Shoofy22



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    “Omega.” Ilya was on him in an instant, sprinting across the huge suite and pinning Shane to the door with his entire body weight, sharp fangs snapping closed an inch from the Omega’s jugular. “Yield.”

    Shane took a deep breath of the Alpha’s smoky, searing scent and whispered, “Fucking make me.” 

    “Wh-what?”

    “You either call me your Omega and chase me until I yield to you as mate.” Shane said slowly, firmly. “Or you stay away from me forever, cos I am done with this shit.” 

    “Hollander..?” 

    “You want me?” The Omega goaded, "You better come and get me.” then hooked his foot behind Ilya’s ankle, shifted his weight back and knocked Ilya right on his ass before bolting out the door.

    Ilya scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, fangs bared and eyes gone scarlet as he growled, "Okay Omega. You want to run?"

    “...I will chase you.”

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    13 Apr 2026

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    “Fuck.” Shane melted into the strong hand at his neck, the pressure over his throat and the heat of the Alpha’s palm. “Fuck, that’s–” his eyes started to flutter closed, his knees going weak, but he heard the Alpha huff a laugh and immediately stiffened again. 

    “Don’t do that.” he warned. “Don’t laugh like me letting you put your hand on my throat is predictable submissive Omega behavior and you're making fun of me."

    “That is not why i was laughing.” Ilya squeezed Shane’s throat lightly, his thumb pressing over the suppressant patch covering the Omega's bonding spot and blocking his sweet scent. “I thought you would fight it, fight submitting. But you didn’t.”

    “No I–” Shane swallowed hard. “I like it.” 

    “Good.” Ilya smiled slow and a little dangerous, running his tongue over his bottom lip and then over the sharp ends of his fangs before he leaned in and growled into the Omega’s ear. “Now get on your knees.”

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    13 Apr 2026

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    Episode Four: Shane tries something new to help Ilya come down from the stressful phone call with his dad. 

    ****

    “You want to try something.” Ilya was still reeling from the call with his dad, but managed a nod. “Ok. What is it?”  

    “Well, if you want,“ Shane hesitated, half afraid Ilya would laugh at him for asking, half embarrassed over how bad he wanted to do it. “You can tell me if you don’t like it.” 

    “I like everything you do.” Ilya countered bluntly. “Hollander, everything you do is good. Why are you–” 

    “Can I hold you?” Shane asked, and Ilya didn’t understand, “You want to hold me?”

    “Yeah.” Shane slid off the couch to kneel on the floor.  “Like this.” He pulled Ilya’s pants down slowly, licking his lips and exhaling audibly shaky when he saw Ilya’s cock lying soft but thick against his thigh. “Can I hold you,” he inched closer between Ilya’s spread knees, running his fingers over his bottom lip in a purposeful invitation, “Like this?” 

    “Oh fuck.” Ilya gulped. “Yes.”

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    13 Apr 2026

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    June 2014, Las Vegas

    Post the Las Vegas Scene, sub!Shane drops hard and Dom!Ilya races to save him.

    ****

    From Jane: We didn't even kiss

    Shane didn't mean to send the text. He was so dizzy and cold and unsteady after leaving Ilya's room, he didn't even remember if he HAD sent the text. His fingers were too numb to undo his shirt buttons, he felt like the floor was dropping out from beneath him, he was nauseous and exhausted and didn't know why he couldn't stop shaking, why couldn't he stop shaking...?

    From Jane: ww dnt v ks

    The text came through as gibberish, and “Fuck.” Ilya threw his clothes back on and ran to get to Shane's hotel room. He'd been too far in his head to pay attention to Shane being quiet and shivering after they were done. Shane had stumbled getting out of bed, bumped into furniture, struggled with the door and Ilya had heard it but he'd been too much of a coward to get out of bed and check and now his submissive was sending gibberish texts and that wasn't good.

    “Sorry sorry sorry.” Ilya muttered as he ran. “I’m coming. I’m coming, hold on.” 

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    13 Apr 2026

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    Two days after meeting Ilya Rozanov at the World Juniors and six months before being drafted into a professional hockey league that had never had an omega player, Shane woke up in the middle of the night with a heat curling in his stomach and sweat—no slick—along his back and between his thighs.

    As much as he tried to push down every aspect of his biology, a certain cocky Russian alpha seemed to ignite something within Shane. It was hate (certainly not heat).

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    13 Apr 2026