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The Omega Job, part 15: Good Enough To Eat

When the team come across an omega having an unexpected heat in the middle of Boston, of course they aren’t just going to leave her to fend for herself! But just as they think they’ve got her out of trouble, she starts scenting on the hitter’s jacket…and that turns out to be just the start of the job.

This is an A/B/O fic that is mostly just pure filthy smut. A sort of plot crept in when I wasn’t looking.

Rating: E (oh god srsly so much) Fandom: Leverage (Eliot Spencer x OFC) Warnings: AU A/B/O-verse, with everything that implies; nothing overtly too horrible happens in the fic itself but there is exploration around the idea of heats and consent. Read the rest via my masterlist because Tumblr is bum about in-post links.

The next few days were borderline interminable. Eliot hated to admit it, even to himself, but not having Callie around positively set his teeth on edge. He was self-aware enough to recognise the extra shortness to his temper, which wasn’t in any way aided by an entirely unexpected bout of insomnia that could only be caused by not having his omega in his bed, but couldn’t seem to get on top of it. Worse, when he tried texting Callie to check in on her, the only response he got was from Sophie, firmly instructing him to back off, we’re working on things, which nearly made him hurl his phone at the wall in frustration.

If anything the ambient bad mood helped sell the misanthropic alpha executive chef persona he was working with the mark alongside Nate, but privately he still felt more outright miserable than he could remember in quite a while, and although he did his best not to let it affect his professionalism he still knew he was noticeably crabbier than was really fair on the kitchen staff or the rest of the team.

Hardison’s quips about him being extra-cranky and in withdrawal didn’t do anything to improve his mood either.

Finally Le Saule’s opening night rolled around, and he at least was able to keep himself occupied with some unnecessarily forceful prep work while the junior cooks did their best to give him a wide berth. Then orders started coming in and he was able to take a little frustration out by bellowing at the runners, who seemed to be in a state of perpetually flustered incompetence. Where the hell had Sophie found these idiots? And more importantly where was Callie?

‘Chef, Mister Kent’s table is asking for you,’ one of the bussers called, not even waiting for a response before fleeing the kitchen for the relative safety of the main dining area.

Muttering to himself, as was only to be expected for a chef de cuisine being disturbed by something as lowly as a mere owner, Eliot shoved the velouté he’d been working on in the direction of the junior saucier and stalked for the service doors.

His progress was arrested briefly by one of the tables stopping him to ask if he was the head chef, purely so they could compliment the Kurobuta pork, which was mildly gratifying, but he finally found Kent sitting with Nate and a rather shrill, overly made-up looking woman who was presumably his wife.

‘Chef Barnett!’ Kent was up and shaking him warmly by the hand, god help him. ‘This is everything I hoped and more, thank you – oh, have you met my wife, Nancy? She’s a beta,’ he added sotto voce, ‘But keeps me on my toes!’

Feeling his other hand curl up into a fist on reflex, Eliot managed to nod and grind out a semi-civilised greeting as the woman batted her eyes at him. They’d established earlier in the job that Nancy Kent was in every way a delightful compliment to her husband – Hardison had several recordings of her commenting that omegas were good only as breeding bitches or domestic help – which made it even harder to be civil, but it played into the gruff alpha chef so at least he didn’t need to try to be charming. How Nate was doing it was honestly beyond him.

‘Delighted, chef,’ Nancy said in, with she probably thought was a coquettish little simper. ‘The salmon was divine.’

‘Appreciate it, ma’am. The caramelised lemon does wonders.’

‘You see why I got him on speed dial, right?’ Nate put in with a grin, clapping Kent on the shoulder like they’d been pals for decades as both of them laughed.

Eliot completely missed whatever was said by whoever spoke next, though, because he’d just spotted Callie and his awareness of anything else had faded instantly into the background like some stupid Hollywood flick moment. It took everything in him not to do an outright double-take; from the exquisitely form-fitting little black dress to the seamed stockings and elegantly-heeled pumps, she was a positive vision. Not that he hadn’t wondered before about seeing her in a more sophisticated and less second-hand wardrobe, but this was…something else.

