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On Bended Knee

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True story, I named the doc for this Wakey Wakey Victor’s Nakey and in the end he mostly keeps on his clothes. I played myself.

Mr Love: Queen’s Choice | Victor x MC | Explicit

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Victor liked to be in control, almost to a fault.

He read the business section twice a day, checked every ingredient in what few prepackaged foods he owned, organised his schedule several months in advance.

It should come as no surprise, therefore, that he was intrigued by the things he could not predict nor control. No matter how often he checked the stock market, he could not change the weather. He could bake his own bread and brew his own wine, but he could not change the thoughts and feelings of others. He could not unsend a text, could not undo a bad decision.

At most he could keep an eye on consistencies, uncomfortable in the knowledge that human beings were almost predictably inconsistent.

Up until now, for example, MC had been only too happy to take on board his advice, particularly when it came to company dinners. He didn’t blame her, of course. Most of her own employees were her peers whereas these men were older and richer than most, with expectations and etiquette far removed from common people.

It grieved him to think of MC as common, even if he never said so to her face. Instead he would sigh at her wide eyed expression at the initial invitation and urge her to promise that she would not embarrass him in front of his business partners. He would rub his temples at her attempts to double check conversation topics, feigning annoyance in favour of openly acknowledging that her enthusiasm was impressive even if her execution left much to be desired.

He insisted on going with her when she went out to pick up new dresses for the event, complaining at her lack of taste even as he put each one on his card. He always insisted she wear flat shoes; always ignored the form fitting and mature dresses in favour of ones that cast a light on her youth and innocence, telling her that she didn’t have much of a figure to show off in the first place when in fact the opposite was true. He struggled to think straight whenever she wore a skirt and was repulsed by the idea of any of his business partners doing the same.

He hated the idea of them fawning over her. He might have told her otherwise more than once, but she had a wealth of redeeming qualities, any of which might enchant a man with a discerning eye. The thought of another seeing past her innocence to the strong will underneath kept him up at night. His peers were different to hers, after all. There was nothing he could give her that they could not.

Teaching her a new way of walking and talking was as much of a shame as spray painting over a tiger’s stripes, but any sadness he might have felt at her demure dresses dissolved the moment they left each restaurant and she slipped off her mask with as much gusto as she did her high heels. She was a near perfect picture of elegance and refinement, but he liked her best after they left the table, as she raved in the back of his car about the price of dessert and diamond inlay on the salt and pepper pots.

For this night in particular he had pointed out a conservative blue dress and matching cardigan. MC had looked confused as she took in her reflection in the dressing room mirror, somehow still taken off guard by his choices.

He had chosen the dress for its high neckline and long skirt, leaving next to nothing to the imagination, which she seemed to notice, for she frowned as she gave him a twirl.

“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think it looks a little…frumpy?”

“Frumpy?”

“Yes…I think I had a dress like this in kindergarten.”

“Well in that case it’s perfect,” he smirked, “a true representation of what lies beneath.”

MC pouted at that, still defending her maturity long after they left the store.

The day of the company dinner, he picked her up at her front door as had become the routine. She was always five or six minutes late and had a different explanation each time, from smudged lipstick to forgetting her purse. This time around, she was a full fifteen minutes late and Victor spent the time wondering what her reasoning might be. The reality, of course, was the last thing he might have imagined.

MC stepped out in a bright red dress, worlds apart from the one he had chosen. It was carefully tailored to accentuate every curve and left very little to the imagination, with a plunging neckline, that left her collarbones and the swell of her breasts tentatively exposed. She had pinned her hair high above her head, drawing the eye to the jeweled necklace at her throat.

Victor couldn’t take his eyes off her, unable to do anything but stare as she walked towards the car.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sitting down next to him as she always did and reaching for her seat belt. “Kiki and Willow came over to do my makeup and got talking…”

Victor couldn’t tear his gaze from the curve of her neck; the way her necklace glimmered in the evening light. He was all too familiar with the scent of her perfume, of how she looked naked. He liked to be in control, to be ready for every outcome, and especially so when it came to himself.

