Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jayce Talis is a good son. He buys his mother flowers, calls her every evening, and visits every week. He is the son who makes her friends jealous, who makes grandmothers swoon, and who Ximena adores because he looks just like his father.

Simply put, he is her everything. Her pride and joy, whose face is worthy of putting on mugs and whose childhood clothes are worthy of keeping, carefully stored away with his baby socks and old toys. Since his father died, he’s been by her side every subsequent moment of her life, even waiting outside of the church basement while she attended Widow Support Group every Thursday night.

When he inevitably left home for college, he knew the distance could never break their bond. It was the two of them against the world, or so he thought.

Ximena is the kind of mother who sends him home with a week's worth of meals every time he visits and insists on doing his laundry so he can focus on his inventions. To Jayce, everything about their relationship is so perfect that he is completely dumbstruck when she starts missing his calls.

At first, he convinces himself that it's fine. He's busy too with his research. Now that he’s twenty-four years old, maybe he doesn't need to call her every night. Maybe a text message would suffice. The ribbing he’s always endured from his peers for his mother’s constant interference may finally come to an end.

But he calls, and he calls, and by the third time she doesn't answer, he’s decided that something is wrong.

Jayce paces. Where could she possibly be at 8:00 in the evening on a Saturday night? She should be in bed reading a book or watching her documentaries like she usually is, a sleep mask perched on her forehead and rose-scented eye cream under her eyes.

Jayce stays up all night overthinking, tossing and turning in bed while he worries about her. In the end, she doesn't even call him until after brunch on Sunday morning, and speaks like nothing has happened.

“You wouldn't believe what happened to me this morning,” she chuckles. “My tea bag burst when it was steeping—”

“Where were you last night?” Jayce cuts to the chase. His mother pauses on the other end of the line. He should have made a video call so he could see if she was actually in one piece (but that might be his paranoia speaking).

“I went to the ballet.” In the background of their call, he can hear the birds she feeds in the garden. Her voice fits right in with their cheerful singing.

“The Piltover ballet? With who?”

Ximena stumbles over the words, “A friend.”

If it were a friend, she would have said Gloria, or Mary, or June. Jayce narrows his eyes and chews the inside of his lip. “Which friend?” he insists.

“Oh, well…. You haven't met him.”

Jayce freezes. His mother does not keep male company. This is highly unusual of her, and normally when she makes a new friend, their conversations about it last for hours, whether it was someone she met at a sewing class or church. “Jayce? I'm sorry to have missed your call, we were just so tired after the performance, I’m not normally out so late…”

“You could have told me. Or texted me—”

“I forgot my reading glasses. It’s so hard to see on this new phone.”

“Then he could have done it for you!” Jayce snaps. “I was worried!”

“I’m sorry, mijo.”

He breathes out through his nose, nostrils flaring. “So you have a new friend.” The energy has nowhere to go, so he starts pacing again. “And you two… see shows together?”

“I mentioned I’d wanted to see the dances since I was a little girl, and Viktor invited me.”

“That’s nice,” Jayce deadpans, because it really isn't. She's talking about this friend like he shits rainbows. That's how she talks about him!

“It was very kind.” She clears her throat, and a moment of tense silence follows. “Jayce, it is not what you're thinking. We are friends.”

“It’s fine if it was. It's been a long time since dad—since he died.”

“Yes, it has been.”

Jayce was nine. He doesn't remember what his father’s voice sounded like, only his mother’s grief and how it was big enough to fill up his whole life.

“Just, text me next time, okay?” There’s a little annoyance in his voice, but his mother says nothing about it.

“I will,” she promises. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He hangs up, determined to find out everything he can about this Viktor guy.

❁

Jayce doesn't expect the messages to come so often. I’m going to the shore with Viktor, Viktor is taking me to a show, Viktor and I have reservations. Jayce needs to meet the asshole who’s dating his mother. The word alone makes him sick. She’s a fifty-seven-year-old woman!

When her most recent message comes through, full of typos because she's clearly forgotten her readers again, he calls her back—with video this time—and after a few rings, she answers, looking down at her phone. The camera is smudged and blurry.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

He swears he sees a glimpse of a pale, thin wrist and forearm slip down from her shoulder, but he can only see his mother's face on the screen.

“Fine,” he answers, taken aback. “I have a big presentation tomorrow, can we talk?”

She looks off-screen for a moment, and his stomach drops. Never in his life has he even considered the possibility of being replaced by another.

Viktor will take me to the appointment. Viktor will pick it up. It's all Viktor; she doesn't even talk about her friends anymore.

Ximena gets up to move to a private place. “First, I have to tell you something,” she says carefully.

“You're dating. I know.” He can't keep his frustration to himself anymore. She’s been hiding this from him for too long.

“I should have told you sooner, but I didn't think he would want such a thing with me.”

Each word digs the knife deeper, if that isn't too dramatic. “You're beautiful. He's the one who's lucky to have you,” Jayce says loudly enough that Viktor will hopefully hear.

“I would like the two of you to meet,” Ximena counters. “Viktor has been asking to meet you for some time.”

“This really isn't a good time, I'm busy. My grant—”

“Please? He has been asking about you, and he is also a scientist. I think the two of you would get along.”

She has no idea just how untrue that is, Jayce thinks. He already hates this man, and he hasn't even seen his face. He's probably ugly, old, and smells like onions. Not the classic movie star heartthrobs his mother deserves. She watches so many of those movies, he knows exactly her type.

She deserves a true gentleman, not some sleaze who demands all her attention. What if this guy has threatened her? What if he’s controlling?

Jayce burns up thinking about it. “Okay, I’ll meet him.”

“Wonderful. Let us take you for dinner this Friday.”

❁

Friday arrives, and Ximena breaks the news that she wants to go to the restaurant with Viktor, but Jayce insists on driving her and that Viktor can meet them there. It's his weekend, not Viktor’s, so he gets to spend the awkward drive with his mother clinging to the armrest for dear life every time he even touches the brakes.

When they arrive, he opens the car door for her, offers her his arm, and hates the way she’s put extra effort into her appearance as if her natural look isn't enough. They walk into the reservations-only restaurant side by side, but the only people in the lobby are an older couple and a young man with a cane.

Viktor must be late.

Jayce turns to his mother, ready to console her, when the man with the cane takes notice of them and raises a heavy eyebrow.

His mother pulls off his arm and goes to hug him.

“Viktor,” she says, his bony body accosting her curves. “This is my son, Jayce.”

Jayce's whole world goes careening off a cliff, falls hundreds of feet, hits every single rocky ledge on the way down to the ground, and lands with a wet, obliterating splat.

Viktor can't be any older than thirty.

What the fuck.

This whole time, his mother has been dating a guy the same age as he is.

