Chapter Text
Deep down, Shane felt like he was partaking in a terrible idea. But, at this point, he was merely along for the ride.
See, the series of events had gone like this:
The Metros had won their second cup under Shane’s captaincy.
The Metros had flown back from Florida with a mix of excitement and champagne in their bloodstreams.
The Metros decided to go out clubbing as one final hurrah to celebrate their cup win and the end of the season.
Then, before they could even all agree on which club to go to, Tatterman, a cheeky and capricious defenseman, proposed a team tattoo before they all got too wasted. The idea caught on quickly. So quickly that Shane’s weak initial protests couldn’t extinguish everyone’s excitement. No one agreed with him on why impulsively branding their bodies forever seemed like a terrible idea.
So, there they were–a group of twenty men boisterously walking down a cobblestone alley in Montreal to a tattoo studio at eight in the evening.
“You can get it small, Shane,” Hayden, his best friend and teammate, reminded him. Hayden’s arm was around Shane’s shoulder as they walked, as if to give Shane a gentle and subtle physical anchor. “It doesn’t have to be a crazy big thing. Hell, I think Jackie would twist my balls off and put them in a meat grinder if I got this massive thirty-five on myself.”
Shane snorted softly at that. Hayden was right. He could get his number really small and put it in a place no one would really notice. He’d been with the Metros for six years, and he liked the idea of getting something to represent his team and the legacy he was building.
“I’ll get a small one,” Shane agreed, his eyes on the sign of the tattoo studio they were now stopped in front of. He frowned a little as he saw the characters, the language unfamiliar.
Метка
Was it Greek? Latin?
“Who found this place? Is it legit?” Shane asked Hayden as the team started filing inside.
“Comeau did. He called around, and they’re really good. Great ratings, and actually have three people available tonight. Go Metros… yay money!” Hayden said, dropping his arm from around Shane’s shoulder so that they could follow through the door.
Shane shook his head a little to himself, but let it go. If anything, entering the studio offered more reassurance than Hayden’s words. The floors were a deep, rich wood, and the walls a dark blue, covered with framed art and tattoo designs. The intoxicating smell of wood, leather, and a hint of spice hit Shane hard. He couldn’t quite place it, the smell almost confusing, and he realized he was the only one who seemed to react to it. He tried to breathe out through his nose to get a hold of himself, not wanting anyone to notice. It happened often, and he always fought to appear unaffected by sensitive smells, his body like a livewire. Although he took measures to try to suppress his biological reactions, the pills weren’t always enough.
Being the only omega on a team of alphas and betas was difficult. In Shane’s first few years, he had earned curious looks–occasionally upturned noses–from some teammates. It wasn’t common for an omega to be in such a dominant and physically demanding sport, and Shane had to fight to destroy stereotypes.
And it hadn’t taken long for him to shatter the league's archaic views that omegas didn’t belong in hockey. He set records and made it to All-Star weekends early on in his career. Then, he climbed to captaincy to further prove his place.
It was during this time that he had also gained the trust of all of his teammates, particularly after two back-to-back incredible seasons that resulted in Stanley Cup wins. The full trust his teammates had given him as captain was truly the only reason he had agreed to get a tattoo. He wanted to show his support for a team that had placed its support in him.
Shane’s eyes darted around the studio as some of the guys found seats. Excited conversation filled the air, and he made a mental note to ensure they left an overly generous tip.
A woman with curly hair was speaking with Tatterman and Comeau, and they seemed to be sorting out the logistics of twenty hockey players getting tattoos of their numbers. Tatterman then whistled, causing a hush to fall in the room.
“Okay, boys! There are three artists available. You can get your number anywhere you want it. Nothing massive, okay?” Comeau said. “We need to be respectful of the time and talent here, or Svetlana will hunt me down, slice off my balls, and feed them to some sort of Russian wolf.”
Shane’s eyes darted to the woman at the counter, whose expression suggested she was unimpressed with the two men leaning on it. Comeau probably thought he had a chance with her, but even Shane could tell that she was way out of Comeau’s league.
“Hollzy, Hayden, Mitchell… you’re up first!” Tatterman said, the rest of the team relaxing into conversation again.
