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Jayce rubs his face. This Thermodynamics text is starting to look less like a book and more like a sea of stars, pages slurring and words tangling together into an incomprehensible clutter of morphemes.
He loves this stuff. He does, really; he can’t imagine doing anything other than studying.
He’s in the absolute best position to do so: Piltover Academy has the finest school of engineering on this side of the sun. Jayce’s mother had gently teased him about the concept of carrying on the family blacksmithing business, but she also readily accepted that he had other ideas. Not to say that he’s not cut out to swing a hammer – he’s swung more than a few in his life, and he looks the part – but he was always drawn to the academic, the scientific, and the unknown.
Jayce blinks hard a few times and tries to refocus. A 50lbm metal ball… temperature of 300°F … 100lbm bath of room temperature water… heat transfer occurs… equi- equalbibrium… find… equilibrium not bibrium… fuck–
This isn’t working.
After a twitch of the eyelid that jolts his entire body, Jayce sits back and sighs, eyes roaming, eager to drink in any mundane thing that isn’t this textbook and these notes. He looks at the floor beneath the window bathed in bright midday sunlight, then outside past the panes of glass separating him from the outside world. In the distance, he can see the pennants atop the Piltover Academy towers flitting prettily in the breeze.
He could go outside. Take a walk, move his limbs. Get some air in his lungs and vitamin D for his skin.
Jayce’s gaze slides to his phone sitting face-down on the far corner of his desk. He regards it silently for a moment before deciding there’s no harm in a bit of scrolling – he’s not so special as to be immune to the siren song of the algorithm. Dissociating on social media is a time-honored tradition of overtaxed graduate students.
He has a notification. It’s Piltgram, of course – he doesn’t actually post anything or interact on Pitter; he just uses it to read arguments when he’s feeling salty. Jayce does post somewhat frequently on Piltgram, his feed full of images of his piles of textbooks and products of his smithing hobby. Occasionally, very occasionally, he will post a silly selfie with Caitlyn. It is a self-evident truth that Jayce is good-looking, and one might expect his account to be plastered with mirror shots, but instead one would only find pictures of dusty tomes and cool swords. His profile picture, though, is a shockingly flattering candid shot courtesy of Caitlyn – Jayce leans casually on the concrete barrier separating habitable land from roaring sea, the bold hues of sunset coloring his profile as he stares hard at something out of frame.
Really, he was looking at a seagull ripping apart a cheeseburger wrapper.
Opening the app, he doesn’t know what he expected other than a DM from Cait. It’s a cat meme. Caitlyn’s latest obsession is Chemistry Cat, the decades-old meme of a cat wearing glasses captioned with gag-inducing scientific puns. Today, the joke is Is silicon the same in Spanish? Si.
Jayce grunts disapprovingly and types back a response.
jtsmiths: stop
Caitlyn is quick to come back with the reply Jayce knew he was going to get.
officerkiramman: no
He has to smile, despite Cait’s DMs totally wrecking whatever algorithm determines what Jayce sees on his Discover page. It’s full of cats. It’s been weeks of this, and no matter how many normal posts he likes from his Piltgram friends, the cats persist.
He’s not entirely upset about it. The critters are cute. But Jayce mostly huffs at a cat photo and moves onto the next. There’s only so many cat photos you can see before they blend together like the jargon in your thermodynamics textbook.
Jayce scrolls, and scrolls, and scrolls; he reads half of a post about an exotic-looking Bengal cat before his eyes glaze over and his thumb flicks up to scroll some more.
A bright orange flash not unlike a blazing sun stops Jayce’s thumb mid-scroll. For once, he scrolls back up to take a second look.
The cat is either comically fluffy or comically fat, maybe both. It is a truly marvelous creature, loafed comfortably upon a cushion, paws tucked tight and invisible beneath the long, majestic fur cascading down from its chest. Its closed eyes betray total satisfaction, like the middle of that pleased slow-blink that cats do, like it couldn’t possibly be bothered by even the most earth-shaking of cataclysms. It is blissfully ignorant of its surroundings. It is blissfully ignorant of the ills of the world.
It is also blissfully ignorant of the helpless creature pinned beneath its great mass. Barely perceptible beneath the grand swaths of orange fur skirting against the cushion is the unmistakable shape of another feline’s head. It’s a small, white thing, two green eyes popping out from behind the tawny curtain. Its expression is unreadable, somewhere between desperate pleading and complete resignation.
The caption: worst massage ever
For the first time today, Jayce actually laughs.
Now this is a cat photo.
He double-taps to give it a like before he can think better of the action. It might further bias his algorithm toward the feline persuasion, but the picture has earned it. Curiosity satisfactorily piqued, Jayce taps the link to the account calling itself vikpurr.
The account creation date is only a few weeks ago, and there’s only a handful of posts, but there’s already a low four-digit number of followers. The profile picture is a charming zoomed-in image of what looks like one particularly hefty orange cat’s ass. The bio is only two words – blitz 🟠 rio ⚪️ – and there’s no real identifying information like a location… just a display name: biktor.
Jayce taps another thumbnail splashed with brilliant orange. In this shot, a small, svelte white cat, likely the crushing victim depicted in the first photo, is mid-yawn, but also rears back as if startled. The orange cat sits next to it, dwarfing it in size, and leans rudely into its space as if to sniff the white cat’s breath.
The caption: hey best friend lets see those molars
Jayce snorts impolitely. He taps the tiny paper plane icon to share the post with Cait.
jtsmiths: on the topic of cat memes…
officerkiramman: THIS IS ME AND YOU
officerkiramman: who will clean your molars if not me??
officerkiramman: cmere i got the floss
jtsmiths: nevermind I regret this interaction
He looks through the rest of the photos of the fat orange cat terrorizing the slender white one in various ways. The poor white cat looks terribly sweet and terribly beleaguered; it doesn’t look much larger than a kitten and its presence is not nearly as imposing as its companion’s. She – Jayce mentally categorizes her as a she – has bright, wet eyes, as if cats could cry. But she is clearly well-cared for – clean coat, clipped nails, and a thin, pink collar with a small silver bell attached. Her orange friend – a he, per Jayce’s impenetrable logic – holds himself confidently, boisterous and assertive, however well-earned. He must be Blitz. She must be Rio.
They make a delightful duo. This is the first time since Caitlyn’s onslaught of cat memes that Jayce has been properly amused by a cat-centric Piltgram account. Despite its lack of identifying details, it’s dripping with personality through the composition of the photos and the pleasingly laconic captions. It’s refreshing, really – a social media account that doesn’t feel at all ostentatious or self-aggrandizing – just cat posts for the humble love of the game.
Jayce taps Follow – what can it hurt?
—
Jayce’s Thermodynamics assignments don’t get any more stimulating over the next month or so of the semester. He meets with his advisor Dr. Heimerdinger twice about his capstone project, a design for a large hammer that emits an electromagnetic field to enhance its percussive capabilities. Jayce admires Dr. Heimerdinger – he’s been the dean of the school of engineering at Piltover Academy for decades – but it’s like the man wants to hinder his progress at every step of the project. The project needs more of this or that or this function requires further experimental trials. Midterms season isn’t helping either.
vikpurr, though, is a bright spot in the morass. Caitlyn, and thus, Jayce’s Discover page, is finally slowing down with the random cat photos, but he’s glad he decided on a whim to add to vikpurr’s rapidly rising follower count. This biktor – what does that even mean? – updates about once a week, each post eliciting a full-throated chuckle and providing a welcome interruption to Jayce’s rumination on his upcoming Fluid Mechanics midterm. Jayce throws a like at every one of them. The latest post: an action shot of Blitz leaping from a wooden counter toward an unknown target. Maybe his food bowl. Maybe Rio. The caption: mile high club. Jayce raises his eyebrows, then giggles at the impropriety.
One day, he’s boredly flipping between his phone and a Polymers textbook when his Piltgram feed refreshes and a new post from vikpurr sits at the top. It stops Jayce dead.
