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"Are you coming to the game?"
Shane sighs, turning around to face the owner of the voice.
Ilya Rozanov, captain of the hockey team, alpha, and (according to Rose) the hottest man on campus, stood a few feet away, leaning against a stone pillar, one foot crossed over the other. He radiates an aura of sex appeal and charisma, and Shane hates him.
Well. Hate is a strong word. Strongly disagrees with how Ilya goes about his life, and the choices he makes is more like it.
But Ilya is also an incredible hockey player, and Shane has always been a sucker for competence… and hockey, so he was doomed from the beginning.
But just because he knows he has a crush on the alpha, doesn't mean he has to make it easy for him. So he quirks a brow, tilting his head ever so slightly. He feels a stroke of pride when Ilya's gaze instantly drops to his throat, jaw flexing. "I dunno. I have a paper due."
Ilya smiles, that coy, flirty one that pretty much gets him whatever he wants. "But you love hockey."
Well, that's true. But Shane does also have an assignment that's due on Friday, so he begrudgingly knew he had to actually skip this game. Even though he actually wanted to go. Not to see Ilya play, or anything silly like that. It's just—Shane really likes hockey.
He pouts. "I do really have an assignment due. I can't go tonight."
Ilya looks sad for a split second before he schools his features and straightens up. "Is okay. Probably too much excitement for someone so boring." He waves a hand, looking in a different direction.
Shane grins. Ilya may act like a cool and collected alpha, but Shane knows he's truly just a big softie at heart. "Did you want me to come?" He decides to be a bit of a tease, just to get a rise out of the alpha.
Ilya scoffs, rolling his eyes. Shane would be offended if he didn't notice the slight sweet tint to Ilya's otherwise normally smokey scent. "Why would I?"
With a shrug, Shane begins heading back to his dorm. "Okay." He waves, turning his back to Ilya. "Good luck Rozanov."
Ilya makes a grumbling noise that makes Shane snicker but continues on his way.
Him and Ilya were both juniors, and have been semi within the same friends group of most of their shared college experience. Though Ilya tends to favour Troy, Harris and Svetlana, and Shane favours Hayden, Rose and J.J, their friends are mostly friends with one another (barring the beef between Hayden and Ilya), so they tend to be around one another quite a bit.
Shane has had a crush on Ilya since like, the first week he was here. It'd been the first time he was away from home, and being an omega who wanted to be a doctor got him quite a few odd looks. So he'd ended up near the hockey arena one day about a week or so after the first day of classes and found himself wandering in to sit in the stands to do some reading for an assignment, when he heard the telltale sound of skates against the ice.
From how far away he was, it was impossible to tell who it was. Not that he really knew anyone, but still. So Shane had just gone back to his reading. Or, he tried to, but kept getting distracted by the person skating around and the tantalizing scene of a proficient player practicing shots on net.
He'd ended up getting closer to the boards, books all put away in his bag and laptop closed, and watched avidly as the player did a series of shots that were 90% fancy footwork and showing off than skill.
"You'd score more if you didn't almost trip every two seconds on those gaudy moves." He couldn't help calling out, a little bold.
The man swerved on the ice, head in his direction and Shane could see beautiful hazel eyes and a striking jawline. Shane watched as he grinned—sharp and wicked, and skated over to where Shane was.
As he got closer, Shane's confidence wilted at the sight of the player. He was tall, like stupidly tall, especially with skates on, with broad shoulders and unruly golden curls sticking every which way and damp with sweat. This close Shane could make out his scent—smokey and woodsy, like a crackling campfire.
An alpha.
The realization made Shane stiffen, but only to try and not look too small under the heated gaze of the alpha's intense hazel eyes.
Silence had fallen between them, not tense or awkward, but electric and wild. Like a lightning storm.
And then, because Shane wasn't startled enough in that encounter, the alpha spoke.
"Oh, you were actually watching the puck?" His voice was deep and accented, words a little choppy. "I thought you were just checking me out. Is my mistake." And then he grins, all teeth and smug, eyes blazing.
Shane had gone pink under the intensity of the words, the scent, the swagger, before indignation crept up his spine with a shiver. "Of course I was watching! It's hard to miss when you're doing all those circus tricks on the ice instead of just trying to score."
The alpha tilted his head, eyes doing a slow, meaningful once over. "Do not worry, little omega. I do not have any problems with…scoring." And then he winked and skated away, chortling laughter echoing around the ice rink.
