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Viktor would never expect the academy to shell out for engineering students' hotel accommodations, so he's not disappointed about sharing.
Their room is large, a queen-size bed flanked by traditionally drab hotel side tables and lamps; a small, muddy looking couch and a television. Jayce carries both of their luggages, a necessary concession for a Viktor who's been jammed into the back of a car for hours and lacking sleep.
“Kinda claustrophobic in here.”
“It's bigger than my room in our apartment, Jayce. Although I currently have no reason to trust your intelligence, since you couldn't even figure out how to say yes to Mel just now.”
“Are you kidding? I was trying to figure out how to turn her down.”
“Sure. Give me the striped bag in the front of my suitcase, I'm going to shower before bed.”
“Bed? Seriously, Viktor? We'll be busy all weekend, we have to stay up and party tonight.”
“I feel like shit.”
Jayce beseeches him with wide eyes as he dutifully shoves their half-unzipped suitcases into a corner. That'll be the extent of their unpacking.
“Let's just sit on the bed, if the couch is no good—the TV is in front of the bed, anyway. I know you brought your laptop and the controllers. And if you forgot the HDMI cord, no you didn't. I brought one.”
“. . .Fine. But you get one of the pillows on that bed. I want the rest.”
“Deal.”
By the time Viktor digs through his bag for a sleep T-shirt and pajama pants, takes them to the fluorescent-lit hotel bathroom, and bullies his limbs into them, Jayce has made progress in setting up the 'party.' The controllers sit on the bed, the HDMI cord dangles from the TV, and the pillows are in asymmetric piles.
Viktor's laptop, a firm 'do not touch' zone, is still in its place in his bag. He shut it down fully when he used it yesterday evening, so there'll be nothing to hide, but it's comforting that Jayce knows better after upsetting Viktor last time.
“This party is why you acted like you didn't know what Mel was talking about?”
“Shut up. Hand the laptop over.”
Viktor yanks it out of his suitcase and plops it on the end of the bed. Then it's finally time to lay himself out comfortably among the four pillows he's scored.
“Why'd you blow her off? She doesn't deserve to feel rejected if you like her, too.”
The amount of time it's taking to get the hotel TV to cooperate with their devices doesn't do much to make Jayce look less flustered.
“You think I'm going to leave you to room with one of those other randoms? And be without the games all night? C'mon.”
“Hm.”
From Viktor's throne, he can look down on Jayce as he squats in front of the entertainment area. During the unfortunate, lengthy carpool ride here, Jayce was a live wire; it honestly pissed Viktor off, pressed against Jayce as he was. That jiggling, nervous excitement rattled the bones.
With their showcase prototypes inaccessible until the morning, Jayce must be swimming in anxiety, so Viktor hadn't told him to stop. At least the whole ordeal has been desensitizing to the prospect of coming into bodily contact during the night.
“There we go!”
Jayce celebrates when he finds the correct input, brightening the flatscreen on the wall across the bed. What's incorrect is the image displayed—it's not Viktor's laptop background.
Heinous pornography splashed across the big screen is a jarring reminder that he had awoken late last night, and he'd indulged to fall back asleep. It's dead silent as Jayce stares agape on the floor; Viktor scrambles across the bed, ungracefully tumbling down to snap the laptop shut.
Which for some reason doesn't get rid of the static image of the webpage, and they're both left on the floor looking at a paused video titled 'Pretty Boy Worships Straight Friend's Big Cock.'
It must take Viktor less than a single breath to properly exit the damned page, but the damage is done. His fight or flight reflex, thoroughly activated. They're both breathing hard in the quiet room. And he's remembering the last time the mention of anything gay came up around Jayce.
“. . .'M sorry, Vik. . .”
Jayce's voice is quiet, small. If Jayce won't freak, then Viktor will allow himself to suspend disbelief that he may not have realized exactly what he was seeing. Perhaps it was too quick to comprehend anything other than vaguely pornographic masculine and feminine shapes.
With shaking hands, Viktor opens his video game library. Yes, it's better unacknowledged. He realizes eventually that it's his turn to break the agonizing silence.
“Er, don't worry about it. What game do you want to play?”
