90s!Damon. a soft sort of angsty drabble, mostly fluff, you give Damon a bath, mentions of; smoking, nude and drug addiction . reader genderâs not mentioned but it is afab intented. i so totally want to take care of him can you tell?
Me, who lost my hands in Jerez and my eyes in Rome
I grew up, and I learned shamelessness somewhere around Barcelona.
it started out as a small gig, you wouldâve never thought to play such an important part for the crew, photography has always been a dream career for you, so in a way, it totally was a dream come true, Blur was also your dream band to work for.
and as inevitable as it were, you also wouldâve never thought to be irrevocably and completely infatuated by the lead singer, Damon.
night after night, you would work tirelessly to get the perfect angles, the correct lighting in an attempt to capture the bandâs perfect moments, but you also wished to capture all of him in his glory, you knew, that your heart was in it for him, he had captured you like a once free dove and held you captive in the troubled cage that was his heart.
I lost my tongue in Paris, my time in LA
My heels in Milan, my smile in the UK.
you never wanted this to happen, everyone in the world right now found him charming and beautiful, you were no exception to this, everyday you got to see the rawness of his soul, seeing him get up early to greet the world with his rebel but kind heart, making jokes at his band mates and involving in childish shenanigans.
giving his magic to different lovers, and you had to pretend that you were okay with this, but just the thought of it made your stomach twist and turn, to the point of sickness, just by thinking of him on someone elseâs bed but yours.
he would often swing by your room, with the excuse of wanting to see himself through your lenses, hoping that this would also mean that he wanted to know how he looked like through your eyes.
all red eyed and post concert adrenaline, with heat radiating from his body, he sat by the end of your bed as you shuffled through the now printed photographs, and he would laugh and take them from you as he smiled to himself remembering those moments that were now forever immortalized by you.
this one night, you finished your shift and got offered to hang out with them for a post concert rendezvous, but since it was one of the many nights pulling an all nighter to finish storing the pictures, you opted to stay in for the night, earning a sad pout from Damon, he could notice the tiredness in your eyes, so he didnât insist.
later on the deepness of the night, you sat by the window smoking a cigarette with soft tunes playing on the background, having a self care moment and taking everything in, a soft knock was heard on your door, with a furrowed brow you stared at the door and stood up, cigarette left on ashtray, and putting on an oversized shirt over your half naked body.
you opened the door and the picture of a tender and sentimental Damon stood tall before you, eyes glassy and shuddering breath, almost as if he was catching up from running from the pub to your hotel room.
both of your bewildered eyes traced each other, can i please come in? his raw voice uttered, you nodded softly and made space for him, he sat on your bed as you stood in front of him asking if he was okay.
so this person iâm seeing, -he started, i ended things with her. you knew who he was talking about, justine and him was the only thing the media could talk about, your typical it couple, on the flip side, you were excelent at polite smiles and seeing past your guilty feelings of jealousy, not wishing ill on them but just being fueled by Damonâs happiness, them breaking up wasnât a surprise for you, being this deep in the band allowed you to witness the coupleâs raw and cruel moments, you just, werenât expecting a sudden end to them.
-iâm sorry- you offered sincerely, as you traced your eyes over him and noticed his vice induced bruises on the inside of his arm, feeling a painful pull in your heart, he stared at the nothingness past your figure and slowly broke into tears as he held his face between his hands, folding over his legs as sobs were let out of his mouth,
itâs just, so much, a-and iâm- god iâm sorry to come to you like this itâs-itâs just, i need to feel safe, i need my safety net -he said in between broken words and shaking breaths, taking you by surprise, sure you had grown pretty close these past couple of months but you never thought he thinks of you as a safety net.
rubbing his back you walked closer to him until you stood facing him, he lifted his now red and puffy angelic face and embraced you with need, letting out soft cries.
damonâŚ-you started,- would you let me run you a bath? -you said as you couldnât think of another way to make him feel better about tonightâs situation.
