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Ilya has known Shane Hollander for the better part of a decade. Shane is the kind of person you never forget meeting for the first time.
It had been a cloudy day, but warm for Montreal. Ilya was new to — well, pretty much everything if he was honest, new to the country, new to the city, new to the school, just new. His family had uprooted from Moscow, following the passing of his mother, to move to North America.
On his very first day in his new school, Ilya had been seated beside a sweet boy with the most beautiful freckles adorning his soft-looking face. For a seventh grader the boy had quite a solid build, even if Ilya stood almost an entire head taller. A firm presence, even if he still had a softness over him.
Ilya spent most of that first lesson just taking it all in. Having to go to school in a country where you barely spoke the language was going to be a challenge. Doing so while seated beside the cute boy with his dark, almost black hair, and his deep, warm brown eyes made it all that much more challenging. Especially when he had to keep himself from staring at his face, wanting to memorise the placement of every single freckle.
Ilya hadn’t really said anything during the first lesson, however neither had that boy, that Ilya kept wondering the name of. “Takomu prekrasnomu mal’chiku navernyaka podoydot prekrasnoye imya, (such a beautiful boy must have a beautiful name to match)” his mind kept repeating.
Later that same day, Ilya had learned that his name was Shane Hollander.
The boy had come up to Ilya and stood right in front of him at recess. He had extended his hand almost animatedly, and as Ilya had turned to look at him, he said “Shane… uh Hollander. I wanted to introduce myself… earlier I mean, and then Mrs. Parker was talking so I never got the chance to actually say hi. So hi, I guess.”
Ilya was sitting on a bench. He had been talking to his only friend Svetlana, who became an instant friend the second they realized they both were Russian. Ilya stared at Shane’s outstretched hand for a second, a smile creeping up his face. “Okay,” he said.
Svetlana shoulder-checked him softly ,“Ilyukha, bud’ dobr. Predstav’sya (Be nice Ilyukha. Introduce yourself),” so that’s what Ilya had done.
“My name is Ilya Rozanov” he had stumbled a bit, but he had practiced this particular sentence a lot over the summer.
“Could you say your name again please? A little slower this time,” Ilya was surprised by the request, but complied nonetheless.
“Ilya Rozanov” this time he made sure to pronounce his name clearly, and he saw Shane looking at his mouth and copying its movement. Mirroring him, not in a teasing way, but with such interest and care.
“Il-ya Roz-a-noV” Shane had repeated. Ilya smiled wide.
“Da!” Ilya had exclaimed. Both boys smiled wide. As Shane walked away, Svetlana had a twinkle in her eye, “On milyy, (he is cute).” Ilya could only agree.
That was almost six years ago now, and a lot had happened in those years. Shane and Ilya had become inseparable. They spend most of their days together, mostly at the Hollander residence.
They had gone to Ilya’s house once, but were met by his angry alpha father and bully alpha brother, so they prefer to spend their time at Shane’s house. Ilya fit right in, and Shane’s parents, Yuna and David Hollander, love Ilya. Their summers were spent in Ottawa, in the Hollander family cottage.
As the years passed, they also both presented their secondary gender. Ilya presented one winter, coming out of his first rut to about 45 missed calls from Shane. Ilya had missed three days of school, but no one was really surprised that the boy had presented as an Alpha.
Shane hadn’t presented until about one and a half years later. Missing a whole week of school. Ilya had been worried sick, even considering calling Yuna to find out what was going on. However, Shane had called him that same Friday evening. Ilya knew something was bothering Shane simply by the sound of his voice. “Solnyshko (little sun), what is wrong?”
Shane had then proceeded to tell Ilya that he had presented as an Omega, and that he had needed some time to process.
Male omegas weren’t uncommon, but Shane had been surprised. He had come to expect being an Alpha, seeing as he didn’t fit the typical expectations of what an Omega was. He wasn’t dainty and fragile; he was rugged and played rough when he was on the ice for the school hockey team.
Ilya had listened and helped Shane process. Just like they always did for one another. Yuna had even agreed to Ilya coming over despite the late hour. They had cuddled on Shane’s bed, and Ilya had told him about his week at school.
Now they were sitting in their shared home for the next couple of years. They were starting college in just over a week, and there hadn’t really been a question of whether they were attending the same one. It had just been about which one. And now they were going to be roommates.
They had rented a two-bedroom apartment just outside campus. Yuna and David had helped them move their things, and now they were here, in their shared living room, sitting on the sofa sharing takeout and staring tiredly at the mess in front of them. “I can’t really believe this is real,” Shane said around a bite of food, “and I kinda already miss my mum, is that weird?”
“I don’t think is weird, zaika (little bunny),” Ilya said in a soothing voice. “And I also keep thinking this is dream. Have to pinch myself.”
It turned into a late night, but so did the following nights. Turns out moving out is a lot of work. They had each set up their respective rooms, and shuffled between working on them and their shared spaces.
They had also gone to IKEA to grab some of the missing furniture and miscellaneous items Ilya claimed they just couldn’t live without. They didn’t need much, thanks to Yuna’s helpful lists of necessities, but they both thought it was kind of obligatory to go.
As they get settled into their home, Ilya is bending over backwards to try to control his inner alpha. Obviously both he and Shane are on suppressants, and that helps tremendously, however the one flaw in their otherwise great plan of sharing a home, was that for almost as long as he has known Shane Hollander, he has been in love with him.
Ilya might not be the smartest man he knows, but he knows this much. The beautiful boy – well man to be honest, he now shares his home with – has spent the better part of a decade occupying his heart. Ilya loves how Shane’s attention to detail means that he never misses anything. He loves Shane’s awkwardness around most people, finds it endearing even. He loves his beautiful freckles, his little nose, his shy blushing smiles every time Ilya calls him a pet name in Russian. He loves how he is soft at home and hard on the ice. He loves that he knows Ilya better than he knows himself. He loves his scent, the scent of sweet, juicy, ripe oranges, fragrant, blossoming jasmine, with an underlying scent of lemon balm, that becomes more noticeable whenever he feels cozy.
And that is exactly what has him in a chokehold now. Because it’s one thing to share a room or even a bed with Shane for a night, or a week, but it turns out that living with him is a completely different thing. His scent is everywhere. It’s in the kitchen, it’s in the bathroom, it’s embedded in the sofa cushions, and worst of all, it’s in Ilya’s room.
***
Starting college is tougher than Shane expected. It’s only been a week and a half, and he feels so overwhelmed. He is spending all of his time studying, playing hockey and sleeping.
Ilya makes it look easier; he is busy too, of course he is. But somehow, he manages it all better than Shane. Maybe it has to do with his more spontaneous nature. Shane never really did like change after all.
Shane is having a particularly difficult time today. He misses his mother immensely, the weather has been incredibly dull, and he hasn’t had the chance to go to the rink for anything but the scheduled training sessions. Ilya had noticed this of course. Not only had Shane been more quiet than usual. He had been whimpering in his sleep, and his scent had turned sharp. Ilya hates it whenever the peppery scent of basil mixes with the usual sweet and calming scent coming off of the slightly smaller man.
When Shane enters the apartment at just after five thirty p.m. he is overcome by the delightful smell of food. Typically, what he smells is Ilya, and his scent is there for sure. The everpresent deep scent of cedar wood and warm, sweet vanilla with a hint of dried tobacco leaves, but now he smells garlic, onion, ginger, and what he thinks is beef. He hears the faint sizzling of something and a low melodic humming coming from Ilya. Shane puts down his bag and shuffles towards the kitchen, toeing off his shoes along the way. “Ilya? What’s all this?”
Ilya turns around by the stove, “Solnyshko (little sun), you are home.” Ilya’s eyes light up as soon as they land on Shane. “You are sad, so I make you food,” Ilya gestures to the pan on the stove, “it’s beef and broccoli, I asked David how he makes it the way your mum likes,” a smile spreads over Shane’s face.
“You called my dad?” As he steps closer to take a big whiff over the pan, Ilya lifts his arm and rests it over the shoulders of the other man.
“He and Yuna say hi. I thought you could use some pampering.”
“Wow? Pampering?” Shane draws, looking to Ilya with wonder in his eyes.
“Yes, is what your dad said.” Ilya tightens his grip around Shane and lowers his tone to better mock David, “don’t spoil my son too much with all your pampering Ilya,” they both chuckle softly.
“Yeah, that does sound like him,” Shane says. “But why? You could be out with all your new classmates or even the team, I heard them talk about the party at Bood’s frat. Why are you at home, cooking on a Friday night?” The wonder is audible in his voice, but there is a softness laced in it too.
“My Shanyechka (Shane, lovingly) is sad, and you think I would be anywhere but right here?” Ilya places his finger softly on Shane’s chin to lift his face, locking their eyes. Shane’s scent is back to its normal sweetness. No traces of basil left.
“I don’t deserve you, Ilya. God, I love you.” Shane nuzzles his face into the alpha’s shoulder embracing him tightly. Ilya’s stomach tightens, but he holds him nonetheless.
It isn’t new for them to voice their love for each other. They both say those words almost daily,have done so for many years, but it always knocks the air from Ilya’s lungs whenever Shane says them like this, with so much affection and softness. When the words almost sound like they mean the same to Shane as they do to himself. He knows they don’t.
“Why don’t you go shower? Dinner is soon ready, we eat by the TV. I will even let you put on boring documentary, with boring David Attenborough,” Ilya is teasing, Shane knows this, but jumps right in with both legs.
“Hey! Be nice. Sir Attenborough has a really soothing voice.”
“Oh, so I cook for you, I pamper you, and you call David Sir, but never me? I thought boring Canadians were not rude,” Ilya is laughing now, as he starts stirring the pan again, turning the heat back up.
“You are a menace,” Shane said, already heading towards the bathroom, there is no heat behind his words.
***
A few days later Shane comes home to a very smug Ilya. He is sitting on the sofa, laptop on his thighs. By the looks of it he hasn’t been doing much schoolwork. His books are still neatly stacked on the coffee table, previously crumbled-up pieces of paper placed, somewhat neatly, in a pile beside them.
“What have you been up to?” Shane asks, setting down his bag by the front door, toeing off his shoes and stepping up behind the couch. His fingers naturally start moving towards Ilya’s lush curls. The muddled blond strands falling around his fingers as he lightly scratches at the alpha’s scalp. Ilya lets his head fall back, resting on the softness of Shane’s lower belly. He exhales deeply and melts into the touch. “Nothing Kotik (kitten), I am studying.”
“Something tells me that is not the whole truth.” Ilya huffs, “what? You call me liar? Is whole truth, da (yes)?” Ilya can hear the smile spreading over Shane’s face; can hear it in his voice.
“Something tells me you are up to something then? What is it?” Ilya lets himself be lulled a little more by Shane’s tender fingers in his curls, but reluctantly straightens up, wincing a little at the loss of contact as Shane’s hands fall to his sides again. “Go in room, check it out.”
Shane does as told, letting out a surprised gasp the second he enters his room, “Ilya, you did all this?” From his spot on the sofa Ilya can’t actually see Shane’s reaction, so he gets up to stand behind him in the doorway. Both men look into the dimly lit room.
“It is nothing Solnyshko (little sun),” Ilya has his arms wrapped around Shane’s middle now, resting his big hands on his belly.
“It is not nothing Ilya. You didn’t have to do this” Shane turns his head so he is looking at Ilya. The omega has tears in his eyes, Ilya sees the way all of the fairy lights he spent the last hour draping from the ceiling of Shane’s room reflects in the deep, warm brown of his eyes. Shane’s scent is overtaking his senses. It would be so easy to lean in just a little and kiss the shorter man. Ilya settles on wiping under his one eye with a careful swipe of his thumb. He keeps his hand on Shane’s cheek as he speaks, “so you are not in complete darkness, but don’t need to turn on the big lights.”
Shane shudders a little on his next exhale, leaning into Ilya's touch. “You are too good to me.” Shane leans his forehead on Ilya's chest. This way his hair is right under Ilya’s nose.
“Ya tebya lyublyu (I love you),” Ilya says softly as he exhales, embracing Shane tightly. Ilya must be imagining, but he smells Shane’s scent sweetening as it’s coming off him. “I love you, too, Ilya,” it’s slightly muffled by Ilya’s shirt, but he feels every word pressed against his chest. Feels them seep in to wrap around his heart and squeeze.
***
The following weeks fly by. The two friends are rarely home at the same time, really only seeing each other in the rink. Shane has been happier, meaning Ilya has been happier. Fall break is fast approaching, meaning lots of parties, keeping Ilya out most evenings and nights.
This particular evening Ilya is sitting on a sofa in the communal area of one of the frat houses. He is surrounded by most of the hockey team, as well as some of their partners. “Hey Ilya, how come Shane never wants to hang out?” It’s Hayden Pike asking. Ilya doesn’t like Hayden Pike.
“He cannot stand the stench of you Pike.” Ilya spits. Most of the group laugh, Pike doesn’t, Ilya counts that as a win.
“Hey don’t worry dude, I’m not gonna steal your boyfriend! Jackie and I are mated, remember?” Pike means it mostly as a joke. Ilya knows this, since most of the group is laughing, he himself is not laughing.
“Ilya he is just kidding,” Harris says then, leaning into Ilya’s personal space. Ilya likes Harris. Harris is dating Troy Barrett, whom Ilya counts as one of his best friends. Ilya lets his shoulders fall, swallowing the growl in his throat.
“I know, is just not fun,” Ilya says, leaning back into the sofa, and taking a sip of the beer in his hand. Harris leans back in his seat as well. Harris is not like most omegas, but in a different way than Shane.
