Chapter Text
Despite the three glasses of Piltover’s finest import surging dangerously through his veins, Viktor’s wits somehow remained intact, keeping him alert in the unfamiliar environment.
He’d been to Councilor Kiramman’s lavish home a handful of times, of course, but there was a stark difference between being left in the shiny lobby as Jayce sheepishly excused himself to go and do whatever business he had to do, and this moment right now, where music rang off the crystal chandelier and the wealthiest families in the city rubbed shoulders like the best of friends.
Viktor didn’t go to parties like this.
He’d never gone to a party like this.
Didn’t even know if he was having fun at a party like this, though the wine was certainly making it easier.
From where he sat in a velveted chaise chair, Viktor watched like a wallflower, his crutch leaned against the wall to his left, his hands occupied with a beautiful glass, swirling the liquid around and around, the ache in his leg drifting away, forgotten. From this vantage point he could spy deals being made, relations hinted at, quirking a brow as Councilor Hoskel slipped paper into the pocket of the big man he was conversing with, a nod exchanged between them, flickering his gaze away to a couple sneaking off down the stairs, no doubt in search of a Kiramman bed to defile.
This wasn’t for him, this sort of hobby.
But Jayce had insisted, and Viktor would never learn the ability to say no to that man.
“The Hexgates will open to the world in two months, maybe earlier,” Jayce was terrible at hiding his stress, pacing their laboratory, the stubble of his jaw having grown out slightly as Jayce neglected his appearance, opting to spend more time with Viktor doing tests and double checking blueprints, a sight Viktor had no complaints about whatsoever. “What if we missed something? What if we fail?”
“You do not have faith in us?” Viktor teased, stretching his legs out, wincing slightly as the pins and rods beneath his skin, through his bones, were pinched by the bondage of his brace. “I am hurt, Jayce.”
“I have faith,” Jayce Talis argued back, raising his voice ever so slightly, brows furrowing in that lovely way they did whenever life weighed down too heavy on his strong, broad shoulders. “It’s just… they don’t.”
They.
The Council.
Everything always came down to them.
In a way, Viktor despised the Council. Careful and manipulative, treating everything with caution for the fear of lost income, turning their backs on the Undercity so Piltover’s prosperous protection could reign on and reign strong, parading as some beacon of hope and power. They sat in their chairs and prattled on about what was right and what was wrong, who to invest in, who to discard — Viktor hated that he owed them everything.
Hated that without them, he and Jayce would have accomplished nothing more than scrawls on paper and a dream that lacked funding, Mel Medarda raising them up for all to see despite Professor Heimerdinger’s original resistance.
Well.
Raising one of them up, at least.
He hated that they took Jayce from him, even if it was only in a sense.
Hated that they stripped the optimism from Jayce’s beautiful mind, and left behind scars of self doubt and the fear of failure.
That they looked at Jayce Talis like meat, hungry to exploit him, Jayce there now and at Cassandra Kiramman’s side, shown off like some prized possession that could be held high above everyone’s heads. See, Viktor could almost read Councilor Kiramman’s mind, her smile measured, smug, manicured hands gesturing to Jayce like some glorious, unearthed treasure. See how we help those beneath us achieve their dreams?
We are so kind.
So benevolent.
Look how brilliantly we polished up Jayce Talis to shine for us all.
Now the wine was making Viktor irritable.
Irritable and hot beneath the collar.
Jayce looked handsome tonight.
Always looked handsome.
“What an unusual sight,” the velvet cushion beside him sank with the weight of unwanted company, Viktor pulling his gaze from handsome Jayce in his tailored suit, red and gold of House Talis, the white of Piltover’s purity setting his tawny skin ablaze with warmth. “I dare say I’ve never seen you in attendance at one of our… get togethers, before. Viktor, correct?”
Councilor Salo.
Viktor felt a wry smile tug at his lips.
Keep your wits about you.
Be careful what you say.
Our funding, our funding.
Jayce will be displeased if you embarrass him tonight.
“Correct on both counts, Councilor. Are you enjoying your evening?”
Salo shrugged, blond hair coiffed back, his skin reddened from the drinking, but he grinned and it felt ominous, leaning in close to tap their nearing empty glasses together.
“I can never complain, the Kiramman’s have an excellent spirits reserve, and their help is so well trained… But how about you? Are you enjoying your evening, Viktor? Planning on making your presence a habit?”
Viktor wasn’t often nervous, but he couldn’t tell if this was genuine talk or a threat waiting to strike in the guise of sweetness, and nothing about Salo’s expression hinted either or, dark wine swirled about in an emblemed cup.
“I am not sure,” Viktor replied carefully, though his tongue felt heavy from the drink, making it hard to swallow, scared to slip up despite not knowing how he could. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide, wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. Well… not really. “Our work is quite demanding. Free time is a rare luxury, Councilor.”
Salo raised a brow.
Viktor stammered, cursing himself.
“B-but of course, a luxury gratefully spent in splendor tonight. I am most gracious to share wine alongside Piltover’s finest.”
Viktor was a better liar than Jayce.
But that wasn’t anything to brag about.
Salo hummed, taking another sip of his drink, before downing the last quarter greedily, raising his cup so some poor Kiramman servant could rush over and refill it to the line, gesturing to her to refill Viktor’s too, Viktor unable to say no.
“I hear you were born in Zaun.”
Something was about to happen, something bad.
Viktor could sense it like an oncoming spasm.
“You… hear correctly.”
“That’s quite impressive, you know. You’re likely the only person in this room who can claim that.”
Viktor swallowed his anger, pursing his lips, opting to drink more even though this sort of prodding might force unkind words to bleed out.
Impressive, was it? To be born into the poisonous lanes you send your waste, to crawl out of the womb sickly and doomed before life even had a chance to show any kindness? Impressive to climb Piltover’s walls with weak limbs in the name of science and dreams, yearning for a better life, realising that no one would care unless they were paid to, the illusion of success as beautiful as gold.
Impressive?
His leg ached for a moment, a reminder of his scrambling, his fight.
Perhaps it was impressive.
“I hear,” Salo continued, dropping his voice low, secretive, finally arriving to the reason of his approach, Viktor’s throat bobbing nervously. “That we might be able to help each other.”
What?
This caught Viktor off guard, flinching away.
Salo was not in the list of Councilors that fawned over Jayce, and what Viktor knew of Salo didn’t go beyond rumor or brief, unpleasant encounters. Sharp eyes filled with scorn, snappy, hateful quips, and if the whispers were to be believed… Salo frequented brothels, Piltover and Zaun alike for a sampling of wild desires.
With horror, Viktor wondered if this was perhaps an attempt at flirting.
Thankfully, Salo got to his point before bile could rise the back of Viktor’s tense throat.
“My sources say you’re looking for something in the Undercity, Viktor. Materials outside of your means.”
Shit.
Viktor needed Ionian steel — the strongest yet most delicate metal in Runeterra, forbidden from trade and impossible to forge without ancient knowledge of the craft. Eventually, it would be the only thing to keep Viktor upright, desperate to begin crafting the structure he would hand off to some trustworthy yet highly illegal doctor, going beneath scalpel in desperate attempts to fight once again for his life.
Ionian steel wouldn’t rust or rot between the ridges of his spine.
It wouldn’t harden or paralyse him.
It would be the only thing to work.
Salo was even closer, closer, whispering to the shell of Viktor’s ear like they were lifelong friends.
