Chapter Text
Lungs seizing, gasping and gasping and gasping for air. For breath. His throat spasms under his fingers. The taste of bile strong on his tongue as he leans over the side of the bed. Breaths come easier after that. In and out. In and out. The pounding in his head doesn’t subside.
Awareness hits him all at once. He’s no longer surrounded by the warm field of the Arcane. Instead, he finds himself swaddled in blankets atop of small plush mattress. Barely able to hold two. The softness of the mattress cradles his naked body.
His hands grab at the blue and maroon blanket pulling it back. Callused hands run across smooth skin before moving downward. Slowly, he touches the top of his left thigh. Nothing but soft, spongy flesh greets him. The pain a shallow memory.
He cards his hand through his hair. The length remains the same as before. He brings his hand down to his chin, feels the softness of his beard still there. A shuttering exhale leaves his lungs.
The room is bare for the most part. The bed lies in the center of the room. The white softness of the tent canvas swallows up the light from the outside. The only light in the room comes from the small opening off to the side. Hushed laughter and voices carry softly into the tent.
“Jayce.”
The ghost of a whisper across the back of his neck.
“Jayce.”
A sigh in his ear.
Then-
Acid in his throat. Sweet and acrid and vile. Coats his tongue. Down into his stomach. But he can’t stop. Won’t stop.
Fingers in his hair. Pulling and tugging. A moan in his throat. Nails digging into his flesh. Fingers in his forehead. A blinding light of truth. The pure ecstasy of forever.
Viktor.
Viktor.
He leans over the side of the bed and the taste is worse the second time.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He shakes his head once, tries to get his thoughts back in order. Tries to shake away the ghost of a touch across his forehead.
He swings his legs off the side of the bed. The dizziness threatens his stomach once more. He swallows hard against the feeling. Fingers dig into the softness and tries to steady him. The room slowly comes to a halt in his vision. The nausea in his stomach subsiding.
He stands up slowly. Glances around for something to wear. Off in the opposite corner of the doorway is a small table. A pile of white and blue fabric sits atop.
The fabric is soft under his fingers. He lifts it off the table. Metal clinks against the ground as straps land at his feet. He leans down and picks them up. The tarnished gold medal of the clasp is cool in his palm.
Muscle memory guides him in putting the fabric on. First the blue fabric wrapped around his hips. The left side end kissing the bottom of his thighs. The right side drapes further down his leg. Next the white fabric, primarily wrapped around his shoulders and torso but drapes over the blue down his legs. Lastly, the straps to hold it all together. They come to a point above his heart. An old gear, covered in the sinewy rainbow of the arcane. He wouldn’t necessarily call it clothing but it is comfortable enough.
“Gorgeous.” The memory purrs in his ear. Phantom touches dance across his arms. Fingertips skirting along the muscles.
The sting of his arm reminds him where he is. What he’s doing here. The slap from his hand a resounding knell in the cramped room.
He made a promise.
He won’t fail.
The light burns as he steps outside. The adjustment harsh on his corneas. The overwhelming white of the tents glare back at him. Broken up only by bouts of green.
“See it, Jayce?” Lips press gently against the side of his neck. “How far our word has traveled. How many people we’ve saved.” Icy hands roaming his chest.
“Pursuivant!”
A small voice snaps him from the memory. A young boy rushes up to him. Feet tangling around themselves before swiftly correcting. Dust and dirt not an acquaintance of his today.
A smile, soft and welcoming across his face. The feel of his face softening. Baby soft hair beneath his fingers. A gentle ruffle. A bubble of laughter in his throat.
The sweet giggle of a child reels him back to the present. He pulls his hand away from the child’s head, shaking it back to his side.
“You’re awake!” The boy exclaims. His hand is soft in Jayce’s own. Extra excitement bounces the boy lightly on his feet. Big eyes full of hollow adoration.
Hollow. Empty.
Soft hands turn scorching where they touch. He rips his hand away from the heat. Shakes his hand wildly in the air to cool it. Shock and confusion cross the young boy's features.
It’s fake. None of it is real.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is like gravel in his throat. Scratchy with disuse. He clears away the discomfort. “Where’s Viktor?”
Questions skirt visually across the boy's eyes. Distrust etched into his eyebrows. Like a dog, he tilts his head to the side in silent question.
“Who?”
“Ah, uhm.” Jayce’s fingers clench at his side. “The Herald.”
Unadulterated joy replaces the questions and distrust. Itsnotreal. Itsallfake.
“Oh! The garden.”
The setting is unfamiliar. Sterile in an organic way. The vague shapes of greenery and circles. The smell of earth in his lungs.
“Will you walk with me?” The question is asked before he realizes. The boy looks up to him, a mischievous glint in his eye. A feline smile crosses his lips.
“Race ya, Pursuivant!” The boy squeals as he bolts. Dust filling Jayce’s nose as he goes. The air screams against his disused lungs as Jayce chases after the shrieking laughter.