Where Shane has a firm build because of his many hours spent on the ice, Harris is soft. They are both broad, Shane more so over his shoulders, Harris more so over his hips. Harris never played hockey, but he attends every game and every practice to take videos and pictures for the school’s social media profiles. That is how he had met Barrett, who had been infatuated from the start, but had been slow to admit his feelings, afraid of the rejection. Ilya thought they were a good match, Harris gives the alpha some whimsy, and Barrett gives the omega the care and protection he craves and deserves, by seeing him fully.
“I can smell that you are thinking of him,” Harris says softly, pulling Ilya back into reality, his eyes finding Harris’ face.
“And I can see it,” Barrett pipes up, poking his head out from behind Harris. Ilya swears under his breath. “Why don’t you just tell him?” Barrett says in a low voice, only meant for Ilya’s ears.
“Says you,” Ilya spits back, there is no real bite to it.
“Yeah, yeah, but see what came from it once if finally I did tell him,” Barrett says looking at Harris with so much love in his eyes Ilya almost feels nauseous.
“But he is my best friend. I cannot lose him.” Harris places a hand on Ilya’s arm.
“You won’t. Believe me.” Ilya can smell the possessive scent coming off the other alpha, but also knows it is involuntary. “Yesli vy tak govorite, (if you say so),” Ilya rubs his eyebrow as he exhales.
***
Shane comes home to an empty apartment. It’s still rather early in the day, having most of his lectures cancelled in favour of time to study. He moves through the space in relative darkness, not really bothering to turn on the light. As he sits down on his bed, he feels an unexpected heat emitting from it. He lifts the covers to find a hot water bottle placed in the middle of the bed. Shane squeaks, but he will deny it if asked under oath.
He picks up the hot water bottle, holding it in his lap for a moment, just letting the heat seep into his body. After a few moments of just sitting there, enjoying the feeling of warmth spreading throughout his body, he uses his foot to roll out a bed roller from under his bed. He reluctantly lets go of the hot water bottle, to undo the lid and pick up the big blanket from inside, before tentatively arranging the big blanket neatly around the outskirts of the bed. The blanket had been left folded up in said bed roller for a long time now, but it felt appropriate to bring it out for a nest now.
He places the throw pillows, that normally live neatly placed on the bed, around the edges. It isn’t the best nest Shane has ever made, but he still crawls under the covers curling up on himself. He might even be purring, but he is home alone, so no one will ever know.
Today has been really cold, and he hasn’t managed to really feel warm yet. Shane is always cold. He would usually have two sets of ski-clothes underneath his gear during the winter and still feel the chill of the rink to his bones for the entire duration of a game.
It doesn’t take long for Shane’s eyes to become very heavy, and he doesn’t really fight it, when that feeling of floating right before sleep takes you starts settling in.
***
Ilya comes home around three p.m.. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he stops in his tracks. Is that purring? Ilya silently toes off his shoes, tiptoeing toward the sound. He follows it to Shane’s room. Peaking inside has a gasp falling from his lips. In the middle of the bed Shane is curled up on himself, fast asleep, and purring. The purrs are accompanied by soft snores.
Ilya had placed a hot water bottle on Shane’s bed right before he himself left for his lectures. Shane had left in a rather thin jacket, so Ilya knew he was going to freeze. He hadn’t expected for the other man to like the gesture this much.
The entire apartment smelled wonderfully. The ripe orange scent that had come to live in Ilya’s heart was even sweeter than normal.
“Lyubimiy (my love),” Ilya heard himself whisper. The sleeping omega stirred. He was no longer snoring, and shortly after the purring ceased as well. Ilya noticed a slight pink tint rising from the collar of Shane’s shirt painting his cheeks a lovely shade, bringing out the freckles that Ilya loved so much. Shane cracked open one eye, sitting up ever so slightly.
This, Ilya thought, is my favourite look on Shane; sleep rumbled after a heavy nap, rosy cheeked, soft hair sticking out in just about every direction. Ilya’s heart skips a beat as Shane sits up fully, cradling the hot water bottle in his lap.
“Hi,” Shane says.
“Hi,” Ilya replies.
He feels almost drawn to Shane, as if pulled by a magnet. He slowly steps closer, coming to a full stop in front of the bed. Ilya knows better than to enter a nest without clear permission.
Besides he has never really seen Shane in a nest before. His room is always so neat and tidy. And even though nests aren’t inherently messy, they are still not as clinically neat as Shane likes to keep it. He isn’t really surprised that Shane nests, all omegas do after all. He simply feels like he is walking in on something intimate.
“You can sit, it’s okay,” Shane is looking up at Ilya with those gorgeous golden, brown eyes. Ilya lowers himself slowly, ready to stop at any moment if Shane changes his mind. He doesn’t.
When Ilya is fully seated on the bed, he pulls his feet from the ground, brushing them against each other to dust off any crumbs, before pulling them into his lap. They sit like that for a little while, letting the silence just take over.
The last time Ilya was in a nest was before his mother’s passing. She had spent the last few months of her life cocooned up in her nest. Ilya would sneak in during the early mornings, when the house was still quiet and crawl into the nest with her. She used to stroke his hair. Brushing the soft curls from his face and telling him to be brave and strong and to stay soft.
“Ilyusha, moy milyy mal'chik. Ty takoy khrabryy i sil'nyy. Ostavaysya nezhnym, dazhe kogda mir zhestok. YA lyublyu tebya, moy milyy malysh. Pomni ob etom vsegda (Ilya, lovingly, my sweet boy. You who are so brave and strong. Stay soft, even when the world is cruel. I love you my sweet baby. Remember that, always).”
“Oh Ilya, oh no, don’t cry.” Shane is pulling Ilya’s head down into his lap. His body is producing calming pheromones in an effort to calm the alpha. His hand starts playing with Ilya’s curls. Stroking them away from his face. This makes Ilya let out a wrangled sound. He hadn’t really noticed that he started crying to begin with, but now that is all he feels. That and Shane’s calming presence.
They sit like that for a while. Ilya sobbing softly, Shane doing his best to calm him down. As Ilya feels his tears drying up his sniffling stops. When he trusts his voice not to break, he speaks softly. “Last time I was in nest was Mama’s,” his accent is thicker than normal.
Shane’s body produces more calming pheromones as he continues to play with Ilya’s curls softly. “I had no idea,” he says ever so softly, “do you want to talk about it?” Ilya ponders for a short moment, but shakes his head nuzzling into the softness of Shane’s belly.
“Not really.”
“That’s okay, do you want to order in and watch a movie?” Shane keeps stroking Ilya’s hair.
“Da (yes).”
When Ilya doesn’t elaborate Shane attempts, “would you want Mediterranean food?”
Ilya turns his head upwards to look at Shane, “that is like Greek, yes?” Shane nods, affirming.
“Da (yes).” Ilya makes no move to get up, so Shane keeps stroking his hair, twisting curls between his fingers.
“Can I have your phone? Mine is in my bag all the way over there,” he says after a while pointing to his bag placed neatly on his desk chair. Ilya pats over his pockets to find his phone, but comes up empty.
“Blyad' (fuck),” Ilya groans, and starts to sit back up. Shane tightens his grip to signal for Ilya to stay put.
“It’s still early, we can wait a few more minutes before we get up.” Ilya melts back into Shane’s lap, letting himself enjoy the moment, and letting all his senses be filled with Shane.
***
The nest stays after that. Shane tidies it up a bit. Making it more of a proper nest. He adds to it little by little. He adds more blankets and pillows, his softest clothes. However, his favourite addition is the jumper he managed to sneak from Ilya’s hamper.
He had placed it so it couldn’t be seen, but Shane knew it was there and it made the whole nest smell like Ilya. It had smelled like him for a while after that first day, but as the scent began to fade Shane had been a little panicked.
Ilya had noticed. He came home the following day, with the softest blanket Shane had ever felt. He added it to the nest immediately. However, what had calmed him down wasn’t the blanket, but the lingering scent of Ilya, from when he had carried it home in his gear bag. As that scent began to fade as well, Shane had an idea.
As he was doing laundry, he had nicked the piece of clothing that smelled most strongly of Ilya. It had turned out to be a blue jumper that brought out the colour of his eyes beautifully. Shane loves that jumper on Ilya, but he loved it even more in his nest.
He hid it under the soft blanket Ilya had brought home, so it was right under his nose when he slept. Shane has every intention of returning the shirt to Ilya as soon as the scent wears off.
***
Fall break was coming to an end. It’s currently Saturday, and lectures start back up on Monday. Zane Boodram has invited the hockey team to pregame the big fall break party at his fraternity. All of the student body is invited to the main event, but pregaming is just the team and their partners and friends.
Shane is currently in the bathroom stressing over his hair. He is dressed in his favourite pair of trousers. A black pair of suit trousers that his parents gifted him last Christmas. They hug his body just right, showing off his strong legs, and they are so soft. They feel almost as soft as his favourite pair of trackers.
He hasn’t yet buttoned up the buttons of the blue tweed shirt that his mum got him at some point. The shirt hugs his arms without restricting his movement and the shirt just so happens to be the exact same shade of blue as Ilya’s eyes. The shirt also falls nicely on his hips, drawing any spectator’s eyes to his waist. Shane is playing around with a piece of hair that keeps falling into his eyes when he catches the reflection of Ilya in the mirror and his breath hitches, and he almost chokes on his own saliva.
Not only do his curls look softer than Shane has ever seen them, wound rather tight on top of his head, but the shirt he is wearing is the softest shade of pastel pink. The shirt is rather boxy, and really makes his broad shoulders stand out. However, the shirt also cuts off right above his belly button. The soft skin covering his toned stomach is staring into Shane’s soul.
His breath always catches slightly whenever Ilya’s shirt rides up, showing off his hips or the trail of hair that Shane physically has to stop himself from following downward. Right now, it is all on display.
“What? You do not like? You look like ghost just walked in here,” Shane lifts his gaze, feeling a blush spreading from his chest all the way up to his cheeks. His voice is not working, and he doesn’t really dare look Ilya in his eyes, choosing instead to let his eyes settle on Ilya’s full, pink lips. They look softer than usual like this, fuller than Shane remembers them.
It was a bad idea to stop here, his blush deepens impossibly more. His eyes move further up, finally landing on Ilya’s eyes. And Shane might die. His blue eyes brighter than ever, his long lashes framing them looking longer and fuller than ever before.
“Are you wearing makeup?” Shane avoids Ilya’s question, instead offering him his own one. Ilya smiles wide as soon as the words leave Shane’s lips.
“Ah! Da! (yes) Sveta said to try her mascara. She said it will bring out my eyes,” his voice is light and airy as he mocks Svetlana, fluttering his eyelashes “you make all the omegas melt Ilyusha (Ilya, lovingly),” Ilya chuckles softly.
Shane might die, his omega however, is really content. Not with the idea of Ilya making an effort to look good for others, but because he can tell himself that Ilya is, at least in part, also trying to please him. His logical mind knows this to not be true, but if it calms his omega, he will count it as a win.
***
Forty minutes later they pull up at Bood’s fraternity. Ilya has managed to calm his alpha back down after seeing Shane looking softer than usual, practically staring at Ilya with wide eyes. Ilya’s alpha had told him that he saw lust in those golden, brown eyes. Ilya had of course known that the alpha within him was just fooling itself.
Ilya feels on edge; he simultaneously has the urge to stay in close proximity to Shane, and get as far away as possible to be able to calm down. There are more people here than Ilya expected, but then again Boodram is a popular guy. He is friends with most people, so even though the pregaming was meant mostly for the team, the rooms are packed.
They make their way through the crowd, weaving between people. Ilya doesn’t see it, but he senses it almost immediately when Shane is stopped. Turning his head, he sees Shane smiling at Rose Landry. Rose is an English literature major, but her passion is acting. Ilya isn’t completely sure where the two crossed paths, but he likes Rose.
Ilya thinks that maybe this is the universe helping him, by choosing for him. Now he can put a little bit of distance between them. Ilya keeps moving, stopping when he spots a few of his teammates standing in a semi-circle. They are all cheering at something. As Ilya comes closer, he spots Hayden Pike and Luca Haas chucking beer, clearly racing each other. Haas is winning by the looks of it, victoriously setting down his last red solo cup, as Pike picks his last cup up.
“’Atta boy Hasy,” most of the group cheer, Ilya joins in. Ilya likes Haas. He is, along with Shane, the only omega on the school hockey team. His build more resembles what you would expect from a typical omega, standing almost an entire head shorter than most of the team. He has more softness over him than Shane, but still has a lean build.
Haas locks eyes with Ilya, “Rozy! You are here!” His speech is a little slurred, no doubt having already had his fair share of beer.
“Of course, Hasy, would not miss you beating Pike!” Haas lights up, as Pike puts on a sour face.
“Wow Rozy, looking good.” Haas says, eyes scanning over Ilya’s body.
“You trying to net a cute omega or what?” Evan Dykstra, another teammate, pipes up from the other end of the group.
“Oh, shut it, Dyke,” Barrett near shouts.
Dykstra holds his hands up, palms facing forward as if to say sorry.
Pike, who is still looking sour, hasn’t seemed to notice the scene above him, “You try then Roz. Like you could out-drink the European.” Ilya never backs down from a challenge, so he takes a seat on the now empty chair beside Haas.
Ilya beats Haas, and just about every other teammate. It’s about 45 minutes later, and, if asked, Ilya isn’t sure he could tell you his own name. He hasn’t been this drunk in a long time, and now he remembers why. Every fibre in his body is screaming for him to find Shane. Needing to hold the omega, have his scent flowing around him. He needs to find him immediately.
Ilya is swaying as he weaves through the admittingly thinning crowds. He is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder and almost growls.
“Hey Ilya, when did you get with that sexy little omega of yours?” Ilya doesn’t recognize the alpha standing in front of him, but he already hates him. Firstly, he drew out his name, making it sound more like Il-ee-yah, which might be his biggest pet peeve about living in Canada. Secondly, nobody should objectify omegas like that. Ilya is just about to tell the guy as much, when another guy pops out of nowhere. Ilya assumes they know each other, but he can’t be sure.
