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Chapter Text

The soft hum of the machinery was the only sound in the lab, a steady rhythm that matched the precise movements of Viktor’s fingers as he worked. Sparks flared, momentarily illuminating the blueprints strewn across his desk. The prototype lay before him, an unfinished puzzle with answers just out of reach.

It wasn’t until a deep, resonant rumble broke through his focus that he realized the hum wasn’t just the machines—rain was pouring outside. The sharp drumming against the windows filled the room, louder than before. He blinked, pushing his goggles up to rub his eyes before glancing up.

The clock read well past midnight.

When had it gotten so late? He had meant to break the habit of working past the early hours of the morning, at least making an effort to leave before the city settled into its slumber. Yet, here he was—again.

With a sigh, he stretched, his back protesting in sharp but familiar aches. His leg was no different. He loosened the straps of his leg brace slightly, allowing his knee a brief respite before he’d have to drag himself home. His eyes flickered toward the rattling window. The rain was relentless, painting the city in silver streaks.

With fatality, he realized he couldn’t help the way his thoughts strayed to Jayce. He had left hours ago, sharp-dressed and freshly groomed, off to charm Piltover’s elite into more investments. Viktor hadn’t spared much thought about it at the time—Jayce was a natural in those circles. He navigated them with ease, smoothing egos with practiced grins and honeyed words.

Hope he made it back, Viktor thought, peeling his eyes away from the window. He could imagine Jayce navigating the streets in this weather. Had he taken a carriage? Did he leave early enough to avoid the downpour? Or had he done something entirely characteristic— strolled home in the rain, claiming the walk cleared his head?

He let the thought linger as he tidied up his desk. His ears still tuned to the steady patter of rain. It seemed heavier than usual, as if the storm itself was determined to wash Piltover clean. He thought of the city’s slick cobblestone streets, the way water pooled in uneven gutters. Treacherous underfoot.

Just as Viktor thought about it, the lab's heavy door burst open. 

Wind swept in, scattering papers, rattling blueprints, and sending loose trinkets tumbling across the workbench.

Viktor barely flinched. He sighed and turned in his stool.

There, dripping wet, stood Jayce.

His dark hair, loose from its usual slicked-back style, clung to his forehead. His coat sagged from his grip, its weight useless now— he must have used it to shield himself from the storm. A futile attempt, as even the white shirt beneath his Talis-colored waistcoat was soaked through, nearly transparent where the fabric clung to his skin.

For a brief moment, he seemed startled to see Viktor still there, his eyes widening in fleeting surprise before his expression softened into a sheepish grin.

”Fancy seeing you here, Viktor” Jayce’s voice was light, easy, as if he weren’t standing in a growing puddle of his own making. He shook his head, eerily reminiscent of a soaked dog. Droplets spraying everywhere. “Quite the weather we’re having, huh?”

Viktor stared at him, unimpressed. “Did your carriage break down?”

”Didn’t take one,” Jayce admitted, stepping further into the room and looking for anything to dry off the worst of his soaked face. “They were all booked out. Seemed no one wanted to risk getting drenched. And, well…” He gestured at himself, as if his current state was the most natural conclusion. “Lab’s closer than my place anyway, so I figured I’d just— drop by here in the meantime. Didn’t think I’d find you still at it, though.”

Viktor didn’t dignify that with a response, merely tossing a rag toward Jayce’s searching hands.

"I take the evening was a roaring success, then?" he asked, shifting his attention back to his own desk.

"Oh, you know. Promises made, egos stroked. They seemed interested, but who can tell with those people?" Jayce ran the rag over his face and neck, though it did little good before becoming just as soaked as the rest of him.

Viktor hummed, “At least you could say the drenching wasn’t in vain.”

The squelching of Jayce’s shoes was loud as he moved, leaning against the workbench across from Viktor. He crossed his arms, watching him. "And you haven’t told me why you’re still here. Thought we agreed you’d leave before you fused yourself to your stool."

“Well, here I am, unfused. And here you are, dripping all over the blueprints.” Viktor huffed in response.

Jayce’s eyes flickered briefly to where he was leaning, and, in fact dripping over some unimportant blueprints. He rolled his eyes, “I swear to the Gods, Viktor if you keel over from exhaustion before we present this to the council—“

“—You will whack me with my own cane, yes, yes.” Viktor cut in with a wave of his hand. “Though, I must say that is incredibly, eh, fucked up— hitting a disabled man with his own mobility aid, what would the public say…”

He turned in his stool, fully expecting to see the usual look of mild mortification on his partner’s face. Instead, his attention was on the way he was absentmindedly undoing the clasps on his waistcoat. 

“You’re going to get me into some serious trouble one of these days,” Jayce replied, shaking his head in resignation, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

With his waistcoat open, Viktor had an ample view of the simple white shirt underneath— his soaked white shirt. It clung to his frame, tawny skin perfectly visible against the near-transparent fabric, perfectly highlighting the defined muscle beneath in sharp contrast. The dim lab lights made every detail stark.

Viktor opened his mouth to say something— anything— when his gaze zeroed in on a simple fact.

There, on the visible skin of Jayce’s chest and upper torso, were words.

Scrawled in stark, dark lines— smeared slightly by the water, some barely noticeable on the spots where the fabric of his shirt wasn’t as translucent, but unmistakably, was writing. 

Jagged, almost frantic script in some places, clumsy and even shaky in others. 

The air in Viktor’s lungs suddenly felt too thin. His mind raced as he blinked once, twice, thinking it might be some bizarre trick of the light. But no—

The words were there.

Mutt. Whore. Slut. 

A couple more smudges he couldn’t discern from where he was seated. 

His throat felt dry. Is this the kind of thing he should have noticed before? How long had those… marks been there?

Were they inked on his skin? No— impossible. He would have seen it, as Jayce had never been shy about his body. He had seen him at the forge, stripped down in the sweltering heat, skin bared beneath the glow of molten metal. There had been nothing then.

He forced himself to look away, past Jayce, toward the splatter of rain against the window. He could hear his own heartbeat, a dull, insistent thud-thud-thud in his ears.

A dozen questions flooded his mind, and he felt them all pushing to be heard. None made it past his lips. Couldn’t. He hoped his face stayed in careful neutrality. 

“Viktor?” Jayce shifted, peeling off the rest of his waistcoat, crooking an eyebrow at him. “Something wrong?”

Viktor swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “Nothing,” he ground out, a little too quickly. He hesitated, then pushed himself up from his stool, reaching for his cane. “I am almost certain I saw some towels in one of the storage closets. I’ll fetch one for you.”

