I've found hope in a heart attack - pt. 5
Viktor x Fem!Reader Modern AU (Eventual NSFW)
Synopsis: You and Viktor have a much needed discussion. It leads you to places you never thought you could go.
Warnings: here we go - general NSFW content, masturbation, teasing, oral (female receiving), the tiniest mention of overstimulation, fingering, protected sex, and a shitload of sexual tension.
A/N: I seriously cannot thank everyone enough for the support on this fic. You guys have been the absolute sweetest to me. I do want to say that this is my first time writing anything like this chapter, so I hope it lives up to expectations. There is one more part after this to come.
Word Count: 6.4k
The first thing you become aware of is Viktor’s hand on your thigh, freezing cold. Then the ringing in your ears fades away, the windshield wipers coming to the top of your hearing.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
Your mouth is dry. You swallow hard, slowly realizing you’re shaking.
“Yeah, I…. I think so,” you manage. “You?”
“I’m fine,” Viktor says, the steadiness of his voice calming you a little. “Though, if you feel able, we should probably pull off the road.”
You look up and realize that you’re sitting in between two lanes. Thankfully, the road is deserted around you.
“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, hesitantly trying out the gas pedal. The car seems to be running okay, smoothly pulling over at your will. You put it in park, trying to recover. Neither of you seems to know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, tears stinging at your eyes.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Viktor says firmly, giving your thigh a light squeeze. “It could have happened to anyone.”
You want to be home - not the cabin, but your apartment - safely buried under the blankets. Far away from this place. Panic slowly fades to numbness, your breathing going steady.
“We should probably get going,” you say, taking back the wheel. Viktor doesn’t seem to have any objections to that, but he’s also not speaking. He’s probably thinking about the conversation you’d had before you spun. You don’t even know how to get back to that; what on earth to say. Eventually, he drops hold of your leg.
It’s not much longer to get home, but you drive slowly, not eager to repeat your experience. Your entire body seems to be wired, tense - as if all your muscles are being strung together and then yanked, blocky and painful. You can’t wait to get home and take a warm bath. Wash away the fear and the panic, and the awkwardness that now sits between you and Viktor.
The two of you trudge slowly inside, hanging up your coats. Viktor makes his way over to the kitchen, setting his cane down on a chair and leaning against the table, and you start heading to your room before you stop in your tracks, stuck on the things you want to say. Then you turn to look at him.
“You asked if I wanted to come without Jayce,” you start off, slowly exhaling. “I - I wanted to cancel at first, honestly. I was… nervous about spending time with you.”
“Nervous?” Viktor repeats. “Why were you… nervous?”
Taking in a shaky breath, you place a hand on the wall for support. “Sometimes, I wonder if you don’t like me very much, Viktor. If the only reason you spend any time with me is because Jayce wants you to, and he’s your friend, so you do.”
Viktor looks absolutely bewildered at this. “Can I ask why?” His voice sounds strangled.
“When I first met you,” you start slowly, “you treated me differently than you do now. Like it hurt you to be around me.”
As soon as you say that, his expression immediately changes from bewildered to - understanding. Like he knows exactly what you’re talking about. Emboldened by this reaction and still bursting with adrenaline, you continue.
“You didn’t talk to me, Viktor. Only when you had to. Then one day it was like it’d never happened, and I never knew why. I couldn’t understand it. I always wonder if you silently hate me.”
“I -” he starts, then with a shake of his head trails off. “I promise you I do not hate you. I’ve never hated you. But… I’m sorry. You’re right - the way I acted then, I shouldn’t have. I was…” He stops himself like he’s hit a block in his brain, breathing heightened.
You wait a moment before responding. “You were what, Viktor?”
There’s a beat before he responds, exhaling slowly from his nose. “Perhaps,” he says, voice riddled with emotion, “we shouldn’t talk about this now. Neither of us are in our right minds after the ice.”
