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In all the years he has spent navigating the shadows, Jayce can see clearer now than he did before.
Anyone with any hint of sight could see the inevitable coming. No matter how much concrete the Council smoothed over the cracks, the damage was still there, growing more and more frail, until it threatened to give way.
He saw all sorts of things. Police looking the other way, dealers openly conducting business on busy sidewalks and street corners. A governing official had been stabbed in front of him last year – and no one on the street even batted an eye or looked to help.
He has to wonder; will they be stuck like this forever? No one person can rule over the city as a dictator, though with how many splintered factions all covet different neighbourhoods and boroughs, it’s surprising how the city hasn’t come apart at the seams
It’s not worth his time to linger on it.
Those in the council can’t look beyond the bridges. Influences from further afield could seep through the cracks if they’re not paying attention. The chembarons fight with each other.
But the politics of the city is not something for him to worry about.
He simply does what he’s told.
Cars parked along the curb should have alerted him. New sleek black models with tinted windows and blank license plates. Some are gaudier than others. There are a few people in the household who are as subtle as a bomb.
His own parking space is, thankfully, left empty. That mistake can only be made once, if you value the tires and paintjob of your car.
From the outside, the house looks as unremarkable and ordinary as the others in the neighbourhood. One of the reasons it was picked was down to the fact that no one would think of looking for one of the city’s gang leaders in a quaint suburban neighbourhood like this.
If any of the neighbours suspect anything in particular, they certainly don’t say anything. In fact, the neighbourhood has never been more secure, thanks to the Herald taking up residence in one of the mundane two-story detached houses.
Inside the house is another story. From the living room to the kitchen to upstairs, it can be difficult to find a room completely empty and devoid of people – especially when a meeting has been called.
The moment he steps inside, he catches the attention of a mousy man lingering at the bottom of the stairs, fidgeting with his glasses and a moleskin folder all but clutched against his chest.
Jayce regards the man for a moment. “Afternoon, Huck,” he greets easily, watching the man’s fidgeting grow worse by the second. When he reaches up to push his glasses further up his nose, Jayce spots the familiar faint tendrils of Shimmer left behind on the man’s palm and wrists.
Huck sucks in a short breath. “Oh, hello, Mr. Talis,” he eventually stammers. He offers Jayce a courteous, if feeble, smile. It doesn’t even reach his cheeks.
Jayce’s eyes soften. “How are you doing?” he asks after a moment, wandering by the man to head further into the house.
Huck nods, pushing out a simple good, before he almost jumps at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. At the sight of Sky, Huck relaxes – slightly.
The woman offers him a small smile. “Everything looks in order, Huck, thank you for bringing this to his attention,” she says, her voice as soft and kind as always.
Huck nods, adjusting his glasses again. “You’re welcome, Miss Young.”
Jayce watches the interaction carefully. Huck had been doing well with the family. But now that he knows what to look for, Jayce’s chest tightens at the sight of the familiar twitches and shyness coming back.
When Sky spots him down the hall, his lips twitch.
“You’re back already,” she notes, quickly glancing at her watch. It’s not quite a question, or a statement either.
He prefers to be slow and cautious, and if that means tracking after someone for a few hours or days, then he’ll do it.
The less attention he gets while out there, the better.
But the order had been a simple one.
I want him dealt with.
He wasn’t asked for by name. Amber eyes didn’t look at him as the order was issued to the room of commanders and soldiers. But he’s been at the Herald’s side long enough to know his meaning without anything else being said – and he knows when an order is given to him and him alone.
Jayce lifts a shoulder. “He was easy to find,” he offers simply, mindful of their company.
Sky’s jaw tightens slightly before she hums. After a moment, she inclines her head towards the end of the hall.
A smile breaks his lips.
Sky takes Huck’s elbow and walks him to the door, offering soft assurances that everything would be fixed and he need not worry about Silco finding out.
Even as he walks away, Jayce glances over his shoulder at the mention of the other gang leader. He sets his lips into a thin line before seeking out the Herald.
A slightly ajar door greats him. Jayce toes the door open, and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, leans a shoulder against the doorframe and surveys the state of the office.
He doesn’t even try to step inside. There is hardly enough room for those already packed there. Most of the space is taken up by people standing, lined along the walls and bookshelves, but keeping clear of the few windows there are in the office. Jayce notes the key figures of their house standing to attention. Commanders of their foot soldiers; gruff, no-nonsense men with grey hair and set, hard faces. Dotted among them are representatives from every faction and organisation they have a touchpoint on. Jayce recognises only a handful of them by name, even less by face. A news anchor and a chairwoman of a prominent family in the other, wealthier boroughs of Piltover. Two socialites, a politician, the mayor’s aide—
He has to stop himself from beaming.