There’s a picture of a cat, alright. It’s Rio, stretched out taut to show her true length; it seems she is a deceptively small cat. The caption: longcat. Another decades-old meme that would draw a hearty groan if Jayce had the mental wherewithal. The true point of interest in the post, however, is the hands holding her.
Rio’s hindquarters and upper torso are held up high in the air by human hands, the first sign of life behind the mysterious account. The fingers are elegantly lithe, knuckles bony and protruding between the long phalanges, fingernails neatly trimmed into pretty half-moons. The tendons of the hand flex and jut out boldly from beneath the pale skin.
Jayce can’t stop looking at them.
He stares at the photo for who knows how long – maybe thirty seconds, maybe ten minutes. Jayce blinks hard, hastily clicking the side button of his phone to put it in sleep mode and shoving it across the desk a foot or two out of reach.
He tries and fails for a few more minutes to draw some polymers from a problem set in his textbook before giving up and reaching back out for his phone. The photo of the hands holding up Rio is still there when he unlocks it, almost taunting Jayce for his strange reaction.
Jayce should have known there was an actual human behind vikpurr. Domestic cats can’t survive without their people to feed them their kibbles and clean their litter boxes and scritch their chins. It’s not weird, and it’s even expected for there to be evidence of their presence when following their social media. So why can’t he stop staring?
Jayce likes the photo, turns on post notifications for vikpurr, then kills the app.
Then, after a few minutes of contemplation of the empty air around him, he opens a new tab with a search engine ready.
hand bones
tendons of the hand
hands
—
“You’re making good progress, my boy. A tweak of a variable here and there and you’ll be golden!”
Jayce chafes a bit at the endearment, but he doesn’t show it – he simply nods and smiles politely. He doesn’t know how to not be deferential when in the presence of Dr. Heimerdinger.
“I’ll be sure to perfect it just as soon as I ace this exam,” Jayce says, standing up and projecting the confidence that he knows Heimerdinger likes to see. Heimerdinger offers some token words of support as Jayce is on his way out the door, pulling his phone out to check Piltgram as soon as he’s past the threshold.
Jayce scrolls, a tiny part of his mind hoping for a new vikpurr post as he walks down the hall toward the exam room. He stops and leans on a set of lockers for a moment to focus his attention. Behind him, a soft tapping sound begins from the other end of the hall. Jayce tries to ignore it, but the rhythmic tapping is getting louder, echoing throughout the empty hall and making his brain buzz with a desire to locate the source of the noise.
Jayce finally looks up from his phone in mild annoyance and glances over his shoulder, but the tapping sound has abruptly stopped, and there’s nothing and nobody to be seen. In the distance, he can hear the faint echoes of Heimerdinger’s chipper voice coming from his office.
Jayce stares at the emptiness for a moment before pushing himself off the lockers and taking his leave.
—
vikpurr now posts like clockwork once a week on Mondays.
Jayce notices, and he has never looked forward to Monday so much.
Sometimes they’re just cat photos: Blitz belly-up on a tiled floor, Rio on top of a fridge pawing at the sealed cat food container, the two of them snuggled up for an exceedingly rare nap together.
But sometimes, there’s the hands.
A hand splayed on Blitz’s back, fingers comfortably interspersed with flaming orange fur. A hand curled up as if grasping the stem of a delicate flower, extending a Churu to Rio. Two hands, palms up, proffering dry treats to each feline.
Jayce is becoming obsessed. Posting day is Monday, but he finds himself opening Piltgram multiple times a day throughout the week anyway.
He likes every photo. He double-checks to make sure notifications are enabled, and they are, still, every time. He checks the comments of every post to see if anyone else has noticed the advent of the hands, but he’s apparently the only one fixated on this.
One Monday at the breezy height of spring, vikpurr’s regular update floors Jayce again.
It’s a close-up photo of Rio, held in the crook of one arm against somebody’s chest. Her expression is comfortable, but guarded as she looks into the camera. It’s too zoomed-in; the body of Rio’s owner is featureless and nondescript within the confines of a large dark red hoodie.
What’s different is that their sleeves are rolled up.
Their forearm is as long and lithe as their fingers, spanning from a bony elbow to an even bonier wrist. vikpurr clearly works with their hands based on the steep valleys between each of the skinny but powerful muscles. A single gnarled vein reaches from behind the elbow, trails over the muscles, and disappears over the other side of the wrist.
Jayce inhales and exhales a few hot, heavy breaths. He holds his phone in one hand while the other reaches down to adjust his suddenly aching groin, and shudders when he finds himself half-hard and itching for touch.
He pauses, but doesn’t retract his hand. Looking back up at the photo of the forearm, he tentatively strokes at his clothed cock a few times and grows even harder.
Jayce swallows thickly.
He likes the photo, then kills the app and wedges his phone into a crevice between the couch cushions before getting up and shuffling in shame toward the bathroom. He runs the cold sink water over his head, splashes his face, and stares at himself in the mirror.
What am I doing?
—
Final exam season is speeding into view. The weather is getting warmer. The leaves are at their most vibrant shade of green, colorful flowers are in full bloom, and long sleeves are abandoned for T-shirts and tank tops.
There’s only one set of pale arms on Jayce’s mind.
Even during his Materials Science final, his thoughts would flit to vikpurr between thoughtlessly circling answers to multiple-choice questions. He’s not worried about the results of the exam – he’s never met an exam he didn’t pass with flying colors – but his hands are shaky as he slams his pencil down when the proctor calls time. He can’t get out of the exam room fast enough to check Piltgram on his phone (and find nothing, because it’s Thursday).
Jayce exits the tall glass doors of the school of engineering and enters the busy thoroughfare that splits the main campus quadrangle in two. He types the familiar username into the Piltgram search bar as he makes his way through the crowd, sometimes bumping shoulders with dozens, if not hundreds, of faceless persons. A tall man with a mohawk. A short woman in a pantsuit. A thin man with a cane. Two couples holding hands. Someone walking a dog.
Jayce stops, suddenly feeling empty.
At least two more people bump into him, and he hastily mumbles an apology, but he doesn’t mean it.
The cold sensation of something… missing has hit him.
He steps to the edge of the weathered concrete path and looks back toward the school of engineering, surveying for… something.
Heimerdinger standing outside the glass doors, chatting with another faculty member. A bicyclist walking his bike to the racks. Two ducks sitting in the grass, bathing in the dew from an overnight rain.
Nothing looks right.
Whatever he’s missed, it’s long gone, lost in the sea of the faceless.
—
Jayce now knows that he’s losing it.
He has Piltgram open, counting down the seconds until the clock strikes midnight on Monday, repeatedly pulling down on his screen to refresh the feed. vikpurr doesn’t post at midnight. This is ridiculous.
And pointless, as Jayce turned on push notifications for their posts weeks ago.
He doesn’t sleep. Last week, vikpurr posted another close-up shot of themselves holding Blitz and Rio tight against their chest, cats akimbo, arms on display. Thoughts of the faceless forearms fill his brain and cloud his better judgement, making him toss and turn throughout the night, the warm, low light of night mode on his phone doing nothing to soothe him.
Jayce wakes up late, having passed out from exhaustion an hour or two before sunrise. He holds the phone in one hand and his toothbrush in the other. Disables auto-lock and stares at the phone on the counter as he throws breakfast together, not really hungry. Forgets to get dressed. Mercifully, he does not have an exam today, and there’s no need to make himself presentable.
Just after noon, Jayce sets the phone down for a brief moment to pace back and forth in his apartment living room and question his own sanity. His phone buzzes.
I’m going to fucking scream if this is Caitlyn.
It’s not Caitlyn.
It’s vikpurr.
The photo is beautifully composed, for a selfie – low angle, well-lit, taking full advantage of a high noon sun and a nearly cloudless sky. In the center of the frame is a man holding a leashed cat.
And what is surely the most captivating face Jayce has ever seen.
The man’s dark chestnut hair frames his face like a painting, sweeping down the angles of his jutting cheekbones into the faintest waves. His eyes are sunken, but hard and piercing with honey-golden hue. Two beauty marks dot his upper lip and right cheek. His smile is gentle, easy, and somehow, knowing.
