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Ilya read somewhere that time is a thief, and at the time he didn’t quite understand it. He envisioned a man dressed in black and white stripes with a black mask sneaking in at the dead of night and taking all the clocks in the house. And then he had kids and realised what the saying really meant.
One moment he’s bringing his first born home and singing a nursery rhyme his own mother used to sing to him to help his pup sleep, and then in the next, said baby is graduating high school and Ilya is crying in the stands videoing the whole damn thing. He also cheered so loud that Niko, or affectionately called Lailai by Mariyah who had trouble pronouncing the full Nikolai as a baby, waved a hand at him as he walked off the stage frantically to try and get him to stop. But that was his baby, his firstborn, his kroshka. And he was eighteen, he was an adult. Heck, Ilya and Shane had already met by that age, had shook hands outside of that cold arena and with that, had sealed their fates forever.
The passage of time is also marked in other things. Such as Ilya’s knees, although surgery did help to alleviate some of the pain from spending the majority of his life on ice. Also other pups, of course. Three more girls who successfully terrorise Ilya’s every waking moment but also give him a reason to get up in the morning. His other reason, of course, being Shane. His constant, mate, husband, best friend, hottie of the year. And also fellow comrade against the demon children they have raised. He’s kidding of course. Kidding. Except he does blame some of his grey hairs on Hana’s ability to somehow always find trouble. Shane simply says that she is clearly Ilya’s child, which is true but the amount of detentions that girl gets is ridiculous.
Ilya of course looks different to what he once was when he was in his prime and running around hotel rooms with the love of his life under darkness for a few moments to have their bodies and mouths pressed together. His blonde hair is now tangled with grey, his hard six pack now softened, a new layer of fat across his muscles. Sveta had said he had a dad bod now, which he took as an insult initially until upon googling, had suggested that actually it was hot–as if Ilya Rozanov was ever capable of being ugly. And that specific development has made him broader in ways he wasn’t before, his t-shirts stretching across his chest and stomach more, which Shane has made no problem in vocalising how much he likes it, Ilya’s belly peeking out from above the waistband of his jeans along with his happy trail. He has crows feet at the corners of his eyes, the smattering of hair across his chest now silver. But there are some things that don’t change, like being utterly in love with Shane Hollander–and also his ability to get it up, which isn’t hard considering how hot his mate is.
Shane, Shane, Shane. Need Ilya say any more? The streaks of dark grey in his black hair, the fat that clings to his hips, ass, the curve of his chest after so many pregnancies, the glasses he has to wear with thicker lenses as he has aged. His mate and husband still has a strict approach to his diet though not as much as it once was, especially after retiring from hockey to focus on coaching. Which now has led to a muscled figure lined with softness that makes him that much more delectable. And Ilya isn’t the only one who has noticed, the alpha is no stranger to people staring at his mate but ever since Shane hit mid forties and his grey hair started coming in, the omega is the flame to which everyone clings to. To be blunt, Shane Hollander is a DILF—a word Ilya had overheard five or so months ago when they had gone to pick Hana up from hockey practice and Shane had leant against the barrier watching Hana finish with his muscles bulging out from his t-shirt, eyes fixed and serious on the ice. Ilya had his hand tucked in Shane’s backpocket, also watching their second eldest fly around the rink with a grin that promised trouble, slamming her teammates into the boards with a cackle that reminded Ilya of himself many years ago.
And when the team had come off the rink, sixteen year olds in a single file, they had stared quite blatantly at Shane who was saying something to Ilya about dinner, their eyes wide and cheeks flushed not just from exercise but also from the omega’s proximity. Shane and Ilya often came to Hana’s games and the occasional practice, and each time they did they were usually met with some fanfare given their reputation but mostly, on the whole, left alone. They were just like all the other parents there, except for being some of the greatest hockey players to have lived.
And Ilya was nodding along to Shane saying they had chicken in the freezer when a group of three girls drew near to the edge of the ice, whispering amongst themselves, where he heard one say not so quietly, “Isn’t he such a DILF?”
And Ilya’s head had whipped to the side to lock eyes with one of the teens currently gawping at them who made a panicked noise at the eye contact and slapped the arms of the others in the group as they scrambled through the tunnel past them. And then Hana appeared, sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline as she rattled off her thoughts on practice as Shane held her stick for her.
Later, he had appeared in Niko’s doorway as his son was hunched over his desk studying with his noise cancelling headphones on and his highlighters lined up in a row. Luca had removed his headphones with a frown, annoyed at having been interrupted in his study schedule, of which he had stuck on the fridge and also his bedroom door to let people know when not to bother him.
“Niko, what is a DILF?” Ilya had asked, not because he wanted to traumatise his poor son but because he wanted to check the meaning hadn’t changed in the years since he was a twenty something guy. And Niko at the time was almost eighteen, so it’s not like he wouldn’t have heard about it before.
“What?” His son had balked, eyes almost bulging out his head. “Where did you hear that word?”
His voice had gone up a pitch, tone panicked. Ilya leant against the doorframe, shrugging.
“I want to check if what I think it means is correct,” but Niko was already shaking his head vigorously, muttering under his breath in a clear spiral, fingers anxiously nudging the highlighters into a neat line even though they hadn’t moved.
“I am so not having this conversation with you, I’m meant to be studying trigonometry!" Niko complains and Ilya all but pouts as his son turns away from him pointedly to ignore him.
“Niko, you do not want to help your Papa? What happened to my helpful kroshka?”
When he was a pup, Niko had gained an affinity for helping Shane and Ilya with mundane things with a steadfast insistence. Like when they went grocery shopping, he insisted on holding the grocery list and would tick off each item with his special red glittery pen, marching through the aisles and directing them as Ilya jiggled Hana on his hip or pushed a stroller. It got to the point that Niko had developed a system for shopping by separating food into categories and following the same route through the store each time. For someone so little at the time, he functioned like an army general if Ilya and Shane dared to deviate—not that Shane ever did. It was cute how much their son was a carbon copy of Shane. Niko still liked to come shopping even now with the same seriousness he did when he was a pup.
“He’s studying for his exam right now. I’m sure whatever you think is correct.” His son replies tiredly.
Ilya grins. “So you won’t tell me what DILF means?”
Niko groans, collapsing back in his chair. “No!”
But at the same time, Hana strolling past with a face mask on, wild curls in a claw clip had overheard, and who then replied breezily, “It means Dad I’d Like to Fuck.”
At that, Niko shouts, “Hana!” with a scowl to the doorway but his sister only shouts back, “What? Papa asked!”
“Jesus Christ you’re all so gross,” Niko complains, head collapsing into his hands, continuing to complain to himself in quiet Russian.
“What does fuck mean?” A voice piped up suddenly by Ilya’s hip and all eyes shoot down to Mariyah, their youngest, who was looking up at Ilya innocently wearing her pajamas with bugs on, blinking her blue eyes framed by dark lashes up at him.
“Nice one Papa.” Niko sighs and Ilya covers his panic with a tight smile, hand coming up to smooth over Mariyah’s dark hair.
And then because the universe hates him, Hana helpfully shouts from her room which has its door cracked ajar, “It means to get cracked!”
“Hana, shut up!” Niko yells desperately, whilst Ilya tries to do damage control.
