Intense research - (MLQC) Victor x MC (mature-ish) Part 1
Okay, I had this idea and figured Victor would be perfect for it. There will be a second part eventually.
No spoilers. It’s not related to the plot of MLQC, I’m just using the setting and the character.
Warnings: fingering, some masturbation, discussion of sexual topics.
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“And as you can see here our ratings improved by 1.3% to last month’s results.” Wrapping up my report I clutch my notes, glad it’s done for today. Of course I still have to sit through Victor’s evaluation, which is the hardest part, but I’m confident he won’t have that many items on his list this time. I spent hours and hours preparing; between managing my company and researching for new formats it was hell and I’m sure it pays off.
“Not too bad,” he comments and flips to the next page of his copy of the report. “I do have some questions, though.”
“Of course,” I readily reply, brace myself for his usually harsh but constructive criticism.
“I see how your new deal with that company to create their advertisements helped getting more clients, but where is the connection to women not reaching climax when they are in bed with men?” He doesn’t even look up, just flips through the pages once more.
I freeze.
“What?”
“Here it says: ‘68% of women claim to never or very rarely have an orgasm with a male partner. In same sex arrangements it’s only 12%, and while masturbating only 5% say they never reach climax’.”
This is the moment my soul leaves my body. My knees are trembling and my belly feels as if I swallowed a rock.
“What?” I repeat only for him to look up, eyebrows knitted so the crease between them deepens.
“You already said that. Ask something new, I’m not going to read that part again.”
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“This will open a whole new market segment for us,” Anna insisted.
“But, do we really want to produce formats like that? I always thought we are more like a family company. From our family to all the families out there.” I gnawed at my bottom lip as I read through the proposal she had handed me earlier that day.
“Families don’t only consist of kids, you know? Mom and Dad also need some private time every now and then,” Willow piped up.
“But, but…”
“They offer a very generous sum of money for this job,” Anna pointed out. “And we can make sure it’s not some smutty story we show, but make it fresh, get it out of the gutter.”
Female orgasms - not the topic I would ever have made a format about. On the other hand she’s right, I can’t just turn down an offer like this one.
“Fine,” I agreed with a sigh. “But I will write the script myself. Can’t take any risks with this one.”
So I researched everything regarding that topic, next to writing the report and a dozen of other tasks I had to take care of.
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“Oh no… oh my goodness…” I leap forwards and grab the report, but he doesn’t let go of it.
“This is a mistake… my notes must have gotten mixed with the report…”
“So this is what you do in your free time? Because I can’t imagine this is work related.” With a firm tug he pulls the report from my hand, opens it at the offending page.
“Actually it is,” I mumble, hanging my head in defeat.
“Really? This is a topic people are actually interested in?” He raises one eyebrow, stares back at the numbers and statistics on the page.
“Apparently.” After all someone tasked us to produce a segment with this.
“The numbers can’t be right.” He takes a pen and scribbles something on my notes.
“They are. I was really thorough while researching.” Even asked some institute for sex education as well as some specialists on that topic.
“But 68%? Why don’t they just change the partner if they are not satisfied with their performance?”
“First of all, I assume it’s even more. This is one of the topics were people tend to lie, just to not upset their partners. Especially women.” His cocky tone doesn’t sit well with me so I get a bit snippy. “And second, you don’t just replace a partner you love just because it’s not all fireworks in bed. There’s more to a relationship after all.”
I clench my fists, here is obviously someone who has no clue about love and sex in relationships. Oh, I don’t doubt that Victor has no problems finding a partner, but I doubt he ever had a real relationship.
“But if people tend to lie when it comes to this topic, how do you expect to present actual facts and not just some sugarcoated version of it?” He puts the report down, obviously enjoying challenging me and my work again.
“Listen, this is a sensitive topic and I’m aware this is a bit out of our usual profile, but it’s really interesting and I can see a lot of people watching a well-made documentary about a sexual topic because they are too afraid or shy or to ask someone about it.” I’m rambling, this is hitting too close to home for me.
