Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kimi presents on the day of summer solstice, right in the middle of June. 

He’s turning sixteen soon and it’s not a surprise. 

He’s heard his parents’ hushed whispers and mumbled conversations when they think he’s asleep and can’t hear them. Uncertainty, worry, planning for every possible scenario. Their scents were sour and he had to pinch his nose to keep himself from smelling it, keep it from souring his scent, too; it’s a chain reaction when you’re this close to someone, when you’re family. 

Summer in Bologna is unforgivingly hot. It’s humid and sweltering and there’s nothing else to do other than sit inside and nap in the sunny patches on the floor with the fan turned on and all the way up. It gets better when evening approaches, when it cools down and he can go for a run or ride his bike with his friends until his feet hurt. 

Until then Kimi waits for the orange hues to paint the sky, for his mamma to come upstairs and open up his window because she always knows when’s the time to let some fresh air in. 

He doesn’t notice any signs at first because it all can be blamed on the weather. His skin is clammy, but it would be weird if it wasn’t, he’s running a bit too warm, he’s a bit short of breath and a bit weaker, but it’s all fine. He smells, but it’s all just the sun trying to boil him alive. No need to worry. 

That’s why the first cramp in the abdomen hits him like a truck, to put it bluntly. It shouldn’t be a surprise but his hands start shaking. 

His mamma finds him curled up on the floor when she comes to open the window, when it’s finally cool enough to exist. Kimi still feels like he’s burning up. 

She calls his father while running her hand through his hair, fingernails gently scratching his scalp as she whispers tutto a posto, tutto a posto and waits for the phone to be picked up. 

It’s not surprising that he presents. Kimi goes to school, Kimi talks with boys his age who preach about how they’re going to be a great alpha one day, Kimi has access to the internet, doesn’t live under a rock, knows what’s coming. It’s not surprising, just scary, just a tad bit more terrifying than he’d imagined. 

— — — 

He doesn’t remember much from his first heat, only this, only the heat , the feeling of burning alive. Sweating through his clothes, sweating through the sheets, everything just hot, hot, hot. He’s constantly in and out of sleep and when he’s awake he’s only aware of how hard he is, to the point of it being painful; of the streaks of slick running down the back of his thighs; of the constant ache for something he doesn’t know, of the delirium. 

His parents stay by his side, petting his head in a soothing manner, forcing him to drink water and eat as much as he’s able to. A doctor’s there too, once or twice; feels more like a divine being that passes judgement; like a judge sentencing him. He’s an omega, that’s what he says. Just like his mamma. That’s the verdict. Heavy like a life sentence. 

His mamma stays by his side the most. 

She looks stressed out like she’s aged ten years in one afternoon, as if she was blaming herself, as if it was her fault. She keeps whispering to him that the first one is the worst, amore mio. It will get better. And he chooses to believe her, doesn’t know what else to do.

— — — 

When the heat slowly subsides Kimi finds himself losing sleep while researching omega F1 drivers who are World Champions. It’s a silly thing to do, the second gender doesn’t matter that much in the modern world, it doesn’t change anything, but he still wants to check. Kimi didn’t used to care about this thing, didn’t pay attention to it, but now he needs to know. He wants the reassurance of knowing that someone has already paved the way because he’s unsure if he would have the strength to do it. 

— — — 

One thing that nobody talks about when it comes to being an omega is how much time you have to spend at the doctor’s. 

When Kimi’s heat ends he’s taken to his general practitioner right away and scheduled for more tests than he can remember. He gets blood work done, has to give a urine sample, is scanned and prodded and examined in every possible way. It feels like he’s more of a specimen than human. Awful, frustrating; unexplainable, like an itch deep beneath his skin.

He’s given scent blockers. He’s also put on birth control to help regulate his heats. It’s normally not necessary for freshly-presented omegas, usually you’re supposed to let your body regulate your heats by itself, let it create its own schedule, take things slowly. 

But Kimi’s a driver. He has a job, he has races and training and a public image to uphold.  He can’t be going into heat during races, has to force his biological urges to abide by his schedule, not the other way around.

Once they finally leave the office he’s exhausted. 

Can barely walk to the car. 

He’s spent his heat eating or drinking only when he was forced to and it’s definitely taken a toll on his body. But he gets a protein bar from his dad and a promise of his favourite dinner at home and it has to be enough for now.

They don’t really talk and the silence makes him queasy. 

Kimi knows his dad is worried, hopes he’s not disappointed. He’s an alpha, he probably wanted Kimi to be an alpha, too, to follow in his footsteps. It’s a weird feeling, a weird thing to think about. Like his stomach dropping to the ground, heart aching so bad he can feel it in his bones. Feels like he ruined something. Like the legacy is no longer his to continue. Kimi swallows the ever-growing lump in his throat. He doesn’t want to disappoint. 

He must be stinking up the whole car with his worry since his dad rolls down the windows and turns around to face him, lips upturned in an apologetic smile. Like he’s sorry, too. He had no control over it and Kimi also has no control over it but someone has to be sorry. Both of them, apparently. 

“You’ll be alright, Kimi. It’s always a bit scary at first, yeah? It will be fine.” 

He nods while tears roll down his face. 

— — — 

In Formula 2 there’s a strict rule against displaying or revealing drivers' secondary genders to the public. It’s written neatly into the contract, it’s also part of the contract Kimi signs with Prema, right at the bottom of the second page in bold letters. A promise, a guarantee, whatever. It will not be a real secret, Kimi knows. Someone will smell him, see him, just guess and be lucky and the word will spread. Sure, Prema won’t say, but people will know sooner or later and Kimi — once again, is aware, but the reassurance on paper is nice to have. 

They will know especially since Formula 1 does display it. 

Quite proudly, too. Big, bold symbols next to the name and car number. 

He reads everything three times, so does his dad, so does Giovanni, his manager. They negotiate a bit while Kimi just listens, partially dead to the world. It feels unreal to have the papers in hand, to sign them; he’s close to his goal, so close he can almost taste it. It feels good to hold the pen, feel the paper underneath his fingertips. This buzzing, electric feeling in his chest. A firework going off. A forest fire spreading freely. It’s everything and it’s nothing compared to what he’ll feel once he makes it to F1, once he has won. 

His dad insists they give him an omega or beta partner, but the man they’re talking to can only shrug and smile apologetically. His teeth peek through, canines sharp and predatory.

“Secondary genders do not determine anything.” He says. “We do not divide or base our decisions on them, that’s against our principles.” 

He speaks nicely. Must be an alpha because Kimi wants to listen, finds it hard to look away; he must be an alpha because his dad is irritated, his face kept firmly neutral. 

Kimi struggles with it, with not submitting to just any alpha that comes his way. His mamma says it’s easier as time goes on, but she’s mated so it’s no longer a struggle for her, hasn’t been for a while. But she still probably gets it more than his dad, for example.

  It’s important, Andrea , she says. Every sport is alpha dominated, you can’t let them walk over you.  

He won’t. 

But it feels nice to listen.

It’s like thousands of silk threads pulling at his skin, his body; forcing him to do a face expression, move. The satisfaction of surrendering to it, of following his instinct is immaculate. The quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him that it’s good to surrender. That he was made for it. 