“That’s a bad word baby, we don’t say it.” Ilya says quietly, praying Shane is still downstairs. If he finds out if he’s been throwing curse words around their younger pups he’ll have Ilya’s balls—even if both parents have potty mouths respectfully.
“But Hana said it. Fuck.” Mariyah repeats, and Ilya’s eyes flit about the hallway for any sign of his mate as he frantically shushes his youngest.
“Yes baby she did but she’s not meant to, okay? So let’s not say that word otherwise Daddy will be mad and we’ll both be in trouble.” Ilya tries to bargain. All the while Niko is muttering under his breath as he tries to return to his studies, slapping on his headphones aggressively as Ilya remains standing in his doorway.
Mariyah tilts her head in thought. “Daddy doesn’t like that word?”
Ilya shakes his head and Mariyah seems to think about it for a little longer before nodding, which has Ilya breathing out a sigh of relief. “Okay great, so let’s get you to bed—,”
“What’s all the shouting about?”
Ilya freezes at the sound of Shane’s voice. He turns to see his mate at the top of the stairs with a basket of folded laundry at his hip, looking at Ilya with an expectant gaze. And Ilya swears his heart drops to his ass—not that cursing was illegal in their house, they both did it a lot out of earshot but recently Hana had been using curse words a lot more liberally and Shane had said he did not want Mila and Mariyah hearing any bad words, at least any more than they already had.
“It is nothing.” Ilya says quickly as he tries to nudge Mariyah in the direction of her room, who has now become a statue next to him.
“Come on bukashka, bedtime.” He says, and when Mariyah opens her mouth to speak he picks her up even though she’s too big for that now and begins to hurry down the corridor. Her hands come to play with his curls as she looks over his shoulder.
“We were talking about fuck, daddy, but papa says you don’t like that word.” She supplies helpfully and as Ilya escapes into her room, all he can hear is Shane shout, “Ilya!” before he slams the door.
Safe to say Ilya had a lot of explaining to do later to get out of the doghouse. Except he didn’t tell Shane the specifics of the DILF comment, knowing it would just make him embarrassed and confused. Plus, Shane didn’t need to know everyone was thirsting over him, especially Hana’s friends.
Only Ilya gets to thirst over his husband, thank you.
One thing about time, though, especially in summer after their kids finish school, is how just how long it can seem. It’s practically a form of modern parent torture. They have the Irina foundation hockey camp of course, but this year they’re leaving it more in the hands of others as this is Luca’s summer before heading off to college and Ilya knew that this could be the last summer they have their first pup all to themselves before he moves out and gains a life of his own. The feeling is bittersweet. Though Ilya has secretly cried about it many times, he also knows it will be a good thing. But the idea of Luca leaving and never coming back also terrifies him. Even after all these years, Ilya still fears that one day he’ll wake up to an empty house and be back in Russia, alone, discovering this was all a dream.
Good thing their house is so loud that sometimes it can be hard to think.
“Hana, turn that music down!” Shane shouts from where he stands at the kitchen island slicing up carrot into sticks for dipping into the bowl of red pepper hummus sat next to the chopping board. The loud pop music echoing from Hana’s bedroom doesn’t falter and Shane exhales sharply through his nose in frustration, looking up to the ceiling for a moment.
Ilya turns from where he’s loading the dishwasher, setting down a dirty plate to kiss the top of his mate’s shoulder, hands squeezing at his hips before he wordlessly makes his way up stairs. Hana’s bedroom door has stickers of keep out and losers not welcome, as well as do not disturb, Без задних ног, all framed by dark purple glitter and gold stars clearly decorated with the help of their third youngest, Mila. Ilya knocks once, before throwing the door open and fixing his disapproving gaze on his second eldest who is sprawled out on her bed with her head hanging off the edge, eyes glued to her phone.
“Hana!” Ilya shouts over the music but she doesn’t hear him, mouthing the words to herself as her fingers endlessly tap on the screen. He storms across the room and jams his finger on the off button of the speaker perched on the desk blaring out music, which abruptly cuts off. The silence has the teenager jerking upwards.
“Hey!” She complains and Ilya crosses his arms to give her a look. Hana copies the pose as she sits on her bed and tries to look innocent.
“What?”
“Do not ‘what’ me, your dad has asked you to turn it down.” Ilya says with a raised eyebrow. Hana simply huffs, rolling her eyes, blonde curls wild around her shoulders.
“It wasn’t even that loud.” She complains, and as she stares back at him, Ilya can’t help the way his heart clenches a little at how much she looks like his mother.
“Well, you are not getting this back until you learn how to use acceptable volumes.” Ilya answers and turns to leave with the speaker tucked under his arm.
“Wha–Papa!” Hana shouts, scrabbling after him as he leaves the room. Ilya ignores her as he strides down the stairs and into the kitchen where Shane is now cutting up cucumber sticks. He looks up as Ilya enters, and then his gaze shifts past Ilya’s shoulder.
“But that’s not fair! What happened to my chances!” Hana shouts, stomping after him.
“People who snuck out of their math class to the rink this week do not get chances. You also have bad music taste, it hurts my ears.” Ilya replies smartly as he sets the speaker down on the counter, turning to lean against it with his arms crossed to meet his daughter’s glare.
“It’s not my fault math is boring, Jesus, Papa come on!” Hana shrieks, stomping her feet childishly and waving her arms about.
“Stop shouting.” Shane orders sternly from behind Ilya and Hana immediately quietens and then shifts to look past Ilya–a rare sight when Ilya is usually the softer of the two but Hana has been testing them a lot since turning sixteen. Her report card detailing all of her detentions and disruptions in class is a testament to that.
“Dad,” She pleads at a normal level, eyes round as her hands hang by her sides, “please, I’m sorry about playing it too loud I won’t do it again.”
She blinks innocently but Shane only looks at her pointedly. “Your papa has said no music.”
At that, a groan rips loud from her throat, tilting her head to the ceiling before stomping off but not before muttering under her breath, “Иди в жопу.”
Ilya kicks off the counter to yell after her. “Скатертью дорожка!”
The sound of the door slamming has them both sighing.
“Maybe when she presents she’ll settle down. All those hormones have nowhere to go.” Shane suggests and Ilya scoffs, kicking the speaker under the sink before closing the cupboard door.
“They’ll be going head-first into getting grounded if she keeps it up. She has alpha written all over her.” Ilya grouches before he comes up behind Shane to slip his hands around his waist. He hooks his chin on Shane’s shoulder and sways them from side to side as he watches the omega fan out the carrot and cucumber sticks around the bowl of hummus.
“Is that what you were like when you presented?” Shane asks, letting himself be swayed as Ilya drops a kiss to his mating bite. Ilya hums.
“No, well my brother was. I was not allowed to be the same, at least not at home. I took everything out on ice.” Ilya punctuates his sentence by reaching round and stealing a stick of cucumber and crunching on it loudly. Shane bats his hand away with a tut.
“Stop, these are for Niko and his friends.”
“Oh they are here?” Ilya asks, head straightening up to sniff at the air lightly with a frown to try and mark out his son’s sweet orange scent.
“No, but they will be soon. They’re at the mall but he texted to say they were heading back. Say they want to go in the pool.” Shane replies as he puts some grapes in a bowl.
