Work Text:
Ten days.
It’d been ten days since Sora went into heat, and Riku was running on fumes. Less than fumes. Energy drinks and cat naps between mating sessions.
Heats were normally a fun time where Riku got to take off work and spend a week doting on Sora and fulfilling his every need. Sure, it could be challenging at times; Sora could get cranky and demanding, refuse to eat or leave his nest for basic hygiene. He could make Riku run across town at 3am to that all-night store that sold the scented pillows because his had “run out of smell” (it hadn’t), then call and complain that Riku wasn’t there to mate him when the urge struck, forcing him to listen to Sora get himself off with a toy until he got back.
Ya know, normal heat stuff.
But these hormonal periods only ever lasted around six days, sometimes seven. Five if they were lucky. But never ten.
They were never, ever supposed to last ten.
On the eighth day, Riku had started to worry. But Sora insisted he was fine, that it would end soon. Just “one more day,” he said. And Riku had respected his wishes.
But on the ninth day it still wasn’t over. It had actually gotten worse. His temperament, his demand—Riku was rubbing them both raw and Sora still couldn’t get enough. At least they hadn’t needed to resort to artificial lubricants. Sora was still so, so wet...so wet that Riku had to force him to drink constantly to make sure he wouldn’t dehydrate. So wet that Riku was doing laundry three times a day in order to keep clean towels underneath him.
But even then, Sora insisted on no doctors. He actually begged Riku not to call one. It was then Riku started to suspect it wasn’t fear or pride holding him back; it was embarrassment.
The last time his omega specialist made a house call was when he’d stopped producing slick mid-heat. It was a fairly common problem—nothing to be embarrassed about—but when the blockage had been cleared, Sora gushed, spraying slick all over the poor man.
He’d insisted it was fine. ‘These things happen.’ But Sora had been so mortified he never went to see him again.
Now he had a new doctor—Naminé—who he really liked, and likely didn’t want a similar incident scaring her off.
But it was day ten, and Riku was at his wit’s end.
“Rikuuu,” Sora whined from the bedroom, a desperate little sound followed by tiny grunts that meant Sora was rutting against his pillow for relief until Riku answered his call. And he’d keep calling until Riku came running, hoping his dick had recovered enough to get it up, praying the ache in his hip would allow him to give it to Sora hard enough to sate him for another hour.
“I’ll be there in a minute, love,” Riku called as delicately as possible, ignoring the pounding in his head and the spill of liquid over his hand. He hadn’t even noticed his fist clenching around the energy drink. Nasty-tasting things, but they were quite literally the only thing keeping him awake at this point.
He set it down on the coffee table next to his phone. The number of times he’d hovered over the call button, wanting desperately to get Naminé’s professional opinion. Every article he read said it was the right thing to do—no, that it was an alpha’s responsibility to seek medical help if something like this happened.
For the briefest of moments, the worst-case scenario flashed through Riku’s head: losing Sora because he was too afraid to call for help; because he was respecting Sora’s wishes. But what good were those wishes if he wasn’t here to wish them?
It was that thought that made him finally press send.
“Omegaltima and Associates,” the receptionist answered. “Is this a medical emergency?”
“Yes! Well, I guess technically no, but...” Riku paused to gather himself. It was nice to hear another person’s voice. “My mate’s been in heat for ten days and I need someone to come look at him. His name’s Sora and he sees Dr. Naminé.”
“Oh, I see. Unfortunately, Dr. Naminé is out of town this week. But we can send another doctor over in the morning.”
“Morning...?” Riku looked outside to see the moon high in the sky. He hadn’t even noticed how late it was. “Um—”
“Rikuuu, where are you?” Sora called again. He might be able to last till morning...but could Riku?
“Do you have anyone who can come now?” Riku asked. “I don’t care what it costs. I’m sca—” His throat locked up. Admitting it out loud was almost more than he could bear.
“Take a deep breath, sir. Can you do that?”
It was shaky, but he did it. “I’m just—just really worried about him...”
“It’s alright, we’re going to do everything we can to help him.” Her fingernails tapped loudly against the keyboard. “There’s an independent doctor nearby open to house calls at this hour. I could give him a call if you like. Please be aware that he’s an al—”
“Rikuuu!”
“Call him, please!” Riku pleaded into the phone, needing someone, anyone, to come give him some peace of mind.
“I’ll send him over right away. It could be up to an hour before he arrives—”
“That’s fine, thank you so much.” Riku gave her the rest of the information she needed, hung up and ran to the bedroom.
One mating, cleaning and force-feeding later, Sora was asleep (for now) and Riku was back on the couch. His head was in his hands, heel tapping against the ground rapidly to distract from the throbbing in his hip and the pounding in his skull. He couldn’t keep doing this. Not alone. He needed his Sora back. Something was wrong, wrong, wrong—
The bzzt of the doorbell made him gasp and stand up so quickly he almost toppled over the coffee table to answer it. Everything was hazy around the edges, but he managed to find his way to the door, fumble to undo the locks and swing it open.
