#i will admit...

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Wrapping paper crinkles by your ear as you toss your head back, cry dying in your mouth as the pinprick bite of teeth on your nipple leaves you breathless.

You have to focus on taking air, staring up at the baubles hanging above you. Warm wool separates your shoulders from the cold wood – the thick handknit blanket that rests atop your couch, richly colored and intricately patterned and warmer than anything else in the house, waiting for the slow afternoons when Viktor takes a rare catnap in the living room.

Viktor had carefully wrapped it around you at the start, attentive to your needs as he spread you out under the Christmas tree, a gift for him, more valuable than any precious metal or gemstone. Whispering soft reverence about how the Christmas lights sparkle in your eyes like they were made to decorate your reflection, how soft and sweet you were beneath him, eyes and lips roaming freely with each saccharine word.

Such sweetness, carried on such sharp teeth.

You suck in a breathy keen as the edge of Viktor's incisor kneads against your already overwrought nipple again, hand shooting out to yank at his hair in ecstasy and plead mercy all at once, before you can remember that you won't be able to really grip it.

After all, you're wearing kitty paws.

Soft gloves cover your hands, squishy pink paw pads sewn to fabric the perfect shade to match your hair. Viktor always did appreciate attention to detail.

And the gloves aren’t the end of it.

One too many late nights spent looking at fetish sites with Viktor, and December rolls around to find you like this, near naked with soft flimsy little cat ears clipped into your hair, a crimson collar threaded through the big fluffy bow wrapped around your neck.

A vision, through and through. His gift. His kitty.

Little kočička.

The bell at your throat chimes merrily every time you twitch under his hands. It’s hard not to squirm.

Viktor plucks at your chest, working your nipples up to a glorious cherry slickness between his fingers and his mouth.

A sight surely to match the dripping, cherry red mess of your cunt.

He hasn’t even touched you yet.

Not there.

You risk a peek downward, catching on the knobs of his wrist rolling slow and indulgent over the front of his slacks. It’s almost hypnotic, the way his forearm flexes rhythmically beneath rolled up sleeves. One hand on you and the other slowly palming himself as he takes his fill.

Your skin feels aflame all over again. You’d been avoiding meeting his gaze for a reason.

There’s a distinctly self-satisfied glimmer in his eyes, smug, at how you can barely keep your cool just from looking at him when you’re like this, lips quirking up against your chest, despite his mouth being full –

It’s difficult, alright?

How are you supposed to not run hot with the way he’s unbuttoned the top of his shirt to give himself a little air, deep satiny red folding loose around sweat-warmed collarbones, and his lips slick from everything he’s been doing to you? The way he’s touching himself, for you?

The way you’re laid bare and desperate, and he’s still wearing his best dress shirt, handsome and sharp for attending dinner with his parents earlier, still the very definition of put together while you’re exposed in full?

At least he’d lost the sweater.

Somehow he had gotten a little warm, as unwrapping gifts had dissolved into passionate kisses and wandering hands.

It’s absolving, that at least you aren’t alone in the way passion sets your blood to boil, tonight.

His hand finally abandons the sore peak of your nipple, thumbing at where you’ve drawn your bottom lip between teeth, pinched in restraint.

"Meow for me, maličký kočičko. Show me how nice I'm making you feel."

And how could you ever even protest, when he speaks to you in such a low register, voice dragged rough with the depth of his desire, hand already returning to your chest like he can’t help but touch you?

Your face floods with heat, but you crook your wrist, cat paw dangling playfully by your face, and your voice cracks as you –

"M-Myan –"

It would be shameful, in any other setting, how… silly.

Not here, in the quiet comfort of your home, Viktor's appreciative hum filling the space between you both, warm eyes judgement free.

He presses a slick kiss to your nipple before he rests his forehead on your sternum, breath coming just a touch rougher. And at the base of your vision, you can see how he has to stop rubbing himself, withdrawing his hand to rest, searing, atop your opposing hip.

It's flattering. No beating around it, you're drunk on just how much he wants you.

