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A bead of sweat landed onto the collarbone, soundless.
Jayce, half-distracted, brushed it away, the relentless thrusting beneath never pausing for a single instant.
Using that sweat, he tried to smear away the ink with his thumb, the dark lines stretched and squeezed against the skin. Back and forth, the rubbing quickly dried out his fingertips, the flesh tormented beneath flushed with an unnatural dark shade of red, only making that word stand out even sharper.
Wait.
If only it were real ink. The familiar feeling of suffocation quietly crept up in his chest, Jayce had to thrust harder a few times just to ease it. Even if it were a tattoo, I would find a way to strip it off.
Jayce Talis was many things: the Father of Hextech, the Golden Boy, Piltover’s rising star...many but one: Viktor’s soulmate.
The first words Jayce ever spoke to Viktor was not “Wait.”
Viktor’s hand slipped across the sweat-slick expanse of Jayce’s broad back, nails digging into the plump, resilient flesh, leaving four little deep-shadowed indents. Jayce had long grown used to such sutble stings from his partner’s scratches, a signal of satisfaction, anticipated with sweet eagerness every time they made love.
Viktor tilted his head back, lips slightly parted, his unrestrained, lingering moans suddenly cut short—Jayce knew he was close. Indeed, after a few intense strikes targeting his sensitive spot, Viktor shuddered violently, his soft, slender abdomen heaving rapidly, the shape of Jayce’s cock faintly visible beneath his skin with each ragged breath.
“Jayce… ha… Jayce…”
Viktor’s hand caressed suggestively the taut muscles of arm, his feverish palm roaming up and down the radius. If Jayce’s cock weren’t buried deep in his ass, he might’ve thought the Zaunite was flirting with him. Viktor loved it the most to stroke the inside of his wrist, instinctively doing so during climax.
He was staking his claim. Jayce knew it, because the soulmark etched on his forearm bore the very first words Viktor ever spoke to him.
What happened here?*
It's not fair. Jayce collapsed over Viktor, breath hot and ragged against the words inscribed on the collarbone. He wasn't Viktor's soulmate, and yet Viktor was his. Jayce bit down hard there, Viktor only flinched, allowing him leave the raw imprint of teeth. His partner was long accustomed to Jayce's resentment for that spot. A bite, followed by a placating lick, had almost become a ritual punctuation marking the end of their lovemaking.
Although, deep down, he silently claimed Viktor as his own, Jayce's rationality knew all too well the truth: that Viktor spoke those first words to him were nothing but pure coincidence.
Jayce’s soulmark was far too common. He had heard it too many times already before the Zaunite. Some had obviously seen his wrist first, then said the words “what happened”. So deliberate it was embarrassing, all while missing the final word concealed intentionally under the wristband: "here".
If someone was easy on the eyes, and Jayce felt like indulging for a night, he would feign mild surprise, pretending to believe in fate.
Just a little game to spice things up. No one was foolish enough to truly think they could trick a quality partner in this way. After all, the truth would come out the moment clothes dropped off: soulmates always come in pairs. Even if they managed to guess or stumbled upon Jayce's soulmark, how could they ensure Jayce’s first words to them matched?
Viktor's soulmark was even more common than Jayce's. In his twenty-odd years of life, the Zaunitemust have been stopped countless times by the same word—“Wait.”
Countless faceless people, countless different voices.
And yet, Jayce was not one of them.
Wait. Jayce pursed his lips, then parted them into a smiling curve, the tip of his tongue brushing the back of upper teeth, letting out a soft, fleeting breath. Wait. How simple! Yet back then, he hadn’t said it to Viktor.
If only Viktor had been the enforcer who picked up that device. Jayce wouldn’t have said, “Be careful.” He could’ve said, “Wait.”
Or—his index finger tapped the fresh bite mark, the skin there slowly rebounding, glistening with lingering saliva, Jayce, in the post-climax haze of relaxation, let his fantasies drift: He’d messed up in an Academy experiment class, and the dean’s assistant arrived, eyes wide with shock, saying, “What happened here?”. Zaunite accent, thickened by agitation, heavier than usual. Viktor threatened to call the authorities, and Jayce would say, “Wait!”