Jayce straightened, brows furrowing, clearly ready to argue that he could get it himself. But Viktor shot him a sharp look— one that had silenced far more stubborn men than Jayce Talis.

For once, Jayce listened.

Viktor turned on his heel and made his way across the lab, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual. His brace was still loose, offering little support, but he didn’t stop to adjust it. His hands trembled as he rifled through the shelves, pushing aside clutter in search of a towel.

Whore. Slut. Mutt.

The words were seared into his mind now, branding themselves behind his eyelids.

The way they shifted with each breath Jayce took, their odd placement and undeniable presence had made Viktor’s gut churn. 

Was it some kind of power play that took place where Piltover’s elite huddled together? He knew those galas were ruthless battlegrounds in disguise. Viktor rarely attended for that same reason: deals struck with silver tongues, egos bruised with a single misstep. 

And yet, he had watched Jayce navigate them effortlessly, flashing charming smiles, shaking hands, securing deals, his confident posture lighting up the room. Viktor didn’t particularly like the idea of these types of events, but he could recognize them as necessary. He could admire the ease his partner possessed when it came to it. 

Was this someone's way to humiliate Jayce, to knock him down a peg before he became a threat? Was this some twisted demand from a potential benefactor? A way to exert dominance, to remind him of his place? He knew the higher-ups loved their hierarchies, their reminders that the ones seeking favors were always dirt beneath their shoes

Or worse—

Had someone coerced him?

His stomach twisted. He clenched his cane tighter. If someone had forced Jayce into this, if they had humiliated him, taken advantage of him—

Rage flared, sharp and sudden, burning hot in his chest.

Whore. Slut. Mutt. 

Those weren’t words someone threw around if they wanted to insult someone’s work. 

He realized, then, that this wasn’t a ploy for public humiliation, this had to be something more personal. 

Jayce had always been unapologetically charming when he wasn’t nose deep in runes and magic — and Viktor could argue that a great part of his charm came from the way he could go on and on about their work, but that was not here nor there—,  if not a bit naive. It wouldn’t be a surprise that he would have found a partner for the night.

He could imagine the scene quite clearly: Jayce catching the attention of some bachelorette at the gala, pulling him aside and sharing stolen moments under the guise of an innocent affair— a steamy one, but harmless nonetheless. 

And then… what? A lover turned cruel? Someone who sought to demean him? To strip away their Golden Boy's effortless confidence?

He exhaled sharply, forcing his grip to loosen before he snapped his cane in half.

Viktor’s eyes darted to Jayce’s hunched form. He had found another rag between the chaos of his own desk and was toweling off what he could off his hair, grumbling something about inefficient transport. How could he seem so casual, so normal, with words like that scribbled on him? 

Did he even realize Viktor had seen them?

The questions swirled in his mind, a storm of uncertainty. He wished to confront him, to demand answers. Who had done this? Why? Was it revenge? Spite? Pure unadulterated sadism? But the words felt like lead on his throat, heavy and unmoving. 

Did he even have the right to demand answers from Jayce? He knew he was evasive at any attempt of his partner to pry on his past, closed off about his own personal affairs. If this was really coerced out of him, would confrontation so direct lead him to clamp up in shame?

Finally, his fingers closed around a stack of towels— dusty, raggedy things, but they would suffice. He pulled them free, shaking off the dust. He had to confront Jayce, he decided. He didn’t know how, didn’t know what he’d say— but he couldn’t let this go unspoken. He couldn’t let this fester in silence, not when he could see the proverbial storm brewing.

Viktor turned and stepped away from the shelves. He tucked the towels underneath his free arm. The faint hum of the lab met his ears, along with the rhythmic clank of Jayce moving around his desk. 

Jayce was now sitting down on his own chair, sparing the rest of his blueprints from becoming soaked too. He looked so infuriatingly normal. Like he hadn’t just peeled back a layer of himself that Viktor had never even known existed.

Viktor tightened his jaw.

It doesn’t matter if he refuses to explain, if he brushes it off— he thought, resolve hardening. He might need help.

Jayce looked up from where he was fussing with a small gear, his hair still a wet mess, but his expression soft. “Found one?” 

Viktor didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tossed the towels onto Jayce’s lap with a bit more force than necessary, fabric landing in a crumpled heap. He leaned his back into the desk, occupying the spot Jayce previously had, as his un-supported knee made itself known. His eyes bore down on his partner with an intensity that made Jayce pause, hands stilling mid-motion.

”Viktor?” Jayce tilted his head, not unlike a confused puppy— Mutt, Viktor’s mind unhelpfully provided. He chased the thought away.

”Who did it?” 

Jayce blinked. “Did what?”

”Please do not play dumb with me.” Viktor’s face crumpled in a brief wince. He shifted, applying more of his weight on good side and gripped the desk. “The words, Jayce. On your chest.”

For a split second, something flickered in Jayce’s expression— too quick for Viktor to name.

Then, a flush of deep, furious red spread up his neck, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. His gaze darted downward, as if only just now remembering what Viktor had seen.

“Ah.” Jayce coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That.”

“Yes, that,” Viktor pressed, voice dangerously close to snapping. “Was it someone at the gala? Did one of those imbeciles think they could treat you like dirt because we are not lining their pockets yet? Was it someone else?” He barely forced the last word out, his stomach twisting at the implication. “Someone you trusted?”

Jayce’s face turned even redder, his hands twisting the towel in his lap. “It’s not— It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

”You don’t want me to worry?” Viktor straightened, his voice incredulous. “Those aren’t even just insults, Jayce. They are—“ He gestured wildly, his words failing him for a moment. “Those words are meant to degrade you. Is that nothing?”

“I mean, it’s not…” Jayce trailed off, gripping the towel tighter. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it sound…”

Viktor’s patience snapped.

“Not as big a deal?” His voice was edged with fury. “Do you hear yourself?” He leaned closer, his cane resting on the opposite side of the desk. “Not even the prostitutes in the lower brothels of the Undercity get treated like this, Jayce!”

He cut himself off sharply, grimacing at his own words. Insensitive. Too harsh.

Jayce’s head shot up at that, eyes wide and the smallest of gasps barely contained. “What? No— Viktor, it’s not like that!”

Viktor inhaled deeply, reigning himself back in. “Then what is it, Jayce?” His voice softened, but his frustration was still there, simmering. “Because from where I stand, it looks a lot like someone took advantage of you. And I—”

His voice caught.

