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"Viktor wanted vanilla, right?" Ximena asks, ice cream scoop in hand, as Jayce stands on his tiptoes, trying to steal a bite of the sweet early. His spoon is half-dug into the tub, and his calves are shaking from exertion – he cannot wait for that growth spurt his mom keeps telling him about! –, but it's Ximena's disapproving look making him pull away. "Jayce! Don't be greedy, you will get yours in a second."
The boy can feel his entire face flush. He drops his spoon onto the counter, and fists his pants, staring at his socked feet. "'m sorry, mama. Yes, Viktor only likes vanilla."
His mom nods, lips pulled into a tight line, and Jayce wishes with all his little heart there won't be a punishment awaiting him when Viktor goes home the next morning. Jayce only despises a few things more than being reprimanded for his overeager attitude, for his body moving too fast for his brain to keep up with, emotions too big and too loud.
Straightening his back, clenching his teeth to hold back the sob trying to break out, Jayce fixates his eyes onto the ice cream boxes. Promises himself to be better, to be more mature, to not act like a little boy again, despite being one.
His eyes start to dry out and ache, by the time Ximena hands him two porcelain bowls, one with stars and one with hearts. "Can you bring them to your room or do you need me to help?" She asks, suppressing a yawn. Jayce shakes his head, grabs hold of both treats – this, this is his chance to turn the tides. His mom is tired, will probably turn her beloved show on and fall asleep in the matter of minutes, she doesn't need to deal with the stairs, with whatever task she might come up with if she lays eyes on the state of Jayce's room.
"I can do it, mama, I'm not a baby anymore," and he almost falls face first over the bunched up part of the carpet, a bump he might've made when him and Viktor were playing puppy and kitty earlier, crawling and rolling around. The memory makes Jayce's face flush, because he shouldn't enjoy making unintelligent animal sounds while pawing at his best friend anymore, that's so for babies.
Still, he manages. Doesn't even fall. He can do this. He is a big boy.
"Ice cream!" Viktor's eyes sparkle and he giggles when Jayce offers him the bowl, eagerly reaching for it, making adorable grubby hands. Technically, Viktor is a year older than Jayce – he remembers sulking on the day of Viktor's birthday party, his best friend closer to being an adult now, Jayce falling behind. The cake and bouncy castle cheered him up, but in moments like these, when Viktor's single focus is a sweet and his favorite cartoon, Jayce feels like the older one. Providing, starting and pausing the movie, pulling Viktor's blanket back onto his legs, fluffing his pillow and help situate their plushies.
Speaking in his place, too, Viktor not the biggest fan of it. Loves to communicate in single words, in hand gestures, in grunts, in sad little looks only his mom and Jayce can understand. A voice, a protector, a giver.
Like he isn't just Viktor's best friend, but… An older brother. Or, maybe, a husband.
As Jayce sits down in the fort they spend so long perfecting, having drawn up multiple blue prints for it, to compare which structure would hold and look the best, his eyes wander over to Viktor's lips, shiny and slightly white from the bits of melted ice cream on them. He thinks of the way he has seen his mama and papa kiss, imagines licking the sweet off Viktor to clean him up, and he feels feverish. He will have to go down for the thermometer if it doesn't go away, the last thing he wants is to give some bug to Viktor.
By the time he digs his spoon into cookie dough-salted caramel-chocolate goodness, it has melted around the edges, soupy and soft. Jayce wants to pout about it, but he is a big boy – and it will taste the same anyway. If he swallows fast, he won't even feel the texture.
Viktor is moving around, his little feet kicking into Jayce's thigh. "What's wrong?" Jayce turns to him, concerned. Viktor might've already gotten Jayce's weird cold, and he might be feeling sick already, on top of everything else he was born with, complicated names he can't yet understand, only knowing of Viktor's fragility. "V, what's up?"
The boy shakes his head, continues wrangling with the fluffy duvet, tiny groans of displeasure leaving his lips. "Do you want it off?" Jayce asks, but doesn't wait for an answer, reaching for the end of the blanket, eager to be over the fussing and start the movie, scoop that first heavenly bite into his mouth. He pulls – with way too much force –, wanting his friend's discomfort to end, but Viktor has managed to tangle himself up in said blanket to an unexpected degree.
So, disaster comes.
The blanket was wrapped around one of Viktor's legs, because Jayce manages to drag his friend into a laying position, bowl flying from his hand. It takes a second for Jayce to realize what he has done, staring numb at the corner of blanket in his fist, and at the shocked expression on Viktor's face. IT contorts and morphs, little mouth forming a sad pout, eyes squeezing painfully, teeth on display as Viktor lets a ta cry, from his throat, from deep within his chest escape.