“Um. Let's just scroll around a bit.”
Recovered enough from his painful stumble, Viktor absconds back up to 'his' side of the bed. Finishing with setup means Jayce also climbs up, does so with trembling legs.
Shit. He's going to say something eventually.
Viktor can feel warmth radiating off of Jayce, like he's mortified enough to heat the air around him. Or is it Viktor who's getting too hot?
It's an unspoken agreement that Jayce is the one who does the scrolling around in menus and such. He grabs a controller. Viktor twists fingers into curls at the nape of his neck; the room is quiet but for little electronic beeps as Jayce trawls through the multiplayer games.
Jayce coughs loudly. Please don't say anything.
“. . .Can I ask you a question, Viktor?”
“No. I'm going to bed.”
A heavy hand on Viktor's shoulder stops him disappearing into his pillow pile, and thankfully, Jayce doesn't yet display the expected disgust.
“Please. It's only us here, V.”
Viktor pushes Jayce's hand off his shoulder and stares down, but doesn't flee.
“Just leave it.”
“You know I will end up thinking about it until—”
“—Alright, Jayce. What is the question?”
“Are you gay?”
“Of course not.”
“Right, 'course. Do you like guys who dress up as girls?”
Idiot.
“No. Are we done?”
Jayce gestures his hands in comedic disbelief; not making fun of Viktor, he's acting like this is usual friendly banter. It prods at Viktor's slumbering beasts, who've already been agitated today.
“But you were watching—”
“—I know. Don't worry about it. You probably don't even know what it is.”
“I'm not grossed out, V.”
Jayce pleads; his words are comforting, but they also betray an awareness. Viktor survives off of Jayce's blind spots, would rather they not be opened up.
“Jayce. It's gay.”
“But you're not. And, technically, I think it said straight in the title, so. . .”
That gets a laugh out of Viktor.
“Alright, Jayce. Man shall not lie with man as he does with a woman, unless, of course, one of them is in a skirt.”
"Please do not quote the Bible at me in that tone, it freaks me out when you sound like the old priest. At least do one of the parts about Jesus' blood-soaked cloak. And hey, why do you think I don't know about the existence of gay porn? I'm not actually an idiot.”
“I—er, well. I meant the specific genre.”
“I've never heard porn described with genres.”
“Then you are an idiot.”
Those small beeps continue as Jayce perfunctorily pushes the joystick of the controller, clearly paying zero attention to the idea of picking a game. It seems that the curious sniffer dog has been activated.
At least it's not beat-up-the-queer mode. Viktor takes a few deep breaths, curses the burn of blush that must be visible on his face. Thank God that Jayce hates eye contact.
“So what's the genre?”
“Jayce.”
No stimulation on the TV. No music. Nothing other than quiet moments between overly intense questions from his best friend. Viktor tugs at the only loose thread he can find on one of his pillows; refuses to look at Jayce, which earns him a soft shove to the shoulder.
“It's just guy talk, V. How many times have you sat through my T.M.I. rants? Just tell me what it is, I gotta know.”
“Fine. It's called, um, it's called, er, femboys, I guess. I absolutely despise that word, though. I just lik—it's just interesting to watch—watch guys with guys who are like girls, er—”
“So, you want to be the girl, then?”
“What?”
“If you don't like the guys who dress up like girls, I mean.”
It's about to piss Viktor off again, how Jayce is suddenly cool as a cucumber in the face of this topic, while he's left in the weeds. This is the man who nearly attacked Salo for displaying the slightest hint of homosexuality in his presence?
“Can you just pick something to play singleplayer, and I'll watch?”
Jayce disobeys entirely; he puts his controller aside, apparently intending on having this conversation now, in silence by lamplight, atop white hotel covers.
“Okay, so you totally do want to be the girl. Makes sense, you're pretty.”
Shit. Viktor's best defense is to turn away, curled on his side, and that actually is quite nice on his leg. But he's trapped in this room with Jayce, no real escape from this conversation. And, allowing honesty within himself, he'd like to hear Jayce call him pretty again. Even if it is a joke.
Stupid oafish button-pusher.
“You are an ass.”
