𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Sometimes it feels like Valko’s more your friend than your boss, but that’s precisely the problem—boundaries inevitably blur, and feelings you’re not supposed to have push constantly against your ribs. And then keeping secrets from someone who sits just feet away from you five days a week, ten hours a day, only becomes that much harder when you find yourself stuck in an elevator with him late one night and... well, let’s just say nobody likes to take the elevator after that.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | non-MC reader, fluff, coworkers/friends to lovers, rom-com vibes, light angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, not actually unrequited love, poor reader is so oblivious, Valko is probably OOC since I know next to nothing about him (but whose fault is that?), EVENTUAL SMUT in a later instalment.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.1k
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | This will be my first full blown fic that I’m sharing with the world, and I’m a bit nervous 👉🏻 👈🏻 🥺 Please be kind <3
𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
“If you could trade bodies with anyone in the world, who would you pick?”
From the opposite side of the elevator comes a scoff. “No one. I’m amazing, why would I wanna trade?”
“Come onnn,” you groan. It’s been nearly an hour since the elevator’s stopped, and your butt is getting sore from leaning against the handrail. You shift, trying to get more comfortable, but it’s impossible. The thin flats you’re wearing also don’t offer much support, and your calves are already starting to get sore from standing.
“That’s such a boring answer,” you almost whine, doing everything but stomping your feet like a petulant child, “and I’m so dang tired of watching the floor indicator not change.”
You’d think that in a fancy building like this one, smack dab in the middle of downtown Linkon’s sparkling financial district, that things would be better maintained than most. Instead, you’d gotten onto the elevator at the thirty-fifth floor, the prestigious executive suite, only to get stuck between floors twenty-eight and twenty-nine just seconds later.
It’s nearly ten o’clock on a Friday night. Almost everyone has already gone home for the night, with the exception of you because a) they say you have a problem, and the word they most often use is “workaholic”, and b) when you’re executive assistant to the chairman to EonCore Tech, there’s rarely ever a day when you leave right at five.
And the Chairman himself?
You look up, the glass surrounding the elevator letting in more than enough moonlight for you to see Valko leaning against the wall. You do your best not to swoon, watching silently as he reaches up to run one large hand through his auburn hair. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, and your eyes cannot help their descent down the length of his tie towards—
“‘Dang bored’, she says,” a small huff of laughter, and then Valko is looking back at you. You try not to squirm under his golden yellow stare, try not to break eye contact too quickly lest he starts getting that look on his face—the one that says he’s worried about you—and your resolve starts to weaken. He stares at you for a second, then two, before he relents and turns away, allowing you to breathe again. “Fine. I’d pick you then.”
“Me?” You blink.
“Yeah, you,” and then he’s smirking.
“…Why?” You ask with narrowed eyes, slowly angling your body away and giving him a dirty look, even though you’re pretty sure your blood’s just turned into lava when he gives you a slow, very deliberate once-over.
“Why do you think?” He’s still smirking. Asshole.
“You—!” You raise your fist threateningly, but Valko just snickers. One of his canines poke out over his plush lower lip, and with the way he side-eyes you with such mirth, it’s a deadly combination.
You want to punch him in his stupid, perfect face. Or shove your tongue down his beautiful throat. Or punch him and then shove your tongue down his throat. Oh yes, that sounds delectable—
Nope, dangerous territory. Abort. I said abort!
He doesn’t make it easy for you.
“Mmm… I’d make you do things you never do, sweetheart,” he says, tone dripping with suggestion. You glare and move like you’re going to hit him, but he doesn’t even flinch. He just continues giggling like a giant kid, “Yeah, I’d drink and curse like a sailor. Have you ever even dropped an F-bomb before?”
You kiss your teeth, cheeks growing warm. “Of course I have.”
He obviously doesn’t believe you. “And I’d go out on Friday nights instead of sitting at your desk here in this boring old place. I’ve told you a million times, you don’t need to stay late just because I do.”