He hisses an insult in awkward Spanish. He's never been confident about speaking it, but his jealousy is a new beast to tame. Something about Viktor being nearly as young as he is makes it even worse that he's stolen all of his mother's attention. Ximena will know what he’s saying, but Viktor won’t.

Only his mother doesn't respond to his insult; she stands beside Viktor, looking horrified. Viktor, who merely quirks a lopsided smile and asks, “¿No te gusta mi ropa?” like he's been speaking Spanish his whole life.

Jayce decides this is the worst night of his entire life. “You speak Spanish,” he realizes.

“I speak five languages: English, French, Spanish, German, and my native Czech.”

Czech. He’s a fucking European. Jayce didn't even pick up on his accent until now. Maybe he is a fake. Maybe he's some kind of mail-order bride and his mother has had an understandable and sympathetic lapse of judgement. A mid-life crisis. It happens to everyone.

“How long have you been here?”

“Eh… twelve years, give or take.”

Not a mail order bride, then.

“Sorry to interrupt, are you ready to be seated?” Thankfully, the host comes over to show them to their table, and Jayce follows after them because he doesn't want to look into Viktor’s stupid uniquely colored eyes anymore.

How would he even describe the color? Amber? Honey brown? They almost looked gold in the low light. His clothes really aren't that bad, either. Just… boring. He wears a burgundy button-up, a vest, and leather boots that look like they’ve recently been shined. How vain of him.

When they reach the table, both Jayce and Viktor pull a chair out for his mother. Still nervous about his earlier attempt at being catty, she opts to sit with Viktor and leaves Jayce alone on the other side of the table, feeling like a child.

Ximena engages in polite conversation with the waitress, while Jayce bounces his knee as he looks over the menu. Five courses. How the fuck can Viktor afford such a thing? Assuming he's paying, that is. If Ximena pays, Jayce might actually fight him (he's never been in a fight before, not since kindergarten, but he thinks he could win).

“I’m aware that this is new to you. Ximena has confided in me that I'm the first person she has been with since your father's tragic passing. I understand that this may be a lot for you to take in.”

“Fuck you.”

Both diners at the table beside them turn to look, forks held in mid-air.

“Your mother did warn me that you were… eh, passionate,” Viktor says. Ximena is pale beside him, sitting with her hands in her lap. He leans towards her and whispers something in her ear that makes her blush, then turns his attention back to Jayce. “I’m not offended. In fact, I understand how you must feel.”

His hand slides to her thigh. Jayce can see it move under the table. Maybe he's just taking her hand in his to comfort her, or he's squeezing her thigh. “She’s a woman of God,” Jayce grits through his teeth, hoping they don't bring anything hot for the first course because he wouldn't mind ‘accidentally’ spilling scalding soup in Viktor’s lap.

But Viktor pulls his hand away, ever the gentleman. “Of course,” he reassures Jayce, leaning forward with rapt attention.

Jayce swears to the god his mother believes in that he's doing it on purpose.

“Jayce, do you remember what your therapist said about these big feelings? How to settle down when you're feeling upset?” It isn't the first time Ximena has pulled the gentle parenting in public. No matter how many times he tells her not to do it.

“Yes, some find deep breathing to be a rather beneficial technique.” Viktor’s accent curls around the words. “Would you like me to count with you?”

Jayce rubs his face, already feeling his brain start to throb with the beginnings of a stress-induced migraine. This is a nightmare he needs to wake up from. “You told him about my therapist?” he whines.

“Nothing too personal,” Viktor responds, and Jayce knows that means everything, how he has episodes of not being able to differentiate fact from fiction, how he cries easily, and gets overstimulated quickly, and has never been able to admit out loud just how much he misses his father.

The first course arrives, and Jayce realizes that when his mother was speaking to the waitress, she ordered for him. It's a beet salad with tender greens and expensive French cheese. Viktor pronounces the name of it too easily.

“What are you, a Michelin chef, too?” Jayce asks him.

Viktor is amused by this, as if he's told a joke. “No, I'm sure Mrs. Talis told you, I am a scientist. A researcher, really.”

“How the hell did you two even meet?”

Viktor looks at Ximena, allowing her to answer.

“Physical therapy,” she says softly. “We were both waiting, and he noticed my hand.” She touches the blue stone with her two finger prostheses. Jayce wears a matching one on his wrist.

“I’m an engineer. I've been working on bionic prostheses designs for some time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jayce. Beautiful designs—”

“I’m not interested,” he lies.

“You should show him yours.”

“He doesn't want to see those.”

“I insist,” Viktor offers.

If there's one way to win him over, it's to express interest in his work. Jayce is still glaring at Viktor, but his face softens just a little, from outright disgust to more of a pout. It's always been far too easy to tell what he’s thinking. As his mother says, he has a loud face.

Ximena picks at her salad while Viktor extends an open palm across the table. A peace offering. His knuckles are nobby, and palms calloused along the edges. Jayce opens his phone and finds the photos he's taken of his journal as backup. He photographs every page after filling it.

Viktor takes his phone with another look as if to ask, are you sure, and Jayce simply nods. If Viktor is really a scientist, he’ll know to treat Jayce’s phone as gently as his actual journal. And he does, he swipes through the photos with calculated timing, a thin finger tapping delicately against the screen.

“Hmm.”

Jayce perks up in his seat. “Yeah?”

“These are quite impressive.”

“You think so?”

“Impractical and impossible with modern technology, but perhaps someday, if the trajectory continues in the right direction.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that's what I was thinking! In ten years, we’ll have made leaps and bounds in nanotechnology.”

“And you will still be committed to this work?”

“Of course I will,” Jayce says, affronted. “This is my life’s work. It's my dream—”

“I see you take it very seriously.” Viktor chuckles, pausing on one photo longer than the rest. “You can't patent something that doesn't exist.”

“I wasn't trying to.” Jayce reaches across the table for his phone, but Viktor suddenly pauses again, his brows raise a little like they had when he first saw Jayce. Eventually, he swipes in the other direction and slides the phone to its rightful owner.

“It looks like you were trying to,” he says.

The next course arrives, couscous with heirloom tomatoes, asparagus, and lemon. Viktor finally has the space to order wine.

Jayce doesn't drink, can't because of his medication, and it makes him feel like even more of a child while Ximena and Viktor clink their glasses and comment on the aromatics of the rich Sauvignon.

He pushes his food around on its little, mostly empty plate, and tries not to think about the fact that he's the only single person in the entire restaurant. It has an in-your-face romantic atmosphere, with tea lights on the table and fresh flowers throughout. There are older couples, younger couples, a nervous bespeckled man who keeps sticking his hand in his pocket to inconspicuously fondle a ring box.

Jayce frowns. What is he meant to say when he brings a girl home to meet his mother? How will he explain the fact that he has a twenty-seven-year-old stepfather?

