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Since the world ended, Jayce has never been alone.
From the moment he opened his eyes, shellshocked and shaking in the aftermath of reincarnation, Viktor was there. Fumbling in the grass, desperately searching for something, anything—Viktor was there. Warm and pleading and dew-eyed in his arms, Viktor was alive and staring back at him.
Jayce has spent too much of his life lonely. Too much time looking at the dark walls of his bedroom, the cavern, of hearing nothing but the skittering of inhuman legs and his own breath, the unending drum of his heartbeat in his ears. He's been half mad with desperation, then with vengeance, and again with grief. He's hurt and maimed and lost more than he can bear to think of, taken more precious things away from those he loves than he can begin to justify.
The relief he felt upon opening his eyes and seeing Viktor was immeasurable. He could hardly justify the few weeks he'd spent still alive after Viktor's first death, never mind an eternity without him. What kind of life would that be, anyway?
Viktor had cried the moment their eyes met, his stricken face screwing up in agony and regret. Shuddering, horrible sobs wracking his thin body, Jayce cradled him and kissed his brow, his cheek, both as nude as the day they were born. He'd begged Viktor for forgiveness and gave it all the same, gathering Viktor in his arms and kissing him there, for the first time. They held each other until they were soothed, and it was like being one again, like when their hearts and minds and souls knitted into one another, when they shared neurons and atoms, so inextricably bound that he forgot that he ended and Viktor began.
Their new home was rough, but it was good. A village in a warm, fertile cove, tucked between rolling hills and nutrient-rich riverbeds. They had little in the name of innovation, but much in their journey of rehabilitation. Kind people, generous neighbors, a healthy little economy.
Driven by boredom and, for the first time in a long time, finding themselves in desperate need of money, they've rejoined society, in a manner of speaking. By some effect of divine happenstance, the village was in need of a new blacksmith, Jayce's predecessor having died mysteriously some time before their arrival and leaving behind no apprentice. It is a niche he fills excellently, though it takes some time to adapt his precision to the crudeness of his new work. Nothing like going from jet propulsion to horseshoes.
It's good work. Viktor spends some time in town as well, though half as much and with heaps of quiet sorrow. He knows enough to help, he tells Jayce. He can still heal others, in this life, albeit in a less magical manner.
Cicadas burr in the treeline, scattering through the evening air. Dust cakes Jayce's boots as he trudges home, powder swirling in the wind, the path bone-dry under summer's deep heat. The sun dips below hills—ground still hot, light diffused through clouds. His hands ache; a blister tears at his thumb, his shoulders tighten. Lady Kiramman would be appalled by his posture.
But Jayce is tired. His skin is tight with salt and brimstone, his head heavy with exertion. He's spent all day using his body, hammering, lifting, and refining. His head thumps in pain with each aching beat of his heart. Dehydration is a common foe for a man who spends all day in the heat.
He's hungry, too. His stomach yowls at him, groaning every so often—an almost painful clench, but not so far gone to nausea he's not thinking about his next meal. He smiles at the thought. Dinner will surely be ready by the time he's home. Every day since Jayce began working in the village, Viktor's greeted him with a warm bowl of something and his sweet face. His mouth begins to water in anticipation. He'd seen Viktor peppering beef flank in the morning, his face stoic in his quiet, dutiful concentration. He's softened in domesticity, his unrest settling as he submits to a quiet life of gentleness and simple work. Jayce does not know how long that peace will last, but he, too, would rather leave things as they are.
The basic fact of the matter is that Jayce is in love with Viktor. World-ending, sacrifice all humanity, live in squalor, in love with him. His sweetness, stubborn attitude, delicate stature, and horrible sleep habits—he wants it all, and he has for years. Nothing can change that.
Each day, it's easier not to bring up what hurts. What good would it be to upset Viktor by asking him how he feels about Jayce blowing a hole through his chest? Or to make him cry again when Jayce tells him how badly he wishes Viktor had just stayed with him. Even as it keeps Jayce up at night, he keeps their peace. They have so much time to work through their pain and guilt, and more still to grow happy in their new lives. Time is the one thing they are finally abundant in.
Still, they haven't addressed what lies between them. They indulge in physical affection, romance, sex. That first night, Jayce pinned Viktor to the bed, loved him on a mattress probably older than either of them. He cums in Viktor's belly without asking, takes without asking, gives without asking. But Viktor gives as good as he gets— hungry and eager, whispering yes, yes, please into the hollow of Jayce's throat. Viktor welcomed him, arms and legs spread, held Jayce closer until they were tangled together, head over Jayce's heart each night. Every morning, his fluttery kisses grace Jayce's jaw and throat.
But they have not spoken about it. Nor of home, or their past, not since their arrival together in the dewy field. They do not discuss labels or boundaries; instead, Jayce finds himself a devoted man. Viktor is his, and he does not need to be told so.