"So good for me, darling," he breathes, hands soothing down your sides, "Such a pretty kitty.” His head raises to look at you, checking in with your readiness. “Just one thing missing, no?"

The open box, once wrapped up tight with the ribbon now cradling your neck, holds the end to the ensemble.

Your tail.

It’s a good quality plug. You’d done your research thoroughly, of course. Sturdy metal, not terribly large, but you’d been pleasantly surprised at the heft of it. Weight that would keep it from slipping during what you’re about to put it through. Soft fur, to match your hair, long and well-crafted. A perfect kitty tail.

You nod, a tiny movement, watching him with wide eyes.

Pleased, Viktor smiles.

He retrieves the plug and lubricant nestled within the box, shifting his weight onto his stronger leg as he curls back down next to your hip, braced leg extending out straight alongside your torso to rest.

“Knee alright?” Your fingers rub fondly at the bolts of the brace over his joint.

“Serviceable, today,” Viktor assures, clicking open the bottle cap. “Just taking the weight off for now.”

The subtle spread of his legs grants you a good view of the way he’s tenting his slacks for you, charcoal fabric unmistakably darker at the tip of his length.

Just from watching you.

An indulgent smile sprawls across your face, unbidden, and you pull in a deep breath. You arch your back, spreading your thighs a touch wider to beckon him back in.

Gold roves over the slick mess you’ve made of yourself, Viktor humming, pleased, as he squirts lubricant into his palm, scooching his hips up and casting his leg out to the side so he can lean down to kiss at your chest again.

“Needy,” he breathes, clearly satisfied with the effect he’s having on you.

He reaches down, gently, to rub at your clit softly with the side of one knuckle, cupping the lubricant to keep it warming in his hands. His motion is soft, barely there, nearly frustrating in the way it draws all the sparking wires of your pleasure sensors to attention without truly indulging you.

Gentle. Delicate. Teasing.

If you had a tail, it would be flicking with impatience.

But you don’t – yet.

Breath shudders into your lungs as you consider what Viktor would do, if he knew the thoughts you’re having. How far would he coax you? Would he make you shake your hips, make you play?

It’s as appealing as it is horrifying, to be so gone for him that you’d act so mindless for him. Makes you flush with heat, slightly mortified. But the pressure against your nerves is sending the sweetest arousal wicking down your spine. It’s peculiar, how the embarrassment and need mix into something far stronger.

It’s got you leaking against him.

The lube is warm when Viktor finally stops teasing your sensitive cunt to press lower, and you could melt for his attentiveness.

He paints slickly across your hole, before his palm upturns and the first joint of his middle finger slides sweetly inside of you.

“Enjoying yourself?”

He’s verifying, again. Ensuring that you’re truly ready and on board, before he presses on.

Never have you loved someone this much.

“Feels good,” you sigh, fingers ghosting over his cheek, reassuring.

Viktor’s lips catch on your skin as he kisses at your retreating fingers.

His hand slides deeper.

You settle your head against the wood floor and take it.

Viktor fingers you open on steady hands, blistering your chest with his affection, lips and teeth returning not just to suck you to slickened neediness, but to leave marks, drawing up gentle bruising across the expanse of your ribs and collar.

It feels like the clock stops, leaving you nothing to do but moan for his efforts, lost in the push-pull sensation of his slick hand stretching you wide.

You blink once, twice, as his hand slowly withdraws –

And the cool metal of the plug wrenches a whine from you, as he delicately positions it for you to sink onto.

It’s a bit wider than what he’d given you with his fingers, air catching in your throat as the chill of the plug soothes through your heated flesh, forging deeper. Your hips buck as it pops into place properly, and Viktor coos, adoring, petting over the soft fur with his dry hand.

“That’s it, perfect,” he sighs, reverent. “Turn over for me, kočičko, let me see you.”

You fumble to remember how to move on pleasure-weak limbs, Viktor cleaning off his hands with the cloth he’d set out beforehand, and together you both shift to leave you inclined between your chest, flush to the floor, and your raised hips, knees spread around Viktor’s legs as he sits behind you.