The caption: exercising my 🐱
Jayce would laugh if he had any capacity for humor at the moment.
There is another detail to the photo that competes for the most stunning.
The Piltover Academy pennants are clearly visible in the background.
Jayce drops his phone, hitting the hardwood with a sickening crack. Shards of his screen protector (and maybe the screen) scatter across the floor.
After a half-second of stunned silence, Jayce scrambles to his hands and knees to retrieve the phone, ignoring the minute pain of the pads of his fingers scraping across the broken touchscreen.
He stares at the phone in unbelief. This can’t be real.
His fingers move to the comment field before his mind can direct them.
jtsmiths: cute
Still on his knees, in his boxers, and with a smashed phone, Jayce stares up at the ceiling, blankly pondering the sequence of events that brought him to these circumstances. His phone buzzes again. It’s a DM request.
vikpurr: i know my cat is cute
vikpurr: but you could at least offer me a compliment too
Jayce has to laugh now. Gods are real, and they play with us.
jtsmiths: who said I was talking about the cat?
vikpurr: an acceptable save.
jtsmiths: are you in piltover?
Smooth, Jayce.
vikpurr: i could be
vikpurr: or rather
vikpurr: i am if you are
A low heat swells in Jayce’s body like magma. His hands shiver as he struggles with his response, typing and backspacing over and over again. vikpurr beats him to it.
vikpurr: lost for words?
jtsmiths: Sorry.
jtsmiths: just distracted
vikpurr: then how can i capture your attention, jayce?
Jayce really, truly nearly faints before he realizes his first name is right there on his profile. He drags his hand down his face, pulling the skin taut and groaning dramatically. Okay, Jayce. Time to lock in.
jtsmiths: you don’t need to do anything, looking like that
jtsmiths: why don’t you show off more?
vikpurr: i am really rather shy
vikpurr: i only come out when something special catches my interest
jtsmiths: to what do I owe the pleasure, then?
vikpurr: to yourself, of course.
vikpurr: i cannot imagine you do not know
jtsmiths: know what?
vikpurr: how attractive you are
vikpurr: i have been watching you, you know
vikpurr: watching your little likes come in
vikpurr: i would like to know more.
jtsmiths: what can I tell you?
vikpurr: what can you show me?
Jayce takes a deep breath and holds it as he throws caution to the wind.
jtsmiths: if you’re in Piltover… I can show you whatever you want to see
vikpurr: do not tease me, you.
jtsmiths: I’m not teasing
jtsmiths: I’m ready and willing
vikpurr takes several long, long moments to type his next response. Jayce feels like he’s being dragged through glass.
vikpurr: tell me where.
jtsmiths: you know piltover academy
jtsmiths: the school of engineering with the big glass doors
vikpurr: i might.
jtsmiths: I’ll go right now. Meet me there.
Another long moment before vikpurr replies.
vikpurr: see you soon.
vikpurr: viktor, by the way.
Jayce scrambles back up to his feet and runs to the bathroom to take a look at himself in the mirror. “No, no, no,” he mumbles, frantically carding his hands through his mussed hair and cursing his perennial five o’clock shadow. He glances around for something – anything – to wear, and settles on the comfortable house clothes he was going to throw on whenever he got around to showering that day. It’ll have to do. Tugging the plain T-shirt over his head, he next fumbles for his long-neglected cologne bottle, knocking over the toothpaste and moisturizer along the way before spritzing himself on the neck and inner wrists, swearing under his breath. He stares frozen at the bottle of mouthwash, wondering if he’s being presumptuous. He takes a quick swig anyway (it’s polite, he reasons) before racing out of the bathroom. He almost leaves the apartment without his keys. Stuffing his keyring, wallet, and shattered phone into his pockets and stumbling into his sneakers, he lets the door slam shut loudly behind him.
Jayce doesn’t bother to try to look normal as he powerwalks toward campus as if to save his own life. He doesn’t question what he’s doing or where he’s going for even a second, but a thought occurs to him: is this a date? I haven’t been on a date in… God, I don’t know. I should have brought someth–
He spots a patch of wildflowers growing in the grass by the sidewalk and stops abruptly. He blinks, pondering something deeply – this is a stupid idea.
To hell with it.
Jayce picks a single buttercup out of the ground and continues on his mad dash.
—
The minutes pass like barbed wire over his skin.
Jayce leans against the outside corner of the school of engineering, endeavoring to look nonchalant and completely failing at it as his eyes dart back and forth, scanning the horizon for… Viktor. That’s his name. Viktor. It tastes like butter in his mouth as he whispers it to himself.
Piltover is a big city, but the Academy is pretty central and easy to get to – Jayce thinks he’s going to die if Viktor takes any longer. Was this a big joke? Has he been catfished? Is he that blinded by his own romantic impulses toward someone he only knows through cat memes and an hour of flirty DMs?
jtsmiths: I’m here.
jtsmiths: tell me you’re still coming
vikpurr – well, Viktor – types, then stops, then types, and stops. Then he types some more before finally responding.
vikpurr: patience, jayce. i like to take my time.
Jayce’s agitation manifests itself in many ways. He checks Piltgram repeatedly, refreshing on vikpurr’s profile to check if it’s been deleted, erasing any evidence of Jayce’s figment of the imagination. He rolls the buttercup between his fingers, splitting and fraying the stem and covering his fingertips in pulpy green fluid. He bumps his head against the brick wall behind him again and again with a muffled thud.
The thudding of Jayce’s head begins to coincide with a tapping sound coming from the small alleyway next to the engineering building.
Jayce tries to ignore it; it’s not uncommon for people to use the alleyway as a shortcut, and the tapping only adds to this madness. But the tapping gets louder and louder, and Jayce grows madder and madder, and soon, he hears a slight cough just behind his back, almost as if someone were actually trying to get his attention.
“... eh… Jayce…?” says a smooth, but small voice, thick with an accent Jayce can’t begin to place.
The gears turn in Jayce’s brain and he slowly turns around to face the voice.
Viktor is shorter than him.
Significantly shorter. Jayce looks up over the crest of his head at first before making eye contact.
He’s softer in person. Jayce can see the flyaway hairs that flutter in the spring breeze and the soft curls that kiss at the nape of Viktor’s neck. His eyes, still honey-golden, no longer pierce, but probe – looking for something from Jayce, as if even Viktor doesn’t know what. The confidence displayed in vikpurr’s selfie has evaporated, replaced by a slightly hunched posture and an air of uncertainty.
Viktor leans on a cane, tucked slightly behind himself as if trying to hide it, and his leg is encased in an elaborate brace that must be custom made. He shuffles his free foot as Jayce looks him up and down.
“Hi,” Jayce breathes, not knowing what else one says to the most bewitching person they’ve ever encountered.
“... hello.”
“Are you a student?”
“Engineering,” Viktor says mutely.
“But… me too. I’ve never seen you around.”
“I… am not on campus often. I have an accommodation,” Viktor says, gesturing with his cane.
They don’t speak for what feels like an eternity. Viktor avoids eye contact, his gaze stuck to Jayce’s chest, his ears blushing a seething red. Jayce grasps wildly for something to say – anything – before settling on the only thing he has in his arsenal.
“I picked this.” He offers the single buttercup, pinched between his large, calloused fingertips.
Viktor looks at the flower, then to Jayce, questioning.
Jayce almost loses his nerve. “I saw this little flower… and thought of the golden color that shines when you hold one under your chin. And it reminded me of you,” he says, a little meekly.
“Of… me?”
“Your eyes. I’ve… well, I’ve only seen them once, but… I won’t forget the color.”
Viktor huffs a small laugh, disbelieving, but his shoulders visibly relax.
“Do you want to… go somewhere?” Jayce asks, seizing the moment.
“Call a taxi, Jayce.” There’s a spark behind Viktor’s eyes. “You will accompany me home, yes?”
