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"How long do you plan to keep me trapped here, Viktor?"
Jayce stares at the door to Viktor's strange, spherical domicile. By his calculations, he's been locked in this room for near a month, though the first few weeks had been hazy, and he can't be sure how much of his experiences were hallucination and how much was real.
When Jayce had stumbled into the commune all those weeks ago, he'd been raving mad, dragging the Mercury Hammer behind him like a ball and chain. He had been tasked with a mission, one of the world-saving variety, and…
And…
He had failed to kill Viktor.
Even now, he doesn't quite know what happened. All he remembers is raising his hammer, aiming to kill, and meeting Viktor's familiar gaze, then… nothing. The next time he had been conscious, he had been resting with his head in Viktor's lap. Viktor had been playing with his hair, and Jayce had flinched away so hard and so fast that he'd nearly passed out again from the whiplash.
Jayce's Mage— not his Viktor, but his Mage— had warned him.
Do not let him get too close, the Mage had said before setting Jayce loose. Your success depends on it.
It is nothing short of cruel to deny Jayce of Viktor's touch. In their Academy days, it had always been Jayce reaching for Viktor, enveloping him in warm affection. Viktor had tolerated the touches with impressive grace, even going so far as to offer Jayce a few pats on the head if he were feeling particularly charitable, but that had been the extent of Viktor's involvement.
It had always been Jayce left wanting, yearning, aching. But Jayce hadn't minded. He had been lucky to even be allowed in the same room as Viktor. He had been lucky that Viktor even deigned to look at him at all.
But now, it's the opposite. Viktor reaches for Jayce, slipping into his space like the last puzzle piece sliding home. Jayce has to dance away from that for which he ached, has to rebuke the touches of which he once dreamed.
Jayce does not know how much more of this he can take.
"You are not a prisoner." Viktor stands in the doorway, silhouetted by gentle, white light. He looks heavenly, ethereal— a devil in angel's garb, sent to break Jayce's heart, over and over again.
"I can't leave, can I?"
"…You cannot." Viktor tilts his head. A subtle acknowledgment. "But I will keep you safe. I will treat you well, just as you always deserved. You are my partner, Jayce. I will see to it that you are happy."
"And if leaving this place will make me happy?"
"You do not mean that," Viktor says. Calm. Reassuring. "You want to be with me. You said it yourself. 'All I want is—'"
My partner back.
"Not like this, Viktor." Jayce wants to cry. Jayce wants to shut down. He had done both, many times, when Viktor had tried to speak with him in the earlier weeks. Now, though, Jayce is tired and numb. Too tired to resist the temptation of speaking with this fascimile of his partner, and too numb to properly mourn his loss. So, instead of tears, his voice roughens, cracks, bleeds. An animal, clawing and thrashing. His face twists. His eyes burn. "You're dead. You're dead. That's where I belong. Dead. With you."
"Oh, Jayce," Viktor says. He opens his arms, but Jayce does not fall into them. Viktor takes a step forward. Jayce takes a step back. A dance— one that they never had, back in Piltover. "My beautiful Jayce. My partner, my darling—"
Jayce flinches. Some small, hurt thing in his hindbrain chirps in alarm. The words he's ached to hear from the lips of the person he's ached for the most. Meaningless, manipulative. Sweet, sweet poison.
"Don't, Viktor." Jayce trembles. There's an inhuman gleam in Viktor's eye— the predatory glint of a shark that has caught the scent of blood. Jayce is so, so weak to Viktor in so, so many ways. His love for Viktor is the most devastating one. "Please, don't."
"My love."
Jayce lets out a wounded sound, and Viktor steps forward once more. This time, Jayce allows Viktor to embrace him. How could Jayce have hoped to resist? Viktor touches Jayce like he's precious, like he's beautiful.
Viktor touches Jayce like he loves him.
"Oh, my love," Viktor murmurs, rubbing his thumb over Jayce's atrophied bicep. Viktor's tenderness tears into Jayce's chest, shredding the thin layers of muscle that protect Jayce's weak, weak heart. The alarm in the back of Jayce's mind continues to chirp, shrill and demanding, but Viktor speaks over it. "I know it hurts. Won't you let me make it better? Just one touch, and it could all go away—"
Viktor reaches for Jayce's face. Jayce flinches away. "Don't!"
Viktor's eyes go wide and round. He strokes his hands up and down Jayce's arms. Placating. "My love—"
"Stop calling me that." Jayce pushes Viktor's arms away. It feels like peeling his skin off. Like ripping his still-beating heart from his own chest.
"My— Jayce," Viktor says, and that's worse somehow. Viktor says Jayce's name like he's the only truth that Viktor has ever known.
"Stop it," Jayce says. His head spins. The walls of their— Viktor's— domicile threaten to collapse around him. Jayce presses himself back into the furthest reaches of the room, as far from Viktor as he can get. His weak leg screams with pain, and he slides down the wall until he's curled up in a ball on the floor. He tucks his face into his knees and shoves his hands over his ears as the danger-call in his mind grows louder, piercing through his hindbrain. "Stop it!"
"I only wish to help," Viktor says, still reaching for him. Helpless.
Jayce watches Viktor's hand stretch across the endless gap between them— Jayce's greatest fear and his greatest salvation, all at once. The whites of Jayce's eyes form a frightened ring around pale golden irises, dilated pupils. He feels like a cornered lab mouse, hiding his tail, shoving his nose into a corner, and grieving the cagemate he had lost to the whims of forces greater than he would ever understand.
"Please go away," Jayce says. To his horror, his voice wobbles, cracks. A sob threatens to burst from his chest. Hot tears sting at his waterline. "Please just go away."
"…As you wish." For a split second, Viktor's expression flattens into something cool and calculating. Jayce recognizes it as the face that Viktor makes when he's facing a particularly irritating problem. It's gone in the next moment— so quickly that Jayce wonders if he was hallucinating again— and the hard glint of Viktor's stare softens into something loving and concerned.
Viktor glides back to the doorway, stately and elegant in every movement. The light from the outside streams through the doorway, forming a halo around Viktor's ethereal silhouette. "I will return, my love. Do not fear. We will find a way to save you. I promise."
Jayce waits until the door has fully closed and Viktor's soft footsteps have faded before he allows himself to break. Great, heaving sobs wrack his wasted frame, and he hugs himself tightly, rocking back and forth as he gasps for breath in between every gut wrenching wail.