Spread open, for him to admire.

His completed kitty.

You mewl as Viktor slides his hands up the backs of your thighs, brushing aside your tail to part you open for him. Thumbs settle heavily against each side of your cunt, rubbing gently – then dragging, slow and wet like the parting of ripe fruit, to expose your dripping pussy.

Your breath catches, throat working on a whine.

The roughened pad of his thumb presses against the core of your wetness, prodding, just a tease. Not enough, far less satisfying than what’s to come. You wriggle back against him.

His responding chuckle is gasoline on your neediness, and you huff.

“I know, I know – here.”

Gentle hands guide your hips to the floor, your body coming to rest flat beneath him. He uses his hold to resituate, knees clicking, and settles himself flush against you, body pinning yours to the floor and holding your thighs wide to make room for his hips between your legs.

It feels like your pulse is rushing louder than normal, as you strain to hear the distinctive noise of him clinking with his belt, unzipping – and there it is, the blood-hot press of his cock, Viktor nudging the head firmly against your entrance.

The press of it is divine, as he finally pushes past the initial drag of resistance and slides home.

He seems to go on forever.

Logically, you know he can’t even be as deep as he can go, held back at the hips by the curves of your ass, precious inches withheld.

And yet it feels as though the tip of his cock has sunk into the fragile cage of your lungs, pushing out your breath with each bit fed to you.

It’s tighter with the plug. For certain.

After breathless moments, you can feel him come to rest, the soft scratch of his treasure trail sinking down against your tailbone, Viktor murmuring praise into your ear at the feat.

You swallow heavily, every passage in your body feeling tight. “... More, Vik.”

A pause.

Viktor’s right leg shuffles, straightening and evening out his weight a bit. You can feel it flex, tense-release tense-release, against the soft inner flesh of your thigh.

“... Bear with me a moment, zlato.”

Cramps and strain aren’t an uncommon occurrence.

The floor isn’t exactly an ideal place for this. You wouldn’t have suggested it with a perfectly good bed two rooms away, but Viktor had been the one to pounce tonight.

You nod, taking the reprieve to focus on air, capricious lungs fluttering as though they’ve forgotten their purpose. It’s warm, stuffed underneath all of Viktor’s tenderly wrapped limbs, the heat of your entwined bodies seeming to sink beneath your skin.

Just as you get your breath to cooperate, Viktor chases it away again with firm fingers slipping between your hips and the hard floor, burying themselves against your folds and toying with your clit absently.

It's unfair.

How you're close to the precipice, and he's not even moving yet, just murmuring sugar sweet praise into your ears, fingers toying with your clit, uncommitted like he's not trying to push you over, but is damn well succeeding.

You whine in protest, squirming down against the flickering pressure from the pad of his fingertip, and Viktor tuts, turning your chin to drag you into a deep kiss, stuffing his tongue into your mouth to halt your mewing.

It’s somehow more overwhelming, him licking into your mouth, full at literally every angle. Your cunt throbs around him, your ass around the plug, and just – it’s so much.

The defeated whimper that Viktor swallows down from you must taste good, with how he grins into the kiss.

And so, locked together tight, you wait for the pinch in his in leg to subside – his length sitting still inside you, deep enough to brush your cervix in a twinge of pain to wrack a shudder down your spine, pleasure seeping back in stronger in the retreating wake of it.

Stuffed full, completely.

His hips shift out a smidge, testing the movement, rocking gently back into you. The bell at your throat rings as his skin knocks back into yours. Viktor breaks the kiss as you shudder, your very framework short circuiting as the leaking head of his cock seems to wedge itself into every sensitive spot it can.

"Better?" you croak, swallowing harshly – when did your throat get so dry?

"I can move, for now." There's a smugness as he sighs into your nape, grinding you into the floor, as he says, "Though, somehow, I feel quite certain that this won't take long at all."

And he's right.

Even before he rolls your clit between his thumb and forefinger, just the right side of too hard, you’re ready to spill over his fingers and cry – sorry, mew – his praises.

You buck against him, impatient, and he sucks sharp breath through his teeth.