The question hits Jayce over the head like a cinderblock. “... if you want,” he says, tapping a few times on his phone.
No words are spoken in the taxi. Jayce and Viktor spend most of the ride looking out their respective windows and watching the polished marble buildings of central Piltover give way to foundries and smokestacks at the very edge of the city. Jayce peeks at Viktor, whipping his gaze back to the window when he catches Viktor looking back at him.
Viktor’s hand inches toward Jayce’s on the middle seat. Jayce can feel it, can feel the dip in the upholstery of the back seat approaching him – his nerves are too frayed to reciprocate. There’s the barest touch between their middle fingers, but it burns on Jayce’s skin like a supernova.
—
Having stepped out of the taxi, Jayce considers the building before him.
It’s a modest edifice, likely built centuries ago and sparingly updated – chipped brown wooden siding, lopsided doorsteps, a dying patch of grass out front. Somebody lives here, he thinks indignantly. Viktor lives here. His landlord should fix this. Or does he own the place? I could help him repair some stuff, at least get the doorway in shape so he can–
“Jayce?” Viktor calls, standing at the stoop with an arched brow. “You are staring.”
Jayce realizes he’s still standing on the sidewalk. “Oh. Uh – yeah. Sorry,” he calls back, shuffling quickly to follow Viktor through the door.
“I invite you to… get comfortable,” Viktor says lowly, turning to face Jayce as he passes through the threshold.
“I’m… I’m good.” I am so good, and so fucking nervous, I’m about to collapse.
Viktor’s apartment feels much smaller than it looks in the photos.
Jayce had expected that it would feel more familiar, like he had already lived in it in his mindscape from the little windows Viktor would dangle in front of him every Monday, but he realizes immediately how little he knew. So he knew Viktor… had a fridge. And a couch. And an end table. Big deal. He didn’t know that Viktor doesn’t have a real kitchen, just the harsh hem of a fraying carpet meeting the checkered tile. He couldn’t smell the faint residue of Febreze on the worn couch. He couldn’t see the near-imperceptible layer of cat hair dusting the tables. It’s so different from the inaccessible idol he had constructed in his imagination. It’s a tiny apartment, and someone, a human, lives here, and it’s not him, and Viktor is definitely about to think better of this whole thing and kick his ass out.
Jayce’s sudden tidal wave of painful self-consciousness is interrupted by its call.
It’s a call not unlike the urge to run your finger along a seam in the wall of an empty hallway, or to draw smiley faces in a foggy windshield, or to slap the massive twenty-pound discount bag of rice in the grocery store. He’s on his knees and his fingers are running through the downy fur of Blitz’s stomach before he even realizes his feet have moved him.
God. It’s softer than he would have ever imagined. It’s still calling, calling, calling to him; he can almost hear his name. The fur is slightly curly, so you have to tug a little bit to brush your fingers through, and the texture is just so pleasing–
“Jayce.”
Blitz languidly rolls fully belly-up to better receive Jayce’s offering. Jayce can only look dumbly up at Viktor as he continues to stroke the fluffy expanse. “Yeah.”
“I bring you to my home after flirting with you for an hour and you spend your time fondling my cat?” Viktor says, deadpan.
“I was just – well, I’ve seen so many pictures.” Jayce stands up and brushes his hands on his pants, nerves ablaze.
“I realize I must not be what you expected.”
Jayce’s blood freezes in his veins. “What?”
“Spare me the indignity of the polite chat about Blitzcrank over coffee. I brought you here for a reason, but I will survive if you choose to turn around now.”
“Viktor, what are you talking about?”
Viktor looks to the matted carpeted floor. “I talked myself up, but you are not so obtuse as to not notice my… shortcomings. I know I am different, and not everything can be like the photos.”
Jayce’s eyes briefly flit down to Viktor’s pearly white hand gripping the handle of his cane. He moves to speak, but Viktor cuts him off.
“This was a… flight of fancy. An arrogant notion on my part.”
Jayce’s hackles rise at that, wounded. He wasn’t expecting to feel angry today, of all things. “A flight of fancy?”
“I have clearly wandered above my station, as I am wont to do. The indigent invalid attempting to take something for himself again. You need not be the one to let me down,” Viktor says, resigned.
Jayce’s annoyance is only matched by his utter bewilderment. “I didn’t come here for your flight of fancy. I–”
“You met me expecting more, and you, of course, are too gentlemanly to–”
Mew.
The sound is tiny, almost inaudible, but unmistakable.
Jayce, primed to go on the offensive, is stopped short by a soft brush against his leg. His knitted brow relaxes, and he looks down to the source of the plaintive noise.
Rio’s purr is subdued, but potent – Jayce can feel the consistent vibrations through the fabric of his light pants as she rubs her nose against the jutting bone of his shin. He sort of expected to see Blitz (government name Blitzcrank, apparently), but Rio… Rio was shy, always in the background, always seeking safe haven from Blitz’s antics.
Jayce finds he can’t move lest he disturb the cat, who is quite clearly enjoying herself. He lifts his head back up to Viktor. Viktor is silent, evidently just as stunned, but hesitantly meets Jayce’s gaze.
They share a long look and their shoulders sag, both sighing. Jayce speaks first.
“Let’s… start over, Viktor. There’s some things I want to tell you.”
Viktor’s mouth is a tight line, but he nods.
“I came here… because I wanted to. I don’t understand why you’re saying all this terrible stuff about yourself.”
“I only wanted to… avoid hearing it from you,” Viktor says quietly.
“I don’t care. You’re poor, or disabled, or whatever. I don’t care about any of it. There was never a universe where I was going to care, because I came here for you.”
“But you do not…” Viktor trails off. “You do not know me. All anyone can see is what I put on my… silly social media account. It is… misleading.”
Jayce shakes his head. “I don’t feel misled at all. You’re exactly what you presented yourself to be. I… I just lost my head a little, walking through your door, and realizing that you’re even more.”
Viktor’s eyes widen, but he says nothing.
“I know you’re funny, and quick-witted, and sly. I know you’re caring. Nurturing, even. I know your face, and how… how… nobody else looks like you,” he says, failing to find the words. “And your hands. And the story they tell.”
“My… hands?”
Jayce’s face reddens realizing he’s said too much, too fast. He charges ahead instead of elaborating.
“I know a lot about you. You shine through the screen. I’ve been dying to know more for ages. I came here because… because, how could anybody possibly stay away from you? I have to know you. And… just, please don’t think you don’t deserve that.”
Viktor stutters a weak retort. “But it is you.”
“Me?”
“It is you,” Viktor insists, gesturing at nothing in particular.
“I’m just some guy, Viktor. I don’t know what you mean. I’m some guy at your school, studying the same thing. We’re the same–”
“I know you,” Viktor interrupts. “I said I was watching you. I have been watching you for longer than you think. I have watched you for years at school, and I have been watching you since the first time you liked one of my stupid photos, because I know you. I hide at home attending my classes remotely, but I know you. Everyone knows you. Top of the class. Star of Piltover Academy.” Viktor sighs and leans into his cane. “I could hardly believe it was you. But it was you, paying some sort of… attention. I craved it. I became addicted to it. I would never have posted anything about myself on that account. But… little by little… I showed more and more, because it was almost like you were paying attention to me. I do not know where I developed the foggiest notion, but when I posted that picture of me – of my face–” Viktor spits the word like a curse – “it was because if you liked it, it would be like you were liking me. It is foolish. Daft of me. Because it is you. But I have wanted you. And watched you. And waited. And ached. And–”
Jayce’s mouth crashes into Viktor’s – less a kiss and more a collision.
There’s a small shock of pain as their teeth meet. Viktor’s cane clatters against an end table before falling to the floor. Jayce tries to adjust, widening his mouth to accept whatever Viktor will offer, but Viktor has pivoted in the other direction, puckering his lips sweetly, and it just results in something that looks like Jayce trying to swallow Viktor’s face whole.
Jayce pulls away, panting heavily, more from embarrassment than lust. His wild eyes briefly flit down to Viktor’s slightly purpled mouth; his hands gripping him tightly in place through the sleeves of his sweater.
