Chapter Text
Shane was pretty sure he had caught the plague. The sunlight was just beginning to stream into the bedroom when he woke up, and even before he opened his eyes it felt entirely too bright. He whined softly, not recognizing the wounded animal noise that came out of his own throat as he curled in on himself, trying to burrow under the thin sheet Ilya had thrown over them the night before. He was hot and sweating, the cool air in the bedroom doing nothing to alleviate the burning sensation rolling over him in waves. His stomach hurt, and somewhere deep in him, between his bellybutton and spine, he ached. He tried to take stock of his body, pinpoint what was wrong, but a thick haze had settled over his normally sharp mind, he felt dull and slow.
Shane sniffled softly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and alone despite the fact that Ilya was sleeping right next to him. He realized faintly that he was shaking. He pressed his face into his knees, trying to blot out more of the light, and slow his labored breathing. Was this a panic attack? Did he have a nightmare?
Through his sleep-addled brain, his other senses slowly started to wake and it felt like agony. His skin was so sensitive, his soft, well-worn boxers felt like they were chafing, and the expensive cotton sheets grated against his shoulders like sandpaper. The quiet sound of his own cries felt loud and painful in his ears, his mouth tasted like blood.
But best and worst of all were the scents. He’d never smelled anything like this before. Cherries, the kind they put in cocktails, drenched in sugar. He smelled cherries. Then distinctly separate was smoke, not like Ilya’s cigarettes but like a campfire, and a rich earth smell, like the outdoors after rain. It didn’t make sense. When he fell asleep their room smelled like nothing? Clean sheets maybe, and when they cuddled Ilya’s lavender shampoo. It had to be something new. A chill ran down Shane’s spine and adrenaline coursed through his system as he found the strength to rocket up to a sitting position. The sudden movement made his stomach turn uncomfortably but all he could think was that someone was in the cottage? He was a beta, not particularly sensitive to other peoples’ scents but there was no other discernable reason for it to smell like that in here. The cherry smell soured. He wrinkled his nose. What the fuck? Scents could change with emotions. Maybe the cherry smelling person had heard him move? They were still in the house then, and nearby.
Shane leaned back and shoved at Ilya’s shoulders, “wake up!” He hissed urgently, looking around the room, “Someone’s in the house.” They were probably in the bedroom if they’d heard him, but there weren’t so many places in there to hide. “Check under the bed. I’ll check the closet.” Shane ordered. He pulled the blanket off and wrapped it around his shoulders as he forced himself up onto unsteady feet. He didn’t like the feeling as it settled against his skin, but he didn’t want to confront any intruders in just his underwear.
He silently added baby deer legs to the list of his afflictions as he shuffled urgently (but not particularly quickly) towards the closet door. He wasn’t sure what the plan was if someone was in the walk-in closet. He was still working on that. Normally, as a seasoned hockey player, he wasn’t one to back down from a fight, but he wasn’t sure he could knock over a tissue at the moment.
Ilya groaned behind him. He wasn’t much of a morning person in the best of circumstances. The sheets were just starting to rustle when Shane reached the closet. The door was cracked open a little, so he kicked it hard and clumsily jumped back, nearly losing his balance when his foot got caught in his blanket. “SHOW YOURSELF!” He ordered as the door swung open, banging against the wall inside. He waited for a beat but there was no reply. Just to be doubly sure he flattened himself against the wall and peeked just past the doorframe into the room, but it was empty (apart from his clothes and Ilya’s comically small suitcase).
His pulse leveled off a little as the adrenaline left his system. Maybe there wasn’t anyone else in the cottage after all? It didn’t really seem likely anyone would fit in the four inches between the bedframe and floor now that he took a second to think about it. God, his head hurt. Nothing was making any sense.
So why did it smell like that? He took another deep breath in and his whole body shivered. And why did he like it so much?
"Hollander," Ilya's voice was raspy, his accent dripping off Shane's name as he appeared at Shane's back, herding him face-first against the wall. Shane hadn't heard him get up, or cross the room, but he wasn't complaining when the sheet was pulled off of his shoulders and Ilya wrapped his arms around his waist.
