Chapter Text
Vincent suspects this is the absolute longest day he’s ever had and ever will have- it’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t have to crawl the rest of the way through the house to the bedroom. All he wants is to drop himself in the embrace of his beautiful bed where his beautiful wife is no doubt already asleep.
Christ- he relaxes against the closed door for a moment, head tilted back, eyes closed. His glasses are peeled away swiftly as he rubs at his eyes.
What time even was it? It’s early. Far too early for anyone to be up and about.
You must be worried sick- and normally he’d say it serves you right for not picking up the damn phone- but you’ve been so out of it lately. Tired, cranky. He’s been telling himself all day that you probably came right home after your appointment and fell asleep. That’s why you didn’t pick up.
Any irritation he feels is quickly consumed with a gnawing sort of worry about you that eats at him whenever he’s left alone, whenever the lights and camera turn away from him. If Jimmy- that idiot- hadn’t steered Robert in his direction to rope him into some bullshit at the very, absolutely, last minute- bullshit that did not further his career in any way, mind you- he wouldn’t have had to spend all this time worrying.
He dearly hopes you’re feeling better. It’s been kind of hellish for him that you haven’t been. A little bit of uncharacteristic tiredness hadn’t been so alarming at first but not being able to keep anything down day or night was where he drew the line- God help you both if he caught whatever it was you had.
Still… it’s just about the only time you’ve ever been sick and to his surprise, instead of it being- well- fairly annoying, it throws him off in ways he hadn’t expected it to. You’re not even- you’re not dying or anything so he’s not sure why it’s such a big deal…?
Just take tonight for instance! Jumping at random shadows, that’s what he was doing! It’s terribly unbecoming even if nobody would ever know about it… he knew about it! He’s standing there over a dead body imagining there’s a spectator lurking around when there most certainly wasn’t- he’d checked, he’d wasted so much time that he could have spent in your arms double and triple checking.
Really, he should have let poor Jimmy go on about his business- cut him down when another opportunity arose… come home to you, put the whole ordeal to bed but- it was such a good opportunity, okay? On the plus side… and he hadn’t planned for this but it was still true… for a wildly short minute before a sudden and uncharacteristic paranoia gripped him he felt… in control, powerful, secure.
Vincent pushes away from the door, tip-toeing blindly through the dark living room and down the hallway. He’ll take a proper bath after a couple of hours of sleep- he’d already gone and burned the bloodied articles of clothing that couldn’t be saved. No worries- at least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about.
In the doorway to the bedroom you stand, shoulder to the frame- arms crossed. The suddenness of your figure there when he hadn’t expected it makes him jump. Warm light trickles from the bedside lamp in the room behind you- and you look like an angel.
As his eyes adjust there’s a peculiar ping in his mind as he puts two and two together and it looks like you’re wearing- apparently- nothing but a silken robe that… belongs to him…?
You shift your weight when his eyes meet yours, stand straighter, shoulders tense and- oh yeah. Yep. That’s definitely his robe. It’s practically melting off of your much more slender shoulders, smaller shape.
Vincent swallows thickly, eyes sweeping down- feels his face reddening faintly in shock and arousal.
Oh… tonight’s just been all kinds of interesting, hasn’t it? Or well- it’s the early morning now… ugh…
“M-missed me?” He stammers, arches a faintly confused brow at you, pulling his tie loose- suit jacket over his arm.
You don’t blink- he hates it when you do that. You’re staring at him like you might observe a bug in a jar, hoping to spy it scuttling around. Nonetheless, it’s difficult to tell if you’re furious or worried- or some explosive mixture of both…
“Look, hon-” he turns on the charm as best he can, lowers his voice to a sultry croon he knows you like best as he takes a few steps forward, “I’m real sorry but I lost track of-”
With each word he speaks with tired, warm confidence- hoping to assuage whatever mood you’ve taken tonight before it reaches out and bites him- you take several steps forward. From the bedroom to the end of the hallway, your feet quiet against the floorboards before you stop to stand in front of him. Vincent blinks, stares down at you in confusion just as you’re tilting your head up to look at him.
There you both stay, eyes locked- you bite your lip as you study him, his face and he- he can’t find the strength to look away even in embarrassment or shame. As if your eyes cast some magnetic field that forces him to bend to you- never for you to dominate the room, just for you to observe his eyes wide and open, pick out the exact hue in your mind- peer deeper into his thoughts.