“Wait.”
Viktor’s surprised expression melts into mild amusement.
“Hold on. I… couldn’t help myself. Let me… let me do it again.”
A beat.
“Please.”
The corners of Viktor’s mouth curl up agonizingly slowly. Jayce thinks the tiny movement takes a year, maybe two. Finally, Viktor tilts his head back in silent invitation.
Jayce releases Viktor’s biceps and lets his hands fall down to Viktor’s, lacing their fingers together, relishing the feeling of the bones against the pads of his hands. He leans down and there’s the barest of touches, a whisper of lips against lips. Jayce has already received permission, but he’s still asking questions.
Viktor hums lightly, parting in eager answer.
Their lips meld together more easily this time. The kiss is slow and tentative, their mouths sliding against each other like silken sheets. Viktor is warm and slightly sweet, like the last sip of a cup of coffee. Jayce nearly jumps when he feels the velvet of Viktor’s tongue gliding against his upper lip.
He feels a surge of adrenaline and lifts Viktor’s hands up to his chest, fists tight with energy, and he gives Viktor a slight push, nudging him to take careful steps back toward the couch.
Their lips part only for gasping breaths, and Jayce wants much more, wants to shove Viktor down and get to work on tearing his troublesome clothes off, but a thought suddenly occurs to him and he releases one of Viktor’s precious hands to reach around and brace his back as he guides him to lay against the cushions. He thinks he might feel something hard beneath the layers of fabric where he expected to feel only the plush of skin, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
“Viktor.”
Viktor offers the merest moan in response, tongue lapping out to reclaim Jayce’s mouth.
Jayce gasps, nearly succumbing to Viktor’s advance, but he persists. “V-Vik… tor… do you…”
“Do I…?” Viktor drawls between peppered kisses to Jayce’s jaw, voice low and gravelly.
“Um. Ah. Do you… do you want… can…” Jayce draws a shaky hand down the side seam of Viktor’s sweater.
“Jayce–”
Meow.
Viktor scoffs lightly and keeps his attention fixed on Jayce. “Is something… wrong, Jayce?”
“No. Jesus. No.” Jayce stares at the light pink dusting over Viktor’s nose. “I just… don’t know how to… I’d… I want to…”
A paw tickles at Jayce’s forearm.
Meow.
Blitzcrank is half up on the couch now, big hazely eyes inquisitive.
Viktor gently palms Blitz’s face and pushes him back down to floor level like he’s done this exact action a million times. “I know this must not be very sexy, Jayce, but yes, whatever you are asking for… yes.” His smile is mirthful, but brimming with sincerity.
Jayce blinks. “I haven’t showered today.”
Viktor’s head briefly falls back to the cushion in mock exasperation before he surprises Jayce by nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. “Even better.”
“Oh.” A stuttering breath. Jayce’s eyes flutter shut as he struggles with the feeling of Viktor’s nose against the heat of his pulse. “Good.”
“But… Jayce…” Viktor pulls back, making Jayce’s blood scream. “You might say I do not do this very often. I will need some… eh, help.”
“I’ll do anything,” Jayce says quickly, his mouth ghosting over Viktor’s.
“Start by helping me get this thing off,” Viktor instructs, jostling his braced leg.
Jayce nods affirmatively and scrambles off of Viktor down to his knees, a tent plainly visible in his soft black joggers. He allows his fingers to run appreciatively down the length of the pieces of steel that provide structure to the brace. Careful not to torque Viktor’s leg too much, he rotates it gently, inspecting the brace’s makeup from the rough synthetic fabric of the straps down to the sturdy carbon fiber shell surrounding Viktor’s shoe.
“I rather like the look of you at this angle, Jayce, but remember you are sleeping with me and not the brace.”
Jayce’s blush is furious. “Sorry. It’s just impressive. How long have you had this?” he asks, starting to undo the largest strap toward the middle of Viktor’s thigh.
“I have had to wear one since… hmm, middle school.”
“Don’t these hurt?” Jayce questions, continuing to undo the tightly banded Velcro fasteners.
“Less than not wearing it.”
Jayce nods and finishes with the last of the straps and the brace slackens; Viktor makes a small sound of relief. In one smooth motion, Jayce cradles one half of the brace in each hand and sets it to the side of the couch. He looks up at Viktor, who is still smiling, but with a touch of something guarded behind his eyes.
Jayce takes Viktor’s hands and runs his fingers over the knuckles. “I still want to.”
Viktor melts.
“Take off my clothes, Jayce.”
Jayce’s eyes widen briefly, but he obediently shifts up and forward to take Viktor’s mouth back in his, fingers playing and dancing with the bottom hem of his sweater. Viktor, however, wastes no time, his perfect hands sliding right underneath Jayce’s thin white cotton T-shirt to run over his abdominal muscles, fingertips teasing around the edges of his nipples. Jayce shudders into their kiss, nearly breaking contact. He never thought those perfect hands could be touching him like this.
Jayce pushes up on Viktor’s sweater as Viktor raises his arms above his head. The sweater is tossed to the floor behind the couch and Jayce begins to unbutton Viktor’s smart white undershirt.
“Jayce… before you… I have a…” Viktor trails off, unable to finish his sentence as Jayce isn’t deterred.
Fully unbuttoned, Jayce pushes the shirt apart to reveal a large, rigid brace. The dark blue shell of the brace encases Viktor’s abdomen from the bottom of his chest to the edges of his ribcage with supportive strapping stretching across his waist down to the sharp points of his hips.
“... it’s for… my back. I have a spinal–”
“It’s gorgeous,” Jayce says plainly, running his fingers over the metallic rivets. He leans down to press a breath of a kiss between Viktor’s collarbones.
“You don’t…?”
“I don’t care. I only care about… well, do you want it on? Or… off?”
Viktor stares for a moment before recognition returns to his eyes. “... on.”
Jayce smiles lightly, sitting back up. He crosses his arms downward to pull the hem of his T-shirt up and over his head and discards it in the same general direction of Viktor’s sweater.
Viktor’s eyes widen. “... my gods.” He reaches up and presses his hands fully flush to Jayce’s pectorals. Jayce suppresses a shiver at the new and intimate touch.
“What?” he says, feigning aloof amusement.
“You are very… large,” Viktor says with uninhibited awe.
“I… well… I suppose,” Jayce stammers back.
Viktor can only chuckle at that, rubbing small circles into Jayce’s chest. His hands begin to trail downward when Jayce stops him, grabbing one of his wrists.
“Before we… do anything else… can I just do one thing?” Jayce asks, bringing Viktor’s left hand up to his lips, hot breath suffusing over the knuckles.
Viktor quickly nods his approval.
Jayce runs his fingers across Viktor’s soft palm, etching every line and wrinkle into his memory.
“I… love these.” Jayce’s breaths are heavy and labored already. “I knew you were beautiful just from your hands,” he says reverently into Viktor’s fingertips.
Viktor’s eyes fix hard on Jayce’s lips. He slowly pushes his index finger past the part of Jayce’s lips into the wetness of his mouth.
“Suck.”
Jayce sucks hard and moans. There’s a slight saltiness to Viktor’s skin that smolders like lava on his tongue. Viktor’s finger probes in and out, making Jayce whine every time he threatens to remove it. The coat of saliva glints softly in the late afternoon light and begins to drip down to the webbing between Viktor’s fingers. Jayce can’t help but grind down into Viktor’s lap where he straddles him, the layers of his joggers and Viktor’s light trousers doing nothing to hide his hardness.
“You taste… so fucking good,” Jayce says breathily between lolls of his tongue around Viktor’s middle knuckle. Viktor experimentally pushes his middle finger into Jayce’s mouth too, and Jayce hungrily sucks it in along with the other. He paws wildly at Viktor’s other hand and brings it to his mouth, panting and kissing between them. Viktor watches with wonderment as the other man ravishes his hands, thumbs massaging the meat of his palms like they’re erogenous zones.
