Chapter Text
When Viktor was a pup, his mother used to be quite paranoid that some piltie alpha would try to steal him from Zaun and turn him into an object of use and pleasure. Her fear wasn’t unfounded; it was a daily occurrence in Zaun’s streets to watch rich pilties come down with a bunch of enforcers and simply take young omegas or betas they found appealing. Sometimes even alpha pups were stolen, and rumor said their destiny was worse; their biology mutilated and turned into nightmares.
Still, Viktor had made it to adulthood without going through any kidnapping attempt. There had been three or five attempts of rape, all by enforcers. Sadly, that was common in the streets, zaunites considered right-less and even inhuman; thankfully, Viktor had also made it out of every assault unharmed thanks to his friends and the dagger he used to keep hidden on his cane.
Zaun had been his home. It was where he buried his darling parents at the age of eight, and where he was raised by Singed since age nine. He had met Vi, Powder, Ekko, and more friends whose voices became a safe space. Perhaps their lives weren’t perfect, hunger and cold a usual torture, but for years, Viktor had been fine with that life.
However, at sixteen, he got terribly sick. His lungs were weak since birth, immune system never as strong as it should have, and Singed, like the doctor he was, admitted he did not have what was needed to treat him. Viktor thought that meant he was going to die, but what happened was that Singed sneaked him into Piltover, and in a lovely garden of flowers and trees, a dying Viktor met Heimerdinger.
Turned out, Piltover’s Councilor and Singed had – history of some kind. Viktor had been shocked, partly because both men were betas, and partly because Heimerdinger was a yordle, a very rare yet known species that had arrived from distant lands carrying the gift of lives so long no one was quite sure they ever reached old age. Listening to both men while coughing up blood and feeling cold had been quite the experience, and in the end, it was worth it: Viktor was taken to the best piltovian hospital and treated as if he had been Heimerdinger’s own flesh and blood.
They had taken the tumors out and kept Viktor in intensive care for weeks. He was given new meds, special meds that had been developed to fight the effects of gray on the human body. If Viktor had not been taken to the hospital, his life expectancy would have been reduced to his mid-thirties. Instead, he had been given an opportunity few zaunites had. Most of it thanks to Dr. Sky Young, a bright alpha woman of kind smile that had worked together with an elite team to find the treatment Viktor now enjoyed.
With healthier lungs and after being offered spine surgery to help with his back and leg condition, Viktor’s future suddenly looked better than ever. Singed knew this, and with the love only a father could have, he left Viktor under Heimerdinger’s care.
‘Do not visit too often, or you will wish to come back. And there is nothing for you down there,’ Singed, older and more tired than the day he took a shivering little Viktor on his arms, kissed his omega son’s forehead. ‘Guard your heart, my child.’
It was a great opportunity. It was something other zaunite omegas would kill for, yet Viktor could not help to cry his eyes out for a few hours the first night that he slept on a luxurious bed, away from the only family he knew and surrounded by a new culture, language and a beauty he felt unworthy of.
Omegas could not assist to the Academy. That was an old, firm law of Piltover that had not changed despite piltovian citizens fighting against it and complaining of the sexist standards hold from education to reproduction rights. Nevertheless, the law seemed graved in stone, and Viktor, age twenty, had to be satisfied with Heimerdinger’s tutoring and the few times he was able to visit Dr. Young’s laboratory.
Most alphas didn’t welcome omegas in their academia spaces, although Heimerdinger had taken Viktor to the marvelous place of knowledge a few times. Viktor had met Dmitri Helvig, a rather famous inventor whose specialties were prosthetics and engines, as well as the Giopara brothers, innovators in the field of metal alloys. When allowed to, Heimerdinger also sneaked Viktor to plenty of talks and expositions, even demonstrations, and of course, he took Viktor as his plus one to both Progress Day and the Young Innovator’s competition.
It had been more than enough for Viktor, who already struggled trying to find a way to compensate Heimerdinger for all the trouble he took via having Viktor as his protegee.
Viktor should have known that nothing could last forever. After six months of tension and Heimerdinger coming back home tired and silent, Viktor was told the most recent decision taken by the Council: Heimerdinger had been kicked out, banished, and most of his belongings were to be divided among the councilors.
“They have been planning this for years, my dear,” Heimerdinger explained as he took Viktor away from the house now full of enforcers who inspected everything, “I am an obstacle for their plans, Viktor. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But how?” Viktor questioned as he was handed one of Heimerdinger’s last gifts; the keys to an apartment that, somehow, was under Viktor’s name despite the illegality of it, “Professor, I don’t understand!”
