Chapter Text
The first time you met Viktor, he’d been wide-eyed and unable to look away. Not for the reasons you’d think - there wasn’t romance in his eyes, but pure wonder. Vastayans aren’t as common in Piltover, even less in the Undercity, and from what Jayce had told you, Viktor had spent enough time in both.
But he’s polite, he’s pleasant in the sort of way that screams there’s more to him under the surface and he’s simply providing a front for your comfort. Like he doesn’t expect you to delve any further than the smalltalk and simpering. There’s still a wideness to those eyes though, flicking to your non-human features when he doesn’t think you can see him do so.
You leave it at that, assuming it’s wonder from seeing the matching ears and tail and sharp little teeth in your mouth. And that works for a time, enough that your relationship stays strictly professional for months before something slips. It’s a little embarrassing, now that you look back at it - both your reaction and Viktor’s.
As an independent contractor, here simply to learn and expand your horizons while also securing funding from the council thanks to diversity. Whether that’s from your gender or your race, you try not to look at it too closely. Jayce seems to value your presence for your mind and not the extra digits added to the budget.
Viktor, on the other hand, kept his distance up until the incident. When you were working closer to the windows on categorizing some of their older research to make it easier to come back to it later. The sun had lowered at the perfect angle to come through and you’re blissfully warm. Enough that your eyes start to droop and your tail starts to sway and you’re unaware that you’ve begun to purr.
But Viktor notices, and his work grinds to a halt as he watches you blink slowly at the papers in your lap and rumble quietly from somewhere at the bottom of your throat. At first you don’t notice his gaze, not while you’ve been struck speechless by the sun shafts coming through with the sole purpose of sending you into a stupor.
And then he laughs. Low and beneath his breath, but your ears flick and you hear it as clear as day. You try to tell yourself it’s not committed to memory, but something about it warms your insides just like the sun is warming your skin. Just like you can feel the heat of his eyes as they swim in amusement at your predicament.
Like being dunked in frigid water, the two of you realize the situation. Your purr stops, Viktor’s laughter dies into a choked cough, and you find an excuse to leave as fast as possible. He doesn’t stop you, but for some reason you wish he had.
Viktor doesn’t mention it, and neither do you, but there are signs that it hasn’t been dropped in the slightest. That Viktor hasn’t forgotten your embarrassing instinctual habit. You haven’t forgotten his laughter either, quiet and rumbling and echoing in your mind almost every night before you sleep.
The first sign is that Viktor watches you again. From the corner of his eye, and never directly but your eyesight is far better than his own. It’s impossible to hide that golden color when it flashes at the edges of your vision when he thinks you won’t see. At first, you thought you were doing something wrong, but he never said a word about it. That’s when you started to find a bit of comfort in it.
It felt nice, having his attention.
The second sign is that Viktor starts to talk to you after months of being merely civil. Now he’s asking about your day, asking how you take your coffee (“I can’t drink coffee. Caffeine is as close to poison as it gets for me.”), and instead offering you a treat so amazing that it’s a wonder you haven’t come across it before.
Sweetmilk, he calls it, spiced with anise and usually served warm. The first time he offers his to you, it’s like an entire world has opened up before your eyes. Viktor laughs again as your pupils dilate and you hold the cup with both hands. The sound catches your attention more than the scent of the drink ever could, and you realize with dread that you’re purring again.
The third sign, and this comes immediately after the second, is that Viktor has found a new game to play that you never really agreed to participate in, but you never have tried to stop it, either. Viktor is observant, more so than anyone you’ve ever met, and that makes him your enemy in this unspoken game.
Viktor tries to make you purr at every turn. Whether it’s giving you sweetmilk in the afternoons when he returns from his lunch, deliberately giving you work to do that will put you perfectly in the path of the sun shafts that move across the room during the afternoons, or - and this one makes you pause and really think about the implications - he uses a new cologne that seems to strike every chord in your heart like a sonorous clocktower bell.
Nothing is ever done by Viktor without purpose. Sure, he does sometimes act on a whim, but never this extensive and never this deliberate. It never crosses into anything untoward, nothing that would truly make you feel anything other than an embarrassment over your body’s basest instincts. Even when he finally pushes the boundary one more time, you don’t feel as if you’re trapped.
Perhaps that’s what he’s been working you toward all along.
You’re alone with him, puttering away as you usually do, sitting in the sun with paperwork in your lap and your breath measured carefully to avoid the rumble you know he’s waiting for. If you’re being honest, maybe you’re a bit grateful that he’s done this, if only because it’s teaching you how to suppress it on your own.
When you don’t purr for him, Viktor gets to his feet and begins the trek across the lab. There’s no point in trying to sneak up on you. Even if you didn’t have excellent hearing, the sound of his cane and his new leg brace shifting would be enough to warn anyone. At a glance, you realize he’s come to a stop just in front of you, carefully positioned to avoid blocking out the sun.
