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It had been a fairly boring night, insofar as any night spent at Camille Ferros’s training facility/mansion/wildly expensive playhouse could be, anyway. She was hosting her annual Intelligencer’s Weapons Exhibition and Gala, with heavy emphasis on the weapons exhibition. Basically, it was an excuse to guzzle alcohol while drooling over all the new and exciting tech clan Ferros had bankrolled. And for quite a while now, Jayce and most of his newer innovations were on that list.
He’d never been all that comfortable with it—watching people’s eyes light up with twisted glee as they ogled over something that could easily and without fail take a life. But the booze helped, and so did the massive semicircular balcony carved of statuary marble. It was a cool night, not unpleasant by any means, but enough that it kept most of the attendees bundled up inside, so Jayce usually retreated there—a more secluded place where he could take a breath and give his sore cheeks a break from the practiced, fake smile.
He’d been doing just that when the raid started; enjoying his third—or was it his fourth?—glass of ridiculously expensive champagne, his eyes somewhat drunkenly grazing over the trimmed hedge maze down below that Camille used for stealth and agility training. He’d used it only once, in a spar against Camille herself, and had gotten so turned around in there that he’d had to call a truce after nearly an hour of trying—in fact he was convinced she’d figured out a way to induce movement in the hedges, eternally trapping her victims… er, students inside.
A deafening and concussive boom shook the entire complex, the very marble on which he stood quaking beneath Jayce’s boots. Screams and the frantic shuffle of commotion spilled out through the open balcony doors, spurring Jayce into slightly delayed action. Abandoning his champagne flute on the railing, he quickly took up the Mercury Hammer—Camille had requested he bring it along in the interest of showing off—and took a single long stride back toward the interior of the mansion…
Just in time to be met with the hulking and shadowed figure of the Machine Herald, the Hexclaw primed and glowing as it hovered like a charmed serpent over Viktor’s left shoulder; the beam aimed directly at Jayce’s chest.
Their rocky and tumultuous relationship was currently in the ‘downs’ phase of ‘ups and downs’—occasionally they fought viciously, attacking and maiming each other, and all fueled by old grievances and regrets. Other times, they were able to have a dialogue, keep hold of their more rational sides and avoid a confrontation. And yet other times they ignored both of these options, and just fucked like rabbits (and on some very rare occasions, they performed a chaotic mixture of all three). But given that Viktor almost always donned the mask, it was difficult for Jayce to judge what kind of day it was going to be until he was already on his back.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Viktor deadpanned through the modulator in his mask, and then in the span of a single heartbeat, the Hexclaw fired.
A fight it is, then.
Despite the alcohol-induced sluggishness, Jayce managed to yank the hammer up just in time—shielding his chest and deflecting the beam as it slammed into the broad side of the hammerhead. But the force of it sent him flying backward, a pained yelp escaping as his lower back hit the marble railing hard.
“Really, V?” Jayce groaned, widening his stance and popping open the hammerhead to charge the plasma cannon. “Attacking a roomful of innocent partygoers? Low-hanging fruit, if you ask me.”
Viktor scoffed, taking a step outside and charging the Hexclaw again.
“Calling the bloodthirsty bureaucrats who started this war and continue to profit off of its brutality ‘innocent’ is a bit of a stretch, Defender,” Viktor snapped back, his heavy metal footfalls an eerie and haunting rumble against the marble.
Once again, he didn’t give Jayce the opportunity to retort—firing the Hexclaw with renewed vigor at Jayce’s head this time, the beam lighting up the night sky with shades of fiery, synthetic orange. And while Jayce did manage to deflect this one as well, the beam sizzled and ricocheted off the hammerhead, embedding into the marble at his feet and shattering it like blown glass. The balcony groaned, and all at once Jayce found himself scrambling for purchase as the now-severed slab of marble he was standing on lurched backward and ground to a precarious, shaky halt—held aloft by nothing but exposed, mangled rebar.
The realization clearly hit both of them in the selfsame moment—Viktor’s augmented eyes somehow glinting with satisfaction through the mask as he leveled the Hexclaw at Jayce one more time.
“V, wait!” Jayce cried, attempting to throw himself to the side, toward the more stable portion of the balcony, but it really only served to make him a larger, flatter target.
Luckily he managed to once again shield himself with the hammer… unluckily though, the force of the impact sent him slamming through the already-weakened railing, breaking it off entirely and tumbling over the side.