You don’t say anything. He thinks you do it because you’re dedicated to your job, and you are, but a larger part of the reason is you’ll take all you can get when it comes to him. That’s what you get for being the world’s biggest cliche, and falling in love with your perfect, stupidly hot, and ultimately unattainable boss.
“I’d also make you splurge on things other than old books and thrift store yarn. I pay you enough, don’t I?” He smiles, and you just roll your eyes.
“Not nearly enough. How about a 500% raise?”
“I know you’re kidding, but I’ve already got the paperwork drafted in my office.”
“You’re such a liar.”
“I’ve left the amount blank,” he shrugs, “you can put in whatever salary you want and I’ll pay it. Show me anyone who says you don’t deserve it and I’ll tell them otherwise.”
“Valko, nobody pays their assistant two hundred thousand—”
“Maybe then you’ll start buying your pantsuits in other colours besides grey.”
You open your mouth to refute that last statement, because of course you have other clothes, but then you look down at your grey dress pants and matching grey jacket.
“This is sexual harassment,” is what you go with instead.
Valko balks, but he’s still smiling. That is not good. Well, actually, it’s downright brilliant, but it’s also absolutely terrible. For your heart, that is. And for the heat that is currently pooling between your legs—
“How is that sexual harassment?”
If only he knew. “What would you rather me wear to work then?”
“That’s not what I meant,” the bastard is laughing now. Actually, it’s more of a chuckle, a sound that makes you want to press your ear to his chest so you can hear it directly from the source. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m rather fond of the pantsuits, actually.”
You try not to hone in on whatever the heck that means. You can spiral about that later, once you’ve been rescued and you’re in the safety of your own home. “What did you mean then?”
He sighs. “Nothing.”
You gasp, clutching at your non-existent pearls. “You want me to wear nothing?!”
Just say the word, boss.
“No!” His eyes go wide while you try not to let the disappointment show, and one of his large hands—which you certainly do not think about at all late at night when you’re in bed, alone and lonely—reaches across the darkness to shove at your shoulder lightly. The contact is so brief, maybe half a second, but it sparks warmth all the way down your arm and across your chest. “Stop doing that.”
You stop doing that.
“Doing what?” You challenge, and his eyes remain bright with amusement, soft with something you might mistake for genuine affection if you were delusional enough. Valko does care about you, you know that, but not in the way you want. Not in the way you need. It makes you ache in all sorts of ways.
“You’re messing with me,” his smile grows wolfish, one of his eyebrows quirking in a way that threatens to turn all the cartilage in your knees into jelly.
“You mess with me all the time,” you turn away to sulk a little, about this and about all the things he doesn’t know about. Subsequently, you don’t notice the way his gaze dips slightly, towards the vicinity of your pouting, flowering lips.
“Yeah,” he slowly looks away, too slowly, as though reluctant… but you don’t catch that either. “But I’m allowed. I’m the boss.”
He doesn’t always act like it though, which is the crux of your problem. You could handle being hopelessly in love with your boss, so long as you could keep a clearly drawn line between the two of you. You could keep your head down and do your job, putting on a mask that you would only take off once you were alone and he was far enough away.
Except the line has now blurred into a giant unrecognizable blob.
You should be grateful. Your boss is reasonable, patient, and never asks too much of you. In fact, sometimes he seems to take it upon himself to assist you, rather than the other way around.
“How many hours did you sleep last night?” Valko would ask you, arms crossed over his chest, glasses slipping down the perfect slope of his nose. He looked like a stern, sexy teacher. You didn’t know you’d be into that until right that very moment.
You hesitated to answer, because you knew it’d be one he wouldn’t appreciate. But he’d just wait patiently, until you could no longer stand the silence or the staring. “…Four.”
“Four?!” And then he’d be almost having a meltdown. “Are you—?! Haa… take the rest of the day. No, actually, it’s not negotiable. And I’m watching you, don’t even try to sneak any files home to work on them later. Your laptop stays here, understand?”