It took a single inhale to realize he stood face-to-face with a fellow alpha.
The man was tall with golden eyes, long silver hair and tanned skin. Lithe but well built under his long black button-up coat. Probably had a wicked set of fangs.
I could take him, Riku’s instincts supplied. It’d be a tough fight...but...
But...who was he? Did he have the wrong address? There were protocols in place to prevent alphas from disturbing the homes of omegas in heat.
“What do you want?” Riku asked, teeth bared and hackles up.
“I see we are foregoing the formalities,” the man said, voice surprisingly calm for one staring down the barrel of an alpha protecting his mate in heat. “I was called here on a medical emergency. Is there someone here in need?”
“Oh, uh...” Riku looked down and noticed the bag in his hand—black with silver and red embellishments. Naminé had a similar one. But Naminé was an omega, like all omega doctors. So why was an alpha standing at his door? “Yeah, um, this is right. But you’re—”
“An alpha, yes,” he said plainly and held out his hand. “Dr. Xehanort, A.O.M.D. Licensed practitioner in both alpha and omega health.”
Riku stared at him skeptically. The only doctors he knew of who treated both alphas and omegas were betas. Alphas never treated omegas. It was too dangerous. What made this guy think he could?
And what made him think Riku would let him anywhere near Sora in heat?
“I think we’re good, thanks.” He stepped back to close the door, but a strong hand reached out to stop it.
“I doubt that,” Xehanort said and took a long inhale, his nose wrinkling at the end of it. “Fear. Distress. Desperation. How long have you been emitting these pheromones?” He took a step forward. “Do you properly suppress these scents when engaging with your mate? Or are you causing him more harm by trying to take this on alone?”
Riku felt all the fight leave his body. Was he really hurting Sora by trying so hard to protect him? When he didn’t answer, Xehanort continued.
“I assure you I am only here in a professional capacity.” He took his hand off the door. “However, if you prefer to wait for another doctor to become available, I will leave. Although I believe the health of your mate should take priority, I will not examine him without your permission.”
Alpha or no, that was enough to convince Riku. Sora’s health was his priority, of course. He wasn’t about to let his guard down completely, but he could trust Xehanort enough to let him at least look at Sora. “Sorry, I, uh, haven’t had much sleep. Please, come in.” He stepped back and let Xehanort enter before extending his hand. “I’m Riku, by the way.”
“Thank you, Riku,” Xehanort said, accepting the handshake. It was warm and a little sweaty, but that was to be expected from an overstressed alpha. “I’ll do everything I can to help Sora feel better.” He let Riku close the door behind him and took in his surroundings.
The apartment was small but nice—or it would have been were there not microwave dinners and empty cans strewn across every surface, unwashed clothes thrown haphazardly across the backs of chairs, and plants in desperate need of watering. It wasn’t uncommon for the household chores to lax a bit during heat, but this was excessive.
Did Riku even know how to properly care for his omega? If the living room was in this state, what must the nesting area look like?
“Take me to him,” Xehanort ordered, clutching the handle of his bag. “It appears my services are needed more than I realized.”
“What are you implying?” Riku snapped, the hint of an ivory fang showing itself.
“That you were right to call for help,” Xehanort replied placidly, returning no scent or posturing of his own. While Riku appeared to be able to take him in a battle of pure strength, Xehanort clearly had the upper hand in experience and wiles. And in this state, there was no doubt he could take Riku down within seconds if need be. “Please show me to my patient.”
A growl sat in Riku’s throat, idling there as he led Xehanort to the bedroom. The stench grew stronger as they walked—not of day-old junk food, but of Riku’s markings on the furniture, the walls, and especially the closed door Xehanort suspected his patient was behind. He couldn’t help but notice the subtle rub of bare shoulder against the door jam and the hand that brushed through ragged silver hair, fluffing it before grabbing the doorknob. Subconscious acts; Riku clearly felt threatened. If his scent wasn’t so spent and diluted, Xehanort may have taken it as the warning it was meant to be. But as is, it was just sad.
Once his posturing was complete, Riku opened the door and led Xehanort into the bedroom. It was dark with only a few small nestside lamps casting stars upon the ceiling, and moonlight glowing in from a half-curtained window. But that wasn’t what made Xehanort stop in his tracks.
The scent in here was incredibly potent—highly concentrated from too many days of heat. It completely overpowered Riku’s, leaving little but a trace that Sora had an alpha at all. In fact, if he hadn’t followed Riku in here, Xehanort would have thought this poor omega had been suffering all alone, pining for a mate to come, breed him—please!
As much as Xehanort wanted to open a window at the very least, he had to put the patient’s best interests first. Perhaps he chilled easily. Perhaps his mate didn’t want his omega’s desperation wafting across the neighborhood. Probably the right decision at this point. A scent like this could entice an entire pack of weak-willed alphas to come clawing at his window.
As for Xehanort, he was a professional. He was trained in suppressing his own urges in order to treat patients of all types. But there was something different about this one. He could already feel it hitting all the right notes in his brain, like a cologne made to entice him specifically.
Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he followed Riku to the far corner of the room. Three little paper glow lamps surrounded what Xehanort could only make out as the messiest nest he’d ever seen. Every article of clothing imaginable littered the border, tangled around dozens of small throw pillows and stuffed animals. Some of them looked as if they’d been bitten or ripped in two. Old blankets and flattened pillows were all bunched up near the head of the nest as if trying to salvage some semblance of comfort from their remains.
And right in the center of it all was a tiny, trembling omega, clutching a sheet to his chest that only half covered his sweat-glistened skin.
The poor thing’s eyes were clenched shut, tears staining his cheeks, breathing heavily despite being at rest. He didn’t look malnourished, per se, but could definitely use more calories than he was getting after ten days in heat. At least his alpha had enough sense to change the bedding beneath him, even if it was just giant bath towels swapped in and out.
“Inform him that I am here,” Xehanort said quietly before approaching any further. “My presence will cause him distress, and we need to minimize that.”
Riku nodded and carefully lowered himself into the nest. “Sora,” he said, his voice coming out a bit shaky—affectionate, but so, so ready for this to be over. “Hey, sweetheart? Can you look at me?” He slowly reached a hand out to brush through Sora’s hair which clung heavily against his forehead. Sora’s medical documentation had described him as a spiky brunette, but this was dark and limp and lifeless.
Sora’s eyes opened with the touch, though his pupils were unfocused as if in complete darkness. “Riku?” He reached out a hand in search of his mate, who took it in both of his.
“I’m right here,” Riku said, kissing his fingers, “and I’ve got you, okay? But listen...” He leaned down closer. “I know you said you didn’t want a doctor, but...Sora I didn’t know what else to do. You’re sick, and so I called, and he’s here...”
The words seemed to get through enough for Sora to look up. It appeared for a moment as if he was about to protest before a powerful shiver made him curl in on himself again, clenching his teeth and Riku’s hand.
Time was clearly of the essence, so Xehanort took the initiative to approach the edge of the nest. “May I enter?”
Sora gasped and turned his head toward Xehanort’s voice. His eyes traveled up the length of him but he made no invitation, only clung tighter to his mate.
“He’s here to help, Sora,” Riku pressed, scooting closer to cradle Sora’s head against his thigh. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the entire time. Okay?”
Sora sucked in a shaky breath and finally nodded.
Consent received, Xehanort slowly, cautiously crossed the threshold of Sora’s nest and knelt down at his feet.
The scent hit him hard; overwhelmed him in a way that made him brace himself with one hand against the blankets. He’d never encountered a scent this powerful before. Omega pheromones were designed to entice alphas, of course, but this was downright intoxicating.
Xehanort cleared his throat and set his medical bag beside him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sora,” he spoke in a calm, soothing manner. “My name is Xehanort and I specialize in treating abnormalities in both alpha ruts and omega heats.”
Sora didn’t respond, only stared at him.
Xehanort continued. “I understand that you’ve been in heat for ten days, is that correct?”
Sora’s brow wrinkled and he looked up at Riku. “That long?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yeah.” Riku nodded and brushed his cheek. “That’s why I called him.”
“Where’s Naminé?”
“She’s out of town. Xehanort was the only doctor available, and it was very nice of him to come in the middle of the night. So let him help you, okay?”
Sora whimpered but nodded, settling again on Riku’s thigh.
Xehanort opened his bag and fished out a thermometer and a pair of latex gloves. “I’m going to start by asking you some questions. Is that okay?” Two nods. “Good. Has there been anything unusual about this heat other than the length? Any abnormal scents or behaviors?”
“No, not really,” Riku said.
“Hot,” Sora mumbled against Riku’s sweatpants. “I’ve been really hot.”
“How so?” Xehanort asked. An omega’s body temperature was supposed to rise during heats, but not to an excessive degree. “Can you describe it for me?”
Sora hummed and fisted the sheet against his chest. “Like...normally it feels like a lamp is heating me up inside, and my head’s filled with light. But this time it’s like standing too close to a campfire. Like it’s melting me.”
“Sora, you didn’t tell me it was that bad!” Riku fretted, brushing more hair back.
“Let’s see for ourselves,” Xehanort said and offered Riku the thermometer to redirect his nervous energy. “Place this under his tongue.”
Riku did so, focusing on holding it in place while Xehanort asked more questions.
“Have either of you been taking any supplements? Heat suppressants?” He looked at Riku and cocked an eyebrow. “Performance enhancers?”
Riku scowled. “I don’t need a pill to help me take care of Sora.”
“It was not my intention to call your performance into question. But if you think that may be the issue—”
“It’s not.”
Xehanort smirked and looked to Sora for confirmation, who blushed cutely and shook his head.
“We tried some suppressants but they didn’t work,” Riku said. “Even a double dose.”
“Double doses are not recommended, but not unsafe. And they rarely cause symptoms to worsen.” Xehanort held out his hand and Riku returned the thermometer with Sora’s reading. “Higher than it should be, but it has not reached dangerous levels yet.”
