Work Text:
Viktor has been casting spells for Jayce his whole life. Or at least, since they met their freshman year of college. Spells for safety and protection, spells for clarity and wakefulness to get him through finals, and Jayce’s favorite, Viktor’s hangover cure spell, which is actually just pickle juice and egg whites and a slap to the cheek, no magic involved; not that Jayce needs to know that.
They’ve been friends long enough now that Jayce can feel the signature of Viktor’s magic—had once described it as a “warm and prickly hug”—and Viktor knows this is a bad idea. A monumentally terrible one, really, one that would have him ostracized from any coven worth its salt.
But Viktor has always worked alone. And the full moon is in Aquarius. And he is awfully drunk after three glasses of the boxed wine Jayce left at his apartment after their last movie night.
He places his glass of wine on the coffee table with a sigh, scratching underneath Blitzcrank’s and Rio’s furry little chins now that he has both hands free. “One of you should really stop me, you know,” he says, squinting at them. All they do is blink slowly, as if they couldn’t care less. “You are terrible familiars.”
He walks slowly to the spare bedroom that serves as his office slash library slash spell room, the walk short enough that he doesn’t bring his cane, leaving it hanging on its hook near the front door.
Viktor sets a folded plush blanket down on the floor to sit in front of his altar more comfortably before he begins gathering his supplies—the hand-stitched red felt heart he finished just last night, his bottle of rose water, a small bowl, some dried rose petals, a beeswax candle, jasmine essential oil, his favorite rose quartz crystal, and the little bowl of sugar he brought with him from the kitchen.
He casts a quick circle to cleanse the space, then carves a quick rune for protection into the candle before lighting it. You never know what energies you’re inviting in, and after the manifestation he dealt with two summers ago… He shudders. Better safe than sorry.
He places the red felt heart in front of him to symbolize the love he’s aiming to manifest, picturing Jayce’s toothy grin and the way his eyes light up whenever they’re out and about and they see a dog. Viktor smiles despite himself, feeling the energy in the room change. Whenever he does spellwork, the air seems to hum with something sharp and electric and wholly addicting.
He sprinkles a few drops of rose water over the heart he stitched and then presses it gently to his chest, breathing deeply. He settles into the spell, then, and the incantation comes naturally:
By this heart I hold, let love unfold,
Pure and true, in all that I do.
With harm to none, so let it be,
Love flows now, eternally.
He opens his eyes and takes a pinch of sugar to sprinkle over the heart before dipping the corner into the candle wax as he continues to chant:
Sweet love, come near,
With joy and care, I draw you here.
Finally, to seal the spell, he dips his fingers into the rose water and anoints the heart, repeating three times:
Love that is kind, love that is clear,
As I will it, love now appears.
Viktor feels it the moment it starts to work, the air humming with electricity, his very bones buzzing with it, the sense of rightness and completion that settles over him, warm like the quilt Ximena made him for his birthday five years ago.
He lets the candle burn down nearly to the quick before he blows it out, closing the space with gratitude and thanks to the energies he’s invoked. He cleans up lazily, promising himself he’ll be more thorough tomorrow, and then makes his way back to the living room to collapse onto the couch, utterly spent from spellwork.
He laughs when he checks his phone and sees he has a text from Jayce that was sent twelve minutes ago.
JAYCE:
Did you just cast a spell on me?
Before he even has the chance to type a response, a second text message comes through.
JAYCE:
I know what your magic feels like, V, so don’t even try and deny it. Did your tarot cards tell you something I should be worried about?
VIKTOR:
No, no, nothing like that. Just my standard spells for protection, you know how I am.
JAYCE:
You’re the best, V. Love ya ❤️
Viktor’s breath hitches, even though they’ve told one another they love them for years now. And besides, the spell needs time to set in; Viktor knows this. But still. The prospect is thrilling nonetheless—he’s going to wake up tomorrow to a world where Jayce is in love with him, the way he’s been in love with Jayce for years now.
