Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This is my bedroom,” Viktor’s eyes sparkled as he opened the door and Jayce blushed, still jittery with nerves. He hadn’t expected the invitation. He hadn’t expected Viktor to see past the work to Jayce’s fascination.

“Here is how it will go, Jayce,” Viktor’s voice was so soft. His tone so even, so confident. He was sure in even this, even something as frighteningly intimate as this, and Jayce was both in awe and embarrassed by his own comparative nerves.

He swallowed, trying to take everything in. It was tidy enough, but not pin-neat. The desk was so cluttered with papers and pens that it seemed impossible to work on, and the smell of ink overpowered all other smells. Viktor always smelled like ink too.

The room smelled like Viktor.

“Jayce,” His eyes snapped to Viktor’s and, abruptly, Jayce realized he’d been getting lost. “You have how much experience with these matters?”

He swallowed again, words paper-dry on his tongue.

“I... I’ve...yeah?” he said, and blushed furiously because it sounded so juvenile. “I’ve done things—fooled around,” he hurried to add, fearful that Viktor would think he was too inexperienced, too much work, and decide against this little... experiment.

“You... hah,” Viktor’s smile was everything, “Yes, Jayce Talis, you are a brave man. I like this about you perhaps the most.”

The heat crept from burning ears to the crown of Jayce’s head at the praise, even as he recognized the shadow of admonishment in the words. Brave was a cousin to foolish, and Viktor surely saw his naïveté.

“This time, I think, you will listen to me,” Viktor eased himself into a chair with a tall back and gestured for Jayce to sit. The options were sitting on the bed (too loaded), moving Viktor’s things off the ottoman (too presumptuous), or sitting on the floor on the corner of rug at Viktor’s feet (horrifyingly appealing). That was... That was impossible. He couldn’t do that. He frowned, eyes darting between the bed and ottoman, until Viktor tapped the ottoman with his crutch and Jayce moved the pile of books with the distinct feeling that he’d failed some kind of test.

“Take this off,” Viktor indicated Jayce’s coat, and his fingers were suddenly clumsy at his buttons. How could Viktor say things like that and seem so cool?

The rounded edge of Viktor’s shoe sole lifted until it could tease the gap between Jayce’s slouching sock and the hem of his trousers, and rather suddenly all conscious thought fled him. His whole world narrowed to the concentric rings scuffed into the leather, the scars of Viktor’s limping gait over Piltover’s pavement. These shoes told a story and Jayce’s fingers lingered at his collar where they waited for his brain to catch back up.

He wanted to take Viktor’s shoes off and press his lips to the arches of his feet. He wanted to massage Viktor’s legs until he was too loose to even think about walking. He wanted to stay here, in Viktor’s room, just like this forever.

Viktor had invited him here to “play,” which Jayce understood might mean “fuck,” but might not. He understood that, at least to some extent, Viktor wanted him to find it all sexually... something. Gratifying, maybe? Relevant, certainly. Jayce’s brain was completely aware that it was okay to be aroused by the way Viktor’s toe toyed with the hem of his pants, brushed the wiry hairs on his legs, but embarrassment coiled tight between his ribs when Viktor’s eyes dropped to his lap. Viktor could see.

With a private little smile, Viktor scraped his shoe up Jayce’s calf again, teasing and testing, and he said, “How do you like my bedroom, Jayce?” But Jayce found no words. “It is very nice for me, but for you, I think this will not be so...comfortable. Take this off.”

Jayce tried to force his fingers to cooperate, move, he wanted to shout, because they just kept tripping where they should have been sure. Viktor hummed appreciatively when Jayce finally negotiated his way out of his shirt.

“Incredible,” Viktor chuckled, almost to himself, “You strive to convince others to listen with your words,” he mused, “But if you stood like this before the council, surely you would have their full attention. So beautiful.”

The words were a sweet sting—Jayce craved their truth, but how could they be anything but idle flattery? He wasn’t fine and soft and lovely. He lacked Viktor’s milk-white skin, its inverse night sky freckled and speckled with constellations of little black moles, the vellum-smooth skin on his thin hands and wrists as soft as silk stretched over stone. Jayce was so... functional by comparison.

He made an unhappy sound, disagreement humming through his body.

“I think I would like to see more,” Viktor mused, and again it was almost like Jayce wasn’t there, “I think I would like to be the only one who sees these things.”

His eyes were so warm when he said it, so playful. It was all just a little game, and it was like Viktor was inviting him to be in on it. There was something restless in Jayce, unsure of how to play this game. What if he was supposed to do something? Shouldn’t he be doing more? Viktor had invited him here, he’d said they were going to “play,” and now Jayce was sitting here like a big dumb lump struggling to take his shirt off, and...

“Maybe I should—”

“We discussed some rules,” Viktor cut him off with a tone that was all conversation and no anger. “This is, I think, a good time to begin.” His toe hiked up the hem of Jayce’s trousers and then pushed his sock lower, revealing more ankle. More rough skin.

The flush that rushed through Jayce was intense enough that he broke out in a fine sweat, a shiver riding its back up his spine.

Rules.

They’d spoken about rules before. Plenty of times, actually. It was Viktor who had been awkward about it at first, reticent to discuss his bedroom habits with a colleague, afraid of Jayce’s judgment and censure, but that’s how he’d described. After weeks of conversations that danced past the topic, after careful signaling that Jayce wouldn’t be offended by any revelations, Viktor had said, “Ah, I like... rules,” and it had set some hidden gear turning in Jayce.

The clockwork of his heart would stick on those words, curious and apprehensive, because what did Viktor mean?

Was it foolishness or bravery that moved Jayce to ask about it one night as they leaned against the railing of a high balcony, all of Piltover sprawled before them? What possessed Jayce to ask, “What kind of rules?”

No talking.

Jayce had thought it ridiculous at first because he loved talking to Viktor. He loved making Viktor smile, making him laugh, taking the conversation off in some silly direction when Viktor was too worried and watching the tension melt away.

At first, it had seemed like a terrible loss, but now, with the hard toe of Viktor’s shoe toying with a band of exposed skin at his ankle, Jayce understood it. He was glad for it. He didn’t seem a fool struck dumb when words failed him even in his own mind. No. Here, under Viktor’s rules, his silence was...

You must obey me.

His silence here was obedience. It made him good. When Viktor told him to take off his shirt, he took off his shirt; when he told Jayce to sit, he sat. There was no room for questions, just action, and at first, Jayce had thought it would be a shame not to get to do as he wanted. After all, he was sure he could please Viktor. He had an impressive curriculum vitae (and he was certain that he could produce references if pressed)—he was a generous and attentive lover.

These moments, these flashes he felt of things he should do for Viktor, were false. Would Viktor want him to kiss his feet? Massage his calves? Bury his face between Viktor’s legs until he forgot his mouth could be for anything else? Would it be too much? Would he push too quickly or ask too much? Would Viktor want to be penetrated, or would he only wish to penetrate? Or neither? Jayce could hunt down the clues in the minute responses of Viktor’s body, certainly, but Viktor didn’t want that.

Viktor wanted Jayce to obey, and so, Jayce had no need to chase down a thousand wayward thoughts. And so a thousand wayward thoughts floated past him, just so many leaves on the river, and Jayce witnessed their passing with a strange feeling that curled and uncurled in his chest.

“And what will you say,” Viktor’s forearms were crossed over his knee, his hands hanging like bells, and his toe kept teasing Jayce. “If you want to stop, Jayce?”

They’d talked about this too, and again, Jayce had found the thought alien and intimidating. A word to stop Viktor, because Viktor might want to make him beg for it to stop. It was just a bit... Jayce didn’t want to be narrow-minded, but it was hard to avoid the fact that he was the son of a smith in both build and toughness, and Viktor looked like he might snap if he sneezed too hard. As charming as it was that Viktor thought he might somehow overwhelm Jayce, it was a bit ludicrous.

It was exactly the kind of ridiculous worry that made Jayce think perhaps Viktor’s care extended beyond a colleague or “play partner.”

“Boat,” Jayce whispered, trying to ignore how the world seemed to shrink until Viktor took up every bit of space, until Viktor seemed huge.

“Good boy,” Viktor tipped just a little further forward and let one of his hands drape over Jayce’s knee. “Now, Jayce, no more talking.”

Such a simple rule, no talking, but at first it was hard. Viktor told him to get up and take his shoes off, and when Jayce lost his balance, when he caught himself on Viktor’s knee and Viktor hissed, he couldn’t say, “sorry.”

The weight of Viktor’s game registered when Viktor, still fully dressed, still perched in his armchair, said, “The rest, now, if you please,” and gestured toward Jayce’s socks and underwear with a lazy flick of his long fingers. No talking was the only salvation he had from whatever stupid babbling would have come out of his mouth, flustered and nervous and stripping naked in front of Viktor who watched him with intent. He was so, so still, like none of it was affecting him while Jayce felt wobbly and off-center. Jayce felt hot even though goosebumps lifted each wiry hair across his chest, his arms, his thighs. He had to consciously choose to close his mouth.

“Here, now, Jayce,” Viktor shifted back in his seat and spread his legs, and Jayce would have loved to sink gracefully to his knees, but his coordination was gone and he couldn’t get down easily without taking his hands away from his dick and he was really fucking hard, so he just stood there. He just stood there while Viktor’s eyes, smirking little hearth-fires, licked over his warm body.

