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Side by side, like pieces of a puzzle, they fit together in the middle of the wide bed. Warm bodies, smelling of soap and skin and tiredness — Viktor felt heavier than usual, without the energy even to arrange the pillows near them. His thin body, renewed with certain scars but marked by new ones, was almost entirely on top of his companion, his head on his shoulder, arm on his chest, and legs straddling one of his.
Viktor sniffed his neck. It smelled almost of sex, of sweat and hair and Jayce, something strong and comforting, something that meant home. Viktor wondered there, his nose buried below his jaw, if he also smelled of Jayce, like the place he always wanted to come back to.
His left foot was near Jayce's, caressing it, while his right remained still, since he couldn't move it properly anyway.
They had lain down kissing, the light already gone — outside, a storm raged, threatening to break the seedlings they had planted in the garden — and ended up taking a nap amidst it all. Thunder, heavy rain, light rain, rain that didn't know how to stay, but which served as a melody to calm their spirits. They were lucky to have gotten that house, and with just a few renovations, it already seemed like something new, just for them. The two of them, together, also built some furniture, but all in due time. They would have time, after all. Without family, friends, or former work colleagues, there was no requirement to reach any standard in record time.
So, when he woke up from the nightmare, Viktor took his time to truly awaken. To risk moving. And Jayce, at his own slow pace, murmured for him to come closer. Each moment stretched out, the clock hand renewed itself with the rain. There was no need for fuss, despite his racing heart.
He kissed the space of his hairless neck.
Jayce turned to hug him tighter, but still kept his body above his. They were supposed to be kissing passionately, but there were days and nights, and nights in particular, for both of them — nightmares, minds empty enough to give space to demons. They were different, but when the shadows came, both needed a hug and enough space between them to not think about anything else. Viktor could no longer enter Jayce's mind, but he knew about this closeness, knew that Jayce couldn't be alone, and so they created this dependence that could be unhealthy for any other couple.
Not them.
They were supposed to be dead, but they survived; they were supposed to be broken, but their bodies proved whole; they were supposed to face hell, but they ended up together. With a new life, they got a house, new jobs, and rebuilt their realities again, little by little.
Sometimes, everything seemed to be going well, as if they were climbing a hill; sometimes, the puzzle broke, the pieces fell, and they seemed to stumble over them. Even so, through good times and bad, through sunshine and storms, through fits of laughter and bouts of madness, they had each other.
Viktor squeezed Jayce back. His cunt was against his thigh, warm and firm, and he slid forward to feel it better. He wasn't seeking the climax, but some kind of relief. Jayce lifted his leg slightly to help him.
“Don't do it,” Viktor said, his words muffled against the muscle, “it'll hurt afterward. Don't strain yourself.”
“It won't hurt,” Jayce replied, kissing the top of his head. His groin also touched Viktor, on his stomach, but everything in him was so rigid that Viktor couldn't tell if he was hard or not.
They pressed against each other. Outside, the rain was beating down heavily. Heavy like the life forms Viktor had taken and turned into dolls, like all the voices he thought he heard, like the pain of knowing he had brought grief to so many homes. His nails dug into some part of Jayce, and his body tightened even more, bringing his skin close.
“It's alright.”
Jayce's voice was hoarser, tired, but still pleasant. He was much more mature now, still stubborn and fearless, but gentle, clever. He was no longer fooled by the market vendors, nor did he try to do favors for those he considered suspicious. He frowned when he felt pain, and seemed to melt into pure honey when he was happy to have Viktor around; he complained and praised, gave ideas and put them into practice, because a new life didn't mean he should stop being who he was.
This frightened Viktor, because he didn't know what to deal with — should he even smile when guilt gnawed at every cubic millimeter of his body? Should he lament the life lost or be grateful for the one gained? Should he continue as he was and make the same kinds of mistakes, or force himself to be someone else, more responsible and cautious?
And that's where Jayce's presence came in, with muscles worked by suffering and need, calloused hands and parched lips, the scent of pine and neutral soap, eyes full of sweetness and melted by love: when Viktor entered that state, and when Jayce entered his own state, they reached a unique consensus, one that only the two of them would be able to follow without pre-arranging it.
“Move your hips,” Jayce commanded, his hands already on Viktor's waist to guide him. “Keep your mouth open, that's it.”
To anyone else, it might be condescending. It might be shameful. It might have seemed silly and stupid how Viktor always followed his instructions, but he always mentally thanked them before switching his brain off completely. Viktor did as commanded, opening his mouth against his partner's bare skin, letting the pleasure neutralize his defenses and bring forth the sobs that had been trapped until then.
The rain was beating down, but it was in Viktor that the fluidity was evident, in the pleasure sliding through his veins, in the emptiness — a good, pleasant emptiness, not cold as in other situations — that acclaimed his mind, in his body that seemed increasingly dominated by Jayce. It was in Viktor that the storm raged, his parted lips facilitating the sobs that grew in a confusion of delight and tears, released through the opening of the canal, by Jayce's command, clear and firm, leaving no room for doubt.
