Of Petals and Salt

by JustMyName

Summary:

Viktor heads home from the lab on a late summer's night only to find Jayce on his doorstep, tipsy and smiling. Even though he is aching and bone-tired, Viktor lets him in anyway.

Or, Jayce and Viktor drink too much wine one night and finally realize they’re obsessed with each other.

Notes:

• For olliecoddle.

a quick little 3 chapter piece. i just wanted something intimate for them. takes place late season 1.

this’ll be up rather quickly.

Chapter 1: The Wind Brings You In

"I've been living in my head
Closing doors all the time
Must be something that you said
That's been living in my mind
Cos I want you,
I want you
All the time"

 

It’s dark in the lab when Viktor finally comes to. He’s been deeply enveloped in his work for what he suddenly realizes —must have been hours. 

No light shines through the lab’s large gilded window and when he checks his pocket watch it reads well past midnight. 

Viktor blinks sleepily and rolls his shoulders. As he stands a jolt of pain shoots through his spine, radiating down his bad leg. He hisses and rubs along the small of his back, teeth biting down harshly against each other. 

He reaches out for his crutch, stumbling slightly as his foot that turns in catches on the marble floor. 

It’s slow-going making it back to his apartment. He treks down some stairs by the bay, counting through each jab of pain in time with the small waves, then shuffles through the closed down market. The too clean streets are quiet and abandoned, except where music and golden light filters down from the university off in the distance. Where the Council and the highest houses drown in jewels and champagne, buying and selling goods, militia, themselves. All in an effort to climb the ladder they’ve mutually decided matters. 

Jayce is up there. In his finely stitched burgundy and gold. Caught up in it all. 

Viktor frowns and turns down an alley, away from the main streets. It’s dark and close and vaguely reminds him of home. Fresh laundry blows on the lines overhead and a cat watches him from where it’s perched on some crates. 

His two room apartment is the backrooms of a clock shop, the size of something he’d find in the Undercity, yet six times the price. Except here, the water is hot and the walls are papered and don’t have bullet holes in them. And there’s no rats or mold or Gray seeping in through the cracks. So he guesses he should think it’s worth it. 

Besides, it’s not like he has any other use for the small sum he’s saved. Anyone he might send it to across the bridge is dead. And while he likes to keep his appearance tidy, he has no need for more than a few reliable pieces of clothing. 

He mostly spends his money on books, parts for tinkering with his braces, and the occasional bottle of wine. And food, of course. Yet, he thinks he’ll never get used to what seems like Piltover’s endless supply of meat and vegetables and baked bread. 

He doesn’t buy much of it, his ice box is usually kept spare. The idea of wasting food makes his stomach turn, and his appetite isn’t what it used to be anyway. It doesn’t stop Jayce from shoving meals his way every chance he gets while they work in the lab. 

Viktor squints in the low light while he fishes his keys from his pocket, leaning awkwardly on his crutch as he shoves the stiff door in with his shoulder. He quickly turns on the oil lamp he keeps by the door, tossing the keys in the little dish beside it. 

He sighs with the relief of being home, putting his weight on his good leg as he unties his cravat, unbuttoning the collar and undoing his vest so it hangs loosely around his thin body. He’s thankful it’s the warm season. He doesn’t have to fiddle with the wood stove and his joints ache less. 

Except it’s a little stifling in here tonight, the air thick with the smell of old books and dishes he left in the sink. He moves around the stacks of volumes he has around his couch and opens the window. It peers at nothing but a cramped alley and a brick wall.

But the air is fresh, the gentle brine of the salt water and the Jasmine vine blooming over the entrance of the clockmaker’s shopfront create a rather pleasant perfume. 

He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his nose and wonders if his mother might have liked it. One of the few things he remembers about her is that she loved water, but he doesn’t even know if she had ever seen vegetation the likes of which grows bountifully throughout Topside. 

Viktor pulls the cork from a bottle he’d opened the previous night, pouring himself a glass, before falling back into his small couch. He stretches his leg out along it and takes a long drink of his wine. He sighs through it, letting his body finally relax into the cushions, dropping his head backwards and staring up at the minute cracks in the ceiling. 

He lets his eyelids flutter shut, pondering a bath. It would be soothing after being crouched over his desk all evening, but the hour is late, and by the time he wrestles out of his back and leg brace as well as his clothes, he thinks he might just rather fall into his unmade bed in a few minutes. 

He takes another long sip of wine, letting the taste of dark fruit roll pleasantly over his tongue before swallowing. 

Then, there’s a rap at the door that suddenly startles him, and Viktor shoots up straight from where he is resting. 

No one ever calls this late. If at all. 

“Yes?” he asks warily, reaching for his crutch. 

There’s a small rustle at the door and someone clears his throat. “It’s me.” 

