Hey guys! Just a quick ABO pwp one-shot. Enjoy!


Hotel Heat

"Luke, Room 806."

Glancing up from where he was trying to iron a guest's shirt, Luke saw the general manager holding a phone out to him. He raised his eyebrows.

The GM just shrugged. "Asked for the alpha bellhop who carried his luggage up."

Room 806. After a second, it came to him: that was the rich-as-sin omega he'd helped check in a few hours ago. Usually his job was done after the luggage arrived and there was a tip in his hand.

Looking frustrated, the GM just shoved the phone against his chest, mouthed don't be rude, and strode away. Luke rolled his eyes and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

Heavy breathing. Then: "Come up here. Now."

Luke's skin prickled, his lip curled. Being an alpha in the service industry was a shitshow. He reined back any growls before saying, "did you need something, sir?"

"God damnit—" There was a tinkling smash, obviously one of the hotel cups now shattered to pieces. "Just. Fuck. Get up here."

Click.

Luke snarled. His heart was pounding, his blood pumping. That omega…

That guest, asshole.

With a sigh, he unplugged the iron. Taking the service elevator, he punched the button for the eighth floor of Magis Hotel and straightened his bellhop uniform as the car lifted. When the doors opened, he strode through with professional purpose.

He reached 806 and saw that the door had been left slightly open. Running his tongue over his teeth, he shook himself out to relieve any residual annoyance, and then knocked. No answer. He pushed the door forward. "Sir? Mr. Garrison?"

Something thudded against something else. He heard a sharp curse.

He shut the door behind him and walked past the small sitting area that came with this type of suite, entering the bedroom.

On the other side, was Rhys Garrison. He was leaning against the window overlooking the city, his reflection showing a loose bow tie, unbuttoned collar, disheveled blonde hair, and a drink in his hand. When he noticed Luke, he turned around and pinned him with ice-blue eyes.

Luke gulped.

The scent hit him like a two-by-four. Heat. Rhys was in heat.

Rhys smiled a little wryly, his eyes narrowing as he took a long, wobbly sip from his drink. He then smacked his lips and said, "Look who it is."

You called me up here, Luke chose not to reply.

With a barely perceptible stumble, Rhys made his way to the room's desk and set his drink down, sloshing it everywhere. He then righted himself, pushing his hair back as he surveyed Luke, his gaze travelling slowly down. "How old are you?"

"Twenty."

Rhys snorted. He wrapped his hand around his throat and gazed off towards the city again.

The whole room stank of him. He must have been rolling around for a few hours, the heat quickly building up. To be honest, Luke was surprised a rich snob like Rhys didn't have some discreet number he could call for emergencies like this. Unless…

"So I caught your eye, huh?" Luke said casually.

Rhys's gaze flicked over, his expression tightening. His cheeks were flushed.

Luke took a step forward, locking his hands behind his back. "You probably can still smell me on your luggage."

"In the elevator, down the hallway…" Rhys muttered, obviously pretending his sudden dash across the room was to check the mini-fridge instead of an attempt at avoiding Luke closing in on him.

Luke grinned. Either way, Rhys was cornered. "That bad, huh?" he asked, voice dripping with fake kindness. He wondered just how rich this omega was, and how he'd made so much money. Well—he did look pretty smart. And pretty.

Playing at the edge of his canine with his tongue, Luke started unbuttoning his bellhop jacket as he eyed Rhys—who was starting to whimper. "Tell me you want it," Luke said.

A very sudden, very angry look of defiance burned on Rhys's face and extinguished just as quickly, melting into resignation. "I want it," he said with a small voice.

Someone who loved Rhys would feel pain at that voice, but luckily Luke was just some bastard with a shitty tip. He still had the two bucks in his pocket. He shucked the jacket, and pointed at the floor in front of him.

Rhys scrambled. But fought the scrambling. What a fucking sight, Luke thought with amusement as he watched Rhys drop to his knees in front of him. The omega's chest was heaving, his throat flushed. His eyes were glassy. He must have fought the heat as long as he could.

Luke hooked one finger under Rhys's chin and tilted his face up. He was wearing the white shirt and black slacks of a tuxedo-who knows where the jacket went, so he must have come from some fancy thing. Luke clucked his tongue, pulling the bow tie from around Rhys's collar and tossing it aside. "Did you embarrass yourself?"

