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Viktor trudged home from the lab with a lump in his throat and a stone in his gullet.
The night Autumn air was sharp on his skin, cutting him down to the bone, but he shivered not from the chill of it.
He was in trouble.
Big, big trouble.
The type of trouble that followed you home.
The type of trouble that got you hanged, drawn, and quartered.
He was stuck between slowing his gait to try and avoid the inevitable or hurrying forward to simply get it over with.
He had promised Jayce he would head out of the lab about a half an hour prior to his partner’s leave, a careless, “keep the stove hot,” tossed over his shoulder without thinking.
But now, three hours past when Jayce had gone back to their flat, Viktor was only just now arriving, bone-tired and heavy with regret.
He hadn’t meant to lose track of time.
He never really meant to.
And his Jayce—patient, ever-understanding, beautiful Jayce—usually forgave him. Usually understood what came with working alongside someone you also shared your life with, how easy it was to fall into the science and the magic of it all until, before you knew it, time had gone past in the blink of an eye. It also didn’t help that they were behind on this month’s quota with the Council, many late-night bickerings between them being related to that.
But, this wasn’t the first time Viktor had broken a promise, nor even the second.
Or third.
The roses clutched in his tremoring hand seemed to droop with every step up the stoop he took, as if wilting in anticipation of what awaited him inside. Growing up, flowers were the peace offerings his parents would give to diffuse any situation between them. Cheap, easy to acquire, and a quiet way to say I am sorry… Viktor knew it wouldn’t be enough, though.
There would be no hiding it; he was late.
Again.
And a liar.
Viktor swallowed hard and maneuvered the sprigs into the hand with his cane, fumbling for his keys.
“I’m home,” he announced as he entered, sheepish and uncertain; he hated that he felt like an intruder in a place that should be his sanctuary.
It didn’t help that the house met him with the delicious scent of barbacoa, a low, evenfall lighting mingling into the corners and casting lengthy, dusk shadows across the scuffed floorboards: what should be welcoming, he knew, was all a facsimile of comfort.
“...Jayce?” He called out, once there had been no sign of life.
“Kitchen,” finally came a reply, even and completely unreadable.
Viktor’s heart lurched. Jayce hadn’t come to greet him at the door, something quite unlike him to do.
He shuffled quickly toward the voice, the roses trembling in his grip. But Jayce wasn’t packing his things, wasn’t getting ready to leave, wasn’t casting Viktor away as he had feared. No, he was seated at their kitchen table with a meal plated and waiting.
The barbacoa rested in its dish, a single, red candle—Jayce’s favorite—flickering between the place settings, burned nearly to the nub, wax oozing like an infection down its sides.
Shit.
“Jayce…” Viktor began, but Jayce looked up with a smile too tight to be kind.
“Let’s eat.”
“No, please, let me explain—”
“I said.” Jayce turned to face him fully now, his voice low, calm, and dark in that way Viktor knew all too well. “Let’s eat.”
Viktor sat down in a rush, his breath catching as he remembered the bouquet in his hands.
“These, uh,” he faltered, extending them with a clumsy sort of reverence. “These are for you, my love.”
Reaching over, Jayce plucked the gift from his grasp and examined the bouquet with a quiet, inscrutable interest, fingertips skimming lightly over the petals as though committing their softness to memory.
“Thank you,” he murmured, and Viktor felt the words like barbed wire across his skin. He was still using that voice. That voice. The voice that meant Viktor would be in for a long, torturous night.
He wasn’t out of the dog house just yet.
A slow burn of heat crawled up his neck, his good leg bouncing beneath the table, utterly betraying his nerves.
“I am sorry,” he whispered, voice thin.
He winced as Jayce casually tossed the flowers aside onto the counter, some of the petals fluttering to the tiled flooring.
“I know I am late. And that I should have called. I just—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The words sliced through the air and Viktor snapped his mouth shut, dropping his gaze in silent acquiescence. The nerves inside him only loosened once Jayce’s warm, grounding hands found his. His grip was gentle, soothing, but possessed an unmistakable finality.
You can still be forgiven.
“Besides.” Jayce tilted his head with a predator’s patience, his eyes glinting like a shark who just smelled blood in the water. “You’ll be making it up to me later.”
