Work Text:
This damn stack of ungraded papers is never going to end.
Viktor really, really wants it to end.
His vision is blurring and campus has gone quiet around him what feels like hours ago; it probably has been hours.
He’s tried all the tricks; the ‘just five more’, the ‘I’ll stop when the clock hits twelve’, the ‘I’ll look for a good one to keep me motivated’ – all things Jayce is proficient in, but don’t really work for Viktor.
That’s how desperate he is to grade these.
He really just wants to go home and put on the show they are currently watching together, safe and warm under that ridiculous fluffy blanket Jayce insisted they should buy and Viktor has secretly come to love. But he also has to grade the papers until the next class (tomorrow at 8), as per university regulations. He really isn’t in the mood to be called in to the department head’s office when a student tells on him not adhering to deadlines.
He sighs again and crosses out another ridiculous line in the paper he’s reading – but he’s too tired, and the red ink smudges against the side of his hand instantly.
Can he even bring himself to care? He should, clean it off, wash his hands, pay more attention to not getting ink on himself. But…
The door creaks, and Viktor wants to throw himself out the window.
“My office hours ended two hours ago,” he says, trying to hide the exasperation.
“Good thing I’m not one of your students then,” the person closing the door says, and Viktor’s lips immediately pull into a smile, his heart feeling lighter. He finishes the correction he was writing and looks up.
His husband stands in the doorway, tie a bit askew, and hair wild from the wind outside. He must have been at the lab in the other building.
“I figured you’d still be here,” Jayce says, stepping closer. “Did you eat dinner at least?”
Viktor gestures toward the mountain of essays with his pen. “They will not mark themselves.” It’s answer enough.
Jayce extends a coffee towards him that Viktor gratefully accepts, and picks up the closest essay, running his eyes over it.
“You’ve said that every time you’ve been teaching this particular class.”
“It remains true,” Viktor sighs and snatches the paper out of Jayce’s hands, skimming it. “I am almost certain that this student didn’t write this. They can’t get two proper sentences out of their head and write the most perfect paragraphs here.”
“Fail them,” Jayce shrugs.
“You know I can’t do that without proof,” Viktor sighs again. “And ‘I know they are stupid and this was not written by a stupid person’ is not proof enough for the faculty. You know that.”
“I do,” Jayce grimaces. “How much time you think you’ll need?”
“Eh, an hour, maybe?” Viktor estimates, and Jayce nods.
“You mind if I stay here? We can grab takeout on the way home.”
“I’d quite like that,” Viktor agrees and turns back to his papers while Jayce makes himself comfortable in his usual armchair, already on his phone in a way that Viktor isn’t sure if he is playing Candy Crush or tidying up his ResearchGate profile.
It has become a routine over the years. Them staying at the other’s office, waiting. At first, the long hours periodically throughout the semesters had driven a wedge in their relationship – they were always fighting about it, no matter which of them was working late.
At some point, two years into their marriage, it had become so bad that it threatened to ruin their relationship for good – until they both took a step back and restructured their priorities.
It is hard, being a young professor at a big university, especially if your partner is teaching there as well. Always being compared, teaching the same students, having to write papers and teach at the same time… absolutely exhausting.
But now, them sitting like this has become a normal thing. Like this, Jayce can get his hugs and kisses while Viktor is grading – perfect balance.
There are only five papers left when Jayce looks up from his phone.
“You know,” he mutters, “that pen looks really good in your hand.”
“It’s a pen, Jayce.” His favorite fountain pen, but nonetheless… it’s a pen.
“Yeah, but not just any pen,” Jayce grins. “It catches the light so elegantly… kind of like you.”
“What is wrong with you?” Viktor asks, exasperated.
“I just… think it looks really good in your hand,” Jayce says, voice like velvet. Ah. That’s where the wind is blowing from.
Viktor decides not to entertain it.
But of course, Jayce is not letting up. “Maybe it’s the way you grip it… so firm, so elegant… you could grade me next.”
Viktor sighs again, tapping the pen lightly against the page. “Jayce, I am busy. The more you distract me, the longer this will take.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Jayce smiles and shifts in the chair, sprawling a little more comfortably. “Besides, you make grading look way too hot for me to concentrate on anything else.”
Viktor’s pen stills again. Just four more papers. “Your priorities,” he says, “remain profoundly questionable.”
“Mm,” Jayce hums, “but my taste’s impeccable.”
He rises from the armchair, wandering closer to the desk. He carries himself with that restless energy Viktor knows all too well… oh gods. Jayce is going to use all his tricks, and Viktor will have to discipline himself, because he knows he can’t discipline Jayce when he’s like this.
And indeed, Jayce’s fingers tap the surface, close to Viktor’s papers. “You’re so focused,” he murmurs. “It’s almost unfair, you know. The way you look at everything like it’s a puzzle waiting to be solved, but you won’t solve me.”
“Jayce,” Viktor warns softly without looking up, “if you continue, I will assign you some of these to grade.”
Jayce laughs, that warm, teasing sound that always cracks through Viktor’s composure. “Promises, promises.” He tilts his head, stepping close enough that Viktor can feel the warmth radiating off him. “You could mark me for a change, you know. Just once. Trade the essays for something a little more… interactive.”
Viktor exhales, eyes fixed on the paper though he’s stopped reading. His patience holds by a thread, and Jayce is wearing it out quickly.
“Jayce,” he says again, voice lower now, “sit back down.”
