Archive of Our Own

Shane glides over the ice, the familiar roar of the crowd helping him focus on the puck before him. There's a strange vigor surging through his limbs. He speeds past a Boston player, and passes.

Rozanov, the cocky bastard, tries to get in his way. Shane sees his teeth flash in a taunting grin. Shane feints one way, changing direction just as Rozanov lunges.

Shane picks up a waft of scent as he passes. He knows from all the games, interviews, and photoshoots he's done with the smart-talking Russian that he's an alpha. He's caught Rozanov's scent before. There's always been something particularly delicious about the spicy musk the alpha releases as he shoots little innuendos at Shane. But Shane has always put it out of his mind, and ignored the alpha's flirting. He's a prolific omega captain, and Rozanov certainly isn't the first alpha in the league to make a pass at him. But Shane doesn't have time for entanglements like that. Especially not with an asshole like Rozanov. He'd probably leave him to drop after fucking him hard and fast in some random hotel room, muttering sexy Russian insults -

Shane sucks in a quick breath, surprised at the direction of his thoughts right in the middle of a game. Shane's teammate passes him back the puck. He hears Rozanov swear behind him. Shane swings hard, and the puck zips past the Boston goalie so fast it's almost invisible.

"GOAL!"

Shane grins as the crowd roars and his teammates pile on top of him, slapping every inch they can reach. He's enveloped in a familiar cloud of alpha, beta, and omega scents. But this time, he sucks in a deep breath, and his nose finds its way to the neck of his teammate, a tall alpha who slaps his back with a shout.

Alpha. It smells so good. Too good. Shane frowns as he feels a surge of heat between his legs, and his small member swells against his cup.

He's only had a handful of heats since joining the hockey world. He carefully times heat suppressant breaks for the summer, so that he can have a week sequestered away with his toys. He's months away from his next cycle. But usually alphas don't smell that good, unless...he frowns, and puts it out of his mind, ignoring the ache in his belly.

The teams return to their starting positions. Shane skates up to the Boston opponent at center ice.

Rozanov flips the stick in his hands with a smirk.

"You play well today, Hollander. Did you study my past games and learn something?"

"Fuck off, Rozanov."

"No, is nice! To have real opponent for a change."

"I'm gonna score a goal for every smart-ass comment you make."

Rozanov smiles. "You pay close attention to my ass, hm?"

Shane ignores the surge of slick along with his anger. "Get fucked, Rozanov."

"That is not usually how it goes." The asshole even winks at him.

He absolutely has no time for entanglements, especially not some alpha and their cock-sized ego. But if Shane thinks about broad, golden shoulders and dancing eyes when he's alone in heat, plunging a dildo into his slicked-up hole?

Well, no one has to know about that.

Shane grips his stick, ready for the puck. He's sweatier than usual under his clothes, body hot all over with the exertion of playing.

The puck drops, and the Russian wins it, skating away. Shane follows and catches up quickly. He bodies him, shoving them both down to the ice.

Shane groans as they lie tangled together. Alpha scent rolls over him. He should feel sore from the impact, but all he feels is a burning, down low. The ice feels so, so good on his heated flesh.

"Shit, Hollander," Rozanov mutters, staring at him. "You smell..."

The umpire skates up to them, whistle ready. Then she sniffs the air, and stares at Shane too.

"Hollander," she says sternly. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, absolutely." He tries to get to his feet, but his limbs aren't moving properly.

"Oh no," Rozanov says quietly. His pupils are huge and black.

The umpire scents him properly. Her eyes go wide.

She blows into her whistle, long and hard, then cups her hands and yells to the stadium.

"HEEEAT!"

Shane trembles. He can't be, it isn't possible. No omegas have gone into heat on the actual ice in years, not with heat suppressants and timing the cycles and -

"Fucking hell, Shane," says Hayden as he grabs his hand, hauling him onto his skates. His familiar beta scent calms him a little. "How did this even happen?"

