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The Boss's Obsession (LustfulSins&CrescentBlade)

Viktor sticks his tongue out at Archer's laughter, huffing. He usually does check the call display, but he's so wrapped up in his focus on the redhead right now, it completely slipped his mind. "Very few people have my number, so I just assumed it was someone I knew. I forgot that ordering online on a cell automatically tags the cell's number to the order."

There's a quiet buzz from the living area, then the door to Viktor's private quarters clicks open. Viktor sighs, turning his face toward the bedroom doorway. Because they're private quarters, there's no doors to the bedroom and bathroom, just open doorways, so a voice calls from the main room easily.

"Boss, some scared delivery kid dropped off food and coffee from that place you like down the street. You need to stop ordering from there, it's expensive." The voice pauses, then footsteps can be heard. "Vince called, said the deal went without a hitch. Got ourselves a new loyal--" "Shawn, shut the fuck up!" Viktor is quick to cut off the voice's words, and a tall, skinny blond steps into view. His hair is shoulder length, but half his head is shaved. Bright blue eyes are wide when he spots Viktor laying on top of Archer. After sputtering an apology, he sets a cup tray and a paper bag on the bedside table and literally runs from the quarters. Viktor sighs, dropping his forehead onto Archer's chest and thumping it gently a few times. "Why am I surrounded by idiots."
 
Archer would be more embarrassed about being naked, covered in love bites and literally lying beneath Viktor if it happened, say, two years ago. Now, he’s been through the walk of shame a thousand times over and feels little to no shame in his current state of undress. Given the fact that he strips for a living in nothing more than glorified underwear, it’s nearly impossible not to be comfortable with his own body.

The blond man who enters the room, half his head shaved, seems to blanch at the sight of them. No sooner had he arrived, he’s gone, fleeing like death is at his heels. Viktor thumps his head down on his chest a few times and Archer smirks, running his fingers through the man’s long hair. “I’ve been asking myself that question for years. When I find an answer, I’ll let you know,” he promises playfully, unbothered by the strange display. Whatever Shawn had been starting to say, Viktor clearly did not want Archer to hear. As curious as he was, he figures it was simple business stuff. Sounds like they got a new, important VIP or something similar.

He reaches over Viktor’s body for their coffee and food. Finding the cup labeled with vanilla, he takes a sip and nearly moans. “God, this coffee is good. I’m usually a zombie without my coffee. Doesn’t help that my sleeping schedule is fucked, though.”
 
Viktor hums as Archer threads his fingers through his hair. He's reluctant to sit up, but eating laying down would result in one of them, or both, choking. So Viktor pushes himself up, pushing the blankets away as he does. He's silently thankful Archer isn't questioning his halt of Shawn's words. Of his four most trusted men, the twenty four year old is by far the dumbest, always running his mouth before checking to see who might be listening.

Viktor grins when Archer is happy with his coffee. The place might be expensive, but it's worth it. He picks up his own coffee cup, which isn't labeled at all. The smell of straight black coffee should be hint enough. He had also ordered them four breakfast muffins, and three breakfast burrito wraps. "Pick what you want, I'll eat what you don't."
 
Archer isn’t going to complain about having his pick of food. He unwraps a muffin and takes a bite, snug as a bug where he’s cuddled up to Viktor. Only, it seems their peaceful morning is continuously going to be interrupted. From the living room, the familiar blaring of his own cell phone grabs his attention. “Be right back,” he promises, setting his food and drink down on the nightstand before reluctantly slipping free of the blankets. He’s pleasantly sore, but it’s nice to stretch his legs, and he’s rather smug knowing that Viktor is probably staring at his ass.

He makes sure to check the caller ID after Viktor’s hilarious mistake, finds that of course he recognizes it, and answers as he makes his way back to the bedroom. “Hey,” he says and crawls back into bed, fitting himself exactly where he was. The volume on the phone is too low for the voice on the other end to be audible, but Archer’s side of the conversation goes from relaxed to tense in under a few seconds. “No, I haven’t been home since yesterday morning. Because I went to work and stayed over at someone else’s place—wait, wait.” He leans his head on Viktor’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowing together. “Slow down, Quincy. Deep breaths. One word at a time. Now start from the beginning.”

The phone call continues, and as it does, he only grows more tense. His words are biting when he asks, “Who hit you? No, I want a name. First and last. Because I’ll kick his fucking ass for touching you, he’s not supposed to get within a mile of you.”
 
