Chapter Text
There aren’t any rules against omegas playing in the NHL. It's actually encouraged to have at least one omega in the team to level out the hormones and aggressive atmosphere. As long as the omega is almost always benched and only allowed on ice when the stakes aren't high.
The stereotypes about omegas, how they cannot win a fight against alphas or betas, because they lack the needed aggression, are rooted deeply in the hockey world.
Shane always knew he was good, better than his friends and teammates, with whom he used to play. He loves the sport and wants to achieve a lot in it.
So, when he presented at 16 as an omega, both he and his mother knew that if his potential was not to be wasted, they needed a plan. For his mom and dad, the presentation changed nothing about Shane, however, the same couldn’t be said for the outside world.
Shane had a big future before him, and he loved the sport more than anything else. His mum always told him he was destined for great things.
Shane never believed the stereotypes about omegas. His presentation only cemented his beliefs. There was nothing that changed within Shane, mentally or physically, after he presented. His physique was the same, his mental resilience and discipline haven’t changed. He was the same person before and after.
But the truth was, the society wouldn’t see it like that. Because of his sweeter scent and the fact that he now has heat a few times a year, changes everything about how people perceive him.
So, it was decided. He went on expensive suppressants that mute his scent and regulate his cycle, and with the use of very high-quality scentless soaps and specialty deodorants, Shane passes for a typical beta with a weak smell.
Posing as beta also comes with its downsides, as they are still considered weaker and less aggressive than alphas. However, there are no encouragements for betas to stop playing hockey. Several excellent beta hockey players have already proven the skill and usefulness of this class.
This road is already paved. Shane, by pretending to be beta, doesn’t have to prove something to everyone, he is simply accepted.
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Everything in Shane's life is on the right track. His future in the NHL is clear before him. All is as it should be.
That’s it, until he meets the Russian player number 81, Ilya Rozanov.
Rozanov is an alpha through and through. You don’t even need to smell him to know that. His body language speaks for itself. His posture screams dominance, he is arrogant. Asking anyone brave enough for a challenge. He speaks, even in a language he barely knows, with confidence and sureness.
It’s something that Shane knows he could never copy. He may pretend to be beta, which is passable with his reserved personality, logical thinking and resilience. But he could never pretend to be alpha. He is too awkward for it, he always must remind himself to stand straighter.
Simply said he lacks the charisma that alphas seem to naturally possess.
However, all that fades away when he stands on ice. Shane will fight for the win of his team with all his being. He is calculated, efficient, merciless and precise in his aim.
On the ice, for Shane, it's easy and natural. The outside world is the one where he must pretend.
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For some unfathomable reason, Shane stood in some dark alley, watching Rozanov smoke. He immediately notices that the Russian player is not wearing a scent-blocking patch.
The smell of smoke is reacting weirdly with Rozanov’s scent and for another unexplainable reason, it irritated Shane so that he couldn’t stop himself.
"You shouldn’t be smoking here." Shane couldn’t care less about which area was designated for smoking. He just wanted to smell Rozanov without any other distracting elements.
He didn’t understand what was going on with him.
"Okay." Even Shane, who sometimes has problems understanding intonation and other verbal and nonverbal clues, could easily hear the disinterest in Rozanov's answer.
And because Shane himself couldn’t predict his next move, his mouth ran faster than his brain, and he continued to embarrass himself. " I wanted to meet you."
Ilya just looks at him. Please, somebody, stop him. Don’t let him talk again. But the luck wasn’t on his side, something was blocking his brain from making logical decisions. Probably, the whiff of Rozanov’s scent that he could catch mixed within the smell of smoke.
Shane just smiled stupidly. " You are an awesome player to watch."
He had never smelled Rozanov before, they were never so close to each other. He really smelled great.
Rozanov shuffled against the wall, and that's when Shane understood that Rozanov could not smell him. That he isn’t feeling the same infatuation as Shane. He is standing there staring at the Russian and talking like a weirdo.
"Okay, bye." Shane decided that a quick escape was his best choice...
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Shane really tried not to think about the encounter. But who is he kidding? In reality, he spent more time trying not to think about the way Rozanov was standing there, looking at Shane with his deep eyes, about the way light from the street caught his face and-
Shane stopped himself before he replayed the moment in his head again and again.
The worst part about all of this was the lack of people he could talk to about his feelings, and he as hell wasn’t telling his parents.
So instead, he spent time spirally in his own head.
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It was 3 am, and he wasn’t sleeping. With hockey and ...and the other thing in the form of a pretty Russian player that he decided should not be named, Shane was left lying wide awake. Like any sensible young athlete, he decided to go to the hotel gym and exercise the emotions away.
When he walked into the gym was beautifully empty. Shane breathed a sigh of relief.
He hopped on the treadmill and started running. After some time, the exercise helped, he forgot about everything and just focused on breathing in and out. Just as his mind finally settled, he heard the door to the gym open.
Shane is an expert at minding his own business, and there is no urge in him to look up and see who came in.
However, as fate had it, the newcomer didn’t have the same plan. Shane heard someone stepping on the treadmill next to him, and before he managed to look, the new scent in the room exposed the newcomer as Rozanov.
It was otherworldly without the smell of cigarettes ruining it.
Shane looked over and watched as Rozanov started running at a higher speed than him. And look, Shane is a great hockey player, he wouldn’t be where he is if he weren’t competitive. Making not the most mature decision, he sped up to run faster and show Rozanov, he will not be intimidated.
There were many reasons people compared them to each other. Rozanov wouldn’t be beaten that easily either, so he sped up as well. They continued to race each other for some time until they were just sprinting.
