wondrousplace | abo nonsense

abo nonsense

Some clubs are, of course, only for humans or only for non-humans - not that there's ever official rules about these thing, but people tend to just know. A place has a certain name, a venue in a certain part of the city, and these things alone make it clear who is and isn't welcome.

Crimson, on the other hand, has always been for customers of all varieties - although it tends to only attract the most adventurous Betas. Double Trouble has been a co-owner for the past couple of years now, but that does not mean they're about to avoid availing themselves of the client-facing experience.

So to speak.

They're lounging alone - holding a glass of wine, lightly scented with cologne and Alpha sweat - when they first spot the newcomer.

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He gasps in a quick breath, finding himself ready for a bit more of a fight. His pupils dilate, and he agrees:

"Stoplights."

His nipple hurts, his cock aches, and both of his hands clench. Let's have it.

"Maybe you're not as tough as you say you are," Trouble coos, reaching up to start unbuttoning Tommy's shirt. "Maybe this is what you want. A big strong Alpha to pin you down, put you in your place..."

The next bite is against the side of his neck, and they do it like they mean it.

His hands are tight on Trouble's waist, and when they bite him like that a part of him does want to submit. He shudders, moans, tips his head back- and then shifts, hard, tensing his thighs as he goes to flip Trouble onto their back. He makes sure it could knock the wind out of them, and he puts a hand on their throat for good measure.

"Maybe," he murmurs. The hand not on their throat goes back to that thick cock, drawing it out. "But not tonight."

Trouble bites their lip, panting softly. They didn't bother with underwear under the skirt, and their cock springs out easily - smoother than human, without prominent veins, the head less distinct from the shaft. Still, there's something very familiar in the way their breath hitches when Tommy touches it.

"I can smell you now," they whisper. "How wet you're getting, darling."

He twists his hand on their prick, seeing how it reacts to touch.

"You like that? Want to take a closer look?"

He squeezes their throat harder, and ruts up against their thigh.

"You know I do."

Their voice is tight, inevitably, and their cock is throbbing in Tommy's hand. The knot is barely visible, but the skin is different - thicker, more flexible.

"You could - sit on my face, leave me so I can't see anything else."

He's already straddling their hips, as he squeezes their throat once more.

"It seems we're of a mind, you and I. Get my trousers off, then. Show me you want it."

"Yes, sir."

Breathing slow and deep, they open his trousers, reaching in to cup his prick and squeeze much too hard.

Make them sorry, Tommy, they're practically begging for it.

He hisses and immediately lets go of their cock, and he gives them just enough time to red out before he smacks them right across the face.

Their head jolts to the side, and Trouble gasps - and their cock drools precome, their scent all the stronger for it.

"You're really going to slap me when I've got your balls in my hand?" they chuckle, though their fingers are sliding further back, teasing at the slick heat of his hole.

He gasps when that scent hits his nose, his hips pushing forward, his legs spreading. He pushes his own trousers down, so his slick can trickle slowly down his thighs.

"You're really going going to pretend that didn't get your cock hard?"

"Not for an instant, darling."

They push two fingertips right inside him, curling them up into his prostate without a moment's hesitation..

"If you'd caught me last week, in the rut? Mm, you'd have had to chain me down."

He whimpers at that, his wet hole clenching around their fingers. He curls his own fist around his cock, pushing down and getting that pressure a moment.

"Think I haven't done that? An Alpha, tied down, that knot just for me..."

"Oh, I don't doubt it for a second."

They twist their fingers slowly.

"But I'm sure you can...guarantee my deference in other ways."

With some regret, he reaches between his legs and grabs their wrist. As he draws their hand out with an iron grip he moans, cock spurting over Trouble's stomach.

"Hands up," he orders, softly, voice breathy.

"Mmhm."

But on the way up, they push their fingers into the mouth, sucking off Tommy's slick. Their pupils dilate, the slits becoming round and dark.

"You're not very good at listening, are you?"

He shifts forward, and rests his knees and a significant amount of body weight on their upper arms. His wet hole and his stiff cock are both so close now, but he isn't letting them in just yet.

People are, from a distance, starting to watch. Trouble is always someone to watch on these nights, and the person over them is magnetic, at the very least.

"I'm very good at listening. Just...selective about acting on what I've heard."

They stroke his inner thigh with the tip of their tail, arms flexing lightly in his grip.

"We're attracting an audience, sir."

"So let's give them something to look at," he murmurs. He puts one hand on the back of the booth, for leverage, before he gives in and lowers his ass down to Trouble's mouth. He's really not giving them any option. "Tap any part of me twice if you need to stop," he whispers, invisible and inaudible for their audience.

"Tap twice," Trouble agrees, leaning back so Tommy can straddle their face like he needs. Immediately that Omega scent is smothering, intense, and their cock throbs hard and needy as they push their long slim tongue right up into him.

One of the benefits of fucking a shifter; they're just exceptionally good at giving head, once they've learned to manage the teeth.

"Fuck me," he breathes, the sound punched out of him. That has clearly never happened to him before, and it feels practically life-changing. The slick trickles down their tongue and over his thighs, his nails digging into the booth. "Jesus fucking Christ, that's good--"He wraps a hand around his own cock, but succinctly ignores what he knows is quite the erection behind him.

And so does Trouble, even though it's fucking hurting to go neglected right now. They have their arms clasped over their head, nails digging into their own skin with bruising force - all they want to do is knead Tommy's thighs, stroke his cock, spread him even wider.

But God, this will do. Being dominated so confidently, so completely by an Omega is a novel experience, and they're focused completely on his pleasure. They pull out of him for just a moment, long enough to lick at his sac, then return to work on his hole.

He tips his head back, closes his eyes. He can feel eyes on him, he can feel that they're being watched, and it feels more beautiful for it.

One hand slowly drifts to Trouble's hair again, which he just holds onto. When their tongue pulls out he tightens his grip-- and relaxes again when they start fucking him with it again.

"You're fucking fantastic at this," he moans.

"What can I say, darling? You make me want to please the crowd," Trouble purrs, breathless, and then presses a bite into the firm muscle of his ass before lapping across his hole. "You can't imagine how good you taste."

His grip tightens again, but he doesn't chastise them. He just wants them to keep going.

"There's at least a dozen people just looking," he informs them, after a brief look over his shoulder.

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