“... They wish to become an empire,” Heimerdinger confessed, organizing a few papers on a desk, little Poro on his lap. A bank account for Viktor with an obscene amount of money, a renewed visa that was to last a year, and a letter in a golden envelope. “It is Noxus’ influence, I’m afraid. I was the only thing stopping them from signing the new policies, and now they found a way to fix that.”
“And where will you go?” he left his cane to a side, sitting in a chair next to his protector, taking the small fluffy hands on his, “Professor, you cannot just leave.”
“And yet I must,” he sighed, looking at Viktor with tender, “Do not cry, my child. I shall pay a visit to our friend in Zaun... But the air there will hurt you. You must stay here as long as you can.”
“I do not think there’s anything I can do here,” Viktor allowed himself a sad giggle, tilting his head, “Professor, what is an unmarried zaunite omega with a bad leg to do in this city?”
“I’ve pulled the last favors I am owed,” Heimerdinger took the golden envelope, giving it to Viktor, “They have given my seat to Jayce Talis. He was a student of mine, and for a time, a friend.”
“... The name is familiar,” Viktor took the letter, his mind reminding him of an article of years ago in a newspaper talking about who, allegedly, would be the man of progress, “But I still do not understand, Heimerdinger.”
“It’s not very complicated, Viktor. I asked him to hire you as his secretary, hence, allowing this,” and Heimerdinger pointed at the visa on the table, “to be renewed without issue.”
“If I am jobless, I will be sent to Zaun, is that right?” Viktor half closed his eyes, trying to not show his anxiety to the person who had given him three wonderful years of a life he had never dreamed. “And what if Mr. Talis doesn’t like me?”
“Please, darling. There is no world where he wouldn’t like you,” Heimerdinger laughed, standing on the chair to cup Viktor’s face. It was strange, perhaps, but the omega had grown used to the affection of the yordle, just like he had grown used to the affection of Singed and his friends; losing it had not been something Viktor expected to happen like this. Truth be told, he had always assumed he would die and become another of the professor’s memories he liked to talk about in front of the fireplace with nostalgia.
“Just promise me to be careful,” the yordle says hours later, no longer a councilor or professor, leaving his protégé at the border of the bridge, “Viktor, please, be careful.
Talis is brilliant, but he is... Intense. If it becomes too much, leave his side.”
It’s a rainy morning when Viktor, guided by an employee following Heimerdinger’s instructions, walks into the office of Jayce Talis. It has been just a week since Talis took over Heimerdinger’s Council seat, yet the office is fully renewed, and Viktor swallows at the view of painted walls, strange furniture, the Talis’ symbol and colors everywhere.
It’s a display of power. This is no longer the office of Heimerdinger, protector of science and always too kind to strangers. This now belongs to an alpha, a favorite of the Kiramman House, and that holds on his hand the only chance Viktor has to stay in this city of progress that disdains him.
Would it be that bad to go back to his family in Zaun? The question dances on Viktor’s mind as he waits silently and nervously; the place that had once been safe is now strange, the smell of alpha making him dizzy.
It smells – like fire. Wild, warm, powerful. Viktor fears facing the alpha and either pissing himself or producing vulgar slick out of fear and need.
According to the research Viktor was able to do, Jayce is forty-five, an alpha, and terribly brilliant. Top 5 in last year’s list of most wanted piltovian alpha bachelors, and his name to this day shines in a golden plate of the Academy’s honor roll. He’s also said to be a womanizer, arrogant, and impossible to work with.
The idea of working for him terrifies Viktor, but he needs to at least try. Heimerdinger might have used all his last favors to get this position to Viktor, and the omega cannot just run back to Zaun without putting up a fight. And who knows? Maybe he could prove his worth.
Being a secretary is far from his childhood dreams of science and inventions, but it’s better than trying to find a job as a waitress or kinder garden teacher, the few options available for omegas. According to Bruce, the beta employee who guided Viktor to the office, Jayce needed someone to help him with papers and daily occurrences. Ideally, Viktor would be sitting from nine to five in a nice desk and chair that had once belonged to Natasha, Heimerdinger’s assistant; he was to organize, classify and write papers as necessary. Probably order lunch once or twice a week and have a copy of Jayce’s agenda.
“Councilor Talis does not like to share much of his work. To be fair, we’re all kinda bored,” Bruce had said kindly as he poured a glass of water for Viktor, “Besides, professor Heimerdinger assured him you were more than capable. And I know you are.” Bruce had worked for Heimerdinger until days ago, and was now among the lucky ones that Jayce Talis had decided to keep on the payroll.
