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The Boss's Obsession (LustfulSins&CrescentBlade)

Archer was enjoying himself, if he were to be completely honest. With or without Viktor watching, it was impossible not to when he was being handled like this. He was happy to let the man stroke him, to let him thrust up against him, and would have even let it continue until they both reached their end. Except, the man pushed his wandering finger into Archer’s ass, and that broke the mood instantly. As he slides it back and forth, he feels no pleasure—only discomfort and pain.

“Stop,” he hissed, twisting his arm back to awkwardly grab the man’s hand and stop the motions of his hand. Without any lube to make the intrusive touch pleasant, he doesn’t want it. If he’s being honest, the mood is mostly ruined now. He doesn’t want the hand down his briefs, either, and pulls it free roughly. His plan backfired, because now he was the one angry and upset as he turned his head with a vicious glare. “What made you think I’d enjoy that? That fucking hurt.”
 
The VIP is instantly smug, laughing. Archer may have pulled his hands away from his body, but the man is showing his drunkenness as he twists his hands out of the redhead's grip. He pulls Archer's arms behind his back, holding them there with his left hand tightly around the boy's wrists. "Shut up. You asked for it, and I'll pay you well." His right hand goes back into the back Archer's briefs, hips bucking upward.

Viktor isn't blind. He can see the sudden change in Archer's demeanor and knows something is wrong. He's a strong believer in his dancers defending themselves, but when they can't, like now, he steps in. Standing, Viktor crosses the balcony and wraps his fingers in the man's hair, yanking his head back against the seat. The sudden action, and pain of having his hair pulled, make the man release Archer. "Empty the cash from your wallet and hand over your VIP card."

Viktor's voice is low, threatening, and clearly terrifying to the customer. He immediately does as told, tossing all the cash from his wallet, three hundred dollars, at Archer's feet. Then he hands a purple and gold card to Viktor. He takes it, using the now former VIP's hair to toss him from the chair. "Get out of my club. Don't come back."

Once the customer has fled down the stairs, Viktor bends and gathers the tossed cash, all fifties. He pockets the VIP card, then turns to Archer. His hands run along the boy's shoulders, arms, and hips, but the touch is light, like he's searching for injuries. There's genuine concern in his deep voice. "Are you alright? Archer, look at me."
 
Archer cried out in pain as the VIP twisted his arms behind his back, a movement that strained the muscles in his shoulders and made his wrist ache. He struggled in response, viciously twisting his body in an attempt to get away, and unable to break the man’s grasp. Even drunk, the hold that he maintained was painfully tight.

Then, it’s over, and he’s suddenly free. Archer is quick to scurry out of the man’s reach, rubbing his wrists and trying to regain his composure. He’s breathing harshly, his heartbeat rabbit-fast and slamming against his rib cage. The man is forced to hand over his VIP card to Viktor, as well as three hundred dollars that he throws at Archer’s feet. He debates not accepting it, but he doesn’t have to, because Viktor is already there picking it up.

My club, he’d called it. Was Viktor actually an employee here?

He stands with his arms wrapped around himself as Viktor approaches, though he doesn’t flinch at the soft touches. If anything, he leans further into them, needing the comfort. “I’m okay,” he said, voice thin and tense, but he doesn’t look up to meet the man’s gaze. The man’s rough treatment didn’t leave many marks behind, though his shoulders hurt and his ass was bound to be sore for at least a while. “Thank you for helping me, Viktor. Can we go somewhere else? I want to sit down. Please.”

Archer felt bad now, after having gone through all that just to try to make Viktor mad. And for what? A random stranger he’d picked turned out to be horrible and here Viktor was, being a gentleman.
 
When Archer doesn't look at him, Viktor lightly grips the boy's jaw and tilts his head up, looking at his face. He wants to make sure the boy is relatively unharmed. When Archer asks to go somewhere else, Archer nods and puts his arm around the boy's shoulders. The group at the end of the balcony had witnessed the tail end of the incident, and they're staring curiously.

Viktor guides Archer downstairs, through the crowd. This time, he uses his body and his arm around the redhead to block touches. He brings Archer to a staff only door; it leads to the hall with the club's back rooms and storage, as well as the door to Viktor's quarters. This is where he takes Archer, through the door marked with a cheesy big yellow star and nothing else.

Inside, Viktor sits Archer on the sofa. He fetches both a water bottle, and a bottle of whiskey. Archer may want one or the other, or both, after what happened on the VIP balcony. Viktor sits on the coffee table so he can face Archer, setting his hands lightly on the boy's knees. "Are you sure you're alright? Did he hurt you?"
 
