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Collin Veijer was not a late bloomer, and no one had ever expected him to be. Tall, long, lanky, limbs, with a serious face, face and deposition everyone had labeled him Alpha. He wasn’t excited or angry about this prediction even when mothers would give numbers of their children with descriptions of their flowery pretty scents. He didn’t mind when older Omegas would double sniff for maybe a vague scent of something strong and sharp.
When Collin awakes and his mechanic looks at him oddly he scratches his neck, lets his long hand pressure on his pulse and scent gland.
The mechanic looks at Collin with mirth, “Already being scented by Omegas?” He asks, nudging the boy.
The Dutchman tilts his head, “There is no Omegas.”
The mechanic laughs him off as a kid lying and they don’t discuss it further till he arrives in his garage preparing for his first free practice of India. He’s sweltering more than he feels like he did for any other race and blames it on the heat of temperature. There still are conscious worry glances and by the day of the race he’s feeling like he could faint.
There isn’t any allowance to pull out because of something as simple as feeling like your skin is burning, they are all feeling it from what he’s heard. Finally, when the race is going his body suddenly becomes hyperaware of everything. It feels dramatic and fast and he hopes this feeling never ends. Then Collin feels his front tire hit the rear of Sasaki’s and he’s hurling. Picking his bike up blotchy faced from embarrassment and crying.
He can tell the Husqvarna team wants to eat him alive, but they don't. Instead they are calm and even head as Collin flattens himself on the chair. His chief mechanic rushes him to take off his leathers and he’s puzzled but complies. Before he knows it he’s in a car pressing his head to the cool glass window. They hand him that, a bag, and an ID as he’s rushed into a cold room. It dawns on him as he changes the wetness that puddles at his boxers. Collin Veijer, himself, the up and coming Dutchman is an Omega.
His first heat is mortifying. There is no relief even with artificial Alpha pheromones, fake and heavy. They feel suffocating more than comforting. There isn’t even enough materials to build a nest. Collin lets out huffs and cries and wonders if anyone can hear him. He swallows them all by the seventh day when he emerges tired more than he’s ever been. He collapses on the plane ride home and wonders if anyone can still smell him.
–
It’s sometime at a party he realizes who Edgar truly is. He knows by looking at him many would assume an Alpha, but they’d assume the same as him. But the difference is that Edgar sometimes curls himself into something small and electric that many would think of as Omega. But as Edgar curls into his side he realizes the smell.
“Oh,” Collin huffs out, there’s something different about Edgar.
Something different then when he would occasionally pass the bike trail, sit on the couch with Collin, and smile but never linger too long. This time he’s lingering, hovering around Collin. The Dutch can smell a specific something, something like a sweet heat that lingers in his mouth. Edgar starts speaking of something, maybe nothing, maybe everything but before he knows it lips are on his.
There’s something strange about kissing Edgar. It’s not like when Collin was young and kissed boys behind paddock tents giggling. Some things stay the same like Edgar for one is still maybe shorter than him like most of the boys were but he’s far more big, a steady line, not able to be maneuvered like many of them wanted Collin to do. He’s more sunkissed and confident. It makes Collin confused, gasp a bit in Edgar’s mouth which seems to make him more hungry.
Collin is not used to the ravenousness, he’s used to meek worried kisses. People who expected him to be the predator, the Alpha, who would taunt him with the promise of more. Edgar makes no promises instead he tells all, he exposes all as he brings his mouth further down Collin to his jaw. Collin’s pretty sure he hears Edgar purr when he lifts up his jaw to expose his neck.
It’s like nothing he’d ever experienced being scented, he expected when he was younger it would taste like the Napoleon sweets he’d sneak into his pocket. Instead Edgar is like Kaneelkussentjes, the cinnamonny and spice coat around Collin. Edgar greedily yips at Collin’s neck, follows down to the base where he kisses it and his collar bone. He doesn’t quite remember how they ended up in Edgar’s car. Where he is in a truckbed with a tarp as the Spaniard breathes heavily on his chest.
Admittedly Collin has seen enough porn to know how Omega’s are supposed to whine and moan. How they are supposed to supplement something warm and wet. How one is urged to themselves but still maintains meekness. Collin however is laying on the truckbed, large as ever, and cold faced. He thinks maybe he should act a certain way but Edgar doesn’t seem to mind as he becomes the one whining when he takes off Collin's pants.
He thinks maybe he was too zoned but he can feel it now, the slick that has pooled around his crotch. This is usually when an Omega would present himself but the metal of the car it’s going to be hell. Edgar doesn’t seem all that focused on it anyway, gulping Collin realizes Edgar’s been looking at his dick the entire time. He still has boxers on but they make everything obvious.
Edgar swallows as he takes them off too, “Bastard,” He snarks.
Collin manages to find it in him confused and cocks his head to the size. Edgar is still fully clothed from top to bottom and it makes Collin squirm as he hits at the Spaniard's leg to get his attention.
“You too, take off your clothes.”
Edgar smiles something mischievous as he starts slowly with his jacket and rests it behind Collin’s propped arms. He moves on with his shirt less slowly and then only unbuttons his jeans. Then he pouts looking back at Collin.
“This is embarrassing,” he says continuing, “You are bigger than me.”
Collin looks at Edgar then at himself, “Not really.”
“I mean your dick,” He says bluntly.
“Oh.”
Collin doesn’t really not know what to do other than hide with his legs any part of him. Edgar seems to realize he was taken a certain way as he grabs at flesh spreading him again. Collin feels like he wants to cry, but he clenches down on his jaw, looks up with fiery eyes at Edgar. He however, looks the opposite, slack jawed, pupils all consuming, and still looking at Collin’s erection. He attentively takes one of his hands off the thigh and hovers over Collin’s boxers.
Collin nods and Edgar begins to tease at him. Strokes small and pets at his head. Collin is going to kill him because reading by Edgar’s face it isn’t shame, it’s amusement. He’s about to call on Edgar’s bullshit as Edgar brings himself closer taking his own out. He pushes them together and gets up close to Collin’s face.
He kisses Collin shakily and groans into him. His hands wrapped around them as he shakes and Collin wraps his hands in Edgar’s hair. He pulls at it and he can hear Edgar mewl at it, and can feel down below him throb. His own head feels light headed as he sits up drawing the other with him.
He instinctually grabs at Edgar’s chest. Starts using his palm to rub at the Alpha’s nipples, which he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to do, but Edgar stops kissing him and stuffs his head at Collin’s neck. He keeps going mindlessly touching them til he feels Edgar getting sloppier. He brings back Edgar to kiss him sharply. He moans into Collin’s mouth as he comes, then bites down hard and it’s Collin’s turn to do the same. He can feel the brief smirk from it as Edgar jerks off their high.