"I don't know." Shane blinks. "Are they really going to call a..."

"HEAT BREAK!" The umpire yells, to a roar from the crowd, the biggest Shane has ever heard in his years playing hockey.

"Well," says the TV commentator. "Get ready, folks, for a once-in-a-lifetime viewing experience! It's been nine years since the last heat break was called, the longest dry spell in hockey history, and they are certainly unforgettable. Omegas are far more careful these days with heat suppressant schedules, and of course, if any omega has to skip a game to weather out their heats, that's far more preferable to the infamous...heat break!

As we're about to see, if an omega enters their heat during a match, then the game is paused while the teams carry out the age-old tradition of...well, giving an omega exactly what they need. But the omega has one chance to escape certain knotting - can they score a goal against a full pack of alphas? Normally, I'd say no chance, but Shane Hollander is the one omega I wouldn't count out. And if he loses and has to put on a show for us...well, what a show it'll be.

Strap in, folks, and reach for your favourite toys, because Hollander might be about to show off his heat to the entire hockey world!"

"Fuck," Shane mutters. His brain is shutting down, latching onto that one word. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

"It's alright," Hayden says. He fails to keep the worry out of his voice. "It'll all be over in a few minutes. Besides, you're the best player on the ice, you'll probably get out of it without - "

"Without being ruined by an alpha cock for everyone to see?" Shane hisses.

"Uh...yep, yeah, basically."

"Everyone off the ice except alphas!" the umpire calls. Hayden gives him a slap on the back and a worried look before skating out with the other betas and omegas.

Shane just blinks as about a dozen Metro and Boston alphas start to hover around him. Pheromones sit tangy in the air as they respond to his heat pheromones, and the alphas let their desire show, eyes raking over his form.

The umpire skates closer. "Alright, Hollander. Do you know what happens now?"

He can't respond, can't think. He shakes his head.

"Undress," she says, a little more excited than she should be.

He tries not to look out at the crowd, who are screaming their heads off at the unexpected show. His gaze flickers around the alphas left on the ice. There's a hunger in their eyes that he should probably be worried about it.

But it just makes the fire in his cunt flare hotter.

He fumbles with his gloves, then clothes. Usually it would be too cold on the ice to undress all the way down to just skates. But with the heat under Shane's skin, he sighs in relief as he slides off the last layer. The heat is rapidly taking over his brain, twisting things so that he finds all these eyes on him intoxicating instead of terrifying.

"Fucking gorgeous, Hollander," one of the alphas calls out. He holds back a whimper, and feels a droplet of slick slide down his inner thigh. Shane wipes it away, but there's no point hiding his reaction from the crowd, who yell all the louder.

"Get the omega!" "Give him what he needs!" "Spread him open!"

The umpire hands him his stick. She can't help looking down appreciatively at his little cock, hard and throbbing.

"Now, Hollander. It's you against the alphas. If you can get down the ice and manage to score, you can go home and finish off your heat however you want in privacy. But if one of the alphas manages to get the puck and they score...they get to have you right here on the ice." There's a trace of excitement in her voice.

Shane sucks in a breath as the brief mental image of being filled by alpha cock in front of the whole stadium and all those cameras. He shouldn't find that hot, he knows he shouldn't. But rational thoughts are getting very hard to hold on to, as a cloud of hungry alpha pheromones builds around him.

"Got it, Hollander?"

He gives a quick nod. Come on, Hollander, don't be a heat-sick idiot. Score a goal. Get to the hotel room and your toys. Forget this ever happened, and hope that everyone else does too.

"Alright, to center ice!"

Shane skates slowly forwards. A Metros teammate drifts closer to him. "It's okay, Holls. We're not gonna let some Boston asshole have you. If you can't get the shot yourself, we'll make sure it's one of us. We'll look after you." His eyes trawl across Shane's naked, flushed body in clear interest.