It's about twenty minutes from the village's edge to where their home appears on its hill. Two minutes, and Jayce has a hand on Viktor's waist after stepping onto the stone-flecked path to the porch. If he ran, it'd take seven.
He half-wants to run now.
The trail is not long, nor is it a hard crossing, but with each step, he feels his eyes grow heavier. Viktor is waiting for him. He is in their home, gentle and kind, soft around the edges with Jayce's careful affection, just waiting for his return. He'll fret over the burn on Jayce's chest, dress it with a poultice and cloth, nag him to take more care with himself. It makes him smile to think about it now. Viktor, akin to a housewife. A moody, flighty one—but a wife nonetheless.
He breathes in the hot air. The sun-warmed fields of grain shift loudly in the wind. Dry and yellowing, baking in the air like fresh bread in the late-afternoon haze. He has not once wished to be in the unnatural bustle of Piltover since he first kissed Viktor in those same fields, when the springtime covered the earth in carpets soft and green. He'll kiss him the same way tonight, as he draws hot water for their bath.
After a few minutes spent with his eyes cast towards the cloud-spotted sky, he finally sees the ridge of a familiar roofline. His house, with Viktor waiting inside. A small, quiet den where they lay together, heads pressed down on the same pillow.
He sees the edge of Viktor in his gauzy white housecoat, fluttering in the soft, warm wind, his hair brushing his collarbones and curling around his throat. Jayce's chest tightens pleasantly at the sight, some deep part of him soothed by his figure. His brow furrows when Viktor does not turn to look at him. Usually by now, Viktor's hand would come up in a wave, a gentle greeting Jayce returned religiously.
He walks faster, pacing his usual leisurely stroll to a brisk chop. Perhaps Viktor is upset about something and is avoiding his gaze. Jayce shuffles through the possibilities. Was dinner burnt? Jayce's chest relaxes at that thought. No matter, he thinks—nothing for Viktor to feel bad about. Sweet thing. We can find a meal in town tonight. Our first date. With that in mind, he crests the highest point of the hill and prepares a wide smile on his face before stopping in his tracks as he lays his eyes on the source of Viktor's distraction.
A man stands on Jayce's doorstep. A familiar man, but no more a sight for sore eyes for that matter. When they'd stumbled through the town after their first morning spent holding one another in the nude, many people had come to their aid. Clothed them, fed them, led them to a new home in green pastures, a dusty cottage where they nurtured a soft life and sweet love. One of those people had been a village guard. Caleb. Jayce had disliked him from the start, an overbearing, unwanted presence hovering around Viktor. He'd gone so far as to take off his cloak and offer it to a then-nude Viktor, so as to protect his dignity.
Fuck him. Jayce held his tongue at the time, but he roiled at the knowledge that he'd not been the first to shroud Viktor's nudity. What right did Caleb have to say anything about Viktor's dignity? What could he know about Viktor's body? Jayce surely deserved to cover Viktor with his clothing before Caleb.
Ridiculous. Jayce should have known then. The idiot has spent much of his free time, of which he has ample, being the greenest guard in the sleepiest town Jayce had ever set foot in, chasing Viktor's skirts. Bastard. It was as if he had no idea Jayce had claimed Viktor first.
He's tall, ridiculously so for some village grunt, with thick features and a dopey smile—hardly a thing compared to Jayce's classic masculine looks. Jayce didn't think they got enough calcium in the low country for town guards to grow as tall as the oaf speaking to—or rather looming above Viktor.
Viktor.
Jayce is sick at the sight of him, his chin pressed against his chest, swaying gently where he stands. His fingers playfully hook onto each other, where he keeps his hands demurely behind his back. Fuck. His mouth is open. Jayce is familiar with that look he's giving Caleb—up through his lashes, shy and sweet, hopelessly vulnerable as he blinks his big golden eyes, but he knows the way it makes him feel even better. Warm, like walking through a doorway after a long journey, so full of affection that he can hardly draw breath. It makes him sick to think about Caleb, of all people, seeing Viktor like that. What's more, he's beginning to wonder if Viktor is altogether far more familiar with this man than he'd been letting on.
After all, Jayce doesn’t have eyes on Viktor all day. They spend hours apart each day, as Jayce spends time in the hot maw of the forge, and Viktor takes his daily rounds to visit those in need of a sharp mind or a healing touch. He thought Viktor returned home after his brief visits, his soul still too tattered to spend much time in the company of strangers.
Perhaps not.
Perhaps Caleb, too, has become familiar with the shape of Viktor's affections. Perhaps Viktor's been spending his time exchanging soft smiles with Caleb, sitting on fence posts watching him work, pressing damp clothes to his forehead, just as he's done to Jayce. His blood boils.
Fuck. That.
"Viktor," Jayce calls, his voice loud. "Are you alright?"
