Chapter 28: I Make Up for Lost Time
The kettle begins to whistle, and Viktor slowly untangles himself from me with a quiet sigh. His lips linger on my forehead as he takes a step back and focuses on making tea, completely silent. I swallow away the emotion building in my throat and round his kitchen island, sitting at one of the stools and smoothing out the letter from the Bats while I wait.
Viktor hands me a steaming mug of tea before taking a seat beside me, a mug in his hand. He says, "Tell me."
So, I do. We talk about the details of my contract, about how I have five years with the Bats before we'll have to see whether I stay or move on, and we talk about the new broom they're going to size me for next week, and we even talk about the schedule for games and practices.
Viktor says, "You know you and I will play each other at least twice."
"I know."
He smiles and sips from his tea, watching me over the brim with those warm brown eyes dancing with amusement.
I ask, "Who do you think will win?"
"Well," he says and sets his mug down, stifling his grin, "I am a better seeker than yours, but you are a better chaser than all of mine. We will be well-matched."
"I missed you," I tell him even though we've had this conversation before because the realization sneaks up on me every time we interact. His absence in my life has been dreadful. He's a friend and a confidant and he's mine.
I am so incredibly lucky.
I scoot to the edge of my stool and press my thigh against his, brushing my fingers over his knee. His eyes are on my hand, watching as it slides further up his thigh. Halfway up, I brace my hand and lean forward to kiss him.
This time, Viktor doesn't protest.
This kiss is all about lost time. If I kiss him hard enough, maybe all those weeks we spent apart will disappear. Viktor's hands close on the back of my stool, and he tugs it closer to him. I grip harder on his thigh when the stool jolts forward, but he only groans and winds a strong arm around my waist to keep me steady and close, his lips taking over the kiss.
Our cups are forgotten on the island, the steady stream of steam slowly lost to the air as they lose their heat, and Viktor is grappling at my thigh, tugging me closer and closer until I'm nearly on his lap, our legs tangling together.
"Viktor," I mumble to break the kiss. He responds with a clipped word in Bulgarian that sounds something like 'kakvo', watching me through heavy-lidded eyes. "Bedroom," I say simply, and then we're moving.
He holds me in his arms like I'm something precious and fragile, strong arms wound tight around me as he brings me down a hallway I haven't yet explored, and then he pushes through a door and deposits me on a soft bed, still hovering at the edge.
I take the opportunity to look around his bedroom, which is tidier than mine, with pale green bedding, thick sherpa blankets, and even a small plant on his windowsill. It smells like him in here, clean and warm, and there's a small pile of quidditch equipment piled in the corner.
I grab his arm and tug him onto the bed, and he lets me, careful to avoid landing on me in any capacity. I immediately grasp the hem of his shirt and ask, "Can I take this off you?"
"I—Yes," he says and lifts his arms when I tug the shirt over his head.
I bite down on my lip as I study him—the build of his strong shoulders, his biceps, the hair dusting his chest and below his navel, the subtle ridges of his muscled torso, the sharp cut of his hip bones. He's a sight to behold and my heart begins to beat a little quicker.
I place a hesitant hand on his chest and he leans into my touch, so I begin to feel his skin with more confidence. Warm and firm.
Of course, I've seen him without a shirt before, but Viktor and I never let anything escalate beyond a few wandering touches while we were together during the tournament, despite our relationship lasting over six months. Even before we were officially together, we knew that our relationship was something more than casual. Yet, we never took this step.
But I'm ready now. Now that I know that I'm serious about this and that I'm not going to let hard times ruin what we had. I pull my shirt over my head.
Viktor looks like he could faint as he blinks slowly, his eyes roving over my exposed skin. I lie back on his bed and watch him, waiting for him to make a move.
He does.
Viktor dips his head and places a kiss on my ribcage, right under the band of my bra, his tongue sweeping over my skin. He kisses at the bottom of my sternum, and then down lower until he's right above my belly button, which rises and falls with each deep breath. I lean up to unclasp my bra and his eyes go wide.
"Are you sure?" he asks me, one hand on my ribcage, warming me to the bone.
"Yeah," I say and drop my bra. His fingers brush the swell of my breast as he lets out a reverent sigh, running his thumb over my nipples until they harden. His tongue swipes a quick path over one nipple and I hollow my ribcage to get closer to him. "My pants," I whisper, and Viktor pulls back to hook his fingers into the waistband of my pants, tugging them down my legs and tossing them aside.
My head is full of heat, hazing my thoughts. I wiggle my hips and begin to shift out of my panties when Viktor curses sharply in Bulgarian, absently adjusting his pants. I sit up and grab for the button of his pants, asking permission. When he nods, at a loss for words, I unbutton his pants. He sighs in relief and helps me tug them off, and then he hesitates with his briefs.