Kimi still fights. 

They talk a lot about his secondary gender, despite it apparently having no importance. His heat schedule, his training plan, his emergency list that’s empty, but the man says it has to change; the full list of meds he takes. They want everything and Kimi gives them everything. 

“Do you require nesting space? Some omega drivers like to rest in nests after races, we can provide the space.” The man asks. Kimi only shakes his head. 

He doesn’t nest a lot, finds it bothersome and fruitless. His own clothes don’t bring him comfort and building nests is just frustrating. It’s nothing like racing, requires precision and trusting his omega instincts and Kimi doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like the fuzzy feeling inside, the cloudy headspace it puts him in. He spends too much time trying to control his omega to then turn around and listen to it.

The only time he’s nesting is his heat, but it’s not like he’s planning on spending it on the race track. So no, nesting space is unnecessary.  

The man seems pleased.

They offer space but it’s probably a hustle. They must love people like Kimi, omegas who are as little omega as possible.

— — — 

They pair him up with a boy that has no distinct smell. 

Kimi was expecting, well, anything. And got nothing. Laundry detergent, soap. 

He’s suddenly hyper aware of his own smell, too obvious, clinging to him in the sweat on his palms and forehead. He hopes this guy, boy, Oliver, Ollie, whatever; can’t smell him. Wonders if the absence of his smell bothers him, if he feels wrong. Laundry detergent and soap. How can you make that your own thing? 

They shake hands and it’s short-lived and fleeting, barely there, barely a touch. Kimi has to strain his neck a little to look up into his eyes, finds them wet and curious and dark like night itself but also warmer than the whole sun. He smiles, seems nice; lanky, grotesque in a way that only teenage boys can be. He’s nothing and everything, could be a beta, could be a surprise and either way he’s good. 

Kimi feels his neck tingle, right where his scent glands are. 

They talk to engineers, plan their strategy and learn about the car. A mix of men of all secondary genders; Kimi has to force himself to listen to them all equally. They are scheduling when to test the tyres when Kimi’s phone does its little ding, ding, ding, time to take the pill. 

Take the pill. 

He shuts it off and glances at the other guy, at Ollie. If Kimi takes the pill now or leaves to take it outside he will know something’s wrong. He will know what Kimi is and might treat him differently. 

This guy’s a blank canvas, ambiguous as can be. It’s only fair Kimi tries to be the same, put them on equal ground. 

The pill can wait. 

He ends up taking it later in the afternoon, when engineers and PR people and everyone else has already left, when Kimi can hide and swallow his secret. 

— — — 

The first races are shit, no surprise. Kinda disappointing, but that’s fine. 

He’s hiding after Sakhir, needing some rest, needing some time alone. He’s curled up behind the garage, hands picking at his suit, head empty just buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. Just noise, nothing in particular, no clear thoughts, only exhaustion. 

Kimi doesn’t nest but his mamma does. Ever since he can remember there has always been a small, neat nest in the living room on one end of the couch. His dad’s clothes, his mamma’s clothes, his clothes, some of Maggie’s stuff, too. Everything nicely woven together, a comforting thing. He’d kill to crawl into right now. He can’t stop thinking about it. 

“Oh, there you are.” Someone says and Kimi gasps, nostrils flaring. 

Laundry detergent and soap, now with sweat and dirt. The stench of losing. 

He looks away when Ollie sits down next to him. 

“Wasn’t hard to find you,” He says and smiles, all teeth visible. It looks predatory, the image ruined only by his eyes, always soft, always kind. Kimi feels his ears grow hot, his scent sour. Ollie must smell it too because his nose scrunches just a little bit but enough for Kimi to notice. He covers up his scent glands with both hands, pressing hard until it hurts, until his ears ring.

“It’s not a bad thing, it’s natural, no? Everybody has a scent.” Ollie says, it’s an apology of sorts. He has nothing to apologise for and yet. 

“You don’t.” 

Ollie shrugs, eyes still crinkled albeit now more distant. More sad. Kimi lowers his hands, feels stupid.

“Late bloomer, I guess.” 

That’s probably worse than already knowing. 

— — — 

Ollie’s nice, Kimi decides. It’s an understatement but it’s all he’s willing to admit. 

The season doesn’t get much easier but it’s nice to have someone by his side, to be attached by the hip to someone. 

They sneak around a lot, hiding from others just because it’s fun to do so, just because it’s a taste of something Kimi didn’t have before. 

They start hanging out outside of the paddock, too. Hours spent on messaging and chatting, playing games together, visiting each other. Kimi’s parents aren’t too keen on it, always smelling him carefully afterwards. As if Kimi was stupid, as if he was a cock-dumb omega who will throw his whole career away for a boy he met. 

Telling them that Ollie doesn’t even know Kimi’s second gender doesn’t help either; might not even be true, actually. Kimi is something, that Ollie must know. He’s also not all muscles and rage like some other F2 drivers, so the choice isn’t really that hard. He appreciates Ollie playing along, not giving away that he knows. 

— — — 

He learns that Ollie’s family is mostly just betas. 

Learns that it doesn’t make him happy that he’s probably a beta as well. 

Being a beta is nothing. It’s laundry detergent and soap instead of suffocating pheromones, nothing much, a blank canvas, a white wall, plain water. Uninteresting. 

In Formula 1 when you’re an alpha, people expect you to win World Champion. 

If you’re an omega, it’s revolutionary. Ground breaking. Time stopping. 

If you’re a beta it only is. 

There’s nothing else to it. 

Ollie doesn’t want to just be . 

Kimi gets it, he really does. 

Kimi’s second gender is a hindrance, it’s not something he’d wanted or desired. It’s a bunch of biological bullshit that messes up his brain, makes him a dumb horn-dog twice a year, tells him to submit to anyone with a knot. Forces pills down his throat, turns his whole life into an excel sheet. 

But if he wins — when he wins — it will only add to the victory.

It will make him even greater. Saccharine gold that nothing will ever beat.  

That’s why he understands.

— — — 

Bi-monthly doctor visits become part of the routine. That’s just how life is. It’s never anything serious or major; they up his scent blockers because apparently he stinks, send him to get even more tests done because his skin is a bit blotchy sometimes. 

He has been running a bit hot lately and has ruined half of his underwear with the mass-production of slick, but the doctor assures him it’s alright. Just his body slowly getting ready for his scheduled heat, just a reaction to being near an alpha or a handful of them. 

It makes sense. It’s frustrating. Even if Kimi fights his instincts his body still finds ways to obey them, embarrass him and mock. There’s no comfort in his own skin, in the softness he has to fight with more and more training, in the urges he shoves down as far as they’ll go.

 He doesn’t say anything about the pills he sometimes forgets to take because he’s constantly putting it off, scared that somebody will see even if everyone most likely already knows. 

— — — 

The races are pretty hit-or-miss. Kimi wins some, completely fucks up others, struggles to focus on anything other than the incoming heat , both metaphorical and literal. He spends more and more time with Ollie, makes some other friends, too; records PR content, goes diligently to his meetings, does his best all the time even if he’s running hot or uncomfortably wet. He misses a pill here and there, nothing important, nothing bad.