Theoretically, he’d say he really hopes you’re not rummaging around in there too deeply. His mind is not a tidy place by any means, and you needn’t get lost in the weeds of it.
Lacking in any sort of hesitation- or the flirty coyness that he was used to from you- your fingers suddenly shoot out to close around his loosened tie and tug until he bends at the waist, nose to your nose. He feels you exhale sharply against his skin.
What the fuck…?
The ensuing kiss melts any confusion that lingers through it though, his shoulders curve- all the tension just drains out of him. He missed you- and you missed him!
Of course you missed him… you loved him… Vincent loves that you love him… loves you back.
You keep a hold of his tie when the kiss breaks, hold it fast and tight like a leash to keep him tethered to the space. Vincent gulps- what the fuck has gotten into you and why does this feel…? Your brows furrow at the sound, uncertainty passes across your eyes as they travel across his face as though seeing him for the first time.
“Hi, baby.” He whispers softly to draw your attention- to focus it. Your face relaxes almost instantaneously, head tipping to the side. You look like you might cry.
His face is surely red at this rate- he tilts forward to press his forehead against yours as though it might hide how much of a lovesick fool he is. It shines through anyways in his low, rumbling voice, “It was torture without you today- nobody else can work a camera like you can… and they’re sure as hell not half as pretty as you are peeking around the equipment.”
You move a few steps back, still holding onto him, looser now. If he stopped dead your fingers would slip from the article of clothing without much to do about it. Instead, he follows eagerly as you backpedal into the bedroom one step at a time. You kiss him again, slower- bring your other hand up to his jaw, thumb pressed into the cleft of his chin insistantly.
If there’s any blood he managed to miss somewhere on his skin- well- surely it’s fine- you’re preoccupied… hell, he’s preoccupied with you.
It becomes nearly all sensation and blurry warmth when he tosses his glasses clumsily onto the bedside table, moving to kiss you again- hands on your hips.
“Not in a talky mood, huh?” He comments when you break the kiss, you tilt your head faintly again, this time as though confused, not answering. Not even making a movement to indicate a no…
Vincent didn’t like it when you were quiet like this. You talked to him. You always talked to him. Even when you couldn’t manage it with anyone else, you spoke to him.
Something’s not quite right in a way that itches in the back of his mind but before he can manage to ask you release his tie with some force and give him the faintest of pushes against his sternum. A push that wouldn’t harm a fly, but he nonetheless allows it to send him sprawling. For fun- out of curiosity- tugging his hair, scratching, faint teeth marks, kicking a little but never with the intent of bruising him is about as crazy as you ever got. A push? Something was definitely wrong… but he doesn’t know if he’s complaining.
You’re on him faster than he can process it, knelt over his chest- face hovering above his, unreadable expression and all.
“Okay, baby- okay- I’ve got you- just-” Vincent gasps, laughter bubbling up and through him with each subsequent kiss you press to his lips, your fingers scrabbling down his chest, alternating between pulling buttons free and his belt.
He moans, wanton, when he realizes that he’s so fucking hard- again. You haven’t been this eager in weeks. Likely due to the aforementioned unidentified illness- but still…!
You poor, deprived thing, he thinks. It makes him all the harder to think of you waiting for him tonight, needing him, wanting him. He’s the only one who can satisfy you, and you damn well know it.
Gracious, maybe that’s all it was. You felt better and missed him terribly.
“I know, I know- you missed me, h-honey- fuck-” His voice breaks off in a pitchy whine when you palm him through his slacks. Panting, grasping at his cheekier tone rather than being pathetic about it, he winks, “Feel that? Yeah- missed you too.”
You huff at him, push your weight forward onto your knees that bracket his hips, allowing him to push himself up on his elbows and then to sit with you hovering precariously over his lap.
The button of his pants unhooks soundlessly and Vincent anchors his hands to your ass as he kicks his shoes off and lifts his hips to shuck his pants off with terribly uncoordinated movements. You try to help. You’re not very helpful.
But then- suddenly- you start to chuckle. The sound draws his eye to meet yours like almost nothing else, one leg still awkwardly trapped in his pant leg and you’re- smiling now. The corner trembling faintly, like you’re unsure about something.
Vincent tilts forward, kisses the tip of your nose- and trails the tip along the bridge sweetly before going back to the task at hand.