“Come, Jayce,” he said, an edge of amusement in his voice, “Don’t make me wait,” and Jayce pinched his legs together, half-folded over himself, and tottered to the floor. Like this, he could hide the worst of his nakedness, because Viktor was still dressed. Viktor didn’t seem to be responding like Jayce was at all. It was very possible that Viktor had been serious when he said that he wanted to “play,” and that “play” didn’t mean “fuck,” and if that was the case then Jayce’s arousal wouldn’t be wanted.

He tried to will his dick down, to think about history lectures or his grandpa, but nothing worked. Viktor shifted again, and Jayce was acutely aware of every hair on his body, every shift in the air. He felt electrified.

Viktor’s toe nudged Jayce’s knee. It tried to poke into a space too thin for even a coin, and Jayce tried to shuffle back, away from the harbor between Viktor’s thighs. Cold fingers caught his chin.

“There are rules, Jayce,” Viktor kept saying his name. Every sentence, every order, every observation, like a spell. Maybe it was a spell, because each time Viktor said it, it was like another thread tied him down, lilliputian ropes that would soon become inescapable. For an insane moment, Jayce wanted to fight against them, if only to be sure he couldn’t get away. If only to be sure Viktor had him.

Instead, he nodded and drew a long shaky breath, allowing his knees to be parted. Allowing Viktor to draw him in until movement more than a centimeter or two would press his cheek against Viktor’s legs, to smooth his hands to rest on the tops of his thighs. From this near, he could smell Viktor, the scent of him filling Jayce’s senses like a sleepy ocean, like a thunderstorm.

“Ah,” Viktor leaned back, tracing the outside of Jayce’s calf with one toe, fingers falling back from Jayce’s brow, “The most beautiful sight in all Piltover, and it is mine alone.”

Jayce blushed and dropped his eyes, and Viktor encouraged him to lean his cheek against Viktor’s thigh.

“Good boy,” Viktor’s mouth pulled at the corners, an almost smile, and Jayce could swear the room was vibrating. With a lazy stretch, Viktor picked up a book, something small with a pale green cover, and Jayce’s chest became tight. He tensed and Viktor clicked his tongue and soothed him back down. Cool fingers against his cheek, his ear, his jaw. Cool fingers on his lips, on his bottom lip, stroking.

“I will read,” his finger became more insistent, and Jayce had been so focused on keeping his mouth shut that for a long moment he didn’t realize what Viktor wanted him to do. When he finally let Viktor in, his first instinct was to suck or lick or somehow show Viktor that he was willing, but Viktor pulled back and turned the page of his book with a dry finger, and returned to petting Jayce’s head.

“Open for me, Jayce,” Viktor’s finger returned to his lips, and Jayce obeyed and reveled in the warm hum of approval.

Viktor could turn the pages of his book with his thumb, reading one-handed so he didn’t have to take his fingers out of Jayce’s mouth, and Jayce’s mind slowly stilled. There was a restfulness to this, kneeling here at Viktor’s feet while he stroked long fingers over Jayce’s tongue, while he lazily fucked Jayce mouth. Until this moment, with Viktor’s fingers tracing shivery lines along the ripples of his palate, the edges of his gums, the softness of his tongue, Jayce had never considered that his mouth might be so sensitive.

Now it was all he could think about.

From time to time a string of drool would land on his hand and slide down, painting cold lines over hot flesh. From time to time, Viktor would trace the weeping line of Jayce’s cock with the cold edge of his shoe, and Jayce would shudder to the sound of Viktor’s amusement.

Jayce’s mind was smooth, clear. Reflective. Like a pond allowed to still, unperturbed by ripple or wind. He floated on the sensations of hot and cold; the heat of his cheek against Viktor’s thigh, the cold trails of his saliva drying on his hand and leg, the heat pooling in his belly, the cold edge of Viktor’s shoe against his dick. The radiator knocked and rumbled, then went silent, then growled to life again, and again went silent, and Viktor’s fingers slid in and out, mapping the inside of Jayce’s mouth like it was all they’d ever wanted to do.

If somebody had told him he’d be about the most relaxed he ever was while kneeling naked between the knees of a man who was ignoring him in favor of a book, Jayce would have laughed them out of town. Now, though, his eyelids felt heavy.

The fingers in his mouth retreated and Jayce realized, in a sudden wave of anxiety, that Viktor had been speaking. To him. Viktor had been speaking to him, and he’d just... How had he not noticed?

“... feeling good. Such a lovely mouth, you have, Jayce, so warm, so inviting. Ah! But I could stay here all evening, but you would not be satisfied with this, I think.”

No. That wasn’t true at all! He would be satisfied with that, he would—

“No, no,” Viktor’s tone was that of an indulgent parent, a gentle admonition, “No talking, sloneczko moje. Ah, look at those eyes! Stay here,” Viktor said, and then he stood.

And Jayce was alone, his thoughts coming back to him but still too slippery to hold. He blinked several times, hard, as if to clear his eyes, and against the tops of his thighs, his hands balled into fists. What the fuck was he doing?

He heaved a deep breath, and it was like he hadn’t actually filled his lungs in ages. The muscles of his back stretched with it, and he wiped saliva from his chin, blindsided by the sudden shame he felt when he noticed it.

Viktor returned with two towels, one hot and one dry, and he shooed Jayce’s hands off when he wiped Jayce’s face and hand and leg. His dick had wilted a little, and Viktor hummed in acknowledgment when Jayce flinched back from his touch.

“I think you didn’t like when I walked away,” Viktor’s fingers were cool where they carded through Jayce’s hair, no longer warm from his mouth. “Serce, forgive me. You are such a good boy, but I want to make you cry.”

That made no sense, but Jayce didn’t ask Viktor to clarify. He didn’t ask anything because no talking was still the rule. His mouth felt strange. He wanted Viktor’s fingers back.

“Jayce,” Viktor picked up Jayce’s hands and traced over the lines in his palms, sensitive and ticklish. “Do you want to keep going? It is already late, but I am... Hah,” he chuckled, “I am quite taken with this side of you, this side of you that falls so easily. I would like to see more.”

Jayce blinked again, several times, and tried to get his head on straight. The world was still a little swimmy, and his tongue felt too big.

“If we stop now, I am not disappointed,” Viktor elaborated, “If we go on, it will be half an hour and no more.”

Jayce didn’t want to be sent away yet. The very thought was wounding somehow, which was silly because they hadn’t even actually done anything.

“Stay?” Jayce asked, and he knew it was the right answer. Viktor’s eyes were so warm. His hands were so gentle on Jayce’s face.

“Good,” Viktor smiled and lay the dry towel on his seat before resuming his place. “Now, take off my shoes.”

There was something profound and meditative about taking Viktor’s shoes off. The delicate task of untying the knots, the work of loosening them far more than he’d loosen his own shoes so they would slide off without resistance, the careful measuring of angles so he never put strain on Viktor’s ankles. He set the shoes aside and then ran his thumbs down Viktor’s stocking feet, tracing his high arch on the left, the odd curl of his right foot.

He had to slide his hands up Viktor’s calves to reach the garters keeping his socks secure, and he marveled at the gnarled muscle in his legs. The impression formed in Jayce’s mind as he rolled Viktor’s socks away that Viktor had to work so hard. It seemed unfair.

He massaged gently until Viktor scratched behind his ear and said, “Thank you, Jayce. Now, come here.”

The radiator clanged to life again as Jayce shuffled again into the warm corner between Viktor’s legs. This time he couldn’t keep his eyes from Viktor’s lap, the irrefutable evidence just beneath his fly, the small patch of wetness where he’d leaked precum right onto the thin fabric.

Viktor didn’t let him ponder it long, running one toe, so warm now that it was naked, up the ticklish inside of Jayce’s thigh, into the crease at his groin, then down to brush his balls.

“Take me out.” The order hit Jayce like a punch. Some hysterical piece of him wanted to say, “thank you,” but he wasn’t supposed to talk. Instead, he obeyed and admired Viktor. His cock was long, the foreskin pale and delicate, soft as rose petals, and the head was damp and pink. Just like the inside of my mouth, Jayce thought, and he blushed at the symmetry of it.

He planted a kiss on Viktor’s shaft, and Viktor hummed in appreciation, then stole a little kitten lick just to taste it. He had to know what Viktor tasted like, but this time Viktor flicked his ear.

“Now, now, impatient boy,” The words were chastising, but Viktor’s voice was amused. He sounded pleased. “I want to see you cry. You will look so beautiful.”

With a gentle hand, Viktor brought him forward until Jayce could press a kiss to his head, slip his lips around it just to hold it heavy on his tongue. He wanted to bob his head, to feel the slide of Viktor’s foreskin, so soft and thin over his steely shaft. He wanted to make Viktor shout in ecstasy and squirm, but he was supposed to obey and Viktor’s hands were telling him to stay still.

They told him to ease forward. Viktor didn’t want a back and forth, but a long slide in and in and in. When Viktor hit the resistance at the back of Jayce’s throat and he gagged, he expected Viktor to pull back. He tried to pull himself back, but Viktor’s grip was strong and he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Jayce squirmed in discomfort and Viktor’s toes slid up his length again. He’d been hard so long. He needed to come so badly, but first he needed to back off of Viktor’s cock. Another gag forced Jayce’s whole body tense and Viktor reached a hand under his chin to massage his throat.

“Swallow, Jayce,” he said, “I know it’s hard, but it will help.”