The Herald has acquired a fine collection of toys.
Those inside the room don’t notice his presence. All eyes are locked and focused on the man sitting behind a heavy oak desk, laden with papers and reports and letters. Even though he sits on a chair, he keeps his hand clasped around the handle of a cane. From where Jayce is standing, he can see the man’s knuckles are white.
“Our biggest concern right now is spooking them,” one of the commanders presses, glancing around the room with steely eyes. “Someone that volatile is dangerous because they’re unpredictable.”
A murmur of agreement washes throughout the room.
The city’s news anchor colours, and he’s sure that the mayor’s aide hasn’t stopped glancing to one of the windows of the office since getting here. As if someone spotted the man scampering to the Herald’s side the moment he was called upon—
Jayce surveys the room, but his eyes always drift back to the man behind the desk.
He has seen a lot in his time in the shadows; but he’s heard even more.
The Herald is a presence that has loomed over the city in the last few years. Silco, the other chembarons, they all wanted to know just how easily someone like that could appear. The moment the Herald gained a foothold in the city, he climbed quickly.
There had been pretenders throughout the years.
False Prophets as the news agents branded them.
He remembers one particularly irritating con with notions of grandeur proclaiming himself as the city’s faceless saviour. He had been found hanging from a busy intersection’s traffic lights, covered in smudged neon paint and with Shimmer residue burnt into his skin.
No more pretenders came forward ever since.
As discussions hum around the room, with Silco’s name uttered only twice, Jayce watches the Herald’s frown set deeper and deeper into his brow until the handle of his cane threatens to slinter under his hold. “Enough.”
Jayce straightens.
The order is curt, firm, and the murmur of noise that had been in the room vanishes instantly into a deafening silence.
Somewhere further down the hall, Jayce listens to a clock count out the passing tense seconds where not even a breath is taken.
Amber, steely eyes turn to the media representatives in the room. “Report on this. All of it,” the Herald says firmly. He looks to his commanders. “Get the word out. Let the public know that some of the factions are not against using children in all of this.”
Jayce’s jaw tightens.
There were always whispers. Nothing ever came of most of them. But with the production of Shimmer as rampant as it is now, and a noticeable dropout rate in schools located in the poorer neighbourhoods—
He’s sure the Herald has plenty of new names for him.
He looks tired, is the only thought to cross his mind. The thought vanishes from him the moment the Herald spots him. Even across the room, Jayce can map out the amber and gold in his eyes as though he were to stand in front of him. There are flecks of red and blue in there too, and Jayce has lost himself to charting them too many times to count.
As the Herald’s eyes linger on him, Jayce eventually nods.
He doesn’t have to say a word.
The Herald’s shoulders visibly drop. He waves his hand. “Go,” he orders the rest of the room, “you will all be kept informed in the plans going forward.”
Jayce pushes away from the doorframe and steps aside. The commanders are the first to leave, adjusting their jackets and gloves as they file neatly out of the room. Some with lieutenants lingering somewhere in the house call out for them, soon heading back to their own cars. The others — the civilians, by comparison — all inflect their heads at the man behind the desk, murmuring their gratitude and offering well wishes.
It all drifts by the Herald as senseless noise. Instead, his piercing eyes are locked onto Jayce, regarding and analysing every part of him as he steps into the now empty office. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, his lips splint into a fond grin. “You look terrible,” Jayce comments, laughing at the fiery stare levelled at him for a long second. Jayce tilts his head. “Have you eaten today?”
As he drifts over to the Herald and his desk, he makes sure to leave just enough space between them to stay out of reach of the man’s cane. It had been the quickest lesson he learned.
Jayce watches the man’s stare eventually break. He sighs, sinking into the high-backed chair. Catching the bridge of his noise, the man eventually speaks. “You found him, then?”
Jayce hums. He shuffles that bit closer to the Herald, eventually reclining to set his back against the edge of the desk, and casually slots a leg between the Herald’s splayed ones.
It earns him another pointed look.
“Easily enough,” Jayce answers. The story plays out in his head: well-practised and rehearsed. “He was somewhere he shouldn’t have been. Terrible accidently. I suspect it’ll make the news tonight.”
His own stare hardens. “But you didn’t answer my question, mi amor.”
When the silence between them lasts a moment longer than it needs to, Jayce sighs. “V—”
Viktor waves a hand at him. “I’ve been busy,” he states. His leg, the one straightened in a brace, shifts. Viktor’s thigh brackets the side of Jayce’s leg. His gaze lingers on the warm spot where they touch.
If his jaw tightens any further, he might crack teeth.