Viktor isn't so bad, if it weren't for his age. The longer Jayce sits across the table from the man, he decides he could potentially tolerate a platonic relationship between them. He smells alright, and thinks Jayce’s work is promising, but watching him blatantly flirt with his mother drives him crazy. It makes him squirm in his chair and drum his fingers against the starched tablecloth restlessly. He's so nauseous he can't eat, and when Viktor looks at his mother with doe eyes he actually gags.

“Jayce, are you alright?”

“Fine.” He removes his napkin from his lap and drops it on the table. “I'm going to the restroom.”

He trudges his way past the rest of the tables to the restroom, stopping in front of an unoccupied urinal and unzipping to free his cock. Emptying his bladder makes him feel a bit better. Then Viktor walks in, Jayce notes his uneven gate and how he uses his cane.

“Is it a prosthetic?" he asks, dick still in hand.

“A keen observation.” Viktor makes his way to the sink.

“One of your own?” Jayce asks. “Would you let me see it?” The door swings open mid-sentence, and a stranger stares at them, blinking. Jayce feels the need to clarify, “Your leg.”

“Not right now,” Viktor says.

Jayce tucks himself away and meets Viktor where he's waiting at the sink.

He suds up his hands with pink soap and sings the ABC’s in his head the way he's been taught to do as he washes them clean— one of the only men to actually do so after pissing, which he finds revolting. At least Viktor looks like he washes his hands.

“Has my mom seen it?” Jayce asks.

Viktor answers him evenly. “She has.”

Jayce breathes through his nose. It doesn't mean they've had sex. His mother would never have pre-marital sex. She just wouldn't.

“I see now why she struggled with you,” Viktor says, as if reading his mind.

“What do you mean?”

“Raising you wasn't easy.”

“It’s not like I tried to make it hard for her.”

Jayce has always been different. Too much and not enough. That fight he got in at age five was because of a bully, and calling it a fight is being generous. They were an older kid who hated it every time he opened his mouth, they threw him to the ground and he barely managed to defend himself before he was sent home with dirt all over his clothing. Of course Jayce was the one blamed for it, despite being the one with the bruises.

Thankfully, he quickly tested out of that grade and was placed in a program for the gifted. His schooling was never exactly normal after that, but no matter how hard he tried to appease everyone, he was still a problem.

Viktor looks away, catching his reflection in the mirror and adjusting the way his collar sits. “I don't mean this to insult you. I speak sometimes without thinking.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Jayce sighs.

Viktor turns to face him again. “I wanted to speak with you alone for a moment. Candidly.” His eyes briefly flit lower, to Jayce's waist and nervous hands. “I respect your mother, but I don’t want to have this conversation in front of her.”

“And you don't think it's weird?”

“There is nothing weird about her.”

“She could be your mother!” Jayce whisper-shouts. “Jesus Viktor, she's menopausal.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “Let us at least come to some form of agreement. I only wish to make her happy.”

“Eugh.”

“Jayce.”

His face settles into a slightly less dramatic pout, and he takes a deep breath, sighing with all the exasperation he can muster.

“Give me a chance to prove myself to you, and you will come to trust me. I promise.”

“You don’t even— What makes you think you’re so good for her? Do you know anything about her?” Jayce demands.

“I do.”

Jayce puffs air through his nose. “Her birthday?”

“May 14th.”

“Her favorite tea?”

“Earl Grey.”

“The wool sweater—”

“That she only wears in the summers, yes. Odd, but the colors are better suited to the season.” Viktor pauses. “I also know your favorite tea. That you were born July 7th at 2:15 in the afternoon, that it was raining, and your father fainted in the delivery room.”

Jayce raises an eyebrow, the one that’s scarred.

“I know how you got that,” Viktor continues. “Jumping off the top of a slide when you were determined that you could fly.”

“...I thought I just had to believe hard enough.”

Viktor smiles, and it makes Jayce feel woozy. The tips of his ears go red when he's embarrassed, among other things.

“Now that's settled, let us not keep her waiting,” Viktor continues, as he motions to the door of the restroom.

“I’ll go first, or she’ll know we were talking,” Jayce offers.

They return to the table, one by one, and the rest of the dinner isn't so bad. Jayce is uncharacteristically quiet, listening to the two of them talk about sudoku and whatever romance novel his mother is reading. She doesn’t comment on how little he eats, for once. Doesn’t tell him he looks like he’s gotten skinny or fat. She speaks and Viktor listens, and then he speaks and she looks at him like a schoolgirl watching her crush from across the school cafeteria, only she’s sitting right beside him so it’s a thousand times worse.

❁

Over the next few weeks, it becomes increasingly clear to Jayce that he is never going to be able to see his mother without seeing Viktor. Every dinner, every holiday. When his mother sends cards, Viktor’s name is signed next to hers. Sometimes he even sends his own messages about how proud he is of Jayce’s work. Every text message comes with a ‘Viktor says hello’ and every phone call a, ‘Would you like to say hi to Viktor?’

Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it happens a lot, and Jayce gets so worked up he makes himself sick to his stomach in anticipation of it.

So he does what he always does, and throws himself into his work as a distraction. When that doesn't help, the only person he can speak to about it is his best— and only —friend Caitlyn.

“Don't work yourself up so much, it's not like they're going to get married. She's just having a little fun,” Cait says over the phone.

Jayce slurps a mouthful of noodles into his mouth, some of the broth from the microwaveable cup splashing his chin. “She has fun all the time! With her girlfriends. They go to brunch and visit museums— and have a book club!”

“Sometimes a lady needs to feel wanted,” Cait replies.

“You're grossing me out.”

“Get over it, Jayce. She isn't just your mother.”

“But—”

“You're lucky to have her.” It stings a little for him to hear, knowing Cait lost her mother a few years ago. “Besides, this Viktor of hers sounds like a real gentleman. Maybe you could introduce him to me sometime?”

“I don’t want to introduce you to him,” Jayce says, but there isn’t any heat behind it. He stirs his noodles with a pair of chopsticks and thinks hard enough for her to hear it.

“Why, because he’s hot?” Cait asks. Jayce nearly does a spit take and also drops his phone. When he brings it back up to his ear she’s still talking. “I know you, Jayce. Remember what happened with Dmitri?”

“That wasn’t anything like this!”

What happened with Dmitri was embarrassing and he’d prefer to never think about it again. He made some poor choices in the past, of course Caitlyn is keen enough to use it to prove her point.

“Let’s get this straight, and pardon my pun. Do you think Viktor is being taken advantage of?” she asks.

“No...”

“Do you think your mother is being taken advantage of?”

“No…”

“Then they’re two grown adults making their own decisions, and I think you’re jealous.”

So much for finishing his noodles. He chucks the whole cup and its remains into the sink. “This isn't about me.”

“You’re not denying it.” Cait sighs, tired, but empathetic. “It's not going to last forever.”

