Page 38 of Full Body Hit, Part 2 (Alpha Omega Hockey #6)

AUSTON

A uston was relieved that his family had acted welcoming during the zoom call with Chase, tucking the secret of their disapproval away from his mate.

It wasn’t Chase’s fault—it wasn’t him as a person they disapproved of, but how young he was—how old Auston was in comparison.

Auston was glad Chase was out with Sammy and Noah the day he’d told his sister about his relationship—about exactly who Chase was and, more importantly, his age.

“You’re not serious.”

“Look—”

“He’s twenty-one ?” she repeated. “What the hell do you have in common with a twenty-one-year-old? That’s…I mean…”

Auston slumped forwards on the couch, staring at his socked feet. “We both play hockey,” he said even though he knew that wasn’t the kind of ‘in common’ she meant.

“Auston. Jesus Christ…he’s a child!”

“Okay, that’s not true. Shut up, I don’t just mean because he’s legally…available or whatever.”

“Ew.”

“He’s gone through a lot, okay? His mom’s a fucking psycho. I don’t wanna get into it, it’s not my place to tell, but he’s not a child.”

His sister sighed long and hard. “I don’t care how ‘mature’ you say he is—your twenties are for figuring shit out. Having different experiences. Exploring the world. Not being goddamn mated .”

Auston’s jaw hurt from how hard he was grinding his teeth.

How the fuck could he argue with that when he’d thought it all himself?

He didn’t disagree with the theory behind what she was saying, but…

“He wants it, Ariana. And I know you’re gonna say that he doesn’t know what he wants, but if that ever changes—if he doesn’t want this anymore, I’m not gonna trap him here with me. ”

His sister made a small, pained noise. “Yeah? And where is that gonna leave you?”

More broken-hearted than he had ever been in his goddamn life.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. You don’t know him, but I trust him, okay?

He’s…he’s special. And I wouldn’t have mated him if it weren’t for his medical condition, but the bond…

it’s fucking strong. I didn’t trick him into it.

” He’d only told his sister about Chase’s pheromone imbalance—with his permission—and would wait as long as needed for Chase to feel comfortable enough to tell Auston’s parents.

“I know you didn’t. I just…it’s just kind of fucking weird, I’m sorry. He’s so young. But I’m also looking after you , you know?”

A childish part of him wanted to fight back— It’s not fucking weird. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me . But Auston understood what she meant. “Just—please don’t give him a hard time about it, okay? He doesn’t have a lot of family. Or any, really. So just be nice.”

“Obviously I’m gonna be nice. When haven’t I been nice?”

“Do you want a list?”

The conversation had devolved from there, but she’d kept her promise during the video call with Chase, keeping her tone and questions light.

His parents had been less concerned. There was a twelve-year age gap between them, his mom being nineteen when they’d met. They’d courted for a long time, though, only getting mated after his mom had gotten a job opportunity in America and they’d immigrated from Iran.

Honestly, they were just happy Auston wasn’t going to die alone, which should probably be insulting, but Auston had bigger things to worry about.

Like the fact that he was fucking mated now. Forever, hopefully. With the love of his life. Who he was also living with now.

Worry was the wrong word to describe how he felt towards those developments, actually. He was busy, sure, what with the move and all, but it was fucking…amazing.

Chase had opened up in a way Auston didn’t even know he was waiting for. He was more affectionate, more vulnerable, more attentive. It was partly the fact that they could scent each other, partly that they could feel the strength of the bond, but it was also just…security.

Auston wasn’t going anywhere—he hoped he was proving that every day, and it seemed to be settling Chase. Making him go further into his feelings, both in and out of bed.

Auston hadn’t really been that kinky in his previous relationships, but he knew enough to be somewhat familiar with the theory of subspace. He’d never seen someone reach it, though, until Chase.

It was fucking beautiful.

The memory of him sitting on his cock for hours, sighing dreamily into Auston’s neck, loopy and hazy and limp in Auston’s eyes—it had been both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Terrifying because Auston had never experienced someone giving themselves over so completely, body and mind. Even if someone asked him to describe it, Auston would never be able to put into words how it felt to have Chase on his lap, small and open, vulnerable to anything the Alpha wanted.

And Auston really could have done anything . And that was it, wasn’t it? That was the problem with their dynamic. With their age gap. With the fact that Auston had already bitten Chase.

