Work Text:
Viktor stares at the schematics he’s drawn on the chalkboard, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the handle of his crutch. In his other hand is a piece of chalk, which he rolls between his fingers. He sighs through his nose, and a familiar tension squeezes his ribcage.
Tucked beside various sketches are numbers—ones he’s written and rewritten a dozen times over. They're messy, consisting of oddly slanted units and winding ramblings. Arrows spin and intersect, with entire strings of numbers crossed out. Evidence of previous variations spread from corner to corner, left as white blurs on a board which is now gray with chalk dust. They should work.
Emphasis on should.
He’s missing something. The wrong exponent, maybe. Or a negative number where there shouldn’t be. Divided instead of multiplied. Something.
Whatever it is, he can’t see it.
“Jayce, can you come look at this?” He asks, his words as loose as his focus. He waits a stilted breath. Then two. “Why don't you work…” he whispers, more to himself than to Jayce.
Viktor places his chalk by the board and brushes his hand down his torso, leaving a vaguely hand-shaped white smudge on his waistcoat. He rubs his fingers together, and the rest of the chalk dust falls unceremoniously to the floor. As he waits for Jayce's arrival, unbeknownst to himself, he begins to mumble under his breath.
Jayce, who had been fully absorbed in his work until Viktor's voice met his ears, rises from his chair, and drops his pen on the desk. His boots click rhythmically as he walks to Viktor's side.
Tak tik, tak tik, tak tik.
Jayce steps into his familiar spot behind Viktor's right shoulder, and peers at the board.
Viktor has one charcoal dusted page propped against the chalkboard. It’s a sketch; a new battery design loosely based on the one they’d won the Distinguished Innovators Competition with. When he’d presented the drawing to Jayce, he nearly stumbled over his words in his rush to explain his idea and the theory behind it.
Jayce takes a moment to study Viktor's work. As he does, Viktor winds his free hand into the hair at the back of his neck. He twirls it between his fingers and continues to mumble under his breath.
Jayce catches a few words as they spill from Viktor’s lips: Energy decay, magnetism, together, impossible, and misunderstanding.
The first two make sense for what's scrawled across the board. The rest do not.
Viktor's mumbling grows quieter. Unbelievable and overheating are the only words Jayce can make out this time—the rest jumble together until all he can hear is the click of Viktor’s tongue against the back of his teeth and his soft breaths. Sighing, Jayce leans over and brings Viktor’s face into his view.
Viktor’s hand, the one still wound in his hair, moves in slow spirals. His fingers move with practiced ease, weaving effortlessly through the silky strands. His expression is lax, but his shoulders are tense. With how far he’s hunched over, they sit high, pinching up by his ears. His lips rapidly form near-silent words. Jayce smiles and places his palm on Viktor's lower back.
As soon as he's aware of Jayce's touch, Viktor jumps. Violently. It's enough force to push Jayce’s hand off and for him to drop his crutch.
Viktor hisses. Stumbling forward, he presses his hands against the chalkboard. He freezes for a moment, using the board to support his full weight. With a dusty white palm, he reaches behind himself. He wedges his knuckles to the base of his spine and a crease forms between his brows as pain radiates through his back.
“Shit, Viktor, I’m sorry,” Jayce quickly apologizes, his heart hammering. He leans down and grabs Viktor's crutch. It's weight is all too familiar.
Viktor shakes his head. “Not your fault,” he says with a huff. He removes his hand from his back and accepts his crutch from Jayce's grasp. Their fingers brush as Jayce gently pushes it into his palm. He's warm.
Viktor can hear the subtle strain in his own voice. He clears his throat, preparing to speak, but the words evade him. He tucks the crutch beneath his arm, but keeps his other hand planted on the chalkboard. The dust beneath his fingers is thick. The rough granules poke at the creases of his palm.
“Really, I’m sor-” Jayce begins, his hand hovering awkwardly above Viktor's shoulder.
“My brace,” Viktor cuts him off. He’s breathing heavily, his chest pressing against the rigidity of his waistcoat, and subsequently, his brace. His skin pinches between the overlapping straps. “I’ve been meaning to adjust it. I–I think I may have waited too long to do so.”
“How long?” Jayce asks. He wraps his hand over Viktor’s shoulder and rubs his thumb up and down in comforting strokes as he takes a slow, deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He quietly wonders if Viktor can feel it through the thin fabric that separates their skin.
Viktor shakes his head, his movements tight. “I am… unsure.”
He then is quiet, and for a moment, the only sound that fills the space is their shared breaths—Viktor’s a pace faster than Jayce’s and much, much rougher—the general hum of lab, and the muffled footsteps of those.