Shane had left the rink in a huff, embarrassed and (annoyingly) turned on. Who did that alpha think he was? Some stupid jackass with an ego the size of Saturn, apparently. Shane had sworn then and there that if ever saw the alpha again he'd give him a piece of his mind.
But the next time he saw the alpha, it was when he was out for dinner with Hayden and Rose. They were talking about gossip when a pretty lady plopped down right beside Rose and just—joined the conversation like she was apart of it from the very beginning. Shane figured it was someone Rose knew, so he didn't say anything but continued to sip at his water and pick away at his salad, when a scent getting closer almost knocked him out of his seat.
The alpha—Ilya Rozanov, as it turns out—followed right along with the pretty woman, and then another two guys had followed right after. But Shane only stared at Ilya, brows furrowed and annoyance making his scent tinge a bit on the sour end.
Ilya only winked at him, then promptly ignored him for the rest of the dinner.
What a fucking asshole.
And really, the rest was history. Shane would end up at the rink more often than not, studying in the stands or writing a paper. He'd go to every home game and then try and catch the results of the away games. Not because of Ilya. No way. Just—Shane liked hockey. He grew up watching hockey. Hockey was his sport, so he wanted to keep up to date on his school's team and how well they were doing.
During second year is when Harris, the very charming, very tech savvy omega boyfriend of Ilya's best friend Troy, started live streaming the away games. And it was from that Shane realized he may actually…kinda…be watching Ilya more than the games.
So yes, he knew he had a crush.
Has had one probably since that first fateful meeting in the ice rink.
And, okay, maybe he also sleptwithIlya. Just once! It was during an party after a home game win and Ilya was radiant. He was glowing. He danced, and he flirted, and he chatted. And Shane, with his single cup of jungle juice, had been enraptured. And he knew Ilya knew he was watching him. Couldn't take his damn eyes off the alpha all night practically. And Shane knew Ilya knew because Ilya was staring right back. And so they danced around the tension that built all evening, until Shane had left with a barely concealed head jerk and Ilya had nodded back.
The night was fantastic, in Shane's opinion. Ilya was an avid, passionate lover that constantly checked in. Always made sure Shane was comfortable, even with something as simple as moving to a different position. He was gentle when Shane needed him to be, and firm when Shane ended up begging for him to be. It was—perfect. Until Shane woke up to an empty dorm and no note, no text, nothing.
Ever since then, Shane had been more reserved when it came to interacting with Ilya. Mostly to protect himself, but also because he knew he was weak in the face of Ilya's charm. That it would take very little of the alpha's attention before Shane agreed to spend the night in his bed once more.
And he didn't want that.
Shane wanted more. Which was surprising, considering he always thought he'd focus solely on his work. On getting through pre-med, then med school. On fulfilling his dream. Not chase some knot head. But Shane spent long hours late at night thinking about Ilya, about the things he could do with Ilya, about just being with Ilya, and he realized he wanted that more than the solitary lifestyle he'd previously been aspiring to.
Too bad Ilya is a known playboy and wouldn't settle for something boring with Shane Hollander.
"Congrats on your win yesterday."
Ilya looks proud, veering on the side of preening, when Shane glances at him across the table. "You watched?"
He shakes his head. "Hayden called me last night." Ilya visibly deflates, like a puppet with it's strings cut. Shane doesn't know why he seems so invested in if Shane watched the game—he told Ilya he had an assignment.
"Ah, yes. Pike." Ilya wrinkles his nose, glaring down at his plate suddenly.
Shane frowns. He's about to ask what's wrong but Rose plops down into the seat beside him, effectively pulling his attention.
(He's too busy trying to pay attention to Rose's rant about this stupid play they're making her do that he doesn't notice Ilya offering him some of his chicken nuggets, but when Shane doesn't respond, starts putting one onto Shane's plate. Shane doesn't notice that the one chicken nugget he eats is being replaced by a new one every few seconds.)
Though Shane wants to keep his distance from Ilya, it appears his luck isn't quite so good.
Because even though they are in different courses, and Ilya has practice and games—
—he's suddenly everywhere.
Ilya is there when Shane gets to his job at the library, two steaming cups in hand from the campus Timmie's. One is steeped earl grey tea, one sugar and two milk that Ilya hands over with a very large smile. The other, well, Shane doesn't know, but it smells very sweet when Ilya takes a big sip of it.