he took a breath and uttered a soft yes, you quickly stood up and walked over your hotel bathroom, turning the faucet on and pouring essential oils, hoping you could soothe him and his ache, once the bath was filled up, you walked over him and held his hand as you guided him to the healing waters, him following obediently, undressing in front of you, you stared to the side, giving him a sense of privacy in this intimate moment, he wasnât a shameful person but his bareness made you feel like it was a religious experience, he stepped into the bath with a sigh, feeling relaxation overtake him, you poured shampoo over his beautiful golden hair as you massaged his scalp, hoping to pour all your love and tenderness into every stroke, purposely pouring all your attention to him, as you made him feel loved and taken care of, he softly stroked your forearm as you cleaned him with a sponge, cleaning up all his worries and pains.
once you finished, you carefully dried him up with a towel, lended him some of your baggiest clothes, smelling like you, he carefully stepped into your bed and you caressed his head as he gave into sleep, hoping for a softer day tomorrow.
But my heart has never been mine, I always give it away,
@hivemuthur is my current favorite author and this fic of hers is living rent free on my mind, so, in true valerie nature, i made a moodboard! everyone, if you value true literature, please go read it !! xoxo
guys :') When I started writing this fic that was supposed to be one silly request, and then three chapters, and then five chapters, and now I'm close to giving up on my outline because it looks like it's about to grow again, I never expected people to like it so much. this is lovely and I'm in tears!
@hivemuthur is my current favorite author and this fic of hers is living rent free on my mind, so, in true valerie nature, i made a moodboard! everyone, if you value true literature, please go read it !! xoxo
n/t: can yâall tell i need this man so bad? lmk. anyways, might make this into a small series. asks are open if you want to request something or if you wanna chat!
ingredients: reader is fresh out of college ayeee, free internship, she was selected cause her grades were amazing okay. sex w someone else was had but no description of it. suggestive. viktor is so KIND đ
Summer was coming to an end, but it was beautiful anyways.
You were enjoying your last vacation before entering your Internship at Piltoverâs most prestigious Academy, deciding you needed a break from the arts and maybe dipping your toes in another one of your passions, botany studies, after hesitation, you finally caved in and signed up for the course.
Without expecting much, actually, one could never guess that Piltover would care for someone from the undercity, lucky you, huh?
In your honor, and like the gods intended,a party was thrown to celebrate your departure, and your hope for a better chance. Happiness and bliss were felt in the room.
âCongrats on the internship, babe!â Said your best friend, Gigi, wrapping her hands around your waist and hugging you from the back, peppering a kiss on your cheek.
âThanksâ Smiling through your words and dragging your âsâ a bit longer.
âCouldnât have done it without you!â Getting away from her grasp and turning around to hold her by her cheeks, earning a giggle from her.
âYou should be thanking your big brain, piltover is so not ready for youâ
âIs anyone ever ready for me?â You said as Gigi and you shared a knowing look.
As the party went on, so did your longing feelings, leaving the place you grew in behind you, all the people that watched you evolve into the person you are today, into what youâre about to become.
Okay. Enough with grieving, itâs a celebration, and celebrate you shall, already eyeing your lover for the night, your last bad decision before leaving the nest.
â
Ah yes, the glorious morning after, from not so glorious sex, one might add.
Painful pounce from your head, eyes heavy and dry from not properly taking off your makeup, previously straightened hair frizzed up fighting to get back into its curly shape.
Stretching out your sore shoulders you look to your side and find your lover, Jaden? Jacob? only god knew his name, but you were certain of your cluelessness.
âMorning, gorgeousâ A yawn escaping his lips. You cringed, never been a fan of corny stuff.
Giving him your best fake smile. A hand sneaking into your thigh and you took it as your cue to get up and wrap yourself into your bedsheets, fetching your bra and underwear in the process.
âOh come on, itâs too early!, come back to bedâ Corny guy caressed the bed as he tried to give you his âbestâ attempt at bedroom eyes.
Ew. You thought to yourself.
âSorry love, i have to finish packingâ Sliding your panties on first and going for your bra next.
âWhy waste time in someplace like Piltover? One always has the most fun here, plusâŚâ His eyes trailing off.
âI donât actually think you could handle thatâ
Mhm. So weâre going there.