He feels in control, it’s intoxicating. Makes everything go down smoother, the medicine, the failures, the stupid thoughts he sometimes has about himself, about Ollie, who’s way too kind for his own good, looks way too good in the sunlight. When his eyes drown in golden hues and no longer look like endless pits but instead the sweetest kind of tea, Kimi feels like he’s dying. 

The summer break is approaching. His heat is scheduled for the third week of August, giving him still a full week of recovery before Monza. That’s why he agrees to spend the first week of the break at Ollie’s place in England. 

His parents agree only because they think Ollie’s a beta. Because Kimi told them he is, thinks so himself, too. He has to be. Nobody presents this late. 

It’s a shame. 

Kimi wants to punch himself for thinking so. 

His doctor gives him a green flag for the trip, alongside a pre-heat meal plan and a different kind of scent blockers. It’s natural, he says, that it takes him a while to find something that works. Trial and error, trial and error, just like with the cars, with the tyres and engines. 

When he asks if he needs a refill on his birth control he says yes despite still having half of a blister. 

— — — 

Ollie’s house has no distinct smell. 

Makes sense, — a family of betas. 

It still feels weird, but that’s because Kimi still hasn’t learnt that he shouldn’t expect anything. It will always be nothing. Some dust, some distant street smell from the open window, the remnants of breakfast in the kitchen. Nothing concrete, nothing to latch onto, nothing to remember it by. 

There’s also this realization that quickly blooms in his brain, right after he enters Ollie’s room, after he sees the single bed in the corner. 

If he stays for the week, all this nothingness will smell like him. 

He smothers himself with scent blockers the second he’s in the bathroom. Swallows two pills just because he can, because maybe they will magically turn him smell-less. Omega-less, for a week. 

After the first night he wakes up and finds his pillow soaked with his scent. 

He almost misses the way Ollie’s ears turn pink when he notices.

— — — 

Being in this close proximity has them physically closer to each other than they were before. No wonder, it’s not like they can brush their teeth or cook together while in the paddock. The domesticity is heartbreaking with how well it fits, how right it feels. Like a missing puzzle piece. 

Kimi feels a bit under the weather; running warm, feeling sleepy, losing focus. Britain is certainly not treating him well. Kimi can’t help but think that Ollie doesn’t really fit this place. That he’s made for something more, for something closer, warmer, prettier. He’s not supposed to be surrounded by gray bricks and dark clouds. 

Kimi still covers himself from head to toe with blockers, trying to fight the inevitable. The bed smells like him, other spaces start to do so, too. Ollie’s family doesn’t seem to notice the suffocating pheromones he brings everywhere. Or maybe they’re just trying to be nice; don’t want to straight up tell him: you stink Kimi! They’re good people, too kind for that; posh accents and half-smiles and the smell of nothing. 

He also takes the pills, when he remembers. When he’s not busy with video games or movies or talking. When his phone goes ding, ding, ding, time to take the pill and he doesn’t just snooze it and forget, yeah, he takes the pills. Gets lost while counting how many he’s skipped already. A few, just a few. Just sometimes. 

— — — 

It’s Ollie’s idea to bake a cake for Kimi’s birthday. There’s still almost two weeks to it but they won’t have the time later. 

Neither of them has ever really made anything but it doesn’t stop them. Kimi thinks that even a double decker bus smashing into the kitchen and completely wrecking it wouldn’t stop Ollie from baking the damn cake, he’s so dead set on it. Wears an apron and everything while Kimi just rolls his sleeves up and calls it a day. 

It can’t be difficult. Sponge cake, whipped cream, fruit. A lot of fruit. Everything they could find in the Tesco nearby. 

Kimi sits on the counter and busies himself with eating the blueberries, letting Ollie fight with the stupid sponge cake. 

“My birthday.” He says and chucks a blueberry at Ollie whenever he turns around to complain. He’s not really complaining, anyway. Kimi would help if he were, but he has a feeling that Ollie wants to be the one to actually make the cake. 

The blueberries are never that pleasant to eat. One’s sweet, one’s sour; it’s a gamble. Sweet, sour, sour, sour, sweet, sweet, sour; so sour he scrunches up his nose and leaves the rest of the fruit alone. 

They go down almost like his pills. If he were more poetically inclined he could compare the two. Being an omega is like eating blueberries; sometimes it sucks ass, other times it’s pretty neat. Or something of this sort. 

Ollie finally puts the sponge cake into the oven; the battle won at last. He sighs with satisfaction and comes closer to Kimi, settles between his open thighs and looks at him inconspicuously. Before Kimi can say anything he places his flour-covered hands on Kimi’s cheeks and rubs them with vigor, dirtying him. 

Kimi yelps, then laughs and falls back onto the counter in order to escape him.  

— — — 

Kimi feels funny on the fifth night. He wakes up sweaty, surrounded by darkness and warmth. His nose feels stuffy, skin clammy and sticking to the sheets. He kicks them off, making sure that Ollie’s still covered. The Brit has moved closer to Kimi in his sleep, dark hair messy on the pillowcase, face so close to Kimi’s shoulder that he can feel the hot puffs of air on his skin. The moonlight spilling into the room through the window makes his eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheeks, illuminates him like a godly figure. 

Kimi sits up, looks around, feels uncomfortable like never before. With a small grunt he takes off his shirt, laying it over the pillow. His chest swells; hurts. He grabs the blanket laying at the foot of the bed, sniffs it and lays it on the bed, right next to the wall. 

His brain yells at him for doing a piss-poor job. Whatever the job might be. 

Kimi shuffles towards the foot of the bed, stretches out his hand and grabs a fistful of clothes from the chair standing there. A mix of both his and Ollie’s things; stuff they wore the day before, things they might wear in the morning. He takes it all and gets to work, arranging them in a way that makes sense to his delirious brain.

Ollie stirs in his sleep, blinking a few times when his own shirt lands on his head. He sits up, rubbing his eyes with his fists, brows furrowed. 

“What’re ya doin’” He asks, voice gravelly and barely audible. Kimi feels like he has been caught, like a kid with his hand in a candy jar. He freezes, eyes darting from Ollie’s face to the mess Kimi’s made in his bed. Clothes, blankets, pillows; everything pushed around, arranged into a—

“Are you nesting?” 

Kimi can feel the embarrassment even in the back of his teeth. 

He looks down and Ollie hums acknowledgedly. 

“D’you want something more? For your nest.”

Ollie’s clothes are deprived of any smell other than his laundry detergent. Having them here, having them in the nest will not scratch the itch. It will add nothing, do nothing other than make them too smell like Kimi. 

Yet he nods his head, because he wants. Wants so much, wants things he doesn’t understand.

Ollie brings him his t-shirts, hoodies and sweaters. Everything that he has recently worn, everything that still carries a little bit of his warmth. He gives Kimi more blankets, his pillow; leaves the bed and stands next to it to watch as Kimi works, meticulously organizes everything until it feels right.  

Once he’s done it feels like the weight of the whole world has been lifted from his shoulders. He almost wants to cry from relief yet can’t really form a coherent thought. That’s why Kimi usually hates nesting. He’s useless now, stupid.

But it felt impossible to resist himself this time, for whatever reason. 

