Work Text:
Velvette barged through the door without knocking, as she so often was inclined.
Maybe a few years ago, Vox would have jolted, snapped, frenetically closed all of his tabs. Instead, he didn’t bother with looking up from his computer screen.
“Why, good evening to you, too, Velvette.”
Velvette brisked right past him at his desk without so much as a greeting. She immediately pursued the bed instead. “God, it’s been a day.” Her voice was tight, uncharacteristically stiff, vaguely unnerving to Vox. The mattress creaked as she flopped down, clearly making herself at home.
“And what brings you here at the bright hour of…” He trailed off for a beat, his showman cadence momentarily faltering as he checked the time. “...Eleven o’clock.”
“I’m wound up,” she answered without hesitation. “I can’t sleep, thinkin’ about the bullshit I’ve been through today.”
“Hmm,” Vox hummed sympathetically, indulging her. “Melissa didn’t clean you up well enough?”
“What?”
The sharpness in her bark had Vox’s hands stalling on the keyboard. He twisted back in his chair just enough to glance at her, casting a playful smirk. “Clean your floor, I mean.” He gestured to the ground, alluding to the prior disaster of fabrics and dyes. “One rogue model really can fuck up an entire studio, huh?”
She looked skeptical, but conceded all the same. “You’re telling me.” She was mercifully disarmed after his clarification. “I’m just fuckin’ angry.” She huffed, rolling over on the bed, her pink nightgown wrinkling.
Vox turned back to his computer, but she continued to ruminate behind him.
“She wasn’t ugly, either. She could’ve been a decent face.”
“You thought she was pretty?”
“She was pretty.”
Vox raised his brows faintly, wearing his intrigue. He continued to type, but also pried. “Did you get to talk to her? Tell her to get dinner with you, or something?”
“Oh, fuck no!” Velvette instantly protested. “The fuck would I want to do that for?”
Vox lifted his hands in surrender, leaning back in the chair. “Hey, you never know.” He let the swivel seat rotate slowly, enough to meet Velvette’s offended stare. “You did say she was pretty. Excuse me for assuming there could’ve been some…”
Velvette practically vibrated on the bed, impatient. She leaned forward from where she sat on her knees. “Some what?”
“...Some desire.”
“Oh, did I like her?” She seemed almost disappointed, as though the reveal of the question was anticlimactic. “I mean, I totally would’ve cracked, if that’s what you’re saying.”
Vox couldn’t stifle his confusion, cocking his head skeptically. “So, you did like her?”
“I mean, she had good boobs, nice lips.”
Vox faltered, dumbfounded for a moment, but schooling himself not to judge outwardly. Velvette would never open up to him like this if he could not be an understanding listening ear. “...So, why wouldn’t you want to take her on a date, then?”
“Because she’s boring.”
He finally laughed, a delighted chuckle. “Oh, Velvette, that’s a bit shallow, don’t you think?” He teased, but not without understanding.
“Oh, please, they’re all fuckin’ boring!” She finally matched his grin, entirely proud of her sweeping assessment. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t sexy.” She shrugged indifferently, before adding, “...Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fuck.”
Vox nodded pensively, taking this information in.
Maybe it was a generational divide. Velvette’s crowd was all wound up in immediacy, instant gratification, short-term boosts of pleasure. Of course, Vox had long since learned to capitalize on it—but he still found it especially strange for a woman to decenter intimacy, let alone belittle it with such ease. Women in his time wanted to be loved, held, protected, and cared for. Velvette contradicted that standard with flying colors.
Vox almost pitied the women who wanted her.
But he tried in earnest to understand her. Velvette mattered far more than any of the dames that fell at her feet—so at the end of the day, whatever she wanted would go in Vox’s mind. That was how it should be.
He cleared his throat, plastering on his most playful smile, just like Val might have done to appeal to her girlhood. Vox could try his best.
“...Well, did you want to fuck—to have sex with her?”
Velvette stirred on the bed agitatedly, rolling onto her stomach. She shot a wounded glance his way, before burying her face into her folded arms. “Yeah…”
Vox nearly gasped upon hearing the admission.
Oh, this was rich.
He inexplicably found himself wanting to kick his feet and join her at the bedside. It felt strangely exciting. “Do you still want to?”