“Are they going to be rabbits too?” Ilya gestures down to the awfully healthy snack plate Shane has going on which earns a smack to his chest, the omega glaring at him.
“Fuck off, all because you’d just give them soda and chips. They need a balanced diet.”
Ilya grins. Shane had been appalled the last time he came back from coaching late at the rink when Niko had his friends round for a game night and Ilya had supplied them with a boat load of junk food.
“They are teenagers, they will eat anything.” Ilya points out and Shane flips him off. Ilya leans forward to nip playfully at the chub of one of Shane’s cheeks, growling playfully as his hands inch under Shane’s t-shirt.
“Except for me, I like to only eat dark haired omega’s with freckles.” He whispers into Shane’s ear as he crowds closer.
Shane laughs, albeit a little breathily as he lets Ilya grope him. “You’re not a teenager, you’re fourty-nine.”
“I’m young at heart.” Ilya says before sucking on Shane’s ear but then the sound of the front door opening and a cacophony of voices has Shane springing back with a cough. Ilya lets him go with a pout, reaching out again to palm at Shane’s ass before his hands get slapped away and the omega scowls at him.
“Ilya!” He hisses, just as Niko rounds the corner with four of his friends. Their son has grown to be almost a carbon copy of Shane–tall, freckled cheeks, brown eyes framed by dark lashes, dark hair, except which has gained Ilya’s curls. His hair which he’s been growing out lately so the dark locks curl round his ears, bouncing as he walks, which also resembles a bird's nest in the morning. Ever since he had begun hitting the gym with Ilya and joining Shane on his early morning runs, his gangly teenage body had filled out with muscle.
“Hi baby, how was the mall?” Shane asks quickly to try and not draw attention to the fact they were seconds away from getting caught with Ilya’s hand down his pants.
“Good,” Niko replies simply with a shrug as he reaches over to grab a carrot stick. “I got those pencils I told you about. I used my birthday money.”
The edge of his baggy charcoal tee is edged with a lick of white paint, evidence of the artistic streak that had taken over as he slowly lost interest in ice hockey throughout the years. The disinterest stung both Shane and Ilya a little when it happened, but then for a long time before that Niko was always interested in drawing in his sketchbook anyway, would have it tucked under the bench with his graphite pencils that he had asked for on his twelfth birthday when he would get taken off for a break. Besides, Hana continued to be a menace on the ice and wasn’t intending on stopping any time soon.
“Hi boys.” Shane addresses the rest of the group with an easy smile and Ilya leans against the edge of the sink to wave at the gaggle of eighteen year olds in their kitchen. All respond back enthusiastically with a chorus of Hi Mr Hollander.
“Where’s Alex?” Ilya asks knowingly but Niko is busy inspecting the red pepper hummus to catch it.
“He’s finishing up at practice, he’ll be here in a bit.” Niko looks up as Shane and Ilya share a silent look before quickly fixing their attention back on the group. Whilst ice hockey wasn’t a permanent feature in Niko's life, Alex was perhaps the one thing that came from it that did stick. Best friends from the age of eight, Alex and Niko were inseparable–even when Alex continued with hockey as Niko drew back from it. They were rarely ever not together, and Ilya had grown used to finding the other boy somewhere around the house after school or on the weekends. Except when Alex had presented as an alpha in the past year, Ilya had insisted they keep the door open, much to both teenager’s mortification.
But Ilya has eyes and a nose and a brain. And so, he isn’t stupid. And Ilya sees the way Alex looks at Niko when he thinks his omega son isn’t looking, or the way Niko lights up when he talks about him, or the way they had gone to prom together as ‘just friends’, even though Alex had bought Niko flowers ‘to be polite’ and had stood at the door fighting a blush when Ilya had opened it.
Friends my ass Ilya had mused to himself whenever the topic came up. It seems poor communication and obliviousness of feelings is genetic. Shane argues they are just taking their time.
So yeah, the door stays open. Not that sex isn’t illegal or anything, but Niko is his baby, his son, his Lailai, his firstborn, his pup. And whilst Ilya was slutting around at the age of eighteen, if not earlier, does not mean he wants his son to do the same. The idea of his children doing the things that he was doing at that age is enough to send Ilya to an early grave. The sex talk Shane made them have with Niko at sixteen had Ilya wanting to throw himself off a bridge. Niko similarly did not take it very well either, his face went so red Ilya had feared he would explode.
“I made you guys some snacks.” Shane says, before turning round to the counter near the fridge and appearing with two bags of chips, dumping them alongside the fruit and veggies.
A variety of “Oh thanks Mr Hollander!” resonate amongst the group and they all crowd the counter to pick up the various bowls and bags of snacks before making for the yard to sit on the wraparound porch. Ilya turns to go outside and take the cover off the pool but then stills at the door to the yard in question as one figure doesn’t turn with the rest of the group to leave outside. Ilya’s hand rests on the door handle, door cracked open, head peeking round the corner where the wall juts out, just out of sight of both Shane and the friend that lingers by the counter.
“Have you had a good day Mr Hollander?” He asks, and Ilya can’t remember this one’s name, thinks it begins with an E but the rest is lost to more important things. He’s a relatively new addition to the group, a friend of one of the others, Ilya thinks. Although the boy has the stink of a newly presented alpha, the muskiness of his scent not quite tamed by years of practice. Also not quite grown into his growth spurt clearly, limbs a little gangly and lined with only a light layer of muscle. His shaggy blonde hair also needs a haircut too—all just observations.
Ilya almost splutters out a laugh at the question but Shane only smiles politely, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, not too busy. Did you have a good time at the mall?”
The boy nods vigorously, hands skimming the edge of the countertop back and forth. “Yeah it was great. Thanks for letting us use your pool by the way.”
Shane nods, turning to fill a glass of water. His shorts tighten around the swell of his ass and Ilya’s eyes narrow immediately at the way the boy tips forward a little to watch, scent sharpening in interest.
The fuck? Ilya thinks as he has half a mind to storm over there to yank the teen back by the neckline of his t-shirt and do some posturing dance. Maybe piss on the floor in a circle around his husband. Shane turns around and sets the glass on the counter, completely oblivious. And so Ilya tries to reign himself in, chanting to himself silently.
He’s an adult, he’s mated, he’s sensible, he is not going to make a scene over some teenager being polite to his husband. So his scent changed a little? The kid is a freshly presented alpha, their scents fluctuate all the time. Hell, Niko's scent spiked every time someone mentioned chocolate ice cream the first few months after presenting as an omega last year. Everything is fine. He is an adult. He is not going to beat up a child for something he has no control over.
“It’s no problem at all. Glad you guys enjoy it.” Shane replies, and the kid (because that’s what he is, Ilya doesn’t care if he is technically an adult at eighteen like the rest of them) nods enthusiastically, still not budging from clearly checking out Ilya’s husband.
“Do you use the pool too?” He asks and Shane scratches behind his ear, fidgeting a little at the undivided attention. Ilya was always better at chatting to teenagers, Shane says that’s because his humour is that of a sixteen year old.
Shane nods. “Um, yeah sometimes. If I don’t want to go on a run then I do a few laps.”
