Chapter Text
By the time William Charles Patrick Smith rolled into the San Jose Sharks' training camp, he was lugging around the heaviest piece of baggage a nineteen-year-old omega could own: his virginity.
In the ecosystem of Boston College, leaving with your V-card intact is a statistical anomaly that should be studied by NASA. To graduate from BC a virgin, you usually have to be one of two things: an uber-religious promise ring fucker who gets married at twenty just so they can finally bust a nut, or someone truly asexual—and even they usually bang a few campus sluts just to double-check their settings.
The thing was, Will had tried so hard to be a campus slut. He had the full starter kit: the golden-blond hair, the kind of ass that made Alphas walk into walls, and a body tuned by D1 athletics. Outside of a hockey rink, his decision-making skills were famously trash. He was a Catholic-raised Omega left to his own devices on a campus crawling with Alpha athletes. Logically, he should have been accidentally impaling himself on a dick by the end of freshman orientation.
But here he was, pro contract signed, jersey ready, and 100% a virgin.
Well... okay, technically he was like, 25% virgin. But who has the time to explain the advanced analytics of three failed attempts at cherry-popping?
The first time Will Smith Hockey tried to lose the V-card, he was eighteen, vibrating with hormones, and had managed to lure a very promising Alpha back to his dorm room.
He wasn't a hockey player. He was a Defensive End with the football team, because for some reason, all the Alphas on Will's own team decided that they couldn't fuck him.
"Sorry, Smitty, we signed a pact," Cutter had said with a casual shrug earlier that week. "Can't stick your dick in a socket and expect not to get electrocuted."
"What does that even mean?" Will had exclaimed.
They were in the locker room, and Will was standing there in nothing but his garters and a jockstrap, yet his teammates wouldn't even look at him. They were treating him like he was Medusa—like if they caught even a glimpse of him, they'd turn to stone right there in their skates.
"They're calling your pussy electric, Smitty!" Ryan yelled from his stall. Leno had never been the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but he was always the loudest. "It's a compliment!"
"No, dumbass," Gabe said with a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "They know that if they all start fucking the team Omega, someone is going to catch feelings. Then the chemistry goes to shit, and the team suffers."
"And no Omega piece of ass is worth having a bad season," Fowler added from his corner of the room. A chorus of grunts and nods of agreement followed.
"You all suck," Will snapped. He stripped down to nothing, heading for the showers. On his way out, he gave his own ass a loud, defiant slap. "Also, this Omega ass is the only reason you're gonna have a winning season. Fourth overall, baby!"
And that was how he'd wound up in his dorm room with Brett.
Brett was a Defensive End for the Eagles, and that was perfectly fine with Will. Football players—especially Alpha football players—were ten billion times hotter than hockey players anyway. They were all like 6'6" and three hundred pounds of pure, corn-fed muscle. Compared to the wiry, chirpy Alphas in the locker room, Brett was a mountain.
Brett also had a dick that was as thick as a beer can.
Will's eyes went wide the minute the shorts hit the floor. He was so stunned that it took him a moment to realize the thing was still... floppy.
"Oh god. It's not even hard yet," Will said, sounding a bit terrified. He scooted back on the bed, giving the monster some breathing room. It had to be nine, maybe ten inches. If that thing reached full mast, Will was pretty sure it would have its own area code.
"Nah, I'm not really turned on yet. Can you give me some throat first? That'll get me going," Brett said, casually peeling off his socks. "Also, can we do anal? I love anal."
Will tried not to take offense to an Alpha not instantly getting hard just from the thought of having sex with him. He had more pressing issues anyway. He stared at the meat-mountain in front of him. He wasn't even sure he wanted that monster in his room, let alone his ass.
"Nah. You get hand or mouth," Will said, making up his mind with the speed of a two-on-one breakaway. "I have a game tomorrow and I'm not explaining to Coach why I can't skate straight."
Before Brett could protest, Will spit into his palm and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He whimpered a little, noticing that his hand wouldn't even close all the way around it. His pussy tightened at the realization, and he squeezed his thighs together, a silent prayer of thanks that he'd decided to keep both his holes closed for business.
He had at least 9.5 reasons why he wasn't about to lose his virginity to Brett or that... thing.
"Fucking Omega cock-tease," Brett grumbled.
Will tightened his grip—reaching a level that was probably borderline painful—but the Alpha just let out a low, appreciative grunt. The cock in his hand was already starting to swell, growing even thicker as blood rushed to fill it.
"It's hand and mouth or the door, knothead," Will snapped. He leaned down, widening his jaw as far as it would go. The head alone was massive, and he had to work his mouth around it carefully, his lips stretching obscenely. He let his tongue swirl around the tip, tasting the salt of pre-cum already beading there.
Brett's hand came down to tangle in Will's golden hair, not forcing, just holding. "Fuck, your mouth is so hot."
Will hollowed his cheeks and sucked, working just the head while his hands stroked the impressive length he couldn't fit. Drool was already starting to leak from the corners of his mouth—there was just too much cock to keep it all contained. He pulled off with a wet pop, using both hands now to work Brett's shaft, twisting and pulling in opposite directions.
"You like that, you fucking Alpha?" Will purred, looking up through his lashes. His own cock was hard now, pressing against his jeans, and he could feel how wet he was getting, slick soaking through his underwear.
"Get back on it," Brett growled, and Will obliged, taking him deeper this time. He relaxed his throat, trying to take more, but gagged when Brett's cock hit the back of his throat. Still, he kept going, bobbing his head, drool running down his chin and onto Brett's heavy balls.
Brett's hips started to thrust shallowly, and Will braced himself on the Alpha's thick thighs, letting him fuck into his mouth while his hands continued to work the base. The room filled with wet, obscene sounds—slurping, gagging, Brett's increasingly desperate groans.
"Gonna cum," Brett warned, his grip tightening in Will's hair. "You swallow or—"
Will pulled off just enough to rasp, "In my mouth," before diving back down.
Brett came with a roar, his cock pulsing as he filled Will's mouth with thick ropes of cum. It was too much—Will swallowed frantically but some still leaked out, running down his chin. He kept sucking through Brett's orgasm, milking every last drop until the Alpha was twitching with oversensitivity.
When he finally pulled off, Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning up at Brett with that cocky smile. "Not bad for a first timer, huh?"
So, yeah. Will didn't lose his virginity to Brett and his ten-inch beer can. But he did give his first blowjob, which, by his own advanced hockey analytics, meant he was officially only 75% a virgin.