Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Jayce kisses Viktor, it’s probably an accident.

Half in shock, Viktor watches as Jayce almost runs out of the room, a schematic in hand. He had been working on a particularly tough mechanical problem, trying to figure out just the right angles of motion for the new hextech system they were in the middle of designing. This was Jayce’s expertise; he had a background in metalwork, after all, but Viktor grew up in Zaun. Making something work was what he did.

When he leans over and mentions an extra groove in the hinges, Jayce stops his sketching immediately. It looked like he wasn’t breathing. Viktor waits, leaning on his cane, one hand on the table.

“Viktor--” It came out in a breath, a rush, and in a second Jayce had stood up. “You’re brilliant.”

Before Viktor could smirk or brush off the compliment, Jayce had put both hands on Viktor’s jaw and leaned in, not down, and kissed his forehead.

And then, he ran away.

Viktor was left in the workshop, his eyes wide, a flush creeping up in the back of his neck.

He brushes it off, imagines that Jayce just got excited, that he wasn’t even thinking. He busies himself in the theoretical problems they’re working on, writing the equations out in neat handwriting on the blackboard. He absolutely does not think about how strong Jayce’s hands were. He does not think about how fast the man stood, how his build framed Viktor easily. He does absolutely not think about those hands moving elsewhere, and above all, most of all, Viktor does not even imagine for a second a version of that kiss where Viktor pulled Jayce down.

It’s a few weeks later when they have the first prototype of the model that Jayce kisses Viktor a second time.

This time they’re both working on the metal pieces that Jayce has created. They are carefully angling the runes and creating exact angles, and Viktor is in awe at the intuition that Jayce displays when working with the magic. There’s something natural about the way his hands (damn those hands) tweak each rune-slate, how easily he turns lodestones and clamps to create something that’s near perfect. Viktor lets him work but helps by arranging notes of past successes.

Jayce has pulled his tie out. Viktor is not staring at his neck. Not at the pulse point just under his jaw, the strong line down to his collarbone. Jayce’s chest is the size of Piltover, and it’s unfair, it’s criminal actually.

Instead, he looks at his notes, comparing them to the model that Jayce is tinkering with. Then it hits him, a pattern. Minute, minor, but there it is. A number. An angle. Intuition can only get you so far. At some point, you need to rely on the math. Viktor smiles to himself.

“Let me try,” he says, stepping closer.

“Merciful Gods, please,” Jayce throws himself away from the model. “I think my eyes are going cross. I’ve been staring at this for hours, Viktor, I can’t even seem to find my hands anymore.”

Oh, Viktor thinks, he could always find Jayce’s hands.

Instead of saying that very traitorous, and very dangerous thought, Viktor takes the screwdriver deftly out of Jayce’s hand and turns the model. He carefully adjusts the angle, checks his notes, and then tightens the metal casing.

Like magic, the slates start quivering, all turned towards the same point, even without the power pulsing through the device. Viktor is smiling, just a little, at the corners of his mouth, and he feels satisfied. All these problems and he’s the one in this room, in this lab, solving every issue. If it were in him to preen he would, but instead he just turns to Jayce, holding out the screwdriver.

And Jayce is in his space, standing, just his fingertips on Viktor’s jaw, and he’s pressing a kiss to Viktor’s cheek, almost at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a genius, Vik!” His excitement ghosts over Viktor’s ear and almost causes a full-body shudder. Viktor wishes he could have said something clever, or insightful, or even funny. He wishes he could have said anything at all, but instead he drops the screwdriver.

Jayce, a gentleman, immediately steps back to pick it up for him. Viktor does not stare at his shoulders as he crouches, does not imagine the movement in another setting, and he realizes, very suddenly, that he needs to leave.

“Of course,” Viktor murmurs, taking a step back, turning away. “I’ll make some celebratory tea.”