Once free of those pesky articles of clothing, you slide his shirt off his shoulders- let him push himself further back into the center of the mattress, with one hand behind him to balance the other prepared to roam across your gorgeous body. He swallows thickly when you relax into his lap again, and can feel the heat of you resting just above his aching cock.
From cupping the side of your face sweetly, his hand’s descent down- pushing the robe off your shoulders as he goes- is momentarily disrupted by the way you bat his hand away when he reaches for your breast- give him a faint headshake. Brow furrowed momentarily, he quickly forgets when you grasp his hand and pull it down between your legs. His slender fingers seek your damp center automatically, pressing in, stretching you out with gentle motions.
“Vinny-” You gasp- and of course, the first and only thing you’ve said to him today should be his name, whispered breathlessly and pleading. That sounds right to him- sounds utterly perfect. He shudders, pulls his fingers from your soaking cunt- presses them wet and slick to circle your clit in slow sweeps, feels wetness drip from you and onto him, molten hot.
He bucks clumsily underneath you as you shimmy against his straining cock, the tip catches on your wet heat as you move confidently- steadily- smearing his precum and your slick across the whole length of it. Sliding his hand between you both he grasps the base of his cock-
You take a steadying breath against his ear- always such a good girl for him, he thinks, bleary- can’t manage to speak the words before you let him guide the whole tip inside of you. His breath hitches, a broken groan follows- torn suddenly from deep in his chest- as your cunt stretches so perfectly around him as you envelop him fully with one slick, sudden movement.
Your fingernails bite into his shoulders as you gasp at the sensation of fullness, your head tips back in a sigh; Vincent grabs at your hip, your ass with his one free hand- teeth and tongue catching against your exposed pulse point.
Now this- this was just what the doctor ordered- his eyes slip closed as you settle your weight firmly into his lap and adjust with a warm, tight flutter of your muscles around him. He could stay like this forever- or- well, at least a while. Just stuffing you full, little shocks of pleasure folding over him every now and again as your cunt squeezes him just right- becoming more and more sensitive until even the faintest movement makes you both shake and cry out. Not even a thrust, just a shift of weight and-
Forever doesn’t seem to be a thought in your head- your hands are still on his shoulders when they suddenly press down on them to lift yourself up, slowly. Vincent chokes on what he means to say when the pace you set is steady, not cruel- not brutal- but quick, focused.
He finds he doesn’t mind this once- and especially not when you’ve decided to be loud as all Hell right in his damn ear. Christ-
Such beautiful noises spill from your mouth that hangs open- so rarely did you fully give in like this. It’s fascinating, captivating- Vincent tilts back, abandons squeezing your flesh with each bounce to lean back on both hands and just- watch. The jiggle of your breasts, the look of pure bliss on your face each time you rock down onto him- forcing huffs and grunts from deep in his chest with each slick drag.
Christ- you’re all but using him to reach your end- he’s-
“C’mon d-doll, lemme me have it-” His mouth is wet, drooling when he starts to babble, practically choking on the slurry of words that spill out as your pace becomes sloppy. “You’re s-so close, I can tell- I can always t-”
You abruptly stop, panting, whimpering- curling around him so tightly in every sense of the word from your soaking cunt around his cock to your arms around his shoulders. Practically crying his name into his skin, you come undone grinding yourself desperately against his lap-
Vincent lowers the both of you backwards slowly as you shudder and shake, flipping you underneath him mid-orgasm- the sudden sensation forces a wheezing, broken moan out of you that rattles pleasantly down his spine. Your body spasming wildly amplifies the sensation in every way.
“God- you’re so gorgeous-” He offers you a wide smile, near feral, words rushing out in gasps, “My pretty thing- look at you- c’mon- do that again for me, I’ll help-”
You whimper wordlessly- blinking up at him with teary eyes.
He grasps your hip, lifts it to angle himself a little differently- bullies himself into you again and rubs against that special spongy spot inside of you with the practiced ease of someone terribly familiar with hitting it straight on. Your eyes roll, he imagines you’re seeing such beautiful stars as the sensation slams into you- of course you are, he’s so good and so good to you. Obeying, you break a second time around his cock in warm, sucking waves- squirming in his grasp, whining, reaching for him- with your back arching up off the mattress.