Viktor stiffens, his eyes wide with surprise. The speed at which he turns on his heel and darts from under Caleb's shadow would be funny if not for the pink hue of his cheeks and chest. Jayce's stomach drops through his feet, dread creeping up his legs and spine until his chest is so tight with outrage he finds it hard to school his tongue, much less his face.
"Jayce." Caleb greets, his voice and face ugly against the backdrop of Jayce's home. "How are you? I was asking Viktor how you are both settling in."
Yeah, right. The time to ask about settling in was months ago. This is loitering. This is an unwanted distraction, darkening Jayce's doorway and speaking to someone he has no right to speak to. This indolence is verging on cuckholdery.
"Y-yes." Viktor stutters, returning from his quick dash inside with a plate of roasted meat and honeyed bread, pressing himself insistently against Jayce's side. He looks at Jayce, his eyes wide with an undecipherable emotion. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, before settling on— "I made you dinner."
Jayce looks away from him and does not take the offered plate in his hand. "You always make me dinner."
Viktor shrinks but does not pull away. He sighs. It only takes a moment for Jayce to regret being short with him. He cringes at the unhappy curl of his mouth, but figures it's the least of his worries if something between Caleb and Viktor has come to pass.
"Right. Anyways. I've been thinking a lot, recently." Caleb drawls; his slow and ungainly manner of speaking irritates Jayce. No one with anything good to say takes this long to get it out. He's staring at Viktor, who is pointedly looking off into the distance as his loose hair lashes at Jayce's shoulder. Caleb meets Jayce's eye, his foppish, oily blonde hair gone awry in the same breeze. He gives him a pleading look, as if he's asking Jayce for some favor." I just had some things I needed to say to Viktor, if that's alright. Alone."
It is most certainly not alright, but Jayce reins in his rage. Viktor would not appreciate such an outburst. Besides, he'd rather not waste the energy required on explaining the details of why Caleb needs to get the fuck off of his porch when it's so much easier to show him.
Jayce puffs his chest, curling an arm around Viktor's waist. Without warning, he sits down in the rocking chair behind him, pulling Viktor onto his knee. He takes his dinner in hand, glossy bread and thick cuts of meat laid on a rough-hewn wooden plate. "Thank you, baby." Viktor settles onto his lap with a tiny shiver, his cheeks flushed as he tries to arrange himself gracefully. For a moment, his eyes flick to Jayce's face, searching for reassurance, the ghost of a pleased smile curving over his mouth. He seems comforted by Jayce's possessive touch, though an edge of embarrassment lingers, visible in the way he fidgets with a lock of his hair and keeps his gaze low.
"I think you'd better run along, Caleb," Jayce says dismissively as Viktor flushes even darker. "It's rude to interrupt man and wife. I've just come home from a long day of work, after all."
"Oh," Caleb says simply. He likely has no other way to speak but simply. "Right. I didn't think you were married. It just—look, I just really wanted to tell him something—"
"That's hardly my problem," Jayce says, then gestures roughly for Viktor to give him the cutlery balled in his little fist. "You might come back tomorrow morning, at a more reasonable hour. Viktor can provide you with the care you need then. My wife is a very capable apothecary."
It is very easy to talk over Caleb's head. Jayce, of course, will always be a son of the elite. The son of a beet farmer has nothing on someone with a tongue sharpened in a bed of slick talkers and snakes. He is an excellent liar.
Caleb's broad shoulders slump in defeat. Jayce preens in his victory, his cock thumping with blood as Viktor stares at his mouth. Pretty thing. Jayce wonders if he still has any right to that mouth. After all, he'd thought Viktor's loyalty to be a certainty.
"Very well. Viktor, I—" Caleb pauses, eyes lingering on Viktor's bare ankles and skinny calves. "I'll be seeing you. I hope you have a pleasant evening."
Viktor does not reply. Instead, he continues to stare owlishly at Jayce, unreadable. He balances himself primly on Jayce's thigh, one hand on his knee and the other lying delicately across his own belly. He smells like sandalwood and fire, and as is his custom, is in his softest clothes. Viktor is such a tender thing in their new life, his skin aching after long days wearing the rough but appropriate clothing of a healer. Every bit of his body is more sensitive since being remade, hale and whole.
What had he and Caleb been doing before Jayce could see them? Had Caleb felt the silkiness of Viktor's chemise? Had he seen the way the light shines through, unobstructed, outlining the soft curves of Viktor's body—the body Jayce had worked so hard to give back? What right did he have to see the chemise, for that matter, that Jayce had spent plenty getting made for him?
"Jayce," Caleb says in bitter farewell, fixing Jayce with a look of veiled resentment. "I noticed your gate has been broken for some time now. Do take care to fix it. We wouldn't want any strays coming through. You have such precious things in your care."
"Indeed," Jayce says through gritted teeth. He cups Viktor's waist, pulling him down his thigh and against his chest. Viktor's thighs split to make way for the thickness of Jayce's leg, and it is utterly indecent as Jayce slides his hand to rest low on his belly, fingertips brushing against his mound. "I do."