Ollie yawns and only then Kimi remembers that he’s actually still there. It’s his room, duh. His bed. He’s probably exhausted, having been woken up for such a silly thing.

“Can I go into your nest, Kimi?” 

It’s his bed, but it’s also Kimi’s nest. Something bigger, something grand and important. Ollie knows. He asks so nicely and if Kimi tells him no , he will go to sleep somewhere else. Maybe in the cold living room, maybe on the floor. 

But Kimi wants him there and he’s too tired to think why. 

He nods his head and makes space for Ollie, in his nest, in everything in life. 

— — — 

In the morning he wakes up feverish. His brain feels like it’s filled with cotton, every thought is taking him ages to process and still gets lost halfway there. The pillow feels like heaven against his face and Kimi nuzzles into it, a soft gasp escaping his lips, getting pushed into the silky pillowcase. 

He’s boiling alive, he’s confused, completely lost, sweaty and — so painfully hard. He lets out a broken sob when he realizes, hips rutting against the mattress on their own. 

Ollie makes a confused noise next to him, incoherent; probably still asleep. Kimi mewls — fucking mewls, hips still moving; half aborted movements, his stomach cramping, arse dripping with slick. He forces his head to the side to greedily take in oxygen; his eyes are wet, eyelashes sticky. He looks at the nest he’d made, finally realizes why he had even made it in the first place. Feels stupid for not connecting the dots earlier. 

“Kimi?” 

Ollie wakes up, his voice still thick with sleep, lower than usually, similar to how it was last night. Kimi turns his head to look at him, tears running down his flushed cheeks. He tries to still his hips but his whole lower half feels like it’s on fire, like it’s burning. They continue to twitch against the mattress, not enough and too much at the same time. 

“Oh god, are you—” 

Ollie sits up, suddenly fully alert. Kimi sobs, chest heaving, can’t stop crying, doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He hides his face in the pillow once again, right when he comes abruptly, makes a mess of himself and the bed, shame burning almost as bad as the heat itself, body shaking.  

It gives him relief for a few seconds before the burn is coming back stronger, in waves, crashing on the shore violently. 

— — — 

Kimi’s parents are on their way. Probably flying, probably private. Perks of having money; you can quickly get your son from halfway across the world after he got his heat sooner than expected because he didn’t take his pills properly. 

Great stuff. 

Ollie stays by Kimi’s side during his heat. Gives him water and food, keeps him company when Kimi’s more lucid, reassures him constantly. Leaves the room when Kimi can’t deny himself any longer, a true gentleman. 

Kimi doesn’t ask him to help properly. 

Knows it wouldn’t do anything to soothe the burn anyways. 

— — — 

Kimi’s parents aren’t mad, they’re disappointed. That’s what they don’t say but that’s what he thinks they would. His mamma is worried, her scent sour and overwhelming as she embraces him, hides him from the world. His dad ruffles his sweaty hair, says something that’s supposed to soothe him, make him feel better. Maybe it would work if Kimi was listening. If he wasn’t hyperfocused on how the wet patch of his own slick and cum feels against his skin as he lays in it. 

He’s so insanely embarrassed, even if Ollie reassures him that it’s okay, natural, biological, whatever. Bla bla bla. Ble ble ble. Blu blu blu. Easy to say, he wasn’t the one humping his best mate’s bed. 

He loses count on how many times he’s apologised. After a while Ollie just starts rolling his eyes at him, his smile as big as ever, the apples of his cheeks pink. 

When Kimi’s finally home and riding out the very lasts of his heat he can’t stop thinking about biting them.

— — — 

The heat subdues finally, leaving him weak and confused about some things but still eager to drive, to race, to prove himself. To be bigger than his own biology. 

When Kimi goes to Monza and enters the first meeting with the engineers he notices the absence of laundry detergent and soap. Ollie no longer smells like nothing. He smells like, well— Ollie. No other way to describe it, it’s just him. Kimi knows it’s him, despite never having encountered this smell before. 

It’s shocking. He looks up at Ollie and finds him staring back, eyes intense, dark and somewhat absent. Lost in whatever he’s thinking about now, maybe lost in the way Kimi’s scent changes as he takes it all in. 

Ollie also looks different somehow. More assured in how he carries himself, more confident. His shape is sure and firm instead of awkward. Ollie looks like he knows himself, like he’s aware of his place and the space he’s taking. Like he knows he deserves to take it. 

The meeting is short; talking about the strategy without many details yet, everything still up in the air, everything shaky in a way that makes Kimi anxious. They still have some PR to film today, some training to do. They’re busy. But when they leave the meeting and Ollie grabs his wrist and leads him somewhere, Kimi goes willingly. Almost easily. It’s almost embarrassing. 

Ollie takes him behind the garage, into a tight space occupied by trash that nobody wants to clean up properly. Some old, destroyed tyres in a few piles, some trash bags with god knows what inside. Dirt and filth, but Kimi goes there. Lets himself be put against the wall. Stops breathing for a second when Ollie crowds him against it, face close, so close. 

“I presented.” He says. Whispers, as if it were a secret bigger than the whole universe. Maybe it is. Sure feels like it. “I presented after your heat.” 

Kimi blinks a few times. He feels dizzy, suffocated with their mixed scents. 

“Mate, are you—” 

“My rut started right after you left. Everything smelled like an omega in heat, everything smelled like you.”

Kimi turns his head to the side, covers up his mouth with his hand. His face must be fully red, he can feel the warmth against his fingers. He glances up at Ollie and sees him in a similar state, face flushed, eyes wide open and shiny, lips wet with spit. He looks fascinated, looks scared. Like he just saw the rest of his life. 

He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how to. Kimi kinda wants to hear more, but he doesn’t know how to ask. Probably shouldn’t ask. 

Ollie takes a deep breath; moves away from the wall, from Kimi who wants to chase after, ask him to get back here. It’s his stupid omega speaking, he knows. Ollie’s an alpha, he has an advantage now. They are no longer equal. It’s both terrifying and fascinating.

 Kimi’s brain will want to listen to Ollie, obey him. Kimi will have to fight it. Fight himself. 

Despite knowing this, his heart still aches at the absence. 

Ollie looks at him, brows furrowed, lips pulled into a tight line. He straightens himself up, puffs his chest out the way birds do in those stupid nature documentaries that sometimes played on TV. Presenting himself, trying to impress him.  

“I’m going to court you, Kimi, okay?” He says. Asks, despite his confident demeanor that’s apparently just all for show. Leaves room for refusal, gives Kimi an open door if he wants out. It’s different from how alphas usually behave. It’s better, so much better, so much Ollie. Kimi stays; nods his head weakly 

— — — 

Now, Kimi doesn’t really know what courting is supposed to look like. 

To be fair he didn’t even know that people still do that, but it’s cute. A nice concept. 

Ollie can do that, if he wants to. As long as it doesn’t disturb Kimi’s career.

He still has to prove himself, prove that he deserves his seat in teal next year. 

Monza is more or less a disaster. 

— — — 

Kimi meets up a few times with people at Mercedes. They ask him a million questions, take his measurements, talk about designs, engines, race suits, whatever . He meets engineers, people who handle all the paperwork, people who handle PR, people who handle things related to secondary genders. Because it actually matters here. Kimi swallows down the lump in his throat when he answers the questions they ask. 

