Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You had come across a job posting in the newspaper on your morning walk to the academy for your first class, it had grabbed your attention the most compared to the usual dull postings. Tedious long hour shifts with no real stimulation, typically accompanied by insufferable coworkers. This seemed more quiet, giving you time to study as well as work with no real pressure.

The posting read, Secretary needed at the research division of the academy, inquire at the main office, part time position.

The vagueness of the post had you intrigued, a small sliver of what to expect, like moonlight seeping through the gap of a curtain. Usually the postings went into great detail with what they expected and what qualifications you needed, this was oddly simple. You highlighted the job with your pen before attending your first lecture of the day.

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You learnt that at the front desk that if you were to get the job, you would be working for Viktor. You vaguely remembered hearing about him in one of your science electives at the academy that he was a reclusive figure. Some students had theorised that he was a little unhinged, but you figured genius often came with eccentricity.

Viktor was brilliant, everyone knew so, and that intimidated you. He rarely interacted with anyone other than his colleague Jayce, his so-called ‘equal’ in the field. Viktor wasn’t a man that people knew a lot about, he was somebody who largely kept to himself. He had a standoffish vibe that paired well with his strikingly sharp features, creating the perfect facade to keep people away.

You were directed to go to the third floor of the academy building, and make a sharp right. You were told you would come across a large oak door laden with degrees on the walls outside.

You lingered outside of the door to his office, unsure if you should speak first. You knocked three times, earning a faint ‘come in’ from him.

As you entered his office, the faintest sound of his pen scratching against paper filled the awkward silence. Without lifting his head, he gestured towards a seat in front of his desk. It was simple, precise, a man of minimal words I see.

You sat down carefully, smoothing your hands over your skirt before letting your eyes wander the room aimlessly. The silence stretching thin between you. The room was dimly lit by tall wiry lamps in each corner, and the room smelt faintly of parchment, brass and cinnamon. Everything about the academy, including Viktors office, was uncharacteristically grand, and could only be described as a darker version of the mid century modern style. He had a Danish teak desk with a walnut veneer, and a wassily chair in the corner of the room next to his egregiously large lamp. He had a Persian runner in front of his desk, the colours a very rich burgundy and blue, accentuating the simplicity of his desk. Across the room, a low-slung bookcase was filled with leather-bound volumes, their spines worn but cared for, each slotting neatly into the next. No clutter. No mess. He seemed to have a passion for design, you noted.

At the end of his desk hung his cane, it was dark, sleek and simple with a worn grip from frequent use. On the other side was a rubbish bin, filled with mini sweet wrappers, his vice for trying times.

Finally, Viktor opened his drawer and placed his pen inside. Aligning it perfectly with the other penis littered in his drawer before shutting it and meeting your tentative gaze. His eyes, a striking burnished gold, met yours, assessing you.

“You saw the posting?” he said, his voice low and accented.

You nodded, nervously smoothing out your skirt once more “Yes, Sir.”

A flicker of what seemed to be amusement glimmered in his golden eyes before it was gone in a catch.

“This position is relatively simple, but I simply do not have the time for it,” he continued, “It requires a keen attention to detail, discipline, are you capable of either of those things?” he said, his mouth tilting into what would be considered a subtle smirk.

“I can be,” you said timidly.

“Do you want to be a secretary?”

“Yes, I do.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying you intensely. His eyes raking over your form, the way you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, the way you tapped your foot quietly during the awkward silence and how you knit eyebrows together when you were answering the simplest of questions.

“Good,” he said at last. “You may begin tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened at how quick the interview was, no further questioning, no forms, no ceremony. Just an immediate decision.

He gestured for you to stand up softly, before grabbing his cane from beside the desk and following you to the door. He opened the door but stopped you with a subtle grab to the arm, his slender fingers finding purchase around your forearm like a silken vice, firm, but not cruel. His touch was cold, unnervingly precise, as if he measured your pulse through the slight pressure of his fingertips.

You turned to face him, heart thudding against your ribs. Viktor’s golden eyes pinned you in place, their brilliance muted under the heavy shadows of the hall lamps. For a moment, you thought he might speak, might offer some final instruction or warning, but he simply studied you, as if memorising some detail only he could see.

“Your name?”

You said your name and he let his grip loosen, before opening the door and ushering you out.

You thanked Viktor for his time, and left the office nervously. You closed the door behind you before collapsing onto the wall beside it, releasing a breath you did not know you were holding.

Fumbling for your phone, you dialed your roommate, a fellow academy student and blurted out the news before she could even say hello.

"You got the job?!" she squealed. "You're insane, you know that? Working for him? You’re gonna get eaten alive."

"I’ll take my chances," you muttered, glancing back at the heavy oak door.

Conveniently the academy was only a short distance from your dreary apartment you shared, so you would take your chances.

Chapter Text

The first day had been a blur of cold calls and taking down whatever notes Viktor had asked you to procure. Viktor had barely acknowledged your presence, absorbed in his own work in his office, where he seemed to spend the majority of his time. The only time he spoke to you that day was to let you know where your desk was and what time you should leave for the day. Since it was only a part-time position, you weren’t required to stay late.

Over the following weeks, your routine was defined by little more than picking up his lunch, which was the same every day: a bowl of grilled salmon on a bed of rice with an assortment of vegetables from the academy’s cafeteria. On the side, he had either a black tea with three sugars or a herbal tea to soothe his aching joints. Occasionally, he would request a bar of dark chocolate to cleanse his palate. Viktor was meticulous in how he liked his food presented, and the one time you had gotten his order wrong, you received a gentle, but firm, scolding.
The rest of his time was spent with Jayce, his associate, who appeared now and then to discuss findings and have a quick chat. Jayce was always cordial, sparking conversation with you whenever he passed your desk. He shot you a warm smile whenever he saw you, making sure to say goodbye if you were available. It was a pleasant change, considering you rarely interacted with Viktor or anyone else during your work hours.

Despite the repetitiveness of your work and your own mundane study life, today felt different.

It had started like any other shift: Viktor had asked you to print, collate, and file a series of papers for him, as usual. You were vaguely uninterested until you overheard two women discussing Viktor in the academy’s library.

“You know, I hardly see Viktor anymore. He seems to be completely absorbed in his work,” one woman said, her hands grasping at her mug as she leaned against the wall.

“I’ve noticed that too. I barely see him with Jayce these days. It’s like he spends all his time locked away in his office,” the other replied as she stapled some paperwork together.

You were about to tune out when one of the women said something that caught your attention.

“I heard he hired his third secretary this year. I wonder why someone like him can’t seem to keep women around. He’s so… alluring.”

“I wouldn’t mind being his secretary. I’d give anything to be around him all day,” the other woman added with a small, amused laugh.

You couldn’t help but blush, barely able to suppress your own thoughts. I guess he is sort of alluring.

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As you sat at your desk, the wireless intercom clicked to life.

“Y/N, please come to my office with your papers.”

“Coming, Sir.”

You gathered the papers into a folder, nerves beginning to tighten in your chest. You knocked softly against the heavy door, and a low grunt came from the other side. You entered, your steps hesitant as you shuffled towards his desk. Viktor didn’t even look up at first. You stood before him, waiting as usual. He liked to make you wait.

Finally, he paused in his writing and glanced up. His eyes, sharp, burnished gold, locked onto you with an intensity that left you breathless. His gaze briefly flicked over you before returning to the papers in front of him. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Viktor didn’t speak immediately. He continued to move his pen with methodical precision, the sound of ink on paper the only thing that broke the quiet. You stood frozen, wondering if he’d address you or if you’d be left in the silent waiting game. The tension felt unbearable, each second stretched out, measured, as if time itself were being scrutinized.

After what felt like an eternity, he set the pen down, pushed the papers aside, and raised his gaze again.

“Is this all?” His voice was calm, unhurried, but there was an edge to it. An unspoken expectation.

You nodded quickly, words failing you as you nervously adjusted the hem of your skirt. “Yes, Sir. Everything is in order.”

He made no immediate response, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed you, as if considering more than just your words, perhaps the way you carried yourself under his scrutiny. Then, without another word, he stood, moving fluidly around the desk. Viktor grabbed his cane before walking to the other side of his desk, his presence heavy in the space.

You stared at the Persian rug beneath your feet, too afraid to meet his gaze.

“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to the chair in front of him. His voice was thick, authoritative, yet devoid of emotion. You obeyed immediately, heart racing as you sank into the seat, trying to compose yourself under the weight of his scrutiny.

He remained standing, leaning slightly on his cane with one arm, his other resting on his hip. His gaze never left you.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative, “What drives you?”

The question was simple, yet it felt laden with weight, as though Viktor was searching for something beyond your surface, something deeper. He waited, his golden eyes fixed on yours, giving you no room to hide. The air between you thickened, heavy with unspoken curiosity.

You stammered, “I’m unsure of what you mean, Sir.”

A small, barely perceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Viktor’s lips. He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering.

“You don’t know what drives you?” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. He wasn’t angry, but there was something in his tone that felt like a challenge.
He shifted his posture, hands clasped in front of him, studying you with a calm intensity. His silence stretched on, urging you to search for the answer within yourself, to understand what truly motivated you.

“I believe everyone has something that pushes them forward,” he continued, his voice soft but still carrying that authority. “A reason they wake up in the morning. So tell me, Y/N… What is yours?”

The question hung in the air, demanding an answer. Viktor wasn’t just asking for the sake of hearing your words; he was waiting for you to understand something deeper about yourself.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of his gaze making you feel exposed. The silence stretched on, and the longer it lingered, the more you felt the pressure of his scrutiny. Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than you intended.

“I… I want to prove myself. To show that I’m capable of more than just… doing these tasks.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though your answer was both expected and unsatisfactory. He tilted his head, considering your words before speaking again, his voice soft but piercing.

“Prove yourself,” he repeated, the words heavy with meaning. “To whom, exactly?”

You noticed the way his weight shifted on his feet, the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed. He was dressed in a tight-fitting suit, deep blue with a white undershirt. His jacket was discarded, and the undershirt was rolled up to reveal alabaster forearms, rippled with lean muscle. His tailored slacks rested perfectly just below his ankles, showcasing freshly polished brown oxfords.

Your gaze followed the lines of his body upward, your eyes lingering on the sharpness of his features, the coolness of his expression. Viktor’s presence felt almost suffocating, as if every movement, every shift in his posture, was deliberate, calculated.

“You’re staring,” he mused, his voice soft but with a teasing edge. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

You blushed and quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. Viktor’s gaze seemed to pierce you, to see right through you. His smirk deepened as he studied you, as if waiting for you to offer something more.

You shifted in your seat, trying to find the right words. The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable, but you knew you had to answer him again. This wasn’t just about tasks or proving yourself to him or anyone else. It was something bigger, something you weren’t ready to confront.

Finally, you spoke again, more uncertain than before.

“I guess I want to prove it to myself. To know that I can do something that matters.”

Viktor’s expression softened ever so slightly, his gaze unreadable as he considered your answer. Without saying another word, he turned and sat back in his chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Very well,” he murmured, as though your answer had piqued his interest. “Perhaps you’ll discover more than you expect in the process. You may leave now.”

The conversation ended there, and you left his office, your mind swirling with the realization that Viktor’s questions weren’t just about answers, they were pushing you toward something deeper, something you hadn’t yet understood.

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“So, how’s the job going?” your flatmate asked over dinner. “Is Viktor really as intense as they say?”

“Worse. He’s… impenetrable. At least it’s quiet,” you murmured, a far-off look in your eyes.

“I knew it,” she teased, shoveling a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

You sighed, “It’s just weird. He doesn’t talk, not really.”

“Well, he’s got that reputation.”

“Yeah, but still… it’s strange, being in such close proximity and barely saying a word.”

Your flatmate prattled on about her own day, but your thoughts lingered on Viktor, on the way his eyes bored into you, the questions he asked, and the intensity of his presence. What was he really looking for?

You snapped back to reality at your friend’s interruption.

“Are you even listening?”

You blinked, apologizing. She gave you a teasing smile, commenting on how you looked like a deer caught in headlights before diving back into her own story. But your thoughts were elsewhere, wandering back to the man whose gaze you couldn’t escape.

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Later, lying in bed, freshly moisturized and staring out at Piltover, your mind was completely consumed by Viktor. You replayed his every word, his every look, imagining what he might be thinking when he wasn’t around you. Does he ever think about me? you wondered, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to voice the question.

The mystery of Viktor lingered in your thoughts, an enigma you were beginning to long to understand.

Chapter Text

It had started with a misfiled document.