“Well no, I’m not desperate.” She sounded bitter and disgruntled, muffled into her arms. “I’m not gonna chase the bitch after she fucked up my studio. It’s not like there’s anything special about her, anyway.”
“But you would’ve wanted to if she hadn’t done all that?” Vox had no idea why he felt so invested in this—nor why the unfortunate loss of potential was disappointing to him, too.
He supposed it was because he knew how much Velvette deserved to feel good. It twinged his chest a little to see her so pent-up, brimming with withheld desire, yet lacking in the means to satisfy it. Without the desire to go on a date, Velvette hadn’t found a lady to share her whims with tonight, and clearly she was in the mood.
And evidently, it was weighing on her—enough to bring her here, to Vox’s office, at eleven o’clock.
He cut right to the chase. “Well, what do you need from me, Vel?” He leaned forward, steepling his hands. “Need me to find you a woman? Want me to have Val snag you some Love Potions from your inventory?” He tilted his head, pressing forth with options. “Or is it just you and me tonight? You needed a friend, some company? I can turn on a movie, grab some blankets, order a pizza…”
She lifted her face finally, her perfectly coiffed curtain bangs now mussed and disheveled. She did look grievously beautiful, even while flustered. “You don’t need to do fuckin’ anything, Vox.”
Vox tried not to look taken aback. “Oh?” He sat back, leaning against the chair. “Well, would you rather us just sit in silence, then, or—”
In one sweeping motion, Velvette threw her legs off the side of the bed, sliding her dainty bare feet down to the floor. Plastic ticked as she sauntered closer. “Just sit your ass down.”
“I’m already sitting, Vel—”
He had barely gotten the words out before Velvette planted herself right on Vox’s spread leg, mounting his thigh. Her nightgown rid up immediately upon straddling, the lacy trim rising until it was nearly useless. Her pink underwear was on full display, hugging her smooth crotch. Velvette scooted up, sliding her barely-clothed cunt across his thigh all the way.
Vox’s mouth fell open in a bewildered gape, his eyes widening as he watched without interference. What the Hell, Velvette?
“Don’t say a fucking word.”
“Oh, I wasn’t gonna say any—”
One thin finger pressed against his mouth, blocking his screen. “Hush, Vox. I don’t want to hear your voice.” Without a moment more to prepare him, she dropped her hand and held his shoulders instead. Velvette’s brows faintly screwed up in concentration, and her eyes fell down to her own crotch, pressed against his leg.
His gaze followed of its own accord, landing down at her undies, pink and pretty and practically see-through. The outline of her folds stood out to Vox, spread open on either side of his thigh. He tried hard not to stare, to respect her. Velvette looked stunning, delicious even, but he could not get carried away with that train of thought. It would do far too much harm to their friendship, and their business partnership, if he allowed himself to indulge his attraction. He had spent enough years successfully locking those desires away.
But now, with Velvette invading his personal space, her panty-clad vagina spread over his slacks, he had to bite his lip to distract himself from other insatiable, painful sensations creeping in.
After a moment, Velvette slowly began to move on his lap. Her hips faintly rocked, rubbing the slightest friction between her genitals onto his leg. Vox could feel her, her beautifully soft flower kissing his thigh with each little movement back and forth.
When she ground a little deeper, Vox could see the moment Velvette managed to rub all the way up to her clit. Her face changed as soon as it happened. Her eyes slipped closed, a faint sigh escaping her lips. The reward somehow filled Vox with pride, despite having almost nothing to do with her pleasure aside from sitting quietly and practicing discipline as he let her use his leg to her own ends.
After she had hit the sweet spot, the ferocity of her movements began to pick up. Arousal took hold, and her body moved of its own accord to please herself. The gentle rubbing gradually turned into quicker, harder movements—until she was outright humping Vox’s thigh.
More open noises spilled out of her mouth, delectable little moans of pleasure. A soft squelch of liquids accompanied her ride, and Vox began to feel moisture seeping through his slacks, dripping through on his leg. Beneath her ass, streaks of her juices were darkening both her underwear and Vox’s pants. She was making a bit of a mess, for certain, and seemed utterly heedless of how much of it she was spreading.
