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Jayce blinks sluggish eyes open, squinting against the light. For a few very long moments, he remains completely disoriented, floating in some liminal space of half-waking confusion, heart pounding, unable to remember quite where he is. Slowly, the shapes before his eyes sharpen. He sees plants, broad-leafed and lush; the dizzying pattern of the Arcane in the ceiling above him; light, coming in from the circular holes in the ceiling.
His heartbeat quickens as puzzle-piece memories come into focus. An explosion, dust and fire and a ringing in Jayce’s ears that took days to dissipate. Viktor, broken and still. Viktor, hovering somewhere between death and life. Viktor. Viktor.
Jayce moves to sit up, but finds himself incapable. Panic rises in his chest as he tugs with his arms, only to find himself bound to the bed he’s lying on. He tries his legs; pain flares around his ankles where his bindings dig in. He blinks hard, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down.
How long has it been? He found Viktor in the commune perhaps a few days after he’d left Jayce in the lab. To talk, to apologize, to try to make things right. They’d started arguing. Jayce had tried to leave. And then… And then…
“Good morning.” Jayce jerks his head to the side and sees Viktor standing in the doorway, wrapped still in that blanket, cinched at the waist with a belt. He’s holding a tray of fruit. He seems to notice Jayce’s discomfort, and tips his head. “Did you sleep well?”
“Viktor,” Jayce says, ignoring the question. “Let me go.”
“You know why I cannot,” Viktor replies evenly. Some hurt twinges on his face nonetheless. “I don’t understand why you feel you must fight me,” he says. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted? Isn’t this what we once worked towards, as partners? To help people, to truly improve the lives of the least fortunate?”
“Yes, but not—” Jayce’s mind is still foggy. “My place isn’t here,” he protests. “And—and neither is yours.”
“You would rather return to the lab?” Viktor asks pointedly. “Bow to the Council? Continue building larger and larger weapons until we’ve razed both Piltover and Zaun to the ground?”
“No,” Jayce replies, “but this isn’t right, either, Viktor. This isn’t sustainable. And there’s still trouble outside the walls of this commune! It’ll reach you eventually. Your…” He looks over Viktor, the imperceptible hum of energy that lives under his skin, the Arcane, chaos churning just below the surface. “Your new powers won’t be enough to fix it.”
“And you think you could?” It’s not derision; it’s sympathy. “Jayce. You could do good work here.”
Jayce doesn’t want to do work here. He has seen the other commune members, hollow-eyed and placid, wrapped in Viktor’s thrall. Though flowers bloom and the air is clean and everything is peaceful, there is a dead stillness here that belies the unnatural force lurking below the surface. Jayce isn’t sure what exactly is wrong; he couldn’t articulate it if he tried. Even if he was granted lucid thought for longer than these short snatches of time, he’s not sure he could ever put it to words. He only knows that there’s something about all of this that makes his stomach turn.
And it had started with him. Jayce looks up at Viktor, face pulling tight in distress. “I know it’s my fault,” he says, quieter. “I promised you, and instead—and now—” He shakes his head. “I just couldn’t lose you.” He gives Viktor an imploring look. “You were dead.”
“Ah…” Viktor sighs softly, looking concerned, putting the tray down on a stool and crossing the room to the bed. “We’re having a tough day, aren’t we?”
Jayce strains fruitlessly against his bindings, but they don’t even budge. Even now, even with his mind clear, he can’t help but be lulled at the sight of Viktor as he draws nearer, his eyes calm and kind. Viktor, alive. It’s heartbreaking, because it’s him, it’s Jayce’s partner, but it’s not. Jayce feels tears well up in his eyes, despair heavy in his chest.
Viktor sits beside him in the bed, gently brushing some hair from his eyes. The metal of his fingers is cool, but not unpleasant, against Jayce’s hot skin. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I know what you need.”
“No,” Jayce protests, shaking his head, as Viktor leans closer. It’s so cruel. How many times had he dreamed, once, of pulling Viktor into his arms and kissing his pretty mouth? But now that he finally has it, it’s all wrong. He knows the instant their lips connect, his lucidity will slip away from him. It’s hard for him to gauge the passage of time when he’s under the influence of Viktor’s magic, but it seems like the spare moments where Jayce’s mind is all his own again are growing fewer and farther between. Maybe this is the last time he’ll be able to think properly.