You hadn’t meant to see it, a report wedged between two budget summaries, clearly out of place. At first you’d assumed it was an internal review, until you realised the writing was Viktor’s: pages filled with experimental diagrams, formulas, and dense paragraphs on artificial neural-pathways.

You’d only skimmed it, but something about the phrasing stuck with you. The way he’d written, precise, controlled, yet almost desperate, like someone chasing the edge of something impossibly important.

That night, you’d gone home and searched every term you didn’t understand. You stayed up until three in the morning reading old articles and notes from the academy’s archive. You couldn’t explain why it mattered. Maybe it was the challenge. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe it was Viktor, and the rare flashes of fire behind those golden eyes when he talked about progress, showing that there was more to him than he would let be known.

Over the following week, you found yourself quietly straightening up his notes after meetings, glancing too long at his sketches, mentally trying to follow equations you barely understood. He never said anything but he noticed. Of course he noticed.

Then came the day he tested you.

“You filed this under logistics,” he said, holding out a sheet of the same misfiled paper you’d seen before.

“It wasn’t labelled,” you replied carefully. “I wasn’t sure where it belonged.”

He didn’t nod, didn’t scold. He just stared at you for a long moment.

“You read it.”

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “I tried.”

For a moment, he was utterly still. Then he gave the faintest smile or something like it and tucked the paper away.

“Then next time,” he growled, “ask me.”

From that point onward, something between you shifted. You weren’t just the assistant anymore. He started asking your opinion first on organisational things, then on theories, however simple. He didn’t praise you when you got something right, but he didn’t need to. His silence meant approval.

And so when the summons to the lab came, late one evening, you weren’t surprised in fact part of you had been waiting for it.

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You were filing the last of Viktor’s reports when you heard the familiar crackle of the intercom.

“Y/N. Come to my office. Now.”

No explanation, no context. Just the usual clipped tone.

You made your way down the hall to his office, the door already cracked ajar.

“I would like you to accompany me to the lab today.” he said, packing away the last of his notes without giving you a glance.

“I have some work I mu-”

“I will write you a note excusing you.”

“You can do that?”

He nodded, before gesturing for you to follow him. You walked behind him slowly through the halls of the academy, sharing a long silence broken by the clack of his cane as the sound ricocheted off the walls with the hum of distant machinery. You noticed how late it was, past the usual time you would clock out.

When you entered the lab, Viktor told you to sit down on one of the chairs as he tinkered with a few things.

“Jayce not in?”

“Busy with counselor Medarda.”

“I see.” The silence ensued as you listened to the sound of metal. You noticed a yellow hue emanating in Viktors general direction, standing up you decided to take a closer look.

You noticed that Viktor was bent over a long table that was cluttered with glowing instruments and vials of iridescent liquid. The air smelling faintly of metal. His focus was entirely absorbed by the device before him, some kind of modified hex core, pulsating faintly with soft amber light. You had heard him talk about this before briefly in his research, in the few things he indulged you in when he of course had the time, and also in the notes you had acquired.

You watched him work for a while, admiring the way the tendons in his hands moved as he tinkered with the machines. The oil on his hands made him look all the more sinewy. The glow of the hex core illuminated his cheekbones, making them all the more prominent. He noticed you looking and called your name, asking you to come closer.

“I require a second pair of hands. Carefully.”

He gestured to a pair of gloves on a nearby stool, then to the device. “It’s a low-voltage test for adaptive material resonance. You’ll hold the stabilizer while I trigger the core.”

You hesitated for a moment. This wasn’t your job. You weren’t a scientist. He seemed to notice your pause.

“You will be fine,” he added quietly, not unkindly. “I would not ask if I did not trust you, of course.”

The word trust made your stomach flutter unexpectedly. You pulled the gloves on and stepped beside him, trying not to think too much about the way your shoulder brushed his as you leaned in. You noticed how the gloves hung loosely on your hands, must be Jayces’ you thought.

His voice lowered as he instructed you. “Hold it steady. Just like that.”

You felt the energy of the device pulse beneath your fingers, faint and warm, like a heartbeat. Viktor’s hand passed briefly over yours as he adjusted a dial, and you glanced up, only to find his eyes already on you.

There was a moment, suspended between the whirr of machines, where the tension in the room had nothing to do with voltage.

His gaze lingered just a second too long, gold irises catching the glow of the console lights. There was nothing overt in his expression, no smirk, no tilt of his head, just stillness. Attention. It struck you harder than any flirtation might have.

Then the machine gave a sudden shudder, pulling both your eyes back to the task.

Viktor’s hand moved with swift precision, flipping a switch and muttering something under his breath in Czech. The device responded with a subtle, rhythmic hum, stabilizing under your grip. You tightened your fingers around the cold metal rod, trying to keep your breathing even. It was ridiculous how aware you were of his closeness, the scent of cinnamon that clung to him, the rustle of fabric as he shifted beside you softly.

“Fantastic,” he mused, more to himself than to you. “It's holding.”

You dared another glance. His brow was furrowed in concentration, mouth parted slightly as he adjusted the core. You could see a sheen of sweat on his neck, little beaded droplets falling gently, following the moles that cascaded down his neck. There was something almost reverent about the way he handled the machine, like he was trying to coax it into life, rather than force it. You wondered, fleetingly, if he’d ever looked at a person the way he looked at his work. You shut down that thought as soon as it appeared, focusing again on the task at hand.
Then, without warning, the lights flickered. Viktor snapped to attention, his hand flying to a control switch. The hum deepened into a low drone, and you felt a surge of warmth shoot up your arms from the stabilizer. Your breath hitched.

“Stay still please,” Viktor said quickly, voice low but urgent. “It’s only a surge. I can ground it.”

He moved closer, bracing one hand against something behind you. His torso hovered inches from yours now, his presence enveloping, his cane resting against the table behind him. The soft pulse of the core synced strangely with the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

You could feel his breath near your temple as he worked.

After a long moment, the device let out a slow exhale of steam and settled into silence.

Neither of you moved.

You realized, vaguely, that you were still holding the stabilizer with white-knuckled force.

Viktor noticed too.

“You can let go now,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper against the shell of your ear. You shivered at how languorous he sounded, like warmth slipping through silk.

You obeyed, flexing your fingers as he stepped back. Without thinking, you turned to face him, not realizing just how insanely close he still was. The sudden proximity made your breath catch, but you held his gaze.

He was watching you with an unreadable expression, not cold, not kind, just curious. As though he were evaluating a variable he hadn’t expected to find.

“I didn’t ruin it, did I?” you asked, your voice too soft, blush creeping up your neck.

His lips curved, not quite a smile, but close. “On the contrary. You held it steady when it mattered most.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then he added, quieter now, with a glint of something different in his eyes:

“Good girl.” He purred.

It hit with the same intensity as a lightning strike, sharp, electric, and impossible to ignore. Your heart stuttered in your chest, heat blooming up your neck, unbidden and immediate.
Viktor didn’t linger on the words, already turning to adjust a dial on the console. As if he hadn’t just dropped a live wire into the quiet between you.

But he knew. You could see it in the slight tilt of his head, in the way his fingers hesitated for the briefest moment on the controls, he was anticipating your reaction.
And gods, you hoped he heard it in your silence. The silence crackled between you now, heavier than fog on an icy winter's day.

Viktor’s attention lingered on the console longer than necessary, but you could tell in the twitch of his jaw, in the way his fingers paused mid-adjustment, that his focus wasn’t entirely on the machine.

Not anymore.

You stood behind him, heart thundering in your chest. The gloves were still on your hands, but it wasn’t the residual heat of the stabilizer that made your palms sweat. It was the echo of what he had said, looping like a song.

He finally spoke again, low and deliberate. “Most people flinch during the resonance shift. You didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you said before you could stop yourself.

The words slipped out raw, more honest than you intended. But you didn’t take them back. Couldn’t. Because they were true.

Viktor turned slowly to face you. His expression had shifted, still guarded, but no longer neutral. There was a question in his eyes now, something unreadable simmering just beneath the surface.

“I’m not easy to impress,” he said.

You swallowed. “I’ve noticed.”

Another beat of silence. Then, as if testing a theory, Viktor stepped forward just enough to close the last inch between you. He was close enough now that you could see the faintest flecks of amber in his irises, the fine line of a scar near his eyebrow, and how his breathing had quickened.

“I have a great many expectations,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Very few people meet them.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to answer the way you did. Maybe it was the hours you’d spent silently observing him, maybe it was the growing pull in your chest, or maybe it was just the thrill of finally being seen.

“Then I’ll just have to keep trying.”

That made something in him shift, a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like the start of a smile or a warning. His eyes scanned your face slowly, deliberately, before he finally leaned in. Not to kiss you, not yet, but to speak directly against the edge of your jaw.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” he whispered.

And then he stepped away leaving you standing in the ghost of his breath, your own heartbeat deafening in your ears.

You were still reeling when he turned his back to shut down the device, the soft hiss of pressurised valves filling the silence. Your mind, unmoored, clung to the echo of his voice, We’ll see, won’t we?, and the warmth that hadn’t quite faded from your skin.

You hesitated, watching the way he moved, precise, efficient, as if the last few minutes hadn’t rattled anything in him at all. And maybe they hadn’t. Maybe that was just Viktor: untouchable, inscrutable, brilliant.

But something about the way he’d looked at you, how he’d said good girl like it was a hypothesis proven right, made you want to push back. Just a little. Just enough to understand.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

He didn’t turn. “You may.”

“What drives you, Viktor?”

That made him pause.

His hand hovered above a switch on the panel, unmoving. The soft hum of the cooling system was the only sound between you now, louder somehow in the wake of the question.
When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped an octave, not cold, but restrained. Like he was choosing his words with care.

“Progress,” he said simply.

You waited for more, but it didn’t come.

“That’s… broad,” you offered carefully.

Now he did turn, slowly, his gaze meeting yours with the weight of someone who rarely let themselves be seen. “Because ambition always is. It expands. It consumes. If you’re not careful, it burns through everything else.”

The air between you felt charged again, but not with static or energy.

With truth.

You took a small step forward. “And what’s left, after it burns through everything?”

He tilted his head, and for the first time, his expression cracked, not entirely, but enough to see the exhaustion beneath the brilliance, the loneliness lurking behind the fire in his eyes.

“Whatever survived the flame,” he said, his voice quieter now, eyes distant.

His words hung in the air like smoke, curling into the silence between you.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t. Not with how raw the moment felt, like something fragile had cracked open and neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

Viktor’s gaze flickered to you briefly. Then, as if catching himself, he straightened, posture tightening with practiced restraint. The faint flicker behind his eyes dimmed into something unreadable.

“I should recalibrate the output,” he said, turning away. His voice was cool again, clinical, tone measured, he was safeguarding himself.

You watched his back as he moved across the lab slowly, the distance between you now feeling immeasurable, despite only a few paces.

The hum of the machinery resumed, steady and impersonal, but you could still feel the warmth of where his breath had lingered near your skin… and the cold absence where his presence had just been.

Chapter Text

The office was quiet when you arrived, too quiet. The usual sounds of Viktor on the phone or the soft chatter in the hallways ceased. Just the low tick of the clock on the far wall and the scratch of Viktor’s pen moving steadily across a page.

He didn’t look up.

You paused by the door, waiting for some sign he’d acknowledge you, even a nod would suffice, or perhaps a glance. But his eyes stayed trained on the notes in front of him, posture wound tight, like even stillness required control, he hadn’t requested any herbal teas for his lunch.

It had been two days since the lab.

Two days since your hands brushed. Since his voice dipped close to your ear and the air between you sparked into something charged and strange and not quite professional.

Now, he was distant. Calculated. As if nothing had happened. As if you were simply another variable he had already accounted for.

You crossed the room slowly, setting the folders down beside his elbow. “These are the material requests you flagged. And the progress logs from last week.”

“Leave them,” Viktor said without looking up. Crisp. Dismissive.

You stood there a beat longer than you needed to. Long enough for him to notice. Long enough to make him finally glance your way.

His eyes flicked to the folders, then to your face, only briefly. “Was there something else?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Yes. There was something else.

You just didn’t know how to ask why he’d suddenly started treating you like a stranger.

“No,” you said. “Nothing.”

He gave a faint nod and returned to his work.

And you turned away, trying not to let it sting.

You made it halfway to your desk before his voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

You turned. He hadn’t moved from his seat, but his gaze had shifted again, not quite sharp, but not soft either. Measured. Always measured.

He tapped the end of his pen once against the desk. “I reviewed your annotations on the transcription logs. The corrections were precise.”

You blinked, unsure if you were hearing praise or simply a statement of fact.

“Thank you,” you said carefully.

He gave a faint nod. “Jayce must have missed the displacement variance in line thirteen.”

