Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jayce always fingers him nice and slow.

It's funny because Viktor used to think that Jayce liked quickies, fast and impatient sex lasting only a single round. Statistically, he figured Jayce fell into that category the same as the rest of the population. Just look at the man, Jayce doesn’t seem like the patient type. He isn't. Not in the lab or in their academic endeavors.

But Viktor was so very wrong.

“Jayce, enough,” Viktor whimpers. He has to fight the urge not to muffle himself with the back of his hand. “Just do it.”

“Not yet.” Jayce places a kiss on Viktor’s palm. “Stop hiding already.”

“I'm not.”

To say Viktor dislikes this is a step too far. However strong his embarrassment is, he secretly enjoys this just as much as the sex. The problem is how intense it feels.

Aside from basic hygiene, coffee breaks, and the occasional meal (Jayce always forced those on him), Viktor didn't spend much time focused on his own body, much less this. He had always viewed his urges as a biological need for release, touching himself only to be rid of the desire. Sure it felt good, but none of those times left him panting loose moans or–or whatever mess he was reduced to whenever Jayce was done with him.

Viktor has his back brace on still, providing much–needed relief and stabilization after having forgone it for most of the day (big mistake), so he’s forced to make up for lost time. In this case, it does little to restrain his writhing body.

Jayce adds a second finger and it leaves Viktor punched out and choked up with quick, light gasps. He pumps his fingers in and out rhythmically, widening it nice and sloppy with the lube. It sends shocks of pleasure up his spine, and Viktor’s hips would stutter away from the ministrations if not for Jayce's stabilizing hand clamped on his thigh.

“Nngh–that’s—”

“It's so pretty here, Viktor, I wish you could see it.”

Viktor scoffs, almost a tsk that ends in a laugh. “You are ridiculous.”

Jayce chuckles and he hovers down to kiss Viktor again, this time to his partner's fingertips, his palm again, skipping to his cheek, and then he places one just shy of his upper lip. There's a hand still in the way, but for now Jayce doesn't seem to mind it when he leans back and stares down at his handiwork.

“Jayce, it's enough—” Viktor sucks in a sharp breath just as Jayce curls his fingers up ever so slightly. It rockets a delicious jolt straight through his body. “E-enough! I'm ready—just–just get on with it.”

“You're so pink around the rim. Look.” Jayce says these kinds of things too easily. “Look at how good you're taking my fingers.”

Viktor's gaze had fallen shut ages ago, unable to take the sensory overload. Perhaps it's because his eyes are closed that every nerve is amplified, the dial turned up to a hundred as Jayce works him open good, playing with the rim every so often. The silky lube coupled with the skilled fingers draws him near a precipice, saliva pooling on his lips with fingers clutched to the sheets as Jayce takes his sweet time.

It's madness how wanton and pliant Viktor becomes once Jayce is given even an inch of control. No one will ever accuse Jayce of playing complacent, not when he presses against Viktor’s walls which makes him go completely mindless and muttering broken words in Zaunite.

Viktor wants to disappear right then and there. His spine is strung tight like the copper wire they use in circuits, his body electrified by a single source. Twitching into the touch, Viktor stifles the sounds that threaten to spill from his lips so much so that Jayce grimaces.

Without a warning, Jayce curls his fingers up again and Viktor jolts, a cry ripped out of him. His pelvis shudders, back arched, and that's when soft moans fall freely.

“Jayce,” Viktor pleads. Oh, he's close, he can feel it.

Jayce lets out an audible exhale. He slides a third finger inside and Viktor has to bite his bottom lip from crying out.

“You’re…”

“I’m what?” Jayce baits, swallowing, because he needs the validation like he needs air, insatiable even when Viktor’s a quivering mess, his half-naked form left splayed out on the bed in Jayce’s council apartments by his doing.

Amazing. Incredible. The best he's ever had.

“Terrible.”

A chuckle. “I like you like this, V.”

Viktor knows that by the tone of his voice that Jayce watches him so closely like he’s a specimen underneath a microscope—a pinned butterfly in a museum. For what fascinates his partner so much, Viktor doesn’t know, but Jayce isn’t without his oddities.

Without another word, Jayce places a kiss to his jawline, trails notes of devotion down his throat, to the ridge of his collarbone, and only when he reaches Viktor’s chest does his resolve finally snap and he bites into the flesh, sucking a heated mark into place.

Viktor curses, hissing another moan before a shuddering gasp follows.

It’s maddening how Jayce can multi-task so mind-numbingly well, working him open with his fingers without losing steam as Jayce leaves blemishes in his wake down to his navel, making sure to lap at his hipbones with tongue and teeth kissed to each crest. He nips at his skin, absorbed in some unseen quest to exploit every mundane inch of Viktor.

Kisses pepper to his inner thighs, so achingly close to where he wants him to touch, keening when Jayce turns his head and sucks a small bruise to the flesh. Gods. Slow, teasing bites. Savoring him as Jayce lays playful licks along the band of each muscle, tasting him as if he relishes it. There’s not much Viktor can do beneath him other than whine and squirm, especially when he’s so painfully close.