“There we are,” he pants, voice clipped, hips jerking in awkward, terse motions that break his practiced flow, nearly beyond his control as he steadily reaches his peak in the wake of yours.
You’re so soft- accepting him so perfectly- now hiccuping in pleasure, fingers clutching blindly at his hair, his shoulders, as he pounds into you. There’s the faint glitter of tears in your eyes in the flicker of the bedside lamp.
Desperately- you want him desperately- he loves that about you, just as much as he loves the damp skin of your neck that’s so warm, so pleasant. He moves to press his face there and close his eyes, and let you carry him over that last edge.
You’re not letting him off so easily- you turn your head and clumsily catch his lip in your teeth- Vincent grunts in confusion which only doubles when your tongue slides from the dimple in his chin to his mouth before you kiss him. Your wordless hum vibrates through his tongue as you swallow his pathetic whines and moans.
“‘m close, so, so close- lemme-” Vincent gasps between sloppy, uncoordinated kisses- feeling your thighs flexing against his hips as you lock your ankles tighter around his back- forcing him into you tighter, giving him little choice but to come inside you.
And it’s glorious- hot, wet, noisy as he continues to jerk wildly through his release. Your silken walls twitch around him just right as he empties himself into you and you’re-
Perfect. He tells you as much, collapsing forward, shifts slightly to the side so he’s not crushing you entirely under his nearly dead weight. his softening cock slides out easily, soaking your thighs as it rests wet and sticky between your stomach and his. He finally gets to mash his face against your neck, feel your pulse against his nose, his mouth- and all is right in the world.
He hears you huff against his hair, mild but pleased- sinking back bonelessly against the mattress. You don’t protest when his hand drifts across your ribs, your stomach- but he can’t help himself. He circles your puffy clit lazily before he dips fingertips against your cum slick entrance.
It’s messy for the sake of being messy and mostly pointless, but he likes the warm slippery texture of your pleasures mixing together between his fingers. Plus the way you react with a soft, full body shudder and a little squeaky noise, pleased but overly sensitive still, is adorable.
Your head lolls to the side to look towards him, to watch him- you’re blinking now, slowly, calmly. No more of that weird- unsettling stare, like you really, honestly see him.
“That was good, wasn’t it? Best damn lay of your life?” Vincent slurs, peering up at you as best he can without moving too far away. His drool smears against your shoulder, but that doesn’t stop him from chattering either.
“Every time.” You mutter, breathlessly, familiar. That’s your answer every time he asks- he tries not to ask every time or else the words would lose their meaning. Even if it’s your words that you use so sparingly, and never dishonestly. At least not on purpose.
Fingers carding through his hair, his mind drifts pleasantly and your voice only barely drags him back to the world of the waking.
“Vin-” You call and then stop, he can tell you’re worrying your lip without looking, “I have something to tell you.”
He exhales and then inhales sharply, enjoying the sharp scent of sweat and sex- still touching you idly, slower now as his breathing evens out. “I’m all worn out, dove.”
“It’s important.” You sigh, shift your hips a little- away from the gentle movements of his hand.
He blinks lazily, blue and green eyes fluttering open before they snap into place. His hand stills completely where it’s between your legs- drags it blindly away from skin to wipe his sticky fingers against the bedspread.
“Are you dying…?” He says into your skin, can’t lift his head- doesn’t want to- refuses to.
The tense pause does not go unnoticed by Vincent, he stiffens.
“No.” You say, carefully, and then after another terse pause, you add, “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Every muscle wound tense in the few seconds pause relaxes. Naturally, he nuzzles against your throat and winds his hands around your body- tight. As if something might try to take you from him by force and he wouldn’t let it without a fight.
“Then it can wait a couple of hours.”
Your faint, tired laughter chases him into a hazy half-dream. You’ll tease him for snoring when he wakes up, he thinks- and he’ll deny it vehemently, because he does not snore- but that’s alright. That’s fine. You're here, in his arms, all was as it should be.
Vincent wakes with a start- and even though you’re not asleep, you barely even twitch. You’re still laying right where he remembers you were, with his cheek on your shoulder- drool traveling down your collarbone now- arms wound tight around you. He imagines you’ve just been staring listlessly at the ceiling this whole time but when he stirs, so do you- gently pushing his limbs away to sit up.
The light is still on and it doesn’t feel like he’s slept at all- and now he’s cold. Colder, actually, now that you’ve gotten up.