“What makes a tea celebratory?” Jayce asks, and Viktor does not turn around when he hears that smile in Jayce’s words. He says something (fuck if he remembers how to form coherent sentences, instinct maybe) and busies himself with the kettle, listening to Jayce tinkering in the background.

Later, Viktor does not spend time remembering the calluses on Jayce’s fingertips, how his lips were chapped, how he missed his mouth, how it could have been so much better.

The third time is not even a time at all. Jayce and Viktor built a larger model after they stabilized the angles. When they test the prototype they find that they can now focus the hextech powersphere. The floating space above their experiment has become controlled. There's only a certain amount of space that has lost its gravity, and not the entire room. Objects tumble over themselves in a two-foot cylinder of magic.

(The theory here is that unmitigated--unfocused--magic will expand to fit whatever container it exists in, at an exponential rate of decay from the initial power core... but that's a theory for another time.)

And then, Viktor reaches out and adjusts the frequency. The tumbling stops, and the test objects -- a paper airplane, a book full of notes, and a deck of worn playing cards that Viktor found on him, stop moving in the air. Instead, they stay perfectly still, hovering directly over the stone, its pulsing light is no longer erratic, but keeping steady time. Viktor smiles, allowing himself this victory.

Then, Viktor, who has been watching the objects spinning on invisible gyres, looks across the table.

Jayce is staring at him.

Viktor forgets how to breathe.

“Incredible,” Jayce mutters. He does not move at all, and instead, he looks up at the objects again.

Viktor has heard that tone before. He saw Jayce clench the table as his shoulders (all saints, those shoulders) hunched. Watched Jayce with sharp eyes as the other man didn’t move towards him and didn’t say anything else.

Viktor finds his breath again and looks up. He leans against his cane and nods, focusing on the cards that have escaped the pack, all the faces and stars floating around, still in a perfect, meticulous, calculated order. The Jack of Hearts winks in the glow.

He knows (he hopes) what would have happened, had he and Jayce been on the same side of the table, shoulders brushing, as Viktor perfected their experiment. Instead, the prototype separates them, and Viktor doesn't know whether the burning in his throat like hard liquor is anger at Jayce for not moving or at himself for wanting it so badly.

The fourth kiss happened when Viktor was exactly the opposite of brilliant.

It was a long day. They were trying to figure out how to make this technology useful, and implementing practical purposes for seemingly impractical solutions felt like a losing game. How far could they push the hextech? What problems needed solving?

Everyone in Piltover seemed to have a different opinion about that. Today was proof of it. They had been in front of the council for hours, standing and listening for hours, and even when Heimerdinger noticed Viktor’s discomfort, even when Jayce tried to get them a break, there wasn’t anyone willing to give the two scientists a moment of rest during the investigation into all the problems haunting the council.

Viktor couldn’t help but wonder what parts of Zaun would benefit from these suggestions. The council had plenty of ideas, most aimed at lining their own pockets. A few aimed at weaponizing hextech, which Jayce and Viktor were firmly against. But what about helping people? 

So Viktor, in pain, had limped to their laboratory. He sits down and finally leans forward to ease the tension on his brace. He had tightened it during the day to keep himself steady, and he was paying the price now. Already he can feel the bruises and welts along his knee and down his shin. Fuck.

“Why are you here?”

Viktor looks up, ready to be defensive, but the look on Jayce’s face; worry, concern, genuine confusion, was enough to wipe away Viktor’s anger entirely. He swallows his pride and shakes his head. “This room was closer.”

Immediately Jayce is next to him, crouching by his leg. “The council could have given you a chair,” he says, his hands quickly undoing the brace along Viktor’s thigh. Viktor absolutely does not move a single centimeter lest he dislodge Jayce’s hand. Or worse, accidentally moves closer to Jayce. What was worse, truly? Letting Jayce undo the brace entirely, his fingers gliding down the seams of Viktor’s pants, or pushing him away?

Viktor takes a deep breath and relaxes as Jayce finally pulls away, having taken off the ankle supports, laying the whole of the brace over his knee. Viktor grips his cane, and Jayce makes a noise, frowning down at the aid.