You won’t accept that. “Tell me what you were going to say,” you plead. “I deserve to know. Please.”
A dam seems to break loose in Viktor’s head. He pinches the bridge of his nose, giving a sigh. “I was jealous,” he finally says, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “When I first met you, I… I thought you and Jayce were - together. And… I liked you. I was jealous.”
You can’t seem to find air, slowly sinking down onto the couch as he talks.
“I must admit, I’d never experienced this sort of dilemma before,” he continues. “I thought it would be easier if we were distanced, if I wasn’t around you as much, so I… essentially ignored you, when I could. Not that it helped, but it was the only thing - sparing me. When Jayce brought Mel in, I realized I’d been mistaken about you two. That I’d let my own emotions consume me without a full look at the facts.”
Your legs have begun to shake, a leaf in the wind of Viktor’s words. He’s resorted to rubbing his temples as he talks, gaze fixed down on the floor.
“When I finally realized my mistake, I could only hope that I could somehow fix what I’d done. I didn’t want to believe my own reality, so I acted like it had never existed. I couldn’t find it in me to tell you how I felt, believe me, I - I… tried. Eventually, I moved on, hoping you wouldn’t notice. It was an insult to how smart I know you are, but… I didn’t know what else to do.”
He glances over at you, presumably to see how you’re taking this, then leans back, drumming those damned fingers over the table. “As time went on, I thought that perhaps it had been erased, but Jayce had taken notice of my behavior. You were right to think he was pushing us together - that was fully his intent, if I know him half as well as I think I do. I also believe that he’d planned to cancel on us the whole time, just to see the two of us together. You were right. I was tempted to back out when I saw what he’d done, but… I couldn’t resist spending more time with you. I’m very sorry - for everything. You deserve none of this.”
It takes you a moment to gather yourself before you can respond. You have to get up and pace back and forth for a moment, ending up a few feet away from him. “Do you still like me like that?” you choke out.
Viktor’s jaw tightens, not daring to meet your eyes. “I can assure you,” he replies, voice unsteady as he leans forward on his cane, “that it won’t be a problem. You’ll never hear about it again if you don’t want to. But, if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I understand.”
There it is. A reason. You’ve been searching for a truth behind his eyes for so long, desperate for any reciprocation even with no hope, but here sits something you’ve wanted for so long. Something you’ve ached for in long nights, something that’s pained you for ages - and you’re scared. Fear is flooding every single inch of you, driving you insane. There has never been a better time to say what you feel, and it’s never been harder to do.
You inhale quickly, throat tight, your chest heaving. Now or never.
“Viktor,” you start slowly, trying to find the next words. “I’ve liked you like that from the moment I’ve met you. If you really want me, then…”
You look at him for any reassurance, but it seems like he’s frozen, a statuesque state of mind. “Then,” you continue, “I want you, too.”
There’s a beat of silence, sitting thick between the two of you. Like so many times before, your fight or flight kicks in. The moment he steps forward, you’re turning to leave - but he gets there before you, his arm circling around your wrist. You could pull out of his grasp if you wanted to, but you just go still, waiting for him to say something.
You expect his touch to burn you, but the sensation is much softer than that. Instead, it’s relief, a fire slowly warming you from the inside out. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to face him. Just like his touch, his eyes are hot with an intensity you’ve seen so many times before. Anger, excitement, frustration - they all light the same way.
“You feel the same?” he murmurs, so close to him that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.
“Yes,” you reply, feeling like the air has been sucked out of the room.
Viktor seems to debate something for a moment, his gaze flicking down to your lips. “Please tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, sounding absolutely tortured. You keep quiet, tensing as he puts a hand on your jaw. Then, very slowly, his thumb runs over your lip.
You’re barely able to think anymore - only your want is motivating you, grasping onto his jacket, a hand tangling into the soft strands of his hair. Things you’ve dreamed about for months. “Kiss me,” you whisper, barely believing this is real. How can it be when it’s him, and he’s beautiful, and wants you back?