"Are you sure?" he asks again, and I nod. Because I am sure, even though I think I might die and I'm terrified.
"Are you?" I ask, and my voice comes out like a whisper as he pulls off his briefs and I catch sight of the rest of his body.
Viktor smiles and presses a kiss on my forehead, settling on top of me. It's almost too much. Intoxicating. Dizzying. My heart might give out because, right now, it feels so full of love and nerves. I reach between us and tentatively brush my fingers against the tip of his length, and he sucks in a sharp breath, jerking away from me.
"No," he says, "don't do that." Before I can apologize and tell him that I didn't mean to cross any boundaries and that I'm just so in love with him and so attracted to him, I feel like I'm about to explode, he says, "I'll cum right now if you touch me."
I exhale a deep, shuddering breath against his lips and tug him closer to me. I'm throbbing and aching, and his self-restraint is killing me. His cheeks are flushed red and, when I place a palm on his chest, his heart is beating just as fast and hard as mine.
"Please, Viktor," I mumble against his lips before licking his bottom lip swiftly. "Please."
His eyes are shut tight as I trace my fingers up his side, letting them dance over his shoulder blade and into the hair on the nape of his neck.
"I want it to be nice for you," he says. "I need a couple of minutes so I can last."
The drawl of his accent and the labor on his vowels has me pressing my body to his, arching my back so our ribs are touching. He drops his head to press a kiss on my jaw, and then he slinks lower, leaving a trail of kisses in the wake of his mouth. I'm holding back little whimpers and pleas as his fingers press firmly into my hips.
"May I?" he asks, fingers sneaking between my thighs.
"Yes," I breathe. "Whatever you want."
Viktor pushes my legs apart and dips his head. Just as I realize what he's doing, I open my mouth to ask him if he really wants to do this, and then—
"Viktor," I moan, letting my head drop onto his pillow. His tongue is between my legs, tracing over my clit, and my thighs are already trembling. He hums to himself and buries his face between my thighs, his forearms closing around my hips to keep me in place like he's afraid I'll run away.
I feel selfish letting him do this, but his eyes are closed, eyebrows drawn together like he's experiencing some immense pleasure, and when he pushes his nose flush against my pelvis, I think he might like this almost as much as I do.
I tangle my fingers in his thick hair and tug, and he groans. I jerk my hand away, eyes snapping open when I realize I might have hurt him even though he hasn't stopped.
"I'm sorry," I manage to force out between whimpers, squirming under him, my hand hovering above his hair.
"'S okay," he slurs, mouth pressed against the apex of my thigh. "I like it." My stomach flutters as I hesitantly sink my hand back into his hair and hold on firmly. He hums in approval and buries his face between my thighs once more. I quiver with anticipation.
And then he starts again. I'm begging him to keep going and to stop and I'm losing my mind. My hips are moving of their own accord, jerking closer to him, and then farther, and I don't know if it's becoming too much or if it's not enough. I tug on his hair and he groans again, fingers tightening on my hips.
"Viktor," I beg, "I'm ready. I want you."
Because I want us to do this together, no matter how much he seems to like what we're doing and how nice it feels. When he pulls away, he seems hesitant—dazed almost—and he traces a finger over the line of my jaw as he settles on top of me again, his weight a comfort, but doing little to distract against the hard length pressed against my thigh.
"It's going to hurt you, I think," he whispers, face close to mine. "We can just do this."
"It's okay," I tell him. "It'll be fine."
"I think I can make you cum with my mouth," he says, eyebrows drawn together, as if that was my concern.
"I think you can too," I say and push my thumb against the corner of his mouth. "I want this, Viktor."
He buries his face in my neck and peppers light kisses. I twirl a strand of his hair around my finger and wrap my leg around the back of his thigh to pull him against me.
"You couldn't ever hurt me," I tell him and kiss the corner of his mouth.
His eyes soften as he dips his head and licks a line up the column of my throat, his hand closing around his length to rub against me. He prods my clit gently, sliding between the bud and my entrance over and over again until he's coated in my arousal, gliding against me smoothly.
He's slow about it, rubbing against me and kissing my skin and whispering to me, sometimes in English, sometimes in Bulgarian. I'm drunk from his kisses, mind fuzzy with arousal. Every point of contact is pleasure, and I can't get enough, so I guide him to where I need him and encourage him, promising him I'll stop him if it's too much.
Viktor finally tries to slide into me and, as is to be expected, it doesn't go very smoothly, so he keeps rubbing against me and tentatively pushing. And it hurts like he said, but I try not to let it show, which I'm pretty good at until he coaxes my legs a bit wider and he slides into me. Then, it's a stretching and a deep pain, so I bite down on my lip as involuntary tears prick at my eyes—they're more from surprise and instinct than anything. Viktor is frozen, chest heaving.