It wasn’t too far of a fall, as the balcony was more for aesthetic purposes than anything, but it still took the wind from Jayce’s lungs with force when he slammed to the ground down below. Pain flared through his left shoulder and hip on impact, his arm twisted uncomfortably beneath him. And adding insult to injury, a downpour of heavy marble debris rained down on top of him, the resounding thuds against his body telling him he’d be covered in bruises tomorrow.
But he didn’t have time to fret over it; his ringing ears pricking at the ever-familiar piercing howl of the Hexclaw preparing to fire. He scrambled for the Mercury Hammer in the debris around him, but never found it—with panic, realizing it must have been blown from his hands and tossed somewhere up there on the balcony.
“Oh, come on!” he whined petulantly up at the looming silhouette of Viktor standing at the very edge of the ruined balcony. “I’m not even armed!”
“That sounds like a personal problem,” Viktor replied, and fired.
Jayce just barely managed to roll out of the way; the blast embedding hard into the space where he’d been lying with a deafening boom. Pea gravel shot off in every direction, pelting Jayce’s entire body with the force of tiny bullets. He yelped, shielding his face as best he could and clumsily struggling to his feet—he was still disoriented from the fall, so his brain hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of him. But the Hexclaw was preparing to fire again, and he knew he needed shelter, and fast… somewhere he could at least obstruct Viktor’s line-of-sight.
So, the smell of charred earth permeating his nostrils, Jayce launched himself toward the hedge maze and leapt inside, and not a moment too soon—the heat from the Claw’s plasma beam singeing his boot cuffs as it tore through the decorative arch at the entrance and set it ablaze.
Jayce swore he could feel the earth beneath his feet shudder as Viktor leapt lithely from the ruined balcony, his heavy metal body sending a thunderous boom echoing through the garden as he landed. But Jayce didn’t spare the time to look back—he needed to put distance between them, needed to obstruct the Hexclaw’s searing beam. He wasn’t sure what intensity Viktor would have it set to, but given that their most recent clash had seen Jayce using the hammer to completely smash it to pieces… he wasn’t all that optimistic.
He hurried around several corners, almost immediately losing himself within the depths of the hedge maze, but it was just as well—perhaps if he was lost, so was Viktor.
Jayce paused to listen for those heavy metal footfalls, doing his best to quiet his own manic panting—after all, Viktor had augmented all of his senses, heightened them, so at this point, he was about as deadly a predator as they come.
Hope sprang uselessly in Jayce’s chest as he was met with the sound of silence—not the crunch of footsteps, not the whine of the Hexclaw… perhaps he’d elected not to follow? Judging by the commotion echoing from inside the complex, he was here with a group—likely Renata Glasc and her band of autonomous cronies—so perhaps he’d elected to give up on Jayce and rejoin the raid?
This question was viciously answered when a beam of light tore through the bushes mere inches from Jayce’s face, sending him stumbling backward with a surprised, fearful yelp.
“Come now Defender, you didn’t really think you could hide from me?” Viktor’s modulated voice growled through the gaping, sizzling hole in the hedge, his glowing eyes the only part of him visible through the dark, ashen smoke.
Jayce cursed under his breath, throwing himself forward just in time to avoid a second, much closer and much hotter blast from the Hexclaw. He sprinted down the nearest path, his ears pricking and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as those telltale footfalls followed close behind him.
He ducked and weaved around corner after corner, just barely managing to stay far enough ahead that the Hexclaw never had a clean shot—just singeing the hedges and occasionally Jayce’s coat tails as he disappeared from view. His heart slammed in his chest, fear and adrenaline and, on some deeply buried subconscious level excitement making his legs shake as he tried to keep track of which way he’d gone already, which way would send him through to the other side… and which way would send him spiraling back into Viktor’s waiting arms… or arm, rather.
He was just starting to panic, his sense of direction completely thrown off by the darkness and the suffocating clouds of smoke when Viktor’s voice began to echo through the thin hedges, the ominous, machanized quality of it seeming to permeate the entire maze and reverberate everywhere…
“Run, run, run little Poro,
Run with all your might.