Viktor’s breath hitches. 

“ Jayce ?” he asks softly, slowly standing up, grip tight around the handle of his crutch. 

He makes his way to the door, and when he opens it, the locks are loud in the night, Jayce is there, leaning heavily against the door frame. His cheeks are ruddy and the hazel of his eyes are glassed over with drink. 

Jayce grins, his sharp incisor glinting under the dim streetlights. 

Viktor stutters, caught off guard. “What—?”

Jayce sometimes waits for him where the alley meets the market so they can walk together to the lab. Maybe stop for one of those pastries his partner likes. But Jayce has never been inside his home before. It never occurred to Viktor that that was strange until now.

“Can I come in?” Jayce asks hopefully. He rolls his eyes with a huff. “It was a long night. I could really use a friendly face.” 

“Ehm—alright,” Viktor murmurs, moving out of the way with a limp.

Jayce slithers past him into the apartment. He smells like whiskey and his soap and Mel’s perfume. But underneath all that, there’s the earth and smoke that’s innately him. It’s familiar. Comforting even. 

Viktor locks the door behind him and scratches the back of his neck. 

He twists his mouth trying to think of something to say. 

“Eh—would you like a drink?” he chirps, heart quickening with nerves as he suddenly becomes hyper aware of how messy the place really is. He’s been so consumed by their work recently he hasn’t been home very much except to sleep and bathe. Tidying has gone by the wayside. Not that he would consider that one of his strengths to begin with. 

He quickly tucks some books out of the way and shoves a pile of dirty laundry into the tiny closet with his crutch.

“Sorry,” he huffs. “The place is kind of a mess.” 

“Oh, I don’t care about all that,” Jayce says politely, peering around curiously as if he were in a museum.  “Mine doesn’t look much better. You know…we’ve been so busy.”

Jayce shrugs out of his white formal jacket and turns around. He looks so healthy and broad; and too elegant against Viktor’s thrifted apartment. 

Viktor watches as he hangs the jacket on the hook next to Viktor’s unused blazer and smiles. 

“I’ll take that drink,” he tells him cheerily. “What are you having?” 

Viktor offers a small nod  and heads to the kitchen. He pours them each a hefty glass and returns to the couch to find Jayce sitting, all relaxed and spread out in a corner of his couch. He’s peeking into a book curiously, which he quickly snaps shut as soon as he spots Viktor. 

He clears his throat like he’s nervous.

“Thank you,” Jayce says, fingers brushing as he takes hold of the wine. Viktor pulls away. 

“You’re quite welcome,” he replies with a small smile, nerves alight. It is—strange alone here with his best friend, his partner. The room suddenly feels too small, too close, too intimate. 

Their legs brush as Viktor slides in between Jayce and the coffee table. Viktor’s wine sloshes as he sits down on the well worn couch, all comfort and frayed cloth. He props his leg on the wooden table, cheeks hot when Jayce shifts his body towards him, as if waiting for him to exhale.

Viktor buries his nose in his glass. 

“So—-,” he suggests with a guarded smile. “You’ve never knocked upon my door before. What brings the Man of Progress to my doorstep at this hour?” 

Chapter 2: Sweet Milk & Chocolate

Summary:

Late night conversations.

Notes:

happy birthday babes <3

It is odd being inside Viktor’s apartment. 

It smells strongly of him for one. Loamy rich like leather and damp forest after spring's first icy rainstorm. There’s also the herbs of the salve he massages his leg with and the velvety scent of the fragrant oil he uses under his arms mixing with his natural odor. Jayce has become strangely familiar with that particular smell from long hours in the lab spent hovering over each other day after day.

But then there’s also his books and all the other little things that make him well, him : a second wooden cane hanging next to Viktor’s long wool winter coat he no longer needs, its handle half wrapped and edges soft from years of use; shoes under the small table where he keeps his keys, a small photograph of people Jayce doesn’t know hanging above it in a crude frame; his coffee table, decorated with rings from tea mugs and the finish bubbling after years of spills. Stacks and stacks of books and science pamphlets.  

Things that Viktor has never shown him before.

Things Jayce has often wondered about yet never asked. 

A pleasant breeze filters in through the only window in the room, brushing along his hot cheeks and down his stiff collar. He tugs at his cravat and undoes a top button of his shirt, staring at the empty wine glass in his lap. His knees sit too high up on the tiny couch he’s sunk into. 

They’ve gone through all the pleasantries. What had Viktor accomplished in the lab and what happened at the party that had caused Jayce to need a friendly face. 

Before he can think of anything else to say Viktor hums from where he has his head laid back and eyes closed, the long line of nose pointed to the ceiling. His glass is half empty, leaning a little precariously from where his hands have gone slack from exhaustion.

