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Troy crouches down, the cold of the ice sinking into his pants as he hovers uselessly above Shane. “Shane?” He says quietly, “Shane, can you hear me?” There’s a glazed, dazed look to his eyes, unfocused as they dart around, and Troy panics. “Ilya!” He shouts at the Alpha. “Shane, Rozanov.” Troy knows that Shane is perfectly capable of handling the sexist chirps and overeager body slams, but when the opposition takes it too far, Ilya proves exactly why you don’t mess with his Omega.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,202
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75834246
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“Jesus Christ.” Shane says with feeling. “Mm, Jesus Christ.” Ilya Rozanov’s voice pipes up behind him. “Oh god.” Shane says with feeling. “Yes. Oh god.” Ilya Rozanov’s voice pipes up from behind him. “Oh shit. Holy fucking shit.” Shane says, swaying a little where he stands. “Am I dying?” “Pretty sure is panic attack. Place head between knees.” It was placing his head between knees that got them into this predicament in the first place. Or How far can Shane spiral after accidentally bonding with his hockey rival? Apparently, quite a bit.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,142
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75238481