He also meets Toto and George. Once or twice. Busy people, too busy for all that but they do reassure him that they keep an eye on him, that they’re proud. Kimi almost wishes they weren’t watching, he’s been doing bad more often than not this season. He feels anxious, but everyone knows Lewis will be leaving and Toto wants Kimi. Sees something that others don’t. 

Maybe he’s just delusional. 

When he first meets George it’s hard not to stare.

There are few omegas in F1. Of course there are, they preach inclusivity every chance they get. Everyone is welcome! Alphas, omegas, betas! Apparently not women. 

But male omegas are drivers. George is an omega driver and he’s successful.  

Kimi can’t stop staring. 

His chest fills up with so many emotions. Jealousy, admiration, curiosity, want. Want, want, want. Need. The need to be just like him, to be better, to be something the world hasn’t seen before. Stars at his fingertips, fire in his throat. 

George looks back; eyes piercing through and eyelashes curling up, looking soft among all those sharp angles that make him. He’s too tall to look like a proper omega; too angular, too confident. Bending his biology to his will. 

Kimi wants to, — needs to do the same. 

When the meeting ends, George approaches him and shakes his hand; it’s firm, grounding. Then he pulls him into a short hug. He smells of harsh motor oil and omega sweetness. It’s a dizzying mixture, it’s contradictory and yet it makes sense. 

“Looking forward to working with you, yeah?” 

— — — 

Ollie finds him after they finish recording some PR, when it’s already late and Kimi can think only about going home and sleeping until he becomes one with his bed. 

He’s still happy to see him. 

With the season slowly coming to an end they’re getting more and more busy. It’s overwhelming. It’s also daunting. They won’t be teammates anymore and it feels like divorce. 

They talk and walk together towards the exit, Ollie’s hand on the small of Kimi’s back like it belongs there. Maybe it does. Kimi can’t find it in himself to mind it, to care. It’s a nice weight, reminding him of how Ollie’s hand rubbed his back while Kimi was fighting his heat. The memory makes his cheeks burn, chest ache. 

They get outside the building and Kimi feels cold sweat run down his spine when he notices his dad waiting by the car. Staring at them. Suddenly Ollie’s hand turns scorching hot. Kimi scrambles away, apologising, wishing him good night, see you soon, whatever his brain can think of. Ollie tries to say something but Kimi all but jumps into the car. 

“Kimi.” His father says once the engine starts. Not mad. Maybe not even disappointed. Maybe just a bit worried, a bit curious; like fathers are.

On his lap his phone buzzes. I wanted to give you something :(,  the text from Ollie says. Kimi’s heart doesn’t know the difference between receiving it and setting a record for the fastest lap. 

— — — 

What Ollie wants to give him is a T-shirt. It’s gray, no additional graphics or anything, just pure light gray. Looks well loved, definitely not brand new and when Kimi brings it closer to his nose he discovers it smells ; like an alpha, like Ollie. 

His head whips up so quickly he’s scared he’ll break his neck.

“Mate, did you scent it?!” 

Ollie smiles at him, his ears pink and shrugs. 

“Courting gift.” 

Kimi scrunches the material in his hands. Straightens it. Stares and stares and stares and fights himself to not smell it again. To not put it on. If he goes to today’s training smelling like Ollie—. 

He doesn’t notice his phone going off. It yells at him ding, ding, ding, take your pill, take the dumb pill, take it Kimi; but Kimi’s world is currently limited to the cotton in his palms. 

“Kimi.”

He looks up. Maybe. He doesn’t know if it’s Kimi listening to Ollie or omega listening to alpha. The line is blurry, confusing. 

“Kimi, take your pill.” 

He does. Just like he has been doing since his accidental heat. Hasn’t skipped a single one, hasn’t been overusing his scent blockers, truly a model omega. He’s trying to come to terms with his whole being. It’s going pretty okay. 

He wonders if Ollie’s on any pills and when he asks Ollie hums and shrugs.

“They gave me suppressants but I’m supposed to use them only if my rut were to start during the season.” 

Of course even in this aspect young alphas have it better. Kimi feels something bloom under his sternum, inside him.

“ Is it supposed to start this season?”

“No, early next year I think.” Ollie turns his head to him, his hair falling messily onto his forehead. It’s been getting longer. Kimi prays that all the scissors in his area will vanish. Ollie smirks. “Why, wanna spend it with me?” It’s teasing, it’s playful. Maybe just a joke. Kimi laughs and shoves his shoulder. 

He doesn’t say no. 

— — — 

It’s hard not to think about it after they’ve talked about it, but Kimi tries. He doesn’t let himself think until it’s very late at night, until he’s too tired to stop himself anymore. 

Spending Ollie’s rut with him. 

Kimi groans into his pillow when he thinks about it. 

He has a vague idea of what ruts look like. It’s similar to heats, all the burning and the constant want and feeling like you’re going to die if you don’t cum. Such a stupid concept, actually; a few days when you’re no longer human but a stupid animal. 

Locked together for hours, forced to breathe the same air, share the same existence. 

He kind of does want to spend it together.  

The realization hits him like a bag of bricks. 

— — — 

They barely hang out together after that. Kimi’s busy, Ollie’s busy, life happens. They keep in contact but it’s mostly online. The one time they do actually see each other, Kimi gives Ollie one of his own T-shirts, too. Also scented. 

He tries to be casual about it, laugh and say There you go, mate; and ignore the fact that it’s big and scary. That he’s courting, too. 

Ollie sniffs it and his pupils blow out like crazy and he smiles at Kimi as if he were made of pure gold and light, as if he were the kindest thing the world has to offer. 

— — — 

In early January he gets a text right when night starts morphing into morning; the smell has faded a bit but your shirt still helped; he doesn’t need to wonder what it means. 

— — — 

It’s been a while since Mercedes had two omegas as drivers. It’s been a while since any team had two omegas; it’s usually two betas, that’s the best configuration. No hormones, no ruts or heats or pheromones to get in the way. 

And now there are two omega symbols in teal on the garages and people are already talking. 

Kimi knew it would happen but it’s stressful all the same. 

His new motorhome has a small nesting space despite Kimi never asking for it. It looks like a closet, filled with pillows and blankets with a curtain instead of a door. It’s supposed to be cozy but looks rather cramped. Maybe it feels different when you’re in pre-heat. When you’re desperate for anything even remotely comfy.

“They put those everywhere, don’t sweat it.” There’s a voice behind him and Kimi jumps, turning around to see George. It’s totally cool. Kimi stays totally cool.

“Oh, yeah, it’s—, it’s stupid, kinda.” 

George looks him up and down and Kimi feels like a lab specimen. Similarly to how he felt the first time he was at the doctor’s after presenting. 

“You’re so nervous.” George scoffs, brows furrowed. As if Kimi was doing it on purpose. Kimi shrugs, hand coming up to play with his necklace. He’s not nervous about driving but it’s intimidating to be here, especially now that his secondary gender is basically common knowledge. If he fucks up people will say it’s because he’s an hormonal omega and shouldn’t be in motosports. 