Viktor clenches his jaw, with hands laced through the thicket of Jayce’s locks, impatiently guiding him. His cock is painfully hard and leaking, aching for the attention that Jayce refuses to give. All the while, those fingers plod in and out, toying with him with a saintly, cruel patience.

There’s vested attention to every action Jayce does, never absently going through the motions just to warm him up. Never phoning it in or doing it just to satisfy Viktor’s needs, and it’s irritating because Viktor doesn’t know what to do with this. This… this intensity.

He’s had lovers before, sure—a few. Men that impatiently tugged his clothes off or lazily fingered him just to shove it in. People that weren’t interested in the build-up. It was adequate, perfectly fine.

Oh I do it because you like it. Not because I’m into it. I don’t mind. Someone had said to him once. But Viktor could tell. This was common for people to do for their partners. Everyone had their preferences—things they didn’t care for or were disinterested in and sometimes, they did them anyway to appease their partners. The movements were perfunctory and while the act may feel good to a certain extent, Viktor was never truly convinced. Besides, the pretense bothered him. The half-hearted behavior, the disingenuous song and dance—so he viewed foreplay as a prelude before the anticipated performance.

Not Jayce though. For Jayce, he enjoyed every single act leading up to sex and Viktor had yet to find anything that Jayce actively disliked or deemed ambivalent. He relishes in the foreplay and takes his sweet time in prepping him as if it is the main event itself.

A breathy chuckle ghosts over his dick. The impish grin Jayce flashes him is aggravating.

“You’re not small here, either,” Jayce muses, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s cock, tongue darting out to lick the tip.

“Jayce,” Viktor inhales a ragged breath.

Jayce pulls back. “Let it out. I want to hear you.”

It’s unseemly, the way he says these things without reservations. It’s why Viktor was drawn to him in the first place when Jayce fought for Hextech’s existence in front of the Council. The same resolve is reflected as he stares up at Viktor, gauging every one of his reactions from the quiver of Viktor’s hips to his lips kept bitten and fettered by teeth.

Jayce lathers him up with his tongue then; thick fingers press tight against his walls and do not leave Viktor’s fluttering hole as he pumps in and out. Swallowing his length, Jayce slides his mouth down sinfully slow, eyes never wanting to part with Viktor’s face.

Without any reservation, Jayce deep-throats him, holding him there as Viktor cries out, his fingers tangle with the soft, messy hair as his mind goes wonderfully blank, delectable pleasure jolting up his spine. It takes a stabilizing hold on his hip to prevent him from stuttering madly into Jayce’s hot throat. Only when Jayce draws away only to glide back down, does Viktor lose himself, panting wet whimpers and half-formed syllables.

Thankfully, the fingers remove themselves from his body and it’d be a mercy if Viktor didn’t know any better. He knows how Jayce likes to draw things out. Wouldn’t have his partner finishing too soon because it will rob him of a chance to see Viktor’s drunken, bleary-eyed expression, drool staining the pillowcase and unable to move as Jayce holds him tight after, his body made too overstimulated that Viktor has no choice but to rely on him.

Meanwhile, Jayce doesn’t stop stealing glances up at him. He noses into Viktor’s dark curls, keeping his lips locked around the base so Viktor’s cock pulses into that tight, hot furnace of a mouth. Insane. Panting pathetic little whines, he writhes, hips turned unruly as Jayce begins to suck, picking up a pace by sliding up and down his dick.

A part of him wants to tear himself away and the other part is too blissed out to even muster the resolve to stop Jayce. And so, he grips tighter, ensnared to think of much else than Jayce lapping up the sides of his cock, slathering heavenly along his length enough to short-circuit his brain with digits pressed delightfully to the bundle of nerves that make him cry out; it’s too intense for any other thought of protest to enter.

Except for one worry.

“J-Jayce, it’s too much,” Viktor pleads. “You—you haven't even cum yet—”

Jayce pulls off to say, “Who said I was finished with you after this?”

Gods. That mouth.

Jayce takes him in again and this time, Viktor doesn’t last a moment longer, emptying himself into the back of a tightened throat, quivering as he buries himself deep.

Swallowing every drop, Jayce gulps it down like a man dying of thirst, golden gaze never leaving his own. With jolted twitches of his hips, Viktor’s mind goes delightfully euphoric as he whimpers wetly into the pillow. Unfairly, Jayce doesn’t even gag with his nose buried in Viktor’s curls, inhaling his scent and milking him with lips pressed tight.

It’s obscene how Jayce swallows him with abandon, no thought in his head other than his half-lidded focus. It’s as if he loves the taste, mouth suctioning hard. No matter how many times they’ve done it, Viktor doesn’t think he can ever get used to this. Jayce laps it up like it’s the sweetest thing in the world, because he means it, and he cannot get enough of the taste.

Viktor knows this because of the way Jayce licks his lips after keeping his heated gaze on him. When Jayce finally pulls off, Viktor’s blurred vision catches sight of an awed expression, studying him as if there’s a discovery of something truly earth-shattering.

With a nearby towel, Jayce wipes down Viktor’s thighs, then he brushes Viktor's sweaty hair out of his face, the touch lingering ever so slightly. And yet there’s no propriety or care when it comes to his own self because he licks the corner of his mouth thoroughly, making sure not to waste a single drop.

