Part 3. Whisky and cute. Smutty thoughts.
With one arm still wrapped around her shoulder Vik grabbed the whisky off his desk with his free hand, glove clinking against the glass bottle, and walked her through the back.
It wasn't much, but he had an old worn in leather couch where he originally thought he would take breaks. But seeing that he usually ate and tinkered at his desk in front of an old fight, the couch was mainly used after closing. It's the kind of couch that's been sat on a thousand times, napped on for hundreds, and was still too comfy to throw out.
The seats were full of pitts and scrapes from from where he had sat down with something sharp still poking out of a pocket. there was a deep dent on the side that Jackie favoured, all his excited fidgeting had a tendency to leave lasting impressions. One of the arm rests had a strange flat smooth spot where bottles of whisky and beer had been carefully balanced over the years, and the other had a swooping crater where the memory of Viks tired head was left indefinitely.
It had been a week since she was last in. Since he sat her down and told her he cared for her. In all, that wasn't really a shock, he was warm hearted and she knew he cared, he cared for all his friends. Vik was someone you counted on. The shock to her system was how it was said. He wasn't just handing off information, it almost felt like a proposition. As if he was offering her a reason to look after herself.
She had definitely been thinking, and over thinking on his words. She couldn't just turn up to say "hey" after that. She didn't want to be over eager and under wanted. His birthday was such a perfect reason to pop by though, it wasn't even an excuse-it was an ACTUAL reason.
"You haven't dropped in all week. I thought you might have been avoiding me?"
As she heard the words, a black hole opened in her chest, sucking her stomach and heart into oblivion for a few seconds. His forearm was resting sluggishly on her shoulder as they walked, which was making it hard for her to concentrate anyway...a smell of hot metal, antiseptic and pheromones mixed with a fresh sweat was evaporating from his arm. She could feel an olfactory memory being created each time she breathed him in.
"Really vik?! You are getting old. You don't remember when I came in and paid you every eddy I've ever owed you? Then you took me to dinner? Bought me flowers?"
She slunk from under his arm and picked her feet off the floor as she threw herself back and shoulders first onto the couch. Her head firmly nestled into the Vik dent.
"Did everyone ask if I was your Dad?" It was a quick response, because it had been something on his mind before. He was an actual age to be her father. It certainly wasn't the only thing stopping him from acting on his desires, but it was a major one. He watched her hair float up as head hot the couch, as if waves were engulfing her.
"Grandpa!" She responded raising her eye brows and giving him a nod as he picked up a leather pouch from the surgical table in the corner.
Vik mimicked being punched in the gut and let out a growling "Ooft kid!" As he planted himself next to her with an empty thud. When his 200 pound of muscle hit the seat, it dropped a good six inches beneath him, and in turn, her hips cooked and she fell into his thigh.
She steadied herself by wrapping her hand around his forearm. It shouldn't have been as exciting as it was, but his arms did things to her. She could watch him working all day, when his fingers moved and grabbed the muscles just below his elbow stretched and rippled like a machine. He didn't realise it, but she was tracing the movements over his tattoos.
"Grandpa eh? THAT I would have remembered" he swallowed his words as she stroked his arm with her thumb. He wondered of she knew what she was doing to him right now. Her fingers slightly tugging at his tired and sore arm, whilst her thighs pushed against his leg. He wished to have that thigh in his grasp, and her fingers exploring his chest. He wanted to know exactly how much of her he could hold at once. That sweet spot where her thighs and ass met..she was thickest there, he wanted to cradle her and find out how well she would fit in his hand.
He felt his whole body reacting to the though and he swallowed once more, moving his arm ever so slightly trying to reach his exo glove without breaking the skin to skin contact.
"YOUR BIRTHDAY" Came the squeel from next to his ear. She had the lungs of a whale sometimes.
Her hands grabbed his leg and she jumped on her knees next to him, she didn't realise how far down her hands were going go, but she gave him a little squeeze before she bounded off
"I'm gonna get your box!"
He would have smiled at her giddied charm if he wasn't too busy trying to will all his blood back to its rightful places. She must have realised where her left hand landed. Her finger tips touched so far into his thigh that they grazed the seam of his pants, and if she would have stretched her pinky out an inch, she would have felt a waking dragon, who he had no doubt, would have been stirred from her touch.
As she returned she watched him folding leather around his exoglove. She was wondering if she had made him uncomfortable with her touch, but that fear faded when he flashed her a big Vik smile. Fear that was replaced with butterflies.
He sat the pouch on the soft bit of the arm rest, and felt his heart race as he waited for her to come close again. He expected her to sit next to him, but she walked in front of him, her shoulders square with his, though much more slender. She looked down at her gift and then at Vik without moving her head as she handed it to him. She gave him big eyes, full of wonder and life. He took the box from her hands, not breaking eye contact for even a split second.
"The whisky was enough you know, this better be something shitty and little"
"I'm shitty and little" she sounded proud at this realisation.
"Just open it Vik" she said as she grabbed the bottle of whisky and started to unscrew the lid.
"Haha" he chuckled deeply "Ok, ok. You can be such a brat sometimes" his smile reflecting his adoration of that quality.
She sat next to him again, ankles tucked under herself and watched him fumble with the ribbon and paper.
She took a huge gulp of whisky as he laid his eyes on her gift.
"C'mere" he said as he wrapped his arm around her. His inner elbow caressed the back of her neck and pulled her head to tuck under his chin.
In his hand he held a whisky glass, with a thick heavy bottom and the letter V etched onto the side in a gothic font. A single boxing glove hung off the thin arm of the V.
"It's a V. For Viktor....And the other has a V on it as well!"
"For Viktor" he laughed and repeated her.
"No, you gonk" she pulled back and looked at him, her face squished, as if he had completely missed something.
Maybe the other V is for her. For V.
She cupped his left cheek in her hand and pulled his face toward her parted mouth. As their skin touched, she pushed her parted lips gently into his stubble, but hard enough to smoosh the side of his face. Her smooth lips left a wetness on his face that he wished he could fell between his own lips.
"Happy Birthday, Viktor Vektor"
she cooed to him as she felt the heat radiating from his cheek.
"Where the fuck are you at birthday boy!"
Jackies voice boomed from the front door.
"Viky! V said she would meet us here for a drink" Came Mistys call.
He tilted his head back and bellowed
"IM BEING SHOWERED WITH BIRTHDAY KISSES. ITS HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE, HELP!"
She gave him a sharp jab in his arm before she ran around to jump onto jackie.
Vik poured himself a whisky. He heard the familiar sound of her body impacting Jackie's chest mid-air.
"AND GET YOUR OWN FUCKING GLASSES"
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