Jayce clicks his tongue. Among the strewn about papers and files and books there is a phone, a landline connected to every room in the house from Viktor’s desk. Ignoring Viktor pointedly saying his name, Jayce presses one button and doesn’t even wait for one of the Herald’s lieutenants to greet him before he starts—
“The boss is hungry. Fetch something from downtown. Take Walter with you. He knows what the boss likes.”
A spluttered response is all he gets, and a caught yessir, before Jayce drops the call. Turning back to the other man, he offers him a simple smile. “Now, why do I think you’re going to give me a list of names as long as my arm.”
Viktor sniffs. He presses the back of his hand under his nose for a second. He eventually sighs. “I’m sure you saw Huck,” is all he says. At Jayce’s solemn nod, Viktor’s eyes sharpen. “He was doing so well. They all were. And now the Shimmer is flowing again and I can only do so much to stop people from drowning in it.”
Viktor curses under his breath and drops back his head, staring at the ceiling. There is a slight red tint to the bottom of Viktor’s nose.
Jayce makes a soft noise. “Silco’s empire and its influence cannot be dismantled overnight,” he says. At Viktor’s wince, he presses on. “There are neighbourhoods out there that had nearly been destroyed by it, but they’re thriving now because of you. The best thing you can do now is watch the streets, eliminate potential dealers. Make examples of them. Have them understand what it means to cross you.”
It's a far cry from where they started.
A past version of himself would be horrified at everything he’s done in the years since.
But after running through all possibilities — and he has gone through them all — there was no other choice.
It takes thirty minutes for a tentative knock to sound at the door. Jayce pushes himself away from the desk, away from Viktor, biting back a soft sound at losing the warmth of the other man’s touch. He crosses the office in a matter of strides.
The lieutenant can’t be older than twenty. He blinks at the sight of Jayce as the door opens. He manages to splutter out half of the received order, before Jayce promptly takes the plastic takeout bags from him and shoulders the door closed again.
Viktor glowers at him as he returns. “Have you forgotten your manners in your time away?” he asks pointedly. Jayce shrugs.
Those in the household know where they all stand with each other. He’s sure that the other houses have their ranks and hierarchies. Silco definitely doesn’t know half the names of the people who work for him.
Viktor knows everyone. Even if they have never spoken or met in person, he makes a point of knowing people’s names, their families, where they came from. He knows what kind of problems they might have had before being employed by him. Families could send their kids to school. Bills were paid in advance. And no one had to worry about another shadow faction getting cocky and pushing their luck. Everyone in the city knows what belongs to the Herald: and how those under his protection would protect him in return.
It’s a rare thing in their business — having that kind of loyalty.
There is more food than he expected. Jayce has to stop himself from laughing at the sight of it all. Walter is one of their longest-serving commanders. He knows what their Herald can be like: working through the days and nights, losing sleep, forgetting meals. At least he’s not alone in trying to get Viktor to take care of himself. Knowing Viktor, he may just have to call a coup in order to get the man to eat three meals a day.
As he sets every item somewhere on the desk, shoving loose papers and books out of the way, he tries to ignore just how intently Viktor is staring at him. The restaurant seems to be doing well. Its one of the few places left where Viktor can speak Old Zaun to someone. He’s sure the owner, a kind but stern old woman, gave him more food as a point. A hearty soup with beetroot and other root vegetables. Pork dumplings in a thick sauce. Freshly baked soft bread with herbs running through it. It doesn’t take much convincing for Viktor to sit up straight and start eating.
For every two bites he takes, he offers one to Jayce. He plucks a few dumplings from the plastic box they came in. A quiet moment settles over them that he’s quite happy to leave. A colour begins to return to Viktor’s face. The tightness in the corners of his mouth loosens. His shoulders slacken, and he gently knocks his knee against Jayce’s as he perches on the edge of Viktor’s desk.
This is more familiar to him. He can remember when things had been quieter. When they were younger, the city didn’t seem to have as many problems as it does now. Maybe it always had the problems: and they just never noticed.
Viktor looks different to his old self. His hair has grown out, half-tied up these days with some strands brushing his shoulders and his gaunt face. Jayce won’t pretend that he hasn’t watched the man’s body suffer under the weight of maintaining his hold on what he has. There are days where his limp is more pronounced. Painkillers can only manage to much of the strain before it leaves Viktor bedbound from a day to a week. He has seen shadows cut into Viktor’s face, making him look far thinner and more feeble than he actually is.
As he finishes the last of his meal, Viktor sets his elbows on the desk and buries his face into his hands.
Jayce’s brow knits. “Say the word, mi amor, and they’ll be dealt with.”