ââŚHandle what?â A questioning tone lacing your voice.
âScience, itâs not really aâŚwellâŚgirl thing? I thoughtâŚwell itâs known for being aâŚaâŚâ
Hesitating, but you were certain of what he meant.
âA man thing?â You said, finalizing his thoughts.
Earning a nod from him as he formed his lips into a thin line.
You walked to the door and opened it for him, urging his departure.
â
âHe did not said that!â Gigi gasped as you retold your little morning rendezvous while strolling through Zaunâs markets.
âFor my bad luck, he did, itâs actually so bad, i canât believe i let him inside me! while he had those thoughts about me!â Grasping her arm as you walked.
âSpeaking of, how was it?â
Sigh.
âSo bad i considered becoming celibate for lifeâ Her laugh bloomed through the streets.
âSee? this is why you should consider joining Mina and iâ She said while taking a sip from her drink.
Putting your hand on your chest, you exhaled heavily.
âThe offer is tempting, but iâm afraid i have to decline, polyâs not for me, all attention must be aimed at me alwa-â
Your speech interrupted by a body crashing into yours. A noise of metal clattering on the floor. Followed by a groan, deep enough to know it came from a man. Lifting your gaze, you faced what was in front of you.
What a sight for sore eyes, you thought to yourself. Skin pale as marble, now messy hair tousled into his perfectly carved face.
Now this, these are the type of people who are made with love, his parents must have high fived while they-
âYou should watch your step, miss, conversation with friends isâŚimportant, but so is safetyâ Thick accent seeping through his voice while whisky colored eyes saw right through you. Trying to not let your quick mouth get the best of you, a soft sorry escapes your lips.
âYouâre so right, i shouldâve been more awareâ You said as you got up.
The man reached for his cane and eye contact remained, as if trying to state the obvious. A blush creeping on your neck as realization hits you, already bending over to help him get up, an embarrassed smile on your face. Tense gaze of his softening at the sight of your smile.
âYouâre good, right?â Earning a nod from him.
âI could be better, but yes, uhâŚtake care of yourself andâŚwatch your stepâ He waved at you while the sound of his cane hitting the ground signaled his exit. Staring at his slowly disappearing frame.
âWhy was he kindaâŚâ You said as you lowered your gaze and playfully bit your lip.
âOh no girl, donât even think about it.â Gigi said and a chuckle was emitted from you.
âHe was nice! butâŚhe looks like heâs from Piltover, and iâve heard a thing or two about thoseâ
âWellâŚthatâs gonna be your new reality in a few days, babeâ
You sigh in defeat. Letâs just hope theyâre all as nice and hot as him.
Bestie. I know your requests are closed but Iâm champagne drunk rn and I had to get this to you before the thought slips through the little wrinkles in my brain. So donât answer until you want to answer.
party4u by charli xcx. Idk Iâm always blasting charli but today something about this song just struck me. I feel like it could be either Viktor or the MC from Nothings New. Throwing a party for something seemingly random just in the hopes that the other would show up. The pining, the trying-hard-but-trying-not-to-be-noticeable-about-it. (Hope you walk into the party, cause I threw the party just for you)(called your digits but the phone kept ringin/wish I knew what you were thinking)
And then the blatant laying-bare-of-the-feelings ughhhhhhhh (if you saw my tears would you touch me? / kiss me on the mouth, say you love me?)(why you treating me like someone you never loved?)(all Iâm thinking all I know is / that I hope you knock on my door)
Idk I just canât stop thinking about it and I feel like only you could do something Viktor-related but also based on this song justice. You have this way of writing angst and feelings that I normally am afraid to explore (dread, anxiety, jealousy, anger, acknowledging the ugly parts of ourselves (like with The Ugly Thing)) in a way that is so delicious and makes me WANT to explore them.
Bestie, how do do you KNOW ME so well . Thank you for making a playground for me, seriously. I hope you can tell I loved this.