He kisses the cats on their sweet little heads on his way to his bedroom, stopping first at the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, humming under his breath the whole time.
His last thought before he falls asleep is of Jayce, but that’s nothing new.
Viktor wakes the next morning with a headache, a dry mouth, and the sinking realization that he actually cast a love spell on his best friend of eight years.
He groans, rubbing his temples as he stumbles into the kitchen, where Blitzcrank and Rio stare at him judgmentally from their perch on the counter.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters, reaching for the coffee grounds. “You could have stopped me.”
Rio flicks her tail.
Viktor ignores her and downs a glass of water before checking his phone. No new messages from Jayce, other than his typical, Good morning, see you at the lab!
Good.
Except—
Not good.
Because if the spell had worked, Jayce would be texting him nonstop, right? Love spells were supposed to be obvious. Sudden declarations, relentless affection, the whole dramatic ordeal.
But Jayce seems to be… Exactly the same.
Viktor waits.
And waits.
And nothing happens.
Not when he walks into work and Jayce greets him as he always does, with a big smile and an even bigger hug, as if he hadn’t seen Viktor just the day before.
Not when they take their lunch break, talking of everything and nothing.
Not even when they part ways for the evening—Viktor had been sure Jayce was going to kiss him as they pulled away from their hug, but instead, he just grinned and walked to his car, the same way he always does.
Days pass.
Jayce still texts him memes. Still invites him over for movie nights. Still brings him coffee to the lab even though Viktor is more than capable of bringing his own. Still grins at him like Viktor hung the moon—but nothing more.
It’s infuriating.
Viktor triple-checks his spellwork. Did he mispronounce something? Slip a word in there where there shouldn’t have been one?
He even consults his grimoire, flipping through pages of love spells, comparing ingredients, incantations, and planetary alignments.
Everything was perfect.
So why isn’t it working?
The lab is a symphony of quiet industry—the rhythmic clicking of Viktor’s keyboard, the soft scratch of Jayce’s pencil on a blueprint. It was their natural state, a comfortable silence built over eight years of shared purpose.
Viktor, however, was conducting an internal cacophony. One week. One whole week, and the love spell had yielded precisely nothing. He watches Jayce from the corner of his eye, cataloging every interaction for a sign he might have missed. There’s nothing but the same easy camaraderie, the same fond exasperation, the same… Infuriatingly platonic Jayce.
“You’re staring,” Jayce says without looking up from his schematics. “Is there a smudge on my face, or are you just admiring my profile?”
Viktor’s fingers stutter on the keys for just a moment. “I am contemplating the structural integrity of your ego. It is a marvel of modern engineering.”
Jayce finally looks up, his grin a flash of perfect white teeth with a gap in the middle he longs to run his tongue over. “You love my ego. It pays for your expensive tea habit.”
Love. The word, so casually thrown, is a tiny dagger. Viktor covers the wound with a scoff, turning back to the screen. “It pays for your coffee addiction, which you then spill on my prototypes. A, eh, net loss, I assure you.”
Chuckling, Jayce pushes his chair back and stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal a strip of toned stomach. Viktor pointedly focuses on a line of code. Monumentally infuriating.
“I’m grabbing a coffee. Want anything?” Jayce asks, already heading for the door.
“I am perfectly caffeinated, thank you.”
The moment the door swings shut, Viktor slumps in his chair, running a hand through his hair. This was absurd. He was a grown man, a practiced witch, reduced to the anxious pining of a teenager. The spell was flawless. The intent was pure. So why was the universe, and specifically Jayce, ignoring his meticulously crafted magical nudge?
Jayce returns fifteen minutes later, holding two cups. He places one on Viktor’s desk. It isn’t coffee. It’s tea, from the specialty shop Viktor likes, steeping in its little paper bag. The exact same tea Viktor had just claimed he didn’t need.
“You said you were fine, but you’ve been grinding your teeth for the last hour.” Jayce leans against Viktor’s desk, arms crossed, looking down at him with an expression of such open, uncomplicated affection that it feels like a mockery. “What’s going on, V? You’ve been… Twitchy. All week.”