Jayce only smiles, unrepentant. “Make me.”
That does it. It always does, and Jayce knows it. Viktor knows it. They both know that they know it.
For a moment, the office is silent except for the soft sound of the pen settling onto the desk.
Viktor’s hand lingers near it, fingers curling once before he folds them neatly together. He lets the quiet stretch, knowing fully well what effect it will have on Jayce.
Jayce shifts his weight, the playful energy draining just slightly as he realizes he may have gone too far – or just far enough. When Viktor finally lifts his head, his gaze is steady and unreadable.
“Tell me,” he says quietly, “how would you like me to mark you?”
Jayce’s breath catches audibly. “What?” he asks, voice soft, though the grin tugging at his mouth betrays him.
Viktor tilts his head, trying to stay in the professor cadence. “You seemed very eager,” he says. “So I am asking for clarification. How, precisely, should I respond to your request?”
The tension in the room sharpens and Jayce stands very still, caught somewhere between thrill and awe.
“I don’t know. I just… wanted your attention.”
“You have it,” Viktor says, and knows the simplicity of the words land exactly where they are supposed to be.
Jayce swallows, his earlier bravado dissolving into something smaller and warmer. “You’re gonna make me regret it, aren’t you?”
Viktor hums, a sound both thoughtful and indulgent. “Regret implies you will not enjoy it.”
He rises from his chair, slow and deliberate, closing the small distance between them. “Ink,” he says, almost idly, eyes drifting to the fountain pen still resting on the desk. “It stains easily. Or perhaps fingernails – temporary, but visible. Or…” He lets the pause draw out, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. “Teeth?”
Jayce’s pupils widen at the suggestions. “You’re impossible.”
Viktor’s gaze softens, though the authority in it doesn’t waver. “And you,” he murmurs, “are going to get exactly what you asked for.”
“Yeah,” Jayce laughs under his breath. “Guess I am.”
“Then focus,” Viktor says. “If you insist on being marked, I expect your full attention.”
He turns to his desk to reach for a whiteboard marker, knowing that the fountain pen would be painful in not a good way. By the time he has turned back, Jayce is already on his knees, hands placed neatly on them like the good boy he is, a grin tugging at his lips.
This much? Viktor wonders. They’ll have to talk about this later – Jayce usually is only this openly needy for submission when he’s had a bad day.
But back to the task at hand.
“I despise these things,” Viktor says softly, glancing at the plastic cylinder as if it offends him. “They smell of cheap polymer and… compromise.”
Jayce’s eyes are bright, unashamed. “But it’ll work?”
“It will do.”
Viktor looks Jayce up-and-down, trying to decide the best course of action before he simply gestures towards Jayce.
“Shirt off.”
Jayce doesn’t hesitate. He takes off his vest and unbuttons his shirt, neatly folding both in the way Viktor likes and setting them aside.
Viktor steps closer, the red marker balanced loosely between his fingers. He trails his gaze over Jayce’s skin the same way he would over a paragraph – careful and assessing. He knows that there is a very fine balance here that he has to hit, and intends to find it.
He uncaps the marker and slowly lowers himself on the ground at a slight angle.
“Let’s see… don’t move,” he murmurs, and touches the pen to the area below Jayce’s collarbone. “Good structure,” he says, writing the words on Jayce’s skin, who watches him with wide eyes.
“Perfect posture,” he adds, writing it across Jayce’s side, whose breath catches.
Viktor writes ‘consistent effort’ along his arm, and moves around Jayce slowly, appraising and marking him, speaking each word as he writes it, littered with the occasional praise.
Focused.
“You look so good like this.”
Responsive.
Brilliant.
“You are staying so still for me. Such a good boy.”
Beautiful.
Attentive.
Jayce tilts his head slightly, just enough that Viktor can see his eyes half-closed, his mouth soft with something between laughter and wonder. He is utterly still.
Viktor feels the familar rush of something warm in his chest – authority, affection, and pride all tangled together. “That’s it,” he says softly. “Stay exactly as you are. You are doing remarkably well.”
He takes his time marking every inch of Jayce’s skin with his words.
The final one is just above the heart: Outstanding.
He then steps back to examine the collection of neat red phrases scattered across skin like annotations on a manuscript. Jayce looks radiant in the lamplight, calm and sure, as though the praise itself has anchored him, the tension drained from his shoulder. As it always does.
Viktor sits back on his chair and caps the pen without a word, giving Jayce a moment to gather himself.
It takes a good half minute for Jayce to exhale, the sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh.
“Holy shit, V,” he whispers. “I did not expect this.”
“Me neither,” Viktor admits quietly, not wanting to accidentally disturb the atmosphere.
He crosses to Jayce’s shirt and picks it up, slowly redressing him, uncaring about any red transferring. He also puts the vest back on Jayce, smoothing out any wrinkles.
“You did well,” he murmurs. “You always do, once you remember that there is no need to prove yourself every minute of the day.”
Jayce breathes a quiet laugh. “I like hearing that from you.”
“I am aware,” Viktor says, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.
Jayce’s answering hum is small, almost shy and the warmth of it settles something deep in Viktor’s chest.
He stands, again offering his hand. “Come,” he says. “Let’s go home. We can run a bath, or,” he adds with a tiny smile, “I can mark you in other ways as well.”
He can grade the remaining papers in the morning.
“I love you so much,” Jayce groans, already half out the door at that prospect, and Viktor allows himself the smallest, most satisfied smile as the door clicks shut.