“What happens if it reaches dangerous levels?” Riku asked, pulling Sora closer.
“Then we will need much more than suppressants.” Xehanort dropped the thermometer into a plastic hazmat sleeve and back into his bag before turning to Sora. “I am going to need to make contact with you in order to further assess your condition. May I have your permission to do so?”
Sora stared at him blankly. Clearly his mental faculties were not entirely in place.
Xehanort slowed down, spoke softer. “May I touch you?”
Sora tensed, looked at Riku, then back at Xehanort and nodded.
Consent received, Xehanort pulled on his latex gloves one by one, taking delight in the way Sora’s eyes widened at the snap of them. He moved ever so slowly closer, watching for shifts in Sora’s disposition. Any sudden spike in adrenaline could make matters worse for all of them.
“I will move slowly and I will not hurt you. If anything I do causes you pain, tell me and I will stop. Do you understand?”
Sora nodded, holding Riku tighter as Xehanort came closer.
“I will start by applying light pressure to the scent gland in your wrist. May I have your hand?”
Timidly, Sora uncurled his fist from the sheet and held out his hand. Xehanort cradled the delicate wrist in his palm, turning it over and observing how tense the muscles were. “Relax,” he instructed, pressing his thumbs into the tendons and gently massaging. Sora’s fingers slowly parted, as did his lips. “Good,” Xehanort praised, touching his gloved fingertips to Sora’s palm and sliding it up to the tender lump in his wrist.
“Sss!” Sora hissed and tried to pull his wrist back, but Xehanort held tight. “Hurts...”
“Does it hurt or is it merely uncomfortable?”
Sora puffed out his lower lip. “Uncomfortable I guess...”
“You need to be honest with me about how it feels, Sora. So I can make a proper diagnosis.”
“O-okay,” Sora said meekly, as if he were a schoolchild being scolded.
Using both thumbs, Xehanort gently traced around the edges of the gland, studying it. Both alphas and omegas had numerous scent and mating glands throughout their bodies: wrists, neck, mouth, ankles, thighs...and one more hidden deep inside. They all naturally swelled during heat or rut, though it was difficult to tell how engorged Sora’s had become without having examined him outside of heat. The wrists and ankles were the hardest to tell, but in Xehanort’s experience it was best to start somewhere less intimate. Not all omegas responded so well to another alpha touching them, especially in their nest during heat.
Sora was responding so well.
“Lie on your back, please,” Xehanort instructed, setting Sora’s wrist down gently. “I need to examine your neck and oral glands next.”
Both Sora and Riku shifted until Sora was on his back with his head in Riku’s lap. The sheet went with them, Sora clutching it to his chest with both hands while Riku soothed fingers through his hair.
Xehanort slowly moved up the nest, watching for signs of panic in Sora’s eyes. Fortunately, Riku’s touch kept him calm enough for Xehanort to settle beside him. (It also distracted Riku from ripping him to shreds for being in the nest at all, invited or not.)
“I am going to touch your neck and jaw. Is that okay?”
Sora swallowed heavily but nodded.
There was a set of glands at the top of the neck just behind the hinge of the jaw. It only took a light touch to tell they were also swollen, though not concerningly so. Sora responded well, letting his eyes fall closed as Riku petted his hair and Xehanort’s fingers slid down either side of his neck.
Easy to reach and easy to bite (as well as emitting the bulk of the scent meant to entice a mate), the set of glands at the base of the neck easily got the most attention during mating. Xehanort brushed his fingers over the fading and fresh bruises there—and over the faint scar of the bonding mark that bound him to Riku.
Sora recoiled at the touch. Due to being repeatedly bitten during heat, the area was extra sensitive. Despite this, Xehanort found the edge of the swollen gland and circled it delicately with his thumb.
Sora let out a shuddered breath, and with it an involuntary release of pheromones.
As an alpha doctor who treated omegas, Xehanort was well trained in resisting these false mating calls. It happened fairly often during exams. Nothing to be embarrassed about, he’d tell his patients.
But here, in Sora’s bedroom—in his nest in the middle of the night, post too many days of heat and sex and suffering—that training started to break down.
He was only human, after all.
And so, for a brief moment, he closed his eyes, breathed in, and allowed himself to indulge.
Though he’d been breathing Sora’s scent since entering the room, experiencing it hot and fresh from the source was something entirely different. Like the smell of freshly baked bread that made your mouth water—made you want to smear it with butter and watch it melt into every crevice before biting in, feeling its pillowy softness against your lips.
“Open your mouth.”
Sora jumped at the instruction. Maybe he had said it a bit too forcefully. But the little quiver of his lip was worth it, his mouth opening up obediently.
What a good boy.
Leaning over him, Xehanort slipped his index and middle fingers into Sora’s mouth. It was a standard test; swollen tongue, reddened gums and strange smells were all indicators of an underlying problem. Sora had none of those, but it was his duty to check. To be thorough.