“How old is this thing?” He asks, voice soft as his fingers graze over the metal.

“Ah,” Viktor sighs. He does not reach out to touch Jayce’s hair, or his shoulders (which should be criminalized) but he does stare at the way that Jayce’s neck arches, the way his back stays straight. He allows his eyes to follow the lines of Jayce's body down to his ass (which should also be criminalized, for the record) and he does not touch Jayce at all, he keeps his hands firmly on his cane. Viktor takes a deep breath. “A few years, I think.”

Almost six years, if Viktor was being honest.

Jayce snorts. “I can tell.”

Viktor swallows. He feels panic rising. Of course, Jayce would be able to know that it was older than ‘a few years’, of course, Jayce would catch him in the lie. Of course, Jayce would think about this sort of thing, this age, this wear, the ways in which Viktor has had to make do. Viktor flushes. He opens his mouth to defend himself but Jayce glances up at him and the words die on his tongue.

“Let me make you something better,” Jayce says, smiling a little, the same excitement in his eyes when he ran off to his forge with a schematic Viktor had touched. 

“What?” Viktor finds his words.

“You need something with more padding, more strength. I can tell that the joints here don’t allow for your knee to fully extend.” Jayce touches Viktor’s leg. Viktor clenches his cane with both hands to keep them from straying. “It’ll take a day or two, but I can make you something more stable and comfortable.”

Viktor’s resolve cracks. He can't form coherent thoughts as Jayce looks up at him like that, as if Viktor deserves kindness like it's owed to him; as if it's an honor for Jayce to deliver. Viktor nods.

“I have a spare brace,” he says quietly. The spare was even older, probably ten years at this point. It probably wouldn't fit. It would definitely hurt. Viktor doesn’t fucking care. “I can wear that for a little bit.”

Jayce grins at him and in the half-light, Viktor thinks that he’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. And then Jayce stands. He’s holding the brace in one hand and with the other he squeezes Viktor’s shoulder and moves to help him stand. Viktor leans against him, already knowing that they are enjoying a kind of familiarity that usually takes decades of working together and they’re here after barely ten months. As they walk he thinks that he feels a press, the softness of a kiss against his temple as Jayce delivers him to his room down the hall from their lab.

He might have imagined it.

“Just a few days,” Jayce promises as Viktor goes into his quarters. “It’ll be perfect.”

Viktor resists saying that everything Jayce does is perfect, resists being sentimental, pushes down the part of himself that wants to drag Jayce into his rooms and insist he take off every piece separating Jayce’s hands from Viktor’s legs. Instead, he smiles slightly and nods.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, standing awkwardly in the door.

Jayce smiles brilliantly.

“Of course.” He takes a step back, still holding the brace like it could shatter like it’s a fragile, precious thing. “Anything you need.”

Viktor doesn’t know what to say, so instead of fumbling for the words or embarrassing himself further, or demanding Jayce get on his bed, he nods instead. He didn’t imagine that kiss. He didn’t imagine Jayce’s jaw against his head, his mouth on his forehead, his hand tight on his waist. It was real, and Viktor just lets it hang there, unspoken, unmentioned. Jayce takes the nod as the dismissal Viktor didn’t mean, and leaves.

Viktor limps to his bed and imagines taking off Jayce’s clothing, too.

There’s a fifth time; during a society outing. It’s a pretty thing, Viktor thinks as he watches people spin and dance. Their hands dart out at slim glasses, at hors d'oeuvres, at each other. Viktor finds it hard to watch. He always has. Events like this always made Viktor homesick. He misses Zaun sometimes, not the place itself, but the idea of it. Parties were events in small spaces with too many people, with pulsing music that made your ears ache, where it didn't matter that you couldn't stand upright because there were so many people around you. He misses that part of it the ways that people culled happiness from every moment of their lives, any way they could. No night out in Zaun would have four-string quartets and light arias.