He did, but mostly because Viktor’s firm massage against his throat was triggering some warring reflex. It was hard to breathe like this. He swallowed again. The bridge of Viktor’s foot was pressed against his dick. Jayce didn’t know what to do with any of the sensory information.

“Ah! Good, good, yes, Jayce,” Viktor smeared a tear across Jayce’s cheek and he realized he was crying. The gagging had surely made his face red, he must look terrible, but Viktor said, “You are so beautiful, I am always right in these things. I would have you like this every day!”

Jayce’s dick throbbed with the praise, and between his legs, Viktor’s foot slid against it, mimicking the rhythm with which he pulled Jayce’s head back and forth, back and forth, a hypnotic pendulum that reciprocated ad infinitum. There was resistance. It was hard. It hurt going that far, bullying through the resistance and bruising the back of his throat and Jayce loved it. He had to focus, had to catch little breaths on the upstroke, swallow on the down, stay still even when Viktor slid his foot up and took him between his toes and squeezed.

Jayce whined, high and worried, and Viktor groaned or sighed or something—he sounded like he was being undone. It was perfect. More importantly, it was replicable. He hummed when he could, experimenting with pitch, the low vibrations slower, rumbling through his chest, high shaking his sinuses. Through it all, Viktor was so controlled. He murmured a steady stream of praises, telling Jayce he was so good, so beautiful, he felt so marvelous, he was glorious, and Jayce believed it. There wasn’t enough room in his brain to question or doubt, not when every thought revolved around breathing. Not when Viktor’s thumbs slid against his tear-wet cheeks.

Viktor stilled, only resting on the tip of Jayce’s tongue, and Jayce frowned. He didn’t want to be finished. He wriggled his hips against Viktor’s foot, desperate for friction.

“Take two deep breaths for me, now.” Viktor massaged Jayce’s scalp and Jayce struggled to obey. Viktor’s foot was still against him. He wanted to be good. (He wanted to come.) “I am very close, milosc, and you are going to take me all the way,” he illustrated with a firm stroke to Jayce’s throat and Jayce moaned. It was going to be hard.

Fuck.

He forced himself to breathe deep, forced oxygen into his lungs, into his blood, because it was going to be the last for a little while. How long could he hold his breath? Even that thought tightened the spooling arousal in his body, brightened the burning embers.

“Good,” Viktor’s lips were so red—had he bitten them? And his eyes were so dark. He pulled Jayce forward and rubbed his throat and Jayce tried to keep his mind calm when he hit the resistance. He swallowed and felt Viktor pushing in and swallowed again and he couldn’t breathe anymore. “Good,” Viktor said again, and Jayce preened. He worked his tongue as much as he could manage even as Viktor began thrusting into his throat.

Focus.

Focus.

He ground himself against Viktor’s foot, cool and wet with precome, chasing his own pleasure even as Viktor chased his. Even as his vision began to fizz at the corners and his lips and fingertips began to tingle. A desperation seized him, an urgent need to come, and he reached a hand down and began to jerk himself, fast and tense and aware of Viktor’s toes curling against his belly, sliding down to his thigh.

Viktor shouted, a single triumphant syllable, and came so far in Jayce’s throat that he had no choice but to swallow and keep swallowing. So deep that he didn’t taste a thing, and he would have regretted that if he could think of anything but his desperate need to come.

The world darkened at its edges, Viktor was coming, and Jayce finally, finally reached the peak. He shook with it, unable to make a sound around Viktor in his throat, painting Viktor’s shin and his fist with stripes of come, and it seemed to go on forever. It seemed like it would never stop. He couldn’t see anything, it was so intense—

Viktor was on the floor with him and he was retching, gasping for air, sobbing on every possible exhale until the sob devolved into coughing. The panic that had bided its time sunk into him all at once, once the danger was passed, and Jayce clung to Viktor’s legs like a drowning man to a spar, and all the while Viktor spoke to him.

When, by and by, his reaction subsided and Jayce sniffed, embarrassed, and reached to wipe his face, Viktor cupped his cheeks in cool hands and pressed a kiss to each cheek. He prodded Jayce into bed—into his bed—and cleaned the mess from his face and hand and belly and dick. He folded Jayce into warm blankets and encouraged him to wrap an arm around Viktor’s waist. His mind was too overwhelmed to come up with something to do or say, so instead he went along with Viktor, coughing occasionally.

The intensity didn’t fade right away, so Jayce lay, warm, at Viktor’s side while Viktor read. There was something huge and peaceful that had taken up residence in the space that Viktor cored out, but at intervals, Jayce found himself crying. It was strange. It felt strangely safe.

He slept, and then he woke, and his body felt more relaxed than it had in years. He blinked up at Viktor and reached out to feel the green cover of the book. Viktor was still reading it. It was such a thin book.

“How are you feeling?” Viktor asked.

Jayce blinked but didn’t open his mouth.

“Ah, not ready to talk yet?” Viktor’s eyes sparkled, “I am very good at knowing these things. You do not have to talk.” His fingers continued to play through Jayce’s hair, tracing tickling paths through it.

“It is an epistolary,” Viktor explained, one hand still trailing shivery lines up and down Jayce’s spine. “Two lovers kept apart by pride and politics, and yet yearning for each other. Such fools they are, to let petty things come between them, but I think I am this kind of fool too. I like to think myself king of my heart, but one day... Ah, I fear one day this throne shall be too thorny, or perhaps I too thorny for this throne.”

Jayce nodded, though he didn’t understand. He just liked the sound of Viktor’s voice. He liked the warmth, the drowsy glow, the ache in his throat.

“I am a man of stubborn weaknesses,” Viktor lifted Jayce’s hand to press a kiss to his palm and Jayce felt the warmth of it traveling up his heavy arm. “If the time comes, I hope you are the one to strike me down.”

After a while, Viktor coaxed some lukewarm tea into Jayce, and then some cookies. It was strange coming back from that peaceful headspace into a place that was noisy even when the radiator was silent.

“You slept so peacefully,” Viktor said when Jayce balked at the time, “I could not make myself wake you.”

He would have worried, but Viktor seemed so pleased with him that Jayce found it impossible to mount an offensive against himself. Instead, he dressed slowly. His clothes felt so cold after so long spent in Viktor’s bed—Viktor’s bed!—and he marveled at how the peace seemed to cling to his mind. There were plenty of things to worry about, but his mind was too relaxed to hold on to the worry.

“Look at you smiling,” Viktor gestured for Jayce to come nearer, his leg brace was off and walking to Jayce would be a hassle, and Jayce loved that he could do this for him, loved that he could make some things easier.

“How will I ever play with anyone else? I have tasted perfection and now...” A wry grin and an eloquent gesture with his fingers finished the sentence, and Jayce blushed. He let his cheek fit into Viktor’s palm so Viktor could kiss his forehead before he left.

“Finish your sleep, lovely boy,” Viktor said, “And I will see you in the lab.”

“See you tomorrow,” Jayce said, and blushed when he realized that there was no way his voice would be back to normal by tomorrow. Tomorrow, when the rule wasn’t no talking, everybody would know.

Well, shit. Maybe tomorrow would be a no talking day too.

Chapter Text

Viktor had said, “Jayce.”

He’d said, “Jayce, I would like to hit you,” and Jayce, for a moment, couldn’t make his mind work.

He stood, motionless at the workbench, hand tools and fine notions scattered all around, and Viktor said his name again, “Jayce,” casual as you please. As if he hadn’t just said something absolutely scandalous in the lab. As if Jayce were just nodding off over his work after yet another late night.

Only several dry swallows had finally dislodged the terrible question stopping his throat, “Did I do something wrong?”

The answer had been no. Jayce simply had an ass that begged for it, and Viktor wished to indulge it.

The thought, at first, was repellent. For several weeks, it lurked at the edges of his mind, a prowling beast of a thought. It demanded his attention yet evaded examination, too alien to hold. What could Viktor possibly get out of that? But the way Viktor had said it, the way his cheeks grew just a little pink, the way his lips pulled into a coy, knowing smile... It almost, almost, made Jayce want to consider it.

But Jayce didn’t want to be hit. He didn’t want to be hurt. He wanted nice things, he wanted soft kisses and the feather-caress of Viktor’s fingers, the warmth of his legs bracketing Jayce’s face, the taste of him thick and heavy on Jayce’s tongue.

He wanted nice things, and yet... “Serce, forgive me,” Viktor had said once, “but I want to make you cry.” And he had made Jayce cry. He’d bruised Jayce’s throat, left him sore and hoarse and blushing furiously any time he had to speak with anybody. He’d swallowed and relished the pain of it, but...

That was the problem, wasn’t it? He liked the reminder, but he was afraid of the pain. Viktor didn’t press the issue, but Jayce found it everywhere he turned, a worry stone in his pocket. Letting Viktor fuck his throat had been different. It had hurt, but Viktor had taken care of him, he’d led Jayce through it. And it had been overwhelming and painful and intensely erotic. Just the thought of it instantly got Jayce going, the memory a staple lately whenever Jayce took matters in hand.

“What if I can’t handle it?” Jayce asked when he finally realized that perhaps it wasn’t the pain he feared after all.

His worries had, for days now, revolved around embarrassment. What if he didn’t measure up to the others—and surely there were others— Viktor played with? What if he made a spectacle of himself and Viktor never looked at him with that hungry look again? But for all his fears, Jayce was a man of science, and the spirit of scientific inquiry demanded answers. And as a man of science, he had a duty to discover, didn’t he?