For the first time since he saw the words, raw helplessness clawed at him. He hated it.

“I cannot just stand by and let that happen,” he finished, voice quieter now.

Jayce looked utterly flustered. His fingers plucked anxiously at the damp towel, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. “Viktor, I think— you’re misunderstanding.”

“Am I?” Viktor pleaded. “Then, please enlighten me.”

He had never seen Jayce's face so red. Not in the suffocating heat of the forge. Not in the stifling summer when the lab's AC broke and they were too stubborn to go home while it was being fixed. Yet, he stood there, looking like he would rather be swallowed by the floor. 

Finally, after a moment’s silence so long that he was about to open his mouth to press the matter further, his partner mumbled something under his breath. So quiet Viktor couldn’t even make it out.

“Speak up, Jayce. Please.” Viktor stepped further into the other’s space, command barely reeled in.

”I… I did. I wrote them,” Jayce breathlessly repeated, still not meeting Viktor’s gaze. One of his hands dragged down his face to try and cover the worst of his blush, his voice shaky, bashful. “It’s— none of the things you said, okay? It’s just… something I do. Sometimes.”

For a moment, Viktor couldn’t compute the words. He stood there, dangerously close to Jayce’s personal space, his mind struggling to catch up. The anger, the worry, the possessiveness— all of it suddenly felt misplaced, leaving behind mostly confusion, but also a twisted sense of curiosity.

“You… wrote them yourself,” Viktor repeated slowly, his voice low, dipped with a hint of emotion he hadn’t dared to name yet.

Jayce’s breath audibly hitched, but had the mind to simply nod.

Viktor gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles ached. Jayce wanted to be degraded. The thought echoed inside his brain. It left a strange mix of disbelief and something dark simmering beneath the surface.

His eyes fixed on Jayce, whose chest was steadily rising and falling, downturned eyes. His usual confidence— the effortless charm he wore like a golden armor— was gone. From this up close, he could make out what he previously thought were markings smudged beyond recognition: Bitch. Cocksucker on each side of his waist, almost curling into his backside. Fuck me dead center of his stomach, just above his navel.

The realization hit Viktor like a fucking freight train: Jayce wanted this.

Not only did he want this, but he fantasized about being under someone's heel. So, he had marked himself with the things he wanted to be reduced to.

Did he hope that someone saw him like this?

The epiphany sent a shiver down Viktor’s spine. The words adorning his skin weren’t some act of cruelty from a stranger; they were deliberate, intentional. 

They represented Jayce’s desires. 

Deeply repressed desires, if the way he seemed one second away from fusing with his chair himself from sheer embarrassment was anything to go by.

Viktor leaned over as much as he could. He rested his weight on the back of Jayce’s chair, essentially caging him in. Jayce flinched slightly, head jerking up to meet Viktor’s steely gaze with his own glassy one. His opposite finger pressed against Jayce’s sternum, the nail threatening to dent the wet fabric of his shirt. 

He let the moment hang in the air, let the weight of his silence press down on Jayce like the storm outside.

“You wrote them,” Viktor began again, his tone slow, deliberate, “but for what purpose, exactly? Is this…” He paused, the words sharp as broken glass. “Was this for someone’s benefit? A message meant to be read?”

Jayce stammered, shaking his head, towel nearly ripping at the seams from the way he had been clutching it. “No, not like that! I told you—”

“Then explain it to me.” Viktor interrupted, voice cutting through whatever excuse Jayce had been ready to throw out. “Why write those words if not for someone else? Are you telling me you truly expected no one to see them?”

Jayce’s lips parted, but for a moment, his throat strained without success. “It wasn’t for anyone at the gala to see.”

“But someone.” He pressed, leaning in until their breaths mingled. His sharp features caught the light, making him look even more severe. “If not for any of the exuberant bachelors preening about in Piltover’s finest ballrooms, who was it for?”

Jayce swallowed audibly, his face burning so fiercely now it was a wonder he hadn’t combusted. He seemed to want to shrink under Viktor's gaze. "If... anyone had to see them..."

Viktor clicked his tongue. His patience sufficiently frayed, though his voice remained low. “Out with it, Jayce.”

Warm honey whiskey eyes finally met Viktor’s, filled with both desperation and longing. His voice was barely audible, but Viktor caught every trembling word.

“It’d be you.”

The confession hung between them, hot and sticky, clinging to the damp space of the lab. 

Viktor felt the floor tilt beneath him, not literally— but the sensation was the same. His carefully structured assumptions, his frantic theories, all of them crumbled under the weight of that one sentence.

Me.

His grip on the back of the chair tightened, as if grounding himself. He inhaled once, slow and measured. “You wanted me to see you like this.”

Jayce didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The shame, all-consuming. Still, Viktor felt a faint shudder as he let a finger hover just above the word mutt on his left pectoral. 

Viktor’s smirk spread across his face slowly, sharp. “How long, then?”

Jayce blinked. “What?”

“How long have you been parading yourself around, scribbled over like some—” He tilted his head, his voice a menacing purr. “Some unruly pet, begging for attention?”

He watched, in real time, as Jayce's pupils dilated, only a sliver of color remaining. “I—” he cut himself off with a squeeze of his eyes, shutting them like he could block out the world— or at least Viktor’s unrelenting teasing. 

Viktor’s hand moved at last, trailing upward to grip Jayce’s jaw, forcing his head up. “Look at me when you answer,” he demanded, tone brooking no argument.

Jayce’s eyes fluttered open. Half-lidded, and brimming with a cluster of emotions— embarrassment, arousal, guilt. “I—Months,” he finally croaked. “A few months now.”

“Months,” Viktor repeated, letting the word hang in the air. His thumb pressed against Jayce’s lower lip, tugging it down. He leaned impossibly closer. “You’ve been doing this for months, hoping I'd notice?”

Jayce nodded, head heavy on his grip, as if the sole effort of keeping it upright was monumental in his state of mind.

The admission knocked the wind out of him. He let out a slow exhale. The slight creak of the wood beneath his weight punctuated the charged silence. 

“And what exactly did you think I’d do, Jayce?” he asked, tone reminiscent of a predator circling its prey. “Were you, perhaps, hoping I’d use you? Like that of a common whore?”

Jayce’s breath hitched at the accusation, his head ducking slightly in humiliation. Yet, he nodded. “I wanted— I wanted you to see. To own me.”

“And you thought that scribbling on yourself was the solution? Like that of some pathetic pup craving his master’s notice?" Viktor’s brow arched, his expression sharp, intrigued.