Viktor nods, finishing his second breakfast muffin already as Archer goes to get his phone. When the boy returns, Viktor stretches out in his stomach between the redhead's legs. He's about to have some fun while the boy is on the phone, kissing his thighs, but he hears the sudden anger in Archer's voice.

Sitting up, Viktor watches Archer. His hands stay on the boy's thighs for comfort. From what he can gather, Archer's friend has a stalker or harasser who has violated what must be a restraining order. Viktor could be wrong, but that's what it sounds like. "Archer, what's wrong?" Viktor doesn't care that he's on the phone, he's going to talk to him anyway.
 
Archer runs a hand through Viktor’s hair as he speaks, but he’s too distracted to enjoy the kisses along his thighs. Too angry to be up for anything else. He glances at the man, hearing his question, and takes the phone away from his ear for a minute to answer. “My friend’s asshole of an ex-boyfriend broke into our apartment last night. My friend has a restraining order, but his ex is a psycho,” he says, frowning at Viktor. He returns his attention to the phone, “No, it’s okay, Quinn. I promise. I’ll be over there soon, okay?”

He sets his phone to the side and runs a hand across his face. Not so irritated as he is pissed. “I’m sorry, Viktor. Quincy needs me to come back home right now,” he explains, apologetic. “He’s really shaken up.”
 
Viktor sets one hand on Archer's thigh, leaning in to press his lips to the boy's temple. He stands, then heads to the living room to fetch Archer's discarded clothing from the night before. Returning to the bedroom, he passes the boy his clothing, before hunting for something clean for himself. A pair of black leather pants, a sleeveless shirt that almost fits like a second skin, socks, and a pair of thick soled black boots from beneath the bed. Very different from the jeans and white dress shirt from last night.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Viktor tilts his head. Even if the boy says no, Viktor will likely tail him to his apartment. If a guy has a restraining order, he's probably dangerous, and Viktor doesn't want Archer getting hurt.
 
Archer pulls his clothes on without much thought. They’re not the most appropriate for anywhere outside of the club, but at this point in his life, he doesn’t really care. People can stare, judge and complain all they want, because in the end, he can wear whatever he chooses to. When he looks over to Viktor, he’s mildly surprised to see him wearing something far different than his outfit yesterday. The sleeveless shirt shows off his muscles very well and if he didn’t have important things to take care of he would have loved to take his time admiring them all over again.

Instead, he considers the question with a tilt of his own head. On one hand, he’s not sure if Quinn would appreciate him bringing a stranger into their home, but on the other, he knows that it would be nice to have Viktor there. Not just for protection, but for support as well. “If you’re not busy, sure. I don’t want to take you away from your work. I doubt Quinn’s bitch of an ex is still there, but he might be hanging around. Guy’s a real creep.”

He pulls on his heeled shoes last, tightening the straps so they wouldn’t wobble when he stood. As he did, he makes his way over to Viktor, and presses himself into the man’s side. “Your face might scare him off, though,” he teased in a hum.
 
Viktor's eyes don't leave Archer's body as he dresses. He would love nothing more than to strip the scant clothing right back off the boy, and pin him back down on the bed. But Archer's friend needs him more right now. So when Archer accepts Viktor's offer to go with him, Viktor just smiles.

"My face isn't that scary." Viktor wraps his arm around Archer's waist when the boy tucks himself against his side. Of course, he can't help stealing a kiss, even sneaking his tongue briefly into Archer's mouth to taste him. Then he licks his lips, smirking, and guides the boy to the door of his studio apartment and down to the club.

The club looks very different in the daytime. This particular club serves as a base hangout for Viktor's gang family during the day. So, there's a lot of people of all sorts sitting at the bar, in booths, even stretched out on the floor. One very quickly tosses a hand towel over a pile of rolled smoke papers.
 
The stolen kiss is pleasant and, when Viktor sneaks his tongue in for a taste, Arche’s response in much the same way. He’s reluctant to pull away, wanting nothing more than to spend the day with Viktor’s mouth on him, but does so that they can walk down into the club. It’s strange, seeing the place in broad daylight and not filled to the brim with drunken patrons looking to let loose. Even so, it still isn’t empty. There’s people all over the place. Drinking at the bar, occupying the many booths, even stretched out across the floor.

He sees a man toss something in front of him—a towel, it looks like—but doesn’t see what lies beneath it. He’s more focused on the oddness of seeing his workplace in, literally and figuratively, a different light.