Come So Close That I Might See
viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a freeform of what was requested. Implied, but not included in the plot: Jayce and Viktor score a grant for their further science developments, silly Viktor offers to throw a party instead of just grabbing beers. AU Modern Era if you squint (like, phones are mentioned). Contains a lot of fluids :v
word count:Â 4K
author's note: not me incorporating sex into the request by default and then checking with the requestee only when I got to the condom part :v I also spent a lot of time on forums to get the Czech phrases accurately and it made me giggle how many Czech people went to forewarn the person asking that love confessions in Czech are dead serious and if they have a Czech girlfriend they want to say it to they have to MEAN IT (as a cynical, brooding, judgmental Slavic cunt I wholeheartedly agree). Translations at the bottom and title is from Mazzy Star.
This gets pretty gross, both in terms of sentimentality and bodily fluids, you have been warned!
artist on X (I'm addicted)
â
Never before had he so much as brought his teeth close to his fingersâunless it was to take a bite of something meant precisely for eatingâyet now he finds himself absentmindedly gnawing at a particularly stubborn cuticle while staring at the tiny grey tick next to his message, waiting for it to turn green, waiting for it to become three jumping dots. Radiating unease, Viktor sighs out a rattled breath and props his chin on the heel of his palm.
Jayce huffs in the background, stacking the freezer with water poured into plastic containers, hoping it will turn to ice before the first person complains about the heat. Itâs one of those unbearably sticky days with no sun, the clouds trapping the air, refusing to let it move, offering no reprieve to the sweatyâuntil, inevitably, it all gives way to a raging storm by nightfall. Curtains billowing and thunder roaring, hurried window-shutting and water pouring in through the cracksâtonightâs entertainment is already set.
Viktor does little to help, and Jayce doesnât mind. After all, Viktorâs offer had been a timid one, seeming to stumble out of his lips before his brain could fully calculate the potential disaster of inviting people over. Any excuse would have sufficed, yet scoring a grant was big enough occasion to keep Viktor from backing out.
So he sits with a book, his phone resting in the bookâs mouth, dimming every three minutes before he taps the screen again, worried he might miss your reply. He still doesnât know if this reckless idea will come back to bite him on the assâif you donât show up he will have to spend the evening smiling at strangers, pretending to be overjoyed about this opportunity while, in reality, his soul withers away.
âIâm sure sheâll come,â Jayce says finally, three bottles of rum balanced in one hand, his right arm wrapped around a bucket of melting ice that stains his dark blue T-shirt. âMel will be hereâsheâll drag her in.â
âThatâs a joyous picture to anticipate, isnât it?â Viktor hums as calmly as he can, yet his finger is gnawed raw, an ugly shade of red. He scrunches his eyebrows at it, deciding itâs about time to leave it alone. âMy friend dragged in to see me by force?â
âFiguratively. I donât think Mel is that strong,â Jayce teases, setting the dripping bucket on the table, bottles clinking inside. He crouches close to Viktorâs legs. âIf not, weâll try to have a good time anyway. We deserve it.â
Jayce pats his knee, and Viktor fixes his eyes on something in front of him that isnât Jayce, saving himself from the feeling of being picked apart piece by piece, examined from the inside out. A dreadful sensation, if anyone were to ask him. Everyone around him, save for you, thinks theyâve mastered the skill.
âNo promises,â he says, sucking in some of the stale air and setting the book aside, though the phone remains in his hand. He should shower really, wear something that makes him look effortlessly put togetherâsomething that invites touch and makes him hug-worthy. But the idea of meeting his reflection sits in his stomach like lead. Whatever all those people, with their prying eyes, fail to notice, he will see in the mirror. And worseâyou will see it, too.
Itâs so unbearably hot that he takes the coldest shower he can without wrenching the air from his lungs. Cold enough that stepping out into the bathroomâs warm embrace is almost a relief. A quick shave, hair left wet to milk out as much of this fresh feeling as possible, knowing grime will coat him head to toe as soon as the apartment fills with faces attached to sweaty bodies.
Each buzz of the door has his heart flipping in his chest, and he scowls every time the person Jayce greets with a sticky hug is not you. He tries not to look disappointed when guests pat his shoulder and offer their congratulations, tries very hard to be grateful for having friends in the first placeâbut part of him deeply regrets that his brain didnât catch the reckless blurt of âOr letâs have a party?â in time.