A whole-body shiver wracked over Jayce’s body, words strucking deep within him, yet he didn’t deny it. 

“It made me feel like I was closer to you,” he confessed instead, voice uneven from the weight of his admission. “Even though you’d never notice, it felt like… like I was showing the world who I belong to. Even if no one else would see.”

“And did that satisfy you, Jayce?” Viktor asked, voice heady with desire as his lips curled into a sharp smirk.

Jayce shook his head, hands clenching at his sides. 

“It never felt like enough. I’d write them on myself before I went to bed, staring at the mirror and pretending—” His voice broke off, breath catching in his throat. “Pretending it was you writing them instead. That it was your hands, your voice.”

Viktor’s smirk widened, his gaze burning into Jayce’s as he leaned forward slightly. 

“My voice?” His fingers, previously idling over Jayce’s sternum, slipped beneath the damp fabric of his shirt, kneading into the warmth of his chest. His nails scraped lightly, and he could feel the rapid thrum of Jayce’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

Jayce swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to speak, though no words came.

“Telling me what to do,” he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper, the tremor in it betraying just how deep this went “Calling me every demeaning term you could think of. You, making me… Making me completely yours. Not being just—” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips before he whispered, “Not being just your lab partner.”

Viktor's lips curled into a toothy smile, his fingers ghosting lower. He pinched at Jayce’s nipple through the soaked fabric, enjoying the way his body tensed, the faintest intake of breath a quiet betrayal of his need. His fingers withdrew just as deliberately, dragging upwards, likely smudging the ink that had once been sharp declarations of degradation.

He exhaled, warm against the shell of Jayce’s ear. “You want to be mine,” he murmured, the words sinking heavy between them. “Kept. Collared, perhaps. Controlled.”

Jayce let out a shaky exhale, melting further into putty into Viktor’s hands. 

He could see it now— the way Jayce was slipping, his usual confidence eroding with every word, every touch; his body betrayed him, leaning into Viktor’s presence like a moth to a flame. Helpless to resist.

Then, he pulled away.

Jayce swayed forward slightly, as though Viktor’s absence was a punishment in itself. A sharp, humorless chuckle left Viktor as he watched the other man struggle against his own instinct to seek him out.

“Yes,” Jayce finally admitted, voice barely holding steady. “I wanted you to… to show me who I really am. What I really am.”

Viktor’s fingers found his chin, tilting his head up. A deliberate pause, letting the weight of Jayce’s confession settle before he let his thumb trace the faint outline of the word slut, still visible beneath his ruined shirt.

But the metaphor worked both ways, and Viktor couldn’t really resist Jayce’s magnetic pull. 

He leaned forward, closing the distance once more. 

“Oh?” His tone was light, teasing, but there was an edge of something sharper beneath it. “And what would that be, Jayce?”

Jayce’s breath stuttered, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before he forced himself to look back at Viktor, as if grounding himself in the intensity of his gaze.

“A slut,” Jayce whispered, the word trembling on his lips.

Viktor clicked his tongue, his grip shifting to wrap lightly around Jayce’s throat. The hold wasn’t tight, just a presence, a reminder.

“My slut. Mine.” he corrected, his fingers flexing just enough to make Jayce gasp.

Satisfaction curled in Viktor’s stomach at the sight— the way Jayce trembled, the way his pupils dilated in something eerily close to worship. Viktor let the silence stretch, savoring it, before his free hand moved. His fingers brushed against Jayce’s lips, pressing gently but insistently.

“Open.” 

Jayce obeyed without hesitation, lips parting around Viktor’s fingers as they slid inside, pressing against his tongue. Viktor watched him carefully, noting every flicker of expression, every suppressed shudder.

“Aren’t you a darling?” Viktor purred, mockery laced through his voice. “Loving being treated like the pathetic little thing you are. Begging to be used.”

A muffled whimper vibrated around his fingers, Jayce’s face burning. Viktor pressed deeper, gauging his reaction as his throat convulsed around the intrusion, eyes damp and cloudy.

“Look at you,” Viktor murmured, thumb smearing a faint trail of saliva at the corner of Jayce’s lips. “You can barely think, and I’ve hardly even touched you.”

Whatever response Jayce might have had was lost around Viktor’s fingers. His eyes, however, spoke volumes. He wasn’t just slipping— he was falling, tumbling headfirst into something he might never claw his way out of.

And Viktor? Viktor had no intention of catching him.

Instead, he leaned back against the desk, spreading his legs slightly, his stance wide. The shift in position made Jayce’s breath hitch, his gaze dropping unbidden to the space between Viktor’s thighs.

“Take it off,” Viktor commanded, gesturing lazily towards his brace.

Then, with a slow gesture, he motioned to the space left between his legs— curt, commanding. 

An unspoken order to kneel.

With heaving breaths, Jayce stared at him. Gaze traveled downwards his body, lingering on the way the sharp angle of Viktor’s body propped on top of the desk. His blush deepened as he dropped unceremoniously to his knees, the motion almost clumsy in its haste. His shoulders hunched as though the weight of his desire were too much to bear.

Broad and warm hands found the worn leather of Viktor’s brace, lightly feeling the Talis red of it. He undid the clasps with surprising reverence, fingers steady as they worked over leather and metal, tracing each indentation as if memorizing its presence on Viktor’s body.

The brace came free, the weight of it lifted, and Viktor let out a slow exhale as his leg settled without it. His eyes flickered back to Jayce, still kneeling, hands resting on his thighs, his entire posture screaming subservience.

“Good boy,” Viktor murmured, approval threading through his tone. He reached forward, fingers slipping into Jayce’s damp hair, tugging just enough to make him meet his gaze. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Jayce’s breath choked on a barely concealed whimper. He leaned forwards, looking at him through his lashes. 

Hazel eyes pleading, his face oozing with need. 

His hands clenched into fists on his thighs as he licked his lips, the movement slow, almost hesitant. 

“Please, Viktor,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Let me… let me serve you.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his fingers drumming against the desk, as though considering the request. The moonlight streaming through the window caught the sheen of sweat on Jayce’s brow, the faint flush creeping up his neck. Viktor’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though his tone remained deceptively light.

“Is that what you’ve been wanting?” Viktor asked, his tone deceptively casual, though the edge of dominance was unmistakable. “To kneel at my feet and serve me as a mere plaything?”