“Still, I think if your partner isn’t satisfying your need you are responsible for changing that. If they are not putting in enough effort you have to either tell them or break up. Go and find someone who’s also sexually compatible with you and you won’t ever have to complain again.” He stares at me, almost challengingly, with his chin jutted out and his eyes narrowed slightly.
“You make it sound as if having an orgasm is the only reason to have sex and if your partner can’t get you there, the whole relationship is worthless.” I shake my head, it’s hard to tell whether he really believes this or whether he is just riling me up.
“If I was wrong, why would you even consider producing a segment on this topic?” Again, one of his questions I can’t really answer. No matter how confident I feel when I go into our meetings, when I get out I always feel like an idiot.
“It’s not as if the female orgasm is the be all, end all of sexual encounters, but shouldn’t those who have trouble reaching it be allowed to talk or ask questions? If only to figure out how to make it work? It’s a nice addition to sex after all, if both of the people involved reach climax. But it’s not the only reason to engage in sexual activities.” This time I won’t back down.
“Let me sum it up for you. A man, any man, should be able to get his partner there and if he can’t, he’s not putting in enough effort. Of course I agree, both sides should enjoy the encounter, but if they don’t, they shouldn’t pretend everything is fine if it’s not.” He shrugs, rubs his temples with his fingertips. “Five minutes and two fingers, that’s all it needs to get a woman there.”
I’m speechless. Did he just really say that?
“You are aware that a female orgasm is complex and that simple physical stimulation isn’t a guarantee for reaching it, aren’t you? Of course the technique and willingness of the male partner is essential, but so are other factors.” My brain works in overdrive; no surprise since all my blood rushed to my head at the beginning of this conversation. Now my blush is not only from embarrassment, but also from anger.
“As which?”
“Mood, for example. Hormonal status. Form on that day. Stress. There a dozen and more and sometimes the male partner can try as hard as he wants, he still won’t be able to get her there. Not if not everything else fits, too.” Oops, that could be taken the wrong way.
“I can say so far every woman I’ve been with had no difficulties reaching her climax.” He leaned back in his chair as if the discussion is over for him. It isn’t, at least not for me.
“Yeah, as if they would tell you.” I roll my eyes and huff a chuckle.
“What do you mean?” He’s sitting up straighter again, focusing on me now completely. Yikes.
“I mean, often women won’t say anything. Not only that, they sometimes fake an orgasm just so they don’t have to have a discussion about the whole thing.” There, I said it!
“So you’re implying I can’t satisfy my partners and don’t even realize when they fake an orgasm?” His voice drops, almost to a low growl. Dammit, he’s angry.
“Well, I wouldn’t blame them. I mean, I wouldn’t want a crushing review from you in that regard, either. So yeah, before they have to listen to you blaming them for not coming - and I bet you would, since your performance is flawless of course - they pretend they came and that’s it.” I lay thick on the sarcasm, hoping he won’t get too offended by my words. But I mean them.
“So it’s my fault now? For being honest while the women lie to me?” He shakes his head. “No, I’m certain none of my partners so far have not reached climax and lied to me about it.”
“And I am certain it happened and you didn’t realize.” I can jut my chin out, too, and narrow my eyes at him. He has not invented this expression.
“And you say that based on…?”
“Around 75% of women have faked an orgasm at some point of their lives. Statistically, if you had sex with four women, three of them are at least capable of faking it. And since men can’t tell in most cases, it’s pretty likely you can’t, either.” I snort a dry laugher. “I know at least that my partners couldn’t.”
My hand flies to my mouth, this isn’t something I want to blurt out like this, especially not in an argument with Victor of all people.
“You are faking orgasms? Isn’t that - dishonest? And on that basis you pretend to be an expert on this topic?” His smirk is driving me up the walls, this man just gets under my skin too easily.
“It’s not ‘dishonest’. I’m not exactly proud of it but I don’t think I have to be ashamed, either. I just didn’t want my partners to feel bad.”