“Oh, mate you’re stinking up the whole place, Jesus.” George scrunches his nose, waves his hand and Kimi can’t decide between laughing or apologising. In the end he does none because George grabs his shoulders to still him and rubs his left cheek against Kimi’s right. 

“What are you doing?”

“Scenting you to calm you down.” George moves away, unbothered by any of this. “Did you not do it in F2? With your teammate, he’s an omega, no?” 

Kimi feels a lot calmer and it kind of annoys him, kind of fascinates him. Mostly it’s humiliating, feels more like talking with his mamma than a teammate. 

“Ollie’s an alpha.” 

George reacts the way everybody reacts once they know. One cocked brow, the questions he wants to ask all but painted on his face. But George’s an omega, too. He must know how annoying it is and doesn’t say anything. Kimi’s glad. 

Somebody calls for him from the entrance and Kimi doesn’t even need to turn around to know who it is. He could probably recognize Ollie’s voice and scent from miles away, as embarrassing as it is. 

Kimi hopes his own scent changing is covered up by George’s scent. 

He goes to Ollie, looking one last time at George who has a knowing expression on his face but doesn’t comment in any way. Maybe he will, later, when they’re alone in the motorhome. Or maybe he won’t say anything to Kimi at all, maybe he’ll tell Lewis or Alex. Kimi shouldn’t care, George doesn’t know anything anyways. Maybe Kimi could tell him someday, for now he just leaves. 

Ollie’s brows furrow the second Kimi joins him outside. He looks like he’s thinking about something, keeps looking at Kimi weird. 

“Mate, are you okay?” 

“You smell weird.” 

Ah, of course he would notice. 

“George scented me. He said that’s what omegas do apparently.” 

Ollie drops the topic but Kimi wasn’t born yesterday, he can pretty safely assess that he’s still bothered by it. He stands awfully close to him the whole day, always behind him like a shadow and when evening rolls around Kimi has two T-shirts and one hoodie more to his name. They all smell like Ollie. 

— — — 

“Can I scent you too?” Ollie asks after China, when the sky is inky and Kimi’s brain is too fuzzy with exhaustion to function properly. They’re sitting in Ollie’s hotel room on his stupidly big bed, almost no space between them, shoulders touching. The TV is playing some old cooking shows and neither of them could give less of a shit about cooking but the lady looks nice and speaks well. They share rooms often nowadays, almost after every race. Not officially, but sneaking around isn’t that hard. Not when George knows now and covers up for Kimi sometimes. 

They sleep together in the bed, too; limbs twisted together, two existences melting into one. I don’t think you’re supposed to do that while courting, but we’re best mates so it’s different, Ollie’d said when he first crawled under Kimi’s duvet, under his chin and pressed against his chest. And it felt like he belonged there so he must have been right. Well, even if he hasn’t, Kimi was too tired to argue. Just like now. 

“Mate, why do you want to scent me?” 

“Why don’t you want me to scent you?” 

The nice cooking lady was starting to chop her veggies. Nice, long and thin strips of colorful peppers, onions, mushrooms. Chop, chop, chop. Great background noise for sleeping if Kimi didn’t have an, apparently upset, alpha by his side. 

“Is it about what George did?” 

Ollie doesn’t reply but he stinks. That’s as good of an answer as any. 

“He did it for different reason. And I’m in your bed, in your shirt mate, I will be smelling like you anyway.” 

Kimi likes to think that secondary genders are just that. Something secondary. Non defining, not that important. If he didn’t think that he wouldn’t be in F1. But they do impact some things, they have to, otherwise they would be fully useless. 

Ollie’s an alpha and it doesn’t define him but does impact him. Makes him act stupid about such meaningless things like another omega scenting Kimi to calm him down. It must be hitting him extra hard since it’s all new to him, all those smells and sensations. Overwhelming,  strong, maddening maybe. 

Besides, they’re courting . It would be different if they were just normal friends, that’s why Kimi decides to indulge him. 

He rubs the rest of the sleepiness away with his hands and with a tired groan moves away to sit right in front of Ollie. He straddles his straightened legs, sits right above his knees; not yet in his lap but the next best thing. Ollie looks flabbergasted, his scent now fully absent of any jealousy. Good. Kimi doesn’t want to stink. 

“Go on.” Kimi prompts, tilting his head and baring his right cheek. The same one that George scented, but it’s not like Ollie knows that. 

Strong hands grip his waist, clamp around it like one of those claw machines they have in Japanese arcades that Kimi really wants to see. 

The first rub of Ollie’s cheek against his is something completely different than what it felt like with another omega. Kimi doesn’t feel calm, he feels like his nerves are on fire; it’s not as intense as his heat, doesn’t consume him fully but still burns. Sizzles , feels like sitting by a campfire during a summer night in late August. 

Kimi can barely breathe with how strong the scent is, everything mixed together, fused into something new, something so foreign yet familiar. 

That’s what Kimi imagined Ollie’s rut would smell like if they were to spend it together. 

He gasps and pushes the thought deep, deep inside; it’s neither the time or place to be thinking about that. 

When Ollie’s done Kimi grabs his face with one hand and drags his left cheek against his right; it’s a quick thing, done just so that they’re equal. 

Kimi moved a few places during the whole thing and now is chest to chest with Ollie, fully planted on his lap. He can feel his heart beating like crazy in his chest, hopes it’s not his; hope’s it’s Ollie’s. That would be less embarrassing. 

— — — 

Kimi isn’t sure how courting is supposed to end. 

Do they just do it forever? Or is it like the game of gay chicken where one of them has to throw the towel for it to end. Ollie doesn’t seem like he wants to throw the towel, especially not now when they’ve moved another step up the ladder and Kimi’s getting scented basically every other business day. He seems pretty content with how they are now and Kimi is too, but he also wouldn’t mind a bit more. 

He asks George about it because he doesn’t know who else to ask. He’s not that close with other drivers yet and he would rather die than ask Toto or Bono or his family. 

George has also been a very good teammate, whether because he’s also an omega or maybe just a cool guy. Kimi finally knows what it’s like to have an older brother and he’s thriving. 

He asks during media day in Bahrain once they’ve finally escaped all the chaos and people and are getting something to drink in the hospitality area. 

George pouts like he often does and thinks for a while, neatly cut nails tapping against the paper cup he’s holding. He’s wearing their ugly cooling jacket and Kimi can’t help but be jealous when he feels yet another droplet of sweat roll down his back. 

“To be fair I didn’t even think people were still courting.” He finally says and Kimi groans, head falling onto the table they’re sitting at. He hears a sipping sound and then George’s drink is put on Kimi’s head, condensation getting into his already sweaty hair. “You guys make things hard for yourselves.” 

Maybe Kimi should have gone to Bono after all. If George knew anything about relationships and moving forward he wouldn’t still be making a fool out of himself in front of Alex. 

The whole table buzzes when Kimi’s phone starts vibrating. Ding, ding, ding, take the pill. 

Without moving his head he reaches into his pocket and takes out the blister, only one pill remaining in it. He’ll have to go to the doctor once this race ends. 

He straightens up and takes George’s drink, using it to wash the pill down.

“Heat suppressants?” 

“Birth control.” 