Run, run, run little Poro,
Best stay out of sight…”
It should have made him scoff, this silly old nursery rhyme used in childhood games of hide and seek; should have had him rolling his eyes and laughing at the absurdity. But that flat, eerie tone of indifference in Viktor’s voice, combined with the disorienting and thick cloud of smoke filling Jayce’s lungs—it all served to make that needling fear pound harder and harder through his veins. Would Viktor really hurt him if he found himself cornered? Would he kill him? It was difficult to know sometimes. Viktor was a different man these days, unpredictable and volatile—despite the suppressor on his emotions, he had a tendency to go into blinding fits of rage, to act in ways he typically wouldn’t. Or would he, who the fuck knew anymore…
But perhaps Jayce could reach him, pierce that tough exterior he always donned like armor when in the presence of his Baroness.
“Really, V? Nursery rhymes?” he called out into the ever-thickening smoke, mocking but optimistically playful. “Thought you were above the predictably heavy-handed tactics of cliche Zaunite villainy…”
He knew calling Viktor a villain was a mistake the moment the word left his lips—they’d had that talk, on one of their better days. You think I want to inspire fear, Viktor had snapped, his voice wavering from bitterness as she jutted a finger in Jayce’s face. You think I want to be this ghoul that haunts the streets of my boyhood home? That was never what I wanted, and you know it! But as usual my intentions are twisted in exchange for petty, archaic, human fear. Pathetic…
Jayce cried out as he was suddenly thrown back several feet, the Hexclaw blast coming from the other side of a hedge and sending a maelstrom of sharp, spiky branches slicing into Jayce’s exposed skin—his hands, neck, and face. He hit the ground hard, once again on his left side, and this time it was his ribs that screamed in agony. The air left his lungs with force, his diaphragm seizing up and spasming, making every attempted inhale a labor—his breaths choked out and gasped as he rolled over onto his belly so that he could crawl from the spot Viktor was now stalking toward with a vengeance.
And as he looked up from the disturbed gravel and hedge debris, Jayce found himself arrived at the center of the maze—a wide-open rectangular space baring nothing at all he could possibly hide behind except the giant stone fountain. But getting there, completely exposed as he sprinted for it? It would be a minor miracle.
But he couldn’t just lie here and do nothing, so with a grunt, he pushed himself onto shaking, unsteady legs and stumbled into the clearing—forcing himself forward even though his head was spinning and he was still having trouble breathing.
When Viktor spoke, it was muddled and low-pitched in Jayce’s disoriented ears, the conclusion of the nursery rhyme sounding like it was being delivered through a brass megaphone,
“I’m coming for you little Poro,
Quick though you may run,
And when I catch you little Poro,
We’re going to have some fun…”
Jayce had almost made it to the fountain when the Hexclaw blast whizzed past his right calf, embedding into the ground there and sending him (with agonizing finality this time) sprawling hard against the circular base of the fountain.
He released a long, surrendering sigh, propping an elbow on the stone and just trying to catch his breath as he came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t go on—no matter how he tried to rally his strength, fight the pain and just get up, he was cornered, fair and square. Not to mention every inch of him was twinging with aches and pains and his muscles were spent from the chase.
“Alright, V… you got me,” he panted against the stone, not daring to look back over his shoulder for fear of what he’d see. “You win. So what now, huh? Bit of a false victory against an unarmed man…”
Viktor released a harsh, angry growl, and soon after pain flared through Jayce’s neck and down his spine—the steely pressure of Viktor’s modded hand pressing him down hard against the stone.
“We both know that’s when you’re at your most dangerous,” Viktor hissed, his voice grating and rough. “That hammer was never your weapon, it’s your words that hurt the most…”
He gripped harder with his hand for emphasis, and Jayce was helpless against the yelp that escaped—more fiery pain shooting up into his skull where it was being shoved against the stone. On instinct, he reached out and planted his palms against it, weakly attempting to push back, to alleviate a bit of the pressure, but it only served to give Viktor more real estate—the Hexclaw slamming down on one wrist and his free hand slamming down on the other, leaving Jayce effectively pinned. He could probably try to kick free with his legs, but given that he was bent over the side of the fountain, it pretty much guaranteed to be fruitless.
“Do you have any idea how insulting it is,” Viktor growled from just above him. “You Pilties getting together to salivate over the very weapons that are decimating Zaunite way of life on a daily basis. Like our lives are some kind of circus to you? And what’s worse, you’re using my tech… our tech to do it!”
