Liar, Liar - Viktor x Reader (Explicit)
Viktor gets to sleep in your bed; there is not much sleeping done
Happy birthday to my love @arcanescribbles ❤❤❤!!! I hope you enjoy this just as much as I enjoy your art 💕💕💕
"You don't have to do this."
You glanced back at Viktor with a grin, getting your room keys out of your pocket.
"And let you sleep outside the lab all night? No way."
You opened the door with practiced ease, motioning him inside with a smile. "You're sleeping here tonight, mister. I would do the same for anyone."
I know you would, Viktor thought, a melancholic bitterness lingering in his mouth. But I wish you would only do this for me.
With founding they had received from new patrons of hextech, Heimerdinger had decided to improve many rooms around the academy, including, in some sort of misguided attempt at a reward, his and Jayce's. The renovation crew had just begun work at the lab and, despite his reluctance, in his apartment. He had worked the entire day in a corner of the library, only to realize late that night that he had made no arrangements to sleep anywhere else.
"Home sweet home." you hummed as he made his way inside. "It's not much, but I have a couch, and a bed over there."
The apartment was much smaller than his, even before the renovations: your living room shared the function of a kitchen, and from the entrance, he could see a minuscule bathroom and the entrance to a compact bedroom. It was a lot less than what you deserved. But somehow, you had managed to make it feel like yours.
Posters of bands he did not know and diagrams most likely stolen from the library decorated your walls alongside numerous potted plants, reaching for the light of the only window in the room. Books haphazardly laid around, and he felt a pang of fondness in his chest. It felt like you.
"Sorry about the mess. I didn't... expect anyone tonight."
He realized he had been silently staring around as you stood next to him, fidgeting, looking at him expectantly.
"No need to apologize. You have a beautifully decorated room."
You seemed to relax at that, the charming smile he spent hours on end thinking about reappearing on your lips. "Now I know you're a liar."
He couldn't prevent a chuckle from escaping him: "Truly. I enjoy it."
You threw him another smile before going to the bedroom, returning a few moments later with a pair of light pants you handed to him. "These are mine," you said almost sheepishly, twisting the fabric between your hands. "I don't want you to sleep in your work clothes, Gods know you do enough of that already, but this is the best I have..."
He took the pants with a careful hand, feeling the softness of the material as a rush of possessiveness ran through him. He held them tightly, flush against his chest.
"Thank you," he said, hoping you couldn't hear the impossibly loud beating of his heart. "I will wear them."
You smiled again, gentle, loving, and he found himself wishing again that he would be the only one you made that expression for. Viktor did not make a habit of staying quiet or passive in his life, far from it; but the relationship he had cultivated with you as an assistant was too precious, too important to be risked without certain conviction of your interest in him. He would not put it all your shared work in jeopardy for his own selfishness.
"You can take the couch or the bed, but I think you'd be more comfortable on the bed," you said, patting the academy-issued sofa with a firm hand. "I don't mind sleeping on this. If it's big enough for Jayce, it's big enough for me."
Viktor's heart dropped. He looked at the couch with an unfamiliar mixture of frustration and anger; had been a little more honest with himself, he would have recognized it as jealousy.
"Jayce… has slept here before ?"
"Yeah !" you answered merrily, seemingly obvious to the way his body tensed like ice. "I let him sleep over too when they were renovating his room."
Viktor swallowed with difficulty, trying to make his tone neutral before he spoke.
"I will take the couch as well, then."
"I told you, I don't mind !" you replied with an honest laugh, settling down on the couch to highlight your point. "Take the bed, it's way cozier. I speak from experience."
Viktor studied you for a moment, weighing his options. Some part of him, a primal, envious need to do exactly as Jayce had done, wanted the couch. But what other opportunity would he ever get to sleep in your bed? He was not nearly petty enough to let it pass by.
"… Alright, I will take the bed. I appreciate this."
You beamed at him, and he felt his pulse come back up, his anxious thoughts all but melting away. The power you had on him was incomprehensible: one sentence could send him spiraling down, and just one smile could make him feel giddy like a child. For all he tried, he couldn't understand it. Maybe that was part of his attraction to you, the enigma of what you created in him, and his unyielding need to understand you.
"I have fresh water in the kitchen if you get thirsty, and extra covers in the cupboard," you commented, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You can wake me up if there's anything wrong."
"I doubt there will be, but thank you. For everything." He threw you a gentle smile before making his way to your bedroom, only looking back at you once he reached the door: "Goodnight."
Your room was exactly as he always pictured it would be. Cluttered but not overly messy, little trinkets populated the room, each lovingly placed in their own little spot. You always did everything lovingly, be it when you helped him assemble prototypes in the lab or when you caressed his back as he coughed painfully. Like you could see something precious in everything you touched, everything you held; in him.
