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Shane rubs his temples, doubling over at the waist. He sinks down until his butt is on the floor, his head in his hands. Of course he had to get sick right now. Being an omega hockey captain wasn't enough apparently! The universe just had to screw Shane Hollander over as much as it could when he definitely didn't need the stress.
Monday night, Shane had headed out with the guys in an effort to bond with them some more over alcohol and even more alcohol. All was going well until a stranger walked past Shane in the bathroom, coughing up a storm. The guy had coughed spittle all over Shane's face. Shane had tried his best to stay calm but dramatically scrubbed his face with water and the barely bubbling soap liquid the bar had to offer. Unfortunately, it hadn't been enough.
When Shane had went to the clinic his mother, Yuna, recommended; the doctor just looked at him with a sad look. Human metapneumovirus, an awfully feeling respiratory virus with no cure. There was a treatment plan of staying hydrated, bed rest and staying as isolated as possible. When the doctor asked if she could call Shane's alpha, he declined and said he didn't have one. The doctor gave him a look with an eyebrow raise but didn't comment.
What? It's not like it's a lie. Ilya Rozanov had never said Shane was his omega.
They didn't even court each other for God's sake!
An alpha and an omega having 'relations' with each other, strictly out of need and outside of heats and ruts was common anyway. No one would bat an eyelash.
As long as their secret didn't get out.
With their all-too-public heated rivalry being fawned over and over-analyzed by every media outlet and news circle out there, it would create nothing but trouble for the two of them.
Hell… Ilya would be exiled from Russia if there was even a rumor he had looked at a man for too long.
With a groan, Shane rolls over until he's in a fetal position on the floor. His ball form isn't too comfortable but he feels so miserable that he's too bothered to care. His special diet of portioned out meal prep bowls were waiting for him in the fridge but he suddenly found them all gross. Bland fish, steamed vegetables and plain rice just wasn't enough. If he could have some beef-filled dumplings or maybe kimchi then he would be oh so happy.
There's a ding from Shane's phone and he can't help himself. He dives forward as best as he can. He reaches, finally getting the phone in hand.
Checking the notification doesn't offer relief though. There's no text from Ilya saying that he's on his way. There's a text from his mother, Yuna, saying she's dropping off a basket full of heat supplies, sure, but it's not his alpha. Shane's inner omega cries out. No, he doesn't want his mom. He wants his alpha in all his stinky goodness.
Ilya smells like a forest right after it rains. It's nature in its purest state, in all its glory. It's beautiful and masculine. Utterly entrancing.
It drives Shane wild every single time.
And sure, Shane's cunt is throbbing. All it seems to be doing is shouting about how empty it feels but all Shane wants is to be held.
Imagining Ilya holding him and realizing that he forgot to tell the alpha about his pre-heat makes Shane whine. He squirms closer to the nearest sofa, dragging the weighted blanket over his back and shoulders.
Flushed in the face with heat as sweat drips down his face, Shane sits up and rocks back and forth. The rocking reminds him of his father, David, cuddling him after any minor hockey injury. He feels miserable and disgusted but he knows he deserves some kind of comfort.
He's just not sure that he deserves Iyla.
Ilya Rozanov is not a typical alpha. Even during their first sexual encounter, Shane didn't ever feel less than. Ilya had checked in on Shane multiple times. He made sure Shane consented to everything first. He even took his time with prep. Extra lube and all. The way he didn't flinch when Shane didn't want to go right into penetrative sex during the first few hookups was super nice.
Shane is used to alphas being brash and pushy. The arrogance with nothing to show for it. The bumping into shoulders 'accidentally'. The shoving into walls 'somehow'. Shane is used to nasty mean alphas.
Ilya isn't just another alpha. He just Shane's Iyla.
Not his alpha. Not his mate. But just Shane's.
Shane knows he's not ready to ask if Ilya if he wants to court him, give each other temporary bonds and see how this goes. Shane isn't even ready to ask Ilya to be regular boyfriends yet! How could he go forward with such a big step? What if Ilya isn't looking for a relationship at all? It could be just a hookup situation.
Shane's phone buzzes with another notification. There must be a ding too but Shane doesn't notice as a cramp ramps its way throughout his body. He groans and starts crying silent tears.
The next time he saw Ilya, he would just ask him already. Nothing is worth this amount of pain. Maybe his body is all ramped up because he's been with an alpha, around his pheromones and yet hasn't been bitten yet. He really shouldn't go around confusing his body like this. Omegas are sensitive after all. Shane knows that.
Another groan and Shane cries harder this time, letting sounds out too.
Of course, the universe would be this cruel! Shane can't just be in pre-heat, he has to be sick and contagious too.
There's a knock at the door.
Shane doesn't hear it over his cries. The sadder he gets, the more pungent his omega scent smells as it fills the room.
The knock is harder this time but not louder.
Shane trembles and begins to rock himself back and forth. Though his parents doing this feels comforting, it does nothing when Shane tries it himself. Thinking about his parents makes him feel even more pathetic. Needing his mommy and daddy while he's sick? What an omega cliche! Imagine if all those reporters and paparazzi saw him now. Just imagine how stupid they'd think he is. What if they mocked him?
Shane curls inside himself even tighter.
The knocking stops.
Shane is none the wiser. He pulls more of the blanket from the couch around himself as tight as he can. He's nearly cocooned in it. He had bought it because its color went well with the rest of the decor. Now, he's just glad it's weighted. If Shane closes his eyes and thinks about Ilya, he can almost imagine he's here.
The front door is kicked off of its hinges. It lands with a crash.
Shane's heartbeat goes too fast for his body to function. An intruder? Right now? Of course, the universe feels like pissing on him today of all days! When Shane is his most vulnerable, of course someone would be bold enough to stalk him, find out he's in his pre-heat and attack him. Though Shane isn't defenseless, it would still suck trying to fight while he's still loopy.
Footsteps closing in. Shane can hear the creak of the floorboards. He thinks about making sure to remember to hire someone to take a look at them. Then, he feels like slapping himself. Yeah. Sure. Right after he's sexually assaulted, he'll look up a Floorboard Specialist from the Yellow Pages! Maybe he'll even Google them!
The smell of a forest on a hot summer day fills Shane's nostrils. Worry. Concern. Arousal. Calm. There's so much emotion Shane can smell, but right now he doesn't care to sort it all. He sinks into the pair of arms around him, tanned a bit from the sunny morning they just had.
Shane can't tell but it's darker outside, and his phone has been ringing this entire time.
There's some muttering in Russian and it takes Shane a moment to translate it.
There's the pressure of something hard, hot and firm slipping into his wet hole.
Shane gasps and throws his head back onto the man's shoulder. There's a chest against his back. His ass is flush against a lap. And Shane would never wish for something else. Nothing could be better than this.
"Oh, my poor kitten. You should have just told me. I would've ravaged you as much as I care about you."