Ilya is there during the breaks between classes when Shane is getting something to eat. Offering up some of Shane's favourites from the cafeteria that he'd snatched up quickly, like he got them specifically for Shane.
Obviously Ilya was there at the rink when Shane would go there to study. He'd skate around near Shane more often than before, always trying to do some weird new move and either failing and cursing, or stumbling over his feet. Which was weird, Shane thought, because Ilya was usually very graceful on skates.
Ilya is even there when Rose and Hayden convince Shane to go out one night, dressed in a gaudy looking flower print button up, three buttons undone and showing off so much of his chest that it makes Shane a little winded. Shane is sure Ilya is dressed like that to spend the evening with someone pretty and willing (like there's anyone not willing when it comes to someone as pretty and charming as Ilya), and tries not to let it get to him that it could be him if he simply just asked.
Shane ends up going home relatively early on that night, after catching sight of Ilya chatting it up with some pretty brunette near the bar, who doesn't seem to care one bit about personal space.
(He definitely doesn't see Ilya frowning as he watches Shane elbow his way through the crowd and out the door, shoulders sagging before turning back to the lady who keeps trying to talk to him and waving her off, before he stalks out of the bar and heads home. Alone.)
Shane has figured it out. Has finally figured out why Ilya is suddenly everywhere. Why he's always giving stuff to him, or offering to carry his bag (which is silly, since Ilya is usually also carrying his hockey bag too), or the multitude of other shit Ilya has been doing lately that confuse the heck out of him.
Ilya is trying to get him back into his bed.
It makes Shane go cold, then hot all over, when he thinks about it. Because that has to be the reason, right? Ilya never did any of this stuff before. Before they were friends. Before they—before they had sex.
So…he just wants another go at it. Another tumble in the sheets.
Well, Shane was already determined not to give in to the charming alpha. Now he's double determined.
Ilya only wants sex, and Shane isn't going to give him any.
Simple as that.
Shane does his best to keep at a distance from then on.
It's…maybe a little childish. How he ducks around corners when he spots Ilya down a hallway. Or how he'll spin on his heel and high tail it in the opposite direction if he sees Ilya across the quad. He'd somehow roped Hayden and Rose to help him out, distracting Ilya is Shane is nearby, or making sure Shane has the practice schedule for the hockey team so he can make sure to get anything done outside his dorm while Ilya is practicing.
Harris ends up stopping him in the library one day. "Hey, Shane."
"Oh, hey Harris." Shane was busy reading his anatomy textbook, going over what should be on the quiz on Thursday. "What's up?"
"This might be kind of a weird question," Harris rubs at the back of his head.
Frowning, Shane glances up and away from his book. "…Yeah?"
"Are you and Ilya, like..okay?"
Uh. Blinking, Shane straightens in his chair. Oh god, does Ilya's friends know that Shane is avoiding the alpha? Do they know why? It wouldn't be surprising. Ilya is known to flaunt his sex drive, quite often if Shane remembers correct. He can feel his ears start to burn as he tries to avoid the question. "What—uh, what do you mean? I just saw him today."
Not technically a lie. Shane had seen Ilya today. Just—from a distance. A very far, highly populated distance.
Harris seems to take his answer in just, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness. Ilya has been moping around a lot at the hockey house, so we all kinda thought you two were broken up or something. Haven't seen you around in a bit, so I just wanted to check in." Harris glances down at his phone and curses, already backing away before Shane can even parse what the fuck is going on. "Shit, I gotta go. Nice seeing you Hollzy, you should come to the game this weekend!"
And then he's gone, and Shane is left more confused than ever.
Broken up? Why would Ilya's friends think they were broken up. They weren't even together.
He puts the weird interaction out of his thoughts and instead goes back to focusing on his reading.
He doesn't end up going to the game that weekend.
Or any weekend after that either.
Classes are picking up and his professors have been assigning readings, essays and giving pop quizzes near constantly. Shane doesn't even have the time to go hang out with Rose, Hayden and J.J, let alone spend 3 plus hours watching a hockey game. No matter how much he may want to.
Because of how busy he gets though, he stops trying so hard to keep his distance from Ilya and instead just spends all of his time either in class, at the library, or in his room, studying and writing and making flash cards and covering every available surface with sticky notes.
So maybe he forgets to eat a few times. Big deal.