"Vik, I'm so, I'm so sorry," tears are gathering in Jayce's eyes too, because he messed up, because he acted rashly instead of taking it step by step like his mama is always trying her hardest to teach him, and it ended up hurting his friend. Or, at least, Jayce thinks he hurt Viktor - must've pulled on his bad leg, from the amount of discomfort in Viktor's wails. He is up from the fort i na second, deciding with a heavy heart that its time to go down and wake his mama, because Jayce doesn't know which one of his medicines will help Viktor, but the older boy interrupts him.
"Cold, cold, Jay, cold!" Viktor's body is writhing uncontrollably, and his hands are pulling at his shirt, tugging and nearly tearing, getting louder and louder and louder. Jayce's gaze travels, and a surprised gasp leaves his lips - Viktor wasn't crying because Jayce hurt him! Viktor was crying because he spilled his ice cream all over his thin tank top, the bowl and spoon lying on the floor next to him, empty and sad.
This, it's good. Great, even – because Jayce doesn't need to wake his mama, doesn't have to bashfully admit to what he did! All this could be written up to Viktor's overall clumsiness, and better, because Jayce knows hpw to help him.
"Vik, Vik, it's okay! We can clean you up!" He whips his head around, thinks of all the weird smelling powders and liquids mama rubs into the mud and grass stains on Jayce's clothes, working away at them with a sponge and a disapproving look. All Jayce needs is a liquid, and a sponge – he can do that! He can find those!
As quickly as possible, because Viktor is still insistently crying, in the mess Jayce made of him, volume increasing along with his face getting so red Jayce fears Viktor will cartoonishly explode, the image of gore and red making him shudder and act. Usually, when Jayce eats his treats messily, his mama licks her thumb and wipes at his skin – so, Jayce's saliva should work.
Nodding to himself, proud of his idea, hoping his mama will be proud when Jayce tells all about it to her later, he climbs over Viktor's body. The sobbing stops for a split second, Viktor surprised by the closeness, and it's enough time for Jayce to grab his arms away from his shirt, lean down, and take his first lick.
It's soft. Squishy. The changes Viktor's body have been going through, celebrated puberty, now right in front of Jayce. The ice cream melted, wetting the fabric, and now its stuck to the two little mounds Viktor has, one of which Jayce just ran his tongue over. He would love to wonder over it – and he will, later, but he has a job to get back to right now.
So Jayce licks, and sucks, and slurps at the runny sweetness, tongue rubbed raw against the tank top, but it's working. Viktor has stopped crying, and the cleaning is progressing – the boy, instead, lets out tinier, breathy sounds when Jayce's mouth touches and latches onto one of the hard, protruding nubs. Viktor's nipple. Jayce can feel Viktor's arms shake and push back against the force pinning them down at a particularly hard suck, but Jayce is stronger.
He feels greedy, the sugar sparking across his taste buds, eyes closed as he considers making vanilla his favorite flavor. Usually considered too boring, it's elevated, by the closeness of Viktor, the scent of him, the sweet sounds he keeps on making. The act reminds Jayce of those faded, foggy memories, his mama pursing her lips in worry as Jayce begged to be breastfed even as he started elementary school, reasoning it helped calm him.
Maybe Jayce could ask Viktor for this, in the future – when everything becomes too much, Jayce could gently drag his best friend to the bathroom, lift his shirt and latch on, spend their lunch break skin to skin, in the haze of endless suckling and whimpering.
"Better?" Jayce asks, having dutifully licked up every inch on ice cream on Viktor's shirt, tongue aching and dry. Heart warm, so proud of himself for acting quick and acting right, even as Viktor shakes his head.
"Cold," he whispers, but Jayce's mood can't be dampened. Sliding his hands under Viktor's tank top, fingertips making electrifying contact with soft skin, Jayce pushes it up, up, up, gently pulling it over his friend's head.
"Better?" He tries again, fingers still resting atop Viktor's bare sides. Viktor nods, and the two boys smile at each other, Jayce's tooth gap and Viktor's snaggletooth.
Sighing, relieved and self-assured, Jayce lets his eyes skim over Viktor's body as it finally, lays bare underneath him – and it's the spectacle of the decade of Jayce's life, better than the colors and shapes dancing across the cinema's oversized screen, better than the acrobats flying and falling in front of him at the circus, better than anything his prepubescent mind could've ever come up with. Pale and pink, scattered with moles, strawberries and cream with the occasional chocolate chip, still-growing mounds of fat shiny with ice cream and saliva, peaked with nipples akin to the baby bottle Jayce reluctantly used even when it was shameful for someone his age to do so.