“Oh cool!” The kid replies enthusiastically, scent deepening and Ilya glowers harder, gripping the door handle so hard it squeaks a little from the pressure. Ilya knows what the teenager is imagining because he is imagining it too, except Ilya’s image is from memory. Shane stepping out of the pool with his swimshorts clinging to his thighs, water running down his muscled chest and the slight curve of his belly that is lined with stretchmarks from carrying their pups, the way droplets cling to his black hair streaked with dark grey, the way his ass and thighs jiggle as he steps up out of the water. The sun glistening just right to make Shane look more like a mirage than a person.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to get into swimming, but I don’t have a pool.” The teenager continues, his back to Ilya so the alpha can only glare at the kid’s blonde head. Shane, Ilya’s sweet darling Shane, completely oblivious to the wet dream he is providing to this pup who is clearly fawning over him if his scent is anything to go by–though too subtle for anyone but an alpha to pick up.
“Oh really? Well you’re more than welcome to use ours if you want–,”
Absolutely not.
Ilya slams the door closed with so much force it shakes the doorframe and both Shane and the kid jump at the sound. Ilya strides round the corner, eyes sharp and face stony as he stops at the counter between them, the kid staring at him wide eyed as if he forgot Ilya existed. His brown eyes hold a little fear in them as Ilya stares him down.
Good.
“Pool is ready.” Ilya bites out and Shane blinks at the frostiness in his tone and the standoffish nature of his posture as he crosses his arms against his chest and deliberately bulges his muscles for the kid to see. When no one moves, Ilya turns so he’s facing the kid head on and makes a point of pulsing out threads of his scent into the air as a very unsubtle claim, the smell of a real alpha heavy in the room.
“You need something else? A juice?” Ilya drawls and the pup blushes, stumbling over his words as he backs away slowly, swallowing harshly.
“Oh! No, that’s okay. Thanks!” The kid turns quickly and practically runs out to the yard and Ilya glares after him, face scrunched in a scowl.
“What was that?” Shane asks and Ilya turns to blink innocently at his mate who is watching him suspiciously.
“What was what?” Ilya asks with a shrug, tugging Shane closer by the waistband of his shorts to draw him in into his arms as Ilya ducks his nose to drag along the edge of the omega’s jaw in a subtle scenting. Shane clutches at Ilya’s biceps, tilting his head back without thought.
“That weird thing you just did when Ethan was here.” Shane points out and Ilya hums, hands gliding down Shane’s back to grab his ass, yanking him closer so their chests collide. Ilya moves them so Shane is pressed against the counter, back to the rest of the room as Ilya begins to suck on his neck. Shane’s breath hitches softly, hands tangling in Ilya’s curls as the alpha seems intent on leaving a mark.
“I didn’t do anything.” Ilya murmurs as he presses Shane against the boner pressing through Ilya’s shorts, feeling the hard ridge of Shane’s length against his own through the layers. Shane groans breathily at the contact, panting.
“We can’t–not here, the kids are outside. Where’s–,” Ilya nips at the mating bond to have Shane gasping softly,” “Where’s Mila?”
“Upstairs reading.” Ilya answering Shane’s question about their bookish third child quickly who spends the majority of her time when not ice skating, reading, as his hands dip beneath the waistband of Shane’s shorts and boxers to palm at the naked skin of the omega’s ass, kneading the cheeks like dough. Ilya drags his tongue against Shane’s throat to lean up and capture his lips in a filthy kiss, Shane moaning into it as his hands tighten in Ilya’s hair.
“We shouldn’t,” Shane tries to argue between kisses, and Ilya thinks he probably has a point as he licks into his husband’s mouth to hear him whine. It’s probably a bad idea to make out and feel up your husband when there are a bunch of kids just outside and their two daughters are upstairs (thank God Mariyah was at girl guides) in plain view for any of them to see them. But Shane’s scent was coating his tongue in that way it does when the omega gets aroused, and that stupid teenager fawning over his beautiful husband has unleashed something that refuses to be put back in its cage. Yes Shane is a DILF, but he is Ilya’s mate and husband. He’s Ilya’s DILF, even if the meaning doesn’t quite land in that context. And so Ilya’s alpha feels the need to stake its claim, even if Shane wears his bite and has four pups with him, wears his wedding band around his finger. That only Ilya gets this, Shane glassy eyed and lips slick with spit as he chases Ilya’s mouth with a whine. No matter how many years pass, the fire between them remains stoked and untamed. But as much as Ilya won’t fuck him here even if he does desperately want to, that doesn’t mean he can’t kiss his mate and suck marks into his skin for all to see, even if Shane will complain about it later.
Shane is slumped against the counter, a hand now up Ilya’s shirt to squeeze at his stomach, fingers running up the coarse hair littered up from his navel to his chest, hips rocking into Ilya’s as Ilya moves his mouth down to his pulse point, tonguing it as a finger presses against his hole to smear across the slick beginning to gather there. And then a sound has Ilya’s gaze darting across the room, his mouth busy sucking a bruise into Shane’s collarbone.
The pup from earlier, Ethan, stands just round the corner, clearly having come in from outside to maybe ask Shane another stupid question about the chlorine levels of their fucking pool. The eighteen year old stands frozen, eyes wide and lips parted as Ilya can’t help but smirk against Shane’s skin, letting Shane rut against him. Ilya detaches his lips from Shane’s neck, eyes glinting in challenge at the teen as Shane moans softly, using the grip in Ilya’s hair to bring their lips together. And Ilya makes sure that Ethan sees the way Ilya captures Shane’s lips with a growl, the way Shane sighs into it, clutching at him desperately. Ilya doesn’t stop staring the teenager down until he turns and disappears back outside, cheeks ablaze with embarrassment.
Ilya can’t help but feel a little smug. Sometimes pups needed to be put in their place.
Niko's dip in the pool with his friends soon turns into a sleepover as they set up outside round the firepit and drink some beers Ilya allows them to have. After their makeout in the kitchen, Ilya had guided them into the laundry room, the omega pinned against the door as the alpha had wrapped his fist around both of their cocks and jerked them off until Shane had come with a choked out moan, both spilling over Ilya’s fist. Ilya had simply licked off both Shane and his come with a grin as Shane had slumped against the door with his clothes crumpled, hair askew and lips swollen.
Ethan had notably skirted around Ilya and Shane since the kitchen, had averted his gaze when the gaggle of youths had stood drinking cold lemonade that Shane had made when they had come in from the pool. Ilya couldn't quite wipe the triumphant smirk off his face even as Shane had raised a curious eyebrow at him. The alpha had only shrugged. The boys had takeout, which Shane begrudgingly agreed to get for the girls and Ilya too. Ilya had picked it up on the way back from picking Mariyah up from guides, who had spent the car ride telling Ilya all about the different bears in the Canadian wilderness. For a nine year old, she had a fixed obsession on anything to do with animals, bugs, and the outdoors. Ilya couldn’t quite share her enthusiasm, but he sure could fake it, nodding along dutifully and saying ‘oh really?’ every so often.