Shane pushed past a few guys and headed to one of the private rooms that Svetlana had pointed him to. He then came to a complete stop in the doorway, as if he had been hit in the gut. The smell he had picked up on when entering the studio was even stronger, and it was now clear that the source was not candles or room fresheners.
The scent was from the man standing next to a small table with an iPad in hand. The tattoo supplies on the table, the leather chair, the low hum of music… none of them drew his attention. All that Shane could fixate on was the man before him.
The man looked tall and strong, with broad shoulders and a confident posture that screamed alpha. He had a mess of golden curls that looked soft and hung down onto his forehead as he stared at his iPad. When the man looked up, Shane was sure his own swallow was audible over the music.
Shane was momentarily tongue-tied as he locked eyes with the man. His eyes were piercing, his face looked carved from precious stone, and he was–quite honestly–the hottest man Shane had ever seen. He had to fight the embarrassing desire to fall to his knees for a stranger.
“I’m… tattoo,” Shane finally managed to get out after a few seconds of silence.
The man lifted a brow, and his lips pulled into a smirk. “You are tattoo? This is new name. I’m Ilya,” the man said.
It took Shane’s brain a few seconds to realize this man, Ilya, was playfully teasing him.
“Sorry. No. I’m Shane,” he corrected, a little flustered.
Ilya seemed to take pity on him and motioned for Shane to take a seat in the chair, which Shane was all too quick to do. He settled onto the leather seat, his back a little stiff as he glanced around the room. Now that he was taking everything in, he felt the low hum of nerves in his veins.
“Relax, Shane. You are acting like I might bite your head off. I promise I am not some bear,” Ilya said, letting out a soft chuckle.
Ilya’s hand grabbed hold of a chair, and he pulled it so he was sitting next to Shane. The creak of the chair legs as they dragged across the floor made Shane’s breath catch, and he smoothed his hands over his thighs to try to calm himself.
“Now, which number are you?” Ilya asked.
“Twenty-four,” Shane answered, hand reaching up as he scratched at the side of his neck. Ilya’s eyes tracked the movement before darting down to the iPad, and he slid a long finger across the screen. “I don’t… this is… I’ve never done this,” Shane said. “I don’t have any tattoos, I mean. So, if you have advice on the size or place… I trust you.”
Ilya glanced up, and he gave a gentle nod. “Okay. Is there place where you know you do not want it?”
Shane considered the question, trying to think of what made the most sense given his career. “I… ideally some place I can hide or cover it easily. I do commercials sometimes.”
Ilya studied him for a second before glancing down and sliding a finger across the screen. “Here, Shane. Take a look,” Ilya said gently, handing over the iPad. “Maybe these can give you good ideas, yes? Inside bicep, on chest, top of thigh… these are all common places. I am sure half your teammates will get theirs on bicep.”
Shane stared at the pictures on the screen, taking in some of the sample designs. Some were intricate and detailed, and others were simple. But every single one of them was extremely beautiful. Even Shane, who didn’t know much about art, could tell that they were designed and done by one artist.
“Did you do these?” he asked curiously, glancing up at Ilya’s face.
“Mmm. Yes,” Ilya said, giving a small shrug. It was a confusing reaction, one showing humility, which wasn’t a response Shane was used to from an alpha. Most of the alphas he knew would brag about their accomplishments, like they wanted to bask in glory, praise, and attention.
“They’re beautiful,” Shane said, eyes darting back down to the screen. In one of the pictures, there was a tattoo of a small gun sitting low on a hip. Nearly immediately, Shane felt his mouth dry up a little.
“Like this,” he said, pointing it out to Ilya. “I like this.”
Ilya glanced at the placement, his expression steady as he said, “Okay. I will warn you that it can hurt a bit.”
“I’ll be fine,” Shane said determinedly. “I can handle pain.” He stilled at that, realizing how suggestive the words sounded as soon as they left his mouth. He could feel his face heating as he quickly added, “I mean, I broke my collarbone two years ago, and that was pretty fucking painful. And I’m a hockey player, so I’m used to being roughed up. I can take it.”