His hand pressed impossibly harder at the back of Jayce’s neck, and that was when his air supply started to dwindle—his vision swimming with black and white spots and his pulse raging in his ears like thundering hooves.
He cried out again, panic flooding through him as he desperately fought to push back one more time, to give himself just one gulp of air.
“V, please…” he choked, clawing at the stone and trying to no avail to pull his hands free.
And that was when the pressure let up, at least on his neck anyway—his wrists were still pinned, but the hand at the back of Jayce’s neck relented. Then came a heavy thud and the sound of shifting gravel, and Jayce came to the dawning realization that Viktor had just knelt behind him.
Despite the predicament, despite being well and truly powerless, a bolt of heat went down Jayce’s spine at the intimate nature of it—Viktor’s knees placed just inside his own and keeping his legs spread, the warmth and pressure of that hard metal body now looming over his back… so close and yet so far away.
He couldn’t help the shiver, though he tried with all his might to stifle it, and soon thereafter he was riddled with goosebumps. His poor overworked heart kicked into high gear, his breaths coming quicker and quicker as the hand that had been clamped onto his neck now slowly traced down his spine.
“You’re sick, you know that?” Viktor purred, all trace of anger now gone from his voice, only to be replaced with something calm and sinister. “I’m actively attacking you, and you’re turned on by it?”
Jayce tried to shake off the accusation, tried to roll a shoulder in a way that looked dismissive, but it only served to make him shiver again, much more noticeably this time.
“Well you’re one to talk,” he quipped back, his cheek starting to ache from where it was still shoved against the evening-cooled stone. “The fuck is this, if not a decade-old role play?”
Viktor’s hand abandoned Jayce’s back, jamming hard into his already-bruised ribs in retaliation, and Jayce wailed against the stone, arching away from the blow…
Away from the blow, and into Viktor.
Now their bodies were fully flush, and Jayce’s resolve at fighting it was quickly dwindling—the heat radiating from Viktor’s chest seeping into the sore muscles of his back, and fuck, it should not have felt so incredibly good.
Well… fuck it, he thought to himself, angling back just the few inches it took to have him grinding his ass against Viktor’s groin. And for a moment, as Viktor was stark-still under his ministrations, he worried that he’d just majorly fucked up, made the wrong call…
But then Viktor’s hand returned to him, this time gently gripping his waist and pulling him in, encouraging him, and that was all the confirmation he needed.
He allowed himself to release the salacious groan he’d been biting back, his eyes sliding closed as all that fear and panic, all that doubt was incinerated by mind-numbing arousal. His mind went hazy and blank, his skin alight with sensitivity—he could feel the gravel biting into his knees, feel every imperfection in the texture of the stone fountain beneath his cheek. And he could feel the heavy, quickening thump of Viktor’s augmented heart as it slammed against his back in musical three-beat notes.
It wasn’t long before Jayce was painfully hard within the confines of his pants, the pressure of the fabric beginning to make his movements uncomfortable and restricting. And even though Viktor was wearing his full suit of armor (which included the finely welded tasset), Jayce was willing to bet he too was aching for it.
This theory was proven correct when Viktor suddenly shoved himself upright, abandoning Jayce’s wrist to free up his hand but keeping the Hexclaw firmly where it was.
“Don’t move,” Viktor growled, both hands reaching down to begin frantically popping the buttons open at Jayce’s fly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jayce cooed back, just a hint of taunting in his tone as he grinded back harder against Viktor’s hips.
They curled in response, lightly ramming against Jayce’s ass, and Jayce couldn’t help but grin with smug satisfaction.
“Wipe that smirk off your face before I wipe it off for you,” Viktor snarled, roughly shoving Jayce’s pants and underthings down past his bum. He shivered as the cool night air hit his bare ass, more goosebumps flaring all over and making him ache to have Viktor’s body, Viktor’s heat pressed against him, atop him, inside him…
It was the metallic clang of Viktor’s tasset being haphazardly disregarded into the gravel that brought Jayce back to the present—his ears obsessively trained on the pop pop pop of Viktor’s own pants as they were frantically unbuttoned. But then came an unfamiliar sound, a metallic whir and click, and then Viktor’s metal fingers (somehow miraculously lubed) were beginning to question at Jayce’s rim. And suddenly it all made sense…
“Do you seriously have a vial of lube built into your hand?!” he barked incredulously, daring to crane his head back to look at Viktor…
Which had apparently been a mistake—Viktor’s purple hand slammed back down onto Jayce’s wrist, the delicate bones within shifting and aching under the pressure.