“What if I start dating a guy and she flirts with him?”

“Jayce!” Caitlyn laughs so hard that she snorts. “That is not going to happen!” It does manage to make him smile and eases his paranoia just a little bit. It has him sitting on his couch and pulling his knees up to his chest, feeling as comforted as he could alone in his apartment. “Listen, I'm sorry that this is hard for you but maybe it's something you could benefit from too. He seems to like you well enough from what you've told me. ”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Just don’t overthink it. I know that’s hard for you.”

❁

It is hard, and even harder when Viktor starts acting like his father. Or stepfather. Or a weird man who is only three years his senior but acts like he has years of wisdom to hold over him, sending little gifts, checking up on him, asking about his work. It makes Jayce feel oddly warm and extremely antsy. Viktor’s approval becomes the thing he looks forward to most.

It's like he's sitting at a computer, working, and Viktor pokes his head in to ask, “Are ya winning son?” Except that he's asking Jayce about particle acceleration and quantum physics and is definitely not his father.

To be honest, Jayce doesn’t really remember what it feels like to have one. He remembers seeing his parents interact with each other, remembers feeling safe and protected around his dad, but he can’t remember the exact sound of his voice. Or maybe he could, if it didn’t hurt too much to try.

He likes Viktor’s notes. He likes his signature. He likes the way he shakes Jayce’s hand when he sees him, like they've just made a business transaction.

He does not like the way Viktor looks at his mother. How he stares at her neck and wets his lips with his tongue like he wants to lick it.

Fuck Viktor, actually. Fuck his stupid hands. Fuck his smarmy attitude and his offensive intellect. Fuck the horse he rode in on and fuck his flirty little serpent’s tongue.

Jayce hates him.

Hates him so much that he can't stop thinking about him. Even when he's in bed stroking his cock to a threesome with a guy getting pegged by two women, all he can think about is Viktor. His back arches and his grip tightens, and he bites the pillow.

“Viktor!” he cries as he shoots his load, fat and sticky all over his hand. His cock twitches the way it does when one orgasm isn't enough.

Yeah, he thinks to himself, that Czech motherfucker has to go.

❁

The next time he sees Viktor, the man continues to whisper in Ximena's ear, pressing his face close. There's direct eye contact, but he doesn't touch her.

Jayce is thankful for this until he notices the way his mother follows Viktor around like a lost puppy. How she presses against his side, seeking the contact she isn't getting, but clearly wants. Viktor is playing with her intentionally. Jayce is a man, he knows this game, and his mother isn't a goddamn player. She needs to be benched.

The problem is, there's no way he can call Viktor out on it without making a scene and simultaneously humiliating Ximena. He can't separate them for long enough. She's far too smitten, looking at Viktor all bashfully like she looks at her movie stars.

“Would you like to try it?” she asks of the cheesecake she’s eating, holding up a bite on her fork for Viktor to lean over and nibble.

“I would.” He smirks and leans in, but not to bite it off the fork. He leans in to taste it on her lips. He's trying to fucking kiss her!

Jayce explodes. “I’m right here, you pig!!”

“Jayce!” Ximena gasps. She covers her mouth with her palm, tears already flooding her eyes. “I'm sorry, he is not always in his right mind.”

“It’s quite alright.” Viktor comforts her. “It’s cute for a boy to be so loyal to his mother.”

He puts one of his arms around Ximena’s shoulders and respectfully escorts her out of the room. They talk for some time, then he returns to Jayce, who is still standing in the kitchen with his fists curled and his mother’s slice of cheesecake half eaten.

“I suppose I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Viktor says.

“Yeah, you have.”

“I apologize. She is just…” he curls some of his hair behind his ear and tilts his head. “How do I say this… irresistible."

“I'm going to punch you.”

“No, Jayce. You are not.” Viktor steps closer. “You are not a bad boy. The worst insult you could come up with was to nitpick at my clothes. You are passionate, yes, but without a violent bone in your body.”

Jayce swallows. He thinks about what Caitlyn said, that there could be something in this for him, too. Except, Viktor isn’t exactly sugar daddy material, so what exactly does he have to offer?

“So what is it that you want, if not to hurt me?” Viktor eyes him closely, studying his response.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I think that what you truly want, Jayce, is to be good for me.”

“I— I want you to stop flirting with my mom!” Jayce argues. “Stop trying to kiss her when I’m sitting right there. It’s like you’re doing it on purpose, like— It’s like you want me to feel bad!”

“And why would you feel bad?”

Jayce breaks. “Because it isn’t fair!”

Oh.

Oh no.

Jayce recognizes his mistake right away. He knows how it sounds. How it looks.

He’s jealous. He’s fucking jealous of his their relationship. Of his mother, and maybe of Viktor too. His whole life she’s doted on him, and now he’s being booted out of the nest with a swift kick to the rear.

His hands fly up to his face so he can hide behind them, but Viktor can still see the red tips of his ears. “I mean— I just meant that— Fuck,” he stutters. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that—”

Because he thinks he's the one who should be getting Viktor's attention, not her.

Viktor breaks his long stretch of silence to tap his cane against the floor. His expression is tense and difficult to read. Not the usual smugness that Jayce is used to seeing. “Please bid your mother goodnight, and let her know that she can reach me anytime.”

“Wait!”

Viktor clears his throat, but he’s already determined to leave, and Jayce cannot stop him. He knows, and he’s going to run off and probably tell his mother exactly what he’s said later. That he’s jealous and stubborn and childish, or all the things people call him when they don’t like what he has to say.

He finds his mother sitting in the living room with her hands in her lap. Surprisingly, she isn’t holding a rosary. Jayce moves to sit beside her, and takes a slow, deep breath. It sobers him to see her so solemn. His leg bounces with anxious energy.

Ximena takes one of his hands and kisses his knuckles. “I know it's hard to accept these things. I still remember the day you came to me and told me that you had feelings for a boy in your school,” she says gently.

Jayce’s eyes narrow with disbelief. “Are you comparing the fact that you’re dating a man twenty years younger than you to me being bisexual?”

“Yes,” Ximena answers sheepishly. “Is that offensive?”

“I don’t know? It feels like it is.”

“Well, I'm sorry. It was foolish of me. I don't know what I was thinking, that an old woman like me—”

“Mom—”

“I don't know what's come over me.” She begins to cry and falls into his arms with a speech straight from a telenovela. “I miss your father, mijo. I miss him with everything in me! I know that I’ll never have him back but the pain never goes away.” She cries against his shoulder, staining his nice dinner shirt with her crocodile tears. “Viktor treats me so kindly.”

“So I've heard.” Jayce knows it's best to let her cry it out on his shoulder, to get it out of her system here before she turns to Viktor. “He can't kiss you in front of me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Yes. Of course. But your father—”

“He's not my father. He doesn't get to do what he did.”

