Chapter Text
Jayce Talis was the kind of man to whom one could assign an endless number of adjectives.
If you were to ask any citizen of Piltover, it was almost certain you'd hear something along the lines of “genius,” “visionary,” “brilliant,” among many others.
While those statements were far from inaccurate, there were particular traits that only the closest to him had the luxury of witnessing.
Jayce Talis was expressive. Intense. Completely and viscerally emotional.
He embraced his feelings like one embraces a dear friend. They were always written all over his face for anyone to see—and even those who didn’t want to. He had a hard time hiding whatever was going through his head because his expressions betrayed him.
He was too expansive, felt too much. His laughter and joy were the contagious kind, spreading through the room and seeping into those around him without them even noticing. When angered, his blood would boil, rushing to his head and hijacking his brain like a deadly virus. His sadness? As devastating as a storm, sweeping away everything in its path.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he was a man of extremes. Extremely dedicated, extremely loyal, extremely passionate about everything he did—either all in, or nothing at all.
And last but not least, there was one curious thing about him: tears came easily.
All it took was a powerful emotion for his body to burst into tears. It was as if the feeling was too grand to fit in his chest, and his body needed to externalize it. And so, tears would well up in the corners of his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, stinging and burning his tear ducts.
It had been like that since childhood. He’d cry at classical music concerts his mother used to take him to as a child when a melody touched his soul. He’d hop with joy and cry when something he truly wanted finally happened. A pout would form on his trembling lips every time he had a fight, and tears would wash away his anger.
He carried a big heart in an even bigger body, completely unfiltered—and while it was a trait appreciated by many and made him beloved by those he loved, there was one particular situation in which he wished for just a bit less intensity. One that made him curse to the heavens for not having a hint of stoicism. One that brought out a kind of crying he hated to explain.
During sex.
His body was hypersensitive, which was both ridiculous and endearing in equal measure. The slightest touch could make him shiver—a lingering kiss on his neck was enough to send tremors from head to toe, a firm grip in the right spots could draw the most desperate sighs from his lips. That part? His partners loved. It was obvious—their smirks and dark, hungry eyes always gave them away.
That is, until the part where Jayce gave himself over completely and felt so much, so intensely, that tears would begin to roll down his cheeks. Silent and stealthy, they shimmered like diamonds under the moonlight, while soft sobs echoed in his throat. Not from pain, not from discomfort, but from raw, condensed pleasure in its purest form.
Every single time it happened, the following minutes, hours, days—sometimes even weeks—became a snowball of awkward consequences. No one ever knew how to handle it.
He understood the concerned looks, the questions about whether he was okay—it was the natural reaction from anyone with the bare minimum of empathy when the person they were sleeping with started crying.
The problem came when his explanations and reassurances weren’t enough. When the looks of suspicion or pity wouldn’t go away.
His first time, when he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend, the girl had gone pale and frozen in place. She ended the relationship days later, saying she just couldn’t handle it. As heartbroken as he’d been, Jayce had understood.
In university, he thought people would be more open-minded, more mature when it came to having honest conversations about their desires and expectations regarding sex. But all he got was one disappointment after another.
He’d lost count of how many casual encounters ended in disaster—people thinking he was in pain, getting visibly uncomfortable with his tears and dicks and pussies immediately going soft or dry. Others ran from his bed without ever looking back, completely freaked out. Sometimes, he thought things would be okay—his partners would stay until the end—but then they’d ghost him. No second dates, no messages. Some even blocked him—and occasionally, their extended family too.
But the most unbelievable case, so tragic it was almost comical, was a guy who, after they were done, looked him in the eye and told him—without hesitation—that he needed therapy.
Frustrated with the countless failed attempts to find someone who understood him—who didn’t get spooked by the fact that Jayce literally cried from pleasure, who didn’t treat him like he carried the plague afterward—he just stopped trying. He closed himself off entirely, no longer actively seeking anyone out, avoiding flirting as much as possible, playing dumb whenever someone showed interest in him. All to avoid the emotional fatigue of once again being made to feel like a complete freak once the night was over.