Both of Ilya’s eyebrows raised at that, and Shane could see the other pursing his lips as if actively fighting a smirk. It took another few seconds for Shane to realize what he had just said.
“Fuck. I just. Not roughed up like… I’ll be fine,” Shane groaned out.
Ilya seemed to offer him some mercy and stood up to adjust the chair to more of a lounge position.
“You can get comfortable, Shane,” Ilya said. “You do not need to take clothes off. Just pull and adjust them so out of the way.”
Shane settled on the chair, leaning back and lifting his shirt. He glanced down and realized his jeans needed to be shifted down too, so he popped the button, tugged the zipper down halfway, and wiggled the waistband down a bit more.
Ilya returned to his side with a few sizing and font options, and after a minute of deliberation, Shane settled on one. He glanced up at the ceiling, fixating on a tile as Ilya prepared the spot. He could feel Ilya’s hands on him as the spot was cleaned, a razor dragging across his skin, then the spot was wiped down again.
Ilya only broke the silence after placing the stencil on him. “Shane? Take a look. Let me know if it’s okay,” Ilya murmured.
Shane lifted his head and glanced down. He couldn’t help but smile, perhaps the first time he had felt excited at the prospect of having a tattoo on his body forever. It sat low, hardly more than five centimeters wide, and Shane was quick to nod.
“Perfect,” Shane said, eyes glancing up. He found that Ilya was staring at his face, and he gave the other a small smile in reassurance.
“Do you want to see it in the mirror first?” Ilya offered, motioning to one that was a few feet away.
Shane eyed it, but wasn’t sure he would get his legs working. “No. I meant it when I said I trust you. It’s good. I’m ready.”
Ilya studied him for a second before nodding, then went to get the supplies ready. He returned to his chair at Shane’s side a few minutes later and reached a gloved hand out to brush his finger against the stenciled skin. Shane’s breath caught; the touch so light and fleeting.
“Okay. It is good. Now, during… just tell me if you need a minute. No moving, Shane,” Ilya said, leaning in closer.
Shane heard the buzz of the tattoo machine and closed his eyes as a wave of anxiety hit him again. He held his breath, the needle soon touching his skin. It wasn’t a sensation he was quite expecting, and he gasped loudly. All Shane could focus on was the sharp sting, and while it overwhelmed him, he was determined not to move, as Ilya had asked him not to.
“Breathe, Shane,” Ilya encouraged, the needle moving with slow strokes that scratched along his skin. “Do you feel okay?”
Shane choked out a soft noise and nodded his head.
“Use your words,” Ilya said.
“I… yeah. Okay,” Shane mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut.
After what felt like hardly a minute later, the tattoo machine stopped. Shane’s ears were ringing a little as he took in the silence, and he lifted his head to look at Ilya. “What–?” he started to ask, but Ilya was staring at him with a careful expression.
“Your omega is freaking out,” Ilya whispered, as if saying the words out loud would cause Shane to panic. “I can smell it… You’re very nervous. Just… would you like me to help?”
“Help?” Shane croaked out, brows furrowing a little.
“I can scent the air a little. But… only if you want,” Ilya said, the tattoo machine shifting in his hand as if he were getting ready to resume–as if the offer wasn’t just placed on the table.
Shane considered it for a moment, as it was bold and unusual. He knew of alphas scenting their partners and releasing calming pheromones during stressful moments. Even if Ilya was offering only to release some into the air, they weren’t mates. He didn’t even know the other man.
But his omega was overriding any rational thought, and he found himself eager to be blanketed by Ilya’s alpha's scent.
“Yeah. Okay. Sure,” Shane said, giving a quick nod of his head.
Ilya offered a small smile before the tattoo machine’s buzz started again. This time, though, as the needle moved along his skin, Shane was also hit with the pheromones that Ilya was releasing. Leather, wood, and spice were filling his senses, and his omega wanted to sing and purr.
He found that as the tattooing continued, it got easier too, and the sting from the needle shifted into a feeling that was almost pleasurable and soothing. It took every ounce of control for Shane to keep his body completely still.
“Almost done, Shane. You’re doing very good,” Ilya said gently.