“I’ll put some music on,” he says then, accent thick and voice rough from weariness and wine. 

Viktor opens his eyes and shifts with a sigh. He sets the goblet on the table and motions to rise.

“I can get it,” Jayce says, straightening and setting down his own cup. 

But Viktor stands up, a small wince tugging at one side of his mouth. 

“I am perfectly capable, Jayce.” 

He watches as Viktor forgoes his crutch and uses the couch for support as he shuffles over to a nearby table where a phonograph waits. 

“I know you’re capable, Viktor,” Jayce replies with a small huff, watching his partner’s thin fingers, one side of his palm stained with ink, slide a record from its sleeve. “That wasn’t the point.” 

He sets the tonearm over the record and a slow, soulful rhythm Jayce doesn’t recognize fills the space. Viktor brushes his hands together and turns back towards Jayce. He offers a small smile, but says nothing else, effectively ending his half-assed argument to let him be more useful. 

Not that he hasn’t put more of an effort in. It’s something Jayce has been pleading for since Viktor reworked his cane into a crutch. Since he’d started losing weight he didn’t have to lose and the circles under his eyes had darkened. And yet, besides helping him up occasionally or when his friend rarely takes his arm down a large flight of stairs, it’s almost as if Viktor has become more disagreeable to his offers to help than ever before. 

It’s exceedingly irksome. Jayce tries not to grumble.

Viktor settles back on the couch with a sigh, puts his leg up, and removes his outer metal brace, leaning forward to massage along the calf, his knee, his thigh. Catching himself staring, Jayce glances around the room, eyes settling on the lone picture again. 

“Who’s in the photograph?” he blurts, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Viktor hums, continuing his ministrations on his leg. Jayce watches curiously where his foot turns inward, his ankle impossibly thin, and yet swollen nonetheless. 

“Those are my parents,” he says quietly. 

Jayce squints at the picture, making a mental note to stop and take a better look when he leaves. 

“Or so I think, anyways,” Viktor continues. “It was inside a book given to me by one of the holy sisters at the orphanage. There was no inscription or names on the back of the photograph.” 

Jayce sighs, sudden emotion gathering in his throat when he imagines his friend, too small to remember, left with all the other unfortunate children in the depths of the Fissures that Piltover forgot. He thinks of his own father, and how his memories feel faded the older he gets. Jayce can’t even remember the man’s voice anymore. 

“How did they die?” Jayce asks solemnly. 

Viktor peeks at him out of the corner of his eye, shoulders stiffening. He shrugs. “Eh–I was told they were victims of the mines. I’m a little older than you, and the mines were working at full capacity then. The conditions were dangerous. I was told my father died in an accident. My mother from the air. Her lungs.”

Jayce hums, head suddenly heavy. He rests his cheek against the couch, watching Viktor closely. “What were their names?” he asks softly. 

Viktor hums back, cradling his head in his hand. He looks world-weary, but his amber eyes regard Jayce intently. “My father’s name was Jakub. I don’t remember my mother’s given name, but I called her maminka .”

Maminka . Jayce likes the way his mouth moves when he says the endearment. 

Then he watches Viktor swallow heavily. Watches him look away. There’s a sudden tremble of his bottom lip, but he hides it by brushing his fingers across it, massaging it away the same as he did for the pain in his leg. 

He blinks, sighing out. 

“Well if we are going to delve into all of this, I may need something a little bit stronger.” The gap near his incisor flashes when he smiles. 

Jayce sits up. “I’ll get it.”

Viktor knits his eyebrows together, staring at him as if he’s impossible. But he rolls his eyes and finally relents. “If you must.” 

He motions to the small kitchen area. “It is in the cupboard next to the ice box. Glassware is with it.” 

Jayce jumps up, happy to finally have one small victory. 

It takes barely four steps to the kitchen and he pulls the bottle out easily along with the heavy weighted rocks glasses, glaringly lavish compared to the rest of the apartment, then returns to his spot across from Viktor. 

“I like the glasses,” he states, tugging the cork out of the barely touched bottle. 

Viktor sits up slightly, adjusting his position. 

“They were a birthday gift from Heimerdinger, along with the whiskey.” 

Jayce smiles, offering him his glass of the caramel liquor. 

“He does remember those kinds of things, doesn’t he?”

Viktor hums, taking a long sip. “He does.”

Jayce sips his own. It’s smooth and rich and warms his belly. “How old are you now again?” 

“Thirty-five,” Viktor rasps after a small cough. 

“Ancient,” Jayce teases. 

“Yes, well sometimes it certainly feels that way.” 

Jayce widens his eyes in agreement. 

“It is a shame our lifespans are so short. Think of all we could accomplish if we could live as long as Hemierdinger.” 

“A lot indeed. The possibilities would be endless.” 