Heâs on his third rum and coke, and maybe thatâs why his defences are lower when he goes to answer the door this time, Jayce busy in the kitchen. The door swings open, and heâs greeted by Melâs perfect faceâutterly unbothered by the heat, only her forehead covered in a satin-like sheen, as if designed to enhance her beauty rather than ruin it.
And behind Mel is you, far less heat-resistant, yet for Viktor, far more beautiful. Cheeks flushed a healthy red, shoulders sun-kissed, draped in barely-there straps of a barely-there blouse, and his heart drops all the way down to where his second heart is, beating for you and you alone.
Mel, dignified as always, only ghosts a kiss near his cheek and hands him a bottle of wine before stepping inside, ready to kiss Jayce properly. You linger awkwardly in the hallway, kicking off your shoes before Viktor can tell you not to.
âHi,â you say stupidly, waving at him.
He waves back, puts his cane on the coat rag, arms spreading just enoughânot quite an invitation, not quite begging, but close.
âAre you sure? Iâm very gross.â You glance warily at his crisp white shirt, wondering how heâs managed to look so sharp while everyone else sports the look of a wet rag. Sleeves rolled up neatly, showing off the freckles on his taunt skin, veins poking out, swollen with the impossible temperature.
âI donât mind,â he mutters, already pulling you in. He feels the opposite of minding.
You smell of fresh perfume mixed with sweat, and when his hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, his lips barely brush against your skin, the wine bottle presses against the small of your back. Viktor hopes some of your sweat will sink into his shirt, making you stay with him a little while longer after you leave.
How many times you've been at it, you don't know. It's always on the verge of something seriousâyet the closer it gets, the faster Viktor pulls away. The tension between you has lingered since the moment you met, but you have no idea when it settled into this uncomfortable friendship. So distancing yourself, for a while, seemed reasonable. Now, with him wrapped around you, you don't know if you'll find the strength to leave.
You breathe him in, and the uneasiness seeps out of you in an instant. Youâre not even that hot anymore. Goosebumps rise on your skin where he touched, and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.
âCongratulations,â you mumble into his chest, and he only hugs you tighter.
He plucks his cane from the empty coat hanger, hands you the bottle and leads you to the kitchen. Jayce pours you a drink, and the four of you sink into a conversation bordering on comfortable. How many times Jayce has to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out that the party was Viktorâs idea, only he knows.
The chatter eases into jokes and laughter at some point, and you can feel the alcohol warming your insides to match the heat outside. Air begins to stir as the predicted storm gathers, the kitchen growing more and more cramped. When a thunderclap cracks through the air, startling someone next to Mel, the contents of her glass spill onto your chest.
âMel, do you have to? Always? When Iâm wearing white?â You jump back instinctively, and Viktorâs fingers wrap around your elbow.
âOh, darling,â she laughs, scrunching her brows in apology. âIâm so sorry, I didnât mean to.â And indeed, itâs a curseâyou should never wear white around her.
âIâll give you something,â Viktor says quickly, already on a mission.
âI can get it, you donât have to come upstairs,â you stop him with a hand on his shoulder and a smile. âIf thatâs okay,â you add, asking for permission to rummage through his closet alone.
He swallows and nods, searching for any good excuse to follow youâbut at the moment, even his big brain canât conjure one.
You drag yourself up the stairs, and the further you get from the noise, the more you realise how loud it was in the kitchen. It feels briefly odd, stepping into Viktorâs bedroomâyou havenât been here in such a long time. But as you cross the threshold, everything looks just as you remember. Maybe a few more notes scattered here and there.
You close the rattling window by his desk before the rain can soak into the papers, then move to his walk-in closet. As soon as you step inside, the scent of Viktor floods your senses, and despite yourself, you breathe in deeply.
Somehow, this feels safe. You run your fingers along his clothes, searching for your favourite T-shirt of his. But you linger unnecessarily long on his jumpers, bringing them close to your cheek and inhaling the scent of his washing powder. Youâve smelled this so many times, and itâs never enough, really.
