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Viktor and Jayce didn’t often see each other after the success of hextech.
They were lab partners – confidants – but that didn’t erase the fact that Jayce was now a spokesperson. A man of importance and progress, to pioneer for their life’s work… something they’ve sacrificed so much for.
And yet, Viktor felt… lonely. It was not something he would admit out loud - not even to himself, here, tinkering with the humming piece of hex-core, in the solitude of the darkened lab. But he could feel it settle in his bones; the ache of missing Jayce.
Before he can ponder on the feeling, he crushes it into a deep enough ball and hides it within himself.
No time for that now.
His hand brushes over a dog-eared blueprint, kept in place by a small wrench by one of the corners. The contents pointed to the composition of the hex-core itself, but Viktor was more concerned with containing whatever magic leaked from within it.
Runic engravers, tuners, conductors… whatever did the work.
Viktor let out a deep sigh, before splaying his hand over the table and bringing himself to his feet with a grunt. His leg always tended to get sore, when he concerned himself too much with the paperwork, often ignoring the time out of necessity for their shared project.
Despite himself, he remembers Jayce’s golden eyes and how they followed him in concern - a notion he wasn’t unfamiliar with, but one that struck him nonetheless, with the way Jayce expressed it in a way that was neither demeaning or distasteful… just a little hesitant.
“Do you… should I…?” Jayce loses his own string of thought as he lifts himself off his seat, hesitant as he reaches out to steady Viktor. Or begin to, anyway.
He didn’t intend to overstep. Jayce tended to be a sweetheart, and his sense of altruism moved Viktor.
But it had always been about hesitation between them, hasn’t it? Especially during the height of Viktor’s illness. Always there, like a summer bee to some sweet pollen, but from some distance, where every sentence led to smaller silences.
But why was that?
Viktor shakes his head slightly, balancing himself against the edge of the desk, with his fingers wrapping around his crutch as a means of grounding. He takes a deep breath, half expecting Jayce to look at him in pity, but when he meets his eye again, he is faintly surprised.
There is no pity, but only hesitation - something he’s begun to recognise and trace patterns to find. Jayce stands up, now, to his fullest height. He is a tall man, at six feet and two inches, so he makes the perfect shield from the rising sun outside and its blaring rays of light. Warm, but a bother to Viktor.
Much like his thoughts of… well, nevermind.
Jayce’s hands slowly curves against Viktor’s back, against the material of his academy uniform like something warm and lovely - something that Viktor doesn’t want to commit to memory or make a habit, lest he miss it. But he’s a fool and his mind is easily convinced, he thinks, as his skin tingles under the weight of where Jayce’s palm remains.
“You work too hard, V,” Jayce begins, his voice soothing amongst the lingering hum of ozone, something bitter and precise - quite unlike the honey of the Talis boy’s canny rhythm, “You need rest.”
“Rich, coming from you,” Viktor gibes, a familiar twitch tugging at the corner of his lip.
“I know, I know,” Jayce quips back, a smile lighting his features. His hand slides up Viktor’s back, toward the back of his neck, where his thumb rubs soothing little semi-circles against his pale skin, “I’m just worried… about you.”
Viktor’s pulse races at the touch, his blood heating under Jayce’s attention. Amber eyes meet golden ones briefly, before Viktor pulls away, his body tense, like a coil.
“Yes, well, you don’t need to worry about me.”
“I don’t?”
“Of course not. I’ve dealt with worse. Besides, this rune won’t decode itself, you know.”
“Viktor, that doesn’t mean—“
“Jayce,” Viktor interrupts, his voice unusually tender. Jayce stiffens momentarily, before he shrinks with a soft sigh. He pats along Viktor’s back once more, before dropping his hand.
“V?”
The sudden creak of the lab door echoes through the lab, startling Viktor from his thoughts. When he spots Jayce stepping cautiously into the dim room, he smiles and pushes back his safety goggles with the heel of his palm. He hadn’t truly realised how much he’d missed Jayce - which was funny, considering how often he thought of him, and spun excuses when each one had brought back a warm, familiar ache.
“You’re back,” Viktor turns his chair again, facing the hex-core once more. He didn’t have to look at Jayce to know that he was already approaching, “I assumed the event would last the entire night.”
“It almost did,” Jayce replied, resting his hand against the back of Viktor’s chair, almost itching to touch the shorter man along his shoulders but stopping himself in time, “Well, they tried to keep me.”
“Did they now?”
“You know how it gets.”
“I wouldn’t particularly know.”
“It’s not the best, is what I’m getting at,” the taller man smiles.
There’s something about his voice - perhaps the scratchiness of it or the low timber that Jayce has managed so far - that makes Viktor think that he’s dipped his toes into alcohol tonight. Maybe to loosen his tongue around the guests, but it’s far from unpleasant. Very far from it, actually.
