Chapter Text
At first, Liam assumed he was sick.
It was the most logical explanation for what he was feeling back then. His skin felt unnaturally hot, his muscles heavy as lead. There were also occasional tremors, a strange sense of exhaustion that seeped into his bones, and, above all, an irritating, inexplicable clinginess that left him more sensitive than he cared to admit.
For someone used to brushing off discomfort and pushing through, it could only be the flu.
It wasn't exactly the best scenario for a driver in the middle of the season, but he completed the Suzuka Grand Prix anyway. He scored points. And, at the end of the day, that was what mattered.
Beside him was Arvid, the rookie who had been making an impressive debut. Liam felt a sense of relief when he finished ahead of him in Japan. Not out of malice, but because he still needed to convince himself that he belonged there. After that round, the calendar would enter an unexpected break. The Bahrain and Saudi Arabian Grands Prix had been canceled due to escalating political tensions and security issues in the region, forcing the category to reorganize part of the season.
For most drivers, that meant a few extra weeks of rest. For Liam, it only meant more time to try and figure out why his body seemed to have decided to turn against him.
Lindblad was good. Very good. "Promising" was too modest a word to describe him. With a discomfort he would never admit out loud, Liam recognized that the boy would likely have a brighter future than his own. Youth was on his side, as was the natural confidence of someone who knows they have a lot to offer and just needs the opportunities. They weren't all that different in that regard.
On top of that, Arvid possessed an annoying charisma. He drew smiles from the mechanics, memorized the staff's names, and made friends without even seeming to try.
And he was also an alpha.
Not that it mattered to Liam at all.
The truth was, he wasn't there to make friends. He never had been. The team was about results, not bonds. Teammates came and went. Some lasted a season, others two. In the end, everyone fought alone for their own dreams and goals, within the limits established by the variables that arose throughout the championship.
So, he ignored how easily Arvid struck up a conversation. He ignored the invitations to group meals. He ignored the fact that, lately, he seemed to notice Arvid's presence before he even saw him.
It was just exhaustion. Or the flu. It had to be. After all, any other explanation would be absurd.
They weren't even friends, much as Liam didn't find his presence particularly unpleasant. On the contrary, if he were to swallow his pride, he would admit he actually quite enjoyed it.
During the break, Liam started to feel better. Physically, at least.
The strange fever faded away, as did the more intense tremors. His body finally seemed to be returning to normal, and he clung to that as proof that it had been nothing more than a passing illness. Even so, a nagging emptiness remained.
Liam tried to fill it the only way he knew how. He went out with other people, surrounded himself with friends, and spent nights in the company of fellow betas. He sought out enough distractions to forget the restlessness bubbling in his body and mind. It worked for a few hours, sometimes for an entire day. But inevitably, the feeling returned. It always returned.
It was like the absence of something he didn't yet know. Like when you try to recall an interrupted thought, and it keeps lingering persistently like a blurry shadow, never taking enough shape to be completed. A persistent tightness beneath his ribs, as if something essential had been torn away from him without him noticing.
It was the first time in his life he had ever felt that way. Naturally, he blamed the breakup.
It seemed like the most reasonable explanation. After all, breakups hurt. People suffer over love all the time. But this didn't feel like sadness. Not exactly. Liam didn't just feel depressed. He felt desperate to eradicate that suffocating sense of incompleteness.
The worst moments happened when he was surrounded by other people. At dinners, parties, or casual hangouts, he laughed, joined in the conversations, and smiled. Yet, he observed it all through a sort of invisible glass, as if he were barred from genuinely sharing in that same joy.
He had never been so surrounded. And he had never felt so alone.
For a brief period, he considered that maybe he was going through some sort of quarter-life crisis. Maybe that was what happened when someone had too much time to think.
But the theory didn't last long.
His career was far from perfect, but it was also far from a failure. He was young, successful, and competing in one of the most prestigious categories in the world. Sure, he wanted more. Ambition was part of the job. Even so, there was nothing in his life to justify that growing hole in his chest.
Sometimes, Liam caught himself thinking about alphas and omegas.