Until Viktor came along and shattered that plan entirely.
Viktor, with his thick accent and raspy voice, sharp tongue, extraordinary mind, acidic humor, unmatched sarcasm, fierce determination, striking presence, thin frame—and a pair of golden, feline eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of his soul with just a glance.
Someone who understood him like no one else, in all his nuances, and saw him completely, truly—not just the handsome man whose face had become the first that came to mind when people mentioned Piltover. He followed Jayce’s reasoning like no one else, finished his sentences before he could even say them out loud, welcomed his intense emotions and need for physical contact, even though he himself was reserved and carried that—false—impression of being cold and unapproachable.
The kind of person who laughed at his terrible jokes, only to tell an even worse one in return.
It wasn’t even necessary to say that Jayce fell for him. He was hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
And, to his absolute despair—or perhaps blissful happiness—it was mutual. It took weeks, months—hell, years—for them to do something about it. Like the two idiots they were, dancing around the issue, building up that delicious tension, fueling the warm feeling that overtook them whenever they were together.
But it was happening.
The deliberately prolonged touches, the lingering glances, the secretive smiles reserved only for each other, the stolen kisses in between conversations, exchanged in silence, behind closed doors in the lab—were all proof of the beautiful, special relationship they were building.
Jayce was painfully aware that he couldn’t delay the inevitable forever—but he wanted to anyway. Desperately wished he could. Because he didn’t want to lose Viktor. Not when he was no longer just a passing figure in his life, not just a lab partner, but someone he cherished deeply. Someone he yearned for and loved with all the sincerity and every fiber of his being.
Because he didn’t want to ruin everything.
What he didn’t expect, however, was for the “inevitable” to come so soon.
And, above all, he didn’t expect that dreaded event to possibly unfold into a delicious, unplanned twist—one that, definitely, wasn’t unwelcome.
{......}
It was around 8:30 PM when it happened. Both men were getting ready to head to their respective homes, despite the weather outside beginning to turn grim. Heavy, dark gray clouds loomed over the sky, thick with raindrops waiting to fall. The sky looked ready to burst at any moment. Thunder rumbled in the distance, loud enough to make the lab walls tremble, and lightning lit up the room in sudden, furious flashes.
Jayce kept glancing between the stormy view outside and Viktor’s lean figure, who was calmly gathering his belongings, moving with the tranquility of someone strolling through a spring afternoon, rather than someone about to brave the winding streets and questionable sanitation of Zaun.
“You sure you’re gonna cross the bridge in weather like this?” Jayce asked casually, almost as if it was no big deal. Almost. The hint of genuine concern in his tone was unmistakable.
Viktor replied with a lazy murmur, his tired eyes flicking toward the cloudy sky, and his hand waving in a dismissive gesture.
“Don’t worry, Jayce. It’s just a storm. I’ve been through worse.”
Jayce let out an incredulous chuckle, and Viktor could’ve sworn he saw him blink one eye.
“You’re asking me not to worry? Me?” he emphasized the pronoun, clicking his tongue in disapproval, wagging his index finger side to side. “No, I’m not letting you walk out in this, Vik. It’s gonna start pouring any second now.”
Viktor raised an eyebrow, curious, though clearly exhausted—the dark, deep bags beneath his eyes betrayed just how worn down he was.
“And what do you suggest, genius? That I swim down to Zaun?”
His tone was dry, melodic, almost biting to anyone else’s ears. But Jayce knew it was just the humor of the man he was in love with.
That’s why he couldn’t help but chuckle, a quiet puff of laughter slipping out as he rolled his eyes.
“My apartment’s not far from here. You can spend the night at my place, I don’t mind,” he offered with a hint of shyness, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Better than slipping around those streets, with water rushing everywhere. It’s dangerous. What if something happens to you and I’m not there to help?”