Shane can't process his words. All those alpha eyes on him makes him want to preen a little, show them what a good omega he would be, so good at taking their knot -

Come on, Hollander, ignore the heat! Get ready to play!

He stops at the center, where one tense alpha is waiting.

Rozanov's eyes pierce him. Shane finds that delicious scent hard enough to ignore at the best of times, but now the alpha is reacting to Shane's heat. Sharp, feral hunger rolls out of him.

"Come on, Hollander," he says. His words are unexpectedly soft, at odds with the ferocious need of his scent. "You would not let some little heat hormones go to your head, hm? You could beat any of us with your eyes closed."

Shane stares at him. He can't figure out if the Russian is messing with him so that he can be the one to fuck him. But there's something tender in his eyes that he can't decipher.

Then the whistle blows.

Shane's focus narrows to nothing but black puck on white ice. He feels like he's flying as he wins the puck and barrels down to his end. Shane's heat-addled brain wonders for a moment if he looks good like this, like a good, strong omega, naked on the ice, ready for his alpha. He briefly considers giving up trying to score. What better way to land a good mate than make a dozen top-of-their-game alphas fight each other on a hockey rink and see who wins?

No, that's the heat talking! Play!

An alpha zooms towards him, and before Shane can blink, they take the puck, skating towards the alpha's end. Shane goes as fast as he can, trying to reach the goal before they do to defend it.

"Desperate little bitch," the alpha snaps over his shoulder. "Always wanted to break you in."

Shane growls at the slur, moving even faster.

Then the alpha yelps as Rozanov bodies him, with a sound so furious that Shane feels slick gush down his legs. The alpha is left groaning on the ice, and the puck drifts for a moment.

Shane swings into position in front of the goal, panting. His eyes lock onto Rozanov's.

Several alphas are closing in with hungry growls. In a second, they'll have the puck. Then who knows what will happen? Some brutal alpha will score, and tear Shane apart in front of the whole stadium.

Rozanov's huge eyes devour him. "Mine," the alpha growls.

The puck flashes forwards. Shane sees its path in slow motion, and the movement he could make to block it.

He waits a millisecond before snapping his stick into position. The puck sails past him, straight into the net.

Shane and Rozanov stare at each other, panting. The other alphas skate around them. Their scents are sour with disappointment.

Shane trembles in front of the goal.

Rozanov skates to him, dropping his gloves and helmet as he goes. His hand closes around Shane's throat.

"You let me score, you fucking shit." Shane flushes all over as the alpha's pheromones envelop him.

"I would never," he breathes into his mouth. The alpha's hand feels wonderful around his neck.

"I know you, Hollander. You could have stopped that goal."

"It must be the heat. Slowed me down."

"The omega is lying to me." Rozanov's hand relaxes a little, and his thumb strokes Shane's lip. It sends tingles straight to his cunt, and Rozanov's nostrils flare as he smells the reaction. "Didn't think good-boy Hollander had it in him."

"I got an idea for something I could have in me," Shane says breathlessly.

The alpha snorts. "Heat makes you funny, hm?"

"And lucky for you, it makes you...mmh, attractive." He gets distracted trying to catch the alpha's thumb in his mouth.

"Ah, so the heat is the only reason you are so needy for me?" His voice is a deep, dangerous purr. "More lies, Hollander, I think." Rozanov pauses, seeming to wait for something, but Shane finds himself far more interested in showing how deep he could suck his fingers into his mouth. The heat blankets his brain. Look at me, big strong alpha, please, I'll be such a good omega for you -

Rozanov sighs. "Banter with heat-addled omegas is like...how you say, something about candy and babies."

Shane blinks, trying to figure out what he means.

"To the center!" the umpire calls.

Rozanov's hand moves to the back of Shane's head and grips his hair. His mind goes blissfully blank. Yes. Strong alpha. Good omega.

Rozanov guides him with an iron fist. The alphas form a wide circle around the two of them, yelling encouragement. Cameramen hover, trying not to miss a second of the action. Shane's mind is starting to catch up to what's happening. What's about to happen. The longer he looks out at the crowd, the more self-conscious he gets.