Archer’s suspicions grew as Viktor led him through a door marked with a big, obvious yellow star. A door that he had been told no one, under any circumstances, was allowed to go through. He didn’t ask, though. Not right now. Instead, he stayed quiet until he was able to sit down on the sofa, thankful that it was soft. Sitting still made him grimace and squirm to get comfortable, but all he did was kick off his heeled shoes and pull his legs up.

The whiskey was tempting, though Archer ultimately chose just the water for now, and uncapped the bottle to take a drink. He was surprised when Viktor sat down on the coffee table, holding his knees. The touch was grounding, rather than unwanted, and the man’s concern was far from unwelcomed.

“Well, he fingered my ass with no lube, so I could be better,” he admitted with a shrug. He was sore, but it wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever felt, and definitely not the most sore his ass had ever been. More uncomfortable than anything else. “I’m alright, Viktor. Just a little sore. And pissed.”
 
Viktor scowls deeply when Archer tells him what the former VIP had done. He's glad he took the card back and kicked the man out. When customers become VIPs, they're either members of his gang family, or they're high paying customers. Customers are required to sign an agreement, in which they pay a monthly fee of one hundred dollars on top of whatever they choose to spend at the club, and they respect the staff at all times, even when the staff are allowing sexual contact.

"Not the best way to start your second night, huh?" Viktor smiles lightly, trying to cheer Archer up. He knows the boy had been trying to make him jealous, but he doesn't say anything about that. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Archer. Our VIPs normally follow strict rules of respect."
 
Archer wants to be angry at him, too. Here Viktor is, the reason he approached the unkind VIP in the first place, being so compassionate and patient with him. Removing the man’s membership card, demanding his money and even taking Archer all the way here for some privacy. It’s unfair to be mad at him, though, and he knows it—Viktor had done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, he technically hadn’t done anything wrong the previous night, either. In retrospect, he had treated Archer with care and been respectful of his hesitation. Hadn’t ground against him like the VIP had, even though he’d been so obviously aroused.

“No,” he agreed and he’s looking at Viktor a bit differently now. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but he’s done now and some people are just shitty drunks.” It wasn’t his looks that put Archer off, but as he’s studying him now, he realizes that it also wasn’t his personality. Perhaps he’d been projecting his own insecurities, his own uncomfortable stance on being touched in public. There was nothing about Viktor that made him feel unsafe.

Maybe it was too soon after what just happened, but Archer craved more than the touch on his knees. His erection had flagged after the incident, but he didn’t think it would be much of a problem. Those were thoughts he tried to push away, though. Softly, he said, “You’re not the jealous type, are you? I was trying, but you didn’t seem to mind.”
 
Viktor nods in agreement. Some people are very shitty drunks. Those are the types he tries to keep out of his club, and especially out of VIP status. He may lead a crime organization, but he still has morals. Morals he insists his family share.

Viktor listens to Archer's words, and nods his confirmation. "I know you were trying. But you're correct, I'm not the jealous type. Likely, it comes from my past relationships. I wouldn't say I'm polyamorous, but I have dated polyamorous men in the past. Open relationships can be a lot of fun." Viktor pauses, smile remaining yet somehow becoming serious at the same time, to show his honesty. "Archer, I want you to know that I still fully intend to pursue you. I want you for more than just a quick fuck. I want to make you submit to me, over and over. Until you crave my touch."
 
Submit to me.

Archer was unfamiliar with a man being so forward with his wants, being so open and honest with his intentions. He wanted Archer, and even after that little stunt, refused to give up his pursuit. Not for a one night stand as he suspected, but permanently for the foreseeable future. Over and over. The thought made his spine tingle, not with fear—with desire that he wasn’t aware he had. To be wanted that much by a single person who barely knew him was flattering, to say the least.

“You don’t know me. You like the way I look and that’s all. You’re asking for a lot of commitment based on just that.,” he pointed out, but he set his water bottle down so that he could put his hands over Viktor’s. Rub his thumb across his knuckles. “I won’t submit to you, Viktor. Not until you show me you deserve that kind of trust.”
 
Viktor keeps his eyes on Archer's face as he listens to the boy's words. He knows he's asking for a lot, but he knows what he wants and he won't back down. Besides, the touch on his hands, the way Archer's thumbs run across his knuckles, shows Viktor the redhead is at least interested.

"Well then, I guess we will just have to see how long that takes, won't we?" Viktor is smirking, his confidence as present as ever. He flips his right hand, lightly lifting Archer's left. He brings it to his mouth, first pressing a kiss to the redhead's knuckles, then flipping his hand over. Viktor grins, then licks Archer's palm from the base of his middle finger to his wrist.
 
