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She doesn’t want to be mean, but Lucrecia is growing sick of Vincent. He follows her around like a lost puppy that only knows how to heel, and not to mention his smell. It's so damn strong that she has to mentally remind herself to get a grip whenever he so much as enters a room. He’s sickly sweet and it’s getting arguably worse each time she sees him, not to mention that adorable pink flush on his cheeks whenever she gives him a look.
It comes to a point when she’s reading something off a clipboard. Not really reading more than just saying the words out loud because there’s no way she can remotely focus on what these words about some project even mean when Vincent is leaning over her shoulder to read along with her. He’s just… right there. It’s like he doesn’t even care that every alpha in Nibelheim can probably smell him just by his presence in the town. Lucrecia grimaces as that sweet scent smacks her in the face so hard that she places her palm on Vincent’s chest and pushes him a few feet away.
He stumbles a little bit away from her, his hand rising to mimic where she just shoved him.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing right now?” She grits, seconds away from slamming her clipboard down on the table.
Vincent visibly and audibly swallows.
“What I am… doing?”
“Yes. What you’re doing,” She repeats like she can make it slot in place in his head if she just says it enough times. “You’re hovering. I know you’re a bodyguard, but you’re not a dog, Valentine.”
Vincent shuffles on his feet a little, visibly embarrassed at the fact that he was caught.
“I- I apologize, Doctor.”
Lucrecia narrows her eyes at him, scenting the air.
“Are you…?” She starts.
“Am I…?” Vincent repeats back when she doesn’t continue her sentence.
“Are you going into heat?”
Vincent stiffens up where he stands, the floorboards creaking when he scuffs his shoe on the ground as if to mock him.
“I’m… I, uhm,” He takes entirely too long to give an answer, so Lucrecia uses her context clues and decides that the answer is yes. “You can tell?”
Lucrecia scoffs.
“You smell like cupcakes, Valentine,” She deadpans. “Doesn’t Shinra prescribe you suppressants?”
Now Vincent is embarrassed. They do prescribe him suppressants, but he ran out a week or so before this heat and they haven’t provided him any more. Was he supposed to ask?
“Oh, I– I ran out,” He mutters, staring at the hardwood beneath his shoes. It’s so hot in here. “If you’d like me to leave, I can–”
“You ran out?” Lucrecia interrupts. For an omega actively in heat, they should prescribe him enough. She knows Vincent won’t complain about it. She will if he won’t.
“Please don’t worry about it,” Vincent is already gathering himself to leave if it’s bothering her so much. He has a hand on the doorknob and his suit jacket in his arms before he’s stopped.
“Hold on,” Lucrecia speaks up, looking at him sidelong from over her shoulder. “Come here.”
She motions for him with two fingers, and Vincent really hates how his stomach does a flip at that simple gesture. Why does she want him to go over there?
Slowly, Vincent steps over, his dress shoes clicking on the hardwood. He stands a few feet back from her for fear of making her uncomfortable.
“When I say ‘come here…,’” She reiterates, pointing at the floor right next to her.
Vincent feels like a dog. He closes the rest of the distance, his eyes all shifty.
Lucrecia raises a hand up, tilting his face towards her. Vincent makes a little squeaky sound in the back of his throat and hopes that the gentle smile Lucrecia gave really wasn’t her attempt at stifling a laugh.
Vincent’s cheeks are beet red, his face is hot to the touch. Lucrecia doesn’t think he’s met her eyes at all today.
“Sit down.”
Lucrecia gestures to the table in front of them, bending down slightly to pick up the paperwork on the table so that Vincent doesn’t sit on any of it. He clearly doesn’t want to hear that slightly disappointed tone she gets when he doesn’t follow her directions, so he slides himself onto the edge of the table, backed up enough that only the toes of his shoes brush the floor.
He only comes to his senses in his clouded brain once Lucrecia spreads his legs by his knees.
“Wh– Doctor?” He gasps, although he’s not necessarily trying to close his legs or even protest this.
“Lucrecia,” She immediately corrects. “Not ‘Doctor.’ Not right now.”
Vincent snaps his jaw shut when her dainty hands travel to his belt. He’s hardly blinked by the time she tosses it onto the floor, tugging his pants down so that they get stuck on his shoes, which he promptly kicks off by the heel so that she can continue her ministrations. He catches her small smile when he does so, like he’s done something good. He wants more of that.
She hikes her skirt up and presses the bulge in her underwear right against his crotch, to which Vincent has to hold back a yelp. He feels so foggy and cloudy. He hooks his arms around her shoulders while he rocks his hips up, back and forth, shoving his head against the crook of her neck to inhale. He couldn’t smell her earlier, but this close, his nose shoved into her skin, it practically fogs his brain entirely. He makes a noise when Lucrecia’s cold hand grasps the back of his neck like the scruff of a kitten.
“Don’t bite,” She growls, her teeth lingering close to his jawline, her breath hot against his neck.