Or they’re in a bar—Piltover, Zaun, doesn’t matter. Viktor’s there, looking for company—no, just drinking, drinking alone. Jayce would notice him, he had to notice him—Jayce's fingertips grazed three freckles aligned in a row, circling the swollen, reddened nipple—when Viktor paid his tab and stood to leave, Jayce would finally muster the courage to speak up, “Wait,” maybe clumsily knocking over a chair. And Viktor would turn, brow furrowed, amused, and say, “What happened here?”
If only he could travel back in time, if only he could meet Viktor again for the first time, Jayce would absolutely say it.
Wait! Wait. Wait…
“You’re doing it again.” The heaving of his chest gradually subsided, Viktor recovered from his climax, voice still hoarse—today Jayce had, for so long, stubbornly refused to come in his mouth.
“What？No, doing what?”
“Whispering my soulmark, ‘wait, wait, wait,’” Viktor said, pulling Jayce’s head into his embrace, fingers threading through messy hair, scratching his scalp with an intimate, effortless affection. “You’re like a child who's just learned to read.”
“I was not.” Jayce, drowsy now, closed his eyes and nuzzled deeper into his chest.
“Lying bad boy.”
Viktor enjoyed calling him “good boy” or “bad boy”. Although his partner never said it outright, Jayce sensed that he was being observed for a reaction. Jayce considered responding to some unspoken expectation from Viktor, but he couldn’t quite figure out what his partner truly wanted.
“I’m yours, Jayce.”
No, you’re not. The proof was carved into your body, right there before my eyes.
So Jayce, with his eyes shut, reached out blindly for Viktor's waist, locked him into a tight embrace.
Viktor saw through him. He pressed a soft kiss on the tousled, fuzzy head.
“You know I don’t believe in fate. I only see what’s before me.”
Jayce knew that Viktor, like many Zaunites, didn’t care much for the idea of soulmates. To them, it was just a hurdle Pilties deliberately imposed on themselves, a contrivance to stir up drama in their otherwise too smooth to be uneventful lives, like those epic twists and sweeping narratives in cheap romance novels.
Perhaps the Zaunites were right, but Jayce was a Piltie, through and through. He believed deeply in soulmates, so much that even Caitlyn, much younger than him, teased him for being hopelesslyromantic.
That was why, when Jayce finally took Viktor in his bed, seeing those glaring four letters, the first thing that hit him was confusion.
This is wrong. His mind had murmured.
What followed immediately was a searing, incandescent jealousy, like molten iron, burning fiercer than his tensing erection. Jayce was reminded being scalded once while forging iron in his youth, a sharp, fleeting pain that burst across skin one second later, branding a phantom sting into his memory, unforgettable for a lifetime.
Jayce pulled his fingers out of the tight hole, replaced them with his cock, and thrust in brutally. Taking his girth for the first time, Viktor was not stretched nearly enough, a trickle of blood seeping out.
During the thrusts, sticky crimson clung to his shaft like creeping vines, and the sight sparked a fleeting thrill of vengeful satisfaction in Jayce. He leaned down, biting and kissing messily, his dark hands roaming haphazardly over pale skin.
He wanted to burn Viktor too, with whatever—his hands, his kisses, his dick.
The Zaunite uttetered no complaints, instead, he let out a strange, wistful sigh, as if Jayce finally entering his body fulfilled a years-long yearning. His searching hand found Jayce’s forearm.
It wasn’t fair, too unfair. Viktor had made Jayce believe he was his soulmate. No, not just because of that coincidental opening line.
Viktor was the only one who could both keep up with Jayce and put up with him. They were so alike yet utterly opposite—perfectly interlocking gears, matching puzzle pieces that complete each other. Looking at Viktor was like peering into a one-way mirror: those golden eyes reflected the truest of his soul.
At that thought, an unstoppable overwhelming sour wave of being wronged surged to the bridge of his nose. Jayce pressed his forehead against the hollow of Viktor’s shoulder, hiding his increasingly damp eyes. He quickened his pace, thrusting fiercely, his head jerking with the motion, a single tear splashed onto that word. To keep Viktor from noticing, Jayce lowered his head, mouth latching onto his collarbone, tongue lapping at the skin until it glistened. Salty, the taste of tears and sweat.