"Hollander. Eyes on me," Rozanov murmurs. The rest of the stadium melts away as Shane stares, alpha to omega. He calms at once.

"This is what we do. You use that lovely mouth on me. Then I will give you best knot in history of hockey, which will satisfy your heats for years to come." Shane snorts. "And then once you are home, maybe we call, yes?"

"Yes, alpha," Shane sighs. He didn't hear much through the heat, but the hand in his hair is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't need to listen. His alpha knows what he needs.

Rozanov's guides him to his knees. The ice should feel hard and cold beneath him, but the heat takes away the discomfort and transforms it into pleasure.

"Hands behind your back, omega." Shane obliges at once, shivering at the alpha's deep timbre.

Rozanov moves slowly as he pulls his cock out of his pants. The alphas around them mutter appreciatively as his full length comes into view. Shane stares. It's half again as big as his largest toy. But his hole flutters at just the thought of being filled by that thing, leaking enough slick onto the ice that he swears it steams around him. It'll probably fit?

"Mm, omega," Rozanov sighs as he strokes himself. "You want this? You will look so pretty with your mouth all stretched out. But...I think you can only manage tip."

Shane twitches under his fist, anger chasing away the last of his fear. He glares up at Rozanov. "Asshole."

He chuckles. "I apologise. Seeing how desperate you are, lovely omega, I think you will make one-third of my dick feel very happy."

Shane strains against the hand in his hair. Rozanov's fingers finally slacken, and Shane dives for his dick.

He sucks down half of his length in one go, gagging, then pushing further. The heat burns inside him, helping his muscles relax.

"Ahh. So good for me. I have won such a nice prize from all these stupid alphas." Shane moans around him, pleased to hear Rozanov's breath catch. His cock is so hot and hard between his lips, better than any of his fantasies. He tunes out the other alphas, the sound of the crowd, the thought of the camera and millions of watchers no doubt jerking off in their living rooms right now.

"Very good effort, omega." Rozanov's hand starts to press on the back of his head. "I think maybe you need my help to - "

Shane launches himself forward until his face is buried in the curls at the base of the alpha's cock. The discomfort in his jaw transforms into pleasure in the midst of his heat, as he waits to hear...

"Ahh, good boy," Rozanov moans. "You are showing off now, aren't you? Showing all these people what a good, hungry little thing you are?"

Yes, your good omega. Shane moves faster, swept up in sensation. His lips are running over a swelling at the base of Rozanov's cock. His mind goes wild at the thought of this massive knot, filling him...

"Ayh!" Rozanov grunts, and pulls him roughly off his cock, stinging his scalp.

Shane blinks up at his alpha, sad and confused. Rozanov sinks down to his knees onto the ice with him, panting, bringing their faces close.

"If I knot your pretty mouth instead of your pretty cunt, I will never forgive myself," he murmurs. Shane ducks his head with a smile. He looks down at his own flushed, naked body. The sound of the crowd start to filter in around him, self-consciousness along with it. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to score. Am I really about to be knotted in front of -

Rozanov tips up his face again. "Here," he whispers, gentle, and guides Shane to his scent gland. Shane goes dizzy as the alpha's raw scent hits him, and his heat resurges. He kisses the gland, tries to nibble it, tries to bite -

Rozanov snorts and pulls him away. "You are naughty omega, hm?"

Shane smirks, still reeling from the alpha pheromones. "Am asshole," he says, in a terrible Russian accent.

Rozanov blinks. He gives a terrifying grin. "I am going to fuck you so hard you forget that word, Shane Hollander."

"Is that so, alpha?" he says, flippant.

"You will say that with respect." His fingers dig into Shane's jaw, vicious and wonderful.

"Yes, alpha," he gasps at once, mind blank. More slick leaks out to make a puddle on the ice below them.