Money seemed to make people want different things.

Invitations to these sorts of galas seemed to be commonplace now that Jayce and Viktor have gone wide with some of their breakthroughs. Who knew that socialites cared about science so much?

Since it seemed poised to bring in a lot of people a lot of money.

Viktor is not inside, is not nursing a drink or elbowing with the well-to-do. Viktor stands on a balcony on the second story, far above the dance hall, and he smokes. He wants to leave but Jayce asked him to come to this party specifically. The invitation was addressed to both of them, so Viktor didn't feel like it was totally pitiful for him to be in attendance. After Jayce made it clear that they were partners (Viktor had to repress a thrill at that) and that any invites addressed to only one of them would be ignored, they started receiving gilt letters addressed to Jayce Talis and Viktor Strazdiņš. Sometimes spelled the Piltover way--Starling. 

Viktor hated that.

To be frank, Viktor hated a lot about these parties. He would love to turn down these invitations and stay in the Academy with his notes and his projects. But Jayce seemed to enjoy it. House Talis had always been a part of this upper class, but now that he was established, older, handsome as all hells, eligible... Viktor takes a deep breath.

Jayce had been orbiting this kind of wealth his whole life, and he was just now getting acceptance outside of his relationship to the Kirammans. Viktor had never even dreamed of being accepted by these people. These creatures with gold on their tongues. It was enough of an ambition to be successful, and this? He watches the party, taking a drag. There's a whole table of food, unattended. He takes a deep breath. This is a lot.

So, Viktor standing just outside the party, watching all the pretty people in pretty clothing turn and dance and smile. Viktor leans against his cane. He wants to leave.

He closes his eyes. He takes another drag. He lets it out.

He does not leave.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Viktor starts and looks over at Jayce. The man had been down on the dance floor just minutes (seconds?) ago. He’s fucking stunning. His suit is tailored to perfection, his hair is shaved tightly up the sides, he’s even wearing a little brooch right under his Adam’s apple and Viktor wants to fucking die.

“Viktor?” Jayce raises his eyebrows, takes a few steps towards him. Gods, he's concerned.

Oh fucking hells, he’d been staring.

“Sorry.” Viktor drops the cigarette and puts it out with his heel, embarassed suddenly. “Sorry, no, I’m fine.”

“It’s freezing out here, Vik,” Jayce says.

“Do you want my coat?” Viktor smirks and Jayce chuckles.

“No.” He steps closer. "I’d like you to come inside.”

“So you don’t freeze?” Viktor is still smiling a little, leaning against his cane. Jayce isn’t completely wrong. It’s cold out, but Viktor has never felt the cold in Piltover.

“So I don’t have to face the wolves alone.”

Jayce’s expression knocks the wind out of Viktor. His smile drops and he sees Jayce clearer. He doesn’t want to be here, not really. The cold presses in around them.

“What are we doing here, Jayce?” Viktor asks.

“I thought you wanted this.” Jayce gestures at the party, looks down at all the wonderfully gorgeous people doing wonderfully cultured things and being wonderfully civilized and polite. “We’re finally here. People want to know us. Because of what we’re doing, our inventions.”

Viktor’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. Jayce embraced their partnership so easily, without hesitation. Our work. Our inventions. Viktor wasn’t an assistant, he was finally next to the action, a part of it. And Jayce thought that part of their partnership meant an attempt to elevate Viktor to his station. It was an act of misplaced kindness born of miscommunication. Fuck, Jayce was too good for all this. Viktor was grateful, for a few seconds, that money allowed people more pathways to grow up kind. Would Jayce still be like this if he had been born in Zaun?

Maybe.

“I don’t care about any of this,” Viktor says instead of what he wants to say, which is definitely not fit for wonderfully polite company. “I care about our work. I care about helping people. I don’t care about our potential investors, I care about…” Viktor trails off, gesturing. Jayce nods. He doesn’t push, he knows. Viktor shakes his head, pulls out another cigarette with shaking hands. He can't tell Jayce how much all of this means to him, he can't make those words come out.