“Jayce…” His name spilled hotly into his ear. Viktor, who up till now had only been silent save for soft moans, gripped Jayce’s head tightly. “Harder…”
Fuck.
Jayce’s eyes burned sorely behind tightly shut lids. He gripped Viktor’s waist, lifting him up, slamming into him with all his strength. The sharp slap of flesh echoed in his ears, the narrow Academy dorm bed creaking violently, Jayce half-worried he’d fuck Viktor to pieces.
“Cum inside.”... the Zaunite wrapped his legs around his waist—even the sick one clinging just as desperately, as if Jayce’s seed were some elixir of life, “I want you.”
Jayce Talis was doomed.
With a long, drawn-out moan, a curled leaf languidly unfurled in Jayce’s palm—ribs as raised veins, arms pale, withered branches, stretching outward——suffering and blessed. Viktor tilted his head back, shamelessly baring his beauty, right before Jayce’s eyes.
Good. In the throes of climax, Jayce trembled in sync with Viktor, his entire being swallowed by a weightless, soft, tingling joy. Perfect. Viktor didn’t blame him. Viktor wanted him. Viktor loved him. He must...
“Wait!” Someone called out to them.
Jayce instinctively placed a hand on Viktor’s waist, subtly pulling him closer, but a quick lifted glance from Viktor stopped him.
They hadn’t labbeled this relationship, and in public, the Zaunite was just his partner.
Since you’ve kept telling people that, let’s not make things complicated then. The first time he dodged Jayce’s kiss in the lab, Viktor had said so.
Fine. Jayce rolled his eyes, pouting petulantly, and reluctantly pulled his hand away, though it hovered an inch from Viktor’s lower back.
Viktor shook his head, lips twitching with amusement. He kept that wry smile as he turned to face the caller—
His smirk froze, golden eyes widening slightly, lit up with a spark of astonishment.
Jayce’s hand immediately dropped back to the slim waist, gripping tightly. Viktor didn’t protest, for his focused gaze still fixed intently on the approaching figure.
The man was tall and big, dark-skinned, shoulder-length black hair and a beard.
Beneath Jayce’s palm, Viktor’s muscles tensed. As the man drew closer, enough for his face to be clearly seen, Viktor’s shoulders started to relax. Jayce had never seen his partner react like this.
Only then did Viktor notice the hand crumpling his vest. With a subtle nudge from the tip of his cane, he pushed it away, stepping forward just enough, to slip free silently of Jayce’s hold. The Zaunite stood straight, both hands folded atop his cane, chin lifted—formal, aloof but polite.
"What?"
Jayce nearly lunged to clap a hand over his partner’s mouth, because in the split second before Viktor spoke, he had seen it. A glimpse of ink beneath the man’s loosened collar, a small “What.”
Ice plunged through Jayce, a sharp sting piercing his palm. Desperate to reach for Viktor but not allowed, he clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, nails digging into his own flesh.
“What” could be followed by so many words. Reason urged Jayce to stay calm. What’s your name, what time is it, what the fuck, what, what, what…
Was Viktor about to find his soulmate? And Jayce was forced to stand witness?
His chest seized, imperceptibly, breath grew shallow. In a haze, a blizzard swirled before his eyes, the world darkening into a blur of despair.
Then, a sudden warmth seeped into his palm. Jayce looked down to find Viktor, at some point, lacing their fingers together, holding his hand tightly. Viktor tilted his head slightly, his eyes lifting to anchor Jayce’s drifting mind. Jayce could breathe again.
The man came nearer, eyes flicking from their joined hands to Viktor’s face with a suggestive glint in his expression. But Viktor had already lost interest in him, he answered a few questions about their lab projects with perfunctory detachment—questions Jayce usually handled.
“Well, that’s it,” Viktor said after the man left, raising their still-joined hands. “They’re already saying I only got this position by sleeping with you.”
“Who dares say so!?” Jayce’s anger flared, clutching Viktor’s his hand against his chest.
“Everyone,” Viktor’s hand aching from Jayce’s strong squeese, but as always, he indulged him without complaint, even finding it amusing. “They’re not wrong. We did sleep together.”
“Don’t say it like that, V,” Jayce flushed down to his neck, anger dissolving in an instant. “You, me, everything we have now—it’s all thanks to you.”