Viktor interrupts the silence with a sharp inhale. “It’s getting harder to do it myself,” he explains, his words soft as they slip through gritted teeth.
Jayce frowns. His pulse continues to pound through shaking fingers. “Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve helped you.”
Viktor tries to meet Jayce's gaze, but with his heart stuck in his throat, he stares over Jayce’s shoulder. “No. No, Jayce, it is… fine. It's fine. There are more important things to do.” He gestures back to the board. Despite his reliance on the wall for support, Viktor forces himself upright with a wince.
“More important-Viktor!” Jayce says, his voice unintentionally pitching upwards when Viktor stumbles again. He moves his hands to Viktor’s waist, and holds him steady.
“The work can wait. Your health is more important,” Jayce says. To me, remains hidden on the back of his tongue. Instead, he gently pressed his thumbs into Viktor’s taut muscles, conveying something he has yet to find the words for.
Viktor turns, and with wide eyes he finds the courage to stare at Jayce. His knuckles turn white as he grips the handle of his crutch. A flush crawls up from beneath his shirt collar.
He must be in more pain than Jayce realized.
“I can fix it.” Jayce says. He's not wrong.
Viktor swallows. “No.”
"Viktor."
"Jayce, I said no-"
“Viktor, please,” Jayce counters, mere seconds from kneeling on the floor and begging at Viktor's feet. He leans closer. “You trust me, right? So let me do this, let me help you. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
Jayce watches Viktor's shoulders shift uncomfortably, his gaze still glued to that spot somewhere over Jayce’s shoulder.
Viktor's head swims with images of Jayce's large hands flash across his senses. He imagines them poking and prodding at his brace until his thighs begin to tremble. Jayce's hands tucking beneath the hem of his shirt, beneath his brace, beneath the waistband of his pants–
Viktor swallows down the fire in his gut. “Fine.”
~♡~
With Jayce's help, Viktor manages to trudge his way to his side of the desk; albeit slow and with a throbbing pain surging along his spine with each step. Jayce gentle releases him once he's seated somewhat comfortably on his stool.
Jayce squeezed Viktor's shoulder, "Be right back."
Viktor simply nods, his eyes closed as he struggles to take slow breaths through his nose.
After he's somewhat caught his breath, he opens his eyes. Jayce is forearm deep in a drawer. He pulls various tools from the depths and throws them on the desk. His tools clatter and clang against each other. The noise is sharp, and echoes in Viktor's ears.
Viktor studies Jayce’s back as he flits through the drawers. He attentively watches the shifting lines of muscle beneath Jayce's shirt, eyes tracing where he's tucked it into his pants. He shifts on his stool, his thighs rubbing together.
Eventually, Jayce turns, gathers the tools in his arms, and walks back to where Viktor is still sitting on his stool.
“How do you want to do this?” Jayce asks. He turns to Viktor, and they stare at each other silently for several beats.
Viktor rests his crutch on a notch worn into the side of the desk. He gathers the papers scattered across his station and taps them into a vague pile. He sets them aside and gestures to the empty space, until Jayce drops the tools down.
Jayce grabs a screwdriver from the pile. He turns and is about to reach for Viktor, but stops when he finds him standing.
With his hand bracing against the table, Viktor slowly twists until the lip of the desk presses into the small of his back. It takes a few tries, but using the stool and the desk edge, he leverages himself onto its surface with a hiss. His leg brace taps quietly against the wood. He lets out a shaky breath and settles his hands in his lap.
Jayce nods for much longer than Viktor thinks is necessary. “Works for me,” he says.
Jayce places the screwdriver between his teeth and settles onto the stool. He taps his heel against the wheels, unlocking them. He places his hands on Viktor’s knees, and pushes, spreading them outward, his pressure extra gentle on Viktor's braced leg. He uses the hold on Viktor’s knees to roll closer to the table, wiggling into the space he created between Viktor's legs. With a flick of his ankle, he locks the stools wheels again.
Viktor, nails digging divots into his palm, is left momentarily speechless. His heart jumps high in his throat, the sudden proximity hitting him hard.
When Jayce removes the screwdriver from his mouth, a thin trail of spit connects the two for a brief moment. It then snaps in the air.
Viktor inhales sharply through his nose.
He should never have said yes to this.
Viktor whips his head away. He reaches for the buttons of his waistcoat with shaky hands, his head muffled with fuzz, only to be grabbed by Jayce's much, much, larger ones.