That hot tongue dragging over the palm of his hand made him shiver all the way done to his bones. Set a spark in the pit of his stomach that could easily become a roaring flame. Part of him wanted to pull away and reject it; he didn’t, because he wanted more of that tongue. On his body, in his mouth. He was still very much unsatisfied with his earlier encounter. If Viktor wanted his submission, he would make the man work for it.

“Show me that you can treat me well,” Archer insisted, using his hand to grasp Viktor by the chin, and the other to tug him forward. He settled his hands on his hips, uncurled his legs. A clear invitation, though with a catch. “If you want me to submit to you, then come here and take care of me. Maybe I’ll give you a chance.”
 
Viktor almost laughs. Almost. The way Archer words what he says makes it sound like he's the one trying to get Viktor to submit. But Viktor stands, moving to sit beside Archer on the sofa. Firm hands grip the boy's hips and he pulls Archer to straddle his lap. Instead of going directly for a the redhead's lips, Viktor presses open mouth kisses to Archer's neck.

Viktor's hands wander, firmly running up and down Archer's thighs, hips, ribs. His thumbs rub beneath the hem of the boy's leather crop top, just beneath his nipples. Teasing, promising to toy with them once he's got the top off. His mouth roams, too, along Archer's neck, shoulders, to his collarbones. Wherever there's bare skin to kiss and suck at.
 
Submission is what Viktor wants. Archer prefers to be given incentive and evidence that this isn’t a one-sided arrangement. If the man wants to be treated like he's in charge, then he wants to be treated like a prince.

He makes himself comfortable in Viktor’s lap, hands on his shoulders, head tilted back to give his mouth better access. These wandering hands were far better than the VIP’s had been, moving across his body with purpose. His breath hitched at how close Viktor’s fingers came to his nipples, and rather than be the only one involved, he dipped his head down to tease kisses along the man’s jaw. Down the side of his face and along his cheek, stopping at his lips.
 
Viktor growls playfully. He can tell Archer wants a kiss, a real one, but he's not going to let the boy decide how things go. His mouth travels down again, lifting only briefly as his hands strip Archer's top from his body. His right hand slides down the boy's spine to stroke his lower back while the left rests on his ribs, in the perfect spot for his thumb to roll Archer's right nipple.

Viktor bites Archer's collarbone, then moves his mouth lower. His lips close over Archer's left nipple. Sucking firmly, his tongue and teeth toy with the bud, pulling and teasing it. Warm breath from his nose blows across Archer's chest. After a minute, Viktor swaps sides, moving his mouth to the redhead's right nipple to give it the same treatment.
 
Archer planned on having a real kiss, but was denied it. That didn’t mean the attention diminished or stopped—his mouth continued downward, pausing only to free him of his top. With the fabric out of the way, a thumb rolls across his nipple, and he jerks at the spike of pleasure. Sighing against his neck, kissing and biting at the skin there. A moan escaped in a single exhale as Viktor’s mouth found its way to the other side of his chest.

The erection he lost before was back in full now, if not more so. Unlike the VIP, Viktor knew what he was doing. Archer was left squirming and breathless in the wake of his skilled mouth, slowly coming undone at the seams. It was difficult for him to confess that he was enjoying it, but his body betrayed the truth. His briefs were too tight, his hips pressing forward into his abdomen, trying to relieve the pressure.
 
Viktor is purposely refusing to touch Archer's groin. He's enjoying the boy's growing desperation for friction. As a bonus, his rolling hips are also grinding his ass down on Viktor's own hard erection. Even the man's are adding to the teasing, rubbing Archer's hips and encouraging him to keep them moving.

After another minute, Viktor lifts his head and licks his lips. He's smirking, well aware that Archer is likely enjoying this more than he had expected. Finally, he kisses the redhead, slipping his tongue past lips still parted from Archer's moan. Viktor's hands slide down the back of the boy's briefs, grasping soft flesh and pulling Archer closer. Now Viktor rolls his own hips up firmly, just once. But it's enough to give Archer a hint of the large cock contained within Viktor's black jeans.
 
Viktor is toying with him, he knows that much with certainty. There’s no possible way that the way he’s refusing to dip past his briefs is accidental. As far as he can tell, there isn’t a single sign about this man’s actions that are ever anything less purposeful. Archer feels a brief edge of irritation over it, only distracted from it by the kiss that ensues. Deep and full of warmth, the slide that expert tongue on his own.

The touch of their hips only lasts for a moment, but he can feel the hard length of the man under his jeans. Can tell that he's big without ever having to see his cock. Viktor only gives him that tiny hint—Archer knows when to step up and go after what he wants. He’s stubborn enough to roll his hips down again, to shift and allow himself more room to feel the man’s cock, grinding intentionally against it. If Viktor was looking for someone who obeyed rules, he would have a tough time of it with him. Archer was prone to not listening in the heat of the moment. Limits he would not cross, but this game of cat and mouse? That was another story.
 