“I don’t care what people think of me,” Viktor shrugged one shoulder, calm voice echoing that night, when he’d stood beside Jayce, gazing out over Piltover’s glittering skyline through a broken wall, “You’re the one who should be careful, Jayce,” the Zaunite teased with a playful wink. “Those who want a piece of Hextech now are more than willing to climb into your bed—not that they needed an excuse.”
“I won’t sleep with anyone else.” Jayce locked intensely onto those sly eyes, as if letting them stray would make his words incomprehensible. He bowed his head, pressed a kiss to the prominent knuckles, oblivious to the fact that he was confessing his devotion in the middle of the Academy hallway. “Only you.”
Viktor’s teasing smile faltered, a rare blush creeping across his face. He yanked his hand from Jayce’s grasp, managing only on the second try.
What about you? Jayce nearly blurted out, but Viktor was no longer looking at him. The Zaunite stared straight ahead, determined to put some distance, he strode forward with brisk quickened pace.
That night, when Jayce fucked Viktor from behind, he didn’t stroke him as usual.
His partner, like always, gave no complaint against Jayce's roughness and unpredictability—if he had any protests, he couldn’t voice them anyway: Jayce finally got to cover his mouth, calloused fingers grazing the mole by his lips, thick digits spanning one cheek, the base of his thumb pressing just below Viktor’s nostrils.
Each time Jayce thrust to the deepest, Viktor couldn’t breathe; when he pulled back slightly, Viktor gasped, sucking air through the cracks between fingers. Jayce’s palm grew wet and hot from his ragged breaths.
“Oh, sorry,” Jayce panted, draped over Viktor’s back, hips rocking fiercely back and forth, his own breathing growing erratic. “I forgot how much you like talking to people.”
Jayce abruptly pulled his hand from Viktor’s mouth, fingers diving into his tousled brown hair. He yanked Viktor’s head back sharply, and a wanton moan burst and shot unrestrained through the window they faced.
Pale skin stretched thin over bone quivered with each pounding thrust. Viktor’s neck arched back, spine bent in an impossible bow, cock standing shamelessly erect against his stomach, spilling untouched orgasm. His eyes rolled back, pleasurable moans edging into ecstatic agony creams.
He had no idea how loud he was—the slick sounds of cock sliding in and out of tight hole, the crisp smack of hips against thighs—all drowned out beneath his high-pitched, sultry whines.
Now everyone knows they are fucking. Jayce thought, recalling Viktor’s words in the hallway earlier that day. No, not quite. They only knew Viktor was moaning like a whore, not knowing who was fucking him.
Jayce shifted, kneeling on the bed, pulling Viktor back against his chest, and began thrusting upward with ferocious force.
Still trembling in the throes of orgasm, Viktor had lost all control over his body, reduced to a broken doll impaled on Jayce’s cock, jolted wildly up and down.
Jayce pressed one hand against Viktor’s belly, massaging his own tip through the thin layer of flesh, secretly marveling at the naturally lascivious body. He tugged Viktor’s hair, handling his limp head, and sank his teeth savagely into the neck. His feverish, strong hand gripped the just-spent cock, milking it with forceful strokes to coax out the last trickle of clear fluid.
Viktor screamed, the golden boy’s name reverberating through their chests and into Piltover’s night sky.
“Jayce! Ah—Jayce!”
Jayce got what he wanted.
“Is this for me?”
Jayce had been rummaging in the drawer for ointment when he pulled out a leather muzzle—the kind meant to keep vicious dogs from biting, though clearly modified.
“I'm starting to consider it,” Viktor tilted his head and glared at him through the mirror, fingers brushing over the fresh red bite mark—wound—wincing with a hiss. “But no, it’s not for you.”
For reasons he couldn’t grasp and didn’t want to dwell on, Jayce’s face fell. He tossed the thing back into the drawer, it clattered harshly against other toys.
At least those things looked unused in ages. Jayce clung to that thought. But the same thought also reminded him: Viktor had never used them with him.
“Have you fucked anyone else?”with those toys.
The metal ointment tube was already creased with sharp folds. Jayce squeezed a bit onto his fingertip and pressed it to the ring of bite marks on Viktor’s neck. He’d indeed gone too far tonight.