“I can get you your Ionian steel. I can fund whatever this project of yours is. All I need in return is a little… favor.”
“You are spying on me?” was all Viktor could reply, heat rising in his chest, his cheeks, realising of course they were, that every Councilor likely had an army of people sent about to watch and report back on anyone they interacted with, just to be safe, to make the manipulation easier.
“You should be flattered,” Salo chuckled, another greedy sip of wine. “And besides, that was all the dirt I could dig up on you regardless. Very impressive for a Zaunite. No wonder Golden Boy Jayce Talis adores you so much, not a bad bone in your body.”
Salo glanced down at Viktor’s leg with a slight smirk, and Viktor realised he too, had now been dragged into the sick politics of Piltover’s rulers.
Sighing, Viktor glanced at Jayce again, meeting his eye, Jayce’s smile fading into concern, into understanding of what his pleading invite had done.
“Tell me of this favor,” Viktor mumbled, Salo grinning, pleased with himself. “Perhaps I can… assist.”
“You speak so seriously,” Salo laughed, his tolerance for the wine high, barely affected aside from the flush to pale skin, untouched by sunlight or illness or even hard work. “It’ll be the easiest money you’ll ever make — In fact, I believe you’ll even laugh when I say what it is.”
“I do not laugh often, Councilor.”
Jayce was still watching.
Salo missed nothing.
“Not even with Jayce? I hear he can be quite funny when he’s not dancing on our strings.”
Another flare of anger.
Salo was very good at this sort of game.
“Forgive me, it’s the wine speaking — I know I tease too much. But you seem the right person, Viktor. Let me put my faith in you, the same way Jayce does. Hear me out and I will make it worth your while one hundred times over.”
And so Viktor listened, leaning in close himself, curious, full of judgement, trying to keep his expression neutral, wine-stained saliva swallowed over and over out of nerves.
“I’ve acquired a beast,” Salo’s whisper was warm, excited. “A rare creature from the Freljord.”
The thought of snow and ice had Viktor shivering despite the simmering warmth of the Kiramman manor.
“I’ve always wanted one you see, but… they’re not the most docile of creatures. And it makes an awful lot of noise for something so lovely. If I was found with it, I’d get more than a slap on the wrist, but if I kept it tame and secret, well… I’d be the happiest man in all of Piltover.”
Viktor was more than confused.
“I am a scientist,” he replied, brows pinching together. “Not a veterinarian.”
“That’s why I’m asking you, and not a veterinarian.”
Horror dawned.
“I cannot experiment on some helpless animal.”
“I’m not asking for that either.”
Closer, he leaned, hiding himself at Viktor’s side, Viktor watching Jayce, Jayce trapped by Cassandra Kiramman and yet staring back with… envy?
“I need a collar for my pet. Something to keep it from misbehaving. Nothing that could kill it or hurt it, just a small shock to… help it learn the right way — I’m sure your impressive mind can figure out how to craft it.”
…What?
“A… collar?”
Salo laughed.
“Yes.”
Viktor paused, shaking his head slightly, trying to understand if that was… all.
“Just a collar?”
“Just a collar,” Salo grinned, wrapping an arm around Viktor’s tense shoulders. “A collar for a naughty, mischievous pet. And if you can make it for me, I’ll fund as much Ionian steel as you desire — plus the project you need it for. Can I count on you, Viktor?”
If he’d been more sober, perhaps Viktor would have given it more thought.
But he was healthily inebriated and Jayce was watching him and it filled him with something , nodding eagerly, his mind already whirring with plans and lines and circles, needing them on paper, aware that success in this small commission could give him additional years of life, of health, to work at Jayce’s side and see all the good their dream could do.
He wanted it.
To be Jayce’s partner for as long as he possibly could.
And Salo was right once again.
Viktor laughed.
Laughed and felt the glass in his hand shake with it, giddy from drink, from the simplicity, from the ease and insanity of Salo’s borderline blackmailed request.
“Yes,” came his reply, feeling Jayce’s eyes never leave him, not even for an instant. “Yes, you can count on me, Councilor. I will lend my assistance to your… project.”
“I knew I picked the right scientist,” Salo beamed, smug and confident, arm still around Viktor’s shoulders, chummy and now feeling his drunkenness. “Goody Two Shoes over there would never touch something like this — maybe good can come from Zaun after all.”
Again, it irritated Viktor, but he was in Salo’s pocket now, a done and dusted deal.
Swallow your pride.
Eat what he feeds you.
Pride is nothing in Piltover after all, not compared to money.
To funding.
To living a long life as Jayce’s partner.
Viktor smiled forcefully, but smiled nonetheless.
“I will start on prototypes right away, Councilor.”
“That’s a good man. And remember, just a little shock! My pet cost a small fortune, and a small fortune you’ll be indebted to me if anything goes wrong.”
Ah.
Viktor in that moment understood all of Jayce’s pacing, all his stresses, all his pressures.
Maybe saying yes wasn’t the right move after all.
But it was far too late.
“I will not let you down.”
Another clap on the shoulder and Salo was done with him, standing to leave, smiling like a cat that got the cream.
“I’ll send measurements to you in the morning, then. Enjoy the party, Viktor.”
His leg twinged painfully, needing a stretch, needing circulation.
It will be hard to dance on strings for you , he thought, watching Salo leave to greet someone else, ignored once again on the velveteen chaise. But I’ll do what I can.
For the funding.
For the resources.
For even a glimmer of hope of more time to share with my partner.
The details for the collar came the next morning at a prompt 9am, put on his desk by Miss Young for his arrival, eventually stumbling in at nearly 2pm, the sun through his bedroom curtains like acid on awakening.
Whatever wine the Kiramman’s had been dishing out sure packed a punch, and Viktor was attempting to recover without showing too much agony on his face, reduced to a groaning wreck as he readied himself for the day’s work. The nausea was swallowed back with a glass of water, downed over his kitchen sink like a dying animal.
How’d he even get home again?
Ah, that’s right.
Jayce.
Limbs entangled, wrapped around Jayce’s muscles, clinging for life to that beautifully tailored jacket as Jayce had practically carried him home. How… humiliating.
Viktor groaned again, more water, the pounding behind his eyelids carving to the base of his ears, and he could hear his heart thrum at the thought of his partner, recalling the events after Salo’s proposition in shades of red and green.
Red, the liquid in his stomach, making him roil with drunkenness as Jayce approached him at the velvet chaise. Green, the envious flash of colour in Jayce’s eyes, sitting beside him, big enough to be imposing but forever unable to muster the aura.
“Viktor, you need to be careful,” Jayce had whispered and Viktor had scoffed in retort, red on his tongue like thick, sticky honey.
“Man of the hour,” Viktor felt petty with the wine in him, letting himself smirk because Jayce looked relatively upset and it was petulantly cute. “What must I be careful of?”
Jayce narrowed his gaze, eyebrows pinched, creasing his brow.
“The Councilors,” came the dramatic hiss, Viktor starting to roll his eyes but stopping mid way out of remembered social politeness. “What was Salo saying?”
Pfft.
“Why would you force me to attend this party if you needed me to be careful? That is poor management.”
Jayce was scandalised, cheeks flushing pink. That’ll be the wine too — though Jayce’s body could fight the effects a lot easier than Viktor’s narrow frame.
“I — I didn’t force you!”
They both knew he had.