"Present for me," Rozanov commands. The crowd screams louder as they pull apart, Rozanov's eyes dark with lust. Most of the alphas around them have their hands in their pants as they watch, getting excited as Shane repositions. The pheromones swirl around him, hungry. They start to clamour, yelling encouragements.

"Fuck yeah Rozanov, fuck the omega." "Look at that needy goddamn hole." "If you don't, I will." "Make the bitch cry."

At the last shout, Rozanov whips his head around with a glare. He shoves himself to his feet. Violence radiates from his frame. His alpha instincts are supercharged by the omega in heat before him.

"Next person who says 'bitch' gets their dick ripped off," Rozanov snaps. Shane shivers, watching in awe.

One alpha, the one who almost scored earlier, mutters something under his breath. He glares at Rozanov in clear challenge.

"Fuck you-" Fury bursts out of Rozanov. Shane feels a flash of real fear through the muddle of his heat. In this state, with his alpha pheromones so high, Rozanov might actually kill a rival alpha.

I have to protect him. My alpha. Shane scrambles to his hands and knees. Rozanov skates forwards, right for the smirking man, ready to fight.

"Rozanov!" Shane calls. His head is twisted so he can see them, cheek pressed to the cold ice.

The alpha stops, breathing heavily. He turns.

Shane's ass faces him. His knees are spread as wide as possible. Every eye in the arena is drawn to his wide, desperate hole. He can feel the slick coating him, trickling down his little cock, washing over most of his thighs. He's never felt or seen anything like it, he didn't know he could get so wet and so open.

"I need you." Shane reaches for his cheeks and pulls them wider, arching his back even more, pressing his chest to the ice. He feels a fresh gush of slick, and its rich scent fills the air.

Rozanov stares, drawn to the omega like a siren song. He glances at the rival alpha.

"Are you going to make me try and do this all on my own, Rozy?" He trails a finger around the edge of his cunt with a moan.

"Hollander," the alpha growls. He moves forwards a little, away from the other alpha. He barely notices as the umpire steps in, ushering the rival alpha from the ice with a sharp reprimand.

"Rozy, I don't think I can do it," Shane whimpers as he lets one finger slip inside. It feels so tiny, so inadequate compared to the cock still peeking out of his alpha's pants.

He grins in triumph as Rozanov skates closer, eyes dark and hungry. He drops to his knees behind Shane. He shudders as he feels hands on his hips, body so tense and desperate, finally, finally he would -

"Not Rozy. Alpha," Rozanov growls, and shoves himself to the hilt in one go.

Shane cries out as that glorious cock buries itself inside him. He's never been so full. The alpha pauses for a moment, and Shane can feel him trembling.

But his heat is having none of that. He squirms on his cock. Piteous noises rise from his throat. "Rozy. Roz - "

Rozanov drives forwards, so hard Shane feels it deep in his guts. He bucks back into him, meeting every thrust, deeper, yes. The heat sings inside him as the alpha's cock drives into him again and again, and the crowd roars in approval to see the omega captain spread out beneath his alpha. Shane keens as he sees that the alpha's blunt cockhead is distending his stomach, bullying its way deeper with every thrust. So good, he will give me so many pups -

"Impatient - cheeky - little - omega - "

"Yes, Roza - ah! - please - "

"Alpha." Rozanov reminds him, and grabs wildly for his arms. He grips them behind Shane's back, and now he can only take it. He sees the crowd through blurry eyes, watches the alphas fist themselves with fierce jealousy.

"Alpha," he whimpers. The monstrous cock swells, starting to catching on his entrance. He sobs onto the ice. Rozanov drives the growing knot into him again and again. More, more, more -

Shane shudders as he comes, spurting out of his little cock. It mixes with the slick coating his body and the ice below. Rozanov growls in approval and thrusts harder.

"Alpha," Shane cries. "Please - "

Rozanov buries himself with a roar as the knot catches. His cock throbs, and Shane feels the alpha's seed gush into him. Full. Finally full. Shane trembles in the alpha's grip, plugged and sated.