But Jayce is acting… strange tonight. Not in a way that seems alarming, per se - but in a way that causes the back of Viktor’s neck to heat up. He could practically hear his breath humming beside his head, the way his fingers lingered just close enough by touch, whenever Viktor reaches for a mini-wrench or straightens his notes.
“Are you feeling alright, Jayce?” Viktor asks slowly, not trusting himself to meet eyes with the former.
But Jayce is not holding up so well - not that he was trying to make it obvious by a mile. He offers a lopsided smile with a small breath to steady himself, but it’s a poor effort. He’s moving with three glasses of wine in his system, and faintly enjoying the buzzing warmth that’s coursing through him.
Still, he doesn’t mean to worry Viktor. In his many years of working beside the man, he attuned his habits to his. It was as though he could sense his eyes on him, or the instances when he would avoid looking at him altogether.
He could never quite figure that part out - even with the brief touches, the lasting silences or the minor sourness Viktor had possessed lately over Jayce’s council-related disappearance, there was not much to it – whatever ‘it’ was… maybe a hope of some kind?
No, he weakly reminds himself. Hope was rarely a part of science.
Only facts, numerical and descriptive, were – cold, hard, where Jayce had hoped for a smooth edge. Something he finds less and less in Viktor lately.
“I’m fine – I’m fine,” he laughs quietly, though he does not know why. Maybe it’s to soothe Viktor’s concerns, “Besides, aren’t I supposed to be the one worrying about you?”
Viktor holds back the urge to roll his eyes, readjusting his goggles, as he tinkers with the hex-core some more - watching as it spurted with another tiny burst of bright light, “I’m perfectly well, thank you.”
“You’re still awake, V. That counts for something,” Jayce grins warmly around the nickname, licking his lip out of habit. Viktor tries to push away the sweet sound of it from his mind, the way a flicker of moonlight gleams against the moisture on Jayce’s lip.
He forces himself ignore it, instead trying to stick to a mantra of his own.
Crush this memory into a ball - bury it deep in your heart, no matter how much it aches.
“It won’t take long,” Viktor shrugs, “I’ll be done in… well, in a bit… probably. You should go to sleep.”
Jayce visibly deflates, like a kicked puppy, “You don’t want me to stay?”
“I have everything under control,” Viktor replies, feeling a part of him begin to mellow, steadily failing to match the cool, acerbic sting of the hex-tech in his line of sight, “Besides, you need rest. Aren’t you drunk?”
“Drunk? No. No, of course not. I can… I can stay.”
Suddenly, between Viktor’s attention on the hex-core and the already attenuating space between their bodies, Jayce sways one too steps closer and sticks himself right beside the other man, his arm knocking against Viktor’s own.
The action causes Viktor’s own arm to bounce off a pencil pot, wherein he tries to shield the fall to no avail. The objects clatter against the table, some rolling to the ground. Papers curl under his arm, and it really is the last straw–
“Jayce.”
It’s the only word he manages, coated with a hint of annoyance, that he denotes with a pinch to the bridge of his own nose, thinking in order to calm himself down.
It is the only word that – that he thinks of, in such little time.
Jayce cringes at himself, yet makes no move to move further. He’s got his all-encompassing, calloused grip on Viktor’s clothed bicep, something that both warms his stomach and makes him wish that he could escape.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re mad at me.” Jayce frowns.
“I am not mad at you. Where did you get that idea from?”
“Well – you’re feeling… something… toward me. Things have been awkward lately.”
Viktor bites his tongue, feeling caught, “That… it’s complicated.”
“It – c’mon, it doesn’t have to be,” Jayce retorts, his breath warm. Somehow, he’s closer, “Please talk to me. I’ve done something, haven’t I?”
“No – no, you haven’t.” Viktor struggles, trying to pull his arm away. Jayce only turns his body to face his own, caging Viktor between himself and the table.
The taller man’s hands hesitate only slightly, but the alcohol helps to spur him on. They gently settle against the smooth expanse of skin near the top of Viktor’s neck, where he can feel tufts of chocolate brown hair spill from behind his ears. His thumb rubs against his jaw, and Viktor’s heart seizes in his chest.
“Jayce—“
“Tell me,” Jayce demands – begs , almost, with the way he’s beginning to whine, “Please, V, tell me.”
There is a beat of silence - that, paired with Jayce’s weighted breathing, seems like torture. Viktor can smell the scent of sweetly crushed grapes, and even that can’t stop the thundering of his heart.
Beating – it’s beating so loud. Jayce’s fingers, they swipe against his cheek bones, as though admiring.
Viktor fights the urge to close his eyes against it. Instead, he focuses on the eyes staring straight into his own, belonging to the man he’d always watched keenly across a room. Always wished to have close.