“I’m… fuck, Viktor. You’re so…” Jayce can barely get a sentence out as his grinding becomes more rapid, more erratic. “I’m… fuck…”
Viktor’s eyes, wide like saucers, skip between Jayce’s mouth and the grind of his cock against his own. Without warning, he slips a hand out of Jayce’s grasp to palm at his hardness, doing his best to grasp the length through the fabric and give it a hard jerk.
The noise that comes out of Jayce is strangled and animalistic. He abruptly stops his gyrating, making Viktor’s breath hitch. His jaw slackens and allows Viktor’s fingers to slide out. The emptiness is gut-wrenching, but Jayce is deadly silent.
“… Jayce?”
“… shit. Shit!” Jayce wheedles, head plummeting down to Viktor’s chest in shame.
“Jayce… did you just…”
“… yeah.”
Viktor can’t restrain his half-laugh.
“I am so sorry,” Jayce groans into the divot between Viktor’s collarbones.
“No, Jayce,” Viktor says with an air of disbelief. “That was the most… the sexiest thing to ever happen to me.”
A beat. Jayce raises his head a bit, a questioning look in his eyes.
“You are exquisite.”
Jayce is once again lost for words, his mouth soundlessly bobbing open and shut.
“But I am not done with you. And you are not done with me,” Viktor declares, his voice low. “Can you go again?”
“God. Yes.”
“Good. Shall we, eh, take this to my bedroom…?”
Jayce sits back up, taking in the sight of Viktor below him: face flushed, eyes half-lidded, a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead. He lifts off of Viktor and stands up, holding eye contact. Wordlessly, Jayce holds a hand out to Viktor, which is readily accepted. Viktor makes a little show out of slipping his wet fingers up Jayce’s wrist to grasp his forearm.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
Viktor giggles. He gingerly sits up and lets Jayce guide him to a standing position, supporting his weight on the side of his right leg. Viktor flits his eyes down, prompting Jayce to look down as well. Viktor’s erection is plainly visible through his pants, the faintest spot of moisture dotting the tan-colored fabric.
Jayce almost gasps, but Viktor stops him. “Come, Jayce,” he commands, taking Jayce’s hand and leading him to a doorway on the right side of a short hallway attached to the living area, his gait slightly faltering on the right side.
The bedroom appears clean and organized, but slightly austere. The walls are plain and unadorned. There’s a wooden desk with some textbooks and notebooks piled neatly on top of it. Two matching cat beds are tucked in the corner. The most notable feature of the room is the bed — it’s quite large for one person, probably a queen. The comforter atop the mattress is dark and plush with down, and it’s absolutely covered in pillows of various sizes: several standard pillows, king pillows, throw pillows, two body pillows, and a neckroll.
A bolt of electricity shoots up Jayce’s spine after crossing the threshold into Viktor’s bedroom, and his cock begins to stir with life again at the sound of the door clicking shut behind them. Jayce lets Viktor lead him to the bed, his frenetic energy crackling in the air in contrast to Viktor’s outward calm. Viktor takes a seat on the edge and carefully scoots himself backward so his back rests comfortably against the wall of pillows. He beckons Jayce with one hand to join him, which Jayce obliges, climbing over Viktor, careful not to jostle his leg, eyes wide with enchantment.
They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, breaths intermingling, before Viktor breaks the silence.
“... my clothes.”
Jayce takes a breath and nods with rapidity. With careful movements, he undoes the button and zipper and slides Viktor’s pants down his legs, taking his socks with them and pushing the abandoned garments off the side of the bed.
Viktor lays nearly bare before him, clad only in his brace and a dark pair of soft boxer briefs. The pale skin of his right leg still slightly indented where the straps of his brace held tightly to the limb. His lean, long legs have a light dusting of dark hair over the thin but powerfully striated muscles.
An outline of a hard cock stretches the fabric of Viktor’s underwear. Jayce feels himself salivating and swallows hard, struggling not to stare.
Viktor is toying with a lock of his hair playfully when he speaks up next.
“Will you prepare me?”
Jayce feels like he’s floating. “Will I what?”
Viktor chuckles teasingly. “I would very much like to enjoy you fully. My leg is just… oh, so sore. Will you help?”
“I’ll do anything,” Jayce repeats, setting his hands lightly on Viktor’s shin and calf. He presses tentatively into the skin and looks up at Viktor for permission.
“Harder, Jayce.”
The command hits Jayce like a meteor, but he keeps his shaky composure. He presses harder with his palms until there’s no longer any give.
Viktor sighs heavily and his head falls back to the pillows. Jayce inches his hands slowly up the calf and back down, pushing his fingers in a bit and leaving long trails of pinkened skin.
“Where does it hurt?” Jayce whispers.
Meow. There’s a faint scratch at the closed door.
Viktor ignores it. “Mmm… my thigh. Near the hip,” he breathes. He lets out a long exhale with each stroke of Jayce’s palms.
Jayce pushes up again, this time up past the knee. His hands can nearly encircle the whole of Viktor’s thigh. His fingers find a hard knot near the widest part of the thigh and Viktor inhales sharply. Keeping an eye on Viktor’s expression, Jayce massages deeply directly into the knot.
Viktor’s low groan is long and erotic to Jayce’s ear, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. Jayce keeps up the pressure as he rubs a figure eight pattern into the quickly loosening knot.
“Right there,” Viktor breathes. “Do not stop.”
Jayce struggles to keep his eyes on his objective with Viktor’s arousal noticeably shifting along with his pleased writhing, beautiful hands white-knuckling as they grip the duvet.
Jayce peeks up at Viktor’s head still laid on the pillows, closed eyes to the ceiling, fully blissed out, before allowing himself to fix his gaze fully on Viktor’s hardness as the motion of his hands on the muscle knot becomes staggered. Saliva collects at the edges of his lips and threatens to drip down and give him away. Almost unconsciously, his head dips lower until his hot breath tickles the fabric of Viktor’s underwear.
“Viktor.”
“Mm… Jayce… good…”
“Viktor. I have to ask you something.”
Viktor’s head stirs up off the pillows and he blinks a few times to refocus. His eyes widen at the sight of Jayce’s tongue bobbing in and out of his mouth toward his cock.
“Jayce?” he questions, suddenly sober.
“I… need to suck you off. Can I please suck you off?”
Viktor’s throat bobbles as he swallows hard. “You really want to?”
Jayce’s forehead makes contact with the soft, light trail of hair that runs down from Viktor’s navel until it disappears beneath his boxer briefs. “I really want to. I’ll lose my shit if I don’t suck your dick right now.”
Viktor takes a deep breath.
“… then… please do.”
Jayce half-laughs, half-cries and his hands scramble from Viktor’s thigh to grip the waistband of his boxers. In one swift, hungry motion, he pulls them down and Viktor’s cock, damp with precum, springs free, bouncing back and forth once before falling to rest against his stomach with a slick slap.
Jayce wastes no time. He plants his lips on the spot where the sack meets the shaft and kisses up sloppily until his mouth can envelop the head. Jayce wraps his hands around the base and sucks hard once before he lifts off, a thin string of saliva and precum still connecting him to Viktor’s cock.
“Jayce!” Viktor shrieks. “Jayce… Jayce…”
“You taste fucking incredible,” Jayce says plainly. “Every part of you tastes fucking incredible,” he says before wrapping his lips around Viktor’s head again and slowly sinking down until the top of his throat bulges full of cock.
Viktor’s eyes roll nearly to the back of his head as Jayce swallows him whole and the dull pain in his thigh is long forgotten. He brings a fist up to his mouth to bite down hard on a knuckle, yet he’s unable to stop the keening whimpers from flowing out like water.
Jayce runs his hands up Viktor’s thighs and brings them to a stop at his hips to dig his fingers into the meat of Viktor’s ass as he works. His head draws back slowly each time, savoring every bit of Viktor’s length, before sinking back down, easily guided by the wet, messy trails of his spit. Viktor’s other hand grasps in a frenzy at Jayce’s head before he finally catches hold, his hand balling into a tight fist to tug at the other man’s hair.