“This was my fault, let me do it," Jayce says quietly. There's a soft indent on his lips where the cold edge of the screwdriver pressed into them.
“Jayce, I already told you, it wasn’t your…."
Viktor’s voice fades away as Jayce reaches up and presses the top button of his waistcoat through its corresponding hole. He works slowly, taking care with the fabric and, in turn, Viktor himself.
Jayce works with a kind softness that—through no fault of his own—was rare for Viktor. It's overwhelming. Viktor's fingers twitch on his thighs and a lump settles in the base of his throat.
“I don't understand why you wear one of these,” Jayce says as he presses another button through its hole. “And with your brace on? Isn’t that too much pressure?”
It takes Viktor several long moments to gather his thoughts and pull his voice back to a somewhat functioning state. “Probably."
“Then why?” Jayce asks. He drags his hands over Viktor's shoulders, sliding his waistcoat off. It pools around his hips. Jayce's eyes flick to his, waiting. Viktor swallows thickly, but nods, and Jayce begins to unbutton his shirt.
“I have to look the part,” Viktor mumbles, tugging the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He’s transfixed on Jayce’s hands. He’s halfway done taking off Viktor’s shirt.
The draft that intermittently flows through the lab decides to make itself know by slipping into the gap between their bodies, trailing cold whispers over Viktor's exposed torso. His skin prickles.
Jayce pauses at the last button, his wrists dipping until they meet the meat of Viktor's inner thighs. “You shouldn’t need to," he murmurs.
Viktor scoffs. “Tell that to the Council. And to all of Piltover, for that matter.”
The quiet settles in again. Jayce finishes removing Viktor’s shirt. After it slips from Viktor's shoulders, pooling on top of his previously discarded waistcoat, Jayce squeezes Viktor's thighs.
Viktor feels heat radiating off of Jayce's body as he leans closer and fumbles for the screwdriver. When he's found it, he rights himself, and once again meets Viktor's eyes.
“You don’t need to,” Jayce says simply, as if the words don't produce a heart wrenching crack in Viktor's foundation, shaking his very bones. He goes rigid.
He must feel the stiffness in Viktor's posture, because within the same breath, Jayce clears his throat and says, “Around me. Around me, you don't… need to."
He huffs, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. "I want you to be comfortable here, Viktor. If that bothers them, so be it.” He drags his thumb along Viktor’s collarbone and under the shoulder strap of his brace. He unfolds it and smooths it flat against Viktor's skin. He stays there, letting his touch, and gaze, linger. There's a quiet intimacy in Jayce's movements.
Viktor's chest caves under the words, his heart stuttering. The sentiment is sweet. Touching.
And Jayce is touching Viktor.
"I… appreciate that Jayce," Viktor says, returning Jayce's stare, "I'll keep that in mind."
Jayce breaks out into a soft smile, the eye-catching gap between his front teeth poking out from just below his top lip. He tilts his head, and squeezes Viktor’s bare shoulder. "Thank you."
Viktor shakily breathes through his nose, his head nearly wobbling off his neck. The burning of being seen burrows deep in his gut, filling his bloodstream with an intoxication swirl of adoration, laced with a hint of desire. He latches onto the edge of the table, squeezing until his palms sting. He struggles to let the feeling to dissipate.
Jayce is still grinning as he begins the first tweaks of Viktor's brace.
“Our lab, our rules.”
~♡~
With Jayce sat between his legs, and his warm breath fanning over his cold skin, it takes near all of Viktor's strength not to openly moan. It had been ages since someone was this close to him.
Let alone for that person to be Jayce Talis.
His hands are an invigorating weight against Viktor's skin as he works on the brace. Viktor feels every twitch and twist as Jayce moves from bolt to bolt, tightening and loosening parts as needed. Occasionally, he glides his fingers beneath the crisscrossing straps, his weathered callouses caressing new expanses of untouched skin, as he tugs to test their tightness.
Jayce curls his fingers under a strap near Viktor's ribcage, moving it lower until the pressure on Viktor's lung lessens. "Earlier you were mumbling."
"Was I?" Viktor says with feigned ignorance. He knows damn well what Jayce is talking about.
"Yeah. Something about an unbelievable misunderstanding?"
Instinctively, Viktor's eyes flick down to Jayce. He forces the rest of his expression to remain neutral. His eyes linger for longer than he means to. He watches Jayce work for a moment. He's moving slower than Viktor is used to seeing, but he appreciates it nonetheless. His fingers find the highest strap of his leg brace and begin to fidget with it, "Ah, yes. I remember now."
Jayce opens his mouth to inquire, but Viktor continues before he can, "It was nothing."
