Prompt idea….Viktor accidentally walks in on the reader having quickie sex with someone in the lab….👀👀👀…. But he can’t look away…. 👀👀👀……and while she’s with the other person, she accidentally says his name…. 😱
Oh nonny. You wicked thing. If you insist. This one’s for my beloved dirty little degenerate-pervy Viktor truthers. You know who you are @dad-dumpster @valaruakars and… oh yes, dare I say it even my precious sweet darling @arcanescribbles
Viktor POV - NSFW
TW: Voyerism, oral- f receiving, fingering, masturbation, slight angst, embarrassment, even more masturbation, peeping tom? More like peeping Viktor, is that a panty fetish I see? Oh my. MDNI
He realized too late that he should have recognized those sounds; the desperate soft huffing of heavy breath, the slickly wet noises, the stifled moans.
He’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts at first to hear them, or to put two and two together once he did. Too involved in the research and books balanced up to his chin and mug of coffee wobbling precariously by its handle in the hook of his finger as he struggled along through the door at the back of the lab, leaning heavily on the cane tucked up under his armpit.
The hour was late, late enough Viktor was used to being the only one there, and the shock was significant as he surfaced from the distraction of his plans and rounded one of the large prototypes that littered the back of the lab. Struck to a paralytic frozen stillness as he glanced up to find the pretty biochem assistant sat up upon a workbench, her shirt wide open and skirt hiked around her waist, with one of the many nameless tech engineers between the spread of her bare thighs, head buried under the rumpled hem of her skirt and her hand clutching desperately at his dark blonde hair.
Breath froze in his lungs and blood ran cold as ice in spite of the fire-hot flush he could feel flooding his face from the collar of his shirt right up to his ears. Face burning, heart a clenched stone, all he could do was stand there, staring as the tech lifted his head and rose, clearly aiming for a kiss that missed its landing as the assistant’s head turned away and his mouth instead made due with mauling biting kisses along her throat as he pulled one cup of her bra down to pinch and tug at the pretty tautness of a nipple until she was keening and writhing in her seat.
“Dirty thing. Like it rough, hm? Little priss.” The tech chastised as his hand closed over her upper arm and yanked the assistant off her seat upon the workbench only to bend her roughly over the desk immediately across from them.
Viktor reeled backward, ducking behind the prototype. The books and coffee in his arms jostled and he frantically juggled them and his cane. He ought to leave, ought to hurry back the way he’d come and immediately find somewhere else to be. Forget what he’d accidentally seen and leave the two lovers in peace. Seconds away from dropping everything and being found out, he managed to deposit the pile of books and the coffee on a small table, nearly knocking over an open tool kit. He grabbed at it frantically before its contents could rattle and in a hot panic watched a ratchet handle go rolling toward the edge.
He snagged it mid-air and let out a silent sigh of relief.
Behind him the moans had picked up volume again. Wanton little noises tugging insistently at his attention until, in spite of himself, he’d set the ratchet down and was peeking out from around the edge of the prototype.
She was bent forward over the desk, facing his hiding spot, and for a second he nearly jerked backward, sure she’d spot him. But her eyes were closed, prettily flushed face upturned and mouth hungrily agape as she rocked against the desk, resting upon her forearms as the tech behind her busily - and from the sounds of it - viciously fucked her with his fingers, grinning down at her bare bottom. His hand clenched the back of her skirt up as his other busied itself between the cleft of her sweet bottom and part of thighs, the slapping wet noises positively obscene.
It was filthy, gorgeous, exhilarating and mortifying.
The soft curve of her bare breast wobbled gently, that succulent flushed nipple practically dragging across the desktop as she arched her back into the attentions. Eyebrows knit hard over eyes shut tight, lips glossed and opened enticingly into a lovely little ‘O’ of want. She was so pretty, so undone. That prim little assistant Viktor could never bring himself to start a conversation with, whom he’d watched with vague little stabs of jealousy as she easily conversed with Jayce or anyone else. Her little tight smiles and witty asides, her keenly intelligent observations and the way her hair was constantly in a state of coming undone or falling out place in soft tendrils.
It was fully undone now, as beautiful a mess as its owner.
The tightness in his groin was unbearable, tent pressed hard against the front of trousers as he watched in strangled silence as that lovely girl began to tremble, her fingers curling into fists upon the desk, nails scraping against the smooth, cold metal tabletop as she gasped and bucked. Viktor found his own hand pressing to the aching constriction of his clothed cock.