"Gentle, miláčku, or – this may last even shorter than we had anticipated."

You can feel the way he’s tense against you, the way he throbs for the movement. Right there on the precipice with you – not nearly so unaffected by the prolonged teasing as he’d like to let on.

Despite the years, still so affected by you… if you had claws, you'd be sharpening them in the blanket in self satisfaction.

You don't, so you settle for painting Viktor's cheek with needy kisses.

He brushes your fluffy tail to the side, and begins to fuck you in earnest.

His pace is languid, barely pulling out before rocking back in, minor movements of his hips yielding much reward as you gasp for him. Every deep grind shoves his pelvis to your hips, the plane of his lower abdomen shoving the plug firmer inside you. It’s a synchronized push, the way his cock rocking deeper into your body presses everything else deeper as well, full full full on every press.

Your cheek sinks back to the floor, body going weak as his fingers continue to flicker over your clit.

Thick, filling, your head goes blank as you’re finally awarded exactly what you wanted.

A bit dazed, your eyes find a low hanging ornament, the shiny crimson reflection catching in your periphery.

You can see him, in the reflective metal – and he’s not distracted with baubles, like you.

Viktor’s eyes are lidded, the whole of his attention fixed on you, expression achingly fond. His nose brushes against your hair, and he presses a soft kiss to your head – it’s domestic, desperately worshipful, and you’re fumbling for his spare hand that had been steadying your chest, shaky fingers threading through his.

“That’s it, let me take care of you, kočičko,” Viktor sighs into your scalp, squeezing your hand. “So well-behaved, just for me. Good kitty.”

The heat that would have once found its way to your cheeks instead pools low in your hips, mind feeling the peace that comes with being so thoroughly attended to, fuzziness filling in the blanks. You arch your back beneath him, mewling your incoherent agreement.

Viktor noses his way across your cheek, wordlessly coaxing you into a kiss, and that’s what shoves you over the edge.

It seems to burn with a certain warmth, his meticulous caretaking. Everything so carefully designed to get you off, from his fingers deftly circling your clit, slickened liberally from your dripping cunt, to the way he buries himself deep, because he knows just what you like.

The reward to his effort culminates as you seize up around him, sobbing need into his mouth, lips moving uncoordinated, not exactly kissing him through it but unwilling to pull away. Your hips buck in little circles against him, riding out the pleasure, using his cock to encourage every last pulse of pleasure from your trembling cunt.

Viktor curses, rhythm faltering in the sucking clench of your wet heat – “Ah, you’re – Zbožňuju tě, fuck, I – please.” Such sweet words, sentiment you’ve heard a thousand times, murmured hastily against your lips.

Squeezing his hand, you hum, breathless and questioning – whatever he’s pleading for, you’ll give. Your hips rock back to meet where he’s rutting into you, muscles clenching ever tighter as light overstimulation begins to kick in, his hand still coaxing aftershocks against your clit.

But even the barest shifting seems to do the trick, Viktor hissing “yes”, cock throbbing as it begins to pulse inside you, deep and searingly wet. His hips buck erratically, voice tight and crackly as he praises his pretty kitty, his personal pussycat the whole way through.

A rolling wave of exhaustion seems to settle into your muscles almost harder than the orgasm had, both of you going lax, only the soft movement of breathing filling the quiet room.

The cool wood of the floor soothes the flushed hot skin of your bitten-sensitive nipples, smushed into the floor under Viktor’s slight weight as you both regain your senses atop the rumpled blanket, slid askew from all the movement.

Viktor draws a rallying breath, shifting up off of you just enough to let you melt without compression.

Long fingers wrap, steadying, around the sturdy length of your jaw, holding you to the warm span of his chest to help you get some air into your lungs.

The contented noise you let out is barely more than a breath, just the slight tremor vibration of your satisfaction against his fingertips.

Viktor's responding laugh is soft, pleased, achingly tender.

"Look at that, kočičko. I've made you purr."

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kočička/kočičko - kitty

maličký - little

zlato - gold (endearment)

miláčku - darling