Oh.
“Later?” Viktor swallowed, heart pounding in time with the pulse of his cock, which was slowly beginning to harden to life at the prospect.
“Of course.” Jayce removed his touch and focused his attention back on the beef platter. His plate screeched as he stabbed his knife and fork into the meat. “Did you really think this would go unpunished?”
Maybe.
“No!” Viktor spoke quickly, shaking his head. “No, I- I deserve to be…”
The silence that settled between them was suffocating. At least, for Viktor, it was.
With Jayce, it was impossible to tell; he moved through his meal with a deliberate quiet, never once sparing a look in Viktor’s direction. And God, did Jayce wear indifference well; it made Viktor want to drop to his knees in worship, to offer up his pride, his dignity, to do whatever he could to get Jayce’s attention back, no matter how degrading or filthy, no act too cruel or debasing.
“...punished.”
“What was that?” A lilt, but still, not even a glance.
“I deserve to be punished,” Viktor reiterated clearly, face blistering with color, his cock fully hard now and throbbing against his slacks. He knew better than to adjust himself, though. No, his cock didn’t belong to him.
That had Jayce’s eyes flickering towards him for a moment, perhaps a final kindness before the true torture began: dark, pretty hazel, his reward.
“Good boy.” Then, they were gone and back to focusing on the meal between them.
But the message did its job; Viktor shivered, keeled over in his seat, and bit back a groan as his cock twitched pathetically, a spurt of wetness forming at his tip. It was almost frightening how something so simple could affect him so.
Good boy....Yes, he could be Jayce’s good boy—wanted to be Jayce’s good boy, more than anything.
Just like how he wanted to crawl under the table and mouth between Jayce’s legs, his lover’s cunt way more appetizing and filling than any lamb or goat or beef.
He thought of licking his way inside, of how warm and wet Jayce always was for him. Thought of the tang and musk and salt of sweat, how it tasted on his tongue, how he could eat Jayce for hours on end and never have enough. Thought of how snug Jayce always felt once he was wrapped around him, dripping with slick and messy, like a ripe peach split open.
“Eat your dinner.” Jayce’s voice barely pierced the haze closing in around Viktor’s mind, as if spoken through water.
It wasn’t until something pressed hard against the bulge in his pants that reality returned with a white-hot snap.
A strangled cry broke free from him, his hands instinctively reaching to grab for Jayce’s ankle, before recoiling away as if he’d been burned, remembering himself.
Too late.
Jayce’s heel ground down against his cock with deliberate cruelty.
“Are you even listening to me?” Jayce scoffed, nose wrinkling in a way that only sent more heat crashing into Viktor’s gut. “Or are you listening to this?”
A slow twist of his foot, and the pressure became unbearable—exquisite, agonizing, painful. The noise Viktor made sounded barely human as he clutched at the edge of the dining table like a man adrift, knuckles whitening, muscles squeezing, the urge to arch into the torment rising high.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbled, a little prayer to his beautiful, merciless God.
“I am listening to my cock, I’m sorry. I will- I will be better, I promise.”
“I knew it.”
The force between his thighs lessened, and Viktor collapsed inward, chest heaving, pitchy whines dragging from his throat with each heavy exhale he gave. His skin was prickled with sweat, feverish, trembling, strung out between pain and ecstasy, every nerve frayed and exposed.
He felt sickly.
For once, he found, he loved it.
Jayce set down his utensils with a clink and a sigh, as if this was all terribly inconvenient for him. The red creeping at the apples of his cheeks gave him away, however; Viktor wondered how soaked he was down below.
“You’re always thinking with that thing, aren’t you?”
“Mhm.” Viktor nodded in agreement, mind already as sticky and slow as molasses. With the pain always came the delicious high.
Although Viktor was not a man inclined to give in easily, Jayce seemingly had an amazing talent of ripping this side out of him, like a well-decayed tooth—the side of him that loved being a little bit nasty, a little bit pathetic, especially if it meant he was allowed the pleasure of touching Jayce.
“Here I was, hoping to have a decent meal.” Another dramatic sigh burned his ears. “But no, you come home late, and then you have the nerve to get hard at the table.”