Shane moaned lowly at that, latching onto the word "good" as the pain, pleasure, and Ilya’s scent flooded his senses. His eyes closed as he tried to ground himself, and his face felt warm when he realized his omega was responding to the moment—that his own scent of arousal had to be in the air.
“Fuck,” Shane mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face just as the tattoo machine came to a stop.
He shifted a little on the leather seat, completely mortified. His thighs pressed tightly together while he clenched, begging his body not to let slick drip out of him.
“Hey. It’s okay,” Ilya said, his tone filled with reassurance. “It is normal reaction. You are good, Shane.”
Shane nodded, but still avoided Ilya’s gaze. Deep down, he knew that there wasn’t much he could do to control how his body reacted. It was biology, sure, and it was also the trust and safety he felt in the room. He was used to keeping his guard up around alphas, and even some betas, but he felt absolutely no threat from the alpha before him.
In fact, he felt the opposite. His body trembled a little as Ilya put some distance between them and set the tattoo machine down.
“Do you want to see it?” Ilya asked.
Shane nodded and shifted slightly to look at it. Sitting there on his skin, with beautiful, perfect lines, was the number ‘24’.
“Oh,” he exhaled softly, eyes a little wide in amazement. He marked his body forever. He felt the unexpected tug of pride that he’d actually done it. “It looks really good,” he said. “I–”
“Ilyusha?” A sudden woman’s voice interrupted from the doorway.
Quick words in another language rolled off Svetlana’s tongue as she spoke to Ilya, and Shane cleared his throat softly as he looked away. Even if he didn’t know what was being said, he felt like he was intruding–especially with the slight snap in Ilya’s tone. His eyes caught Ilya waving a hand in the air to motion for her to leave, and he glanced at Ilya warily.
“Sorry,” Ilya said. “Svetlana was just checking on the time. I promise she was not insulting you in Russian.”
Russian. That made more sense. Shane thought about the word on the outside of the studio and the earlier mention of Russian wolves.
“It’s fine. I guess… I’ve been here for a while. You have other tattoos to do,” Shane said.
“You are fine, Shane. Really. You are my client right now. Other hockey players can wait their turn,” Ilya said. “You are happy with the tattoo, yes?”
Shane smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, it’s really good. I like it a lot. You’re very talented.”
Ilya gave Shane a pleased smile, then protected the tattoo with a piece of Saniderm. Once it was set, Ilya’s gloved finger brushed against Shane’s hipbone just above the covering, and Shane shivered a little at the ghost of a touch.
“Fuck. Sorry,” Ilya whispered. “That... I didn’t. I did not mean…”
Shane purred softly, his omega now seeking to be the one to offer reassurances. His eyes glanced up, and he looked at Ilya from under his lashes, a move done entirely on instinct. He was hit with the realization that he didn’t want to leave the room and walk away.
Summoning any bravery he could find, Shane asked, “When are you done for the night? We’re going to a club after this.”
Ilya raised a brow, a smile sliding onto his face. “Are you asking me to meet you at a club, Shane?”
Shane’s eyes flitted away for a quick second before looking back at Ilya’s face. “Yes,” he whispered.
Ilya reached out a hand, and Shane grasped it. He let the other help him to his feet, and they stood face to face.
“I won’t be able to come to the club, but… I can meet you after.”
Shane swallowed, his body instinctively taking one step closer.
“After?” he asked.
“Yes. After,” Ilya said, reaching a hand into his pocket to take out his phone. “Here. Give me your number. I will then send you mine. When you are done at this club, having fun and dancing and doing whatever loud hockey players do… then you can text me.”
“Really?” Shane asked, lips pulling into a smile. “You… want to see me? You mean for… you know… to…”
“Yes, Shane. I want to see you,” Ilya said, handing over his phone. “Just… do not drink too much, okay? Want you steady and to have a clear mind when I fuck you. I promise I will make it worth it.”
Shane choked out a soft noise and glanced up from putting his number in Ilya’s phone. He could feel the promise and heat in the words.
“Okay,” he said, quickly putting the rest of his phone number into Ilya’s phone.
“Okay,” Ilya echoed as he took back his phone and gave Shane a wink.