The older man studied him with those intense golden eyes, holding eye contact, a smirk forming on his lips. Amusement.
“There’s no need for so much drama. It wouldn’t be my first storm.”
“Could be your last.”
The scientist couldn’t hold back a laugh, muffling it behind his hand.
“Excuse me?” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think you’re trying to kill me or curse me, Jayce,” he teased, clearly enjoying watching the younger man trip over his own words.
“I’m trying to stop you from killing yourself,” Talis replied instantly, more embarrassed and stubborn than genuinely offended.
“Or maybe you just really want to get me into your apartment.”
The teasing lilt in his voice made Jayce’s cheeks flare with heat like a furnace.
He rolled his eyes again, exasperated, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. He didn’t know whether to be flustered at how effortlessly Viktor disarmed him or annoyed by his relentless stubbornness. Probably both.
“All right, fine. I want to take you to my apartment,” he finally gave in, deciding to play Viktor’s game. “Satisfied?”
“Very.” Viktor dug through his bag, pulling out the coat he kept there for emergencies like this, hurriedly putting it on as the sky finally gave way, thick, heavy raindrops crashing onto the pavement outside.
“I think we better go now and pick up the pace. The sooner we get out of this storm, the better.”
A clap of thunder echoed through the lab, making the windows tremble. Startled by the sudden roar, Jayce immediately agreed, and the two of them headed out the door.
Jayce’s apartment really wasn’t far, but the wet ground along the way forced them to walk quickly. By the time they arrived, Viktor’s legs ached, his cane slipped from his reddened, sore hand, and both men looked like drenched chicks. They were soaked, clothes clinging to their skin, thick raindrops splattered everywhere—dripping from their hair, pooling on the floor, turning the doormat into a muddy mess.
Jayce opened the door and stepped inside, immediately searching for the light switch in the entryway while pulling off his drenched shoes and socks, leaving them by the wall. He pointed to a makeshift drying rack a few steps from the door—a habit he’d picked up from his mother since childhood, especially during Piltover’s notoriously rainy seasons.
“Let’s get these wet clothes off and hang them here. If we go in like this, I’ll be mopping water out from under the furniture for the rest of the week.”
Before Viktor could respond, Talis was already removing his tie, unbuttoning his vest and dress shirt with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times—and he had. The scientist didn’t object. He just leaned his cane against the wall and mirrored Jayce’s actions, his hands and jaw trembling from the cold.
Jayce awkwardly fumbled out of his pants, nearly tripping over himself before hanging the soaked garments. Then he turned toward Viktor.
“Are you hungry, Viktor? I know we already had dinner, but I can make something if you want.”
He turned and was met with the sight of Viktor’s narrow, bare back. He took in the wide shoulders, the shifting blades, the prominent vertebrae under pale skin, the moles scattered across his body. He almost sighed in awe, thinking every inch of Viktor was a masterpiece.
“No, Jayce. Thank you. I’m not hungry.”
He was about to murmur something back, but the words died in his throat when Viktor turned to face him, chest fully exposed, fingers undoing his belt. Jayce’s gaze instinctively dropped to his torso, only to stop at the scars on his chest. Faded, old, unmistakably deliberate. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together—especially in a place where the concept of transness was well known.
But his expression wasn’t one of shock, nor revulsion, nor disappointment. It was just discovery—like noticing something you hadn’t seen before but made perfect sense. Viktor, always observant and attuned to detail, knew he was being watched.
“Does this bother you, Jayce?”
His voice was calm, as soft and controlled as ever, but something flickered in his pupils. Expectation. Uncertainty. Insecurity. A quiet resignation, like someone bracing for any kind of response.
Jayce flinched at the sudden question, his heart skipping a beat. Once he recovered, he stepped closer, placing his warm palms on Viktor’s cold, rain-slicked arms.
“No… no, not at all. I was just surprised, that’s all. You don’t need to worry. I’m still attracted to you. I still love you.”