“Haha, so I'm right. Don't be embarrassed, V.”
It's made exponentially worse by Jayce's hand tracing down Viktor's side; this isn't out of the ordinary for Jayce's touchy behavior, but it feels notable now. He should be too repulsed for this.
“Aw, don't give me the silent treatment. What were they doing in the video? I only got to see the cute clothes before you shut it down.”
“Seriously?”
“C'mon, it's just guy talk, like I said.”
Jayce's hand stills on the area where Viktor's back brace gives way to his hip, provides an encouraging tap. Fine, if he needs to know so bad.
“It was a blowjob video.”
“Really? I remember when I told you about the first blowjob I got, you were so grossed out.”
“Well, the one who's dressed up isn't getting the blowjob, so. . .”
What felt like a strong redirection dies halfway through. When Jayce responds, Viktor is prepared to feel humiliated, but he is not prepared for how much Jayce's voice has changed.
“. . .So it's less weird for you if you're the girl?”
“You are fucking with me.”
Viktor cranks his neck to see Jayce behind him, hoping a stern look will get him acting comprehensibly. He sees no mirth in Jayce's wide-eyed expression.
“I'm just curious! I've told you literally everything that I've done. You're the only one who knows my web history is what caused the homeschooled year. I guess I thought you didn't—I don't know, but I want to be able to talk to you about your stuff, too. Now that I know you have stuff.”
Viktor really wants to ask about how he's alright with the homosexuality level of the conversation, but that's risky.
There's no reason to react strongly to Jayce's apparent interest in this; definitely no reason to regret choosing ratty, grey sweatpants over a pair of cute, red sleep shorts. Viktor knows full well that this intrigue originates in disgust.
He returns to facing Jayce, both to spare his neck and conceal the grease stain on the butt of these pants. Jayce's half-seated position is the only thing keeping their faces a reasonable distance apart.
“You're really not fucking with me?”
“Viktor, I'm missing out on some core information here. I just wanna know. We're best friends, we're partners. With funding, soon! It's kinda crazy that you know so much about that side of me, and yet, you've not found me a worthy subject to hear about yours.”
There's a twinge of hurt that Viktor can hear through Jayce's friendly bantering tone. It makes everything Jayce says significantly more credible, although it's another reminder of his presumptuousness. I'm hurt, Viktor! You haven't told me that you're a fucking faggot just like Salo.
Really, Jayce's sanity has always slid by on nonsense technicalities. He's still one of those God-caused-the-Big-Bang types, and Viktor's never gathered the heart to challenge it, not when he sees firsthand that Jayce still cries for his late father every Sunday mass.
Maybe the airs of femininity really are enough to stop Jayce's gay repulsion from rising. An oft-repressed, oft-revisited memory threatens to stain Viktor's mindspace—sometimes I wish you were a—but he flicks it away. He's never been very good at denying Jayce's insistence.
“I don't even remember the question anymore. What do you want to know?”
“Just, like, what's your whole deal, you know? I've totally been left out. Here, first just tell me if I'm right that you'd want to be all dressed up like that.”
“Fuck you. Fine, you were right.”
“Haha. Listen, since it's just us here. . . I really do think you'd look good in that kind of getup, if it's what you like.”
Oh, no. Viktor closes his eyes, an escape from Jayce taking up his field of vision.
“Shut up now. I knew you were just being an ass.”
With his eyes closed, Viktor is unable to anticipate the partial tackling that Jayce inflicts upon him. Is this really the time to use touch as comfort? Viktor does his best to curl up into an erection-concealing ball.
“V. I feel like you're treating me like a stranger right now, I hate it. Why don't you just believe me and stop thinking so hard?”
Heart pounding, Viktor blinks up at Jayce, who lords over him in their shared hotel bed. What does Jayce mean by that, and while so close? Viktor realizes his expression must be betraying some of his feelings because Jayce's eyes flick around everywhere, and he smirks.
Viktor's own bony fingers do a decent job at covering half of his face when he speaks.
“What exactly are you thinking?”
“That it's just us here, and we aren't home.”
Viktor should probably back away. He's practically pinned as Jayce stares down, hand pressing into the mattress near Viktor's shoulder.