Much like watching, the pressure felt both sickeningly painful and dizzyingly good. He allowed himself one slow, palming stroke and practically had to stifle his own quiet moan. And then…
“Ahhhnn! Y-yes, mmn… Viktor!”
The world screeched to a halt. Suddenly you could hear a pin drop in the spacious, open lab.
“...What did you just say?”
The tech’s question was coldly accusatory, and Viktor, who’d jerked himself wide-eyed back behind the bulwark safety of his hiding spot, thinking wildly that he’d been spotted at the sound of his name, found himself once again torn between fleeing the scene and the fact that he couldn’t seem to make his feet move. She’d… she said his name. But she hadn’t seen him, she couldn’t have. Not with eyes shut tight. That meant…
“Dex, I’m… I…”
Viktor chanced another hidden, one-eyed glance around the shield of his prototype to find the tech had pulled the poor girl upright and was glaring at her in undeniable disgust.
“You’re what?” The tech prodded icily, and when instead of answering the girl just crossed her arms over her vulnerable bareness and stared guiltily at the desk she’d just been bent over, he took the liberty of filling in the blanks for her.
“You know, this whole time I was wondering why a such a stuck up, straight laced little slag like you was suddenly so willing and eager to mess around with someone like me when you normally can’t be buggered to even acknowledge anyone who hasn’t gone to your precious academy is even in the room. Did you even know my name before tonight? None of you lot got any respect for this crew. We do all your dirty work, crawl into the guts of whatever new inventive way to die or lose a limb you’ve all come up with, and not a single one of you seems to know we’re anything more than another moving part of your machines. Just faceless cogs.”
He snorted a laugh.
“Or I guess faceless cocks, huh? Just a human toy for you-”
His tirade cut off with the sharp sound of a ringing slap. The assistant he’d been berating stood there in stony silence, open palm still lifted, just daring him to try for a second out of her as he rubbed his stinging cheek. For a breathless moment it looked as if he just might press on with his insulting tirade. Instead he grabbed the discarded jacket of his uniform and left in a hot blooded huff, muttering under his breath and slamming the door on his way out.
Viktor sagged back against the prototype, eyes rolling to the ceiling in a mingling of gratitude and relief. If it had escalated further, what would he have done? A physical altercation might be beyond his scope, and usually the weight of his position of authority and sang-froid calm was more than enough to wield the command he needed in any given situation. But confronting a man who’d just been called by his name in the heat of passion? And with the obviousness of an erection still straining at the front of trousers?
Nothing about that would have ended well.
As it was, he heard the girl heave a sigh of dismay followed by a soft snarl of utter frustration and the clatter of something on a table go flying with what was doubtless an angry smack. Viktor was just about to resign himself to waiting until the coast was clear to finally sneak away when the next noise caught him off guard.
More of those soft moans, the quietly wet enticing sounds that had him peering back around to find her bent back over the desk, bare breast cupped in her own hand, fingers rolling and tugging nipple to stiffness once more and her other hand shoved down between her thighs as she finished what the tech had started.
“Ah, Viktor… nnh, please yes, please!” She was going at it with a desperate, almost angry need, huffing stuttering breaths and savaging her lower lip between her teeth as she fell right back into the building crescendo that had been so unfortunately interrupted by her own indiscretion.
Viktor grit teeth as he was pitched right back into another impossible choice. What… what if he walked out there? What if he walked up to her, tucked the fall of hair back behind one ear and slid his fingers down to replace her own. What if he asked her to say his name like that again, for him. Would she let him? Let him feel how wet she’d got imagining him, while she wished another man’s touch had been his. How would she squeeze around his fingers, his cock?
He could practically smell her arousal from here, what would it be like close up? How did her skin taste, her mouth? That sweet slick gloss dripping down her thighs? How many times could he get her to say his name that way and what would it take until she was gasping it hoarsely, brokenly, begging. Would she be prettily embarrassed if he went out there, or terrified and appalled?
Her soft, needy little sighs of his name were driving him mad. So hard that the ache in the tightness of his balls was all consuming, that all he wanted, no - needed- was to get himself out of his pants and, oh Janna, please, buried in her.
But he couldn’t.
Couldn’t do any of it. If he went out there now, how could he possibly explain why he’d been watching for so long? What he was even doing there or why he felt it was in any way appropriate to interrupt her… her… oh gods, she was so close to orgasm, he could hear it. The way her breath picked up, the way she trembled upon the desk she leaned over, the quickening pace of the wet sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of herself.