He didn’t even realize the confession had slipped out, smooth and fluid like the rain outside. It came as naturally as breathing. But once he processed the three words he’d just spoken, it was too late. Viktor was already staring at him—wide-eyed, lips slightly parted in surprise.
“…So you love me, huh?” The Zaunite smirked, beautiful and smug.
Jayce flushed, his face burning like the furnaces he often worked beside, shy and flustered. He stammered, fumbling over syllables, his fingers twitching nervously.
“I-I… I didn’t mean to say that yet. I know it’s too soon,” he tried to excuse, clearly failing, wishing he could sink into the floor like an ostrich. “But yeah, Viktor. I… I love you.”
The smugness in Viktor’s expression melted away, softening into something tender. A lazy, affectionate smile tugged at his lips, and his golden eyes glowed with a rare warmth—one Jayce had only seen during very special moments. He looked like a child who had just been handed his favorite treat—pure, genuine joy.
Viktor reached for his cane again, limped toward the younger man, and gently cradled Jayce’s strong jaw with long, slender fingers, caressing him with the care of someone handling porcelain. His cracked lips found Jayce’s full, well-shaped mouth, lingering in a tender kiss.
“You’re the sweetest and most adorable person I’ve ever met, you know that?” he whispered, gazing into Jayce’s wide, shining eyes, admiring the contours of his breathless lips, the relaxed brows, the flush painted across his cheeks. “I love you too, Jayce. So much.”
Talis nearly choked on his own breath as Viktor rose slightly on his toes to plant a kiss on the top of his head. Jayce broke into a wide, goofy grin, eyes shimmering with the flood of emotions surging through him. He returned the kiss—both on Viktor’s lips and his forehead—and lightly touched the brace on his partner’s leg.
“Do you want help unfastening this?”
On another day, in another moment, Viktor might’ve declined. But the truth was, he was exhausted—physically and emotionally—and the intimacy, the comfort of that moment was too precious to turn down.
“Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”
Jayce nodded, turning to his lab bag in search of the screwdriver he always kept there for that specific purpose.
“There’s a stool by the drying rack. Can you shower standing, Vik?” he asked, dragging the wooden seat closer. “If not, you can take it into the bathroom and sit.”
“My balance is awful and my leg goes numb and sore after a few minutes. I’d rather sit in the shower to avoid any accidents.” Though he didn’t say it outright, he was clearly accepting the offer.
“Mm.” Jayce crouched in front of him, carefully unscrewing the bolts with practiced fingers, setting them aside, and helping Viktor out of his soaked, muddy pants.
As he pulled the fabric from Viktor’s legs, the scientist trembled—not from the cold, but from nerves and a growing, undeniable desire. He tried to look away, to think of anything else, but it was useless. The man he’d dreamed of for so long was right there—half-naked in front of him, completely exposed, vulnerable, legs open, only inches away. If he reached out, he could touch him. Viktor was simply irresistible.
He was slightly out of breath, biting his lips, blushing down to his ears. Worse than that—he was aroused. The heat pulsed through his veins, his arousal pressing insistently beneath his skin. He clenched his thighs subtly, trying to suppress the feeling—but the friction only made it worse, and a soft sigh, almost a whimper, escaped him.
“You’re blushing,” Viktor commented innocently—or nearly so. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. They flicked downward, landing directly on the prominent bulge in Jayce’s underwear. “And hard.”
Jayce kept his gaze glued to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, a quiet grunt slipping past his lips, shame written all over his face. He didn’t even realize he was pouting—or that Viktor found it utterly adorable.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just… you’re here, almost naked in front of me, and I’ve wanted you for so long… you’re so beautiful… I couldn’t help it.”
“Hey.” Viktor gently cupped his chin, his voice softer now, devoid of the teasing tone from before. “It’s okay. I’m not upset. And…”
Viktor spread his legs a little wider, revealing a damp spot on his underwear—darker than the rest of the fabric, clearly not from the rain. He took Jayce’s hand and guided his fingers to that area, encouraging him to feel the warmth and wetness that had soaked through, undeniable evidence of his own arousal.
