Notes on Reconciliation and Relief
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Jayce smiled up at him, something fiery but painfully fond burning in his amber eyes. “Fuck me like you’re afraid you’ll break me.”
Those words were a decade-old echo of Viktor’s own, the first night they’d slept together—‘you won’t break me, Jayce’—and as Viktor stared down in Jayce’s achingly familiar eyes, he remembered why they didn’t typically face each other during sex anymore… because Jayce’s lips… pink and swollen and so soft they could be made of velvet… Jayce’s eyes… deep honeyed pits of understanding and devotion… they were all tendrils of that riptide, sucking him down into the beckoning silk-lined casket marked I still love you, never stopped, though I’ve tried, Janna I’ve tried.Series
- Part 1 of Notes on Reconciliation and Relief
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“This is retaliation for my journal… isn’t it?”
Viktor sneered as he traversed the small space to his personal desk, keeping the grin half-obscured from Jayce’s view as he reached for his own leather-bound journal where it was laid right next to Jayce’s. The plain and unremarkable facade blended in perfectly with the rest of his collection of note-taking journals, but this particular one held no ordinary research.
“Nooooo,” he drawled, voice dripping sarcasm, even to his own ears. He reached for his quill, dipping it once in the inkwell before scratching a quick Trial 36 at the top of the page. “What makes you say such a thing?”
Jayce was quiet for a moment, aside from the panting. The creak of the headboard could be heard briefly as he rearranged his bound hands.
“Cuz you’re… you’re not usually this… cruel.”Series
- Part 2 of Notes on Reconciliation and Relief
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Viktor knew this feeling, knew it intimately; it was fear. And not just fear—terror, dread, existential mortification. He’d known these things, on some level, of course he’d known. Of course Jayce still loved him, and of course he still loved Jayce. But they didn’t say these things to each other anymore, they couldn’t. The politics of their two cities and their two hearts had taken a molten blade to that string tying them together, and cauterized it in the process. They couldn’t open up this wound, they can’t, they can’t, they can’t…
Series
- Part 3 of Notes on Reconciliation and Relief