"Hollander," the alpha sighs. More tears prick Shane's eyes. My alpha. Rozanov's fingers trace slowly over his scent gland at the base of his neck, though his mouth goes nowhere near it.

"Bite me. Claim me," Shane whimpers. His heat demands it.

"My good, pretty omega. I am not asshole. I would not do this to you." Rozanov moves them both carefully, repositioning Shane's legs. He guides them to collapse onto the ice together, lying on their sides, still knotted. He kisses Shane's scent gland tenderly, making him squirm with need.

"You don't want me? I wasn't good enough for you?" Fresh tears course down Shane's face, wrapped up in his alpha's arms.

"You are exceptional, Hollander - "

"I'll show you, alpha," he snaps. He's still weak from the heat and the knotting, but he manages to throw himself backwards, taking Rozanov by surprise. Shane desperately manoeuvres into position. The knot twisting inside him makes him moan as the heat flares again.

Shane straddles the alpha, cock still buried deep inside. Rozanov's hands scrabble for his thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. Arousal simmers in the alpha's eyes.

"Yes, little omega? What will you show me?"

Shane looks around him. He takes in the pack of alphas, staring in lust and adoration. The cameras are trained close on his face, his ass, the knot inside it, his knub of his cock. The crowd is screaming now, a wild howl of excitement as the omega takes over the alpha.

Shane cries out as he lifts himself a little, and the knot rubs inside him, hitting all the best places. He can't believe his flesh is giving way enough to prevent tearing, but the heat fuels him as he starts to ride the alpha.

Rozanov gasps between his legs. "Oh fuck, Hollander, yes."

"I'll show you I'm the best - ah - damn! - ah - omega - you're ever gonna get," he pants. He's shaking with the effort, almost every part of him coated in slick. But the heat gives him single-minded purpose.

"Hollander, I can't come again for another like - "

"Come on, Rozy, where's my big alpha now?" Shane stares boldly into the camera as he rides, putting on a show for the audience. His hole milks the alpha's knot. Rozanov is almost whimpering now, and twitches with every thrust.

"Holl - "

Shane feels himself getting close again. He stares at Rozanov as he lifts up and slams himself down again, and again. His hole squeezes and spasms as he cries out, and comes, a pathetic bit of cum dribbling from his cock.

Rozanov stares at him in complete awe.

"Shane..." With a deep groan, the alpha comes. The knot pulses deliciously inside Shane. He feels another rush of seed deep within him, kept plugged by the alpha's cock. Shane collapses forwards, and Rozanov wraps iron-hard arms around him.

"Ilya," Shane sighs.

Shane drifts softly into semi-consciousness. He vaguely feels many hands lift him and Ilya, still knotted together, and lowering them gently onto a stretcher. They're carried off the ice to thunderous applause. Blankets are draped over them both, and after a few minutes, the distant sounds from the crowd let him know the game has probably resumed.

But all Shane cares about is staying nestled in the little world of warm, happy alpha scent.

After some time, Ilya's hands start to stroke over his skin a little more insistently.

"Shane," he murmurs.

Shane groans. He shifts, and feels the knot slip out of him, finally mostly deflated. There's a gush of fluids, and Shane gasps at the loss.

"Ilya - "

"It's okay, it's alright." Ilya guides him onto his back, letting his knees curl up so his seed stays nestled inside. Shane sighs, then blinks. He looks around to see that they're on the floor in some sick bay.

"...mn okay?"

"Yes, everything is okay." Ilya's face swims into focus. The alpha's pupils are still a little blown out from the knotting and Shane's lingering heat pheromones. But the look in his eyes is impossibly tender.

He holds up a small packet with a pill inside.

"S' that?"

"The medic gave to me." Ilya nods at the corner, and Shane sees someone sitting on a desk chair with a clipboard, looking faintly embarrassed. "They are just making sure your body settles okay after...well, it was quite a dramatic heat."