The feel of bile in his throat returns. Swiftly he swallows it down. Gasps air back into his lungs as his feet pound against the soil. Sterile white flies past his vision. The feeling of eyes watching, judging, follows him. Maybe if he runs fast enough he can out pace them. The laughter bounces around his skull.
Fakefakefakefake.
“Beat ya! Woo!” The boy cheers as he pumps his fist into the air. Childlike energy still ready to be released as he jumps up into the air. The smile on Jayce’s face is disingenuous at best. A grimace at worst. The boy's shoulder is soft under his palm as he moves past him.
The smell of petrichor caresses his senses when he walks into the small building. Circular windows line the walls, gold plated and proud. The center of the room holds the greenery overwhelming his senses. His breath catches on the earthy smell. Stuck suspended in the space between his lungs when his gaze finds a leaning silhouette.
“Please. Please, Viktor. I-“ Salt on his tongue. Dampness on his cheeks. Staining blue velvet.
The figure straightens, a hint of surprise in its spine, but doesn’t turn.
“Hm,” a soft hum in the quiet space. Muffled further by the plants. “You are not my Jayce.”
The liquid fluidity of his body turns to meet Jayce. Swirling iridescent eyes find his own. A slight furrow in his brow. The slight purse of his lips. How the space between begs for sanctification through Jayce’s lips.
Beautiful. Different. Wrong. So agonizingly right.
“Though you look the part.” Humor weaves its way through Viktor’s speech. The swirling of his eyes devours any minuscule movement that Jayce makes. Watches hungrily for his next step. His robe ripples around his legs as he moves towards Jayce. Like water. The dryness in Jayce’s throat much more prevalent now. How easy it would be to drink him in. To be swept away by him.
“Tell me,” Viktor’s words fill his lungs. His breath whispers against Jayce’s face. Viktor's hand comes up to touch. To feel. To memorize. His eyes never leave Jayce’s. “Where is mine?”
Viktor's wrist feels so small in his grip. Like a twig under his boot. It takes little effort to hold him still. To stop him from touching. From taking. From changing.
“Perfection in the flesh. Ah-“ a breathy gasp. “Preserved forever within me.” A lilt of a sigh. “Stay here, like this, with me. Let me show you what we can accomplish.”
His brain rattles against his skull with how harshly he shakes. The feelings of frosty fingertips at his forehead start to dissipate. The press of another’s body against his own becoming a ghost. The longing to be one fleeting.
“You came to me. Much like this.” Viktor’s voice is meant only for him. “Half out of your mind. Desperate for penance.” His eyes watch the grit of Jayce’s mouth. “Do you remember? How you clung to my legs, begged for my forgiveness?” If he pressed forward-. “Eager to find repentance in my body.”
Viktor’s other wrist like rabbits bone beneath his hand. The molten iridescent flares. The heat in his gaze flamed into Jayce. His dry lips cracking further with a frown.
“Viktor.” His voice grates against his own ears.
“Viktor” A sigh between kisses. A sob in his throat.
“Why fight the inevitable?” Viktor tugs against Jayce’s grip. Relents as the pressure threatens to burst.
The cool press of fingers gradually warmed by skin. Cut off whimpers and moans against his lips. The tight heat of his core enveloping him. Welcoming him. Eyes blinded by doubt, opened to the blazing light of truth. The taste of oil thick in his mouth.
“Why struggle against your own self?”
Revelations come as a shock. A cold dose of water down the spine. Refreshing and paralyzing. A gulping breath when the surface is broken.
The shock wears off with his tongue in Viktor’s mouth. Licking at the crevices. Tasting every inch that he’s allowed. To pull away now would be to deprive a dying man the last sip of water.
He indulges. Of course he indulges. He’s been craving this. Desperate for it for eons. For centuries. Feels it licking through his bloodstream like a flame. Wicking away the water in his cells.
Soft moans filter over the pounding of blood in his ears. Whimpers crawl up the column of his throat. He needs to be deeper. To be engraved into Viktor. Carved into the synthetic meat of his muscles. Gnawing at the base of his bones.
Acrid and sweet and vile. Oil coating the back of his throat.
He pulls away at the first drop. Shallow breaths as he pants for air. Eyes hungry for the obsidian color welling on Viktor’s bottom lip. Bile in his throat. How he’d long to taste it again.
“Some things don’t change, I see.” Amusement colors Viktor’s words. Viktor tugs experimentally at his wrists again. Jayce feels the creaking under his fingers. Doesn’t relent at the small wince in Viktor’s shoulders.
“No,” Jayce shakes his head. Iridescent refocuses in his view. The emptiness behind them. “No, I will not fail.”
“Jayce,” Like a siren, so sweet off his tongue. The weight of Viktor’s gaze on his mouth is almost too much. He dryly swallows around the lump in his throat.
“Would you betray your Herald with a kiss?”
The weightlessness of Viktor’s body plots against him as Jayce maneuvers them. Viktor winces with the sharp tug of his shoulders as Jayce twists his arms behind his back. It’s easy enough when both of Viktor’s wrists fit in one of his palms.