"Of course, I can take care of these things for you." Caleb smiles, hand resting on the hilt of his shitty broadsword. He's staring at Viktor's throat, his hips, between his legs. Jayce wants to feed him his own heart. And cut off his cock. "Whatever you or Viktor need me to do for you. I'm your man. Since you know—you're always so busy."
"He manages just fine," Viktor says firmly, surprising both Jayce and Caleb. He'd not spoken since serving Jayce dinner, solemnly observing the cockfighting as he perched quietly on Jayce's knee, nor did he let out a peep of protest as he was groped and manhandled so publicly. In fact, he's all but plastered his spine to Jayce's front, his hands pleasantly wrapped around Jayce's forearms as he lays his head back against broad shoulders. "You need to go."
Caleb blanches, turning his face away sharply. Like a kicked dog, he darts down the stony walkway without another word, dragging his toes all the way.
Jayce spears a thick chunk of meat, glistening with fat and red in the center, and slices it into pieces. Before he takes a bite, he takes Viktor by the jaw, grasping a piece of meat between his fingers and pushing it into his waiting, open mouth. His cock is full, now, and surely pressing rudely against Viktor's ass, but Jayce is unashamed. Viktor takes the treatment without protest.
In silence, rocking back and forth in the chair as Jayce looks out over his land, they have their dinner, Viktor obediently eating from Jayce's hand. Yet, there is something tentative about the way Viktor accepts each bite—sometimes his gaze drifts to the horizon, his mouth parting just a little late, as if to weigh some unspoken thought, eyes flickering as if he might bite. When Jayce directs him to open, Viktor hesitates for a heartbeat before complying, his tongue pressing lightly against the roof of his mouth. His shoulders lift fractionally, betraying a quiet uncertainty tucked beneath the surface of obedience. Jayce stews in his quiet misery as he watches Viktor lick his fingers clean, his other hand still clasped firmly over Viktor's womb.
"Jayce," Viktor whispers, his hand lying over the back of Jayce's. "Jayce, I have to explain—"
"Hush," Jayce whispers back, his words final. "Sit quietly with me before I take you inside."
The words settle heavy between them, a promise and a warning. Jayce stares past Caleb's shrinking figure and out over the fields, forcing his jaw to unclench as his thumb strokes slow, possessive circles into Viktor's waist.
They sit like that for some time. Long enough for the sun to finish its descent behind the hills and the cicadas to quiet. Viktor lies back on Jayce patiently, tucked into the side of his neck, his hips shifting minutely. He's only a little thing, really. Jayce can't stop thinking about his face, the way his wide eyes were so sweetly searching Caleb's, the demure curve of his neck as he looked away, the blush high on his cheeks.
Jayce had thought all those delights belonged to him alone. He surely owned that right. Viktor was so good for him. So sweet, so unwavering. Fuck. Jayce won't lose something as impossibly perfect as Viktor to the likes of Caleb.
But Jayce is a capable man. He is patient. He has steady hands.
Plate forgotten on the porch, he lifts Viktor off his lap and gets up, hands wrapped around that trim little waist. Viktor stumbles a bit, but Jayce rights him, possessive and imposing as he turns him toward their front door.
"Go on." He says gruffly, patting Viktor's ass. "Get inside."
Viktor's eyes flick behind him, trail downward, glancing past Jayce's lips, his broad chest, and between his legs. His little chest hitches, the spiderweb of his sternum and ribs pressing against his white skin as if it's yearning to break free.
Jayce wants to break free, too.
"Go, Viktor." He says, rougher this time. "Sit on the bed."
Viktor looks back at him, one last look of fleeting desire, before disappearing into the cool darkness of their home.
Jayce takes a moment before he follows, watches his pale ghost float away. He closes his eyes, conjures the image of Viktor, sitting at the edge of their big bed, dressing gown put to the side. Sheer, vulnerable, alone, his big golden eyes scanning the dark shadows.
Jayce clenches his fists and takes a deep breath. He looks down the path. Caleb is long gone, but he lingers in Jayce's mind still. He could be handsome, in some lights. Not as handsome as Jayce, though. Nor as strong, nor as smart. Viktor knows that, or else he wouldn't blush so fucking hard when Jayce kisses him.
No chance, that brute. Not with his Viktor—and fuck him for even thinking he could try. Jayce would rather die than see Viktor with another man. In fact, he'd see them both in the grave before he gave up.
Persistance. That's what serves a man like Jayce best. And persistence, he has.
He stalks Viktor down in the hallway, walking slowly with his back turned. He's not moving very quickly, if he hasn't already made his way to the bedroom. Poor thing must be nervous.
Viktor gasps when Jayce grabs him, spinning him until they're face to face. He squeezes Viktor's waist between his hands, so thin it feels more like a pinch than a grope. The look of desire Viktor gives him as he's pressed against Jayce's chest is intoxicating. He's ready now, Jayce can feel it in the impatient thrum of his heart. His body is melting into Jayce's touch, giving up every inch of agency he's fought so hard for.