Instead of obeying your proposal, Viktor tilts his forehead against yours, taking in a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to allow myself the things I’ve wanted for well over a year now,” he says softly.
“Let me help you,” you reply. Then, without a second thought, you tilt your lips into his.
The kiss is slow at first, experimental, like you’re testing the waters, but it doesn’t take long for it to deepen.
As if all the ice you’ve known has cracked and fallen away, every inch of your body seems to be on fire, the heat of Viktor’s touch stoking the flame. He’s holding onto you, one hand cradling your jaw, the other placing itself on your waist. You end up clinging onto his shirt for dear life, which proves to be a mistake when both of you nearly topple over. Instead, you pull him to the wall and lean against it, sighing as his lips trail down your jaw.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” you say. Your brain doesn’t seem to have a filter anymore, melting into his actions like butter.
“I think,” he says, sounding winded as he noses against your neck, “that I have a very good idea, if my feelings are any reference.”
He goes back to what he’s doing after that, ghosting his breath over your throat, feathering kisses along your collarbone, and, very gently, he begins to nip at the skin.
A whimper escapes you, which only seems to encourage him as he trails down lower. He’s just met the area where your dress meets your chest when he suddenly freezes, eventually sighing and resting his forehead on your sternum.
“I don’t… have a condom,” he says. “Do you?”
You could curse yourself right now - how fucking stupid had you been to take out the condom in your suitcase? It’s not like it had taken up too much room!
Sighing, you lower your hands into his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp. “No,” you say, practically panting. “Is the store open?”
“Closes at nine,” Viktor tells you. You glance over at the clock. It’s well past ten.
“Shit,” you say, but you have full intentions to make do without it. In fact, you’re just about to get on your knees when Viktor grabs your arm, keeping you where you are.
“After all I’ve done to you, I must ask you for something else,” he says.
You nose into him, inches away from another kiss. “Anything,” you say, and you mean it.
Viktor hesitates, then sighs. “If I’m to have you, let me… do it in a situation where I can have you fully. Please.”
When you grasp his meaning, you gently release his shirt. Do you tease him?
“I don’t know,” you drawl. “You’ve gotten me pretty worked up, Vik. I’ll need something big to make up for it.”
Viktor huffs, leaning forward until you can practically feel his lips on yours. “You’ll get it,” he promises. “Just wait until tomorrow. After the bus tour.”
“The bus tour?” you ask. “You still want to go on that?”
“Yes,” Viktor replies, tilting his head. “And if I recall correctly, you told me you wanted to as well. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He raises an eyebrow - a challenge. “Either way, you’ll have to wait.“
Waiting until tomorrow morning is one thing - dragging yourself on a lengthy bus tour where you’ll have to keep your hands off him is another.
“Alright,” you agree, but you can’t help yourself. Your hand slips down to palm him, still painfully hard under your touch.
He lets out a groan and grabs your arm again, stopping you mid-touch. “You are a vixen,” he says, shaking his head. “Go to bed.”
He’s just beginning to step away, picking up his cane from the floor - which you hadn’t even noticed had fallen - when you speak. “If I promise not to try anything, will you kiss me again?” you ask softly.
His eyes find yours, and he smiles, returning to your arms for a moment as he nudges your nose with his. The press of his lips against yours is over much faster than you want it to be. Reality is beginning to hit you - he wants you back. He’s kissed you. Promised you that more will come in the future. Thought you wanted Jayce. It’s dizzying, really. You find yourself grasping at him, trying to keep him close just a little longer.
His thumb brushes over your cheek before he pulls away, staring at you for a moment.
“Tomorrow. I promise.”
“Tomorrow,” you echo.
Going to your room after that is a finely curated torture. The adrenaline of the kiss, of the feeling of his hands against your skin, it restlessly turns through you over and over. All you can do is pace around the room, the memories spinning through your mind on repeat. His lips on yours. Kisses along your neck. Biting.