“You don't, you don't—” He needs to catch his breath. “Don't need to do this for me. For—” An exhale. “For someone like me,” Viktor finishes without thinking.

“Someone like you?” Jayce questions. There's a sharpness to his voice.

“Mhm. Give me a moment,” Viktor says, too busy coming down from his high to give it much thought; he's disinterested in the topic.

Jayce, however, is like a dog. Once he gets a bone, he never knows to leave it well enough alone.

“What do you mean by ‘someone like you’?”

Viktor exhales. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what you meant by that.”

“As I've said, it’s nothing.”

“It's not nothing. Now tell me.”

Tch. Piltovans. Demanding. Naïveté like no other. You'd think someone as bright as Jayce caught on even half as well as he chased after elusive conjectures and unsolvable mathematical formulas.

Jayce stands, without looking like he hasn’t even worked up a sweat. A total breeze for him. Even from the low, warm glow of the fireplace, his partner's muscles stand out—a direct result of forge-filled days tinkering with his hammercraft for sport. Tall and sharp-jawed, his silver tongue is just as skilled in rhetoric as he is putting it to good use between thighs.

Unfair, really. Looks and brains. So, Viktor can deal with the occasional annoyance.

Better to switch gears instead. Viktor lets out a long sigh. “I don't need any of this, you know. This, ah.” A pause. “Extra prepwork. My body can handle it.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Jayce says uncertainly. “But I do it because I love it. I love seeing your face and–and–and the way you–” He looks embarrassed now like he hadn't just gone down on him without an ounce of shame.

The word love shouldn’t bother Viktor either, but Jayce says it so easily. He would think it’s freely given too if it weren’t for the fondness in Jayce’s tone when he rushes the word out as if he couldn't bear to have it sit on his tongue any longer.

Viktor chuckles. Decides to throw out a bone.

“I know. Thank you. Now then…” Viktor tugs on Jayce’s arm so he follows and plops down onto the bed into a sitting position, and then Viktor flips over, carefully straddling him, his weak leg only lagging in pain slightly.

“I think, Councilor Talis, I'm properly prepped.”

“I, yeah, um–”

He drapes his arms around Jayce's neck, sitting upright, his gaze fixed on his partner's golden eyes which are utterly mesmerized for some unknown reason. Jayce looks at him like this quite often, like some lovestruck fool with a first crush. It's… endearing. Viktor wonders if Jayce is entirely aware of his charms, oblivious and so enthusiastic for the world.

“What do you like?”

“Um. Anything, I’m pretty open, you know that, I—”

“Mm, you say that, but we always do what I want.” There’s preferences. Always preferences. And Jayce must have at least one.

“I like everything—I like, uh,” Jayce draws a blank.

“Do you want me to ride you?” Viktor asks close to his ear, knowing that his accented lilt sends a shiver down Jayce’s spine. A small, self-satisfied grin grows on Viktor’s face.

It’s a comedy, really. A question he undoubtedly knows the answer to because Viktor had seen how Jayce had lost his mind the last time Viktor was on top of him. In fact, it drives Jayce insane, with Jayce rutting upward into his hips, rolling in a frenzied rhythm when the rope of patience cleaves into a single thread until it snaps—and Jayce cums quick, back arched and shooting into Viktor’s clenched hole.

He can't help himself. Viktor’s lashes fall closed and he leans down to–

“V, wait, that's not…not what you said though. What did you mean by–”

Oh for glorious evolution’s sake.

Viktor steals his breath anyway, lips pressed to his mouth. Hesitance sits in the kiss, but hunger is a deeper motivator and soon enough Jayce kisses him back with greed. Jayce likes to kiss deeply; in fact, he likes to do it when he’s buried deep inside of him, with his hips flush as he sucks on Viktor's bottom lip like succor to a drought.

“Seriously, I want to know–” Another breath stolen. “I want to know.”

“Mhm.”

He drinks him in, parting his lips because he knows that Jayce cannot resist. He knows that his partner likes the descent. He likes to do more than that too—he likes to retract his head for a beat just to kiss the corner of Viktor’s lips as a quick stamped seal. For a few small seconds. Always in the upper corner too and one on the cheek near his eye, before Jayce leans back in to capture the words.

Viktor had asked about it once.

“You have an odd habit, Jayce. You like to kiss right here. And here.” Viktor pointed at the spots. “Why?”

“I do?” The feigned ignorance didn’t suit him.

“You do.”

“I, um. You really don’t know?” Jayce had looked like a child, avoiding him as he rubbed the back of his neck as if he had been caught with a secret.

“Mm, no. Tell me.”

“You have a, uh, a mole there. At both spots. I just—I like to, to kiss it. That’s all.” The admission seemed a chore to coax out, but Viktor didn’t let him speak much more that night. He sucked Jayce off and made a show of swallowing his cum. Twice.

It’s things like that, that Viktor doesn’t know how to reconcile the yearning in his chest. When Jayce gets to be a bit much, Viktor doesn't know what to say or where to look. He’s never placed much stock in his looks, not with the same vanity as Piltovans do at least, and it wasn’t because of a lack of confidence. For whatever bewildering reason, Jayce finds new corners of him to explore, seemingly charmed by it, and sometimes, Viktor is a little scared of what he uncovers.

