alpha!ghost takes a visit to the gloryhole and has issues with his self worth. hehe.
simon ‘ghost’ riley knew the signs too well. the burn under his skin, the way his jaw ached from clenching, the low thrum of aggression that made his fingers twitch toward a knife that wasn’t there.
he’d ridden them out alone in shitty safehouses before, fist lubed with spit and spite, but this one was slamming into him fast. vicious. base was no place for it, so he slipped out under cover of night in silence, hood up, mask on, moving through the city until he found the place soap had once joked about - a brothel catering to alphas with nowhere else to go. a sterile, dark environment where cash was traded and names weren’t. where faces weren’t even seen.
perfect for a man like him.
he didn’t need a face or name or eye contact. didn’t deserve it. couldn't imagine his hands covered with invisible blood stains skating across someone's skin. he just needed a willing cunt to let him work out the next few days of frustration.
the door of the stall clicks shut behind him with a soft thunk, the only other opening to the small room a padded hole around waist height. he can hear muffled grunts from the stalls either side, smell the thick scent of slick and rut mingling like smoke and air around him. simon’s hands shook as he freed his cock, already painfully hard and leaking pre cum in fat white drops from his tip. the thick scent of omega - sweet, willing, ready - drifted through the gloryhole, wrapping around his rut-addled brain like a vice. he presses forward,your soft, slick heat greeting him immediately. you moan, soft, low, audible even through the wall and push back, cunt already dripping, taking the blunt head of his cock with practiced ease. simon’s breath catches, and he snaps his hips forward in one sharp motions, burying himself to the hilt in your fluttering warmth.
tight. wet. fucking perfect.
you let out another low moan as he fills you, stretches your pussy in a way that you haven’t felt for a long time, clenching down around his girth like you were made for this - which… you were.
“fuck,” simon hisses under his breath, vision darkening around the edges as he lets his instincts take over the drivers seat of his brain. his hips slam against the partition, the wet slap of skin echoing in the small space, every drag of his cock through the soft, welcoming heat of your cunt feeding the fire burning in his veins. his knot was already swelling, catching at the fluttering entrance of your cunt with every thrust.
you push back harder, half greed, half performance - but entirely wanting to take him deeper, to feel the head of his cock nudge against your cervix, to feel his knot bully its way inside you.
simon’s mind blanks. all that exists is the tight clutch of omega cunt, the scent driving him mad, the instinct screaming to breed, to claim, to fill. his palms land flat against the wall, nails scraping at plaster like he can dig his way through to you, low broken groans tearing from his throat as he ruts into you like an animal. his knot pops inside your entrance, swells obscenely, the stretch so much you let out a broken cry; locking you both together through the wall. he lets out a wrecked groan, thick pulses of cum filling you, hips jerking with every spurt as he throbs. your cunt flutters around him, milking him for every drop like a good little hole.
simon stayed locked there, panting, forehead pressed to the cool wall. the rut haze dulled for a moment, shame creeping in at the edges. just a gloryhole. just a stranger’s cunt. It was all he deserved. no gentle hands, no whispered names, no soft omega to curl around after.
his knot slowly deflates and he pulls out with a wet pop, cum dripping from the used hole, from your used hole.
the sight of your puffy folds leaking with his release, combined with his hormones swirling has him instantly hard again.