Before pulling out, Xehanort couldn’t help but slide his fingers in just a little more. It may have been selfish, but he wanted to see how Sora would react. He wanted to hear his little whine of protest. And it wasn’t unamusing to watch Riku dig his nails into the pillow to hold himself back.
All part of the exam.
“Pain?”
“Dish-cum-fuht,” Sora answered around Xehanort’s fingers, and oh if that didn’t stir up forbidden thoughts.
Xehanort nodded in acknowledgement and pulled his fingers out slowly, dragging them along Sora’s tongue, his glove briefly catching on one of his tiny fangs.
He wondered what it would take to get Sora to bite.
“Everything appears to be within acceptable limits so far,” Xehanort reported cooly, snapping off his wet glove and retrieving a new one from his bag. “It would be difficult for me to make a proper diagnosis without examining further, however.”
Riku furrowed his brow. “How much further?”
“As far as it takes.” Xehanort snapped on the new glove and gave Sora a subtle grin.
The corner of Riku’s mouth turned up in a growl as he leaned protectively over Sora. “I think maybe you’ve done enough.”
“Is that so?” Xehanort sat back and placed his hands in his lap, unthreatening. “While I would very much recommend we continue for the sake of Sora’s wellbeing, I cannot force medical care upon him unless his condition is life-threatening.” He looked down at Sora again, at the beads of sweat on his forehead and the distress in his eyes. “If you wish to continue to feel this way—to trust your mate to take care of you as he has been—I will leave. It is your choice, Sora.”
“I—” Sora shuffled his legs under the sheet. He looked up at Riku and whimpered, squeezing his hand. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore, Riku.”
Riku tore his threatening gaze away from Xehanort to look down at Sora. It only took a moment for his shoulders to slump, the fight taken out of him in the face of his mate’s suffering. “I don’t want you to feel this way either, sweetheart.” He caressed Sora’s cheek like he was the most precious thing in the world. “We can let him continue if you’re okay with that, but you tell him if it hurts, okay? You tell him no if you want him to stop.”
“I will,” Sora nodded and looked back at Xehanort, his pout fading into apprehension. “O-okay.”
“Very well. I am going to remove the sheet now.” Slowly as not to startle him, Xehanort pulled down the thin sheet, peeling it away from Sora’s body until the omega lay naked and exposed before him.
Medically, it wasn’t an ideal sight. His lower body was covered in sweat and fluids, red from heat and bite marks. Xehanort inhaled through his nose to hide his gasp at the pool of slick absolutely saturating the sheets beneath his hips and thighs—and that was enough for the smell to enter him.
It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Godly nectar never meant for man to taste. Before he could stop it, it had seeped into him, wrinkling his hard exterior and caressing the primal layer underneath. Suddenly, every inhale became a test of his oath to remain professional—to resist the carnal urge to take out this weak alpha beside him and claim Sora for himself.
He dug his nails into his palm—no, Sora wasn’t his. He was a patient. An omega in need. A poor, helpless little thing, small and weak, desperately in need of an alpha strong enough to give him what he needed...
“Bend your knees.”
Trembling, Sora obeyed, much redder in the face for Xehanort’s eyes taking in the whole of him. He clung to Riku’s arm, his alpha’s hand soothing through his hair to calm him.
Xehanort moved to the bottom of the nest, positioning himself perfectly to take in the full view of Sora, vulnerable and now in prime breeding position. His poor exhausted alpha carried every emotion from worry to rage to guilt.
He started at Sora’s ankles. The gland here was just behind the bone. He slid his hand up Sora’s foot to the spot and pressed in. Sora recoiled, but Xehanort caught his foot and held it in place, making Sora squirm. Xehanort cocked an eyebrow at him. A silent question.
“It doesn’t—” Sora sucked in a breath. “—hurt...”
“Good,” Xehanort said, more as praise than acknowledgement. He checked the other ankle, and Sora didn’t pull away this time, instead letting his eyes squeeze shut, focusing on Riku’s pets.
“I will examine the glands on your inner thighs next. Spread your legs for me.”
Sora’s eyes popped open. “O-oh...um...”
“I can do it for you, if you prefer,” Xehanort said, placing his hands on Sora’s knees.
The hand in Sora’s hair stilled, tensing, but Riku said nothing.
“No, I—I can do it,” Sora said and squeezed his thighs together—a nervous hesitation—before finally opening them just wide enough for Xehanort to see.
And see he did. The reddened and limp cock lying across his abdomen. The bruises of passion littered across his hips and thighs. And that tight pink hole, leaking its nectar even now.
It took conscious effort for Xehanort to refrain from wetting his lips. He focused on the exam, starting again from Sora’s ankle and sliding his fingers slowly up his leg to the spot on his inner thigh. The heat was apparent even through his glove, mere inches from his center.
Sora squirmed with the touch, the rubbing of the gland, a gentle massage that saw his cock twitch in curiosity. Subconsciously, Xehanort suspected, his legs spread further, granting him easier access. Sora’s chest rose and fell a little faster than before, his eyes growing darker, and a moan escaping him as Xehanort rubbed four fingers against his inner thigh.