You almost smiled, almost, but something in his expression kept you still. There was no warmth there. Only a mind moving too fast, too far away, as if he were already thinking five steps ahead.

So you sat at your desk and opened your terminal, pretending not to feel the heat of his attention flicker over you again before vanishing.

The next hour passed in silence.

Paperwork. Calls. A few quiet alerts blinking to be filed. You tried not to glance his way too often, though you caught him doing the same once, just once, when he thought you weren’t looking.
By the time midday sun filtered faintly through the high glass, Viktor stood from his desk, slow and deliberate, and reached for his coat.

“I’ll be in the lab for the next few hours,” he said. “If anyone asks.”

You hesitated. “Would you like me to come?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at you, longer than before. There was something conflicted there, something tight in his jaw that he didn’t bother hiding.

“Not today.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him. And you were left with the scent of copper and parchment and the faint, lingering echo of something that might have been a moment, if only he’d let it be.

The silence after his departure was heavier than before. You stared at the closed door a little too long, as if it might open again, as if he might change his mind.

But it didn’t. He didn’t.

With a quiet exhale, you turned back to your desk. The cursor blinked patiently on the open screen, waiting for you to care again about someone else’s data set. You tried. For a while, you even succeeded.

Then a message pinged.

From: J. Talis
Subject: [URGENT] Review Needed
Time: 12:14 PM

You opened it. The attachment was already half-corrupted, typical, and scrawled with Jayce’s usual rushed notations. His tone was frantic, hopeful, and utterly lacking in precision.

Typical again.

You scrolled past the confusion and found yourself staring at one word repeated twice in a corner margin:
"Ask Viktor."

Of course. You minimized the window, your fingers pausing above the keyboard.

Ask Viktor.

You hadn’t asked him much at all, truthfully. Not why he worked so late. Not why his hands shook some days and not others. Not why his gaze lingered longer than it should, or why it always darted away when you tried to meet it fully.

Not why he sometimes looked like he was halfway out the door even when he was standing still.

And yet, here you were. Still thinking about him. Still wondering where, exactly, he had gone in the laboratory and what he was hiding in there that he didn’t want you to see.

A dull hum filled the room, the distant, metallic churn of the generator spinning up again. The lights above flickered once. Then steadied.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was always nothing.

But you stood.

And without really planning to, you walked to the door and slipped out.

The hallways felt quieter than usual, despite the time of day.

You had expected it to be different. The kind of environment where you might find something unusual, something that would pull you out of your routine. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of the lab door, staring at the faint light slipping through the edges of the frame. Viktor’s absence felt unsettling, but the place still hummed, alive with the faint buzz of machines. Perhaps he had somewhere else to be first.

You pushed the door open gently.

The lab was empty.

Machines stood silently in their places, some still, some idling, all giving off the low hum of a workspace long left behind. Papers and notes were strewn across Viktor’s desk, but there was no sign of him. His cane wasn’t leaning against the workbench, and the quietness of the room felt almost oppressive.

You walked in, a hesitant step at first, then another. Your gaze skimmed over the familiar setup, schematics, equations, tools, and data. All in their proper places. The same pristine, clinical order Viktor maintained. No strange experiments left unfinished, no hidden projects tucked away. Everything was as it should be.

You glanced toward the desk.

Unlike the rest of the lab, his desk had a certain disarray, unlike his desk in the office. Not exactly a mess, but it had a lived-in feel. The remnants of a hurriedly finished cup of tea sat near a pile of papers. Some notes had been crumpled at the edges, others hastily shoved into drawers, as though Viktor had left mid-thought, as he often did. Since this was also Jayces' space, Viktor didn't have as much control as he would have liked.

The desire to poke around bubbled up, not out of malice, but out of curiosity. You told yourself that you weren’t snooping, not exactly. You were just… tidying up.

You sat at his desk, feeling the chair adjust under your weight. Your fingers brushed against the edge of some notes, and you sifted through them with no real purpose, just trying to pass the time until Viktor returned. But then something caught your eye.

A single, folded piece of paper, tucked under a stack of schematics.

Your heart skipped. It wasn’t like the others. You could feel the difference in the weight of it. Curious, you unfolded it carefully, making sure not to wrinkle the paper.

There was nothing on it at first glance.

But then, your eyes scanned the simple words written on the page. Your name. Your full name. Written out in Viktor’s meticulous, deliberate script, underlined twice, like it was the most important thing on the page.

You froze.

What did it mean? Why was your name written there? And why in this context, tucked under papers on his desk, like some afterthought?

The room felt different now. The silence in the lab pressed down on you, suffocating.

Your fingers hovered over the paper, conflicted. Should you put it back? Was it wrong to read it? You should have stopped yourself, but something about it lingered in your mind, tugging you closer to the edges of something you hadn’t expected to find.

The door creaked faintly from down the hall and you heard the familiar sound of his cane against the floor.

A flash of panic gripped you.

Viktor was back.

You heard his voice, low, but deliberate, before you saw him.

"You know, it’s never a good idea to snoop around when I'm not here."

You straightened, your heart racing. Your pulse drummed in your ears as you turned slowly to face him, caught.

Viktor leant against the doorway, his eyes dark, unreadable.

The air in the lab shifted, tense and thick with an unspoken charge. Viktor’s eyes held yours, his expression unreadable, but there was something sharp there. A quiet calculation in the way his gaze narrowed just slightly, a flicker of something almost imperceptible in his stance.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the note still lingering in your hand. “I... I wasn’t snooping,” you said, your voice coming out softer than you intended. “I was just-”

“Looking through my things?” Viktor finished the sentence for you, his voice measured but with an edge that made the words sound sharper. “You know better than that.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The quiet hum of the lab was the only sound between you, a gentle reminder of the space you now occupied, yet it felt almost suffocating.

You felt the urge to explain yourself, to justify your actions. But instead, your eyes dropped to the note in your hands, unsure of how to approach this. Should you try to hide it? Or leave it on the desk for him to see?

Viktor stepped further into the room, his eyes never leaving you. “Do you understand what that was?” he asked, his tone now even more deliberate.

Your pulse quickened. You shook your head, unsure of how to respond.

He reached the desk in a few long strides, his movements smooth, almost predatory. The closeness between you made your breath catch in your throat, but Viktor didn’t reach for the note. He merely stood beside you, his presence commanding.

“You see,” he began, his voice low and steady, “there are things I choose to keep separate. Things that aren’t for prying eyes.”

You stiffened, caught between a feeling of guilt and an unexplainable curiosity. “I wasn’t prying. I just... saw it, and it caught my attention.”

Viktor’s gaze softened just a fraction, though his posture remained firm, unwavering. “It’s a dangerous thing, curiosity,” he said, more to himself than to you. His tone was neutral, yet something in it made your stomach twist. “Sometimes it leads us to places we’re not meant to go.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your tongue.

For a moment, the silence stretched out between you, thick and pregnant with tension. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, a subtle pressure that made your thoughts scatter. The note, still in your hand, now felt like a symbol of something much larger, a line crossed, an unspoken boundary.

Viktor’s eyes flickered to the note briefly, before returning to you. “You want to understand things that are not meant to be understood,” he said softly, his voice now carrying an edge of something deeper. “But some things are better left unseen.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a veil, his meaning lingering in the air long after he spoke.

You wanted to ask him what he meant, to challenge him, but something in his gaze kept you silent. There was a quiet finality in his stance now, like this conversation had reached its limit.
Viktor’s expression softened just a fraction. “I won’t punish curiosity. But next time, Y/N... remember where your limits lie.”

His words were firm, but not unkind. You didn’t dare respond, not with the weight of his gaze still on you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Viktor's gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer, a silent challenge in the air. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he turned toward the workbench, signaling the end of the moment, and began to collect his things.

You stood there, heart racing, feeling as though you’d narrowly avoided something much more dangerous than just a conversation. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why his presence felt so suffocating now, why the simple act of him turning his back made the tension feel like a thick cord pulled taut between you.

You watched as Viktor gathered a few notes, his back to you, and you realized how sharply the room had shifted. His silence, the weight of his words, made the air around you feel colder.
You finally managed to breathe again, your thoughts coming back in fragments. His words echoed in your mind. You knew he was speaking more than just about the note, more than just the moment that had passed. There was something deeper behind it. Something you still didn’t quite understand, yet.

You had no idea what he truly meant by that, or why he seemed so unwilling to let you pry deeper into his work. But the thought lingered: Maybe I’m getting too close.

You glanced at the desk again, where the note sat, but this time, you didn’t reach for it. Instead, you turned back toward the workbench, trying to focus on the task at hand. Still, your mind was swirling with questions. What did Viktor really want from you? What had you uncovered, if anything at all?

And as Viktor continued to work, his back still turned, you couldn’t help but wonder: Would you ever be able to understand him completely? Or were there just some things meant to remain hidden?

The silence between you now felt thicker, heavier, like something unspoken had passed between you both, something that neither of you was ready to address. You moved toward your station, your thoughts a tangle of questions and uncertainties, trying to drown out the quiet unease that Viktor’s presence had stirred.

A few moments later, Viktor cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. “If you’re quite finished here, you should probably head back to your desk,” he said, his tone colder now, as though you were already being dismissed.

You nodded quietly, unsure whether to speak or leave it at that. But his command was clear. So, without another word, you gathered your things and left the lab, the weight of the unfinished conversation still hanging in the air behind you.

As you stepped into the hall, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line, whether Viktor had meant it or not. You wondered, as you made your way back to your desk, how much of your curiosity would remain before it led you somewhere you shouldn’t go.

As you returned to your desk, your hands felt strangely clammy, the weight of Viktor’s words hanging over you. His gaze had been sharper than usual, colder, and yet there was something else, something unspoken, that you couldn’t shake. Was he truly warning you, or was there something else beneath that calm demeanor?

You tried to focus, to distract yourself with the mundane task in front of you. But your mind kept wandering back to that fleeting moment in the lab. Viktor's quiet authority, his eyes on you, the way he’d turned his back so easily afterward.

The room seemed quieter than before, the hum of machines and the rustle of papers barely making a sound in the thick silence that lingered. It was as though the walls themselves were closing in, and for the first time, you felt the weight of being so close to someone like Viktor.

You stared at your hands for a long moment, fingers lightly tapping against the desk. His words felt like a challenge, a puzzle you couldn't quite solve. And yet, despite the warning, despite the pull to respect the boundary he had set, a part of you couldn't help but wonder… how long before the limits he set would be pushed further?

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. You were getting lost in it again, letting your curiosity take the lead.

But this time, you swore to yourself, you’d be more careful. And that is when you got the idea. It seemed that Viktor was going to be in the lab for a while.

It was a small idea at first, barely more than a flicker, a whisper of temptation. Viktor’s desk, his personal space, the one area he had never allowed you to explore.

You hesitated, the weight of his words still lingering in your mind.

And yet… He was in the lab. Alone. You hadn’t been given an order to stay put.

Your heart raced, not out of fear, but anticipation. This wasn’t just curiosity; this was an opportunity. What if there was something you hadn’t seen yet? A piece of information, a clue that could explain the man behind the work, behind the coldness. You had seen enough of him to know there was something deeper, something hidden beneath his control.

Just a glance, you promised yourself.

The thought almost felt daring. Viktor wouldn’t expect it. It was a small risk, one you might take if you wanted to understand him better.

You stood up from your desk slowly, glancing toward the hallway that led to the lab, then back to Viktor’s office. The silence in the room pressed in on you, encouraging your decision.
You walked toward his desk, feeling the beat of your heart quicken with every step.

The drawers were locked, but the top of the desk was clear, save for a few scattered papers, a pen, and a small glass container that you couldn’t quite place. You reached for the papers first, looking through them with a practiced eye. It wasn’t much, just a few notes that looked like typical work-related documents, nothing that would give away any secrets.

But then, you noticed something tucked beneath them: a small, black notebook. It was worn, the edges frayed, and its cover was unmarked, as though it had been intentionally kept hidden.
Your pulse quickened, the temptation to open it almost too strong to resist.

And then, just as you reached for it, you heard a noise, footsteps approaching from down the hallway.

You froze.

The door to the office creaked open, and Jayce stepped inside, looking every bit the busy scientist, though his usual grin was absent. He glanced around the room, his eyes briefly landing on you, still standing awkwardly next to Viktor’s desk.

"Y/N?" His voice held a curious edge. "What are you doing in here?"

You quickly straightened up, the notebook still in your hands, but now you had no idea how to explain your presence. Jayce’s eyes darted from the notebook to you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Is something wrong? I thought Viktor was in the lab?" He stepped a little closer, the tension in the room shifting.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and forced a smile. "I… I was just looking for some work notes. Thought I’d help him organize."