Jayce is lost and transfixed, consumed by his task. He draws his head up agonizingly slowly and grasps the base of Viktor’s cock with two hands, kisses the tip once, and encircles the head with his lips one final time–
“Stop!” Viktor shouts, his hands flying to either side of Jayce’s face and pulling him off.
Jayce’s entire body seizes up. The deadly silence is only broken by Viktor’s labored breaths and another meow from the other side of the door.
“… was it bad?”
“No. No,” Viktor pants. “Jayce, I was about to come.”
Jayce blinks. “But I wanted you to come.”
Viktor’s posture loosens and his expression goes soft.
“I want to come with you, Jayce.”
Jayce stares dazedly for several moments, his brain suddenly feeling like something like cotton candy. A warm, pins-and-needles sensation washes over every inch of his skin.
“Oh. Okay,” he says, sitting back on his haunches.
Viktor smirks mischievously, satisfied. He flexes his strong leg up to nudge at the tent in Jayce’s pants with his toes.
“I have waited enough. Show me.”
Jayce holds his stare and doesn’t break eye contact as he unhesitatingly hooks his thumbs into his waistband. He jerks them down the barest inch before he stops.
“Wait. I didn’t – I didn’t think to – if we’re going to… I didn’t bring anything.”
Viktor tilts his head languorously. He’s a perfect picture of pleasure – beads of sweat collecting at his temples, his cheeks dusted with a pretty shade of deep red, his still-wet cock laying against his navel. “I am prepared. Second drawer.” He throws a glance in the direction of his bedside table and draws little circles against Jayce’s cock with his big toe. “I always had a little hope this would happen.”
Jayce gulps hard. “Don’t… do that,” he says shakingly, averting his eyes and reaching over to the modest chest of drawers to retrieve a bottle of lube and a small box of condoms, extra-large size.
Jayce looks at the box. Looks at Viktor. Looks back at the box.
“I know it is big, Jayce,” Viktor drawls. “I simply know it.” He draws his toes up and down the length. “Show me.”
Jayce swallows hard again, but he’s long past the point of being able to resist anything Viktor asks. He hooks his thumbs back into the waistband of his joggers and pushes them down to his knees. His cock finally, finally finds freedom – it’s painfully thick with blood and glistening with precum. A bead of slick pumps out of the head the moment it hits the air.
Viktor withdraws his leg and lets out a full-throated gasp.
“Fuck, Jayce!”
Jayce startles a bit, not expecting that response. Shame bubbles up underneath his cheeks. He stammers out a few broken syllables, almost wanting to stuff himself back into his pants.
“... is… maybe you should… if it’s too much–”
“Gods, no. I want it. I have to have it,” Viktor demands, still staring. “I have never needed something so intensely in my life.”
Jayce looks down at his own weeping cock and takes it in one hand, stroking it once, then twice. Emboldened, he’s about to venture to say something properly suggestive when Viktor interrupts.
“A long pillow. Under my leg,” he instructs with haste, sliding his boxer briefs off and baring himself fully to Jayce. “And a firm pillow under my lower back.”
Jayce helps to put the correct pillows into their respective places, but not without his eyes lingering for several seconds on Viktor’s hole as he arches up to allow the pillow to slide into position.
“Really, if it’s too difficult for you to–”
“Fucking nonsense, Jayce. I want your cock inside me as soon as possible,” Viktor spits, still gazing at Jayce’s dick with awe. He pushes himself up with one hand, grimacing with a slight twinge of pain but surging right through it, and places the other hand on the back of Jayce’s neck to pull him nose-to-nose.
“Stretch me. Put it in me,” Viktor begs.
Jayce crashes into Viktor for a searing kiss. Their lips slurp and smack messily as Jayce scrambles out of his joggers and tosses them over his shoulder. He parts from Viktor momentarily to fumble with the bottle of lube, squirting several shots of slick fluid onto his fingers. Jayce reconnects as he slides his hand into the cleft of Viktor’s ass, Viktor hungrily biting and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth all the while.
Jayce rubs experimentally against the tight hole a few times before pushing gently at the puckered opening with his index finger.
“I’m gonna put my finger in you,” he pants into Viktor’s lips.
Viktor keens quietly into Jayce’s mouth, wordlessly signaling his complete and unequivocal assent.
Jayce rubs a wet, slick circle around Viktor’s hole, coating it thoroughly, before slowly dipping a finger in up to the first knuckle. Viktor breaks the seal of their kiss, throwing his head back and crying out in just a little bit of pain and a whole lot of pleasure as Jayce pushes his finger in and out of Viktor’s ass in controlled movements.
“More, Jayce,” he begs again. “I… played with myself a bit… when we were talking online. More, more, more.”
Jayce mouths needily at Viktor’s pulse point and obliges his pleas, sinking his finger in as far as it will go.
Viktor sucks in a deep breath of air and releases it in a low moan. He reaches down to take Jayce’s cock in his hand and pumps it haphazardly as Jayce works his finger inside him.
Jayce pushes into parts yet unknown of Viktor, swirling his finger in circles and shapes and spelling out words looking for that spot. He curls his finger slightly upward and probes even deeper.
Viktor cries out, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
“There. There,” he says hurriedly. “Fuck me there. More.”
The air in the room grows hotter and wetter with their panting breaths and sweat, the smell of sex already rife. Jayce hastily drags a second finger through the lube and sweat and spit and slick pooled in the cleft of Viktor’s ass before plunging it in alongside the first, eager to please. Laser focused, he presses both fingers into the same spot he found just before.
Viktor’s back arches uncontrollably despite the brace and the sound that comes out of him is inhuman. Jayce slips an arm under Viktor’s back, half to provide support, half to pull him closer – his mouth misses Viktor’s. He continues to work his fingers in a scissoring motion, finding it easier and easier with each movement.
“More?” he asks, kissing fiercely at Viktor’s mouth and chin.
“More. As much as you can. I must take you.”
Jayce adds a third finger. Viktor’s movements are positively feral – each buck and writhe sends fire down Jayce’s spine.
“Jayce – Jayce – fuck this,” Viktor pleads, throwing an arm over his eyes with a half-sob. “Fuck it! I cannot wait – no more playing. D–do it now. I need it – you now.”
Jayce’s vision goes black for a brief moment. He can hardly navigate the haze of lust clouding his mind, but he perseveres. Viktor whines as Jayce removes his fingers and retrieves a condom from the box, fumbling with the wrapper for a moment before successfully sheathing himself. He then takes the bottle again to smooth a thick, hot layer of fresh lube over his cock.
His eyes flit up to Viktor’s as he positions himself. Viktor is watching him closely, peeking out from underneath his arm. His hand falters as their eyes meet, and time seems to stand still.
“... Viktor…?”
Viktor’s gaping mouth slowly cracks into a crooked grin. It’s like he can’t believe it either. Jayce has to smile too – he’s never felt quite this alive; he’s never been able to act like this with anyone. He has his cock lined up to fuck the most captivating person he’s ever known, and he met him an hour ago. He’s agonizingly close; he pushes his cock forward to make contact–
There’s an ear-splitting screech, and the door swings open, the handle bouncing wildly back and forth before settling.
Jayce and Viktor’s heads snap to the threshold, but there’s no one there.
A loud, howling meow echoes from the bedside, and Blitzcrank clumsily hauls himself up by his claws.
There’s a long silence as the cat wears crop circles into the rumpled duvet, clearly expecting something.
“Ah,” Viktor says, his voice small. “Of course. It is mealtime.”
Meow.
Jayce almost forgets he has his cock out. “He can open the door…?”
Viktor’s blank stare slides back to Jayce.
Jayce is the first one to crack – just a puff of air from his throat, at first. Then, a huff. Then, a low chuckle. Soon, he’s consumed by full-throated laughter. It’s infectious – Viktor laughs too, beads of mirthful tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. Jayce laughs, and Viktor laughs, and they howl with laughter as Viktor grabs a pillow from behind his head and mock-throws it at Blitzcrank. The cat hisses and skitters down off the bed, out of the room, and out of sight.