It’s not as important at the moment, so he lets his attention drift back to Viktor. “Our apartment isn’t that far away. I usually walk, if that’s alright by you,” he says, curling an arm around Viktor and settling in close. He knows he’s covered in bruises, from the hickeys on his neck and downward, and that everyone could see them. That was one of the few things that never embarrasses him, though. If anything, he enjoys the attention. One of the side effects of always having the majority of his body on public display, he supposes.
 
Two men at the bar call out a greeting to Viktor, who just gives a vague wave and a smile. His family knows better than to say anything gang related when Viktor has a guest around. Eventually, Viktor will probably introduce Archer to what he really does to make the wealth he has. Hopefully later rather than sooner.

Outside, the wind is strong and cold, despite the clear sky. Viktor pulls Archer in closer, briefly looking up. Then he looks down at Archer. "I know you said you love close, but you're barely wearing anything. We're taking my car." Viktor then promptly steers the boy toward a black ranger jeep, taking keys from his pocket.
 
Archer hesitates by the door of the jeep. He doesn’t like cars much, would rather walk than drive or be driven, but he has a feeling that Viktor wouldn’t allow him to do so. It would result in an argument, at the very least, and he doesn’t want to waste either of their time by being difficult. It wasn’t worth the effort of arguing, anyway. “Alright, we’ll take your car, then.” He opens the door and slides into the passenger seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Makes himself comfortable as he buckles up, immediately going for the radio.

The drive was rather short given that he lived so close to the club, filled with soft music and not much chatter. When the car pulls to a stop outside of his apartment building, it’s clear that not much of his money goes to his living arrangements. The place is rundown and more than a little shady. It wasn’t on the worst side of town, but it was probably one of the worst places to live in the area. Exactly why it was so cheap.

“Be nice to Quinn,” he says as the enter the front of the building. “He’s...a little shy. And sensitive. And probably a mess.” There’s not much of a lobby, just an open space through the doors that lead to the stairwell and elevator. An elevator that was, of course, out of order. It hadn’t worked since the day he moved in, so he made his way toward the stairs.
 
Viktor doesn't seem to notice Archer's unease with his vehicle, but he's not bothered by the boy selecting the radio station. Viktor never really listens to the radio anyway. At least he seems to be a relatively safe driver, if maybe a bit fast.

Archer wasn't kidding about his place being close, but Viktor is glad he drove anyway, keeping Archer from the cold wind. He frowns at the sight of the building, clearly unhappy about the conditions his intimate interest has been living in. He's definitely going to be doing something about that later.

Viktor follows Archer out of the car, giving Archer a fake offended look at his words. "As if I would be rude to a friend of yours, my sweet Archer." There's Viktor's charm again, and a winning smile. He stays close Archer, eyes roaming everywhere. Even though he's not known anywhere, as he never directly deals with anything gang related, Viktor is still very cautious about everything around him when he leaves the club.
 
Viktor was nothing if not charming, with that award-winning smile of his. Archer couldn’t deny that it made his heartbeat pick up, if only slightly. He rolls his eyes and pats the man on the arm. “I’m sure you’ll be perfectly charming,” he hums softly, not without his own smile. Small, but sincere. It feels weird to let Viktor be here, to speak to him willingly, when only a couple days ago he didn’t want anything to do with the man. Well, that was a lie—he wanted a lot to do with him, he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Using his key, he unlocks his door on the fourth floor, and pushes it open.

“Quinn, I’m home,” he calls, though he doesn’t have to wait long before he’s got an armful of man. His roommate pulls him into a hug immediately, burying his face in Archer’s shoulder and crying. He’s taller than the redhead, by at least four or five inches, but he seems so much smaller when he hunches over. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll get this whole thing sorted out.”

Quinn was tall and slender, but when he pulls away, it becomes apparent that he’s nothing like Archer. Average at best in terms of looks, which are mostly hidden under layers of old scars and a dark, fresh bruise. He’s fidgety, twitchy, and he looks at Viktor like the man is a wild animal. His voice is small as he asks, “Who’s that?”

Archer turns his head to look at Viktor, smiles, then turns back to Quinn. “That’s Viktor. He’s a nice guy, I promise. Viktor, this is Quinn, my roommate and my best friend.”
 
Viktor is mildly surprised with how quickly Archer's roommate comes running when called. Right off the bat, he can see the differences between them. While Quinn is good looking in his own way, Viktor would likely never be attracted to him, even if he had never met Archer.