He did not dare interrupt. He had no intention of inducing any guilt, any discomfort, or any invasiveness. Instead, he risked luxuriating in the show for several moments, witnessing in real time as more cream seeped through her underwear and between their bodies, pouring out of her pussy in rapid succession as she thoroughly got herself off. She clearly had been pent-up, in desperate need of a release like this.
Vox valiantly tried to remain normal. He knew very well that this meant nothing for Velvette. She needed something, personal to her, and she trusted Vox not to apply further meaning onto it—even more than she trusted the women she knew, who she preferred to fuck, but did not desire a date with. Vox would not pursue or expect a date with her after this, simply because of the intercourse she craved tonight. He supposed that was why Velvette had come to him instead.
Still, every time she shuddered on his lap with a blissful wave of pleasure, or her legs locked around his thigh as she rode a hard thrust, Vox threatened to short-circuit. Inside of his pants, he was growing a hard-on. He could not help it. The most beautiful and intelligent woman he knew was riding out lust-struck heaven on his lap, using his body to satisfy herself. She came to him horny, and had decided that Vox was going to help, whether he volunteered for it or not. It was almost too delicious to resist sticking his own hand down his pants and joining her.
Yet, he withheld. He stifled his urges, breathing deeply and casting his eyes up to the ceiling for a break as his own arousal grew. He needed to stay composed, no matter how agonizingly divine this was. Vox was not going to make it about himself. After decades behind a camera, he was a master at exercising self-control when the time called for it.
The room smelled thick of her arousal. For several prolonged seconds, Velvette’s humping slowed concentratedly, her eyes squeezing, her brows drawing up. “Fuck…” She moaned, reveling in the blessed sensation of stimulating herself. She drew in a deep breath, biting her lip, a whine escaping. “God…” Her hands gripped Vox’s shoulders for leverage, and she began to grind deeper, harsher, pushing her pussy deep against his thigh in rising desperation. “Fuuuck…”
Vox couldn’t help looking back down, his eyebrows lifting in excitement. She was close. She was so clearly close. He stifled the urge to talk her through it, knowing that for Velvette, that would ruin it. He simply needed to sit back and let her finish this off the way she needed to.
Waiting it out paid off, because even more delectably—one of Velvette’s hands slipped down the front of her pink underwear, her fingers immediately finding her clit. With wet rubs, she stimulated herself expertly, drawing little circles on her bud the exact way she knew felt good to her. It immediately induced helpless moans, her head falling back as she cried out in pre-orgasm ecstacy. A giant grin split her features, tears and a tiny string of drool spilling over. “God, yeeees…”
With her hand buried in her panties, the thin, soaked fabric became askew, moving around. Her pussy was hardly even covered anymore, and she rubbed it bare on Vox, squirting her juices all over his leg without care or regard. He could feel the little cunt spasming, clenching around nothing, then opening to shoot out more fluid across his leg.
“FUCK!” She cackled brilliantly, seeming to finally reach her sought-after peak. The orgasm flowed through her viciously, her entire body trembling as the endorphins rushed in.
Marvelous to Vox, her pussy squirted numerous times. Vox could not look away as the clear fluid shot out of her urethra, directly onto his sopping leg. Even as she was finishing, she still scrubbed her fingers relentlessly over her clit, which was swollen and throbbing, visible to Vox. She had to be so sensitive, but she continued to fuck herself ruthlessly. She only paused every few circles whenever another squirt shot out through her fingers, then promptly continued to milk herself of her entire orgasm directly after each one.
It lasted remarkably long, far longer than Valentino’s or Vox’s ever seemed to. It was like the female anatomy was brimmed full of cum, so her orgasm never seemed to end.
But once it finally did, Velvette slumped forward, all of the tension draining out of her. Her head thunked down on Vox’s shoulder, her eyes slipping shut. She automatically snaked her hand out of her panties, lethargically wiping her sticky fingers on Vox’s ruined pant leg.
Vox didn’t know if he was permitted to speak yet. He also didn’t know whether backrubs, comfort, any sort of aftercare would do her any good. Was that too close to dating territory for Velvette’s liking?
She breathed heavily where she laid limp, her breath hot and stuttering against Vox’s neck. She appeared to be recouping for several minutes.