"But what's that?" He stares at the pill.

"Is to prevent pups," Ilya says slowly.

"Wha - but - " Shane cups a hand over his groin, trying to make sure no more of the alpha's seed escapes. "No, that's stupid. I'm a good omega. I'm going to have your pups, gonna be full of them, you're gonna knot me again and again and again and..."

"I know, любимый," he murmurs, stroking his cheek. "You are a good omega, so good. But you need to make this decision once the heat dissipates, yes?"

"No!"

"Shane..."

"You have to claim me," he says in a small, broken voice.

"Can we discuss it tomorrow?" Ilya asks gently.

Shane feels a wave of exhaustion come over him. The heat still simmers under surface, enough to nudge him to follow his alpha's wishes. "'K. Tomorrow."

"Such a good boy," Ilya murmurs. He pops the pill into his hand, and places it on Shane's waiting tongue, bringing a glass of water to his lips. Shane drinks gratefully.

"Thank you, alpha," he says sleepily.

"My beautiful omega." Shane falls asleep to him stroking his hair, murmuring sweet nothings in Russian.

"And now - shut up, Chris, and pay attention - the best moment of the whole thing, if you ask me. Hollz and Rozy have a bit of a cuddle after the phenomenal first knot, they've already knocked it out of the history books if you ask me. Rozy really got to show off as an alpha in his prime, laying it into our energetic omega captain - "

"Oh could not agree more, Dan. He came to the game absolutely ready to rock Hollzy's world with that spear of his - "

"And what a spear - but then, here! You can see them having a chat, and who knows what they're sweet-talking about - "

" - I'd love to know - "

"I know, and Hollz - yes, here we go - he pulls a spooning-to-cowboy manoeuvre, and turns the tables on the alpha like nothing we've seen before. I mean, I went back to watch the heat breaks of the 90's when omegas really pulled some tricks - "

"Enjoyed that viewing experience, did ya?"

"Not a bad way to spend a Tuesday night, that's all I'll say. Now just listen for once....but I watched 'em all, and there was nothing, nothing close to the agility, power, and just- just boldness of this Metros captain during the infamous heat break of 2012..."

Shane shifts nervously in the elevator as he watches yet another review video from the game last week. The heat break between him and Rozanov was quickly turning into an accidentally career-defining event. Luckily, most of the fall-out was positive. He watches a clip he's already seen several times; Shane is staring defiantly into the camera with heavy, heat-laden eyes as he rides Rozanov for all he's worth. It cuts to a clip of his hole, stretched taut around the alpha's cock, cum dribbling out around his knot. Then one he hasn't seen yet, with Shane's face pressed into the ice, crying, begging, please...

He sucks in a breath, quitting the video. It has been a very, very strange week. After passing out in the sick bay, he woke in his hotel room, Hayden being a real one and getting him set up to ride out the rest of his heat. But thankfully, it had only lasted another day before he was feeling like himself again.

Shane checks that the elevator is still going up, to the correct floor number - 1221 - for the dozenth time.

He looks at the texts again from this morning.

Lily: [one week ago]

hi jane it's lily thanks for a great knot i mean night id love to see u again :3

Shane: [09:16am]

You didn't have to put your contact into my phone as a girl when millions of people saw us...

You know.

boring

i do not know, tell me again

Fuck off.

saw me give you the knot of your life? or saw you ride an alpha until collapsed?

Yeah, that.

we can change our contacts together when i see you

When will you see me?

come (here) tonight. Beacons 1221 8pm

Okay.

we can just talk

Shane stares at that last message again. He hadn't replied. He's not sure he knows what the alpha is getting at. Was Rozanov expecting sex? Knotting? Mating bites?? Surely he didn't take heat-addled Shane seriously. He certainly isn't ready to start breeding with some alpha he's never had an actual conversation with; constant insults and begging to mate when in heat don't count.