Niko and his friends were sitting in the front living room watching a film whilst Ilya was putting their younger girls to bed after Mila and Mariyah had played on the switch in the games room. Their recent hyperfixation was performing Lady Gaga’s PokerFace on Just Dance. Ilya stood supervising them both brushing their teeth, Mila garbling about what time they had to leave for her ice skating lesson tomorrow as if it wasn’t already burned into the back of Ilya’s brain from the many years of taking her. Hana was tucked away in her room on the phone to one of her friends, her voice muffled behind her bedroom door.
After both had said goodnight to Shane who was wiping down the counters, Ilya had french braided Mila’s hair for bed, which then meant Mariyah had insisted he do the same for her. Both tucked up in bed, Mila with her nose in a book once again, Ilya went looking for Shane. He found him equally tucked up under a blanket on the sofa, reading, with his glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Noticing the alpha stood in the doorway staring, Shane glances up distractedly. “Did they go to bed okay?’
Ilya says nothing which prompts Shane to look at him again, a small smile graces his lips as Ilya’s scent deepens. “What?”
Ilya walks closer, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him on the lips softly, a knuckle pushing the glasses further up his nose. “You look very sexy like this.”
Shane rolls his eyes with a laugh, putting the book in his lap as he pushes a curl behind the alpha’s ear, pecking him. “You always say that when I wear my glasses.”
Ilya shrugs, capturing his lips in a deeper kiss. “It’s true.”
Shane tugs him in again when Ilya goes to draw away but both pull apart at the sound of Niko's voice coming round the corner. “Hey dad, what’s the password for Netflix? It's kicked me out again.”
Ilya straightens, leaning his hands on the back of the couch as Shane frowns. “It’s the same as it always is, I haven’t changed it.”
“Can you come?” Niko asks, lingering in the doorway and Shane gets up, knees cracking as he rises and Ilya follows after them, finger hooking on the back of Shane’s t-shirt. The teenagers are sprawled across the two couches, one on a beanbag and one sitting on the floor when they enter. Alex, Niko's best friend (or so they say) is on one end of the sofa, an arm slung across the back of it and tips two fingers in a wave when Ilya and Shane appear. His wide frame takes up a good spread of the couch, dark hair cut into a soft mullet that apparently seems all the rage these days–Ilya remembers that only being reserved for cowboys but what does he know. Apparently he isn't cool and stylish anymore according to Hana.
Ilya locks eyes with Ethan who sits on the beanbag, who is staring at Shane with his mouth open like he’s seeing an angel. The lights on the TV reflect off Shane’s glasses, and Ilya’s mate looks like the epitome of cosy with his dark grey sweatpants, oversized white tee, glasses, and ruffled hair.
“Hey Alex, how was practice?” Ilya asks as Shane picks up the remote and frowns at the TV as he begins to type into the password to Netflix.
“Coach made us do bag skates.” He says with a grimace and Ilya leans his shoulder against the doorway of the living room.
“Ah, not good then.” The alpha’s own memories of doing that god awful training punishment doing circles in his brain, making him wince.
“Could’ve been better.” Alex shrugs, eyes catching on Niko as he stands next to Shane, also frowning at the TV. The screen shows the flash of incorrect password.
“He made you do bag skates because you’ve all been playing like shit.” Niko replies blandly, his eyes also not leaving the TV screen as he stands next to Shane. Ilya bites back a smile as Alex rolls his eyes fondly.
“Alright big shot, you try and rally a team who's hungover.”
Niko scoffs. “That’s your fault for letting them drink the night before a big game. What happened to Captain’s orders?”
Alex mimics Niko in a funny, high-pitched voice, and Niko parrots it back and the two bicker between each other for a few more seconds before Niko flips the young alpha off. Ilya covers his smile with his hand, gaze darting between the two.
“Ilya did you change the password?” Shane says without glancing at him, huffing in frustration.
“No malysh I did not.” Ilya responds by the door, eyes flitting to Ethan who remains gawping at Shane in his glasses. Ilya wants to storm over and yank them off his husband’s face. Instead he simply clears his throat. Ilya is not jealous of a child. Well technically an adult, but still. The stint in the kitchen was perhaps a little too much of a stroppy response to Shane being admired, which happens a lot. But in Ilya’s own home? With him metres away? Some grace and decorum, please.
“I don’t understand.” Shane mutters to himself, before turning the TV on and off again. Ilya would try and help but he’s learnt over the years of their marriage that times like these are better off when Ilya does not interfere. Instead his gaze drifts down to Shane’s ass.
Shane bends over slightly to turn the TV off and on, and the material of his sweatpants stretches over his plump ass to show off the roundness of his cheeks. And it seems Ilya isn’t the only one who notices, the alpha’s gaze flitting to Ethan who now has red cheeks and is rapidly blinking at the sight of Shane’s behind in full viewing pleasure in front of him. Ilya scowls.
The TV flickers on and then Shane puts in the password again, which finally works. All the boys cheer and Niko mutters a thanks before dropping into the space next to Alex, sinking into the alpha’s side almost unknowingly. The hand above Niko's shoulder twitches slightly, fingers drifting down to skim at the young omega’s shoulders. Part of Ilya wants to demand they separate but the more realistic side of him knows to leave it be. For now. He has bigger fish to fry, like the teenager checking out his husband as if Ilya isn’t right there.
“Okay, we’ll leave you guys to it.” Shane says and turns, which then prompts Ethan’s eyes to follow him and then land directly on Ilya who is already staring at him with an eyebrow raised. The younger alpha flushes darker, shoulders hunching up by his ears a little as he darts his gaze away in shame.
Good.
As Shane nears him, Ilya makes a point of slinging his arm around his waist and steers him out of the room, waving goodbye to the teens with one last glance over his shoulder at Ethan. And if Ilya gnashes his teeth just once, a small little thing to display dominance, then the alpha would deny it of course.
By the time they go to bed, Niko and his friends are at the tail end of their movie. Ilya emerges from their ensuite, patting moisturiser into his face as Shane sits propped up against the headboard, yawning as he takes off his glasses and folds them to sit on the bedside table.
Ilya crawls onto the bed, dropping kisses up Shane’s duvet covered legs before he reaches his face, cradling his cheeks to kiss him sweetly on the mouth.
“Someone’s horny today.” Shane mutters as Ilya drops kisses over his cheeks. Ilya draws back with a kiss on Shane’s nose, hands carding through the grey streaked hair.
“No, I am just in love.”
Shane rolls his eyes. Ilya smacks Shane’s cheek with a cupped hand. It is true though, getting older means predictably not having the endless fuck sessions they used to have when they were younger, with age and also kids being added into the mix. But they still had sex on a regular basis, both finding it hard to keep their hands off each other for more than a few days. Ilya may be nearing fifty, but he can still pop a knot, especially for someone as pretty as Shane Hollander. Not doing so would be a crime.
Ilya slips under the covers and drags Shane towards him, hooking one of the omega’s legs over his hip as they make out lazily, Shane sighing into it, hands squeezing at Ilya’s bare pecs, kneading them like a cat.
Shane pulls back to brush his fingers against Ilya’s cheek. “Do we have eggs for pancakes tomorrow?”
Ilya huffs a laugh, hand coming down to squeeze at Shane’s bulge to have the omega’s hips kicking forwards with a gasp. “You’re hard and thinking about making pancakes tomorrow?”