Jayce pulls away then. “V, please just tell me.”

An exasperated sound. Fine.

“Look at yourself, Jayce. You’re the Man of Progress. Decorated scientist. Councilor. You’re…”

Jayce watches him so intently, with that same dogged adoration as before that this is exactly what Viktor feels fearful of. It’s not hard to please Jayce, especially when he laps up every compliment and soaks in every golden ray of praise, but as easy as it is, Viktor notices how Jayce begins to crave it from him more and more.

“You’re, ah, attractive.” Viktor clears his throat. “You could have anyone you want.” He avoids the word perfect, because it’s impossible for anyone to be perfect. But, secretly, he thinks that maybe Jayce comes close.

“Are you… are you jealous of other people?”

“What? Hm, no,” Viktor says, non-committal, with a quick shake of his head. Softly, he says, “Nothing like that. Puzzled, I suppose. Just look at me.”

Jayce chuckles, as if it's some great discovery, a sort of amusement. “Viktor, do you know what you look like?”

“I'm not worried about how I look. I've slept with people before and that's never been a concern.”

Humor dropped, Jayce's expression darkens. “No one’s ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Viktor's brow raises. Leave it to Jayce Talis to ruin the moment. His high had long fled.

“I don't remember nor do I care. But what difference would that make?”

Jealousy is a foreign emotion; even when he covets, it’s never for something trivial as that. There’s no anguish in his voice and no greater emotion other than genuine curiosity. He simply knows that there’s nothing special about him physically and the fact that Jayce wants him with that much ferocity is the true mystery. It’s not a source of insecurity so much as an accepted fact. There were more pressing things in life to think—

“Is that why you don’t come with me to the parties? Or come up with me when they announce our names? I just thought–I thought you were uncomfortable with all the attention–”

“I don’t prefer it,” Viktor corrects.

So yes. Uncomfortable.

Somehow, this conversation becomes a bit too raw for him and it sidles into a territory that he’s not interested in treading at the moment.

“Just look at me, Jayce. For them to see me hanging on your arm–for their staring at the poor Zaunite from the Undercity with someone like you—I have neither the care nor the patience for the decorum.”

The judgement. They’ll judge Jayce simply for being associated with him. They’ll question their achievements, their discoveries, and their research. All because of what Viktor looks like and where he’s from.

Jayce gently guides him off of his lap now, his expression turned stern and decidedly irked which confuses Viktor because that face was usually reserved for whatever council issue bothered him. Before he can ask, Jayce stands up abruptly, grabbing Viktor's wrist and he leads him through the room.

“Jayce?” He shivers, cool air hitting his form. The back brace he has on provides some coverage, but not much.

The bathroom they’re in has gold filigree chased with polished bronze running up along the trim. The faucet fixtures gleam, and the chandelier above shimmers, casting geared patterns onto the cream walls igniting prism light. No expense spared for councilors, and certainly not for Piltover’s Champion of Tomorrow.

In the corners of the room, luscious plants line the walls, some in every square centimeter like next to the glass walk-in shower or at the foot of his stone bath chamber, which appears to be a swimming spa rather than a bathtub. The stone steps lead down into the pool—its depths permanently heated, with steam emanating from the water’s surface like a perpetual hot spring. Jayce must have had it filled when the night began. Loose petals float across.

Ah, so that’s where Jayce stores all the flowers he receives. His partner is no stranger to bouquets, ornate arrangements offering gratitude and a bribe. Viktor would laugh if it weren’t for the tight grip around his wrist. Jayce pulls forward, shoving him against the bathroom counter.

“Jayce, what even is the point of this?” He asks, glancing behind himself.

“Look at yourself, Viktor,” Jayce urges to the shell of his ear.

It sends a shiver racing up his spine. A kiss is pressed to the back of his ear. Firm hands grip his waist and hip, keeping him locked against the counter. Deep need coils in Viktor’s belly straight to his groin, with Jayce’s hard, heavy cock pressed firmly into his lower back, perched on the crest of his ass.

Oh.

His vision flicks straight ahead right into the mirror.

There’s nothing special about him. Pallid skin, amber eyes, wild hair, and gaunt cheekbones. He appears more nourished thanks to a certain someone always insisting on three square meals a day when a cup of coffee would suffice. His ribs still stick out under the brace and his limbs are spindly twigs. Not that it actually bothers Viktor, per se. That’s how it’s always been since he was a child in the fissures.

But even more shocking is the man beside Viktor in the reflection—Jayce appears broken, awestruck—brows relaxed, teeth pillowed on lips in restraint, and a golden gaze turned liquid.

Viktor exhales a shattered breath.

“I wish you could see what I see, V,” Jayce murmurs.

A soft sigh leaves his lips. “Jayce…”

In the mirror, hungry hands massage his flesh, from Jayce’s thumb rubbing his dusty pink nipple to a palm fanned out across the expanse of his stomach, rubbing his belly past his back brace before it slides over the slight curve of his waist and back again. Over and over. Teeth nick into the saddle of his neck and Viktor bucks into the heavy breaths ghosting every bite. Delightful jolts of pleasure race up his spine and Viktor grips the marble counter to steady himself, the cold stone being the only grounding thing driving into his palms.