Jayce didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he let out a sigh and took another step into the room, casting a quick glance toward the hallway.

“Well, if Viktor’s down there, you might not want to be caught messing with his stuff. He’s not exactly the most forgiving when it comes to… distractions.” Jayce said, a little nervously. He wasn’t entirely sure if you were just looking for a distraction or if there was something more to it.

You nodded, an uneasy smile on your face. "Yeah, I’ll be careful, also let him know I am going to be going home now.”

Jayce hesitated a moment longer, eyeing you one more time before shrugging it off and heading further into the room. “Alright,” he sighed. “But just, be careful. Viktor’s a lot more private than he lets on.”

He gave you one last glance before heading toward the door, leaving you with the notebook in your hands, heart still racing. You hadn’t been caught, but the warning still hung in the air like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You stood frozen for a moment, holding the notebook tight in your hands, torn between the urge to put it back and the temptation to take it. The thought of what might be inside, what Viktor was hiding, something more personal, more telling, teased at your mind.

Without another thought, you tucked the notebook under your arm, your heart pounding as you quietly slipped out of Viktor’s office. The hallway was empty, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of someone knowing that you had just crossed a line you couldn’t take back.

You moved quickly, making your way down the corridor toward the lab. It was eerily quiet, and as you rounded the corner, you spotted Viktor and Jayce standing just outside the lab, engaged in a quiet conversation.

The words weren’t clear at first, but you instinctively crouched behind a nearby stack of crates, the notebook still pressed tightly against your chest. You needed to hear more.

“I still don’t think it’s ready,” Jayce’s voice was tense, his words clipped. “It’s too unstable. We need to work through the variables.”

Viktor’s tone was calm, almost detached. “It’s functional. It just needs refinement. I’m not here to coddle it, Jayce. We’ve made progress. Don’t undo it now.”

Jayce sighed, his frustration palpable. “Progress doesn’t mean the end result is safe. We’ve got to consider the consequences of pushing it too far.”

Viktor paused. “I’m aware of the risks. But that’s what we do, isn’t it? Push limits. Find new boundaries.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jayce spoke again, quieter this time, almost as though he were choosing his words carefully. “I just don’t want to see you burn out, Viktor. You’re already running on fumes as it is. Don’t let it consume you.”

A slight chuckle from Viktor followed, but it wasn’t a sound of amusement. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

You held your breath, every word from Viktor sinking deeper into your chest, his calm demeanor belying something darker beneath the surface. Whatever they were working on, it was clear that Viktor was pushing boundaries, and maybe something more than just his research. You could hear the strain in Jayce’s voice, the concern he had for Viktor that you had never seen before. It made you uneasy.

You remained hidden, not daring to move, as Jayce’s footsteps faded down the hall, leaving Viktor alone once more. The door to the lab was slightly ajar, and you caught a glimpse of Viktor through the crack, standing there, contemplative, staring at a bank of screens.

With your heart still racing, you finally made your move. You walked quickly, quietly, down the hall and back toward the exit, the notebook now a weight in your hands.

By the time you reached your apartment, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and the reality of what you’d just done hit you hard. You had stolen from Viktor, gone behind his back, and all for a few pages that might not even tell you anything important. But curiosity, that relentless drive, had pulled you forward, and now you had to face the consequences.

You sank onto your bed, the notebook open in your lap. The pages were filled with complex equations, technical notes, and schematics for projects that left your head spinning. But there was more, too. In the margins, there were fragments of personal thoughts, brief moments of vulnerability, and fleeting references to things that only Viktor knew.

The deeper you read, the more the lines between professional and personal blurred, until you weren’t sure where one ended and the other began.

You paused, staring at the page before you. There was something about Viktor that you hadn’t quite understood before, something hidden beneath all the work and the cold exterior. And now you were tangled in it, your own curiosity pulling you further down a path you weren’t sure you could return from.

You closed the notebook with a soft thud, your mind racing. You had seen enough to know that Viktor’s story wasn’t just one of science or ambition. It was something darker, more complicated, and it seemed you had just scratched the surface.

And now, you weren’t sure if you were ready for what came next.

Chapter Text

The next morning, filtered sunlight stretched across your floorboards, warm and slow. For once, the city didn’t feel like it was racing ahead without you. You had no shifts, no urgent summons to the academy, and no excuse not to do exactly what your curiosity had been itching for since last night. Your flatmate was out today so it gave you all the more reason to dwell.

You padded across your apartment with a mug of tea in hand, Viktor’s notebook resting on the table where you’d left it in your room. You stared at it for a long moment, debating. But you already knew you were going to open it.

The entries were older now, some sketches faded with time. Schematics for early prototypes, some you recognised from his notes, others that had never made it past the page. His handwriting was precise, almost obsessively neat.

“Efficiency without elegance is still a failure. We can always improve.”

“The team focuses on function. I wonder if they forget we’re designing for people. I won’t.”

You smiled faintly. That sounded like him, frustrated with shortcuts, quietly stubborn. There was no grand confession hidden in these pages, just the mind of someone who refused to do anything halfway.

Then one entry, short and pressed between two pages of calculations, caught your eye:

“Y/N notices details. Small ones. Asks the questions the others don’t think of. I can’t decide if it’s distracting or valuable. Perhaps both.”

Your heart stuttered. You weren’t sure if the comment was meant to be clinical or personal, but either way, it was… observant. Kind. A little too thoughtful for someone who claimed to value nothing but the work.

You turned the page and paused.

A half-finished sketch. It wasn’t labeled, but it was clearly your profile, drawn in the same quick, careful lines as his schematics. There was no commentary beside it this time, only a single note:

“Unquantifiable.”

You leaned back into your chair, notebook still open across your knees. There was nothing ominous here. No dangerous secret or broken man hiding from the world. Just Viktor, brilliant, meticulous, and maybe a little more human than you’d realised.

You traced a finger down the edge of the page, then turned it slowly. You found a page marked with a clear, deliberate heading, which was your name.

The date was from several weeks ago. The handwriting was tight and tidy, more meticulous than his usual scrawl.

“Secretary, officially. But organisational capacity far exceeds the title. Has restructured incoming correspondence, flagged redundant proposals, and suggested methods for backlog. Notable.”

Your eyes moved to the next block of writing, timestamped a few days later.

“She anticipates needs. Not just tasks, patterns. Reminds me to eat before long meetings. Keeps tea warm. Rearranged the office schedule without being asked and somehow kept council members from clashing. I did not notice until it was already done.”

Then, beneath a slight crease in the page:

“Doesn’t interrupt when I’m working, but finds quiet moments to ask difficult questions. Always framed politely. Often more insightful than I expect.”

You blinked at the next one, surprised:

“Voice lowers when speaking to me in private. As if sharing a secret. I am not accustomed to that tone directed at me.”

The ink was slightly darker on the next few lines, newer, perhaps written in a rush.

“I told her once that I don't like unnecessary chatter. She stopped narrating while typing, but she still hums sometimes. I haven’t asked her to stop, though she does tap her foot far too much. Must ask her to cease.”

“She reads my mood before she opens her mouth. I’ve never met someone who works in silence and yet says so much.”

And at the bottom of the page, separated from the rest by a small, drawn line:

“I did not hire her for her presence. But I notice its absence more than I should.”

You stared at the page, pulse crawling up your neck. Viktor had never said any of this aloud. You weren’t even sure he’d meant for anyone to read it, not even himself, maybe.

But the words were there. Quietly recorded. Like everything else he deemed worth remembering.

Your fingers lingered on the edge of the page, as though turning it too quickly might disturb something fragile. You read the last line again.

“I did not hire her for her presence. But I notice its absence more than I should.”

A strange ache bloomed in your chest, part disbelief, part something warmer. You’d spent so long second-guessing your place in his orbit, convincing yourself that you were just background noise in the machinery of his mind. But this... this felt like proof that he saw you. Not just your usefulness, not just your role. You.

You flipped to the next page, hesitating, and then found more entries, dated across several days. Briefer. Less clinical.

“She straightens my papers after I leave for the lab. Didn't ask her to. Didn’t notice until she was away one afternoon.”

“She smiled at me today. No reason. It stayed in my mind longer than I’d like to admit.”

“Nearly forgot my cane before a meeting. She didn’t say anything, just handed it to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

You exhaled, breath catching in your throat. These weren’t notes. Not really. They were moments, fleeting, specific, entirely unscientific. He was trying to contain you in the only way he knew how: by observing. Recording. Understanding.

And yet... none of it sounded like understanding. It sounded like wonder.

You closed the notebook slowly, your thumb brushing the edge of the page as though sealing a secret. The apartment felt different now, quieter, like the air itself was holding its breath. You bit your thumb out of excitement, unsure of what to do with yourself.

You set the notebook gently on your desk. And then you sat back, trying to remember how to breathe.

Would you return it tomorrow? Confront him? Confess?

You didn’t know.

But what you did know, what was suddenly, irrevocably clear, was that Viktor saw more than you thought.

And now you had to decide what to do with everything he hadn’t said out loud.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The next morning, the blaring of your alarm pulled you from a restless sleep. You lay there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the notes from Viktor’s journal in your mind. You hadn’t been able to shake the feeling all night, a mix of unease, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite name. The words lingered in the quiet of your apartment like a puzzle that needed solving. Your flatmate had asked why you were so restless but you simply replied, ‘assignments’.

You glanced at the clock and groaned, realising you were going to be late. The idea of going into work today made your stomach twist in a way it hadn’t before. You couldn’t stop thinking about Viktor, the things he wrote, and whether or not he’d figured out you’d read them.

You dressed quickly. As you adjusted your blouse and grabbed your bag, the sound of your own breathing seemed louder than usual, filling the space around you. The uncertainty of what today would bring hung over you, weighing heavier with each passing second.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You arrived at the academy, and it was fairly quiet. The air felt thick with unspoken words as you walked down the hallway towards his office. You had the idea to clandestinely put the notebook back in his desk when he was busy at the lab.

But as you approached his office, you could hear faint sounds from within, the soft murmur of Viktor's voice, followed by the rhythmic tapping of something against the desk. You stopped in your tracks, hesitant. You hadn’t expected him to be in so early.

You glanced down at the notebook still clutched in your bag, the weight of it feeling heavier now than it ever had before. Your mind raced, torn between returning it quietly and risking him noticing, or pretending it had never left his desk at all. The last thing you wanted was to face the inevitable confrontation, especially not before you’d figured out how to navigate this tangled web you had unknowingly walked into.

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, cautiously pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. Viktor was perusing his bookshelf, his back to you, his focus completely absorbed in whatever he was looking for.

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the doorframe just slightly, as if the act of stepping into the room could somehow trigger something, an unspoken tension or a confrontation you weren’t ready for. You had no idea how long Viktor had been standing there, or if he even knew you were watching him from behind the door. But there he was, completely unaware of your presence, lost in the rows of bookshelves that lined the far wall.

You took another cautious step forward, your breath shallow, and glanced around the room. The air was heavy with the familiar scent of old paper. It was oddly calming, this moment of quiet before the storm you felt approaching.

You glanced down at your bag, the weight of the notebook still pressing against your side. It was as though it had taken on a life of its own, the small, hidden object now a burden you couldn’t shake. The longer you stood there, the harder it became to breathe normally. What had Viktor really meant by what he'd written? What did he know? How much had he seen through you?

Suddenly, the quiet of the room was broken by a soft sigh from Viktor. You looked up just as he straightened, turning from the bookshelf with a book in his hand.

His eyes met yours instantly, and there was no mistaking the knowing glint in them.

“You’ve been standing there for quite some time now,” he said, his voice smooth, measured, but with a hint of amusement that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Care to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Your heart raced, pulse quickening. The notebook, the notes, the stolen moments you’d spent obsessing over his words, they all felt like they were closing in on you now, bearing down in the silence between you.

“I-I wasn’t sure if you were busy,” you stammered, trying to force your composure back into place. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He raised an eyebrow, as though he could see right through the excuse. His eyes softened just a fraction, but there was still a tension in his gaze, an unspoken question hanging between you.

“Is that what you were doing last night, Y/N? Reading?” His voice dropped just a little, as if to emphasise the word, pulling the air in the room tighter, suffocating.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how trapped you felt. You wanted to say something, to explain yourself, but the words wouldn’t come.

Viktor’s gaze flicked to your bag, and you felt the weight of it even more sharply now. His eyes lingered for a moment, then met yours again, his expression unreadable. “I take it you found my notebook.”