Licking his lips, Viktor glanced up through his lashes, knowing if he played this card too early, it could have dire consequences.
But he was always a gambling man.
“It is because I am always thinking about you, Mommy.”
The silence that followed this time was much, much thicker.
“Is that so?” Jayce hummed, and Viktor shivered as he felt the slight caress of a foot against his ankle, a steady reminder, like the kiss of a tiger’s whisker. Sweat formed at his brow, the phantom pain still lingering from before, but Jayce’s blown pupils spoke wonders.
“I do. Gods, I- I think about you all the time.”
“And what, exactly, do you think about?”
By now, Jayce had placed his elbow on the table with his chin in his hand. Leaning forward slightly, his posture was bored but attentive. Viktor could work with that.
“Worshipping you.” Viktor zoned in on the subtle uptick at the corner of Jayce’s mouth, knowing he was on the right path towards forgiveness. “Pleasuring you, making you feel so, so good. Just now, I was imagining myself eating your cunt.”
“And do you think you deserve that?”
“No...but Mommy deserves it.”
Bingo.
Viktor knew he had struck a nerve when he heard Jayce’s breathing change, the steady rhythm of his chest quickening from where he sat.
“Go to the bedroom—” Before Jayce could even finish the command, Viktor was already up, grabbing his cane and heading over, his heart pounding in his ears.
He moved quickly through their dimmed hallway, barely registering the familiar surroundings as anticipation pushed him forward. His cane tapped in uneven rhythms against the floor, his hurried pace making his movements less graceful than usual, causing a twinge in his tendons, but he didn’t care; he was a man on a mission. The thrum of adrenaline inside of him drowned everything else.
It was like clockwork when he reached their bedroom; he removed his clothing, folding them carefully, crossed to the bed, and eased himself down onto it, settling himself near the center.
His hands rested obediently on his thighs, fingers twitching, before he decided to lace them together and place them above his obvious hard-on.
Though his mind raced, his posture was calm, upright, patient, alert—just as he had practiced. He kept his gaze fixed on the door, every second stretched.
He prayed Jayce wasn’t cleaning up—he was the one who came late, it should be his job—but he had a feeling the other was doing it just to draw out the time.
What would he do to him?
Viktor shivered at the possibilities. He hoped he wouldn’t take it easy on him, hoped by the end of the night, Jayce would be satiated and happy and content while Viktor writhed in agony, skinned properly open for him to pluck and play with.
Gods, he was pathetic.
He couldn’t even feel ashamed at the way he perked up when Jayce finally strolled in, like a dog being offered a bone.
That air of indifference was back; Jayce hadn’t even glanced his way as he entered, merely striding over to their toy box.
Viktor continued to sit perfectly still, eyes tracking every motion like it might offer a clue into what Jayce was thinking. But Jayce gave him nothing. No look, no words. Just the slow sound of objects shifting inside the box, as if he had all the time in the world, and Viktor had no choice but to wait.
When Jayce pulled the cock ring out, Viktor involuntarily gasped, his tense body shivering expectantly, eyes shifting from the contraption in hand to Jayce’s face, then back again.
“Here’s how the night is going to go,” Jayce explained patiently, walking towards the fringe of their bed. “You are going to put this on for me, and then I am going to use you until I’ve had my fill.”
Viktor bit back a groan at the thought and nodded his head, already beginning to pant, the hands in his lap tightening, readying to move as soon as he was given the command.
“I need you to show Mommy how sorry you are,” Jayce continued on, tossing the ring onto the bed to work on his own slacks and underwear. Or, panties, Viktor should say.
Yes, those were definitely panties. Red and silk, with dark lace trimmings at the borders, delicate embroidery along the iliac crest. Viktor vaguely recalled purchasing them for Jayce a few months prior, never having seen them since.
Until now.
Jayce smiled innocently and tugged at the edges of the elastic with his thumbs, a pressing tease of his fat pussy lips forming against the tight fabric.
“What? Oh, this old thing? This was something I had planned for good boys, Viktor.” His face shifted, smile fizzling away. “Seems there aren’t any of those around here, tonight.”