“I’m not exactly in a different situation than you.”
Talis nearly forgot how to breathe. Another soft moan slipped from his lips, a languid sigh leaving his lungs.
“You mentioned a shower, didn’t you, Jayce? We could shower together. It would save water… time… and I could help you with that,” he said, eyes flicking toward Jayce’s erection beneath the black fabric, before locking onto his brown eyes again. His thumb brushed over Jayce’s lower lip. “If you want to do something sexual tonight. What do you say?”
Jayce kissed Viktor’s thumb, reverent and gentle, and though the gesture brimmed with tenderness, Viktor found it irresistibly seductive. He gasped quietly, his throat suddenly dry, pale cheeks tinted with a lovely shade of pink.
“Yes. Please,” Jayce answered, voice quiet and pleading.
Viktor smiled, feeling something deliciously powerful stir deep in his belly. It was the realization that he loved when Jayce was like this—adorable, needy, submissive. He extended a hand to him, using his cane to stand up.
“Then let’s go.”
{......}
Once in the bathroom, at least at first, it really was just a shower. Washing off the remnants of dirt, dust, grease, and sweat clinging to their skin, and warming up from the cutting chill of the storm. Jayce had already adjusted the water temperature—hot, just the way he knew Viktor liked it to ease his muscle pain, a detail he’d learned from years of bringing him warm compresses during their work together.
Jayce stood behind him, while Viktor sat on the wooden stool he’d brought into the shower. He washed his own body in silence while Jayce scrubbed behind him, occasionally splashing water or soap his way.
As he neared the end of his routine, waiting only for Viktor to finish so he could help with washing his back and genitals, Jayce offered quietly:
“Can I wash your back and hair, Vik?”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“No need,” he smiled, lowering his voice to a murmur by Viktor’s ear. “I just want to take care of you.”
The older man bit his lip and closed his eyes, goosebumps rippling across his skin. However, any spark of arousal was replaced by something else the moment Jayce’s warm, broad hands began massaging shampoo into his hair. It melted him completely.
Jayce was so gentle, massaging his scalp with such care it felt more like a caress than anything else, coaxing a content sigh from Viktor’s chest.
“This feels so good,” he admitted with a soft smile. “You’re too good to me, dear.”
“Dear.” The word made Jayce feel like melted butter in a skillet, his heart warm and fluttering. He didn’t even answer—he just kissed Viktor’s temple with quiet reverence, rinsing the suds from his soft brown hair. Then, he lathered his own hands again, this time focusing on Viktor’s narrow back.
He spread the soap over the pale skin with slow, firm motions—both to clean and to soothe. He massaged every inch, pressing into his shoulders, easing the knots out of tight muscles, banishing all remaining tension from his body.
“Oh… for Janna’s sake, Jayce…” Viktor moaned audibly, small gasps of pleasure and relief slipping from his lips. “Mmn…”
As unintentional and involuntary as the sounds were, Jayce couldn’t help the heat that flared up his spine, the ache pulsing between his legs. His partner had the most sinful, sexy voice he’d ever heard, and those moans only confirmed it. A low groan escaped his lips—shaky, breathy—and his erection brushed lightly against Viktor’s shoulder.
The Zaunite trembled, looking back at him over his shoulder, golden eyes shimmering at the sight of him—hard, aroused, for him, and only for him. Jayce watched Viktor lick his lips and bite the lower one gently, whispering:
“Jayce…”
“Hm?”
Viktor placed a hand on his thick thigh, feeling the strength of his muscles, the generous shape of his legs.
“Can I suck you off?”
Talis trembled, shuddering silently, his cock twitching in arousal just inches from the scientist’s face. How could he even ask when the answer was so painfully obvious?