Jayce steps even closer now, and before Viktor even gets the cig to his mouth Jayce has a lighter out. Viktor leans in, and he finds himself incredibly warm. Maybe that’s why Jayce is cold. Too much muscle mass. He inhales and when he looks up, Jayce takes the cigarette out of Viktor's mouth, plucking it away with deft fingers, and takes his own drag.

Viktor thinks, horribly, that he wants to see that mouth bruised.

Jayce passes the cigarette back. “You want to leave?”

“Now?” Viktor’s eyebrows are up. The quartet continues over the gentle noise of a very carefully policed and controlled street. Laughter and conversation float around them. But all Viktor can hear is his heart in his ears, all he can see is Jayce smiling a little at him, indulgent, darling. Fuck. Viktor wants to destroy him.

Jayce smiles. “Now.”

“Oh, well you know I thought I’d take a turn around the dancefloor. See if Madame Kirraman would do a waltz with me.” Viktor takes another drag. Jayce looks shocked and Viktor chuckles. “I’m joking Jayce. We can leave now.”

Jayce’s face breaks. He laughs, and he’s so close, so nearby, within reach, and Viktor turns away. He can’t look at Jayce. The other man steps close, throws an arm around Viktor’s shoulders and walks along the balcony, heading to the outside staircase. Viktor feels like he can’t breathe and it has nothing to do with the cigarette dangling from his fingers.

“You don’t even want to say goodbye?” Viktor asks, a little surprised.

“No.” Jayce’s tone doesn’t broker any argument. Viktor can smell him; something like sulfur and salt. There’s a musk, alcohol, something that might be expensive but Viktor could never tell. Viktor could get drunk on this. He takes a drag and suddenly Jayce is in front of him, taking the cigarette again, and they’re inches away, and there’s something here, isn’t there? There’s something.

But Jayce pulls away as soon as he gets close.

When they’re on the street Jayce hails a cab. Viktor’s half-ashed cigarette is discarded as they pile in the backseat, and Viktor can feel the entire length of Jayce’s thigh against his. Jayce leans back and puts an arm around Viktor’s shoulders.

Viktor thinks this is a worse torture than watching rich socialites eat escargot. It’s a pain that makes him ache as Jayce sighs and leans into him, a little drunk, too late at night. Viktor closes his eyes and Jayce slumps in his seat. He turns his head and his mouth brushes against Viktor’s neck.

Viktor freezes.

Jayce breathes out, and yes, that’s his mouth right there, and Viktor stares straight ahead as the cab drives them back to the academy. Viktor’s hands are around his cane, but Jayce’s arm is around his shoulders, and Viktor can’t fucking think. Jayce turns a little, into Viktor, and his mouth opens, presses against Viktor’s neck again, and Viktor looks up and tries not to make any noise at all as Jayce just stays there and breathes and exists and Viktor tries not to get overwhelmed by all of him.

It’s the longest cab ride of Viktor’s life. When they get to the Academy he nudges Jayce awake and the man blearily looks around. They get out and walk to their quarters, and as Viktor turns into his bedroom he realizes that without Jayce next to him he feels cold, for the first time all night.

He dreams of Jayce’s mouth on his neck. He counts it as a kiss.

Every morning Viktor straps his new brace on he marvels again at the work of it. He will readily admit that Talis has built something far beyond he could have crafted. It’s genuinely incredible, the way that the stress is dispersed through his body, the way his back even aches less, how its easier to stand, to walk. It’s remarkable, it’s fantastic, and every time that Viktor’s hands ghost over the brackets and hinges he imagines Jayce’s hands there, his fingers, his palms, his knuckles grazing his knee.

It’s been a year, and Viktor knows that he is monumentally fucked.