But Viktor is whining. Squeezing his thighs together in an uncoordinated rhythm, the hem of his shorts having ridden up, more peach-fuzz covered skin for Jayce to wonder at. "Hot, hot , hot," he keeps repeating, insistent, little fists balled up in the blanket as he struggles.
Jayce gulps, counts to ten like that kind lady taught him to do whenever he feels his head clouded, whenever he can't find a logical thought in his head. Counts to then, again, again, again. Saliva almost drips as he silently mouths the numbers, chest tight, tummy warm. A shaky breath, another and another, a wish for his mama to be here and help him through this strange, unknown, scary feeling.
"W-where? Can you show me where, Vik?" His tone travels from raspy to high, cracking and breaking.
Spreading his legs as much as Jayce's straddling position allows him to, Viktor paws at his crotch with tiny mewls, his palm rubbing away. "Is it… Are you itching?" Confused, he questions, eyes glued to Viktor's ever speeding hand, to the way his body seems to curl and contort around the gravity of his private parts.
Jayce needs to investigate – though much calmer, Viktor is still in some kind of distress, maybe a type of fever. Hooking into the band of his shorts, Jayce pulls them down, inch by inch, eager to help but scared of what might be hiding under the fabric. He has requested multiple times that he and Viktor bathe together any time the boy sleeps over, wanting to show off his favorite bath toys and pirate-pretends, continuously being met with a persistent no. Viktor's body is fragile, they reason, and Jayce promises to be gentle. Viktor's body is different, they explain, and Jayce replies an unanswered 'how?.
Now, Jayce can find out.
It's a surprise – between Viktor's pale thighs lays something entirely different from the so-called penis Jayce has. Viktor's is flat, covered with a light spraying of chestnut curls, looking so alien and giving Jayce a head rush at the same time. Reminds Jayce of cartoon characters getting angry and going red. It's worrying, really, if Jayce ignores the strange urges so lean down and take a big breath, huff whatever part Viktor has.
Most likely, Viktor has a fever. The skin is flushed, and Jayce can feel the heat radiating as he skims a finger over it, collecting what he assumes to be snot. Which means, Jayce needs to bring down Viktor's body temperature, like his mama does when she makes Jayce sit in lukewarm water and puts a cold rag over his forehead.
He should run to the bathroom and wet a towel to bring over, but as he tries to stand, Viktor grabs onto his shirt, clinging to Jayce with whimpers of misery. His hips are angled upwards, the two petals of his parts separating, revealing hot pink, slick insides. "Viktor, please. I have to help you," he begs, uselessly, Viktor pulling him in even further.
Reaching out for the abandoned bowl, as a last resort, Jayce scoops up a handful of his half-melted ice cream, and while mumbling countless apologies, he smears it all over Viktor's pussy. The reaction, a silent scream, Viktor's mouth wide open along with his eyes, is instantaneous. Jayce knows it must hurt, and to give some resemblance of comfort, he presses kisses all over Viktor's face – a couple landing on the boy's dry lips, making Jayce blush –, holding the icy treat against the pulsating organ.
Rubbing it in, trying to soothe and care with slow strokes, Jayce can feel it mixing with the slickness that's endlessly flowing from Viktor, gooey and sticky, making him want to lick and taste. Daft, shaking fingers moving in lame wiping motions, across the lower parts of Viktor's parts, Jayce discovers an – an opening. Peering down, panting in tandem with Viktor, he watches his ice cream-covered fingertip make an entrance into the second hole Viktor has.
It reminds him of a volcano. Simmering hot, wet. Barely able to fit half of Jayce's chubby finger, but – Viktor seems to like it. Love it, even, with the way he scratches Jayce's back through his shirt, searching for purchase to angle his hips upward, toward the intrusion, desperate.
Still, Jayce's idea worked. He can feel Viktor's lower-boy fever going down, the temperature of his strange flower dropping by the second. Jayce feels proud, of himself for quick thinking, and of Viktor for enduring the discomfort which got them here.
He must still be in some, because the skin of his chest, his private parts, and his inner thighs are shiny and sticky. It will be uncomfortable to pull his clothes back on, to try and walk with his skin pulling on itself. Luckily for Viktor, nothing can deter Jayce now.
"I'll help clean you up, okay?" He whispers, shyly leaving a kiss on Viktor's lips, silently hoping they can do more of that in the future. Pulls his single finger out of Viktor, gently easing himself out of the clinging hold which has thankfully calmed along with the fever, and he descends.
His chest is easy to lick pristine. Most of the work is already done, but Jayce can't resist giving each of Viktor's pink peaks a needy suckle, scraping the hard nubs with his teeth. Shivering at the song of broken moans escaping Viktor, encouraging Jayce's focus on making Viktor feel good, better than he ever has before. (A core memory. Something to remember Jayce by – something to tie them together. Something Viktor will never be able to escape, Jayce ingrained onto his body.)