“It’s just–” Viktor begins. Jayce nods slightly, assured, “We haven’t been able to see each other as much.”
The confession makes Jayce melt like butter, and a heavy sigh leaves his lips, “Oh, I’m... I'm sorry, V.”
“Don't be. It’s not your fault.”
“But you’ve been lonely.”
He’s surely frank this way, Viktor thinks, tilting his head away out of slight embarrassment. But Jayce is emboldened now, determined to get an answer out of him; his warmer arms wrap around Viktor’s waist and his nose buried against the side of his neck.
Viktor’s pulse jumps, his arms stretched out awkwardly as Jayce squeezes tighter.
“You’ve been lonely, haven’t you?” Jayce murmurs pathetically, the tiny vibrations of his throaty voice being muffled against the column of Viktor’s throat, running along his skin, causing the man to sharply inhale.
“What? Jayce, I’m–”
“Please, just admit it,” he interrupts. His hand drops from around Viktor’s midriff to settle beneath his hips, allowing only a pause of hesitation.
That same old hesitation – though, it withers away quicker than Viktor expects it to, when Jayce presses his palm against the lower divot of the former’s back, before running his finger up the curve of his spine.
It’s like time stops for a second, before every nerve ending in the Zaunite’s body bursts into flames. Viktor, obviously surprised to an utmost degree, lets loose a sound that is quite unbecoming of him. The cold, hard edge of the table is an unexpected feeling when he jerks backwards, with the hex-core already forgotten yet steadily pulsating. Much like Jayce’s eagerness, as he follows Viktor’s body between misaligned breaths.
He lifts his amber eyes to the ceiling, and can already figure that this was a ploy to get a confession out of him.
“Jayce…”
He could play dumb. He could even shove the man off of him, pretend this is not what he truly wants - for Jayce to curl in deep and bring out a truth that even he was partially blind to.
It would be so, so easy to deny––
–and yet, his lips part,
“I… Yes, I’ve been lonely.”
All of a sudden, Jayce’s head snaps back up in surprise, taken aback by the admission. He grins, canine teeth poking past the stretch of lip, that makes Viktor believe that he had been hoping, as deeply as he, to be able to feel the same.
“Tell me more,” a breath, a pause, “Make me understand, like you usually do.”
“With my graphs and my figures?” Viktor laughs. Doesn’t meet Jayce’s eye. Focuses on the stark white of his academy uniform, before levelling his gaze.
All he finds is gold. Genuine, soft pools of gold - staring right into him.
Pressing his cheek against Jayce’s shoulder, his words are scant, quick, “I do not see you much. You’re a busy man, with priorities. People to impress. Speeches to give.”
A nod is all that Jayce can offer, mesmerised now that Viktor’s voice has dropped a slight octave and his own fingers can’t seem to stop dipping upwards and across the reach of cool, pale skin beneath all the leather and linen.
Like cool porcelain, Jayce thinks, his mind on fire.
Viktor shakes his head, feeling selfish for the way he accepts the intimacy - makes a lover out of it, “But ten minutes. Ten minutes of your day is all I require - with the promise of science, or without it.”
Knees buck, knuckles tighten. Gentle as he is by nature, Jayce feels helpless, his body thrice the mass of him yet doubling over Viktor like a second layer of skin. Desperate.
“I… well, it is no big secret. Hm. I miss our conversations. I miss… our time together. I miss you.”
Jayce couldn’t guess whether to be ashamed with the way his pants tightened across the front, straining good linen. Viktor’s voice… breathy and warm, was his own personal hell. His desire was swelling, making itself apparent in obvious ways.
“You’re my partner. I need you.”
It hurt now, both voice and reason. Equally dull and bleak in his hazy mind, brain pathways fizzled with the need to give Viktor what he wanted. Give himself what he needed. He’d set himself down this path of companionship ever since Viktor had saved him from plummeting to his own death back then, with the wind cold and the smell of defeat in the air. Whatever had changed was now becoming more apparent; was it either of them? Or was it the feelings they held for each other?
The two men stare at each other dazedly. Unknowingly, nervously. Like they’re seeing each other for the first time again.
The truth feels bright, and as it uncurls from within his chest, he can see himself from a different perspective - from Jayce’s own. Where he was mellow, flushed and lost for words.
In love.
Jayce’s palms exit from underneath Viktor’s shirt (where a short hiss is heard) and shakily cups his cheeks. He is cautious, not wanting to rush into things, and Viktor feels something similar. Leaning down, he stops for a second, studying Viktor through his lashes, before pressing his lips against Viktor’s own.
The angle is awkward for a brief moment - the table bites into Viktor’s lower back as Jayce pushes against him. Years of hard work in toolman ship had shaped his body in a way that made him stronger.