He’d chewed the idea over night after night, rehearsed this exact question, and still, asking Viktor over a hasty lunch in the lab was terrifying.

“What if you hit me and I’m not...”

“Pah!” Viktor scoffed. “If I am hitting you, then I am responsible. You must only stay still and be good, and even that I can help you with.”

Open-mouthed, Jayce hardly noticed when the food on his spoon fell onto the bench before him. His thoughts had stilled, afraid to move. Some dam in him had cracked, a small fissure that threatened to burst, that sudden realization that he wanted it. The fear and anxiety and confusion had been drop cloths all along, hiding beneath them a hunger. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt, but he wanted Viktor to help him take it. He wanted to do this for Viktor.

“Prosce,” Viktor could not sneak to save his life, but he still surprised Jayce with a hand between his shoulder blades. “This is not something I need, just something I want. You do not have to—”

“I want to,” Jayce’s voice was thick.

Viktor’s answer was a purr in his ear, as warm and heavy as the hunger in him. “You will be beautiful.”

“Did you like it?” Viktor asked, stroking his finger down the pale green spine of the book.

Jayce laughed and shook his head, not quite embarrassed but near it.

“I think I’m better suited to non-fiction.”

“Sloneczko,” Viktor leaned his weight on the desk beside Jayce, filling Jayce’s personal space like it belonged to him, the corners of his eyes creasing in that way that they did—like they’d been made for smiling, “I think you are better suited to poems.”

Jayce could feel the flush crawling him from ankles to ears like a cat fleeing floodwaters.

“Glorious,” Viktor purred, “Radiant, beautiful boy.”

Jayce blinked and felt suddenly terribly stupid.

“Do you remember what tonight is?”

Did he remember what tonight was? It was...

Oh.

He must have made some stupid face, because Viktor chuckled, all warm and dark and amused.

“I see you do, moje, so I will take my book and you will go get ready for me.”

Jayce’s eyes went wide and his face burned—how could Viktor just say things like that? Like it was nothing! Like he wasn’t ordering Jayce to... get ready for him. They’d talked about a lot of things, and Viktor hadn’t made any promises, only given a long list of possibilities and let Jayce veto the ones he knew he didn’t want.

How could he be so casual after what they’d talked about?

Jayce listened to the click of Viktor's crutch and the creak of his brace retreating into silence for a long moment before he worked up the courage to move.

"The rules will be different today."

Viktor hadn't offered Jayce a drink when he arrived, which meant that the game was starting. Jayce sat on his ottoman, not yet ready to sink to the floor, and nodded.

"You may speak as much or as little as you like."

Upon receiving permission to speak, Jayce found himself speechless. A nervousness curled in his belly, an uneasy sense that he would fail to please, that he would be a disappointment. If he was allowed to speak, what if he said something that Viktor hated?

"You will obey me, of course," Viktor rested his teacup delicately on its saucer, a precise, two-handed feat that he only ever did when they spoke like this, in the cocoon of his room before a scene. "You will respect the intention of this game. Tell me, Jayce, what is my intention?"

They'd been over this. Jayce knew, though it still made his stomach do things when he thought about Viktor's words, always so carefully chosen. He licked his lips, mouth dry.

"You want to hurt me, but you don't want to harm me, so I have to tell you if I think something is wrong." Jayce found himself staring at Viktor's hands, long and slender, carefully trimmed nails. He could feel their phantom touch on his tongue, touching the inside of his mouth like it was all just more territory to explore. "I have to stay still. It's fine to be a little afraid in the beginning, but the point isn't to scare me, so I should say something if it’s too... “ Jayce frowned. He knew he had to say it, but he didn’t like it. “If I’m too scared, then I need to tell you."

A slender index finger traced the lip of the cup, painting a drop of tea across the edge like it had painted lines of saliva across Jayce's mouth, down his chest, across his cheek. Jayce licked his lips and then blushed when he saw Viktor’s gaze linger on his mouth.

"My sweet, frightened creature," Viktor said, his voice smooth as butter. He traced his fingers along Jayce's jaw, then rested them on his bottom lip. "Do you want to be good?"

Yes. Jayce's lips parted, hit tongue poked out to taste tea and salt on Viktor's fingertip.

"And what do you say if we must stop?"

Jayce hated this part. He hated having to say it, like Viktor didn't trust him to remember the word "Boat." Like he needed one in the first place, like he didn't trust Viktor.

"Big clever man with your big clever brain," Viktor slid a finger into Jayce's mouth and Jayce sucked on it automatically. "I can see the gears, always turning and turning. Take your clothes off and put them on the table.”

Viktor’s desk was tidy today, and his bedspread was smooth. A length of rope was wrapped neatly on the center of the bed, and it held Jayce’s attention as he opened the overabundance of buttons on the clothes he’d chosen—and why on earth had he picked something with so many buttons?

“Look at your hands,” Viktor pointed out, and Jayce focused harder. He hadn’t thought the clumsiness was that noticeable. It was so hard to start—even though he knew the game would be... if not something good, then at least something worth doing, something he wanted to know about himself. It was just that the embarrassment and uncertainty were always so much.

“Ah, there it is,” Viktor drawled, eyes playful as he ran his finger around the rim of his cup, and Jayce finally shed his shirt. “This, I have waited to see all day. Beautiful. The rest, now.”

There was something about being naked while Viktor was fully clothed, that sent currents of racing, electric aliveness across his skin. Something about it heightened the sense of...something. It made the soft fog that stole over Jayce’s brain thicker and quicker. It demanded an awareness that Viktor held the power, and in that awareness was a refuge from the storm of worries and thoughts. Viktor was responsible, Viktor would decide what to do. Viktor would protect the vulnerable thing that Jayce spent so much of his life wrapped around, and Jayce could just let go. He could focus on the sensations. The brush of Viktor’s shirtsleeve against his bare shoulder. Fine wool pants against bare feet.

Viktor’s clothing was soft with wear, but the rope wasn’t. It was a rough hemp, half the width of his finger. To Jayce’s surprise, when Viktor tied it around his wrists slack enough not to endanger his circulation, the rope wouldn’t slide over his skin, instead sticking in place firmly.

It was a constant prickle, and the sensation hooked into Jayce’s attention and dragged him down. His thoughts slowed. It was just them. Just Jayce holding his hands out, naked on the bed, while Viktor wrapped the rope into thick cuffs around his wrists. Just the sound of Viktor’s breathing, the way he bit the side of his lip when he concentrated. Just the almost-itchy grab of the rope against his wrists, the press of it into his palms.

“Now, Jayce, here is how this will go,” Viktor waited for Jayce to look at him before continuing. “This rope will go here—” he wrapped it around the head of the bed and tugged until Jayce reached his bound wrists almost to the headboard and braced against it.

He was held now, kneeling. The rope pressed into the backs of his hands, rough but not too rough. Viktor pressed the ends of the rope into his hands.

“You will hold this in your hands. If you let go, the rope will come undone, and we will be done with this part, and I will take care of you.”

At that, Jayce wrapped the loose end of the rope several times around his hand, and Viktor chuckled, a rich, warm sound. Jayce liked that sound. Jayce really liked that sound. He tried to follow Viktor’s movements only to find that, bound as he was, he couldn’t comfortably track Viktor when he stepped away from the bed.

“We will start with this one,” Viktor purred, and something cool tickled along Jayce’s back. He knew what it was—it was a flogger and Viktor had said that it wouldn’t be terrible. The sensation was almost like a towel, a slight roughness and a definite weight, and Jayce tried not to tense because he wanted to be good. “I will strike you with it three times, and then we see how you like it.”

The weight of the many tails lifted and then they came down with a noisy slap on his ass. Jayce flinched hard, hands fisting around the rope and heart pounding, before he processed any sensation at all. It was... It was shockingly mild. There had been a feeling of weight, but hardly enough to warrant the sound, and at the edge of it just the tiniest prickling sting. He blinked several times while Viktor petted his flank.

“One-two, now,” Viktor said, “Very quick, and then we think about it.”

As promised, the flogger struck him twice in quick succession, once on each side of his ass, and then Viktor’s hands were on him, a cool counterpoint to the warmth that followed the flogger’s tails.

“Now, Jayce,” Viktor stroked his back, and Jayce relaxed, “How did it feel?”

“It was fine,” he offered lamely. He’d been pretty nervous about it, and it all seemed like it was for nothing. It didn’t really hurt.

“Was there pain?”

Jayce nodded and licked his lips. “A little, but it wasn’t... It wasn’t bad.” That was true, wasn’t it? It wasn’t bad. Even the fact that it hurt a little was alright because it was Viktor, and Viktor always took care of him.

“Alright, very good!” Viktor moved back—Jayce wondered if he was comfortable kneeling like he was behind Jayce—and took up the flogger again. “We keep going until I think you have enough. A little harder this time?”

Jayce nodded and Viktor hummed his approval and the tails again fell. This time the thud of it hitting him was more pronounced. Not truly heavy, not actually painful, just very present. The edges, though, were a different story. They crackled and stung, starry pinpricks of light, little sparks that burned quick and faded from memory.

The flogger fell again and again, a heavy swing that caught Jayce’s ass with its edges and then a cool hand that wiped the pain away like chalk off a blackboard. The sting was growing. At first it had been this distant, tiny flash and now it was like he could see it more clearly, a spark that intrigued Jayce. Breathing deep and trying to relax into it, Jayce examined the pain. With each thud, his curiosity grew.