“Yes, Vik,” he breathed eagerly, threading his fingers into Viktor’s damp hair and tugging him closer. “Please.”
Viktor held his gaze for a long moment, trailing his fingers down the length of Jayce’s erection, like he was memorizing every inch. He felt it throb, traced the veins, then moved down to gently cup his sensitive balls, drawing out a strained moan.
“Don’t tease me so much, V… I want you. I need you. Touch me, please.”
“Shh, darling.” Viktor gave him a reassuring smile, pressing a soft kiss to the glistening tip, watching Jayce’s legs tremble in response. “I’ll take care of you. Just let me enjoy this—I want to feel you. Every bit of you.”
Mercifully, Viktor gave in to Jayce’s plea and began touching him more deliberately—his tongue lapping up the precum that beaded at the slit, savoring the taste. He took the head of Jayce’s cock into his mouth, sucking firmly, groaning with pleasure even though he hadn’t been touched himself. He could feel Jayce twitch and spill more with every motion, and he wanted to taste it all.
His mouth moved lower, tongue gliding from the base back up to the tip, then down again. He teased Jayce’s balls, licking and sucking each one separately, then both together, driving him wild—his fingers clenching tighter in Viktor’s hair.
Once he’d had his fill of teasing, Viktor wrapped his fingers around Jayce’s length, now slick with water and saliva, and began to stroke it. Slowly, then more firmly, he took the head back into his mouth and gradually worked his way down, inch by inch. He took his time, not just because he wanted to savor it, but because Jayce was thick—long and wide. Still, Viktor didn’t stop until he felt himself filled completely, the hard length pushing into the back of his throat.
He relaxed his throat, letting Jayce in deeper, his nose brushing against the flushed skin of Jayce’s pelvis, his lips sealed tightly around the base. He inhaled his scent—water and soap—and listened to the soft, desperate moans spilling from his lover’s lips. When he looked up, the expression on Jayce’s face was absolutely sinful: eyes half-lidded, lips red from being bitten, contorted in pleasure.
“Oh my God, Viktor… you’re so good at this.” Jayce’s fingers stroked his jaw lovingly, a tender contrast to the hunger in his voice. “Don’t stop, please, baby.”
The pet name hit Viktor like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. His heart pounded, wild and loud, as if it might break through his ribs. He closed his eyes and focused, relaxing again, resisting the urge to clench his jaw or pull back, immersed in the sensation of the erection sliding across his lips, of the difference between the skin of his cockhead and the rest of the length, in delight at how full and complete every time he bobbed his head, in ecstasy for the opportunity that was giving him the pleasure he deserved.
His own arousal throbbed between his legs, untouched, desperate, neglected, aching when he hears the change in Jayce's voice. His moans were louder now, higher-pitched, each one more urgent than the last. His voice broke, breathless and needy the more his orgasm approached.
“Nngh… V-Viktor… I can’t… your mouth feels so good, you’re so—s-so perfect…” Jayce stutters, his knees almost faltering. “I-I’m gonna…”
Jayce tried to pull back, to warn him, to keep from finishing in Viktor’s mouth. But Viktor wouldn’t have it. He tightened his grip, refusing to let go. He wanted it—needed it. Needed to taste all of him, to feel him spill down his throat and feel his taste on his tongue for hours after.
Jayce gave in to the implicit desire in his lover's behavior, relaxing and letting himself be consumed by pleasure, by the heat of that feverish mouth around his cock. His orgasm left him dizzy, resulting in a gush of cum spilling into his partner's mouth. Viktor drank every drop, swallowing around him as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever been given. He didn’t stop until Jayce was empty, then pulled back with a quiet, wet pop, gently licking the hypersensitive head clean before placing a soft kiss to the tip.
“Thank you, Jayce,” his tone had come out hoarser than usual from having his throat abused, although he was not in the least bit sorry. “I loved making you feel good.”
The younger man laughed breathlessly, still trembling. He knelt and kissed Viktor’s swollen lips, tasting himself faintly.