The - you freeze for a moment. Your neck. Had he left a mark?
Yes, you find. A couple of them, blooming purple against your skin. You groan, burying your face in your hands. How are you supposed to survive this, when you want him so bad? How can he survive this?
Eventually, you pull up a bath, hoping it will distract you. It doesn’t help. Not even a little. Having him so close, knowing what his lips feel like on your skin, it’s driving you mad piece by piece. You want him. All over you, touching you. Whispering to you in that soft lilt, slowly driving away the ache between your legs with those adept fingers.
Or his mouth.
Your fingers find themselves slipping between your thighs, desperate for any relief. You find none. What usually calms you instead is a frustrating, empty result - you can’t seem to please yourself. Not when you know Viktor’s in the next room, maddeningly close. If he hadn’t asked you for tomorrow, you’d be in there now, doing things that make your mouth water at the thought.
Is he - as flustered as you are? Is he touching himself? You sit up at the thought. God, the picture of it alone has you squirming. Brows pinched together in ecstasy, slowly stroking himself, thinking of you. Does he want you there? Is he considering changing his mind, bursting into your room to curb his need?
You’d make it so good for him, down on your knees, your mouth warm and velvet. You’d tease him a little, but not too much. Just enough to get him on edge. To make his hand tighten in your hair. God. Your fingers have found yourself again, slowly stirring pleasure.
“Fuck - please,” you whisper, voice hoarse as your hand tightens on the edge of the tub. Your back is beginning to arch, already close, wanting him ever since he’d said those words to you.
Hodná holka. It melds in your mind with the way he’d groaned when you palmed him, finding a permanent spot in your brain, echoing itself on repeat over and over.
You’re applying it to... other situations. Fuck, you want him. If you wouldn’t have to get out of this bath, to stop touching yourself to go get him, you’re sure you’d be in his room already. For now, you’re rooted to the tub, slowly climbing closer, muscles tensing in your navel and thighs.
It’s the thought of Viktor’s mouth on you that finally sends you over the edge, panting and calling out his name.
You don’t sleep much that night, but there’s a rejuvenation in you when you wake, sparked by an idea you’d had before bed.
You’re unusually cheery when you walk into the kitchen, but Viktor is unusually late. You wait in there a while, but as the bus tour ticks closer, anxiety trickles in. There’s a brief moment where you consider letting him oversleep and missing the tour, but you immediately brush it away. That’d be cruel, no matter how much you want him.
Eventually, you knock on his door, shifting from foot to foot.
“I’ll be right there, he calls. “Sorry, I - shit!”
There’s a clattering sound before he appears, looking flustered and unkempt, his coat in one hand and his cane in the other.
“Hello,” he says breathlessly, setting his cane against the door as he pulls on the coat. “I apologize - I… seem to have overslept.”
“It’s alright,” you reply, trying to resist the temptation to brush the loose strands of his hair out of his face. “We have time.”
He checks his watch, giving a sigh. “Not as much as I wanted, but yes.” Then he hesitates, stepping forward until he’s inches away from you.
The warmth of his thumb against your cheek makes you shiver. “Kiss me,” you request.
He leans in until he’s inches away from you, nudging your nose with his own. “I’m afraid we don’t have the time for that.” His tone is teasing, and there’s a glint in his eye as he pulls back abruptly.
“Jsi vtipálek,” you grumble.
“You’ll survive.”
He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you toward the living room. What he’s seeming to forget is that two can play at this game.
It starts out small. If you had your way, it would have started in the car, but you’re not eager to repeat the events of last night. You force yourself to wait until the two of you are crammed into tight seats despite the bus’s emptiness, Viktor’s cane slotted between your seats.