- * -
Shane stood in the kitchen of his apartment, his hands twisting together nervously. He couldn’t believe he was actually letting a stranger into his home for the sole purpose of getting laid. His teammates had one-night stands and bragged about them all the time. Shane was subjected to far too many details in the locker room. Or worse, on a plane, where escaping a conversation was physically impossible.
He didn’t do hookups, but Ilya's magnetic pull had him lowering his guard.
He had lasted hardly an hour at the club, his mind distracted as he thought back to the way Ilya had smelled, sounded, and touched his body. None of it was really that provocative or unprofessional, but that didn’t stop the arousal and need he felt. He had mumbled excuses to the guys before heading back to his apartment to shower, careful of his covered tattoo, then paced until he received Ilya’s text that he was on his way over.
Exactly seventeen minutes after receiving the text, his doorbell buzzed.
Shane went to the door and paused to count to three–not wanting to seem at all eager or desperate. He tugged the door open to Ilya standing with his hands in his pockets, and their eyes instantly locked.
“Hi,” Ilya said, lips pulling slowly into a smile.
“Hi,” Shane echoed, his hand still holding the door open as he stood frozen in place.
“Are you going to invite me in?” Ilya teased, one of his brows rising a little.
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
Shane shifted to the side, letting Ilya slip in, then shut the door behind him. He watched as Ilya toed off his shoes, the other seemingly quick to notice the three pairs neatly lined up by the door.
“Thanks. Um, your coat? I can take it,” he offered, holding out a hand while Ilya slipped off the brown leather jacket he had on.
Ilya’s next words came out as more of a statement than a question. “You do not do this much… do you?”
“That’s… yeah. I do. Sometimes,” Shane said while hanging the jacket. The failed casualness of his reply felt as if it had stumbled heavily off his tongue.
“You do not need to be nervous,” Ilya said gently. He slowly stepped closer as if worried he would scare off a skittish bunny. “You say stop, and we stop.”
Shane turned to face Ilya again. He could feel the genuineness of the promise as much as he felt the heavy, intense hunger in Ilya’s gaze. It was disarming and had him wanting to slip to his knees, submit, and give himself over to the other completely.
“Okay,” Shane said, head bobbing once in a slight nod.
Ilya shifted until they were toe to toe in the entryway, then reached out a hand to lightly grip Shane’s jaw. They stared at each other for what felt like both seconds and an eternity.
“Please,” Shane whispered.
Ilya’s mouth closed the final few inches, and Shane let out a soft moan as their lips finally met. He couldn’t deny that he had been imagining what it would be like to kiss Ilya. He had worked hard not to get turned on while getting tattooed, but after knowing Ilya was interested in him, Shane’s mind ran with ideas and desires.
He had imagined Ilya’s lips to be strong and guiding.
And they were.
He had imagined the way Ilya’s tongue would press into his mouth to claim him.
And it did.
Ilya moved with confidence and heat that Shane tried to match with every ounce of enthusiasm he had. The soft noises Ilya was making as their mouths and tongues moved together had Shane tugging the other closer by the front of his shirt.
Everything felt so hot and overwhelming. Ilya’s tongue pressed into his mouth with a possessiveness that Shane let the other have. He wanted it. His body was begging to be taken and claimed by kisses, fingers, and–what he could only assume to be–a thick dick. At least, it felt thick from the way Ilya was grinding his hips against Shane’s and proving they were both equally affected by the kiss.
They fit together perfectly, their bodies and passion matched, and Shane knew this night would completely consume both him and his thoughts for quite some time. Desire was pumping through his veins, and he couldn’t wait any longer. And, from the way that Ilya’s kisses grew more fervent, it didn’t seem like he could either.
Shane started to tug Ilya toward the bedroom, and their bodies bumped against the walls as they refused to separate. Their kisses turned sloppy as they laughed into each other’s mouths.
“Hold on. Shit,” Shane said, pulling back from the kiss as Ilya tugged him into the bedroom. “Wait. How did you know this was my room?” he asked.
His hand flew out to hit the light switch as Ilya pulled him to the bed, making no move to slow down.