The sun has long made its journey across the sky when Jayce recovers. His eyes are puffy and swollen. He scrubs a dirty hand over his face.
As with prior days, several golden, gilded automata had stopped by a few hours after Viktor had left, bringing fresh, sweet fruit, a clean change of clothing, and a full waterskin. Jayce hadn't touched any of it, trapped in a storm of grief and fear. Panic sings through his mind, a deep, throaty warble.
Luckily, the automata make no attempt to approach him. But still, even mere sight of them is nearly enough to send Jayce into a panicked spiral.
He approaches the gifts to place them back outside. It has become a ritual of sorts. Jayce wants none of the commune's food, nor their water. He picks up the bundle, only to catch a glimpse of something bright at the edge of his vision.
A mirror.
It is the first time Jayce has seen himself since he returned from the dark, sunken place. He looks as awful as he feels. His hair is long and matted. His skin looked weathered and sun-ravaged, marred by wrinkles and tearstains. His beard has grown out into a shaggy, unkempt mess.
He looks nothing like himself. Nothing like the Man of Progress. But the remnants of his vanity remain. His gaze travels lower, and lower still—
Jayce cries out in horror and grabs at his arm.
Five beautiful, opalescent fingerprints dot Jayce's bicep, glimmering in the dim light of Viktor's darkened home.
That night, Jayce curls up in the safest spot in the room, furthest away from Viktor's grasp. He knows it doesn't make a difference. No matter where he hides, Viktor will find him.
Viktor comes in to clean and change Jayce while he sleeps, sometimes. There's no other explanation for the way the dried blood has disappeared from under Jayce's cracked fingernails, nor for the way his dirty clothes have been replaced by the soft cotton wraps once worn by the commune members, prior to their Evolution. Honestly, Jayce wonders why Viktor hasn't touched Jayce while he sleeps. Surely, handling Jayce would be easier without interference from the constant alarm sounding in Jayce's mind.
Perhaps, there's a bit of the old Viktor— the real Viktor— hidden deep in the soul of the monster who wears his face. The real Viktor had been respectful of boundaries in a way that this Viktor is not. Jayce tries not to let himself hope, but hope is not a creature so easily dissuaded.
When he falls into a restless sleep, Jayce dreams of Viktor. His Viktor. His partner. Not the thing that possesses Viktor's corpse.
May I touch you? The Viktor in Jayce's dream purrs, hovering over Jayce's bare lap. The tips of their hard cocks almost brush together, but just barely miss— a tease of a kiss, made messy by the sudden spurt of pre-cum from Viktor's slit. It dribbles down, connecting their cocks, and Jayce's own slit pulses, as if to try and pull Viktor's fluids inside. The effort, sadly, is for naught— Viktor's pre-cum continues its slow, thick slide down Jayce's shaft.
Feels good, Jayce responds. It is only a dream. He can admit to feeling good in a dream.
I am happy to hear that. You feel good against me as well, dream-Viktor says, and Jayce preens, soaking in the praise. The marks on Jayce's bicep tingle. Distantly, Jayce registers it as strange, but dream-Viktor is speaking. Jayce loves to listen to Viktor speak. Any version of Viktor. It helps him dampen the shrill warning signals that drive spikes through his mind. But I need your permission to make you feel even better. May I touch you?
Jayce's brow furrows, and he winces. Something about Viktor's offer causes his apprehension to rise to a fever-pitch. Jayce is not free of fear, even in his dreams. I— I don't know if that's a good idea.
Dream-Viktor pouts. Jayce's eyes snap to the tempting jut of his plump lower lip. Why not?
I'm scared, Jayce says.
A warning shrieks in his mind. Danger! Danger! Danger!
Oh, Jayce, Dream-Viktor says. Gingerly, he crawls off Jayce, careful not to touch him. What have you gotten yourself into, sweet one?
I don't know, Jayce says. I'm just so scared all the time. He reaches for dream-Viktor's hand. His head pounds with a roiling cacophony of noise, rising as a tempest.
No, no, no, the voice screams, hoarse and terrified, but dream-Viktor closes the distance between their hands, and suddenly—
Quiet. It's like the world has become muffled, and Jayce moans in relief. If touching dream-Viktor could give him this orgasmic reprieve from the contant, unending fear, then Jayce wants to touch dream-Viktor forever.
Besides, it's just a dream. Jayce can let Viktor touch him if it's just a dream.
I miss you so much, Viktor, he says. He pats at the pillows beside him, pleading Viktor to come lay next to him. Viktor obliges, and Jayce curls into Viktor's side. For the first time in months, Jayce allows himself to relax.
Mmm, Viktor hums, running gentle fingers through Jayce's hair. There's dull thumping noise in the back of Jayce's mind, beyond the bubble that dream-Viktor has built for them. It sounds like wings, beating against the bars of a cage. Jayce pays it no mind, and instead tucks himself closer to Viktor's body. Jayce lets Viktor's voice soothe the tender wounds left behind by the loud, scared voices in Jayce's head. It feels good when I touch you.
It does, Jayce agrees. Feels so good when you touch me.
Perfect boy, Viktor says, fond, and presses a kiss to Jayce's knuckles. Rest now, my love. You deserve it.
Jayce awakens to soft humming. He scrambles to attention, pushing back into the plush pillows at the head of the bed. His limbs tangle in the nest of thick blankets that piles up around him.
He hadn't gone to bed last night. He'd fallen asleep on the floor, where at least the cold, hard dirt would ground him. The alarms in his mind return with a vengeance, and Jayce whips around to see Viktor, sitting but a few paces away, flipping through a well-worn book. He looks harmless, and yet Jayce's adrenaline spikes— the prey response.
"Good morning," Viktor says, tone mild. He's perched on a large cushion in the corner where Jayce's sleeping form had rested the night before. "Sleeping in our bed would be much better for your recovery, you know."
"How did I—?"
"I asked the Evolved to take you to bed," Viktor waves his hand, dismissive. "You did not want me to touch you yesterday. So, I did not, as a gesture of goodwill between partners. But you must think of your spine, Jayce. You are not as young as you once were."
"I can't take your bed," Jayce says. Something about this conversation feels surreal. He remembers having a similar one with Viktor, years ago, when he'd first visited Viktor's apartment after a long night of work.