The rhythm of strikes had become predictable and certain, and Jayce breathed with them. The thump of the tails was starting to add up to a dull, bruisy feeling, and the sting wasn’t fading anymore, even as Viktor’s hand smoothed over warming flesh. It was coming into clearer focus, even as Jayce felt a familiar cottony softness filling his brain and a staticky tingling building in his fingers and lips. The sparkle-fall of the flogger’s tails bit scratchy across the tender flesh inside Jayce’s thighs and occasionally brushed dangerously close to more delicate places.

“Yes! There you go,” Viktor sounded less controlled than usual, like this was exciting him, and even though he wasn’t quite sure about the rest, Jayce knew he liked that. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing right, but the praise had a way of going to his head.

Pleasure was starting to pool in Jayce’s belly, like some wire somewhere had been crossed. He was starting to see why people liked this, it was good. It felt bizarrely safe, and wasn’t that just the craziest thing in the world? Feeling safe because somebody was hitting him? Feeling cared for? He did, though.

With every thud of the flogger, every cool pass of Viktor’s hand, Jayce felt prized, treasured. He wanted to bottle this feeling, this sense that he was doing well, that his efforts were pleasing. All he had to do was stay still, and Viktor would take care of him.

“A little harder?” Viktor asked, and Jayce nodded. Yes. Because he was curious. It was okay so far, and he was feeling good, feeling relaxed, and—

The next strike fell much harder than the others, and Jayce flinched. His whole body tensed and Viktor took advantage of his stillness to get two more licks in, and then, suddenly, stopped.

Viktor was talking, but Jayce’s hearing was gray and fuzzy. Between his legs, his cock was jumping. That lightning strike had done something, it had broken some barrier. The ache and sting that had been dammed up now spilled into some strange big feeling that wasn’t pain and it wasn’t pleasure. It was just body. He was panting with the intensity of it, and if Viktor had asked him if it was good or bad, he would have been unable to answer.

Whatever it was, it was fascinating. The part of Jayce that could still observe himself was puzzled at the way he responded. His arousal was a wonder and a mystery. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Jayce, you are doing so well.”

They were the first words Jayce could focus enough to understand.

“Slonezko moje, how does it feel?”

How did it feel? Jayce’s mind was blank. No words presented themselves. His lips were dry. He stared down the plane of his chest and belly. Stared at the tip of his cock and frowned.

“Does it hurt, Jayce?”

He nodded slowly. It did. It hurt. It was a big, bright, warm ache across his ass and the tops of his thighs. But it wasn’t just hurt.

“Is it hard to speak?”

Yeah. Jayce nodded.

Viktor slid a hand around his body, palmed his belly and then trailed north until he could pinch a nipple, sending another shiver of pleasure right down the center of him.

“Should we stop?”

Jayce thought for a long time while Viktor pressed against his ass. Had Viktor’s pants always been so abrasive? They hurt and scratched now where they hadn’t before. Every press against his ass felt electric. He didn’t want to stop.

When he finally shook his head, Viktor made a long, pleased sound and kissed him between the shoulder blades.

“I want to mark you,” Viktor murmured, and the words sent a shiver through Jayce. “I want you to feel what I did tomorrow and the next day. Can you imagine? Alone in the lab together. I could make you bend over the bench right there and show me.”

Jayce panted. He didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life.

“May I mark you, Jayce?”

He nodded so hard it made him dizzy. Yeah. That sounded really good.

The sensation of something flat and smooth against his blushing ass wasn’t a surprise. They’d talked about this too, the paddle, and Jayce muzzily recalled that it would sting more. Already he missed the brightness of the flogger’s sting. It had faded, and all that was left was cooling memory. He wanted the brightness of it, and he feared the brightness of it. It was a heady combination. Jayce’s head was already stuffed with cotton.

Again, Viktor started very light, a gentle tap tap tap against him that woke up already sore nerves. It glowed with possibility. When the first actual strike came, Jayce hissed, muscles bunching and fingers scraping across the headboard. It was too much. Was it too much? The flogger had hurt, but this hurt.

“What does it feel like, Jayce?” Viktor’s voice. Always Viktor’s voice.

Jayce blinked several times and licked his lips, looking for an answer just beyond the grasping fingers of his mind. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps we should try again.”

Another volley, three warning taps and the big one, a clap that reached Jayce’s ears before the pain reached his brain, and then Viktor’s cool fingers were there, smoothing the hurt away.

He nodded.

Yes. Yes, they should try again. He didn’t know if he hated it or liked it—he just needed to figure that out. Another set and another, alternating sides, wrapping his brain around the brightness of it. Through it all, Viktor maintained his rhythm, continued to separate the volleys by rubbing them out. Those cool fingers were heaven.

Jayce’s muscles shivered, unable to choose between bracing for impact and accepting the final word in each painful sentence the paddle delivered. His ass had been sensitive after the flogger but now it was incandescent. Luminescent. His skin felt like the thin skin of a ripe plum, tight and full and like it might split. It was impossible to think of anything but the glowing ball of pain in his ass and the comfort of Viktor’s hand.

He breathed long and shaky through it while Viktor spoke to him. Thoughts, already hard to chase through his head, became impossible for Jayce. He was just this. Just this huge, buoyant sensation. He was a hot air balloon, floating high, moored by Viktor’s steady hand. Safe with Viktor. Viktor gathered Jayce’s scattered attention with words like “beautiful,” which Jayce would usually reject, but that took more brain power than he could spare. So he was beautiful.

Each hard strike forced a gasp, and each time Viktor rubbed the pain away Jayce sighed it out. It seemed like each breath left him looser until his whole body felt like a thick, wet rope hanging from his wrists. Dizzy swells of sensation rolled through Jayce’s body, aching and fluttering and warm. It reminded him of the radiating heat of a forge, the way its glow warmed and hurt all at once, the burn of it against his forearms while he worked.

The intervals of petting and rubbing became longer, putting more space between volleys of strikes, and Viktor’s voice took on the kind of tone that meant Jayce needed to listen.

“You like this one, Slonezko?” Viktor’s hand never left, smoothing soothing circles over overheated flesh. “Answer.”

“Yes,” Jayce croaked, his voice crackly from disuse. He liked it. He already knew he would want this again. Whatever he had feared from the pain, it hadn’t happened. It rocked him, lulled him, cradled him. It scoured him

The sound Viktor made was rich and pleased, and he squeezed a handful of Jayce’s ass until he sucked air loudly through his teeth. “Very, very good. You have been well-behaved for me. So still, Jayce, so lovely. Are you still liking this?”

Jayce wasn’t sure how to answer that—everything was such an overwhelming tangle of feeling that he could barely tell where he ended and the radiating ache began. Viktor reached a hand between his legs, and cupped Jayce. He relaxed against the ropes, holding on to the headboard as much as the rope-ends in his hands. He wasn’t close, but if Viktor kept touching him like that...

Viktor didn’t. Instead, he rubbed Jayce’s back and sides. Jayce draped against the headboard, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Could he fall asleep like this? The thought was bizarre. For the last... however many minutes it had been... Viktor had struck him and probably bruised him over and over, and here Jayce was, relaxed enough to doze off.

He laughed a little, disoriented. A muffled chuckle against his arm. Behind him, Viktor answered his laughter, a breathy little huff through the nose. Viktor’s private laugh, which he shared now with Jayce.

“Jayce.”

His eyes opened. When had he closed his eyes?

“Do you want to feel the last one?” Viktor’s hands kept rubbing and rubbing, not trying to excite. Touch for its own sake. His hands were so nice.

Jayce nodded. He was tired, but what was one more? The other two had been so strange and so good. He felt so good right now. He wanted to feel the last one. It looked so small compared to the flogger and the paddle, barely a twig.

“Brave boy,” There was an audible smile in Viktor’s voice.

Idly, Jayce wondered if Viktor was hard. Would he fuck him after this? Jayce didn’t think he would mind. He was so relaxed. Viktor might not even need to prepare him, not if he was as loose down there as his limbs and neck.

Something cool and slim rested on his ass. The cool was divine. He already hurt, so this would be like fireworks, he was sure. It would light up his nerves and linger, glowing, over the sky. A sparking, sparkling finale.

Jayce rubbed his cheek on his shoulder. His stubble scraped the skin. What would stubble feel like against his sensitized ass? It was impossible to imagine Viktor’s cheek or chin there, but Jayce tried to imagine the sensation. The divine scratch of it.

Viktor squeezed a handful of flesh, dragging Jayce back into the scene. The cane rubbed him, sawed back and forth. Demanded his attention.

“Not hard, I just want you to feel the shape.” In time with Viktor’s words, the switch began to bounce.

It was a light little tap, like the warning taps of the paddle but so much finer, all concentrated in one place, a high-voltage kick. It wasn’t enough (and when had Jayce begun to think things like that?), and he wanted more. He wanted the sharpness and certainty and the involuntary gasp and wilt of his body, the rhythm that Viktor had imposed on him.

“Viktor,” he mumbled, and Viktor paused.

“What is it?”

Jayce frowned. He just wanted... more. He pushed his ass out, hoping, and Viktor must have understood because he chuckled and swatted Jayce with an open palm, yanking a hiss and then a sigh as Jayce absorbed the sensation.

“Show me?” Jayce managed, his tongue big in his mouth. He didn’t want to have to talk. He wanted Viktor to know already.

“Just one,” Viktor ran his nails across Jayce’s skin, rising from his thigh to his ass where the sensation transformed from a shivery tickle to a deep burn. “Just one and then you can say if you want another.”