Auston was in a position to do things to Chase that the Omega wouldn’t realise were bad until it was too late.

It was terrifying and, even more than that, exhilarating.

Because Auston had the power to do harm, but he was going to do good instead.

As much as he was capable of, he was going to make sure that when Chase was like that—trusting, malleable, dozing on his chest, on his cock; when Chase gave over control, Auston was going to use it to make Chase feel as if he were flying.

He was going to take care of Chase. To protect him.

Even from himself.

***

There were a lot of great things about being mated. The closeness. The trust. The synchronicity. The sense of safety.

But there was one thing that fucking sucked, and it was other shithead Alphas in the league that were stuck fifteen years in the past, when hollering at an Omega about being ‘desperate for it’ was still somehow acceptable.

“Do I need to bench you?” Coach was staring at him from across the desk in his tiny office.

“No,” Auston grunted, flexing his hand. His knuckles had split open— again —after his third fight in two weeks.

Coach let out a gust of breath. It sounded eerily similar to his sister’s ‘ I care about you, but you’re an idiot ’ sigh.

“I get that it’s hard to deal with the comments being thrown at Chase, but we didn’t bring you over to this team so you could be a goddamn enforcer.

We need you out on the ice, not the fucking penalty box. You’re costing us points, Auston.”

Auston’s stomach curdled. “That’s…come on, Coach.”

“No, son, I’m not about to sugarcoat this for you. We’re losing the race for the wild card spot to the Tulsa Tornadoes, and your penalties are not fucking helping.”

He’s my mate , Auston wanted to argue. How the fuck was he supposed to keep his head on straight when Alphas were leering at Chase, commenting on his scent, how if he wanted a Daddy so bad the Alpha would have—

Auston was getting heated just thinking about it. About how Chase would shrink up and blush and grit his teeth, spark knocked out of his eyes.

It was fucking disgusting. Those guys deserved to be beat.

The thing was, Chase wasn’t happy about it either.

“You gotta stop,” he said that night. “We have to start winning. Please .”

Auston had never thought of himself as a particularly impulsive person. He had discipline. Adhered to his diet during the season, didn’t drink much, kept to his training schedule even in the off-season.

But God was it fucking torture to keep it inside when anybody made a comment about Chase.

He managed it, though. Eventually. Coach put them on different lines, and there Auston was on the bench, staring at Chase.

He could sense the change in in his mate’s demeanour, the way his scent went sour.

Even in the mess of all the other players, sweaty and pumped up with adrenalin, he could pick up his mate’s scent as if he were right beside him.

A few games ago, he would have pummelled the guy the first chance he could.

This time, he took a deep breath, held it in his chest, and vowed to win the fucking game so he could ruin that asshole’s day.

It worked. Chase noticed, too, sweet in the car after the game, kissing him softly with a, “Thank you, Daddy,” like Auston needed recognition for doing the fucking minimum, but he’d take it.

Sometimes, taking care of Chase was listening to him instead of his own instincts.

***

A 3-1 win against the Halifax Lynx. An overtime win against the Portland Orcas. And then, at home, a brutal 7-2 loss against the Tulsa Tornadoes, who they’d desperately needed to beat—they were the ones battling with them for the wild card spot.

It was fucking demoralising. It wasn’t as if Auston hadn’t gone through shit like that before—brutal pummellings, the types of disappointments that sat heavy in the stomach and made him sick for days.

It’d been a long time since he felt this type of desperation, though, things slipping out of his control, Auston perpetually unable to do enough.

The shitty comments towards Chase weren’t frequent, but they were often enough that they just added pressure to the pot, cranking the heat up until it felt as if he were going to blow apart, an explosion of burning steam and shards of bone.

With Chase, that building pressure seemed to threaten an im plosion instead. Instead of boiling his insides like it did Auston, Chase curved inwards, weight on his shoulders, his back, the nape of his neck.

The living room had transformed into another nest, where they spent most of their free time.

Sex had turned into something raw, but Chase never slipped into anything like when he’d sat on Auston’s cock for a full day.

There was always something tethering him to the real world, Chase unable to let go fully.

Auston had done the adult thing—had asked Chase if anything was wrong apart from hockey. If there was something Auston could do.

All Chase did was shake his head and assure him that Auston was doing everything right.