“I’ll be good,” Viktor broke, his voice catching as he disrupted himself forward; he rested his weight on his hands, drawing himself in closer to Jayce, like a moth to a flame. “Fuck, use my cock, Mommy. Punish me. I deserve it, but—”
“But?”
Viktor hung his head in shame, body prickling. “Please...may I have a taste? I wish to taste you.”
“Ha.”
Jayce laughed as he slipped out of them, his wet cunt now exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. His thatch of hair glistened between his thighs, and Viktor felt vindictive at the sight; Jayce was just as worked up as he was.
He dangled the prize in front of Viktor’s face. “You have a lot of nerve asking for a treat when you’ve been such a bad dog.”
Viktor couldn’t argue with that logic. So instead, he opened his willing mouth, tongue out and ready, just in case Jayce decided to grant him mercy or a reward for his debauchery. He panted for good measure.
“Fuck, look at you…” Jayce sighed as a drip of saliva began to form down Viktor’s chin. A hand gripped him tight and tilted his face, the light of their room casting an echo of a halo around Jayce’s head, his angel. “Such a mess already.”
A glob of spit hit his tongue, and Viktor’s eyes rolled.
“Say thank you,” Jayce reminded petulantly.
“Than’ woo!” Viktor moaned, a more guttural, animal sound leaving him when Jayce stuffed the fabric between his parted lips.
The burst of salt and musk that hit his tongue was nearly his undoing; he uttered more of his delirious thanks through the silk, his cock throbbing in need, before he was pushed hard enough to fall back against the mattress; gagged, belly up, and prone, he felt like a defenseless animal, ready to be gutted.
“Hold still,” was all the warning he got before a smooth hand gripped his cock, delivering a too-tight squeeze and pump, a thumb catching cruelly at his sticky, swelled tip.
Panic bubbled as Viktor’s hips disobeyed, jolting up against his own accord into the warm, willing flesh; his howl was muffled as a firm slap was delivered to his balls in response.
“I said,” Another rough press of a thumb, next over his frenulum. “Hold still.”
This time, Viktor willed his body to obey. Luckily, the tremors didn’t count.
“Oh, so you can listen.” With the cockring slipped on snugly, Jayce stepped back to admire his work, his beautiful face aglow.
He skimmed a teasing finger down Viktor’s shaft, his nail tracing a prominent vein, pupils blowing, and tongue wetting his lips as it responded under his touch.
Viktor hoped he liked what he saw. His head swam at the thought, balls drawn tight, mind floating from how much he missed this. From how much he felt so right here, so useful, merely a cock for Jayce to derive pleasure from. That was all he should ever be.
The bed creaked as Jayce settled onto it, situating his plush thighs around Viktor’s abdomen, the weight comforting as Jayce sat and lingered. Viktor could feel the wetness, the warmth radiating from between.
He groped at the mattress to hold back from touching, his plight not going unnoticed.
“What? Don’t want to touch me?” Jayce cooed, and Viktor keened at the unfairness, his eyes stinging in betrayal. “No, go ahead, puppy...If you think you deserve it, that is.”
Viktor, powerless, could do nothing but sob as his hips jerked upward, his head shaking in tortured refusal. He recognized it was a cruel test. He did not deserve anything.
“No? You don’t want to touch?”
Another head shake, another agonizing denial.
“Mm, good boy.” Jayce’s look was knowing and proud as he ran his palms down Viktor’s quivering stomach, twirling the hair he found as he went.
Then, without further preamble, Jayce sat up and sunk down on his cock, Viktor helpless to do anything but cry out at the tight, soaking heat.
“Nhh—Hhh!”
“Shut up,” Jayce sighed, dreamy as he anchored himself to the base. Viktor thrashed, the walls engulfing him giving an intentional, hard squeeze, milking him mercilessly right from the get-go. The responsive curve of his back was pressed flat against the bed.
And were it not for the cockring, he would have come by now, flooding Jayce’s cunt entirely. It was an embarrassing thought, one that stung his skin with humiliation.
He was so fucking easy—Mommy’s easy boy.
“Fuck.” The moan that escaped Jayce’s lips left Viktor quaking. “I knew I kept you around for a reason. This big, dumb cock.”