“Yeah cap, his scent is all over you! How come the sweetest ones always fall for the bad guys? There never are any good omegas left for us nice guys, right Rod?” The newcomer shoulder checks his friend playfully.
Ilya sees red. He is just about to go feral, and rip the two guys to shreds when he is pulled backwards roughly by two strong hands.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” It’s Cliff Marlow, another teammate, and good friend of Ilya’s standing over him.
“YA ikh ub’yu”, Ilya is seething as he sees the two guys laughing.
“English Roz,” Marlow says, blocking the view of the two alphas.
“I am going to kill them,” Ilya repeats, this time in English.
“Yeah, no, that isn’t gonna happen,” Marlow says, “come on.”
He leads Ilya to a quieter corner, offering him a sip of water, which Ilya takes. “Look, I don’t know what kind of sick game of cat and mouse you and Hollander are playing, but seriously, just—"
“We are not playing game,” Ilya interrupts. He, like Haas before him, is slurring his speech.
Marlow looks at him with a seriousness Ilya didn’t expect. “Roz you seriously don’t think we see the way you look at him and he at you? Roz I would say I know you fairly well by now, and you are a dickhead to anyone, but him. You keep showing up absolutely reeking of each other’s scent. He looks at you like you personally hung the moon and all the stars. Just get your man.”
Ilya is stunned speechless, and also troubled by his intoxication level; being drunk always makes English harder. “He does not,” is all Ilya comes up with.
Marlow has an apologetic look in his eyes, “whatever you say, cap.” Marlow mumbles something under his breath as he walks away. Ilya goes back to finding Shane.
***
Shane is deep in conversation with Rose, an omega girl he met during the first week of lectures, lending her his laptop charger, as she had left hers in her dorm room. They became fast friends, and Shane really enjoyed talking to her.
Rose is telling him about a play she auditioned for recently, when Shane’s senses are overtaken by the strong scent of cedar. The scent is more potent than usual, probably caused by the temperature in the fraternity. Ilya had a tendency to run warm, as most alphas do.
“Hi Ilya.” Rose says, looking over the top of Shane’s head. Shane turns his head, looking up at the alpha’s tall frame, as he practically towers over him. Ilya’s eyes are drilling into Shane’s looking darker than usual, pupils dilated wide.
“Hi, what’s up?” Shane asks, concern lacing his voice.
“Nothing, I miss you,” Ilya says, accent thick, leaning into Shane’s personal space, wrapping his arms around him. Shane is overwhelmed by Ilya’s scent like this, underneath the usually pleasant smell of cedar, vanilla and tobacco he finds the smell of beer.
“You’re drunk,” Ilya hiccups as if prompted by Shane’s observation.
“God you two are adorable. Shane, why didn’t you ever tell me you had a mate?” Rose says from her place across from Shane.
“Shane has mate?” Ilya asks, sounding, to Shane’s ears, almost hurt by the question. Shane knows his ears must be deceiving him, so he simply pats the arm around him.
“Ilya and I are old friends, I don’t have a mate,” Shane says, giving Rose a pleading stare, as if to tell her to stop, she seems to get it, and gets up, ruffling his hair as she leaves. Ilya’s head is now resting on top of Shane’s.
“Hey you,” Shane says softly.
“Solnyshko (little sun),” Ilya says into his hair. Shane feels a blush creep over his cheeks. He never asks Ilya to translate when he speaks Russian, but he recognizes this to be a pet name, Ilya’s favourite for how much he uses it.
“Hey sweets, this seat taken?” Shane is pulled from his all consuming bubble of Ilya by a voice he faintly recognizes. He doesn’t know the name of the alpha it belongs to however.
“No?” it almost sounds like a question leaving his lips. The alpha plops down beside Shane, who isn’t really interested in any further conversation with the near stranger.
“So, sugar, how come we never met each other? I’m Roddy, but most omegas just call me Rod,” the guy, Roddy, has a smirk plastered on his face and actually winks at Shane.
“Shane,” is all that comes out of his mouth, brain too occupied but Ilya’s actions to really say anything else. Ilya’s head has moved down the side of Shane’s and is now hovering mere centimetres from his scent glands.
Shane freezes, is he going to scent me? He doesn’t feel any wetness, so he is pretty sure Ilya isn’t licking over his scent glands, but his brain short circuits nonetheless, the only thing keeping him steady is the scent of cedar, and Ilya’s low growl.
“Oh, shit, sorry I didn’t realize you were spoken for, my bad,” Roddy says getting up from his seat in a hurry.
“Moy (mine),” Ilya growls into Shane’s neck. Ilya straightens up, looking almost a bit scared of himself.
“Ilya,” Shane’s voice comes out in a much higher pitch than normal, he cringes internally.
“Home, we go home. Now,” Ilya says, looking to have sobered up quite a bit.
As they walk down the paved trails of campus Shane is shivering. He is wearing his biggest coat, and still, he feels the winter chill to his bones. Ilya’s coat is open, blowing in the steep wind, as he sways his way towards their apartment. Shane is trying to contain an audible huff, when Ilya is suddenly right in front of him. In his outstretched hand is a pair of creamcoloured knitted mittens. Shane looks from the mittens to Ilya’s face and back.
“What is this?”
“Um… like socks but for hands, do not know his name.” Ilya says, waving his hand holding the mittens a bit, “for you,” he adds.
Shane takes the mittens from his hand, their fingers brush for a moment longer than normal, and a shiver runs down Shane’s spine; this time not from the cold.
“Mittens, and thank you,” he is just about to put them on, when Ilya produces a matching scarf and beanie from his coat pocket.
“Ilya!” Shane says, “you didn’t have to bring all this.”
Ilya just stares at him. Shane takes the scarf first, wrapping it around his neck. Shane must be dead, that is the only explanation. Someone laced his ginger ale, and he is currently dead in some dingy fraternity, his body being stomped on by drunk college students. All of his senses are completely overtaken by Ilya. His scent creeping into every crack and crevasse of Shane’s body.
He slips on the beanie next, and then slips his hands into a mitten each, and only then does Ilya look satisfied. Shane quickly starts feeling his body returning to a normal temperature again. He is so grateful for Ilya’s gesture, but his mind is racing. He has a hundred thoughts a minute, all of them surrounding the alpha walking beside him.
“I love you Ilya, you know that right?” Ilya smiles wide, but there is a sadness in his eyes. Shane doesn’t understand why.
“Da, i ya lyublyo tebya, vsegda tol’ko tebya (Yes, and I’m in love with you, always only you.)”
***
The cold weather seems to be really taking root now; the temperature dropping seemingly more and more each day. Shane and Ilya had gotten into a routine, where Ilya would place the hot water bottle in Shane’s nest more or less every day.
Most days Shane would come home late in the evenings, spending a lot of time at the library studying with Rose. No matter if Ilya was home or not, Shane could count on his nest being warm by the time he was ready for bed.
The two roommates had been seeing each other less than normal lately. Shane chucked it up to winter finals being right around the corner. At least that’s what he told himself.
The energy between them had been different after the party a few weeks ago. Shane couldn’t really put a finger on it, but his omega was more anxious than normal. Shane had mentally run over the course of that party many times, trying to figure out what he had said or done wrong. He kept coming up empty.
He had convinced himself that he had misread the whole situation with Roddy. Ilya being moments away from scenting him had been a figment of his imagination. The growl definitely caused by his drunken state and not a possessive response to some alpha trying to pick Shane up.
The thing that he couldn’t really explain however was the amount of people assuming he and Ilya were together. He hadn’t dared bring it up with Rose, and to Shane’s luck, she hadn’t brought it up either. He had been approached by several people all evening either congratulating him on bagging the captain or assuming they were mated.
Shane had blushed equally each time, stumbling his way through explaining that he and Ilya were simply really good friends, pals, roommates, teammates. Every conversation had left him a little more drained and a lot more confused.
It is just past seven p.m. when Shane gets home. He knows Ilya is home. He can hear him humming in his own room. He takes a deep breath as he toes off his shoes, patting towards his room. Today has been a long day, and Shane really just wants to cuddle up in his cosy, warm nest, maybe have a cup of ginger tea, and just go to sleep.
He stops in the kitchen flicking on the kettle. He fishes the box of ginger tea out of the cupboard bringing it to his nose to let the smell calm him down.
Shane had come home a few days ago to the box of tea sitting in the middle of his nest by the hot water bottle. He’d let out a soft squeak as he read the label. He had had two cups by the time Ilya came home. Ilya had explained to him that it was “like ginger ale, but for cold months.” Shane liked the idea of that very much.
Shane is preparing his tea, when he hears the familiar creak of Ilya’s door. Ilya comes into view, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Hi,” Shane says in a cheerful tone. Ilya looks like someone punched him. “I broke the bottle.” He too sounds like someone punched him.
“What bottle?” Shane asks.
“For the nest, to keep warm. It broke.”
“Oh, Ilya, are you hurt? Did it burn you?” Shane rushes towards him, reaching out and touching his hands and arms, making sure he is not hurt. That would explain the pain in his voice.
“No, I am not hurt, I ripped it. I am sorry. Was not on purpose, I promise, and I am really sorry,” Ilya has an almost pleading look in his eyes. Shane still searches his body for any sign that he might be hurt. When he doesn’t find any, he locks eyes with the taller man.
“I’m just glad you aren’t hurt. Ilya that could have been so dangerous. Did you think I was gonna be mad at you?”
Ilya looks down, avoiding Shane’s eyes, “Da, (yes) maybe, I don’t know, I’m still sorry. I will get you new one, I promise.” He almost sounds like he is whimpering. Shane catches his fingers under Ilya’s jaw, the same way Ilya always does to him, bringing his face up till their eyes lock.
“You don’t have to get me a new one, Ilya. I’m not mad. It happens. I’m mostly sad my nest won’t be as toasty as I’ve come to expect, since you pamper me so much.” He sees the relief flood Ilya’s features. He sees how he breathes a little deeper, a little easier.
“You know I really envy you? How come alphas get to be such warm bodies, when I have to have literal icicles as fingers? I can be cold in the middle of summer, like how is that fair?” Shane is joking, he knows this comes down to biology, knows that crowded nests are never cold, so omegas are built to withstand the rising temperature there. He just hates how that ancient evolutionary trait haunts him today.
“I could keep you warm,” Ilya says, diverting his gaze.
“What?” Shane has confusion written all over his face.
“I am warm, da (yes)? I could stay in the nest to keep it warm. It is no problem. You can just say no, if you do not want me in nest, but if you don’t mind, I could just be like big hot bottle,” Ilya is rambling a bit, but Shane doesn’t have the heart to stop him, Ilya rarely rambles after all. “I am really sorry that it broke, and to make it up to you is the least I can do.”
Shane smiles widely thinking to himself that he doesn’t know if this is real life. Ilya never lies to Shane, so he doesn’t think Ilya would make the offer if he didn’t intend to actually do it, but Shane couldn’t possibly accept the offer, it being too generous.
“You don’t have to do that Ilya, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” Ilya is already shaking his head.
“I will not go in nest if you do not want me to, but you do not ask, I offer.” Shane is a little taken aback.
“Would you really do that for me?”
“Da (yes), is not problem, YA sdelayu dlya tebya vso chto ugodno (I would do anything for you),” Shane doesn’t really know what to do of himself.
“I mean, if you’re sure,” he says, giving Ilya one last out, “but you don’t have to.”
Ilya again shakes his head, “it is no problem, I do not mind.”
“Okay, I would really like that,” Shane regrets the phrasing following up with, “um, I mean for the nest to be warm.”
Ilya smiles widely. “Okay, come get me when is time for bed, I go study until then.”
Shane smiles back, “Okay, I will, and thank you. I love you.”
Shane doesn’t see the sadness in Ilya’s eyes as he retreats back to his room.
***
Shane is woken up by his internal clock the following morning. It’s still dark out, but the fairy lights scattered across the ceiling illuminates the room just enough. Shane keeps his eyes closed for a bit, knowing that it’s still early enough, seeing as his alarm hasn’t gone off. Shane feels cozier than usual. His body sits at just the right temperature, the scent of cedar, vanilla and tobacco filling his nose, and his omega feels cared for. He hears purring coming from the room, but he doesn’t feel it coming from his own body. That’s when he remembers why he is as comfortable as he is.
He feels Ilya’s bigger, stronger body wrapped around him. Their legs are tangled together, arms slung over each other to mimic an embrace. They didn’t go to bed like this, but they must have migrated into this position in their sleep.
Shane flutters his eyes open, swallowing a gasp. This isn’t the first time they wake up tangled together, but somehow this time it feels different, maybe caused by the fact that they are laying in Shane’s nest like that. Maybe also partly due to the fact that they have grown up since the last time.
It has been a while since Shane has been this close to the alpha’s face. He takes in his strong features. His sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, his long lashes fanning over his cheeks, the moles, that Shane knows scatter his entire body, not only his face, which is the only thing visible to Shane now.
Ilya typically has a rather stoic look on his face, but like this, cuddled up in Shane’s nest, purring low in his throat, he looks soft, with an almost childlike innocence. His soft, dirty blond curls fall messily on his head, a single curl threatening to fall into his eyes. Shane has to stop himself from reaching up and running his fingers through the soft strands.
A dangerous thought flickers in Shane’s head. Mine.
Shane knows this is just his omega, so he shakes his head as he pushes the thought away, even though it is quite the struggle. Shane has had the thought before, simply attributing it to their different biology, but this time his omega is putting up a fight. It is difficult to tell himself that the strong alpha, sharing his nest right now, isn’t his, at least not in the way his omega wants.