Viktor draws in a serrated gasp.

Oh–

“Just look at you,” Jayce muses, golden eyes meeting his gaze reflected back in the mirror. He sucks another bite into Viktor’s pulse point. There’s teeth again, and a swipe of his tongue across soft flesh.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

He’s quite the sight alright. Viktor’s body is a mess, a map of all the places Jayce has explored with his tongue and touch. With a flush that extends down to his chest, Viktor’s nipples are coaxed into taut peaks. A sheen of sweat glistens across the expanse of his chest and the full extent of Jayce’s earlier efforts comes into full view, of the countless hickeys laid across his skin in newly-emerged pink splotches.

Viktor whimpers knife-like, wincing into the touch like an electrified wire, his mind becomes hazy. His cock pulses, thickening, feeling the pressure build and climb as Jayce stakes little claims across arteries and veins in the mirror.

He fights the urge to cringe away from the reflection, but he succumbs, unable to deny the tidal wave of embarrassment that washes over him.

Fingers pry open his hole once more, teasing and testing it. Slipping inside should be no problem, but Jayce is thorough and it leaves Viktor frustrated, tears already pricking the corners of his eyes. He leans forward, ass pressed to Jayce’s thick fingers and hardness, aching for more.

“Inside me now,” Viktor begs, “Please.”

A hand travels up to his neck and it’s hard for Viktor to focus on one thing right now—the fingers working him over or the delectable grasp pressed to his throat, thumb pillowed to his jawline, forcing him to watch himself. It’s profound. Viktor rocks his hips back in an act of impatience, but it doesn’t do anything to deter Jayce; it only makes his golden gaze meet Viktor’s in the mirror.

He may not understand what Jayce sees, because all he can appreciate is how impossibly large Jayce is, with a muscled arm wrapped around his middle, his back pressed up against a broad chest, and strong thighs that keep him pinned. A delicious shiver runs through his body. Even if he wanted to escape, nothing is stopping Jayce from having his way with Viktor should he wish. It’d be so easy.

And in front of the mirror, there’s nowhere else for Viktor to look, no way for him to slip out, or to verbally dodge what’s right in front of them.

“Look at yourself, V.”

“Don’t, it’s–”

“I love every inch of your body. How could I not?”

“Jayce, please, I can’t–”

“Every single piece of you...” Jayce kisses his neck, chaste now. A pause, slow, with a hint of longing. “I find irresistible.”

A hand crawls down to his already leaking cock, still sensitive from before and Jayce fists around it, swallowing around the base as he pumps him languidly.

“Oh,” Viktor huffs, head lolling back against Jayce, never breaking their stare.

In the mirror, Viktor finds himself utterly unrecognizable, his face ruined by tears and a mouth that falls open, drooling for it.

It’s then that Jayce finally, finally lines himself up and pushes his cock in, inch by inch. Careful. Torturous.

“Ohh,” Viktor sighs, head going completely blank.

There’s a slight bit of discomfort every time Jayce enters him but only because of the pure size searing past his rim, the tip catches slightly on the lubed entrance as it’s pushed in. It's unfair, downright criminal how Fate has made Jayce unnaturally big in all things—hands, chest, arms, and thighs. With a melting glide, a hiss escapes through his teeth, as if he’s scorched by heat.

“Fuck, V, you're tight,” he says it like it's a new revelation. “R-relax for me.”

“K-keep going, I'm, ah,” Viktor whimpers through the intense squeeze.

Jayce slides all the way in until he bottoms out. It takes Viktor a mind-numbing moment to adjust with his walls snug against the considerable girth. The cock inside of him throbs, and all coherent thought flees as he clenches, causing him to quiver around the sheer size.

Gods. He's huge.

Sneaking a hand over Viktor’s belly, Jayce palms it, stroking, feeling for the bulge. Ah. The look he’s giving Viktor in the mirror doesn’t compute in his brain. He’s never seen Jayce so salacious, his partner’s half-lidded eyes raking across his body in the mirror. Jayce isn’t simply a spectator, he’s peeling back every single layer of him, piece by piece, as if there’s a point to be proven.

He starts to move, setting a brutally slow pace. Viktor moans when Jayce thrusts in, every deliberate slam feels like it’s a punishment. Every time he slides inside, Viktor’s sight blackens, fingers clutching the cold marble counter as he’s bent over the sink, panting as his breaths fog the mirror.

“Gods, you look—”

“Please, Jayce, I need you—” The last syllable barely makes it past lips before Jayce shoves back inside him and Viktor lets out a high-pitched wail.

That does it. All reason dies and Jayce snaps into him and this time, he does not stop. Forced over the sink, Viktor’s body goes pliant as Jayce pulls his hips back onto his cock, thrusting madly into him. All the while, Jayce does not break his molten stare in the mirror, watching and examining how Viktor sharply gasps and whines—the way he attempts to bite his bottom lip to keep quiet and how that fails when his mouth drops to a pink-tongued moan. Meanwhile, Jayce studies him as if he’s mesmerized by a formula, the attention penetrative, salivating after Viktor’s feedback loop.