Jerk.
“Do you need something, Viktor? I could have brought it over for you, you didn’t need to get up.”
“Yes, I suppose you could have, but… you looked comfortable.”
There’s a few layers to that one sentence that you don’t have time to unpack when his eyes flicker over you and leave you with a warmth that isn’t coming from the light. Patiently, you wait for him to make his request, and it’s by far not what you were expecting.
“Can I… touch them?”
It takes his eyes pointedly looking at the soft appendages sitting at the top of your head for you to realize what he’s asking. Your first instinct is to near-hiss at him for being so forward, but you tamp it down with an iron grip - you haven’t done that since you were a kitten, and you’re not about to do it now when he so-obviously doesn’t know what he’s asking.
“That’s um… Viktor…”
“I’m sorry, was that too much? Did I cross a line?” Viktor, to his credit, begins to look mortified. A gentle flush begins to creep on his cheeks as he takes a small step back, giving you distance that you aren’t necessarily asking for.
“Pull up a chair,” You instruct him, and he stills before you with disbelief, shaking himself out of it after a long moment of silence when you jerk your chin toward the closest rolling chair. Viktor takes it, wheeling closer once more when you beckon him.
That’s when you tell him what he’s been trying to sleuth out on his own - the habits and intricacies of Feline Vastayans. How you purr when you’re happy or content, your preferences for certain foods, and the reason you balked at his wish to feel your ears is that it’s a privilege typically reserved for grooming as a child and a lover as an adult.
Viktor is not your lover, but as he listens with rapt attention and questions you delicately, genuinely giving you all his attention because he finds you interesting, you start to wish that he was.
Maybe you could have been selfish, told him that he could touch them and live that little dream for a moment. Something you’ve never had anyone do with you because you’ve never found someone that calls out to your heart like Viktor has, slowly worming his way between your heart strings without even knowing.
When silence falls, when Viktor has no more questions and you have no more answers, Viktor finally apologizes with a look far too sheepish for someone who hadn’t known what they were asking, “I’m sorry, for being forward with you. Thank you for humoring me for a moment.”
Far longer than a moment - the sun has set long ago.
“You can ask whatever you want to know, Viktor. You should know that by now.”
The smile on his lip is wavering, almost like his heart isn’t in it. Or maybe it is, and a smile isn’t the right emotion for him to be showing compared to what’s going on inside. Before you can ask what’s on his mind, Viktor gladly tells you of his own accord.
“Could I? Just once?”
Viktor doesn’t need to elaborate; You can extrapolate his meaning enough to know he’s circled back to the twitching, tufted appendages that jostle at his question. Instead of answering right away, or giving an emphatic yes, as many times as you want, you scoot forward a little closer until you’re sitting at his feet, knees parted naturally with how he has to position himself to be comfortable.
“No one’s ever… I mean not since I was a kitten, I mean, but… I mean, it wouldn’t hurt. I trust you.”
“You do?” Viktor sounds dumbfounded for some reason, like the two of you hadn’t been in close quarters working together for months now. Yes, it’s intimate, and yes, maybe you’re not being subtle with the way you want things to proceed, but if you’re being honest… You’re on an entirely uncharted course here.
Slowly, one of his hands raise above your field of vision, inching closer to the top of your head. The sensory hairs feel him first, screaming at you that you’ve got someone intruding on your space, but you ignore them in favor of the immediate bliss that ensues when his fingers cup around the back and smooths his thumb along the front, following the direction of the fur.
Gods above, you’re nearly shaking the floor with the rumble that comes from your throat, your eyes sliding closed to hide the fact that they’re nearly rolling in your skull. It’s amazing, better than you ever could do on your own, and you find your cheek falling to his knee to seek support. It’s perfect, something you could sit and relish in for hours, and it’s shattered further by his other hand mimicking the motion on your other ear.
It’s too much, the way his touch is making your nerves sing a song you’ve never heard before. You’re nearly curled against his legs now, leaning on him heavily and soaking in the warmth of his hands and the inexplicable comfort you’re gaining from such a simple, rhythmic motion. Something makes Viktor laugh, and you crack your eyes open just enough to notice that your tail has wrapped around his leg, latching yourself onto him with little shame.
How could you feel ashamed of this?
Quietly, Viktor says something that sounds like your name. You shift your head, just enough to look up at him without compromising the position you’ve found yourself in. And you’re astounded - Viktor’s pupils are blown, the golden gaze is gone and replaced with something darker and heated and wanting.
“Does it have to be… just the once?”
Viktor couldn’t be more clear, even if he’d come out and said it. You do him the honor of returning that honesty with your own, mumbled but still coherent, “It doesn’t.”