Unlike Natasha, who people said had left turned into a mess of tears no matter the cold aura Viktor had seen on her for years. Or Clark, the elder man who used to be in charge of Heimerdinger’s finances.
Viktor had felt quite guilty, but Bruce assured him Natasha had been fired instantly. Hence, the vacancy was born, and Heimerdinger must have made the recommendation at that moment. At the end, Viktor is here, waiting.
He smells the alpha before his voice speaks.
“Viktor, right?” a deep, manly voice asks, and while the omega knows he will find the handsome alpha of the magazines' pictures, he still feels heat travel to his cheeks when his eyes raise and meet Jayce Talis in the flesh.
“Yes, sir... It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Viktor gets up, one hand holding anxiously to his cane, the other busy reciprocating the handshake that Jayce Talis offers.
He’s much taller and wider in person, not to mention painfully good-looking. Or maybe it’s just Viktor’s taste for older alphas making him blush at that perfectly trimmed beard and gray hairs, his omega brain whispering that if this man’s hands are an indicator, then he must have a marvelous thick cock under those formal black pants.
His hazel eyes meet Viktor’s, and for a moment, Viktor could swear he has been here before. With him. An electrifying sensation of belonging traveling through his bones, the instinct of clinging to the alpha and surrendering almost impossible to endure.
“The pleasure is all mine,” gallantly, Jayce takes Viktor’s hand to his lips, giving a soft and chaste kiss to his knuckles, “My, Heimerdinger should have mentioned your beauty, cariño. For a moment I thought this was a blind date.”
Viktor’s logic mind starts throwing out all the reasons why he shouldn’t indulge this flattery. Womanizer. Sued by three omegas that claimed their pups were Talis’. Forty-five. Impossible to work with. His boss.
“You’re very kind,” Viktor laughs off, freeing his hand as natural as he can pretend, now holding his cane with both hands so that Jayce doesn’t conclude he’s hiding from the touch. Even when he is. “I must say, the change in the office was quite shocking.”
Jayce raises an eyebrow for a moment, as if surprised that Viktor can talk about anything that doesn’t involve ‘Please, alpha, breed me! Fuck my slutty hole!’, but as soon as it happens it goes away, and then he’s chuckling softly, hand on his hair; like a teenager who gets embarrassed.
“I got carried away, didn’t I?” Well, the Talis’ symbol is everywhere, so yes.
“I like it,” Viktor says, half a truth, polite smile on his lips, “Very modern.”
“Glad to hear that,” Jayce sits on the couch, and then pats the empty space next to him, and while his face is all courtesy and calm, his eyes shine in something – dangerous. “Come on, sit.”
Viktor obeys.
“You know the deal, don’t you?” Jayce mentions as he takes a package of cigarettes from the little table next to them, not bothering offering one to Viktor, “Heimerdinger told me you are brilliant.”
“The professor helped me a lot,” Viktor states, trying to stay still as Jayce manspreads on the couch, his left knee’s brace hitting Viktor’s own leg brace on his right side, “I assume he told you about it, sir?”
“That he did,” Jayce exhales a deep haze of smoke, eyes never leaving the omega’s figure, “But you didn’t answer me. Are you truly brilliant?”
Viktor tilts his head a little; what kind of question is that?
“I suppose you will be the judge on that, sir.”
“How humble!” Jayce smirks, eyes focused on Viktor’s leg brace, as if noticing that they match, except that Jayce’s leg brace is made of shining gold, luxurious looking next to Viktor’s clinic and silver-made design. “Look. Vik, this job isn’t very exciting. I need someone to help me with my agenda and write letters, maybe organize dinners from time to time...”
The nickname takes Viktor by surprise, another addition to his already nervous heart that beats quite faster than usual under his flesh and ribcage. Is this the alpha that has been making people cry in the corridors? The one called a beast by fellow scholars? Perhaps the rumors are just that, rumors. Although Heimerdinger’s warning echoes in Viktor’s mind, as if not even the yordle were sure of Talis’ nature.
“I’m fine with boring,” Viktor smiles, nodding softly, “Besides, I do not think it can be that boring to work with the man of progress.”
Jayce laughs, deep and low, eyes amused as he finishes his cigarette. His knee never stops touching Viktor’s, and for a long second, his sharp and long alpha fangs show between his lips. A hungry man.
“You’re hired then, pretty thing.”
(When the omega is back at his new home, showering under hot water and cleaning himself with cherry scented soap, sticky slick drips from his cunt in shame).