Viktor groans into Archer's mouth when the boy grinds down on his cock. Even through his jeans and the leather briefs, the redhead's plump ass spreads nicely against his hard length. Viktor can't resist rolling his hips up now. His hands knead the boy's ass inside his briefs, while at the same time keeping Archer from lifting his hips up too far.

It's a constant press and grind now, Viktor dry jumping Archer through their clothing. His movements are slowly pulling his tucked white button shirt free from his belted waistband. Viktor bites and pulls Archer's lower lip as he breaks the kiss to breathe.
 
Archer’s only further fueled by his moan, knowing that he’s just as affected by this, that he’s enjoying himself. Of course he would be, when he was the one to flat out say he wanted this and more. It’s a constant rhythm of dry humping and grinding, locked together even through the layers of their clothing.

His eyes are shut tightly, as Viktor bites his lower lip, and he lets out a whine against his lips. He doesn’t think he could come like this, needs more, craves it—in a breathy voice, he demands it, “Take care of me.” Not a question, not a suggestion. He wants to be touched, he wants to be satisfied.
 
Viktor chuckles softly against the underside of Archer's jaw, where he's currently licking and nipping the skin. The redhead is making a demand, but Viktor doesn't answer demands. He gives them. And though he's supposed to be proving himself, he's not going to allow the redhead to be in control.

Hips still moving, hands still pulling Archer's ass down, Viktor moves his mouth to lick the shell of the boy's ear. He groans heatedly, letting the boy know he's pleased with their movements. "Ask me nicely."
 
Archer’s plan this time around is also backfiring. Instead of giving in and giving him exactly what he wanted, Viktor was pushing back. He demanded to be the one in control and made it clear he didn’t take orders lying down. As hot as that was, he was frustrated to have to ask nicely.

”Viktor,” he moaned the man’s name, as breathily as he could, turning to capture the man’s lips in another heated kiss. He didn’t want to ask. Viktor knew what he wanted and Archer expected to get it.
 
Viktor shudders at the way Archer moans his name. It makes his cock throb, makes him push harder up against the boy's ass. But it doesn't make him give in. Not even with the kiss, which Viktor very quickly takes command of. His tongue takes the lead, rubbing against Archer's, and pressing it down before licking along it again.

Viktor doesn't let Archer use the kiss as a distraction. After a short while, he breaks it off, licking the corner of the boy's mouth. Something between a groan and a playful growl rumbles up from his chest. "Ask me nicely, Archer."
 
Either Viktor was used to asserting his dominance or simply had nerves of steel, because he didn’t buckle or waver. Even when moaning his name earned the appropriate reaction, he’s left dragging in the wake of the kiss that he commands and in the taste of his tongue. It’s almost enough to make him melt.

It’s nearly painful when Archer mimicked the lick to the corner of the man’s mouth, dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. Asking is the same as submitting, but he can’t find a reason to keep being stubborn: Viktor’s mouth constantly on him, his hands never stop roaming, and his cock is rock hard under his ass. If he asks, he can have those hands on his cock. He’ll get what he wants. Is it worth saying that he won’t ask? Viktor won’t touch him where he needs him to.

At long last, he pants, “Please, Viktor?”
 
Pleased that the redhead is slowly starting to give in, Viktor lifts the boy's hips so he can help him shimmy out of the tight leather briefs. The relief of pressure alone is bound to feel good. Viktor doesn't give Archer much time to think. After tossing the briefs aside, his hands pull the boy back down, resuming his firm, grinding roll. The denim of his jeans is slightly rough on Archer's skin, but without the tight leather, the shape of Viktor's cock is felt far more.

In compliance with Archer asking nicely, Viktor moves his right hand between them, palming the boy's cock. His strokes are firm, in time with the roll of his hips. His thumb rubs Archer's tip every time his hand comes up. Victor isn't kissing Archer now. Instead, he's watching the boy's face, enjoying his expressions.
 
Finally, finally, Viktor freed him from the confinement of his briefs. It was instantly a thousand times better to have the man grinding into him, to feel the shape of his cock through the rough denim.

“Oh,” the word leaves Archer’s mouth in a whispery exhale. With every stroke, every brush over the sensitive tip of his cock, he thrusts into his hand a little faster. His movements are far less composed, desperate to get more, more, more. All he needed was this—the firm grasp around him, swiping away drops of precum, and he was done. His orgasm hit him hard with a cry that he had no time to stop, shuddering and thrusting into Viktor’s hand. Collapsing against him in a mess of boneless limbs and heavy breaths.
 
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