Viktor stands quietly while Archer comforts Quinn. He smiles when introduced, making sure to keep his hands where Quinn can see them. Viktor has trauma victims in his family, and knows all too well that seeing hands can make a big difference in trust. "Hello, Quinn. It's nice to meet you. Archer stayed at my place overnight, so I gave him a ride home. He told me what happened, I hope that's alright. Your're his roommate and friend, so in turn, you're my friend too. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Viktor's voice is gentle and soothing, like someone talking to a scared cat.
 
Quinn glances between the two of them thoughtfully, but his gaze lands on Viktor. He’s less on edge, now that they’ve been introduced, and probably also do to the fact that he can see Viktor’s hands. “Oh. There’s not a lot you can do, but thank you,” he says and his tone is as soft as it is defeated. To Archer, he sighs, “I called the police, but he ran away, and they didn’t really seem to care too much about chasing him down. He said he’d be back. What’s the point of having a restraining order if it doesn’t even matter?”

Archer runs his hands soothingly down the man’s arms and brings the three of them into the kitchen. Pulls out a seat for Quinn and one for Viktor nearby. He sits directly between the two of them, back to Viktor so that he can lean against him. “Because you can take it to court and put that psycho in jail. The police might not care, but I’m pretty sure a lawyer would. He violated the contract, he hit you, and he went against his parole.” Archer turns his gaze to Viktor then, craning around to look at him. “Know any good lawyers in the area, Vik?”
 
Viktor offers Quinn a sympathetic smile, but the gears in his mind are turning. He's not surprised when Quinn says the police didn't care. They never seem to focus on the important stuff. And there's so many crooked officers. He's got two himself, in his family. He follows the two into the kitchen, sitting where directed. Without even thinking about it, Viktor wraps his arms around Archer's waist when the boy leans against him.

"I know a couple good lawyers. I'll even fund them. You shouldn't be forced to live in fear of this man." Viktor pauses, clapping his hands together and digging his fingernails in between his own fingers. He doesn't often lose his temper, but abusive relationships is definitely high on the list of things that make him snap. "Quinn, what's his name?"
 
Quinn gapes a little in surprise at the offer and the subsequent question, looking misty eyed and nothing short of shocked. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he insists and starts to hold up his hands.

Archer catches them and holds them in his own. They’re calloused from working long days in a nearby restaurant, serving guests and cleaning. He rubs his thumbs over the man’s knuckles. He brings them up to his lips to kiss them and, although it isn’t the most common gesture between friends, it’s entirely platonic. If there had been any lingering doubts about Archer giving himself to Viktor, they were gone now. Any man willing to finance a lawyer for someone he didn’t know, because they needed it, had to be a good man. “It’s okay, Quinn. Viktor is right—you shouldn’t have to be afraid. It’s not fair. That asshole came here and he hurt you again, even after you’ve done so much to get away from him. We’re both going to fund it and we’ll make sure he gets thrown in prison.”

The tears that spill down Quinn’s cheeks are enough to make Archer’s insides twist with anger. Quinn pulls one hand away to wipe his face and doesn’t meet their gazes when he says, “His name is Anthony Wilkerson.”
 
Viktor stays silent, a plan already forming in his head. Not something he plans to discuss with Archer; the innocent boy would not approve, and he can't afford to drive a wedge between them, now that he's got him. He watches Archer's display of affection, lips twitching. Not in jealousy, but to hide yet another smile. Everything Archer does just makes Viktor want him more.

The second Quinn gives the name, Viktor pulls out his phone and taps the name into his notes app. He would set his plan into motion later. For now, he will be a silent guard. Internally, he finds himself wishing he had added his knife to his belt, or pulled on his concealed gun holster harness.
 
“Thank you for helping me,” Quinn murmurs and dries his eyes, to which Archer gives him a bright grin. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Q. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help? Besides, Viktor’s pretty amazing. I know he looks a little scary, but he’s like a fluffy dog,” Archer teases, turning to give Viktor a gentle pat on the cheek. He doesn’t feel embarrassed to give him a compliment, because he’s pretty sure he’ll say far more embarrassing things the next time Viktor touches him. The man seemed to like making him beg for what he wanted. “We’ll get everything sorted out, make sure that asshole never touches you again. You’re going to go stay with your brother, aren’t you? Do you want me to help you pack?”