"Viktor."
"Jayce."
They stare, a silent standoff as Jayce maneuvers them down the hallway, like a square dance without the playfulness. They come to a stop at the end of the hall, in the doorway of their bedroom. Viktor pants softly, tugging at the side of his housecoat, his feet neatly pressed between Jayce's own.
"Go."
Viktor does as he's told, climbs onto the edge of their bed, and sits with his legs slightly askew. He's a dream. Just like Jayce had pictured, delicate and bruisable. His cock twitches, a reminder of how long it's been rigid and without touch. Viktor's gaze flicks to Jayce's groin, lingers there appreciatevly for a while. He spreads his legs even more.
Jayce breaks the silence. He's too jealous of a man not to ask all manner of sordid questions, but he starts appropriately, if a bit overzealous.
"Do you love him?"
"What? No." Viktor says, easily and without pause. His brow crinkles in upset. "Jayce, I've hardly spoken to the man."
"Didn't look that way to me. Looked like you've spoken to him plenty."
Viktor shakes his head. "No. Besides, he's harmless."
"Oh? Harmless?"
"Truly. He follows me around like some lost puppy. I think he's lonely."
"Who cares if he's lonely?" Jayce spits. Caleb would know nothing of true solitude, not like Jayce would. "What about me?"
"What about you?" Viktor says, cocking his head in derision. He smiles, a bit of meanness shining through the flash of his teeth. "You're being rather callous, Jayce. He's little more than a boy, and he has no mother—"
"He doesn't want you to play Mama, Viktor, you're too smart not to realize that. Caleb wants to eat you alive."
Viktor flushes, looking down at his feet, swinging a few inches from the floor. He's quiet.
"He wants to take you away from me." Jayce continues, stepping between Viktor's legs. He takes Viktor's cheek in his hand and presses his thumb to the fullness of his lips, soft and dry. "But you know something? I worked too fucking hard to get you, Viktor. I am not letting you go."
"Jayce," Viktor says, his breath cascading down Jayce's wrist. "This is not something to worry yourself with."
His hair looks so soft, glossy at the root, and tousled carelessly. His lips, red and bitten, stark against the paleness of his skin, the precise design of his mole above his mouth. Too ripe, too precious. A beautiful bride begets much danger. How could Jayce not worry?
"Sweetheart," Jayce whispers, sinking to his knees as he presses himself between Viktor's legs, still taller than him despite kneeling where Viktor sits. He brushes his lips against Viktor's forehead, the taste of skin against his mouth. He's hot as liquid iron. "You know I am everything you will ever need".
Viktor hazards a breath, nodding his agreement. His hands are all over Jayce, pulling at him needily as he scrambles to press himself closer, wild and forceful, his lips against Jayce's cheekbone and jaw.
"Then why stray from me?" Jayce asks, his voice soft and his words spoken directly into the shell of Viktor's ear.
Vitor gasps, fixing his face into a determined insistence.
"I have not," He says sharply, his hands pressing against Jayce's shoulders. "It is nothing, Jayce. He means nothing."
"Do you let him touch you like this?" He says as he cups Viktor's breast in one hand.
"No!" Viktor half-yells. "I am offended you even ask me this. "
"Well," Jayce says softly, hands wandering to settle low on Viktor's hips. "How am I to know? Until tonight, I thought you were all mine."
Viktor scoffs, tossing his head back as if in disbelief.
"What? Have I been wrong to assume you were happy to be with me?"
"Jayce," Viktor says. "I am happy to be with you, but—"
"Then what's the problem, V?" Jayce says firmly, slow and steady as he sits up, pushes Viktor against the mattress, laying him flat on his back. Perhaps a Viktor who's splayed out, belly-up, is the most honest. "Why even entertain that fool?"
He's growling in Viktor's ear now, nosing at his throat like a panther searching for the perfect bite.
"You do not think, Jayce," Viktor says, his voice steeped in irritation.
"I don't think? Really? Me?" Jayce scoffs. "I think you have the wrong guy, baby."
Viktor cries out in frustration and smacks Jayce's wandering hand away from his breast.
"Yes. You do not listen to me. "Viktor says, high and reedy. It's as if he's holding back tears. "You called me your wife, Jayce. How do you think it makes me feel for you to say that before you've even told me if you love me?"
Jayce is struck by that for a moment. Surely Viktor knows he loves him. Surely he's said as much.
Right?
Fuck.
"Viktor—"
"We do not talk, Jayce. We sit and smile and pretend like everything is alright and that all of our problems will disappear if we keep moving on, but it's not true. "He is crying, now—a rarity but a beautiful thing to see. "I love you. I love you. I will spend the rest of my life in this house loving you, but I only want to do that if you love me too."