So much of the tension and pain in his body evaporated as Ilya's warm and firmly muscled chest flattened against his back. He didn't realize that this was what he'd been aching for since he first peeled his eyes open. Ilya pressed fervent opened-mouth kisses against the back of Shane's shoulder as Shane went limp in his hold. The cherry smell was back, sweeter than ever, as his eyes fluttered shut in bliss. He was a lot less concerned about tracking down its source now though. He pressed his hips back against Ilya's, his alpha's morning wood was hard and hot and straining against his backside. Shane let out a low moan when Ilya's kisses made their way across his back to the nape of his neck. When Ilya kissed him there his whole body tingled pleasantly, and his mind went blank. All he wanted was more of Ilya, more of his mouth and his skin and that smell in the room to sink into him.
"Hollander this cannot be," Ilya groaned behind him. His hand was pressed hard against Shane's chest like it would somehow slow Shane's hard, fast breathing. He was talking too much. Shane ground himself against Ilya again, harder this time, unable to do anything else as his own arms were pinned firmly against the wall.
Ilya cursed loudly behind him, and the world spun as Shane was flipped around so that now his back was against the wall. This was much better, he reached out to grab Ilya's arms. He had nice, big, thick arms.
"Shane," Ilya said urgently. Shane didn't care to listen, he was trying to bury his nose in Ilya's neck, he was sure his neck would smell good, but Ilya used his forearm to pin him firmly against the wall. Shane felt himself whimper. Why was he so worried about talking to him? "Look at me," the command was gentle, it felt like a warm caress against his woozy hindbrain. Shane tipped his head back to meet Ilya's gaze. The alpha's eyes were big, pupils dilated so wide he could barely see any hazel in them. "You're in heat."
He did feel kind of hot still, though where their skin was pressed together he was feeling pretty great. Not sure why Ilya felt the need to point that out instead of just touch him more. "You are omega. In omega heat," Ilya tried again. His tone was urgent, Shane tried to pay attention, he wanted Ilya to be pleased with him. When Ilya was happy with him he always made him feel good.
"In heat?" He repeated, the words coming out as a bit of a slur. He'd rather have his mouth on Ilya than trying to talk. But this was important to his alpha, "in heat." He met Ilya's intense stare. In heat? Heat. Ilya's hand brushed the side of Shane's neck and he gasped at the sensation as he arched into the touch. Some of the fog in his brain cleared for a moment; in heat.
Shane's eyes flew open and all of the warm, gooey sensation in his body was replaced with cold fear. He felt like freezing water had been dumped down his spine, and his muscles seized up. Ilya hugged him tighter, rubbing at his back, pressing their cheeks together, but it didn't stop the fine tremor that started in Shane's hands.
No. It wasn't possible. He was too old. He'd had too many physicals, blood tests, doctors signing off again and again on his beta status, "No." He cried out, suddenly wanting to be far away from Ilya, from that accusation. He was sick. He had a fever. It was the flu. Shane couldn't remember the last time he had the flu.
Ilya made a soft shushing sound in his ear, trying to soothe him, trying to rub away the uncomfortable prickly sensation in his skin. Shane realized he'd started crying, fat, overwhelmed tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Relax Shane," Ilya used the same tone he had used before to make Shane focus. It helped a little, Shane slumped miserably against Ilya's body. His life as he knew it was over. They'd never let him on the ice again after this.
Ilya pulled back enough to press their foreheads together, "everything will be okay Shane." He promised, their lips brushing together softly as he spoke. "We will get through this," he pressed a soft kiss to Shane's mouth, "do you trust me?"
The haze was starting to settle back over Shane's consciousness. Apparently not even the thought of his life being ruined was enough to stop his body and mind from being swept back into the overwhelming sensation of being an omega in heat. Ilya's voice, his hands, his scent, were the only things grounding him. He would have to panic later, when he could think about something other than being pinned down and spread open. A jolt went down his spine at the thought. Oh, he wished he was on his back right now, or maybe his hands and knees with Ilya draped across his back. Shane's hips canted forward, his legs rubbing against each other and he realized for the first time he was slippery between his thighs. A flush spread across his cheeks and his breath hitched, that had never happened before.
"Shane?" Ilya sounded like he was in pain. Shane forced his eyes to focus, his mouth dropping open as he took in Ilya's face. His alpha's brow was furrowed, jaw clenched like he was holding back.
Why would he ever hold himself back from Shane? A stupid smile spread across his face as he realized, right, Ilya loved it when he used his words. "Alpha, please."