He’s in the lab, looking over his notes. It’s noon, and Jayce hasn’t been in yet. Viktor takes a few steps back from the blackboard and decides, on a whim, to go to Jayce’s workshop. It’s directly below the lab, and he leans against the elevator wall as it descends slowly.

When he walks in, Jayce is stripped down to his undershirt, his jacket discarded in the heat of the small forge. Viktor stares at his arms and hates how he can name every muscle that arcs gracefully along Jayce's arm.  

“Ah, perfect.” Jayce looks over at Viktor, distracting him from the very important task of cataloging Jayce's arms, and he smiles, gesturing him over. “Look at this.”

Viktor walks over slowly, loathe to give up the view. He notices a small machine that’s half-undone in front of Jayce. He recognizes a timing mechanism, not much else.

“What am I looking at?” He leans against his cane, looking over Jayce's shoulders.

“A delayed start machine that can be remotely operated via radio.”

Viktor raises his eyebrows. “Ingenious.”

“I can’t get it to work,” Jayce moans, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Viktor smiles. It’s endearing. Typical Jayce to start something and flounder just before he’s able to finish the job.

“Let me see.”

It’s a refrain. Let me try, let me see, give it to me.

And Jayce just smiles and leans away and Viktor gives it a hard look.

“Your electricity bypass is interfering with the transmissive,” Viktor points out. “Shift the connections to be further apart.”

Jayce doesn’t move. Usually, after Viktor makes a suggestion Jayce immediately makes the adjustments. This time he stays still and Viktor looks from the device to see Jayce staring at him, smiling. Viktor raises his eyebrows and resists the urge to smile back.

“What is it?”

“How did I get so lucky?” Jayce asks, and Viktor’s breath disappears. Jayce is smiling up at him, and there’s something in his face that’s like admiration, almost awe, and the feeling is so overwhelming, so incredible, that Viktor can’t help himself. Doubt disappears, questions evaporate. There's only Jayce, smiling up at him like he's something precious.

He leans down, slides his hand along the side of Jayce’s head, and Jayce doesn't move at all. Viktor doesn't ask permission, surely he can take this, after all the times Jayce has destroyed him in soft brushes and breaths. Viktor kisses him, a heat pulsing through his entire body. Jayce's lips are a little chapped, but his smile never leaves his face, Viktor can feel his jaw flex, leaning into Viktor. 

Oh, fuck.

“You’re very attractive,” Viktor murmurs, mouth against Jayce’s. It’s probably the least incredible thing he’s ever said, but he’s not thinking completely straight. He’s flushed, feeling hot all over, his hand almost shaking. What if Jayce pushes him away, what if Jayce never meant anything by his closeness, what if Viktor has just been so starved that any affection feels like a feast. 

“You’re incredible,” Jayce murmurs. He leans into Viktor, keeping their mouths ghosting over each other, a hand suddenly on Viktor’s hip.

Viktor kisses him again, harder, insistent. Jayce stands, crowds Viktor against the counter, and Viktor is grateful that despite Jayce's breadth, they're the same height. He lets go of his cane and drags both hands through Jayce’s hair as Jayce slides his hands up Viktor’s chest.

Oh, fuck.

What the fuck is Jayce made of even? His hands are burning, his whole body is pressed against Viktor. He’s a living furnace, and Viktor has been in the cold for too long. Viktor gasps as Jayce’s mouth moves down his neck, as Jayce fucking bites him, nosing at his collar.

His cane finally drops, and Jayce picks him up like he weighs nothing at all, setting him on the counter. Viktor’s legs bracket Jayce’s thighs, and it’s all he can do to keep his hands on Jayce as he undoes Viktor's jacket, still kissing his neck. This is real, this is real and in his hands and happening, and Viktor will be damned if he wastes this moment for a quick fuck in the forgeroom.

“Jayce--”

Jayce pauses, his hands brands on Viktor's sides, and Viktor only wants his mouth back on his neck, wants his hands moving again. “Alright?”