George stares with his eyes narrowed. His lashes cast huge shadows onto his cheeks. Kimi only then realizes how it sounded and rolls his eyes. 

“No, mate! It’s to re– you know, control,” He gesticulates at his body, hands moving up and down “all this.” 

“To regulate your heats?” 

Kimi nods his head and George hums acknowledgedly. 

“Is it working?”

“When I take them, yes.” 

“And your next heat is..?” 

Kimi unlocks his phone, checks the calendar and grimaces. After Miami. His next heat is supposed to happen after Miami. 

George crushes his paper cup in one pale palm and gets up from his chair. He pats Kimi on the shoulder as he moves to leave. 

“That’s how you stop courting and move to another level.” 

— — — 

Doctor says Kimi’s doing extra good . 

He did take an extra long shower to make sure he smells like he hasn’t been within a 15 mile radius of an alpha but the lecture about safe sex he’s been given tells him it didn’t exactly work. 

— — — 

Being in Miami is difficult because Kimi already feels the pre-heat symptoms. His cheeks are seemingly permanently flushed and he’s constantly running much warmer than he’d like. It’s also hard to focus. They’re discussing strategy and it feels like he’s listening to it while standing in a concrete box. 

It’s a shame, too. He’s never been to Miami before. It would be sick to go drive around with Ollie, maybe with George, maybe with his dad; but alas Kimi does what he has to and then scrambles to his hotel room to take a cold bath until he warms the water up with his body heat. 

Ollie seems to know what’s going on. Kimi hasn’t told him but he knows how he stinks right now, knows that the blockers barely do anything, that the combination of pre-heat plus scorching Miami sun is too much for them. The whole paddock must know, how embarrassing is that. 

Kimi knows they need to talk, but it’s such bad timing. For the talk, for his heat, for everything. He even wonders for a second if he should ask George for some suppressants, maybe try to push the heat back as far as it will go, maybe escape from it fully if he’s lucky. But Kimi knows that’s probably not how it works. Once you’re in pre-heat there’s no turning back, he just has to power through. 

He wants them to talk but then Ollie messes up free practice and hits the wall. When he cries Kimi has to stab his stubby nails into the palm of his hand to keep himself from running to him. 

He spends the night he was supposed to talk to Ollie scenting him instead, trying to do it how George did, hoping it will work on an alpha, too. 

And then Kimi gets pole for the sprint and they’re too busy celebrating to focus on anything else. 

— — — 

The sprint goes terribly but Kimi’s glad that it’s over. 

It’s hard to focus when he’s already feeling himself getting more slick than usual, when his hands are shaking and it constantly feels like there’s not enough oxygen for him on this whole planet. 

He still has to push through, do the best he can during the main race and then survive his heat. Driver before an omega.

And talk to Ollie. 

Before all that. 

As soon as possible, actually. 

Kimi finds him after the sprint, grabs him by the still suit-clad forearm and takes him behind the Mercedes’ motorhome, similarly to where Ollie took him to say that he has presented. It feels fitting to do that. 

Ollie smiles at him the whole time, says something that Kimi doesn’t fully catch, maybe doesn’t fully understand even. He wants to rub against Kimi’s cheek when they’re finally alone but is stopped by a clammy hand pressed against his face. 

He looks hurt, even if only for a split second. 

“My heat is uh, soon.” Ollie looks at him with wide eyes, pupils blown and drowning out the deep brown. “I want to, you know, spend it with you.” 

Ollie removes Kimi’s hand from his face and lounges forward to hug him. Kimi appreciates that he could have overpowered it right away but didn’t. Ollie is also a driver— a human first, alpha second.

He walks back stinking of a happy alpha and his own pre-heat, but his omega has never felt more content. 

— — — 

Kimi spends the night before the main race nesting in his hotel bed. He uses all the pillows and blankets provided, a bunch of his clothes, a bunch of Ollie’s clothes that he has been given. The team already knows that he’ll be staying in Miami longer. They were unsure if he should be allowed to race if his heat is about to start anytime now, but Kimi wants to. He’s not defined by what he is, doesn’t want to let it control his life. 

He has spent all these months forcing his omega to give way, bending his biological urges to fit his schedule and goals; he sees no reason for stopping now. 

Kimi will finish the race even if he’s a panting, slick-dripping mess afterwards. 

— — — 

When he gets out of the car he feels like his ribs are going to break to accommodate his lungs; like they’re too tight to breathe properly, like he’s going to faint and throw up at the same time. George gets to him first, hugs him so tight Kimi’s really afraid he really will break something. They still have the helmets on so they clank awkwardly and Kimi would laugh if he could find his tongue in his mouth and do anything. 

He hears George praise him, feels his own hands grasping his race suit to ground himself. George smells nice, comforting. 

He’s scared he’ll fall down the second George lets go, but after him there are thousands of other people who come to hug him and congratulate him, so there’s always someone to hold him and prevent that from happening. 

Kimi has never felt this overwhelmed and happy in his life. It doesn’t even matter that he’s burning up under his suit, that his whole body is shaking and his brain is cotton-filled like never before. None of this matters. 

He steps onto the podium with his legs barely working and his suit so wet inside it’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t even want to think about all the interviews and debriefing he has to do before he’s free to go. 

— — — 

Ollie’s already waiting for him by his hotel room and Kimi has never been happier to see anyone before in his life. He’s changed into something more comfy while Kimi’s still wearing his racing suit, the top part undone and hanging around his hips. Ollie lights up when he sees him, eyes shining like it’s the sun he’s looking at and not just Kimi. He gets up from where he was sitting by the wall and jumps forward to crush Kimi in a hug. 

“Mate you were so great! That’s amazing!” He says into Kimi’s hair that’s probably really nasty right now. Kimi hugs him back just as hard and presses his nose into Ollie’s shoulder. He inhales his scent deeply and feels another wave of slick run down his thighs. Ollie’s whole body stiffens when he feels it. 

“Kimi, are you already..?” 

Kimi shakes his head as much as he can in this position. 

“Almost. I want to sleep now but in the morning I think it will start.” 

“Do you still want me to help?” 

“Yes, mate! Can’t be courting forever!” 

Ollie grabs his shoulders and moves back, keeping Kimi at an arm’s length. His expression is more serious now, lips in a tight line, eyes worried. Kimi’s barely thinking straight at this point and wants to punch a wall out of frustration from being away. 

“We can’t be courting forever but it doesn’t mean you have to force yourself to do anything.” 

Kimi lets out something that’s between a groan and a whine. 

“I’m not mate, I swear! I want it. Want you.” 

He shuffles closer and presses his lips to the corner of Ollie’s mouth. Not on purpose, he was definitely aiming more towards the centre but it feels sweet nonetheless. Life changing, almost. Like putting the last puzzle piece in, like finishing your first race and realizing it’s what you were meant to be doing. It’s like Kimi has finally realized where he’s meant to be. 

— — — 

Kimi takes another cold bath, shorter this time because water gets warmer much quicker this time around. It’s fine, wouldn’t help anyway. Climbing into his nest feels like coming home after many months of being away. Gets even better when Ollie asks if he can enter and Kimi lets him, lets him kiss him properly and press his head against Kimi’s collarbone and laugh at how hot he is, both literally and figuratively. 