Shane manages somewhat to calm himself down just as his alarm goes off. He turns around in Ilya’s hold, pressing the off button on the small clock on his nightstand. Ilya pulls him tighter, taking a big inhale, nuzzling into Shane’s neck right where his scent glands sit.
“’Morning Solnyshko, YA mog by k etomu privyknut’ (little sun, I could get used to this),”
“’Morning,” Shane stretches, pretending to have just woken up as well, “did you sleep okay?” Ilya mirrors his stretch, groaning a little.
“Da (yes), I sleep okay.” His accent is thick, sleep still lacing his voice, “You sleep okay? Was I warm enough?” Shane nods, thinking to himself that he never slept better, maybe ever.
“Good,” Ilya says, beginning to get up. “I need shower.” Shane just stares at the empty door frame.
Later that same day, when Shane gets back to the apartment, he is only a little disappointed that Ilya kept his promise and got him a new hot water bottle. The nest is nice and toasty, and Ilya's scent still lingers in every threat of the fabrics making up the nest.
***
Ilya doesn’t really know when it dawned on him that he is, in essence, courting Shane. What he does know is that his alpha won’t let him stop.
This is the reason he is currently browsing online, reading reviews of ski-clothes. He is looking through different blogs by omegas rating the best set to add to your christmas list. Ilya reads over the blobs of text, flickering through the blogs, looking for the set that is unanimously named the softest.
Shane goes through ski-clothes like no other, wearing two sets most practices and occasionally also wearing a set under his regular clothes outside of the rink, on those really cold days.
The alpha has been folded up in his desk chair, pretzel style, for the better part of an hour. He is pretty sure he has it down to two contenders now. A set by Warmega, a Canadian brand, that is mostly merino wool, and a set by AlfaSki, a Swedish brand, that claims to raise the body temperature by up to an entire degree.
Ilya is deep in thought when he hears the faint sound of keys in the lock. He hurries to close any tabs still open, shutting his laptop, and getting up. He stretches his legs, feeling the blood rushing to them. As he walks out of his room he practically floats, carried by the sweet scent of juicy oranges. He spots Shane by the sofa, pulling his jumper over his head, practically seething.
“God! I hate this thing,” he huffs, throwing the crumpled up shirt on the sofa angrily.
“Well hello to you too, Solnyshko (little sun),” Ilya says, smiling.
“Hello,” Shane says angrily, giving Ilya a glare.
“You are in good mood today,” Ilya teases.
“Well this thing is supposed to be soft, and I have been wanting to literally scratch off my own skin all day,” Shane points an accusatory finger at the jumper. “Merino wool is supposed to be baby soft, Ilya. I would rather die than wear that ever again.”
Ilya smiles, walking closer. He thinks to himself: well that settles it, pulling Shane into an embrace. He chuckles softly to himself, “we can burn it, no problem.”
Shane chuckles back, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s broad body, “or not. I will just donate it or something.” They stand like that for a moment, holding each other in their living room.
“How come all your jumpers are this soft,” Shane mumbles. Ilya only hears it because all of his senses are already full of Shane, his alpha tuning in on the soft voice.
“You can borrow, I am a little warm anyway,” Ilya says, equally soft.
“Wait, really?” Shane asks, lifting his head.
“Da (yes),” Ilya says, “is very soft.”
What Ilya doesn’t say is, that his alpha goes feral whenever Shane wears his clothes. It isn’t often, these days, but the look of Ilya’s clothes falling loosely on Shane’s slightly smaller frame almost has him pacing to stop himself from touching.
That, accompanied by his scent covering the omega, telling any other alpha, that this is his omega. Ilya of course knows that Shane isn’t his, at least not yet, but he likes the thought of it, and so does his alpha, it seems.
Ilya steps back, just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He is about to hand it to Shane, when the omega stretches his arms over his head, to signal for Ilya to pull the shirt over his body. Ilya schools his expression, swallowing hard. He lifts the shirt, and fits it carefully over Shane’s body. He stops himself from thinking too much about how vulnerable the position is; showing total submission.
Ilya corrects the shoulder seam, taking a moment to take in the view in front of him. Shane’s freckles are highlighted by a deep blush on his cheeks. His eyes reflect the setting sun in a way that makes the usual dark brown colour look almost glow golden. Shane’s gaze is fixed on Ilya’s face, eyes wandering over his features. Ilya feels his own cheeks heat up, not from insecurity, but rather from the attention. Shane casts his eyes away, and Ilya feels him pulling hesitantly away.
“Thank… thanks, Ilya,” Shane stumbles a bit, “umm, I have to work on, um… I mean, I should… study.”
It almost sounds like a question, Ilya just nods in response, watching as Shane grabs the discarded shirt, and disappears into his room. The alpha is saddened that he doesn’t get to see more of the omega wearing his clothing, but something in him is also relieved, that he doesn't have to restrain himself. Walking into his own room, however, still might be the most difficult thing he has ever done.
It’s a couple of hours later, when Ilya enters the kitchen set on prepping dinner for the two. He spots Shane by the sink, and stops dead in his tracks. Shane is still wearing his shirt, but has rid himself of his trousers, and has, by the looks of it, just woken up; strands of his soft, dark hair laying criss-crossed on his head, hands hidden by the long sleeves of the too big shirt, which has ridden off to the side and slid off one shoulder, exposing tan skin, and the spot at the nape of his neck where a making bite will sit one day. It doesn’t seem that the other man has noticed Ilya’s presence, if so, he doesn’t show it.
As Shane reaches up into a cupboard Ilya’s brain and lungs stop working all together. The shirt rides up, exposing more of the omega’s strong thighs. The more he stretches, the more the shirt reveals. As Shane reaches whatever it is he is reaching for all the way in the back of the top shelf, Ilya hears himself gasp. The hem of the shirt now sits so high, that it’s showing off the omega’s soft hips. Ilya can’t help wanting to hold Shane right here.
It isn’t anywhere near the first time Ilya has seen Shane in these few clothes, they grew up together, spending a significant amount of time in locker rooms, but this seems so much more intimate. Everything in Ilya screams for him to touch, to hold, to claim; his alpha practically screeches the word mine over and over again.
As soon as the gasp falls from Ilya’s lips Shane whisks around.
“God you scared me,” he says, clutching his chest, “would you grab the spice mix? I accidently pushed it all the way to the back, and as much as I hate to admit it, you are just that bit taller.”
Shane could have asked him to build a rocket, and go collect all the stars individually, and he would simply ask for a timeline, so this is an easy feat. Ilya retrieves the packet from the shelf, and as he hands it off to Shane, their fingers brush against each other, lingering just a moment longer than what could be considered casual or accidental.
Ilya inhales, bringing the finger to his lips, just feeling it there.
“I was thinking tacos, that good with you?” Shane asks.
Ilya just nods, not really trusting himself in English.
“Perfect, I’ll come get you when it’s ready,” Shane’s eyes search Ilya’s face as he speaks. Ilya hopes his expression is unreadable.
Ilya nods again, retreating to his room. He slings himself across the bed, head down, just letting himself calm down for a moment, his mind a constant stream of mineminemine and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.
***
The scent in the nest is fading more and more day by day. Shane’s omega almost has him pacing his room. Every time he frantically sniffs over spots that previously held that intoxicating scent, to find it now muted by his own, he feels his gut sink. Shane almost dreads going into his room, trying to push away having to deal with his nest.
Shane is on the sofa, head between his knees, breathing deeply, when he hears Ilya’s key turning the lock on the front door. Ilya practically runs to Shane’s side, scattering his outerwear along the way. He comes to a stop in front of the curled-up body, rummaging through his bag.
“What ar–” Shane stills as the alpha in front of him pulls a sand-coloured box out from his bag. Shane looks it over, reading the label thoroughly. He recognizes the brand; has seen it before: Ember & Ice. A popular brand for luxury selfcare and home fragrances.
The box is smooth, with a slight velvety look to it. It looks too fancy for something a college student would own, let alone buy.
“What’s this?” Shane asks, running the pad of one finger softly over the flogged box still in Ilya’s big hand.
“Is horse,” Ilya says dryly, rolling his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips, “what do you think it is?” Shane scans the box once more. In fine cursive the words with a calming scent of cedar wood and vanilla are written across the bottom of the front of the box. He gasps softly, realizing that it is Ilya’s scent.
“I don’t know, could be a candle from the size of it,” Shane says, his voice wavering unexpectedly.
“It is,” Ilya confirms, “I was walking Marlow home, he said you might like this.”
“Marlow? As in Cliff Marlow?” Shane asks, clearly not expecting that from the alpha.
“Net (no), Marie Marlow, his secret twin. Of course, is Cliff,” Ilya says playfully, “we walked by big fancy store, didn’t know he lived in area that fancy, he said you might want, so I buy it for you.” Ilya is rambling a bit; Shane doesn’t know how to react.
“So, you’re telling me Cliff Marlow told you to get me a scented candle, carrying this exact scent, because he thought I might like it?” Shane can’t really believe those words just left his own mouth.
“Da! (yes)” Ilya exclaims, “I know you have had many concussions, but did not know you are that slow,” Ilya looks to be having a lot of fun teasing Shane. “I told him you were a little sad again, he said this will help.”
Shane is speechless, he cannot believe his own ears.
Not only has Ilya picked up on his scent changing, not caused by sadness but rather panic over the fading scent, but he talked to Marlow about it.
“You told Marlow I was sad, and he recommended you to buy me a candle that carries your scent?” Shane thinks this might be a dream, there is simply no way this is his life. He feels a blush blossom across his cheeks.
“Oh, is my scent? I did not see. We saw it in window. If you do not want I can give it back,” Ilya says. Shane has to think fast. He can under no circumstances admit that he would actually die if that candle is not in his room, burning when he goes to bed later, but that is, he thinks, very possible.
“Um… you don’t have to return it,” he tries, “it might help. It says calming scent, so it’s worth a shot.” Ilya smiles wide handing Shane the box.
“Smell it, if you do not like it, I take it back to the store, if not you keep.” Shane opens the box inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes, letting the scent fill all his senses. He feels himself calming down immediately. He hums softly on his exhale Like Ilya’s scent, the cedar wood is strongest, the warm, earthy tones calming Shane down. The deep sweetness of the vanilla hugging Shane tightly.
Shane feels wetness in his eyes, tears threading to fall. Shane loves the scent, but still feels it’s missing something. He opens his eyes looking up, catching Ilya’s expecting gaze, and just then his nose catches the scent the candle is missing.
The underlying scent of dried tobacco leaves.
Shane never understood how much that little bi-note carried most of Ilya’s scent. All three notes making up Ilya’s scent are rich and deep, however they manage to complement each other beautifully, making up the scent Shane has, unconsciously, started associating with home.
“Is okay?” Ilya asks.
“Yeah, it really is calming, they didn’t just make that up,” Shane says, nodding softly.
“Perfect, you keep then,” Ilya says, body almost vibrating with glee, as he hands the box over to Shane.
“Thank you, Ilya,” Shane starts getting up from the sofa. Ilya, who stood over Shane just seconds ago, doesn’t seem to catch on to Shane’s intentions of moving, so as the shorter man straightens out, they are now practically standing on top of each other.
Ilya’s strong arms come out creating a barrier around Shane, as he stumbles a little. He looks up, locking their eyes, finding more softness than he expected in the pale blue eyes staring back at him.
“Hi,” Ilya says, voice quiet, smile audible.
“Hi,” Shane whispers back. “I was just… um… bedroom,” Shane waves the candle towards his room, suddenly unable to move.
“Okay,” Ilya breathes, but he doesn’t move.
For a second Shane is sure Ilya is going to kiss him, lean in, closing what little space is between them, and press his soft looking lips to his own. Shane doesn’t really remember when he noticed that Ilya’s lips look so soft; pink and plumb. He also doesn’t know if he is leaning in, or if it’s the alpha, or maybe both.
The omega is pulled out of his head by Ilya inhaling sharply, taking a full step back.
“I… I’m… I will go” Ilya looks, and smells, panicked. He practically stumbles off towards his room.
As the door closes after him, Shane feels his shoulders fall. He doesn’t really know when they crawled up under his ears. He breathes deeply.
“What the fuck just happened?” he says under his breath.
***
As Ilya closes the door to his room, he slides down, back against, it sitting on the floor with his knees bent, letting his head fall on them. He takes a full breath for the first time since he came home.
“Kakogo cherta (What the fuck)!” Ilya says to the room, “voz’mi sebya v ruki (get a grip)!”
The thing is, Ilya hadn’t been entirely truthful in his relation of the story. He had walked Marlow home, but mostly to have an excuse to walk by the Ember & Ice store, which he had looked up the location of beforehand.
In truth Ilya had seen the new collection because Svetlana had sent a picture of it, from one of the magazines in the waiting area of the car dealership where she worked. The grainy picture had been accompanied by a text reading something along the lines of how crazy! They should just call this collection “Ilyusha” followed by a red heart emojicon.
He had walked into the store with Marlow in tow, looking like two lost pups. The sales assistant, an omega woman with strawberry blond hair and for some reason wearing an apron had approached the two of them.
Ilya had explained what they came for, and the omega had chuckled saying: “Your omega must be so lucky, it’s not every day I get to sell a scent to someone with that same scent.” Ilya had chuckled softly, shrugging. He could hear Marlow behind him trying to stifle a laugh.
“I am lucky one,” Ilya had said, smiling at the omega as she wrapped up the transaction. Marlow had patted his back as they headed in different directions outside the store.
“Good luck Rozy,” he had said, “I honestly still can’t believe you are like for real courting him, and he isn’t jumping your bones. For a blind guy he is a really good hockeyplayer.” Marlow let the laugh, that had already started brewing in the store, bubble out.