The immediate, breathy whimper was the answer to that question. Rhys must have high-tailed it out of wherever he was the second he felt himself starting to slick.

Luke had been fucking omegas since he was sixteen. He knew they could be ridiculously unprepared for their heats, but he kinda expected a man of Rhys's age to have his shit together. And he told him so.

"Fuck you…" Rhys said, almost crying even as he nuzzled his cheek against Luke's open palm. At this rate, he'd probably start sucking on the fingers.

But Luke pulled away, not feeling generous. Especially with Rhys cursing at him. Rhys followed his retreating hand, begging and grasping. Luke just pushed him away and walked over to the abandoned drink, polishing it off. He felt something brush his pant leg, and glance down in bemusement.

Rhys, on hands and knees, was kissing the toe of his shoe.

Eyes hooded, Luke smirked.

He set the glass down, and gently kicked Rhys towards the bed. "Get undressed," he said. "And make yourself easy to mount. It's been a long day."

"Yes, sir." Rhys crawled to the bed, tearing his clothes off along the way. His thighs were glistening with slick, his balls hung heavy. He dropped on his belly, angling his ass up, and spread his legs.

"Good boy," Luke murmured, feeling a little warm himself. He undid his fly, and let his pants drop. Then he kicked his shoes off, his eyes never leaving Rhys's inviting form. He started jacking himself, growing thick in his palm.

Fucking omegas in heat was not exactly an art form. Basically Luke climbed on top of them and let instinct take over—forcing their hands above their heads, biting their shoulders, rutting into them forcefully and brutally. Rhys was no different.

"Higher," Luke growled, clapping Rhys's thigh. With a choked whimper, Rhys raised his ass. His groans ripped out of his throat in time with Luke's thrusts. He was slick as hell, making a mess of everything. Suddenly annoyed about the short-changed tip he'd leave the cleaning staff, Luke started spanking him.

More whimpering. More cries. Luke grinned. The asscheeks he was pounding were glowing a nice shade of pink. His gaze moved up along Rhys's sloped back, to the omega's face.

Rhys's eyes were clenched shut. He was biting his lip. But there was a slowly blooming relief in his expression.

Luke grabbed his hips. Relieving the omega's heat was all well and good but Luke also wanted to get his. He crowded over Rhys, wrapping his arms around him and sinking his teeth into Rhys's shoulder. He jerked his hips, wanting deeper and deeper.

He felt the knot grow.

So did Rhys. "Wait—out…" He was clenching around Luke's cock.

Fuck. Luke could feel the urge all throughout his body: knot him. Knot this brat. Settle him.

Breed him.

Luke started licking at the bite. "It's okay," he murmured softly.

"No…"

"No?"

Nothing, Rhys didn't say anything. He didn't struggle.

Luke's breath stuttered as the knot locked inside, as he came, as he most likely bred this total stranger with a pup. He slumped down on Rhys's back.

"Oh my god…" he heard Rhys say with a raspy voice.

This did not go as planned.

That thought came and went, replaced with a million other thoughts: Rhys was no longer a stranger—he was carrying Luke's progeny. He wasn't just any omega now, he was Luke's omega.

Luke pushed his hand under Rhys's belly, rubbing. His pup would be forming in there. Even after all the lectures he'd sat through from his father, and he still knocked up an omega. So why did it feel so good?

"Don't worry," Luke whispered against Rhys's ear with a chuckle. "I'll take care of both of you." He could already sense the struggle, Rhys squirming. But it was so half-assed. And a second later, it was over.

Rhys snuggled his face against the palm Luke offered him, defeated.

Or maybe I am, Luke thought idly. All Rhys had to do was call him up and there he was, alpha cock ready to service. And how much of Rhys's obedience was due to the heat? The answer would become apparent later, but Luke had a feeling their relationship would be an interesting roller coaster either way.

He shifted them around to their sides with a grunt, swinging one leg over Rhys's thigh, and sluggishly thrusted his hips a few times as he came again.

end


big news: I have a short story coming out at Riptide Publishing! It's called Wet Heat (no relation to this one besides being ABO). It's up for pre-sale, so go check it out :D