He swiveled his hips, clenching again, openly sighing at the feeling. Then, with a yank, he flung the tacky fabric from Viktor’s lips and pressed a thumb down against his eager tongue, Viktor not hesitating to suck it with gusto, his wretched noises more audible to the air around them now.
He felt fucked stupid already, the wisps of smoke-like fog creeping along the edges of his mind, bending his thoughts into something blunt and unfocused. Whatever ideas tried to surface slipped instantly out of reach, eclipsed as his body seized control, a gossamer veil sealing away all coherence in a hazy, nearly inaccessible place.
All that mattered was Mommy’s cunt.
Each rough drop of Jayce’s weight knocked the air from his lungs, wanton sounds bursting forth as Jayce rode him with abandon, the wet plaps of his pussy echoing along with Viktor’s short, staccato wails.
“Uhn—Uhn—Uhn—Uhn—Uhn—!”
“Fuck, you fill me so well, baby,” Jayce commended, a powerful tremor rippling them both at such close quarters; Jayce gave a breathless laugh in return. “Yeah? You love filling Mommy up? Showing what a good boy you can be?”
Viktor wept unintelligibly, thigh muscles tightening, a surge of sensation—equal parts ecstasy and pain—washing over him, consuming both his body and thoughts. The spring in his gut was coiling tighter, threatening to snap clean.
He wanted to cum, he wanted to cum, he wanted to cum.
But he couldn’t—
He barely registered the sound of his own ragged breaths, every muscle drawn in as they trembled in pulsing, rhythmic spasms. He was whining around Jayce’s thumb, spit drenching his chin, but his words made no sense—nothing that could really be called proper speech.
“What?” Jayce cooed, showing no actual interest in what Viktor was trying to convey, merely bouncing on his cock over and over and over—
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Can’t—” Viktor inhaled, inflamed skin itchy from the tears that dripped to his hairline. “C-Cum…”
“So cute…” Jayce sighed, Viktor babbling nonsense, the sensation becoming too much. “Mm, what was that? You want me to take you deeper?”
The responding shift of Jayce’s hips forced his cock someplace wetter and plusher and tight, and Viktor shrieked, words half-pleading, guttural and raw. It barely felt like it was coming from him at all anymore, as though his voice had momentarily detached in a way he couldn’t pull back together.
And yet, even as he objected, he found himself still obeying the pull of his flesh-bound instincts, the ones that came with owning a body, of being a sentient meat bag of strung-out nerves and endorphins; he rocked his hips up in a pathetic effort for more, even if it meant further suffering.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck—Oh, fuck—Oh, please—!”
Jayce shivered from atop of him, a firm hand grabbing Viktor’s own and bringing it to his abdomen, where the glistening, bronze skin sat taut and bulging after every sinking plummet. Viktor keened, hindbrain howling, satisfaction blooming in knowing he could fill Jayce so completely.
Seemingly just as affected, Jayce only rode him harder, nearly feral, ruthless with his movements, headboard slamming with each heavy downward cant of his body.
It was pure torture.
“Take it off,” Viktor pleaded, finally finding the words he needed, voicing them loud and wet up to the ceiling. “Take it off, want to cum, oh— oh, Gods—I have to—”
A rough palm clamped around his mouth, Jayce’s weight shifting as he bared down against him, hips giving a violent, baleful swivel.
“Shut up and make Mommy cum.”
It was suffocating.
Unable to move, Viktor’s entire world was reduced to a relentless, pulsing desire that blurred all his senses.
He could only sniffle, the sight above him a variegation of colors through his tears, like a dampened, watercolor painting: Jayce, mouth dropped open in bliss, golden skin flushed rosy and peaked with sweat, dark lashes fluttering as he neared his completion.
“Oh,” Jayce shuddered, voice pitching salaciously. “There, right there, fuck—”
Viktor’s wet eyes rolled, spine instinctively arching, wanting to follow, wanting to help, but Jayce’s weight kept him prone.
“Gonna cum,” Jayce gasped, focusing intently on that special spot at the front of his soft walls, angling himself just right so Viktor’s fat tip was punching at it. Viktor loathed and loved how easily Jayce could just ignore him, so consumed with his own pleasure that he might as well not have even been there at all.
