Mr. Love Queen's Choice

Seductive Touch

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen's Choice

Pairing: Victor x Reader

Summary: Victor wakes up to find you wearing nothing but his shirt

You're standing in his kitchen, bare legs poking out from underneath the billowing hem of one of his dress shirts, body swaying to some internal melody. Your hair whispers against the collar of the shirt - his shirt; he can't get over that - the way your hair dances between your shoulder blades. Victor stands on the threshold to his office, transfixed.

The way you move, light and lithe, your body bending and curving about the obstacles of furniture and appliances like you've been doing it forever, hypnotizes him. The tips of his fingers itch with the need to touch you, to feel your smooth skin under his hands, but touching would mean moving and he's not ready to give up his vantage point just yet.

He loves watching you when you're unaware of his gaze. Catching you in small moments of intimacy that fill him with warmth, making his breath catch in his throat. Moments that remind him that you're real and here and his. The way you run your fingers down the empty sleeve of his jacket when you place your own next to it in the closet, a private smile curling the soft edges of your lips. Your habit of turning the pages of a novel with a dampened fingertip, tongue trapped between your teeth. How you kiss his jaw when you think he's asleep, body warm and pliant next to his in the dark.

Your hips rock in time to the clink of metal against porcelain as you stir your coffee. The shirt rides up your thigh when you lift the cup to your mouth, lips pursed to blow at the swirling steam, exposing the rounded swell of your ass and he pushes off the door and walks quickly toward you, the need to touch overtaking the desire to watch.

"I was wondering when you were going to give in and come over here," you murmur as he steps up behind you, pressing his lips to the warm plane of your shoulder blade.

"You knew I was watching?"

"I did, Victor," you laugh. He nudges into the spill of your hair with his nose, planting a wet kiss to the base of your neck. "You're not as covert as you like to think."

"I need to work on my spying skills?"

"Or just stop staring at me creepily from across the room."

"So I should stare at you creepily up close then?"

"Are you going to speak in anything other than interrogatives today?"

Victor nips at your ear, hands curling around your waist. "Do you have any idea how hot you are, standing in my kitchen at six a.m., wearing my shirt, and using words like 'interrogatives'?"

You sigh and lean back into his chest, the coffee cup thumping heavily on the countertop. His lips dance down your neck, the subtle scent of yesterday's perfume on the tip of his tongue. You grip his hands and tug, pulling his arms around your waist. A moan rolls through your chest when he pops open the single button holding the shirt closed and scrapes his blunt nails across your stomach, "You like that?"

You hum, your head falling back onto his shoulder. "You know what I like."

"Do I?" Victor switches the positions of your right hands, laying your open palm against the soft skin of your stomach, his palm pressed over the back, fingers filling in the spaces between yours. "Why don't you show me?"

Turning your head, you catch his mouth, coffee flavored tongue gliding over his bottom lip. Your joined hands slide up your stomach, your arm flexing and twisting under his. He breaks the kiss and watches, your hand swallowed by his, only your fingers visible as they slide up your chest, through the valley of your breasts. You cover his left hand with your own, fingers slipping between his as you push, moving your hands down to run over the outside of your bare thigh.