Every time Viktor’s head lolls forward and his eyes fall shut, he’s brought back to reality by a particularly urgent thrust that leaves him breathless with a strung-out Zaunite curse that cuts into a moan. And every time Jayce pumps into him, Viktor fights the urge to collapse as his legs tremble, but he cannot find the willpower to tell Jayce to slow down. It feels too good—the way Jayce fucks him like he cannot stop, deep and desperate. Like he needs this and no one else can satisfy his dark hunger but Viktor—and only Viktor.

The bundle of nerves that Jayce’s dick catches against with each sinful slide nearly sends him over the edge, the world going white as his eyelids flicker open and he takes in the sight of Jayce’s bitten lips, his partner’s grunting becomes something barely contained past his teeth.

Jayce must have noticed it then too—between Viktor’s shameless sounds and wobbly knees drawing nearer to the precipice, he senses that Viktor is at his limit. For Viktor, really, it's the palm flattened across his stomach, clutching him close like he belongs to Jayce or maybe it's the fingers driving into his hipbone—the brutal grasp, as he's being taken. No matter what the reasons, Jayce’s hand abandons his hip in favor of his cock again and the expert grip is too much to handle.

With a few strokes, Viktor cums, spilling down his length, the milky liquid trickles down the curve of his balls, and past that, his puffy hole filled to the brim. Jayce follows too, groaning into his ear, hips stuttering as he empties himself.

The orgasm is immense—frying his faculties, mental and physical. Spasming, Viktor’s muscles go taut into Jayce's hold, coiled tight, and then relax abruptly, the visceral pleasure shudders through his body and overwhelms him. He can taste the saltiness of stray tears before they’re wiped away. And there’s Jayce in the mirror, anchoring him to reality.

It takes them both a moment to come down from the high, but it's Jayce who turns him around and lifts him up onto the counter into a seated position. A soft hiss escapes at the cold contact on his bare ass. The rest is needed, since his leg has started to ache and it's not fully forgotten until Jayce leans down and kisses him fully, capturing his breath in a single motion.

Viktor whines into the kiss as Jayce tastes him, tongue lapping him up like a man starved—first the corner of his mouth and then inside, dire and heated. When they break apart for a beat, Jayce meets him again before a word can be spoken, as if he cannot bear to depart from Viktor's lips for long.

“Lean back,” Jayce says as he grabs a nearby washcloth.

Acquiescing, Viktor shifts his hips slightly. He's full, filled, the warmth of which leaves him pleasantly tingly and hazy.

It doesn't matter how many times they've slept together, this part always makes him marvel at how Jayce doesn't tire of the clean-up, treats it as if it's a novel ritual every time, and despite Viktor's protests, Jayce insists until eventually, he lets him, the boiling pot of embarrassment tempered down. Lately, that feeling has abated somewhat.

Gently, Jayce wipes him down, stopping to thumb at the puckered hole, running along the rim in admiration. Tapping the glossy ridge, he swipes a dribble of cum back into it, like it had slipped out of its rightful place. The spellbound scrutiny leaves Viktor burning on the inside without any chance of the fire being tamed in his chest. Blushing, Viktor tries to stomp down the humiliation in his gut, to let him continue.

“Fuck,” Jayce breathes, more to himself.

Viktor knows what thoughts rush through the Councilor's head.

Idly, he's thought about it before. A sneaking suspicion that maybe Jayce jerks off before their sessions together in a bid to last longer, but that thought is quickly debunked the more they sleep together, and Viktor is faced with a truth equal parts alarming, worrisome, and arousing: Jayce Talis likes to go multiple rounds. And Viktor doesn't know if he can keep up.

Tonight, though, a heady desire to please him sifts to the surface. Jayce would stop if Viktor wanted, if he asked him to or so much as implied it, because he's sweet like that, never pushy or demanding. But right now, Viktor yearns to see more of the real Jayce—the one without any charade, without any societal masks or Council woes written all over his face.

“More,” Viktor whispers.

“Are you sure? You’re trembling and–”

“Please.”

That does the trick.

“Okay,” Jayce says with a thick swallow, brain clicking into place exactly what that means. And Gods know that Jayce won't squander it. “Okay,” he says again, catching his breath.

Viktor shifts off of the bathroom counter, ignoring the mild soreness in the shocks of his feet as he lands. They share another kiss, with his arms locked around Jayce's neck, hands framing his cheekbones. It's permission and all of the unspoken things left unsaid.

“Lean on me, I’ll take care of everything. I promise,” Jayce murmurs against his lips.

Flipping him, Viktor faces toward the mirror again, and carefully, Jayce hooks his arms underneath his legs. The ground disappears from under him and a small swoop unfurls in Viktor’s stomach.

“I’m–I’m heavy, you’ll—” Viktor mutters, brain fogged by pleasure.

“Nonsense. You weigh practically nothing.”

It’s a poor excuse because they both know Jayce heavy lifts much, much more than triple his weight in the forge. Panic seizes him as Jayce’s hands adjust on his thighs, holding him open on display.

The tip catches on Viktor’s puckered hole again and Viktor sucks in a gasp, the sound of it alarms Jayce who snaps back to lucidity. “Is your leg okay like this?”