Viktor shrugged with nonchalance.
“We were only talking.”
“Salo doesn’t ‘only talk’,” Jayce continued, close, close like Salo was but instead of being reviled, Viktor revelled, the scent of soft cologne making his mouth water, wondering if he’d be able to taste the cinnamon of it should he dare to take a bite. “And he was happy enough to ply you full of wine — What did he say?”
“It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Viktor drawled, another small sip at the last of his glass, a Kiramman attendant running over to refill but sent away with a shake of Jayce’s head. “You should go back to Councilor Kiramman’s side.”
“I’d rather stay at your side, if that’s alright.”
Very cute.
Viktor swallowed loudly.
Suddenly he was done with the party, with the wine and with secret dealings — all he wanted was the silence of the laboratory, Jayce near him, next to him, hovering over him and chatting excitedly about how drastically the future will change because together, they’d solved the riddle of magic.
“I think I am ready to leave.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
“No,” Viktor waved his hand, not willing to be the cause of the party attendees losing out on more time with their Genius Inventor Jayce Talis. “No… I can manage.”
Standing proved otherwise, his legs having given out, but Jayce had impressive reflexes and caught Viktor almost knowingly, big hands like coals through Viktor’s clothing, burning where they grabbed. Huffing out an affectionate laugh, Jayce’s eyes crinkled with kindness.
“I don’t think so. Come on, let’s get you out of here — I’ve reached my social quota for the night anyways. If another person tries to sweet talk me into personally made hextech gadgets, I might genuinely set fire to their estate.”
Viktor had laughed at the image of it, Jayce in the throes of a mental breakdown, causing a scene across all of Piltover. It suited him, oddly enough — Viktor would have paid a great deal of money to witness Jayce Talis terrorize those who did nothing but sand down his integrity.
Maybe that was still the wine, though.
Viktor held on tight as he was led down the stairs, Jayce tall and carrying Viktor’s crutch, a hand at Viktor’s waist that fit there so perfectly it was almost as if designed for that very purpose. Jayce’s strength allowed Viktor to glide down the panelled oak staircase as if he were an angel, Viktor enjoying it while he could, not often embracing Jayce’s touchy tendencies despite finding himself dreaming of them in moments left alone.
“You do need to tell me what Salo was talking to you about though,” Jayce didn’t drop the topic, no whispering anymore as they entered the night air, light pollution drowning out what Viktor was sure must be the most brilliant stars, staring up at a moon that had been carved into a single silver sliver. “I won’t let you sleep until you do.”
Mm.
“Sounds promising.”
“You’re being a menace tonight — Tell me, is it the Noxian spirits, or are you truly just that angry with me?”
“Could be both,” Viktor replied, a slur to his speech, his accent staining Runeterra words more than it usually did. “I am not good at these things, but I tried, Jayce. I do not socialise as well as you, these people do not care about our goal and I care nothing for them —”
“They do care,” Jayce argued, though he already sounded defeated. “They want the Hexgates more than anything, and if that succeeds, then—”
If.
Viktor wrinkled his nose.
“The Hexgates were not the goal, Jayce, they are only a step in the direction of progress. Our goal is to help people — Right now, the Hexgates will help fill Councilor pockets more than any ailing Zaun or Piltover citizens. You know this, do you not?”
Jayce struggled with Viktor’s words, but he sighed in agreement, grimacing, his grip tightening on Viktor’s waist, pulling their bodies flush, Viktor’s hip digging into a large, tense thigh.
“Without their funding, I know nothing we do would be possible. Not really.”
Now Viktor sighed, guilt gnawing at his nerves like rats at a cable. It wasn’t fair to put more burden onto Jayce, not after watching his partner pace and fret and sleep in the laboratory nights on end, a mattress beneath their work desk that got shoved away before Viktor or Miss Young arrived, pouring over papers as his clean-shaven jaw became pricky with what Viktor was sure could give way to a glorious beard, if only Jayce didn’t have to be shiny and pristine for the spotlight.
Briefly, and this was likely the wine, but Viktor wondered what it would feel like to run his palm across Jayce’s cheek, letting overgrown stubble prickle beneath his fingers, wiry, disheveled, sharp.
To feel it against his own face, nuzzling into it, trapping Jayce in a breathless kiss that left them both hungry, famished, Jayce hopefully panting into it because that would suit him best.
The rough scratch of it between his legs, Jayce kneeling, mouth pried open so Viktor could see his teeth, his tongue, eyes of melted butterscotch staring up, lidded and needy and —
“What are you doing?”
Viktor’s hand was no longer slung across broad shoulders, having found its traitorous way to Jayce’s jaw, Viktor stumbling slightly, the brace of his leg pinching tight around his knee.
Shit.
But it was the wine, you see.
“I… was imagining you with a beard.”
Viktor didn’t pull his hand away.
Jayce smiled beneath his touch.
“How’s it look?”
On all fours, hair a mess, Viktor above him and feeding his cock to the depths of Jayce Talis’ throat.
“Good,” he swallowed, stomach hot, tight, an unbearable pressure between his legs. “You suit anything.”
Almost sweetly, Jayce tilted his face into Viktor’s touch.
“Should I give it a try for real, then?”
This had to be the wine.
“The Council likes you perfect.”
“The Council can kiss my ass,” Jayce continued to walk them along the empty street, light above them casting shadows on them like cloaks, still with Viktor’s crutch tucked into his side. “I’m asking my partner what he thinks I should do. Beard, or nah?”
Viktor imagined scratching through Jayce’s beard with his nails the way one would scratch the chin of a dog, Jayce smiling and groaning and maybe even letting Viktor trace the points of his teeth with wet fingerprints.
“Do what you like.”
Pouting, Jayce tugged his face free from Viktor’s touch, and Viktor regretted acting like a petty child.
It was the wine, the wine.
“Forgive me,” Viktor felt a fool, still clinging, his feet heavy and the metal of his brace weighing him down like an anchor. He was tired too, exhausted even, but the bite of the night air was sobering him, fighting a tough battle against Jayce’s intoxicating touch. “I just… do not want to be another person to tell you what to do.”
Like the Council.
Like Heimerdinger.
Like Mel Medarda and everyone else who wants only the prettiest fragments of you.
Jayce, like always, softened immediately to Viktor’s words, and maybe it was the wine or maybe it was something else, but the tips of Jayce’s ears were pink, his cheeks seeming to shimmer with a blush.
“Believe it or not,” Jayce had murmured, Viktor remembering it clearly now, the water in his mouth from where he gulped greedily over his sink spilling down his jaw as he choked on it. “Sometimes I like being told what to do.”
Had that been the wine?
Surely so.
But then Viktor recalled the rest, his head pounding, his throat sore, the ache up his leg nothing compared to the ache of humiliation in his chest.
“Grow out your beard, then,” Viktor remembered the heat inside him when he said it, the heat in Jayce’s face and the way that heat rushed down his throat, sinking beneath the collar and cravat of his beautifully tailored suit. “I would like to see you messy for once.”
It took Viktor an hour to gather the courage to ready himself for the laboratory after recalling that, and annoyingly he couldn’t recall much of the afterwards, just snippets of Jayce helping him unlock his own door, of being guided into his bedroom, collapsing into the blankets still in his waistcoat and trousers, though Jayce had mercifully unlocked Viktor from his brace so steel could not tangle in his sheets.