Vox waited it out, sitting still, devoutly quiet, loyally prepared to help her clean-up if she should wish for it.
Finally, after a prolonged period of silently reveling in the aftershocks, Velvette pulled herself back up at last. “God, I needed that,” she stated bluntly.
Vox took it as an invitation. He couldn’t keep the fond chuckle out of his voice when he spoke again at last. “Did you now?”
“Yes. God, yes, I did.” She scooted herself back to the end of his leg, then slid off his knee. She immediately wrenched her nightgown back down over her ass. “That was heavenly.”
“Heavenly, you say?”
She looked up from her clothes to shoot a brief, halfhearted glare at him. “Don’t take the verbiage too seriously.”
The implications were not lost on him. He had tried to reach Godhood not long prior. Once again, he couldn’t suppress his amusement.
“But it felt good?”
She casually began to meander towards Vox’s closet, attention already directed elsewhere. “Obviously. I know exactly how to please myself, thank you very much.” She pulled the doors open like the room belonged to her. She began to rifle through his underwear drawer. “I need to borrow clothes tonight.”
Vox did a double-take, craning his head to see what she was up to. “You need my clothes?”
“What, are you gonna make me go all the way back up there?” She confidently selected a pair of his boxers, then waded through his t-shirts next. “I’m already here, aren’t I? Can’t I just borrow pajamas?”
He watched on for a moment, orienting his circumstances and carefully considering his next words.
Before he could manage any, she spun around, adorably holding the clothes in front of herself. The shirt dangled all the way to her calves. “How does this look?” She glanced down at the tee—white with red hearts on it, originally lent from Valentino’s closet—before scoffing with a wave of her hand as clarity struck. “Actually, why am I asking you for fashion advice? I’m wearing this.”
“Oh—Well, certainly. It looks nice, Velvette.”
She ignored him, confidently sauntering towards Vox’s bathroom. She didn’t spare him a passing glance. “I’m showering first. You can go after me.”
There was absolutely no room for argument. Somehow, Velvette had taken control of not only the entire afternoon, but into the night, as well. Vox was devoid of a retort. Instead, he just smiled and gestured for her to proceed. “Certainly,” he agreed chivalrously. “Be my guest.”
The door swung shut behind her in a blur—and just like that, the whirlwind of Velvette had passed, leaving Vox stunned in her wake.
Autopilot finally began to turn off. Vox slowly returned to his senses, found his way back to the steering wheel, and reality began to catch up in waves.
His leg felt cold in the chill of his room, soaked to the flesh in Velvette’s excretions. His trousers were visibly smeared with streaks of milky white and shiny clear fluid.
Velvette had made quite the mess of him.
Despite the jarring nature of it all, Vox couldn’t help the faint smile pulling at his lips. By the time she was finished, Velvette’s mood had clearly improved exponentially. She spoke and moved with the confidence she deserved, euphoria flooding through her after she finally received the orgasm that she needed.
As peculiar as it was, Vox was honored that she had chosen him tonight when she needed someone. Velvette had trusted him to relieve what she had bottled up, then proceeded on with their friendship as it ever once was. Now she would use his shower, wear his clothes, and doze off in his bed as they had done a million times before. There was no repulsion, aversion, or fear when she was with Vox. She was truly comfortable to be herself.
In honesty, how Velvette operated seemed freeing.
And it made sense. In using him for such an overtly sexual display, she had given Vox every reason to indulge his arousal. Instead, he proved why Velvette had trusted him in the first place. Vox’s attraction did not need to result in sex. And Velvette’s sexual satisfaction did not inherently suggest attraction. They were different, and they co-existed well this way. They worked well together, given how thoroughly they understood and respected one another.
Thus, he granted her full access to his bathroom and clothes, and without a sliver of intrusion or presumption. Should she wish for him to join, he would wait for her to ask. Otherwise, his friend held full power over what she permitted or did not permit to share with him. That was understood by Vox. That was the crux of the trust built between them. That was the foundation of the partnership and friendship forged among the Vees.
Thus, he waited his turn.
Vox may not have been able to concentrate on his work again for the rest of the evening, but part of him felt like just this once, he had tackled a more important task to close out the night at the Tower.