Their laughter dies down, and they’re left sharing quiet smiles, their faces wet and bright.
“Do you, eh… still want to have sex with me…?” Viktor ventures.
Jayce barks a laugh again and leans down for a kiss. His kiss is slow and deliberate, full of promise.
“If you’ll have me,” he whispers, realigning his cock to Viktor’s ass.
Viktor only smiles in reply.
They hold each other’s gaze, breathe each other in. Jayce pushes forward the barest bit, just enough to apply some pressure. Viktor lets out a light gasp, but doesn’t protest.
Jayce pushes further and the head breaches the taut ring of muscle into Viktor’s inner walls.
“J–Jayce…” he keens, wrapping his strong leg around Jayce’s waist, trying to pull him further in.
It feels… divine. Even with a condom, Viktor is warm and welcoming and tight. Jayce holds his breath as he sinks in slowly, surely, all the way to the hilt. He remains still for a moment, as much as it burns him, as much as the tsunami of barely contained pleasure threatens to wash him away, allowing Viktor to acclimate. Viktor’s eyes flutter shut and he takes a few deep breaths.
“You alright?” Jayce asks quietly.
“I am… I am alright,” Viktor says, opening his eyes and sliding his gaze down Jayce’s abdomen to rest on the point where Jayce’s cock disappears into himself.
“What are you thinking?” Jayce questions playfully.
“I think you are the most handsome man alive,” Viktor purrs onto Jayce’s lips.
Jayce has no response but to pull out and thrust back in carefully, keeping his eyes on Viktor to gauge his comfort level, to drink in his sweet facial expressions as he slowly fucks into him. His thrusts are experimental at first, restrained – the last thing he wants to do is ruin this by hurting Viktor.
“You are not going to break me, Jayce,” Viktor breathes, smirking. “I can take you.”
The heat on his face nearly eats Jayce alive, and all he can do is thrust in as far as his cock will go.
Viktor gasps again, but Jayce doesn’t pause for a check-in this time. He pumps his cock in and out with more confidence, increasing his pace with each thrust. He holds his face fast to Viktor’s, wanting to see it all, wanting to breathe the same air. He uses one arm to hold himself up, the other fingers pressing harder into Viktor’s hips, leaving pretty, pretty red welts as Viktor’s back arches as much as it can. Soon, skin is slapping loudly against skin as Jayce’s hips snap against Viktor’s thighs.
Jayce’s mind is empty and frantic at the same time. He thinks about how badly he wants to get Viktor’s cock in his mouth again. He thinks about how wet and warm it feels inside Viktor with only a condom separating them. He even thinks about how lovely it would be to not be separated by anything someday, to be fully enmeshed in this man he barely knows. He thinks about how much time he spent lusting after this mystery man, after the silhouette behind a fucking cat picture account, and how close he was, never knowing any better.
Viktor’s heavy breaths and moans are suddenly broken up by a loud cry – that spot. Jayce seizes upon it, angling his hips just the right way to hit that spot, forcing that beautiful sound out of Viktor each time.
“Jayce… Jayce… I… make me come. Make me come,” he begs, wrapping an arm around Jayce’s back and dragging his nails down the muscle.
Jayce’s pace quickens and begins to stutter as he approaches the edge. “Am I… going to make you… come? With just my cock? Are you going to come for me… Viktor?” he bites out, almost unable to speak.
Viktor gasps and cries that inhuman cry, something that almost sounds like Jayce’s name. Cum shoots and weeps from his cock, coating their stomachs.
“Your hand. Your hand,” Jayce pleads as he fucks Viktor, grabbing at his free hand as Viktor continues to cry out from overstimulation. Jayce tongues at the fingertips, licks at the webbing between the fingers, and plants a kiss on the palm of Viktor’s hand as the dam finally bursts.
Jayce’s hips jerk and shake and he drags his kiss down Viktor’s wrist as he courses through his orgasm. His head slumps into the crook of Viktor’s neck, their heavy breaths filling the air.
“Can I lay on you?” Jayce asks between pants, sliding his spent cock out of Viktor and rueing the loss of contact.
“Just watch the leg,” Viktor says, shifting a bit.
Jayce sinks down with a soft thud, not caring about the pool of cum between them. Viktor lays a hand on Jayce’s back and rubs in soothing circles as they catch their breaths. They enjoy each other in the stillness for a quiet few minutes before Jayce stirs, pushes himself up, and rolls off.
Viktor quickly shuffles over to nestle himself on Jayce’s chest, making a little show out of drawing shapes with a finger.
“You really like these, hm?”
“I… I didn’t know it was a thing for me. It’s kind of new,” Jayce says shyly. “Maybe it’s just you.”
“You are very romantic for a man I just met… Jayce…?”
“Talis,” Jayce finishes, rubbing the back of his head.
“Talis. Hm.” Viktor drags his knuckles over Jayce’s chest and lifts his hand to inspect his fingernails nonchalantly. “This is ridiculous.”
Jayce can only chuckle. “It is.”
“You are very kind, Jayce.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You conduct yourself nobly, even when you have every reason not to. You are well-renowned. Popular. Handsome. Intelligent. And it so happens that you also have a benevolent heart. You are a rare thing,” Viktor says softly. He raises his hand to touch Jayce’s face, stopping short, as if Jayce might disappear at the connection.
Jayce meets Viktor’s eyes, trying to identify the indescribable emotion behind them. Nobody has ever said anything like that to him. He finds himself drawn back to Viktor; he wants to kiss him again, to prove to him that he meant every word he said. He wants to–
Meow.
Blitzcrank has returned. The large cat makes a second leap up onto the bed, his claws sticking and pulling tiny threads from the comforter. He sits back on his haunches and stares hopefully at Viktor. Jayce and Viktor both snort. Moment ruined.
“So… Blitzcrank?”
“I found him as a kitten abandoned at a dump near a pile of broken appliances.”
“What were you doing rooting around in a dump?”
“Building.”
“Sounds kind of… mad scientist.”
“Perhaps in another timeline.”
Mew.
Rio appears, making nary a sound as she nimbly scales the bed. Without a second’s hesitation, she approaches Jayce and sits in a loaf at his hip.
“And Rio?” Jayce asks, offering her his hand to sniff.
“I rescued her from the euthanasia list. She had been abused,” Viktor says, watching Rio happily rub her nose against Jayce’s knuckles with a faint purr. “She is normally not so trusting.”
“No?”
“Neither am I,” Viktor says idly, burying his nose in Jayce’s neck.
—
Placid spring gives way to torrid summer.
vikpurr’s activity has kicked up since schools let out. Its popularity has increased along with its pace of posting – since the account has started updating two or three times a week, the follower count has inflated into the low six digits. Images of Blitz and Rio sunbathing, donning sunglasses and floppy hats, and lounging on floaties in a kiddie pool attract tens of thousands of likes, sometimes hundreds.
One thing vikpurr hasn’t posted since that time is his face. While most comments focus on the kitty cuteness, there’s always a small vocal minority asking where the darkly handsome man has gone as quickly as he appeared. vikpurr doesn’t oblige the curiosity – the mystique is part of the appeal.
One tropical summer evening, though, vikpurr surprises its audience again.
The photo bathes in low light and mellow sundown colors. It’s a selfie-style photo of Viktor and a new sort of mystery man, one with warm skin, chiseled features, and a charming gap-toothed grin. The man close behind Viktor cradles Rio in his strong arms, her eyes contentedly shut as he scratches at her nape. Viktor has Blitz wrapped around his neck as he smiles a real, satisfied smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and brightens even the fiery sunset sky behind them.
The caption: boyfriend reveal
The comments explode with confusion, awe, and glee. The post quickly becomes vikpurr’s most popular update of all time.
officerkiramman: crying!!! best couple so happy FUR you guys:):)
firexlight: this pic so fucking tuff man
onepunchvi: gay
jinxthegenius: gay.