Jayce takes another sip, rolls it around pleasantly in his mouth, before swallowing. “I think about it a lot.” 

“What?” 

“Death.” 

Viktor’s expression falls just a little. “Hmm, well you have nothing to worry about for a long while yet, Jayce.” He sets his hand to rest between them, but doesn’t touch him. 

Jayce does though. He squeezes Viktor’s hand and along the underside of his thin wrist gently. His partner’s fingers are cold. “You too. Right?” 

Viktor frowns, lifts his eyebrows at him as if to say— Jayce, we’ve gone over this. 

Instead he says quietly, “I’ve never been a healthy man, Jayce.”

Jayce squeezes his hand again. “There are so many advances that will be available with Hex-Tech. Now that the gates are open there will be so much more we can do.”

His voice is hopeful, and it is the truth. So why then, does it feel like a lie?   

Viktor presses his lips together. “Maybe you’re right, Councillor,” he replies, pulling his hand out from Jayce’s.

The soft hint of a smile tugs at one side of Viktor’s lips, and Jayce’s chest aches with how broken it looks. 

They sit in silence for a long minute after that. It isn’t awkward or tense, just quiet. Pensive. 

“Pull out the drawer there,” Viktor announces suddenly. Jayce follows his gesture and humors him. Inside, besides random cogs and screws, and pens and paper littered with his spidery scrawl, is a striped paper box. 

He tilts it towards Viktor in question. 

“Yes that’s it. Open it.” 

Jayce lifts the lid off curiously and grins. 

“Chocolates?” he asks knowingly, handing it to Viktor, who’s cheeks have gone a sprightly shade of pink from the spirits. 

Viktor plucks one from the box and pops it into his mouth. “Sweet milk truffles,” he specifies. “From the bakery you like.” 

Once he swallows, he immediately pops another one in his mouth with a hum of satisfaction.

“Try one,” Viktor says, holding it out to him. It’s so close to Jayce’s face he could practically shove it down his throat. 

Jayce eyes it suspiciously. Sweet milk isn’t necessarily his favorite thing in the world. But Viktor couldn’t get enough of it. His sweet tooth was something else. Yet, Jayce couldn’t blame him. He told him once he never even had chocolate until he started working for Heimerdinger. 

“Let me guess,” Jayce chides teasingly anyways, avoiding the treat. “The dinner I brought you before I left for the gala is still sitting untouched on your desk.”

Viktor purses his lips, lids heavy over golden eyes, and shoves it closer. “ Tvrdohlavý jako mezek! Just try one.” 

He’s not exactly sure what Viktor has said, but he can assume its intention. Jayce knits his brows together, then grins mischievously. Without warning, he snatches it from Viktor’s fingers with his teeth. 

Viktor’s eyes widen and he pulls his hand back as if he bit him. 

Jayce chews, biting his lip against a grin. He pours himself another drink while casually flipping through a science pamphlet he’s never read. There’s an interesting article about thermodynamics he’d actually like to read at some point, but he can’t help the full on chuckle that tears from his chest.

Jayce sags back into the couch and swallows the chocolate. “I know what mezek means, Viktor.”

Jayce gathers his knee up on the cushion to face his friend, his belly liquid fire. The chocolate is quite good. He opens his mouth to say so when suddenly Viktor leans closer to him, his face a strange mixture of curiosity and anxiety. Yet his eyes, darkened and caught on his lips, say something else. 

Jayce chokes on whatever joke he was going to make, heart fluttering in his throat, their breath and the quiet music hanging heavy between them. 

Viktor doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t smile or tease. But he does reach for another chocolate, his movements slow and deliberate. 

His gaze stays fixed upon Jayce’s mouth and then he holds the chocolate to his lips.

An experiment of sorts.

Jayce can smell the sweet milk and cocoa. And suddenly he is rendered immobile as Viktor ever so slowly, almost deferentially, brushes the candy across his lips. He sighs out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, all the while carefully observing Viktor watch him. 

Viktor’s brow is furrowed and he bites at his bottom lip, leaving it shining with spit. This isn’t like when he’s bent over his desk working through an equation. The sight of it is entirely different, and it sends an instant and completely unexpected tremor of heat coiling low in Jayce’s belly. 

He brushes his tongue along the chocolate and slowly opens his mouth, heart skipping a beat when Viktor places it there. Jayce grips the back of the couch tightly and curls his tongue to take it fully into his mouth. 

He wraps his lips around the tip of one of Viktor’s fingers, and this time it’s not biting or playful. He sucks languidly, all the sweetness and warmth gliding over his tongue, his whole body quivering with the little gasp it invokes from Viktor. 

Viktor doesn’t meet his eyes as Jayce chews on the sweet, only shifts a little closer, leans heavily on his good leg, and plucks another candy from the box.