“Your smell. Strongest here,” Ilya answered, leaning in to mouth at Shane’s neck. He licked right along the scent gland, and Shane moaned loudly. “You smell so fucking good, Shane. You are lucky I am a professional and was not distracted when tattooing you. You would have had very sloppy twenty-four on your hip.”
Shane huffed out an amused noise and pressed a hand to Ilya’s chest to get the other to step back. He tugged his t-shirt off and did a quick fold before dropping it on the chaise. His joggers came off next and joined his shirt before he turned to face Ilya again. Hooking two thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, he paused.
“Go on. Let me see,” Ilya encouraged.
Shane nodded, dropped his boxers, bent to pick them up, and placed them on the neat pile of clothes on his chaise. His face felt hot as he looked back at Ilya.
“What?” he asked, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides while Ilya’s eyes danced over his body.
“You’re fucking hot, Shane. Perfect,” Ilya said, stepping closer and drawing Shane in for a kiss. Ilya nipped at his lower lip and licked, and Shane groaned when he felt Ilya’s hands starting to roam over his body.
“Wait. Come on,” Shane gasped out, pulling back from the kiss when one of Ilya’s hands playfully squeezed his ass. “Not fair. I want to see you.”
Ilya let out a throaty chuckle and hummed once.
“Kneel,” he demanded gently.
Shane’s mouth parted, the word rattling in his head as he fell to his knees before the alpha. There was something so arousing about being stripped bare while Ilya was still fully clothed, and he couldn’t help but clasp his hands behind his back.
He watched as Ilya’s shirt came off, the slow removal revealing a toned torso and broad shoulders. Tattoos covered his arms and chest, ones Shane was eager to trace with his lips and tongue later. But as gorgeously distracting as Ilya’s body was, Shane’s eyes quickly fixated on the silver barbells that pierced both of Ilya’s nipples.
“You’re pierced?” Shane croaked out, his mouth suddenly dry. He wanted to reach out and touch, his curiosity strong, and his cock started to thicken while he stared.
“Not my only piercing,” Ilya said as he started to take off his jeans.
Shane’s gaze shot up to Ilya’s ears, wondering if he had missed jewelry there, but he spotted nothing. He wasn’t expecting to, for he had been staring at Ilya so intensely since they met. Ilya continued to strip off the rest of his clothes, leaving them in a pile at his feet as he stood before Shane.
“Fuck,” Shane whispered.
His eyes were drawn to Ilya’s cock. It was thick and hard, and Shane was practically drooling with the thought of getting it in his mouth. The other was uncut too, foreskin starting to pull back on its own, and Ilya used a delicate finger to nudge it back completely.
Shane felt as if the air had been punched out of his lungs.
There, on the underside of the head of Ilya’s dick, was another silver barbell. Shane shifted forward on his knees so fast that he almost toppled over from eagerness.
“Easy,” Ilya chuckled, reaching out a hand to comb his fingers through Shane’s hair, as if to steady and calm him. The hand then settled on the back of Shane’s head so that Ilya could grip his neck. “You can touch it.”
Moaning softly, Shane leaned in. His hands stayed clasped behind his back as he used his tongue to brush against the piercing curiously.
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned. “Good. Feels good.”
Shane was encouraged at that, his tongue flicking over the piercing before he started lapping at the head of Ilya’s dick. He teased it with his tongue, then opened his mouth and leaned in closer.
Before he could suck the tip into his mouth, Ilya's hands were under his arms and tugging him to his feet. Ilya maneuvered them to the bed, and Shane grunted as his back hit the mattress and Ilya climbed between his legs.
“Need to taste you. I can smell you leaking for me,” Ilya mumbled, hands going to the back of Shane’s legs to spread and bend them up. “Fuck, Shane.”
Shane’s face felt hot again as he watched Ilya, who knelt on the bed and stared at his ass like a parched and desperate man. It had Shane squirming on the bed, and he choked out a noise as he felt slick leaking out of him. He tried to squeeze and clench his hole, as if that would keep the slick in him.
“Relax,” Ilya murmured. “Show me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Shane mumbled, trying to relax as told. He could feel his slick drip and slide out of him again, and Ilya licked his bottom lip and hummed in approval.
“I am going to make you cum on my tongue, and then on my cock,” Ilya said decisively.