About the intense bonds that seemed to forge between them. About the stories of destined pairs, compatibilities, and feelings capable of turning entire lives upside down. As a beta, he had always observed it from the outside, with a certain curiosity and relief.
It sounded exhausting. But it also sounded enchanting. The idea of binding oneself to someone like that, of loving with an irrational intensity, had always struck him as something foolish, reserved for people with a secondary gender different from his own. It seemed terrifying to surrender oneself completely, to need someone to the point of aching in their absence.
At the same time, there was an undeniable beauty to it. Liam had never envied the hormonal drama that came with being an alpha or an omega. He liked the stability betas possessed. He liked the predictability of his own mind.
Or at least, he used to. Because right now, there was nothing stable about him.
He wasn't heartbroken. He wasn't sick. He wasn't going through an existential crisis. And yet, he was utterly miserable.
They were grueling weeks. Weeks where he woke up tired, spent the day trying to ignore the anguish, and fell asleep without ever truly resting.
And, with Miami, things started getting strange again.
Not just strange. Terrifying. Liam had even gone as far as looking up contact info for therapists, but he was quickly blindsided by the confirmation that his problem went far beyond the emotional.
It all started when Arvid pressed his hand to Liam's neck. Liam groaned. A simple, helpless groan.
It was only Thursday. The race weekend had barely begun, and under normal circumstances, it could have been brushed off as a moment of exhaustion or distraction. It might have even gone unnoticed, if not for the media team and their obsession with filming absolutely everything for social media.
"Mate, are you okay?" Arvid’s voice sounded close, laced with concern.
Before Liam could reply, the alpha pressed his palm against his forehead.
"You're really flushed."
Liam's eyes widened. The touch burned. Which should have been a bad thing. Instead, a wave of relief washed through his entire body and emptied his mind, making him forget his embarrassment. The heat that had been torturing him seemed to soften beneath his skin, turning pleasant for the first time. It was like stepping into warm water after hours of shivering in the cold.
A low sound escaped his throat. Another groan. Without thinking, Liam grabbed Arvid’s wrist, stopping him from pulling away. The rookie looked surprised, but he didn't back down. With an analytical expression, he slid his hand to the back of Liam's neck, like someone trying to get a better gauge on his temperature.
That was even worse. Or better. Liam could no longer tell the difference. His body relaxed instantly. The tension accumulated over the past few weeks began to melt away under those fingers, and he realized, with a mortifying delay, that he was staring at Arvid.
His eyes were absurdly beautiful.
A deep, warm brown, like the color of wet earth after a full night of rain. His gaze conveyed something solid and reassuring. And it seemed to soothe Liam's distress more effectively than any medicine he had tried during the break. Or any drug. Or any drink.
Arvid could look at him more. The heat inside him kept building, but it was no longer unpleasant. It was comforting. Safe. He could stay right there forever. He would actually like that. He might even… purr.
The thought was so absurd it made Liam freeze.
Purr? What the fuck?
Startled, he yanked his hand away from Arvid’s wrist.
"Yeah," he whispered.
"Yeah what, mate?" Arvid blinked. His hand hovered in the air for a second before disappearing into his jacket pocket, as if he suddenly didn't know what to do with it.
The loss of contact was painful.
"I'm fine..." Liam cleared his throat, casting his eyes to the floor.
It was an obvious lie. Because he had noticed something else, something that complicated his situation even further.
The scent. He took a deep breath before he even realized what he was doing, visibly drawing air into his lungs, like he was deep in a meditation that required intense focus.
Arvid smelled like the ocean breeze. Not the harsh sea spray of storms, but that quiet breeze that rolls in from the coast at dusk. There was salt, freshness, and something mineral mixed with the subtle scent of wood warmed by the sun for hours on end. It was a smell that made him want to close his eyes and breathe it in again. And again.
"You don't look fine," Arvid commented. "Do you want me to get you some water? I can talk to the team and ask them to postpone the filming. Or they can just shoot with me. Do you need company? I can take you back to the motorhome. Maybe call a doctor…"
Liam looked up. Arvid kept talking in that same serene tone as always. Calm and patient. So different from him. But the words lost their meaning halfway through, because the New Zealander found himself unable to process them.