Viktor stares at the tea. This was it. The perfect opening. But for what? Yes, Jayce, I attempted to magically manipulate your free will because I’m hopelessly in love with you, and I am disappointed at the lack of dramatic results. He was a fool.
He opens his mouth, a dozen lies on his tongue. “The new alloy matrix is presenting… Unanticipated variables,” he deflects, the lie tasting like ash. “It is nothing.”
Jayce’s gaze is too warm, too perceptive. He reaches out and gently nudges Viktor’s wrist with his knuckles, a familiar, grounding touch that now feels like a brand. “Well, stop overthinking it. My genius needs your genius focused.” He says it with a soft smile, his thumb brushing Viktor’s skin for a fraction of a second too long before he pulls away and returns to his workstation.
Viktor’s heart hammers against his ribs. That. Was that something? A flicker of… More?
But Jayce was already humming, absorbed in his blueprint, the moment gone as quickly as it came.
The spell was a dud. It had to be.
Viktor picks up the tea, the warmth seeping into his hands doing nothing to melt the cold, hard lump of disappointment in his chest. He was going to have to live with the consequences of his terrible, drunken idea: Nothing had changed.
Two weeks later, Viktor has had it.
He’s sitting on Jayce’s couch, watching some terrible action movie Jayce insisted they had to see, when Jayce drapes an arm over his shoulders and tugs him closer.
“You’re shivering,” he says, as if that explains why he’s now practically cuddling Viktor into the cushions.
Viktor stiffens. His heart kicks off at a rabbit’s pace. This is it. The spell is finally taking effect.
But then Jayce just… Keeps watching the movie. No grand confession. No lovesick rambling. Just his usual warm, oblivious self.
Viktor snaps.
“Didn’t you feel it?” He blurts.
Jayce pauses the movie. “Feel what?”
“You know. The spell. The one I cast a couple of weeks ago.”
Jayce blinks. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face. “Ohhh. That spell.”
Viktor’s stomach drops. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew,” Jayce laughs. “I told you, I recognize your magic anywhere.”
“And you’re not—you don’t—” Viktor flounders.
Jayce tilts his head. “Don’t what?”
“Affected!” Viktor throws his hands up. “The spell was supposed to—ugh. Never mind.”
Jayce’s grin softens. He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Viktor’s ear. “Viktor,” he murmurs, voice unbearably fond. “Your love spell didn’t work because I’m already in love with you, my silly little witch.”
Viktor’s brain short-circuits.
“What?!”
Jayce laughs, pulling him into a proper hug. “I’ve been in love with you for years, V. Did you really not know?”
Viktor’s face burns. “I—shut up.”
“Make me,” he says with a grin.
And. Well. How could Viktor not kiss him then?
He huffs, grabbing Jayce’s perfect face in his hands, and kisses him soundly. Jayce responds immediately, licking into Viktor’s mouth like his tongue belongs there. Viktor moans a little into the kiss when Jayce’s hands come to rest on his hips and squeeze.
Viktor climbs into Jayce’s lap, then, to hell with his leg.
He gasps when he feels Jayce’s packer through his sweatpants, pressed right against his wet, aching core. “Jayce,” he gasps. “How—how far are you… What are you comfortable with?”
“Viktor,” Jayce breathes against his lips. “I’ve fantasized about fucking you ever since I first walked in on you doing your T-shot.”
“But that was the day we met, Jayce.”
“Exactly,” he grins.
“Oh, I am so stupid. I should have done a spell for clarity, oh my gods,” Viktor laughs. “All this time? And I never knew?”
“Hey,” Jayce murmurs. “Don’t call my boyfriend stupid.”
Viktor grins so hard it hurts his cheeks. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“And eventually my husband, yeah,” Jayce replies, as casual as anything.
“Gods, Jayce,” Viktor pants. “Take me to bed.”
Jayce stands from the couch and hauls Viktor up and into his arms, Viktor colliding into his chest with a little “ooph!” sound.