Ximena pauses, and her voice gets quieter, hushed, like she's telling a secret. “Jayce… they're telling me that I've spoiled you.”

“What?! Who?”

She wipes at her eyes. “They say that it isn't healthy for you to be so involved in my relationship.”

“Who, mom?”

“The nice people on Reddit.”

“Oh my god.”

“Have you heard of it?”

“I can't do this.” He gets up to leave, tears all over his shirt. “You posted about this on Reddit?!”

“I didn't know what to do—”

“So you're not actually sorry, you're not going to break up with him. You don't even want to.”

“Let me show you what they said.” She reaches for her reading glasses and her phone sitting on the coffee table.

Jayce listens in horror as she reads out the entire post, and then begins to narrate all 243 comments, including the usernames, like wetfordoritos and ballsackbiter.

“I can read them myself.” He insists on taking her phone and scrolling through the comments a mile a minute. As he reads, he paces.

Have you ever set boundaries with him before? Sounds like a manchild if you ask me. He needs to grow up and stop treating his mom like his girlfriend.

It is weird, but it's not like you're taking advantage of your boyfriend.

He’s jealous. Lol

Damn you sound hot where r u from

That's the one that has Jayce handing her phone back. “I'm going home,” he says. “We’ll talk about this later.”

With her reading glasses still perched on her nose, she gives him a solemn nod and returns to scrolling. He hates knowing that his mother is on the same app as r/gonewild. But apparently, he hates a lot of things. This whole masturbating to Viktor thing was supposed to be a Dmitri situation, like Cait said. But now he isn't so sure. He hates how it felt for Viktor to walk away from him. Viktor said that he wanted to be “good” like it was some kind of insult.

What does that even mean?

❁

They don't talk about it later because he stubbornly refuses to think about it. It never truly reaches the point where he and Viktor can’t be in the same room, but it gets close. Jayce expresses his discomfort as often and as intensely as it arises, and Viktor acts unperturbed by his eyerolls and the looks he makes behind his back. 

For a while, things calm down. His mom stops mentioning Viktor at every opportunity, and Jayce thinks, maybe things are slowing down, maybe he’s going to be okay again. He gets his work done and stops at the store one night on his way home from the lab, scrolling through the notes on his phone as a reminder of what he needs. Likely, he’ll still leave with several items he hadn’t planned on buying, but he’s having a good night, and he hasn’t heard his mother speak Viktor’s name for a significant amount of time. So things are alright.

He casually peruses the wares of the fluorescent department store, buying himself a fresh stick of deodorant, a candle he didn’t need, and the razors he did. He even hums along to the song playing overhead, then he turns the corner and runs right into the last person he would have ever wanted to see comparing the prices of toilet paper.

“Oh, hello, Jayce,” Viktor says. 

“Hello, Viktor,” Jayce says. He stares into the basket that Viktor is carrying and sees precisely two items: condoms and what looks like 2-in-1 hair product. 

He spirals. 

“Jayce, are you alright?” Magnum Bareskin Large Size Lubricated 10 count. “Jayce?”

For an entire minute, he stands there in shock. He cannot believe what he’s seeing. If this were a nightmare, this would be the part where he wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, but it isn’t. It’s real, and Viktor has the audacity to sound concerned as if he’s not carrying the largest condom size they have in stock and washing his hair with glorified shower gel.

Jayce turns around and leaves.

❁

The condom incident, as he calls it, does legitimately give him nightmares. It's something he chooses to remain willfully ignorant of, as if he can convince himself to erase it from his memory if he tries hard enough. There are many non-sex related reasons why a man would purchase condoms. Many.

When Jayce next sees him, for a home cooked meal his mother has made, Viktor sits across the table from him like nothing has happened. He chalks it up to another night, another weird encounter with Viktor. Dinner ends and Viktor helps Ximena wash and put away the dishes. But then, when he’d normally be putting on his shoes and getting ready to go, Ximena takes a look at the weather outside, the rain and the wind, and before she can even say anything Jayce asks, “He’s staying?”

“Jayce, please–” She sounds embarrassed because she knows it's inappropriate for them to be sleeping under the same roof together.

“Where is he going to sleep?”

“In the guest bedroom.”

“That's my room.” Jayce glares. His plate is the only one left on the table that neither of them has reached to collect yet, as if they're afraid, as if he's a dangerous thing that might lash out and bite their fingers if they get near. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

It dawns on him that he'll be sleeping on the couch, covered in a mothball quilt and lying his head on stiff pillows.

Viktor, ever the gentleman, lays his hand on his mother's shoulder. “Please, by no means, I'll take the sofa.”

“Dear.”

“I insist.”

Jayce fumes. Now he looks like an asshole and Viktor gets to be the bigger person. The gallant hero who braves back aches on a cold, thunderous night. There are no options left but the one he can think of. The worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him. “I'll share the bed with you,” he grits.

Both Viktor and his mother turn their heads in sync. “You what?”

“It's a double. We’ll both fit.”

“An excellent idea, mijo!” Ximena clasped her hands together. “I take it you two will have a much better night sleeping on a comfortable mattress. Let me go and bring extra pillows.”

She rushes off, and Viktor stares at him, as if seeing a ghost.

“What?” Jayce asks quietly. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Viktor says mildly. His voice is as soft as it always is. He could curse Jayce out with every foul word he knows and still sound pleasant.

Jayce leaves him to finish cleaning up in the kitchen and meets his mother in his (former) bedroom. She's humming as she fusses over the bed. It's the same bed Jayce had before he moved out. His room is largely the same. She's left all of his trinkets and whatever he didn't take when he moved. Books, comics, crystals and nerdy things he has no shame about enjoying.

In his drawers are a soft pair of dark blue sleep shorts that barely reach mid-thigh and a threadbare cotton tee that he's also overgrown, but they'll work for sleeping. They're comfortable and homey. Make him think of the days when he’d sit at his desk or computer working. His mother would ask if he wanted to go out and play with the other kids, but he was too busy inventing.

Ximena shuffles off to her room. Jayce hears the two speaking quietly in the hall, then Viktor appears in his doorway, a looming presence bigger than he physically is.

“Don't act like you've never seen my room before,” Jayce sasses.

“I haven't.” Viktor looks around briefly. “I had no reason to be in here. I'm not a snoop, is that what you think of me, Jayce?”

He shrugs, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “You can borrow some of my pajamas, if you want.”

“It's quite alright.” Viktor sits down next to him, clears his throat, and begins to undress methodically. He removes his shirt button by button, from the top down. Jayce watches out of the corner of his eye while he flips idly through one of the previously mentioned comic books.

There’s something dark under Viktor’s shirt, wrapped around his torso with straps over the shoulders. Viktor removes that too, and then he's sitting on the corner of Jayce's bed shirtless, red marks across his chest and skinny abdomen where his back brace was digging into his skin.