A flush rose to your cheeks, and you felt a flush of panic. He hadn’t been angry yet, but something in his voice, in the way he spoke, made you realise this was far from an ordinary conversation.
You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as Viktor’s eyes pinned you in place. His gaze was sharp, calculating, but there was an edge of amusement buried beneath it. The way he watched you, like a puzzle he was slowly unraveling, made your heart race in a way that was far more unsettling than you cared to admit.

“I... I didn’t mean to pry,” you said quickly, your voice not quite as steady as you’d hoped. “I was just... curious.”

Viktor’s lips twitched at the corners, as if holding back a smile. There was something dangerous in his expression, but also something...oddly amused. It was like he found the situation more entertaining than threatening.

“Curiosity, Y/N…” His voice was smooth, deliberately slow, as if he were savouring each word. “It’s a dangerous thing.” He took a step closer, his presence filling the space around you. You could feel the heat of him now, the weight of his gaze far too intense for comfort, and yet there was something almost electric about it.

You shifted uncomfortably but didn’t look away.

“And yet...” He continued, his tone almost light, teasing even. “It seems you’ve found something you weren’t meant to.” There was a slight gleam in his eye, as though he enjoyed the idea that you’d taken a step into his world, even if it was one he hadn’t invited you into.

You couldn’t quite tell if his words were scolding or...something else. There was no anger in his tone, but the air felt thick with tension.

“You didn’t think you’d walk away from this without consequences, did you?” Viktor asked, his voice low and calm, but with an edge of something darker beneath. His eyes softened for a moment, as if he were considering the weight of your actions. “No. That would be far too easy.”

You took a breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

He stepped closer, just enough to make your pulse spike. “But you did. And now... I find myself wondering.” His voice dipped even lower, a quiet hum of amusement threading through his words. “What were you hoping to find? What was it about my desk, about me, that pulled you in?”

There was something almost playful in the way he asked, but it felt charged with an underlying tension that made it impossible to relax.

His eyes never left yours. “You know, most people wouldn’t have the courage to do what you did.” He gave a slight, knowing smile, and for a second, you felt like you were being inspected, an experiment of sorts, he never stopped analysing. “But you’re not most people, are you?”

You didn’t have an answer to that.

Viktor seemed to savour the silence that followed, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary. There was a slight tilt of his head, as though he were considering something, calculating his next move. His eyes never left yours, and the air between you thickened with something that felt almost like an unspoken challenge.

The amusement in his expression remained, but so did that silent warning. Viktor’s gaze flicked to your bag, still withholding the notebook, the weight of it suddenly seeming far heavier than before. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he found something about this situation...oddly entertaining.

“So, tell me, Y/N...” His voice dropped lower, smoother, laced with something far more dangerous. “Are you going to tell me everything you read?”

His words hung in the air, charged with a tension that made your pulse race. The temperature in the room seemed to rise by degrees, each word of his pulling you deeper into the moment, tightening the space between you. He didn’t move away. No, instead, he leaned in just a little closer, so close you could feel his breath against your skin, sharp and deliberate.

There was a sharpness in his gaze now, an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You could almost feel the pull of his presence, like gravity, drawing you in. Viktor’s proximity felt suffocating, and yet you couldn’t pull away, couldn’t break the connection between you.

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. The tension between you was palpable, an invisible line drawn between you that neither of you dared to cross, yet.

A small part of you wanted to give in, to let the weight of the situation swallow you whole, but the other part, still clinging to that ounce of control, fought to keep the situation from spiralling.
But Viktor wasn’t backing away, and you realised, in that moment, neither were you.

He was waiting. Watching you. Waiting for you to crack, to admit what you had read, or perhaps, to offer something more, something you weren’t sure you were ready to give. He knew it, too. The tension in the room wasn’t just about the notebook anymore. It was about you. About him.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Viktor said, his voice low and commanding, the edge of his smirk never quite fading. “Tell me, Y/N... What did you find? And what exactly are you going to do with it?”

It was clear now that the notebook was no longer the focus. It was you, your choice, your decision, hovering in the air between you both.

The silence stretched out, heavy with anticipation, and you realised that Viktor wasn’t just testing your resolve. He was testing the line between you, one that, until now, you hadn’t realized had been drawn so dangerously close.

“I don’t have all day, Y/N,” Viktor said, his voice sharp, but his hand betraying a strange gentleness as it lifted toward you. His fingers hovered, almost teasing, before they finally traced along your jaw. The touch was delicate but lingering, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

Your breath caught in your throat, and the space between you seemed to shrink even further. You tried to focus, to hold your ground, but his proximity was making everything feel... more. More intense, more dangerous, more intimate than you’d ever imagined.

Viktor’s eyes were still fixed on you, his gaze unwavering. The amusement was still there, but it was softened by something else now, a hint of curiosity, a depth of something you couldn’t quite place. The tension in the air was almost suffocating, but you couldn’t look away.

“Did you find something interesting, Y/N?” His voice dropped even lower, like a whisper meant only for you, the words curling around you like smoke. “Something you weren’t meant to see?”
Your pulse raced, the weight of his touch still lingering on your skin. You fought to maintain your composure.

You were close now, too close, and you couldn’t quite tell if this was a moment of reprimand or something else entirely. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your breathing and the soft, deliberate brush of his fingertips against your skin.

And for a moment, you wondered if he was waiting for you to make the next move. Or perhaps, he was waiting for you to break, to show him whether your curiosity had truly gotten the better of you.

“Do you regret it?” Viktor asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, almost like an invitation, as his fingers traced the outline of your jaw once more.

“No.”

This response took Viktor by surprise, earning a slight raise of his brow, a flicker of something in his expression that wasn’t immediately decipherable. For a brief moment, the air between you felt charged, the tension thick enough to touch. He stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat from his presence, and yet, his gaze held you at arm's length.

A subtle smile played at the corners of his lips, not one of kindness, but one that suggested amusement, perhaps even a hint of admiration. He took a step back, almost reluctantly, as though considering something.

“I see,” he said softly, voice low, almost like a murmur. “Most would’ve lied.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the notebook still tucked securely in your bag, his eyes sharp and calculating. There was something in the way he looked at you now, almost like a hunter eyeing its prey, but with a strange sense of...respect? Or maybe it was something else.

“You should’ve stopped,” Viktor said, his voice still calm, though there was a thread of something darker weaving through it now. “But you didn’t.”

You met his eyes, unsure whether you were challenging him or simply curious to see where this was going. “Maybe I don’t want to stop.”

Viktor’s lips curled, but it was a smirk this time, something sharp and almost dangerous. “That’s your choice, Y/N. Just know...curiosity doesn’t come without consequences.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you both. Viktors posture shifted at the proximity but he kept his strong standing.

“It seems that you need to be taught a lesson, for stealing of course,” he mused, his eyes raking over your form lasciviously. “Please, take the notebook out of the bag and place it on the desk, then please place your elbows on the desk and read the pages you found the most interesting aloud.”

“I don't understand?”

“There is nothing to understand, get your face close to the notebook, bend over and put your elbows on the desk and read the pages aloud.” He said hoarsely, his accent thick and rough, his vocal cords struggling to enunciate his desire.

You walked over to his desk and slowly took the notebook out of your bag, opening it to the pages that had you so transfixed yesterday. You bent over the desk leisurely, unsure of what was going to happen, but you couldn’t help but feel aroused at the way he had conducted himself.

Viktor noticed the way the curve of your ass looked when you were bent over for him, he couldn’t possibly control himself any longer. In a few strides he was behind you, hand against the small of your back.

“Now please, recite what you have read to me."

You looked behind yourself, you noticed how his pupils were blown wide at the sight of you. It gave you a small wave of confidence, so you turned your head towards the notebook and started to read.

“Doesn’t interrupt when-” your words were broken off by a loud, rough slap to your left ass cheek. You yelped in pain and shot up, your eyes meeting Viktors'. He was highly amused, displaying the most emotion you had ever seen with just a look.

“Y/N, I am going to have to ask you to put your elbows on the desk please. Do not make me tell you again.” He commanded.

Your ass stung as your pantyhose rubbed against it, you shifted back into your position in shock, what the fuck had just happened?

“Now, please begin reading once more.” His voice thick with lust.

“Doesn’t interrupt–” slap “–when I’m,” slap “working, but–” slap “–finds quiet moments to,” slap “ask difficult questions,” slap “always fram–”, slap “framed politely,” slap “often more insightful than I expect,” slap.

“Ah yes, one of my favourites,” murmured Viktor, “try this one” he said, pointing towards one of his annotations.

“Voice lowers when speaking to me in private–” slap “as if sharing a secret,” slap “I am not accustomed–” slap “–to that tone directed at me.” You read, each slap enunciating your words for you.

“You are doing such a good job.” He cooed, holding his hand gently against the sore and rapidly bruising part of your ass, calming the flames.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you felt the sting of his ferocious hand against your backside. It was painful but something you felt as though you deserved. You felt positively undignified but also ecstatic, this is exactly what you needed, this is what you had wanted to uncover from him. His dark secret, his necessity for control.

His fascination with the way you took this punishment exhilarated him, he felt as though something deeply trivial had bloomed within him, the intricacies within him had begun to be unwoven at the very touch of yours. His sense of control flourished as he continued to bring hard slaps against the swell of your ass, marking you with his long slender handprint for hours to come.

Viktor’s expression didn’t shift much, but the subtle twitch of his jaw told you something had cracked beneath that composed exterior. You weren’t the only one unraveling underneath all of this. His mask that showed he was collected and controlled, was slipping with every noise you made in response. Every time your body jerked forward, he had only wished to do more. He wanted to make you squirm from the simplest of touches, he wanted to force every shudder and moan out of your body. He wanted to be the only one to do it, ever.

He landed a final hard smack against your ass, earning a strained gasp. One of both intense pleasure and pain. He had certainly made that one count, as his own hand was throbbing at the velocity. He noticed your heavy breathing, you were so desperate for his touch, you stayed bent over awaiting more, praying he would continue until you wouldn't be able to stand.

The silence that followed felt heavier than any reprimand, but not cold. Not quite. It was weighty in a different way, like standing at the edge of a precipice, aware that one step forward could change everything.

He studied your silhouette, you looked divine bent over in front of him. He wished for nothing more but for you to take him right now until you sobbed for mercy. But he couldn't, he knew he wouldn't be able to, not today.

“You understand what this means, don’t you?” he said finally, voice quiet, but firm. “You know me now in ways others don’t. In ways I never intended for anyone to know me.”

There was no accusation in his tone, only fact.

You stayed quiet, turning your head and blinking teary eyes at him in understanding. You wanted to know Viktor more, you wanted to study every inch of his body, you wanted to understand every action, every reaction, anything about Viktor floored you completely.

For a long moment, Viktor said nothing. He simply looked at you, that sharp, brilliant mind of his calculating, only this time, you suspected it wasn’t formulas or schematics he was evaluating. It was you. Your choice. Your response. Your place in the delicate equation you now shared.

When he finally spoke, his voice had softened, losing some of its earlier bite.

“I didn’t plan for this, for you to read such…passages.”

“I understand.” you responded finally, unsure of what to do next. The air between you felt dense, as though one wrong word could unravel whatever fragile thread still held it all together.

He stepped closer, and his hand, warm and steady, reached out to brush a stray hair from your face. It was the gentlest touch he'd offered all night, no command, no discipline. Just…Viktor. His cologne encapsulated you, linen and a vague scent of cinnamon.

“I think,” he began, carefully, “you should go home for tonight.”

Your breath caught, unsure if it was rejection or protection.

He saw the flicker of hesitation in your eyes and added, “Not because I want distance. But because if you stay, I’m not certain I’ll be able to let you go when I should. And you deserve more than just a moment born of confusion.”

There was a rare, aching sincerity in his voice. The kind that came from someone who didn’t offer vulnerability lightly.

You nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

Viktor gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes lingering on yours as if trying to memorise them.

“Thank you, for not turning away.”

As you turned to leave, you felt it. The shift. The knowledge that something between you had changed, and that whatever came next, it would be by choice, not chance.

Chapter Text

Viktors POV

The door clicked shut, soft as a sigh, but it echoed like a slammed gate in his chest.

He didn’t move. Not right away. The space you’d occupied just moments before still felt charged, like the afterimage of lightning behind his eyes. Your scent lingered, faintly sweet, maddeningly human. Real.

Viktor sat down slowly, as if the weight of staying upright had finally caught up to him. His fingers found each other, knotted tight in his lap. He exhaled through his nose, his hands coming up to caress the knots out of his hair. He was so wound up, every pull of his scalp loosened his bounds, relaxing him ever so slightly.

You said okay.

You didn’t beg. You didn’t argue. And worst of all, you didn’t stay.

It was what he’d asked for. What he should have wanted.