“Are you okay?” MC ventured, that same undercurrent of satisfaction in her voice that he recognised from his own. He had never doubted it, of course, but this was all the confirmation he needed that she meant to take command and test him.

Naturally, he wouldn’t allow it. He leaned back in his seat, keeping his composure so well that no one, not even MC, would notice the slip in his facade.

“Did you forget the rest of your dress?”

“Don’t you like it?”

MC shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Victor narrowed his eyes, knowing a challenge when he saw one.

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Dinner was rather more intense than usual, though not in ways that Victor was used to. He doubted anyone but he and MC noticed the silent tug of war. Every time MC leaned forward and cupped her head in her hands to listen intently to the other board members chat, Victor made a point to change the topic, asking MC her opinions and switching everyone’s focus back to her. She fiddled with her hair, he turned away to speak to someone else. She placed a hand on his thigh, he ignored her entirely.

With every new course, he considered a new way to take command. Perhaps he would invite her back to his home and leave her gasping between the sheets. Maybe he would book a room for the night and see how she looked in nothing but the necklace at her throat. Every idea was more depraved than the next and he half wondered whose victory that was.

In the end it was MC that made the first move. She leaned over to whisper in his ear while everyone around them discussed ergonomics.

“Excuse me,” she said, “I think I left my phone in my coat.”

She got to her feet and left the table, glancing over her shoulder at him with a smirk as she headed to the cloakroom. The message was loud and clear, though he wasn’t sure if he should accept it. Going to her would almost certainly stack the cards in her favour.

He debated leaving her there, wondering not only how long she would wait but how long it would take his colleagues to end their conversation long enough to notice. In the end he gave them a nod and excused himself with some muttered excuse about checking in with the chef.

He slipped a few notes to the man at the cloakroom door in exchange for a key and stepped inside, glancing around to take note of who was there while MC stepped out from behind one of the coat racks, wearing a shit eating grin.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” he said, satisfied that there was no one else around and turning to lock the cloakroom door.

“I like games,” said MC, “especially when I’m about to win.”

“Oh?” He turned to face her, taking in every curve and exposed patch of skin. “What makes you so sure you’ve won?”

She took several steps backwards, towards a dressing table and leaned back against the frame. He could tell she was flustered, but giving it all she had. She didn’t usually put on a seductive mask, after all. Generally she blushed her way through foreplay.

He wondered how long she had been planning this; how many dresses and masks she had tried before this one. He took a step closer, keeping up his own facade of cool indifference.

“I just…I know,” she said, blush creeping across her cheeks. “You followed me here, didn’t you!”

“An interesting gamble,” he said. “What makes you so sure I didn’t come here because you’d been gone for too long?”

“I…I…”

Victor had come to know MC, from her measurements to her favourite song. He could tell she hadn’t planned for a scenario where she might actually come out on top.

He took a few more steps closer, planting both hands on the dressing table and leaning forward until he was close enough to smell her shampoo. By now she was a furious red and burning up, at a complete contrast to her prior confidence. 

He grazed his lips along her neck, all too satisfied at the way she gasped without meaning to.

“Are you sure you want to play this game, MC?”

She reached her hands out to his waist, looping her fingers into his belt buckle as she pulled him closer.

“I do,” she said, then, a second time, “I do!”

Then, as if the second confirmation was for herself, she fumbled with the zipper of her dress.

She stared at it for a few seconds as it hit the floor before kicking it aside, standing in front of him in nothing more than her underwear and heels. She popped open her bra with far less hesitation and her panties none at all. She reached down to his zipper but he caught hold of her hand, guiding it away and lifting her up onto the dresser.

Only then did he kiss her, hungry and demanding. He kissed her with the same force he usually reserved for when he was buried deep inside of her, stealing the breath from her lips with every nip of his teeth. He slipped his knee between her legs and spread them apart, feeling each and every touch so clearly that they all rippled through his body, his every instinct willing him towards her sex.

Before MC he had never understood the way his peers described women; as if they were almost irresistibly intoxicating. He had always prided his own self control and the notion of losing it was both frightening and uncomfortable. He understood it now, though, that just the scent of MC’s perfume was enough to leave him teetering over the edge.