At the sound, Riku’s hand swept underneath Sora’s chin and tilted his head back. “Don’t look at him,” he told Sora, who took a moment to find Riku’s eyes.
Xehanort couldn’t help but smirk at the obvious jealousy. It shouldn’t have amused him, but it did, and he let himself have that. “The glands in Sora’s thighs are significantly more swollen than the rest,” he reported, “though I do not believe that alone to be the cause of his prolonged heat. To accurately diagnose and prescribe the proper treatment, there is one final spot that must be examined...” He openly let his eyes wander to the appointed place, noting how Sora’s hips bucked and his legs opened even more.
Riku bared his teeth and growled. “No. You’ve done enough. Thank you for your time, doctor.”
Xehanort immediately backed off, taking his hands off Sora and putting them up in resignation. “As you wish.” He began packing up his bag. “Since I was not able to complete the exam, however, I will not be able to leave you with any medications to help with the pain or discomfort. You will have to do your best to get through them on your own, Sora—”
“Please don’t go!” Sora half sat up, pulling out of Riku’s grip and breathing heavily. “Please, you can finish the exam.”
“Sora! You can’t let him—”
“Please, Riku!” Sora twisted enough to plead directly to his alpha, weakly gripping his shirt. “Please. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore...” A sob caused him to collapse into Riku’s lap again, spent and whimpering. “Please...”
Riku’s eyes were wide with disbelief. And then they weren’t, crumbling once again in the face of his pitiful mate. He brushed the hair from Sora’s forehead, the tears from his cheeks, and leaned down to kiss the place where they were, silver hair spilling over the two of them like a protective curtain. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, Sora. For you. For your health. To make you feel better.”
Sora’s hand came up and threaded through Riku’s hair, lifting it enough to allow Xehanort to see the way they looked at each other, love in their eyes and everlasting devotion.
How touching.
“Lie on your back and spread your legs.”
They both startled at the interruption. Taking a breath, Sora scooted back into position, head in Riku’s lap who kept his head bowed, clearly not wanting to watch this next part.
Xehanort replaced his hands on Sora’s knees and widened them to where they needed to be. The smell was stronger than ever, oozing anticipation, practically inviting Xehanort in. He hooked one hand behind Sora’s knee, pressing it up and holding him in place. There was a small whine as he did so, and another as his other hand slithered down to his entrance.
It was so wet Xehanort’s finger almost slipped inside the moment it touched him. But while the soft ring of muscle seemed eager to open up for him, he remained outside, rubbing gentle circles and coaxing him to relax.
The more he rubbed, the more Sora’s legs began to tremble. His breath came faster in cute little pants. He was fully willing and ready to accept Xehanort’s fingers—until Riku’s arms wrapped possessively around him.
Xehanort could smell the jealousy, quite literally, as Riku emitted a wide range of scents ranging from claiming and possession to warnings of danger. It made Sora squirm and his hole tense up, conflicted by the number of scents overwhelming him. Omegas were even more susceptible to alpha pheromones while in heat; and being sick, things had the potential to spiral out of control very quickly.
“You’re confusing him,” Xehanort scolded. “Focus and calm him down, quickly. I could cause him unintentional harm if he is not relaxed.”
Riku grumbled and struggled to meet Sora’s eyes, the pupils blown wide and darting from side to side wildly in search of danger. Riku ran his fingers across Sora’s cheeks and through his hair, but his hands were shaking. Minutes later his scent was no closer to stabilizing.
“Useless,” Xehanort muttered to himself, pulling off one of his gloves.
There was no time to ask permission. Sora’s defense instincts had been triggered, and if he stayed this way for too long they wouldn’t be able to get him back with scent alone.
“Allow me,” he said before crawling up between Sora’s legs, positioning himself over the much smaller boy. Xehanort put his bare hand on Sora’s other cheek and emitted his own pheromones.
Safe. Calm. Relax.
It took a minute for Sora to stop hyperventilating, but his breathing slowly returned to normal. When his mind came back to him and he was able to focus, it was Xehanort’s eyes he met.
It was Xehanort’s scent he inhaled.
It was Xehanort’s wrist his head tilted towards, seeking more of its comfort.
And though Xehanort may have allowed himself a fleeting fantasy of taking Sora for himself, settling into a nest built for the two of them and replacing the mating bite on Sora’s neck with his own, he pulled away and settled back between Sora’s legs.
Sora whined breathily at the loss. His hand came off Riku’s arm and just when Xehanort thought Sora was going to reach for him, he pressed two fingers inside.
Sora mewled loudly, gripping the pillows and wiggling his hips in what looked like both protest and pleasure.
Riku reinforced his grip, visibly straining to keep his composure.
Meanwhile, Xehanort moved with the bucking of Sora’s hips, focusing on keeping his fingers inside until Sora settled. Eventually the squirming stopped and Sora let out a long breath. The muscles gripping Xehanort’s fingers contracted in little pulses, familiarizing themselves with this new intrusion.
Or perhaps they were sucking him in, asking him to go deeper than the two knuckles already inside.