Jayce feels the weight of his guilt and buckles beneath it. He hates to make Viktor upset, much less make him cry.
"Tell me, now," Viktor says. "Let's stop wasting our time. If all you want from me is a good fuck, then get it over with. I do not want Caleb; I have never wanted him, but at least he's told me how he feels. You can't even do that much."
Viktor provokes him with surgical precision, jabs him in the soft places that hurt most, half in tears but still raring for a fight. Jayce's stomach is starting to ache from the stress of this conversation.
"Of course I love you," He says, plain as day. He wipes away his anger with a rough hand to his face, for it will not serve him well, not with Viktor. "My god, Viktor, what else did you think was happening between us?"
"All you seem to want to do is fuck me. How am I supposed to know how you feel?"
"Sweetheart," Jayce says gently, "You only needed to ask me."
"Fine. I just did. Thanks for the answer."
"Don't be like that." Jayce shakes his head, wipes away Viktor's tears with his thumbs. "I'm sorry that I have ever made you doubt how much I love you."
Viktor closes his eyes, his lashes spiky as they dry. Jayce thumbs over his eyelids, kissing the hollows of his temple and orbital bone. "You are all that matters to me."
"Then why didn't you tell me that?"
Jayce pauses, for once finding himself with nothing to say.
"I… I'm not sure." Jayce says honestly. "I didn't think I needed to."
It's the truth. He'd felt the depth of Viktor's love when they'd been sewn together in the cosmos. It had stood to reason, at the time, that Viktor had felt the same. Clearly, he'd misread the situation.
Classic. Jayce has never been the smartest when it comes to romance, but this has to be his biggest misstep yet.
"Viktor, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Jayce soothes. He feels panic rising in him, but bites back the impulse to continue his line of questioning about Caleb. Plenty of time to return to that later. "Just—seriously? Genuinely, what did you think I was feeling? I thought, I don't know—I thought we were more than clear on the nature of our relationship."
"Evidently, you were not."
"Right," Jayce says, awkwardly looking around the room. "So, we just happen to live together? You didn't feel any type of way about the sex or the cuddling or the way I talk to you?"
"No, Jayce," Viktor says. "I am so confused. I just want you to tell me exactly what you want with me. Please."
"Fine!" Jayce says, shaking his head. It should be simple enough for Viktor to understand. "Fuck, Viktor. I had no idea you felt this way."
"That is our issue," Viktor says sharply. "Precisely. You walk on eggshells, Jayce. It does us no good, not anymore."
Jayce hums a moment. He stares at Viktor's face, the red marks of irritation from his tears, the fatigue in his eyes.
"I love you." He says, gentle and completely, utterly honest. "It is so simple, Viktor. I love you."
Viktor's eyes begin to well up with tears again. Jayce really hates how much he's been making his poor boy cry today.
"I have loved you for a long time. In fact, I wondered," Jayce whispers, ghosting his lips across the delicate curve of Viktor's throat, tendons stretched out in shaking submission, "I wondered if you wanted after me, as I wanted for you."
He grips Viktor's hips, pulling closer, tighter until his unclothed legs are forced apart, baring himself to the cool air. "I lusted for you, night after night. I have never known a desire like that."
Viktor gasps, hands springing from Jayce's shoulders to grasp at his hair, long and tangled from the day's work. A soft noise catches in his svelte throat, somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
"When I was alone, I missed everything about you," Jayce whispers, voice soft and loving as he eases across Viktor, his hands gentle as they move to embrace the back of his neck, flat across his spine. "When I was with you, I thought you could tell. I was embarrassed by it sometimes. My imposing affection for my lab partner, my hopeless desires. "
"Our time spent apart has been the worst of my life. I have no desire to spend another moment that way." He kisses Viktor, presses mouthfuls of longing into his partner, rucks his gauzy nightgown up over his hips. "So you can't leave me, okay? I don't wanna be alone anymore."
"Okay," Viktor replies, choked to a whisper. "I won't leave you."
It isn't enough. The agreement soothes the worst of the panic, but the old terror still aches behind his ribs. Promises can be broken; Jayce has broken enough to know that himself. Hearts can stop, Viktor can be taken from him again. He's never known how to argue with that voice in words, much less beat it away entirely. All he's ever had that doesn't lie is his body and the way it fits against Viktor's, around Viktor's, inside Viktor's.
The way he's holding onto Jayce makes him feel like that's the truth. He kisses Jayce back hungrily, sucking and nipping at his bottom lip. His hands tangle messily in Jayce's hair, kicking off his thin excuse for underwear and wrapping his legs around the breadth of Jayce's hips.
What they lack in time spent talking, they've more than made up for between the sheets of this bed. Viktor's sopping against Jayce's thigh, and he knows he's hardly any better himself. He's getting so hard he feels a bit lightheaded.
"Let me be your man, Viktor." He says, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Viktor's fingers fly up to help him, quick as he pushes the sleeves down Jayce's arms and off his shoulders. "Forget about everything and everyone else but me."