He asks, "Are you okay? Should I keep going?"
"You're not in all the way yet?" I ask and a tear escapes my eye, rolling down my cheek. I giggle at myself, a bit embarrassed by the tear, but more embarrassed that it feels like I might not be able to take anymore.
Viktor grunts when I laugh, and then he leans down and kisses away the tear, saying, "My love, we can stop if it hurts." He looks like he's a second away from pulling out of me and never coming this close again, eyes wide because he thinks it's hurting me far worse than it is.
"No, I'm okay," I say and laugh again. Viktor drops his head into my neck and curses.
"Stop laughing," he says. "You're going to make me—" He lets out something between a sigh and a grunt and shakes his head.
When I start laughing again, he can't help but to laugh too as he mumbles through a list of obscenities in Bulgarian.
"I don't know if you'll fit," I whisper to him once the giggles subside, meeting his eyes timidly.
"I will," he assures me, "but if you're not ready—"
I loop my leg around his thighs and push him closer to me, and the words die in his throat. I try to relax into the bed, surprised when he continues to slide into me. After a few moments, he whispers, "There. All the way in. Are you okay?"
"I'm good," I say and exhale against his chin. "I think everything's fine."
"You're doing a good job," he tells me, and my eyes flutter shut at his words.
He stays still for a moment, and I think I could stay like this and be content, bodies pressed together, little pants mingling together between us. It's heavenly—to be so close to him, connected in a way that's so intimate, in a way that really doesn't hurt that much anymore.
When he moves, though, it's not the best feeling. It's slow and a lot of friction—maybe too much? And I try to stay relaxed beneath him, but I think he might feel me tense up because he stops again, eyes finding mine.
"It's okay," I tell him and wiggle my hips beneath his. "You can keep going."
"Does it hurt?" he asks, and maybe I lie a little bit when I tell him it doesn't.
When he moves again, it's hesitant, and I'm focusing on keeping my breathing steady and not making any faces. Viktor's face is inscrutable, and I'm not even sure he's enjoying this. His breaths are heavy and his cheeks are pink, and he even lets a little groan slip from between his parted lips, but his eyebrows are still drawn together, his movements tense. I try to relax and deepen my breathing to match his, but everything is too uncomfortable, so I just try to keep as still as possible and focus on his face, taking shallow breaths and digging my fingernails into my palms.
Viktor huffs quietly and bites down on his bottom lip before he slowly pulls out of me. I hiss at the friction despite my best efforts to conceal the discomfort.
"What—" I begin to say, but when he runs his tip through my folds and pushes back in, I bite back the words and grab onto his bicep, eyes fluttering shut.
"Better?" he asks me, hips still moving slowly and hesitantly.
"Oh God, yes," I mumble, gripping his arm. Because some of the uncomfortable friction is subsiding as he buries himself inside of me, now coated in my arousal, prodding against a spot that feels just right. He keeps moving the same way and my mouth drops open, fingernails digging into his bicep. "That's good, Viktor."
He starts moving more confidently, a bit faster and a bit harder, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto him even tighter. It's a different feeling but a welcome one, and I tangle a hand into his hair, loving when he whimpers into my neck. I can already feel pressure building in my belly and I cling to him, loving everything he's doing and the way he's making me feel.
When I moan his name and tell him I love him, he squeezes his eyes shut and begs me not to say it again.
"I love you," I say against his skin, tugging his hair.
Viktor groans and pulls out of me, releasing suddenly. He cums on the inside of my thigh and on my stomach through mumbled apologies and with burning cheeks.
"It's okay," I tell him, and he's immediately between my legs, licking and sucking on my clit. He pushes two fingers into my entrance and crooks his fingers just right to have me writhing and pleading, already on the brink of orgasm.
When his eyes meet mine from between my legs, I'm done for. My orgasm comes quickly and suddenly, and I'm shaking and taking huge gulps of air, my hands pulling Viktor's hair in an attempt to ground myself. He continues licking and curling his fingers as I release on his hand. Only when I beg him to stop does he pull away, lips brushing a path all the way back to my lips.
I tug him to lay on top of me, relishing the firm weight of his body against mine and the way our ribs press together when we breathe. I'm completely enveloped with the scent of his skin as I trace my fingers down the groove in the center of his back, still trembling slightly. Viktor peppers little kisses on my throat as I catch my breath, the room going silent as he meets my eyes.
"Was that okay? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I tell him, "and it was fine. What about you?"
Viktor kisses my chin and says, "Perfect. Everything is perfect."
Sorry this is late friends. I got called into work and completely forgot 😭 Please forgive mommy 🙏🙏