“Yeah yeah, it is not like I can just tell him,” Ilya said, reasoning mostly with himself.
“You know what, Cap?” Marlow says then, “you literally could.”
Ilya thinks that maybe Marlow isn’t that good of a friend after all, deep down though, he knows that to be a lie.
***
“Shanya (Shane, lovingly), where is my silk shirt? The one with all the trees? I cannot find. Had it last week at party. Have you seen?”
Shane wishes the ground would swallow him. His worst nightmare might just be coming true. The thing is, that very shirt is currently tangled up in his nest. Not too many hours ago his face had been more or less covered in the soft silk fabric of the satin dress shirt. Now Ilya is calling from his room.
Shane can hear shuffling, and the sound of hangers being pushed around in the closet. Even though Ilya’s scent had lingered in the nest for a long time after Ilya had helped him to stay warm, it had eventually faded. The omega within Shane had been winding up more and more tightly as the time passed, and the intoxicating scent of the alpha had started disappearing, not even lighting the candle Ilya had gotten him seemed to help anymore. Shane had needed to resort to old ways. His omega was just shy of begging.
Shane had gone through Ilya’s hamper, again, this wasn’t too surprising. It was common for the two of them to fill the washing machine with miscellaneous items from the other’s hamper. It would just be wasteful to run half a load anyway. This time though he had kept a new article of clothing.
Shane had practically been legs up, head down in the hamper, sensing his way to the thing that carried Ilya's scent the strongest. What he had come up with was his jersey. However, Ilya would definitely notice if that went missing. Shane reluctantly put it back, but not before noticing the shirt he had ended up nicking.
The shirt was red, covered in palm trees and was made of the softest satin material Shane’s fingers had ever felt. As he played with the fabric, he was reminded of running his fingers through Ilya’s soft curls.
Ilya had worn the shirt out, leaving the top three buttons undone. The reflection of the satin fabric had almost made it look like the taller man had a blush sitting on his cheeks the whole time. They had called it early that night. Shane being worn down from spending extra hours on the ice. He and Ilya had spent the evening on their sofa. Cuddled up into a big pile of limbs.
The shirt now carried a mixed scent that was uniquely Shane&Ilya, along with a deeper, mustier scent from being buried underneath Ilya’s jersey. Shane had almost squealed as he headed towards his nest, hiding the shirt right beside the growing amount of Ilya’s clothing lining his nest.
Shane only realises that he is frozen in place when Ilya’s taller frame comes into view in the doorframe.
“Solnyshko? Everything okay?” His voice is so calm and soothing, Shane almost wants to cry.
“Yeah,” Shane’s voice betrays him, coming out way shakier than he had hoped. He takes a deep breath. “Um… I’m okay. Have you looked through your laundry?” Shane knows Ilya looked through the hamper, he asks anyway, hoping to buy himself some time.
“Da (yes)! You think I have not looked in laundry? What, you think this is first day on planet?” Ilya is teasing. Shane knows this, but he is too panicked to really enjoy the glint in his bright blue eyes.
“Go look again.” Shane knows Ilya can smell the panic coming off of him. He is grateful when Ilya doesn’t comment on it, but just walks back towards his room muttering something in Russian under his breath.
Shane takes a second to calm down, taking a deep breath before he quickly turns to grab the shirt from the nest and practically sprints off towards the bathroom. He gives himself ten deep breaths to calm down, clutching the soft fabric to his chest, before nonchalantly strolling out of the bathroom carrying the shirt in one hand.
Ilya is still in his room, having just turned his hamper on its head in the middle of his floor.
“Is not here,” he says, looking up at Shane in the doorframe.
“Found it in the bathroom, was hidden under the big towel,” Shane is lying through his teeth, “it’s not clean though.”
He stretches out the hand holding the shirt. Ilya takes it from him, bringing it to his nose. If he notices the scent of oranges coming from every fiber of the garment, he doesn’t comment on it. Shane is grateful.
Fifteen minutes later when Ilya leaves the apartment wearing a different shirt, Shane feels his lungs fill with air completely for the first time for probably the last hour. He really needs to return the other pieces of Ilya’s wardrobe currently padding his nest.
***
It’s a few days later when Shane comes home to a gift box sitting neatly in the middle of his nest. He can hear Ilya moving about in his own room. He lets his bag slide off his shoulder as he approaches the box.
He stands in front of the bed for a long while, just staring at the box. He can’t really come up with an occasion. There is no card. His parents wouldn’t send him gifts like this out of nowhere, and his birthday is still months away. Christmas also isn’t for another few weeks, so he comes up blank. Shane crouches down by the bed, reaching out a tentative hand, running his finger along the edge of the square box.
He plays with the ribbon a little before loosening the beautiful red bow adorning the white box. He slowly lifts the lid of the box. Inside is a beautiful, pastel pink shirt. It’s folded up nicely, like how the people at fancy clothing stores fold up nice clothes for Christmas presents.
Shane recognises the shirt immediately. Ilya wore it to a party a couple of weeks ago. He reaches into the box, letting his fingers glide over the soft cotton of the fabric. Almost as soon as his fingers touch the fabric, a potent scent of cedar, vanilla and tobacco fill all his senses.
A gasp falls from his lips. He scented it. There are tears in his eyes, he knows this, he doesn’t really care. Ilya must have noticed Shane’s scent lingering on the silk shirt, and now he has gifted Shane a scented shirt.
Shane brings the soft fabric to his face inhaling deeply. It’s almost too much, but he loves it. He startles a little when Ilya’s voice comes from behind him.
“You like it?” Getting up, he places the shirt over his heart.
“Ilya, I love it! I’m sorry for stealing your shirts, my omega went kind of crazy when the alpha left the nest,” his tone is slightly mocking as he hates admitting his imperfections, “I shouldn’t have taken your stuff. I’m really sorry, but also thank you. You didn’t have to, but thank you, I’m rambling, sorry please stop me…” Shane stops talking as Ilya steps closer.
He is so close like this.
Ilya reaches out, tilting Shane’s face up by his jaw, so their eyes lock. “Look at me,” Shane is pretty sure his knees have given out, and that the only thing keeping him upright is Ilya's calloused fingers on his chin. “You do not have reason to be sorry. It is no problem for me to leave a shirt or two for you sometimes. I do not mind. Just ask next time.” Shane feels the wetness return to his eyes. He doesn’t know who he pleased in a past lift to have Ilya in this one.
“Thank you, Ilya, you’re too good to me.” Shane takes half a step forward, almost stepping into Ilya’s body. He lets himself be held. Loves the quiet of his brain, the only thought roaming around being ilovehimilovehimiaminlovewithhim.
His breath hitches as he lets an otherwise silent tear roll down his cheek and into Ilya’s chest.
I’m in love with him.
The thought isn’t new per say, however, letting it have free reign is new.
Shane has spent the better part of a decade beating that thought into submission. Chaining it down and silencing it. Shane is a man, who has always calculated the risk of any action, and admitting, even to himself, that he was in love with his best friend, came with too high a risk to ever allow that to fester and take root. But now that it’s there, the roots are spreading at a pace he cannot follow, weaving into every memory of Ilya.
A wet sound escapes him, as he rests his forehead on Ilya’s chest.
“I love you so much,” the omega says.
Ilya's lips leave a whisper of a kiss in Shane’s hair.
“YA tozhe tebya lyublyu. YA pochti uverena, chto mne dana eta zhizn', chtoby lyubit' tebya (I love you too. I’m pretty sure I was given this life to love you).”
***
Shane seems to forget every year how cold and dark winter actually gets at this latitude. He has practically been counting down the days till the winter solstice.
Now with only a week left till the sun will start gaining minutes he thinks it can’t come fast enough. Lectures were starting to wrap up for the year as well, finals well passed. Ilya had been spending most of his free time outside the apartment, Shane only seeing him sparsely. Practice had been put on hold even before the finals. Ilya still places the hot water bottle in the nest every day, now occasionally accompanied by a scented shirt or pillowcase. He hasn’t yet requested to get any of the items back, Shane can’t bring himself to ask.
Shane comes home to an empty apartment, slightly saddened that he won’t get to spend this afternoon with the other man. He justifies to himself that it’s only caused by Ilya’s seemingly magic ability to brighten his mood, and had nothing to do with his recent revelation.
Shane has spent a good portion of his time trying to tie the free i’m in love’s swarming his mind back down. He hasn’t been very successful. Shane has realised over the past days that he is irrevocably, fully and devastatingly in love with his best friend.
He can’t wait to spend another afternoon alone with the gloomy weather and his racing thoughts.
He shrugs off his thick coat and changes from his shoes to the knitted socks he had taken to wear whenever he was home. He trudges towards his room, hoping to silence his mind in his nest, surrounded by softness, heat and the scent of cedar wood. Shane isn’t too surprised when he finds a box on the bed next to the hot water bottle.
As he shuffles closer it does however seem big to contain a regular piece of clothing. He lifts the lid and feels a gasp escape him as he peaks inside.
The first thing that meets his eyes is a pair of black headphones. He is fairly certain they belong to the alpha. Lifting them out of the box he sees that they are connected to what looks like a portable CD-player.
Shane hasn’t seen it before, it looks brand new. He lifts that too, revealing a CD-case on the very bottom of the box. He puts down the items in his hands to pull out the case. He brings it up, turning it every which way, inspecting it closely. Slipped into the front of the case is a printed picture of Ilya and him. He hasn’t seen the photo before but recognises that it was taken at his parents cottage from the surroundings.
The two boys in the picture are holding hands mid air as they jump from the deck, the vast lake in front of them. Shane feels tears well up in his eyes as he studies the details of the picture. Based on what he sees, he thinks the picture was taken the first summer after they both presented.
That year Shane had been terrified that it would feel wrong sharing his room with his friend. Afraid that their biology would make it weird for them. He had been antsy the entire car ride. Ilya had placed his hand on his knee to calm him down, keeping it there the whole time.
Ilya had been so sweet all summer, checking in with Shane and making sure he felt safe and still wanted Ilya in his room with him, offering to sleep on the sofa. Shane had assured him he was good. That was the first time Shane’s mind started thinking of Ilya as a potential mate.
The picture looks like it was taken on their last day, skin tan from the sun and bodies relaxed.
Shane turns the case over finding a bunch of advanced symbols. He recognises them as cyrillic letters, but can’t decipher them. Beneath them with regular latin letters, and in Ilya’s handwriting is written:
“For Solnyshko - My favourite person, I love you”, accompanied by a doodle of a heart.
Shane runners his finger softly over the scribbles made in permanent marker.
The alpha normally has quite a messy handwriting, especially compared to Shane’s neat one, however it does look like he tidied it up a little as he wrote the message on the case.
Shane sits on the bed, just taking everything in for a moment before popping open the case. Inside is what looks like a burned CD, the shiny film reflecting the fairy lights as Shane holds the open case in slightly shaking hands.
Across the front of the CD a numbered list of song titles are written in the same tidied up yet messy handwriting.
- You’ve Got a Friend in Me
- Better Together
- You And Me
- First Day of My Life
- Chasing Cars
- Pocketful of Sunshine
- Collide
- Yellow
- Sunshine
- Bubbly
- Passenger Seat
- When You Say Nothing At All
- Because You Loved Me
He recognizes some of the songs by their title, but some of them he doesn’t think he has ever even heard of.
Shane picks up the CD player, popping the disc out from the case, and placing it into the awaiting device. He places the headphones over his ears pressing play.
Familiar notes start filling his ears as the Randy Newman song starts playing. He is immediately taken back to warm summer nights spent bundled up in blankets, with Ilya by his side. He closes his eyes and sees Ilya dancing around the living room of his parents cottage singing along to what they dubbed their song.
“You’ve got a friend in me,” young Ilya would sing, as he pointed first to Shane, who was still sitting on the sofa, and then to himself, who was standing by the TV, playing a well-loved movie. Shane had never been able to contain his giggles when Ilya sang to him.
“You’ve got a friend in me,” Ilya had reached out to Shane, opening and closing his hands to signal for him to join him. Shane had rolled his eyes, but stood up regardless, taking both of Ilya’s hands.
The blond boy pulled him towards him, so they were standing right across from each other. He had a seriousness to both his voice and his expression as he continued singing along, “when the road looks rough ahead, and you’re miles and miles from your nice warm bed, you just remember what your old pal said. ‘Boy you’ve got a friend in me’” Both boys had giggled at this, bending over as the laugh bubbled from their small bodies.
The song keeps playing in his ears, as Shane feels tears well up in his eyes, he keeps having vivid flashbacks to his childhood, shared with his best friend. He can’t imagine anyone being a better friend to him than his roommate. On paper, they shouldn’t make good friends, but they have always been thick as thieves nonetheless.
As the bridge of the song starts playing, Shane imagines a grown up Ilya, dancing around the living room with him; their living room. “Some other folk might be a little bit smarter than I am,” Shane feels himself shaking his head. He knows that Ilya is smarter than people tend to give him credit for. He might be the smartest guy he knows.
“Bigger and stronger too, maybe,” Shane chuckles at the imagined alpha in front of him. Ilya stands about 3 inches taller than Shane, he knows that this has more to do with him being tall for an omega, so he has never regarded the alpha as less than big. He is stronger than Shane, both in load bearing and durability, not that Shane will ever skip a challenge or friendly competition.
“But none of them will ever love you the way I do, It’s me and you, boy.”
This line strikes something in Shane.
Obviously he has heard it so many times before, but somehow it sounds different this time. He and Ilya used to sing this at each other all summer, the first time they had seen Toy Story and then Toy Story II at the cottage. That was their way into saying I love you to one another.
But now, cuddled up in a warm nest that carries Ilya’s scent, carries his softest shirts, in a room lit only by the fairy lights the alpha had strung up within a week of living there, that last sentence feels different, loaded with something else.