“Do I strike you as a virgin?” The cool cream met the fiery wound, Viktor instinctively flinched but made no sound beyond a small shudder. “Those things weren’t used on me.”
Viktor’s jawline tightened right before eyes, that was how Jayce knew, despite the flat tone, he was gritting his teeth, enduring. Viktor always indulged him.
“I’m asking if you’ve fucked anyone else. In the ass.”
Jayce’s touch was gentle now, almost apologetic. It took him a moment to register Viktor’s silence. He glanced up curiously into the mirror and found Viktor staring at him.
Like looking at a ghost.
This wasn't the first time Jayce had caught him—in moments Viktor thought he wasn’t paying attention, he would find his partner's gaze tracing the lines of his face, searching for some resemblance, as if trying to carve another person out from beneath his skin.
“One.”
Please, Jayce, haven’t you seen my leg? Unless you design a customised brace specifically for this, there’s no way I’m riding you.
What Viktor didn’t know—and never would—was that Jayce had actually sketched out the design. He never built it, though, because in the end, Jayce decided it wasn’t necessary.
Viktor had always been a pillow princess, indulging in pleasure to the edge of arrogance. And Jayce loved every second of it.
When worked over forty hours straight, Jayce would have to kidnap his partner, carrying him forcibly to bed. Only fucked to exhaustion would Viktor go to sleep, leaving even the cleanup all to Jayce.
When research consumed him, Viktor would bluntly and ruthlessly “request” Jayce to take care of his lust. The Zaunite would collapse onto the soft mattress, like a mannequin stripped bare in a shop window. Jayce would dutifully serve him with hands, sometimes with mouth. Once desire and the first orgasm loosened him up, Viktor would roll over, half-asleep, basking in Jayce’s cock. Jayce didn’t mind—those languid hums and lazy moans, born of pure instinct, were the most genuine rating he could receive.
So, Viktor could fuck someone.
Jayce lowered his head, refocusing on the bite mark—the mark he himself left on Viktor, the one Viktor willingly took, not some bullshit curse of fate branded on them at birth without permission.
His gaze drifted unbidden to the deep hollow of Viktor’s collarbone.
That man—the one Viktor was willing to fuck—had he called out “Wait” to stop Viktor? He couldn’t be Viktor’s soulmate, could he? Otherwise, why would Jayce be the one standing naked in Viktor’s bathroom right now?
So, that man’s soulmark hadn’t matched Viktor’s first words to him. Jayce allowed himself a fleeting moment of schadenfreude: Did Viktor also yearn and fantasize about saying different words, ones that just happened to be written on that man’s skin?
That man, was he the one Viktor was searching for in Jayce’s face?
Why, in the end, did Viktor let Jayce take whatever he wanted?
“If you’re worried,” Jayce half-suspected Viktor could read his mind, “he’s definitely not my soulmate.”
He blinked at the slender neck in his palm, realizing Viktor was talking about the man who stopped them earlier that day.
“Hm.”
“Because you are, Jayce.”
Jayce didn’t call out Viktor’s contradiction. When Jayce clung to the idea of soulmarks, Viktor told him not to be bound by fate—Don't ask for permission, he’d said—always so good at giving Jayce hope.
Yet now, the Zaunite seemed to believe in soulmates himself, perhaps just for the mood.
Jayce didn’t realize his mouth had pouted until Viktor’s fingers lifted his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.
“I’d do anything for you, Jayce.”
Viktor didn’t seem lying. Jayce looked into those amber eyes molten in affection.
Where they reflected the truest colors of his soul.
“Anything?”
“Now?”
Viktor stared at the object in Jayce’s hand, silent for a long moment. Just when Jayce thought he wouldn’t agree, Viktor reached out, took the bullet vibrator from his fingertips, and headed into the break room.
The moment the lock turned with a sharp click, Jayce's heartbeat jolted into a frantic rhythm, as if startled awake by that very sound.
He imagined—he could see it: Viktor, leaning on his cane, dragging his steps to the sofa. He paused, undid his trousers and sat down. He’d have to slip off one pant leg—the one without the brace, of course—because what he was about to do demanded his thighs be spread wide.