He whines, but he obeys. Because if he doesn’t, Lucrecia will be disappointed with him again. Vincent reluctantly nods, suckling on the skin of her throat like a teething kitten.
Her body encases him, even if she’s smaller than him, he still feels small under her gaze like this. Her ponytail slides down her shoulder, and Vincent wants nothing more than to pull that yellow ribbon out of her hair and tug her in by the soft strands.
“Lucy–” Vincent cries when she’s just been sitting there for what feels like five minutes grinding her cock back and forth across his own. “Please.”
Lucrecia huffs, because it really has only been one minute maximum and Vincent is just being impatient. She tugs her own underwear down her legs, doing the same to him because he’s seemingly far too foggy to do it himself. Not that he wants to unlatch his arms from her anyway.
Two fingers slide through Vincent’s pussy, causing a whining noise from him as he glances down at Lucrecia’s manicured fingers covered in slick.
“You’re so wet,” She whispers, to which he cocks his head to the side so that his hair can cover his face. Instead, Lucrecia brushes that section of hair back so she can see all of him. He hardly has any chance to even be humiliated when the tip of her cock grazes across his hole and his hips twitch up in anticipation.
She presses a hand right against Vincent’s navel, holding his hips to the table, much to his chagrin even if he wasn’t getting any friction in the first place. Lucrecia is coming to the conclusion that he just likes to whine.
“Stay still,” She urges, taking a hold of her cock and letting the tip press inside, listening to the long prolonged moan Vincent lets out. She’s lucky there’s no one in the basement at this hour, considering that she’s risking her job to fuck a needy omega. “And you don’t have to be quiet.”
Vincent swallows. He wasn’t going to be quiet even if she hadn’t said that. He’s always been loud.
“Please, please, keep going,” He cries next, even if his own words are further embarrassing himself. “Please, I can take it, I can–”
Lucrecia takes his words to heart, gripping his prominent hip bones and ramming her cock until skin meets skin and she bottoms out inside of him. The sound he makes is almost heavenly to her ears. She doesn’t waste time, but she thinks about it just to hear more of those sweet moans and whines out of Vincent. She’s not cruel, however.
Vincent’s body slides back and forth on the desk every time she pulls back, leaving just the tip in, thrusting him backwards when she rides back in. His entire body is tingly and flushed all over, almost feverish at this rate. Her fingers entered his mouth at some point and Vincent has no mind left to not do anything she would want for him to do. He lets his jaw hang slack, drool sliding down his chin and being smudged across his red cheeks by Lucrecia’s fingers. He’s not sure why her fingers are in his mouth, but he’s certainly not going to complain about it.
It doesn’t help that she’s staring at him. That every time his eyes refocus, she seems to be holding eye contact until Vincent looks away and she smirks when he does so. Her lipstick is slightly smudged and Vincent resists the urge to kiss her so that it can transfer to his own lips, dark red plastered across his cheeks wherever she would decide to kiss him.
This is too much, and Vincent can feel warmth gathering in his abdomen, right where her other hand is still pushing down onto his navel.
“Lucy, Lucy, I’m– I’m–”
“Mhm, I know, c’mon,” She groans, her own voice breathy. Vincent isn’t sure what she’s telling him to “come on” for. He doesn’t want to cum without permission even though she’s said nothing that would say he can’t.
“Can I? Can I, please?” Vincent begs, slurring on his own words like a drunk man. “Can I come? Please?”
Vincent hears Lucrecia scoff. Or laugh. He’s not sure.
“Did I ever say you couldn’t?
She slams her hips up as she says it, and Vincent realizes that, no, she hadn’t. He cries out when he cums, slapping his own hands over his mouth and almost falling clean off the desk if not for Lucrecia still being buried to the hilt inside of him and keeping him close enough to upright.
He pants heavily, feeling the warm coat of Lucrecia’s cum inside of him soon afterwards. Had the sight of him cumming his brains out caused her to follow suit? The thought makes his cheeks burn redder than they already are, already feeling that annoying heat beginning to crawl up his spine again. Gods, he needs to leave now.
Lucrecia pulls out and Vincent stifles a sound at the feeling of her spend leaking out of him. He stands up like a baby deer, her hand gently braced against his bicep to ground him. He stares down at his socks, having the brief urge to lick her cum off of the ground when he sees it.
He shakes his head and decides to just get dressed and leave. He pulls his pants back up, ignoring the wet, sticky feeling on his inner thighs when he does so, pulling his shoes on.
Lucrecia has already wiped the floor under the desk where they had been and is back to work by the time he turns to look at her. She’s raking a hand through her hair that she’s let down in order to fix some loose strands and Vincent just stands there watching.
He urgently finds his voice, clearing his throat and collecting his jacket.
“...Thank you,” He mutters.
Lucrecia waves a casual hand without looking behind her.
“I’ll email someone to actually get you those suppressants. Just go home for now.”
Vincent blinks at the back of her head.
“I’ll… see you tomorrow.”
Lucrecia glances over her shoulder, tying her yellow ribbon back into her hair and smiling at him.
“Goodbye, Vincent.”