This time he brings it to his own lips first, biting it in half to reveal the soft filling hiding inside. He chews quietly, all the while offering it to Jayce again. He’s unhurried in his movements, but Jayce can feel his intensity building, as if he was the fire Jayce stoked in his forge. 

He slides the sweet milk cream across his bottom lip, mouth slack and eyes blazing. Waiting for Jayce to dart his tongue out and lap it up. 

He does so willingly. Twice . 

As he drags his teeth along his lips a second time, Viktor makes another sound. This time, it’s low in his throat, something gorgeous existing between a hum and a moan. 

Jayce’s heartbeat throbs insistently between his legs, the dull ache suddenly as overwhelming as whatever just happened. 

But Viktor startles himself with his noise, and he blinks rapidly, as if just waking up, a red blush spreading out over his cheeks and down his throat. He drops the half eaten chocolate back into the box and retreats back to his side of the couch. 

He shakes his head, rubbing one eyebrow with his thumb nervously. 

“I-I—,” he stumbles. “Forgive me, Jayce. That was—-I don’t know what came over me.” 

Jayce panics, equally unsure what just came over himself. “ No —Vik—-I—,

“I think I’ve had too much to drink,” Viktor continues shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he bends to hurriedly reach for his cane. 

Except this cannot happen. Viktor can’t leave. He can’t run away from him now . 

Too many moments rush through Jayce’s mind all at once. All the memories pour over him; the glances, the seemingly casual touches that Viktor rarely reciprocated. 

He never reciprocated. Not once. 

Jayce thinks of how sometimes he worries so much about Viktor at night his chest feels as if it will split in two. Alone in his apartment—-he thinks and thinks and thinks of him. 

How sometimes—on the worst nights— it’s as if Jayce can feel his partner’s loneliness, stretching through the alleys and streets of Piltover like the Grey; slithering through the crack in his window to smother him.  

How even tonight—it called him to Viktor’s doorstep, all the while Jayce convinced himself it was just to check in on his partner, just to see a friendly face after scheming and schmoozing crushed his good mood. 

So many lies he’s told himself. When exactly did they start? 

How could he have been so stupid?

“ Wait .” 

Jayce is up in a flash, taking hold of Viktor’s thin wrist before he can rise. 

Viktor falls backwards lightly, head snapping to meet Jayce’s gaze. 

“Just—- wait ,” Jayce repeats, breathless. 

Viktor stares at him fretfully, like a wild bird caught in a cage. 

Jayce’s heart is beating so loud it blares in his ears. He brushes his hand through his hair nervously and tries to settle his breathing. 

It’s a long terrible moment of uncertainty that passes between them and then Jayce speaks. 

“But you never said—-,”

“No,” Viktor says quietly. 

Jayce blinks, his mind still racing. 

“But—-,” 

“ Jayce .” Viktor says his name like a warning. 

He stares at Jayce with wide, pleading eyes. Please don’t , they beg. 

Jayce trails his eyes over him, his disheveled hair that’s started to grow out, his dark brows that angle over deep set eyes. They’re a shade of amber like nothing he’s ever come across before.

Then there’s the long line of Viktor’s neck that leads to dainty collarbone jutting out elegantly. Jayce wants to follow where it leads underneath his half undone shirt. 

Jayce knits his brows together determinedly. 

Fuck that.  

“Viktor,” Jayce says, voice pleading as he moves closer. He takes hold of one cheek in his palm, brushing his thumb along the smooth skin of his jaw.

Viktor sighs out at the touch, hushed and needy. His hand hovers just over Jayce’s wrist like he’s thinking of pulling his hand away. But he doesn’t.

Slowly, Jayce pulls a chocolate from the box on Viktor’s lap. He swallows heavily, heart pounding nervously in his chest. He raises Viktor’s chin with thumb and forefinger, and his eyelids flutter as he forces him to look at him. 

“Open,” Jayce says, voice low and rough. 

He watches–in wonder, shock, want —as Viktor slowly opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue like an offering. 

Jayce gives him the chocolate, watches him chew, and then before he or Viktor can think twice about it, he closes the distance between them, capturing Viktor’s lips in a filthy kiss, tasting him and the sweet milk still on his tongue. Jayce hums, the need rattling in his throat like little fireworks. 

He slides his fingers through Viktor’s hair, cradling his face, and Viktor’s trembling. Oh Kindred, he’s trembling . Jayce huffs out a breath, trailing ravaging kisses along his jaw and down his pale neck, sliding his fingers in the loosened collar of his shirt, over the strap of his brace and along the sharp bone of his shoulder, rubbing circles there. He licks in the hollow of his throat, relishing when he can feel the small sound Viktor makes vibrate against his skin. 