A hand on his thigh. That’s what you choose first, keeping your eyes out the window. It’s killing you to not see his face, but you force yourself to act innocent. You flash him a smile, nearly losing your nerve as he returns it. That damned gap in his teeth - it’ll be the end of you one day. Your hand moves upward, going still at his upper thigh. Slowly, up and down his legs, your nails scratching against the fabric of his trousers.
His breath catches, just enough that you can hear it underneath the tour guide’s narration. You’re expecting him to move your hand or say something, but all you find is that his hand mirrors your actions on your leg. When you move your hand down again, he gives your thigh a light squeeze, leaning in.
“Behave,” he murmurs. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, and to your dismay, his hand doesn’t move. It stays planted there for the next ten minutes, distracting you. It’s agony. All you can think about is those fingers inside you, as precise as he is with his equipment.
Eventually, you study them. The cool-toned veins that streak through them, the pink flush at the knuckles. This tour is driving you mad.
When Viktor notices your staring, he shifts his hand to the small of your back again, nails lightly scratching against your spine. When he finds you still unfocused, he leans in once more.
“If you were paying any attention,” he says, breath hot against your ear, “you’d find that this tour is very interesting.”
“Who says I wasn’t paying attention?”
He huffs at that. “Well, for one, your focus seemed to be on my hands. However, perhaps I can be proven wrong. What’s the place we just passed? Tell me one thing about it?”
Your lips part to answer, but you stall for a moment. “The… old church. With stained-glass windows.”
“That was five minutes ago,” Viktor says. “You are a terrible liar.”
You fold your arms over your chest, shifting away from him. “Maybe if you weren’t distracting me, I would be listening.”
His smile goes cocky. “I’m sorry. I did not realize that my hand on your back was so… distracting.” He removes it. “I expect you will be able to listen in peace, now.”
Everything about him is distracting. Not that you’d ever tell him that, seeing the smugness in his expression, but it’s a losing battle trying to keep your eyes off him. Trying to block the memories of last night and how it’d ended.
Eventually, you zone out and all you can think about is the memory of his mouth against your neck, leaving marks. Had he noticed? No, he couldn’t have - there’s a scarf wrapped around your neck.
Wanting to torture him a little, you remove it, giving a sigh. You count one, two, three seconds before he notices it - a strangled sound leaving his throat. Then his fingers are on you, tilting your chin up, brushing against the marks he’d left.
“Was that me?” he asks.
“It wasn’t Jayce,” you say, and he frowns a little, nosing against your cheek as he lets go of your neck.
“You have no idea how I envied him,” he breathes, hand on your thigh again. “I must admit, it was the first time I’ve ever considered leaving the lab. You’ve no clue how much you’ve tortured me.”
“I’ve never thought about him like that,” you respond. “Even before Mel. I wanted you from the start.”
His grip tightens a little. “As soon as we get off this bus…” His words are left open, leaving you to squirm next to him, trying to ignore the increasing heat between your legs.
“How much longer?”
He gives a sigh, checking his watch. His fingers comb through his hair as he does, and your eyes trail over the movement.
“Half an hour, most likely,” he says.
“Fuck.”
Ten minutes pass before you can’t help yourself any longer. This time you’re the one leaning in. “I have to know. Last night - did you think of me?” you murmur. His jaw clenches, and his cheeks go red, giving you all the information you need to know.
“You were the only thing I thought about last night,” he says. “I… began to regret my decision to leave, I must admit. The way I am now regretting going on this tour.”
“I thought about you,” you admit, thumb circling his inner thigh. “I could barely sleep.”
He swallows hard, gently lifting your hand off his leg. “Until we get back to the cabin, please - spare me. There’s only so much I can resist you.”
You don’t know how you survive the rest. Your hands won’t stop moving, clenching your shirt, your pants, the seat. Viktor can’t seem to look at you anymore, knuckles going white as he digs his nails into his palms.