Viktor nods and pulls his nightgown over his head before Jayce can say anything more. Too pretty for his own good, really.
"Fuck me, Jayce," Viktor says, fingers passing over Jayce's bearded jaw. His touch feels good against the heat of Jayce's skin, cooling, like his soul is settling back into place. "Be my man. Show me how much you want me."
How could he ever say no to that?
He strips his remaining clothes and forces Viktor onto his belly with a hand on his waist and at the back of his neck. He hardly puts up a fight. Viktor is ever so obedient in bed. His body beads with sweat, tender where he reddens at Jayce's touch, slick between his thighs.
Jayce takes his time, ghosts his fingers down Viktor's throat and collarbones, over his bony chest and ribs, the ridges of his spine, the small softness of his breasts and belly, lips and teeth. He feels each dip and arch, the beat of his pulse, the depth of his breaths, the shape of his hips pressed against Jayce's—so deeply enshrined in the rawest form of worship he finds himself forgetting to breathe.
He slots their hips together, slides the thickness of his cock between Viktor's legs, a subtle but weighty reminder of just how he feels about him. In what world is it unclear how completely, utterly enamored he is? Certainly not this one.
Jayce's hand stretches between their legs, feeling for Viktor's opening, hooking his fingers there. Wet and waiting, he spreads his fingers slowly, delights in the croaky purr Viktor gives him for his efforts. They both prefer minimal preparation anyway, so he slots the head of his cock at the mouth of Viktor's sloppy hole and presses in, groaning at the sensation of tight walls and slick on his cock.
Viktor is quiet, as he usually is upon first being penetrated. Focused is perhaps the best word for it, as if bearing down and relaxing his cunt requires his attention—mind, body, and soul. From what Jayce can see of his face, half obscured by the pillow he's pushed on, his dark brow is creased, eyes closed as he feels the heft of Jayce's cock, a slide that he cannot fight, but cannot bear without a soft groan as the tip hits his cervix.
Jayce doesn't wait for Viktor to tell him before he begins, fucking his prone body slowly at first, but then quickly as his frustration begins to build. He thinks of Caleb, then casts it away. Little good comes from lingering on meaningless incidentals such as Caleb. But Viktor needs to know what his expectations are, if he is truly to be fair.
"You are mine." He spits, his mouth screwed up into a snarl. He pulls Viktor ass up, face down, hand on the back of his little neck. "That is final. You will never let another man lust for you without telling me."
"Yes."
"Do not speak to Caleb without me again." Jayce orders, punctuating his every word with a heavy thud of his hips. "Do you understand?"
Viktor's breath catches, a flash of resistance in his golden eyes before surrender melts over his features. For a moment, he defies Jayce's gaze, weighing the demand, a subtle battle between irritation and arousal flickering in his expression, in the twist of his lips. His hips shift restlessly, and his reply comes quickly—part demanding, part grounding.
"Yes," Viktor replies breathlessly, moaning into the pillow he's buried in, spit darkened around his mouth. He's half hiccuping, his hips lifting off the bed to meet each rough thrust. His eyes are bright, though, and shiny with something akin to victory, "Yes, Jayce. I'm yours."
His ego soothed and properly stroked, he flips Viktor on his back, lifts his hips, and fucks forward until he's groaning from how tight and full he feels. There's only so much space for him to shove his cock into, of course, but Viktor's cunt is accommodating, and he is a very brave thing in any case. Jayce's cock is fat and blood heavy, a rude intrusion he watches Viktor's cunt flutter and twitch to accommodate, stretching thin where the membranes of his entrance cling with each thrust. He thumbs a circle on Viktor's engorged clit, rolls the bud of flesh beneath the pad just to watch the way Viktor jerks in response. So sensitive.
"This is my pussy." Jayce says darkly. He feels drunk on Viktor's submission, on the dewy fucked out look in his eyes. Insane to think someone so intelligent and headstrong can be so pathetically passive, all from a rough fuck. He flicks Viktor's clit once, listens to the sharp wail he gets for his work, and savors the hard clench around his cock. "He wants this, but this is mine, Viktor. I don't share."
Viktor bites his lip, nodding again. He wraps a hand around Jayce's wrist, the one digging into the mattress behind his head. His other hand lies over his womb, rolling his fingers over the hard bump of Jayce's rather insistent cock pressed into him. "Yours, Jay—don't stop."
Jayce fucks him with vigor, folding Viktor's legs to his chest and bearing him down, his weight aiding in every heavy, possessive fuck of his hips. Viktor is tight and slick, clenching wildly as he does when he's about to—
"Fuck—Jayce!" Viktor moans, his head thrown back and his throat bared. "I can't—I have to cum, fuck—I love you."
Jayce jerks in surprise, compounded by the start of Viktor's long, arduous orgasm. He clenches rhythmically, his mouth parted in a silent scream as Jayce rubs his clit and fucks him hard and fast.