Jayce swallowed hard, cock twitching in his pants. He stared at the closed door, as if he could see through it—seeing Viktor spitting two wet fingers out of his mouth, stretching himself rough and efficient. He’d have to be quick; Sky would be back soon.
Viktor, brow furrowed,as he stuck the toy in. Its shape was like a smooth pebble, not too long, rounded at the tip for easy entry, but wide enough to stretch the rim just a bit.
But Viktor could take it in effortlessly. Jayce’s mind conjured the image of his own thick cockhead pushing into that hole, usually been worked open by his own hands, softened and loosened, yet tight and scorching once inside…
The door opened.
Viktor returned to his workbench, without a flicker of expression.
Jayce couldn’t tell if he felt more disappointed or confused, so he pressed the switch hidden in his palm, finally satisfied seeing Viktor’s shoulder muscles tensed instantly, a faint buzz humming from the hard chair’s surface.
Viktor shot him a resentful glance before burying himself back in his calculations again.
That single look alone was enough to get Jayce hard.
He turned up the intensity, just to wring another of those glances from Viktor. But the Zaunite ducked his head lower, determined to ignore the escalating hum beneath him.
However, Jayce noticed his partner stared at the same equation for too long, knuckles whitening around the pencil, the edge of his scratch paper trembling slightly.
Jayce cranked the setting to max. Viktor let out a sharp gasp, bolting upright. He had meant to protest—but the lab door swung open. Sky stepped in.
To drown out the high-frequency buzz under his ass, Viktor scrambled to his feet. The sudden shift drove the vibrator's head press against a sensitive spot, and now, even his good leg buckled beneath him.
Face flushed crimson, Viktor shot Jayce a murderous glare. And Jayce, greeted Sky nonchalantly, with a broad smile plastered across his face.
“Viktor, are you all right?”
Sky saw Viktor gripping the edge of the desk tightly with both hands, as if struggling to hold himself up.
“Miss Yang!” Viktor’s voice was pitched higher than usual, pathetically trying to mask the sound of the vibrator colliding with soft flesh. “I’m fine, just tired from sitting.” He clenched his teeth, sweat beading faintly on his forehead.
“You look like you might have a fever.”
Sky, concerned, quickly approached Viktor. The Zaunite’s tension became even more apparent; he straightened up, turning to face Sky. His hip accidentally brushed the desk’s edge, setting off a loud buzz, and Viktor immediately arched his back, springing upright. Fortunately, Sky didn’t notice.
But she would hear it, eventually, though the oblivious assistant might feel confused. Perhaps she’d ask questions, search for the source of the noise, or maybe she’d understand—and then she would look at Jayce.
The Zaunite had already tilted his head back slightly, and Jayce realized with astonishment: Viktor was about to come—a realization that made Jayce’s pants tighten further.
When Sky Yang got close enough, Jayce considerately switched off the vibrator. Viktor’s instinctive reaction was a small “ah” of disappointment. Jayce could not believe it—did Viktor really want his assistant to see his orgasm face? Of course, Jayce would never allow it.
“Ahem, I’m fine,” Viktor faked a cough into his fist to excuse his teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and rapid breathing. “It’s just… the lab’s a bit warm, don’t you think?”
When he took over the experiment data, Viktor still seemed weak and dazed. He struggled to prop himself up with the cane leaning against the desk, his steps unsteady as he made his way to the blackboard. It took him several minutes to settle into the rhythm of calculations.
But once Viktor entered his work flow, his spirits lifted, and even his tired face seemed to glow with renewed energy. Jayce noticed Sky staring at Viktor’s focused profile, almost entranced. Following her gaze, Jayce saw Viktor’s pale, thin lips—adorably full as he passionately explained theories or mumbled algorithms under his breath.
A low buzz suddenly hummed through the air, and Viktor’s speech halted abruptly, his entire body freezing. The lips that had been so lively moments ago were now pressed tightly into a thin line.
“Viktor?”
“Hm?” Viktor let out a nasal hum, a sharper and higher tone than usual. “Oh, uh…” He paused, and when he resumed, his thoughts came out haltingly, disjointed.
Another buzz sounded, and Sky, puzzled, glanced around. But her attention drawn back at a sharp crack.
Viktor’s chalk had snapped. Her boss stood with one fist clenched, slamming against the blackboard, his forehead pressed to the back of that hand, face turned downward, his breathing so labored it bordered on distress.