"It is our bed." Viktor rises from his seat with all the grace of a panther and slowly stalks towards Jayce. He settles down on the edge of the bed. Jayce watches Viktor warily, but Viktor seems content to simply sit in Jayce's presence.
A short silence. The Jayce of a few months ago would have found a way to harness the power of the sun itself to share a bed with Viktor. The Jayce of a few weeks ago would have blasted the very life from Viktor's chest.
Now, Jayce just watches. His heart aches. His mind screams. He's so, so tired.
Viktor sighs. "Jayce, I know you have some sort of ridiculous, eh— how do you say?— 'hang-up' about touching me. That is fine. But I saw the state of your leg last night. You need medical attention. Magical attention."
Jayce says nothing, but his leg throbs in pain, as if in agreement.
"The Evolved cannot harness the power of the Arcane," Viktor says. "Otherwise, I would have them treat you."
Still, Jayce remains silent.
"Jayce," Viktor says. He slumps over, his slender shoulders curling in on themselves. His face falls to his palms, but it does nothing to muffle the awful vulnerability that wavers through Viktor's voice. "It hurts me to see you in so much pain. I beg of you, please allow me to help, my love. Even if it is just to see what interventions may be performed by the Evolved."
"I don't want your help," Jayce says, but it sounds weak, even to him.
Viktor moves closer and rests his hand on Jayce's leg. His touch is as warm and gentle as Jayce remembers, even through the blanket that separates them.
"Please, Jayce. May I see?"
"You want to touch me so badly," Jayce says. The pain in his leg intensifies as Viktor approaches, whipping the chirping alarms in Jayce's head into a frenzy. "Why do you keep asking for permission? It's not like I can stop you."
That gives Viktor pause. He tilts his head, giving Jayce an unreadable look. As far as Jayce can tell, Viktor is genuinely bewildered, as if Jayce had raised a question that Viktor hadn't considered before.
"I want you to want it," Viktor finally says, after a long, heavy pause. "I want you to want me." His hand travels up Jayce's calf. "When I touch you, I want you to feel good about it."
"Feels so good when you touch me," Jayce says, the words falling smoothly from his tongue. It shocks him, this unfamiliar instinct. Danger! A voice warbles, loud and demanding, but Jayce can't handle it anymore. He shakes his head, pushes it from the forefront of his mind. "I— wait. That's not what I meant to say."
"That is perfectly alright, Jayce. You are under a lot of stress." Viktor offers Jayce a small, sad smile. "I know you find me repulsive now. I would not deign to sully you."
"No, Viktor, it's not that." Jayce drags a hand down his face. He knows he shouldn't be explaining this to Viktor. No, Jayce reminds himself. Not Viktor. The thing wearing Viktor's face.
"Then what is it?" Viktor inches closer. His hand rests on Jayce's knee. "Please. I want to know. What is your justification for denying your partner the privilege of caring for you?"
Jayce racks his mind, tongue-tied. That is… a good question. Jayce can't quite remember why his Mage told him to avoid being touched by Viktor. All he knows is that it was important. But Jayce's health is also important, and the heat of Viktor's palm on his knee is so comforting.
Surely, it would be okay. If Viktor's touch could ease Jayce's pain, then maybe it would make Jayce's ultimate mission that much easier. Maybe, he could still save this timeline.
Wordlessly, Jayce pushes the blankets down. Luckily, he's dressed in a set of loose sleeping linens. The hems roll up easily, revealing Jayce's Arcane-rotted leg. He gestures to the sickening green skin. When Viktor still doesn't move, Jayce takes Viktor's hand— gently, always gentle with Viktor— and places it on his calf himself.
"Oh, Jayce. Thank you," Viktor breathes, and it sounds like a prayer. Viktor's eyes flutter closed, and his brow furrows. His fingers press divots into the tortured mess of muscle and sinew, exploring the injury. The additional stimulation sends white-hot agony ricocheting through Jayce's consciousness. It's much worse than Jayce has ever experienced.
"Oh, Jayce," Viktor repeats. His breathing has quickened, his voice gone high and reedy. "You have carried this pain for so long, my sweet, strong boy. Will you let me take it from you?"
"Please," Jayce says. He doesn't intend to beg— in fact, he had intended to ask Viktor to stop touching him, stop poking him, stop messing with the raw edges of his wound— but what comes out is a dying animal's instinctive cry for mercy.
"You never need to beg," Viktor croons. "Not with me."
Sudden, sweeping relief floods through Jayce, so potent that tears spring to his eyes. Viktor's Arcane influence seeps into his flesh, knitting together the collagen matrices of the bones, the lipid sheaths of the nerves, the smooth muscle of the vasculature. Silvery pink streaks creep up Jayce's leg, too vibrant and symmetrical to be natural.
"Much better," Viktor says, flexing his fingers with a sigh. "I have purged the anomalous corruption. The reconstruction work was not my best, but it should be serviceable. We can revisit this later, if you are ever amenable to more invasive work."
Jayce simply blinks at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. Air flows painlessly into the base of his lungs. For the first time in months, his accessory muscles contract and relax without complaint. Without the constant pain, a huge weight has lifted from his spirit.
Jayce hadn't even realized he was in so much pain until it was gone.
Later that night, Jayce's heart skips a beat as he takes in his appearance in the small mirror that someone— an Evolved, most likely— had hung up in Viktor's bedroom.
Viktor had asked to stay the night in bed together, just so that he could be within an arms reach if Jayce suffered any consequences from the Arcane healing. Jayce had agreed, finding it reasonable enough, but now, alarm makes its reappearance known in the pit of Jayce's stomach.
In addition to the swath of Arcane-touched skin over Jayce's healed calf, a new mark shines innocuously on Jayce's knuckles, in the shape of Viktor's lips.
I don't want you to change me, Jayce confesses to Viktor that night in his dreams. He sits in Viktor's lap, arms looped around Viktor's shoulders. The voices in his head are miraculously dulled, cowed by Viktor's touch. I think that's why I'm so scared.
You need not be scared, Viktor says, pretty hand wrapped around both of their cocks. He gives a particularly wicked twist of his wrist. Jayce groans, canting his hips into the tight squeeze of Viktor's fist. Viktor fulfills his silent request, stroking them faster, harder. I do not want to change you. I just want you to feel good. So you have nothing to fear.