Shane scoffs quietly, having to remind himself that these thoughts are most likely caused by his own feelings towards the other man. He himself would put a heavier sentiment behind those words now, than what he ever had as a kid.
As the earphones produce the line “You’ve got a friend in me,” all of three times, Shane feels each of them hit him like a physical weight placed on top of his chest. He is overwhelmed with all of his emotions. He feels ashamed for not being able to stop himself from falling in love with Ilya. He feels worried about how his feelings could potentially lead Ilya to walk away. He feels powerless, and incapable of analysing his way to a good solution. However, as the song – their song – comes to an end, what he feels most is love.
He feels it all around him, in all of the little things Ilya does. The sweet way the alpha says I see you and I care, without ever having to say those words aloud. He smells it, in his nest, and on his body. He hears it, right now, playing into his ears. He sees it, in the fairy lights strung across the room, and as the first guitar strums of “Better together” start filling his ears, he thinks that maybe he fell in love with all these little things; the ones only meant for Shane.
So, maybe, he thinks, he really didn’t have any other choice but to fall in love with his best friend.
Shane allows himself to let go of his worries as he listens to the rest of the mixtape. He takes in the lyrics, letting them settle in his heart. He takes in the melodies, letting them settle in his bones.
After about 45 minutes Shane hears himself singing along to the final lines as Céline Dion plays in his ears. “I’m everything I am, because you loved me.”
As the final beautiful notes ebb out signaling the end of the song, and thereby the mix tape, Shane lets a deep sigh leave his body. He opens his eyes looking at the fairy lights above him. He isn’t sure when he laid down, but being completely surrounded by Ilya like this has managed to calm him down. All of his senses being completely filled by the alpha had been exactly what he needed.
He slides the headphones off his head, placing them, along with the CD-player, beside him on the bed. He lays like that for a while, he doesn’t know how long, but the sun has set completely by the time he hears the unmistakable sound of keys turning in the lock.
***
The train ride to spend Christmas eve at the Hollander house had been rather uneventful. Most students had rushed home, the second lectures had ended for the year, making the travel through campus quiet. The train had been sparsely filled, and Yuna had picked them up from the station. Now the four of them are shuffling around, wearing matching pajamas, courtesy of Yuna, getting the last few things ready.
Yuna and Shane are in the living room, bickering playfully about which bauble goes where on the tree. Ilya and David are in the kitchen dancing around each other as they prepare dinner. The radio plays softly in the background, both men quietly humming along occasionally.
Ilya had spent most of his Christmases in Canada with the Hollanders. His father and brother were always in a foul mood during the holiday season, so Ilya learned early on to steer clear of them as much as possible. He had mailed presents for them a few weeks ago. He didn’t receive anything from them, but then again, he would honestly have been more surprised if he had.
Ilya moved to the sink, beginning to prepare the vegetables. From here he has a clear view of the living room. As if on cue, the first strumming of guitar strings flows from the radio, as “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz starts playing on the radio.
Ilya’s eyes follow Shane as the omega maneuvers around the big pine tree, tentatively placing baubles on the branch he finds perfect. Ilya feels, more than hears, himself singing along under his breath, his eyes never leaving Shane’s frame, vegetables long forgotten.
Ilya stands almost frozen in place, just taking everything in, letting the words of the song wrap around him. Just as the words this is our fate, I’m yours leave his lips, Ilya hears David chuckle softly.
As he turns around, he sees that David too has abandoned his task, and is now looking at Ilya with such softness in his eyes.
Ilya feels caught.
They stand like that, just staring at each other, as the song comes to an end, and a poppy Christmas song starts playing instead. They both start talking at the same time, voices low.
“You cannot tell him,” uttered at the same time as, “you should really tell him.”
“What?” Ilya can't help but ask.
“You should tell him,” David repeats, looking at Ilya with loving eyes.
“Tell him,” Ilya repeats in a questioning tone, feigning ignorance.
“Yeah,” David says, looking right through his act. “Ilya, son, I have known you for many years, and I see the way you look at him,” Ilya gasps softly. There is only love in David’s voice as he keeps talking.
“Shane is my baby, always has been, always will be, but Ilya it has been a long time since he started considering you his home, years if i think about it. Did you know that he has been sending Yuna pictures of your gifts?” David has stepped closer as he spoke, and is now standing side by side with Ilya, shoulders touching. Another gasp leaves Ilya’s lips, as his eyes keep tracing the omega studying the now decorated tree.
“I did not know,” he whispers.
“He speaks so highly of you, but I don’t think he truly knows that you are courting him. I think you need to tell him,” David says, reaching an arm out around Ilya’s shoulders.
“I can not lose him,” Ilya says, voice barely above a whisper.
“You are already part of this family. Shane might be my baby, but you too are my son, Ilya,” David says, squeezing Ilya tightly to his side, “it is not possible for you to lose him. He is already yours, and you are his.”
Ilya can’t help but smile as a single, silent tear rolls down his cheek. He watches as Shane whisks around, clearly satisfied by his and Yuna’s work, looking for Ilya. As their eyes meet, a wide smile stretching over his face, he mouths a silent “you good?” Ilya just nods, not trusting his voice. He quickly wipes at his eyes.
As David retreats Shane maneuvers to the kitchen. He slides up beside Ilya, who has gone back to washing and peeling, aligning himself so their bodies touch from shoulder to hip. The omega is producing calming pheromones, and Ilya feels his body relax as soon as they hit his nose.
“Don’t tell mum, but I actually prefer your mash” Shane says, reaching out to take a peeled potato from Ilya’s hand, “I don’t know what you do, but it’s just so much fluffier.”
Ilya doesn’t think he remembers how to not smile. “Oh but Solnyshko (little sun), I will have to tell her,” Ilya says, “I will be her favourite son.”
Shane bumps his hip against Ilya’s. “You already are.”
It takes longer than usual to get dinner on the table this Christmas, but sitting around the table, in their long since designated seats, they all agree that it tastes better. Ilya knows that it has never before been made with so much love.
***
The following morning, following tradition, they all exchange Christmas presents, sitting on the sofa set in the living room, sipping on hot chocolate. The three men look sleep rumbled, especially when compared to Yuna, who had been up for over an hour before anyone else started stirring.
Shane and Ilya had been in Shane’s room, laying in his bed, limbs tangled, staring at the ceiling, talking into the early morning hours. They had reminisced over childhood memories and past Christmases.
Now however, surrounded by colourful wrapping paper and bows of all sizes, Shane is prying open his present from Ilya, having saved that for last. The two are sat in the loveseat across from Shane’s parents, knees bumping together as they move.
Shane undoes the wrapping with such gentle hands, holding it in his lap. As he unfolds the last flap of paper, a gasp escapes him.
“Ilya,” Shane runs his fingers over the soft collar on top, “how did you get these?” Shane holds up the shirt, unfolding it in front of him.
“You know the brand?” Ilya asks.
“Yeah, I was talking to Haas about them just last week,” Shane says, as if that explains anything. Luckily he elaborates, “we were talking about how cold it had gotten and he recommended AlfaSki. Did you know they claim to raise the body temperature by an entire degree?” Ilya nods.
“Yeah, that is why I got it,” he says as Shane holds the ski-shirt to his neck, feeling it against his skin.
“Oh, Ilya I love it! Thank you so much,” Shane puts the shirt down, removing the present from his lap. The omega stretches himself so he lands more or less in Ilya’s lap. “Thank you Ilya, I love it. It’s probably my favourite gift.” His arms are wrapped around Ilya’s shoulders, embracing him tightly.
“I am glad you like” Ilya says, hugging Shane back equally tight.
“How did you get these here in time?” Shane says, returning to his original position.
“I placed order in november,” Ilya explains, blushing just a little at the surprised look on Shane’s face.
“November? Wow, I know you give the best gifts, but you outdo yourself every time,” Shane says, running his fingers over the soft fabric again, with a soft smile playing on his lips. His eyes follow the movement of his finger. “I don’t know how you do it,” Shane wonders out loud.
At that David clears his throat softly, and both of their eyes fly to him. By the looks of it, Shane too had forgotten that they aren’t alone. Ilya can’t quite name the look in David’s eyes, as he watches Ilya back, his alpha however picks up the pleading undertones, coming from the older omega.
Tell him, it says, tell him why you put so much effort into everything you do for him.
Tell him that you are in love with him.
Tell him, how you don’t think there has been a version of you, who hasn’t loved him in every sense of the word.
Tell him that you would slay dragons and fight knights for a chance to call him yours, truly and fully, yours.
Tell him that you would be kind for him. Is kind for him.
Tell him that he is the one for you, always has been, always will be.
Tell him.
Ilya doesn’t tell him.
***
As the new year starts unfolding Ilya finds himself unable to hold a single thought that isn't centred around Shane. The events of Christmas Eve, followed by a week and a half of Shane looking softer than ever, has taken over his brain.
Ilya made a promise to himself as the clock struck midnight and one year became another. He wasn't really a man of resolutions, always thinking them silly, but he had promised himself that this would be the year, where he either gains a lover, or loses his best friend. The thought frightens him, and that might be why Ilya has been enjoying those moments shared with Shane more than usual.
He found himself walking to Shane’s lectures before practice, so they could walk together. He enjoyed himself on the ice more than usual, playing probably the best hockey of his life, laughing with, and chirping at his teammates.
He has more or less abandoned his own room, choosing instead to spend his time at home on the sofa or in the kitchen, as to stay in close proximity to Shane.
In those moments when he did lay down in his bed, fully intent on sleeping, that seemed impossible to him; head running at full speed, thoughts and fears and feeling a mess. A Shane shaped mess, that Ilya had no idea how to fully grasp. He was collecting those little stolen moments, filing them away in a safe place, in case it would be the last time he ever got to experience them.
Currently the alpha is plopped down on the sofa, head spinning as he should really be studying. He turns a page in his text book as his eyes reach the bottom, having not understood a single word on the page. He sits like that, frozen, page half turned, mind racing with thoughts of the omega buzzing around. He has no idea how long he sits like that. What pulls him back to reality is the sound of keys rattling outside the front door.
As if struck by lightning, the alpha is on his feet, walking to the front hall with the determination of a man on a mission. As Shane swings open the door, his eyes land on Ilya’s frame.
“Oh, hi—” he starts, Ilya cuts him off.
“I think we should go out,” he hears himself say, “like for dinner. Tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure.” Shane says, looking at Ilya with an unreadable look on his face, “sounds good. Anywhere in mind?”
Ilya can’t really believe his own ears. He had imagined asking Shane out would be more difficult.
He had also imagined doing it more delicately. He had imagined it a lot, thought about asking the smaller man as they lay tangled up in each other on the sofa, or if he was invited into the omegas nest, to ask him if he would mind if he stayed. Had vivid images of Shane’s soft hands cupping his chin, as he carefully dipped in to seal their lips.
This scenario however he had not imagined. Ilya realizes he hasn’t answered yet. His face must show a hundred things at once.
“Um, yeah,” he says, “I was thinking we could go to that French spot across campus, Le Plongeon” he tries, knowing he butchered the pronunciation.
“Ah, Le Plongeon,” Shane corrects, his pronunciation perfect. “Funny name when you think about it, The Loon. I’m in.”
Ilya lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, “okay, good, great, perfect.”
He realises then, that he never thought about what comes after. He walks closer to Shane, pulling him into a hug.
When they let go, Shane has a puzzled look on his face.
“You are in a strange mood today,” he says. Ilya hums, not really knowing what to say.
As Shane starts preparing dinner, Ilya sits on the counter, just following him with his gaze, a wide smile on his face. As he goes to bed, he sleeps better than he has since Christmas.
***
It’s half past seven when Shane arrives at Le Plongeon, ever on time. The restaurant is fancier than he expected. Ilya had said to come now, mentioned that he had plans to study with one of the guys on the team.
As he walks in a maitre d’ dressed in a fitted suit, hugging his broad frame nicely meets him, “Bonsoir Monsieur (Good evening, Sir),” he greets.
“Bonsoir (good evening),” Shane answers. This place is much too fancy, he thinks.
While de alpha in front of him is dressed in a fitted suit. Shane is wearing his favourite pair of suit trousers and a cream coloured, knitted sweater. The sweater used to belong to Ilya, but he is pretty sure only he remembers this. “Au nom de qui est la réservation, s’il vous plaît (Which name is the reservation under)?” The man asks.
“Rozanov,” Shane answers. The maitre d’ looks down his list, nodding as he crosses over what Shane assumes is Ilya’s name. He shows Shane to a small table at the back hosting only Ilya. He is dressed nicely, wearing a navy blazer over a white t-shirt. Shane sits down across from Ilya, looking at him with a confused look he is sure. Ilya just smiles back at him.
“Where are all the others?” Shane asks once he they are alone.
“The others?” Ilya asks, now it’s his turn to have a confused look on his face.
“Yeah, the others. Like weren’t we going out? Like hanging out?” Shane asks. The longer he talks the more Ilya’s smile falters.
“Ah,” Ilya says after a long pause, wheels clearly turning in his head. “They could not come.” Shane is surprised by this, but doesn’t mind the chance to spend some time alone with Ilya. His mind keeps telling him that to an outsider they would look like they were on a date. Shane finds that he doesn’t really mind.
“Well sucks for them. We’ll just have fun without them,” he says, “you could have told me this place was this fancy though.” A small smile is back on Ilya’s lips now.
“Sorry,” is all he says as he shrugs.
Not long after, a waiter, a petite omega, dressed in a tight fitting black skirt, a white dress shirt and a black blazer approaches the table. She hands both men a menu.
“Que désirez-vous boire, messieurs (What would you two gentlemen like to drink)?” She asks, looking to Ilya, who gives her a confused look.