While it is true that this job is quite boring, it turns out to be rather challenging. By the second week, Viktor has slowly found a rhythm of work, yet it does not do much to lessen the fatigue that takes over his body as soon as he is back home, falling into bed all dressed and wondering if becoming a kinder garden teacher would be so bad compared to this.
To begin with, Jayce is a fan of the telephone, a new invention that counts with a few lines across Piltover. Heimerdinger used to have one back home, and Viktor knew how to use it, but never in the years he lived with the professor did he hear the machine ring as often as it does at the Talis’ office. It rings at least five times per hour, connected to the office of every other Councilor as well as their homes, passing by the main office of the enforcers and including the old Talis’ state, where Lady Ximena Talis lives and who Viktor must call daily to ask when she’s available for dinner with Councilor Talis (always and never, and her son must be the one to come to see her).
Jayce Talis is a very demanded alpha. Viktor takes calls after calls, receives letter after letter, invitation after invitation, fax after fax. For a job meant to be done in a chair and desk, Viktor stands up and walks to Jayce’s office so often that Jayce told him to stop knocking the door, and half of those visits end with Viktor walking through the hall that takes them to the other employees under the Talis’ House, mainly and usually towards their young assistant for mail. Poor boy, John, spends all day from one side of the city to another, always sighing when Viktor approaches with a new bunch of papers to be sent.
It was to be expected. Jayce is a new Council member, his House lacking the power or fame carried by the other five members no matter his two decades as man of progress; he cannot fail nor look lazy, at least not now that the ink in his acceptance of the seat is still fresh and shining.
That said, it seems Talis' focus is different from Heimerdinger’s. Less fixated on science or the Academy – apparently, in a sort of truce, Professor Dmitri Helvig was made Dean of the Academy –, all attention given to commerce, taxes and deals with other nations.
Viktor ignores the papers speaking on building another sick factory in Zaun, a place that will, as usual, lean on cheap child labor and kill innocents. This alpha is not his family, and Viktor cannot ask him to take pity on his people.
“Your coffee, sir,” the omega says today, leaving a nice and hot cup of coffee next to Jayce’s current work. In these days, Viktor learned that the alpha likes his coffee black, strong and without any ounce of sugar; he drinks the caffeine as if it were water, and Viktor laughs to himself at the idea of such an alpha depending on the drink. “Although I’m afraid it’s a bit late.”
“... It is, isn’t it?” Jayce hums, rubbing his eyes and finally letting his pen over the papers, “I should not be keeping you here this late, my dear. It’s already dark outside.”
“I do not mind staying here with you, sir,” Viktor giggles, “But you seem tired. Do you wish me to call a carriage for you?”
“No, no. I will be walking to my mother’s house tonight... But first,” Jayce takes the coffee cup, stealing a deep sip from the hot liquid, “Could you open that package, darling? The one over the couch.”
Viktor follows the order, slightly intrigued. The package had arrived early in the morning, and Jayce seemed quite pleased with it. Strange, because as Viktor sits on the fancy furniture and opens the big heavy box, he finds clothing.
Feminine, omega clothing.
Skirts, blouses, dresses... At least twelve outfits welcome Viktor’s eyes, cotton and silk delicately organized over translucent white paper. Elegant red, blue, black and white colors, the size small enough to let Viktor know the clothes would fit him perfectly.
“What do you think?” Jayce asks, approaching Viktor from behind, spicy scent traveling to Viktor’s sensitive nose, calloused hands over his shoulders, squeezing, “Do you like them? I think the red will look exquisite on you, Vik.”
“I don’t - Are these for me?” he gets dizzy shamefully fast, confused, brain unable to think properly due to the delicious feeling of Jayce’s fingers sinking on his skin. This is what happens when you never date anyone ever, and the simplest touch of an alpha makes you melt. It makes Viktor melt as easily as ice cream under the sun.
“You’re my right hand, Vik. You need to look the part,” Jayce hums, and Viktor realizes the alpha’s sitting behind him, too close, inappropriately so, his beard itching on Viktor’s ear. “You’re free to buy similar outfits, of course. I know omegas love buying things. But I think this will suffice perfectly for now.”
“These are – uniforms?” Viktor’s shaking hands take out a skirt. It’s tiny even for Viktor’s slim figure; it won’t reach his knees. “Sir, I... My leg brace...” the words struggle on his mouth, embarrassment and flattery mixing nastily on the nervous mess of his stomach. He wants to undress and model the shortest skirt to Jayce as much as he wants to slap the alpha.
“You can wear opaque tights. Just ask for them at the store. High denier, you know that, don’t you?” Jayce chuckles darkly, one of his hands leaving Viktor’s shoulder to go all the way down to his arm, holding Viktor’s thin wrist. An obscene display of power, perhaps, or maybe just a wish to highlight how Viktor is still small under him no matter his above average height. “You can turn the heater if you get cold on the office... Nothing a coat won’t fix, dear.”