He makes you tea.
On your very first day, he brought you to the break room and showed you how to use that fancy espresso machine that probably cost more than your monthly rent. He made you a cup and then slid it across the counter, waiting for you to take a sip. “You’ll never have coffee any other way, I promise.”
You hesitated, but still picked up the tiny little cup and smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.”
“Please, just Valko.”
“Okay. Thank you, Valko.”
“…”
“…”
“You don’t drink coffee, do you?”
“Not even a little, I’m sorry.”
But then boxes of xiangpian and tieguanyin showed up in the cupboards just days later, and he brewed a cup for you every morning ever since.
“Shouldn’t I be doing this for you?” You asked him one day, standing up to take the steaming, perfectly steeped cup from him and placing it onto your desk.
“You’re my executive assistant, not my personal assistant,” was what he’d said before starting the short walk back to his office. “Besides, I’ve got a pair of perfectly good hands and I know how to use ‘em.”
You looked up at his retreating back, startled, but it didn’t seem like he realized what that sounded like. He stopped in his tracks, his ears suddenly turning bright red before he whirled around and stuttered, “Oh shit, th-that’s not what I meant!”
It only endeared him to you further.
He asks you about your cats.
He doesn’t even like cats. You know because he’s mentioned before that he’s more of a dog person, and because he wrinkles his nose in what you can only describe as mild disgust when he sees the cat hairs on your clothes sometimes.
“How are the… felines?” He’d ask, barely able to suppress a shudder, spitting that last word out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Still licking their own privates?”
You rolled your eyes. “Dogs do that too, you know.”
He ignored you. “Better not choke to death in your apartment. They’d eat your corpse and nobody would ever know what happened to you.”
You just shrugged, having already run a cost-benefit analysis in your head when you first adopted Miso and Mirin, “At least it’d save my family the cost of a cremation.”
Valko burst out laughing, but once the laughter had subsided, he’d said, “I’d look for you.”
“You would?”
“Wouldn’t stop until I found ya.”
“But there’d be nothing to find,” you pointed out for this peculiar little scenario, but when you looked up from the document you were reading, he just nodded and shrugged his shoulders.
You looked away immediately and didn’t say anything after that, because he couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant.
If he did, he was just kidding. Valko did that a lot. He was a funny guy.
It’s your job to help him manage his calendar, but there are dates he remembers even without being prompted. March 17, the date you started working at EonCore, is marked on his calendar as your “anniversary”. See? Funny.
Except he makes sure to keep his calendar clear after noon. He orders takeout for dinner, because he knows you don’t like going out to crowded restaurants on weeknights after a long work day. He always orders from your favourite place, the Thai restaurant just a few blocks away.
The two of you have a standing order—cashew fish, mango salad, and panang curry with a generous side of jasmine rice, all made medium spicy.
“Plus a giant cup of iced water,” he would announce proudly before plopping the takeout bags and your water onto your desk. “Because you’re a freak of nature.”
“If you want me to stay hydrated, the water must be iced.” You told him unapologetically.
And then the two of you would sit at your respective desks, the office smelling like coconut and curry paste, everything quiet except for the scraping of utensils, the clicking of your keyboards, and the occasional comment or question about what you were working on.
He’d give you a ride home, waiting until just before you got out to say in a joking manner, “Oh, hey. Happy anniversary.”
What choice would you have but to say it back, smiling even though you wanted to cry, knowing it would never mean the other thing?
And he remembers your birthday. Every single year without fail, even though it’s not on either of his calendars, work or personal. You’ve checked.
What kind of boss breezes into the office on a Thursday morning, looking the way he does, and says loud enough for everyone to hear, “Guess what I got for my favourite assistant for her special day?”
Like, what the heck?
