Chapter Text
Shane cannot sleep.
He should by all accounts be dead to the world. A game and driving two hours and two rounds of sex would be enough to knock anyone out. In all honesty, he is in fact exhausted. His eyes are bleary every time he tries to open them and his brain is sluggish and slow but by the time the morning sun bleeds into Ilya’s bedroom, he’s barely slept a few hours.
Frustration mounts inside of him, a weariness weighing on his bones.
It’s the damn collar and scent patches. The collar makes it so he cannot lay right no matter how he twists and turns and the patches are smothering him. He thought he could ignore them, and maybe that was possible when he first walked through the door but now their presence eats away at him and he cannot get comfortable no matter what he tries.
The fake scent he dropped onto the patches has faded away though, and he needs to clean the plug he brought and put it back in just in case Ilya wakes up and cannot wait to stretch him out properly. If the rushed sex they had last night is any indication, that will probably be the case, so there is no more time left to laze around.
It's so hard though. Ilya is so warm, solid and steady beside him. His arms are slung protectively over Shane’s waist, keeping him close by. It’s a feat to keep his eyes open, and they’re so easily lulled shut by his steady breathing, his tired brain running on fumes.
Ilya stirs, nuzzling into the pillow, and Shane lets out a small sigh. That is probably his sign to get up before Ilya wakes up needing him. As it is, he can feel his cock resting against his thigh. It will only be a matter of time.
His limbs feel heavy as he throws the covers back and staggers to his feet, grabbing the plug as Shane hobbles into the living room where his bag stays discarded at the door still. He pointedly does not look at his clothes on the floor as he passes by. Or the way they’ve wrinkled over night. And he does not let it bother him that they are not in the right place either. He is not going to be too much. Instead he focuses on the good, like how there is a pleasant ache in his lower half, from the crease of his thighs to the small of his back, and despite the discomfort, he cannot fight a satisfied smile at the way he limps into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
He hesitates.
Shane stares at the doorknob, and the little lock on it. He doubts the lock has ever even been used, shiny and pristine. He’s never felt the need to lock a door around Ilya, especially not when taking a shower. There have been countless times that they have slipped into the shower together, the sound of the water hitting the tile like an open invitation. Sometimes all they do is get clean, sometimes one or the other ends up on their knees, either way it is enjoyable.
This time though, he slides the lock into place. Just in case.
He doesn’t linger after that. Shane reaches up and works the collar free, using the brief time alone to take a break from the contraption. There’s faint lines around his neck left from the leather, red and angry from where the edges dug in while he tried to sleep. He rubs at it, the air hitting his heated skin like a cool breeze on a hot day. Next, he pulls the scent patches off, and finally takes a full, deep breath. His natural scent is faint now, still stifled, but his body still sags with relief at having everything removed finally.
Shane glances at the door, sure that Ilya is still sleeping, and quickly turns the water on, slipping beneath the stream before it’s even reached the right temperature.
He showered at the Bell Center before leaving last night, but it's still amazing to wash himself clean again. The first he focuses on is washing the too-thick lube away, now dried sticky to the inside of his thighs. Ilya will probably hate it, but he also scrubs away his release that coats his skin, working his fingers inside so he is clean all over. After that, he washes his hair and face, cleaning his wrists extra well to rid them of the too sweet scent that lingers on him until he feels like a brand new person by the time he wills himself out of the shower.
Shane fights a yawn, struggling to keep his eyes open. He goes to brush his teeth next, wondering how much time he can steal before Ilya drags him back into the den. He would like to fix breakfast if possible, but he also cannot leave the bathroom until he has the collar and everything else back on, and that is the last thing he wants to do. He detests the idea so much he feels it down in his soul, tugging at him and begging to not have to wear it anymore.
“Shane?”
Shit.
Shane spits the toothpaste out quickly, scrambling to grab his things. He ends up knocking the still dirty plug into the sink, and the collar slides off onto the floor with a slap.
“Fuck,” he yelps, struggling with the plug first, he rinses it, and scrubs at it with soap that probably isn’t suitable for the toy but it is all he’s got at the moment.
“Shane,” Ilya calls again, closer this time.