Shane huffs in retaliation, using the leg propped up on Ilya’s hips to rock the alpha sideways and tugging him so he’s hovering above him. Ilya takes it as a sign to keep going, so he begins to push up Shane’s sleep shirt to leave kisses up his abdomen.
“Shut up, how else are we going to feed a group of eighteen year olds?” Shane grouches and Ilya collapses onto Shane’s front dramatically with a groan. He tilts his chin up so it rests against Shane’s belly, fingers grazing the stretchmarks littered below his belly button.
“They can eat grass. Very nutritious. Now please, more sexy time and less talk of breakfast food.”
Shane raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh so breakfast food can’t be sexy? What about that time you insisted on pouring maple syrup on me and licking it off for our 10 year anniversary?”
Ilya pauses, his mind now filled with that delicious memory of when they ate food off each other in a boujee hotel on the coast and had sex for two days straight. How Shane had been laid out on the sheets, covered in whipped cream and maple syrup (they were in Canada after all) as Ilya’s tongue dragged across his skin to lick it off, and also other places. “Okay, fine. But not right now. I’m trying to fuck you Hollander.”
Shane drags Ilya up by hands around his neck to suck on his tongue, before whispering seductively between their lips, “fuck me then.”
Ilya needs no further instruction, and he practically rips off their clothes to get started which makes Shane laugh breathily, his pupils dilating as Ilya manhandles him on the bed. And seeing the way the omega is lying back with his legs splayed open, cock already hard against his belly and the smell of his slick in the air, cheeks a beautiful pink, hand reaching out to him has Ilya wanting to claim him all over again. Because this was his mate, his Shane. And Ilya thinks back to the events of today and Luca’s friend who couldn’t seem to stop staring at him, talking to him, clearing checking him out and being aroused by the sight of Shane Hollander living and breathing as a walking angel. Pure DILF material. And something feral and tinged in red sweeps over his vision as Ilya clasps Shane’s hand and lets himself be pulled back into his embrace, slotting their lips together as a hand drifts down to stroke at Shane’s slick soaked entrance.
Shane moans against his mouth and then Ilya sinks in two fingers to the knuckle to hear the omega gasp.
“Fuck,” Shane breathes out, eyes fluttering closed, nails digging into the alpha’s shoulder as he reaches a hand down to stroke at Ilya’s flushed cock between them.
Ilya withdraws his fingers to suck them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of the omega’s slick. Shane squirms against the sheets, lips parted and Ilya sinks his fingers covered in his spit into Shane’s mouth and watches with dark eyes as the omega sucks at them eagerly, tongue wrapping around the digits.
“Want my cock moya lyubov?” Ilya grumbles thickly, dragging his fingers from between Shane’s lips to tighten a fist around the omega’s cock. Shane’s back arches into the touch, humming drunkenly.
Shane gets his strong thighs around Ilya’s waist and drags him in. “Yeah, want you to fuck me,” He agrees with a slightly breathy whine. Shane grabs at Ilya’s cheeks, squishing them together as he pulls him in for a kiss as a hand flails between them to try and guide the alpha’s cock to his entrance.
Ilya chuckles lowly, grabbing at Shane’s wrist. “I haven’t stretched you yet.”
“Don’t care,” Shane murmurs, legs falling open wider as the scent of his slick in the air thickens, looking up at Ilya through his lashes as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Want it to hurt a little, stretch me out.”
Ilya’s brain short circuits, cock twitching as he groans. “Fuck Hollander, you can’t just—dirty little mouth.”
He lurches forward, letting the head of his cock catch on Shane’s entrance, using it to spread slick around his hole. Shane moans softly, head tilted back into the pillows, lips swollen and ruby red with the soft lamplight catching on the grey streaks in his hair.
“S’your fault.” He tries to argue, lashes fluttering as he moans softly when Ilya lets the head of his cock pop through his entrance, beginning to fill him as the squelch of slick echoes in the room. Ilya slides home in one smooth thrust that has them both moaning, the tight, wet heat enveloping his cock that has his hips kicking on instinct.
“My fault, hmm? Made you into a little cockslut haven’t I?” Ilya croons, lips hovering above Shane’s as the omega squirms against the sheets as Ilya doesn’t move, cock instead simply resting inside of him.
“Ilya,” Shane whines softly, panting softly as his hips try to rise to get the alpha to move, a hand coming down to squeeze at Ilya’s ass in hint.
“Hmm? What does my cockslut need?” Ilya murmurs as Shane rakes his nails down his back, nose nudging under Ilya’s jaw to scent him as his hips try to twitch upwards. It’s taking everything in the alpha not to fuck Shane’s brains out as the omega’s walls clench around his cock. But sometimes it’s fun to tease Shane like this, have him writhing on his cock begging him to move, asking for the alpha to fuck him.
“You need to—Ilya,” Shane murmurs brokenly as he keens low in his throat in plea, breathing ragged as more slick slips out around Ilya’s cock. One thing about Shane is how wet he gets, especially with the thickness of the alpha’s length stretching him open as Ilya runs his mouth. Ilya is sure it’s pooling on the sheets beneath them, and he thinks that if he tries hard enough, he could get Shane to squirt—one of Ilya’s favourite pastimes.
“Just—,” Shane growls softly in frustration as Ilya still doesn’t move, hands slapping the alpha’s shoulders, heels digging hard into his hips. “Fucking fuck me asshole.”
Shane punctuates it with a glare, baring his teeth a little, eyes possessing a glossy, feral sheen. Ilya smirks, dragging his tongue against his canines in delight. “Anything my cockslut wants.”
And then a little “hmph!” escapes Shane’s lips as Ilya drags his cock out so only the tip remains before slamming back in so their skin clap together loudly. It has Shane’s eyes rolling backwards, hand clapping over his mouth to stop the loud moan from escaping, muffled against his palm as Ilya sets a brutal pace. Ilya angles his hips on each shift forward so his cock hits against Shane’s prostrate on every drag, and Shane clenches around him like a vice, the hand not muffling his needy sounds tangling in the alpha’s curls.
Ilya removes Shane’s hand from his mouth, interlocking their fingers and pinning them above Shane’s head, their lips an inch apart as Shane bites his lips desperately as Ilya continues to punch moans out of him with his cock.
“Let me hear you malysh,” Ilya says, fucking Shane harder to have him jolting up the bed.
Shane shakes his head a little, lashes fluttering as he keens. “The-the kids,” he gasps out and then moans loudly. And he probably has a point, Ilya doubts Niko and his friends are asleep just yet but they’re downstairs. And whilst Ilya and Shane’s bedroom is far from the stairs, the way Shane is mewling has Ilya considering a solution.
“They are asleep, but I’ll just have to find a way to keep you quiet won’t I?” Ilya muses, panting and chest glimmering with sweat. And then he’s pulling out, which draws a wounded sound from the omega below him before he’s flipping Shane over onto his belly and hooking his hands under his hips to haul them back so he’s stretched into a perfect arch, collapsed into the bed except for his ass in the air.