“What’s wrong!?”
The arm Viktor used to grip his cane trembled, in fact, his entire body quivered, especially his legs.
Fearing her Zaunite friend might collapse from exhaustion, Sky stepped forward to support him. But before her hand could even touch Viktor, a large, dark hand entered her sight, gripping his shoulder while casually brushing her aside.
“Oh, apologies, Miss Yang,” Jayce said, sounding neither apologetic nor concerned. “Could you make a quick trip to the pharmacy? I think Viktor’s really running a fever.”
Sky felt an odd intuition, but remembering how Viktor once powered through three sleepless nights with a fever, she pushed the thought aside and hurried off.
Viktor expressed gratitude and apology to her, seeing her to the door. Jayce still had his arm around Viktor’s shoulders, in the most pure and innocent way. Viktor was practically leaning into Jayce’s embrace.
The cane fell to the ground and bounced, the crisp sound of steel striking marble echoing sharply.
The moment Jayce roughly pulled Viktor into a ferocious kiss—just a second before the door fully closed—if Miss Yang had looked back, she would have seen them entangled like two animals in heat, filthy and fervent.
The thought of that possibility drove Jayce to kiss deeper, harder. Viktor, trembling under the threat of being caught, couldn’t hold back his moans, thankfully every sound he made was devoured by Jayce’s mouth.
“You did so well… V…” Jayce murmured between breaths, while his tongue was greedily invading.
Viktor arched his hips instinctively, and Jayce’s large hands roamed feverishly over his body, his palm pressing and rubbing against Viktor’s erection.
“Mmm… Jayce…”
Jayce yanked off the red tie he’d gifted—Viktor's soulmark laid upon his collarbone, he could not bear to let it be seen so easily.
“Open your mouth.”
The Zaunite, as always, complied without a single complaint, letting Jayce treat him like an animal, stuffing the tie into his mouth.
Jayce pushed Viktor’s shoulders, turning him around. Viktor instinctively braced both hands against the door and arched his back, letting his weight rest on the stronger leg. The position thrust his hips high, an offering and a plea.
How many buttons popped off? Who was bothering to count? Jayce roughly yanked down Viktor’s uniform pants, revealing the soft, round flesh of his ass, wrapped tightly in white cotton, presented to him.
“Gosh, V,” Jayce said, his finger prodding the taut, damp gray patch between Viktor’s cheeks, the thick white fabric almost transparent. “You’re soaked.” He pulled the underwear down too, reaching front to flick the slick, hard cock swaying in the air. “If your dick wasn’t still this hard, I’d think you’d turned into a woman.”
Viktor whimpered, excited even more from Jayce’s humiliation.
“Must be tough,” Jayce said, mesmerized as Viktor’s ass trembled in rhythm with the vibrator inside, the pale flesh quivering enticingly. “Want me to take it out?” Unable to resist, he gave the ass a loud smack, a flush of red blooming on the pale skin. He was even more beautiful.
“Or not?” Jayce slid two fingers in, effortlessly—Viktor's inside a slick wet mess long before. He stirred them teasingly, hard to tell whether to pull out or push deeper. “You know I’ll do whatever you ask, but you’ve got to say it.”
Viktor, unable to speak, could only sway his hips, arching back desperately. He freed one hand, reaching behind to spread his cheeks.
“Alright, no hurry.”
Jayce batted Viktor’s hand away, using his own hands to fully cover the small, pert ass, thumbs pressing against the rim of the hole and pulling it open. Janna, he was so wet. Jayce’s fingers even slipped at the entrance.
Jayce, not bothering to take off his pants, merely unzipped, forcing his thick, long cock inside without ceremony. The vibrator, set to its highest intensity, was pushed deeper by the length of his shaft.
Viktor, as if choked, lost his voice, head thrown back as he trembled soundlessly for a moment. Jayce glanced at the lab door, spotting a splatter of white, and realized Viktor had just come.
Jayce was gripped tightly by the wet, scorching heat of Viktor’s insides, the walls pulsing with his rapid breaths, more agile than his throat, while the toy’s gentle, rounded vibrations massaged Jayce's tip.
It was too much. Jayce’s scalp tingled, his balls, still trapped in pants, aching with pressure.