“M’mmh—” Viktor barely managed before Jayce was pressing harder over his mouth, smothering him entirely.
The sounds were pornographic.
Torn from throats, they were solely made up now of only Jayce, Jayce, Jayce—Jayce, who sang beautifully from atop of him, the wet smacks of their bodies burning into Viktor’s ears, burrowing into his forebrain.
It didn’t take long until Jayce was moaning a noise of pure, unadulterated delight, and
the telltale convulsing of his pussy told Viktor he was orgasming. Stars shot across Viktor’s vision, eyes nearly crossing as he was milked for something that could never come, not with that damned ring around his base, could only build and build and build from inside of him.
Turning his face to the side, Viktor dislodged Jayce’s thumb, his drooling mouth heaving.
“Done?” He asked weakly, croaking, casting a shaky, hopeful smile up at his deity.
“Done? Done—Can- Can I please....?”
Jayce’s responding smirk had his voice trailing off, his stomach dropping low.
“Oh, baby. Do you really think we’re done so soon?”
Viktor vowed never to come home late again.
Time slipped by as Jayce used his cock, dirty and raw, slick pooling between their bodies, each breath and sob a struggle, each movement a reminder of how thoroughly he was being punished.
“Too much, it’s too much—”
“Mommy, I can’t—I can’t!”
“Please, my—oh, fuck—my- my cock—”
He was nothing but a toy. A dildo. A fuckstick for Jayce’s amusement.
Only after Viktor had stopped begging, voice dying off in his throat, only after he lay mindless, all coherence fucked out, only after Jayce had finished again, squirting for a second time around him, did Jayce finally seem satisfied.
“Ah,” Jayce sighed out, long and happy, euphoria painting his wine-flushed skin in contentment. He sat still to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow, and then, with a debauched, wet shlick, dismounted off of Viktor.
“Fuck!” Viktor barely managed to spit it out, the sudden tender pain lobbing him back to the present. His words slurred past bared teeth and spit, his messy length comparable to his mouth. “No! Nnnh, ah, ah—!”
His poor cock was like a beacon, standing flushed and erect, nearing purple in color, a pitiful, pitiful sight. The absence of contact seemed to hurt just as much as the contact itself.
“Hm?” Jayce said, utterly unbothered; he tilted his head down, as if only just now remembering Viktor's existence. “Oh, right. You want to cum, too. Is that it?”
It was an easy question, one that set Viktor alight; he nodded, fast and eager, his world tilting, his muscles tensing when Jayce’s hand slipped from his neck down to his leaking, straining cock.
Sadly, it seemed a reprieve was still not yet in his future.
“Beg for it, then.”
Viktor broke down in earnest.
“Please,” he choked, body hitching on a raw, trembling howl, teeth near chattering in need, echoing how helplessly trapped he felt. “Please, can I cum now, Mommy? Can I please? What more can I do?”
He gasped as Jayce suddenly grabbed him, delivering long, smooth strokes along his shaft, ending with a twist at his sticky, mauve tip, the touch making his toes curl.
Viktor tried again, more frantic. “Please? Please, I’m- I’m sorry. I’m—ah, hah—ah—I’m sorry!”
“What are you sorry for?” Jayce’s voice was low yet grounding, bordering on reverent, a contrast to the cruelty he was inflicting.
“For not thinking of you!” The pressure in Viktor’s gut was terrifying, a type of sensation he had never felt before. He whined, head thrown back, tears clotting his lashes. “And- And I should always think of you! I love you!”
Jayce was only rubbing his slit now, back and forth, fingers pinching and prodding, collecting the pre that oozed out, exacting more pain than pleasure at this point.
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt—
“I love you!” Viktor fractured apart. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I promise, I love you! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“...Good boy.” The praise was whispered, but it thundered in Viktor’s skull all the same; instantly, the pain went away, and in its place, the rapture. “Mm, I knew you were Mommy’s good boy.”
He was forgiven?
Mercifully, slowly, carefully, the ring was slipped off.
“Alright, baby. You can cum.”
He was forgiven.