You don’t like that he’s doing that. Your right hand settles on his, brushing against his knuckles until he opens his palm, leaving you to intertwine your fingers with his. Then you rest a head on his shoulder.
“What are we going to do when we get to the lab?” you ask softly.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t mean to be blunt, but… do you want just sex? Or-”
He cuts you off with the sound of your name, shaking his head. “If that is the impression I’ve given you, I am truly sorry.” His chest expands with his inhale beneath you, steady and comforting. “What I want is… much more than that. A relationship - if you feel the same.”
“I do.”
His relief is palpable. A warm smile that heats you from the inside out, the grip that tightens ever so slightly around your hands. You can't help but smile back at him.
“What was it?” you whisper. “That made you like me?”
He thinks for a moment, thumb brushing against your knuckles. “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met,” he says. “Worse than Jayce, even. From the beginning, that was clear. It showed in your work. Persistency. When things go wrong, you refuse to take no for an answer. You also aren’t afraid to push me or Jayce, or let us know when you disagree with us. Other people were… not so bold.” He pauses for a moment, eyes lingering on your face. “But most of all, you were kind. Always, even to those who were cruel, or rude. Even to me, when I was cold to you. I must confess, it only made me want you more. A trait like that is… truly rare, in this world.”
“Viktor-” you start, touched in a way you could never express
“You’re very beautiful, too,” Viktor murmurs, cutting you off. “I found it hard to keep my eyes off you.”
You laugh a little, cheeks going warm. “I thought it was just me who struggled with that,” you say.
“Not at all. Though, I will say, there were times I caught you looking at me and I… wondered. Or hoped, really. I - I didn’t want my feelings to get in the way of my logic again, so I forced myself to wait for a more prominent sign that you might return the way I felt.”
“I was scared,” you admit. “I never let myself hope for you. Not when you were turning down beautiful women left and right.”
“They weren’t you,” he says simply. “I can’t say anyone else has caught my interest the way you do.” He hesitates for a moment. “I must know. What drew you to me?”
“Aside from you being devastatingly handsome?” you ask, reveling in the way his cheeks flush. “You’re the best man I know. Always focused on helping people, improving lives, even if it costs you sleep, or food, or anything else. You also happen to be the smartest person I’ve ever met - incredibly witty, and… passionate. I could listen to you talk about your work for hours without getting bored. You’re brave and ambitious, not afraid to take risks… You’re always seeking to change the world.” You bury your forehead in his shoulder for a moment, before looking back at him. “Just being around you inspires me.”
He seems to be caught in a lack for words, but his hand is squeezing against yours incredibly tight.
“I - don’t know what to say to that,” he says eventually. “You flatter me.”
“I disagree. All my compliments were genuine and deserved.”
“Then… thank you,” he settles on. “Though, I can’t pretend I’m not flawed. You’ve seen the effects of that.”
“It’s in the past,” you assure him. “Knowing why you acted the way you did is helpful. You’ve also apologized for it. It’s okay. It’s forgiven.”
He sighs, tilting his head against yours. “I do not know what I’ve done to deserve you.”
“Everything,” you reply.
Once the two of you have stopped at the store, the walk home is silent. It’s been so long since someone has touched you. Kissed you. Wanted you. The crunch of the snow under your feet is the only thing keeping you grounded. Never have you wanted something so much, and been so scared of it.
By the time the two of you get inside, you’re trembling like a leaf. Viktor is setting his things down evenly - steady in his work. Then he turns and looks at you.
“Do you… still want to?”
“Yes.” Despite your fear, the word slides smoothly out of you, spilling from you like a rush of spring water.
“Perhaps we should take this to the bedroom, then?” he asks.
You nod, feeling like you’re floating away as you follow him. You can’t take your eyes off the box of condoms in his hand until he sets it down on the nightstand next to his bed. Then he heads into the bathroom to retrieve a towel. His words from last night are haunting you. I don’t know how to allow myself the things I’ve wanted for well over a year now. Does he feel that way now? Is he as nervous as you are?