“You were incredible. I didn’t know you’d be that good at it.”
“I’m a man of many talents,” Viktor said with a crooked grin.
“And very modest,” Jayce teased, smirking.
“Absolutely.”
Jayce gave him a light slap on the shoulder, chuckling.
“Idiot.”
It was all he said before kissing him again—only this time, the kiss was different. There was no innocence left in it. His tongue pushed into Viktor’s mouth, hungry and insistent, sucking at his lips until they were red and plump like cherries.
“I want to return the favor before we leave this bathroom,” he murmured, his voice rich like honey, laced with both tenderness and lust. “Will you let me?”
Viktor let out a shaky breath, caught off guard, overwhelmed. His clit tingled between his thighs, pulsing with anticipation at just the thought of being touched.
“I’ll let you,” he replied, voice low and trembling.
The effect was instant—like Jayce had been enchanted. He dropped to his knees on the wet bathroom floor, spreading Viktor’s legs with firm, confident hands, exposing him completely. His brown eyes lingered on the sight before him, drinking it in like a blessing, feeling lucky that it was him—there, now—being given this trust, this access.
Jayce wanted to worship him, just like Viktor did to him.
Jayce’s lips traced kisses along the inside of Viktor’s pale thighs, slow and sensual, while his fingers gently ran the length of his leg—the one usually braced—massaging the muscles, soothing the bruises from the metal pressing into his easily injured skin.
The older scientist found himself disoriented by the tenderness—so unaccustomed to being handled with such care.
“You don’t have to…” he murmured, hesitant, barely audible.
“But I want to,” Jayce replied, smiling softly, closing his eyes as he kissed Viktor’s inner thigh again—closer this time to where he really wanted to be. The heat radiating from Viktor’s core was palpable.
Viktor spread his legs wider, his breath echoing in his ears. And it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that he nearly passed out from pleasure when Jayce’s thick fingers finally brushed through his wet folds, parting them and spreading the slickness dripping from his pussy.
His vision briefly blurred when those fingers focused on his clit—swollen, wet, and visibly throbbing. He tilted his head back, moaning openly, the responsive little bud aching for attention.
“Damn, you’re really turned on,” Jayce commented, a mix of fascination and teasing in his voice, which now sounded like a pleased purr.
“I know,” Viktor chuckled, his face and chest flushed with a rosy mix of arousal and embarrassment. “I really wanted to touch myself while I was going down on you,” he confessed, voice drawn out like a slow caress, fingers playing through Jayce’s damp hair. “You’re so sensitive, you were driving me crazy.”
A pleased hum vibrated in Jayce’s throat. His plush lips pressed reverently against Viktor’s dripping sex, starting from the base of his entrance and gliding up to his clit, which he gently sucked into his mouth, drawing it between his lips with intense, deliberate pressure, savoring the way it throbbed on his tongue.
“If you had touched yourself,” he murmured after briefly pulling back to catch his breath, “I would’ve come instantly.” He licked over Viktor’s slick flesh again, slow and thorough. “And… do you like that? The way I’m so sensitive?”
Viktor rested his long legs on Jayce’s broad shoulders, tightening around his neck slightly, drawing him in closer, locking him in place between his thighs and his soaked heat.
“I do,” he whispered.
It was almost like he was smothering him there—Jayce’s mouth pressed tightly against his slick folds, barely giving him space to breathe. And Jayce didn’t care. There was no more delicious or honorable way to die, in his opinion.
“I want to see how far that sensitivity goes,” Viktor added.
A sudden knot twisted in Jayce’s stomach—anxiety trying to crawl up his spine. There it was again—that creeping fear. It always started this way: appreciation, praise… and then discomfort, when the tears inevitably came.
But he shoved it down, locked it away. This wasn’t the moment to panic. Right now, all he wanted was to bring Viktor pleasure. To make him come.