“I don't know what that is supposed to mean.”
“Viktor. . .”
Jayce sitting back on his heels and leaving Viktor's space feels like a punishment for not letting whatever that was happen wordlessly. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't; Jayce would probably be running off to Mel right now if Viktor wasn't hiding the half-chub he's getting from being treated this way.
When Jayce runs his hands through his own hair, fingernails scratching his scalp, Viktor knows he's done it.
“. . .You're the one who put that gay shit right in my face. That video you were watching had a really interesting title.”
“Jayce, please.”
“I—ugh, I'm sorry I said that, that was too far. I know you said you aren't gay. I'm not gay. This doesn't have to be a big deal, if it's just us here.”
With a quick look, Viktor is made aware of Jayce's erection, which resolutely strains against his cotton sweatpants. Arousal and fear spike in Viktor's gut.
Playing along with Jayce's little white lie delusions is not foreign; it shouldn't be such a struggle to understand which way this is going. Viktor sits up, pillow clutched in his lap for modesty and stability.
“It's alright, Jayce. You're not wrong.”
“Thank you.”
One truth about Jayce: he'll anxiously fill a silence. So Viktor's tactic is not to speak.
That makes it surprising when Jayce doesn't immediately pipe up, but presses Viktor into the bed by his upper arms and sort-of-lays, sort-of-hovers domineeringly above. Much, much closer than last time. Viktor expects Jayce to leave his lap pillow sandwiched between them but he quickly discards it, leaving only air between their bodies.
“Not a big deal. Right, V?”
The space between them buzzes, exposing Viktor, though thankfully Jayce doesn't gawk down at his loose tenting pants.
Viktor nods.
Which he hoped would lead to Jayce kissing him, based on Jayce's approach, but when it happens Viktor has no clue what to do with himself. Fantasies mean pausing, rewinding, editing, replaying; this is happening now, forever writ into stone.
Viktor makes an attempt at returning the kiss, unsure and slow. He's mostly seen this from the outside. But this is a universal enough act that he trusts Jayce to lead, and tries to copy that lead in awkward bursts.
With the pillows cocooning him, he's not getting a lot of air; lightheadedness comes for him quickly. It's nice. Made significantly nicer when Jayce stops holding himself back and his body, his cock, his everything is surging against Viktor.
Maybe Viktor's lowering blood oxygen level is noticeable, because Jayce leans back, gently pulls him to the center of the bed, and he can breathe easier.
“Better?”
“Mm.”
Jayce should need Viktor trussed in full makeup and lingerie—at the very least—to treat him in this way. Viktor's current state is rather opposite to that, and it's unfairly fucking confusing. That low rumbling voice against Viktor's cheek sparks up again before he decides what the appropriate response is.
“You're shy, baby.”
The jolt of the petname redoubles the intensity of Jayce slotting their bodies to press their cocks together, barely dulled by clothing. Hail Mary, full of grace. The reality is that Viktor no longer has the capacity to decide what an appropriate response is. Maybe he should give up trying.
“'M not shy.”
“Then tell me how much you want this cock. It looks here like you want it pretty bad, but you're not acting like—”
“—Oh my God. I thought you'd want me to be quiet.”
“You kidding? Go on, tell me, V.”
“I want to touch your c—”
There were more words he had in mind, but Jayce's tongue back down his throat feels better. Why does Jayce seem so desperate? Viktor is the actual virgin. To his knowledge, Jayce hasn't ever gone all the way, but tonight also isn't Jayce's first kiss. Like it is Viktor's.
Viktor feels owned. Perhaps he shouldn't be reveling in that; perhaps it's his own addled mind.
It's getting so intense that it's a little gross, and it's so fucking good. To an extent where he worries about coming in his pants and subsequently snapping Jayce back to reality. Viktor's best defense is to pull back, push weakly against Jayce's chest—Jayce obeys, slows his fervent roving hands.
“What, baby?”
“Sit up. Want to touch you.”
“Oh fuck, Viktor. Yeah. Do you want me to sit up on the bed? Might be a weird angle for your neck without kneeling, and I don't want you doing that. Or should I just. . .?”