The juncture of her neck and shoulder was only partially revealed by the cut of the dress, but it looked clean, which irrationally made his hackles go up. Concealer makeup, that’s all. She was playing the hostess role and playing it to the hilt; moving about with graceful but confident steps, even the way she carried herself seemed different, and she was definitely getting some attention from the male guests as a result. It took a conscious application of real willpower not to walk over there and pull her to him, scrub that damn makeup off and scent her, assert his claim right then and there to the entire place. Mine. MINE.

‘Lovely little thing, isn’t she?’ Kent said, which was enough to make him switch attention back to the odious mark. ‘I was astonished when Miz Lampon-‘ nodding to Sophie, who was sitting at another table working her charms on some bunch of bigwigs ‘-produced her, but having an omega like that on meet and greet…well. That delicious smell, fresh peaches and vanilla, and that’s before you even get near the food, eh?’

‘…yeah.’ Even hearing the scumbag talking about Callie made him angrier, but Eliot managed to keep his expression in the vague neighbourhood of neutrality.

‘They’re on suppressants but – ah-ha – you know what omegas are like.’ A wink, that made the asshole’s face look even more punchable. ‘Consider it an…extra job perk.’

‘I gotta get back to the kitchen,’ Eliot ground out, turning away. He barely even heard Nate swoop in with some pithy remark, smoothly covering with the grumpy chef angle, but even with rage boiling in his bones he couldn’t resist another discreet glance over at Callie.

Then he stopped short, because she’d just stumbled, and was leaning against one of the waitstaff podiums like she was in vague pain. A hand came up to wipe at her forehead.

Shit.

Surely not…unless being on suppressants, and crappy ones at that, had thrown her heat cycle off that much…

‘She’s fine, Eliot, it’s all part of the plan,’ Sophie murmured over the comms. ‘In fact she’s right on cue.’

On cue? But before he could properly compute that, Kent stood up and dinged his spoon against his glass, getting the entire dining hall’s attention, launching into some obviously pre-prepared speech thanking everyone for their support and for coming to opening night and so on-

-which was when Callie cried out and kneeled over, clutching at her stomach, loudly enough that the whole room’s attention shifted, albeit in a rather mortified sort of manner.

‘Oh!’ Several of the runners and a nearby waitress converged on her, followed rapidly by Sophie, and in the midst of the various alarmed noises and Callie’s whimpers one of them piped up

‘She’s in a heat!’

‘That can’t be right!’ Sophie sounded aghast, looking over at Nate and Kent. ‘She’s on the suppressants! I watched her take the dose just before we opened!’

‘They don’t work,’ one of the waitresses exclaimed – it was Parker, in a brunette wig, in fact. ‘That’s why Lindsey isn’t here and I had to cover, she went into a heat last night and she’s been taking them every day!’

Several of the others chimed in agreement and suddenly there was a lot of shouting, several badges had appeared, and a broad-shouldered man who identified himself as an FDA investigator was striding into the middle of everything demanding to see samples of the tablets and eyewitness details.

‘Crap, I lost Kent,’ Nate said suddenly. ‘He’s running for it.’

‘Won’t do him any good,’ Hardison said smugly. ‘I just emailed all those dirty-ass pharma files to FDA man’s phone and Kent’s fingerprints are all over them.’

‘I see him.’ Ignoring the hacker’s gloating, Eliot ducked past a pot of ferns and grabbed a tray from a busser’s station, skidding it down along the carpeted floor so that it hit the back of Kent’s foot and sent him flying onto his ass as surely as a well-placed banana skin in a kids’ cartoon.

‘Barnett!’ The idiot actually seemed relieved to see his supposed executive chef looming above him. ‘This is a – a frame-up! Moss and Lampon, they set it all up – wait, you’re-‘

Eliot punched him hard in the nose, for maximum pain rather than unconsciousness, then yanked him upright and into the most unpleasant arm lock he could think of, wrestling him back towards the main restaurant and away from the side exit he’d been about to flee through.

‘…interested in speaking to your husband, Mrs Kent-‘ the FDA guy was saying to a now hand-wringing Nancy ‘-ah, speak of the devil.’