You donât know how much time has passed since you left the kitchen, but a voice knocks you out of your daydreaming.
âYou alright?â
âViktor.â You jump away, snagging a T-shirt in the process to make it look like thatâs all youâve been doing. âShit, you scared me. Yes, I justââ you gesture to your chest, where a red stain from Melâs wine blooms, âshould probably clean off first.â
He nods, still lingering in the doorway, and you just stare at each other. Finally, Viktor speaks your name softly and props his cane by the wall. He means to say so much more than that, but he hopes you will see what he saw in the reflection todayâand that you will understand.
And because you do, you reply with a warning.
âViktor, no.â You shake your head and clutch his T-shirt by the collar in your fist. âHow many times have we been at this?â
âToo many,â he breathes, closing the little distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands clasp around your hips, and Viktor rests his forehead against yours, whispering, âToo many. Make this the last one.â
âIâmââ you mutter, placing your palms on top of his. Scared is what you should say. Unsure would also fit. âSticky,â you say instead.
He takes it as an invitation. In no time, your shirt is rolled up to your armpits, and even if you folded yourself in half and squeezed into his shelves, there would be no avoiding it. Viktor leans in and kisses your navel.
âI donât mind,â he says, his hot breath mingling with your skin.
His tongue meets your stomach, and your spine stretches as you suck your belly in, only making the route for him longer. Timid at first, something inside him snaps when you moan and wrap your fingers into his hair. He presses his face into your belly, inhales deeply, and kisses with his mouth open until the sticky of Melâs wine is exchanged for the sticky of his drool.
You tug him up by the hair, and heâs up immediately, pushing you further against the shelves, his torso flush against yours. Your stained shirt smears against his crisp white one.
âViktor,â you mutter, stopping him from kissing you with a firm grip on his cheeks.
âWhat?â he asks, surprised. âDo you want me to stop?â
You take a shaky breath and burn your eyes into his, trying to dig out whatever courage you need to settle the needy thing thundering in your chest.
âViktor,â you say again, buying yourself time. âIf youâre messing with me again, I swear to God, I will eat your heart.â
âIâm not,â he says solemnly, a smile playing on his lipsâpossibly at the dramatics. But if he were being honest, heâd throw it away himself, the heart. It only causes trouble.
An ardent look lingers in his eye when he finally adds, âYou can eat it anyway.â
You groan and wrench yourself away from him, suddenly feeling the suffocating heat striking back at you. He follows, leaning against the doorframe and watching as you pace up and down the room.
âWhat are you thinking?â he asks when you stop and sit on his bed.
âI donât know. What are you thinking?â
âIââ he hesitates. Takes a few wobbly steps toward you, and when the mattress dips beside you, your legs touch. His hand skims along your inner thigh, and he leans in to kiss your neck. At least he doesnât look so well put together anymoreâhis hair is mussed, his cheeks flushed pink, his shirt stained and rumpled where itâs come untucked.
âI want to lick your stomach some more,â he murmurs. âAnd then kiss you properly. And thenââ His lips reach your ear, whispering filth that has your toes curling.
Somewhere in the apartment, the wind forces a window open, knocking something overâpossibly a plant potâcausing a startled yelp from at least three voices below. The sound carries up to the bedroom.
You snap your head toward the door. Itâs still ajar.
Viktorâs hand slips from your thigh as you get up, and he almost whines, reaching out to stop youâuntil he sees youâre turning the lock. Then you face him, all serious and reverent.
âI meant what I said,â you tell him, your voice weak.
âI am aware.â He nods, extending his arms toward you.
You come to straddle his lap, and he wraps himself around you. Your fingers pull his hair back from his forehead, and the way he looks at you is just unbearable. He rocks you back and forth to the rhythm of the song playing downstairs.
âI ruined your shirt,â you hum, pressing your thumbs to his temples.
He closes his eyes and hums back, âGood. I hate this shirt.â Wraps himself tighter around you and yanks you over, your back bouncing against the bed with a faint pop.