It’s even worse because he doesn’t simply throw his money around. He doesn’t toss designer jewelry onto your desk that will just sit in their velvet boxes, tucked away in a drawer because you’re too afraid to damage or lose it. He never bothers with impractical trinkets or fancy gadgets that serve no other purpose than to show off its hefty price tag. He doesn’t just hand over his credit card and say something like, “Buy yourself something nice.”
No. He puts thought into the gifts he buys for people he cares about, and even though you don’t always necessary end up liking the gift, you’re a firm believer of it’s the thought that counts.
“Surprise library?!” You gasped, eyes gleaming, spinning around in your chair and ignoring the way your heart stuttered at the sight of him. You’d gotten pretty good at pretending after all this time.
“What?” Valko faltered slightly, but then placed a very pretty pink box onto your desk. “Uh, no. Not that.”
You deflated and muttered, “It’s never a surprise library.”
“Just open it, ya weirdo.” He tapped the box and urged you to undo the matching pink ribbon, and when you did, you were only further disappointed when you brushed aside the layers of tissue paper and pulled out… a taser?
“What…?” You looked up at him, puzzled, wondering if he’d picked up the wrong box this morning or was just messing with you like he always did. But his facial expression didn’t change, he just leaned forward to take the thing out of the box and show you how to use it.
“You’re a single woman living alone in the city, and you refuse to buy a gun—”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m normal—”
“This is my solution.”
“Well, it’s a dumb solution.”
“Hey.”
You said that, but it was actually kind of sweet that he cared about your personal safety enough to even dwell on the matter at all. You pictured him at the store purchasing it, all serious in the way that he gets when it comes to stuff like this… all for you.
A swell of affection within you surged up so quickly it almost spilled out from your lips, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek and swallowed it back down.
“And even if someone does break into my place, by the time I get close enough to use this on them, they’d have already shot me in the face and looted my things.”
“And that is why I signed you up for self-defence lessons last year,” Valko sighed, still holding the taser because you refused to take it from him. You weren’t really a weapons kind of girl. “You never went, did you?”
“No,” you admitted easily, not because you didn’t think they were worth it, but because when would you even have time to go? You’re either here burning the midnight oil, or you’re at home trying to get some sleep. “But thank you, sir.”
Valko smiled, even though he didn’t really like it when you called him that. “Oh. Well, you’re welcome—”
“For the useless, useless gift.”
But it got worse. Because that was yesterday.
Today, you stepped out of the elevator and just stood there, mouth slightly agape when you saw a brand new triple wide bookshelf anchored to the wall behind your desk. It was painted a beautiful sage green, complete with elegantly arched baffles and intricate gold detailing, all eighteen of its shelves bursting with genres of all sorts.
When your brain started working again, you approached your desk to find a single book lying on top of the box that still held your brand new taser. You picked it up and turned it over to read the cover—The Gift of Fear and Other Survival Signals that Protect Us from Violence by Gavin de Becker—and rolled your eyes, but also smiled so wide that you thought your cheeks might tear.
You were still holding the book when the thought occurred to you, wiping the smile from your face. This was no longer working. You might have been able to pretend up until this point, but now that he’d gone and done the nicest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you, it is the last straw.
How are you supposed to keep things professional now? You don’t think you can go another full day without dissolving into a sad weeping mess, without him running over to ask you what was wrong, and then all the words you’re not allowed to say and feelings you’re not supposed to have come spilling out and you’ll have to stand there and listen as he tells you sorry.
Because you’re not his type. Yes, Valko flirts. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, sometimes. Yes, he calls you his “work wife” and then people started talking—as they inevitably do when a successful and powerful businessman has a good relationship with his female assistant—and he’d winked at you and said, “Well, since everyone already thinks we’re sleeping together, I might as well drop the ‘work’ and just call you ‘wife’.”
You thought you’d burst into flames, but he was just trying to lighten the mood. It was his way of telling you not to mind the rumours, because he could stand up to defend your honour and integrity, deny it until he was blue in the face, but people would still whisper behind closed doors. So as long as the two of you had a clear conscience, nothing else mattered.