It's just a dream, so Jayce feels no regret about letting moan after wanton moan tumble from his lips. He presses his forehead to Viktor's, and the pleasure brings him no grief, no worry.
I think you will like this, Viktor says, a smirk clear in his voice. His free hand brushes over Jayce's waist before finding its way to Jayce's hole. Jayce jolts from the feeling of Viktor's fingers brushing over his puckered entrance.
Dreams don't always make sense, so Jayce doesn't question things too hard when his hole slicks up, seemingly without lube. He doesn't have much time to think about it, either, because between one blink and the next, he's filled to the brim by Viktor's fingers. Viktor targets his prostate with unerring accuracy, rubbing over the sensitive gland with deep, indulgent circles.
Jayce groans deep in his chest and ruts against Viktor's cock.
Feels so good when you touch me, he whimpers, letting his lips brush over Viktor's in a soft approximation of a kiss.
Good, Viktor murmurs back, rewarding Jayce by ravaging his mouth properly. Do you hear how wet you are?
If this weren't a dream, Jayce might feel embarrassed about the sheer intensity of the lewd noises coming from his hole. He's so wet, and it makes the schlick-schlick-schlick of Viktor's fingers that much louder.
Wetter is better, Jayce thinks, half-delirious. The heat builds in his core, sets his nerves aflame, and—
Jayce snaps awake with a lewd cry. His cock spits out pathetic dribbles of cum between his legs, and Jayce can't help the dry sob that rips from his throat. His cock softens rapidly, leaving him achy and unsatisfied. Viktor stirs beside him.
"Jayce?" Viktor reaches for him. Still reeling from his ruined orgasm, Jayce allows Viktor to pull him into his arms, Jayce's back to Viktor's chest. "Nightmare?"
"Something like that," Jayce says, too mortified to remember that he shouldn't let Viktor touch him. He barely resists the urge to hide his face in his hands. His cock is a soft, sticky mess in his underwear.
"Oh, my poor Jayce," Viktor murmurs, accent heavy with sleep. "Come. I will protect you."
Jayce almost shakes Viktor's arms off. He needs to clean himself up, wash the evidence of his transgressions away. But then, Viktor tugs Jayce's hips back and settles his half-hard cock in the cleft of Jayce's ass. The hot line of Viktor's shaft proves to be thoroughly distracting, and it becomes doubly so when Viktor slips a hand between Jayce's thighs, not stimulating, just holding. A comfortable, grounding weight for Jayce's needy cock.
"My love." Viktor moves his free hand to Jayce's neck, wrapping long fingers around the column of his throat. Not stimulating. Just holding. Possessive. "Is this okay?"
Against all logic, all reason, Jayce nods. It is much too easy to relax into Viktor's presence.
Perhaps, just a few touches are okay, even if it is not just a dream. It feels so good to be touched by Viktor. Surely, something that feels so good, so right, could not be bad. He's never felt this good while awake, before. There is a non-zero probability that I am still dreaming, Jayce thinks, and finds suitable justification in the thought.
The next morning, Jayce wakes up to find Viktor's side of the bed empty. It's all too well, though, because it gives Jayce a chance to stumble to the mirror to document the extent of last night's damage.
Viktor's marks have spread over his cock, covering his tip and shaft and balls with lustrous fingerprints. Jayce shivers. Something about seeing Viktor's markings all over his most personal body part makes Jayce's brain feel a bit fuzzy, but it's nothing compared to the sight of Viktor's fingerprints ringing in a necklace around Jayce's neck.
The marks feel heavy and warm, like a collar.
When Viktor returns to him later that day, Jayce allows the soft kiss that Viktor presses to his neck, right over the marks, and he wonders if it would be such a bad thing to be owned.
The markings become a permanent fixture in Jayce's life. Jayce becomes obsessed with them. Most of the time, they seem to simply be cosmetic, but when Jayce is feeling particularly pent up (which is increasingly often), Jayce swears they throb, teasing him further and driving him insane.
Every day, Jayce's appearance changes as Viktor leaves his marks on Jayce. It's a slow, gradual process. More and more of Jayce's skin blooms with iridescent color. There are new fingerprints on his shoulders, his cheeks, his back. His thighs are painted with a sea of kiss-marks— courtesy of Viktor. Handprints span the entirety of his hips and waist. Pretty, mouth-shaped bruises sprawl across his tits, rendering his nipples puffy and swollen.
It's not a dream, not anymore, but it might as well be. Jayce has dreamed of receiving touches like this from Viktor for years.
Sometimes, Jayce will remember his mission. His Mage. The fate of the Piltover, Zaun, and the universe. But then his markings will catch the light in a particularly glimmery way, or Viktor will appear before him with more soft touches and promises of care, and Jayce's worries fade away like sand in the wind.
There is no need to worry about being touched by Viktor. Viktor is safe. Viktor is comfort, and warmth, and home.
Jayce's marks thrum with gentle pleasure, a reminder. It only ever feels good when Viktor takes care of him. The only thing that Jayce must do is rest, and feel good, and let Viktor's tenderness seep through his skin to stain his very soul.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Viktor says. They're laying together in Viktor's bed. Jayce curls up against Viktor's side. Viktor gently tugs Jayce closer, and a perverse sense of satisfaction blossoms in Jayce's core as he swings a thigh over Viktor's waist, pressing his crotch against Viktor's hips. Somewhere in the past few weeks, Jayce has been possessed by the sudden desire to become one with Viktor, to crawl into his skin and live there.
"Being this close to you makes me feel good," Jayce says, drawing circles on Viktor's bare chest. Viktor cards gentle fingers through Jayce's hair, and he shudders with pleasure. "I feel… pretty."
"You're beautiful." Viktor offers Jayce a tender kiss to his temple. Jayce's eyes flutter shut. The Arcane seeps into his skin in the shape of Viktor's lips.
There's a silence. Jayce settles into it, content to laze the rest of the day away in their bed, only for a nagging sense of apprehension to slice through the peace. He tries to quiet it by nuzzling into the curve of Viktor's neck, but the action only intensifies Jayce's growing dread.
A creeping sense of foreboding rises deep in Jayce's gut.
Something isn't right.