They both laugh once they reach the bedroom, a manic release of joy born of finally getting what you want, of someone meeting you where you’re at and being all in. Viktor bonks his forehead against Jayce’s, triggering another fit of giggles from both of them. He’s so happy he feels like he’s floating as Jayce playfully tosses him on the bed before quickly stripping down to just his boxer briefs. All of Viktor’s breath leaves him in a rush at the sight of the beautiful man before him.
Nearly a decade of testosterone has done him well, his muscles toned and covered in a frankly jealousy-inducing amount of dark hair. Viktor’s mouth waters as Jayce climbs onto the bed, all big, brown eyes and strong jawline.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Viktor breathes, the words escaping before he can catch them.
The grin Jayce gives him is devastating. “I’ve always been yours, sweetheart.”
Viktor reaches out to trace a path along the twin crescent moon scars on his chest and is struck by how pale, how small his hand looks next to Jayce’s bulk. He squeezes his thighs together and whimpers just a little bit, just enough to whet Jayce’s appetite.
Jayce’s eyes go round as saucers, his pupils blowing wide with lust. “Can I—” he chokes out. “My mouth, Viktor, baby, please, please let me get my mouth on you, it’s all I want, please—”
Viktor gasps and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear to pull them down, but Jayce impatiently bats his hands away. Viktor is sure he hears a seam rip as Jayce bares him to the cool air of the bedroom.
Jayce wrenches his thighs apart and groans at what must be a truly pathetic sight: Viktor’s cunt slick and twitching, aching for his touch.
“Jayce—” Viktor starts, ready to beg, but Jayce is already diving between his thighs and licking a confident stripe through his folds, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head of his t-dick. Viktor cries out, wordless from the shock of pleasure racing through his body.
Jayce groans again, a noise Viktor feels more than he hears. Gods, he’d known Jayce loved eating pussy—you can’t be best friends with someone for eight years without knowing these things—but to actually be on the receiving end is a fucking trip.
Viktor’s breath catches in his throat when Jayce wraps his lips around his clit and sucks, the sensation immediately hurtling him toward overstimulation before he’s even come. He thrashes on the bed, hips bucking until Jayce throws an arm over him to hold him in place. He whines and twitches against the onslaught of feeling.
Viktor is no stranger to having his dick sucked—he did his fair share of getting around in college, thank you ever so much—but it’s never felt like this before. Like his whole body is alight, his consciousness floating somewhere above him.
Jayce increases the suction on his clit, and Viktor feels like he’s going to cry. He threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of Jayce’s neck and pulls, trying to find some relief, but Jayce only moans and sucks harder.
“Fuck,” Viktor rasps. “You like that?”
Jayce finally, blessedly, lets up on Viktor’s clit just long enough to insistently press his head into Viktor’s hand. Viktor gets the message and scratches, right behind his ears, and is delighted to watch the shiver that travels down his spine.
“Fuck,” he pants again, reduced to nothing more than profanity and sensation. “You’re such—such a puppy.”
He doesn’t know why he says it. He doesn’t mean to say it. Jayce, however, goes limp, moaning loud enough for Viktor to hear where he has his face buried between his thighs. Viktor feels drunk as he pulls Jayce’s hair again, harder this time, pressing his cunt up into Jayce’s mouth.
Jayce gets the memo, but instead of returning to his clit, he begins licking up into his hole that’s positively pouring slick. Viktor throws his head back into the pillows and howls. “Yes, puppy, just like that, fuck—”
Jayce, encouraged by the praise, shoves his tongue even deeper. Gods, his jaw must be aching, but he eats Viktor out with a vigor that shows no signs of slowing down, eight years of yearning all being focused into his cunt. Viktor thinks he might just be the luckiest witch alive.
Viktor nearly screams when Jayce replaces his tongue with two thick fingers, returning to sucking his clit with such force Viktor knows he is in serious danger of coming within the next fifteen seconds.