And you’d seen the women who come in here, with their expensive designer dresses and stiletto heels, curves in all the right places. They lean against his desk and smile coquettishly, batting their eyelashes and laughing a bit too loud whenever he says something even remotely amusing. He’d smile back, that smirk that is both infuriating and tantalizing, his head tilting playfully to the side and you’d have to force yourself to look away.
But the worst is when she comes in. Unlike the others, this woman doesn’t sneer down at you when she asks if Valko’s in. If he’s busy, she sits down in one of the chairs in the lounge while she waits and makes friendly small talk. “If he ever gives you any trouble, let me know and I’ll beat him up for you. Us girlies gotta stick together.”
You’d smile, because she really is so darn nice. But when she comes in, Valko suddenly becomes shut off. They go into his office and he tells you they aren’t to be disturbed. When you try to ask for details after, he doesn’t tell you. You don’t even know her name. She is only known to you as Miss Hunter, and she is the only part of Valko’s life that you are not privy to.
It’s fine, though. You’re fine. You’ll be fine.
There are lots of jobs out there. Maybe not one that pays as good as this one or one that you enjoy nearly as much, but at the very least you can hope that your next boss won’t be a walking romantic hazard, sex on impossibly long legs.
Maybe he’ll even be a married balding man in his fifties, happily married for decades with grown children, who doesn’t give you butterflies or filthy, unspeakable ideas that you fantasize about in the privacy of your own mind.
Yes, it is fine.
You will email him your resignation letter over the weekend. You’ll make up some excuse as to why you can’t give him the standard two weeks’ notice and beg for a reference letter, so you don’t have to look him in the eye when he demands to know why. So that he can’t try to talk you out of it, because he will succeed.
Oh, god. The Surprise Library. You won’t even get to enjoy it. He just bought it too. It probably cost a lot. Well, for you. For him it was probably just a drop in the bucket.
You won’t give him the chance though. This is for your own good. In a few short months, he’ll have forgotten all about you and you’ll be moving on instead of spending every waking moment thinking about how badly you want his mouth on yours, or precisely what those hands are capable of, or that you want him pressed so close up against you that it makes tears spring to your eyes—
“What about you?” Valko suddenly asks.
“Huh?” You blink, only now realizing it’s been quiet for a bit too long, prompting him to break the silence.
“Who’d you pick? If you could switch bodies.”
You compose yourself. Security should be doing their rounds around the building soon, so it’s only a matter of time before someone realizes the elevator isn’t working and Valko’s car hasn’t left the parking lot. You just need to get through this final stretch and then you can go home and spend the weekend crying over a broken heart he knows nothing about, like you do most weekends.
“You, of course,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. Valko smirks, all cocky and smug, but before he can start cracking wise, you beat him to the punch. “For one, I’d steal all your money. Nobody can do anything about it because on paper, you’re just giving it to me.”
This doesn’t seem to rattle him nearly as much as it should though, because he just grins like he’s actually entertaining the idea. You try a different approach.
“And all that time you spend at the gym? All in vain, my friend. I’d eat everything and do, like, negative exercise. You know I hate working out.”
Now his smile drops. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I most definitely would,” you double down, starting to laugh at the mental image. “I’d sit under a conveyer belt of food. I’m not burning one calorie for you.”
“Aw, sweetheart, that’s not funny!” He stands up straight now, gesturing at his immaculate body. “I’ve worked hard for this!”
Yes, he obviously has, and it has clearly paid off, but you’re not going there right now. “I’d eat until you grow moobs that touch the floor.”
His hands immediately fly up to cover his pecs, and you pretend like you aren’t looking at the way his broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and bulging arms are absolutely stuffed into that white dress shirt.
God, he’s huge.
Your mind wanders, imagining just how huge he’d feel towering over you, your hands on the wide expanse of his back as he leans down to kiss you—
Well, so much for not going there.