Jayce is in Viktor's arms. Jayce is being touched by Viktor. The anxiety that oozes through Jayce's core should not exist. And yet, his thoughts race. His heartbeat kicks up. All through it, Viktor remains none the wiser, only continuing to stroke Jayce's hair.
Jayce wracks his mind. Something is wrong. Something is deeply, terribly, wrong, and Jayce cannot seem to place a finger on it.
Jayce assesses his situation. Viktor's body is warm and firm and perfect against his. Viktor's subtle scent saturates his nostrils. Viktor fills his vision, glorious and beautiful in the morning light. Jayce tucks himself closer to Viktor, letting his lips brush against Viktor's neck, and tastes Viktor on his tongue.
Suddenly, Jayce's stomach drops. He pauses. Takes a deep breath. Listens. Really listens.
For weeks, Jayce has existed with the constant chirp of alarms in the back of his mind. Viktor's touch muffled them, yes, but they had been there, singing their warnings into Jayce's brainspace and beating their wings against the cage of Jayce's skull.
But when Jayce listens, there is only complete, damning silence. Ten thousand dead canaries.
"Jayce?" Viktor says, and Jayce flees from of bed, ripping himself from Viktor's embrace. The markings that cover every inch of his body glow, sending waves of warmth through Jayce, but Jayce doesn't let them console him. He can't.
"Stay back!" Jayce's vision goes dark. He clutches at his head. Faceless demons surround him, and he whimpers, curling into a ball. He feels Viktor approaching and curls further into himself, moaning with dread. "Stop, stop, stop."
"Oh, my darling," Viktor croons. Slowly, so slowly, he reaches for Jayce. Jayce is helpless to stop him. When Viktor's fingers make contact with Jayce's face, the waves of warmth that rock Jayce's body deepen, growing rich with pleasure and comfort. "It is okay. You recognize me, do you not? It is me. Your Viktor."
"Viktor," Jayce squeezes his eyes shut. His body arches toward Viktor's, unbidden— a flower to a false sun— then pulls back. Jayce rocks back and forth, torn between his dying survival instinct and the man who would ensure Jayce never had to worry about surviving again. "No, Viktor, please, no."
Jayce doesn't know what he's begging for. All he knows is that something is wrong, and it has to do with Viktor. His Viktor, whose touches make him feel better. His Viktor, who holds him gently and makes the voices in his head disappear. His Viktor, who feels wrong and right all at the same time.
"It is okay, Jayce. You are okay," Viktor soothes. "Healing is not linear. This is simply another facet of it."
"You're not healing me." Jayce trembles, threatening to shake apart.
"I only want what's best for you, my love."
"Don't call me that."
"What? My love?" Viktor tilts his head. Blinks. "But it is true. You are my love."
"No, I'm not."
"Of course you are," Viktor says. He reaches for Jayce's hand, and Jayce lets him take it. Viktor rubs a gentle thumb over the kiss marks on Jayce's knuckles. The rest of the markings on Jayce's body sing in tandem with Viktor's touches, coaxing Jayce down from the ledge. "I have always loved you. I still do. We are partners."
"Not like that. We were never partners like that. You never— you never wanted me. You don't love me, even now. Especially now." Jayces feels lost. Unmoored.
"Jayce, you must understand. I did not deserve you, back then. I was young, and weak, and foolish. But I am different. Better." Viktor pulls Jayce closer, pressing their foreheads together. He cups Jayce's cheek in a tender palm, wipes the tears from his flushed cheeks. "I am finally worthy of you."
"You were always worthy. Not just of me. Of everything." Jayce screws his eyes shut. The Arcane stirs within him, flowing through Jayce's marks and bathing him in doting, easy pleasure. If Viktor keeps touching him like this— so gently, so kindly— Jayce might— well, Jayce might— Jayce stops that train of thought in its tracks. Whispers. "You weren't perfect, Viktor. You were you. And that's why I loved you. I wanted to give you everything."
"And you still can, my love. I'm right here. I love you now. I want you now. Give yourself to me, and I will make you the happiest person alive. I swear it." Viktor's hand presses against Jayce's chest. "Have I not shown you how it feels to be kept by me?"
"Feels so good when you touch me," Jayce says, the now-familiar words slipping from his tongue.
"Yes, my Jayce. It already feels good when I touch you. Imagine being loved by me," Viktor murmurs, dreamlike. His hand sinks into Jayce's chest, pressing through skin and fascia and muscle. Jayce's lungs seize as Viktor runs a palm over his ribs, playing along the curves of the bones.
"Viktor—" Jayce draws in a sharp breath, back arching as Viktor presses deeper, beyond bone and sinew, and into the aching cavern of Jayce's chest.
Gently, tenderly, Viktor curls his fist around Jayce's fluttering heart and squeezes.
"This beats for me," Viktor says. Jayce's heart flutters, as if in response.
"Yes," Jayce gasps. His jaw hangs slack. The familiar sensation of Arcane influence diffuses into Jayce's heart. It weaves itself into every electrical signal, every twitching muscle fiber. Viktor withdraws with one last, teasing stroke, and Jayce feels the fingerprints Viktor leaves behind.
"Keep me," Jayce whispers in the aftermath. His heart trembles in his chest. "Love me. Please."
"Oh, Jayce." Viktor smiles. "You only had to ask."
Viktor's love feels like warm skin, silk sheets, and sloppy kisses.
"You are a vision," Viktor says. "Beautiful. Lovely. Precious." He presses his lips to Jayce's skin in between each word, his lips sweet and drugging as wine.
A low thrum of arousal crawls over Jayce's skin. The markings on Jayce's skin resonate with it, intensifying the sensation, and Jayce's legs fall apart, allowing Viktor to slot their hips together. Jayce's cock rubs sweetly against Viktor's, leaking pre-cum over their throbbing shafts.
"They're kissing," Jayce says, voice thready.
"So they are." Viktor nuzzles Jayce's nose. "Here. Spread your legs a little more. Let me inside of you. I promise you'll feel good."
Jayce obeys. Arousal sings in his veins as Viktor kisses down his body. New lip prints appear in Viktor's wake. Slender fingers press at Jayce's entrance right as Viktor laves one last, sloppy kiss to the tip of Jayce's cock, letting the saliva drip down his shaft to wet his needy hole.
"Doesn't your body feel good?"