Facing Jayce today might be difficult, despite how forgiving Jayce was, and Viktor’s walk to the laboratory had many nervous detours, usually awake much earlier and enjoying the stillness of Piltover’s dawn, now part of the chaos of Midday.
Children running about in the sunlight, couples arm-in-arm and wandering beneath city pavilions where gold and ivory met in swirls, no vines daring to join the dance of architecture and engineering. He paused to purchase coffee with sweetmilk, a few coins dug out of his pocket in exchange, and wished he was able to bring along some for Miss Young and Jayce should Jayce be in the lab today, Viktor praying he too, was sporting a horrific hangover and stayed far, far away.
Carrying one cup with a crutch was hard enough — Viktor hated that he couldn’t do this singular, nice thing.
“You’re late today,” Miss Young smiled at him as he unlocked the door, his keys jingling, hooked onto the holder by the entrance as he sipped the last of his lukewarm drink. “Are you… alright?”
“I may have overindulged last night,” Viktor grumbled, trying to stand tall and be a senior scientist Sky could and should be able to look up to, shaking off her concerns. “A hangover is my divine punishment for attempting to outdrink a Councilor. Let my mistake serve as a lesson to you, Miss Young.”
“I doubt I’ll be receiving invites like that anytime soon,” she laughed, the dim lights shimmering off her spectacles, freckled cheeks turning red as she clutched her satchel to her chest. “But I’m sure it was a fun sight… I can’t imagine you being drunk.”
Viktor wasn’t blind to Sky’s adoration of him — but she was as young as her name suggested, and full of too much potential to consider tainting with any hint of returning the affection.
Miss Young was also a far cry from Jayce Talis, and Viktor either got what he wanted or went without — no settling for half measures.
“Drinking makes me even more sleepy and irritable than usual, I’m afraid. Not a sight worth seeing or sharing company with.”
Sky looked to be on her way out, but she was hovering, pausing, shifting between her feet as if she had something else to say, and Viktor feared today might be the day, the confession it seemed like she was building towards the last few months, cutting her off so he didn’t have to shatter any illusions of love.
“Has Jayce stopped by today, by any chance?”
“Oh!” she squeaked, adjusting her frames, caught off guard by his question. “Yes, he was here this morning, asking after you. Oh, a-and, an enforcer came to the door earlier too with a message for you as well. I left it on your desk, I hope you’re not in trouble or anything…”
A realisation of horror, as Viktor recalled what else had happened last night.
The deal with Councilor Salo.
Shit.
“... Thank you Miss Young, I appreciate that. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Y-yes,” she nodded, the bun of lovely curls atop her head wobbling as she nodded. “You too. Um… drink lots of water today.”
“I shall.”
The measurements for the collar were listed simply, on handsome paper that came in a thick envelope of Piltover cream, stamped with an official seal of navy wax, Viktor running his eyes across the numbers over and over and already perfecting the prototype inside his head. Likely wouldn’t even need a sketch, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt—
The door was unlocking again, Viktor sighing, in his chair, not daring to glance back, still studying the blunt contents of the letter.
“Did you forget something, Miss Young?”
No reply.
Perhaps she had not heard him.
It was the paper snatched from his hands that had Viktor finally breaking the trance properly, startling in his chair, scoffing, jerking his neck back to stare up at his partner, his Jayce, Piltover’s Golden Boy—
— Looking a little worse for wear.
“I knew it,” Jayce hissed, not in his prim suits today but in his forge garments, a leather belt strapped across his thick waist, soot and grease staining maroon trousers from where Jayce likely wiped his hands. His gloves were leaving marks of smithing across the paper too and Viktor went to snatch it back, but Jayce was too fast and didn’t entertain Viktor for even a moment, holding it high, an unusual fury in his narrowed glare.
Jayce had not shaved his face today.
Viktor felt his thighs tense against his own will at the sight of it.
“That is not for you,” Viktor tried again, failing to reach his now grease-stained letter. “Give it back to me, Jayce.”
“What has that bastard blackmailed you into doing for him?” Jayce’s rage was usually sweet, but this was proper anger, veins straining his sweaty throat, brows pulled tight together, hair disheveled and plastered to a creased forehead. “Viktor, I knew he was up to something, why didn’t you tell me last night? I could have had it smoothed over, I could have helped—”
“Will you calm down for just a moment?” Viktor stood up, wincing slightly, Jayce taking notice and predictably softening, enough so for the paper to be snatched right back, black on Viktor’s fingertips, greasy and sticky. “You have no right to look at this, or to cast any accusations — I agreed to his project on my own volition. You were never supposed to know.”
Jayce’s chest heaved under his tank top, also grease-stained, sticking to the curve of his pectorals in a way that had Viktor’s mouth turning dry.
“You agreed? Why would you do that?”
Salo was slippery, it was known by all… but the promise of Ionian steel would keep Viktor out of trouble, would keep his presence out of Zaun and make his future that much more attainable.
“It is an exchange. Nothing more.”
“An exchange of what?”
“Jayce—”
“No,” Jayce stepped close, trying to be imposing, almost achieving it this time. “I’ll accept responsibility for your hangover, I’ll apologise for begging you to come with me to the party — Hell, I’ll even say sorry for leaving you alone on that fucking chaise while Cassandra Kiramman kept me on a leash — But I won’t accept responsibility for what I’ll do, if you don’t tell me exactly what sort of exchange you have agreed to with that conniving snake.”
Almost panting with the exertion of his bold declaration, Viktor decided to take pity on him.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Wasn’t as if Salo’s request was anything illegal… in a sense.
“They are measurements,” Viktor shook the paper, black still on his hands. “For a collar. He asked me to make him a collar. That is all.”
Jayce stared in disbelief. Viktor was convinced any other time, Jayce would have laughed at the absurd request.
“A collar?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
Hmm.
“A pet,” Viktor shrugged, clearing his throat.
“What kind of pet?”
“I am assuming some kind of… dog?”
Or perhaps a cat? Viktor’s knowledge on the Freljord’s lovely creatures started and ended with Heimerdinger’s beloved poro.
“So why can’t he just buy one from a pet store? Why’d he come to you?”
Viktor, again, shrugged.
Jayce gasped loudly.
“It’s an illegal pet, isn’t it?”
“Jayce, I don’t kn—”
“And what are you getting in return?” Jayce would have made a very handsome Piltover Enforcer, Viktor decided, watching his lab partner attempt to turn out all his pockets for a crumb of sense. The thought of Jayce in that uniform shot a hot shiver up the failing joints of Viktor’s spine. “Must be good to have you of all people agree to it.”
Maybe it was the wine.
Viktor knew this time, it was not.
“I need Ionian steel,” Viktor was honest, seeing no point now in trying to hide anything from Jayce, not when he was this insensed. “Salo can help me get it. Lots of it. It is more than a fair exchange.”
This almost crumpled Jayce to the floor.
Viktor understood that Jayce understood.
“For your back,” he whispered, eyes wide, shiny, as if he might cry. “The brace, Viktor—”
“I told you to stop snooping through my notebooks—”
“I wouldn’t have to if you just told me what was going on, if you just told me what you need, how I can help you—”
This was not a day for seriousness, Viktor didn’t want to deal with that right now.
“I am not a project, Jayce,” Viktor gave a small smile, an appearance of nonchalance. “You do not need to worry for me. Go back to your stresses about the Hexgates, I can handle this alone.”