You clear your throat. “Oh, and I’d throw away all your protein powder.”
That gets the biggest reaction yet. He’s absolutely aghast now. “You actually can’t. Protein powder is expensive!”
“You’re not a bodybuilder, Valko, or a professional athlete—”
“What do you actually know? I could be training—”
“You don’t need to add protein to everything!”
See, this is good. You won’t think about how angry and disappointed he’ll be come Monday morning. That’s a problem for another day.
“Says the woman with the noodle arms.”
You gasp. “Take that back!”
He snickers again. “Quick, drop and give me twenty.”
For tonight, you’ll just enjoy what you have while you still can.
۶ৎ he'll offer you his credit card and be content allowing you to purchase everything you want when you're on dates together, even if you end up spending most of it.
۶ৎ valko is that type of boyfriend who feels incomplete if he's not touching you in some way. he'll intertwine his fingers with yours while he's focused on driving, hold you closely when you're together visiting a crowded place, sit beside you in a restaurant booth just so that he can rest his hand on your squishy thigh.
۶ৎ the simplest way to relax him is to play with his fuzzy hair, rub his ears, or caress his cheeks. his tense jaw will unclench, flexed muscles will un tighten. his giant body will melt into you entirely when you pet his head and lightly fondle his soft face. it makes him feel sooo good.
nsfw
۶ৎ valko is a serious pussy eater. you're sweaty and haven't showered yet? doesn't matter. on your period? he's still devouring you carelessly if you desire it. feeling lazy and in the mood to be a receiving princess? he'll pleasure your clit without any expectations.
۶ৎ has a little happy trail down there and rarely shaves his pubic hair. valko doesn't care whether you decide to shave yourself or not, but he hugely prefers your natural body.
۶ৎ valko actually enjoys foreplay more than you do. watching the cute fucked out expressions you make, making your legs shake after you orgasmed from just his lengthy fingers, the way you squirm and whimper his name repeatedly like a mantra. all of it has him completely whipped.
۶ৎ whether you're being the dominant partner or not, valko is obsessed with body worship during sex. he just loves the idea of either of you treating the other person's figure like a temple.
prince’s note: hallooo, super busy from irl stuff… but still hopeful 4 puppy, will be waitin for him no matter what; so here’s a little fluff~
૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა
The rain gently pattered on the waiting shed’s roof, and the scent of rain on the ground wrapped around you in a humid blanket.
The old couple on your right are holding hands, a paper bag of vegetables perched on the old man’s lap as the old lady chats about how Matilda was caught cheating in the local Bake Off. She seriously didn’t try and present a pre-made cake during a timed competition.
As you subtly listen in, a new text from Valko comes in.
wolfie 🐺
wrapped up meeting as fast as i can
coming in five
A smile graces your face, and you type a reply.
prettiest pup 💚
u better!!!
I have a surprise for u, come quick.
A GIF of a car cartoonishly zooming away comes through, and you laugh softly. You don’t realize the tea has stopped and the old couple is smiling at you.
prettiest pup 💚
not that fast koko ( -_-)
wolfie 🐺
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
As you’re fondly rolling your eyes at your phone, a woman’s voice comes through.
“…aw, baby boo— you’re picking me up with your car? Oh, you’re sooo sweet to me.” She sits at your left, phone pinched between her cheek and shoulder. Her giggles echo through the shed, nearly drowning out the scent of rain. “I love you so muchalicous, pookie!”
She finally puts her phone down, and you try and go back to whatever you were doing. Maybe you should play that offline dinosaur game—
“You know, I’m super lucky.” She starts, and you blink.
“H-huh?”
“Yeah! You know, my boyfriend is a financial analyst and he spoils me. He’s going to get me a Birkin and a trip to Bali when he saves up.” She rambles, immensely proud. Then she asks. “How about you? You have a partner?”
You swallow, and nod awkwardly. The old couple beside you try to resist laughing at the situation; certainly not at you.