Why am I justifying myself?
“And I never said I was an expert. Just that you, Mr. CEO, most likely can’t tell the difference between an actual female orgasm and a faked one.” I pout, cross my arms in front of me.
“I think it’s much more interesting to talk more about you faking it. So you have only been with men who were selfish in bed and too dense to realize you gave them a show. It’s somehow fitting, seeing as you are dense, too.”
“Listen, it’s not a question of being selfish and dense, sometimes it just won’t happen. If you had any clue about how women really are, how we work, you wouldn’t say anything.” I snap at him, something I never did before. His expression darkens again, he gets up from his seat, fingertips resting on the desk.
“‘Sometimes it just won’t happen.’ I never heard such a lame excuse before. Someone who really puts effort into it will make any woman come. No matter what.”
My mouth opens and closes; it’s not even on purpose. How can someone so smart be so stupid?
“Yeah, as if.” My voice is throaty, I’m croaking. He can’t be serious.
His eyes narrow at me again, he straightens up to his full height.
“You’re doubting me?”
Why do I feel as if someone has just cranked up the AC? Cold in here for sure. I better choose my words carefully now.
“Yes, I do.” Dammit, that wasn’t careful at all! I just signed my death sentence, and probably also that of my company. Me and my stupid big mouth!
“Get over here,” he orders and my knees are giving out under me. Shit, shit, shit!
“Are you going to throw me out of the window?” I ask, terror creeping up on me.
“What? Don’t be stupid.” He sighs and shakes his head. A quick check of his watch and he exhales deeply. “I’m going to prove to you that you are wrong. Again.”
My thoughts stutter to a halt, my throat is dry. And obviously there’s something wrong with my hearing because he can’t just have said what I think I heard. Nope.
“What?” I squeak again, duck my head when he grunts in annoyance.
“Ask ‘what’ one more time and I will really get angry. You said you did your research but obviously you didn’t. Fine, now we are both here and I offer you to show you where you are wrong. Is that so hard to understand?” He opens the cuffs of his sleeves, rolls them up and loosens his tie.
“You mean, you want to-?” No, not going to happen. I mean, I’m not against it, he’s handsome and hot and all that. But this is too awkward and I already I can’t relax when he puts me on the spot like this. Wait a second.... if I can’t relax I can’t come and if I can’t come I can prove him HE is wrong.
“Yeah, uhm, okay.” I will my shaking legs a few steps towards him, not fast enough judged on his expression.
“What - I mean, how do you want to…?” He grabs my hand and pulls me closer, takes a step back and sits down on his chair again, pulls me into his lap.
“I need more information first. Did they fail to make you enjoy yourself only during intercourse or didn’t they even manage to make you come during foreplay?” His lashes are so long, how can they be that long? And he smells so nice…
“Uhm, they - I never - like, actually never came. Not with someone else.” I’m afraid to talk too loudly, don’t want anyone to overhear. My face is burning, I can feel my ears heat up, too.
“But you are fine on your own?”
I roll my eyes, only a guy can ask that.
“I do have orgasms when I masturbate, yes,” I confirm. A girl has to take care of her needs after all.
“Good, that’s all I need to know. I’m going to touch you now.” His hand already travels down my back but I freeze, my eyes dart to the door of his office.
“What if someone walks in on us?”
He tilts his head, follows my gaze briefly before he turns back to me. “Would that be distracting for you? The thought of someone interfering?”
“Uhm, yes?” I’m not that kinky the idea of getting caught turns me on.
“That’s probably part of your problem. You can’t switch your head off. Which is surprising considering you don’t use it for thinking much.”
Ouch. The spark under my skin fizzles out, I clear my throat and pull back a bit.
“Let me at least lock the doors.” Getting up from his lap isn’t as hard as I have expected and after turning the key I feel much safer already. Still, the whole situation is bizarre, very businesslike. Typical Victor.