Once the toy is rinsed, he scrambles for the collar, wrapping it around his neck. There is no time to dread it being back in place because the door to the bathroom jiggles, held shut by the lock.
“Moy lyubimiy, why-” the handle jiggles again. “Why is the door locked? Lemme in.”
“Just a second,” Shane begs, latching the collar on tightly in place. He doesn’t have time to think and notice the discomfort. Instead he fishes the oil out next and the scent patches, slapping them back on in place with adhesive that pulls at his skin and makes him want to pick at it.
His voice holds a teasing tilt to it as he then asks, “What? Are you taking a shit?”
“No!” Shane rolls his eyes. Even in rut, he’s still Ilya.
“Then let me in,” Ilya demands. “You should be in the den where I can see you. What are you doing? Tell me.”
Shane shivers. Ilya’s tone is getting dangerously close to a Command. Commands do not really hold much weight to other alphas, but coming from Ilya, they have always had two affects on him; it either makes his knees weak or a growl rip from his chest in retaliation. It’s a toss up on which will happen, and it sometimes depends on the context.
He doesn’t know what a Command would do to him now when the whole house is dripping with rut pheromones. It might make his head buzz in that perfectly floaty way that only Ilya can do to him. It might make him snarl and bare his teeth.
He doesn't want to snarl though. Not today.
“I need to get ready for you,” Shane tries to placate. “Just give me a second.”
“Ready how?”
Shane ignores him. He focuses on dumping the sweet scent onto his wrists, cringing when the oil drips down onto his wrist from the scent patch. Too many things are going wrong right now. He was supposed to have more time to get ready, he still hasn’t gotten the plug in and Ilya is at the door and the sickly sweet scent is on his skin now and the collar is too tight and he didn’t have time to fix breakfast and his clothes are on the floor and–
“Shane,” Ilya tries the door handle again.
Shane winces, overwhelmed. He knows Ilya would never be this pushy or demanding outside of his rut and he knows that his alpha instincts are going haywire trying to get his mate back into the den where he belongs but it’s too much right now. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t drag this out any more and risk hearing Ilya’s words be soaked with a Command, he doesn’t want to know what would happen if he reacted negatively to it.
He just wanted this to be perfect.
Unsure what else to do, Shane flicks the lock to open, and holds his breath. Vaguely he hopes that he’s still loose enough from last night since he hadn’t finished with the prep, though even being stretched from the night before won’t be enough for a knot.
Ilya twists the door open as soon as the click from the lock fills the air. He steps in and Shane is immediately engulfed in Ilya, making his heart skip a beat in his chest. Ilya’s hands are on his bare hips, running up along his ribs and cupping his face as his lips crash into Shane’s. He still has morning breath, but Shane finds it hard to comment on immediately when Ilya is kissing him like he’s been starved for it.
The kiss is messy and far too heated for the early morning hours. It’s impossible to miss the fact that Ilya is half hard already, body demanding to breed his mate.
Despite his unease and his growing discomfort with everything going wrong, despite the worries he holds over making everything perfect, something about Ilya has always made him melt. The tension that had been growing inside of him fizzles out with the kiss, soothed by his presence and their bodies pressed against one another, familiar and comforting. In the back of his mind rests the knowledge that Shane will always be alright as long as he has Ilya.
Ilya slots his thigh between Shane’s, pushing him back against the sink. The cold porcelain bites into his heated skin, Ilya’s hot mouth working its way down his neck that puts a stir of arousal in his gut.
He rocks his hips, rubbing his half hard cock against Shane’s thigh with sleepy need.
“Shane,” he whimpers against his neck, voice gravely in a way that goes straight to Shane’s groin.
“Keep going,” Shane whispers, gently tucking Ilya’s head against his neck, holding him close. His breath comes out in hot pants against his skin, and with permission his hips speed up, shamelessly humping Shane’s thigh. Ilya has never had much shame to begin with, but he whines and groans without inhibition, wet cock leaving a sticky trail against Shane’s skin.