“Ah—Ah!” Viktor’s voice was almost fearful in the way it lifted, higher and higher as Jayce stroked him off, fondling his balls, allowing him to finally, finally cum.
“You took your punishment so well,” Jayce breathed, kissing his damp cheek, tasting the salt of his tears. “You can touch me now, too.”
Without hesitation, Viktor threw his arms around Jayce and wept in ecstasy, greedy for his reward, salivating at the hot press of skin-on-skin between them. He nuzzled his face into the crux of a sweaty neck and trembled as he was worked through his orgasm.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mommy,” he whimpered pitifully, his gratitude hitching off into nonsense as Jayce pumped him faster and faster and faster, until—
It shot through him like lightning, leaping up his spine, rebounding through his torso, setting streaks of electric fire to his gut. The tension inside Viktor snapped, and he came with a loud, blown-out wail, painting Jayce’s fist in white, a smattering of it wetting his chest as he bowed so powerfully his crooked spine cracked.
“That’s it, baby.” Jayce stroked him through it. “Make your mess for Mommy, keep going.”
Viktor did.
You’d think he hadn’t relieved himself in months, what with the way he gushed, each twitch of his balls spouting out more and more of it, his partner’s face filled with a syrupy hunger at the sight. As if inspired, Jayce surged forward and wrapped around Viktor’s tip, sucking it in with a disgusting, sloppy squelch.
Viktor spasmed, mouth dropping agape. “No, Mommy, I can’t—!”
Thankfully, it didn’t last long; lips pressed to his, cutting him off mid-breath, the taste of himself lingering on Jayce’s tongue, potent and thick. He kissed back desperately, parting himself open, allowing better access for Jayce to lick inside. He was panting by the time Jayce pulled away, hazel eyes engulfed in black.
“Sorry,” Jayce hummed, biting his lip coyly. “Mommy just wanted a quick taste.”
Viktor fumbled for another kiss, absolutely smitten.
Once they had separated, Jayce drew him in close to the clutch of his warmth, his touch surrounding as he rested Viktor’s head against his pillowy chest, Viktor sighing at the delicious, plush give.
His Mommy’s hands were so nice. They fit to his neck as if they’d learned the shape by heart, keeping him held flush and safe.
He was forgiven.
He was forgiven.
It was okay now.
They were okay.
The bliss lasted for a while.
He felt delightfully empty, the haze stretched out, endorphins still humming.
The high made his muscles heavy, his thoughts slow but sweet; every tense knot unwound, every edge of stress softened; all he could do was sink deeper into the comfort of Jayce’s embrace.
He felt Jayce shiver as he nosed along a dusky nipple, latching on to suck, the action only soothing him more.
Here, he was Mommy’s good boy.
“You did so well, baby. Mommy’s so proud." Words were floating in the air, soft and lilting—Jayce’s voice.
Viktor pulled off with a pop, trying to respond, but all that came out were quiet, reedy whines, choked off and needy; Jayce pressed a hand to his hair and smoothed it back.
“Shh, don’t say anything, yet.”
So, he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the steady thrum of Jayce’s heartbeat.
Viktor had never realized how much he needed this until he had met Jayce, how intoxicating it was to let go and be held, how gratifying punishment could be.
He was harsh on himself by nature, clinging to his mistakes. But now, a small argument didn’t have to lead to self-flagellation. Now, he could atone, could be useful, could apologize and expiate in a way his words always failed to do.
Part of him wondered why he ever tried to deny this dynamic between them in the first place.
“I love you,” he slurred out, voice still weak, a mixture of awe and gratitude still present. He squeezed Jayce harder and wished to burrow into his ribcage, to find himself a home there within the flesh and bone, so that he could be the only thing surrounding Jayce’s heart.
Jayce responded back easily, kissing the top of his head. “I love you, too. Even when you upset me.”
“I promise to be better.” Viktor traced a hand down and weaved their fingers together, lifting them up to press a kiss into each and every digit, worshipful and adoring. “Every day, I will be better. If I am not, then—eh—you have my permission to bleed me dry.”
“Hmmm, I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Please do.”
Jayce’s fond smile against his hairline was all the answer he needed; Viktor let himself float again, utterly weightless and completely at home.