He would almost certainly want another.

The switch returned, resumed its tap-tap-tap and then stopped, pressed across Jayce’s ass cheeks, touching both sides. It left, and then there was a swish and a quiet sound of wood-on-flesh, and for a moment, Jayce thought that perhaps Viktor was still warming up because it didn’t feel like much at all.

The empty moment was followed not by the fireworks Jayce had anticipated, nor the sparkling thud of the flogger, nor the deep, radiating ache from the paddle, but absolute fucking agony. It was a pain that shrieked through his nerves, deafening him, ringing in his ears. For a heartbeat, he was frozen, mouth and eyes open, unbreathing, and unable to move.

And then he screamed.

All he could think about was the pain and how could it have felt that bad? He had liked the others, hadn’t he? The others had been good, but this was terrible. The sounds he was making were terrible, but his body was out of his control. He’d dropped the ropes, and thrown himself over on his side, hands hovering near his ass but afraid to touch even though he wanted to check to see how much blood there was, because there had to be blood. Nothing could hurt like that without splitting the skin, and he could just see it in his mind’s eye; his ass, purple as a plum, split open across the middle and bleeding everywhere.

Anything else was impossible.

For minutes that felt like an age, Jayce was trapped in that pain and in his own head, afraid and hurt and feeling strangely betrayed, though by Viktor or his own body, he wasn’t sure.

“No more, skarbie.” Viktor was beside him now, rubbing firm circles between his shoulder blades with one hand and one in Jayce’s hair. Both empty. “No more. Slow, slowly, come, take a breath.”

Viktor had told him to, so Jayce fought his spasming lungs, forced air into himself and exhaled a long, miserable sound. Again and again, at Viktor’s urging, he breathed until the tide of agony receded to reveal a deep humiliation. He’d thought he was so strong, so tough. He’d thought he could take it, but he couldn’t, and he wanted to apologize, but he just couldn’t make his mouth cooperate.

He finally worked up the courage to feel where the switch had split him, and felt only smooth, hot skin, raised up in a long welt. No blood. He was crying over nothing.

Perhaps worst of all, Viktor kept calling him brave, strong. He wasn’t. He’d freaked out at a little pain, and now that he wasn’t in the middle of it, Jayce could see clearly that it was just pain, now that he knew Viktor hadn’t actually hurt him. He tried, at first, to disguise the crying fit as coughing, but that was foolish—Viktor knew. He always knew.

He drifted on a strange swirl of emotions, letting Viktor dictate his breathing with those big, slow circles on his back. His mind stilled again long before his body, his breathing the last holdout once the rest of him had let go. The pain was still there, big and hot and pressing on the edge of his mind, but it wasn’t oppressive. It was... almost comforting. Viktor had planned ahead this time. He didn’t have to leave the bed, though he did groan with the stretch and reach, to produce a cool, soft cloth with which to clean Jayce’s face.

Jayce tried to take it, but Viktor just shooed his hand down until his arm draped over Viktor’s waist. He was still dressed. That thought, that thin string, was all Jayce could hold on to as Viktor washed away the tears and told Jayce to blow his nose. At that, Jayce laughed wetly, and Viktor ruffled his hair.

I’m okay. He wanted to say it, but words were hard, and Viktor seemed to have things under control. It was fine.  He sighed deeply when Viktor drew a blanket up over Jayce’s shoulders, artfully avoiding his surely-bruised ass, and adjusted until he could drape a knee over Viktor’s ankle and touch the buttons on Viktor’s vest with clumsy fingers.  

“Do people really like the last one too?”  Jayce asked when, at long last, words bubbled to the surface of his fuzzy mind.

“Some love it,” Viktor answered, as if he were commenting on the weather, “Some like far worse things, some like to draw blood, but this is not for me.”

“Do you like the last one?”  

There was a silence and Viktor’s fingers faltered for a moment in their stroking.

“I have liked it with some,” Viktor chose each word with care, “I did not like how it was for you.”

Jayce thought on that as Viktor freed himself from Jayce’s grasp.  Jayce protested the abandonment, and Viktor flicked his ear, pressed a kiss to his palm.  

“It is time to eat something,” Viktor didn’t look back, striding the few steps into the modest kitchen, and Jayce stole the opportunity to press fingers to the skin of his ass.  It felt smoother than before, the skin hot and tight.  There was a deep ache, like he’d been bruised, and a surface-level sensitivity that made any touch feel overwhelming.  Viktor must have noticed, because he came back with a bowl of fruit and a piece of toast, he had a hand mirror.

It was a bit of an engineering feat to get Jayce upright enough to comfortably eat without having to touch his ass to the bed, but they managed it with quiet laughter.  

“Jedz,” Viktor smiled and lay the mirror down beyond the food, “Then you can look.” 

“You were quiet today,” Jayce mumbled into Viktor’s thigh, unwilling to move even the littlest bit, head in Viktor’s lap.

“I was worried,” Viktor scratched his nails through Jayce’s hair and the sensation cast a shivery pleasure down his spine. “It was the first time, and I wanted it to be good.”

“It was good.”

“It was too much.”

Jayce wanted to disagree. It had been good. Even with barely an hour of distance from it, Jayce knew he would want the flogger and the paddle again. Only the switch had been too much.

“We can do the good parts again,” Jayce didn’t want to get up, but he turned his face enough that his words would be clear, “We can, right?”

“First you rest,” Viktor pressed fingers into the muscle near Jayce’s spine and Jayce groaned at the lazy pleasure of it. “We talk after.”

Jayce frowned and licked his lips. “I liked the flogger and the paddle,” he insisted, even as Viktor’s hands sought to soothe the words away from him. “I want to... We could do... things... with those again, right?”

Viktor drew his fingers up Jayce’s neck, the pressure loosening Jayce until he sighed and closed his eyes.

“Stay here,” Viktor said, “rest here tonight and let me look after you.”

“Flogger next time,” he mumbled.

“Brave, impossible boy,” Viktor’s finger traced Jayce’s ear just as it had traced the rim of his teacup, “For you, of course.”

That was what Jayce wanted to hear, and he turned his face against Viktor again. This was the part where he got to be cherished and babied, and Viktor had said he liked it too.

“Prosce, moje, rest.”

Chapter Text

The game was new, but the rule was simple. At least, that was what Jace had thought at first. No touching. It should have been nothing. Jayce wasn’t some teenager trying to beat off every moment a door was closed, turned on by a too-saucy expression in a portrait or a squash that curved just right. In fact, when Viktor had run his long fingers over Jayce’s chest, tracing his work, Jayce had thought he’d probably forget the game within a few hours. It wasn’t like he was constantly touching himself anyway.

It was hubris, it turned out. He’d thought it would be easy, and it wasn’t.

Jayce tried to draw a deep breath, forcing his focus to the intricate construction on his lab bench. Behind him, Viktor’s pencil scratched. He tabulated number after number, vast tables for comparisons. Nacent graphs illustrated emerging trends, but nothing could be certain until Viktor had gone through all the data, and it would be a while. They were alone in the lab today. Nobody else was here. Nobody else...

Jayce licked his lips and adjusted his loops, magnifying the fine machinery, tensing the gears in an attempt to see where the sticking point was. Every breath was shallow. His nipples were hard. He was sure that even if somebody walked in, nobody would notice, not under his shirt and apron. Nobody would know, but Jayce could feel how the ropes hugged him with every breath. They were constricting and constant, they reminded him of Viktor’s fingers.

Shit.

Viktor wasn’t even here! He was off discussing hexcore maintenance with the engineers today, and here Jayce was, struggling to focus while Viktor surrounded him. The rope up near his neck was tight, pressing down onto muscle with the firm insistence of Viktor’s fingers, and the rope at his ribs shifted subtly when he breathed like when Viktor would rest a hand over Jayce’s side while reading in bed. He needed to figure out what was wrong with this stupid mechanism, and instead all he could think about was Viktor, Viktor, Viktor!

Viktor probably would have liked that.

Jayce licked his lips again, blushing at the memory of Viktor’s serious face, his serious fingers tracing every line of the chest harness. “You are beautiful before, skarbie, but with this one...” He’d blushed. Jayce could still see it so clearly, the way pink tried to swallow his freckles. “You don’t touch this until I let you.”

Jayce traced the shape of it under his clothes. He wouldn’t touch it until Viktor let him.

Despite his best efforts, there was no hiding his overwhelming arousal when Viktor entered the lab. He struggled for a moment with the door—balancing his cane, a stack of papers, and the key was three tasks for two hands—but before Jayce could make himself useful, Viktor strolled in, set down his papers, and opened a book.

Jayce stared at him.

“If you do not begin to work,” Viktor mused, “Somebody might think you are unwell...”

He glanced over his shoulder at Jayce, and Jayce couldn’t make himself move.

Jayce breathed and felt how the ropes changed their squeeze on his inhale and exhale. How they made his shoulders want to pull back a little, rather than the instinct to hunch forward over his bench.

“Come here, Jayce,” Viktor beckoned, and Jayce’s whole body unlocked, effortlessly moving to Viktor.

Where he belonged.

The thought struck Jayce like lightning, like the blue crackle of hextech energy. He gasped when Viktor’s hand reached out to rest on his hip, cool and steady. His eyes were assessing, and Jayce felt deliriously naked under that scrutiny. The blush coloring his cheeks radiated heat, and Jayce dropped his gaze.