He buried himself in the taste, the overwhelming wetness filling his mouth, the scent of sex mingling with soap. He moaned quietly as he licked him eagerly—his tongue and lips working Viktor’s clit with persistence: licking, circling, sucking. He paid close attention to every sound Viktor made, to every hitch in his breath, letting them guide him.
It didn’t take long. Within minutes, Viktor was grinding against his mouth, hips rolling urgently, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging with such force it tied knots in his damp strands. Jayce gripped his narrow thighs, holding them apart, opening him fully, and the openness—being so exposed—seemed to push Viktor closer to the edge.
“Ah, yes… just like that, Jayce. You’re so good to me, my dear.” Viktor’s voice was high, quick, like he was in a rush to reach the peak. “Just a little more, I’m almost there. Make me come, baby.”
The desire raging at Jayce’s core was ravenous now, burning through him. He dug his fingers into Viktor’s thighs, mouth clamping down over his clit in wet, intense suction. The noises were obscene—sloppy and lewd—, and they were enough to make Viktor whimper and tremble on the stool, bracing his hands on the wooden edges, until at last he cried out and shuddered violently, unraveling in Jayce’s mouth with a sob.
Jayce licked up every drop of release, showering kisses across Viktor’s trembling body until he reached his mouth again. Viktor let out a soft gasp, returning the kiss slowly, his thumbs brushing the tears from Jayce’s cheeks—tears Jayce hadn’t even realized had started to fall.
“I’m the one coming like that and you’re the one crying?” Viktor teased affectionately, keeping his fingers on Jayce’s damp face.
Jayce chuckled shyly, sniffling, his voice small and thick with emotion:
“Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed. I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long, and I can’t believe it’s really happening.” He offered a tender smile—and received one in return. “I'm glad I invited you to stay here tonight.”
“I’m glad you asked me to stay tonight too, Jayce.”
Jayce's heart thudded painfully in his chest, full to bursting, warmth radiating off of him like a visible aura. And with it came the aching need to touch more, to be touched, to possess and be possessed.
“…Do you want to keep going?” he whispered, bashful, almost embarrassed to admit he still wasn’t satisfied.
“Do you?”
“Only if you do.”
Jayce groaned, nodding desperately. He couldn’t keep pretending. He needed Viktor like an addict needed their drug.
“Please.”
The curve on Viktor’s dry lips now held a different energy—mischievous, deliberate. A stark contrast to the sweetness of earlier, like he could shift between tenderness and hunger in a heartbeat.
“All right. How do you want me?”
Jayce blinked two, three times—confused by the question—prompting Viktor to chuckle. Vague phrasing wasn’t Jayce’s strong suit, just like subtlety wasn’t Viktor’s.
So Viktor switched to a language they both understood.
“Do you want me to top or bottom for you, Jayce?”
“Oh!” he blushed. “Honestly… I don’t mind either. I just want to be yours,” he said, urgency thick in his voice, not even trying to hide it. “You can choose.”
Something in the way Jayce said it—his mix of vulnerability and devotion—spoke to Viktor on a visceral level. It pleased him deeply. The delight shone in the molten gold of his eyes.
“I want to fuck you,” Viktor said bluntly. No hesitation, just raw honesty. “Is that okay with you?”
“More than okay,” Jayce assured him, his excitement almost boyish in its sincerity. “Can you finish your shower and wait for me in the bedroom while I clean up and, uh… get ready for you?”
“Of course, my sweet. No problem.”
So Jayce helped Viktor rinse off, dried him, and handed him his cane. They exchanged kisses, whispered confessions, and warm smiles before Viktor made his way to the bedroom.
Once the door closed, Jayce turned to the handheld showerhead with trembling hands and resolve in his chest. He rinsed away the sweat, the doubt, the ever-lingering fear that had clung to him like a second skin since he’d first fallen for Viktor.
Just for tonight, he gave himself permission not to overthink what was about to happen—or how Viktor might react when he discovered that, yes, even—and especially—during moments like these, Jayce cried.