âSorry,â Viktor chuckles, embarrassed, and kisses your cheek sweetly.
And he keeps his promise. Rolling your shirt back up, he glides his lips down your chest, along your sternum, until he reaches your solar plexus. He sucks your skin between his lips, breathing in the scent of his own dried spit mixed with wine.
You squeal at the sensation, hooking your foot around his hip. He yanks it away, tossing it aside, his hands clasping around your ribs as he plants hickeys onto your belly. There are so many things Viktor wants to say, but his tongue is too busy.
He wants to thank whatever force shaped your stomach so that his nose can fit there entirely, breathing in whatever happens beneath your skin. He could also thank whoever nudged Melâs hand into spilling wine over you. And he could thank you for all those mornings when he wakes up drenched in thoughts of you, staring at the ceiling, the vignette of your kind hands is the only thing that stops his shoulders from hulking sullen.
He runs his fingers over the grooves where your ribs erode into hollows, licking there as well. And he wants to lick lower, where your skin disappears under the waistband of your shorts, into the subterranean darkness between your thighs. He wants to feel the pulse of your second heart on his tongue, to see if it beats for him as strongly as his beats for you.
As soon as his lips unglue from your skin, fingers hooking into the material to slide your shorts down, you tug at his hair againâreminding him of your lips. And thatâs fine, because all he wants is to kiss all of you tonight. So he obeys, raking his hands up your sides before cupping your face, finally sinking his tired tongue into your mouth.
And oh, he still tastes of rum when you suck yourself off him, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips. His lips are love-bitten and swollen, and yours are just hungry for his. Suddenly, you hate his fucking shirt too. You pull at his buttons, and he chuckles, undoing them so deftly with one hand that it leaves you embarrassed.
You prompt him furtherâtugging at fabric, pulling impatiently, whining whenever the material refuses to simply give in and vanish. Clothes are discarded onto the floor in a flurry of awkward shimmying and frantic kicks, until he hisses at the faint pain the hurried movement has caused him. There is a bit more grace in you when you pull your top over your head and get rid of your shorts.
Soon, his body full of tumbled bones is naked against yours, pliant and warm. And you wonder how, even in this unbearable heat, Viktorâs flesh never goes soft. Itâs always tense, always sharp angles, even as he wraps himself around you in a brief reprieve of a hug. He breathes you in deeply, gulping down whatever scent heâs left on you, his cock pressing heavily against your core.
And he doesnât even know anymore if he wants to fuck you stupid or just hold you until the sun bleeds red through his blinds.
And the worst part of this dilemma is that he has to momentarily part from you to reach for a condom on the nightstandâand even if it will take mere seconds, he cannot stand it.
He feels so scrutinised under your gaze when you watch his trembling hands. Your fingers come to pluck the little wrapped thing from him, pushing him back against the bed frame. You break the foil, holding it between your thumb and index finger, then lean in to kiss his weeping tip. His head lulls back, eyes fluttering shut as you unroll it down his length.
He already looks so fucked out that you waste no timeâtaking him in hand and sliding him inside with a slow, burning stretch. His palms hover over your hips, catching you, steadying you. Once heâs buried to the hilt, a certain calmness washes over himâfinally, he is hugged from all sides. Your arm wrapped around his neck, your pussy wrapped around his cock, your fingers wrapped around his as you inspect the wound he inflicted on himself earlier.
âWhat happened here?â you ask, kissing his knuckles.
âIâŚâ His breath hitches as you take his fingers into your mouth. âI got impatient.â
âWhat about?â
He gives you a pained look and buries his face in the crook of your neck, fingers toying at your lips.
âYou,â he admits, stretching out your lower lip. âIt feels dreadful to say, but I almost ate my hand waiting for you to reply.â
âViktor,â you whisper, placing a hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair. You clench around him, and he gasps, pushing his nose further into your shoulder.