"Do you feel good, Vik?" Lifting his head to catch his friend's eyes, the nod of approval gets Jayce moving with more fervor. Kissing down Viktor's slim abdomen, the leftover sugar popping on his tongue, strengthened by the saltiness of skin.
He arrives at Viktor's pussy, painted a plethora of colors from the ice cream Jayce smeared all over it. It's calling to him, promising to be the best treat he has ever tasted, and Jayce is nothing but a foolish boy in face of strange urges. Pressing little kisses along the soft gives of lips, the melted diary gathers on Jayce's mouth, chin, nose – he wipes it into the tender of Viktor's inner thigh, then licks it off, making sure not to leave a single spot dirty.
Viktor seemed to really love having something pushed inside than tiny hole at the end of his pussy, now pulsing and twitching. Shyly, Jayce fingers more ice cream into him with a single digit, angling it to rub the ice into the crazy-hot inner walls, causing high-pitched, animalistic noises to leave Viktor.
"You like it that much? Am I making you feel this good?" Always in need of encouragement, Jayce begs for it, even when he knows Viktor won't mutter more than a slurred yes in between squealing breaths. Though, it's enough. Enough to make lean down, to jump over the final line, to suckle and lick at Viktor between the legs, cleaning him up and dirtying his insides at the same time.
Relentlessly, endlessly, Viktor leaks. It's heady, a bit sour, but mixed with cookie dough flavor, with salted caramel, with chocolate. Jayce drinks it up – hopes to absorb every sense of maturity, of preteen, of puberty Viktor has over him, to finally become strong and big and brave, someone to protect and love Viktor.
…Love is a big word. His mama and papa love each other. That's how Jayce came to be, grown from their infinite love like a fruit. But Jayce loves Viktor. He loves Viktor a little too much sometimes, maybe he is loving Viktor a little too much right now, forcing his face and tongue into the tight space even as Viktor's thighs shake and quiver, squeezing Jayce's head, babbling incoherently.
Maybe this is Jayce becoming an adult, with his friend's pussy drooling over him, with licking all remainders of ice cream out of him. Tongue deep in his hole, nose rubbing against a hard little nub, until Viktor's body locks up. Until hands grab into Jayce's hair and pull him up, the boy finally taking a much needed breath.
Jayce, with his face still soaked and out of breath, notices the tightness of his own shorts. A small tent, and an urge like to other, to touch and rub his hardness on any available surface. It's scary, unexpected, and new. He probably caught the strange fever, too. When he finally touches his teeny, erect, leaking cock, Jayce gains an understanding of what Viktor must've been going through.
Once again, Jayce wishes for his mama was here with him.
Taking another handful, Jayce wraps an ice-cream wet hand around his hardness instead of the feather-light touches, and a funny noise breaks out from his throat. Between a moan and a shout, it stutters and prolongs, and Jayce can feel Viktor's boiling gaze on his core. His own eyes are squeezed shut, but the sight of Viktor's body is burned into his consciousness, will surely visit him in early-came wet dreams.
He jerks himself in short, shaky motions, his whole body following and thrusting into the tight hold of his fist. The ice cream makes it better and worse at the same time – the slide is slippery, but it sticks, breaks the frenzied pace of Jayce's masturbation. Makes it frustrating, something too good to be true peaking as the skin of his cock overheats and his tummy kicks and pulls, every muscle in his body squeezing and releasing, until the haze breaks because his fingers get stuck.
Annoyed, and impatient, Jayce dips into the mess under Viktor's ass. More ice cream, yes, but it's mixed with the heady slick of Viktor's Jayce can still taste on his tongue, on the back of his teeth, and this – this works. It helps Jayce's rutting, makes that feeling Jayce can only compare to a sugar rush come back, and it grows. It grows, and grows, and as it gets ready to bloom, shoot out of his body and take his brain with it—
Viktor's little hand cups the tip of Jayce's cock. It's unsure, but it's there, and it's the final nail in the coffin.
Jayce's mouth hangs wide open, his voice cords vibrate with ah, ah, ah's, and a few spurts of a white, thick substance shoots out from his cock, right across Viktor's achy pussy.
They sit in silence for a few minutes. Jayce's body, exhausted, falls over Viktor's, who starts rubbing his friend's back while humming the tune of his favorite cartoon's theme song, clearly in a great mood.
"…We need to bathe," Jayce whispers into Viktor's naked chest, already embarrassed by the idea of having to go and tell his mom about the mess they made. Viktor giggles, loud and happy, liking the idea of a bath, so Jayce decides the shame will be worth it.