He tugs at his restraints, flailing wildly, first baring his teeth when Viktor gets close, then trying to press his lips together into a tight line and turn his head away when aggression doesn’t seem to sway him. But Viktor moves like water, slow and patient and unstoppable, bending over him all the same.
Viktor’s hair falls into his face, and though Jayce tries to keep out of reach, there’s nothing he can do to resist. Their noses brush. The worst part about it is that even now, even after everything, even knowing what he knows, Jayce still wants it. Gods, he wants it.
“No, no ,” he growls, even when he stops physically resisting, even when he tips his head to the side to slot his lips against Viktor’s. Maybe this is my punishment, he thinks hazily, as the oppressive numbing calm that Viktor seems to simply exude begins to fog his mind. Having him like this, and only like this. It’s my fault, after all. It’s all my fault.
It’s all he can think as Viktor licks into his mouth. A tear finds its way out of the corner of one of his eyes and carves a trail down his temple. I’m sorry , he thinks desperately.
And then he can’t think at all. His body melts into the bed; his arms go slack against his restraints. The whole world disappears except for Viktor, Viktor’s tongue on his teeth, his soft lips on Jayce’s, one hand in Jayce’s hair.
Jayce whines softly, pleasure seeping into his system, kissing Viktor back. His body is still upset; he can feel more tears leaking out of his eyes, but he doesn’t quite remember what they’re for. Why would he be crying? Viktor’s here, Viktor’s kissing him, Viktor’s cradling him like he’s something precious, like he’s all that matters, like he loves him.
“That’s right,” Viktor whispers, pulling away. Jayce strains upwards, trying to chase him. “I love you, Jayce. Stop thinking. You have nothing to fear.”
“Viktor,” Jayce breathes. He wishes he could wipe his tears away. It seems so silly, now. Viktor’s right. They’re together. They’re finally helping people. What could be wrong with that?
Viktor smiles, stroking his cheek. Catching the tears for him. “Better?” he murmurs. Jayce nods dizzily. “Good. I hate to see you hurting.” He runs a hand down Jayce’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”
Jayce considers the question, then shakes his head. “Not really,” he answers honestly.
“Good.” Viktor stands and reaches for the belt on his robe, decisive. “I want to take your restraints off, but I want you to eat me out first, I think. Does that sound good?”
Jayce’s mouth floods with saliva so fast it actually almost hurts. He nods enthusiastically, watching as the blanket falls away, revealing the beautiful gold-accented contours of Viktor’s new body. Jayce’s chest glows with pride. The body Jayce gave him.
Viktor climbs onto the bed, movements deft and painless, straddling Jayce, knees on either side of Jayce’s ears. He hovers over Jayce’s mouth, watching him. He’s just out of reach, but Jayce can smell him, the wet slick of his cunt, metal yielding to soft organic heat, musk and earth and copper. Jayce’s cock twitches under the blankets, and he whimpers involuntarily.
He knows, somewhere in some logical corner of his brain, that Viktor has a great many reasons for leaving him tied up, but he also knows that one of those reasons is that if Jayce had use of his limbs, he’d end up rutting up into his palm like an untrained dog. As it is, he’ll probably make a mess of the sheets. Viktor knows Jayce can come untouched from the taste of him alone.
“Please,” he begs, when Viktor remains frustratingly far away. “Please, I want it.”
Viktor smiles indulgently. “Begging for me,” he says softly. “This is exactly how you’re meant to be, Jayce. Yes?”
“Yes,” Jayce agrees, fervent. “Yes, yes, yes.” Some of it is his desperation just to finally have Viktor on his tongue, but he knows Viktor is right. His place has always been here. Serving Viktor. Pleasuring him, and getting pleasure in return. Why should there be anything else?
After another agonizing moment, Viktor relents at last, lowering himself down onto Jayce’s waiting mouth. Jayce groans in satisfaction, wishing he could use his hands to grip Viktor’s hips and hold him in place, to press him against Jayce until Jayce was nearly suffocating on him. It would be a good way to go, he thinks, lapping at the wet mess of Viktor’s folds.
Viktor rolls his hips forward with a languid sigh, and Jayce pushes his tongue inside, shuddering in pleasure when Viktor’s sigh turns into a moan. “Yes, Jayce,” he encourages. “Just like that. Good boy.”