Jayce nods. His body does feel good, especially where Viktor touches him. As if reading his mind, Viktor pushes his finger into Jayce, stroking along sensitive walls. Jayce can feel the evidence of Viktor's touch. The Arcane swirls within him, leaving pearlescent fingerprints on his sensitive walls.
"And it feels so good to be loved by me, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Jayce moans, loud and loose, and humps back against Viktor's hand. "More, Viktor. More, please, it's so good."
Viktor obliges, adding another finger next to the first. He's gentle with Jayce— much more gentle than Jayce needs.
"More, more, more," Jayce pants. His hole throbs. He's so empty. The Arcane markings within him burn, demanding more stimulation, more friction, more heat. Jayce trembles with the sweeping force of his need. "Please, I need you to fuck me."
Hunger flashes in Viktor's eyes, revealing a shadow of something dark beneath his doting facade. "Who am I to deny you, sweet boy?"
Viktor lines his cock up with Jayce's pouting entrance. Twin groans echo through their room as Viktor sinks in slowly. Jayce's hole unfurls for Viktor eagerly, welcoming him inside with a few lavish, loving squeezes.
"Your cunt is so perfect," Viktor growls. His cock carves a space for itself out of Jayce's insides, settling heavily in Jayce's gut.
"It's not a cunt," Jayce says. Now that Viktor's bullied his way inside of Jayce, he seems… different. His tongue is sharper, his touches more possessive. Jayce isn't sure if he likes it. The ghost of his self-preservation screams at him to get out, to escape. Soon. Before he is no longer capable of it. Something very bad is looming on Jayce's horizon. "Viktor, I don't know if—"
Viktor lavishes Jayce's cock with a few decadent caresses, and any protests Jayce might have wanted to voice die on his tongue. His hips twitch up into Viktor's hand with every upstroke, grind down on Viktor's cock with every downstroke. Jayce drowns in it, the bright bliss that threatens to drain him of his sanity, and tries to focus on finishing his sentence.
"Not a cunt," is all Jayce can manages between lewd, drooling whines. He wiggles his hips, trying to get more of Viktor's thick cock inside of him.
"But it's so hot," Viktor says. He gives an experimental thrust, and Jayce loses his train of thought with a high-pitched whine. "Hot, and tight. Just like a cunt."
"Y— Yes, but—"
"You are a very lucky boy, aren't you?" Viktor interrupts gently. "You have a nice big cock, and a sweet little cunt, and they both want to make you feel so, so good."
Viktor draws a single finger down Jayce's spine, tracing down to the small of his back. Something within Jayce shifts. A sudden surge of wetness trickles from his achy hole.
"There. Now your hole leaks just like a real cunt," Viktor says, satisfied.
"I— I guess it does," Jayce agrees, hesitant. His hole— his cunt— throbs at the admission, spits out more wetness.
"So wet already," Viktor purrs. "Do you feel yourself leaking for me, darling?"
"Mmhm," Jayce hums his affirmative. Viktor is right. Jayce is leaking. His head feels all fuzzy. The world tilts and sways around him. "'m all leaky."
"Lovely. This is your resistance, Jayce," Viktor says, fingers dripping with fluids. Jayce leans in, hypnotized by the way it shines on Viktor's skin. "This wetness. Let it drip down your thighs. Let it soak my cock. You'll never be able to resist me again. Don't you want that, my love?"
"I— I don't know, Viktor, I—" Unease continues to build in Jayce's gut, creeping down Jayce's spine, but he can't tear his eyes away from the way his— his slick coats Viktor's fingers. The sight makes his hole clench, forcing another wave of wetness from his— fuck, his cunt.
"I know it's confusing, my love," Viktor coos. "But you just need to listen to me. It feels good to be wet. The wetter you are, the better you feel. The better you feel, the wetter you become."
"I— oh, fuck!" Jayce gasps a breath as another spurt of fluid soaks Viktor's perfect cock. It— it feels good, like Viktor said. So good. And it's making him wetter, which— which makes him feel better. Jayce's resolve softens. He wiggles his hips, clenching helplessly around Viktor's shaft. Yet another flood of slick dribbles from his hole. It's changing Jayce, making his head weird, but he can't stop.
Jayce's cock throbs and spits out a glob of pre-cum, adding to the mess. Fuck. Is that his resistance, too? It feels so good. It must be. He circles his hips again, and his body responds with delight, spurting more fluid from his cock and cunt.
Something small but critical to Jayce's autonomy dissolves in the depths of Jayce's mind. His breaths come in heavy gasps as it trickles down his spine, lighting up every pleasurable nerve. He squeezes his thighs together, trying to keep it inside, but it's no use. Viktor's cock holds him nice and open, and the key to his autonomy leaks out from between his legs in a surge of wetness that soaks Viktor's cock.
The pleasure scares Jayce. He's exposed and vulnerable and overwhelmed. But Viktor's here. Jayce simply needs to listen to Viktor and feel good.
"Viktor," Jayce mewls, anxiety fading as his cunt continues to drool. His mind goes foggy, and his perspective shifts with a great, juddering crack! that sends a frisson of pleasure through his leaking cock, which spits out a dribble of pre-cum, which makes his mind foggier. It's a vicious cycle, draining Jayce of his resistance and replacing it with pleasure.
"What is it, my love?"
"I'm so wet," Jayce whimpers. Any hesitance he once harbored has all but disappeared. Only arousal remains in its place. "I love it. Don't wanna resist you, Viktor, wanna be sweet. Make me wetter, let me drip my brain out for you, let me leak and leak and leak it allll out—"
A mean, victorious smile slashes across Viktor's face. "There's my Jayce."
"Your Jayce," Jayce repeats mindlessly. "Touch me more. Make me yours."
"You have always been mine," Viktor says. "And when I am done, you will be perfect."
Viktor places the tips of his fingers against Jayce's forehead, stroking over the skin there delicately, but it's Jayce who seals his own fate, forcing himself down onto Viktor's corrupting fingers.
It's like nothing Jayce has ever felt before. Viktor's fingertips breech Jayce's skull with a pornographic squelch. The flesh of Jayce's brain envelopes Viktor's fingers, and Jayce's very soul cries out in orgasm, writhing at the brutal stretch of his gyri around Viktor's knuckles.
"Oh, Jayce," Viktor murmurs, petting over the grooves of his brain. "You have been so tormented. A victim of senseless pain."