The omega’s ire is not about the cold. It’s the humiliation, the order disguised as a gift, the shame that travels like bile on Viktor’s throat as he is told he must dress in the feminine attires he has never enjoyed. He must look the part; he is Councilor Talis’ employee, not an academia student busy with projects and science and enjoying the privilege of not caring for frivolities.
“The card is on the box,” Jayce says as he gets up, a last whisper on Viktor’s ear, “Visit them when you can, I don’t want to see you repeat outfits too often, baby.”
Jayce has the messenger chaperon Viktor home in a carriage, and gives him a tip so that the beta boy helps take the box inside Viktor’s apartment. Hours later, while the omega brushes his wet hair and looks at a black dress fancier than anything his mother had ever owned, Viktor wonders how long this arrangement will last.
No alpha would do this and expect nothing in return.
Days pass by. Viktor might be young and inexperienced, but he can feel Jayce’s eyes over him now that his outfits have gone from formal shirts and pants to tight skirts and dresses; they’re quite uncomfortable, and Viktor takes Jayce’s word and turns on the heater of the office at least during the morning, letting the warm air settle for the rest of the day, and when it’s time to leave, Viktor uses a fluffy black fur coat that, somehow, appeared on his chair one day. Designer label, no note attached, Jayce’s satisfied smirk as only proof of Viktor’s conclusions.
It’s strange and overwhelming; Viktor has never been desired by anyone, and he had expected his interactions with Jayce Talis to be those of a cliché novel: The boring, poor assistant in hopeless love with the handsome powerful alpha boss. That would have been common, normal, and Viktor thinks he would have gotten over it eventually.
If Jayce just flirted from time to time, it would be fine. A mere ego boost, a nice joke; the alpha could click his tongue and call Viktor a pretty thing, and Viktor would laugh and remind him to please finish work on time tonight. Then Viktor would go home to have lonely dinner and drink too many pills, and Jayce would take a fancy breathtaking omega to some hotel.
That’s not what’s going on. Not that Viktor can claim he knows what’s going on; Jayce seems pleased with the clothing change, and even more pleased with Viktor’s perfect management of time and calls.
“What would I do without you?” Jayce hums, cornering Viktor by the little desk where they keep a guillotine, Viktor busy cutting the messy edges of some letters. “I owe you a dinner, Vik,” and how obsessed the alpha is with the nickname, constantly rolling it on his tongue Vik, Vik, Vik, come to my office, Vik.
“You have a gala tonight, sir,” the guillotine is pushed aside, Viktor organizing the now much cleaner letters. Heimerdinger and Singed would probably gasp in scandal if they knew Viktor has grown used to Jayce standing dangerously close behind him, so close that his chest is almost against Viktor’s back, and if Viktor were a naughty omega and raised his butt then he would -
“Hoskel’s, yes. The worst reunions,” he complains, an alpha deep growl on his throat as he stretches, taking the letters away from Viktor’s hands. But that’s not what makes Viktor blush, no, it’s the other hand, grabbing his waist. “One day I will take you with me, maybe then I will have something to do besides drink and smoke.”
Jayce is indifferent to Viktor’s red cheeks and trembling knees.
“Sir... Your... Eh.” It feels good; it feels correct. A big, warm alpha hand holding him in place.
“Hm,” Jayce raises an eyebrow, amused, “What is it, baby? Cat your tongue?”
“You’re touching me, sir.”
“Hard not to do,” Jayce laughs, as if he has said a marvelous joke, dark and loud, but he does take his hand away from Viktor’s waist... And immediately, he slaps Viktor’s ass. “You’re very grabbable, baby.”
If Viktor were a better omega, raised in decorum and manners, another of Piltover’s delicate flowers who never let an alpha touch their hands without gloves in between, he would turn around and leave. He would quit, slap Jayce, and maybe even sell the gossip to some magazine.
But he’s a zaunite omega; no magazine or reporter would ever believe him. And if they did, no one would want to hear the complaints of an undercity rat. If Viktor hissed and slapped Jayce, he would not be given the mercy that piltie omegas get; he could be fucked against his will on this very same moment and few people would care. Besides... Viktor may not be a well-behaved omega, after all, he is wet.
“... I forgot to call Lady Kiramman. She needed to – check something with you,” Viktor sneaks away from Jayce, holding to his cane and trying not to breath; every breath he takes is filled by Jayce’s fire-like smell mixing with black coffee and the citric scent of his cologne. If Viktor were less proper, he would offer to give Jayce a blowjob.