He must be - when he comes back, he hesitates before he kisses you, fiddling with his cane. You step in closer, cradling his cheek with your hand. Then you allow yourself a moment to look around.
This room is not his, per se, but it has so many remnants of him. Clothes folded neatly, but his suit from last night crumpled up into a ball. Pages of notes scattered on the desk, a book on the side of his bed. The one you’d been reading on the train.
“I thought that book was frightening for your tastes,” you say, nudging his nose with yours.
“I got curious. I had to see if it lived up to the hype. You weren’t lying - it’s a bit much for me.”
“I was lying,” you whisper, inches away from his lips. “I didn’t read a word of that book on the train. I was thinking about you.”
That’s the final straw. Viktor takes your face in his hands and kisses you. His cane falls to the floor, but neither of you seem to mind, backing up toward the bed until it hits the back of your legs and you sit, pulling him next to you. Then you shift until you’re sitting on his lap, groaning when you feel how hard he is beneath you.
“Fuck,” you mutter. “Viktor, touch me.”
You don’t have to ask twice. His hands are all over you - in your hair, tracing along your jaw, pulling on your shirt. Sucking down your neck, undoing your bra in smooth precision. Taking a nipple into his mouth, which draws a strangled sound from your lips. He’s like a man starved, only settling when your pants are on the floor and his thumb is on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You gasp at the coldness of his fingers, then moan, tugging on his hair.
“Fuck.”
“This is what I thought about last night,” Viktor says, breathless. “You. Touching you.”
His words draw a whimper out of you as he continues on his pace. “Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please.”
His fingers stray downward, and he curses. “How long have you been this wet?” he asks.
“Since I saw you in that suit,” you pant, grabbing onto him tighter as he slips a finger inside you. To the knuckle at first, then deeper when you whine.
“I want you inside me.”
“Not yet,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this for months. I fully intend to milk it for all it’s worth.”
And so he does, down on his knees at the side of your bed, face buried between your legs. Groaning when he first tastes you, adding two fingers inside you, his other hand gripping your thigh. Humming against you when you clench around him, the rhythm of his fingers and his tongue slowly driving you mad.
You barely get the chance to warn him before you cum - his name a strangled cry on your tongue. The room goes fuzzy. The ringing in your ears and the feeling of Viktor’s tongue on you are the only signs that you’re still in your body.
“Fuck,” you mutter, squirming from overstimulation as Viktor continues his work.
When you start laughing, almost deliriously, he finally moves - coming up to kiss you, brushing his thumb against your cheek as your lips meet. “You’re beautiful,” he says softly, nudging his forehead against you. “Had enough?”
“Not a chance.” You grab his arm as you sit up, positioning him under you like earlier, unbuttoning his shirt.
“This fabric has tortured me,” you whisper, nipping along his clavicle then up his throat. “Have you seen yourself? How distracting you are?” Your fingers have reached the buttons of his pants. “I can barely focus on my work.”
He groans, the sound gaining gravel when your hand strokes along his length, painfully hard.
“I’ve never wanted someone like I want you, Viktor,” you say.
“Fuck.” The word comes out thick, breathing heavily before he swallows hard. His hand has found your hair again, tangling in it before he pulls you in for a kiss. “You’ve tortured me just as much.” He sounds strained, his index finger trailing along your lips. Lips that part automatically, taking his finger into your mouth, noting the way his eyes dilate.
“Fuck.” His head tilts back as you continue your rhythm, leaving you access to kiss up his neck. Things you’ve dreamed of. Dreams that pale in reality to the softness of his skin, the sounds he’s making as you touch him.
Eventually, he grabs your arm, brows pinched together in effort. “Give me… a moment, please,” he pants.