âDonât torment me, please,â he breathes. âI know I deserve it for all the torment Iâve caused you, but Iâm not sure I can survive it.â
âI donât intend to,â you say softly, rolling your hips against his. He groans, arms tightening around you. âI already told you what happens if youâre fucking with me.â
And thenâthat smirk you love so dearly. From between his lips, his tongue flicks out to stroke over your skin, traveling up your neck to your ear, where he whispers, âI trust we are differentiating between the categories of fucking.â
Your hips roll again, and his smugness unravels into a deep, sonorous moan. You take it from him greedily, sealing your lips over his. You kiss him open-mouthed, and Viktor responds with a palm crawling toward your clit, gliding over the plane of your licked-clean belly. It finds its warm home, and this time itâs your head lulling back, your mouth moaning as he plucks your hand off his shoulder, entwining your fingers together.
You grind down into him, bracing yourself on your handholding, hearts beating fast and breaths growing hoarse. His cock slides in and out of you in time with your hips and when you look at him heâs all there, present, eyes fixed on you, the focus of his hand between your legs is unwavering. Big brain pays off in times like these when the ability to multitask is worth more than any healthy muscle. And Viktor does little to no work with those, only guiding his hips upward gently each time you come down to slap your ass against his thighs.
He's either learnt it all from years of observation and the half-truths exchange between you, the almost-kiss moments, the falling-asleep-together-by-accident moments, the Iâd-rather-watch-crap-with-you-than-get-laid moments, when each of you chose the insufficient each other over another one night stand, or his cock was just made for you.
And you already suspect all those moments were worth it before you are completely certain. Before he twitches inside you hitting the sensitive spot that has you gasping for air and his fingers on your clit speed up, he does another thing. He looks at you longingly and his mouth parts and itâs barely a murmur, a secret gifted to you and only you, even though everyone knows already.
âMa lĂĄsko,â Viktor rolls off his tongue. âMiluji tÄ,â he whispers, kissing your knuckles. âByl jsem hloupĂ˝,â comes next, and even though you donât understand, somehowâyou do.
âProsĂm, odpusĹĽ mi. Moc tÄ miluji,â he murmurs, offering his heart for you to devour if you so choseâbut you only tighten your grasp around his fingers and press your lips to his forehead, hoping to do his native language justice when you repeat after him, âMiluji tÄ.â
This almost undoes him entirely, and to ruin him further, your cunt tightens by the second as you clench around his cock, creaming all over his fingers. But Viktor keeps up, thrusting his hips upward to meet yours, drinking in the sound of his own name falling from your lips as you spasm and tremble on top of him, squeezing his hand until his knuckles turn pale. He kisses you through it, moaning into your mouth as he feels himself teetering on the edgeâuntil a thought invades him abruptly.
He pushes you gently onto your back and crawls on top awkwardly before you can complain about the sudden feeling of emptiness. Enters you again and fucks into you a few more times before pulling back out, sliding the condom off, and stroking himself until he paints your belly in hot white. Eyes hooded, you watch his faceâflushed and sweaty, mouth hanging open beautifully, brows scrunched as he pumps the last drops of cum onto your skin. Then, he collapses beside you, kisses you gratefully, and runs his hand over your stomach, smearing his seed all the way up to your breasts and neck. It then spreads across your cheek, drying out like an egg white, tightening your skin before Viktor slides his wet fingers up into your hair.
A laugh, stupid and fucked-out, escapes you as you ask, âAre you going to lick me clean now?â
But Viktor says nothingâthough you know he would if you asked. Instead, he wraps an arm around you, pressing your stomachs together with a wet slap, hooks a leg over your hip, and kisses your swollen lips. âMiluji tÄ,â he repeats, as if saying it during sex doesnât count.
âMiluji tÄ,â you whisper back, and he chuckles at how awkward yet sweet it sounds from you. âAnd thank you for throwing this party.â
âIt was only for you,â Viktor says, deciding that honesty is worth more than saving himself from embarrassment. And thankfully, you choose not to tease him furtherâsince, at last, his heart is laid bare before you. Youâll eat it next time all right, just not the one that keeps him figuratively alive.
â
*ma lĂĄsko - my love
*miluji tÄ - I love you
*Byl jsem hloupĂ˝ - I've been stupid
*ProsĂm, odpusĹĽ mi - please, forgive me