“Would you prefer that I didn’t?” Viktor snarled, and roughly pressed two fingers inside.
Jayce keened against the stone, the pressure of the intrusion just a little more than he was prepared for. He arched away from it, to the best of his ability anyway, curling against the fountain base and once again attempting to yank his hands free of Viktor’s hold.
Viktor’s hold did not weaken, but the fingers now buried to the knuckle in Jayce’s hole did; gentling as they started to pump in and out.
“What would they all think, hm?” Viktor purred, his lips now mere centimeters from Jayce’s ear as he prowled closer on top of him. “Knowing their lauded Defender of Tomorrow regularly spreads his pretty legs for the enemy?”
Jayce squirmed with a perplexing mixture of humiliation and titillation, subconsciously responding to the accusation by digging his knees into the gravel and spreading his legs a little wider.
“Would they disown you? Cast you out like they did to me; turn their backs on your years of service like it meant nothing to them? Or would they watch—“
With that, Viktor twisted his wrist, angling the natural curl of his fingers down to begin stroking over Jayce’s prostate. Jayce nearly howled, biting it back against the stone—his teeth scraping the surface as it soaked with saliva.
“—ogle over your many weaknesses like just another exhibitionist’s sideshow?”
Heat was slowly building deep in Jayce’s gut with each delirium-inducing pump of Viktor’s fingers, and he could feel his cock twitching where it hung, desperately sensitive and untouched between his legs. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped, his hips beginning to follow Viktor’s movements, silently requesting more despite how wildly out-of-control he was feeling.
“Yes, that’s it… beg for it, Defender,” Viktor growled into Jayce’s ear, the metal of his mask just barely vibrating when he spoke, and Jayce shuddered as another spike of humiliation warmed his cheeks into a fiery blush. But he refused to actually beg, he wasn’t that far gone yet—instead just turning his head and pressing his forehead to the stone in an attempt to get himself under control. But it was a hopeless endeavor, with Viktor’s metal fingers so precise as they stoked the flames of need deep within him; the rather excessive amount of lube making him feel slick and ready as it dripped down his tight, sensitive balls.
His heart felt like it did backflips in his chest when Viktor slowly pulled his fingers free—anticipation melding with that hollow, unfilled feeling and leaving him shivering with the absence…
Don’t leave me like this, please. Don’t make me beg, because I will, Gods I will. I’m so cold and empty without you, please…
But then he felt the pressure of Viktor’s cock head, felt him slowly, so slowly, pressing inside.
Jayce’s hands involuntarily clawed at the stone as Viktor sank deeper, enough that he was fairly certain he broke several nails. Viktor’s unwavering hold on him did not relent in the slightest, and it served to make Jayce feel completely and utterly vulnerable—his legs spread and held in place by Viktor’s knees, and his wrists held firmly down against the fountain base. He could probably push himself up a little, press his back to Viktor’s chest, but that was about it.
Viktor paused once fully buried, a fact that Jayce was immensely grateful for—giving him a moment to adjust to the heat and the pressure of being filled to the brim.
But then Viktor pulled almost all the way out and slammed back inside, his hips slapping against Jayce’s ass so hard he swore it echoed. Or rather, he would have if he wasn’t so busy wailing Viktor’s name—all the air pushed from his lungs and completely overwhelming him.
And Viktor didn’t pause this time, didn’t wait for Jayce to catch his breath—instead gripping Jayce’s waist again to hold him steady as he picked up a quick, deep, brutal pace. Jayce opened his mouth and sobbed against the stone, feeling the power of Viktor’s strokes in his ribcage and just doing his best to breathe, breathe, breathe…
The force of Viktor’s hips drove Jayce’s knees down hard into the gravel, his chest into the stone, and it ached a little more with each and every thrust. But it was a good ache, the kind that made him squirm and writhe… or it would have if he wasn’t held down so securely by the unrelenting weight of Viktor.
He cried out, shocked from that hazy, floaty state he’d been sinking into by the slick, tight pressure of Viktor’s fist wrapping around his painfully sensitive cock and stroking at the same unforgiving pace of his thrusts. It was a lot, too much; too much pleasure, too much pain. So he was helpless against the whines and whimpers that began to escape with increasing gusto each time Viktor’s velvety length speared into him.