The offer is low and murmured, as though ears and eyes are in the walls. But Viktor steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, mulling over his thoughts for a second, before holding out his hand.
He doesn’t need to say a word.
Jayce’s hand fits perfectly into Viktor’s. Their fingers link and lock together, and Jayce has to will himself not to tremble as Viktor brings their joined hands to his mouth and brushes a kiss to Jayce’s knuckles.
Viktor’s lips linger against his skin. His nostrils flare.
He knows what the other man is looking for.
The acrid copper tang should be gone, replaced instead by scented soaps and sterile disinfectant. He scrubbed his hands clean before he returned home.
The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches. “I can always rely on you, can’t I?” he murmurs. The gold in his eyes glints.
He wishes he could have better control of himself around Viktor. But he knows that the sound of him swallowing past a lump in his throat must be deafening — and Viktor delights in watching the effect he has over Jayce take hold.
The pooling warmth in his core is addictively familiar.
Viktor’s eyes trail over him, running down the length of his body twice before he drops Jayce’s hand and sinks back into his chair. The tight sound pulled out of the other man might as well be called a whine—
Viktor has the nerve to laugh.
He taps on his thigh. “Come and tell me all about it.”
Viktor uses his good leg to push himself back from the table, setting plenty of space for Jayce to fall to his knees. He lands between Viktor’s splayed legs. Jayce presses a kiss to the man’s clothed knee and he sets his hands onto Viktor’s thighs. His fingers curl against the fabric of his trousers. The familiar warmth he craves from the man is there, but there are far too many layers separating their skin.
“He groveled,” Jayce breathes against Viktor’s thigh, peering up just in time to see the man’s eyes glint again. “You should have seen him, V. The rat, he begged to be spared.”
Thin fingers card through his hair. Jayce’s breath catches when Viktor tugs on the strands. He was very keen on Jayce letting his hair grow out. He insisted on keeping the beard, too. Jayce’s hands can only go so far before his fingers find the buckle of Viktor’s belt. It’s agonising minute spent simply looking at each other.
Jayce’s throat bobs. “V, please.”
Viktor’s lips part—
And the deafening sound of a knock at the door makes a growl lurch out of Jayce’s throat. He goes to round on himself. Whoever it is out there evidently didn’t get the message. Jayce is home and the Herald excused the last meeting of the day earlier than anticipated.
Jayce’s teeth bare. Someone better be dead—
Before he can move, Viktor catches his face and frames it with his hands. His thumbs brush over the man’s rough jaw. Steely amber eyes bear almost into Jayce’s very soul. “Behave.”
The order is curt and simple. A shiver runs down along Jayce’s spine.
Viktor’s hands fall away from his face. “Come in,” the Herald calls, pulling his chair forward, just enough to make Jayce shuffle backwards underneath the desk. Heat scalds Jayce’s face. Familiar heave footsteps march into the room. “Yes, Commander?”
If he didn’t adore Viktor as much as he does, he would have killed him. To speak so casually, with such control and poise, when Jayce’s heart is about to explode out of his very chest.
He almost doesn’t hear what the commander has to say. It’s all lost behind a rush of blood through Jayce’s ears. His fingers stay curled on Viktor’s thighs. He presses a kiss to the man’s clothed knee, letting his lips linger there in hopes that some sort of warmth might convince Viktor to tell everyone in the house to fuck off—
But Viktor merely hums. A faint tapping — he’s drumming his fingers on the desk above Jayce’s head. “It’s worth investigating,” the Herald notes. There is a slight pause. “But you’re concerned.”
“It could be a trap, sir. They might be trying to lure us away from you.”
Jayce’s teeth almost bare at the thought. Come for him, he almost goads, come for him, and you’ll have to face me.
The Herald simply laughs. “You are good to worry about me, Commander. But I am well-protected here. And I can look after myself.”
Jayce can’t help the grin that splits his lips. If the rest of the world even got a glimpse as to how strong Viktor is, he wouldn’t need to have Jayce by his side, as his long arm dolling out punishment.
Go away. He wills the Commander to go. It would make no difference if he were still stuck beneath the desk, between Viktor’s legs, hidden from view, or if he pushed his way out and threw the Commander out of the room himself. One of Viktor’s hands drops underneath the desk. Nimble fingers card through Jayce’s hair.
His teeth bare against Viktor’s knee.
I’ll kill you, Vik, I swear—
He buries his head in between Viktor’s thighs.
—They won’t be able to find what’s left of you when I’m done—
It takes entirely too long for the Herald to dismiss his commander. The silence left behind as soon as the office door shuts is deafening. It drives him insane. For a moment – a brief second – he thinks that Viktor will lurch back and give him enough space to continue on with his explorations.