“Please-“ Ilya gasps, clinging to him so tight it as if Shane is the only thing left tethering him to this earth. “Need more, need-“
“Just like this,” Shane denies him gently. There will be time to fuck later when he has had time to prep himself. Right now, Ilya is practically a boneless heap against him, desperation rolling off of him in waves to come.
Ilya lets out a broken sound, hips jerking without rhythm before all too soon he stills, ropes of white shoot across his skin, leaving a mess that drips down Shane’s thigh.
Ilya ruts against him a few more times, shoulders trembling.
Fully hard now, Shane watches the display with desire. The way he shakes and the little sounds he lets out makes Shane want to sink his teeth into him and never let go.
Embarrassingly though, his stomach chooses that moment to growl.
Ilya pulls back, that dazed look still in his eyes. His desire is palpable, but Shane already knows what is coming and it puts a warm feeling in his stomach.
“You are hungry?” Ilya asks, breathless.
Shane shrugs. He is, but taking care of Ilya is more important. He just needs a little time to work himself open…
Ilya grabs him by the jaw and forcing Shane’s eyes away from his cock and up to his face. There’s a determined look in his eyes that rake over Shane, assessing what he needs.
“Hungry?” Ilya tries again.
Shane nods. “It’s not a big deal though, I can eat after we-“
“No,” Ilya says with finality.
One moment, Shane is leaning against the sink. The next, he’s hoisted up and thrown over Ilya’s shoulder.
Fear zaps through his heart, scrambling to find purchase before they both topple over. “Ilya!”
Ilya ignores him, carrying him as though he weighs nothing back to the den. His ability to manhandle Shane has always made his blood run hot. He’s not small by any means, two hundred pounds of muscle is not easy to throw around but Ilya drops him unceremoniously back onto the bed like he weighs nothing.
“I can walk,” Shane grumbles without thinking, though the protest is empty and they both know it.
“Stay,” Ilya warns, and then he’s gone.
Shane watches him leave, eyes trailing over his ass before he disappears out into presumably the kitchen to find something to eat, all of his instincts demanding that he provide for his mate.
Shane sits back, a bit miffed. As amazing as it is to be cared for so deeply, he wasn’t finished getting ready and now his chance of getting back into the bathroom is slim without his alpha questioning him and putting him right back into the bed.
His eyes drift back to the bathroom door, still ajar with the light spilling into the room as if urging him to get out of bed again. For a moment he thinks about getting up and at least grabbing the plug and lube that was left behind, but his heart skips a beat at the thought of getting caught. If it were any other time, he might do it just to push Ilya’s buttons, but he can’t right now.
All he can do is wait.
Shane sighs, and makes himself comfortable, grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand to wipe Ilya’s release off of his thigh, tossing the trash into the bin beside him.
Now that getting ready for Ilya is off the table, he lets his thoughts stray to what Ilya will come up with for breakfast. Is he going to actually cook something? Or will he grab some snacks and bring them back? Will any of them fit into Shane’s diet?
He didn’t even think about that. If he had been smarter, he would have brought some things to stock Ilya’s cabinets with so maybe Ilya’s choices in foods would better align with Shane’s meal plans. Now, he isn’t sure what Ilya will bring back for him.
His mind conjures up images of greasy bacon, sweet pastries, or toast with sugary jelly that he hasn’t had in months. He licks his lips, mouth watering and stomach upset at the same time. It might make him feel sick to eat things like that. He would be better off with something healthier, unlike what he normally sees Ilya eat during their mornings together.
He can’t be difficult though. He needs to eat whatever Ilya brings him and suck it up. It won’t kill him to cheat a little, right?
Even if it makes his stomach queasy just thinking about it.
Shane picks anxiously at his thumb as he waits, holding his antsy body still even though it is a conscious effort.
Sometime later, Ilya comes back, and Shane steals a glance at the bowl in one hand, and a cup in the other.
A surprised noise leaves him in relief when Ilya sits down on the bed and holds the bowl out to him. Oatmeal. Normal, plain, oatmeal with a banana sliced up on top– thin, because Shane told Ilya once that the mushy texture bothers him if it’s too thick and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.
The small little act of love simultaneously eases Shane’s anxieties and puts a warmth in his chest that makes his heart feel strange. Even in rut Ilya remembered Shane’s diet and even how he likes something as small as a banana.