“Poor, pitiful thing,” Viktor growled, hooking his chin over Jayce’s shoulder and speaking directly into Jayce’s ear. “Mewling like a little kitten for me…”
Viktor’s hand slowed and eventually stalled at the base of Jayce’s cock, his hips slowing too and allowing his hand to migrate down and around Jayce’s balls.
“Do it again,” Viktor demanded, his voice a sultry but threatening purr, and then those lethal metal digits squeezed at Jayce’s balls.
He cried out at the assault of mixed responses in his overwhelmed brain—pleasure, pain, fear, exhilaration—his entire body jerking against the stone in a futile attempt to flee, to lessen the pressure, anything. But something wild and unhinged took over when he once again found himself trapped… something that resigned to the abject helplessness and leaned into it like freshly laundered fleece.
All at once, he went limp against the base of the fountain; his eyes sliding closed and his hands relaxing under Viktor’s hold. A pathetic and drawn-out groan left him as that feeling of weightlessness, of full and total surrender settled—heady and warm—over his bones.
“That’s a good boy…” Viktor drawled, the praise oozing down Jayce’s spine and making his cock jump and leak between his legs.
And Viktor rewarded him—his hand returning to Jayce’s cock and his hips picking back up, first slow and then quicker and quicker and quicker. But his thrusts were a little shallower this time, and perfectly angled to have his cock head ramming into Jayce’s prostate and igniting a fiery heat in Jayce’s balls that only built with each thrust.
But the words wouldn’t come out—please let me cum, I need to cum, I need to cum so fucking bad—instead his mind and body where just focused on the tightness in his chest, the way he lost more and more of his breath with each divine curl of Viktor’s hips. So instead all that came out were desperate and needy grunts, his entire body beginning to quake and tense as tendrils of pure ecstasy built low in his gut.
He thought he screamed, tried to scream when Viktor abandoned his cock again, leaving that sustained and unbearable fire burning in his lower extremities as Viktor’s hand turned upright, pushing up underneath Jayce’s shirt and clawing at his shivering abdominal muscles. And somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knew it hurt… that it should have hurt. But it was as if his wires were crossed, his brain malfunctioning, because instead it sent him violently crashing into a brutal full-body orgasm.
He sobbed against the stone, tears springing to his eyes as his already burning muscles took to seizing up in agonizing yet euphoric waves. He was vaguely aware of Viktor’s stuttering movements, vaguely aware of his grunts and groans as that metal hand returned to Jayce’s cock. But he was acutely aware of the ache, the sting of too much pressure like needles between his legs as Viktor’s fist once again began to work him.
He squirmed and fought it, arching his back and attempting to pull away, but trapped as he was, he just drove his overly sensitive length harder into Viktor’s fist. For the briefest of moments, as the ache turned to a burn that pulsed through his hips and thighs and made his veins feel like molten gold… he bit back those familiar syllables, the bitter taste of their word. He wanted it to stop, but… he also didn’t. Something hungry and crazed and maybe a little manic was snarling in the back of his mind, begging for it… hurt me, hurt me so good you leave me weeping.
And he was certainly already doing that—his tears cold and wet as they smeared across the surface of the stone, sending a bone-deep chill down his already bowed spine. And while he wasn’t quite ready to use their word, plenty of others came spilling out like vomit.
“Please, V… please… s’too much, too much, p-please, I… I can’t, I can’t…”
Viktor’s own moans were reaching a crescendo, his hips losing their rhythm as his climax obviously drew near. And that thought alone had the scorching heat between Jayce’s legs morphing back into waves of pleasurable warmth—the thought of Viktor’s heat spilling deep inside him, the thought of Viktor’s body as it went heavy and lax against him. The thought of Viktor’s voice, rough and modulated but still so sultry as he cried out with the force of his ecstasy. But Jayce was exhausted, mind and body… couldn’t even summon the willpower to keep begging. So he simply let himself go, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as a second orgasm ripped through him; half pain, half pleasure, fully devastating.
Soon after, Viktor’s hips rammed into him one final time, and then he was frantically pulling out—his cock twitching and throbbing against Jayce’s thigh as thick, hot ropes of cum shot between his legs and into the gravel below. The silence that had suddenly fallen over the little clearing was interrupted only by the chaos of clicks and whirs and hisses coming from deep inside Viktor’s chest—his hips still stuttering with aftershocks and his breath hot and dense against Jayce’s nape.
