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“Elbow.” A punch lands squarely on V’s left side ribs, consequence for once again allowing her arm to drift up to closely protect her head. Grunting in blunt pain which radiates across already aching sides she hunches into that discomfort. Viktor tuts and smacks V in the shoulder with his glove, a signal that he could have hit her square across the jaw she’d carelessly left open. Giving up all the advantages to an opponent.
“You know I figured by now you’d be better at this kid, no wonder you asked for the help damn.” He grins as her expression turns murderous, the edge taken off by the fact that V’s face flushes with embarrassment. While Coach Fred had the title of coach, he didn’t actually participate in any kind of training. Instead the thickly muscled man was more akin to a meathead bookie for illegal fighting rings all across Night City and its outliers. V had been just another sucker to get pulled into his schemes. Which is where Viktor came in, kind enough to put her through the paces of learning how to fight. Sure, she still ran through that MiliTech shard that Jackie had given her, but there was something entirely different about having your hands on someone and feeling exactly what it was like to land a punch on them. And beating the teeth out of scav junkies didn’t count when the goal wasn’t to kill your opponent. V was more used to fighting for her life, and less for fun or money.
One advantage and disadvantage of having a doctor being your sparring partner is the fact that he knew all the places to hit that would cause pain but no real injury, Johnny had already made the joke of it being a lot like a shock collar. Vik had practically floated around her, and for being as well built as he is she hadn’t expected him to move so effortlessly. Sure Jackie talked time and time again about how Vik was like nothing else he’d seen in the ring, but V herself had never seen it so, it was all conjecture.
“I’d get a refund on those reactionary time rotors if I were you kid. Chrome free and running circles around you.” Vik’s light verbal jabbing was supposed to be something about learning smack talk in the ring to put off your opponent, it was working a bit too well for V’s liking. That grin on his handsome face was too much like a cocky school boy teasing the hell out of the girl he had a crush on. A glove comes out to tap the side of V’s arm which was in turn raised a bit higher to protect the side of her head. Vik had expertly found all the holes in every guard that she’d tried to put up.
“You’re the one who put 'em’ in 'Vikky.” V shoots back and savors that moment of hesitation which gives her that golden opportunity to spring forward. There hadn’t been any specific rules about whether it was strictly boxing rules, or if anything went. Using that to a dirty advantage V bodily collides with Vik in a move she’d seen Jackie use time and time again on perps that thought they could run away from the ox that was Jackie Welles.
Vik’s back hits the mat hard, enough to knock the wind from him and leave the doctor gasping while V lands straddled on top of him. It’s instinct for hands to come out and pin his wrists down while he’s laying there like a stunned fish out of water. Staring up at her, Vik sees that exact moment when V’s shock at her upper hand turns into smug satisfaction for putting him on the mat after the last hour and a half of being a glorified practice bag.
“Now that’s a sneaky move.” A dark laugh bubbles up out of his throat as he flexes powerful arms in an attempt at pulling free and flipping them. What he doesn’t expect is for V’s thighs and knees to press hard against Vik’s sides, anchoring them both down by shifting the center of gravity. Struggling against one another for a few tense seconds, V shifts atop him just enough to firmly press their hips together. Viktor freezes as they’re both immediately aware of the length of his half-hard and growing erection trapped against the heat of V’s cunt. An involuntary quiet choked noise catches in Vik’s throat as his breath becomes shallow, trying to stay absolutely still. Three very thin layers of fabric separated them.
“Okay, you win.” He rasps, a desperate edge to the timber of his voice that sends electricity across V’s skin. Tactics of how to get out from under her without making things painfully awkward and giving away how aroused he was fly through Viktor’s mind, none of them particularly effective given how they were practically smashed together. He attempts to wriggle out from beneath V’s weight, and instead shoves himself harder against her. Now with no question to what exactly she was straddled on the woman’s eyebrows raise slightly as their eyes lock.
“Vik.”
“It was completely unintentional, I’m sorry I–” His voice cracks into a single startled groan as V drags her hips against his with a purposeful kind of pressure. He can feel the shape of her through those thin shorts and every thought seems to fizzle out at once. A low shuddering breath comes from the woman atop him and Vik wishes she’d make that sound again, it settles deep in the pit of his stomach and warms him from the inside out. Head falling back against the mat with a hollow thump he stares hazily up at the lines of her body as she moves lazily, teasingly, like the tide of the ocean. Each wave erodes away all of Vik’s good sense to get up. V watches him with an expression that betrays the hunger she feels, those grass green eyes nearly black with how blown out her pupils are. Goosebumps decorate the woman’s arms, nipples pressing out from that simple baby blue sports bra. Vik wants his mouth on them just to hear what sound she makes, he wants to know what the slick heat of her cunt feels like around his fingers, around his cock.