“Fuck the Hexgates!” Jayce raised his voice, enough to make Viktor flinch back, touched by the reaction from Jayce, his Jayce, full of understanding, of concern. “They can detonate and turn to rubble for all I care, make the Council turn their backs on me, on us — You are my partner , Viktor. You will always come first to me, even if you refuse to let me in.”
Ah.
My walls are high.
But Jayce Talis has come with his hammer, shattering them brick by brick — How could I ever fight back against this?
“Yes,” Viktor caved to Jayce’s hysterics, his charming drama, nodding and sighing and passing the paper back to gloved hands which trembled violently. “I am… sorry. I should have said, I know. But you stress so much — I do not want to add to it.”
“I hate when you do that. As if I get no say, as if I’m just some burden.”
Jayce was rather sexy in the throes of despair.
Viktor pushed that aside.
“Forgive me, Jayce. Please.”
Jayce forgave too easily, and Viktor didn’t meant to take advantage of that, but he also couldn’t stand the sad tension, the way Jayce looked ready to cry.
“I’ll forgive you if you let me help with this ‘project’ — Otherwise, I’ll report it to the rest of the Council, and whatever happens, happens.”
Viktor grinned, surprised.
“Blackmail? How unlike my Jayce.”
Jayce finally cracked a smile, albeit a nervous one, the small gap in his front teeth endearing, Viktor wondering what it would feel like to lick his way past it.
“Maybe I’m not your Jayce — Maybe I came from another world to stop you from getting tangled up in Salo’s foolishness. An act against the laws of nature itself, and yet here you are, persisting anyways.”
“You are definitely my Jayce,” Now Viktor was the soft one, full of fondness, full of something that ached more than any ailing parts of his weakening body. “Only you would look out for me to this degree.”
Jayce’s eyes crinkled, and he tilted his head, cheeks stained with warmth, arms pressed behind his back shyly.
“I… I didn’t shave today. Because you… told me not to.”
Maybe it wasn’t an invite, but Viktor went for it regardless — Reached up and felt the stubble, just a scratchy, shallow hint of it, humming as he gripped Jayce’s chin and dragged a darkened thumb back and forth below Jayce’s lower lip, smearing forge grease there like a claim.
“It looks nice.”
“Yeah?”
Jayce’s throat was bobbing rapidly, pupils blown wide and even Viktor couldn’t ignore those signs, as much as he was sure they didn’t make any sense.
Jayce is feeling good.
These are indicators of attraction.
It was making Viktor want to be bold, but he refrained for the most part, his touch departing, gaze locked firmly to Jayce’s own, green and yellows flickering like dappled sunlight.
“Mm,” Viktor replied, curious, liking the way Jayce watched him, like a student desperate for praise. “Very handsome.”
“O-once I didn’t shave for a week and everyone begged me to get rid of it. Even little Cait back in the day, she said it made me look like a homeless dog.”
Viktor smirked.
“Ah, is that why the Kiramman’s adopted you?”
Jayce turned a delicious shade of red.
“Ha ha, very funny… So, do I get to help with this project, or are you forcing my hand into reporting you both?”
“It is a simple project, I do not need assistance.”
“That doesn’t matter. I can oversee, forge the bands, be a test subject, whatever you want.”
Viktor snorted out a laugh.
“Test subject? It’s an electric collar, Jayce.”
“And?”
“It might hurt you.”
“Then we’ll know it's too strong for whatever monstrosity Salo’s illegally importing, and make the necessary adjustments.”
“I can test it just fine—”
“You have a leg riddled with metal, Viktor. Like hell I’d allow you to test it on yourself.”
That was… a valid point.
Viktor had no choice but to concede.
“Fine. Go and make some coffee — I’ll set up the drawing board.”
“Yes,” Jayce grinned, tearing off his forge gloves, throwing them aside to his own desk, black grease everywhere, still smudged beneath his mouth. “Finally, a project that doesn’t have our entire careers riding on its success. I’m so excited.”
“So eager to partake in criminal activity,” Viktor replied, watching Jayce dash away excitedly. “What a surprise you can be sometimes.”
“It’s not that,” Jayce called from their small kitchenette, the sound of a kettle boiling over and mugs being set out. “I’m just… happy to work on something new together. It feels like it’s been an eternity.”
Viktor agreed wholeheartedly, finding even his own pulse pitching in excitement.
It had been so long.
“Fuck, we’re out of sweetmilk.”
Viktor didn’t care right now.
“Black is fine — let us get to work.”
That first night, blueprints had been designed, painstakingly and meticulously tackled by Viktor and Jayce in tandem, their full enthusiasm treating a simple collar as if the Hexgates 2.0.
Drafts upon drafts and endless mugs of bitter dark coffee, the night coming in a flash and ending with a purple daybreak, Viktor’s energy anything but gone as he hunched over small wires and tiny motors, soldering metal to metal and humming to himself.
Jayce was still in the forge, if he hadn’t fallen asleep on some unsuspecting chair, hammering metal down into bands to match Salo’s given measurements, Viktor requesting at least a handful and in different alloy variants. The capacitor he was creating would be removable to give Salo options, a decorative collar should whatever this ‘pet’ be learn to ‘behave’, the capacitor chip to latch into place and activate the boost circuit with the click of a remote.
In theory, it was simple.
In practice, too, it was also simple.
But the metal would make the difference, and until Jayce returned, the voltage was mostly a mystery, to be tried and tested and then recalibrated, tried and tested another handful of times. Viktor hoped Jayce was up for the challenge — Foolishly, Viktor had not considered his leg in the drunken agreement he’d made with the Councilor.
Perhaps this was a sly assassination plot.
All Viktor knew was that he wanted his dealing with Salo over with, as soon as fucking possible.
“Sorry,” Jayce was bursting through the door, dirtier than before, eyes bleary and squinted from the forge fires, smiling through his exhaustion. The scent of hard work and sweat radiated from him like some luxurious cologne, and Viktor had to reign in the desperate urge to sniff at his lab partner like a beast in heat. “That took me a lot longer than I expected. I have your samples ready, V.”
“Perfect timing,” Viktor switched his soldering iron off, placing it aside and slipping his protective goggles up into his hair, the morning early, the day new and full of possibilities. “I have created three different types of battery powered conduits in differing strengths, they will be ready to test tonight on every sample. Unless you would rather wait until tomorrow — it might be worth testing in day hours in case we need to call you a doctor.”
“Pft,” Jayce unloaded his haul across an empty part of the table, each rounded band of metal pressed with a number, a folded piece of paper with Jayce’s perfect script pulled from out of his pocket. “Tonight is fine, I trust you with my life.”
Viktor took the paper with haste, unfolding it, scanning the list with a hum of approval.
“You shouldn’t,” It wasn’t an extensive list, but ever the overachiever, Jayce had created three samples of each alloy, always prepared for setbacks. “This is a surge we are working with here, and these batteries are no household staples.”
“It’ll be fine. I have a good feeling.”
“Mm.”
“I also brought the scraps along, in case you need them for the soldering.”
“Oh, thank you very much.”
Viktor worked like a warrior after Jayce’s departure, hangover now just a pang behind his eyelids, pausing every hour or so to remember Miss Young’s advice and sip at some tap water. His hands were starting to ache but every sample was close to being trial ready, bands and slots and channels for the cables lining each collar, hooks and catches a makeshift for a lock just to ensure the secure length was correct.