“I have a boyfriend—“ you start, and she interjects.
“Oh! You know, your boyfriend shouldn’t leave you out in the cold like this. He should pick you up in a car. Don’t tell me he uses a motorcycle in this weather.”
Your brows knit. “…He will pick me up. I’m sorry, to what do I owe you for this conversation?”
The woman huffs. “I’m just trying to be friendly. Besides, if your boyfriend doesn’t pick you up, I’ll have mine let you on a ride.”
You inwardly cringe. So being friendly to her is assuming odd things…
Soon you hear a car pull up, and it’s not Valko’s car. The windows roll down and the woman squeals. “Baby! Look at this poor lost lamb. Her boyfriend might not come—“
A beep stops her, and the man jolts. He looks back, and reluctantly drives the car just a little bit more away to let the other car pass.
Eyes widening, you recognize that car… and you smile. But before you can even stand, Valko steps out of the car in a three piece suit, glasses perched on his nose.
There’s clearly no need for an umbrella as he calmly uses his coat and large frame to shield you from the elements. He grins at you, but to anyone else, it would be the typical ‘I am a CEO’ aura.
“Let’s go, pup.” His hand wounds around your waist, and let him pull you out of the shed.
You don’t even cast a glance at the woman, but maybe she’s flabbergasted. When you do, peeking under Valko’s arm, her mouth is open. She blinks, reconciling the CEO with whatever image she conjured up.
“Oh, you left this at my place.” Valko fuels the fire, taking out the ring you forgot at his place yesterday. He slides it on your index finger, satisfied. “There, perfect.”
You resist a snicker as you lean your head on his arm all the way to the car.
But lo and behold— whatever CEO alpha fantasy Valko was out there was completely dashed once you both got in.
“Puppy…” he whines, rubbing his cheek all over you and nearly blanketing your body with his own. “The meeting took so long and the board didn’t even know what they were yappin’ ‘bout.”
You pocket your phone, letting him rub all he likes. Sighing, you reach up.
A rumble builds up in Valko’s throat as you scratch behind his ears. With an adorable grunt and huff, Valko buries his face into your chest; taking a big sniff.
With a poof, his ears and tail come out. The latter thumps rapidly against the leather seat as you rub his back.
Sighing, you press your lips against your precious boyfriend.
“You missed me a lot, didn’t you?”
You get a whimper in return and you smile, pressing your lips to his head.
“I did… your scent was on my tie but then it faded halfway into the meeting.” His muffled mumble rumbles through your chest. Valko sniffs you again. “I missed this.
Just then, a lightbulb goes off in his head. He looks up, nearly bumping into your chin.
“I should bring you to meetings. Put you on my lap.”
You flick his forehead, your ears burning. “Hey— no. I have work and patrols— You wouldn’t even be able to focus.”
He pouts, playfully biting the finger you used to flick him with. “Exactly.”
“No.”
“Yes, pancake.”
“Nope, Koko.”
“Please, miss hunter?”
“I said no, silly.” You nearly laugh at his face.
Another whimper rumbles from his throat, his ears drooping; and you sigh. Thankfully he lets go of your hand.
“How about this, hm?” You wipe your finger on his coat. “Remember how I said I had a present for you?”
His yellow eyes hyperfocus on your next words, and you can’t resist a smile.
“I got us a private booking to the place with a chocolate fountain. For five hours.”
A bright smile lightens his entire aura, his ears perking up and his tail wagging faster.
“Thank you, pancake.” He grins, peppering kisses all over your face as you laugh.
Silly thing sneaks a few sniffs and nips to your ear, too.
With another defeated (yet pleased) sigh, you let your boyfriend love on you. The ring glints on your finger, reflecting the passing street lights.
I think a foursome with Zayne, Valko, and Caleb would fix me. And after we're all fucked out, these three nerds will cuddle me in bed and talk geeky science shit with me and each other before we all fall asleep.
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