Before I can turn around I feel his hands on my hips. He pushes me against the door, I brace myself with my forearms pressed against the cool surface, my forehead resting against the back of my hands. He hikes up my skirt, his body so close to mine I can feel his warmth though the layers of clothes. I can feel it even better when he slips a hand into my panties, two fingers brushing over my folds, searching for my sensitive spots.
I hate to admit that he knows what he’s doing. Once he finds my clit he circles it with slow strokes, just the right amount of pressure. His free hand is resting on my hip, holds the skirt up. My knees buckle as pleasure shoots up my spine, sends shivers through my body. But it’s not enough to tip me over the edge, not even when he grunts directly into my ear, his warm breath fanning my neck.
My fingers curl against the wood of the door, my breath comes in sharp, short puffs - but I don’t come. I can’t.
An alarm rings out behind me, makes me jump and Victor growl.
“Time’s up,” he declares and steps back, pulling both hands away from me.
I need a few breaths to come back to my senses. My panties are soaked now, my nether regions are tingling.
“Did you hold back on purpose?”
I straighten out my clothes, don’t answer his silly accusation until I’m presentable again.
“No, I didn’t. But even if I had, didn’t you say it’s only about the technique? That you could make a woman come no matter what?” I lean against the door, my knees are still shaking and I’m afraid to trip if I try to walk over to the chairs again. “Would you have prefered I had faked it?”
He snorts, sits down on his couch.
“Are you sure you can reach climax when you’re on your own?”
“Of course I’m sure! Are you sure you ever managed to get a girl off?” I’m grumpy, to my initial embarrassment now comes sexual frustration. I press my thighs together and wiggle a bit, far from any release.
“Show me,” he demands and crosses his arms in front of him.
“Show you what?” He can’t mean what I think he means, can he?
“How you make yourself come.”
He can. Obviously this isn’t awkward for him at all, he’s sitting there like always when I give him my report. Unfazed. Not a mess like I am right now.
“Right here?”
“What’s the difference between me making you come right here and you doing it yourself? Regard it as proving your earlier statement in the name of your research.” He’s grumpy, I’m wasting his time and I know he hates that. But then again, he started it.
Slowly I make my way over to the visitor’s chair. Sit down. Take a deep breath. I spread my legs and scoot towards the edge just enough to comfortably push my hand into my panties, just like he did earlier. Close my eyes and focus on the touch of my hand. In my mind this overlaps with how his touch had felt earlier, purposeful strokes and circles. How his body had been pressed against mine, firm and warm. His breath against my skin, his scent, his sounds.
My mind’s wandering to what else could have happened, but then I remember why I’m here and what I’m doing and my mood’s gone. This is just some sick business for him, it’s just to feed his ego and not about me as a person at all.
“I - I can’t,” I admit in a low whisper, shame and frustration bringing tears to my eyes. I blink, pull my hand back and sit up straighter. This was a bad idea, a very, very bad one.
“As I have thought.” There’s a smug smile on his lips as he nods to himself and it only fuels my self-bashing, prompting me to lash out.
“I told you it’s not about the technique, but about the whole mood! Of course I can’t just snap my fingers and be into it! I’m a person, dammit, not some toy.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, gets up and walks to my chair with three big steps.
“I never said you’re a toy. You said you can come and since you agreed to perform your prove here, I assumed you could. If you are not comfortable here-” he explains and grabs my wrist to lift my index and middle finger towards his lips. “- say where you want to take this and we do.” He holds my gaze as he sucks my fingers into his mouth, tasting me. His low groan turns my knees into jelly, instantly the smoldering embers of my arousal flare up again.
“M-my place,” I press out. I’m still most comfortable in my own home, with my own bed and - just in case - with my own toys.
“Agreed,” he accepts and lets go of my fingers, but not my hand. “Before that, though, how about dinner?”
I stare at him, befuddled by how this evening develops.
“Dinner?” I squeak, clear my throat and gather my thoughts. Is he asking me out on a date? Do I want that?
“Dinner sounds good,” I hear myself say and wonder what else this day has in store for me.