But his jaw aches as Viktor stays perfectly still, mulling something or other over in his mind. The fingers threaded through Jayce’s hair linger, holding Jayce firmly in place. It’s not a tight hold. There’s no pull or pain in it at all. It’s just a presence Jayce has learned to not ignore.
The noise that slips out of him is something he’ll deny until the end of time. “Vik,” Jayce pleads, nudging the inside of the man’s thigh with his nose, “please, for the love of God—”
The legs of the chair scrape along the floorboards. Viktor only pushes away from the desk slightly. But the space stretched between them might as well be a mile or even more. Jayce’s fingers curl tighter against Viktor’s thighs, trying to clutch on to the fabric of the man’s dress pants.
Viktor’s head lulls down. Hooded eyes regard Jayce for a moment.
His throat bobs. “Please, baby,” Jayce whines again, shuffling forward. Despite the unreadable look in Viktor’s eyes, the other man splays his legs further apart regardless.
Eventually, Viktor clicks his tongue. “Poor thing,” he muses, brushing his knuckle along Jayce’s cheek.
You’re the Defender, some part of him hisses. Not some timid lapdog—
His eyelids flutter shut as he leans into Viktor’s fleeting touch. He catches Jayce’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head up slightly to regard what exactly he sees.
A man very much at his limit, he thinks to himself.
He can only imagine what he must look like.
The Defender of Piltover. The Herald’s Rabid Dog. Broad and strong, kneeling as devoutly between his boss’ legs as he would do a god. His hair is a mess: Viktor’s fingers saw to that. Any of the brown in his eyes must be jet black now. His bitten lips are parted around soft, needy noises.
Viktor is the first to move. When all semblance of his touch leaves Jayce, tears prick the back of his eyes. I did what you asked, he thinks. Surely whatever is in his mind is falling out of his mouth. He watches Viktor huff a laugh. I would do anything for you, Vik. Say the word.
Nimble fingers expertly undo the buckle of his belt. Jayce’s mouth dries. Viktor doesn’t pull it through and toss it away: he leaves it open while his fingers pluck apart the button and zip of his pants.
Jayce blinks as the other man lifts a leg up and sets the heel of his dress shoe on the desk. Sinking slightly into his chair, spreading his legs enough for Jayce to fit. When he blinks at the other man, Viktor simply nods.
He doesn’t have to say anything.
He staggers to Viktor as a man would to water. The floorboards aren’t kind to his knees, and he nearly winces as he shuffles to put himself closer to Viktor, but he doesn’t care. The bite of the hard floor beneath him just makes the ache in his bones that much greater. It’s addictive.
His fingers tremble as he navigates moving the lapels of Viktor’s pants out of the way. Everything about the man is gorgeous. He could lose himself in all of it. The way his clothes are tailored to the long lines of his body. The way he moves confidently through the city that adores him.
His hands visibly shake as he tries to catch the waistband of Viktor’s underwear. Jayce curses.
There is a soft laugh above him. “Gentle, baby,” Viktor coos. Even without looking at the man, he knows when Viktor has that stupid, shit-eating grin on his face. “We have plenty of time.”
“Not if you keep letting everyone into this office to have a chat,” Jayce growls.
As soon as it’s out, he wants to snap his mouth shut.
He stills as he peers up at the man. Viktor lifts a brow at him.
Jayce’s throat bobs. “Please, Vik, just the two of us,” he amends, finding the man’s waistband again and pulling it and his pants half-way down his thighs. At the sight of Viktor’s wet cunt, Jayce has to stop himself from crying. It’s all he could think about while that piece of shit rat choked on his own blood. Viktor will be pleased.
Viktor clicks his tongue. The foot still resting on the floor — his bad leg, Jayce distantly notes — suddenly moves. With a barely concealed wince, Viktor wedges his foot between Jayce’s legs and nudges the inside of his thighs apart. Jayce groans as the toe of Viktor’s shoe brushes past his hard and aching cock.
Viktor regards him for a moment. “I can ignore that comment because of the state you’re in, Jayce. Look at you,” he says simply. His foot brushes Jayce’s crotch again, and it takes everything in him not to chase after the pressure. Despite the tone in his voice, a corner of Viktor’s lips twitches into a smirk. “Desperate for it.”
With the hem of Viktor’s pants and underwear balled into his palms, Jayce has enough dexterity to reach out with his index fingers and trace his fingertips along the man’s abdomen and the V of his hips. His throat bobs as he swallows. “You promised.”
The benefit with being as closely bonded as they are is that Jayce’s touch has its own effects on the other man. The amber in Viktor’s eyes glints. “I did, didn’t I?” Viktor hums. “When I give my word, I keep it. You know that, don’t you, baby?”