His neck? When Jayce starts carefully traveling up the bed over Viktor's reclined body, Viktor understands.
Jayce ends up kneeling over Viktor's face. The smell of him is invading every sense; it's like the rush he gets from walking into Jayce's bedroom, but exponentially more effective. It breaks down what's nearly the last of Viktor's defenses, lets out the mewling desire.
“This good, V?”
“Yes. . .”
Touching Jayce's cock through his pants is exciting enough that Viktor has to intentionally avoid hyperventilation. That doesn't last long, though; Jayce pulls it out without hesitation, batting Viktor's hands away, and spreads his knees further to press his length against Viktor's face.
“Yeah, I know you wanted this. You want to worship this cock, don't you, is that what that video said?”
“Mmph, maybe. . .”
Hotel rooms are so quiet, Viktor thinks, as the slap of Jayce's cock on his face echoes. It feels wet, like Jayce has been leaking precome, but it's too close to see much other than it being intimidatingly large. There's no big surprise in Jayce having a filthy mouth, but God, it feels entirely unfiltered even though the audience is Viktor. After bringing up the video like that, Viktor steels himself for Jayce to wax poetic on the topic of him being the girl.
“Good boy, Viktor.”
“Jayce—”
Getting the first inch of Jayce's cock shoved into his mouth is an effective distraction. His jaw has to stretch, and he's sure his snaggly teeth are going to cause some sort of pain, so he firmly covers them with his lips.
Thank Christ for pornographic education. It helps that Jayce is overenthusiastic enough to shallowly thrust himself into Viktor's mouth, so he doesn't have to think too hard.
“Baby, your mouth is perfect for me. Look at you.”
Viktor can feel his own dick flexing with every push of Jayce's cock on his tongue, and the sensory experience as a whole has him starting to understand the term cockdrunk. Jayce is being very gentle, barely getting to his molars, but it's still producing obscene sounds and Viktor is back to being lightheaded.
Risking a look up at Jayce rewards him with a new bead of precome and a few loud groans.
“So, so pretty, ah—”
Would he get this same praise for his behavior taking Jayce's dick? Would Jayce ever want to do that? Or maybe that is a shade too queer. Viktor doesn't know as well as he thought he did.
He moves his lips and tongue in ways he's seen in porn, but it feels like it looks unsightly on him. Especially given the lack of lipstick, eyeliner, and other accoutrement he'd always imagined would help with this task. He'd have stopped trying immediately, if Jayce didn't cover his own mouth and bite down on his palm in response.
“Fuck, you look like you love it. Why are you so good at this? I—hah—hope you haven't done this with somebody and not told me.”
That sits as a red-hot compliment in Viktor's stomach, but apparently Jayce wants a real answer; he's pulled off of his cock by the scalp. When Jayce speaks, he seems so close to rage that Viktor is stunned.
“You didn't, right, baby? It wasn't Salo, was it?”
“No, no. I swear. I tell you everything, too.”
“But you weren't telling me about all this.”
Jayce's cock looks angry and red as he taps it on Viktor's lips, rubs it across his face. It creates tiny interruptions when Viktor speaks.
“Now you know.”
“Yeah, I guess we have some extra special secrets now, V.”
Jayce's concern over this is like adding nuclear fuel Viktor's desire, so he leans up to catch the head of Jayce's dick. There's not a whole lot of range of motion in this position, but Viktor takes as it as deep as he can, bobs his head a few awkward times.
When Jayce squeezes hard at the base of his dick and pulls back, hesitating on putting it back into Viktor's mouth, he knows he must be on the edge.
“Can I please come in your mouth? You are so hot, baby, it's not lasting much longer.”
It's efficient to open his mouth while nodding assent to Jayce. Both of Jayce's hands wrap around the back of Viktor's head. For a split second, he worries about how hard he'd cough if Jayce rams into his throat, but then he starts moving. Nice and shallow like before, it seems the grip on Viktor's head is more for Jayce to enjoy tangling fingers in his hair.
Viktor never predicted considerate, not like this. And he's also not going to cry while giving his first blowjob. Thankfully it's not long before he can feel Jayce pulsing, girth straining Viktor's mandiblular joint.