Jayce tips his chin up a little, finding Viktor’s clit and closing his mouth down around it, his hips jerking up when a lovely gasp is torn out of Viktor’s chest. He swirls his tongue around the spot, sucking at the same time, while Viktor leaks slick onto his chin. He feels it smear on his jaw, and hums against Viktor’s skin. Viktor bucks into his mouth, sensitive as always.
This, Jayce thinks, is one of the best parts of Viktor’s new body. Aside from the obvious benefits of mobility and strength and its new… changeability, everything is fresh, untouched. Viktor came out of the cocoon reborn, with a virgin’s body that has never known pleasure. Not until Jayce. The first time Jayce had gotten his hands on Viktor, it had taken mere minutes before Viktor was squirting so hard it had made an actual puddle on the dusty ground. And even now, months later, he’s still adjusting to his heightened reactivity.
It also makes Jayce feel better about how fast sex with Viktor makes him come.
He flicks his tongue over Viktor’s clit until it’s swollen, until Viktor is shaking and forcing him away, back down to his neglected cunt, where he’s grown so slippery with wetness that it’s dripping down his inner thighs.
Jayce swallows it all down eagerly. Sometimes he wishes he could just stay here, right here, in between Viktor’s legs, his face pressed into the comforting heat of his cunt, drinking the nectar of Viktor’s body. He swears it would be all he’d need. He’d keep at it, even when he got tired, even when his jaw grew sore. Anything to keep those precious, beautiful sounds spilling out of Viktor’s lips. Anything to keep that flat, bitter taste fresh on his tongue.
He blinks up at Viktor, vision slightly blurry, and sees that he’s staring back down at him with some kind of intensity in his eyes, his brows pinched. He’s got two fingers on his clit, though he’s less stroking than he is simply cupping himself, almost as though he’s trying to protect the spot from Jayce’s hungry mouth. But his jaw is dropped open in unmistakable pleasure. The sight sends heat flooding down to Jayce’s cock.
Viktor notices him looking. “Keep going,” he pants out. “I’m close. Can you feel how wet I am for you?”
Jayce nods as best he can, pushing his tongue inside and groaning at the way Viktor tries to clench down around him. He wants to use his fingers, wants to push two inside. His tongue can’t get deep enough to find the spot that’ll make Viktor see stars, and it frustrates him to no end that he can’t give him that kind of pleasure.
Viktor smiles. “I don’t want your fingers,” he says, sweet. “I just want your tongue.” He moans softly at Jayce’s next valiant thrust in. “Yes, good, Jayce. Working so hard for me.”
Jayce whines, licking desperately at him, and then moaning when he’s rewarded with more hot slick on his tongue. He can feel himself leaking precome into the blankets, sticky against his hip, but it hardly registers, just spurs him on, fucking his tongue into the heat of Viktor’s body while Viktor’s fingers speed up on his clit.
It happens without warning. There’s just a hitch of Viktor’s breath, and then a gush of liquid, spilling over Jayce’s lips and dripping down his neck off his jaw, soaking the sheets beneath him. Jayce dutifully fucks Viktor with his tongue through it, even as a wave of arousal crashes over him, as he feels his own body reacting, the slow burn in his gut igniting into flame. But it’s all secondary to the pulsing cunt above him, to Viktor’s beautiful moans. He keeps his jaw open wide, swallowing as much of it down as he can, tongue still working, even when Viktor’s fingers still.
“Oh,” Viktor murmurs, breathless. “Oh, Jayce, did you come?”
Jayce blinks, unsure. Does it matter? he wonders. But Viktor is clambering off of him, drawing the blankets back, and cooing softly at what he finds. Jayce looks down, and sees the smeared evidence of his orgasm on his belly, creamy white against the deep tan of his skin.
Viktor bends over him and licks it up, his tongue soft and warm. He looks up at Jayce through his eyelashes. “You’re lucky,” he murmurs softly, “that you were born as you were. That you’re mine. The price you’d fetch in a brothel? A body like yours, so perfect for pleasure? For service?” He kisses the seat of Jayce’s belly. “But you don’t have to worry about that now. Not with me. Not ever. The world we are making will have no need for such things, hmm?”