Jayce hums and glances up at Viktor.
If Viktor was standing, his knees would've given out.
He looks good down there.
"You sure?" Jayce's brows tilt up to the sky. Viktor's eyes the scar that slices through Jayce's right brow.
"It's nothing, Jayce. Someone just thought–" he chuckles, both in regard to the ridiculousness of the misinterpretation, and the fact he's going to tell Jayce about it. "They thought that we were together. That's all."
Jayce nods slowly and his lips press into a thin line. He goes silent.
"Like," Viktor tilts his head back, staring at the patchwork of the roof; the only remnants of their past mechanical failures. He grimaces before continuing, "Together together, Jayce. Romantically." A flush climbs up his chest and heat crawls down to his groin. "Sexually."
"Oh," Jayce loosens a bolt near Viktor's ribs. "Really?"
Viktor drops head. he stares beyond the top of Jayce's hair. It's getting long. Through his peripheral vision, he see that Jayce's focus is locked onto his brace.
"Yes really, Jayce. Do I seem like I'm jesting?"
Jayce hums, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"You better not be laughing. It's not funny."
"I'm not. I promise," Jayce says, his tone unreadable. And Viktor's heart is pounding too hard for him to risk a look. He feared whatever emotion might be slapped across Jayce's face. Confusion? Disgust?
Hatred?
Viktor distracts himself by staring at the smudged schematics on the chalkboard. He'll have to fix those later. After this. And after a nap. And certainly after a very, very, very, cold shower.
A minute passes.
"How's that?" Jayce asks after adjusting a final bolt in the center of Viktor's chest, the one right above his hammering heart. He rests his forearms over Viktor's thighs.
Viktor curls his shoulders forward and back, taking a deep breath. "It's a little tight," he says after a beat, resting his hand of the portion that wraps around his waist. "Here." His hand is noticeably shaking.
"Got it."
Jayce trades the screwdriver for a small wrench. As he moves to correct the strap, he places a hand on Viktor's back. His hand meets bare skin and his index finger comes to rest besides Viktor's lowest spinal implant. He adjusts his position and his pinkie slips just beyond the waistband of Viktor's pants, sliding mind-numbingly close to the edge of Viktor's tailbone. Chills wash down Viktor's back.
"Sorry," Jayce gulps, "Almost done."
“Jayce,” Viktor gasps, his voice catching in his throat, obscured by an unrelenting, unmitigated, desperate, flow of want.
Jayce stops turning the wrench. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” Viktor says, though it nearly comes out as a whine.
Jayce’s contorted expression says he’s not convinced.
“That part of my skin isn’t as sensitive as it used to be.” The truth. "You just surprised me.” Half-truth.
“Is that normal?” Jayce says, his eyes locked on Viktor’s ribcage. “For you?” he adds quickly.
Viktor nods stiffly, his breathing tense. “The surgeries were still new when I had them. Experimental, in my case. It's one of the unfortunate side effects.”
“Is there… " Jayce hums, setting down the wrench. His brows furrow for a moment. "Can you feel this?” he asks.
Viktor sits up straighter as Jayce slowly presses the pads of his fingers in the large gap of skin created by the chest and waist sections of his brace. His fingers rest above Viktor's lowest rib.
Viktor bites the insides of his lip. It tickles. "Yes," he says. His voice shakes.
“How about here?” Jayce slides a hair lower, pressing into the soft flesh of his side.
Viktor hums an affirmative.
Jayce places his fingers near the top of Viktor's sternum. “What about here?”
"Less there."
Jayce moves up and to the left, toward Viktor's collarbone. "Here?"
Not trusting his voice, Viktor simply nods. Jayce's hands feel even warmer now They burn sensitive trails across his skin.
Jayce continues to poke at various parts of Viktor's torso, waiting for a nod before moving to a new spot. He never pushes hard, but it's enough for Viktor's skin to buzz with excitement. Each press makes Viktor's stomach flip. His torso is covered in gooseflesh.
“Jayce.” He's breathless as the sound falls from his trembling lips.
“I’m not hurting you, right?” Jayce asks. His fingers splay over Viktor's hipbone, once again, mindlessly massaging his skin.
No, quite the opposite. Continue this and I might cu-
Instead, he settles on, “No, Jayce. You are not. Now, are you almost done prodding at me?” He can’t take much more. He really can't.
"Oh. Yeah, sorry. I'm done." Jayce chuckles. He traces down Viktor's side before pulling away altogether. "How's everything feeling now?"