Liam could only stare at his teammate's lips. The way they moved. The soft curve when they pronounced certain syllables. They looked soft.
Were they?
A sharp pang shot through his abdomen.
"Ah..." he groaned, immediately bringing a hand to his stomach.
Arvid’s eyebrows furrowed. Without a second thought, he threw an arm around Liam’s waist and pulled him close into a side-hug, supporting part of his weight.
The contact forced another involuntary groan from him. Liam clamped his lips shut tightly, mortified. This was ridiculous. Humiliating. And completely out of control.
Arvid’s scent felt even more intense from this distance. The gentle ocean breeze enveloped him like a wave, and Liam wished it would drag him down to the ocean floor and drown him, making it impossible to think about anything else.
He had never reacted this way to an alpha. Never. He had never been affected by a scent in his entire life.
"Come on," Arvid said gently. "Let's get you sitting down for a bit."
With one hand resting on Liam's back and the other still around his waist, he guided him away from the hustle and bustle of the garages and the media shoot, which Arvid had signaled to wrap up with an indignant look.
Liam let him. Honestly, he would have followed Arvid anywhere right then. The motorhome sofa came into view a few minutes later. Arvid settled him down carefully, pressing lightly on his shoulders until he sat.
"There you go."
Liam sank into the cushions, taking a deep breath. Arvid immediately dropped down in front of him, squatting between his parted legs just enough to keep his balance. His forearms rested on his knees as he watched his teammate intently, looking up at him from below.
Liam lost his breath, squeezing his hands into fists to suppress the urge to tangle them in Arvid's curls.
The brown gaze scanned his face. Liam wanted to scream at him. To scream that he should take suppressants. That his scent was unbearable. And wonderful. That he wanted more. That he didn't understand why he was being affected like this.
What was happening to his body?
This had never happened with Isack. He was an alpha too, and he had been much closer to Liam than Arvid had ever been. So why now? Why did this confident rookie, with his attentive gaze and constant worry, seem capable of completely melting him down?
"I'm going to call someone from the team to help you, okay?" Arvid’s voice came out soft. As he spoke, he rested a hand on Liam’s knee in a light, comforting pat.
Liam squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa. Another pang shot through his womb, sharper this time. And then, he felt the slickness.
His heart skipped a beat.
Oh my god. What is this?
When he opened his eyes again, he realized he had grabbed Arvid’s shoulders without even noticing. The alpha’s features were subtly colored by a flicker of worry and surprise.
"Liam, you…"
He cut himself off mid-sentence. Liam got the distinct impression that Arvid had held his breath.
"Fuck off. I'm fine." The words tumbled out too fast, practically unintelligible.
He let go of Arvid's shoulders immediately and rubbed his own thighs, restless, as the uncomfortable sensation worsened. At that moment, honestly, he would have preferred to be suffering from some gastrointestinal disaster. It would be much easier to explain. Much less humiliating.
"Hey, easy..." Arvid stood up slowly. And Liam definitely wished he hadn't noticed the ridge beneath the alpha's hoodie. He wished even more that he hadn't noticed his own reaction to it.
"Sorry. Sorry... I didn't mean to tell you to fuck off. I…" He paused to catch his breath. "I just have a stomach ache, okay?"
"All right..." Arvid nodded. But the way he crossed his arms over his chest showed he didn't buy that explanation for a second.
Liam hated that. Because he wanted the exact opposite. He wanted him to uncross his arms. He wanted Arvid to touch him again.
"Thanks for the help, mate. You can go." He forced a smile. "I'll take some meds and I'll be fine."
"I'm going to call someone, okay?"
Before Liam could protest, Arvid affectionately ruffled his blonde hair.
Damn man. Damn gentle man.
Liam’s eyes burned. The mere thought of watching him leave and being replaced by anyone else made his chest tighten painfully, as if someone were gripping his heart between their fingers and squeezing.
But what could he say? He wasn't actually sick. He just needed to be alone to try and understand why his life seemed to have derailed like a train without a conductor.
Before leaving, Arvid casually took off his team jacket and left it on the small table next to the sofa.