“Oh fuck,” Shane cries, but then Ilya is placing a heavy hand on the back of his neck and pressing his face into the pillows as he slides back into the tight heat of Shane’s ass and resuming his brutal thrusts. The force of them have Shane’s ass jiggling with each one, the fat rippling and Ilya’s hand leaves the scruff on Shane’s neck to dig his nails into it possessively as he admires his mate from above with feral eyes. Shane’s moans are muffled into the pillow, hands scrunching it tightly as Ilya fucks him up the bed. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh is loud above Ilya’s animalistic grunts. Each thrust draws out more beads of slick from Shane’s hole that splatters into the sheets and runs down the backs of the omega’s thighs, and distractedly Ilya smears some of it on his fingers and sucks it onto his tongue as his knot begins to catch on Shane’s stretched rim.
“Doing so good baby, such a good slut for alpha.” Ilya croons, drunk off the taste of his mate as Shane moans out brokenly beneath him.
“Ilya,” The drunken, slurred call of his name escapes the barrier of the pillow and Ilya snarls, ignoring the way his knees twinge a little from being in this position for so long and begins to shallowly fuck his knot into Shane’s hole. Shane is collapsed into the sheets, face turned to the side, lips parted and gaze glossy and unseeing, body cushioned by the duvet crumpled beneath him. The stretchmarks on the omega’s hips glimmer like glitter and Ilya can feel his cock twitch inside of Shane at the sight of it. Ilya uses the grip he has on Shane’s hips to drag them backwards onto his cock to meet every fuck of his hips. And then the door to their bedroom creaks, a sound that Shane has been meaning to get round to fixing but keeps forgetting about. Recently it’s been slipping open if you don't give it an extra push so it clicks, and Ilya realises he didn’t give it the extra shove that evening. At the noise, Ilya’s gaze snaps to the gap now in the door to lock eyes with Ethan who stands a little back from the door, clearly looking for the upstairs bathroom as a newer friend of Niko's who doesn’t know the layout of their home, who is now stood wide eyed, staring as Ilya fucks his husband into the mattress.
And the teen is lucky that Shane is hidden in the sheets and the thick duvet obscures him from view, hiding everything except the curve of his ass that Ilya has propped up in the air as he doesn’t stop fucking his cock and knot past the omega’s rim that squelches with every drag. Otherwise Ilya would be tearing his fucking throat out, maturity be damned. It’s then that Shane whines on a particularly rough thrust, moaning out a soft “fuck, Ilya,” that has Ethan’s gaze dropping to the figure hidden by the pillows.
Ilya bares his teeth and growls deep in his chest–an animalistic, primal sound ill fitting for a man to make, instead one that is all alpha. It’s one that alpha’s make to emphasise dominance, and also as a claim–a way to mark territory, besides drilling his mate into the mattress and knotting him. It’s a challenge. The kid had skirted the line of acceptability all day, first asking about their fucking pool, the second fawning over Shane in his glasses and now watching them fuck like a little perv. Well unfortunately for him, Ilya is also a pervert, and also, a knothead when it comes to his mate. A possessive, volatile knothead that has been dying for an excuse to bite at the leash Shane keeps on him. Ilya may be nearing fifty, but that doesn’t mean he won’t kick a little shit’s ass for looking too long in Shane’s direction. Even if said little shit is only eighteen and one of his son’s friends. And as each second passes and Ethan remains frozen in the doorway like a deer in headlights, the more Ilya’s alpha rises to the challenge to get him by the neck and stamp on his fucking head. Without the pup seeing any more of Shane besides the curve of his naked ass of course, which is too much anyway. Ethan has booked a one way train to Ilya city, and the crime rate is astronomical. Ilya’s chest puffs out in instinct, his muscles bulging and his canines flashing in a display of dominance.
Shane keens high in his throat in reaction to Ilya’s rumble, a hand fumbling backwards to comfort on instinct at the sound and Ilya takes a moment to interlock their fingers to rest their joined hands at Shane’s hip. All whilst staring Ethan down, Ilya’s eyes rimmed with red and then he snarls viciously to make the young alpha gasp, eyes finally darting away in submission. He disappears from view, the rush of air that follows him has the door closing with a final click yet Ilya’s glare remains fixed there until Shane moans softly beneath him, squeezing their joined hands, which has Ilya’s gaze dragging back to his beautiful mate who is blinking up at him blearily.
Ilya had slowed his pace without realising and Ilya squeezes their hands in reassurance. “What is it?” Shane mumbles and Ilya leans down to drop kisses along the curve of Shane’s sweat slicked back, tonguing the definition of his lats.
“Nothing moya lyubov, so perfect aren’t you?” Ilya murmurs against the skin and Shane wiggles a little in content at the praise, sighing before it is cut off by a moan as Ilya resumes fucking his growing knot into his mate, which has filled out quicker than usual–no doubt because of Ilya’s display of dominance moments ago. His body quickening the knot to ensure his omega can’t go anywhere. And with that feral thought, Ilya twists hips to fuck his knot past Shane’s rim to lock them together. The sudden moment of fullness has Shane wailing against the pillow and shuddering, coming untouched at the feeling of Ilya filling him with his cum, slick squirting out around the alpha’s cock to splash against Ilya’s abdomen. Ilya grinds his hips against Shane’s ass with a moan as he collapses against Shane’s back, twisting them so he spoons Shane from behind and giving his knees welcome reprieve. Ilya wraps a hand around Shane’s waist, and Shane links their fingers together, humming tiredly.
Ilya kisses the back of his neck, nosing at his hairline, swiping his nose to scent him. “Not bad for an old man,” Shane murmurs teasingly. Ilya pauses, sitting up on an elbow to peer round in disbelief at Shane’s closed eyes and smirk.
“Old man? Hollander you are basically a grandpa, you drive a Jeep. You are old man, I am young and hot.” Ilya sasses and Shane laughs lightly, cracking an eye open to peer at the alpha.
“You also drive that Jeep. And your joints crack way too much to be,” Shane does air quotes, “young and hot.”
Ilya splutters, hips kicking into Shane to drive his knot deeper to have the omega gasping, hand coming to clutch onto Ilya’s muscled thigh. “Well I don’t fuck like a grandpa, I have you whining and mewling like a little kotenok on my cock in five minutes flat and this is how you repay me? By calling me old.”
Shane’s lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly, trying to remember himself as Ilya begins to rock into him, knot tugging on his sensitive rim.
“I mean technically you’re middle aged.” He murmurs round a sleepy, cock drunk laugh, sighing contentedly as Ilya sucks on his mating mark from behind as he grinds his hips against his ass.
“I’m a stud, I gave you four pups didn’t I? Want me to give you another one?” Ilya muses when Shane moans softly as he reaches round to fist at the omega’s spent cock, coaxing it to hardness.
And whilst they both know they won’t be having any more, especially since Shane was classed as ‘geriatric’ when he had Mariyah at fourty-one which the omega was appalled by but also because they had both agreed that four pups was enough, it didn’t mean it wasn’t nice and horny to pretend.
“Only if your knot still works grandpa.” Shane teases and Ilya growls playfully, jerking Shane off as he slowly begins to grind his hips so his knot tugs on Shan’s rim and cum leaks out around it. Shane tugs Ilya in by his hair as they swap kisses, licking into each other’s mouths lazily around panting breaths as Shane eventually spills over Ilya’s fist with a drawn out moan.