Well, they would want no longer. As his doctor, Xehanort had a very clear goal, and he’d have to go deeper to achieve it.
With one hand behind Sora’s knee to stabilize him, Xehanort slowly pressed inside as far as his fingers would go. Gliding into that hot, wet heat was like dipping into warm honey—sticky, smooth and fresh from the hive. He couldn’t help but wonder what it tasted like. Refined sugar and heavy cream, he imagined, overly rich and forbidden. He wouldn’t have been opposed to a little taste...
But Xehanort was a professional. So he kept those thoughts to himself as his fingertips pressed against Sora’s tight walls, centimeter by centimeter in search of their target.
Sora made no attempt to stifle his sounds. They were shuddery and broken, erratic as he grasped at the pillows in his nest. His hips seemed to move with Xehanort’s fingers as if helping him search for that spot, guiding him toward the place he wanted them to be. They hit their mark a moment later, and Sora keened, a long, drawn-out moan as he pressed against the swollen gland.
“As I suspected, this one is significantly enlarged,” Xehanort reported, spreading his fingers a little to hear Sora squeak again. “The increased pressure is preventing the enzymes needed to terminate heat from releasing properly.”
“Is that dangerous?” Riku asked, face wrought with concern. “What can we do? Is he going to be okay?”
“It will go down in time.” Xehanort said once Riku finished. “How much time I cannot say, and we will discuss treatment before I leave. However, while I am here,” he glanced down at his gloved hand, now soaked with Sora’s slick, “I would highly recommend a medical massage and release. It would help alleviate the tension, bringing Sora immediate relief as well as aid in the recovery process.”
“And what exactly does that entail?” Riku asked through gritted teeth.
Xehanort couldn’t help but smirk. “Exactly what it sounds like.”
“Yes!! Please!” Sora shouted, startling them both. His hips bucked again, seeking more of Xehanort’s fingers.
This time, Riku fully bared his fangs. If Sora’s head wasn’t cradled in his lap, Xehanort was certain he’d be dodging an attack right now. “No,” he said, voice as deep as it’d been all night. “Get out.”
“No no no, Riku—Riku please!” Sora begged, sobbing in his delirium, clawing at any part of his mate that he could reach. “Riku, please. Pleeeease!”
Riku looked down at Sora in disbelief. “Sora, you can’t be serious. He wants to—”
“Yes! Yes yes yes...” The yes’s trailed off endlessly until they were no more than little hisses, turning into full body shivers. It was all Sora had left.
Riku bit his own lip so hard it almost drew blood. “Show me how to do it,” he barked at Xehanort. “I’ll release it.”
“I am afraid it has become too swollen to be performed by one untrained in the intricacies of omega biology,” Xehanort shrugged. “It is a matter of his safety, you understand.”
Having no other alternatives and unable to argue against Sora’s safety, Riku reluctantly submitted. He said nothing else, only dropped his attention to Sora’s tears and used his thumbs to wipe them away.
With no more objections and enthusiastic consent from his patient, Xehanort began.
“Take a slow, deep breath,” he instructed, moving closer. “You may feel a little discomfort at first.”
Sora did as he was told and took in a breath. On the exhale, Xehanort applied acute pressure with one finger. Sora recoiled from the strange feeling, though there was nowhere for him to go.
Expressing an omega’s prostate was a bit more complicated than an alpha’s. It was much more sensitive, designed to bring pleasure while being mated, assuring their submission and thus increasing the chance of a successful breeding. When it swelled due to illness or injury, micro pressure points became accessible that could be stimulated to relieve tension and reduce swelling—as well as trigger intense orgasms.
Finding those pressure points, however, wasn’t always the most pleasant experience for the patient.
“Almost there. You’re doing so good,” Xehanort praised, earning him a soft coo. And then he found it: a spot with just the right texture and density.
Xehanort wasted no time in setting his fingers to the task. They worked deftly, methodically, watching Sora’s face as the tension slowly released and discomfort melted into pleasure.
Before long, a new scent filled the room that caused Xehanort to pause. One possible side effect of direct stimulation to an omega’s prostate was the involuntary release of their most primal pheromones—deep, biologically repressed scents that were rarely released in modern society. Scents that said, ‘breed, now,’ begging the nearest alpha to get inside them.
Xehanort’s nails dug into the flesh of Sora’s thigh. His defenses were already down, and this new scent paired with the wet squish of slick around his fingers was almost too much. He found he couldn’t help a little rock of his hips, so close to Sora’s heat with only fabric between them.
There was no denying how he wanted to press into that warm rich center with more than just his fingers. Seat himself there and watch Sora fall limp and docile beneath him. Locked together, he’d kiss the bruises he made in his pursuit to get there, licking up salty tears and sweat as Sora trembled.
The fantasy almost ran away with him, spurred on by Sora’s moans as his very real fingers did their work inside him. They rubbed and kneaded in steady rhythm, thrusting a little in the hopes that he could unravel Sora enough to make him switch doctors.