“If you don’t take me to your room right now we are going to ruin all your little experiments,” he says, sliding his hands down Jayce's neck.

Jayce looks up and grins, big and wide, and Viktor tightens his legs around his hips. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Jayce.”

He laughs and leans in and kisses Viktor again, his mouth insistent and open, hot and searing against Viktor’s. Viktor’s fucking done. He digs his nails into Jayce’s shoulders. He wants Jayce under him now. He pulls up Jayce’s shirt and spreads his hands against Jayce’s chest as the man pulls off his dirty shirt and fucking gods, this chest. Viktor drags his nails down and Jayce groans, rolling into his hands.

“I’m going to take you apart,” Viktor murmurs, and Jayce has his mouth at Viktor’s neck, his hands pulling at all the buttons and clasps separating his mouth from Viktor’s skin. “Your room. Now.”

Jayce manages to listen to Viktor long enough to pull him off the table. They pull at each other’s clothing as they stumble to Jayce’s quarters, which are literally connected to his Academy-built fabrication forge. Maybe this is why he gets cold easily, Viktor thinks, he’s spent too much time burning.

In Jayce’s room Viktor pushes him against the bed, and Jayce, who could easily resist any of Viktor’s physical demands, lets himself be pushed. He scrambles to the bedside table as Viktor sits down gently, starting to undo the brace on the outside of his trousers. He’s flushed a bright red--it’s embarrassing; if there’s anything less sexy than taking off a leg brace Viktor has yet to know it.

But suddenly Jayce is there, kneeling in between his legs, and his hands are undoing the mechanisms and hinges that he built. Maybe this was an act of love, after all, as Jayce fits in between Viktor’s knees, smiling, delighted that he’s doing this for Viktor, that he’s in service, that he’s useful. Viktor threads his fingers through Jayce’s hair and when Jayce finally undoes the last clasp and looks up at Viktor, Viktor tightens his hand in Jayce's hair and leans down, kissing Jayce hard, pulling his head back, insistent, demanding, aggressive.

And Jayce fucking moans into his mouth, his hands on Viktor's thighs, neck arched back, kneeling there.

Oh, Viktor thinks, Jayce is far too good for him.

But it’s not like Viktor hasn’t taken things that are too good for him before.

Instead, he kisses Jayce as the man undoes his trousers and then slides up on the bed. Viktor follows, taking off Jayce’s clothing, and dear lord, the man comes apart under Viktor’s hands. He lies back on the bed as Viktor draws his hands up his bare thighs, arching his back as Viktor touches his hips, spreading his legs as Viktor carefully kneels in between them, pulling Jayce's thigh to rest over his own, spreading his legs and god damn that's a view that Viktor will never forget.

His thighs are as muscular as the rest of him and Viktor takes his time admiring them with his mouth, leaning down to kiss up the strong lines of Jayce’s legs, marveling at this skin, far paler than the rest of him, a brightness that few get to see. He stops just short of Jayce’s cock, thick and heavy against his taut stomach, but he ghosts a breath across the head, and Jayce whines, setting his feet, pushing his hips up, trying to get closer to Viktor's mouth.

“Vik--”

That’s all it takes. Viktor quickly gets the lubricant that Jayce has fished out and puts his hand against Jayce’s legs, maneuvering his glorious thighs, lifting his ass up.

Jayce is flushed all down his chest, and Viktor wonders if he’s used to this or if he’s usually in Viktor’s position. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t think too hard about it, he just presses his finger into Jayce, who moans again. Any restraint, any hesitation about this disappears. Viktor pushes a second finger in too early, but leans over Jayce, forcing his knees up, his dick leaking against his sculpted torso. As Jayce scrambles for purchase on the bed, Viktor kisses him, his hand moving constantly inside him.

“You’re beautiful,” Viktor mutters, and it’s too open, too raw, and Jayce can’t form a response, he just gasps, and Viktor breaks. He pulls his hand out, pumps his own cock a few times and lines himself up. He puts his hands on Jayce’s thighs and the man is eager, moving his hips down, pushing his ass onto Viktor’s dick.