Viktor can only nod numbly, melting into Jayce’s touch, relaxing his full weight to settle in Jayce’s effortless grip. The hand holding his weaker leg is noticeably lower than the other, easing most pressure off his joints. It’s not bent at an angle that causes too much discomfort yet, and after cumming twice already, Viktor can hardly feel his nerve endings other than the remnants of an immense orgasm washing over him.

Viktor mewls into the reverent kisses nipped along the back of his neck and the curve of his shoulder with little notes of devotion. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Viktor huffs, bleary-eyed in the mirror.

How could he say no to that face? The way Jayce reveres his skin, licking at sweat, and how each time he kisses his flesh so sweetly, he lingers. It’s that intensity again, the kind that Viktor doesn’t know what to do with. Jayce noses into him, almost apologetic, much like his previous efforts with his thighs, and it adds jet engine fuel lit alight within Viktor’s chest as if he wasn’t already scorching from the inside.

“Let me know as soon as it hurts and I’ll stop,” Jayce reiterates.

Viktor nods again, a soft murmur on his lips.

“Eyes up, V. Look at how good you’re taking me,” then softly, like a private prayer, “fuck.”

Oh.

In the mirror, Viktor can see everything. How effortlessly Jayce holds him up with thick arms, his legs splayed open like a trophy, and how utterly thin and pale he is in contrast to Jayce's skin tone. How the reddened, leaking tip breaches his pink-tinged hole.

Leave it to Jayce to find new ways to soar his self-consciousness to new heights, but he has to admit, the sight is anything if not thrilling. Breathless, Viktor nods in the reflection signifying his readiness though it’s not without some trepidation, a small voice inside that worries about how deep he can take in this raw, newfound position.

Jayce spears into him, resuming a halting pace as he lifts Viktor up and then down experimentally on his thick length. The breach is slick and offers a nice glide that leaves them both gasping. At first, the rhythm is even and careful, which is plenty of time for Viktor to mull over their image—they’re quite a sight.

If anyone came in, they’d get an eyeful of Jayce Talis, the revered Councilor—plowing his lab partner deep. The sweat-glistened sheen covers his taut muscles as he holds Viktor up with ease. The messy silken cum from earlier glistens along Jayce’s dick, only to be stuffed back in with a rough thrust, balls deep.

Viktor whimpers as he spasms around Jayce’s girth, leaving him with high-pitched moans. Similarly, should anyone walk in, they’d see Viktor, his eager hole greedily claiming the Councilor’s cock for his own. They can see how he’s stretched wide and mindlessly babbling a string of half-formed pleas. Perhaps, they’d be scandalized when they see how every single inch of Jayce’s cock disappears inside of him, pulsing deep and throbbing inside his snug hole. From his hand that rests across his belly, Viktor can feel him move in and out, and it feels unfathomably good when Jayce buries himself straight to the hilt.

The tempo becomes sloppy, hips untethered as Viktor is reduced to a plaything whenever Jayce thrusts up into him, his hole squeezed tight and left wanting each time he raises him high. Mouth agape, shattered moans spill past his lips as Jayce uses him.

He can hardly think, hardly speak, let alone—

“You–you asked me before–what I liked–what I liked to do—” Jayce says.

Viktor can only murmur weakly in response, latching an arm around Jayce’s shoulder for easier positioning.

“I love doing this. Love seeing how you take all of me.”

“Jayce—”

“I love looking at you. Love seeing you be good for me.”

Viktor surrenders to that searing heat of pleasure run past his puffy pink rim, delectably nailing that spot over and over again with a precision unlike any other. Every time Jayce grinds past it, Viktor throws his head back, chasing the edge, mind going white.

“I hate the way people look at you–when they’re curious about–about you,” Jayce confesses into Viktor’s salted skin, ragged panting across his collarbone. He presses a seared kiss to his throat, sharp incisors unwittingly grazing along flesh.

It’s not lost on him how endearingly immature Jayce becomes—wanting Viktor hanging on his arm at the parties while simultaneously despising it. The possessiveness should be juvenile to him, but instead, it ignites a baseborn burst of pride within his chest, the fresh wave of heat adding to his arousal. Viktor doesn’t have time to appreciate the contradiction though, not when Jayce’s thrusts turn erratic, and how he groans ruinously loud enough to reach the vaulted ceiling.

“Gonna lock you up here and use you,” Jayce growls. “Want-want you on my bed leaking with my cum all the time.”

“Jayce–”

With that, Viktor comes, spilling mess over the mirror. Milky cum fogs the double image, splattered and marring the corner of their reflection. Every thought was fucked out of him, bleary-eyed as Jayce continues thrusting, emboldened by the sight. Sloppy mewls slip freely past his lips as Jayce chases his own high, rutting up in Viktor’s helpless body.

“Look at how gorgeous you are, Viktor, you're oh, fuck, you're so–”

Even though he’s well past his limit, Viktor’s cock is still hard and weeping silken threads of cum, the simmering wave of arousal kept stoked inside of him.

He's forced to see it for himself and the truth of it is reflected right back at him. There's Viktor, stuffed full with Jayce's thick cock, stretched hole fluttering around the base, desperate to swallow up whatever he can take. And then there’s Jayce rutting into him, lifting him up and down like he weighs nothing as he’s reduced to nothing more than a vessel used to gratify Jayce’s needs. Balls slapping against Viktor’s taint, Jayce’s mouth falls open in a deep groan.