Jayce’s breath hitched, his eyes darting to Viktor’s hand as it dragged slowly over the fabric of his trousers. The movement was deliberate, calculated, and Viktor didn’t miss the way Jayce’s gaze followed, hungry and unwavering.

“I can make you feel good,” Jayce rasped, his voice thick with conviction. His hands twitched like he wanted to reach out and touch, but didn’t dare without permission. “Let me show you. Please.”

Viktor leaned back slightly, the dim light catching the sharp line of his jaw. He hummed, considering, before giving a slight nod. “Show me, then.”

Jayce exhaled shakily, his hands settling on Viktor’s thighs. The warmth of his palms seeped through the fabric, his fingers spreading over the lean muscle as he leaned closer. His breath ghosted over Viktor’s clothed crotch, hot and uneven.

The sight of Jayce—his golden boy, his brilliant partner—reduced to this was intoxicating. The way his whole body bowed under the weight of his submission, the way his hands trembled as they worked to unfasten Viktor’s trousers. It sent a thrill through Viktor, sharp and electric, as he watched Jayce peel the fabric down to his calves, revealing the patch of dark hair beneath his navel.

He heard Jayce let out a sharp, punched-out breath as he took in the sight of Viktor’s underwear clinging obscenely to his core, perfectly outlining where the fabric soaked through.

“You’re beautiful,” Jayce murmured, the words spilling out unbidden, reverence etched into every line of his face. His hands smoothed over Viktor’s hips, his thumbs brushing against the waistband of his underwear. 

He looked up, seeking silent permission, and Viktor conceded with a slight incline of his head, sharp gaze boring into hazel eyes.

Jayce didn’t hesitate. He peeled Viktor's underwear away with deliberate care, revealing him fully.

The desire was palpable as Jayce's hands made his way up his thighs, each touch filled with an almost desperate desire to please. 

Viktor let out a soft sound of approval, fingers tangling in Jayce’s hair again as he guided his head closer to his throbbing need. 

Jayce moaned softly as his mouth finally found their way to Viktor’s cunt. He was slow at first, almost timid, his tongue flicking out to gather the wetness directly from the source. Lips followed, slurping firmly and warm against sensitive skin. Viktor inhaled sharply, grip tightening on Jayce’s hair, urging him on.

“Do not hold back,” Viktor said, voice just shy of a growl. “I want to feel how badly you’ve wanted this.”

He felt more than he heard Jayce’s groan, the sound vibrating against Viktor as he deepened his efforts, enthusiastic and frantic, mouth working like he was trying to drown on his fluids. His hands gripped Viktor’s thighs, holding him steady as he prodded and explored every inch of his cunt with his tongue and lips. Teeth grazed lightly in ways that drew soft gasps from Viktor’s lips.

Viktor’s head tipped against the wall, spine arching as he allowed himself to feel. To succumb to the heat and pressure of Jayce’s mouth. 

The intensity of it was intoxicating— the sheer eagerness, the way Jayce seemed to pour every ounce of himself into the act, as though providing his devotion with every flick of his tongue and press of his lips.

He let out a wordless moan, voice rough with pleasure. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white as he fought to keep himself grounded. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at the man between his legs.

“Look at you,” even through the breathlessness of Viktor’s voice, his tone dripped with condescension. “Such a pathetic sight. On your knees, made just to please me.”

Jayce whimpered, the sound muffled as he pressed harder, the grip on Viktor’s good thigh almost bruising. Yet, he didn’t pull back, didn’t falter— body trembling with the force of his efforts. The room was filled with soft, wet noises that mingled with Viktor’s shallow breaths and occasional sharp gasps in a delicious corruption of melody. 

Viktor’s chest rose and fell in sharp, erratic breaths, the rhythm almost painful as he let his body give in to sensation. His tights tensed, tightening around Jayce’s head, essentially trapping him between his legs.

Jayce’s lips sealed around Viktor’s clit, pulling at it with a steady suction that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure coursing through Viktor’s cunt. His hand tightened in Jayce’s hair, nails scraping against Jayce’s scalp as his breath hitched, a soft, choked sound slipping from his throat before he could stifle it. 

With a hiss, his hips jerked involuntarily, body betraying the careful control he tried to maintain. He couldn’t help but bear down slightly, grinding into Jayce’s mouth, seeking more of the heat, the pressure, the maddening rhythm of Jayce’s tongue.

Feeling the vibration of Jayce’s groan reverberating against his sensitive flesh, his legs quivered. Jayce’s tongue darted out again, flicking over Viktor’s clit with quick, deliberate movements before pressing flat and dragging upward, drawing a soft gasp from Viktor’s lips.

“I must say, you are— hah — better than I imagined,” Viktor panted out. He couldn’t stop his hand from redirecting Jayce’s focus on his cock, essentially fucking his face. “Should’ve had you on your knees sooner.”

With a barely contained whine, his lips closed around Viktor’s clit again, sucking harder now, his tongue flicking in a rapid, erratic rhythm that left Viktor trembling.

Heat coiled low in Viktor’s stomach, spreading outward in sharp, searing waves that made it impossible to think, to focus on anything but the relentless onslaught of sensation.

Jayce was panting now, his breaths hot and damp against Viktor’s cunt as he worked, his enthusiasm never waning. 

With a breathless gasp, he felt Jayce's tongue darting lower, teasing the edges of Viktor’s entrance before plunging inside. His nose brushed against Viktor’s clit, seemingly attempting to suffocate on Viktor’s cunt. He let out a sharp, broken sound, his hips jerking involuntarily riding out Jayce’s mouth further.

From where he leaned, he could admire the perfect picture Jayce made: his lips and chin slick with Viktor’s arousal as he worked with almost frenzied determination.

Viktor’s breath hitched again, his legs trembling as the pleasure built. His free hand flew to the desk, bracing himself as his body threatened to buckle, his vision blurring at the edges.

It was all too much, too perfect. It left Viktor dangerously close to the edge.

“Slow down,” Viktor demanded, his voice hoarse, his hand yanking Jayce’s hair to pull him back, forcing him to obey. “You don’t get to decide how this ends.” 

Jayce let out a spund that could only be described as wounded, as if the mere thought of parting with Viktor's cunt was physically painful. His face was flushed and damp, as he lifted his gaze to meet Viktor’s, eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for approval. 

But alas, he obeyed, his tongue moving in slower strokes, teasing. Lips pressed gentle kisses to Viktor’s clit before dragging his tongue over it in long, languid movements.

