Chapter Text
Ilya glances around the shop trying not to scowl so fiercely. It wasn’t the fault of the shop staff that he had to be here right now. Still, there was no place he’d rather be less than this overcrowded and underfunded OM-shop. His lip curls as he notices the condition of the omegas for sale. They were too thin, barely clothed, if they were clothed at all, and smelled like they hadn’t had a good scrubbing in a long time.
“Hey, Roz, what about this one?” Cliff Marlow shouts at him from across the shop, bending down in front of a cage holding a pretty girl omega with blonde curls that rivaled Ilya’s own. She starts grinding her hips suggestively when she notices she has their attention, moving her tiny see-through skirt aside so Ilya could see her shiny wet cunt. Ilya bares his teeth and shakes his head moving down a row of omegas advertised as ‘almost virgin’ whatever that meant.
Cliff jogs over to Ilya so they can browse the row together, showing a lot more interest than the begrudging Alpha next to him. Cliff sticks his hands through the bars grazing the eager omegas as they pass, laughing at the desperate creatures all trying to catch their attention. He coos at a soft looking girl who can’t be more than seventeen, probably freshly presented from the way her cheeks still flushed with lasting heat fever. She does an awkward shimmy, thrusting her chest out to show off her perky breasts, Ilya ignores her like he did all the others.
Ilya only brought Cliff with him on this errand so management couldn’t say he wasn’t putting in an effort to listen to their request. Cliff would vouch that Ilya had made his best effort but there were no omegas that he connected with and maybe that would be enough for them to drop this silly idea.
So what if he occasionally got into brawls after a particularly annoying loss (or lately even after a particularly good win.) He didn’t need to dump his pheromones into an omega to relieve his stress. Fucking hot beta women, often several at once, or even the occasional beta man, driving one of his many sports cars way over the speed limit and drinking ridiculously expensive vodka was just as good. Omegas left a sour taste in his mouth. He hated how pathetic they were. There was no sport in sleeping with an omega, no game, no victory. Just a body desperate to be filled by anyone with a knot. It was disgusting. Ilya learned that lesson when he was only twelve years old.
Ilya’s mother had been an omega, Ilya could barely remember her smile anymore. Instead he remembered finding her lifeless on the floor of his father’s bedroom after a night of him passing her around like a party favor. He remembers rushing to her crumpled up cold body and shaking her, begging her to open her eyes. He remembers his father backhanding him across the face.
“Alpha’s do not waste tears on omegas.” He remembers the shouting. He remembers his half-brother sneering at him. “Pathetic little faggot.” The hushed angry voices of his father and his father’s wife, “ He is a disgrace to Alphas, a disgrace to Russia.” He remembers the cold laughter when he asked, no begged, to know what happened. To try to understand why his mama had been taken from him. “She wanted it, begging and pleading for cock until it choked her. All she was good for and she couldn’t even do that right.”
No expensive vodka can erase those memories. No sports car can drive fast enough for him to escape their scorn even when he’s continents away. He will never be good enough for them he knows that now, but he can be better than them. He earns more money than they could ever dream, he is the best hockey player of his generation, and for all his other vices he has never once touched an omega. He doesn’t plan to change that now.
Even management couldn’t technically force him to bond with an omega he wasn’t compatible with, everyone knows how that had gone for the New York Admirals when they tried to force Scott Hunter to take on an omega he didn’t want, convinced it would help improve his game. Hunter and his beta partner, Kip, were still recovering from the scandal of the unconscious barely alive omega found in Hunter’s living room. Rumor was Hunter had gone nearly feral finding an omega in his bed after a loss on home ice. The girl only survived thanks to Hunter’s secret partner, Kip coming in and calming him down. Cliff swore that Kip had some kind of magic juice to tame a raging rut induced Alpha. No one particularly cared that Scott was dating a beta man after the shock of wholesome Captain America going feral and losing his mind over a simple omega. Ilya noticed that no one talked about what happened to the omega afterwards, no one cared. She was just an omega, unimportant.
“Sir, if these ones aren’t to your liking we have some used omega trade-ins, in the next room that might be more to your taste.” Ilya frowned at the shop assistant who was just doing her job. “Of course you will have to retrain them yourself to your specifications but most of our trade-ins come well equipped with knowledge about how to please their alphas.” The assistant stammers less and less sure with Ilya glaring at her. “They are also deeply discounted of course.” She finishes lamely.
“My boy doesn’t need a loose hole and sloppy seconds.” Cliff says, putting his arm around Ilya’s shoulders. “Where is the merchandise you save for your VIP’s? The star of the Raiders deserves the best!”
Ilya shrugs Cliff’s arm off his shoulders and turns back to the employee, “Just these two rooms?” He barks at the girl, Rose, her nametag said. At least they were almost done. He couldn’t wait to get back to his penthouse and have a nice cold drink. Tonight he was going to break out the expensive stuff, he needed it.
Rose hesitates, “We do have another room, it’s where we keep our umm more unique omegas.” Rose leads the two men through the shop, Ilya ignores the omegas they pass, all whining and grinding trying to get him to notice them. The scents are overwhelming and cloyingly sweet. He breathes through his mouth to get rid of the disgusting taste. They go through a door and Ilya sees the “used omegas” they are not grinding in here, they all have dead eyes and stare listlessly as he passes by. Unlike the front room that advertised “practically virgin” these omegas have clearly been through it. Many have permanent marks on their skin, bruises around their wrists, scars around their necks from too tight collars, loose holes that don’t look like even a knot could fill them.