“You're staring.”

Jayce snaps his mouth shut, flips a glossy page, and stares hard at the image of the wizard casting a spell on a big red dragon.

Outside, lightning strikes and the wind pelts rain droplets and tree branches against his window. Viktor reaches for his fly, and slides the zipper down as if unwrapping a present. He shimmies his pants down impossibly slim, pale thighs and then Jayce gets his first glimpse at the prosthetic on his right leg. His mother wasn't exaggerating; it is beautiful. It's far more intricate than he would've expected, connected upper high where Viktor has had above-knee amputation. The knee joint looks highly maneuverable, and the leg itself is a shapely match to Viktor’s other leg in its size and thickness. There isn’t much visible wiring, but Jayce can tell that it’s intricate, the grooves of the metal vaguely mimicking the forms of muscle.

“You wanted to see,” Viktor comments, leaning back on his hands. His soft stomach rises and falls as he breathes, his thighs spread slightly, dark hair trailing up from the waistband of his underwear.

Jayce is commando under his shorts, and starting to regret that.

He flickers his gaze up to Viktor’s gold eyes and quickly decides that he can’t handle the direct eye contact. Viktor shifts, and his leg straightens, sensing the signal sent by the muscle in his thigh.

“It’s incredible,” Jayce marvels, fingers tracing the joint at the knee. He's seen nothing like it; it's more advanced than anything else on the market, truly a work of art.

“Myoelectric limbs are far more common for upper limb differences… Typically hands, or arms.”

“Why titanium, and not carbon fiber?”

Viktor cocks his head to the side again, letting it rest against his shoulder. “Eh…Personal preference.”

“But you still use a cane?”

“To assist with balance.”

Jayce swallows the lump in his throat. “Well, we should probably…” He gestures to the head of the bed, where his pillows lie freshly plumped and…. nesting a teddy bear. Its beady black eyes stare at Jayce judgmentally.

“Yes, we should. Your mother expects to be up early in the morning.”

Jayce grimaces. “Right.” He watches Viktor set his alarm and carefully remove his leg, detaching the metal and then peeling down the sleeve that covers his thigh. The surgical scars reveal his leg to have been removed, or at least operated on, pale scars in contrast to the rest of his skin and the dark fabric of his boxers.

Jayce doesn’t ask. Rather, he takes the side of the bed nearest the door and gets under the blankets and sheets with his back turned to Viktor. His mother’s boyfriend, he reminds himself, when his cock begins to stir.

Viktor gets under the covers as well, and the clean sheets, and sighs deeply. Jayce feels his bony hip bump up against him, cold, and wishes his cock wasn’t so dangerously close to peaking out of the leg hole of his shorts. How easy it would be to slip his hand beneath the fraying fabric and relieve himself a little. It would probably be wet, the tip. He knows himself.

He shoves his face into the pillow and the teddy bear between his knees and wills himself not to think about Viktor in bed with his mother while he sleeps.

❁

Because life is fair and just, Jayce has a raging hard-on when he wakes up. Big, throbbing, and making his hips twitch before he’s even opens his eyes. He groans against his pillow, half cognizant but enough to feel the wave of horny urges wash over him. “Fuck…”

The sunlight is filtering in through the blinds. The shadow of a bird fluttering past is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. Then he rocks his hips back, and is met with something solid against his back. He realizes, with horror, that he’s habitually scooted his way to the middle of the bed in his sleep. Viktor is pressed between his back and the wall, still completely asleep and snoring lightly. Jayce’s shirt has rucked up, so Viktor’s bare chest is touching his exposed back. Jayce can feel his heartbeat.

He curses again, then the alarm goes off. Jayce flings himself out of bed, hopefully in time for Viktor to not notice the fact that they were spooning.

Shower. Get dressed. Hide in the kitchen. At least, that’s his plan until he’s stowed behind the bathroom door and hears the two of them shuffling into the hallway.

“Did you sleep well?” Ximena asks.

“Mm. Yes. Thanks to your quite comfortable accommodations.” Viktor’s voice is even deeper when he’s just woken up, fuck. There’s a gravelly quality to it that has Jayce wanting to bite his fist. There’s a pause, and then a knock on the door. Shit. Shit shit shit.

Jayce flushes the toilet and washes his hands for good measure. When he opens the door, Viktor is standing on the other side of it, dressed in his clothes from the day before with a little bedhead. He blinks expectantly, while Jayce continues to hide himself behind the door.

“Are you going to let me in?”

It sets such an awful precedent, letting Viktor stay the night. It’s a slippery slope. A dangerous game. A real fucking steep decline. Jayce passes by him and beelines right to his room, where he stubbornly plans not to remove himself until they're long gone.

His bed, now empty but remade (this also makes him annoyed, as if Viktor could get any more perfect), is a welcome comfort. There is only one problem: it smells like Viktor. His pillows smell like Viktor’s hair. A soft, human smell. Something warm and slightly acidic but not at all unpleasant, like sagebrush and fir. His sheets smell too, sweeter the lower he gets. Jayce tries to ignore it, truthfully, he does. But his bed still feels different. It feels slept in, used the same way his fucking mother does now and he still has at least one orgasm in him from the boner he woke up with.

He doesn't know how long it takes for them to leave. They chat idly, too quietly for him to hear what about. Viktor probably helps her water her plants, probably tells her that Jayce was staring too hard at his leg and she probably responds by telling him that Jayce farts in his sleep or something else embarrassing that Viktor will politely deny.

The longer he waits, the harder he gets until he finally hears the door close, and then he's blissfully alone in his childhood room, which used to be his sanctuary. Above him, the planets are hung on a golden mobile. His posters are still shining, but faded.

He moves onto his stomach and presses directly to the mattress where the smell is the strongest. Where the sheets feel softer as if Viktor's body has worn them down— or maybe he's imagining that everything Viktor touches is different somehow. Better. His cock presses needy against the mattress as he ruts just once, legs wide enough that it spreads his ass cheeks and he can feel the cool air in the room through his shorts. He grabs his ass with one hand and pretends that it's Viktor squeezing and taking his fill. Groping him like the pervert Jayce knows he really is.

Jayce spreads his left leg wider, bending his knee as he begins to hump his mattress, cursing as he pants, turning his head to the side and imagining Viktor were there to kiss him, to whisper with his soft voice, you’re doing so well. Look at you, even prettier than your mother.

Fuck, his slow, lazy thrusts are just enough. The underside of his painfully hard cock gliding against the fabric until he lifts his hips enough to pull it out fully, naked and searing hot in his palm. “Viktor,” he grunts. “God, Viktor.”

He's sweating, can feel it on the exposed small of his back where his shirt is still rucked up.

Who knows how long it's been, how long he savors the warm ache in his groin, the soft pressure building low in his belly, until suddenly, the door to his bedroom is swinging open.