These were perfect prototypes, and with Jayce’s help, so much had been accomplished in so little time.
Keeping anything from Jayce was utter stupidity , Viktor had been reminded, trying to sear it deep so he never forgot it again. Jayce can be trusted, even in shady dealings like this. He can be trusted with the truth, with secrets and with fears.
I should have told him about the plans for my spinal brace earlier.
He was always going to find out one way or another.
Briefly he slept, having dragged out Jayce’s mattress that was rolled away in a storage cupboard, setting it beneath the desk and crawling under for a much needed nap, waking to Miss Young entering the laboratory, checking up on him, before leaving again with her notebooks, Viktor dragged back into empty dreams.
At some point, when the night was back, Jayce had also returned, cleaner than he’d been when Viktor had last seen him that morning, and yet the stubble on his face was still there, thicker than before, darker and making Jayce look slightly wild, like his handsome clothes no longer matched his handsome face.
“You shouldn’t be sleeping down there,” Jayce warned, helping Viktor up, already prepared with mugs of coffee, sweetmilk in both, restocking their small fridge with it while Viktor had been out for the count. “That can’t be good for your leg.”
“Existing isn’t good for my leg,” Viktor replied, cranky upon waking, not yet settled into proper consciousness. “Yet, I persist.”
“I see you finished all the prototypes.”
“Indeed.”
“Ready for testing?”
Jayce was eager.
Viktor liked that.
“Of course. Are you?”
This could be dangerous.
Jayce grinned, giving a cheesy thumbs up, and Viktor wanted to touch his face again, feel the rough hair and drag his nails through it all.
“I was born ready. Have you eaten yet?”
Viktor was not hungry. All he wanted was this to be done, shaking off Jayce’s concerns, collecting his crutch and making his way to the laid out samples.
“That can wait — I have organized each collar by alloy, and aligned them in order of charge strength. I triple checked before I slept, but if you could validate the order on this list, it would be much appreciated. It also might save you a lot of pain.”
Watching in silence, Viktor observed Jayce remove his lovely jacket, draped across the back of a chair, the gold embellishments glinting in the dim blue lighting, and Jayce rolled his sleeves up his toned forearms with a hum, taking the list and doing his duty to check it over like a good partner.
It took fifteen minutes, and by the time Jayce was done, Viktor was fighting against his body, unable to drag his gaze from the curve of Jayce’s ass in his form-fitting pants, the way his shirt nipped in at his waist, thighs huge and straining dark material, all of it made so much more enticing because Jayce was not his usual, perfect self.
Viktor had never been able to grow impressive facial hair, nor did he particularly want to — But Jayce’s one day of leaving his jaw razor-free was an envious sight, so manly and so suiting, a vision that would have had the Council roiling.
Just for me, Viktor was pleased, the corner of his lips tilting in satisfaction. Because I told him to do it and he listened.
“This is correct,” Jayce flailed the paper, his smile optimistic, his eyes ablaze with focus, with determination. “Are you ready?”
Viktor had his notebook and pen set aside, nodding, pulling out a chair, taking a seat near their workstation.
“Yes, I think so. We will test each one in order of strength, and each for intervals of 1 second, 3 seconds, and then 6 seconds. Be truthful with the pain scale — I cannot allow harm to come to Salo’s… thing.”
Shouldn’t be making a shock collar for an animal regardless.
But it was far too late for that.
There were five alloy variations; steel, copper, silver, titanium and platinum, and each were loaded with installed wires and batteries, all ready for the chip that would slip into place and activate the conduit via the small remote. It wasn’t a great scientific feat nor was it a masterclass of invention… but they were dealing with unstable power in the form of a generated electric shock, and precaution must be taken, no matter how silly the premise was.
“We will start with the steel. Sample #01.”
Jayce picked it up, slotted the chip into the battery pack, standing before Viktor confidently and then —
Oh.
…Oh.
Viktor had assumed that Jayce would just… hold the collar between both hands, and judge the charge like that.
Even knowing Jayce like Jayce Talis was his favourite subject, Jayce snapping the collar shut around his own throat was a horrific surprise.
Horrific, because Viktor felt his lungs seize up, unable to breathe, all the blood in his body rushing violently down between his legs.
Jayce Talis was wearing a collar.
Like a dog.
Like a pet on a leash, the Man of Progress himself—
“Okay, hit me with it.”
Viktor almost dropped the remote in haste to snap himself out of the fog clouding any logic, notepad and pen held down on his lap to hide the shame of his reactions.
“Y-yes, uh…”
Viktor held the button for 1 second.
Jayce didn’t react at all, frowning.
“Nothing happened.”
It was agony, to look at a pouting Jayce in a metal collar, tight around his throat, the measurements almost exact to this mystery creature Salo had acquired. Agony to see Jayce’s furrowed brows and a bead of sweat roll down the side of his cheek, a nervous smile creeping across his mouth, biting back his lower lip in that steel fucking collar.
“Try again? Maybe give it 6 seconds?”
Viktor held the button down, and Jayce waited.
Nothing.
“Maybe we should move up to the #02’s… All I can feel is the metal.”
“You have a death wish,” Viktor forced himself to laugh, using his chuckle as a way to casually readjust his now uncomfortable posture.
“This one is pretty,” Jayce unsnapped the steel #01, opting for silver #02, slotting the chip. “Let’s try it out next.”
“Jayce, my list—”
“Will take forever if we do it that way. I have a hunch about this one — Come on V, it’s not a serious project. Let’s have some spontaneity with it.”
The collar was snapped closed before any words of protest could leave Viktor’s parted lips.
Jayce beamed once again.
“Alright, crank it.”
Viktor pressed the remote, 1 second long.
Jayce gasped, flinching, a hand flying to his neck.
Shit.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Jayce retorted, struggling to swallow, the apple of his throat tugging against beautiful silver. “That one worked.”
“Pain scale?”
“It didn’t hurt at all, just… surprised me.”
“I need a number, Jayce.”
“... 2?”
Viktor noted it, the book on his lap deliciously heavy against his groin, doing all he could to ignore it.
“Shall we try 3 seconds?”
“Go for the 6,” Jayce nodded, poking a pinky finger beneath the rim of the band, adjusting it to sit a little easier. “I can take it.”
I bet you can.
Viktor wondered if the wine was still in him, turning him into some lecherous creature getting off on Jayce Talis, Piltover’s Golden Boy, slightly disheveled, unshaved and strapped into a collar like an obedient pet.
6 seconds.
Take it, then.
Viktor held the remote for an amount of time just shy of 8 seconds, and in that almost 8 seconds, Viktor felt the world spin upside down at the sight happening before him.
Jayce Talis, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, making the sorts of sounds that were usually only heard beneath the sheets of coital engagements. A low whine overcome with a pained groan, sweat glimmering across his forehead, entire body wired tense and tightly strung—
Viktor had never been harder in his entire life.
It made him… hungry.
Made him want to see more.
Made him act cruelly, pressing the button again, catching Jayce off guard, Jayce’s body locking up and his eyes rolling to the back of his head, Viktor releasing the trigger, Jayce inhaling sharply.
“Vik—”
It was like he was possessed.
Viktor held the button once more, the charge of the collar forcing Jayce to his knees.
Tears in his eyes, his cheeks flushed and pretty, tendons straining in his throat and Viktor had never seen a more glorious sight, had never seen beautiful Jayce Talis look like this.