And only then did it all start to sink in—Jayce’s entire body was screaming with aches and pains, and his throat was raw from gasping. His cheek was cold and soaked with tears, and his knees were burning where they’d been repeatedly driven into the gravel. His back hurt, his wrists ached, and his neck was twinging from having been in one position for so long. And now that he focused, he found that a majority of his clothing was moist from the fountain’s misty overspray; a chill penetrating into his very bone marrow. And it certainly didn’t help when Viktor’s heat retreated—his hand mercifully releasing Jayce’s softening cock and his body lifting from Jayce’s back. It left him feeling broken, used, and hollow… so very cold and hollow.
With his hands finally unrestrained, Jayce was free to stretch, to rearrange, but it didn’t really help—a whine escaping as yet more stinging pains shot up his arms and into his shoulder blades. He groaned, attempting to stifle it as he reached back and grabbed the waistband of his pants to pull them up and cover himself… to recover at least a semblance of his dignity.
He didn’t bother to look back at Viktor, to try and ascertain his mood—just listened with a cringe to the sounds of swishing fabric and rattling buckles as he righted his clothing. After all, it was already pretty clear; he was stressed and angry, and Jayce had been his outlet. As he always was.
A familiar high-pitched and mechanical whistle rang out over the maze then, creating an eerie and ominous echo through the crisp night air. It was Renata’s calling card, for gathering her troops when it was time to move out. He’d heard it many times, lying on his back in a pool of his own blood and wondering where the fuck he went wrong. Watching as Viktor left him, bruised and beaten.
“That’s right, run along Machine Herald,” he hissed bitterly, rocking back to sit in the gravel and feeling his legs begin to shake even worse. “Your master’s calling.”
Before he’d even registered the movement, Viktor was looming over him, the harsh and unforgiving pressure of his modded hand clamping hard on Jayce’s jaw and forcing his head up. But the sudden movement sent a shock of intense pain down Jayce’s neck, and an agonized cry tore from his throat, followed by choked-back sobs. He slammed his eyes shut—refusing to let Viktor see the fear there, the agony and defeat, but it was all just… too much. He was so cold that his entire body was quaking, and the pain from the chase, the fear, the sex… it was paralyzing.
Almost instantly, Viktor’s grip loosened, and Jayce peeked up to find the glow of Viktor’s augmented eyes just barely strobing as he blinked behind the mask. His thumb soothed back over Jayce’s cheek, prompting yet another stinging pain, but it was just a drop in the pond at this point, so he couldn’t be bothered to flinch. He just whimpered, blinking away yet more tears and swallowing down the overwhelming urge to just collapse right here in the dirt.
“You have a cut here,” Viktor said, his tone much more calm and even now, with whispered notes of worry in it.
He released Jayce’s chin, quickly leaning over toward the fountain and dipping the wrist of his shirtsleeve into the water. It was frigid and a little shocking as it was gently pressed to Jayce’s cheek, but he couldn’t muster the energy to pull away. So instead he just hissed, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his stomach in a futile attempt to warm himself.
Then came the shuffling of fabric and the heavy thud of metal meeting gravel, and when Jayce opened his eyes he found Viktor seated next to him, an arm stretched out in beckoning.
“Come here,” he said simply, pulling Jayce in against him as something rumbled within his mechanized chest cavity. Steam billowed from the vents in his neck, and as Jayce scooted over, it became clear why.
The metal of Viktor’s ribcage was physically hot to the touch, warmed by whatever machination had just occurred within him, and it was like snuggling up next to a furnace. But it felt so good against Jayce’s chilled and achy skin that it was almost mind-numbing. He groaned with contentment, pushing himself harder against Viktor’s chest and wrapping an arm around him; if only to give himself more points of contact with the warmth.
When he blinked his eyes open, he found that Viktor had removed that ridiculous cape of his and was tossing it up and over Jayce’s shoulders to wrap him in it. Jayce groaned again as it settled, the residual heat from Viktor’s body seeping into his muscles from all sides like a scorching hot bath and sending his mind into an addled daze of pain and pleasure.
“Look up,” Viktor said, his voice once again uncharacteristically soft, and Jayce could do nothing but obey—angling his head up on Viktor’s chest and propping his chin there.