Shaking his head, Quinn leans forward to give Archer a hug. “Yeah, but it’s okay. He’s coming over in a minute to help me.”

It doesn’t take long for Quinn’s brother to show up and after a quick hello, and an even longer goodbye where Archer is reluctant to free Quinn from his hug, both he and Viktor are off again. They’re in the car again before Archer speaks. “Hey, thanks for coming with me. And being so nice to Quinn. It really means a lot to me.”
 
Viktor rolls his eyes when called a puppy, promptly turning his head to bite Archer's finger. He can't help it; he's not a puppy, and he's far from a safe person, though Archer doesn't know it. He would put the boy in his place later. When Quinn's brother shows up, Viktor stays out of the way, standing almost like a guard in a corner of the main room, where he can see most of the apartment.

Back in the car, Viktor places his hand on Archer's thigh, squeezing. "Of course. Quinn is your friend, and by extension, my friend. I look after my friends. I'll make some calls later." Viktor pauses, watching Archer. Then he smiles softly. "I'm surprised you didn't stay with him."
 
Archer leans into the hand on his thigh. To him, Viktor is the slight odd but very charming owner of a chain of clubs. Not a criminal by any means, not dangerous. He thinks of him as, so far, being rather nice behind his handsome exterior. A little difficult to get along with without some effort, but that’s to be expected between strangers. “I want to stay with him, don’t get me wrong, but his family doesn’t like me much,” he explains with a small shrug. “We went to high school together but his family still calls me ‘his stripper friend’. They’re a little conservative, I guess. Quinn doesn’t mind, though.”

Some people would never be all that accepting of such professions, but Archer didn’t mind. He made good money, didn’t have to suffer through student loans, and he was happy with his life choices. “I’ll meet up with him later. We always have a movie night once a week.”
 
Viktor nods, pulling away from the curb and driving one handed. Instead of heading back to the club, he turns in the opposite direction. He needs groceries for his small kitchen upstairs. Plus, he doesn't want to get Archer involved in the daytime activities at the club just yet.

"So, what made you want to be a stripper? Don't get me wrong, so glad you did. Love watching your hot body move on stage." Viktor smirks, glancing sideways at Archer. His hand squeezes the boy's thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth.
 
Archer bit down a cheeky grin at the compliment and the accompanying, appreciative squeeze to his thigh. Too bad the car wasn’t able to drive itself or he might have given Viktor more incentive to continue. “That’s a good question,” he said, in a thoughtful hum as he crossed his arms and tried to think. There were plenty of reasons, but he didn’t quite remember what exactly led him to his profession now. “I turned eighteen, recently got fired from my job at Shake N’ Steak and needed a job. I have a lot of respect for retail and fast food workers, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t pay nearly enough.”

Most of his teenage years were spent working part-time jobs. Fast food joints, big name clothing stores, grocery stores. Even odd jobs like dog walking and babysitting, when he needed a bit more cash in a short amount of time. It had been stressful, exhausting, and his grades in school had suffered. He doubted his high school grade point average would allow him to get into most colleges.

“But then I met this girl Piper at a club. She’d been stripping for a while. We started talking, she said she knew a guy who was looking for more dancers at his club, and I took up the offer. Dude was pretty sleazy, but it paid well and he didn’t mind me being a newbie,” he explained, brushing invisible dirt from his shorts. It felt strange to be talking so casually about his choice in careers with, well, his boss. He supposed it shouldn’t have been, considering they’d done far more than talk the night before. “That job lasted about three months. I quit when I found a better place on the other side of town. Stayed there for a couple years, heard about your club from another friend, and now I’m here.”

A short, sweet story. Or maybe not. His sole reason for being where he was now was, to put it simply, money.
 
Viktor listens in silence as Archer speaks of his dancing experience. His hand remains on the boy's thigh, fingers rubbing tiny circles dangerously close to Archer's groin. By the time the redhead is finishing his story, Viktor is pulling into the parking space behind the club. "Sounds like you had some interesting adventures before coming here. I'm glad you did, though."

Viktor exits the car, going around to help Archer out. Immediately, his arm drapes around the redhead like it's second nature. Inside, there's less people now. One man in the corner has a lit smoke between his teeth, and looks far more out of it than what weed does to a person. Another at the same table is rolling another smoke filled with a red powder. Viktor tugs Archer along with him to the club kitchen before he can start asking questions. "Are you hungry? I have a tendency to graze throughout the day."
 
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