You take it as an opportunity to grab a condom from the box. Watching him like this has you soaking wet again, aching for relief. He’s beautiful like this, so warm and real next to you. He’s always beautiful. How many times have you snuck glances at him, trying to satiate your desire to see the way his nose scrunches up when he thinks? How many times have you imagined kissing him, and never knew that this was where you’d end up - shamelessly staring at him, watching as the tension in his abdomen relaxes and he opens his eyes.
“Forgive me-” he starts, but he’s cut off as you kiss him.
“Tell me this is real,” you plead, trailing your hand up his thigh. He shivers and lets out a moan, leaning into your neck to feather kisses up your throat.
“It’s real.”
You hold up the condom. At his nod, you open it, rolling it onto him in a fluid motion.
“Tell me you want me.” You’re back on top of him now, his hands clutching at your hips, nails digging into your skin as you sink down on him, a hiss leaving your mouth as he stretches you. Fuck, he feels good.
“I - I want you. More than anything,” he breathes. At the roll of your hips, he moans. Then his thumb returns to your clit, making you shudder.
“I want you, too,” you pant. “You’re amazing, Viktor. Amazing.”
He’s seemingly lost his ability to reply, aside from hissed curses as you ride him, placing a hand on the headboard to steady yourself.
You get lost in that - the feeling of him inside you, dragging in and out of your slickness, the muttered string of words he lets out when something feels especially good. Some of it is in Czech, some in English.
You get close fast, much faster than you should - but you’ve never been more turned on in your life, and the adrenaline that’s flooding through your veins isn’t exactly helping. Eventually, your thighs begin to ache from the strain. You’re essentially edging yourself trying to battle the burning in your muscles, and most likely edging Viktor along with you, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just kisses you. Entwines your hand with his.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, words reverent against your skin. Then he shifts, gently pulling himself out from under you. You whine at the sudden loss of him, but then he’s grabbing a pillow and laying it down, motioning for you to put it under your hips
“Why the pillow?” you ask, winded as you place yourself on top of it.
“It increases pleasure,” Viktor says, his cheeks going red. “I… read about it during research.”
“Research?” You quirk an eyebrow. You desperately want him inside of you again, but you can’t resist pressing him.
His face only flushes further. “Well, I… didn’t spend all those late nights thinking of you without learning a trick or two,” he mumbles.
He’d done research on how to please you. You could come just from that.
You don’t, though, not yet. Not until he’s inside you again, pressing kisses along your jaw as he thrusts inside you at a steady rhythm. You scramble for purchase and find it in his hair and his back, your ankle wrapped around his waist. He feels so fucking good. You’re close again, tension springing up in your thighs and stomach, pleasure coursing through your body. You’re so close.
“What was it that flustered you so much again?” he asks, breathing heavily. “Good girl?”
That’s all it takes to send you over the edge, shuddering and panting. Viktor cums just a second or two after you, burying his face in the crevice between your shoulder and neck as he groans.
Your body doesn’t come back to you until Viktor slides out of you, pressing a kiss of apology to your lips as you hiss at the sensation. Then he leaves for a moment. You hear the water running in the bathroom, but you can’t find it in yourself to look at what he’s doing. You’re exhausted, completely sexed out, and incredibly happy.
You register his return at the feeling of the warm, wet washcloth that he uses to clean you up. Then he settles into the bed beside you, tucking damp strands of your hair out of your face.
“Was that alright?” he asks.
“It was perfect, Viktor,” you murmur, lifting a hand to cradle his cheek. “I never could have dreamed that up.”
“As good as you’d hoped?”
“Better.”
He waits a moment, then presses his forehead against yours. “Shall we get cleaned up?” he asks. “I can draw a bath.”
“Yes, please.”
The bathtub is certainly big enough for the both of you.
tags: @mischievous-piltovian @scorpio-echo @shamoane @moonlight-silent @pingas030 @ohnosiren @abrokenlink @dovahkiinchan @failed-human-being @onlygetaway @ironnieincarn8 @twiling-lady