From his position above you, Viktor’s features are thrown into sharp relief with the long shadows stemming from the glow of the city outside. It’s grown darker since you started, an indeterminate amount of time having passed while you essentially dropped into a trance at his hands. Hands that have stilled in their movement, to your disappointment.
The new light on his face makes it easy to see the way his jaw works for a moment, working over his words on his tongue before he finally decides it’s time to ask, “Can I kiss you?”
It feels hazy, his question barely making it through the blood rushing in your ears and the purring from your throat. Still, you hear it, and you can’t stop yourself from nodding once in response. The hands on your ears slide down to cup your jaw on both sides, guiding you up enough for him to bend down and do exactly that, his lips soft and imploring but not taking it further than the simple gesture of contact.
But you want more, need more, because his touch and his actions have stirred something inside you, that you’ve only ever given a passing glance to. It’s desperate and greedy and you’ve got to have his hands everywhere and all at once before your mind frays too much at the edges. When he tries to pull away, you follow him and nearly crawl into his lap with the motion. The chair rolls a bit, forcing you to cling to his shoulders for purchase.
Viktor gets the hint, abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping them around your hips to guide you into the comfortable position you’d been seeking. Your thighs slot around his hips and he pulls you even closer at the sudden warmth between your legs.
Against your lips, Viktor tries to ask, “A-Are you sure you want-”
“Yes. I-I’ve never-... I want it to be you, though. I need it to be.”
There’s that quiet laugh again, far more clear now that you’ve given him a little room to breathe. Viktor takes in your warm cheeks, your dilated pupils, the way your tail is already curling around his back to anchor you against him. That golden gaze, as thin as it is with his own darkened eyes, makes you feel equal parts warm and intimidated.
But his words soothe the latter, “Since you begged so sweetly. As if I could tell you no - I’ve been taken by you since the very beginning,” The term rolls off the tongue, and though it’s unfamiliar and would feel out of place coming from anyone else, with Viktor it feels as comfortable as your own name.
Your skirt, already riding up from the position, creeps higher as his fingers trace along the inside of your thigh. With a whine, your breath hitches as he comes so close to touching you but stopping short. There’s a little smile on his face, crooked and knowing as he watches your reaction, and his free hand finds the base of your tail at your back.
“Your tail fur stands on end when you get excited or upset. Which are you right now, I wonder?”
“Impatient,” You urge him, and for the first time you rock yourself forward and down into the growing hardness that you’d been feeling beneath you. Viktor’s jaw slackens at the friction, and after a fluttering of his eyelids to compose himself, his fingers finally press against the fabric covering your arousal.
It’s damp, uncomfortably so - enough that you’re almost entirely sure that you could take him with only nervousness to greet you instead of discomfort, but Viktor is insistent on pushing past your underwear and sliding his fingers through your folds with a pleased hum. The foreign feeling of being touched there isn’t lost on you, and your choked breath interrupts the steady thrum coming from your throat enough to give him pause.
“Still okay?”
“Just nervous. I told you, no one’s ever-”
A kiss silences you, chaste and off-centered toward the side of your mouth. Viktor’s comfort follows, earnest and punctuated with his fingertips rubbing slow circles against your clit, “You’ve no need to be nervous. I’ll take care of you.”
Your tension is from anticipation rather than nervousness now, building higher as he caresses his fingers against you and moves them lower to your entrance. Two poised at your entrance for a half-second, giving you ample time to stop him if you changed your mind. You have not, and they curl inside you with one smooth thrust of his fingers.
The sudden intrusion makes you curl against him, your forehead finding the junction of his neck and shoulder and pressing tightly against his skin there. Doing this on your own has never felt this good, even on your best days, and he’s only given you two fingers that move in a lazy rhythm. Every insertion, his fingers press against the front of your walls and find the most sensitive area, dragging a whine from you that he seems to relish in with how his pace picks up and he continues to coax it from you over and over.
That whine turns into a moan, and that moan sounds almost like his name if you could be a bit more coherent. His hand is still on your back, pushing you into rocking against him in time with his fingers. He’s getting that friction too, ragged little sighs leaving him every time you press down against his clothed cock.
“Y-You’re… You’re doing so well. So good for me. Can you… Can you take another?”
Rather than speak, you nod against him and watch between your bodies as his hand shifts in your underwear and steadily he eases another finger inside you with the first two. The new stretch is another layer on top of your already ruined composure, and you cling to him for support as he spreads them inside to stretch you further.
“V-Viktor, please, I need more of you. I can take it,” You urge him, breathless and voice thin, hardly convincing enough but his fingers slide from you with an obscene wet sound. Holding you with his hand on your back, he leans you away just enough to undo his pants and clumsily shove the fabric down and out of the way until he’s revealed to you.