Jayce nods, squirming a little. It should be shameful, he muses, how needy he is. But even though he’s just come, he wants more.
If Viktor knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he simply works on Jayce’s restraints, freeing his ankles first, then walking up to the head of the bed to release Jayce’s wrists.
“Viktor,” Jayce slurs softly, reaching out for him.
“I know,” Viktor soothes. “How do you feel?” He runs delicate fingertips over Jayce’s wrists, where faint marks have bloomed, signs of his struggling. “Does it hurt?”
Jayce shakes his head. The pain is faint, but even if it wasn’t, he would refuse Viktor’s healing. He should save it for those who truly need it. Those who deserve it. Jayce, who is the reason, however unfathomable to him now, that the bindings cut into his skin, doesn’t deserve it.
“Oh, that’s not true,” Viktor says. Always listening in, keeping an ear out for anything wrong. “It is not your fault that your mind burdens you, just the way it is not the fault of any member of my commune that they were injured, or taken by Shimmer, or born without a limb. Does it hurt, Jayce?”
“No,” Jayce replies, earnest. “But I would still request you to… refrain, even if it did. There are others who must need your help more than I do.”
Viktor smiles then, proud, a hand on Jayce’s cheek. “Altruistic, albeit self-punishing,” he says quietly. “I would give it to you regardless.”
Something about this sparks an uncomfortable wrongness in Jayce’s mind, and he hastens to push it aside. Viktor is looking out for him, that’s all. “I don’t need it,” he insists. “I just need…” He swallows as Viktor’s hand travels back down his chest, as he cups one of his pecs in his palm.
“Yes?” Viktor whispers. His fingers ghost over one of Jayce’s nipples, over the faint glowing fingerprints he’d left in an arc around it just a few days ago. “What do you need?”
“You,” Jayce answers. “Need you to fuck me. Please.”
Viktor’s smile is warm. “Of course,” he replies easily. His hand leaves Jayce’s chest; he steps back a pace. But before Jayce can even protest, he’s stunned into silence as Viktor, quiet and ever-efficient, transforms his body in front of Jayce’s very eyes.
He’s seen it before, but it never grows less miraculous. Viktor’s clit changes, growing, metal protruding out; his entrance seals over. Within seconds, he’s changed his anatomy to match Jayce’s, a metal cock where his cunt used to be. He’s stiff and still dripping, precome beading at his new cock’s tip.
“Could you—” Jayce starts, hesitant. “Could you make it bigger?”
Viktor makes a soft, adoring noise. “Do you want it to hurt?”
Jayce shrugs noncommittally. “I just want to be full,” he replies, trying not to feel petulant.
“Alright,” Viktor agrees. He doesn’t even blink, but Jayce’s gaze flicks back down, and he sees the metal cock has grown again, longer and thicker than before, still drooling precome. “There,” Viktor says evenly. “I will really have to work to get you open, but I think it’ll be worth it.” He tips his head to the side. “Don’t you?”
Jayce nods. “Thank you,” he rushes out, unable to tear his gaze from Viktor’s cock. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Hands and knees for me,” Viktor replies simply.
Jayce’s arms and legs are stiff, but he forces them to obey him, struggling up and turning over, his hands slipping on the sheets. Viktor settles behind him, folding his limbs easily, painlessly, running his fingers lightly over Jayce’s skin to make him shiver.
He pets over Jayce’s entrance but doesn’t try to push in. “Relax,” he commands, and Jayce can’t help but go limp, lowering himself down to his forearms and resting his head there, eyes fluttering shut.
Viktor takes his time, pushing in slow with one oil-slick finger, something produced within the dark metal labyrinth of his new body, massaging Jayce open with a practiced accuracy. Within minutes, Jayce is reduced to whimpers, rocking back on one finger, then two, then three and four, shuddering out moans, “There, auh, right there, fuck,” as Viktor finds and then abuses his prostate.
“Sit back,” Viktor instructs gently when he finally pulls his fingers back out. “Up, so I can reach you.”
Jayce does it without question, though he doesn’t quite understand what Viktor means, not until his cock is teasing Jayce’s entrance, one hand gripping one of Jayce’s wrists, drawn behind his back to help hold him upright, the other resting atop his head, fingertips ghosting Jayce’s forehead.
“Yes,” Jayce gasps out, leaning into Viktor’s touch.
