Avisodelia
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Summary
He was facing off with Ilya Rozanov, their helmets so close that the ghost of Ilya’s breath, minty, with the acrid undertone of cigarette smoke was easy to pick up. Soothed something tight in his chest that he hadn’t realized was bothering him. Normally, Alphas set him on edge. It was something that was classically Omega, the instinct to avoid and protect themselves. He was comfortable around the Alphas in his family of course, and the few Alpha coaches that he had had growing up, but Boston made him nervous, composed almost entirely of Alphas. The quiet rage of excess testosterone was palpable when they entered a rink, and the lack of tremor in his hands when they shook after every game was well practiced, perfected by age and exposure.
Today, though, his body was rebelling, a sweet agony that was making itself known with every lingering moment, every tick of the clock that signaled that they were getting closer to the end.
Or, A/B/O dynamics but the Omegas are the ones who seek out a mate, based on how their bodies react to someone. Except, mated Omegas aren't allowed to play in the NHL. Decisions, decisions.