“You have worked for two and half hours,” Viktor’s eyes roamed, and Jayce realized with a start that they were tracing the patterns of the rope under his shirt. “This is too much?”

Jayce shook his head. It wasn’t too much.

“I like it,” he croaked, voice thick and disused.

“What do you like about this one?” Viktor asked, thumb rubbing small circles over the point of Jayce’s hip. Soft and constant. Distracting.

Jayce licked his lips, searching for words.

“It’s like... I like how it holds me?” Jayce hoped he made sense. “It makes me think about it—about you—all the time. I can’t stop.”

Viktor smirked, deep lines of amusement in his thin face.

“You like this?”

Jayce bit his lip and huffed a little laugh out as he nodded. He really liked it.

Viktor’s approval was everything. It was radiant.

“We will talk after you wake up,” Viktor hedged, “Handsome boy... If you still like this one then? Then perhaps we do a little more.”

It wasn’t the first time Viktor had suggested something that made Jayce’s stomach drop. In fact, most of the things Viktor suggested that caused Jayce to balk initially were things he ultimately enjoyed. Something was different about this, though.

“But...” Jayce tried to keep his cool, tried to speak only loud enough for Viktor to hear but none of the other diners in the little cafe. “There would be people there.”

“You like this thing,” Viktor countered, making his fingers shrug elegantly. “And nobody will see this. Nobody will know about this except for you, and except for me.”

Jayce’s heart raced.

They’d gone out a couple times, a rope harness discretely hidden beneath a shirt and waistcoat and jacket. It was a terrible little thrill, and Jayce was always absolutely gone for Viktor when, at long last, they were alone and Viktor could order him out of his clothes and touch his body. The first time, Jayce had been sure he’d come without so much as a finger on his dick.

He still wasn’t sure if he liked it—it terrified him the whole time—but he loved how Viktor babied him afterward. How Viktor would retell their date to Jayce, the beautiful unfamiliarity of Jayce as seen through Viktor’s eyes. A strange, lovely mirror held up to the softest parts of himself.

There was a contradictory sense of peril that wrapped between his ribs, a sense that things would go terribly wrong and that a no matter what, Viktor would keep him safe. He wasn’t ready to agree, but he felt his acquiescence sneaking up on him, readying to pounce.

“What if I can’t take it?” He asked, an Viktor’s hard gaze eased.

“Then, I will say I am unwell,” Viktor said, rubbing his palms up and down over Jayce’s sides. “And I will take you home, and I will help.”

Jayce tried for a moment to imagine it. Viktor taking care of him.

“You wouldn’t let anybody…”

Viktor’s eyes grew serious, his mouth a tight line.

“Nobody,” Viktor reassured. “I do not want to share you, even in so small a way, and that is not something you want either, I think. This is only for you to feel and for me to know.”

Jayce swallowed and nodded.

Okay.

It would be okay.

It was so much more than okay.

The monthly university market was ideal for the kind of play Viktor had planned. It was a sensory extravaganza, with love music and haggling voices and the crackle of magical fires. The smells of food frying and roasting and baking warmed Jayce, and he grinned as Viktor led him, holding his arm as if seeking support, through the stalls. It was the first time Viktor had tied a harness that strung between Jayce’s legs, and though his clothing was more than concealing, he felt the intimate threat of it acutely.

With a near-invisible gesture, one that would look like a small, friendly touch, Viktor could worry the crotch rope. It wasn’t enough to get Jayce hard, but it was more than enough to make him intensely aware of his own vulnerability. His helplessness.

The market edge spilled all the way to the water, and Viktor pointed, fingers sharper than his voice, when he asked, “They have a boat.”

For a moment, Jayce didn’t comprehend. And then, suddenly he did, and he hadn’t known it was possible to admire Viktor more. But that was Viktor, wasn’t it? Showing Jayce the impossible.

“I think if you want to see this boat, you will pull twice on my arm,” Viktor explained, and Jayce blushed to hear him speak so plainly about their safe word in public. “It is, perhaps, a bit noisy for me to hear, so you show me this way, tak?”

Jayce nodded and Viktor smiled.

“You want to see boat now?”

Jayce shook his head, laughing nervously. Blushing. He didn’t want to say too much lest Viktor think he needed to stop. He didn’t want to stop.

Viktor held up a slip of paper, a signal for Jayce to lean close to hear. The ropes squeezed when he did, hugging, almost biting. He blushed and looked at the paper, which had several old calculations on it.

“Already so quiet, niunia,” Viktor teased.

The endearment’s almost girlish quality, the luxuriant purr of Viktor’s voice, the way his fingers found the rope through layered of thick clothing… It all went to Jayce’s head.

It all went to his dick.

He blushed furiously, not only at the words, but at how his body responded. How his trousers were getting uncomfortable. He glanced around, but nobody was paying attention to them. Nobody took an interest.

The familiar heat-mirage of a forge drew his eye, the sound of a hammer, an he tracked the sound to a smith offering a demonstration of his craft. That helped. Focusing on the smith’s muscled forearms, the control with which she swung the hammer, the sparks that landed on her thick apron. Jayce forced a deep breath through himself, and even that wasn’t safe. The ropes teased him, squeezed him. He could feel in their pressure the way Viktor’s fingers had felt smoothing the rope under the curve of his pectoral, the word “tit,” resting vulgar and vulnerable on Virktor’s lips.

It took several long moments of trying to think of anything but the way the ropes touched his body, the way they pressed where Viktor’s fingers had pressed, the coolness of Viktor’s fingertips warming as he touched Jayce’s body, but Jayce finally pulled it together. Slowly, his control returned, and he marveled at how naturally Viktor held conversations with merchants.

Arousal dogged him, nipping his heels as Jayce tried to be respectable. He did his best to hold up conversation when people spoke to him, but every time he inhaled to begin excitedly speaking about his work, his research, the ropes would grab him and squeeze him. They would make him stop and stutter, worried he’d said the wrong thing, flushed and flustered, and then Viktor would rescue him.

Each breath, each step, each squeeze of Viktor’s fingers on his arm pulled Jayce into his body. Viktor was everywhere. He was the smell of pork belly and the hiss or hot iron hitting water, the play of rope over Jayce’s body, the press of voices coming in from every direction. When they approached one stall, somebody bumped into Jayce, and he nearly shouted at the shock. Viktor shifted his grip, soothing rather than controlling, but it was all too much. Jayce’s concentration had broken. Where they stood, bellied up to a stall displaying blown glass laboratory equipment and art, all borosilicate and therefore suitable potential thermal shock they anticipated in hextech applications, it was hidden. Nobody could see.

Jayce tried to remind himself nobody could see, as he angled his hips toward Viktor and pressed close to the stall, and prayed nobody would ask him to move. His breath was trapped by the ropes, his body trapped by the crowd, his cock trapped but certainly conspicuous, and Viktor had said no touching. No touching the ropes, no touching himself while he was in the ropes. The sounds of the crowd were being swallowed by a ringing in his ears, and his heart was racing.

“You want to look at this boat now?” Viktor asked, casual as could be, fingers still tracing the smooth base of a volumetric flask.

Jayce didn’t know. He squeezed his arm to his side once, hoping Viktor would understand. He’d insisted that he would be able to say something if he needed to, and Viktor had substituted a system of hand squeezes just in case, but Jayce couldn’t make himself do anything. His whole stupid, uncooperative body was locked up and aching for touch and he was terrified. He hadn’t realized he would be so afraid. In his fantasies, arousal like this would have been a naughty little secret, something playful and titillating, humiliating but in a fun way. Now all he felt was the looming threat of shame.

“I am too hot,” Viktor announced, his presence casual, but his attention focused keenly on Jayce and Jayce alone. “I think you take this, now, and you hold it for me.”

Off came his jacket, the material stiff and heavy, and Jayce was sure Viktor wasn’t too warm, because he was always cold, but it didn’t matter. Viktor stuffed the jacked over Jayce’s arm and Jayce let it rest in front of his waist, draping over his arm to his mid thighs. Shielding him. Protecting him.

The terror began to fade.

Viktor bought art rather than science. A palm-sized glass orb with impossible gold leaf suspended within in such a way that it suggested the shape of an antlered beetle spreading its wings. The glass lower named a price that Jayce was sure couldn’t be right, and Viktor didn’t even haggle. He simply called it exquisite and asked the glass blower to wrap it up well.

When the glass blower reached out with the little parcel all bundled in brown paper and tied with string, Viktor said, “He will carry this one for me,” then indicated his crutch as if to explain.

“Always nice to have a helper,” they said, handing the parcel off to Jayce.

“Yes,” Viktor agreed, haughty and aloof, “He is well-trained.”

Jayce thanked every star that he had a parcel in a bag and Viktor’s jacket, because that comment went straight to his cock. So much of his blood was there that Jayce wondered if he might faint from it. He accepted the brown paper package and traced the twine with his fingers, then blushed when he realized what he was doing.

“Prosce,” Viktor gave a little tug at Jayce’s elbow. “I think I see what I need to.”

Jayce nodded and managed to force out some vague thanks to the glass blower before accompanying Viktor. He didn’t notice where they were going, or who was in the crowd. The package and Viktor’s jacket gave him the cover and distraction he needed, and though every movement was too tight, too uncomfortable, he went where Viktor guided.

“Jedzeimy do domu?” Viktor’s eyes were serious and Jayce recognized the second half of the phrase as correlating with a return home. He nodded. His chest felt shivery and jelly-like, and his fingers tingled, not with the pins-and-needles of a pinching rope, but the odd buzz of too much adrenaline.