Viktor’s chest heaved, his body shuddering as he tried to regain some semblance of control, though the heat coiling low in his stomach refused to abate. His grip in Jayce’s hair remained firm, his breaths shallow and ragged as he looked at the man kneeling between his legs. Piltover's Man of Progress brought low for him, ruined beyond recognition.

“Good,” Viktor rasped out, voice trembling with satisfaction. “Puppy can listen.”

With a deep sense of twisted pride, Viktor watched as Jayce’s eyes rolled back, letting out a soft cry. The sound nearly drowned out by the slick, obscene noises of his mouth working over Viktor’s cunt. 

Loud, ravenous sucking and filthy slurping filled the air, blending with Viktor’s own unsteady breaths and the ever-present hum and whirlwind of the machinery. 

His tongue dragged in long, deliberate strokes from Viktor’s entrance to his cock, each movement punctuated by the wet, lewd sounds of his arousal. 

Jayce buried his face impossibly deeper. His lips settled on sealing around Viktor’s clit, sucking hard enough to draw a punched out moan from Viktor’s lips. Tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub, the rhythm erratic but devastatingly effective. Jayce’s hands tightened on Viktor’s thighs, his nails digging into the flesh as though he needed the grounding pressure to keep himself steady. 

But it wasn’t enough. Jayce’s hands slid inward, his thumbs brushing against the slick heat of Viktor’s folds, spreading them so his entrance was in full display before two broad fingers pressed inside. Digits pushing and prodding as though he was committing to memory the soft, velvety warmth. Viktor gasped, his thighs tensing around Jayce’s head.

“More,” Viktor ground out, his voice stained. Body trembling with the effort of holding himself together. “Do not hold back.”

The stretch was exquisite, sharp and full, his fingers curling inwards to press against that perfect spot with a precision that left Viktor canting his hips into it. Jayce’s mouth never stopped, tongue and lips working with his fingers, pace relentless, all-consuming.

The slick, wet sounds grew louder, filthier, fusing with the obscene squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of Viktor. His moans were muffled but constant, echoing Viktor’s own sounds of pleasure as though he were taking as much pleasure from this as Viktor was. 

His pace quickened, his movements more confident now, his enthusiasm driving him to push harder, deeper. 

“Jayce!” Viktor moaned out at the change of pace, high pitched and whiny. 

At that, Jayce whimpered again, hips shifting involuntarily as he mouthed at Viktor’s cock— his body reacting to the heat and slickness against his tongue. His own arousal was evident in the way his breathing quickened, his whines growing louder, more desperate. 

A tremor so strong that his legs threatened to buckle raked over Viktor’s body. 

The pleasure built, spiraling higher, tighter. The heat in his core spread outward, sharp and searing, leaving him gasping for breath, his body arching into Jayce’s touch. 

Every nerve ending felt like a live wire, the sensation almost too perfect.

“Keep going— Fuck! — Jayce,” Viktor hissed, his voice rough, breath coming in shallow gasps. His hips bucked against Jayce’s mouth, body moving by its own accord as the tension coiled tighter threatening to snap. “Just like that.”

Jayce moaned in response, his tongue pressing flat against Viktor’s clit, circling and flicking in a rhythm that was as desperate as it was devastating. His fingers sank deeper, dissappearing completely inside his cunt, drawing a sharp cry from Viktor’s lips. 

The perfect, filthy sounds of his efforts filled the air— every movement filled with a desperate need to please.

Jayce himself was a mess, moans growing louder, more erratic. His hips jerked against the floor, rutting into nothing like a feral, needy thing.

“Pathetic little puppy,” Viktor hissed. He tugged sharply on Jayce’s locks forcing his head to tilt just enough to meet his eyes— sharp, darkened amber against glassy honey whiskey. “Whining, rutting like some kind of bitch in heat. Too stupid to function anymore.”

Jayce's hips bucked against the floor. His body trembling as he moaned, the vibration of it sending Viktor’s pleasure spiraling higher, tighter. 

“You can’t even control yourself,” Viktor continued, voice rough. His chest heaved as he fought to maintain the upper hand against the overwhelming tide of pleasure. 

A broken sob left Jayce’s lips, sucking hard around Viktor’s cock. His fingers curling deep inside, relentingly bullying his sweet spot in every upthrust of his hand. 

Viktor’s back arched sharply, his free hand flying to the edge of the desk, gripping it for dear life as the tension in his lower abdomen snapped, sending a wave of searing pleasure crashing through him. 

“ F-uh — Fuck” Viktor gasped, his body trembling violently as his orgasm tore through him. His thighs clamped around Jayce’s head as he rode out his peak. Breaths coming in short, uneven pants. His head tipped back against the wall as he let himself be consumed by the heat and overwhelming bliss.

Jayce groaned loudly at the gush of slickness that invaded his mouth, eagerly slurping up whatever he could catch, insatiable. His mouth and fingers never stopped, even as his own body shook with need. Hips rutted against the floor, his arousal achingly obvious where it visibly twitched against his still-wet trousers. 

A wreck of desperation and longing.

With a wince of overstimulation, Viktor’s hand in Jayce’s hair tugged sharply, pulling him back just enough to stop his relentless movements. 

The ruined image Jayce made was hauntingly lewd: clouded, faraway eyes, splotchy red face and plump, glistening lips parted as he panted for breath.

Jayce whimpered, his hips jerking involuntarily as he pressed closer, his hands clutching at Viktor’s thighs. He chuckled softly in response, the sound low and mocking as he shifted slightly, his good leg lifting just enough to press the arch of his foot lightly against the bulge in Jayce’s trousers. Jayce gasped sharply, his body jerking at the contact, his eyes going wide as his breath hitched.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice broken, trembling. “Viktor, please…”

“Oh?” Viktor said, his tone teasing. He pressed his foot down slightly, the movement deliberate, slow, just enough to send a jolt of sensation through Jayce’s body. “What is it that puppy wants, hm?”

“P— please…” Jayce whimpered again, his hips bucking against Viktor’s foot as if he couldn’t stop himself. 

He probably couldn’t, Viktor thought to himself. 

“I need— please.”

Viktor smirked, pressing his foot a little harder, feeling the heat and rigidity of Jayce’s arousal through the fabric. Hazy delight at the absolute state of his usually brilliant partner, barely cognizant to think more complex thoughts than please, must cum, Viktor.

“Such an obscene picture you make,” Viktor murmured, his tone dripping with mockery once again. He shifted slightly, pressing the ball of his foot more firmly against Jayce’s aching cock, feeling the twitch of it beneath him. “Grinding against me like some stray mutt. Then again, you wrote it yourself, no? Because you knew that’s exactly what you are— needy, pathetic. Willing to debase yourself just for a scrap of attention.”