(He also forgets everything else he's supposed to do that doesn't revolve around his textbooks. Namely, his suppressants.)
it should be fine.
Exams come up quickly and Shane spends even more time studying, chalking up how crappy he feels to the lack of sleep and real food. He vows to eat something after this chapter, even sets an alarm so he knows to go.
Pretends the ache in his muscles is from being hunched over his desk for hours on end, and the dull throb in his temples is from eye strain. That his skin is only slightly balmy to the touch because he's in a small, stagnant dorm room without proper air flow.
(He's training to become a doctor, but Shane is terribly neglectful of his own mind, body and soul. Just don't tell his teachers.)
Shane finally drags himself out of his dorm and down to the cafeteria in search of food. He's been so cooped up in his room though that the light hurts his eyes and makes him stumble a bit, legs a little wobbly and muscles tense with the ache of not moving much.
Maybe I should just go back to my room, he thinks, a little sluggish.
"Damn, Hollander." Someone says to his left.
Shane pauses, glancing around before catching the guys gaze for a second, then slips it away again. "Uh, excuse me?"
The guy, who is tall and has broad shoulders, seems to posture up a bit now that Shane has given him attention. Not that Shane even really knows why, but still. "Have you always smelled this good? Or was it hiding under all that nerd that no one could tell?" He makes this honking sound that Shane assumes might be laughter.
Bristling, Shane glares at the guy—the alpha, now that Shane is really looking at him. "Did you need something? I'm a little busy."
Alpha frat bro guy grins, and he takes a slow, creepy scan of Shane from head to toe and back again. He even licks his lips, like one of the alphas Shane sees in the porn he watches once in a blue moon. It's much more unnerving in real life, and Shane can't help but tense and straighten to his full height at the obvious leering.
"Aww~ Come on, now. Someone that smells like that doesn't really wanna be left all by themself, right?" He takes a step closer, one hand reaching out like he's about to touch Shane.
Shane punches him. Right below the ribs, his fist connecting with the soft tissue of this asshole's diaphragm. He keels over, winded as he wheezes.
"It doesn't matter what anyone smells like, that doesn't give you or any other shitty alpha the right to be disgusting."
The alpha nods, jerkily but clear, and wanders away. He mumbles something about ungrateful bitch in heat and Shane is about to follow him for another punch to the gut when he hears someone clear their throat right behind him. Whirling around, fist clenched and ready for another asshole, he blinks when he spots Ilya staring at him with big, wondrous hazel eyes.
Shane tries not to scowl at him, but it's a near thing. "What?!"
"That was so hot, Hollander." Ilya states, simple and succinct.
Now Shane feels his ears heat up, embarrassed and, if he's being honest, partly enamoured. Clearing his throat, he glances around and sighs in relief when he doesn't spot anyone gathering around to watch the spectacle. "Thanks, I think." He scratches his neck, the scent glans slightly itchy suddenly. "I should go, I was just—I was grabbing food and that happened. So."
Ilya is still watching him.
Shane stares for a few extra moments before turning to head back in the direction of the caf when he hears Ilya inhale, sharp and sudden.
"Oh."
Shane ignores him and continues on his way.
But Ilya easily catches up, curling his long fingers around Shane's wrist and gently getting him to stop. "Wait, Shane—You—I think—Are you okay?" He sounds a little winded, like he's ran a hundred miles instead of just a few steps.
Shane glances at him with a raised brow. "I'm fine?" He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question, but Ilya is acting a little strange. Squinting slightly, he notices that Ilya's cheeks are a little flushed, and his pupils ever so slightly dilated. Frowning, Shane steps closer to the alpha and raises a hand to press against Ilya's forehead, checking on if he has a fever. "Are you okay? You look a little flushed. Are you sick? Have you been practising too much?"
A million thoughts run through his head then, the doctor in training coming first and then the worry, his feelings for Ilya making themselves known pretty quickly at the thought of Ilya being sick.
Ilya takes a slow, deep breath and then shakes his head, leaning a little into Shane's touch. He looks more disheveled now than he did two seconds ago, and Shane is really starting to worry. "Shanya, you shouldn't be walking around."
Shane bristles and tries to pull his hand back, but Ilya's grip is firm. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you could get hurt." Ilya heaves a sigh, closes his eyes tight and quietly counts in Russian until he seems to visibly relax. When he opens his eyes, his pupils aren't as blown, but his face is still a little ruddy. "You are going in to heat, Hollander. That is why the alpha bothered you before."
