Summary:

Ilya's always been so controlled with his scent. It only ever slips free in moments of heightened emotions on the rink or tangled in his sheets. Shane feels it begin to curl around him now where he sits in Ilya’s lap, his arms wrapped snug around the man's broad shoulders. Shane gently cups Ilya’s head and brings it to his neck, exhaling shakily as the Alpha nuzzles against his skin. “Ilya, let go,” Shane tilts his head back, “Let go…Alpha.” -- An abo retelling of the Tampa Bay hotel room scene after the All Stars game.