But the ache in his chest didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like a failure in disguise.

"If you stay, I’m not certain I’ll be able to let you go when I should."

He meant it. He meant every word.

Because if he reached for you now, held you close in his uncertainty and desire, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let go later. And you deserved more than being someone's moment of weakness.

Still, that look in your eyes…the hesitation, the softness. It haunted him. Not because you doubted him, but because you trusted him enough to leave.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together as if friction could burn away the regret beginning to pool inside.

What kind of man asks someone to walk away, just because they’re afraid of not being enough?

The kind who’s spent too many years hiding his scars behind intellect and silence.

A soft laugh escaped him, dry, humourless.

“Coward,” he muttered.

He looked toward the door again, hoping foolishly that maybe, somehow, you'd be there. Still standing in the hallway. Still waiting.

But the silence that answered him was final.

So he sat back, closed his eyes, and let himself feel it.

The emptiness.

The pull.

The choice he’d made.

And the distant, dangerous hope that maybe, just maybe, you might come back anyway.

Y/N's POV

You had made it almost all the way back to your apartment when you realised that you had actually left your bag with all of your notes in his office. You groaned with exhaustion, realising how humiliating this would be for you if you chose to go back and grab them. You had completely forgotten after that intense punishment session that had rendered you almost thoughtless.

You stared down the hallway debating whether or not it was worth it to go back and see him again, your ass was still pretty sore too. ‘Perhaps it is too soon’ you thought.

You stood in the middle of the hallway weighing your options. Either you would see him again and create another thicker film of awkwardness, or you would suffer without your notes and then for the whole evening, debate on whether leaving them there was a wise decision until the next time you had work. Both came with major consequences of course.

You sighed, “God damnit,” before turning on your heels and making your way back to Viktors office. You walked slowly, hoping you'd manage to be there at a time where he was in the laboratory or perhaps just out of the office, grabbing a tea or speaking to Jayce. Wishful thinking.

You stared out the windows of the hall as you trudged along, thinking of how he had just taken control of the situation earlier. You lingered on his words “Thank you, for not turning away.” He had been so open, yet had cast you out just as quickly as he had laid his hand upon you.

Though he spoke in a way that conveyed that he simply needed time to think, you still couldn't help but feel hurt, considering only moments earlier he had you bent over his desk, wishing for more.

You shuffled your feet slowly before coming to the turn you so desperately didn't want to make. So you didn't. You kept walking, hoping to delay it. Hoping to avoid as much suffering as possible. You continued down the hall, deciding on making a loop of the academy before you would enter his office.

Viktors POV

Viktor’s hands massaged his aching thigh as his thoughts began to wander. He imagined you kneading away at the sore muscle, your soft, anxious hands offering gentle succour to the constant ache near his knee. He pictured the way you’d be on your knees for him, not out of obligation, but out of devotion, eager to please, desperate to soothe. You wanted to make him happy. To be his comfort. His relief.

He felt himself getting wound up once more, the events prior had made him unapologetically stiff, and he needed something to loosen his bounds. He massaged his leg more, slowly trailing his hand up towards his slacks, where they were drawn taut due to his aching cock, begging to be released from the confines of his snug underwear. He palmed himself gently, keening at the friction of his pants against his throbbing length. His slender fingers wrapped around his clothed cock and pumped himself gently, he could feel his precum beading down, soiling the elastic of his underwear.

Viktor thought of you now, still at his knees, unbuttoning one of your many work blouses. His mind envisioned the way your fingers would stumble with nervousness before finally exposing your soft chest. He imagined the way your clavicles would dip down, how you would cover yourself out of embarrassment, awaiting his next order. A bra of his choice adorning you, hugging your breasts perfectly. He imagined you slowly unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor to expose your voluptuous chest. He pictured himself palming them gently, watching you squirm under his touch, your eyes tightly knit together like they were when he was spanking you. A face of unbridled pleasure.

He unzipped his pants, freeing his needy cock from his underwear. It bounced out, hitting his stomach with a loud thud, littering precum around his navel. He breathed a sigh of relief before grabbing his length and giving it one long slow pump as he coated his hands with all of his slick. He shuddered at the feeling, picturing how your hands would look wrapped around him, pumping him at whatever paced you desired. Would you use one hand or two? Would you help yourself in the meantime or keep yourself hopelessly devoted to his satisfaction?

A strained whimper escaped his throat as he played with himself. He let his other hand roam his chest, sliding between the buttons of his dress shirt to trace his chest, imagining your gentle fingertips scraping light marks into his ivory skin. He envisioned you leaning forward and placing your lips against his sensitive tip, licking it and pulling the sweetest of whines out of him as you took him in your mouth.

He pumped himself with a steady rhythm, he was a spectacle, the biggest mess he'd been in a while. He couldn't help himself around you, the way you were so obedient, so good for him. God.

He could feel that he was close but he didn't want to finish yet, so he lifted his hand and readjusted his position in the chair. He unbuttoned his dress shirt fully, exposing his chest and stomach to the office air.

He pumped himself slowly now, savouring the feeling of his cock ready to burst at any moment. Panting, sweat beading down his neck and chest. He was racked with desire at the mere thought of you being naked.

Y/N's POV

You found yourself making your way down the hall to his office now, your legs fighting the urge to collapse with every step towards his door. It was closed shut. You prayed he wasn't inside. You stepped forward towards it, turning the knob slightly, it was unlocked. You gathered the courage and opened the door to a sight you would never forget.

Viktor was an absolute mess. His ashy brown hair was strewn across his face in clumps, his chest heaving as he sat, legs spread; fisting his cock gently. His eyes were shut tight, his jaw straining as he heaved with desire. His form was delicate, slender, perfect. He looked positively lascivious.

Your eyes raked over him, his body seemed to be completely relaxed under his touch. His desperate moans that slipped out every time his palm glided over his thick head made your core flutter. You watched through a crack in the door as he began to stroke himself faster and rougher. His other hand found purchase in his hair as he shuddered on the brink of orgasm.

Thick ropes of cum spurted out of his cock as he came with a heady sob. He cried out your name with pure ecstasy, his chest panting as he painted himself with his own semen. You watched as all of the tension in his neck released and he slumped into his chair. His eyes opened and flickered towards the door, with a gasp you shut it noticing that he had seen it open. You raced down the hall, your heart beating in your ears, feeling humiliation swallow you whole.

You decided that going home was not an option, not now just in case you saw your roommate and had to explain why you were so incredibly flustered that you looked almost bewildered. You looked for the next best thing, which happened to be the library.

Viktors POV

Viktor’s breath caught horror washing over him before his brain could even register what was happening.

The door hadn't been locked. Fuck.

A mistake he never thought he would make, if he wasn't so caught up in his intimate fantasies maybe he would have noticed you peering at him in absolute shock through the crack of his office door as a flush had appeared across your cheeks, your eyes wide in bewilderment.

Your name had become a mantra in his mind, realising that because he had to indulge in the private fantasies his mind was gnawing at, you had seen him at his most vulnerable.

Viktor’s breath caught horror washing over him before his brain could even register what was happening.

The door slammed shut with a finality that made his heart lurch.

Silence dropped like a guillotine.

He stared at the empty doorway, his chest heaving slightly, not from pleasure, not anymore, but from a sick swirl of panic and shame.

“Shit,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

His skin burned, not from arousal now, but from the sudden exposure. The humiliation.

Of all the moments. Of all the people.

Of you.

He sat there for a long second, pulse pounding in his ears, hand still halfway to nowhere.

The worst part wasn’t that you’d seen him like that.

It was that he didn’t know what you saw in his face before you turned and ran. Need? Longing? Weakness?

Maybe worse, maybe you’d seen the truth.

That this wasn’t just lust.

It was you. It had always been you.

And now you knew.

He grabbed a container of baby wipes he had stashed in his desk, wiping himself clean before buttoning his shirt back up with absolute shame. A small part of him had relished in the thought of you seeing him like that, but for the most part he had never wanted you to see him indulging in such debauched cravings.

The silence didn’t last.

Not really.

It pressed in from all sides, too loud, too sharp, like the echo of a mistake he couldn’t take back. His hand trembled slightly as he buttoned his shirt, the motion mechanical, meaningless. His mind wasn’t here. It was with you.

He should’ve let it go. Should’ve stayed put, let the embarrassment settle and disappear like it always did.

But this wasn’t just anyone.

This was you.

And the look on your face when you fled, it wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t even really fear. It was something far worse: confusion. Hurt. Maybe even disappointment.

He stood, legs unsteady, the familiar ache flaring in his thigh as he grabbed his cane and moved for the door.

You had run.

Not far, he knew you enough to know that.

You didn’t bolt blindly. You sought order when things crumbled. Silence. Structure. Somewhere you could hide behind logic and books instead of feelings and flame.

So Viktor went where he knew you would be.

The library.

The dim corridors between shelves loomed like towering sentinels as he passed, one hand steadying himself against the familiar thrum in his thigh, the other clutching the head of his cane. It was near closing; only the faint rustle of pages and the occasional creak of floorboards betrayed any human presence.

He found you in the back. Tucked away in the farthest corner between worn atlases and outdated engineering texts. A quiet hiding place for someone who didn’t really want to be found.

You didn’t hear him at first, your fingers clutched the edges of an open book, eyes fixed somewhere past the page. Frozen in thought. Or maybe just trying to feel nothing at all.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he stepped closer.

The soft tap-tap of his cane on tile gave him away, and you startled slightly, shoulders tensing before you turned to face him.

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“Library’s usually where you go to avoid people,” you said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Which is exactly why I looked here first,” Viktor replied, voice low, threaded with something quiet and firm.

You looked away. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Probably not,” he agreed, stepping closer. “But I will not let the last thing you see of me be that, unspoken, ashamed, and unfinished.”

You tried to move past him.

He shifted slightly, subtle, careful, but blocking your path all the same. His body just enough to cage you in, not with force, but with intent.

You leaned back instinctively against the shelves. “Viktor-”

“Don’t run from me,” he said, softer now. Almost a plea.

You met his gaze finally, and the storm behind your eyes wasn’t anger. It was confusion. Hunger. Fear.

He took another step, closing the space. His hand braced beside your head, resting on the edge of a shelf. Not touching you. But close enough to feel.

“I need you to understand,” he murmured, voice rough, barely holding together. “It wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t a passing thought. It was you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, shallow and uneven.

He didn’t stop, couldn’t. The words spilled like heat from a cracked dam.

“I know what it looked like,” he said, stepping closer, the words unraveling lower, slower. “But that wasn’t some idle fantasy. That was a man coming apart over the one person he shouldn’t want, who he wants anyway. Constantly. Desperately.”

You didn’t speak, but your gaze was locked to his, pupils wide, chest rising in shallow pulses. He could see the tension in your fingers, the way they gripped the edge of the shelf behind you like it was the only thing tethering you to earth.

“I’ve spent weeks,” he whispered, “starving for you. Thinking about your voice. The shape of your mouth when you speak with me. The sound you make when you laugh and try to hide it.” He exhaled, sharp and ragged. “And I’ve tried, gods, I’ve tried, to be noble. To pretend I could be near you and not want.”

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, letting the closeness unravel you both inch by inch. His breath brushed your cheek, his voice like velvet dragged over fire.

“I want you. Not because you’re beautiful, though you are, or clever, or kind. I want you because every time you walk away, I feel like something vital’s been ripped out of me. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

You were silent, trembling slightly, overwhelmed with too much to say.

Until finally, your voice emerged, a whisper, cracked and breathless.

“What do you want…now?”

Viktor looked at you, eyes dark with something almost broken. He didn't touch you. He ached to. But his restraint only made the moment heavier.

“What I want,” he said, low and raw, “is to press my mouth to your skin and worship every place I’ve only dreamed of. To make you forget your own name while I remember every part of you.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth. Lingered.

“I want to earn every sound you’d make for me. I want you. Still. Entirely.”

Your fingers curled tighter around the edge of the shelf behind you, grounding yourself against the gravity of him. Of his voice, his nearness, the scent of old books and something undeniably him curling through your senses like smoke and static.

He didn’t move. Not a muscle. His breath was slow, controlled, but barely.

Like he was holding himself back with the last thread of will he had left.

You could feel it in the space between you.

Tension wound tight.

Desire coiled, deliberate and unsaid, like a live wire waiting to spark.

“I shouldn’t want this,” you whispered, eyes flicking to his mouth, then away again. “I shouldn’t let this happen.”

He smiled; faint, tragic. Almost reverent.

“Then don’t,” he said, though his voice frayed at the edges. “Tell me no, and I’ll walk away. I’ll carry the ache like I always have.”