But Jayce is more observant than most, sensing the way Viktor tenses in slight discomfort - almost immediately, he slides his hand against Viktor’s ass, using his arm as a barrier. Before Viktor can even begin to thank him, Jayce’s other palm dips past the front waistband of his pants.
“Jayce–” Viktor struggles, his breath caught between a moan. Jayce’s warm palm lays flat against Viktor’s half hardened cock, before grasping it with all fingers and tugging upwards. The action spurs Viktor on by a mile, as he staggers against Jayce - open-mouthed and awe-struck.
“That - just focus on me, V,” Jayce groans, needing more of Viktor’s little noises. He doesn’t ease up on his grip, but instead slides his thumb against the wet slit of his tip, “This is better than what I’d… dreamt of.”
The brunette’s mind is a mess, his body’s heat immeasurable, but Jayce’s words make it shoot to an all time high, “Ah – y-you dream of me – mmmfuck–“
If Jayce is flustered by the accidental admission, he makes no show of it. His hand tugs particularly hard on Viktor’s aching cock, and he presses shy kisses against his jaw to quieten the Zaunite, “I think of you… all the time.”
“Think of me – ah – how?”
“I think of you like this,” Jayce whimpers, slightly crumbling from desperation and need as he pictures all the ways he’s wanted to have his partner, “…me, touching you. Kissing you – ha… having you like this–”
Viktor’s thighs spasm as Jayce unintentionally squeezes harder against his length, the friction so needed but so much of an overshot – he can barely think past Jayce’s words alone. And the sensations, the rush of blood, every nerve alight–
Their first meeting. The scent of sweat. Their promise as partners.
Viktor jerks up into Jayce’s palm, chasing his pleasure with a cry - Jayce smiles, tooth gap caught in his crooked, affectionate smile.
“Jayce—” Viktor struggles, clinging hard to the taller man’s shoulders. The prior soreness in his leg is forgotten, and in its place, a fervid, unrelenting pressure builds, taking root in his tummy.
“Viktor.” Jayce responds, tongue swirling against Viktor’s, spit wetting things.
It tastes sweet. The grapes. Him - Viktor thinks soppily - everything about him tastes sweet.
Breathe. Breathe – just, fuck –
None of his mantras come to mind easily – just a single name, pulsing several times behind his eyelids.
Jayce. Jayce. Jayce.
With a half-moan-half-yell, he comes hard and fast, the front of his pants wettening as he clings onto Jayce for support. There is silence - too many of them tonight, out of all nights - as the two men gather what the hell had just transpired.
When Jayce slowly pulls his hand from beyond the band of Viktor’s band, the side of his palm brushing past the pubic hair just above his pubic bone, his palm is sticky with cum. It’s clear evidence of Viktor’s pleasure, and a testament to Jayce’s ability – but so fast?
Was this something new to Viktor too? he thinks, affectedly, his stomach tightening miserably.
Meanwhile, the brunette was still picking himself up. With ragged breath, he only realises how he had ejaculated prematurely – a new record, and a fact that makes the hairs at the back of his head stand.
With an embarrassed gleam in his eye, Viktor tilts his gaze upwards. He instantly groans at the slightly excited, slightly smug look on Jayce’s sweet face.
“Did you just…?”
“Not a word.” Viktor groans, light shoving away Jayce’s chest as they gasp for air in tandem. The Piltovan grins, wrapping his arms around the other and taking him by surprise. Despite that, a small smile tugs at his own lips, as he enjoys the simplicity of their embrace - done so many times, but so dangerously intimate that it almost makes his heart burst.
There’s a silence. Their hearts faintly pulse, chest against chest, inextricably bound. A pulse so soft and low, that it is so easily interrupted by–
“Let’s give it another shot,” Jayce bites his lip, a conspiratorial smile forming already - the flush remains from earlier, but he’s more than sober to be hatching his plan already, “Let’s see how long you can last, V.”
Viktor’s brows crease, a flush on his usually fair complexion, “But I just… that’s just…”
Jayce’s hands dip to his hips again, tightening against Viktor’s midriff, There’s a tender lilt to his voice, “Do it for me? Please? Just one more – you can give me one more, can’t you?”
A pause. The long forgotten hex-core glows faintly, floating in place. Viktor, trying to hide his renewed arousal, nods slightly.
When Jayce discerns his expression for what it is - permission - his right hand dips past the fabric of Viktor’s waistband. His left is more or so eager, positioning under his shirt and palming against his chest, already thumbing a nipple with interest.
Viktor huffs through his nose with pleasure, shooting a peart look of warning, “Jayce.”
Jayce exhales, a laugh coming with it. His hips are pressed against Viktor’s and he is already marking his neck - a bereft smile is lost somewhere between flesh and teeth, “Viktor.”