Viktor stands in the doorway with a coffee in his hand. “What were you doing?”

Jayce sits up and scrambles for the fluffy blankets he'd kicked down at the same time, wrapping them around his lower half as he kneels guilty in the center of his bed. Flushed and panting, shirt pushed all the way up under his armpits and his nipples peaked to high heaven.

“N-nothing,” Jayce stammers. “Nothing. Sleeping.”

“It looks like you were touching yourself.”

“I wasn’t—” God, Jayce can suddenly smell the musk of his arousal, thick and cloying in the air. It would be obvious to anyone.

“Were you touching yourself, Jayce? Show me your hands.”

Jayce raises his hands. They’re shaking a little. He feels hot all over. At least his hands are dry.

“Remove the blanket.”

“I can’t.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow, cocks his head to the side. “Why not?”

The guilt makes his throat close up. “Because— Why are you even here?!”

“Because I’ll see that you’re hard. You are, aren’t you?”

He is, achingly. He’s straining against the weight of the blanket and desperately wanting attention. He was close. So close that if Viktor had waited even five more minutes he would have spilled cum all over the freshly cleaned sheets.

But Viktor, he doesn't look disgusted, or even angry. He looks focused. He sets the coffee down, which Jayce belatedly realizes was for him.

“I tried to ignore your jealousy,” Viktor says. “You’ve been like a needy little boy since we first met, and I have to say, Jayce, I've grown tired of this.”

The humiliation burns him. The Reddit post was enough, Jayce knows how he's been acting, and he knows how aroused it makes him to get confronted.

There's no denying any of it anymore. He wants Viktor badly.

So when Viktor’s gaze darkens and he says, “Lower the blanket,” Jayce doesn’t move.

“Make me.”

The subtle look of surprise on Viktor’s face makes him preen. Something flashes in those keen eyes. Something thrilling. “If you don't remove that blanket, then you'll never know how it feels to come while I'm watching.”

Those words repeat themselves in Jayce’s head, come while he’s watching. While Viktor’s watching. While Viktor’s golden eyes are locked onto his body. Would he bite his lips? Would he wet them like he wets them when he’s looking at his mother’s neck?

“You want me to come?” Jayce asks.

“You’re going to, aren’t you?”

Jayce’s whole body lurches like he wants to slide right off the bed and to his knees. His fingers tremble as he does what’s been asked of him, pushing the material down and away from his groin. His thick, uncut cock is hard and curving up towards his belly. He must look debauched, kneeling in his childhood bed, fluffy comforter bunched up around his thighs, pillows with bite marks all over them and a highly judgemental teddy bear in the corner.

“Filthy.”

“Viktor—”

“Do you always touch yourself like this, under your mother’s roof?”

Jayce’s cock jumps, chubby and only growing fatter with need. “No…”

“You must know that you aren’t supposed to.” Viktor shifts his weight.

“I do.”

“What if your mother heard you rutting like an animal against the sheets that she washes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” he asks, brow raised. “Show me.”

Jayce’s hand twitches. His thighs ache. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks up at the man before him. Humiliated tears prickle his eyes, collecting in his dark lashes.

“Go on. If you want to be a brat so badly, then show me.”

Jayce itches to reach for his cock. The temptation to take himself in hand right then and there and blow his load while he makes direct, unavoidable eye contact is one he’ll have to unpack later. For now, he knows what Viktor wants from him, knows that to make up for everything, he has to be good.

Slowly, he lowers himself, back arched, legs spread the way he was when Viktor first interrupted. He begins to thrust against his bed until he's close again, until he can barely stand to brush his soaked frenulum against the mattress without shuddering.

“Such pretty tears.”

His cock is even wetter than his face is. For once, he has all of Viktor’s attention to himself. “Viktor,” he pleads.

“Are you close already?”

Jayce whines. He feels like he could explode with one touch, with a brush of Viktor's fingertips down the curve of his spine. If only he would touch him, if he would come closer, lower himself…

“What is it that you need?”

“To come. Please.” He wants this over with as much as he never wants it to end.

Suddenly, Viktor is stepping closer, until he's right next to the bed, staring down at Jayce. Close enough for Jayce to see the length of him trapped stiffly in his pants.

Jayce chokes on his spit.

He made Viktor hard.

He needs all of his clothes off now and he needs Viktor to touch him.

Viktor senses this, he places his hand on the back of Jayce's head, runs his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp but not pulling. “Are you full?”

Jayce nods deliriously. His balls are taut. He spreads his legs wider so that Viktor could see them if he tugged up the side of his shorts.

“Hm.” Viktor takes notice of the silent invitation, trails his hand down Jayce's back and makes him shiver. It travels all the way down to the curve of his ass where he dips between his cheeks and pulls his shorts to the side. Jayce's hole winks. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

“No.” Jayce barely manages to say it. His baby bisexuality has been limited to shy makeouts and quick, sloppy handjobs, but he’s wanted it. He’s thought about it.

“Perhaps you are not as naughty as I thought.” Viktor leaves his ass alone to step back from the bed and pops the button of his pants. “Lube, Jayce. Where is it?”

“Drawer,” he squeaks out, rutting into the bed for good measure because holy fuck, is Viktor going to— are they going to have sex? “You're gonna—”

“Yes, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to put my cock in this pretty little hole you've kept so nice for me. Isn't that what you want, lásko?”

A pained, garbled sound rips itself from his throat and he white-knuckles the pillow in front of him, “I'm gonna cum.”

“Shh,” Viktor soothes. “You won't until I'm inside you.”

“I’m– I'm going to— Your voice—”

Viktor retrieves the small, expired bottle of lube from Jayce's bedside drawer. “Don't move,” he warns.

But Jayce has to move because this is every one of his wildest fantasies coming true. Bottoming for his mother’s boyfriend, how could he not?

Oh god. Does Viktor talk to his mother like this?

“Wait,” he panics.

“Jayce, our relationship is not what you think it is. This is alright.”

The cap clicks and he has about ten seconds to process the fact that his mother is in an open relationship before cold lube hits his ass and Viktor’s finger is pressed against his rim. “What the fuck—”

“I bet such a big boy has a big load, hm?” Viktor gently slaps his balls as they hang between his legs. The next thing he moans is an embarrassingly drawn out version of Viktor's name that devolves into unintelligible syllables because it feels so good he can’t even think. White hot pleasure-pain shooting up his spine and making his thighs tremble.

“Up,” Viktor instructs. He finally pulls Jayce's shorts off. His neglected cock bobs between his legs, dripping copious amounts of clear fluid.

His hole swallows Viktor's thumb like he needs it to live. There’s gentle pressure at first, and then more insistently it slips inside.

“This is your first time?” Viktor coos as it sinks in to the knuckle. “You're a natural, it seems.”