Maybe he’d ask Sora to come into the office for a follow-up.
Maybe Sora would choose to come alone...
Dangerously tempted to release his own mating scent, Xehanort tore his eyes away from Sora’s creamy center to check on the rest of him. It didn’t help. Sora’s poor, neglected cock lay red and hard on his abdomen, pooling precome that dripped down his hip. Were Riku not here, Xehanort would have licked it up then continued up the rest of him, biting a nipple on the way to his gaping mouth and giving it something to fill the void.
The one thing he didn’t have to imagine was Sora’s eyes. The pupils were wide and black as darkness, boring a look into Xehanort that could only be interpreted as ‘fuck me.’
“Don’t look at him!” Riku growled, cupping his hand under Sora’s chin and tilting his head back as if he knew.
Xehanort scoffed at the interruption, though he had to admit it was impressive how well Riku was keeping it together despite the circumstances.
Poor Sora writhed in confusion, primed out and sandwiched between two alphas, neither of which were giving him what he was begging for.
Xehanort couldn’t give him that, but he could provide the next best thing.
Returning to the thought of having Sora alone in his office, Xehanort pumped his fingers into him, faster and harder. He rubbed into pleasure points only a medical professional knew how to find, taking Sora apart piece by piece until tears fell and he begged for release.
Only then did Xehanort give it. He pushed his fingers in as far as they would go, seeking a spot at the very back of the gland—a tiny little nub 99% of alphas wouldn’t be able to find.
One touch was all it took.
Sora’s voice echoed off the walls as he came, back arching out of his nest, painting his own chest with white. Slick poured from his hole in hot gushes, spilling past the rim of Xehanort’s glove and onto his wrist.
Xehanort made no effort to move. He held his position firmly inside Sora until the writhing stopped. Until the spasms ceased. And until he fell limp and lifeless and unconscious in his lover’s lap.
“S-Sora?” Riku said, running nervous and uncertain fingers through his hair.
“He’ll sleep for a while,” Xehanort said, lowering Sora’s leg, the omega still spread beautifully before him. He paused to take in the sight, finishing the fantasy in his head before gently sliding his fingers out. The slick coating them was thick and creamy. If it was only the two of them, he definitely would have taken a taste.
Hell, if Sora was his, he’d dive down and drink straight from the source.
Riku was too busy doting on Sora’s sleeping form to notice any lingering gazes Xehanort gave his mate. In fact, he looked ready to cry from the relief of seeing Sora sleeping so peacefully. He didn’t even look up when Xehanort pulled off his glove, trapping Sora’s essence inside and packing it away in his bag. Nor when he used one of the towels at the edge of the nest to gently wipe the fluids from his chest and thighs. (He could have slipped the towel into his bag as well, but he’d pushed his luck and professionalism enough for tonight.)
“I have my diagnosis,” Xehanort said, replacing the sheet over Sora’s body. “We shall discuss it outside so he can rest.”
Riku nodded wordlessly and carefully rested Sora’s head back on his pillow. He placed a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment before following Xehanort out to the living room.
“This is your fault,” Xehanort said.
“W-what?” Riku blinked, flustered at the accusation. Xehanort let him sit on that a moment before pointing to the empty cans strewn all over the living room.
“That particular brand of performance-enhancing energy drink contains a hormone that a small number of omegas are allergic to. It is known to cause a variety of unwelcome symptoms, including but not limited to prolonged heat.”
Riku stared slack-jawed at the cans. “I...I don’t usually drink those. Work was tough this week and I was having a hard time keeping up with Sora—”
“It matters not why you drank them,” Xehanort said, “only that you must stop. Anything you consume can be transferred to Sora’s system when you mate. I would strongly recommend refraining from any type of performance enhancer, as well as from mating with Sora for a few days while the extra hormones work their way out of your system.”
“A few days?” Riku shouted, then looked back to the bedroom and lowered his voice. “How am I supposed to keep Sora satisfied through the rest of his heat without...”
“Looks like you’re going to have a very cranky omega on your hands. A fitting punishment for putting him through this, no?” Xehanort enjoyed Riku’s look of dread for a moment until taking pity on him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills. “Give him these,” he said, tossing them over. “Prescription-strength suppressants. They won’t subdue his urges completely, but they should make things more manageable.”
“Thanks...” Riku muttered, looking and sounding like a defeated puppy. Xehanort almost felt sorry for him again.
Almost.
“Do not fret,” he said, moving toward the front door and opening it. “You’ll both be back to normal within a few days.” And though he should have thought better of it, he added, “Of course, if his desire gets too intense, I would be willing to provide other services in order to meet his needs—”
“OUT!” Riku snarled and moved to physically throw Xehanort out the door. He was clumsy in his exhaustion, however, and barely managed a shove before Xehanort was already past the threshold. The door slammed shut and the deadbolt slid into place.
A grin curled Xehanort’s lips as he brought his wrist up to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of Sora that resided there. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
It was probably best to wait a few days before calling to insist on a follow-up appointment.
For Sora’s health, of course.