He didn’t give Shane a second to reply as he leaned down to lick up the slick with his tongue. The wet slide of Ilya’s tongue against his rim had Shane whimpering softly, his hand moving to hold the underside of his knees as he tried to keep still.
If Ilya looked parched before, he was now a starved man who tongued at Shane’s ass like he was trying to devour every last inch. Shane knew his own whines and moans were growing louder by the second, especially when he felt the tip of Ilya’s thumb tug at his rim. More slick leaked out of him, and Shane nudged a foot against Ilya’s shoulder when the other dared to chuckle.
“Shut up,” he huffed out.
“You are so responsive… and so wet. I fucking love it,” Ilya said as he looked up to meet Shane’s eyes.
Shane’s brows twitched together, but he didn’t want to get hung up on the word Ilya casually flung around. If anything, the intense look in Ilya’s eyes just had him sitting in the belief that Ilya’s words were true.
Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane's ankle before dropping his head again, this time tugging at Shane’s rim a little more before starting to work him more open and loose with his tongue. It had Shane throwing his head back, brows pinched as his body eagerly let Ilya in. He let himself enjoy it, the last ounce of nervousness leaving his body as he was overwhelmed by Ilya’s touches.
He practically grumbled when Ilya’s mouth left him again, and he opened his eyes to watch as Ilya used two fingers to draw slick from his ass.
“What–?” he started to ask, but the question was stuck in his throat as Ilya’s fingers spread the slick down the length of his cock. “Fuck,” Shane cried out, his cock getting its first ounce of attention as it curved up and leaked a mess of precum onto his stomach.
Ilya just shot him a wink, hand wrapping around Shane’s dick. He began jerking him off while his tongue pressed back to Shane’s hole and fucked into it.
It was intense in the best way to have Ilya’s hand and tongue working his body simultaneously. Shane’s hands moved out to grip the bed cover, fingers curling into it as if holding tightly onto something would help him hold onto his senses. His hips jerked up as if trying to meet the rocking movement of Ilya’s tongue. He stopped when Ilya’s free hand came up and lightly slapped the center of his stomach. It was both a warning and a message to keep still.
“M’gonna… fuck. Ilya. Close,” Shane said, his thighs starting to tremble.
Ilya didn’t let up, instead only moaning while pressing his tongue deeper. Shane threw his head back, panting while his orgasm built more more more, then felt shoved hard over the edge as he came with a whine. His entire body shuddered through it, ass clenching tight around Ilya’s tongue, and his cock spurting and shooting cum messily up to his chest.
The sound of Shane trying to catch his breath was the only noise in the room for a minute. When he finally steadied himself, he groaned and opened his eyes to see Ilya kneeling between his legs. The other was staring at him with awe and heat in his gaze, mouth and chin wet with Shane’s slick. The smile on his face showed he was beyond pleased with himself.
“You taste so fucking good,” Ilya murmured, shifting forward and leaning in so he was above Shane’s body.
Ilya dropped his mouth to capture Shane’s lips for a deep kiss. The taste of himself on Ilya’s tongue had Shane groaning, but it wasn’t the first time he’d tasted his own slick. He’d tried it himself in the past by sucking it off two of his own fingers that had been shoved inside of himself. It was fine, maybe good, but shared off Ilya’s tongue, it was even better.
He felt Ilya’s hips shift and looked down after the other pulled back from the kiss. Ilya’s stiff cock was resting on Shane’s body, looking massive and eager for attention.
“Don’t worry. It will fit,” Ilya smirked.
“Shut up. Fuck, you’re cocky,” Shane said, though he was grinning up at the other, his heart fluttering a little in his chest in a way he didn’t want to analyze or think about. Ilya hummed and opened his mouth, but Shane was quick to interrupt. “That wasn’t a fucking cock joke opening.”
“A… cock joke opening,” Ilya repeated slowly, and his lips pursed as if trying to actively fight a massive grin threatening to slip onto his face.
“Just fuck me already,” Shane said, letting out a dramatic groan, knocking an impatient knee against Ilya’s hip.