“Viktor —”
Jayce should have been furious, would have every right to throttle Viktor within an inch of his life, to report this all to the Council as payback for this humiliation, to unlatch the prototyped collar and smelt it back down into nothing, all progress on this stupid project set back by days.
Jayce did not seem angry at all, though.
In fact… Jayce and Viktor were in an awfully similar state.
Through the outline of those tight, perfectly tailored trousers, Viktor could see where Jayce’s cock strained the fabric, creases caught in the blue glow of their laboratory, curved to the side and visibly pulsing, and Viktor’s arousal at Jayce’s arousal blacked him out to kindness and common sense once more, eyes locked to one another, his finger back on the remote.
Jayce just stared at him, not even a hint of protest.
This time, he didn’t let up.
Felt his chest heave with urgency as he watched Jayce’s body go rigid and still under the dominance of the electricity, hands useless at his sides, fingers splayed out and seizing, trembling uncontrollably. His jaw was still clenched, lips wet with drool as it foamed alongside his guttural whimpers, and then Jayce was keening, cracked and broken, hips flexing against the will of the current, every single inch of Jayce Talis shuddering as Viktor witnessed the anomaly of an untouched orgasm.
Releasing the button on the remote, Viktor could see the hint of Jayce’s release through his trousers, thighs quivering from where he knelt before Viktor, head downcast as he panted violently, a pretty hue of scarlet etched beneath honey skin, Viktor unsure of what to do, what to say, knowing he should apologise, wondering if Jayce was going to tear him limb from limb.
The tension was unbearable, the lab silent apart from Jayce’s ragged breath and Viktor’s racing heartbeat, seconds passing, maybe even a minute, Viktor still hard, desperately so, white knuckling his notebook to try and hide the shame of it.
When Jayce finally looked up, tears were clotting long dark lashes, and he looked ethereal and torn apart, glassy eyes and a wet mouth, the collar suiting him so perfectly, the apple of his throat trapped above the silver band.
Lips parted, Jayce’s voice shattered, cracking apart the overwhelming silence.
“That uh… m-might be too strong for an animal.”
“I am so sorry Jayce,” Viktor found himself saying, the remote still in his hand, not daring to blink in case Jayce evaporated, never to be looked at this way ever again. “I—”
I don’t know what came over me.
That was so incredibly irresponsible of me.
You could have been hurt.
I’m selfish—
Jayce’s hand on Viktor’s thigh almost sent him jumping out of the chair in shock, fingers against the metal of his brace.
“Always been a terrible liar,” Jayce’s pupils were large, flickering, his gaze unwavering, his other hand on the thigh of Viktor’s good leg, slowly palming upwards, upwards, dangerously close to where Viktor was trying to hide. “You’re not sorry at all.”
Shit.
Viktor was paralyzed, captivated, letting Jayce touch him, letting Jayce take his notebook from him and put it on the floor, never looking away from the other for even a moment, Viktor wondering if this was truly happening or if he’d somehow been the one to catch the shock and this was all an afterlife fantasy.
Jayce touching him like this could only ever happen in a world of make believe after all.
Perfect Jayce Talis, widely beloved, yearned for, great Piltover beauties trying to tempt him into their beds if he only opened his eyes and noticed.
I am not them.
I am not—
“Is this messy enough for you?”
His words were used against him from that night, drunk in the streets and touching Jayce’s face, telling him not to shave, to grow out his beard, that he wanted to see Jayce imperfect, messy, just for Viktor to enjoy.
There would be point in trying to lie, to hide now, not with Jayce watching him, with Jayce’s trousers stained with his pleasure, with Jayce’s fingers ghosting beneath the bands of his brace and across the buttons at his crotch, hot pleasure jolting up his spine as Jayce carefully thumbed the outline of his aching cock.
“No,” Viktor rasped, possessed once again, cupping a strong jaw and feeling the prick of Jayce’s hair, Jayce smiling, almost smirking, rising on his knees to hammer down the remaining bricks of the walls keeping Viktor from kissing Piltover’s Perfect Boy. “You still look like theirs—”
“Then tell me what to do,” came the reply, lips so close to pressing together, bold words laced with the sort of neediness that Jayce usually only displayed when he was sleepy, Viktor sensing submission within his partner, angry at himself for never having connected those dots and lines earlier. “Help me Viktor, take me back from them—”
Jayce guided Viktor’s good leg between his own, pressing the heel of a shiny shoe to where he was hardening once more, Viktor impressed by Jayce’s refractory period, lust mounting at the thought of testing, experimenting, discovering the limits to Jayce’s body.
Another time.
For now, Jayce needed his help.
Needed Viktor to save him.
Needed Viktor to ruin him—
The sound of the door being unlocked sent them scrambling apart like horny teenagers caught in the act, Viktor almost falling from his chair in the haste to stand without his crutch, Jayce cursing under his breath and struggling to climb to his feet, both of them clasping their hands together across their obvious swollen groins as they were faced with Heimerdinger entering their lab, poro in tow, none-the-wiser to what he had just interrupted.
Viktor could have thrown the Yordle out of the fucking window, but alas, Heimerdinger had come with purpose.
“Ah, there you are! Mr. Talis, you’ve been requested by Councilor Medarda for a meeting about launch day — Something about a grand speech and requested wine selection for the afterparty?”
Jayce was still pink all over, still clasping his hands together like a good boy standing at attention before his once-professor, jaw clenched, handsome in his collar.
“Right… now?”
“Now is as good a time as any, young Jayce,” Heimerdinger giggled, and the poro raced up to Viktor and shrilled sweetly, wanting a treat, snuffling at the shoe that had been pressed to Jayce’s clothed cock mere moments ago. “Miss Medarda had an air of urgency about her… Do you need ten minutes to… clean up?”
Viktor blushed in tandem with Jayce, the two of them spluttering.
“C-clean up??”
Heimerdinger, clueless to the scene before him, tugged at the soft fur of his own face.
“Your beard, Mr. Talis. Unkempt! The Council would be in uproar!”
Ah.
That was terrifying.
Jayce looked trapped.
Needed Viktor to save him—
“It is late, sir,” Viktor cut in, stepping forward, shielding his partner. “Councilor Medarda can wait until the morning for… wine selection.”
Heimerdinger chuckled, shaking his little head.
“To turn down a request from Mel Medarda is not a wise move, no matter what time of night she demands it! Was it not she who got the ball rolling for the two of you in your little act of disobedience after all?”
The poro was still huffing its way around Viktor’s feet, whining for a snack.
“I’ll go,” Jayce nodded, still Theirs, Viktor irritated and yet understanding, back in the reality of pandering to Piltover’s royalty, servants to Their cause for the rest of their lives. “Just give me an hour. We’ve been working all day and night — a shower is long overdue.”
“Be fast with it,” Heimerdinger retorted, his fluffy moustache twitching, giving a small whistle to call his poro back, the little creature sprinting away with a cute ‘weeeeh’. “And pick a sweet wine, if you’re open to suggestions! I do very much enjoy a fruity Ionian spirit.”
When the door was locked once again, they both let out relieved, albeit annoyed sighs.
Viktor couldn’t look Jayce in the eye.
Couldn’t believe what had happened in here.
“I… better go.”
Viktor still couldn’t look at him.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
A hand came to his lower back, so soft, gentle, Viktor tensing in surprise.