Viktor presses his fingers into Jayce’s skull.
The world falls away. Jayce’s vision goes black; his mind goes quiet. It’s not like he stops being able to feel his body, necessarily; more that his body is no longer quite tethered to a corporeal form. There is still sensation—the cool breeze wafting in, Viktor’s hand on his wrist, and pleasure, pleasure, thrumming through every inch of him. As if it’s all he’s made for. As if it’s all he’s ever known.
Maybe it is.
Jayce comes with a cry, wholly untouched but for the fingers brushing his brain, slack and loose, floating in some in-between space where nothing exists except for Viktor and whatever Viktor wants to give him.
“Good, Jayce,” Viktor murmurs. It’s in his mind and all around him at once, and it distracts him as Viktor shoves himself inside. Jayce blinks rapidly, and as he does, the world tilts back into focus.
It’s not the commune anymore. Viktor has plucked them up and placed them into some sunlit fantasy. Jayce finds himself bent over a countertop. The air smells sweet, like something baking. He’s in a kitchen, rustic, wooden cabinets and cool tile pressed to his chest.
There’s a window over the sink to Jayce’s right, and he stares out at the meadow beyond as he comes down, catching his breath. A lazy little stream cuts though the wildflowers, sparkling in the afternoon light.
“When everything is over,” Viktor says softly, grinding into Jayce slowly to give his body a chance to adjust, “we will find something like this. Our own home, far away from power struggles and responsibility.”
Jayce is flooded with images of domesticity. It’s hard to say how much of it is Viktor’s influence and how much is his own imagination—but they’re beautiful. Laundry, fluttering in the morning breeze. Quiet breakfasts. His limbs tangled in Viktor’s in a bed they share. Viktor, as he was before the attack on the Council, whole and human, before the illness set in and left him pale and gaunt and weak, his eyes once again a pure golden-brown, shining at him from across the room.
Viktor draws his hips back, and then pushes in again, and Jayce moans, eyes rolling as his imaginings of their future yield to now, Viktor driving into him, cock thick and heavy and perfect as it presses at Jayce’s walls. Jayce’s hands slip helplessly against the smooth edge of the countertop beneath him, his legs limp and useless still from his last orgasm.
It should be too much, too soon, but Viktor’s touch has taken the pain away. Jayce can only moan weakly, jaw hanging open, letting Viktor take pleasure from his body and give him pleasure in return. There’s some faint awareness somewhere in the back of Jayce’s consciousness that he should maybe be embarrassed by the way Viktor has rendered him slack and speechless so easily, but desire pulses through his veins like a second heartbeat. It’s a constant thing, less intense than an orgasm but so much more than the regular build of arousal. He can only get it here, when Viktor has reached into his brain and touched just the right spots, dimming some senses and sharpening others.
“Beautiful,” Viktor murmurs. “Taking me so well.” Jayce preens a little at the praise. “Lose yourself in it, Jayce. You needn’t think about anything else. This is much better, yes? Without all your senseless worries?”
Jayce can only nod. He can’t even close his mouth to stop himself from drooling on the countertops, can’t even try to arch back to meet Viktor’s thrusts. He can’t stop himself from making low, almost guttural groans with each stroke of Viktor’s fingers in his mind, with every rock of his hips. Viktor is just so huge, just like Jayce asked, stretching him wide and pushing in deep, coring into him like he’s trying to make space so he can leave a piece of himself behind.
Jayce imagines that, if things were different—or maybe, he considers hazily, just with a little help from Viktor’s magic. His belly, round and swollen with Viktor’s baby. Jayce has always wanted a family, and maybe here, he could have one.
It’s more than just that, though—he likes the idea of being tethered to Viktor in that way. The idea of being his. And he thinks Viktor would like it, too; he thinks he’d get obsessive with it, insisting on filling him up multiple times a day and maybe even plugging him to make sure it takes. Jayce, walking around the house, their house, first full of Viktor’s come; later, heavy with their unborn child.
He shudders out a moan, which turns to a whine when Viktor pulls out—his cock, his fingers, everything —and reality filters back over them. Jayce is not bent over a counter in a lovely cottage, but still on his knees in his bed in the commune. Before he can protest, though, Viktor is flipping him over, gripping the backs of his thighs and pushing his knees up towards his chest as he presses back in.