When Jayce curls his fingers just so and hits that little bundle of nerves inside Viktor, he comes undone, screaming now and gushing all over Jayce’s face. Jayce finger fucks him through it, not slowing down but speeding up, murmuring hot and feverish into Viktor’s thigh, words Viktor can’t make out through the roaring in his ears.
“Jayce,” Viktor croaks, “Jayce, wanna hear you, what are you saying?”
Jayce, to Viktor’s utter delight, flushes bright red. “I…” He trails off, voice sounding wrecked.
“No, don’t get shy on me now, darling, hm?” Viktor grins as he pulls Jayce’s hair hard. “Don’t you want to be a good puppy?”
It is like a dam breaking, Jayce babbling while he continues to fuck Viktor on his fingers. “Fuck, yes, I do, all I want is to be good for you, V. My Viktor, my beautiful baby, you taste so good—been dreaming about this for years, fuck, ‘m so wet, could come just from this, your cunt tastes divine, you feel so good on my fingers, squeezing me like a vice… Viktor, am I being good? Please tell me I’m being good. Please tell me I’m pleasing you, baby, that’s all I want to do, please—”
“Yes, Jayce,” Viktor is quick to reassure him, “you’re doing so well, such a good puppy for me. I’m so lucky. Made me come so hard.”
The grin Jayce gives him then is positively wicked, even as far under as he is. He gives Viktor no warning before returning to his sore, aching clit, instantly sucking it into his mouth and adding teeth. The pleasure-pain has Viktor hurtling toward his second orgasm in ten seconds flat, something that would be embarrassing with any other partner, but with Jayce, it just feels right. Of course, Jayce can make him come in under thirty seconds. Viktor would be a fool to think otherwise.
“My soulmate…” Viktor murmurs, his voice weak and breathy. Jayce sobs as he adds a third finger, the sound reverberating through Viktor’s cunt as Jayce starts finger fucking him relentlessly, hitting his G-spot with every thrust.
There are tears in his eyes when Jayce looks up at him. “Viktor,” he croaks. “Do you mean it? That I’m your soulmate? Oh, baby, please tell me you mean it.”
Viktor has to fight to make words with his mouth. “Yes, I mean it, Jayce, sweetheart, of course, I mean it.”
Jayce growls then, there’s no other word for it. Gods, he really is a dog, Viktor thinks, a hot rush of slick pouring out of his cunt around Jayce’s fingers.
“Viktor,” Jayce pants. “Come for me, Viktor. Wanna see you come again, please, please, please—”
How could Viktor deny such a sweet request? He comes screaming, thrashing on the bed so violently that even Jayce can’t hold him in place.
When he comes to and opens his eyes, he notices Jayce is making aborted little ruts against the bed. “Jay,” he croaks, the old nickname like honey on his tongue. “Let me take care of you? You’ve been so good for me, darling. Wanna return the favor.”
Jayce looks up at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and flushes from his chest to the tips of his ears. “I, uh… I already came.” He says it in a whisper, like he’s afraid of Viktor’s reaction. “Twice.”
“Oh, puppy,” Viktor coos. “So good for me. That’s so hot. Fuck, Jayce, you’re perfect.”
“Yeah?” Jayce mutters, the hope and love in his eyes nearly hard to look at.
“Yes, Jayce, yes. You are perfect. So perfect for me. Come up here.”
Jayce crawls up the bed and wraps his arms around him so fast, Viktor lets out a breathy little giggle. “My good puppy,” he whispers, just to feel the way Jayce’s arms tighten around him as he shivers. Jayce kisses the side of his neck, his jaw, his cheek, his eyelid.
“Viktor,” he murmurs, sounding for all the world like a man who just saw the moon for the first time. “My Viktor. I love you so much.”
“And I love you, Jayce,” Viktor replies. “So much.”
Jayce snuggles closer. They’re sticky and sweaty and gross, but Viktor would rather die than disentangle himself from his lover right now, would rather be burnt at the stake before he sacrifices the warmth of Jayce’s body pressed against his.
This, he thinks. This, right here, is true magic.