"Good." Jayce praises, rubbing Viktor's belly encouragingly as his climax winds down, slowing his thrusts. Viktor's face is slack in pleasure, smooth and sweet, and for no one but him. "That was very pretty, sweetheart."
Viktor bleats in response, dewy with sweat and exertion. He gives Jayce a dreamy little smile and taps the tip of his nose playfully. "You're too much." He says breathlessly, his cunt giving Jayce's cock a brief but appreciative squeeze. "This thing is huge."
"Mhm. Stroking my ego, sweetheart?" Jayce asks, catching Viktor's wandering fingertips and kissing the pads, the callouses of daily work against his tongue. Viktor's hands are strong but lithe, much like the rest of him, but his manner of speaking so often betrays his sweetness, his desire to please.
"Perhaps." He says in response, fixing Jayce with that familiar look, up through his lashes, so perfectly demure it almost feels rehearsed. Same look he'd given Caleb on the porch. "Doesn't mean it's not true."
"Thanks," Jayce says dryly, beginning to rock his hips gently. Viktor has gained some weight since they've lived together, enough for the curve of his waist to his newly padded hips to make Jayce dizzy. He likes to think it's from all the butter and bacon fat he slips into the pan when Viktor's not looking. He grips the smallness of Viktor's waist, uses his slick cunt, a slow, easy slide that has Viktor shivering and his mouth stretched in a perpetual "O". He lets his mind wander, and it's too easy to feel nothing but pleasure, Viktor's fingers and heels digging into his ass, urging him harder, faster, more, more more— and finds himself with a mean idea.
"Think Caleb will still want you if your belly's swollen?" Jayce asks, licking the shell of Viktor's ear. His skin is salty, velvet soft. Viktor clenches hard on his cock, so much so that Jayce lets out a grunt. Still, he continues, "Ah, but he seems the type to keep lusting even with another man's baby in you, right? If not one, then maybe a few will help him understand."
Viktor moans loudly, clawing at Jayce's back as he nips his approval. He would make an excellent mother—kind and gentle, but stern enough to put a healthy sense of fear in a child. Jayce can see it now, a golden-skinned child tugging at Viktor's hemlines, his arms full with another, waiting for him, always somewhere he can follow.
Jayce smiles, grinding his hips in tight circles, still buried to the root in Viktor's warm cunt.
"Is that what you need, Viktor?" Jayce whispers, gnawing at his jaw, he flattens him, chest to chest, devouring him mouth-first. He's close, the heat and tension building up in a ball behind his naval, dropping lower and tighter with each desperate thrust. He can't get any closer to Viktor, and still, it's not close enough. A baby, though? That's a piece of him inside Viktor forever. "For me to make sure you know you're mine?"
"Yes, "Viktor says breathlessly. "Yes, please, I want it—I want that."
With a groan, Jayce cums deep inside, hardly pulling his hips back an inch before fucking back in, as if a moment spent not shrouded in Viktor's body is one poorly spent. Heat plunges through his groin, zapping up his spine, his legs growing weaker with every passing contraction of his balls, emptying his load into the mouth of Viktor's womb.
Jayce makes no move to pull out or away, only curling closer as the sweat cools on their bodies, folding Viktor's limbs under and over his own.
For a few breaths, there is nothing but the heavy thud of his heart against Viktor's back, a dull pounding between his eyes, and the slow ebb of pleasure leaving his limbs weak. The worst of the anger has burned out of him, leaving only the familiar ache of fear in its place—fear of empty beds, of cold labs, of waking up alone again. He noses into Viktor's hair, breathing him in.
It's only when that fear starts to loosen its teeth that his thoughts circle back, stubborn as ever, to Caleb on the porch and the way Viktor had looked at him.
"Were you purposely trying to make me jealous?" He asks, suddenly rather struck by the idea. It all seems a bit too perfect, now. Too square for his tastes. "Of Caleb, I mean."
"Perhaps," Viktor says, snuggling under Jayce's arm. He smiles at Jayce, his sly little mouth full and pleased. Kittenish, if not for the glint of satisfaction in his pretty gold eyes. "As I told you, Jayce. I do not want him. Did you think it was an accident that he was on our porch when you came home? You arrive at the same time every day. I would have to be an idiot to get caught. "He clears his throat, closing his eyes. "Maybe I wanted to see what you'd do."
"Right," Jayce responds, tucking his chin over Viktor's head. Damn. Viktor used Caleb without a second thought. Convincingly, too. "Why?"
"Would you have it any other way?" Viktor asks, non-sequitur in a way that signals his fatigue. His voice grows softer and slower as his heart rate falls, melting against Jayce's chest. Sleep will come for him sooner rather than later.
"No," Jayce answers, coiling his arms around Viktor, his prize, like a dragon over his horde. "No, I wouldn't change a thing about you."