“Viktor,” Jayce gasps. “Want it back.”
“The vision, or the pleasure?” Viktor asks.
“Both,” Jayce demands.
“It won’t do for you to live in a fantasy,” Viktor soothes. “We will achieve it soon enough, but you should be here in the interim. The pleasure, however,” he adds, and reaches up to touch his fingers to Jayce’s forehead once more, slipping past that barrier to brush his mind.
Instantly, that same numbing, lovely warmth floods Jayce’s body, and he lets his head loll back, moaning. Viktor leans over him, kissing his clumsy lips. Jayce manages to raise a hand up to Viktor’s cheek, but he can barely kiss back, fighting a stupid, loopy grin.
“You really are so perfect like this,” Viktor says between kisses. “I could make this change slightly more permanent, at least for a while. You could always feel this loose, this warm, this free from worry. This happy. I wish for you to have total autonomy, but I think you need this. Don’t you?”
“Yes, want it,” Jayce agrees immediately. He never wants to stop feeling like this. He doesn’t need autonomy. He always wants to know this kind of pleasure, low and simmering and all consuming. It gives him a purpose, in a way. The Herald’s man, the only one he goes to for companionship. He is Viktor’s and Viktor is his. Isn’t that how things are meant to be?
Viktor gently removes his fingers from Jayce’s skull, but that blanket of desire remains. “Good?” he whispers.
“Uh-huh,” Jayce slurs. “So good, Viktor, you’re incredible.” He finds Viktor’s eyes and watches, pleased, as his irises go pink when he looks back. “I love you,” Jayce gasps.
“I love you, too,” Viktor replies, his tone easy, soothing. He punctuates it with another hard thrust, and Jayce shakes. “Still so tight, even though I spent all that time opening you up.” He runs a hand over Jayce’s stomach, down to his cock, and wraps his hand around it. “Going to make me come. Do you want it inside?”
Jayce nods furiously. “Please,” he grits out, remembering his musings from just a few minutes ago, jerking up into Viktor’s fist, “please, please, inside. Need it, Viktor, fill me up,” he babbles out, unable to stop, “put a baby in me, I want it, I want you—”
“Jayce,” Viktor hisses, eyes wide, and just like that, he’s coming, hard, his whole slender, lithe body trembling with the force of it. His skin starts to glow where it’s gold, and his eyes, too, a beautiful golden light so reminiscent of his original eye color.
And Jayce feels him, feels the thick, hot ropes of come that paint his insides, that make the lewd, wet noises that accompany each of Viktor’s aborted little thrusts. “Oh,” he breathes out, when he realizes Viktor is still coming, “oh, oh, Viktor, so full, gonna knock me up.”
“That’s right,” Viktor snarls back, his brows furrowed in concentration even as the light in him begins to dim. He grinds into Jayce. “I will, if you want it, when this is all over; I’ll get you pregnant, keep you pregnant, always make sure you’re dripping with my come—”
Jayce comes chanting yesyesyesyes , stars swirling in his vision as he spills all over Viktor’s hand, release dribbling down onto his own stomach. He thinks he’s cursing, too, thinks Viktor is murmuring praise, but his brain goes to static, his vision dimming, and he fades away.
When he comes to again, he’s clean, mind and body still foggy from… what? The thought is slippery, liquid smooth, impossible to hold. Maybe this would’ve concerned him, once. But it doesn’t matter now. He feels warm, sated, floating in his own body, so peaceful and quiet.
And Viktor’s there, offering him a slice of fruit and a kiss to the temple. Jayce leans into him, accepting the bite, and dips his head to lick the juice off his fingertips.
* * *
Jayce pants quietly, his eyes drooping, body too heavy with pleasure for him to bother moving. Viktor shifts behind him, reaching for a tool at the far end of the worktable, straightening again once he’s retrieved it. The movement grinds his cock deeper into Jayce’s body, and Jayce lets out a soft sigh.
Viktor places something cool and metal on his back—a wrench, perhaps, and doesn’t even acknowledge him. Jayce isn’t sure what Viktor’s working on, exactly; dimly, he remembers Viktor saying something about a new pulley system for the wells. Jayce wishes he could help, but Viktor says until Jayce’s mind has healed, it’s best he keeps it quiet for him.