He found Viktor’s mask removed when he did, a look of intense concern on those handsome features as he dabbed at another sore spot over Jayce’s right eyebrow—probably one of many cuts from the sharp branches of the hedge maze he’d tumbled through.
“I… I’m sorry,” Viktor cooed, the r’s rolled just a little too heavily as worry weighed on his tongue. “It is easy to forget how breakable you are…”
Jayce shivered again, pulling Viktor’s cape tighter around his shoulders.
“M’not… m’not breakable,” he mumbled defensively, but the fact that his voice literally broke on the words took a bit of the wind out of his sails.
Viktor scoffed. “Still. I was too rough.”
Jayce shook his head in disagreement, but was forced to come to an abrupt halt when the pins and needles in his neck made him yelp.
“You were the right amount of rough, I promise,” he said, pulling his head away from Viktor’s doting hand and leaning back in against his chest. “Really. I still remember our word, I would have used it if I needed it.”
Viktor sighed, clearly unconvinced, but cut it off in annoyance when Renata’s whistle rang out through the garden a second time, this one sounding short and impatient.
“Shouldn’t you go?” Jayce asked, not wanting him to in the slightest, but worried for the repercussions Viktor might face.
Viktor shrugged, noncommittal and blasé.
“Patience. She can learn it,” he quipped back, and Jayce smiled as Viktor’s hand settled at the nape of his neck and began massaging away the stiffness. He just basked in it for a moment, groaning contentedly as the soreness slowly gave way to relief, as the bone-deep chill gradually gave way to warmth.
“Is it fucked up if I say that I’m glad you raided this thing? I was bored as hell,” Jayce mused, beginning to curl his fingers against Viktor’s chest and fighting the urge to fall asleep.
Viktor chuckled, his chest bouncing slightly with it.
“A little. But fucked up is all we are now, might as well embrace it,” he said, turning to place a kiss in Jayce’s mussed rat’s nest of hair.
But Jayce would be damned if that was the only kiss he got tonight, so he craned his head back up and silently requested more by allowing his lidded eyes to hone in on those scarred but perfect lips.
Viktor offered up a smug grin before leaning in, the hand on Jayce’s neck moving to cradle the back of his head as their lips met. Jayce shuddered again, but not from cold this time—Viktor’s lips tasted of crisp, high-end champagne, and the thought had Jayce smiling into the kiss; he’d likely stolen someone’s glass when the raid began and downed it. But he’d never liked the stuff, said it wasn’t sweet enough and the carbonation upset his stomach, so he’d probably done it to show off, to instill fear in the gathered crowd. Dramatic bastard.
This time it wasn’t a whistle that rang out over the gardens, but Renata’s voice—short and pitched and quite clearly annoyed.
“Viktor! I won’t tell you again, we’re leaving.”
Viktor sighed, pulling away from the kiss and letting his head roll back against the fountain as he stared up at the evening stars high overhead.
“Suppose I should go,” he said, his hand squeezing the back of Jayce’s neck one more time before he began pulling away, and Jayce had to desperately fight off the urge to reach for him, to pull him back down and never let him go. But he resisted, instead just watching the way the moonlight hit those lean curves of metal and shone like a sapphire in the evening light.
“What did she take?” Jayce asked, not really caring all that much but asking anyway.
Viktor grinned, taking up his mask and sliding it down over his face—the eye holes lighting up bright ochre as it fit into place.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Viktor purred, the modulator now returned to his voice making Jayce shiver again.
Jayce chuckled, resigned to the fact that whatever it was, his next mission from Camille would be to get it back. He sighed as he watched Viktor turn, watched the moonlight gleam off his back like an oil slick when he walked toward the maze’s exit.
“Oh, V! Your cape!” Jayce called, reaching up to begin pulling it off of his shoulders and warming when Viktor’s scent on the fabric—steam and hot metal, bergamot and hints of vanilla—accosted his nostrils.
Viktor paused at the precipice of the clearing, turning back but not approaching.
“Keep it,” he said plainly, his voice a fetching rumble as it echoed in the hedges. “I’ll come back for it.”
And then he was gone, but instead of loneliness, Jayce felt a rush of heat and comfort as he pulled Viktor’s cape tighter around himself and inhaled long and hard of that familiar scent.
I’ll come back for it. I’ll come back for you.