“Quelles sont les options sans alcool (What are the non-alcoholic options)?” Shane asks, grabbing her attention. She walks him through the drink menu, and Shane orders two glasses of a nonalcoholic wine she recommends.
“Jetez un œil au menu. Je reviens bientôt avec vos boissons (Have a look at the menus. I’ll be back shortly with your drinks),” she says walking away.
Shane lets his gaze land on Ilya’s face, finding here a wild expression and a wide, openmouthed smile.
“What?” He asks.
“I forget you speak French,” the alpha says, “is sexy language.” Shane feels himself blushing wildly.
“Yeah, yeah, everyone says that,” Shane says, diverting his eyes. Ilya just keeps smiling.
The pair look over their menus, Shane translating the items he thinks Ilya might like. As they close their menus, knowing what to order the waiter comes back, carrying a tray with two glasses and a fancy looking bottle. She serves the wine, returning the bottle to what Shane assumes is the kitchen. As she walks back, she brings out her notepad and a pen.
“Est-ce que vous avez eu le temps de regarder le menu (Did you have a chance to look at the menu)?” she asks, looking at Shane this time. Shane orders for himself; Le Gibier—Locally sourced game, in this case deer, with a maple-infused reduction.
“Et pour votre petit ami (And for your boyfriend)?” she asks, looking to Ilya who just smiles at her. Shane, who only just felt the blush form earlier disappear, now has an even brighter blush sitting high on his cheeks.
“Il… euh Il n’est… euh… Pas grave. Il aimerait bien le canard à l’Orange (He… um, he isn’t… um, nevermind. He would like the orange duck).”
The waiter scribbles on her pad, “C’est parfait, je m’en occupe (perfect, I’ll get that taken care off),” as the leaves she sends Ilya a look Shane can’t decode.
“This spot is really fancy Ilya,” Shane says, “not where I would expect to hang out with the team.” Ilya’s eyes fly over Shane’s face making the still present blush deepen.
“I thought it looked good; nice food. Wanted to try,” is his reply, eyes still moving fast.
“I mean, sure, I just can’t really imagine all the guys in here,” Shane says, looking around, “imagine the noise.” He looks back to the alpha across from him, finding warmth and something he can’t quite name in his eyes.
“Yeah, would not be the best,” Ilya smiles, “Probably good thing is just us.”
Shane can’t quite place the look on Ilya’s face. Shane isn’t the best at decoding facial expressions, but it isn’t usually a problem with Ilya. His omega is starting to worry, thinking he has upset the other man.
“Yeah,” he just ends up saying, “probably is.”
A silence settles over them, Ilya’s eyes still glued to Shane’s face. The silence isn’t the usual comfortable, soft one that typically calms the omega, causing him to roam his brain trying to come up with a reason Ilya might be upset with him. Shane finds himself playing with his bottom lip when the waiter returns with their plates.
“Un Canard d’ l’Orange avec Pomme Anna pour vous, monsieur (One orange duck with pomme anna for you, sir),” she says, setting down a plate in front of Ilya.
“Et pour vous, le Gibier avec une réduction infusée à l’érable (And for you, game with a maple-infused reduction),” she says, setting down Shane’s plate. The two of them thank the waiter, and as she leaves they look at each other. The alpha opens his mouth, inhales, and then closes it again. He reaches for his wineglass, holding it out to Shane.
“Cheers,” he says, looking defeated.
The omega mirrors him, echoing, “Cheers.”
***
It’s a couple of hours later when the two of them are walking home, hands swinging between them, bumping occasionally. Every touch sends an electric shock through Ilya’s body. Their bellies are full of their delicious main courses and the Tarte au Sucre (sugar pie) they shared for dessert.
Shane is wearing the knitted mittens, scarf and beanie that Ilya had pulled from his coat pocket the moment they exited the restaurant. Shane has been babbling most of the way home, Ilya had mostly just been listening, enjoying the soothing effect the omega’s voice had on him.
The view of the smaller man, rosy-cheeked, wrapped in knitwear, arms gesturing wildly makes Ilya wear a permanent smile.
The night hadn’t gone to plan, Shane misunderstanding the invite and all, but Ilya still counted it as a success. His alpha had been untamable all night, wanting to touch the other man. Shane had spoken French with all of the staff members that had come up to their table, making Ilya have to hold back any noise from escaping him every time.
As they come to a stop outside their building, Shane is gesturing wildly towards the sky, talking about the stars, Ilya can’t help but stare at him. His eyes fixed on the other man’s moving, red lips, captivated by every movement.
***
Shane is rambling to escape the silence, wanting to make sure his omega is calm.
Apart from the heaviness in his chest whenever he would struggle to read Ilya, it had been a lovely night. They had talked and laughed a lot, and Shane had had to remind himself several times that it wasn’t a date. Now they are standing outside their building, Shane finishing a long rant about the stars, “–just look how beautiful it is tonight. The stars shine so bright on clear winter nights like this.”
Shane looks back down from the sky, finding Ilya’s eyes following him like prey, pupils blown. He could cry, his omega flinches, wanting nothing more than to read what is on the alpha’s mind, or curl up in his nest.
“Yeah” Ilya exhales, and Shane feels tears prickle his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” the omega hears himself ask, his eyes landing on the pavement.
“Wrong?” Ilya asks, stepping closer, “why would something be wrong?” Shane doesn’t dare look up, afraid of what he’ll find in the blue eyes he feels on him.
“You’ve been acting strange these past few days. Did I do anything to upset—”
“Nu i khren s nim (fuck it),” Ilya whispers, stepping into Shane.
Shane feels Ilya’s finger curl under his chin, pulling gently to level their eyes. Shane goes willingly. As their eyes lock on each other, standing so close, that they can feel the others breathing, Shane senses a change in the energy between them.
He feels, more than sees, Ilya start to lean in, hesitating only briefly before closing his eyes and closing the gap between them. Shane, too, closes his eyes as the alpha presses his soft lips against his. Shane feels a purr vibrate through his body, as fireworks shoot off in every single part of it.
Ilya’s lips press against his with a gentle force; not too firm, but still present in a way Shane didn’t know he craved.
He inhales, senses numbed but the strong smell of cedar, body wrapped in a warm blanket but deep vanilla. He can smell his own scent mixing with Ilya’s; sweet notes of orange floating in the air. He feels his heels lifting slightly off the ground, chasing the other man’s soft, sweet, tender lips as the alpha pulls back ever so slightly giving him room to breathe.
As their lips separate Shane isn’t sure if it has been five seconds or five minutes, although his logic leans towards the former.
They press their foreheads together, staring wide eyed at each other, with wet smiles on their faces. Ilya’s eyes contain a softness that he has seen there before, come to think of it, it has been there all night, and increasingly over the last long while. Shane can’t believe that just happened, mind has gone blank except for a single thing: Ilya.
“Wow,” he hears, coming from himself in a voice laced with softness.
“I have been wanting to do that for a long time,” Ilya says.
Shane is stunned by the statement, “really?” he has to ask.
“Da (yes),” the man looking down at him says “maybe from the first time I saw you.”
Not for the first time tonight, the omega is stunned speechless. The softness in Ilya’s blue eyes is starting to mix with something else, and only when Ilya’s panicked scent hits his nose does he realise that he should probably say something.
“You kiss well,” he says, kicking himself mentally the second he does so. “I mean, it was nice,” It almost sounds like a question, “I mean, um… you can do—” He is cut off by Ilya’s lips against his.
This time the kiss is more exploring. Still soft lips against soft lips, but Ilya is moving a little, trying to get them to a better position, at least that’s what Shane thinks he is doing. The alpha has placed a hand on Shane’s neck, and he feels himself becoming more pliant by the second.
They stand like that for a while, mouths working softly against each other. His nose picks up on the change in the alpha’s scent, as his own hands have moved to the bigger man’s stomach, the sweetness of the vanilla now more potent than he has ever smelled it before. He feels his own body reacting, hole wetting slightly as droplets of slick start to trickle out.
“I think we go inside,” the alpha says then, accent heavy.
“Please,” is all the omega musters. The stumble to the door, touching as much as the awkward position allows. They make it about halfway up the stairs before Ilya has him pinned against the wall, eyes dark.
Shane has made out with people before, admittedly it isn’t many, but he has never felt this good. He feels seen and cared for in a way he never has before. Ilya’s tentative hands roaming his body, firm but not demanding. He feels so safe between Ilya’s strong body and the wall. Has the sense that if he were to just submit completely, letting go of the reins fully, that Ilya would keep him safe.
Feeling protected by an alpha is in his nature, but the alpha in question being Ilya, the person he trusts most in the world, makes it that much better. Ilya has moved his mouth to his neck now, nibbling softly behind his ear, and he feels himself letting go, giving into Ilya in every sense of the way.
A breathy sound escapes him, “Pl…please.”
It sounds almost broken, and Ilya all but growls, “chto-libo (anything),” voice slow and husky.
***
As the door to their apartment closes behind them, Ilya practically presses himself against Shane cornering him against the wall. He pushes the beanie off his hair, starting to unwrap the scarf. Once the outerwear is scattered on the floor, he is back on Shane.
He feels the omega hesitate slightly, but his eyes follow Ilya’s every move, eyes locked on his lips like he is searching for his mouth, body pliant against the alpha. He fits his hand around the omega’s jaw, firmly but not roughly, he tilts Shane’s face, nuzzling against him softly before dipping in, capturing his mouth.
Their mouths work against each other. Ilya feels brave, not for the first time tonight, so he licks over Shane’s soft, plump lips, asking permission. Shane opens his mouth willingly, letting him lick into his mouth. Shane’s mouth is sweet, the lingering taste of dessert dancing over Ilya’s tongue, as he kisses the smaller man passionately. A small moan hits the alphas ears, and he feels Shane submitting completely to the kiss, hands starting to roam Ilya’s body.
Shane’s tender hands run up his arms, pushing the coat off his shoulders. Ilya takes the hint, helping to shrug it off along with his blazer. His hands come back to start roaming Shane’s body, his hands settling on the soft skin of his hips, that is exposed by the sweater riding up. Ilya’s alpha settles, finally able to touch what he has been longing for, for so long.
The omega’s scent is sweeter than usual, laced with desire, sweetened also by the slick the omega is no doubt producing. Another moan falls against Ilya’s lips, as he feels the omega grind his hips, pressing his hard cock against Ilya’s own growing erection.
“Blyat (fuck),” Ilya practically groans against eager lips, “so eager.”
“Nest,” is all Shane answers, and Ilya couldn’t agree more. He pulls back, Shane following his lips, a defeated look on his face as he realizes moving means separating. Ilya reaches out his hand, intertwining their fingers, pulling Shane along.
The only light that is on in Shane’s room are the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. Ilya briefly considers turning on more light, wanting to see Shane properly, he ultimately decides against it, thinking Shane will enjoy himself more under the soft glow of the twinkling lights.
Ilya stops by the bed, pulling Shane’s body flush against his own. Every fiber in his body yearns for Shane so he dips in again, sealing their lips. His hands find Shane’s hips on their own accord, thumbs stroking the soft skin there.
The omega starts pulling at the hem of his white t-shirt, his other hand exploring the skin of the alpha’s torso. As Ilya leans back, pulling his shirt over his head, the other man lays himself down in his nest, still fully clothed. Ilya balls up his shirt, and is just about to drop it on the ground when a whimper escapes Shane’s lips. Ilya looks at him, lifting his eyebrow.
“You want?” he asks. The omega just nods. Ilya hands the shirt over, and Shane brings it straight to his nose, taking a big breath in. Ilya can’t help but smile.
Ilya stands by the bed, wanting to really make sure Shane wants this, before assuming anything and crossing any boundaries.
“Oh my god,” Shane says playfully, seemingly reading Ilya’s mind. “Just get in the nest, you big dumb alpha.”
Something about hearing the word alpha from Shane’s lips spurs him into action. He crawls into the nest, crowding Shane, leaning over him. He dips his head, pressing their lips together. He licks into Shane’s mouth, deepening the kiss almost immediately.
His hips start grinding against Shane’s underneath him, pulling soft sounds from the smaller man. He looks much smaller than normal like this; body completely covered by Ilya’s own. Ilya’s hand, not holding his weight against the mattress, roams Shane’s torso under the soft fabric of the sweater. He recognized it as one of his old sweaters the second Shane walked into the restaurant earlier, and it has been driving him mad ever since.
As Ilya’s fingers grace the hard nub on the omega’s chest, his hands fly to Ilya’s hair, tangling in the strands, pulling ever so slightly at them. In unison they both throw their heads back, moans falling from their mouths.
“Off,” the alpha growls, mouth now nippling at a spot behind Shane’s ear, which pulls intoxicating sounds from his mouth. Shane lifts his body slightly, allowing the alpha to peel the sweater off. It almost pains him, but the need to see all of Shane is stronger than the urge to fuck him wearing one of his own shirts.
Shane finds his mouth the second his head is freed, hungrily chasing more. Getting the sweater off only intensifies the strength of the sweet scent coming from the omega. Ilya feels like a madman.
His mouth moves from Shane’s lips to his neck, nipping on whatever skin it touches. As he reaches the scent glands, he licks over it, broad tongue flat against the skin. Shane arches his back off the bed, pressing against Ilya’s. He moves further down, gracing his teeth over the nipple, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from the omega.
Ilya puts his weight on his knees as he licks over the nub, suckling every now and then. He could do this forever he thinks, exploring Shane’s body with his mouth, making breathy sounds and half swears fall from his lips. His own erection, straining against the fabric of his dress trousers does encourage him to move on though.
He licks down Shane’s torso, leaving open-mouthed kisses on the soft swell of his lower belly. His hands move to the hem of the omega’s trousers, toying with it, asking for permission. Shane’s hands in his hair, presses his head into his belly, and Ilya thinks this a yes, but still feels the need to check.