Viktor pulled out his paper again, the old calculations, and Jayce gratefully leaned to see it better so Viktor could speak.

“This is not visible,” he assured, and Jayce knew that—he knew that—but it helped to hear it from Viktor. The edges of his words were swallowed by the noise of the market, a safe little bubble. “Nobody sees this. They see you carry my things, nothing else.”

Jayce nodded. That helped. He repeated it in his head as they walked back, holding the comfort that no matter how exposed he felt, there was nothing to see.

When Viktor closed the door to his apartment and pointed at Jayce’s spot by the armchair, Jayce collapsed to his knees in relief, heart loud in his ears. Viktor lowered himself slowly into the chair, knee stiff, and Jayce wanted to reach out and touch it, to warm the joint with his palms the way Viktor liked. The pull was almost as hard to resist as the draw to the crotch rope, his trapped cock held tight in his trousers. For several moments, Viktor simply sat with his hand on Jayce’s cheek, watching him as his breath slowed.

“Take this off, now,” came the quiet instruction once Jayce’s attention was fully on Viktor. The relief was immediate, it preceded any action. His jacket and waistcoat he handed to Viktor, who draped them over the arm of his chair. The shirt was challenging, Jayce’s fingers shaking, and when it became clear that he would struggle, Viktor leaned forward to help.

“You do not see how beautifully you wear this,” Viktor said, and Jayce wanted to lay his head in Viktor’s lap to absorb the words. “You carry yourself so well. So strong, so beautiful,” he continued, “Ah, but you look worried. They think, in the market, that you are being careful for me, you are making sure nobody runs into me. They see you are such a good boy for me, but they do not know that you are good in this other way.”

The buttons came undone one by one, and Jayce let his eyes shut. Viktor could do this. He let Viktor care for him, let Viktor undress him and trace his cold fingers over the lines of the rope. He vaguely felt that he should be more aroused by this part, but the day had worn him out, and his usual vim and vigor had been scoured out by his panic at the glass blower’s stand.

Under Viktor’s attention, the ropes came away, and so, too, did the rule. At Viktor’s small indication that it was allowed, Jayce let his fingers trace the indents of the rope, the delicate lines, sometimes more sensitive, sometimes less, where the ropes had lain over his body.

“Come here, slonezko. Come,” he indicated the space between his legs, and Jayce himself curl over until he fit just right. “We will sit here for a moment, and then we go to the bed. We rest.”

Jayce nodded, and touched Viktor’s brace, asking with his fingers if Viktor wanted it off. If Viktor would let Jayce so this for him. He looked up through his eyelashes at Viktor, and the rosy blush across his cheeks and the darkening of his rainy-day eyes was reward in itself.

“You tell me when we lie down if you want to come, yes?” Viktor’s shoe traced up the inside of Jayce’s thigh and Jayce shivered, and closed his eyes against the sudden wave of sensation that raced up his spine. “Today, I take care of you…”

The pause gobbled up the silence, and Jayce found himself uneasy. Viktor sounded unsure, and that wasn’t right. Viktor was supposed to know what was going on in moments like these.

“I worry this was too much for you,” he murmured, “We will talk about this later, but I worry.”

Jayce thought about the day. Viktor had insisted on the tugs or squeezes as safe words, and Jayce had been the one to scoff at the thought. He’d dismissed them. He’d been so certain that, if things had become too much, he could ask to go look at the river boat. Hubris. It was becoming a pattern, Jayce realized. He ought to trust Viktor more.

“I was supposed to tug your arm,” Jayce murmured, his voice smooth now as his body returned to center. “I was supposed to do it twice when it got…”

Had it been bad? Had it really? He’d been scared, but he’d wanted to be a little scared. That had been part of it. There was never any real danger of being noticed—he’d checked beforehand. Even if he wasn’t hiding his crotch with Viktor’s coat, his underclothes and trousers were protective enough that an erection was subtle, noticeable only if somebody was looking for it. With Viktor’s jacket in hand, it was totally invisible. He’d known that, too. He’d known, and he’d also known that he’d be self-conscious, and that it would be intense, and… Had it been bad?

Jayce shook his head against Viktor’s thigh.

“I was supposed to tug twice with my hand, and I just—”

“This is small detail.” Viktor waved the idea away and sank his fingers into Jayce’s hair. “You squeeze my hand with your arm, I understand this. You tell me just right.”

“But you said twice for boat,” Jayce protested.

“And you did this once, so we came home, but we did not stop—you are still kneeling for me. You give half of this signal, this is a small safe word. We left the market, but we do not have to stop this scene.” Viktor said it all so matter-of-factly, and Jayce sighed. He liked the feeling of Viktor’s fingers in his hair and he wasn’t ready to start thinking again.

“It was okay?” He asked, but the need for reassurance was already receding under Viktor’s hand and his voice and against the warm, hard muscle of his thigh.

“You are perfect today,” Viktor hummed, his fingers soothing and sweet. “This is alright for you? This is okay?”

Jayce nodded. It had been scary for a moment, but it was okay. Already the fear was fading into the background and the excitement was returning, warm and low and sure. He became aware of the heat of Viktor’s foot through his shoe and through Jayce’s pants. He became aware of how near his cock was to Viktor’s foot, and he remembered Viktor pressing and pressing and pressing on his cock while Jayce sucked him. Had he ever stopped being hard?

Viktor’s toe nudged up, pressed Jayce’s balls, and he gasped, hips twitching forward.

“What we did today, I think, is very difficult for you.” Viktor’s voice was still serious. “Let me take care of you now. Do you want this?”

Jayce nodded, his lips parting when Viktor’s thumb neared his mouth. He wanted Viktor to pet his tongue, the roof of his mouth. He’d been hard for so long. He’d been hard for so long. He needed Viktor. He whined for Viktor, and the flush across his pale cheeks deepened. His eyes darkened. He wanted Jayce.

“You go to the bed, niunia,” Viktor murmured, and Jayce loved the way the endearment sounded on Viktor’s lips. He loved how it made him feel small and cared-for, and cherished. “I will take this off myself,” he brushed his fingertips over the leather straps of his knee brace and Jayce vaguely wished Viktor wanted him to do it for him.

Viktor didn’t always want Jayce to touch his feet and legs, but Jayce loved when Viktor did. He loved being able to show love for the parts of Viktor that carried him in the world, but he also loved when Viktor told him to be still and treated him like Jayce’s body was an instrument for Viktor to play. The few steps to Viktor’s bed were a wobbly affair, Jayce’s body already not quite his own. He liked when he felt like this, too, like a baby deer just meeting the world.

From his seat, Viktor unbuckled his brace, and drew his crutch near, moving through the familiar steps. He stripped down to his underwear before sliding onto the bed beside Jayce, and encouraging Jayce to curl his big body in toward Viktor. Cold fingers warmed against his skin before making their way south, tracing the line where the rope had dipped between Jayce’s legs.

“I think I will not fuck you today,” Viktor mused, and Jayce hated that. He was so hard he could hear his own arousal, so hard he’d leaked a damp patch through his small clothes. “Instead, you will fuck my hand, I think. You still do not touch yourself, but I will let you move your hips while I help.”

His fingers wrapped around Jayce, and Jayce gasped.

“This is something you like, I think.” Viktor’s voice was rich and warm and amused, and Jayce lived for it. He wanted it so much it scared him.

Viktor’s fingers were warmed from touching Jayce, and his grip was strong, and Jayce couldn’t help the way his hips jerked when Viktor twisted his hand and pulled his calloused palm up near the head. It was so much sensation, nearly too much, Jayce gasped again and again, holding back from saying Viktor’s name, because that was talking and something about these moments felt sacred. They felt like they deserved his silent reverence.

“Just feel, now, Jayce.” His hand moved with such self-assured precision—Viktor knew his body so well now. He could pull any reaction he wanted from it, it seemed. Jayce pressed his forehead into Viktor’s shoulder and whined. His fingers anted to move, to help, but no touching.

“Today, you are so poised, so strong. You are mine.”

Oh, that talk was really doing Jayce’s head in. Viktor was murmuring praises laced through with possession, and his hand was playing on arousal that had simmered all day. He was ready to boil over, and Viktor could have probably done it with just a word. He knew exactly what Jayce liked to hear, and Jayce was so close.

“All mine, Jayce,” Viktor said, and Jayce whined into Viktor’s shoulder. “No matter how many people see you, I see you. So lovely. So lovely for me—”

Jayce didn’t comprenend what Viktor said right away. He couldn’t comprehend. It was all just so… impossible. Too good, and too sweet, and he was gripped in his orgasm and swept under a great warm wave of pleasure followed quickly by exhaustion. Like the arousal was all that had been keeping him alert.

As Viktor rubbed his back and his neck and scratched fingers through his hair, Jayce tried to pull the words back. He tried to recreate what Viktor had called him. His lips traced the syllables even as his breaths grew heavier and his body sagged into Viktors shoulder. Jay-sh… Jaysk…

“You like this?” Viktor murmured, his fingers slowly hypnotizing Jayce through their slow dance over his skin. “You like that I call you this more?”

“Can you say it again?” Jayce asked.

“I will say this as many times as you like, Jayshka moje.”

Jayshka moje. He did his best to parse its meaning. It was intimate and possessive, and it was his. It made him Viktor’s, and that was…

Jayce sighed.

Jayshka moje, he thought. My little Jayce.