Jayce nods.
The other man’s smirk finally splits his lips. “Go on then.”
As Jayce’s lips brush Viktor’s skin, his blood scalds him from the inside out. He nearly forgets to breathe. Desperate as he is to bury himself between Viktor’s legs, Jayce has to remind himself that this is for the other man too — and he likes pleasing Viktor in every way he can manage.
He kisses the man’s quivering abdomen, listening to Viktor suck in a short breath before Jayce trails down towards his cunt. He’s wet and hot and Jayce’s nostrils flare at that familiar scent of the other man — something he had to go without for days. Every second away from Viktor’s side is torture. So when a rat scurries to the coast and tries to hide himself in the trash piles there, he makes quick work of rooting him out just so he can return to Viktor’s side again.
A groan catches in Jayce’s throat at how wet Viktor already is. The second he presses a chaste kiss to the man’s pubic bone, the body underneath him shifts and lifts to Jayce’s mouth.
A flurry of questions blink in front of him, even through the haze of Viktor, please, and finally—
When he finally locked eyes with Jayce, was he wet?
Did he listen to his commanders and officials drone on about what to do next with their plans, as he fought against himself to shift in his seat?
Have the commanders normally posted outside the door and at the end of the hall been convinced to step away for a moment, knowing damn well that the Herald couldn’t be in safer hands?
He’s sure the commanders have heard plenty over the years. The moment Jayce was spotted, they all knew to leave the Herald and his Defender alone for the evening.
Viktor’s head tilts back. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Such a good boy,” he murmurs. His hands stay on the armrests of his chest. Even with his head buried in the man’s lap, Jayce tilts his head and catches sight of Viktor’s knuckles turning white against the leather padded armrests.
The scalding heat coursing through Jayce’s body threatens to burn him from the inside out. Viktor has a way of rooting his way into Jayce’s very mind. He knows him so well. He knows what specific touch or word will drive him rabid — and he knows how to get Jayce to do anything he wants.
If he wanted the rest of the city by tomorrow morning, Jayce would tear himself away from the other man and march out there right now with nothing more than his knife and gun. He’d lay it all at Viktor’s feet.
The thighs bracketing his head tremble. Finally setting his mouth to Viktor’s wet sex, he laps at it like a dying man looking for water. Despite the near-deafening sound of blood rushing through his head, he can hear Viktor moan above him. Praise spills from his lips so easily. Every pleased comment runs along Jayce’s body. He trembles at all of it.
As he presses his tongue inside the other man, one of Jayce’s fingers drifts down to join. If he had more dexterity — or more time — he might have caught Viktor’s hips still and held him down to eat him out. As soon as the thought passes his mind, he almost blacks out. Viktor is another drug entirely.
But as Viktor all but rides his face, rolling his hips into every lap of Jayce’s tongue and press of his finger into his cunt, Jayce pants and groans and tries to be good—
Viktor pulls at his hair again; less guiding him anywhere in particular, and more holding onto the other man as his hips pitch down against the touch. “The best boy,” he groans, gasping as Jayce’s tongue presses further inside of him. “You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you, baby?”
He would rather die than try and disentangle himself from Viktor right now. But the moan he buries into Viktor’s sex ought to be enough. It is; if the tightening hold on his hair is enough to go by.
The desk behind him screeches. No doubt Viktor is struggling not to send it across the room. With his heel perfectly perched on the desk, it leaves him open for Jayce and whatever it is he deserves.
His throat bobs at the thought.
He presses one finger inside of the man. The noises that spill out of Viktor are just as addictive as everything else about him. Some feral part of him delights in knowing that it’s for him. The Herald might belong to the community and the city, but Viktor is his.
A second soon joins the first, and Viktor gasps out what could be an attempt at Jayce’s name.
For someone usually so put together and intimidating, making Viktor fall apart is easy — if you’re Jayce Talis.
He can only work with so much. The other man’s pants and underwear are still bunched around his thighs, more of an inconvenience than anything else. But he doesn’t want to part from him for a second: even if that means wrangling the clothes off of him and throwing them to some other part of the room.
He knows when Viktor gets close. The thighs bracketing his head begin to tremble and close around his ears. It almost robs him of the sound of Viktor’s gasps and moans, but the other man can be so loud that it doesn’t matter.
“Good boy, that’s it,” Viktor moans, looking down at the man buried between his legs. His hips press down and ride his face. “Such a good boy, Jayce. I love you so much.”
His aching cock is all but forgotten about. His only pleasure right now, and in life, is feeling Viktor tremble around him. Knowing that he did that, and he’s the only one who could ever do that to Viktor—
He’s the only man in the city who can bring the Herald to his knees.