Jayce’s head tipped back, his eyes squeezing shut as he moaned loudly, his hips jerking with more urgency. His entire body trembled as though he were barely holding himself together, and Viktor revealed in the sight, in the raw, shameless need written across his partner’s face.

Viktor’s sharp gaze flicked downward, lingering on the faint, smudged outlines of the words scrawled across Jayce’s skin beneath his soaked shirt. 

He chuckled softly, his voice low, almost cruel, as he pressed his foot harder against Jayce’s erection. 

“And let’s not forget what else you wrote, hmm? Fuck me, right here,” His foot trailed the slightlest bit upwards, the tip of his shoe pressing on his lower abdomen, where the words would be. Amber eyes gleaming with amusement. “Is that what you were hoping for? For someone to fuck you stupid?”

Jayce sobbed, loud and long-winded, his body jerking against Viktor’s foot as though the words alone had undone him. His hands moved suddenly, trembling as they slid down Viktor’s thigh to his calf, gripping him there. Viktor raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as Jayce guided his leg downward, pressing his foot harder against the aching bulge in his trousers.

“Please,” Jayce gasped, his voice hoarse, trembling, as his hips ground against Viktor’s foot with renewed urgency. His hands tightened around Viktor’s calf, holding him in place, forcing the pressure to increase. “Viktor, please— Can I—”

Viktor cut him off with a sharp tug of his hair, forcing his head to tilt back, their eyes locking. 

“Please, what?” he demanded, voice low and commanding. “Say it. What does my dumb little whore need?”

“PleasecanIcum— pleasepleaseplease,” Jayce babbled, punched out and barely coherent in between high pitched whines. His body writhing beneath Viktor’s unrelenting gaze.

Viktor’s smirk widened, his fingers loosening in Jayce’s hair as he tilted his head, his amber eyes gleaming with mirth. 

“You’re such a mess,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, though the faintest edge of amusement softened the words. “But I suppose my sweet pup did ask so politely. Cum for me, Jayce.”

He pressed his foot harder against Jayce’s cock, rolling his ankle again to grind into him with deliberate, precise movements. Viktor’s sharp gaze stayed fixed on Jayce as his body writhed, desperation radiating off him like heat from a forge. Each frantic buck of his hips ground him harder against Viktor’s foot, the slick mess spreading across his trousers betraying just how far gone he was. 

The obscene friction Viktor provided was relentless, pressing Jayce into a feverish pace that left him gasping, trembling. 

His entire body shook, his breath coming in shallow, erratic gasps as he teetered on the edge, the tension in him winding tighter and tighter until—

“Viktor!” Jayce’s voice cracked as his body seized, his hips jerking uncontrollably. 

A broken, trembling cry tore from his throat as he came, his release spilling hot and sticky through his trousers, soaking the fabric further. His body spasmed with each pulse of pleasure, his head tipping back as his mouth hung open, trembling noises spilling freely, raw and unrestrained.

Viktor’s smirk softened into an endeared smile. His foot eased its relentless motion as he watched Jayce come undone completely. 

The sight was mesmerizing: Jayce’s broad shoulders shaking, his flushed face streaked further with tears. 

Viktor held his position, letting Jayce cling to him, ride it out. His amber eyes keenly observing every shudder, every whimper.

As the aftershocks faded, Jayce collapsed forward. His hands slid up to grip Viktor’s hips, burying his face on his lap, his breath hot and ragged against his skin. Broken, hiccuping sobs escaped him. 

His entire body trembled as he curled into Viktor like a dog seeking comfort during a storm.

“Shh,” Viktor soothed, the sharp edge of his voice gone now. He reached down, his fingers threading through Jayce’s damp hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “It’s okay. You did so well.”

Jayce whimpered, his face pressing further into Viktor’s lap as though trying to hide, his broad shoulders shaking with each quiet sob. Viktor’s hand slid down, his palm resting against the back of Jayce’s neck, his touch firm but comforting. 

“Don’t cry, darling,” Viktor said softly, his tone a stark contrast to the disdain he’d wielded moments ago. “You were perfect, Jayce. So obedient for me.”

Jayce let out a muffled noise, his body curling tighter against Viktor, his hands clutching at the fabric of Viktor’s vest like a lifeline. 

Viktor continued to stroke his hair, his movements slow, deliberate, designed to calm.

“You did so good for me,” Viktor murmured, his lips morphing into a faint, genuine smile. 

The words carried only warmth, a quiet praise that settled over Jayce like a balm. 

The effect was immediate. Jayce’s trembling eased slightly, his breathing evening out as he leaned into Viktor’s touch. His hands loosened their desperate grip, his fingers splaying over Viktor’s thighs as though seeking reassurance. 

Viktor’s hand on the back of his neck rubbed gentle circles, coaxing him further down from the emotional high.

“There we are,” Viktor said. His eyes softened as he watched Jayce settle. The way the tension melted from his partner’s frame was hypnotic. “Such a perfect boy, hm?”

Jayce let out a shaky breath, his head nodding slightly against Viktor’s lap as though he were acknowledging the praise. 

His body melted further into a puddle as Viktor continued to soothe him, sweet nothings pouring out of him unbidden. Jayce continued to softly whimper periodically, but the sound was different now— no longer filled with desperation, but something gentler, something content. 

He pressed closer, his body going pliant under Viktor’s touch, his breathing steadying as he sank into the warmth and safety of Viktor’s lap.

Viktor's fingers continued their rhythmic motion through Jayce's hair, a steady, grounding comfort that soothed them both in the quiet aftermath. 

But as much as he relished the weight of Jayce resting against his lap, the raw vulnerability of the moment, there were practicalities to address.

A soft sight made its way out his own lips, “As much as I would like to keep you floating, you can’t stay down there forever. Come now, Jayce, up with you.”

Jayce didn’t move, but he voiced his distaste quite clearly— a quiet, muffled whine, his head moving side to side, rubbing into Viktor’s lap. 

“Don’ wanna… I’ll stay ‘ere.” he murmured, his voice soft, slurred with the haze of subspace.

Viktor huffed softly, his whole face morphing into warm affection. 

“You are truly deep under, hm?” he murmured, his hand drifting down to press gently against the back of Jayce’s neck. “Jayce, I need to find the towels. You are a mess, and I intend to clean you up.”