“Okay. Do that. And then go home, baby,” Jayce keeps smiling, natural and as proud as always. “I would hate to see those eyebags worsen.”
Once he is back home, safe in the privacy of his four walls and under his blankets, holding to pillows and to his corny teddy bear, Viktor’s hands find their way between his legs, moans silenced by teeth biting his own lips. Satisfaction never quite arrives.
It becomes a bit of a routine. Talis grabs Viktor’s waist or hips, inhales his scent, calls him flirting names and smiles before spanking him once or twice per week.
Viktor supposes it’s the alpha equivalent of stress balls. With a bit of violation towards the HR’s rules, but really, who would dare to call out a Councilor?
On the week that Viktor celebrates (silently) his third month of working for Talis, Councilor Medarda comes to pay a visit.
Despite the new outfits and the fact that he washed and styled his hair just yesterday’s night, Viktor feels like a bug as soon as she steps into the living room that precedes Jayce’s office. The place had been, until now, Viktor’s own little kingdom: It is meant to welcome up to six guests, Viktor’s desk and a thick oak door guarding Jayce from unwanted visitors. Nevertheless, as a new Councilor, Jayce didn’t get many visits, even less from other politicians; he is the one meant to take the trouble of crossing half the city if needed, and the Council has its own private building anyway.
And yet here she is. The famous noxian councilor who had arrived at the golden city already rich and powerful, a mystery how she managed to obtain the seat that, until that moment, had belonged to the Ferros clan. She’s a beta woman, a sex favored in Noxus due to their imperialist nature that leaves no time for heats, ruts or what they consider ridiculous courting rituals. However, the lack of a scent or fangs does not make her any less impressive: Dressed in immaculate white, covered in gold and with her dark eyes traveling the room in judgement.
When her eyes fall over Viktor, she uses the same fake polite smile every other politician has directed at him at least once. Impersonal, but never free of disdain.
“I wish to speak with Jayce,” she speaks, confident, voice carrying no accent despite her nationality. She’s not a woman who waits or asks, and Viktor isn’t sure what to do besides the obvious: Announcing her to his boss and let Jayce take her suffocating aura to another place.
“Sir?” he says through the phone, suddenly ashamed of his simple, short, pink-polished nails when his eyes notice the fake acrylic material on her fingers; it’s stupid, really. One would think Viktor is used to be a rather boring omega; “Councilor Medarda is here to see you.”
Jayce coughs on the other side of the line; “Okay. I will open the door. Thank you, Viktor,” and the call finishes. Viktor forces the kindest smile he is able to, looking at the governor and hoping he looks like another omega assistant she won’t remember rather than notice his vibrant jealousy that screams to not let her in.
“Mr. Talis will receive you now. Is there anything you need? A cup of water?” the heavy door opens, but Jayce doesn’t come out to greet his guest. Medarda, as if already expecting his behavior, laughs as she walks, jeweled hand waving in the air.
“No need, dear. This will take just a moment.”
The door closes, and Viktor hears nothing for the following thirteen minutes.
“I swear, this job seemed easier on paper,” Jayce growls later, rubbing left knee over the leg brace with a frown that Viktor has learned to read; it means it’s a bad pain day, and knowing that, Viktor adds another bag of ginger to Jayce’s tea cup. In opposition to other alphas of power and fortune, Jayce is a fan of the cheap tea bags sold at markets, perhaps a habit he acquired during his academy days, when surely he didn’t have time to dust herbs and filter the hot water. “Truly, Viktor, how did the professor do this?”
Viktor hums as he puts the cup next to Jayce’s half eaten lunch. Councilor Medarda had, indeed, just visited for a quick talk, and as soon as she left, Jayce told Viktor to order lunch for them both. It’s not unusual that Jayce invites Viktor to his fancy takeout, but is unusual to see the alpha not finish his meal and spend the whole hour silent and distracted.
“Well, the professor always focused on the academy and science,” Viktor explains as he prepares another teacup for himself, this one with three spoons of sugar. “If you allow me, sir, your multitasking is admirable, but expected to tire you out.”
“... I thought this would be less stressful work, you know?” Jayce takes his cup, looking at it with something akin to sleepiness, “Taxes discussion, commerce, plans to renovate neighborhoods... Not war.”
“War?” The word weights heavy on Viktor’s mouth and body, his right knee shaking after the minutes he has spent without support of his cane. Or maybe it’s not that simple, and he shakes in the memories of enforcers killing zaunites in the streets and leaving destructions on their steps.