Jayce ravenously unbuttons the front of his shirt, sliding his hand over Viktor’s chest and the brace supporting his back, and along his belly. He rubs along the edge of his pants before pressing his palm harshly against the jut of his sharp hip. Viktor hisses, throwing his head back into the armrest, mouth falling open in silent ecstasy. 

Then Viktor, never one for reciprocating, slides his hand along Jayce’s shoulder, along the collar of his shirt, and pulls him back to his lips. He licks into his mouth hungrily and Jayce wants to devour him. Take him right here on the couch, half clothed and crushing him into the cushions. He could. He wants it. After everything, his desire is dangerous and selfish. How had he never realized? 

But no. That’s not how this will go, even if that’s what Viktor would prefer. 

With great effort, Jayce pulls away, stepping back off the couch and standing up. The sight of Viktor, breathless and blushing from Jayce touching him; staring at him as if in awe.

Viktor pulls himself up with his hands to a sitting position, his eyes searching Jayce’s for an explanation. 

Viktor .

“Let me take you to bed,” Jayce says, holding out his hand. 

Viktor eyes his offered hand, his brows furrowing in the way Jayce recognizes as deliberation. 

He bites his lip, peers up at Jayce through his lashes in that sincere way he always does. 

“Yes,” Viktor tells him, barely a whisper.

He takes Jayce’s hand, lets him help him to his feet. 

Before Viktor can protest, Jayce wraps his arms around the backs of his thighs and scoops him up so their chests are flush, Viktor’s legs wrapping around his waist. 

Jayce holds onto his backside, one arm supporting his braced thigh as best he can. Viktor winces slightly, but he wraps his arms around Jayce’s neck, making him feel as if he’ll melt into the floor, just like the chocolates left scattered on the sofa. 

Fuck.

Jayce turns, gazing up at Viktor as he blindly stumbles towards the door that can only lead to where he’s desperate to go. 

“Viktor ,” he whispers, wanting to explain himself, to apologize, to tell him he’s the biggest fool in all of Runeterra. 

But Viktor cuts him off. “Don’t—say anything.” 

Then he takes hold of Jayce’s face in his hands, smothering whatever words he was going to say with a passionate kiss. The door to his bedroom slams open when Jayce kicks it in, trinkets clinking on the dresser. 

The two of them fall into his unmade bed in a tangled heap, and Jayce takes Viktor in his arms, basking in the heady scent of his sheets, his neck, and lower still. He lets himself disappear. Lets Viktor take him. 

So strange , he thinks as he takes the slender length of him in his mouth. Viktor’s first moan, one of Jayce’s many little deaths. 

This is always where he wanted to be.

  

Notes:

i’ll go back and edit better tomorrow. but i hope you love the yearning. 🖤

Chapter 3: The Thing About Want

Summary:

Jayce takes Viktor to his bed.

“What does it mean to love

What does it mean, what does it mean, what does it mean

When the feeling's not enough

Or when it's so good you could die”

Viktor is left without his shirt and breathless when Jayce pulls away from their kiss, setting him down gently on the edge of the bed. He immediately drops to his knees, the sight of him making his heart thump unbearably in his chest. Nervous heat creeps up the small of Viktor’s back and under his arms as their frantic journey to the bedroom suddenly slows into something more tangible and real and all together terrifying.

Jayce gazes up at him, the hazel of his eyes shaded by thick lashes and drowning in black as he unbuttons Viktor’s pants, nudging him to lift up. He pulls them off in one fluid motion, along with his socks. 

Viktor shivers when Jayce kisses the top of his bare knee, slowly unhooking the small clasp low on his waist, around his thigh, knee, and ankle. The sound of the soft leather and metal releasing is exhilarating in the charged silence of his small bedroom. 

Jayce slides it off easily, setting it aside with care before seizing his mouth in a needy kiss once more. He stands, and with alarming ease, pulls Viktor’s body up and presses him back into the mattress. He looms over the bed, a gentle smile on his lips as he undoes his starched collar and shirt before his hands gently glide to the tops of his trousers. 

Viktor grips the blanket, his other hand brushing along his eyebrows nervously. Yet, his eyes devour Jayce. He allows himself to take him in; broad shoulders, well built chest, the sharp hills of strong muscles of his abdomen visible through the thin white tank top as he undoes the buttons of his trousers. He slides them off easily, quickly, his energy eager and a little rattled. 

Jayce breathes out and joins him on the bed. Viktor tenses as he climbs up his body, the heat and size of him already overwhelming. Jayce gently coaxes his legs apart, lifting his bad leg tenderly by the thigh as he settles between them. 

He uses his other hand to brush Viktor’s hair back from his face, and Viktor is caught off guard when he feels that he is shaking. 

“Is this okay?” Jayce asks anxiously, eyebrows swept up in question. 