Jayce drools on his pillow uselessly, because he's been wondering what those fingers would feel like for months. He vaguely registers Viktor praising how well he takes it, how soft he is inside, how two fingers are filling him up and then three.

Viktor brushes against the swelling gland inside him and Jayce's whole body shakes as he comes undone on his fingers. His orgasm sprays out of him in thick pulses, cock jerking with the effort to shoot it as hard and as far as he can.

Viktor is quiet as he clenches rhythmically around him, moaning throughout the orgasm, so caught off guard by the intensity of it, the shaking and cramping. It just keeps going and going— His hole flutters and he blacks out for more than a few seconds.

“You've got more in you,” Viktor hums.

Jayce’s belly is warm and sticky, he slides down onto his stomach, smearing it into the sheets, panting as he catches his breath. His insides feel ticklish. His cock is oversensitive already, but he can hear Viktor undressing behind him, his belt coming off and his pants sliding down his legs and he wants. God, he wants.

“It's going to feel like a lot for your first time. But I have so much faith in you. I know that you can take it.” His long, thin fingers spread across Jayce's entire ass cheek, spreading him open for a good look at his now wet and puffy rim.

Jayce has never been so vulnerable with anyone before, never gasped and choked as he was fingered open. He loves it, undeniably, he does. The meat of his ass on full display, his hole ripe for the taking. Viktor makes him feel like an indulgence, the sweet he should be resisting.

“You've gone so quiet.” Viktor kneels behind him, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “Place this here…” He instructs Jayce to prop a pillow beneath his hips, for a better angle, easier access. Jayce feels the cold touch of metal against his lower leg. Viktor moves behind him and adjusts until he's comfortably hovering above.

Jayce can feel his cock, but he can't see it. It's warm, silky soft, and long.

He shudders, and Viktor just holds it there, for a moment, so that Jayce can get used to the size and the weight of it, the relative thickness resting against his ass.

The door to his bedroom is still open, and they're in his bed lying naked and nearly naked together. Jayce, still in his shirt, Viktor, draped over his back, kissing his neck. Controlled enough not to even rock his hips but Jayce can feel his cock throb with his pulse. It must be blue-veined the way Viktor’s wrists and hands are.

“Is that all you've got?” Jayce goads him.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

The noise Jayce makes when Viktor’s cock breeches him, is embarassingly high-pitched. Not unlike the first time he ever had sex and came embarrassingly quickly. The stretch is somehow more than his fingers were, harder and hotter. Viktor slides in the first couple of inches and Jayce curses again because he knows that there’s more to come.

But Viktor, the smug bastard, inhales like he’s struggling not to slam in. He isn’t heavy against Jayce’s back, but Jayce couldn’t move if he wanted to. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, another inch pushing into him and Jayce arches back to meet it. “Fuck—”

Having never heard Viktor curse before, Jayce begins to rock his hips back, wanting more of it, wanting Viktor to loosen up for once, to show that he’s not so god damn perfect.

“Jayce—” Viktor’s hands are like a vice grip around Jayce’s waist, digging into the muscle there as he begins to thrust properly, to fuck in and out, carving himself a nice space. “My good boy.”

Jayce moans. He can’t do much more now than lie there and take it. His limbs feel like jelly and his spent cock is already stiffening back up.

“So beautiful and tight for me, yes? So good inside, you feel so good, my darling.”

“Viktor—”

“Hm?” Viktor coos, his lips brushing the back of Jayce’s ear. “What is it, my love? What do you need?” He never stops thrusting, steady and firm.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Is it right there?”

Jayce nods deliriously as the length of Viktor’s cock drags against his walls, nailing his prostate every time. “Too—too much.”

“But you had so much defiance in you? What happened to that?” Viktor thrusts pointedly, deep, and stays there, feeling Jayce squirm around him. “If you want me to stop,” he mocks, “Make me.”

“Don’t stop!” Jayce begs. Viktor knows that’s not what he wants. He needs this, needs to cum again, needs to be split open by cock, put in his place, ruined and thoroughly fucked.

Viktor grinds into him, all the way inside and not pulling out. His hipbones are harsh against the plushness of Jayce’s ass, the metal in his leg heating against Jayce’s feverish, sensitive skin. “I know what you want.” His voice is low and gravelly again, almost a sneer. His hips snap forward, and Jayce cries are drowned out by the slap of skin against skin.

“Yes, yes, Jayce!” The closer he gets, the higher his voice. It cracks as he says it. “I can feel you getting close, you’re so tight inside.”

Jayce comes with his eyes squeezed shut and Viktor balls deep inside him. His second orgasm is even more full-bodied than the previous. It feels like his soul leaves his body, ripped right out of him from the tip of his cock where Viktor is fucking the come out him.

With a small, strangled sound, Viktor finishes inside him and only pulls out in time for the last of it to land in a thick splat across the dimples in Jayce’s back. He’s out of breath and shivering afterwards, draped across Jayce’s prone body and spent.

“Viktor,” he murmurs. “Can I see you?”

“Yes, my sweet.” Viktor rolls off of him, and Jayce is surprised to see when he turns that some of his hair is stuck to his forehead. His own is a mess. He’s flushed and sweaty, just like he wanted to be.

“I like it when you talk to me like that. Like I’m yours,” he confesses.

“Mm.” Viktor lazily trails a finger across the width of Jayce’s smooth chest. “May I kiss you?”

It’s forward enough to make Jayce blush, even after everything they’ve just done. Raw sex, multiple orgasms on his part, and he’s blushing at the thought of a kiss. “I… I don’t know.”

“If you don't want me to, it's alright.”

“I do want you to. It's just that…” Fuck it. He leans forward and closes the distance between them as selfishly as he can. Their lips meet someone messily, but slot together in time. Viktor’s are surprisingly gentle, much softer than his hips were when they collided with Jayce's body.

He tastes like very sweet cream and faintly, coffee.

Jayce moans into his mouth. Viktor swallows it all down accommodatingly. He makes no complaint when Jayce starts to rub himself against him. “Insatiable,” he pulls free to say.

“Fuck me again.” Jayce has his hands in his hair this time, claiming him in any way that he can. He latches onto Viktor's neck and sucks his pulse.

“Jayce,” Viktor warns, but it's too late.

Jayce knows that he's won.

They do fuck again. Viktor rolls onto his back to give his leg a rest while Jayce climbs on top of him. He rides Viktor with all the clumsy finesse of someone who’s doing it for the first time, earning himself more than one smack on the behind.

He was right about Viktor grabbing his ass. Right about the way his eyes roll back when he comes. What he wasn't expecting is how much Viktor loves it when Jayce plays with his nipples.

His bedframe creaks with the force of his bouncing, and all he can think as he rapidly approaches his third orgasm is that Reddit was fucking wrong.