And how she was pleading his name. Like… like he was somehow the one who could offer her the release she was chasing. Gods, it sounded so good. She sounded so good.
If he pulled himself free from his trousers she was sure to hear the frantic way he needed to fuck his fist. No way he could keep himself quiet, or at least quiet enough to keep himself hidden. Palm rubbed hard at his length as he sucked breath in near silent hisses through clenched teeth, thumb running the sensitive ridge of the head of his cock pressing through soft, straining fabric of his pants. A sweetly hot spiral of weighted craving coiling taut in the pit of his belly, tensing hips, leaving lean muscle of stomach and thighs tensing to a slight tremble with the need to thrust.
How many fingers did she need? Two dripping digits stuffed tightly into the clenching heat of herself, or three? Watching her face as she lost herself was intensely arousing but the thought of seeing her from behind was destroying him. The soft curve of her bottom, pretty, softly swollen, slick lips just peeking between the cleft of cheeks her fingers shoved to the limit inside herself, wet just dripping from knuckles as she…
“Vik…ahn! Viktor, pl please… yes, ah. Fffuck! Viktor!!”
One last little stifled shout of his name and she panted a stuttered, broken moan before falling still. Viktor watched in desperate fascination as she sighed, gone boneless on the desk for a long moment.
Janna, to collapse against her; to kiss the heat of her flushed cheek or run hands over the little shivering tremble of hips, to soothe and help her catch her breath, to taste the little bead of sweat that ran down her temple and beside the tender curve of her ear to her throat.
She picked herself up off the desk as he watched, still gripping the aching stiffness of his cock through his clothes. Watched her stand on weak legs and slowly redress herself, with a regretful, or perhaps it was resigned, look on her face. Watched her rebutton her shirt and fix her hair as she wandered out of the lab, tugging at the back of her skirt.
Viktor waited until the door swung shut, waited a good three minutes at least after the sound of her footsteps had faded until he struggled out from his hiding place, the strain in his pants making walking more difficult than usual as he shuffled over to where she’d lain, stroked fingertips over the heat of her that still lingered, fading upon the metallic desktop. There was a smudge of sticky wet on the edge of the desk where her damp fingertips had brushed it and he was just about to drag a finger over the faint gloss of moisture when something on the floor caught his eye.
A tiny black crumple of lace.
Viktor bent painfully, stiffly, and snagged it, rising to let it hang from one finger as he regarded the discarded cloth in confusion for one second before the shape of it suddenly made sense.
She’d left her panties.
Long fingers curled tightly into a fist over the soft, lacy garment and a second later he had his pants open. The fist clenching her panties braced upon the table as he frantically, desperately fucked into the tight grip of his other hand, mouth hung open as he rushed straight over the precipice of his release with a delirious surge that had him hunched over with a sharp jerk, a soundless long groan dying in the gape of his mouth as lungs convulsed.
It was both the most intense release he’d ever had and the least satisfying. Over so quick, and nothing half as wonderful as all those delicious little fantasies he’d conjured watching her, listening to her. Not nearly as good as she would have felt.
Coughing slightly, struggling to catch his breath, Viktor righted himself. Hissing softly at the tender ache of abused flesh left too long constricted and then fisted far too roughly with precious little lubrication, he put himself away.
There was barely a half second of consideration for the panties in his grasp before he tucked them into his pocket. He could have, and perhaps should have left them where he found them - but what then? If the cleaning staff found them perhaps inconvenient questions might be asked. If instead the next morning their work colleagues found them then even more inconvenient scandals might get bandied about, no doubt leading to her embarrassment if that jilted tech ever spoke up.
As Viktor made his way slowly toward the door he’d come in from he briefly considered tucking the pretty, lacy things into the drawer of her desk. It was a sweetly devious thought, to be sure; to watch her discover her underwear laid neatly in her desk and have to wonder who knew, who put them there. Perhaps he could leave a clever little note beneath… no. No. Then she’d know, and no one could ever know that he’d just… just hid there and watched. It surely didn’t matter how sweetly she’d moaned his name or begged for him, if she knew he’d seen everything and done nothing? No, she’d hate him, find him repulsive.
Viktor paused at the door, hand sliding into his pocket, the delicate lace brushing the tips of his fingers as he glanced behind himself.
No one could ever know.
And those panties were coming home with him.