"It’s too hot today."
Liam almost laughed. Too hot. It really was. If only the Miami weather were to blame.
Arvid asked one more time if he was sure he would be okay.
"I'm going to run and find someone. I promise." He gave a thumbs-up and disappeared through the door.
The moment he was alone, Liam broke down. The tears came before he could stop them.
Fuck it, he thought. He grabbed the jacket without thinking. Without even reflecting. Without letting his conscious mind question why he was practically stealing a piece of clothing identical to the one he owned in his own closet.
His body had already made the decision. He needed that jacket. That scent. Arvid.
He made his way to the bathroom in quick, clumsy steps, fearing more than anything that someone would catch him along the way. As soon as he locked the stall, he let out a frustrated groan and pressed his forehead against the door. He hurriedly brought the fabric to his face, breathing in deeply.
The scent hit him, unravelling him much more than he expected. The relief was so intense it tore another choked sound from his throat.
The tears returned. And that strange sensation of slickness did too.
Trembling, he sat down on the closed toilet seat, pulled off his own shirt, and put on Arvid’s jacket instead. The shift was immediate. It didn't solve the problem, but it made everything inexplicably bearable. Which, in itself, was terrifying. Because it meant this wasn't just in his head.
With shaking fingers, he tried to understand what was happening. He pulled down his trousers and underwear all at once to investigate. His underwear was damp in a way he had never experienced before. It wasn't sweat. It wasn't anything he recognized. The fabric was stained with a translucent, viscous substance, something that seemed completely incompatible with everything he knew about his own body.
Liam stared at it for long seconds. Then he let out a nervous, incredulous, and frightened laugh.
"Fuck..."
His mind finally found an explanation. An absurd explanation. An impossible one.
It felt like slick.
Liam leaned his head back against the wall.
No. No. It made no sense. Because Liam was a beta. Betas don't produce slick.
And why this sudden, desperate urge to be filled? Where was this overwhelming urgency coming from? He closed his eyes, pulling the collar of the jacket against his lips with a trembling hand. As he thought of Arvid, a low groan escaped through his teeth, accompanied by a shiver that ran down his body. He wanted him there; loneliness had never weighed so heavily. He needed to tear this goddamn feeling out of himself. It hurt. His womb burned with a relentless fever, and the desire to be touched had become a necessity, but not by just anyone.
Determined to soothe the spark of that burning heat, Liam pushed himself off the toilet. Seeking support, he turned to face the cold stall door, pressing his chest and forehead against the metal surface while widening his stance to clear his hips, letting his trousers and soaked underwear slip and bunch sloppily around his ankles.
With one palm flat against the door to steady himself, he reached back with trembling fingers, finding his own entrance. He breathed out heavily, his eyes widening at how terrifyingly wet he was. He slid his first finger inside, biting down on the fabric of Arvid's jacket to muffle the sound. In his mind, he pictured the ridge beneath Arvid's hoodie, those attentive eyes watching him. He imagined Arvid holding that gaze while taking him with his fingers and mouth.
Instinctively, he pushed a second finger in. He could almost hear that calm voice whispering right in his ear. He imagined his cock, deep and relentless. He imagined Arvid praising him, telling him what a good boy he was. Keeping pace with the fantasy, he quickened the rhythm, searching for more depth. But it still wasn't enough. It didn't come close.
"A good omega," Arvid’s illusory voice echoed in his mind.
The fantasy caught him as much by surprise as the climax that followed instantly. It was a sharp, sudden snap, a shockwave that washed over his aching body in violent relief.
All his life, Liam had known he was a beta. Never, not even in his most distant thoughts, had he ever considered or desired the submission of an omega. Until that exact second. There, slicking for the first, unexpected time, he realized he craved that designation with a fierce hunger, and only because of that alpha.
Holy shit. A good omega.
And of all people, to his rookie teammate? What the hell was happening to him? Was he losing his mind?
He would bet that yes, he was going crazy. Panic flared in his chest, his eyes flooded with tears, and Arvid's jacket was now stained with his spit.
One certainty, however, was absolute: Liam had a massive problem on his hands, and not just because of the sticky fluid between them.