— — — 

When he wakes up it’s almost exactly like when he got his surprise heat. He’s burning up and dripping, mind clouded and still groggy but this time he’s not surrounded by laundry detergent and soap but something much stronger; the alpha smell is overwhelming, dizzying. Ollie’s still asleep, laying on his back like a corpse in a casket but Kimi presses himself against him and can’t stop himself from moving his hips and letting out small groans under his breath.

Ollie only wakes up when Kimi sinks his teeth into his shoulder, hips working frantically, rubbing against his thighs. His eyes are closed and he’s too far gone to even notice that Ollie’s awake. He’s whining , the sound half muffled by Ollie’s shirt but still audible. There could be ten alarms going off at the same time and Ollie would still pick up on Kimi’s little noises. 

He lets Kimi hump his leg like a dog, only moving away when he can see that he’s close. 

It’s kinda cruel but Kimi’s glossy and confused eyes looking at him are the sweetest ambrosia known to mankind. Ollie stares until he’s sure he won’t ever be able to forget this sight. 

He pushes Kimi onto his back and hovers above him, kissing away the tears that spill out. He tries to kiss Kimi too, but it’s a bit more difficult, it’s more so just Kimi panting into his open mouth; hot nonetheless. 

Ollie slides his hand under Kimi’s underwear, wraps it around him and that’s all it takes for Kimi to start spilling between their bodies, broken sobs and moans escaping his lips, red and wet where he sank his teeth trying to be quiet. 

“Fuck.” Ollie huffs, looking at the mess on Kimi’s stomach. He has to resist the urge to bend down and lick it up. 

Kimi hooks his arms behind his neck and pulls him down, their lips finally meeting in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue. Ollie removes his hand, wiping it off on the duvet and brings it up to run it over Kimi’s chest brushing against his nipple which earns him a sharp gasp. Kimi stops kissing him and turns his head to the side to breathe freely, giving Ollie the opportunity to kiss and bite his jaw. He’s careful about leaving marks, doesn’t want to do it in any place that will be hard to cover up; he’s also extra careful about Kimi’s neck. The last thing they need is accidentally mating and triggering Ollie’s rut in the meantime. 

“I-it hurts,” Kimi whines and Ollie hums against his burning skin, sliding down until he’s by his sternum. He bites down and Kimi’s hands fly to his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. He continues marking up Kimi’s chest until his head isn’t forcefully lifted by Kimi tugging his hair, hard. The moan that leaves him surprises them both. 

“Don’t tease tesoro, not now!” Kimi’s crying again, eyes red and clouded with want. “Need you inside or I’ll die.” 

“Okay, yeah— okay.” 

Kimi has to let him go so he can move back, sit on his heels and tug off his soaked underwear. He’s already rock hard again and moans loudly when the cold air hits his throbbing cock, the head aggressively red and leaking profoundly. Kimi opens up his thighs to make space for Ollie, presenting his hole; pink and clenching desperately around nothing. There’s an obscene amount of slick; a big, wet patch underneath his hips. Ollie looks up at Kimi, sees him breathing hard through his nose, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He takes a deep breath and lets his fingers brush against Kimi’s hole. 

Kimi lets out a long, drawn out moan when Ollie sinks a first finger in, all the way. He doesn’t need much prep, loosened up by the heat, body made all pliant and soft to fit an alpha inside; to fit Ollie inside. He only then becomes aware of how impossibly hard he is, to the point of aching. 

He probably adds the second finger a bit too soon, probably scissors them a bit too roughly, his inexperience showing and shining as bright as the sun spilling into the room. Kimi doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem to think about anything at all, only concentrated on the pleasure. 

The third finger goes in smoothly and the slick squelches, coating Ollie’s whole hand. He manages to get two stuttering thrusts in before Kimi whines. 

“Ollie, put it in now— per favore, Ollie.” Kimi sobs, trying to wrap his legs around Ollie’s waist to pull him closer. To get him where he needs it, where it burns. “Per favore.” 

Ollie swallows; blinks a few times and nods his head, removing his fingers. He watches as Kimi clenches, more slick dripping onto the mattress and pooling there.

He takes his underwear off in a hurry, wrapping his slick-covered hand around himself and stroking a few times. It feels heavenly; he has to squeeze himself to not cum immediately. His knot is already half-way inflated and he’s red and hot and aching.  

Sliding in feels like dying and coming alive at the same time. 

They moan in unison and when Ollie finally bottoms out, careful to not push his knot inside yet, Kimi comes again, untouched. The way he clenches as he does so has Ollie almost cumming too. 

He props himself up on straight hands, hovers above Kimi and waits, gives him a second to recover that’s probably unnecessary because Kimi’s still hard. 

Kimi bends forward a little, lifts himself from the bed so he can grab Ollie’s face, plant messy kisses all over it. He moves to the underside of his jaw, kisses and bites it; unlike Ollie, he doesn’t seem to mind leaving marks in visible places, doesn’t concern himself with how Ollie will cover them up. When he gets a bit too close to his neck, Ollie puts one hand on his chest and pushes him down onto the bed. 

“Mate–,” Kimi whines and Ollie doesn’t know if he’s asking or calling out to him. 

“We can’t mate Kimi, not yet.” 

Kimi groans in such grief, as if someone just told him he won’t be able to race ever again in his life. Ollie starts moving his hips to distract him, small thrusts that push out a string of ah, ah, ahs from Kimi’s wet lips. 

His thrusts get faster, harder and the mixture of their scents with the sound of skin slapping makes Ollie lightheaded. Kimi holds onto his forearms, his nails leaving red marks that will definitely sting tomorrow; his lips are parted and eyes still wet from tears, eyelashes sticky and clumped together. He looks like a painting; like life itself, like everything good. 

Ollie’s knot, now fully inflated, nudges against Kimi’s rim and Kimi keens, writhes against the bed.

“Alpha—” 

Ollie feels blood rush in his ears. Kimi’s a babbling mess, not a single coherent thought in his brain. He bends his neck, presents it for Ollie to bite and if he were a weaker man he would. 

Instead he moves one hand and stabs his fingernails into the spot Kimi wants him to bite, imitating his teeth; his knot pops inside at the same time and that’s all it takes for Kimi to come for the third time, this time taking Ollie with him. His orgasm takes him by surprise, hips stuttering as he rides it out, come spilling deep inside and staying there, the knot preventing it from escaping. 

Kimi is panting and blinking rapidly as if he just gained awareness, as if getting knotted cleared his head; maybe it did. Ollie lets himself fall onto his chest, onto the mess of cum and sweat and whatever on Kimi’s belly. He feels just as out of it, exhausted as if he had just ran a marathon. 

Kimi runs his hand through his sweaty hair, over his face, neck; stops there, freezes.

“Did you–” 

“No! No, just my nails, promise.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“W-would you..?” 

Ollie lifts himself up just so he can press their lips together, softly, no teeth or desperation. He hopes it’s good enough of an answer. 

— — — 

Kimi wakes up with arms around his waist, a chin hooked over his shoulder. Steady, calm breathing behind him and warmth, pure warmth, no longer scorching heat. He feels happy, as a driver, as a human, as an omega. Feels like maybe it’s all doable.