She woke the parts of him he had forgotten existed; shattered chains he didn’t know he had.

He pulled away from her, looking her in the eye as he sank down to his knees. MC watched, blushing furiously as he reached up to part her legs even further and spread her out so that all of her was on display.

“Vic-“ she murmured, lapsing into a moan at the feel of his warm breath against her cunt.

He waited, listening out for any sound of discomfort before running his tongue over her clit, keeping a strong hold on her trembling legs.

They might be at a Michelin ranked restaurant, but she was the finest thing he’d tasted all day. He couldn’t get enough of her, burying his face in her folds and sucking her clit so hard that she dug her fingers into his hair. She was so gloriously wet for him, and it took everything in him to stop himself from taking her there and then.

He let go of her leg and rested it over his shoulder, slipping a finger from his free hand into her heat and leaving her little choice but to hold her hand over her mouth to stifle her moans. He ran his tongue over her clit and sank his finger into her, once and then twice until he had something of a rhythm, however erratic.

When she came he felt it against his fingers, her soft walls ripping against them and squeezing hard, as if the pressure had come from his cock and her body meant to milk him of every drop.

He slipped his fingers out of her and looked up into MC’s face, absorbing how utterly dazed from pleasure she had become.

He let go of both of her legs and got to his feet, laying a soft kiss on her lips and pushing aside the terrible joke spinning through his mind that she had come out on top in more ways than one.

“Here,” he said, easing her down from the dresser and turning her away from him. “Just like that.”

She bent over the dresser of her own accord, turning back to watch as he finally loosened his pants. She licked her lips when he lowered his underwear and allowed his cock to break free, beads of pre cum already gathered at the tip.

He took hold of her hip and gripped onto his cock, both of them hissing in relief as he guided himself into her. Her pussy was still pulsing with aftershocks of pleasure and he knew that neither of them would last long. He dug his fingers into her hip, slamming into her with such force that she fell forwards across the dresser. He reached to grab one of her arms and twisted it against her back to steady her as he thrust into her.

Neither of them were bothering to be quiet anymore, MC gasping at every thrust and Victor groaning at the tension in the pit of his stomach; a spring wound unbearably tight.

MC was already overstimulated and it took only a few rapid thrusts to leave her bubbling over again, looking into his face as she lost control. Victor glanced up at their reflection in the dresser mirror, taking in the view of MC’s breasts bouncing as their bodies collided and his own lust filled expression. He didn’t recognise himself and didn’t are.

He slowed down completely as his own release took over, sighing as his dick quivered inside of her and all of the tension left his body, pleasure washing over him like a hot bath.

He let go of the arm he had been holding and MC rested it against the dresser, each of them so content at being connected that time fell still.

In that moment, as the dust settled, it was only too clear to Victor that he had never been, nor would ever be, the one in command when it came to MC. While on a surface level it might have seemed like he pulled the strings and made the decisions, each and every one of his actions came from a desire to honour MC’s thoughts and wishes. Swords did not rule kingdoms and she was nothing if not a queen, even with her ass in the air and his dick deep inside of her.

His every action was an act of worship, an unspoken and implicit bended knee. He pulled himself out of her and watched his seed spill from her onto the floor-the only evidence that even just for a moment they had belonged to one another.

She straightened her back and took a deep breath, resting her head against his chest without a care if it smudged the makeup she had so carefully applied to the point of being late.

“I should get dressed,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he said, “I imagine we’ll get more than our fair share of second glances if you walk out there wearing nothing but a smile.”

“You could always go out with me…for moral support.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, straightening his tie. “The world isn’t ready for such a display.”

He waited for MC to get her dress back on before heading to the door, wondering if he might have to pay more for the restaurant employee’s silence.

“That’s one point to me, by the way,” said MC, reapplying her makeup.

“Oh?”

“Yep.”

“Hmmm…interesting.”

He said nothing more of it, instead smirking to himself as he returned to their table, knowing that his silence on the matter would leave her imagination running wild.

That point truly was hers, after all, even if she had no idea he had conceded it.