The first wave of pleasure fades, but the second one soon begins to approach. Jayce begins to panic as he realizes that Viktor is not stopping. He doesn't know how to handle more without breaking.
"Wha're you doin' to me?" Jayce slurs as his eyes roll back into his head, unable to focus through the onslaught of sensations.
"Do not be afraid. You will never suffer again." Viktor's clever fingers nuzzle over the weak, vulnerable grooves of Jayce's mind, leaving addictive, unadulterated pleasure in their wake. "Can you feel me in your head?"
"Yeah," Jayce says. His jaw hangs agape, and string of drool trails from the corner of his mouth.
"How does it feel, darling?"
"G-Good," Jayce moans.
"Perfect," Viktor coos. "Perfect, perfect boy."
Viktor reaches between Jayce's legs. His cock throbs in anticipation, but Viktor only gives it a few short strokes, just enough to milk some precum from Jayce's oozing slit, giving Jayce a deep, devastating thrust.
"You've been so good, Jayce. Such a good boy, all for me. Doesn't it feel good to be nice and open for me? Doesn't it feel good to let me in?"
Does it? Jayce doesn't know. Jayce can't seem to form a coherent thought.
"I— I don't know," Jayce stammers. His hole— his— his cunt— flutters around Viktor's cock. Leakier. Wetter. More obedient.
"Silly boy," Viktor says, his tone so fond that Jayce nearly blacks out. "Of course it feels good. But it's so hard to think, isn't it?" Viktor coos at the way Jayce's tongue lolls out of his slack mouth. "I know it feels good to be brainless. So empty in your pretty head, and so full in your cunt." Viktor says. "So good, doesn't it, Jayce?"
"Yeah," Jayce says, the word tilting up like a question, but a wave of pleasure crashes over him, so bright and intense that he nearly orgasms on the spot. Again.
Fuck. Fuck. If this is how it feels to agree with Viktor— if telling Viktor yes brings Jayce so much ecstasy that his mind melts, then maybe Jayce doesn't need to do any thinking. Maybe Viktor can just do all the thinking for him, and he can just listen and agree. "Yes, Viktor, it's so good—"
"Good boy. You don't need to think. Let the pleasure fill your mind, my love. It feels good not to think. It feels good to do as I say." Viktor smiles at Jayce, sinks his fingers deeper into Jayce's frontal lobe. "It feels so, so good to obey."
"Feels good," Jayce mumbles, eyes rolled back in his head. Another pulse of pleasure, another rush of stickiness coating his thighs. "Feels so good to obey."
"Perfect boy," Viktor says.
Jayce spasms. Orgasmic bliss floods his mind. When he recovers, Viktor is still speaking in that soft, low tone.
"— a good boy for me, and good boys obey. Good boys don't need to think—"
"'m a good boy. Obey. Don't need to think," Jayce slurs.
"—yes, Jayce, good boy. You're listening so well. You feel so good when you listen. You feel so good and relaxed when you obey. Let your pretty cunt control you, let your cock control you, just like that—"
"Pleasure controls me," Jayce moans, relaxing into Viktor's insistent petting. "My cunt controls me, my cock controls me, it feels so good—"
"That's right, sweet thing. And who controls your cunt and cock?"
"I— I don't know."
"That's okay, my love. Your brain is so empty right now, isn't it? That's why I'm here— to fuck it nice and full of good things." Viktor presses a sweet kiss to Jayce's temple. "I control your cunt. I control your cock. And they control you."
"So you control me," Jayce says, wonderingly. Something clicks into place in Jayce's psyche. His trance is broken by a moment of blinding euphoria. Jayce gasps, overcome by the sensation. His back arches as pleasure floods his every nerve. "It feels— Oh, Viktor, it's good, it's so good when you control me, I feel so good—"
"Smart boy," Viktor rewards Jayce with a lovely little nudge to his prostate, a delicious little rub to his brain. Jayce writhes. "It feels good to listen to me, doesn't it?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Jayce cries, mind drowning under syrupy pleasure, and is rewarded by something even sweeter— Viktor's beautiful smile.
"Perfect boy." Viktor bounces Jayce on his cock, once, twice, before grinding in deep and settling there, letting Jayce's soft walls cling tight around him. Arousal fogs Jayce's mind once again, wrapping him snugly in its hypnotic embrace.
Jayce is so wet. He keeps getting wetter. He can't resist Viktor. He doesn't want to resist Viktor. He just wants to keep getting wetter and wetter, wetter and wetter— "Keep listening, my love. Keep learning. Let me fill your mind. You'll feel even better, I swear it."
Jayce gazes dopily at Viktor, letting him mold his mind with pleasure. A sweet, stupid smile pulls at the corners of Jayce's lips. "Feels good to obey."
"It does, doesn't it?" Viktor smiles, looking particularly vicious, particularly victorious. He rolls his hips, voice taking on a distinctly teasing tone. "Should I continue?"
"Yes," Jayce gasps, barely comprehending anything beyond the hot stretch of his hole around Viktor's cock. "Yes, Viktor, keep going, feels good to listen, feels good to obey—"
"I'm not sure, Jayce. I don't know if you really want it. Are you sure you don't want to stop and consider your options?"
"No!!!" Jayce doesn't want to think. He doesn't want anything but pleasure by Viktor's generous hand. "Please, fuck my brain!" Jayce wails. His eyes roll back into his head, and Viktor barks a high, victorious laugh before plunging three fingers deep into Jayce's skull, his Arcane power already buzzing at his fingertips, ready to cement Jayce's conditioning deep into his psyche.
The ecstasy, when it comes, is pure and blinding. Tears leak from the corners of Jayce's eyes. Jayce is reborn and remade anew under Viktor's all-consuming touch, and his vision goes white as he screams his deliverance to the world.
When Jayce returns to consciousness, Viktor's cock is still swollen and heavy inside of him. Viktor's hips move in a smooth, seductive grind, forcing Jayce to feel every inch of his shaft as it drags against Jayce's puffy, oversensitive walls.
"Welcome back, my love," Viktor murmurs, hot breath ghosting over the shell of Jayce's ear.
"Unhhhh," Jayce opens his mouth to speak, but a particularly indulgent thrust of Viktor's hips sends the words tumbling from Jayce's fucked-dumb mind. "Viktorrrr."