“Eat,” Ilya urges, eyes glazed over. He’s hard, cock red and leaking despite not being touched, but he doesn’t reach out or grab or demand. His bright eyes track Shane’s every move, urging him on. He looks a little insane, with his wild curls and hard stare, and incredulously Shane thinks he might be falling even more in love with the man. He isn’t sure if that is even possible.
“Thank you,” Shane whispers genuinely. “It’s perfect. You remembered.”
Ilya grunts in agreement, still watching intently.
Under his heavy gaze, Shane scoops some of the oatmeal up with his spoon and takes a small bite. It’s bland, the way Shane always makes it. There’s a hint of sweet from what tastes like honey mixed in too, something he doesn’t add very often but it is delicious with the banana and cinnamon.
The entire time he eats, he cannot help but marvel at the care Ilya is showing, awestruck at what an amazing alpha he is.
He eats quickly so he can take care of Ilya, glancing at the cup once he’s finished. Ilya then trades his empty bowl for the cup and drinks down the water that’s offered to him.
It is only when he is completely finished and both of the now empty dishes are stacked on the nightstand beside him that Ilya pounces.
Shane’s back hits the bed with an ‘oof’, Ilya’s hands pinning him down so he can lick along his neck. He nips at the collar, thumbing at the leather. “Take it off,” he demands, accent thicker than usual. “You are mine. Let me make you mine.”
Shane shivers, his hands finding the wild curls at the back of Ilya’s neck. “I can’t do that. You know that.”
“Why?” Ilya asks, biting down playfully just above the collar. It’s nowhere close to a mating bite. Instead, it is as if Ilya is showing him what he can do, how he can bury his teeth into the nape of his neck, right into the scent gland beneath the collar, how good it would feel to be his.
“We talked about this,” Shane tries weakly, but the words escape him as Ilya’s hot mouth moves lower, down over his chest. He takes his nipple between his teeth with a sharp nip, lavishing his tongue over the bud in a faux apology afterwards.
“Fine. My cock hurts,” Ilya mumbles against his skin. “Need to put it inside of you. You’ll make me feel better, yes?”
Shane nods, swallowing thickly as his stomach swoops. “I need to go back to the bathroom though.”
“Why?” Ilya asks.
“We need lube,” Shane points out, hoping Ilya can see his reasoning.
Once again his worries go unfounded.
Ilya kisses him again, this time brief and chaste. “I go get it then. You need to stay here.”
A warm bubbly feeling fills his heart, and Shane nods.
Ilya crawls out of the bed and slips into the bathroom to grab the items Shane left behind, and it is only in the still silence that follows that Shane lets the disbelief creep in. Ilya had been so worried about not taking his time with Shane and yet here he is, putting off his needs to fix him breakfast and get the things he needs and prep him.
Shane truly can’t imagine him being anything other than this kind and patient. When all of this is over, he might rub it in. In the future he will be smug about being right and he will tell Ilya that Shane knows him better than he knows himself, but for right now, Shane sits with the warm feeling of being cared for and basks in it.
An idea pops into his head just as Ilya steps out from the bathroom, and he only has a split second to think about it before he rushes into action.
Shane sits up on his knees, holding Ilya’s gaze from across the room. Ilya watches him closely as he sinks down against the bed, ass in the air and chest pressed flat against the mattress.
It’s a practiced position, one that he’s been in more times than he can count now. It’s not instinctive for an alpha to present, the first time Ilya had guided him onto his knees like this and pushed his head against the mattress, Shane was awkward and stiff, a nervous growl sitting between his teeth. Ilya had been so gentle, asking if he was comfortable and if he still wanted to try having sex like that. The memory stands out as one of his favorite nights together before they were anything to one another. At the time Shane had questioned himself; why he enjoyed submitting to another alpha so much. Ilya never judged him though, he never has.
Now, Ilya does not ask if he’s okay with the position, but he’s just as attentive, walking over quickly and wordlessly petting Shane’s spine in appreciation, the touch electrifying his nerves. He isn’t hard anymore, but Shane can feel the build up inside of him. He wiggles his hips, pushing back against Ilya’s hand that slips down over his ass.
