Chapter Text
Shane felt as if his mind were filled with a thick, sweet syrup, and his limbs were so heavy that they lay listless, the omega lacking the strength to even lift them. He didn't realize where he was, but he decided not to care in the slightest, because he felt so good. He was warm and blissful, and his stomach was full of the sweet oatmeal that his new alpha had prepared for him earlier.
Alpha.
It was his low voice reaching Shane’s ears, which Shane decided to ignore for just a little longer. It felt too good right now. Right now he was safe, he felt no fear, and he didn't want to wake up and confront reality just yet.
He didn't mind that the alpha was speaking. Let him speak, and Shane would stay inside his own head for a while longer. It was pleasant, because the deep vibrations of the alpha's voice reached him as if through a thick layer of water, and his tone didn't sound as though its owner were angry. That was good. Angry alphas weren't kind. And this alpha was so kind to him.
But the alpha didn't stop speaking, and his voice became perhaps a bit louder. Shane felt the older man take him by the chin and lift his face upward. The touch of the alpha's calloused fingers was so gentle that it almost tickled.
Shane yielded to the gentle nonverbal command without any resistance. Earlier, Mr. Rozanov had said he was a good omega, and Shane had believed him.
But good omegas were supposed to listen to their alphas, so Shane forced himself to slowly open his eyes, even though his eyelids felt heavy as lead.
The world around him was blurry, but Ilya’s intense, blue eyes, looking down at him, were the first thing he focused on. That sobered him up a little.
Ilya. I called him Ilya in my head. I must really want to die.
Shane flinched slightly, to which the alpha reacted immediately, pulling his hand away from his face, as if this gentle touch, and not Shane’s own stupidity, could've caused such a reaction.
“What scared you, hmm? Did alpha do something wrong, pup?”
Pup. Shane wasn't a pup. Pups were small and cute, and Shane was tall and big.
And yet, when that word left the alpha’s lips, something stirred in Shane’s chest. Something in his heart reacted to that petname, making him want to hide his face in the crook of the alpha’s neck.
But the alpha had lifted Shane's face earlier so that he'd look at him, and Shane was a good omega, after all. Just as the alpha had said before.
So he looked. Although his heart pounded in his chest from shame, he forced himself to maintain eye contact with this strange man, who apparently still didn't understand that Shane wasn't a pup. He was big and stupid, and everyone used to say that he'd never be a good omega, because he was too stubborn and no one would want him.
Shane’s thoughts began to race rapidly, and the sweet syrup in his head started to thin, as if it were about to become nothing more than a bucket of cold water poured over his head.
***
Ilya had no idea what happened. Just a moment ago, Shane was looking at him with something akin to adoration and radiating a wonderful scent of contentment, and now, the omega's peach scent soured in a fraction of a second, and his body went rigid on the Russian’s lap.
He watched with mounting dread as the omega’s breathing grew shallower and faster, and he had no doubt about what was about to happen.
Ilya was inevitably going to trigger another panic attack.
Before he could make any decision, however, Mama, who was sitting nearby, decided to step in. She'd been there the entire time, literally a meter away from them, but drunk on the scent, Shane hadn't noticed her at all, especially since she'd chosen to deliberately mask her own presence. In that moment, though, sensing the crisis, she stood up from the couch and walked to the other side of Ilya to show herself to Shane. She let her scent of warm milk and honey swell in a gentle wave. That scent made Ilya feel an immediate sense of safety. His mother's scent had always affected him this way since childhood.
Shane's reaction was instantaneous. At the sight of a stranger suddenly appearing so close to him, the omega froze. It was not a perfect reaction, as Irina clearly disoriented him, but at least he stopped hyperventilating.
She knelt in front of Shane, clearly wanting to avoid towering over him, and smiled with infinite, warm gentleness, unfazed that the man was looking at her as if she were a threat.
“Good morning, kid,” she began, her melodic voice sounding like the sweetest lullaby.
That was exactly how she used to address Ilya when he was a small child, terrified after seeing things in their family home that a child should never witness. Ilya was not surprised that his mother viewed the omega he was holding in his arms in that exact same light. Shane was not a child, he was an adult man, but in a moment of such high stress, it was impossible to see him as anything other than a terrified creature whose every instinct demanded comfort.
“Your alpha is my son, and I heard he got me a new son. Are you the good omega I’ve heard so much about?” Irina’s soothing pheromones continued to flood the room, until they became the dominant scent.
Ilya immediately caught his mother’s intention. He began to stroke the omega’s spine again with slow, soothing strokes, which he believed Shane had liked earlier.
“Of course it’s him,” the alpha murmured, deliberately dropping his voice to a warm, low rumble. “My mama knows you're very good. You don’t need to be afraid of her. She only came here to help me take care of you.”
Under the influence of their combined efforts, the tension in Shane’s body began to slowly bleed out. He shifted his disoriented gaze from Irina to Ilya, as if trying to piece the situation together. The scent of soured peach began to dissipate, and with every deeper breath Shane took, he visibly relaxed.
Irina smiled widely, seeing that her words had fallen on fertile ground. Without rushing, she stood up and reached for the bowl she had placed on the coffee table earlier, sliding it closer to her son’s hands. Ilya immediately understood his mother’s silent cue. This was the moment. They had managed to tentatively calm the omega; now he had to take control and provide Shane with a structure to hold onto, preventing him from falling into another spiral of fear.
Irina discreetly withdrew, excusing herself to use the restroom. Ilya was convinced it was merely a pretext and that his mother was actually watching over them from afar, ready to step in if anything went wrong.
He moved the dish and the juice to have them comfortably within reach. With one hand he continued to soothingly rub the omega’s back, and with the other, he fished a perfectly cut, juicy cube of peach from the bowl.
“Open your mouth, Shane,” he murmured to him. “Show me how good you are.”
The omega obeyed instantly, parting his lips slightly and looking the alpha straight in the eyes as he did so. Ilya slowly brought his hand with the fruit closer to his face, closely tracking his every reaction.
If Shane had closed his mouth at that moment and refused to follow the command, Ilya would've backed off immediately.
The omega didn't know it yet, but the final word belonged, and always would belong, to him.
However, he did not protest. He allowed Ilya, with all the gentleness in the world, to place the fruit inside, feeding him the peach. Ilya was careful the entire time to avoid brushing against his lips with his fingers. Shane accepted the treat, chewing slowly, and a soft rumble of appreciation escaped his throat, to which Ilya reacted with a wide, foolish grin.
“Good, right?” He briefly shifted his hand from the omega’s back to stroke his hair. “Almost as sweet as you.”
At this comment, Shane flushed with an immediate blush, which Ilya accepted with a joyful chuckle. The omega’s embarrassment wasn't the omega’s fear. Ilya could live with that without feeling as if someone had driven a blunt knife into his chest and twisted it.
“Do you want more?” he asked cheerfully, choosing a plump strawberry this time, which made Shane stuff his cheeks, to eat it whole.
The omega had a good appetite, and soon the contents of the entire bowl disappeared. Then Ilya reached for the juice and held it to Shane’s mouth so that the straw brushed against his lips. Shane obediently caught the straw with his lips, greedily drinking the sweet, slightly tart liquid.
When the glass was three-quarters empty, he let go of the straw and looked at Ilya as if he were contemplating something. Now he no longer seemed overwhelmed by the scent, his gaze was sharp and penetrating, as if he were trying to read something from the Russian’s face.
Ilya didn't know what he was looking for, but he apparently passed the test, because Shane shifted his position and, with a soft sigh, dropped his head and rested it against the alpha’s hard collarbone.
Ilya had never felt more alive.