He shoves his phone in his pocket and sighs, trying to calm down. There's nothing I can do to find out what Rozanov wants until I get there and ask the guy. So let's get there, and figure it out.

The elevator reaches the twelfth floor. Shane finds room 1221, and knocks, not too hard and not too soft.

It opens after a moment. The Russian cuts an imposing figure, even in sweats and a tank top. His eyes dance as he takes in Shane and his carefully selected, probably boring clothes. His alpha scent is more muted than usual, though Shane usually sees him in the thick of a competitive hockey game...

...not quietly at home in a hotel room, no heat, no hockey game. Just them.

"Hi," says Shane. Rozanov opens the door wider without saying anything. As Shane walks past, Rozanov scents him, subtle enough that it's still polite.

"Your heat is over, I see."

"It is. In large part to you, so, thank you."

"I suppose the part I played was large, yes." Rozanov smirks at him. Shane tries to hold back his own grin. Something about just being around the alpha puts him at ease.

"That was terrible."

"I am glad my English is progressing. It helps me to make terrible sex puns like this more easily."

"What a good use of your time."

"I say so, yes. You like drink?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Ginger ale?"

"I think they have it," Rozanov says, crouching to look through the tiny fridge. "Yes. Here, Shane Hollander." Their fingers brush as he hands Shane the can. Just that touch makes Shane's breath catch. His body remembers the recent heat, and the alpha who held him through it, and something in his belly aches again.

Rozanov's sharp eyes don't miss a thing, and he can certainly can smell the change in Shane's scent.

"We sit?"

"Yeah, good idea." Shane mentally slaps himself. Focus. You haven't got the excuse of your heat anymore. Stop thinking about goddamn breeding for once.

Shane perches on the edge of the bed with Rozanov. He meant to wait for the alpha to start, and say whatever he wanted to say. But instead, Shane blurts out -

"Thanks for making me take the pill."

Rozanov watches him closely, face impassive. "You are glad? You were very insistent at the time about having my pups."

Shane blushes. "Heat makes you do and say some pretty crazy things. Taking the pill was absolutely the right thing."

"Good. I was..." Rozanov waves his hand, trying and failing to look nonchalant.

"...worried?"

Rozanov grunts in a vaguely affirmative way. Shane nudges his knee with his own, smiling.

"Were you worried about me, alpha?"

"Not worried," he snaps. "Only worry was that you would fall in love with me because my cock was so unforgettable."

"No chance," Shane says with a proper grin. "But maybe I should be worried about you. Good luck finding an omega who rides you half as well as I do."

Rozanov rolls his eyes, but Shane can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "Mm, remember when you swallowed my cock? And you couldn't speak? I liked that, good memory."

"You know what I remember?" Shane says softly. "You calling me Shane. And making sure I was okay that day, every step of the way. I'm damn sure no other alpha out there would've done for me what you did."

Rozanov freezes. He looks almost guilty, like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar, rather than a grown-up being accused of having kindness and care towards another grown-up. Shane waits, but the Russian said nothing.

"So, Ilya," he says, leaning closer. "If you'd like to go on a date before you knot me this time...I'd be interested."

The alpha blinks at him. Shane sees something fall away, and the softness in his eyes that he remembers from the depths of his heat returns. His hand creeps to Shane's inner thigh.

"If...Shane...I agree that dates and more knotting sounds nice...do they definitely need to be in that order?"

Shane leans in, nosing his way to Ilya's scent gland, and sighing in relief as he soaks up the alpha's scent. "Can we agree on dates before we get to having pups?"

Ilya snorts. "Mm, agreed. Although you do beg for them so prettily."

"Well, I don't have to stop doing the begging part."

"Do you promise, little omega?" Ilya brings their faces together. The hand on Shane's jaw is tight and sure, but he can see the tenderness in his eyes still.

"Yes, alpha," he breathes, content.

Ilya draws him in for a deep, devouring kiss.