He scissors his fingers, pressing them as deeply as they can go, fucking Viktor until the wet, tight walls of his cunt clamp down around him. There’s enough time for him to peer up and watch the man fall apart. Viktor’s whole body tenses. A gasp catches in his throat. As he rides the release, he presses that bit further down on Jayce’s fingers and tongue, whining at the overstimulation of it all.
How the house still stands around them is beyond him. Everything is beyond him now. He lets his head loll to the side, resting against one of Viktor’s quivering thighs. He’s soaking wet and red. His mouth, soft and bitten, parted around gasps and gathering breaths. Strands of shoulder-length hair frame his flushed face, some of them sticking to his brow.
Jayce’s cock aches.
He’s beautiful.
Viktor’s eyes run over the sight of him. He can only imagine what he looks like. Wetness still clings to his lips. Viktor’s eyes glint. He reaches down, brushing the knuckle of his forefinger over the bow of Jayce’s lip. Soaked and glistening. Wordlessly, Jayce’s mouth opens. He sucks around the finger pressed into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he tastes Viktor off of his own hand.
The corner of the man’s lips twitch. “So beautiful, all mine,” he murmurs, tilting his head, taking in the sight.
A shiver shakes down Jayce’s spine. His knees ache from being on the floor. His right calf has cramped up. He’s surprised he hasn’t lost a fistful of hair to Viktor with how tightly he held onto Jayce’s head — and his entire skull hurts.
But as he shifts ever so slightly, his cock presses against the tight fabric of his dress pants, and Jayce almost sobs.
Viktor’s eyes soften. “Poor baby,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue. He glances down at his foot still poised on the ground. Jayce audibly swallows. All he would need is a foot, or even Viktor’s leg. He’s not above rutting against the man’s leg like a dog—
But Viktor reaches down and taps his shoulder. A simple order.
And one that Jayce does, in fact, mewl at.
He shuffles away slightly, giving Viktor enough room to reach for his cane. It always stays just a reach away from the man. He presses most of his weight into it as he stands, merely using it to turn around and sit on the edge of the desk. Jayce’s eyes widen. Viktor lets the cane go, shoving it further down the desk to rest against the other edge, while he uses his own strength to push himself back further onto the desk until he’s perched quite comfortably there.
Papers, files, takeout boxes all clatter to the floor.
And neither of them could give a shit.
Jayce, still very much kneeling on the floor, gapes at the sight. He doesn’t know where exactly to look. At the flush of colour on Viktor’s face, made all the brighter as he takes a second to brush stray sweat-slick strands back from his brow. At the sight of his trousers half-way down his thighs. The wrinkles in his shirt from where Jayce had obviously, and unconsciously to him, pawed at him.
Viktor quirks a brow. “Well?”
His spreads his legs as an invitation.
Jayce can’t rise from the ground fast enough. His knees protest the sudden movement, and his lower back aches as he stands up and rounds on Viktor quickly, falling against him again and crushing their mouths together.
Viktor’s tongue is in his mouth. His teeth catch and press his lips. Any groan or noise out of them is swallowed by the other.
Jayce’s hands find Viktor’s waist. It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit, wrestling the man’s trousers and underwear off of him. They navigate Viktor’s leg with caution, even as Viktor pointedly tells him that he’s fine and just to get on with it.
When he kisses Viktor again, he groans against the man’s mouth as nimble fingers find the buckle of his belt. “V,” he breathes against Viktor’s cheek, brushing his lips over his high cheekbone, the ridge of his jaw, down along the expanse of his neck.
Jayce’s hips pitch forward when Viktor’s hand slips beneath his clothes. As soon as Viktor curls his hand around the man’s aching cock, Jayce all but sobs against his neck. He thrusts forward, groaning and gasping Viktor’s name and pleas, all the while caught between fucking himself into Viktor’s fist or waiting for a minute to make the other man come again—
His free hand finds Jayce’s cheek, cupping it, and the man’s head lolls as Viktor pulls him away from his neck to look at him. He has an all-too-pleased smile curled along his lips. “This is your reward, baby,” Viktor tells him. Anything else he might have said is lost as Jayce whines. The hand around his cock stills and eventually falls away.
Viktor’s legs spread that bit more. He sets his hands behind him, bracing himself against the desk.
When Jayce takes his cock in hand, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from coming right there and then. Viktor is so beautiful—and all his—that he has to take a second to gather himself. As he sets the head of his cock to Viktor’s entrance, he almost moans at the familiar feeling of a heel setting into the small of his back.
This might be Jayce’s reward, but Viktor always has a say in how they do things.
