Through Hell [AOB/LGBT+/mpreg]

6

The scent of omega permeates the room, soaks the bedsheets and mixes thoroughly with alpha musk.

"Eat," the alpha growls in growing exasperation.

The omega's nose scrunches in distaste as he refuses to touch the food.  It makes his stomach revolt, the smell enough to make him want to vomit.  The alpha rolls his eyes at his antics.  He knows the omega is more sensitive to smell and taste during heat, but he needs the omega to eat.  He spoons the broth of caldo de res and brings it to the omega's pouting lips.

Reluctantly the omega parts his lips and the alpha can breathe easier now that the omega has something in his belly.  He only manages a handful of bites before their heat and rut take over and the alpha finds himself fucking the omega into oblivion over the table, food spilling and wasted.  By the time the fog lifts they're smeared in come and slick and food.

"You reek omega, like rotting fruit."

"You-You're not any better," the omega retorts with that cute scrunch of his nose back, and the alpha will admit he likes when this little omega talks back, "you stink like our burning ozone layer."

It's then that the alpha has enough sense to guide them toward the bathroom where he sets the shower.  They step into the cool cascade in hopes to calm the flames licking at their insides with desire, but it isn't long before the alpha is on his knees in front of the omega.  Oliver looks down at the man in confusion, droplets of water and frustrated tears clinging to his dark lashes.  He watches mesmerized as the alpha's tongue sticks out and licks the swollen lips of his pussy adding to the shiny slick glistening on the folds and gathering down his thighs.

He throws his head back in pure ecstasy.

"Alpha," he whimpers breathlessly.

"Oro," the alpha grunts.

Hazy eyes flicker down toward the man again, "Wha-What?"

A huff of laughter, "call me Oro."

Oliver bites his lower lips, "Oro," the name is foreign on his tongue, but it feels right.  It settles over him like a weighted blanket and makes him feel safe when he repeats it, "Oro."

The sound of his name on the omega's lips is enough to invigorate the alpha as he stands and wraps the omega in his arms, propping him against the shower wall.  Oliver goes willingly, their bodies melding into one again and again and again.

It's only when the water is no longer warm, when fingers and toes are pruney, do they step out of the bathroom clean and fucked out.

Oro lays Oliver back against the mess of blankets that was once a nest.  Oro swipes the softest towel he can find across Oliver's skin.  He swipes the cloth against freckled and bruised shoulders, drags the towel over sensitive puffy nipples and down a swollen belly full of cum.

It's in the methodical silence of drying off that Oro offers something Oliver never thought of.

"Let's make a deal," he begins, taking advantage that the omega seems to be coherent longer in between the bursts of heat.

"Hm?"

"I need you to do something for me," the alpha continues vaguely.

"Do something for you? What is it?"

The alpha sits beside the omega on the bed, back pressed against the headboard as his cock begins to fill and peak in interest.  Oliver takes it as invitation.  He crawls onto the alpha's lap and without hesitation sinks onto the delectable knot.

"Like that, don't you? Like hanging off my knot like a slut," the alpha derides.

A small smile grows on Oliver's lip, "just yours."

The bark of amused laughter is worth the heat crawling up his bruised neck and onto his cheeks and ears.

"Filthy bitch," the alpha snorts.

Oliver holds back the urge to agree, but Oro knows if the fluttering and squeeze of his cock inside the omega's cunt is anything to go by.  Gods, this stupid omega and his degradation kink.

"Do as I say," Oro finally says, "and how about I let you live?"

Oliver takes a moment to process the words through his muddled mind, "... What?"

His back straightens out, but Oro's firm hands on his hips don't let him escape.  Not that he wants to, but still.

"If you do as I say, I'll clear your debt and let you live."

"And if I don't?" The omega retorts with a tilt of his head.

Despite being cock deep in the omega, the darkness that surrounds the alpha's words do not falter, "Next time I won't need a gun to finish the job."

Oliver shivers at the clear promise, his words spit right back at him in the worst way possible.

This is it.

Oro is offering something he can't refuse.

But he's scared, terrified out of his mind.

This man is dangerous, getting further involved with him could get him killed. He knows this.  But there will be a next time, the promise is heavy in his words. Whether he heeds the alpha or not, his life will still be on the line.  The alpha will still have his life in his hands.

It causes a shiver to crawl up his spine and he's not sure if the tingles running down his legs are also from fear or from the pleasure starting to overwhelm his senses again.

His omega shushes the thoughts running ramped and allows himself to sink into the blanket of warmth the alpha is still providing.

"Think about it omega," the alpha whispers against his ear, breath tickling him and causing those pleasure-filled shivers again.

"Fuck me, alpha," the omega growls, "and maybe I will."

The nip to his lips is worth it.

But he knows that next time will decide who lives.

With that heaviness he wakes up on the fourth day of his pseudo-heat.

For once he's clear headed without the looming feeling of his omega creeping up behind him.  With his omega in the recess of his mind he becomes painfully aware that he is alone with no alpha in sight.  An ache so profound begins to build in his chest and he rubs at the tender area in hopes to alleviate the phantom pain.

He looks around the room and anything that belonged to the alpha is gone with him, no trace of the man ever being there.

The only thing left behind is the lingering scent of rut, of lightening before the torrent. The scent of morning dew, of a meadow after freshly fallen rain.

He brings up his knees to his chest, wrinkling his nose when he feels a load of cum and slick slip from his pussy and pool under his naked ass.

The ache in his chest only grows as the room remains still, empty.

He closes his eyes and rests his head against his crossed arms.

He turns his head to the side and his glazed eyes land on his phone.

He furrows a brow, sure he had stashed the device in the night stand drawer.

He reaches for it and finds a message blinking back at him from an unknown number.

He reads and rereads the message.

Short and to the point and he knows exactly from who.

On it? An address.

His way out.