The ABO Serum

Yours to Command

It was heresy for a servant to command his master, but as his servant watched the Sheik huff and puff with impotent anger, he was tempted to test it. It was early morning in the U.S., but his master was wide awake, still on his home time and driving everyone crazy. All the servant had to do was drop one little word. Without a 'please,' 'calm down' became a command. Could he end this temper tantrum before it escalated? Would his master recognize it as a command or just think he'd regained control of himself? Escalation began and the hotel room was about to get thrashed. "Master, calm down," his voice trembled. Would it work?

It did. The Sheik immediately regained control of his emotions. But he turned on his servant, stunned at his audacity. "What else do you wish, my alpha?" The Sheik sneered and began stalking him.

Backing slowly toward the bed, the servant raised his hands and surrendered himself to his master's desire. But his master stopped short. The servant didn't dare raise his head. "Get out," his master commanded, and he fled.

Two hours later, the Sheik was following some idiot's directions to an American shopping mall because they said they'd seen an Arab man dressed in white robes there. He hated that he'd started getting anxious so quickly without his alpha around. His driver and bodyguards did not like this decision, but who would recognize him in this, the asshole of America.

"Trés Sheik!" A bulbous man squealed, and the Sheik turned his direction in time to recognize Richard Weisman right before getting unwillingly embraced by him in front of 'Bert's Big & Tall.'

"Ricky," he parried his old college mate's annoying choice of nickname for him. "What happened to you? Is that a cancer?" He looked pointedly at the large protrusion from the man's midsection.

"Fuck you, mate! This is the miracle of life," Richard wrapped his arms protectively around his belly in a posture synonymous with maternity the world over. The Sheik was in shock. Richard Weisman, the man slut of Stanford, was pregnant...and happy about it‽ That meant he was an omega, too.

Another man approached from behind and rested his hand gently on Richard's back. He turned and looked into the other man's eyes with deep adoration. The Sheik looked closer. "Brad Hemenway? Your lackey?"

Richard's head snapped back at that. "Watch what you say about my husband, brat." The Sheik may have been the ruler of a small country, but Richard was the social king of their college. It was the Sheik's proximity to the king that made his tenure in America tolerable.

He was a brat. Moreover, he was a brat out searching a shopping mall for his alpha who he was too stupid to keep by his side whilst Richard clearly had his alpha securely attached to him. Behind Richard a flash of white caught his eye. Then, he could see that it was his servant walking quickly toward him.

"Master, why have you come here?" He asked. As soon as word of a commotion involving bodyguards reached the far end of the mall, he'd known who it was.

"Why have I...," the Sheik caught himself before having a public temper tantrum. He had that much self-control. "Who told you to leave the hotel?" The servant's posture was antithetical to an alpha, but Richard smelled him and sized up the situation quickly.

"Brad, dear, the Sheik needs some appropriate clothes for this type of outing. His servant probably knows his sizes, take care of it," Richard directed. Brad bowed slightly and held his hand out in a 'come with me' gesture the servant understood but was nervous to follow.

"Fine, go with him," the Sheik conceded with zero grace. "You," he looked pointedly at Richard. "Where will we be waiting. I'm hungry and I don't want to be stared at."

"We have the Cheesecake Factory reserved for lunch," Brad reminded his husband.

"The whole place?" The Sheik confirmed.