Sometimes Jayce isn’t sure he ever wants his mind to heal. He likes this, having to worry about nothing except pleasing Viktor, which Viktor reminds him daily is a task he is exceptional at. He follows Viktor wherever he goes, offering companionship or, like today, his body. Sometimes Jayce stays buried in the hot press of Viktor’s thighs for hours, mouth closed over his clit. Sometimes Viktor doesn’t let Jayce touch him at all, instead asking him to walk the commune with him with a toy hidden inside, smiling serenely when Jayce’s hard, leaking cock shows through his robes. And some days are like today, Viktor using Jayce’s hole to keep his cock warm while he works.
Today has been especially dreamy. He’d woken up to Viktor already moving inside him, arm wrapped around Jayce’s body, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Viktor had told him how he’d opened up so nicely for him, loose and pliant in his sleep. Jayce had come with Viktor’s breath on his cheek and his hand around his cock.
Viktor had plugged Jayce once he’d come, trapping it inside. “Practice,” he said simply, “for after.” Jayce had stumbled through the morning in an aroused daze, a singular orgasm not nearly enough to keep the constant pulsing of arousal that always seems to run under his skin these days at bay. He nearly cried in relief when Viktor finally bent him over in the workshop and slipped his cock back inside.
There’s a tapping at the door that Jayce barely registers, then Huck’s voice. Something about allocating more workers to the crop fields, maybe. Viktor asks him a few questions; they carry the conversation as if Jayce is not even there.
Jayce shivers, suppressing a moan. The other members of the commune know not to address him at all, not when Viktor is using him like this. Their eyes slip over him, barely lingering on the glowing fingerprint marks on his forehead, the palm mark around his throat, the clear handprint on his stomach, or the echo of fingers wrapping around his wrists. It’s partially a functional thing—what could Jayce possibly contribute to a conversation in his current state, anyway?—but Jayce thinks Viktor has implemented some unspoken rule about it, just because he knows how badly it turns Jayce on. It’s like Jayce is merely a fixture.
He feels his cock drooling precome, and tunes the conversation out entirely so he can focus on the wet noise each drop makes when it hits the floor.
Viktor still doesn’t pay him any mind once Huck leaves; he simply goes right back to his work, as if nothing has changed. Minutes pass; Jayce waits for him to finally put down his tools and give him some attention, but nothing happens.
“Viktor,” Jayce whines out, voice small and quiet but still somehow shockingly loud in the silence.
“Not yet,” Viktor replies calmly.
“Please,” Jayce whispers, his bare toes curling against the floor.
“No,” Viktor says, gentle as ever. “Stop squirming.”
Jayce settles reluctantly.
Viktor works into the afternoon, pausing to meet with other members of the commune as they arrive, and Jayce stays pinned between him and the workbench by his cock, helpless, teetering dizzily on the verge of orgasm but unable to actually get enough stimulation to give him that final push. He hangs in tortured, blissful limbo, swallowing soft whimpers, cock drooling precome in a slow and steady stream.
At last, Jayce hears Viktor take a definitive breath, setting down his tools. He finally feels the cool touch of his fingers on his back, featherlight, tracing down his spine. “You were so patient,” he murmurs. He grinds his hips in slow, just small, lazy circles.
But to Jayce, strung along for hours and so, so desperate, the friction feels like fireworks under his skin. He arches back, gasping. “Oh, please, please ,” he breathes out.
Jayce can hear the amusement laced thick in Viktor’s tone. “Ready?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for Jayce’s reply, just draws his hips back and then presses back in.
The movement feels amazing in comparison to the nothing Jayce has gotten. He spasms around Viktor uncontrollably, clutching at the edge of the table. “Thank you,” he manages. Another thrust, a little harder than the last. It forces a loud moan out of Jayce’s lungs. “Thank you, thank you, fuck—”
“Go on,” Viktor says. “Come for me.”
Jayce’s body reacts instantly, as though Viktor’s words have pulled the response out of him without regard for what he may actually be feeling. He comes untouched, gasping out shocked moans, his cock bobbing pathetically with each spurt of come. It spatters onto the ground under the table, uncontrolled, messy.