He pulled out slightly, just enough to avoid the vibrations. But the entire passage quivered, making Jayce's cock crave that jolting pleasure again. So, Jayce Talis lost his patience and consideration. Knowing Viktor was still in a sensitive state, he couldn’t help but move, thrusting shallowly.
“Stop…” Viktor’s tongue pressed against the tie, his words muffled, yet oddly enough, still carrying that distinct Zaunite accent. “…Jayce… please…”
"When do you think Sky will be back?" Jayce paused, only because the sensation was too overwhelming. He licked Viktor’s earlobe, hot breath puffing into the sensitive ear. “What will people see when this door opens?” Jayce pulled Viktor up, making his lust-drunk, debauched expression face straight at the closed door seam. “If you want this to end, you’ve got to make me come faster.” With that said, Jayce immediately felt Viktor’s hole clench, gripping him so tightly it was painfully exquisite.
Jayce reached for the knot of the tie behind Viktor’s head. Viktor’s eyes were red, drool spilling from the corner of his unclosable mouth. His hair was a mess, sweat dampening his temples, his pale skin flushed pink from the heat of sex, even those two moles distorted.
I’ve ruined him—and I haven’t even begun to fuck yet.
So Jayce began.
He pinned Viktor’s wrists against the door with one hand, the other sliding around the softness of his belly, through the thin layer of fat and muscle, he felt the vibrations of the toy thrumming against his palm. Jayce pressed down hard, the oval-shaped device squeezed against his tip, a violent shiver jolted through his full body uncontrollably. He pulled all the way out, then slammed back in, driving the vibrating pleasure deep into Viktor’s core.
Viktor's scream, breaking into blurred pleas, body trembling nonstop. Jayce knew he was hurtling through a continuous wave of climax.
With his hands bound, Viktor turned his fevered cheek, rubbing it against Jayce’s arm, twisting sideways to press kisses to his soulmate mark.
Jayce’s heart melted at once. He released Viktor’s hands, untied the tie, and spun him around to face him.
Jayce’s large hands easily cupped the beneath of Viktor’s thighs, scooping his ass and hoisting him up, pinning him against the door to be fucked. Gravity dragged the Zaunite sink fully onto his cock, spearing him to a depth Jayce had never reached before.
I have to finish that brace. Jayce thought in a split of mind. Viktor feels too fucking good up top.
Viktor’s legs were folded up, his spine grinding against the uneven, hard surface of the door, his waistcoat smearing away the seed he himself had spilled earlier. He wrapped his arms around Jayce’s head, enduring it all with sweet surrender.
Viktor, down from above, cradled Jayce’s face, searching for his lips, and kissed him deeply with affection.
Jayce laid Viktor down on the sofa in the break room. He slid his entire hand in, to dig out the vibrator stuck deep within. His wrist was too thick, and he deliberately used his left hand, the one adorned with the runestone. After all, Viktor had always favored that arm—the one harboring his soulmark.
An unconscious moan escaped from Viktor's throat, whether from pain or pleasure, one couldn’t tell. His hole spasmed, expelling the toy, which now was coated in slick and cum. Jayce finally shut the buzzing thing off, and wrapped Viktor snugly in his own blanket.
His lover’s cheeks were feverish, face turned toward the backrest, drifting into a faint sleep.
Viktor might actually be running a fever.
Staring at the tousled brown hair, Jayce asked himself: Why?Why does Viktor always endure him, again and again, letting him push boundaries without restraint?
He learned the answer only long after, from Viktor’s own lips—high atop the Hexgate, amidst a serene sea of flowers, before his own empty, defeated, dreamless shell.
Those golden eyes had long gazed into his soul. Because once, in the storm of snow, Jayce had shouted after a silent back.
“——”
I understand now.
Jayce wept. His dreams, his belong, his love—his soulmate—all along, had always been Viktor, only Viktor.
“Send me back.”
A shabby but crowded tavern in the Lanes, Jayce sat in a shadowed corner unreachable by the light.
Viktor nearly forgot his cane as he stood, not yet as reliant on it as he later would become.
Twenty years old—so young, so healthy.
Jayce pushed aside the untouched drink, following Viktor, out through the door.
“Wait!”