“Fuck me,” Shane begs with a groan. “Need you inside of me.”
He half expects Ilya to squirt some lube on himself and take him just like that.
Instead, Ilya patiently wets his fingers with the two thick lube and starts with just one, slipping it past the tight ring of muscle.
Shane whines, thrusting back against his finger. Despite the lube being too thick, it feels amazing. Ilya expertly crooks his finger just right, pressing and rubbing until Shane is keening loudly beneath him. One becomes two, bumping against his prostate with every press of his fingers.
Soon Ilya has him spread open with three fingers, his cock drooling onto the sheets below. He quivers, fingers gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles go white.
“Please. Please, alpha,” Shane pleads.
“You’re not ready yet,” Ilya denies, teasing a fourth finger at his entrance.
Shane lets out a desperate noise so needy he sounds as if he’s the one in rut. Or heat.
“Yes I am,” Shane whines. “I need you. Ilya.”
Ilya ignores him, continuing to pump his fingers in and out slow and rhythmic, enough to drive Shane insane.
Sweat begins to dot his brow, every nerve in his body tingling, focused on the pads of Ilya’s fingers. He swears he can feel everything down to his fingerprints right now, the ridges rubbing against sensitive skin until his head spins.
“Convince me,” Ilya purrs, unwavering.
Shane whimpers high in his throat. “I want to feel you, want your knot, want-“ he hesitates, choking on the words. “Want you to breed me. Ilya please.”
Ilya whispers something in Russian that he barely catches, the syllables melding together to his ears. He pulls his fingers out though, and Shane gasps at the emptiness, hole fluttering and clenching on nothing.
Ilya wastes no time, positioning himself over Shane and lining himself up at the same time.
Shane gets no time to adjust as Ilya presses the head of cock inside of him, sliding home in one quick thrust that sucks the air from his lungs.
He mewls pathetically, arching down against the sheets that stick to the sweat on his skin. He’s still murmuring under his breath, vague pleas for Ilya to fuck him that the alpha silences with a hand on the back of his neck, holding him down to the bed. He uses the hold as leverage, fucking into him hard and rough and fast and exactly how Shane needs it.
The headboard creaks and jolts with every thrust, the smell of sex filling the room and mixing with the heady scent of an alpha in rut.
Shane tries to glance back to see Ilya’s face, wanting to see the sex drunk look he always wears but the position is impossible. All he can do is stare at the wall beside him and focus on the pleasure. Ilya is deep inside of him, he thinks he can feel him in his stomach, rubbing against that sweet spot with every pull of his cock out and in. His head spins, buzzing and quiet in a way that only comes in moments like this.
Ilya’s knot is already beginning to swell. He can feel the tug at his rim, pushing him further and further to his limits until he’s sure it is going to be too much.
Ilya whimpers, incomprehensibly behind him, a mix of English and Russian until all Shane can make out is his name and the various pet names he has slowly learned over time. He comes with a shout, knot locking them together once more.
Shane whines, giving Ilya time to bask in the aftershocks despite how his neglected cock throbs between his legs.
It takes a while, but eventually Ilya’s breathing slows and they wiggle into a more comfortable position, taking the weight off of Shane’s knees as they lie on their sides pressed tightly together.
“Take it off,” Ilya whispers against his neck with a kiss, voice breathless and rugged. “Let me bite you.”
“I can’t,” Shane denies, no matter how his heart aches for it. “You know we can’t.”
“I am good mate,” Ilya says knowingly, tone smug. “I feed you, I fuck you, I love you. I could give you a pup. Would you want that?” Ilya squeezes the back of his neck, placing another kiss against his shoulder that makes Shane squirm beneath his lips.
“Mark you and knot you, knock you up?” Ilya’s hands slide down, lower, cupping the space beneath Shane’s navel. “I can do it.”
He can’t do it. Shane knows he can’t actually get pregnant, it’s the rut talking, but he’s growing harder by the second, and he finds himself nodding along, eager and wanting.