“You want?” he asks, looking up to Shane’s face, mouthing over his cock through the fabric of his trousers. When the omega’s eyes meet his, they look dark and glossy; pupils blown. Shane nods, but Ilya needs more.
“Words, Solnyshko (little sun),” he says.
“Yeah,” Shane swallows hard, “Please, Ilya, anything, everything. Don’t stop, please.”
Ilya undoes the button and zipper swiftly. Shane pushes off on the bed allowing Ilya to pull his trousers and pants off in one movement. Ilya gets back to working open mouthed kisses against the soft skin on Shane’s body.
“Please,” Shane whimpers. The alpha takes hold of the omega’s cock, bringing it to his lips, and licking around the head. The salty taste of precum filling his mouth. With how turned on he is, he can’t imagine what the taste of Shane’s slick will do to him. This close to his hole, it’s all he can smell.
It doesn’t take long for Shane to start babbling above him, breathy please’s, more’s and Ilya’s muddling together as he quivers from the pleasure. Ilya licks a final time on the omega’s cock, tongue flat as it travels from base to tip. Shane whimpers at the loss.
Ilya needs to get his trousers off, feeling trapped within them. He makes quick work of them, managing to get them off while not straying too far from Shane’s body, knowing this could make him spiral. The alpha leans up, kissing Shane passionately before pulling back to breathe.
“I want to fuck you,” the alpha growls.
“Please,” the omega whimpers, rutting against the air.
“Condom,” Ilya asks, having the clarity to ask now.
“Drawer,” Shane breathes, mind too busy to form real sentences, “Top. In the back.”
Ilya leans over the edge of the bed, finding what he’s looking for fairly quickly. He puts the condom down by his side, determined to taste the omega first. He places a soft peck on his lips, before bringing the other man’s legs up, folding him in half, exposing the wet ring of muscle, fluttering against the air. Slick is covering Shane’s hole, trickling down his crack. The scent is all engulfing like this.
Ilya flattens his tongue and leans in, licking all the way from his tailbone to his balls. Shane is beyond babbling now, reduced to heavy breaths and whimpers. The taste of the slick fills his mouth. The sweetness of sun-ripe oranges, the sweet perfume of jasmine along with the fresh, earthy, herbaceousness of the lemon balm cover his tastebuds.
Ilya licks over the hole in short, soft licks resulting in even more slick trickling out. He lets his tongue dip in, loving the way the omega feels around him as he squirms. He starts opening the omega up with his tongue, pulling ever so slightly on the tight muscle. It doesn’t take long for him to be able to fit a finger in along his tongue, the whimpering man relaxing with every touch. He works the hole with one finger, soon adding a second. As he scissors his fingers, working them in and out of Shane, slowly opening him more, he licks around the hole.
“R-ready,” the omega says, voice shaky.
“Not yet, Lyubimiy (love),” he says, free hand finding Shane’s. “Such a good boy for me. You take my fingers so well.”
The omega preens at the praise. Ilya makes quick work of adding a third finger, making sure Shane won’t get hurt. Satisfied with his work he slips out his fingers, using the slick to stroke over his own ignored cock. He moans at the wet contact.
He gives himself a few strokes, eyes roaming the naked, open body laid out in front of him, before wiping the remaining slick off on his discarded trousers and picking up the condom. He rips open the packet, before rolling the rubber over his erection. He lines himself up with the omega’s waiting hole, feeling it flutter against the head of his cock.
“Shane,” he says softly, “Solnyshko (little sun), look at me… Omega,” That seems to get the other man’s attention, his eyes finding Ilya’s, looking even darker than before. “You still want?” Ilya asks, needing to make sure. Shane nods, eyes rolling back in anticipation.
“Words, Solnyshko (little sun).”
“I need,” the omega says.
“Tell me,” Ilya says, thinking that he would get this man whatever he asks. He feels Shane’s hole tighten around nothing against his cock.
“I… need… you,” Shane says, and the alpha in Ilya loses it. He grabs onto Shane’s legs, before pressing gently into him to make sure his body has time to adjust.
Shane is babbling again, mostly please’s and yes’es falling from his lips. However as Ilya bottoms out, hips pressed flush again the omega a soft, “Alpha, my perfect alpha. Mine,” finds his ears from the stream of unconscious words.
The alpha responds immediately by starting to move, grinding his hips against Shane’s ass. This pulls a string of breathy moans and profanities from the omega’s lips.
Soon after, when he is sure that Shane’s hole has adjusted fully to his size he starts rocking his hips, moving in and out of his hole.
“Look at you,” he says, eyes fixed on Shane. “So good for me. Perfect omega.”
It doesn’t take long for the alpha to start feeling his knot swell, he hadn’t realized how worked up he had gotten, orgasm fast approaching. He adjusts his grip on Shane’s legs, sure to leave marks from how hard he is gripping onto him. The slight movement is enough to get the omega to let out a string of slurs, “fuck, Ilya, right there. I’m so close. Shit, holy, I’m gonna come, Fuck, Ilya don’t stop.” Ilya feels the ring of muscle tighten around him, milking his cock.
“So good Kotik (kitten). Fuck. Ya tebya lyublyu (I love you).” At that, Shane tightens around him, as cum starts spilling from his leaking cock. The feeling of Shane around him, and the view of his spasming body is enough to send Ilya over the edge, stilling, buried deep into Shane as his knot pops and he spills into the condom.
He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down after his orgasm. When the alpha feels that his mind is clear again he manoeuvres them, so they are laying side by side, breathing in sync. He feels the omega tighten around him as if to confirm that they are truly locked together by his knot. This pulls a hiss from Ilya.
“Sorry,” Shane says, “I just can’t believe that really just happened.” Ilya wraps his arms around Shane’s middle, holding him tight to his body.
“Me neither,” he says.
“We should probably talk,” the omega says.
“We probably should,” Ilya says, kissing the soft hair at the nape of Shane’s neck, “but not like this.”
***
When Shane wakes up he feels calm. It’s still dark out, the nest is nice and warm, soft fabrics moving against his bare skin as he breathes.
Wait, he thinks, against my skin? Shane always wears pyjamas to bed, even in the summer, so for him not to wear them in the middle of winter is strange. As he wakes more, he feels the hard press of a strong body spooning him from behind, a heavy arm slung over his waist. The memories of last night rush in; gentle hands, soft words, softer lips.
His omega supplies a useless and love, he tries to ignore it.
He had sex with Ilya. He feels no traces of it on his body, feeling clean and dry. The room holds a heavy scent of orange and cedar. Shane could cry.
He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, and just as he does Ilya stirs behind him. Shane feels himself freeze, not ready to deal with the consequences of sleeping with his best friend yet. Shane’s eyes scan the dimly lit room searching for anything to help calm him down. On his desk lay a neatly folded set of pajamas. He doesn’t recognise them, but the material looks soft, and Shane really wants to touch it. His clothes from yesterday poke out from his hamper. Ilya cleaned up by the looks of it, probably not wanting to have the reminder of last night chasing him today.
A breathy sob falls from his lips, vision blurring. Ilya is quick to turn him on his back, placing his own heavy body over his, just holding him there. He feels his body calm, both from the firm pressure and Ilya’s calming pheromones. Ilya is whispering softly in Russian against his body until he feels his breathing steady.
“Solnyshko (little sun),” he says, catching his eyes, “what is wrong?”
Shane doesn’t even know where to start. It’s one thing to catch feelings for a friend, but sleeping with them is a whole other thing, and even the thought of losing Ilya is killing him.
“Shane, words,” Ilya says then, and the omega feels tears well up in his eyes again.
“I can’t lose you,” is what comes out.
“Lose me?” the alpha says, blue eyes full of questions, “why would you ever lose me?” Shane’s breath catches.
“Ilya,” he says, “I—” he cuts himself off, not really knowing what to say.
“Shane, look at me,” Ilya says, lifting Shane’s face with a finger under his jaw. “You could never lose me. You hear me?” Shane hears the gentleness in the alpha’s voice, and feels the tears start to run down his cheeks.
“But Ilya, you don’t understand,” he says with a quiet sob. Ilya brushes his finger over Shane’s cheek, catching the falling tear. “Ilya, I–I’m in love with you. Have been for a while, I think.” The pure glee that spreads over Ilya’s face is shocking to Shane.
“Thank god!” Ilya says, leaning down to peck Shane’s lips. As he pulls back he must read the confusion in his eyes, “I’m in love with you too, Solnyshko (little sun), have been for so long.” He says, with a wide smile on his face, as he wipes another tear from the omega’s eye.
“Wait,” Shane says, “really?”
“Da, kotik (yes, kitten),” Ilya says, leaning his forehead on Shane’s, “I think maybe from the first time I saw those pretty freckles of yours, that I have been in love with you.”
Shane is sobbing now. Ilya holds him as his body shakes, trying to process.
“Oh, Ilya,” he hiccups, “We’ve been such idiots. I love you so much.” It feels liberating to finally be able to say those words, knowing that their true meaning is now allowed to exist.
“Ya. Tebya. Tyublyu (I. Love. You).” Ilya draws out each word, pointing to himself, then to Shane, pressing his finger right over his heart as he speaks. He has heard those words a million times before, knows what they mean even in his sleep, but something about having them pointed directly at his heart makes them that much more special.
“Please kiss me,” Shane says, and Ilya complies instantly. The kiss is gentle, lips moving in sync with each other.
Pulling back, the alpha starts peppering kisses over Shane’s cheeks. He moves from one cheek, over the bridge of his nose, and onto the other cheeks. He moves like this for a bit, until Shane can’t keep in a giggle. He starts squirming under Ilya’s attention.
“What are you doing,” Shane asks, with so much joy and love in his voice.
“I have to kiss all of them,” Ilya says, “I have wanted to since forever.” He leans in as if to continue, but pulls back fast, locking eyes with the omega. “Oh, no, now you made me lose count. I will have to start over.” Shane giggles as Ilya huffs about having to kiss him more.
“Ah, yes, I’m sure you’re super bummed.” Shane says, hands now in Ilya’s soft curls.
“Is very big task, Shane,” Ilya says, as he keeps pressing his lips all over Shane’s face. They lay like that for quite some time. The sun has started rising outside, painting the room in beautiful yellows, reds and pinks. Shane can’t think of anything more beautiful than the strong alpha, bathed in bright light, holding him close, and looking at him with loving eyes.
Ilya offers to make breakfast, and the omega doesn’t think he has ever agreed to a plan this fast. Getting out of the nest however, means untangling themselves, and that isn’t as easy to convince the omega to do.
As soon as Shane is standing, a shiver runs down his body. He realizes for the second time this morning that he is only wearing pants, the thin fabric not doing much to keep him warm. Ilya is beside him immediately, handing him the set of pyjamas that had previously been folded up on the table.
“Here,” he says and Shane takes the clothes from him, feeling the soft silky fabric against his fingertips.
“God, this is soft, Ilya,” Shane says, “I genuinely don’t know how you do this.”
“Do what?” Ilya asks.
“You give such good gifts!” The omega says, “It’s like you read my mind sometimes.”
Ilya laughs then, loud and with his whole body.
“I mean,” he starts, “I have been courting you more or less since we moved in together, so I have had plenty of time to practice.” Shane is, not for the first time, stunned speechless. He just takes a moment to study the alpha’s face, looking for any sign that he is joking.
“You have?” He asks, when he doesn’t find any. Ilya nods, smiling wide.
“How haven’t I noticed?” Shane asks.
“I don’t know,” Ilya says, “Marlow did say that you play good hockey for a blind guy.”
“Oh fuck off,” Shane says, shoving playfully at Ilya’s chest, before realizing what Ilya just said.
“Hold up! Marlow knows?”
“Yeah, Marlow knows, he said we are cat and mouse,” Ilya says.
“I hope not,” Shane says, with a laugh on his lips.
After Shane gets dressed, the pair move to the kitchen to start cooking. If the eggs burn twice, because they get lost in each other, no one has to know. Besides Shane doesn’t really think that they are to blame.
***
It doesn’t take long for the two of them to more or less move into the nest together. Ilya spends most of his time cuddled up with the omega. Limbs tangled up in a way that it would be impossible to tell where one starts and the other ends. They still have a lot of things to figure out, their dynamic didn’t change much, but it means a lot to Shane that they get it right.
It doesn’t take long for the team to catch on either, probably helped along by the growing number of lovebites placed all over Shane’s body.
Marlow had just given them a knowing look, whereas most of the other guys had kicked up a fuss, wanting to know what happened. Ilya retold the story with great theatrics, playing both himself and Shane. Shane had been red from head to toe, trying to contain his giggles at the show.
“So you invited the Shane Hollander on a date, and—” Barrett is interrupted by a loud gasp from Shane.
“Wait! That was a date?” Ilya simply smiles softly at Shane, as the rest of the team bend over from how hard they are laughing. Harris pops up by Shane’s side just then.
“It was like this with Troy and I, too. Give them a week or two to process, they are just simple alphas after all.” Shane silently agrees.
“And Haas,” Shane adds.
“And Haas,” Harris repeats.
Harris is right of course, and the team gets used to the two of them fast. They do get the occasional cat call or get a room in their direction.
One afternoon at practice, Shane had taken a bit of a hit, sending him stumbling onto his ass. As he looks up he sees a broad silhouette flying across the ice towards him. “Don’t you dare hurt my boyfriend, Pike. I will end you.”
As Ilya crouches down beside him, inspecting his body, a faint “your boyfriend?” leave the omega’s mouth.
“I mean, yes,” he says with a nod, “I think so, probably.” And then he leans into Shane’s space, placing a soft peck on his lips.
Later that same evening they are laying in the nest, when Shane says, “we should tell mum and dad”
Ilya chuckles softly before saying, “they know, we are just stupid.”