“Let go, baby, give me everything you've got,” he murmured against the top of his head, rubbing back against Viktor, languid and completely uncoordinated as well, “use me and I'll use you. Good boy, you can wet my neck and thigh as much as you want, V.”
It was pure desire that guided him, and Jayce's voice was all that mattered at the moment. Shame, education, common sense, none of that had value in that bed, not when such warm arms caressed him and held him firmly against them. Even the senseless rhythm of their hips was a product of Jayce's will, also sticky and wet against him. Viktor sobbed and sobbed, tongue against the tanned skin, like a child who needed someone big, like the earth needed food, like the soul needed its origin.
Good boy, that's it, you're all I need, Jayce repeated, and Viktor's heart leaped with the compliments and need of his lover, but he also couldn't maintain a logical line of reasoning, just like his body searching for the climax. No, in fact, he wasn't even searching for a climax, just for something, just for—
Jayce, Jayce, Jayce.
Viktor didn't even realize he was murmuring the other's name, not until Jayce grunted against his ear and kissed his jaw, pushing himself hard against his body, searching for the same thing he was, equally insane in his pleas, repeating Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. Like a single organism, they rubbed against each other, tears mingling with sweat, body to body as if it were possible to merge into one another, to transform into a colony that would cease to survive if it ever shattered.
Even so, their mouths did not meet, nor were the barriers of clothing and blankets removed. They didn't even see each other, their faces too busy to leave their respective places. As in Viktor's fantasies, there is what seemed like ages ago, this was the most he ever thought he could achieve, and the real feeling was nowhere near matching his imagination. When he started working with Jayce, he never imagined he would be so much, that there was so much to share with him, and yet he would still need even more.
He never imagined such a heaven dedicated to the two of them.
They had a home and a new life, a bed to embrace each other in every night. They talked and moved, ate and savored, exchanged caresses and kisses and kisses and kisses—
(Jayce kissed the top of his head, and between his eyes, where he still imagined a scar. He kissed each of his fingers and the freckles and moles on his shoulders. The space on his stomach and between his legs. Kisses and kisses, he kissed his forehead with his forehead, to be able to look him in the eyes while calming him. And Viktor kissed him back, always.)
His tongue brushed against the sweaty neck, scraping his canines there. He felt an insane urge to devour and be devoured, to never stop being food for his partner's pleasure. But Jayce tightened his grip on his waist and continued commanding, his mouth also full of hunger:
“Let me move you. Don't think about anything else. I'm here, V.” Viktor stopped moving, letting his hips continue only at Jayce's command. “Cum for me, my love,” he wanted to, wanted it so badly, but it wasn't enough, and Viktor sobbed louder, his chest heaving with tears. “Shh, shhh, it's okay. I'm here.”
He was supposed to be comforting Jayce after their shared nightmare, but his mind immediately switched off at that spark of thought; Jayce had commanded him not to think about anything else, so he wouldn't think.
He had to obey, follow the waves that amplified through his legs…
“That’s it, V. I love you so much, you know? You’re such a good boy. I love you so much.”
“A-Ah…”
More kisses and more of Jayce’s body against his, so hard but also so soft, so different but also so himself. The perfect combination of smells, tastes, and textures. The imperfection of his rough fingers, the sweat on his stomach, the flaws that sprouted and stood out in his words and actions — Viktor wanted everything, and everything for himself. It was so nice, the comfort of knowing him, the privilege of having him, and the feeling of his existence holding him to the world, despite everything. He wanted even more, to have Jayce taste the slick pouring from him, to have Jayce inside him, infinitely, but now was already too much, and Viktor bit the skin of his neck, unable to contain the groan escaping.
“J-Jay…”
“My Viktor. You’re so delicious, you smell so fucking good.” It was a lie, he smelled of nothing but guilt and sickness since he was born. No. Jayce once said he smelled of peonies. Don't think, Jayce commanded not to think. “And you're mine. My Viktor. Ah, you're so perfect…”
“My Jayce,” Viktor whispered, a tremor beginning to rise from his groin and overflowing into his voice, “m-my Jayce, my love, I will, I’ll—”
“Do it. I'll let you,” Jayce replied, also trembling, also on the precipice of consciousness and death (of life). Viktor had always wanted autonomy and the power of choice, but now he had the privilege of not choosing; how lucky he was not to choose. Jayce leaned in so that their foreheads touched, and only now did Viktor realize how wet, red, and thirsty their faces were for each other. “Cum for me.”
They kissed and kissed. United, they continued moving, their mouths full of each other, salty and breathless, until Viktor had to pull away to moan his pleasure in a single phrase, collapsing and pulling Jayce with him, soaking every piece of clothing between them in the process.
The emptiness, the nothingness, and then, everything. Viktor blinked and recognized the face in front of him, the body enveloped in his, their hearts beating in the same rhythm. Alive, together, the same.
“I love you,” he said, or he didn't know if he said it, if he only responded to Jayce's lips that parted in a smile for him. “I'm here. With you. I’m so glad we still exist…”
The two embraced and, to the sound of the rain, went back to sleep, until the sun rose in orange in the sky.