Ilya hummed and pressed one more kiss to Shane’s lips. “Is that your Captain voice? Is very cute.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed a little at being called cute, but then he realized it also meant that Ilya had gotten details about him being the captain. Did Ilya ask someone? Did he already know who he was? Was he actually a hockey fan?
Before he could let his mind slip down the path of more questions, Ilya suddenly pulled back and put a little distance between their bodies.
“I need to grab a condom,” Ilya said, reaching a hand out so he could pinch Shane’s nipple teasingly.
Shane hissed, batting away Ilya’s hand. “I… m’clean. And on suppressants,” he said, blinking up at the other. “And I… your piercing. I want to feel it. Condom… it wouldn’t… would it?”
It wasn’t a clear question, but Ilya seemed to understand and gave a small nod. “Okay. I am clean too.”
Shane smiled at that, his gaze probably veering a little too fond. He was eager to feel the other completely, and given that they were clean and he wasn’t in heat when he could get pregnant, Shane felt at ease asking for what he wanted.
“Turn over,” Ilya said, the request gentle and firm.
Shane’s omega latched onto the demand, and he quickly moved onto his hands and knees. His chest lowered slightly, back arching as he presented his ass for the other to take.
“Good. I am in charge here now. Captain in bedroom,” Ilya said, and Shane could feel the blunt head of Ilya’s dick pressing against his wet, loose hole. “Say it. Tell me who is in charge, Shane.”
Shane’s hands gripped the bedding, and he couldn’t find any reason to challenge. “You are, alpha,” Shane whispered.
He could hear the slight catch in Ilya’s voice, but Shane was soon too overwhelmed to think about anything as Ilya’s cock pushed deep into him. It had been over a year since Shane had an actual alpha’s cock inside of him, and his memories of past ones didn’t compare at all to the one that was currently splitting him open. He reminded himself to breathe through it as Ilya slid all the way in.
“Shane?” Ilya whispered. Shane was pulled slightly to a more grounded state when he felt a hand smoothing over the side of his ribs. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” he croaked out. He cleared his throat as he tried to steady his voice. “Yes. Good. Promise. You’re fucking big. But… fuck,” he said, breaking off to groan when he felt Ilya’s dick shift inside of him.
“Mm. But you take me so well. Good fit,” Ilya said, his hips moving a little bit as if testing whether Shane was ready for it.
And they were a good fit. The thought squeezed something in his chest that Shane hadn’t felt. It made his lungs feel a little desperate to suck in air to collect himself while his heartbeat seemed to race a little faster.
Ilya’s hands were gentle as they gripped Shane’s hips and adjusted his position, the change causing Shane to hiccup a noise when he felt the tip of Ilya’s cock against his prostate. Not only that, but the piercing–fuck, the fucking piercing–was hitting at the spot too.
“Jesus,” Shane mumbled, just as Ilya started rocking his hips and gaining confidence.
Shane’s body eagerly took what the other gave him. He curled his hands into the top of the bedding, holding on tightly again as Ilya fucked harder and deeper. Each thrust resulted in the other nailing the spot that had Shane gasping out moans and whines. His own dick was hard again, but he was too distracted by Ilya fucking into him to even think of touching himself. He felt consumed in pleasure, everything too much and not enough.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Ilya growled out, starting to pound into Shane in a way that had the slap of his balls against Shane’s ass echoing in the room. “Fucking perfect. This ass. Fuck. Gonna fill you.”
“Please,” Shane begged out softly, whimpering when Ilya’s arm wrapped around his torso. He was soon tugged up so he was on his knees, back slamming against Ilya’s chest. He moaned as he sank down a little on Ilya’s cock, the other not giving him any reprieve and continuing to thrust up hard into him.
“Going to make you cum again,” Ilya murmured, free hand wrapping around Shane’s dick.
Shane whined, his head thrown back as Ilya began mouthing and licking at his neck. It all felt like too much, Ilya touching him in ways that made his head spin and body ache for release.
“Cum for me, strong and pretty omega,” Ilya whispered, breathing hotly against his neck.
Shane nodded his head and let out a sob, giving in to the second orgasm that Ilya gently demanded of him. He could feel Ilya starting to cum too-the other’s knot expanding and locking their bodies together–just before everything went black.