‘It’s a mistake! It’s lies!’ Kent protested as Eliot deposited him firmly back into his vacated chair. ‘They set me up, they all set me up-‘

‘But you’re the one who supplied the contact information and the supply contract with Dubeck Pharma, which I notice you actually own, via some shell company arrangements that the IRS will probably be very keen to hear about, and…’ the FDA agent squinted at his phone ‘…some very interesting correspondence about active ingredient lists including less than ten percent of the required norethisterone dose needed to qualify as any kind of suppressant medication for omega heat cycles…’

‘Did you even look at them?’ Nate asked pointedly as the agent cuffed Kent.

‘Look at who?’

‘The omegas.’ Nate indicated the little clusters of servers and waitresses, all of whom were now glaring daggers at Kent to a woman. ‘All former employees of Keynesian. All fired for having heats despite taking the company-mandated suppressants prescribed and supplied by Keynesian.’

‘And all more than willing to act as witnesses, right down to blood testing to verify medication compliance – well, if you could call it medication,’ Sophie added, ‘Which personally I wouldn’t.’

‘Nor would the FDA,’ the agent said wryly. ‘Ladies, if I could have your contact details, please…?’

Satisfied that Kent wasn’t going anywhere, Eliot cast about urgently for Callie but couldn’t see her in the hubbub. As Sophie started gently herding the omegas – whose origins at least explained their collective ineptitude as food runners – towards the FDA agent, he realised she wasn’t amongst them either. A more careful scan of the dining area confirmed her as missing, but on a quick glance through the service doors he exhaled in relief.

She looked up as he came in and then broke into a little laugh when he shifted to a quick jog to get to her side and pulled her into his arms, turning to bury his nose into the side of her throat. Sweet vanilla and peaches flooded his senses and he let himself relax for a moment to just enjoy it.

When his eyes opened again they immediately fell onto her seemingly bare shoulder and he didn’t even bother to try holding back the growl that welled up. Grabbing out for a nearby towel, he rubbed it over her skin and smiled in satisfaction as the makeup came off to reveal the claim bite – or rather the silvery scar, as it had almost completely healed over since the last time he’d seen her. Mouthing at the spot, ignoring the slightly acrid taste of the remaining concealer, he finally lifted his head and kissed her deeply.

‘All done,’ Nate said over comms. ‘Let’s disappear.’

‘We gotta go,’ Eliot said to Callie, reluctantly breaking off.

‘I know.’ She tapped her ear with a wink and then fingered his lapel with a small grin. ‘The chef getup suits you very well, by the way.’

‘Yeah?’ Looping an arm around her waist, he steered them towards the back door. ‘Well you’re the one looks good enough to eat right now, darlin.’ Could barely keep my eyes off you.’

‘Sophie was very…specific.’ Another chuckle. ‘The way that woman treats money…well, she’s clearly never wanted for it, let’s put it that way. She insisted I needed to be the part, all over, and – oh!’ This was as he flipped them, pinning her to the wall outside the back alley behind the restaurant to slide one hand down the back of her thigh and then up again under the dress. ‘Eliot, not here!’

‘Wanna feel you,’ he murmured, and felt another growl slip out when his questing fingers found the garters hooked over her thighs. ‘Son of a-‘

‘Take your damn comm out dude, you NASTY!’

Hardison’s exclamation in his ear did the job of a bucket of ice water and Eliot swore, letting go of Callie to pluck out his earbud. His truck wasn’t parked far away but the fifteen minute drive home seemed to take hours, and he could have sworn the damn hacker had done something to the traffic lights just to mess with him, too.

‘Sophie says everything went off perfectly,’ Callie said, examining a very new – and presumably Hardison-treated – cellphone that she’d plucked from a clutch he hadn’t even noticed she was carrying. ‘The FDA agent got everything, and with that and the misappropriated grant…well…’

‘He’s not gonna be bothering any omegas again,’ Eliot confirmed with a grin, parking the truck up with rather more dispatch than care and coming around to open the passenger side door before Callie could do it herself, pulling her out into his arms and pushing her up against the side of the hood to kiss her again while his hands went under the skirt of her dress. The contrast between the softness of her skin and the silk of the stockings had his pulse speeding up, not to mention his cock’s rising attention.

‘Eliot-‘ suddenly she turned her head and buried her face into the side of his neck, inhaling deeply and giving a full-body shudder ‘-oh, I missed you. My alpha.’