Even Cliff isn’t having fun in this room. His chuckles died as soon as the door swung shut behind them. He looks taken aback at the state of the omegas in here. “We do a lot of rehabilitation here,” Rose explains softly, “Usually an omega is adopted for life but in the rare cases when they get returned, we try to get them back into good condition to rehome.” Ilya glances around the room, whatever “rehabilitation” the shop was doing wasn’t enough to cover up the stench of misery. He sees two betas in all white clothes come out of a third room, they carry a tray of sex toys, dildos, clamps, and plugs of various sizes.
He watches them drag an omega male out of his cage, the omega doesn’t resist at all. They lead him to a corner of the room and Ilya sees a breeding bench set up. The omega doesn’t make so much as a whimper as the betas strap him down. They take one of the larger plugs off their tray and thrust it into the boy’s gaping hole. He doesn’t seem to notice. Ilya turns away in disgust. “If you’d step through here,” Rose calls from the other side of the room. She’s standing by the door the two betas had emerged from.
Ilya braces himself for more of the same, overeager or abused omegas. His visit to this OM-shop had not changed his opinion on the use of omegas in his life. Cliff pats his arm and the two of them make their way across the room trying not to glance at any of the omegas left abandoned for whatever sorry reason.
To Ilya’s surprise the third room is nothing like the other two. For one it’s dark in here, the lights are being kept dimmed. It’s also quiet, not the same dreaded quiet of the “rehabilitation” room, a soft quiet he looks around and sees a white noise machine in the corner. This room also smells different than the other two, there’s no urgent desperate need like the first room, and no sickly broken smell from the second. It’s almost pleasant. Ilya finds himself peering into the pens here with actual interest.
The room is small, only one side of the room has omegas occupying the space, the rest of the room looks like it holds more tools and supplies, probably for the used omegas. Ilya takes his time in here, he looks into the first cage, and sees a male omega maybe around eighteen. He has soft brown hair and blue eyes, he smiles shyly at Ilya but makes no move towards him, happy to play with the large knotting toy they have left in his cage for him. Ilya passes the next cage, a stunning dark omega girl in her mid twenties looks back at him full of confidence. She smirks at him and licks the bars seductively. It doesn’t reek of desperation like the omegas in the first room. Ilya shakes his head and smiles at her before moving on.
The third cage floors him. The most beautiful man he’s ever seen is sitting huddled on a threadbare pillow. The omega is naked, like many of the others but he isn’t flaunting his nakedness as a weapon nor is he particularly trying to hide it. He clutches his knees to his chest, but his small soft cocklet is visible through his legs, like all omegas he is hairless, his pink cocklet twitches slightly under the intense gaze of the Alpha staring at him through the bars of his cage. The omega lowers his head, his black hair falling into his eyes. He looks up at Ilya through his bangs and squeaks, looking down again immediately, submissively shuffling to try to make himself smaller, which is impossible for an omega of his size. Ilya chuckles, finding him endearing. He glances at the front of the cage to see the paperwork hanging on the door.
“Shane.” He says out loud reading the name. The omega looks back up at him, responding to his name, he blushes a deep red, Ilya is amused to see the blush going down his neck towards his navel. Shane lowers his eyes again, his cocklet is half hard now and Ilya sees a drop of slick at the tip. He catches a faint scent of pine, and something else, something familiar he can’t name.
“Do you want to meet him?” Rose asks softly. Ilya startles, he had forgotten she was there. “Yes,” he answers quickly, trying to cover up his embarrassment of being taken by surprise. She nods and gestures for him to step back. Ilya moves backwards to stand next to Cliff who is looking at him with surprise.
“You sure about this one? A dude? I didn’t picture you for the type, Rozy.” Ilya rolls his eyes at his friend watching as Rose secures a shock collar around Shane’s pale neck. He growls softly not liking her hands fastening a collar on his omega. “This is just standard procedure, she tells Ilya through the bars, “so he doesn’t lose control at the scent of your pheromones up close.” She produces a leash and clips it to the little d-ring on the collar. “C’mon Shane, let’s get you to the meeting room so you can spend some time with this nice Alpha.” She coos softly at the shy omega. Shane doesn’t appear to want to budge and Rose has to whisper gently to him coaxing him to stand.
When Shane finally stands begrudgingly, Ilya can see that the pillow below him is soaked all the way through with slick. His backside and upper thighs are shiny and positively dripping.
Ilya lets out a loud guffaw and chuckles harder when the omega catches his eye and glares at him. He is a deep red now, and Ilya finds him even more appealing.
“Okay, I’m going to ask that you two stand back and wait here while I get Shane cleaned up and ready to meet you in the designated waiting room.” Rose rubs soothing hands over Shane’s shoulders while directing her words towards the still laughing Alpha.
She hopes her instincts are correct about this Alpha, Shane is special, he is the sweetest omega she has seen in the shop in a long time and he deserves a really good home. She worries for a moment that maybe she was wrong and this Alpha is as cruel as all the others but she catches Shane’s eye and he seems settled. Whatever he saw in the Alpha’s laughter hadn’t spooked him. She tugs on his leash to get him to follow her out, and Shane obediently falls into step behind her. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when neither Alpha makes a move to touch or grab Shane as he passes them.
“Don’t clean him up too much, Rose.” Ilya says, her name sounding like a taunt in his accent. “I like him all wet and sticky.”