Viktor nods, shifting a little so his hips are more comfortable. The thought that they’ve just made a huge mistake henpecks at the back of his mind, but he swallows and shoves it away. 

He wants this so badly. 

He slides his hand curiously along Jayce’s rounded shoulder, brushing his fingers along his collarbone and chest. His skin is hot and his heart is beating so hard in his chest Viktor can feel it under his touch. 

Jayce pulls his hand into his grip, littering small kisses along the inside of his thin wrist before pinning it to the pillow lightly above Viktor’s head. He brushes his thumb under his jaw, coaxing him to expose his throat where he sucks greedily, biting the thin skin between his teeth. 

Viktor sighs out heavily, biting his lip. Jayce kisses and lapsalong his pulsepoint and in the hollow of his throat. His hair smells like smoke from the forge and faintly of the shampoo he’s used ever since he’s known him. Forever familiar.

Viktor watches helplessly as Jayce moves down his body, slowly kissing and sucking pale skin. He slides his tongue along one nipple, gently massaging it with his teeth. It pulls a startled moan from him and Viktor’s eyes shoot open, the dingy plaster of his ceiling painted with blue shadows in the darkness. 

Jayce wraps his hands around his thin waist, so large and rough with calluses, ever the iron worker dressed in fancy clothes. They’re strong and unfaltering, just like his ideals. 

“V–,” he pants, lips still kissing along the hollow of belly. “Can I have you in my mouth?” 

Viktor’s head snaps up to find Jayce playing with the band of his plain small clothes like a cat with a dead mouse. He glances up at him in question, eyes glassy and his smile knavish.       

It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that. So long since he’s been touched at all. 

“Ehm–,” he rasps, gripping the bed again. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, his mind still catching up with the fact that this is actually happening. Jayce is here—in his bed. And everything’s changed in one second. With one choice. 

And he aches. Kindred—he aches. 

“Yes —,” he whispers. “Bohové, ano– .” 

The smile quickly falls away from Jayce’s mouth, and the look on his face, suddenly dark and possessive, makes Viktor tremble with want.

Without warning, Jayce sits back on his heels and slides Viktor’s small clothes off. It’s sudden and Viktor feels a blush creep hot across his cheeks. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be quite used to the vulnerability of his crooked body laid bare for someone else. But before Viktor can even wrestle with that thought Jayce is upon him again. He kisses him roughly before wrapping his arms around his back and quickly turning them over. 

Viktor yelps with surprise and the slight twinge of pain that shoots into his hip as he’s suddenly set a top Jayce. He sits up to a straddle, wincing as he shifts until it is comfortable. 

He lifts an eyebrow at him quizzically, a smile threatening one side of his mouth. “What are you doing, Jayce?” 

“Come here,” Jayce orders, eyes gliding along the length of his body as he cups his ass and tugs him closer. 

He gazes up at Viktor and the sight of him, Oh Gods, the sight of him; beautiful and tan skin rosy with desire, takes his breath away. His cock throbs and Viktor closes his eyes briefly through the sensation. Then Jayce’s hand on his cheek stirs him. 

“You’re so pretty like this, V,” Jayce says, breathless and needy. “I want you in my mouth. Fuck my mouth– please .” 

Viktor pauses, staring hesitantly down at Jayce. “Are you certain?” he asks, hesitant. Jayce has never been with a man, has he ? “But you’re—”

Jayce tightens his hands bruisingly around Viktor’s small thighs, gaze grazing the leaking length of him before meeting his eyes intently again. “Viktor,” he says firmly. “I. Want. You.” 

“Please,” he quavers with a sigh. “Let me have you. Let me make you feel good.” 

Let me have you. 

Viktor could die at those words alone.

“Alright,” Viktor stutters quietly as Jayce wraps his hand around him. His body shakes at Jayce’s touch, his need completely overwhelming him all at once. His hips pitch forward involuntarily and when Jayce licks experimentally along the tip of him Viktor almost cries out at the sensation. 

After another long second Jayce takes him fully into his mouth. He palms his ass in both hands pulling Viktor forwards, all the while sucking him with purpose. Viktor leans heavily forward, bracing himself on the scratched wooden headboard as he moans loudly, face thrown towards the sky. His mouth falls open and then he looks back at him, watching with intense curiosity when he rocks forward, deeper into Jayce's throat. Jayce groans, and it sends an intense shiver prickling up Viktor’s spine. 

“Jayce ,” he chokes out, the feeling of his hands on him, his mouth on him, his pretty olive eyes blown black and gazing up at him with glorious want. 

Want . 

Viktor isn’t really sure he’s ever felt that from someone. Not like this.

Oh, he’s wanted. And wanted. And wanted. 

Wanted food, wanted his lungs to work properly, wanted his mother, wanted the pain to stop, wanted his body to be bigger, stronger, better. 