Viktor is beautiful, but this is something else. Long, thick, and curved just a bit toward his navel. Already, you know it’s going to ruin you - physically, and metaphorically for anyone else. At your open staring, Viktor nudges you up and over him to catch your attention once more. The trance is knocked away, and you instead look back to his eyes with an almost-worried gaze.
“You do it. Take as much of me as you can until you’re full.”
Viktor holds himself with one hand and pushes the fabric of your underwear to the side with the other, leaving you free to maneuver yourself on him at your convenience. Even just pressed against your entrance, he’s large enough to make your heart pound, and you have to force yourself to relax before even letting him slip inside.
It’s not as rough as you expect, whether it's from your arousal or his preparation, Viktor’s cock pushes through and slides the first few inches easily. Until it starts to pinch a bit, and you have to hold yourself aloft for a moment to catch your composure and wait for it to subside. Instead of jumping the gun again, when the discomfort subsides, you follow Viktor’s quiet direction, “Work me inside, just like that. You’re nearly there, look.”
And you are, a furtive glance down showing he’s almost in to the hilt and you’re spread lewdly around him with your arousal gleaming in the low light. With a few more rocking motions, your hips press fully against him, and he groans something akin to relief against the side of your head as you lean on him.
“You feel so good around me, like… like you were made just for me,” Viktor sounds almost awestruck as his head rolls back and he fixes his gaze on the ceiling rather than where you’re joined together. On the other hand, you can barely look away, even as you raise off him and catch sight of his cock coming out, then going back inside just as smoothly. It’s the closest thing to bliss you can note, the way he’s filling you so perfectly.
As you establish a rhythm, unfamiliar and stumbling as it is, Viktor takes over and uses his hands to one more push and pull your hips along him until he’s got you right where he wants you - seeing stars as you lean back and his cock brushes against that same spot from before with every grind.
When he’s satisfied, that’s when his thumb finds your clit to apply just enough pressure for you to nudge against. It’s perfect, better than anything you’ve done to yourself and far exceeding any expectations you’d had. On top of your own pleasure, Viktor is getting his own just as easily, judging by the quiet grunts and choked sighs of encouragement that come from him as you grow more comfortable.
When your toes are curling and you’re feeling so much more wound up than ever before, Viktor destroys you with a single touch, a closing of his fingers around your ear again as he mimics the motions from before. It’s embarrassing the sound you make - somewhere between a harsh sob and a broken moan as you snap.
Even in the throes of it, as your mind feels like it’s been stuffed full with cotton and the world starts to grow less important, you can feel Viktor twitch inside you before he chases his own pleasure, setting a rhythm of his own as he drags you on his cock. His hand is still grabbing you, still petting almost too-roughly against your sensitive ear despite the pleasure it’s still ruining you with, growing more erratic up until he finally moans something in that language you didn’t understand and his back bows on the chair.
In your haze, still quivering from his fingers lazily moving on your ear and his cock stretching you still despite it beginning to soften, you at least have the presence of mind to lean forward and kiss him soundly, careful of the sharpness of your teeth as you do so. Viktor returns the gesture with a silly little smile, pleased and lazy and boneless in the wake of what you’d done together.
Despite the constant simulation, as languid as it is, you come back to yourself and speak first with a quiet, “Thank you, Viktor.”
“Whatever for? You’re the one that’s gifted me, I’ve been nothing but greedy with you for so long now,” Incredulous, you lift your head to look at him, and while he’s looking tired he’s got a giddiness about him that shows in the slant of his smile, “Chasing those little reactions from you, learning how to make you happy, selfishly asking to touch your ears when I should’ve known better… And there’s more that you don’t know about, things that I’ve thought about you that shouldn’t be said.”
You’re sure you can think of what he’s implying, and under normal circumstances you’d be endlessly embarrassed that he’s being so bold with these newfound feelings. However, you’ve been filled by him in more ways than one, his touch is still bringing you goosebumps, his body is warming you thoroughly… you can’t bring yourself to be anything but content.
“There’s um… something else you should know, Viktor. I didn’t say it before but ah… well, now’s the time I think.”
His question comes as a hum as his eyes fall closed slightly, his exhaustion showing in the half-lidded stare. It almost makes you regretful for what you say next, “Feline Vastayans have um… notoriously high libidos.”
Slowly Viktor’s eyes open, just as you shift on his lap and grind yourself against him again, and he has the audacity to laugh, not the silly quiet thing from before, but something full-bodied and almost out of place coming from him. It’s not malicious, nor is it mocking. If anything, it’s the culmination of that building giddiness and anticipation from before, made manifest.
“We’ll need to retire to my rooms then. I can’t take care of you properly like this, rolling around in a chair and rutting like animals in the lab. Jayce would be mortified.”
“What are we waiting for? I need you.”
“Alright, alright. Insatiable. Come then, I won’t leave you wanting.”