“It’s hard to be wise on this matter,” Jayce, for once, sounds defeated, “I do not enjoy violence, or suffering. But what am I to do when we have Noxus and Damecia both knocking our door and threatening to shoot their weapons?”
“Peace is a long-lost privilege,” Viktor goes to the seat on the other side of the desk; the smell of expensive jasmine perfume clings to the air. Viktor hadn’t realized how used he had gotten to the office smelling like Jayce and him alone, a nice mixture of spice and sweetness. He doesn’t like the disruption, and bites his tongue to suppress the primitive omega need of undressing and peeing on the carpet to claim his territory. “They chose you for a reason, Mr. Talis; I’m sure your decision will be the smartest... And kindest.”
“You think of me as kind?” Jayce’s hazel eyes find him with eagerness, a peculiar shine on them, “Vik, you flatter me.”
“Well, eh, you are kind,” Viktor swallows his boiling tea, aware that his cheeks have become vibrant red, and if Jayce smiles in that charm he likes to pull from time to time, Viktor will get wet. “I appreciate this opportunity.”
“I could not have found a better secretary, Vik. You're the best,” Jayce gets up, leaving his fancy chair and finding his way behind Viktor. Once again, his warm hands hold his shoulders tightly, beard already itching on Viktor’s left ear. The omega barely reacts in time to leave the porcelain cup over the desk before an alpha growl makes him shiver.
“What would I do without you, baby?” Jayce’s fingers sink on the red blouse, so strong and hot that Viktor thinks cotton is the most useless clothing to ever exist; “And you smell so good.”
Viktor should push him away. Instead, he purrs when Jayce’s nose rubs on his hair, inhaling his scent.
“Sir, I...”
“But do me a favor, baby,” and the alpha’s hands go down, sneaking under Viktor’s arms to, shamelessly, grab the omega’s petite breasts. Grab isn’t the current term, though; Jayce is crushing them. And it hurts.
“Wait, Jayce...!”
“I want you to wear a bra or corset from now on, understood?” Jayce’s hands keep squeezing Viktor’s tits, and the omega realizes too late he’s crying both from pleasure and pain; it’s even more humiliating when those calloused fingers pinch his nipples over the blouse, abusing them. “I don’t want you walking this city with your tits exposed, omega. That’s indecent.”
As if they had never been there in the first place, Jayce’s hands leave Viktor’s chest. Were it not for the soreness and the tears on his cheeks, Viktor would think he hallucinated this all.
“And maybe wear some makeup. I like red lipstick,” Jayce’s already away from him, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from his personal fridge, “You carry the Talis’ reputation with you, dear.”
Back home, even more confused and wondering what will be of him, Viktor notices his nipples are still red and swollen from the abuse.
Time waits for no one, and before he can tell, Viktor walks into the office during his 21st birthday. It’s not an important date for him in particular, not up here, where he cannot see his childhood friends or the men he considers the closest thing he has to parents. It is just another rainy morning of fall, already his fourth month as Jayce Talis’ secretary – assistant – stress relief, and Viktor doesn’t expect much from this day besides the usual complaint of the alpha about the next two days being part of the weekend.
‘I will miss you, Deeply,’ he tends to say as he grabs Viktor anywhere and everywhere, a growl on his throat, eyes undressing the omega with his imagination.
Today begins differently as soon as Viktor arrives at his desk, where two things wait for him.
One, Jayce Talis in the flesh, a more casual fit of black jeans and green shirt with leather gloves that contrasts nicely with his tanned skin. Flirting, dangerous smile on his lips that show his fangs.
Two, a marvelous red roses bouquet carefully left on a crystalline vase. Vibrant, beautiful, fresh. Lovely flowers taken from the Mother Earth and decorated lovely on white paper and black ribbon.
“There you are!” Jayce hums happily as he approaches Viktor, quickly surrounding him with his arms, getting rid of Viktor’s umbrella and almost picking him up from the floor. Almost, wisdom arrives at the last moment as his fingers get away from his cane, instead settling in holding his shoulders; the movement is too fast, and Jayce’s left leg brushes against Viktor’s right leg. Their braces cling in unison.
“Happy birthday, Viktor,” Jayce whispers, low and dark, hazel eyes shining so lively that Viktor has to look away in order to keep himself from pulling down his turtleneck and offer his throat like a whore. Claim me, bite me, breed me. So much for his dreams of science and freedom. “How’s my favorite person doing today?”
“Sir, you’re exaggerating,” Viktor laughs, all nervous as he lets Jayce walk him towards the giant flowers that occupy a whole side of Viktor’s desk, “This is too much. It’s just another date.”