He's going—
What.
Wait.
Oh.
"Oh shit."
He was so busy with his studying and his exams that he totally forgot he skipped a dose of his injection last month. And probably pushing it this month if he's being honest. Jesus, no wonder he's being feeling so crappy. It's like now that his mind has an answer for why he's felt so lethargic the past few weeks, it all suddenly makes sense to him. The muscle aches, the cramps, the headache, the food sensitivity, the nesting.
Ilya nods. "Yes, oh shit. Come. You need to be alone." He says, turning on his heel with Shane's wrist limp in his hold.
Alone? Isn't this basically what Ilya has been trying to get from Shane for the past few months? Him. In bed. Only this time, Shane would be so out of his mind with lust that he wouldn't think twice about jumping the alpha, feelings be damned.
Ilya is efficient in cutting through campus as they rush back to Shane's dorm building. It's a secure omega/beta only dorm with locks on every door and two locked entrances, so Shane isn't worried once they get inside the front door. He lets himself be dragged up the steps to the third floor, mind a little hazy now that he's realized he's going into heat.
Damn, he thinks, now he has to defer his anatomy exam tomorrow.
"Okay, here you go." Ilya practically deposits him at his door, a lot more winded than Shane is and definitely getting affected by Shane's increasing pheromones. "You go inside, I will leave. Then call Rose or Pike when I get outside, okay?"
"Not J.J?" He can't help but inquire.
Ilya growls, voice hoarse when he spits, "no. No alpha."
Oh.
What if Shane wants an alpha to help him? It would make his heat go by much quicker.
But when he thinks about someone else touching him—like that sleazy alpha from earlier, or even his own friend J.J—he gets anxious and itchy.
Then he thinks about Ilya touching him, like his fingers encircling his wrist and Shane's palm on Ilya's forehead, and almost feels like he's floating. Like it's soft and meaningful and warm.
Like coming home.
Much as he doesn't like sounding weak, or needy, Shane can't help but ask the question that's been eating at him since they left the cafeteria building. "Not even you?"
Ilya seems to freeze completely, eyes wide and mouth agape.
Shane waits him out, skin feeling a little tight and achy, a coil of heat stirring low in his belly. Ilya normally smells like a crackling campfire, a little smokey, a little like wood. But the obvious arousal and Shane's own scent make him smell much more like a forest fire and a thunderstorm, all wrapped up together.
It's a bit heady, almost cloying, but Shane's mouth waters at the smell.
Ilya finally seems to reboot, hands ever so slightly shaking as he reaches for Shane. But he stops halfway. "I want…" he tapers off, looking unsure.
Shane takes a wobbly step closer, almost within reach of Ilya's outstretched hand but not quite. "I know. You just want sex." He does know. And though this goes against everything he's been worried about, been stressing about, been avoiding Ilya about, he can't help but want to let him in. "I know, so this can just be—"
"No." Ilya cuts him off, closing the rest of the distance between them so their chests press right against one another. "I want everything. Kisses, hand holding, breakfast and lunch and dinner. Dates. Want you to come to watch me play wearing my number and name so everyone knows I am yours."
Yours.
Oh fuck.
Shane swallows, throat dry. "Yeah?"
Ilya nods. His eyes are hooded and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. "Yes. Shane. I want—everything. If you will let me."
Shane isn't strong enough to deny him (or himself) of what they desire any longer.
He pulls Ilya into his room.
When his heat breaks two days later, they lay on Shane's bed in a heap of sweaty, naked limbs and soft, fond smiles. Ilya is tracing his freckles with a featherlight touch, silently counting them before starting over when he gets distracted by something.
It's nice.
This is nice.
"Troy will be annoying now." Ilya says randomly.
Frowning, Shane blinks. "What? Why?"
"Because him and Harris were the ones helping me court you. Now they will be annoying because it worked." Ilya blows a raspberry, but he's still grinning.
"Courting me?" Shane's thoughts run a mile a minute—all the food, the gifts, the carrying his bag and the invites to the games. "Oh my god."
Ilya bursts out laughing, rolling around on the bed as he holds his stomach.
Shane throws a pillow at him. "Shut up."
(He gets another wave of embarrassment when he remembers the weird conversation he had with Harris in the library those weeks ago, and sets Ilya off on another cackling spree. Shane hates him.)
(Shane loves him.)
🤍🏒🖤