Just like that his hindbrain snapped into full control, and with a low growl – or possibly it came out more as a snarl – Eliot spun her around and pressed up against her, pushing the dress up over her hips with one hand while using the other to get the button of his pants undone. She made a little keening noise, bending forward to brace both hands against the truck so her ass jutted out in the most delectable way.

Rumbling approval deep in his chest, he reached to part her thighs and yank her underwear aside, probing with his first two fingers and feeling a surge of heat in his belly at how wet she was already. The slick of it put paid to any semblance of patience and he thrust forward into her with a grunt, throwing his head back with a low groan as the feel of her velvet walls gripping his cock almost had him coming undone right there and then. It had been – what – a week, slightly less, and he was about ready to pop already just from being back inside her.

‘Please,’ she whimpered, rolling her ass back against him. ‘Missed you. Need you.’

That did it; he drove into her again and fell instantly into an almost vicious pace that had her gasping, clenching and squeezing around him, pushing back every time he thrust forward so the sounds of skin clapping together filled the small room. It seemed to take only moments before the exquisite knot of pleasure wound up tight enough to snap but he somehow found the presence of mind to snake a hand down and roll his thumb over her clit. Two, three quick strokes and she came with a cry, gripping him like a vise as he slammed into her to chase his own release.

After a few seconds her knees wobbled, but thankfully his reflexes kicked in even in the post-orgasmic haze and he caught her deftly, pulling her back up against his chest while trying not to stagger too much himself. They stood for a moment, his arms wrapped around her and both her hands resting on his wrists, both now sweaty and gasping, until she seemed confident enough to stand unaided and turned around, cupping his face in one hand for a long kiss while the fingers of the other carded up through his hair.

Smiling against her lips, he touched the tip of his nose to hers and then leaned back to catch her eye with a wink.

‘Shower?’

‘Oh, god, yes please.’

She paused to take off the pumps before tackling the stairs, making him chuckle and earning him a light swat to the arm with the clutch, but in short order they were back in the loft and he could finally peel off the damn chef’s tunic with its plethora of restaurant kitchen aromas.

‘Here,’ he offered, gesturing when she reached for the zipper on the dress, and with a smile she turned to let him draw it down her back. Sliding the garment off so it pooled at her feet revealed clearly new underwear; more functional than fancy, admittedly, but he wasn’t that fussy and the garters and hose still made for a very enjoyable visual. He took his time with unclipping them and sliding each stocking down her leg with painstaking slowness, batting her hands away with a low tutting noise when she tried to wriggle free to speed things up.

‘Hold still, or I’ll go slower.’

That got an unhappy little sound that made him chuckle, but he kept the same pace as he peeled the underwear off her and unclipped the bra, tossing it behind him before ducking his head to kiss her nipples, teasing them to hardness with the tip of his tongue before closing his mouth over each in turn with a gentle suck. She was positively writhing now, the fingers of one hand laced through his hair while the other was pawing at the bottom edge of his vest in between fiddling with the button on his slacks.

Still chortling, he sat back up and took a moment to admire her nakedness beneath him, then turned away and stripped his beater before getting out of pants and boots with the same deliberate unhurriedness. He felt rather than saw her get up and move, catching only a brief glimpse of the little smirk on her face before she vanished through the door to the bathroom.

The shower came on and he broke into a grin. Oh, she wanted to play? He could definitely accommodate that.

She gave a little start when he slipped into the walk-in behind her but immediately relaxed back against him when he pulled her hair aside to nuzzle the back of her neck. Turning to face him when he put his arms around her, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned up to kiss him deeply, letting him crowd her back against one wall while the water poured down over the both of them.

Although there was an undeniably sensuous edge to the touches and caresses of soaping each other down, things stayed languishing and leisurely until they were done, dried and back in the bedroom, where she waited until he was looking at her properly and then, rather purposefully, dropped her towel.

With another growl he lunged for her, and that definitely upped the pace until they both collapsed, exhausted and finally sated, into a sweaty mess under the duvet. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, Eliot relaxed into the scent of me-her-mate-mine permeating the room and, for the first time in days, finally sank into proper sleep.

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