And when Ilya wipes Shane down, kissing every inch of his mate’s skin as he lies there basking in the afterglow, yawning and stretching out like a cat as his thighs jiggle slightly, spine arching, Ilya presses his thumb against the bruise his fingers left behind on the omega’s hips. It’s not the only mark mottled purple and green on Shane’s body, he’s made sure to suck a hickey right over Shane’s mating mark and lower collarbone which his husband will definitely have a go at him for tomorrow morning when he realises, but there are also bruises from Ilya’s mouth on his thighs, just above his pubic bone. And as Ilya nips at one on his inner thigh before collapsing against Shane’s side, head resting in the crook of the omega’s neck to smooth a hand over Shane’s soft abdomen, a feral part of him thinks it is a job well done.That now there won’t be any doubt of who Shane belongs to, and who his real alpha is.
Shane, unsurprisingly, was unimpressed by the array of hickeys on his skin and simply gave Ilya a look as he pointed at the one on his collarbone. Ilya had simply shrugged innocently as he was brushing his teeth, simply giving him a finger heart which made Shane huff.
Ilya was in the kitchen whipping up pancake mix when Niko shuffled in with squinting eyes and curls pointing in every direction.
“Good morning kroshka!” Ilya bellows just to see his son wince. Niko yawns, rubbing at his eyes and Ilya thinks that even though his pup is eighteen now, when he first gets up in the morning he reminds the alpha of when he was five and would wander into Shane and Ilya’s room at six am looking for cuddles.
“Sleep well?” Ilya asks and Niko shrugs, opening the fridge to look for orange juice.
“What are you making?” He asks as he peers round Ilya to inspect the contents of the bowl. Ilya sets the bowl down alongside the whisk and gets out a saucepan.
“Pancakes, your dad thought it would be a good idea.”
Niko hums, nodding. “Do we have blueberries?”
Ilya nods, ruffling Niko's hair as he makes a noise of protest. “Yes, in the fridge.”
“The good ones? From Whole Foods?” Niko questions and Ilya grins. Niko was very picky about his fruits, especially ones with specific textures.
“Yes kroshka.” Ilya sings and Niko goes rummaging for them. And then Shane appears, fully dressed with his hands on Mila’s shoulders as he guides her into the kitchen, her nose once again in a book and not looking where she is going, still in her pajamas.
“Mila, can you put your book down please? You need to have breakfast.” Shane asks and Mila silently sits on a stool by the island without putting it down.
“But it’s not ready yet.” She argues without looking up and Shane frowns, hands on his hips. Ilya busies himself with heating up the pan and spooning out batter.
“Mila.” Shane warns and their daughter pouts, finally closing the book but not before marking her spot with a bookmark decorated with snowflakes and white glitter.
“What are you reading my little miss Jane Austen?” Ilya asks as Shane begins to get out plates for the pancakes.
Mila lights up at the question, babbling about schools of magic and hidden corridors with students gallivanting around casting spells. Hana emerges during the rambling, hair in a messy bun on top of her head, squinting at the sun shining through the french doors. She reaches round Niko to steal a blueberry and he bats her hand away with a scowl, holding them protectively to his chest.
“Hey can I get a bellybutton piercing?” She asks whilst chewing the fruit and both parents' heads shoot up at the question.
“No.” They say at the same time which has Hana whining immediately.
“But why? All the girls in my school are getting one.” She complains, sliding into the seat beside Mila and pouting up at her parents.
Niko rolls his eyes as Ilya flips a pancake.
“Then be the more original one and not get one.” Shane points out with a flat look.
“But I don’t—,”
“No bellybutton piercings. End of discussion.” Shane says and Hana glares out the window. Niko makes the shape of an L on his forehead and waggles it at her just as Mariya rounds the corner holding her ladybug stuffie to her chest.
Hana sticks her tongue out at her brother and flips him off not so subtly as Ilya fixes her with a raised eyebrow, spatula in hand. She quickly hides her hands in her lap.
Mariya gravitates to Shane’s side, leaning against his legs as she buries her face into the side of his sweats. Shane strokes a hand through her hair as he orders Hana and Niko to get out syrups and Nutella.
“Where are your friends?” Ilya asks Niko as the stack of pancakes grows.
“In the living room.”
“Go get them, the pancakes will get cold.” Shane replies as he lifts Mariya to sit on the stool next to Hana who has a plate four pancakes high drizzled in syrup and ice cream.
Niko disappears and Ilya divvies up pancakes onto Mariya and Mila’s plates as Shane helps put strawberries on Mariya’s plate. Their youngest is still yawning, nuzzling her nose into Shane’s shoulder sleepily in a subtle scenting as she clings onto his arm.
“What about an eyebrow piercing?” Hana pipes up around a mouthful of pancakes, eyebrows raised.
“What, like a punkrocker?” Ilya deadpans and she rolls her eyes.
“No. It’s cool.” She argues and Ilya sticks his tongue out at her playfully as she does it back.
“You can’t get piercings if you’re going to hockey practice. Especially if it’s still healing.” Shane, ever the sensible one, reasons as he munches on a strawberry and nudges Mariyah to eat her pancakes.
Hana perks up immediately. “Wait but that’s not a no though.”
And then Niko and his gaggle of friends appear, sleep ruffled and reaching for plates, piling them high with so many pancakes that Ilya has to make a second batch of batter. Hana spends the rest of breakfast trying to convince them why they absolutely must let her get a piercing of some description amongst the chaos of voices and scraping plates. Mila disappears with her book, shouting she’s going to get ready for her skating lesson and Mariyah almost falls asleep resting against Shane’s shoulder with nutella smeared on her mouth.
Ilya leans over to feed Shane a bit of pancake from his own plate from where he leans against the counter, Shane opening his mouth without looking to accept the forkful as he continues debating with Hana on piercings, leaning forward slightly to meet it. The movement has his shirt pulling lower, the hickey on his mating bite and collarbone exposed, the purple bruise stark against Shane’s tan skin.
And it’s when Ilya leans back does his eyes meet a pair of wide brown ones that immediately skitter away. Ilya’s gaze is heavy and challenging as it rests on Ethan’s face who is sat farthest from Ilya and Shane at the dining table behind them. The teen refuses to meet his gaze, staring down at his pancakes with a pale face. Ilya is sure the young alpha saw the marks on Shane’s skin and is no idiot to know where and when they came from.
As Shane chews, a splash of syrup clings to the corner of his mouth.
“You have some syrup moya lyubov, let me get it.” Ilya licks his thumb and wipes it off. He curls his tongue around the digit, sucking it into his mouth and as he does Ethan glances at him again just in time to see Ilya’s devilish smirk, fangs glinting in the morning sun. Ethan drops his cutlery in panic, and Niko glances at him for a moment before being pulled back into conversation by Alex who is cutting up his pancakes for him.
Ilya doesn’t let his gaze drop though, intent on staring until Ethan’s neck twitches to the side just a smidge. Barely noticeable to the vacant eye but Ilya’s alpha knows what it is seeking, and it’s exactly what he wanted. The sign of submission has Ilya smirking wider, nodding once and finally to the younger alpha’s relief, Ilya drags his gaze away. He can’t help the quiet rumble that emanates from his chest, chuffing happily. Shane side eyes him suspiciously, scent shifting a little in an instinctive response but Ilya only smiles around another bite of pancake, happy to bask in the morning with his large family.
Checkmate.