Want and want and want. 

But no one’s ever looked at Viktor like this. He hasn’t let someone look at him this way before. 

But this is Jayce. His best friend. His partner. The only person Viktor truly trusts in the entire world. 

And so—Viktor lets him look at him like that. Welcomes it. Begs for it with his body.

“Please,” he pleads with a wine as Jayce supports him under his thighs. His knee aches, but Viktor breathes through it and leans his weight harder on the headboard as he sinks himself further, deeper, a little quicker. His thrusts grow erratic as he’s lost to the blinding pleasure and it’s wet and messy, spit and slick dripping down Jayce’s hollowed cheek. 

And just when Viktor thinks it might be too much, hears Jayce gag and choke a little, Jayce moans around him, slapping his ass viciously before pulling him closer. 

He cries out, sweat prickling his brow and dripping down his back and chest. 

“Kurva, kurva, kurva ,” he grunts low in his throat, like a chant. “It feels—--,” 

Any intelligent words he might have are stolen away when Jayce’s mouth goes slack. The bed shakes loudly and he’s thrusting into the inside of his cheek. Viktor is sent over the edge in a tidal wave of feeling, his body seizing with radiant, toe-curling pleasure all at once. He shouts when he comes, wheezing through labored breaths and his knuckles white on the headboard. Jayce’s grip bruises his backside and he groans around his twitching cock as he swallows him down, sloppy and inexperienced. 

Everything goes quiet except for their heavy breathing and then there’s a soft pop when Jayce releases him. Viktor sucks in heavy breaths, grunting in pain when he straightens his right leg slightly. It’s stiff and he can’t feel his foot. Viktor collapses heavily over Jayce, burying his face in the warm heat of his neck. 

Viktor blinks the sweat from his eyes, kissing Jayce’s skin, thoughtless and lazy. Jayce slides his hand up his back tenderly, fingers brushing along the bolts in his spine. He smiles then, the sharp point of his tooth showing. 

Viktor stills, heat creeping up his neck. 

“What?” he asks him softly. 

Jayce shakes his head. “Wow,” he breathes, eyes widening in disbelief towards the ceiling. He wipes his mouth, then turns his head and grins against Viktor’s skin. “I enjoyed that.”

Viktor huffs a smile shyly into his pillow and coughs. “Mmm-,” he hums hoarsely. “You were quite eh— enthusiastic .” 

And Jayce laughs, loud and warm, as he pushes himself up on one elbow. His fingers gently coax Viktor to face him, the look on his face stilling his heart. 

Jayce is blushing when he brushes his thumb over the sharp cut of his cheekbone. 

He lifts his chin, gazing down at Viktor through heavy eyelids.

“Let me make you mine?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his throat.

Yes, Viktor’s whole body screams at once. 

He sucks in a preparatory breath as he twists onto his back, hand sinking low between them to take Jayce in his hand where he’s thick and hard. Viktor swipes his slick with his thumb over the sensitive seam at his tip reveling in the strangled hiss it draws from him. 

Jayce licks into his mouth as Viktor quickens his pace, and then Jayce gently bats him away, his massive hands sliding down Viktor’s jagged sides. He cradles his right thigh in his hand, shoving a pillow under it. 

“Does that work?” he asks sweetly, sucking at his earlobe. 

He’s ticklish there and Viktor hums a small laugh. “Perfectly adequate, yes.” 

Jayce nuzzles along his jaw, sucks a bruising kiss on his neck. 

“Do you always talk as if you’re performing an experiment while being fucked?” he whispers teasingly, breath hot and sweet against his skin. 

Viktor pulls a face. Piqued. “As if you haven’t just performed one of your own, Councillor Talis. Řekni mi , what scientific conclusions have you made after swallowing my——,” 

Viktor’s ribbing is immediately snuffed out by Jayce’s mouth on his. He kisses him until he’s gasping, kisses him until he’s hard again, until his moans are caught in the soft wind that blows in through the window, smelling of petals and salt. 

He tells him he’s beautiful as he sinks into him, tells him he’s beautiful as he moans into his shoulder, tells him he’s beautiful when his orgasm unravels him completely. 

Jayce tells him he’s beautiful when he presses his ear to his chest and falls asleep to the beat of his heart.

And for the first time in his life, in that moment at least, Viktor believes it just might be true. 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

sooooo----this could end here, and i think that would be okay. but i think i want to add a fourth chapter. let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading!

Anyways, thanks to everyone who's read this one! It means a lot to me. <33

**i'll do some light editing in the morning but it's 1:30 in the morning and it is time for me to sleep. :*

also i try my best with translations, but i don’t speak czech so please feel free to correct anything that ‘s wrong.:))

Notes:

lyrics by Boy & Bear, Boo Seeka. <3