"What have you learned?" Viktor slips his fingers back into Jayce's brain, massaging at the newly-formed connections. Jayce's neurons sing with joy, lighting up with every rub and stroke of Viktor's fingers.
"I'm good," Jayce moans, stumbling slightly over the words. The rest of his mantras fall into place smoothly and without issues. "I'm so good, and I obey, and it feels good to obey you, because obeying you makes me feel good, and I'm—"
"Good," Viktor says. Jayce's world lilts sideways at the praise. "Continue, sweet thing."
"I'm your good boy, your sweet boy, and I love you, and you love me too, and that's why you own me, that's why it feels so good to obey you—" Jayce nearly chokes as Viktor eases his fingers deeper into his brain, stroking the mess of sensitive flesh.
"Continue," Viktor says again, petting Jayces' sensitive frontal cortex. The pads of Viktor's fingertips nuzzle sweetly against Jayce's suggestible mind, and his Arcane influence creeps along the sensitive brain matter. Conditioning. Corrupting.
Jayce's eyes roll back into his head, as if to watch Viktor shoot ropes of thick, creamy pleasure straight into his skull. "Don't mind me, sweet boy. Keep repeating your lessons. Let yourself feel good."
"My cunt controls me," Jayce slurs the words, tongue made clumsy by bliss, "And you control my cunt. My cock controls me, too, and you control my cock. It feels so good to be controlled. Wanna obey you forever, need it, need to obey you, feels so good to obey, feels so good to be full of you and your words and your cock—"
Viktor curls his fingers in Jayce's mind, slipping just a bit deeper. It's as if Viktor is searching for something, and Jayce gasps as the pads of Viktor's fingers prod at something too weak. Too vulnerable.
"Viktor—"
"Relax, Jayce. This will feel good. Better than anything you have ever felt in your life." Viktor smiles, and Jayce can't help but smile back as his limbs go heavy with relaxation. Viktor massages gentle little circles over the softest, most important part of Jayce's brain, and Jayce lets him, shivering at the oversensitivity. "Just a moment, allow me to—"
Viktor curls his fingers up and pulses them, assaulting Jayce's weak spot with delicious roughness, and Jayce shatters. With every thrust, Viktor's lessons sink deeper and deeper into Jayce's psyche, cementing them into the fiber of his very being. Jayce will never return to the way he was before this, but he isn't scared. Not anymore. Not when Viktor has taught him how good it feels to be changed.
"Yes, Viktor," Jayce moans without abandon. His body jerks, cock spitting ropes of thick seed over his abdomen as his cunt leaks messily beneath it. "G—good, so good, thank you, fuck, oh, Viktor, thank you!"
"Good boy," Viktor murmurs, rubbing deep, firm circles into Jayce's vulnerable mind as he shivers through the aftershocks. "Just a little more, my love. Let me show you what it truly means to be mine."
It's over too soon. Viktor's fingers withdraw from the deepest recesses of Jayce's brain with a lewd squelch, as if Jayce's brain is clinging to the digits, begging them to stay and fuck it more. Lucidity returns, and with it, a growing neediness. But the neediness is quickly overshadowed by a sheer joy that consumes Jayce whole.
Jayce is… happy. For the first time in a long, long time, Jayce is happy.
"You fixed me," Jayce realizes, awed. Viktor smiles at him, radiant in his benevolence. Jayce wants to drink the grace from Viktor's lips, so he does, brushing a gentle kiss to Viktor's mouth. "I— I feel happy. I— Viktor. Viktor, you make me happy."
"Of course, Jayce. You love me." Viktor draws Jayce into another kiss, deep and drugging. Jayce loses himself a bit, cradled gently in the cage of Viktor's arms. When Viktor pulls back, it's only to press his forehead against Jayce's. "And I love you."
"I don't think I have ever been this happy in my life," Jayce confesses. It's true. Even when Jayce thought he was happy before— inventing with Viktor, pursuing his life's dream— he simply hadn't known this all-consuming a euphoria. This is his new life's dream— his new purpose. He exists to let his body control him, and his body exists for Viktor to control. He exists to obey Viktor, to carry the pleasure with which Viktor deems fit to bless him.
Jayce… Jayce exists to be loved by Viktor, and to devote his life to Viktor in return.
"I am also happy," Viktor says. "You are more perfect than I could have ever imagined."
"Only because of you," Jayce says. The new smattering of fingerprints on his forehead— vestiges of Viktor's touch, evidence of his delicious, perfect control over Jayce— thrum in agreement. "Thank you for teaching me. For— for changing me. You made me perfect, and now I— I get to be your good boy, I get to obey you, forever—"
A spark of pleasure bursts through Jayce's mind, derailing his train of thought. It pulses and pulses, orgasmic, and Jayce is helpless to resist its siren song. He is so lucky, he thinks, that Viktor has gifted him this limitless ecstasy.
"It was of no consequence," Viktor brushes a strand of hair from Jayce's face, warm and tender, while Jayce's head swims with unbounded pleasure. This, Jayce thinks, is what it feels like to be loved. He never wants it to end.
He rides out the gentle high for what feels like hours, enjoying the way that the pleasure acts as a soothing balm for his battered consciousness. Once it abates into a manageable thrum, Jayce refocuses to find Viktor still speaking. "I had every confidence in you. You are a uniquely beautiful man, Jayce, both in mind and in body. That is why I chose you to remain by my side."
"Partners," Jayce says, soft and sure. Whenever Viktor speaks, Jayce's very soul aches with delight. It feels so good, so perfect, to listen to Viktor. To obey Viktor. Only Viktor. Jayce slumps into the cradle of Viktor's embrace, letting wave after wave of that delicious bliss wash the remnants of lucidity from his mind. The vestiges of Jayce's resistance leak in a slow, steady drip from his aching cunt. "That's why we're partners."
"Of course, my love," Viktor says. His smile is beautiful, radiant, indulgent— a cat that holds a canary in its bloody maw. He cards a hand through Jayce's hair, playing with the strands before curling his fingers back into Jayce's brain, back where they belong. Viktor sinks the pads gently into pliant, welcoming tissue, not to change anything— Jayce is already perfect, has already been made anew— but simply to have, to hold, to lavish Jayce with the pleasure he so deserves. Jayce moans, overcome with renewed ecstasy, and Viktor drinks the sound from his lips with a note of sick finality. "Partners."