“It’s special to me, Vik,” like a gentleman, Jayce guides him to his chair. Except it’s a new chair, fancier and newer, and soon as Viktor sits down, he notices the differences: This chair is not a padded piece of wood, it’s a brilliant mix of metal and clothing, very similar to the one Jayce has on his office, meant to support one’s back correctly and avoid any pain after long hours at work. These are expensive chairs, rarely used outside of clinics or academia; Viktor goes dizzy at the mere idea of how much money has been spent on him by this alpha he knows so good and yet nothing at all.
“Sir, I...”
“Please, Viktor. Just Jayce, at least for today,” the alpha leans on the desk, arms crossed, tilting his head, “You make me feel old.”
“You’re not – old.”
“Easy to say for a blossoming flower,” Jayce’s gloved index finger pokes at Viktor’s nose, leather now stained with the tiniest particles of pinkish powder, “Tell everyone we’ll be leaving early today, will you? I have reservations.”
“Wait, sir – Jayce,” Viktor thinks he might be experiencing death right now, that all of this was created by his dying, frying brain as some sort of comfort after hitting his head on the shower of his apartment late at night. This cannot be happening, not to him, a disabled zaunite omega always in need of favors and pity. “What do you mean by we? Your agenda...”
“Silly omega,” Jayce laughs as he gets up, smiling proudly, “I’m taking you out, baby. Make sure to tell everyone we won’t come back until monday.”
Viktor is very aware he’s walking on thin ice, or that perhaps he is like the prey that jumps into the hunter’s trap after a tasty meal or simply out of boredom. He thinks of himself as a virgin whore, needy and hungry for every drop of attention Jayce Talis will give him, even if the risk to take is shame, dishonor and eventual loss of security. He wants this, he wants Jayce Talis; it’s a desire that has grown deeper on his organs, roots tied to his veins, lust and love mixing in a bowl that contains sugar, petals and Jayce’s favorite cognac. It’s hard to not crave a taste of the handsome alpha that is Jayce, but it is worse to know him as Viktor does: A brilliant, tortured mind that drafts equations on his free time, tired eyes that look at the streets and wish to change the world, a hurt heart that he hides behind practiced charm and the will it takes to fake normality.
One time, while Viktor helped Jayce organize a few letters, the man had suddenly gone on a speech about clean energy and chemical reactions, no longer an older alpha of power, but an excited pup that surely marveled at magic tricks. He had never looked as handsome as that moment, blushing after realizing he had been explaining electrical engines to Viktor for half an hour; his true nature was the one of a scientist, just like Viktor. Although Viktor thinks lately he tends to be nothing but a hungry kitten wishing to know the pleasure of the flesh.
Viktor thinks it would be nice to let Jayce have him. And, of course, to have Jayce back, even if just for a night at some discreet hotel and with no promises made.
Jayce Talis wants him, a fact that weirds Viktor out still right now, as he checks his makeup one last time in his desk mirror, making sure his lips are shining in red and that his mascara has not messed up. Heimerdinger would be shocked to see him now, always dressed in skirts or dresses, hair longer than ever, polished nails, painted lips, trimmed eyebrows, mascara and powder as optional touches; Viktor’s glad he didn’t skip those two today, breathing slowly when he hears Jayce’s door open, the noise of his boots echoing despite the thick carpet they installed days ago.
Half of Viktor feels as if he has lost himself to a doll that changes every day to please Jayce Talis. His other half wishes to be exactly what the alpha wants, even if that means forgetting about science, pants and the joy of washing his face in the middle of the day with cold water. Who needs astronomy books and boundaries when you have a nice alpha fucking you from behind?
“Ready, cariño?” Jayce asks, gallantly, scent taking over Viktor like a wildfire melting a marshmallow. Yes, Viktor is ready to do anything Jayce tells him to; he will kneel if needed, endure the cramps on his bad knee and the pain on his spine and choke on Jayce’s cock as long as it takes for the man to find ectasis and completion.
Is the white skirt and wine turtleneck enough for whatever fancy place they are going? What will Viktor do if Jayce offers him imported wine and he needs to decline, his meds never friendly towards alcohol? What if someone sees them and sells the premise to the newspapers? ‘News, news! Councilor Talis shows kindness to his zaunite slutty secretary!’
Yet Viktor’s hunger overcomes the fear.
“Yes, I’m ready,” the omega smiles as he gets up, purposely fixing his coat lazily, attentive to the way Jayce’s eyes watch his legs, modestly covered by thick vanilla tights, “Lead the way, sir.”
It's a very promising day.