Victor shivered as his pants slipped down, exposing his legs to the cool air of the cellar. It wasn't the cold that made him shiver, of course — it was the heat of the other man's fingers against his stomach, hips, and then lower. This wasn't what he'd had in mind — he had been working Fisk's belt buckle off with the intention of getting the other man in his mouth as quickly as possible — but he was hardly going to say no to this. Finding an attractive man who wasn't opposed to making out when they were both a little drunk was one thing, but finding one who was actively trying to get him off wasn't something that happened every day. Did they have to go back upstairs?

Part of him wanted to ask what the hell had been going on a year ago when he'd first tried to make a move, but as long as they were half-naked in a wine cellar and had a limited amount of time to be so, he wasn't going to waste breath on something that ultimately didn't matter at the moment. "Please," he muttered instead, moving his hips into the contact as he dove back into the kiss, while his hands moved up to undo as many of Fisk's buttons as he could find in the dark.

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