He pushes into Viktor. A moan is smothered against the man’s neck, wet and gasping, as Jayce fills him full. Viktor mirrors it. The leg around Jayce’s hip tightens, dragging him in that bit more, until there is nowhere else for him to go.
Not that he would ever think of going anywhere ever again.
He takes a moment. If Viktor really wanted to, he would have them flipped and take his own release from the man. He’s done it before. Afterimages of the memory blink in front of him, and Jayce’s tongue almost swells in his throat.
But he wants it to be good for Viktor. He wants to have the other man fall apart from his cock and his mouth and his hands—
And he can’t do that if he spills there and then.
Viktor’s lips brush the shell of his ear. “Are you close?”
With Viktor so close to his ear, it almost sounds like his voice is in Jayce’s skull.
He nods.
Viktor hums. He presses a kiss just underneath Jayce’s ear. “I would imagine,” he murmurs, as easily as though he were talking about the weather. If Jayce had more of his mind at hand, he would kill the other man—
But the familiar wet heat around him quivers, and his breath stalls in his throat.
Viktor gasps as Jayce’s hips pitch forward on their own. “You were gone for so long,” he breathes, reaching up to wind an arm around the man’s broad shoulders. Jayce fucks into him again, groaning as Viktor grinds his hips against him. “Two whole days, baby. What did you do while away from me?”
Anything resembling a word isn’t with him. But Viktor looks at him so expectantly, even when fucked-out. Jayce’s lips part. “Nothing,” he eventually groans. His brow knits as he presses into Viktor again. “You…”
Viktor lifts his chin. “I…?”
Jayce swallows. The lump forming in his throat threatens to smother him. “You didn’t say I could do anything…about that.”
It’s broken and his voice cracks, but Viktor’s eyes soften. “Oh, my sweetest boy,” he murmurs, “you can have it now. Go on, baby. Fuck me. I’ve missed you so much. When I saw you were back here, with me, I could have had you right there in the middle of the office, with everyone there to see—”
Jayce’s lips part around a noiseless groan.
“—They know you’re mine, and I’m yours,” Viktor gasps, rolling his hips against every firm thrust from the other man. He knows how to fuck Viktor. He knows where to put his hands and where to kiss. He sucks a mark into the man’s neck, higher than the collar of his shirt, just so he can go to a meeting tomorrow with it fresh on his skin.
The heel set into the small of his back pushes him forward. The desk groans with the effort of both of them. More papers and files are sent over the edge.
When he feels it building, Jayce winces against Viktor’s throat. “Please,” he groans. His hips move on their own. Fucking into Viktor is the most addictive thing he can do, and chasing down release, knowing that he can fuck it all into the other man and watch it dribble out of him— “Please, V, say I can! Please!”
Viktor threads his fingers through his hair again, tightening his hold as his own release builds. “Come for me, baby,” he groans, whining as his hips grind and press against Jayce’s until—
When he comes, his moaned attempt of Viktor’s name catches in his throat. He presses further into the man, burying himself in that tightening, quivering heat, flooding him full. He gasps as soon as cum begins to pool around the base of his cock. They’re both soaking wet. And yet, Viktor’s cunt still trembles around him, milking his aching cock.
If it weren’t for the arm thrown around Jayce’s broad shoulders, he’s sure that Viktor would be flat against the desk, staring up at him. But he keeps the other man gathered close. He likes touching Viktor the most. He likes being physically as close to the other as possible. Even now, he can’t breathe properly until his nose is in the hollow of Viktor’s throat, and his hands are splayed on his back and hip.
The leg around his waist eventually drops.
Jayce doesn’t miss the faint wince that flashes on Viktor’s face.
Before he can ask, Viktor sets a finger to Jayce’s lips. “I’m fine,” he states simply, grinning as Jayce kisses the digit. Viktor catches his chin and lures him into a kiss. Soft and slow and deep, one that has his stomach twisting and the blood in his veins heating up again.
Viktor huffs a laugh against his lips. “You have made quite the mess, Jayce,” he scolds, glancing around at the room. Papers and files have been knocked over. Empty takeout boxes are scattered around the desk. He’s pretty sure the scratches in the floorboards under the desk’s legs haven’t always been there.
The corners of Jayce’s lips twitch. “You promised,” he reminds the other man, grinning when Viktor’s eyes glint.
A steady hand finds his chest. With a simple pat, Jayce pulls away. He almost whines at the loss of having Viktor around his cock. But he’s soaked and soft and one more look at the disheveled Herald on his desk, spread out and dripping like a common whore, might be the death of him.
Viktor, though, doesn’t seem in any rush to gather his discarded clothes. He hums. “I always keep my promises, Jayce,” he assures.