Blurry eyes catch onto the smear of his cum on your inner thigh, though, which is such a pretty sight to see when you pause to stretch with your back to him. There’s something primal and satisfying about that…
He groans, voice thick- wedges himself up on his elbows to watch your figure slink across the room when he calls after you, “What’d you mean… opposite? Before? Are you okay?”
You raise an eyebrow at him over your shoulder, still moving, before you disappear into the adjacent bathroom, door ajar. The pipes creak while the water runs.
What the hell was the opposite of dying…?
It hits him like a lead pan to the head and he jerks- fumbling to sit on the edge of the bed as you step back into the bedroom quietly to stand between his knees that you nudge open to make room for you-
Vincent grasps your face in both hands, draws you slightly closer to peer deeply into your eyes. You make a confused noise that doesn’t resemble a question.
“Are you…?”
You blink with confusion- eyelashes fluttering. Your free hand reaches up to cover one of his over your cheek while you prop your knee up on the edge of the bed. Bending even further, nose sliding against his nose, you proceed to wipe the mess off his skin with the cloth in your opposite hand.
“Pr-” Vincent blinks- shivers where the cooling cloth touches him and lurches forward all at once to kiss you soundly before he can even form the words. Mouth opening and closing with a soft click, he takes a deep breath- you wait patiently, eyebrows pinched, lips pursed to the side like you’re biting the inside of your cheek.
“Pregnant?”
The way you wrinkle your nose a little is decidedly adorable.
“Please talk to me… c’mon.” Vincent says, voice rasping but infinitely more desperate, “Are you pregnant, dove?”
Teary eyed you whisper, haltingly, scared- “That’s… what the doctor said.”
Vincent is faster at wrapping your legs up in his arms, than you are at backpedaling away from him. Like he’d just let you escape from him- preposterous. Pure insanity.
With his face to your bare belly, he mumbles, near incoherently. “You should have- you could have- why didn’t you tell me immediately? I would-”
Something unduly sly crosses your face, the corner of your mouth upturns in the dark when you say, “I took the news very well.”
Wondering what in God’s name that meant does not settle his sudden nerves- not least of all because it doesn’t seem to answer any of the questions he tried to pose and instead sprouts new ones almost instantaneously.
“Didn’t want to ruin your day.” You amend with a small shrug, hands squeezing his shoulders- noticing the tension in them.
“Ruin my-” Vincent guffaws- manages to peel himself off of you to stare up between your breasts at your eyes in shock. Soft laughter rumbles out of him against your skin, he squeezes your thighs tighter to him.
“Ridiculous- absolutely perfect- but such a ridiculous woman you are-”
Despite having tried to step away moments before- unsuccessfully, might he add- you wrap your arms around the back of his head, petting his hair sweetly and pressing his face more tightly against your abdomen. The sharp point of his nose digs into the soft flesh, bends only slightly.
There’s nothing there to feel yet. Surely you can’t be more than a month or so along- and Hell, when could this have happened…?
Was it the last promotion he’d gotten? Sure, that’s a possibility. He had bent you over his new desk in such a state of euphoria that he completely forgot about precaution. Case in point, later you had mentioned, quite idly, that you didn’t think the door had been locked either- but at the time none of that had mattered to him! All that mattered was pushing into your eager wet heat and pounding away some of the energy skittering electric underneath his skin.
It was lovely- a smirk graces his face even remembering it- he’d given your ass a playful slap as he shoo’d you out so you could both get back to work, and you’d blown him a kiss from the doorway, face pink- eyes glinting mischievously. One of those moments where he and he alone got to see you playful, relaxed- warm and undeniably happy with him, for him, and undeniably his.
Huh… okay, well- that could have very well been the day he knocked you up- holy shit.
“You haven’t ruined anything.” He kisses the skin immediately under his mouth, faintly tastes salt. “This is… good. Good news. Really good.”
You sigh softly, relax in his grip.
“No… I suppose I haven’t. Have I?” The words are drawn strangely out of you, not as though you don’t believe him- as though you know something he doesn’t. You’re still petting his hair. He ignores the faint paranoid whisper warning him of it, holding you tighter as though it’ll dispel that pesky thought.
Everything would be alright and fine and good if you could just- he groans softly, speaking against your skin still.
“Just- turn that damn light out and come back to bed- wanna hold you.”