His knuckles brushed the edge of the shelf beside your head, close, not touching, but it stole the air from your lungs all the same.

“But if you don’t,” he breathed, “then tell me yes.”

Silence swelled between you again.

Your heartbeat roared in your ears. Your breath hitched and caught and stumbled.

And still, he waited.

You stared at him. At the restraint etched in every line of his body. At the hunger in his eyes, flickering behind politeness, chivalry, fear. He wasn’t trying to seduce you.

He was begging without begging.

Finally, something inside you snapped. Softly. Cleanly. Like a thread pulled loose.

Your hand moved, trembling, but sure.

You touched his chest, right over his heart, fingers splayed.

And Viktor, Viktor shuddered like the contact burned him alive.

“Yes,” you said, voice trembling. “I want you too.”

That was all it took.

His restraint crumbled in silence.

Viktor leaned in, slow and reverent, pressing his forehead to yours like a man praying for forgiveness he knew he’d never earn. His hands didn’t grab or pull. They hovered, trembling at your waist, one finally settling at your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek like you might vanish if he touched too hard.

Then, voice rough and velvet-dark:

“Tell me if I need to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you pulled him in. Closer.

And he came undone, breath by breath, in your hands.

His lips brushed yours.

Barely there.

A question, not a claim.

But it was enough to unravel you both.

You pressed forward, just enough. Just enough for him to understand your answer, for the whisper of your mouth against his to become a vow sealed in breath and heat.

Viktor exhaled shakily, like the dam inside him cracked open all at once.His hand cradled your jaw, the pad of his thumb trembling as it traced your cheek. The other found your waist, holding you like you were both sacred and breakable.

When he kissed you again, it was deeper, starving but careful, like he couldn’t believe you were real. His mouth moved over yours slowly, thoroughly, as though he meant to memorize the shape of you from the inside out.

Your fingers slid into his shirt, seeking purchase; his shoulder, the back of his neck, anywhere you could anchor yourself. He tasted like warmth and want and the unraveling of something long-restrained.

He pulled back only slightly, lips grazing yours as he spoke, voice hoarse:

“I have dreamt of this. Every night.”

You answered with your hands, slipping under the hem of his shirt to find skin, warm, tense, alive beneath your touch. His breath caught when your fingers brushed the scar along his side, and you paused.

He didn’t pull away.

He let you explore the parts he hid from the world. Let you see him, vulnerable, real, and trembling.

Your hand slid higher over his ribs, gentle.

“I want to learn all of you,” you whispered. “Even the broken pieces.”

Viktor’s breath shuddered again. His head dropped to your shoulder, and for a second, he just held you, no performance, no mask. Just his body against yours, craving closeness in its purest form.

Then his lips found your throat, soft, reverent kisses along your skin, moving slowly, almost worshipfully downward. Each press of his mouth a confession he didn’t know how to say out loud.

Your back met the bookshelf behind you, and his body followed, not crushing, but enveloping. One hand braced beside your head again, the other gripping your hip, grounding himself in your warmth.

“You undo me,” he whispered against your skin.

Then his mouth returned to yours, slower now, deeper. Not just want. Need.

Viktor kissed you like he didn’t trust time. Like he feared the moment would shatter if he moved too quickly, but couldn’t help slipping deeper into you with every breath.

His hand traced your waist, slowly and gentle, as if he was worshipping, as if memorising the very shape of you. You felt his fingers press into fabric, hesitating only for a second before sliding beneath the hem, skin meeting skin. The contact made you shiver.

He paused, lips hovering at your jaw. “Still okay?”

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes, Sir.”

That word undid him.

Viktor's mouth returned to yours with more certainty this time, still gentle, still careful, but the edge of need was showing now. He kissed you like he’d been starving, like he wanted to feel everything he’d denied himself for far too long. And when your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging ever so slightly, he made a sound against your lips, low, strained, like control slipping.

His hands gripped your thighs, coaxing you to wrap your legs around his hips. You obeyed without thinking, letting him lift you, slowly, carefully, until you were pressed fully against him, body to body, breath to breath.

“You feel…” he rasped, words breaking off into a groan, “gods, you feel unreal.”

You could feel the tension in him, how hard he was holding back. Every motion, every press of his hips, every brush of his mouth, carried that storm just beneath the surface.

“I want to take my time with you,” he murmured, voice low and raw. “Learn every sound you make. Every place that makes you melt.”

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, whispered back, “Then start.”

And he did.

With kisses. With hands that roamed slower than sin, learning the shape of you like a man starved for beauty. Each touch spoke of reverence. Of restraint. Of need held on a knife’s edge until it could no longer be contained.

And when the world finally narrowed to breathless heat, soft gasps, and the hush of skin against skin behind the stacks.

It wasn’t just passion.

It was the breaking of walls.

The claiming of something quietly, fiercely mutual.

Not rushed. Not careless. Not uncertain.

Just you and him, finally, undeniably, giving in.

The silence that followed was thick with shared breath and quiet wonder.

Viktor’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still cradling you as if afraid you might vanish if he let go. You could feel his heart pounding, echoing yours, as the warmth between you slowly ebbed into something gentler.

Then-

A creak.

Somewhere between the shelves.

Both of you froze.

You glanced past his shoulder toward the end of the aisle, eyes wide, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were still in the library. Still tangled up together between ancient texts and silence that was supposed to be sacred.

Viktor drew in a long, controlled breath. His voice was hoarse, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Right,” he murmured, tone caught somewhere between sheepish and stunned. “We…probably shouldn’t be doing this here.”

You gave a breathless, nervous laugh, burying your face against his neck for a second before nodding. “No. Definitely not.”

He helped you adjust yourself gently, carefully, hands respectful, no longer trembling with restraint, but threaded with care.

Then, once you were steady on your feet again, he lingered. His thumb brushed your jaw, then your bottom lip, his eyes drinking you in with something too soft to be called desire. Something closer to awe.

“I don’t want this to end with a hurried goodbye,” he said quietly. “Come with me. Back to my place. Let me take care of you properly. Be with you, without having to look over our shoulders.”

You looked up at him, still dazed, still swimming in the heat of what had just happened. But beneath that was something quieter. Safer.

And real.

You nodded once.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His smile was small, but full of promise. He kissed your forehead, then glanced toward the end of the aisle again with a flicker of amusement.

“Let’s try not to get thrown out for indecency.”

You bit back a laugh and reached for his hand. He took it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And together, you slipped out from between the shelves, flushed, quiet, but lit with something that would follow you well beyond the library walls.

Chapter Text

You walked to Viktor's apartment in absolute silence, trailing behind him slowly through the quiet halls of the academy; the sound of his cane echoing with each step as you left the work quarters.

Viktor snuck glances at you along the way, making sure you were following like you said; you arrived at the elevator. He had decided to keep his actions decent after your escapade in the library, just in case.

“We have to go up two floors.” he said, gesturing for you to enter. He followed suit, standing next to you stiffly. You took this moment to have a really good look at him, his posture was awfully rigid. His tough exterior was slowly cracking before you with every moment of silence shared. He slouched with mild exhaustion, leaning onto his cane a little more than usual.
He fidgeted with his cane before meeting your eyes. Despite his rough yet nervous exterior, his eyes were full of promise. A promise you were yet to know. You blushed as he shot you a quick smile before turning your head to the floor once more.

The elevator signalled its stop. He grabbed your hand and led you to his room. Fumbling with his keys, he opened the door and ushered you into his place. Cinnamon and parchment filled your nostrils as you stepped inside. You took in the state of his apartment. Unusually pristine, but every desk and table top was littered with research papers that it was almost comical.
It was furnished similarly to his office, with dim lights flickering around the room, a vintage couch with beautiful wooden carvings on the side and long artisan rugs that ran along the hallway, into what seemed to be his bedroom.

You glanced at the walls, noticing photos of him, Jayce, and other colleagues, as well as many degrees and prints. It seems that he was a little more personal, being his home and all, than his usual brooding persona.

Viktor noticed your eyes being fixed on every little detail of what he would call his humble home, but decided to take matters into his own hands.

“You will have plenty of time to peruse my belongings another time, Y/N.” he smirked, stepping towards you with a sudden playful confidence you were yet to find in yourself. You stood still, playing with the hem of your blouse as you stared at the ground.

Viktor grabbed your jaw gently with his tender fingers and tilted your head up to look at him. He was painfully gorgeous; it actually hurt to look at him. The faint hints of blush on the tips of his ears and cheekbones, as well as the coy smirk he had as he ran his fingers along your jawline, tucking a strand of your hair behind your head.

“I can never seem to take my eyes off of you.” he said, his voice a hushed whisper.

“Your flattery won’t-”

He cut off your retortion with a swipe of his tongue against your trembling lips. Your lips parted earnestly as he slowly trailed his tongue across your bottom lip before fully connecting your lips with his own. His kiss was hungry, commanding; pressing for more with each swipe of his tongue against yours. It was positively filthy the way he led this kiss, the way he led you. Every aspect of his life required control, in fact he was weak without it even during sex.

Viktor's cane clattered to the floor as his hands came to rest at your hips, steadying himself against you. His grip was extraordinarily firm as he pawed at the swell of your ass, further burying his tongue in your mouth. He admired how you reacted so politely to his iron embrace.

“Vik-”

You moaned into his mouth, pressing your body into his. You felt the print of his already growing cock against your stomach; hard and thick. Your body shuddered at the proximity.

Your lips detached with a lop pop as a string of saliva fell between the both of you. You gazed up at him, raking in his exquisite features. The dip of his brows as he looked at you with millions of questions, the flirtatious yet guarded smile he shared with you. He was incredibly provocative.

His breath was heavy as he spoke, every word enunciated with a brief pause in an attempt to regulate himself. b

“Should we uh…take this…somewhere else?”

You nodded in response, eagerly following him to his bedroom.

The bed could only be described as uncharacteristically grand, with large dark awnings holding it in place. His room was clean, but not tidy. His bed was unmade, and his clothing was scattered on his floor and vanity haphazardly. The bed itself was adorned with deep burgundy sheets, and many pillows. His nightstand was a vintage of some sort, with a mahogany finish. Some books were stacked on his nightstand, ones you could not quite place, alongside a green glass banker lamp. ‘Of course’, you thought to yourself.

He closed the distance between you with a gentle kiss this time, lust pooling in your stomach like a cyclone, twisting and turning; you made a futile attempt at keeping it at bay. Before you knew it, your hands were splayed across Viktor's chest unbuttoning his dress shirt with avidity.

“Far too tight…it must be taken off.” you mumbled against his lips between kisses.

He hummed in agreement, kissing you back with the same amount of gentle passion, as he undid your blouse with just as much desperation. Your bodies tangled like thorned vines, becoming impossibly close. Your limbs sprawled across him, claiming him as your own.

“On the bed.” you growled. Viktor obliged, lying down with his body flat against the bed. His arousal was evident in the way he panted, and with how constrained his trousers were. You crawled on top of him, dipping your head into the crevice of his neck before you began to nibble it tenderly, leaving small markings in your wake. Agitated from arousal, you decided on sucking a big purple bruise against his collarbone.

Viktor exhaled, his sigh wavering with pleasure as you continued to make your way down his pale chest. The bruises you left contrasted with his ivory skin, standing out beautifully. Viktor's chest heaved as you nibbled his around nipple gracefully before travelling slowly down to his v-line. He was enjoying this far too much, and was letting you have far too much control for his liking. You began to unbutton his trousers, when suddenly a hand came to grip your wrist with force.

“Please, spare me some dignity, and let me undress you first.” He exclaimed desperately, his pupils blown wide with thirst. You indulged his request, letting him shimmy your pencil skirt off, as well as your blouse which felt awfully constraining with all of your pent up arousal.

You were left in your underwear feeling utterly exposed, but the way he marvelled at the softness of your hips made you feel less like you were under his burning gaze. His umber irises, barely visible as his eyes raked your form lustfully.

“Come.” He beckoned, his words dripping with intoxication.

You listened, clambering back towards him on his bed. You watched as his eyes darted between your tits and face, a deep rouge adorning his neck and cheeks when you caught him looking.

“Sit.” he ordered, gesturing towards his stressed trousers. You shuffled over him gingerly as his hands came to the back of your bra, unclasping it. His hands seized your breasts, giving one an experimental tweak to gauge your reaction, before repeating the action twice as hard. You squealed, biting down on your lip so hard you were sure to draw blood.

He bucked his hips at the noise, moving you forward before his lips enclosed your left breast. giving it a rough suck. He nibbled around the areola gently just as you had done, earning a weary moan. This urged him to continue the action as he played with your right breast.