And Gods, he’s ruined this man. Him. Jayce Talis. Councilor and the Golden Boy of Piltover plastered on all the airships and coffee mugs. Jayce isn’t making this face for any other person but him. Jayce comes undone with his sweat-soaked chest, heaving—fucking him up and down as if he’s been deprived.

And it’s all by Viktor’s doing.

“Viktor, you’re beautiful, just like that—”

“Jayce–”

“Gonna–gonna fill you up,” Jayce vows into their shared reflection.

“Jayce, Jayce–it’s too much,” Viktor whines, the sound of his voice unrecognizable.

“Just—Gods—hold on, V—I-I’m close.”

Viktor cums again, crying out, but this time, there's nothing left for him to give—the waves are just as intense, just as mind-numbingly good as all of his senses overwhelm him. All he sees, when he comes to, is himself. Glossy lips, tear-soaked face, bright red flush all over, and a properly blissed-out expression. Idly, he thinks, maybe for a second or two, he looks perfect, spread out on Jayce’s cock like he belongs there.

Jayce empties himself, draining his balls, fucking his cum nice and deep into Viktor’s tightness, and fulfilling his promise. He rides out the last waves of his orgasm as an obscene, drawn-out groan fills the room. With hips stuttering into him, Viktor mewls protest, but oh does he savor the feeling of being stuffed with only Jayce’s cum to answer for his exhaustion.

“You did so well, you did–you’re so good—so—” Jayce pants against his neck as kisses grace along it.

Viktor can hardly keep his eyes open through the tears, but he basks in the reassurance anyway and passes out to breathy praise.

The next time Viktor comes to, he’s in the bath, laid up against a taut chest. His back brace was removed. Every muscle goes pleasantly lax in the water. Relief sinks around his knees and up his lower back, although occasionally the heat can aggravate the inflammation, right now, it’s welcomed. Steam rolls up and the soft scent of cedar and citrus fills his nostrils. His shoulders are rubbed gently at the junction where he holds the most tension near the curve of his neck.

After a while, large hands massage his thighs, kneading the underside with such affection, there’s nothing much for him to do, but to soak in that touch. Later, he'll run a hand over his bruised skin or maybe his clothes will brush over them in a certain way that causes him to wince, the soreness a reminder of tonight.

Sighing pleasantly, he turns and lifts his head to waiting lips.

Jayce kisses him like he cherishes every single second, tongue sliding against his own as he drinks him in. This time, it’s slow and affectionate, unhurried. Instead of that black hunger from before, Jayce kisses him like it’s an apology, an appreciation, and it’s only confirmed as such when they break apart and his brows knit together.

“I-I’m sorry, I got carried away earlier. Are your legs okay—your spine must be—”

“I’m fine, Jayce. I liked it.”

Loved it. It was the best sex he’s ever had. But Jayce’s ego needs to be kept in check.

“I just wanted to show you how attractive I find you. Because… because you deserve to be told that.”

Though it still confuses Viktor why that bothers Jayce, he says, “I don't care if people find me attractive or not. You tell me and that's enough.”

Well, Jayce certainly did more than just tell.

“I don't want you to think that I'm ashamed of you or anything or that I don't want you by my side.”

“I know.” A cough. That's never been a question.

Jayce nods, contemplative. “Was it… was it okay for you?”

Viktor chuckles. “It was more than ‘okay.’”

Jayce visibly deflates, feeling entirely unconvinced, like he still messed up in some way. Ah. Bones. He needs to throw one out. Good thing Viktor isn’t stingy enough to hoard them.

“I…” Viktor tastes the words on his tongue before he serves them. “I enjoyed it. It felt pleasurable and I—” A breath. “I love everything that we did.”

There. It’s said. Now, he doesn’t have to—

Jayce steals another kiss. And another. And another. When Viktor can get a word, or thankfully, a breath, it’s Jayce who hurriedly rushes out a response.

“Was there anything specific? I can do something different next time.”

“Mhm.”

“Or maybe, we can—”

“Jayce, I loved it all, don’t worry,” Viktor whispers, nuzzling his cheek into Jayce's chest, stomping down that small voice of fear for his sake. “I just want to be with you.”

Caught off guard, eyes widened, Jayce swallows thickly. “Me–me too. Of course.” Then, renewed, “I want to be with you too, Viktor.”

Ah. Has he never said that out loud before? Hm. Viktor thought it was a given.

The admission is frightening for Viktor because maybe, just maybe, he believes that they can be together after all. That perhaps, he can see the merit in those words, along with the other filthy thoughts said earlier.

Viktor nods against that broad chest, eyes falling shut. He likes it when strong arms cage him in. Loves it, even. He loves it when his partner flashes him that knowing look in the lab—one that shares their love of discovery. And now, when Jayce gazes at Viktor, he looks at him like he’s a precious metal, a rare gemstone—like his body isn’t declining by the day. With him, Viktor forgets the daily pitying or curious looks he gets. He forgets the pain.

And maybe someday, in the mirror, he’ll believe what Jayce sees too.