Viktor's unsure what he's meant to do when Jayce pulls out and strokes himself, but Jayce's free hand grips his jaw and tilts his head up; a thumb pops into Viktor's mouth and, sliding to the back of his teeth, forces his mouth on display. All for Jayce to ejaculate approximately onto his tongue and lips.
“Oh, God, Viktor.”
What else is he supposed to do but swallow it? The taste is mildly bitter, but negligible compared to how much he loves the idea of Jayce's come inside his body. Jayce is sort of hunched over Viktor, shaking a little, but he flops off quickly.
He doesn't stray far, finding his spot above Viktor again.
Kissing again, and so soon? What a gentleman. Though Viktor knows already that Jayce is not repulsed by the idea of his own spend, so maybe he shouldn't be impressed. Viktor is alarmed with the wet spot he can feel in his own sweatpants, and worried that a single brush will have him spurting.
“I think that's the best thing I have ever felt in my life, V, I'm not kidding.”
“You're welcome.”
“I want to make you feel good, too. Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
Of course there will be negotiations about how exactly Viktor's pleasure can go down. It helps both of them. Though Jayce certainly has him beat for size, Viktor's dick is nothing to scoff at; if it were smaller, he'd worry less about Jayce balking after seeing it.
At least a negotiation is better than Jayce running away in post-nut clarity. Viktor twists his hands in the sheets, teased beyond measure.
“Do you remember when we went to Caitlyn's really bad party in high school? Back when I was still drinking at parties.”
Oh.
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“Um, okay. I sort of—Well, I just. I thought before I do, um, anymore of this, I should tell you I'm sorry.”
“What for?”
“If you remember that night, then I feel like you know.”
Sometimes I wish you were a girl, so I wouldn't be afraid of you sending me to Hell.
Viktor knows. The fact that Jayce finds this necessary to bring up right now would be insultingly revealing, if Viktor weren't so lost in the intimacy. He presses his lips together against the spiky, tight feeling in his throat until it's gone.
“Alright, Jayce. Thank you.”
The not-fully-spoken forgiveness earns a rain of pecks on his forehead and hair.
With their bodies together, Viktor can feel that Jayce's refractory period has taken a leave of absence. Jayce claims that he wants to give pleasure, but Viktor's sure he's still wary of touching a man's cock; the only conclusion is that Viktor is about to get fucked.
With his body shaking all over, it might be a bit overwhelming, but he's thought about it so many times. It's probably his only chance. So why not?
“Great. I know you're sore so I don't want you to move, alright? Stay right here.”
As if Viktor would know where to put himself. It's all he can do to survive when Jayce's mouth runs hot over his neck, when Jayce's hands grip at his hips, soft enough to barely jostle him.
This time when Jayce moves, he goes down Viktor's body. Then he's reaching for Viktor's embarrassingly tented waistband, and it occurs to Viktor that he should absolutely be face-down for this.
“Wait, wait.”
“Oh, uh, sorry. I forgot you're weird about getting blowjobs. Listen, you don't have to, but I bet it feels better than you're expecting.”
Concealing his surprise is impossible in this state. So Viktor ends up saying his first thought.
“You're going to suck my dick?”
Jayce's lilting laugh cuts through some of the pressurized tension in the room. Viktor chuckles too. The camaraderie makes it much more tolerable that Jayce replies:
“When you say it like that, it sounds a lot more gay.”
Viktor uses laughter to spare himself from replying.
“But um, V, do you really not want me to? Because, honestly, I probably won't be very good at it. So if you aren't like, pretty into it, it will definitely be bad.”
“Er, no, Jayce—Please do it.”
There's a very unabashed form of excitement written all over Jayce. What is Viktor meant to do with his hands? He ends up biting his nails and clawing into the bed, body twitching reactively when Jayce's fingertips breach his waistband to pull them down.
Jayce kneels beside Viktor's legs, staring down at his very hard, very masculine dick.
“Oh, wow.”
It's said in the same tone of voice that Jayce uses when unboxing a shiny new tool. Viktor's breath comes in quick huffs; Jayce touches him for the first time, tentative. Saying anything would break the spell that's keeping Jayce entranced, Viktor's sure of it.