He watched you intently as you ground against him, the sensation of his skilled mouth and hands was almost unbearable when paired with his thick, erect cock beneath you. Yet Viktor was not satisfied. He wanted to do so much more.

His mouth left your tit as he flipped you onto your back with his leg. He crawled on top of you with his dress shirt hanging open, his chest exposed, littered with the evidence of you having been there. Your eyes followed his moles, connecting them with the bruises you had left. His moles seemed to travel down his body, with one placed just above his hip bone.

Viktor lowered himself into the crook of your neck, sucking at a sweet spot before biting down, his canines sinking into your flesh. You yelped, causing him to lift his head with fear.

“I…I am so sorry I got carried away!” he panicked, before you spoke with a breathless intensity.

“Again. Do it again.” you demanded.

Viktor looked shocked, but gave in to your desires easily it seemed, once again sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving multiple imprints across the left side. The pain was excruciatingly erotic.
Viktor continued down the left hand side of your body, marking you. At the same time he pawed your right breast with enthusiasm, overriding your senses completely before coming to a stop at your underwear.

Viktor tapped the side of your hip, requesting you to lift your hips; you did so quickly, before he tucked your panties into his pocket, shooting you a mischievous smile as his head dipped between your thighs. His warm breath fanning where you wanted it the most.

“May I?” he said, exasperated, his eyes darting between your face and your soaked sex.

You nodded in response, far too eager at what was to come.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Your hips whined at the praise, causing his mouth to close in on your needy sex. He lapped gently at your clit with the flat of his tongue, admiring the way you keened at his ministrations. You were everything he had ever wanted and more from a man.

“You taste so wonderful. Better than I ever imagined.” he rasped against your cunt, before continuing his languid licks. You bucked your hips, begging for more; anything. You needed to feel every part of Viktor like your life depended on it.

“Viktor-”

He murmured against your cunt, the vibrations hitting your already sensitive clit perfectly.

“M…more please” you blubbered.

“Beg for it.” he demanded between licks. His voice rough, similar to driving on a gravel road.

“Please Viktor…please…I will do anything.”

You felt a grin spread across Viktor's face. He seemed satisfied with that answer; he placed his index and middle finger at your entrance, slowly pressing them in until they filled you. You felt every stretch from his sinewy long hands as he slowly coaxed them in and out of you languidly.

He continued to lick at your clit, savouring your taste as his fingers curved inside your core. He rubbed the knuckle of his index and middle finger against your g-spot, eliciting a series of small, high pitched moans from you. Each pump of his fingers and each tender lick to your clitoris brought you closer and closer to the edge, and you could feel the beginnings of it being extremely intense.

You grasped at his hair, and the bedsheets beside you with an iron grip, tugging at his follicles as you were about to slip away into an unrelenting orgasm. Viktor groaned at your touch, and looked up at you, taking you in. He admired the hill of your breasts as you panted his name, the way the veins in your hands protruded at the grip you had on his bedsheets, and how whenever you felt obscene amounts of pleasure; your face was always in a tightly knit o-shape.

You looked down at Viktor as he sucked against your clit enthusiastically, noticing that his deep golden eyes were staring right back at you. His eyes crinkled with mirth as he continued to guide his tongue against you until you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

The sight of him devouring every inch of you brought you over the edge and you came hard. You closed your eyes tight as he continued to work you over the edge, your body unravelling like yarn as your orgasm slowly pulled you apart. Viktor became gentler as your climax subsided and felt the weight of the mattress as he crawled next to you.

You opened your eyes and you were met with a face that you could only describe as smitten. His gaze was intoxicating, his eyes like pools of honey, pulling you in. His hair was perfectly matted, with strands stuck to the nape of his neck and forehead. His lips were covered in your slick, and quirked at just the right angle.

You watched as his adam's apple bobbed up and down in anticipation, awaiting your next move. You both lay in silence, partially due to your bewilderment at the insane amounts of pleasure he had just caused you but also because it felt nice to take each other in for a moment. He was incredibly provocative.

He leant towards you, placing a gentle kiss upon your lips. You reciprocated, this time taking it slower with him. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth gently, your tongues dancing like enchanted snakes.

“Viktor” you said pulling away, “let me repay you. Please.” and before he could say anything, you sat up and moved off of his bed, kneeling on the cold floor. Viktor shifted and moved closer to you, his legs dangling off the bed, eager to see what you were going to do next.

You were now face to face with his throbbing cock, you noticed that as you began to palm it lightly, that Viktor's breath had become ragged and uneven at the slightest of touches. Your hand came to the zipper of his slacks, slowly pulling it down, freeing his girthy cock from his underwear. His cock was perfect. His top swollen and almost purple with arousal, pre-cum beading at the very top moistening his anguish. Thick and pulsating veins ran from the shaft to the base of his dick, where you were met with a neatly trimmed bush. You took in the size, licking your lips at the challenge before you.

You brought your tongue to his tip, and swirled around it delicately, watching the way it twitched in response to your gentle tongue. Viktor's hand grabbed a fistful of your hair as you began to suck the tip of his cock softly, he guided your mouth down slowly as you tried to relax your jaw to fit the girth inside of your mouth.

Viktor grunted at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth against his dick as you began to bob your head up and down, taking him a little further every time, learning to adjust your throat to his incredible length. Viktor bucked into you as you hummed your way down to the base of his cock, deep throating him fully.

Tears pricked in your eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag and come back up for air. Viktor liked the sudden tightness that your throat gave him, so he wasted no time in pushing your mouth back down.

“Not so hard,” he leered, “is it?”

You shook your head in response.

“You are doing so well” he cooed, marvelling at how well you swallowed all of him.

You continued to let Viktor fuck your throat, tasting his pre-cum as it pooled down your throat from his imminent climax. Suddenly, he became more forceful with how hard he bucked into your mouth, becoming more and more rapid as his orgasm approached briskly.

Viktor noticed the tears in your eyes as you tried to adjust to this change of pace, and if anything it made him even more aroused. The mere idea of you struggling so greatly to accommodate him boosted his ego.

With this sudden change he grabbed the back of your head with both hands and began fucking your throat faster and rougher. Drool spilled from your mouth as bubbles of saliva appeared from the sides. You choked as he held your face towards the base of his cock, his pubes scratching at your nose as you tried to move your head away.

“You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, it's honestly amusing how much you continue to take.” He moaned, as he continued to buck into the back of your throat.

Your makeup now smearing at the amount of saliva and tears running down your face. Astonished at how well you were doing, he granted you a break just before he reached his climax, pulling your debauched face off his cock to admire the mess he had made with your pretty little face. Moving his hand, he gathered some of the saliva from your gaping mouth and brought it to his own. His eyes lighting up in pleasure at the taste of your saliva mixed with his pre-cum.

Your mascara coated your under eyes, your chin dripping with saliva from the amount of times he had forced you down onto him. It was a sight he was never willing to forget.

“Are you alright?” he questioned, his hand grabbed at your jaw, pushing your cheeks in to make a kissy face. He wanted to ensure that you were okay with all of this of course, whilst still keeping an element of control.

“Ahuh...” you said bewildered, as he wiped some of the mascara off of your cheeks.

“Words please,” he smirked.

“Yes, please continue” you begged, your eyebrows turning upwards as you pleaded for more. Viktor, unable to resist your tender eyes, obliged.

With both of his hands he grabbed your head and guided it back down onto his sensitive cock, this time making no expense to push you all the way down to the hilt with one movement. You gagged at the suddenness of his push, but kept your head still as you wanted him to feel every bit of pleasure he possibly could.

Viktor could feel that he was ready to release, as his aching tip had been pulsing from the softest of touches that came from inside of your gentle throat. You could feel his balls against your chin as he continued to pull your head up and down tightly from his tip to the base repeatedly. Tasting a hint of salt, you knew now that his orgasm was impending.

With one final rough thrust, he shoved his cock so far down your throat you could feel his warmth spilling down your oesophagus. Thick and warm, it oozed down your throat with a flow of liquid. Viktor mewled at the feeling of your throat closing in on his climaxing cock. His orgasm was white-hot, ripping through his body with such intensity it caused his breath to rasp, and his hips to stutter at the strength of it.

“You're such a good girl” he mused continuously as he spilled his semen down your throat, gripping your hair tighter than ever so that you were sure to have a sore spot later.

He held you there until you began to tap his thigh vigorously, before he released you. Gasping for air, you came up and tried to maintain your composure. Despite the way he had manhandled you in such a way, you wanted more. Your arousal extremely evident against your leg as you sat.

“Up” he gestured with his hands, urging for you to climb next to him. It seems that the orgasm wasn’t enough to deter him as he was still achingly hard.

“I am not finished with you, Y/N.”

You gave him a crooked smile, blushing at the promise he had made before clambering into bed with him once more. You rubbed your knees as you stood up, feeling the imprints of the floor that were etched into your legs like a carved tree, reminding you of what had just happened for minutes to come.

“On your knees, chest flat against the bed, please.” he whispered into the shell of your ear.

You did as you were told and leant down, canting your hips upward for him.

He was in awe at what was before him, stealing a glance at your glistening sex, you were practically dripping for him with every instruction. Every humiliation, every word, you clung onto it like a life line. All you wanted to do was please him and you would do whatever it took.

Settling behind you, he placed one hand on your hip as the other gripped his swollen cock. He teased it between your folds, gathering your arousal on his tip as he slid between your labia. Bemused at how pathetically soaked you were for him, he rewarded you with himself. He pushed his tip inside you gently. The burn of the stretch felt incredible. He groaned at how amazing you felt, until he was at the base. You clenched around him as he began to gently pull out, before thrusting back in with twice as much vigour.

You yelped at the sudden pain, but quickly bit your lip to ensure you were not too loud. Viktor was uncomfortably large, but it was perfect.

“I want to hear you, so please, do not refrain from making noise.” he whispered, before giving you another rough thrust, urging you to let yourself go around him. This time you gave him what he wanted, letting him take full control of how you sounded and acted. It was a thrill.

“More…please.” you begged.

Viktor scoffed, “I know you can do better than that.”

A deep blush crept across your face, despite having been in the most compromising positions this was one that made you the most embarrassed. You mustered up the courage to give him what he wanted.

“Please Viktor. I need you, all of you.”

“That's more like it, far less tenacious than I supposed” he purred, returning his attention to your desperate hole.

Viktor began to plunge himself back into you with a stable rhythm, ensuring that his leg was resting in a spot that accommodated his needs. He was enamoured at the way you just lay there, a pretty drooling mess. So enraptured by his cock, he was inclined to believe that you may as well worship it. Your hair a mess, thrown across his bedspread aimlessly. Your back arched with precision, bent to such a degree it was sure to hurt later on.

The sounds of your plush ass against his boney hips echoed in his bedroom as he continued to fuck you with all his might, he watched the way your body recoiled with every harsh rutt. It was all too much, the ecstasy you were experiencing made your head light with euphoria, your body tingling with intense bouts of pleasure.

Viktor took it upon himself to make you finish again, leaning forward, his hand manoeuvred in such a way that this ring and middle finger was on your clit. Your body jerked forward at the connection of his tender skin against your already abused sex. His deft fingers rubbing masterful circles, reaping the harshest of moans from you, rendering you corrupt. Your mind envisioning a dissolute life for yourself with this man as your master.

The way he fucked you was degrading, truly, but an essence of affection was present. Something Viktor was yet to come to terms with.

The passion exuded was almost overwhelming, and Viktor wouldn’t be able to handle being inside you for much longer. His body jerked as he continued to thrust his tender cock into you. You looked back at him, his off-white skin gleaming with sweat, beads falling down his taut stomach. His subtle muscles rippled with every movement, you watched as his hips leaned into your body, giving you everything he possibly could. Your eyes met his and you watched as his expression softened, his breath caught at the sight of your ruined face, but he continued with relentless satisfaction.

He seemed to be straining more now that you were looking at him, and as you felt his cock pulse inside of you, you knew all too well he was ready to cum. That's when he sped up, his fingers moving clockwise against you, forcing you to rest your head back on his bed to try adapt to both inputs of stimulation.

“I am so close!” you sobbed, every rub of your clit sending you further and further into a depraved mess. The noises your sweet mouth made caused Viktor to cum soon after. He rutted into you with a brief stutter in the hips, his seed spilling from his cock in thick ropes, coating your internal walls. Your own orgasm followed suit, causing your whole body to shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Viktor felt as you clenched around him before you collapsed onto his bed, your energy spent after chasing such a high.

Viktor fell beside you, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead in an array of shapes. The smell of his musk enveloped you, and with the last bit of energy you had, you crawled into his arms to finally relax, and with a gentle kiss you both fell asleep.