That got a reaction. Jayce’s head lifted slightly, his wide, glassy eyes peeking out from beneath his damp, disheveled hair. 

“Clean up?” he asked softly, his voice trembling but laced with eagerness. “I can— I’ll do it.”

Jayce perked up at the directive, his body shifting as though eager to fulfill the task. 

His knees wobbled as he rose just enough to crawl across the floor, searching for the misplaced towel. 

Viktor leaned back against the desk, taking the opportunity to pull up his trousers with only the faintest of winces. He watched with a mix of amusement and something softer as Jayce finally spotted the crumpled fabric beneath the workbench.

Jayce snatched up the towel, turning back toward Viktor with wide, eager eyes. He shuffled forward on his knees, holding it out to Viktor with both hands, his expression a mix of pride and anticipation, not unlike a dog presenting his owner a particularly impressive stick.

The sheer absurdity of the moment hit Viktor like a bolt of lightning. He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rich and genuine, and shook his head.

“You truly are a puppy,” Viktor said, his voice soft but laced with amusement. 

Jayce blushed at the comment, his gaze darting downward, but he didn’t falter. He held the towel up higher, his hands trembling slightly as he waited for Viktor to take it.

“Fine,” Viktor said, still chuckling softly. He leaned forward, his fingers brushing against Jayce’s as he took the towel. “Good boy.”

The praise made Jayce’s breath hitch, a faint, bashful smile tugging at his lips as he knelt back on his heels, watching Viktor intently. 

Viktor shook his head, his smirk softening as he motioned for Jayce to move closer.

“Come here,” Viktor said, his tone quieter now, coaxing. “Let us make you decent again.”

Jayce obeyed, shuffling forward until he was close enough for Viktor to reach him, face level with his collarbone. Viktor sat straighter, his legs shifting slightly as he brought the towel down to Jayce’s face. The fabric brushed against Jayce’s skin with deliberate care. He wiped away the dampness that clung to his chin and cheeks, erasing the evidence of his earlier affairs.

With a perfectly still posture, eyes half-lidded, Jayce’s arms curled around his waist, whole upper body clinging into Viktor’s tender attention. His movements were slow, almost methodical. The towel moved in gentle strokes as he cleaned away the remnants of his fluids.

”You’re quiet” Viktor observed, gaze landing on Jayce’s own.

”I was just…” He hesitated, gaze dropping to the floor momentarily before darting back to Viktor. “Thinking about… Why I— wrote those things.”

Viktor’s hand paused briefly, towel hovering just above Jayce’s cheek. 

“And?” he prompted after a beat.

He wasn’t entirely sure where this was headed, but a quiet part of him had an inkling— a whisper of a possibility that Jayce was about to say something he’d long since resigned to never acknowledge. 

He schooled his expression into careful neutrality, unwilling to let himself believe it just yet.

Jayce swallowed hard, his hands tightening just slightly where they curled around Viktor’s waist. “It’s just… It wasn’t about wanting attention,” he mumbled, hesitant. “It was about you— about you seeing me.”

Viktor tilted his head, brows furrowing in mild confusion as he studied Jayce. “You did say that before.” 

And yet, the way Jayce was looking at him now, the way his voice uncharacteristically wavered. Why was he always so roundabout with his words? Was it a Piltie thing? A habit to dress up what he really means with grand gestures and tangled phrasing instead of just saying it upright?

“Well— yes, but— I did mean what I said before, you know? About not being just your lab partner.” he babbled out, his words tumbling out in a rush. “What I’m trying to say is, I want to be more— more than just your colleague. More than just the guy you work with.”

He broke off, his voice faltering as he looked away. 

Viktor’s fingers lowered the towel, his gaze steady as he regarded Jayce with a quiet intensity. 

The space between them felt heavy, the weight of years settling into the space they had always carefully left untouched. His eyes traced over Jayce’s face, searching— for hesitation, for uncertainty, for some kind of deception. 

But he found none. Only devastatingly raw sincerity laid bare.

Slowly, Viktor lifted his hand again, the towel brushing over the faint tear tracks staining Jayce’s cheeks. His touch lingered, fingers pressing just a little longer than necessary, warm against the damp skin. His sharp eyes traced over Jayce’s face, taking in the nervousness of his furrowed brow. 

Then, with the kind of exasperated fondness that came naturally to him when dealing with Jayce, he sighed.

”For someone so smart, you can really be quite slow, hm?” Viktor mused, shaking his head. His thumb ghosted over Jayce’s pulse point, the barest of touches, like an afterthought. “All these years working alongside each other and you never noticed?”

Jayce blinked, thrown off course. “Noticed what?”

Viktor stifled a full-on belly laugh, opting for huffing out a quiet, amused breath.

“That I have always seen you, Jayce. You are, eh, profoundly inefficient at hiding your emotions,” he mused, tilting his head as though examining an intriguing new hypothesis. “And yet, you decide to go about this with all the grace of an unstable Hex crystal.”

“You mean— this whole time—?” Jayce gestured widely, as if trying to encompass the years of tension, the sleepless nights spent in the lab, the constant gravitational pull between them that neither had ever fully dared to breach.

“Yes, this whole time. I assumed you would have noticed before you, ah—“ he gestured towards Jayce’s general state, clothes still damp. It would be a true miracle if he managed to avoid a nasty cold at this point. “—resorted to more extravagant means of getting my attention.”

Jayce’s face burned, mouth gaping. Yet, he let out an awkward, breathless laugh. 

“I thought I was being subtle,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Viktor did laugh at that. “Yes, Jayce, about as subtle as one of your explosions. Which, I might remind you, is why we still owe the reparation of the south wall.”

”You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he whined, dropping his head forward in mortified defeat.

”Not a chance,” Viktor said smoothly, his fingers finding Jayce’s dark locks once again, tugging just enough to make him lift his head again. 

He leaned in, close enough that Jayce could count the golden flecks of his irises. 

“But since you have finally arrived at the conclusion I reached long ago…” Viktor’s voice dropped to something quieter, almost conspiratorial. “Perhaps it is time we proceed with our findings.”

Jayce chuckled, the sound boyish and bright. 

He tipped forward, both their foreheads nearly brushing. “Good thing I’m always up for a hands-on approach, then.”

Viktor huffed, but there was no real bite to it, just the quiet satisfaction of something inevitable finally running its course. He let his fingers dig just slightly in Jayce’s scalp, his other hand settling at the curve of his jaw, anchoring him in place.

”Then by all means,” Viktor murmured, his voice edged with a knowing smirk. “Make yourself useful.”

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