He got undressed slowly, holding onto his crutch tightly as he put his legs into the pants you had given him. He felt the tip of his ears burn when he stared down, the delicate fabric already stretched tightly at the crotch.
It would not be an easy night.
He let his crutch rest against the wall before sitting on the bed and slipping under the covers with a heavy sigh. The pillows smelled like you. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose into them, inhaling with a shaky breath. How could a simple scent create such a reaction in him?
His cock tugged against the sweatpants, deforming them almost grotesquely, and he glared down at it with disgust. What would you think if you knew what he was doing with your clothes, in your bed?
Maybe, a voice rang in his ears, maybe she would like it.
He refused to look at himself as his right hand made its way down your pants, keeping his eyes closed shut. He imagined your soft hands caressing his cock as he wrapped his own around his length, brushing his tip in the way he had always imagined you would. He moved slowly, thinking of how you'd like to take your time with him, savor him like he so desperately wanted to taste you. You'd laugh, and playfully mock his eagerness as you'd bite his neck, pumping his cock in that same loving way you did everything. Maybe he'd tease you a little too, toy with your entrance, and slyly comment on its wetness, just for him. Only for him.
He moaned, quickly spitting in his hand before firmly grabbing his length again, moving with renewed vigor. He wondered if you could hear the creaking of the mattress as he humped it in desperation, and if you had ever done the same thinking of him. He was rubbing himself raw, his grip too tight, and it hurt; but it was what he wanted, it was what he needed as he imagined you on top of him, crying his name as he would pound into you. He whimpered, shoving his face deep into your pillows, feeling his release build up faster than it ever had before. You would beg for him to cum in you, to mark you, to breed you, to fill you so no one would ever doubt you belonged with him. You would tell him, without a shadow of a doubt in your eyes, that you were his.
He came, almost screaming your name into the pillows, bitting the fabric to muffle the sound. It took him a long moment to catch his breath, his hips still mindlessly rutting against the air for a few seconds. Your sweatpants clung uselessly against his now softened cock, the front covered in sweat and tepid cum. He cursed under his breath, the dizzy euphoria of the moment replaced by vague repulsion and regret. The stain on the pants was almost comically obvious.
He sighed as he got up, legs weak, looking around the room for something to clean himself with. The bathroom's running water might wake you up, but it was the best option he had. He chose against taking his crutch with him, silently making his way there as he leaned against the wall with difficulty. He had made it to the door, the small sink within reaching distance, when his foot caught into a book on the floor, and he cursed loudly as he tried to keep himself upright.
"What's wrong ?"
"I…" he started, mind going a hundred miles per hour. You were barely peeking from under the covers on the couch, clearly still half asleep; and in the dark, you wouldn't see the state he, or your clothing, were in. He would be fine. "I was thirsty."
"Oh," you mumbled, voice low. "Water's in the big jug on the counter."
He mumbled a thank you, waiting until your breathing quieted before moving again, stealing one last glance at your sleeping form before slipping as delicately as he could into the bathroom. One day, you would be the death of him
He kept his eyes closed, hoping he'd get to hear your voice sing his name again. Your hand petted his hair, and for a moment, he could almost let himself believe that he was waking up next to you.
"You can stop the act, sleepyhead, I know you're awake."
He opened his eyes slowly, gazing at your smile, so tantalizingly near him. Had you ever gotten so close to him before ?
"It would appear I cannot lie to you."
"Nope," you replied playfully, and he missed the warmth of your hand as soon as it left his hair. "Wait until the other lab assistants hear about this. We didn't think you actually slept."
"An elaborate ruse, I assure you. I mainly recharge once a month by photosynthesis."
You laughed, the sound sweet and melodious as you sat next to him on the bed. A strangely decided look shone in your eyes when you spoke.
"Viktor? Could I... ask you something ?"
Something was different. The way you stood, the way you talked, the way you looked at him. Something had changed.
He swallowed: "Yes ?"
"Tell me if I'm overstepping but..." your voice lowered hesitantly, and he could barely hear you over the sound of his own pulse. "I heard... something last night."
His cheeks caught on fire almost instantly, and he looked away, racking his brain for an excuse. "Ah, this is embarrassing but," he responded as calmly as he could, pushing the covers slightly off to reveal wet but mercifully stainless fabric, "I accidentally let the water slip onto your pants, and tried to dry them in the bathroom. You must have been woken up then. I apologize."
You looked at him in the same, horrifyingly loving way you always did. You didn't believe him.
"That's not what I meant. I heard you...say something."
Why were you so hellbent on torturing him? Unless... this was the moment he had been waiting for, the confirmation. Unless you were trying to probe out his feelings just as he had tried yours.
"I... cannot quite recall." His throat felt dry, like all moisture and coherent thought had left him, and he pushed the next words out with every inch of will he had in him: "Do you... remember what I said ?"
His eyes finally met yours.
"My name. You said my name."