Viktor puts a hand on Jayce’s stomach and fucks him. He moves his hips against Jayce’s body and the man arches and sighs as Viktor thrusts into him. It's incredible, watching him move like this, like he was made to fall apart under Viktor's hands. His legs are up, angled over Viktor’s thighs, and this is one of the easier positions for Viktor to keep up as he moves into Jayce, kneeling and shifting forward, pressing deep into Jayce.

And then, Jayce turns a little, mouth open, eyes fluttering, his hands tight in the duvet, and he whispers, “Harder.”

And Viktor has always been very good at following instructions and he leans over Jayce, bites his neck, and fucks him into the mattress, pushing him down with his elbows and thighs, leaning into him. Jayce moans, little noises pressed out of him and Viktor can’t fucking stand it. He kisses Jayce’s mouth and Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor’s shoulders, his waist, pulling him closer, getting Viktor deeper as they move against each other.

That’s when Viktor reaches down to take Jayce’s dick in his hand and Jayce shudders, gasps into Viktor’s mouth, unable to even pretend that this isn’t exactly what he wants. He’s hot, radiating heat, and as Viktor thrusts hard and jerks him off, Jayce comes apart in his hand. He moans and digs his fingers into Viktor's sides before giving up, letting his arms fall back on the bed, hands above his head as he lets himself be wrecked.

He turns a little, moaning, mouth open, and Viktor tightens his hand, changes how he's fucking into him, and leans down to kiss him hard. Jayce pants against his mouth and climaxes through Viktor’s strong, steady pumps, hips jerking. It doesn’t take long after Jayce groans softly for Viktor to shift again, pull Jayce’s hips into just the right angle, and finish inside him, fucking Jayce hard enough to leave bruises on his thighs.

He sighs and curls over Jayce, who laughs, but in a way that makes Viktor feel precious and not like he's being teased. Jayce's hands move through his hair, and Viktor melts under his touch, sliding up the bed and lying down. He turns and looks at Jayce, who has his eyes closed, head tilted up, and in profile Viktor can't stand how handsome he is. There's got to be something wrong with Jayce, some flaw, but Viktor can only see what's right in front of him, and he hates himself for thinking there has to be something wrong with Jayce.

But they’re lying together and eventually when Jayce turns and smiles at him and pulls him into his arms, Viktor allows Jayce to hold him. Jayce's callused hands trace his spine, down his back, skirting the scars left from his brace. Jayce is warmer than any partner Viktor has ever had, and he’s fine lying there with nothing on, letting Jayce keep him warm.

“You can’t kiss me in the lab anymore,” Viktor murmurs against Jayce’s neck. “It’s distracting.”

“Stop being so distracting then,” Jayce says.

Viktor sighs and shifts. He leans up to look down at Jayce, who’s smiling, his hair finally out of place, his mouth a little red. Fuck. Viktor is done for.

“You can kiss me in the lab,” Viktor says, and Jayce grins. That grin does something very acrobatic to Viktor’s heart, and he swallows. “You can kiss me whenever you like.”

“I want to kiss you right now.”

Gods, this is disgusting. Is this how couples talk after an encounter where they actually like their partner? Where they plan to actually talk to them a second or third time? Viktor hates that he’s becoming sentimental. Worse, he hates that he’s enjoying it. Instead of telling Jayce to put some clothes on, to fuck off, he just sighs through his nose.

“So kiss me, Talis,” he huffs, “before I change--”

And then Jayce shuts him up, mouth against his mouth, chasing the threat that died the moment Jayce put his hand in Viktor’s hair. Viktor kisses Jayce, flushed and warm, and doesn’t have to imagine how it feels when Jayce laughs against Viktor’s mouth, when he pulls Viktor close, when he kisses Viktor like he’s never wanted to do anything else.