shane," Ilya says, an edge of an alpha command in his voice. Luca perks up as best he can, the warm timbre of his voice slotting easily into place in the haze. He can be good. He wants to be good. "And you are going to cum all over his hand, yes?" Luca whines, low in his throat, and nods as best as he can, swamped with the sudden rising tide of an orgasm, as if all it had needed was Ilya's stern words.

He glances up the slope of Shane's chest, the edge of his jaw as his head lolls back against Ilya's shoulder. He can see his heartbeat fluttering at the base of his throat, the silken touch of his own arousal the bounces down the pack bond. It's even more staggering to feel his emotions so unveiled; for months now, there's only been the muted flickers of annoyance, the thin whiplashes of amusement snapping down the bond.

Here, though, Shane's dropped all pretenses. Luca can only hope Shane can drink in the floodwaters of devotion he's sending towards him. He wants Shane to be smothered in the hunger, the awe, the dazzling force of Luca's want.

He can feel the hum of release growing in his navel, the riptide of glorious pleasure readying to sweep him away as Shane's hand flexes over his cock, a slick squelch just loud enough for Luca's cheeks to burn as he fucks up into Shane's touch.

There's something so humiliating about being mostly dressed. Maybe it's the fact that he'll leave their den with soaked underwear, the sodden mess of cum staining his sweats. Maybe it's because Shane had told him that it was going to get messy, and that he can feel the tracks of milk that's leaked from his mouth spilling down his chest. Maybe it's the fact that they're both naked, as if he's intruding, as if he's so desperate for a taste that he stumbled over them and dropped to his knees, ready to be good.

Maybe it's just that it feels inherently illicit, like he's getting away with defiling their pack omega, despite Ilya being right here, watching. Maybe it's that Luca's been daydreaming about this for years now. Maybe it's the fact that this whole thing has been better than he was even capable of imagining.

Whatever the reason is, it rushes through him with every mouthful of milk he swallows, rising within him and dragging him up to dizzying heights, with every frantic grind into Shane's callused palm and firm grip. He can feel the beginnings of an orgasm singeing through his nerves, that blistering heat that means he's going to pop a knot.

Distantly, he thinks he should be more embarrassed to be popping a knot over drinking from Shane, but the rest of him is too caught on riptide of pleasure as it scores down his spine. It melts from the crown of his head, shattering over his lungs as he has to pull back from Shane's nipple to breathe through the feeling of starting to cum, his knot throbbing under Shane's deft fingers that massage at his sensitive skin.

"Oh, honey," Shane murmurs, throaty hunger wound tight through his tone, as Luca's eyes roll back in his head from pleasure, the glittering release crushing him. It spills through him, wave after wave of relief, the wash of delicious agony that he's been salivating for since first catching sight of Shane in their locker room, all those months ago.

He resurfaces back to his body, having curled into Shane and Ilya, their bodies surrounding him somehow, blanketing him with their fragrant scents. Only Luca's hindbrain rises, neatly slipping to the front of his mind. There's only his alpha and his omega, the wet dribble of milk that's his to lap at, curving back in and chasing after the trails that spill across Shane's chest, before he follows them up to the source.

"Everything you've ever wanted, malysh?" Ilya asks, as Luca's eyes slide closed, his mouth latching on, sucking occasionally. His voice dips low, warmth and love and arousal all mixed together; Luca shivers under the weight of such pleasure that bounces down their wide open bond, soaking in the shades of fondness. "Such a good omega, yes? Such a provider."

"Yeah," Shane breathes out, and Luca's cradled even closer somehow, tucked in tighter between them. "Now, we just need our other three pups." Luca jolts in his arms but doesn't fight the bloom of warmth the fills his scent at the idea of the rest of them filling the pack nest brings. Shane laughs, pleased as well, and runs a hand through his hair. "And someone's got to teach Young just what being an omega is all about, hm?"

"Fuck," Ilya says, as Luca starts to drift into a doze, lulled by the drip of milk down his throat and the soothing meld of their scents. "You're such a good Mama, sweetheart."

Shane shivers again, but whatever he says is lost as Luca slides even deeper into unconsciousness, the warmth of his humming pack bonds lulling him to sleep.