The deadly tempo they set couldn’t be maintained forever, and without any agreement, they stopped running and stepped off the treadmill. Huffing from excretion, Shane realized he was actually enjoying this. And by the grin on Rozanov's face, he enjoyed their little competition as well.
The sprinting session left them breathless, and both of them decided to sit down on the floor.
Facing each other, Shane was high on endorphins from running as well as from Rozanov's scent. The exercise session only enhanced his pheromones. Shane felt a little floaty and high on the musky alpha smell.
They started a small banter about Montreal and Boston hockey teams. Shane was staring at Rozanov, again left completely stupid in his presence, when Rozanov lent him his water.
As Rozanov came closer and passed Shane the bottle, their fingers touched.
At the same moment, Rozanov's face changed. He lost the easy grin and smug look, and his stare became more focused.
Sharp.
His pupils blew a little. Shane noticed this immediately because he was staring so hard at his face. Shane had been so focused on Rozanov and not himself that it took him a moment to figure out the reason for the behaviour change.
Scent!
He could smell himself a little bit-
Shane didn’t have his scent-blocking patches. He always peeled them off before sleeping, and that’s what he was trying to do before he decided to go to the gym. And he hasn’t reapplied them. Hadn’t even thought about it, too lost in his mind he was.
The sprinting thing they did. Oh god, he started sweating a lot, and his scent must have started to leak.
And Rozanov knows! He must know.
He was left frozen until Rozanov started to shift. Shane quickly got to his feet. Mumbled about seeing each other in the future and quickly ran away.
Oh god-
It was becoming a tradition, him running away from Rozanov.
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Safe to say, Shane didn’t get any sleep that night.
The next day, he was a nervous wreck, because Rozanov knew. He knew Shane was an omega. There was no way he could have mistaken Shane's scent for anything else. Shane was, in this sense, the most typical omega with the most typical soft and sweet nectar scent known to the world.
He was so scared and ashamed of himself for being so stupid. For going exercising without patches. He couldn’t make himself tell his parents. He felt so stupid.
If Rozanov went and told someone, it could jeopardize his future. He may still get drafted, or he may not.
Even if you take being an omega out of the equation, Shane pretended to be someone he wasn’t, and the teams don’t take well to lying and dishonesty.
But nothing happened, nobody came to him that day.
Or the next.
A week went by, then a month, with no breaking news about his designation.
As time went on, Shane's anxieties started to fade away until he almost forgot about the whole ordeal.
Almost is the critical word.
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They are about to shoot and add together. Shane and Rozanov.
To say that Shane is a wreck would be an understatement of the century. He wanted to decline, but first of all, he doesn’t have the standing to decline offers. Secondly, what reason would he give? He couldn’t tell the truth to anyone.
So, he prepares himself for the worst.
In the end, it's all for nothing. Rozanov meets him on the ice, acts unbothered and doesn’t bring anything that happened up.
Shane was at first so high-strung, but after they made them do the same pose repeatedly, he started to relax and even got bored.
They are looking at each other, the ad director tells them not to laugh, and Shane makes his greatest mistake. He looks up at Rozanov, who promptly starts giggling like a little girl. The whole thing is so absurd. Shane bursts out laughing as well.
They laugh together. It’s like a repeat of last time in the gym. When they grinned at each other after their little race. Shane wonders how all their interactions may start with this underlying tension and end with them both laughing and having fun.
Shane, as always, doesn’t know how this is possible.
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The shooting ends, and Shane hurries off the ice to clean and dress himself. Before he finishes in the shower, Rozanov comes into the room and goes to the stall right next to Shane.
Two things happen at that exact moment.
Shane notices how the whole room gets hotter due to Rozanov's presence and pheromones permeating the air. He must have removed the patch he had on for the ad, and now Shane can smell him.
Second, Shane gets hard.
It’s the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to him. He is used to showering with other guys. Never in his life has he ever felt attracted to any of his teammates, not to say got hard.
Seeing Rozanov's backside, his flexing his muscles and the full view of his ass that completely breaks Shane’s world.
This is the most absurd situation Shane has ever experienced. He doesn’t know what to do and ends up just standing there, semi-hard and staring.
Third time. It's the third time that Shane’s world just stopped when in the presence of Rozanov. Who is currently turning and sweeping his gaze unhurriedly over Shane from top to bottom.
He calmly sets his eyes on Shane's dick and watches with intent. Somehow, this does something for Shane, and he gets fully hard instantly.
Before Shane can run away again. Ilya moves his hand to his crotch. Shane notices he is also getting hard.
Oh god, he is getting hard by looking at Shane's dick. It's so unbelievable, Shane is starting to wonder if he fell on the ice, hit his head and died.
He is promptly brought back to reality when Rozanov moves his hand and strokes himself once, then twice. Shane really must be dead, this cannot be happening.
The scent of lust and arousal is so potent in the shower room and leads to another thing that again never happened to Shane outside of the privacy of his room.
Slick starts to slide down his neck. Until that moment, Rozanov couldn’t smell Shane's arousal, thanks to the waterproof patch. However, no neck can hide the smell of wetness.
Rozanov notices immediately.
His reaction is instant. He stops stroking himself he turns off the water, and to Shane’s greatest confusion, grabs a towel and hands it to Shane?
What?
"Not here, no one can smell you," he starts ushering Shane, who is still a little bit out of it.
"What’s your room number?" He asks him briskly. When Shane remains quiet, he repeats himself.
"Hollander, room number."
Shane obediently lists his room number, which visibly pleases Rozanov. He somehow lost the intensity and regained the smug look. He looks very handsome, Shane thinks to himself.
"I will knock," and then he just leaves.
Simple like that.
Shane feels like he will combust.