“Fuck,” he gasps when her hips twist in a different angle and he can feel the moment she twitches, finding what she’d been looking for, a single sharp muscle contraction in the tendons of those muscular thighs viced against his ribs to the point that it hurts. It’s that angle that V chases like it’ll pay her bills. Hands abandoning Vik’s wrists to clutch against that thin workout tank top stretched across the barrel of his chest, V rides him properly. Back curving forward in a hunch as her head falls between her shoulders, pleasure pulling tighter along her spine.
Grinding her needy cunt hard enough to drive air from both of their lungs, she huffs out his name with each stroke. Every movement has Vik straining against the mat, neck arched as tendons go taught, hands curling against the floor before they abandon the padding and vice down against the flexing muscle of V’s thighs. Encouraging their run away pace with nudges of his fingers, digging into nerves and sending shoots of pain radiating up her legs that only shoves the mercenary closer to her climax. The tip of a candy pink tongue wets V’s lower lip and Vik would love nothing more than to run his tongue across hers, but he’s pinned flat to the mat by pleasure and the sight of her above him. It’s pulling him apart in ragged pieces, if he isn’t careful this won’t last much longer.
“V, please.” It’s a weak plea which falls on deaf ears as she doesn’t make any effort to slow. He wasn’t exactly raking in women, and his line of work kept the doctor tied down with patients from morning until midnight most days. This combined meant that Viktor Vektor didn’t exactly have a lot of time to himself. Sure, V and him had flirted in passing moments, a touch here, several kisses, but it had never amounted to anything overtly physical. Until right now, as he can feel her wetness soak through his basketball shorts. Watching every desperate little rut of her hips against his chasing what she so urgently needs. Half panted curses fall past those pretty parted lips as nails, with their chipped black nail polish and filed into those almond points she preferred, dig hard into Vik’s chest. A sharp, electric kind of pain skates across his senses at the pressure of those nails, and it nearly undoes him completely. Folding an arm over his eyes while the other maintains its bruising grip on the woman’s thigh, he groans thickly in the back of his throat.
Vik just needs, God what did he need? To sink himself into that soft slick cunt of hers? To watch as his cum leaked out of her after they were finished? To have those strong thighs wrapped around his head as he made a meal out of her, laid out and writhing as she does above him now? Fantasies blunder into one another within the tangle of his mind, a light headedness from their fighting and now this breathless race toward mutual satisfaction. A high whine from V makes Vik’s arm drop next to his head as if his hands are pinned all over again. There’s something in the way she clenches her jaw, a pinched kind of concentration suddenly written across her flushed face. He can see the pulse in her sweat slick throat, throbbing just as he could acutely feel between her legs. It’s then that it dawns on Vik. She can’t get there. Blinking the delirium away as best he can, a hand smooths up to rest on V’s ribs, drawing her down.
“Come here.” He growls before pressing their mouths together. Biting on the mercenary’s lower lip, his hands push up under the sweat damp fabric of her sports bra and knead the softness of her breasts. V seems to melt against him, body slumping down into the onslaught as Vik continues to rut hard against her, catching just the right angle at the apex of his movement. Finding that hard peak of her nipple Vik pinches it, rolling it between thumb and forefinger and feeling a vicious sense of pride when her mouth bucks away from his, a sharp cry on V’s lips. Body trapped between wanting to grind back against every sensation he was putting her through or twist away from that rising overwhelming tide of her orgasm, V chooses the latter.
Pressing her forehead into the curve of Vik’s shoulder she shudders, a bone deep kind of shiver as her orgasm pulls her under like a rip tide. Breath catching hard in V’s chest, she comes with a strained groan. He can feel every trembling throb of her cunt against his aching cock and it only takes a few more sharp thrusts before Vik meets his own end. Crushing her to his chest, arms wrapping tight around the woman’s ribs. He thrusts his way through it, each wave breaking with a short gasp which does nothing to feed oxygen to Vik’s swimming head. A slick kind of warmth spreads between them and in fragments they both still. Chests heaving and thoughts in a thousand different places V gingerly pushes herself up. He feels several miles outside of himself, drunk off a pleasure he hadn’t felt in, hell he couldn’t remember how long. V’s gaze sweeps over him, between them, and Vik can feel his first emotion beside need. And it’s embarrassment. They’d just rutted like two horny teenagers on the gym floor, and now his shorts were getting a bit uncomfortable, he could see she was just as damp with their combined release. Evidently more his than hers.
But she doesn’t look disgusted. Instead a huff of a laugh which drips with satisfaction sounds from V as she brings her gaze back to Vik’s flushed face.
“Good job coach, hit the showers.” V purrs, leaning down to press a kiss to Viktor’s slightly parted lips as he tries to process what the hell just happened.