The black obsidian smears across Viktor’s lips. The pull of arousal twists in his belly. Pools lower between his legs. He wants to taste. To feel it smothering in his airway. To rut against it and push inside.
Shame colors his features. A repulsive thought should be shunned. Turned away from the light of day but -
“I won’t fail you.” Whispered against cold metallic knuckles. Nibbles against synthetic fingertips. His chin in cool palms. Thumbs caressing his bottom lip. Molten eyes soft.
“How could you?”
Jayce, careful of Viktor’s hands, leans over his back and presses his chest into him. His lips find the corded muscle of Viktor’s neck. The metallic taste bites back at Jayce. His teeth ache in his skull. That obsidian just below the surface. Thundering, teasing against his tongue.
His free hand aches, swiftly comes to grab at the thundering pulse. Presses gently into it, calming the storm before it truly begins. A soft gasp pushes against his finger tips. Claws its way from Viktor’s throat.
“Fuck!” Jayce’s forehead meets the cold smoothness of Viktor’s skin between Viktor’s shoulder blades. Viktor’s chest pants with breath when Jayce releases his throat. His legs bump against the back of Viktor’s as he pushes the other man forward. Partially bends his body forward against one of the plant's vestibules. The leaves just out of reach.
“Ah-V,” A gasp of feeling. His erection against the swell of Viktor’s ass. His hips grind further into the sensation. Chasing after the minute pleasure. A gasping groan from his throat.
“Take what you need.” A breath. “Take supplication in my body.”
The softness of the fabric is crumbled under his hand as he pushes it to the side. The humid air of the garden a relief on his cock. The velvet of Viktor’s robe smooth against his palm. Rucked up Viktor’s back as Jayce takes in the sight.
Oil in his throat. Filling his stomach. Drowning.
“So desperate to be within me?” A breathless laugh. Awe in his eyes.
His cock jumps when he takes himself in hand. Jayce bites at his bottom lip to hold back a groan. The sticky wetness of Viktor clings to him as he rubs against his entrance. Warm and welcoming. A breath of awe as he pushes his way inside.
“V - ah -” A bitten off moan once he’s seated fully. “Feel so good. Like you were made for me.”
“Wasn’t I?” Viktor pants against the soil of the vestibule. Small bits of dirt blowing away from his mouth. “Made for you. Forged by-”
Static bouncing around his tongue. Meat and oil suffocating. Wires wrapped around his teeth.
Viktor’s pulse jumps against Jayce’s hand. The squeeze silencing his sentence. He doesn’t want the truth. Doesn’t want to be confronted by the sins of this Jayce.
Sin finds him in the tight heat of Viktor. The pressure on his throat a mirror of his cunt. Constricting. Meant to squeeze a man to his baser instincts. To rut like an animal. Rips the moan from Jayce’s lungs.
“I’m sorry.” The heaviness of tears to shed clogs his throat. The heady pull on Jayce’s cock rocks his eyes back into his head. The humid air now cool against the wetness of his dick. His hips push him back in, back into the warm inviting heat. The slap of it reverberating across the garden.
“I failed you.” A sob tears from his throat as he bears down harder on Viktor’s. A strangled sound jumps against his palm. The salty wetness of tears on his tongue when he licks his lips. Viktor’s legs squeeze together underneath Jayce. A vice around his cock. A shackle to the moment.
The thunder pulse simmers under his fingers. Each rut into Viktor a tight squeeze of his hand. Knuckles white and face flushed red with exertion. He never lets go of Viktor’s eyes. Watches as they begin to glaze over and become unseeing.
“Jay–ce.” A hiccuped attempt at breath.
“Jayce.” Soft against his temple.
But he can’t stop. He won’t stop. The oil in his throat. The cloying sweetness on his tongue.
“I’m sor-” The moan rips through his lung. The vice around him gives way, relaxing completely around his cock. His orgasm crashes into him in waves. Fucking up into the relaxed heat of Viktor’s body. Uncaring of the mess he’s made.
The creaking of Viktor’s wrist is like a brand. He drops them, watches them dangle down his sides. Jayce presses harder up into him, holding him in place against the vestibule. Waiting. Waiting.
The point is silent under his fingers. Color returns slowly to his knuckles when he lets go. There is no sharp intake breath. No croaking remark from a battered airway. Lungs stay forever seized with no oxygen.
The drumming in his ears almost beats out the wailing from outside. The death shrieks of the commune as Viktor fades into oblivion. The collective final gasp of the unknowing dead.
Gravity presses down on him. Viktor’s body heavy as he pulls his down with him. His fingers dig into the sharp metal of Viktor’s shoulders. His knuckles creaking against the pressure.
“Wait, wait. Please. Please. Viktor. I just - I just need-”
“Jayce, haven’t you suffered enough?” Viktor muses as he cards his hand through unkempt hair. The pressure around his legs almost unbearable. The wetness of his robes a secondary thought.
“Let me show you salvation.”