It registers somewhere in the back of his mind that this has happened incredibly quickly, but he chalks it up to being set on edge for hours. He trembles through the aftershocks, and though Viktor pets down his hips and back to comfort him, he doesn’t pull out or offer Jayce any sort of reprieve. He just keeps fucking into him, slowly building up in force and speed. And though it’s painful, Jayce finds it’s not unbearable, even as his cock softens again.
But Viktor seems to have other plans. One hand finds his cock, wrapping around it even when Jayce whines in protest. The other hand Viktor rests atop Jayce’s head, his fingers sinking into their familiar places in his forehead.
Viktor doesn’t create any sort of fantasy world around them this time, just lets his fingers do the work. Jayce can feel them moving in his skull, sinking deeper until they push into his brain. His eyes roll back in his head, his jaw dropping open, at the sensation. It’s painless, deeply intimate; it makes a fresh flush of arousal bloom across his body. They’ve tried it elsewhere, everywhere that there are those telltale glowing marks left behind on Jayce’s skin. But nothing feels like this, Viktor’s gentle caress on his mind, muting everything but pleasure.
The fingers in Jayce’s skull roam idly, exploring, while Viktor continues to fuck him, his other hand moving slowly over Jayce’s soft cock. Jayce can only moan, unable to form words, unable to form thoughts—not with Viktor’s fingers in the way—hips bucking forward into Viktor’s hand even though his spent cock adamantly refuses to fill out again.
It doesn’t matter. Viktor’s pace quickens until it turns brutal and the workbench beneath Jayce shakes with the force of his thrusts. “So good for me,” Viktor croons, and all Jayce can do is give him a garbled moan in response. “Perfect. Keeping me warm all day, then letting me fuck you rough like this. You are made for pleasure, Jayce.” Viktor bends over him, pressing his lips to Jayce’s spine, a hot trail of kisses down his back.
He strokes over the folds of Jayce’s brain, and Jayce convulses weakly. “I’m close,” Viktor murmurs, sounding regretful. “How could I not be?” The hand over Jayce’s cock speeds up, but Jayce is too incoherent and weak from the intrusion in his skull to do anything but twitch helplessly beneath him. “One more time,” Viktor wheedles, as if Jayce has a choice. “Come, Jayce. With me.”
A terrible pressure builds in Jayce’s stomach. He’s still not hard, but somehow, as he feels the first of Viktor’s release smear against his walls, he finds himself coming again, as if in direct response to Viktor’s demands. His body seizes with the force of it, and he chokes out a pained groan, feeling Viktor’s palm grow wet with his come.
He slumps to the ground as soon as Viktor isn’t holding him against the worktable anymore. Viktor guides him gently backwards, so he can lean against the wall. Jayce blinks stupidly at the ceiling, letting Viktor move his limbs for him to clean him up, humming when Viktor presses gentle kisses to his cheeks and forehead.
Sometimes, when he’s spinning down from a high like this, when his brain is still singing with Viktor’s touch, he gets flashes of memory. At least, he thinks it’s memory. Something tells him that there was something before this, even though when he tries to chase it down, he’s met with nothing. For a few moments, though, he gets glimpses. There’s a dim room, filled with prototypes, tools, papers. He sees Viktor, not as he looks now; different, in a uniform, wearing a brace with familiar colors, posture crooked and painful, eyes sunken and dark.
But it’s only a faint tugging at Jayce's mind, all so fleeting, and by the time Viktor is helping Jayce to his feet, it’s already fading, no one image quite possible to pin down. Jayce lets exhaustion win, leaning on Viktor, nosing at his neck.
“That’s it,” Viktor says quietly. “There is no need to think of such painful things. They are not real, not anymore.” He tries to adjust Jayce’s robes back into place and is marginally successful. Jayce’s chest is exposed, and a slight breeze will reveal everything else, but Jayce finds he doesn’t care.
He just nods along in agreement. “Thank you,” he slurs softly. “For taking care of me.”
“Of course,” Viktor replies easily. “I love you, Jayce.” There’s something in his tone that Jayce cannot understand. Something almost cold; it sends an uncomfortable prickling across his skin. “I will never leave you again.”
“I know.” Jayce doesn’t really; he can’t put together exactly what that means. It’s like looking at a puzzle with half the pieces missing. But it doesn’t matter. Jayce lets Viktor lead him out into the late afternoon sun, letting all of it fall through the gaps in his mind. “I love you, too.”