The chill he’d first felt when Jayce had removed his shirt is long gone. Now a steady warmth courses through his body, tumbling from head to toe. It trails low in his gut, and with each hard thump of his heart, arousal pulses between his legs. A hot and heavy wetness begins to gather in his undergarments. His face flushes red.
"It's perfectly fine, Jayce."
"Fine? I can do better than that. Where do you still need adjustments?"
As Jayce leans in and starts to pull gently on the straps of Viktor's brace, his knee bumps between the center of Viktor's thighs.
Viktor can't help the strangled sound that tumbles from his throat. His hips instinctively buck against Jayce's clothed knee, and a sharp, sprawling, pleasure rolls through him. "O-oh god."
"Whoa, are you okay?" Jayce rears back and reaches for Viktor's hips.
When Jayce's fingers meet Viktor's bare skin, a harsh shiver runs through his body and he convulses under Jayce's hands. He gasps and screws his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth. His breaths curl in the space between his fingers.
It's then, that Jayce looks down. Viktor's pants are too light to hide the wet spot, no matter his position.
"Oh. Oh shit–"
And there it is. Shame has spilled all over the floor. Thick, heavy with guilt. However will he pick up the mess?
Viktor's voice goes small. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I am so sorry," he whispers. His face burns. So do his eyes.
"Viktor it's okay…" Jayce reassures. He hesitates, but ultimately lays a hand on Viktor's thigh.
He can hear the pity in Jayce's voice. It nearly makes him gag. "It's just," he shoulders curls forward, now resting comfortably in his brace. It's secure. Supportive.
"It's been a really, really long time since someone has touched me. And it was… overwhelming," Viktor says slowly.
"But I touch you all the time."
"Jayce, not… not like that," Viktor mutters. He stares down at Jayce, his eyes wet. He twitches and tries to close his legs, but Jayce's body prevents him. His soul splits long and wide, lodging painful splinters into his heart, all converging from that one small crack Jayce had so easily hammered into him.
Jayce's form blurs before him. The first tears that fall are cold against his flushed cheeks. Jayce is silent as the next tears fall.
Eventually Jayce's eyes flick to Viktor's. "You mean, um, sexually? Right?"
"Jayce, please. Don't," Viktor begs. His chest tightens and he can hear his heartbeat echo in his ears.
Jayce continues, "It's perfectly… normal… to want that." Each word is slow and calculated, like the ticking hands of a clock.
With each beat that passes, the reality of his situation settles heavy on Viktor's shoulders.
"Normal has never been part of my vocabulary," Viktor scoffs. He blinks back a tear.
"But it is! There's nothing–" Jayce nearly chokes at the speed in which his words come out, "To be ashamed of."
"Ashamed? No, no, Jayce, I am beyond ashamed." Viktor's voice is wet with emotion. He's barely able to force the rest of his words beyond the tightness in his chest and the distracting burn of arousal. "I am mortified, I am appalled, I am humiliated. How many more synonyms do I need to use for you to understand how disgusted I am with myself?"
Jayce is quiet for the next few moments. Viktor watches his face twitch with unreadable micro expressions.
"I'll… um… give you some privacy," Jayce says, standing from the stool. It scrapes against the linoleum. The wheels are still locked.
"Jayce." Viktor presses his thighs together and places his hands back in his lap. The ache of his arousal is almost painful. Apologies rise higher in his chest and the urge to beg for forgiveness crackles in his ears. He swallows around them. Tears flow past his lips and drip from his chin.
Jayce pads across the room. He retrieves something from the storage closet.
Viktor can't see what it is through his now steadily flowing tears. He shoves his face into his hands. They slip over his skin, which is so slip with tears that no matter how hard he tries, he cannot wipe them away. He begins to hiccup in his effort to suppress his sobs.
Jayce silently drapes something around Viktor's shoulders and leaves as quickly as he can. Viktor doesn't look up until the door of the lab clicks closed.
Victor's head pounds with each pulse of his breaking heart. And suddenly, as he hears the familiar turn of doors lock, the pressure is too much.
He cries and cries and cries and cries. His lungs strain for air. Each inhale of the chill lab air burns. Each sob makes his back brace—which now perfectly supports his spine—pinch his sides.
As time passes, the tears and his inner thighs dry. He wipes his face with tired arms. Whatever chalk dust residue had remained on his hands in surely long gone by now. He'll have to leave eventually. But leaving means it's real. That he royally fucked up and there is no coming back from it.
He blinks until his vision focuses. He looks down. Draped across his shoulders is a blanket. A blue and red blanket.
Jayce's blanket.
Viktor nearly hurls.