Ilya finally grabs hold of his cock, pressing hot open mouthed kisses every he can reach. He jerks Shane off the same as he fucked him, hard and fast with a determination like he needed to make Shane feel as good as possible to prove himself.
Shane fell apart embarrassingly fast in his hands.
“I’ve got you, my love,” Ilya promised in his ear at a particularly choked out moan.
Shane nods helplessly because he knows that, he knows that Ilya will take care of him exactly how he needs every time.
When Shane’s knot begins to swell, Ilya slides his hand around it, squeezing down so tight it knocks the breath out of him. Shane’s hips jerk, caught between trying to fuck himself into Ilya’s hands and being held in place by his knot. A ringing in his ears grows and grows with every push and pull and tug and it takes no time at all for ropes of white to shoot across Ilya’s sheets and onto his knuckles that hold his knot firmly through the after shocks, giving him something to knot until the pulsing release stops.
Shane pants, falling into a boneless heap against the bed. Slowly but surely, the ringing in his ears fade, and the world comes back to him in increments. The ceiling, the floor, the den, Ilya holding him tight, their legs tangled together.
The way Ilya is still picking at the collar with his free hand.
“We need to leave it,” Shane mumbles out.
“Why? You want it, yes?” Ilya tries to reason.
Shane takes a deep breath. “We can’t. Not yet.”
Ilya huffs, unimpressed with his answer.
Shane sighs. He can only imagine the scandal. Two of the best hockey players in the world mated to each other would cause waves, then adding in that they are rivals and both alpha men?
He can only imagine what people would say. Their careers would be over. It would no longer be about the goals they make or the cups they win. It would become about something totally different, something that the public has no right to dig into and question but they would. The fear of ever being found out rattles him to his core.
But…
He can imagine it, and he does. Vividly. He imagines wearing Ilya’s mark with pride, living together and holding hands and scenting each other whenever the fancy strikes and not having to worry about how many showers they’ll have before their next team practice. He imagines always having a den together built somewhere in their house and not having to live in fear.
Someday.
He holds onto someday with everything he has.
Ilya gives up with the collar, though he finds a new target.
“I want to smell you,” Ilya grumbles, running his finger over the scent blockers.
“Leave it,” Shane pulls his wrist away gently. “Please,” he attaches at the end, hoping he didn’t sound too demanding or challenging.
Ilya frowns, rubbing his own wrist against Shane’s. Ilya’s scent clings to his skin, dampening the overly sweet scent oil.
Shane’s heartstrings tug violently, wanting nothing more than to pull off the patches so his and Ilya’s scents will mix.
A voice in the back of his head reminds him that Ilya has already proven both of their fears wrong. He has not been pushy or aggressive, or demanding even. He has taken the time to work Shane open and used the special lube he bought instead of trying to rush in without it. Even now, he is showing Shane nothing but the love one would expect from a mate.
There is still a chance though that Ilya might reject him. If his scent is too threatening or his body is too much work, his rut might make it so he has no interest in another alpha.
Shane tugs his wrist away gently, hiding it against his chest.
Ilya’s disappointment is palpable, but he doesn’t complain. Instead he kisses Shane’s neck again and holds him tight. It feels like reassurance, but it doesn’t ease the guilt like Shane knows it should.
“You are sleepy still,” Ilya notices after some time has passed.
“I couldn’t get comfortable last night,” Shane sighs.
“You are comfortable now, yes?”
Shane nods. He’s full, tied to Ilya who is as close as possible to him and would have to be for a while still. He is nothing but content right now. Even the annoying collar and scent patches are easy enough to ignore right now.
“Sleep, Shane,” Ilya urges.
“What if you need me though?” Shane asks, eyes already slipping shut.
Ilya hums like the answer should be obvious. “Then I just fuck you anyways. You can sleep while I breed you.”
Oh.
Shane’s cock twitches at the thought. “Yeah, okay. That would be great.”
“Great,” Ilya repeats with a tilt in his voice that sounds oddly like teasing again.
“Shut up,” Shane answers without thinking. As soon as the words slip out, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder to judge Ilya’s reaction.
Ilya just smiles and kisses his temple. “Sleep.”
Shane nods, letting his eyes slip shut. He can do that, Ilya has him.