Fingers wrap around his base, squeezing a few times. Judging the girth? The first stroke up to the tip makes Viktor's spine raise from the covers, and Jayce promptly presses him down with a large hand on his stomach.
“Stay still. It's really, um. . .”
Leaning down to lap at the tip while knelt on the bed puts Jayce in an interesting position. Does he realize his ass is in the air? But Viktor doesn't look for long, given the option to watch Jayce's pink tongue.
This can't be reality. After getting a taste of Viktor's cock, Jayce closes his eyes and groans. He parts his lips wide and takes Viktor into his mouth. Burning warmth; Both of Viktor's hands now clutch over his own face, a method of self-comfort and muffling.
The wet sounds are absolutely obscene.
“Jayce, my God.”
“Does it feel alright?”
“Ah—Shut up, that's—”
“—Oh, you like it.”
Viktor enjoys watching Jayce lean further down to lick the shaft, a slow series of savoring motions. There's eye contact, which is rare outside of impassioned work discussions; Viktor can't stand it for long.
Jayce smirks at that. But the portrayal of confidence is dulled by the pleased noises he's making while kissing Viktor's cock.
“I'm kinda liking it, too, V. A lot. Haha.”
“Hah—”
How was Jayce capable of speech when he was receiving head? This is impossible for Viktor, especially when Jayce dives back in and attempts bobbing up and down. It's heavenly; then Jayce tries to take more, and he gags a little bit.
The sensation, the vibration from the sound, the very idea of it; Viktor pushes Jayce's head up and off.
“Aw, V, I'm sorry.”
“No, no, no, don't—er, I'm close.”
“You liked it, even though it made me gag?”
“. . .Yes.”
So Jayce gags himself on Viktor's cock again, forcing himself to take incrementally more. It looks like it gets easier when Jayce sprawls out to lay on his front instead of bending over. Next time he speaks, his voice is thick and watery; fucked-out.
“You're so hard, Vik. . .”
He doesn't get it all in; Viktor doesn't expect him to. Gagging is an ordeal involving the vocal cords, spasming of the throat, and a teary-eyed Jayce. It vibrates Viktor's cockhead and he has to to look away from his gorgeous, messy partner clumsily trying to take as much dick as possible.
Viktor's abdomen flexes and Jayce pulls off his cock with a loud sigh, strokes along the length with his hand. It seems like Jayce really likes the sound of cock smacking against a person's face, because he does it to himself, too.
“Mmph, Vik. . . I'm—haha, I'm so gay for you. . .”
This statement is finished with more enthusiastic bobbing; Viktor loses what little control he had over his imminent finish. When his cock starts to swell with the beginnings of it, he wishes for just a bit more pressure.
Jayce pops off and mouths at the head while firmly jerking his length. The pressure is perfect.
“Oh, shit, Jayce, I'm gonna—”
“—Yeah, I'm such a fucking fag for you, give it to me, mh—”
Come ends up across Jayce's face, in his mouth. Viktor can hear Jayce moaning along with his own pitiful whines as he spasms. Masturbation may as well become an actual sin, because Viktor can't imagine he'll use it for anything other than reliving this moment.
By the time he's done, floating along the endorphins, his eyes have closed.
And by the time Jayce lays himself next to Viktor, he's afraid to open them again.
“I cannot believe that just happened.”
Viktor turns his head toward the voice before risking a look. He's met with a close-range view of Jayce's welcoming amber eyes. Is Jayce really not shrinking away from this?
No, he's not.
They're kissing again; soft, delicate, and he can feel Jayce grinning. Reminder to self, no crying.
“I'm gay for you, too.”
An earnest misstep on Viktor's part; Jayce leans back and his smile is tighter than before. Faltering. Maybe post-nut clarity has finally arrived.
It's not as bad as it could be, if Jayce is still attacking him with these playful pecks. When they lay cleaved together for sleep, nothing has been discussed. Viktor reaches slumber wondering if it ever will be.
It's a showcase, not a competition. Jayce and Viktor still manage to win handily by scoring the most offered grants and meetings.
They sign their names to contracts that guarantee at least five years of private, partnered work.