“...Do you want me to shave?”
Turning to face Jayce without his crutch was almost impossible, Viktor opting to stand still, to let Jayce touch him for validation, two hands on him now, wrapping around his waist.
“I want you to do whatever you want to do, Jayce.”
If you want to be pretty and clean, you can.
If you want to horrify the Council, you can.
“I want to please everyone, but I can’t.”
Hands on him, arms around him, Jayce’s hot breath at the back of his neck, hips shoved against Viktor’s ass.
“No matter what I do, or how good the outcome is or could be or will be… I’ll never be enough for Them, right?”
Right.
Jayce was saying sad things, but he was hard, hot, panting against the shell of Viktor’s ear.
Viktor found himself being painfully honest, hissing as Jayce’s touch went lower, lower, a giant palm pressing between Viktor’s thighs, cupping his cock with a tenderness Viktor wasn’t sure he himself could possess if and when he ever got to touch Jayce like this.
“As beautiful as you are, as much as they want it to be true,” he groaned, head dropping between his hunched shoulders, swallowing back the pleasured sounds he didn’t yet want to share. “You are not made for their world. Politics and parties, you wear it well — But you’re meant to be here, Jayce. In the lab. Creating wonders. You are… meant to be here with me.”
“Everything I do is for us,” Jayce whispered, rutting himself against Viktor, the cold sting of silver touching the nape of Viktor’s neck as Jayce pressed a kiss to the side of his throat carefully. “Our dreams deserve to shape this world.”
Yes.
They do.
“They will, Jayce.”
Sliding down beneath his balls, Viktor gasped, shuddering, held upright as Jayce rubbed him over his clothing, firm and slow, his touch maddening.
“I’m glad you came to that party with me, even though you hated it, even though Salo took the chance to put his claws in you.”
Viktor was embarrassingly close, writhing slightly in Jayce’s hold, gripping strong forearms just to ground him against the pleasure.
“You were so drunk, so open — touching my face, letting me put you to bed, saying things I’ve always wanted to hear from you but never thought I would—”
How humiliating.
But Jayce was touching him, was going to make him come with his hand, through his trousers, a matching set between the two of them, Viktor’s nails leaving crescent moons in Jayce’s tawny flesh.
“Do you still want me, Viktor? Do you still want to fuck me, even if I have to go and pander to the Council?”
Jayce desires approval.
He wants only my reassurance.
“You would let me?”
Jayce let out a rough, desperate huff of a laugh.
“You just electrocuted me to the point of orgasm — I’d let you do anything short of murder, and maybe even that, if you demanded it with enough conviction.”
Viktor had never felt more powerful, not ever in his whole entire life.
Remembered Jayce from that night when he was drunk and apparently said things he shouldn’t have, Jayce walking him home, Jayce pink and shadowed with overhead street lights.
Sometimes I like being told what to do.
“I always knew you were a good boy, Jayce.”
Expectedly, Jayce whimpered, Viktor revelling in the sound, but Jayce didn’t dare to stop touching him.
“Putting on a collar like a dog, growing out your beard — If the Council could see you like this...”
“Don’t care,” Jayce growled like a dog, nuzzling into Viktor’s throat, eager to finish Viktor off, Viktor’s hips shifting into every back and forth, back and forth, chasing the friction and feeling it scorch the depths of his stomach. “Don’t care what they think, only want their money, want you to come, Viktor, please—”
Oh, he was so needy.
Viktor had no choice but to relent.
He felt a hot tongue against his neck where he knew a mole was as Jayce’s palm milked his release into the material of his trousers, shuddering, chest heaving, leg surprisingly not too sore despite the prolonged standing because Jayce held him up so perfectly, and he could feel Jayce’s smile against him, the growing hair scrape his skin, their lab finally and thoroughly desecrated by their lust, a long time coming.
After the high of it started to falter, Jayce let out another irritated sigh.
“I don’t want to but… I really should go. Fuck.”
“You should,” and Viktor meant it, knew all the pandering Jayce had to do had a purpose, despite how infuriating it all was to bear witness to. “Go and wash up for Councilor Medarda. It would be best not to anger her, I suppose.”
“Shave, or nah?”
Viktor glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow.
“If you do, I shall be finding another assistant to test my prototypes on.”
“Is that a threat, V?”
“Very much so.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Then do as I say.”
When he finally got his hands back on his crutch, he was able to watch Jayce ready himself to leave, collecting his bag, some belongings, pink in the face as they met gazes over and over, Jayce seemingly struck with shyness.
“Spit it out,” Viktor knew the look, the one Miss Young would give to him before leaving, desperate to say or ask something. “What is it?”
“I… want to do this again. If that’s okay with you. Please.”
How cute.
Viktor found himself sneering.
“Now? Miss Medarda is waiting to proposition you, Jayce. How greedy can one man be?”
“No, not… I mean… w-with the collar. Soon. Maybe… maybe at your apartment?”
Hmm.
“The collar is not for you, Jayce. The collar is for a pet. Are you a pet?”
“... I could be.”
Fire simmered in Viktor’s blood.
“I think you secretly enjoy being leashed, despite everything you claim.”
“You’d leash me for a good time, though,” Jayce replied, eyes crinkling, a cheeky, sheepish smile splitting his pretty lips wide. “Not to drag me around a manor and show me off like a handbag.”
“Dragging you about on a leash sounds like my idea of a good time.”
Red ears, Jayce’s throat stained with embarrassment, desire.
“With the collar, right?”
He really must have loved that.
“Of course.”
“T-tomorrow night?”
Eager.
Viktor had a brilliant, evil idea.
Salo’s commission could wait, just a little longer.
“Tomorrow night. Good luck with the Council. You better hurry up.”
“Shit,” and Jayce was in a hurry, rushing to Viktor pressing a hasty, chaste kiss to his cheek, leaving Viktor bewildered, stunned, turning to sprint out the door. “I’ll see you soon—”
“Jayce, the collar is still on you—”
“Oh, fuck—”
Collarless and free, Jayce was gone like a brilliant flash of light, leaving Viktor alone to deal with the reality of what had just happened, his release uncomfortably drying inside his pants, collapsing down into his chair as the remaining prototypes glimmered, untouched.
He could feel Jayce’s lips still, burned against his throat, his nape, on his cheek from the sweet goodbye, touching it carefully as if scared it would render the experience wiped from the timeline.
That had shaken him more than anything tonight, more than the silver around Jayce’s thick neck, their exchanged orgasms, more than Jayce touching him and whispering against him about how he wanted Viktor inside him, asking to come over and wear the collar once again for Viktor to indulge in.
That small kiss on his cheek had his heart pounding, his chest sore, and he loved Jayce so fiercely, understanding or at least hoping to understand, that maybe Jayce loved him back.
Confessions of love were scary though, and Viktor didn’t like the fear of it, not right now, not while the promise of Jayce Talis in his bed tomorrow night was a done and fairly certain deal.
No, we won’t think of scary uncertainties this night.
Tonight is for creation, for science.
Looking at the bag of scrap metal remaining from the prototyped collars, Viktor hummed to himself, wondering if his idea was too far gone.
But Jayce liked the collar.
Liked Viktor taking him over.
… He would likely like this too.
Viktor worked to the thought of tomorrow night, and hoped his partner made it through wine selections unscathed — Jayce Talis was going to need all the fortitude he could muster, come the battle against Viktor’s newest creation.