Archive of Our Own

What was death in the end, when every time you had it cradled in the palm of your hand, it was taken away from you without your consent? Your dignity and integrity thrown away as if it were a mere concept, undeserving of any attention.

It was a frightening idea, death. Unforeseeable, out of control, shaping life as if it was its nemesis, always finding a way to fool with the living. Their never ending waltz a mockery to the short lived human race, who feared both.

You were closer to death on your mother’s chest than when you did not exist yet. 

Yet, Viktor never felt its frigid touch despite his burning desire to.

One moment he was at peace, the second after he would rise in a new form. Again and again and again. 

Is it something tangible, something you can return from as if in the end it was all but a lie? 

Is there a chance that the souls they had left behind in the war, the hundreds of innocent stories, remained somewhere at the end of the world, strolling without a care under heaven’s sunny sky? Are the children fine, laughing and at peace, yet trapped in their small frame for eternity? Are their parents on Earth desperately wishing on a star for their safety, wherever they could be?

Or maybe they will forever remain as dust, nothing but a tender memory in their relative’s heart, who will keep praying no matter what. Because it is all unknown for them. It is all but a mystery to the fragile human race.

–

The shore is violent, merciless, its waves crashing in violent strikes against the cliff. The salty water fills Jayce’s nostrils, and he chokes on it, reaching desperately for a surface he can cling onto, any surface, but there’s none–he’s in the ocean, an alive miracle stranded on an unknown coast. 

He breaths again, and finally, finally , welcomes oxygen back in his body. But there’s another problem, much bigger, much more important than his empty lungs. Where’s Viktor?

He looks around and he’s wrenched, his knee hurts like hell, his head bound to explode in a matter of seconds. Everytime he tries to take a step forward, he goes two steps backward, and he feels like Mother Nature’s new nemesis. 

His foot gets caught on a rock, and he falls head first onto the water, and fuck, if he doesn’t find Viktor quickly, he will die out of lack of oxygen. He will drown. Jayce can’t let that happen. And so he searches, his tears ridiculous in contrast to the heavy thumps slapping his damaged enough body.

–

They wander in the forest after hours of walking to the top of the cliff, and they find this place. Paved roads had appeared at some point, with tall, bushy trees along them. 

It has been so long since the last time they saw civilization, but it’s nothing like Piltover. There’s no metal, no strong wind, no massive buildings overlooking the city. None of it. It’s a rural town straight out of a fantasy book. The distant buzz of the place scares Viktor, who falls to his knees.

Their naked feet are sore, and Jayce is on the verge of collapsing when they hear a child’s voice screaming for their attention. The small figure runs toward them, and everything after is a blur. 

–

The inn Jayce had decided to stay in is cozy, homey even. Its owner is a tall, slender anthropomorphic woman. She always stands high, perched up on her gravity defying heels. 

She takes them in with no questions asked, and Jayce quickly discovers that the kid who had found them lives here too. He also understands that this is no normal hostel–the families there all look like refugees, people running away from something bigger than them. 

He, too, asks no questions. All he has to do is work at the forge in exchange for their tiny condo. 

As he turns on his heel to go back to his partner, the woman bluntly takes him by the wrist and she whispers, in a low raspy voice, that she will find remedies for Viktor. Her long cat-like ear twitches when Jayce gaps.

She lets him go, a knowing glint in her eyes. He does not understand the sudden help, but he thanks her, he thanks her a thousand times, and disappears in the cold night to join an already asleep Viktor–who does not do much aside from sleeping. He does not do much at all.

–

Viktor does not talk. He won’t for a while.

He hums, wanders like a ghost, walks slowly behind Jayce. He looks more tired than ever, but Jayce knows that his Viktor is buried deep within this shell of a man. He can feel it.

His skin is a shocking white, so pale you could see your reflection in it if you tried. Purple bruises linger on places where the HexTech thrived, and his back remains weak as well as his leg. He looks sick, because he is in a way, but not like he used to. Jayce thinks, hopes, that his disease is gone for good.

But he remains unstable, and Jayce hates to admit it–Viktor’s broken. He’s fragile, and incapable of taking care of himself. He usually lets Jayce do it all for him but sometimes, sometimes he screams, runs away from Jayce, and gets scared of him. But Jayce keeps his head high and never gives up. He must.

For as long as he’ll live, he will keep doing it. Even if it means losing Viktor to it.

So he takes a spoon, blows on it, brings it to Viktor’s lips, and feeds him. It’s mechanical now.

–

Jayce rubs his eyebrows with his calloused fingers, his head burning with countless thoughts. Not once in his life has he not been an overthinker. But the last events made it so much worse. So much harder to bear. His racing thoughts were a constant tinnitus, his numerous attempts at shutting them down leading to no avail.

The homey hostel room they’re staying in is bathed in a blue hue, the moonless night an open invitation for astral projections.

He had guessed that wherever they had travelled to was a place from an old, blissful time, a Piltover rooted in its earliest traditions and culture, a Piltover before the fall, before it all began, because Jayce can see the stars and their dying light, shining from miles and miles away despite their death in an unknown time. 

He’s convinced that they are in a timeline they do not belong to because never has the sky been so clear, so immaculate, devoid of all the pollution and fumes back in their Piltover. 

Capricornus’ constellation shines bright, and Jayce smiles fondly, because it’s Viktor’s one. 

He is convinced that he can see Andromeda in the distance, the big, wide open galaxy reminding him of this moment.

This strange, freezed in time moment. Despite hours of quarrel with himself on how he could even describe it, none of his conclusions mattered. It had happened. It had taken place. And nothing he could dwell and ramble on would change that fact.

It was all beyond mortal comprehension. Their essences floated effortlessly, Viktor’s body levitating as if it weighed less than dust, reminding him of that promising, hopeful night in the lab where Hextech was born.

Time dissolved and space unfolded around them, the endless place a reminder of their insignificance. They were real, naked down to the bones, devoid of any superficiality. 

Symphony of ethereal hues, the astral plane, the delicate touch of iridescent dust brung by a starlit wind—it should have utterly shaken Jayce to his core, took all of his attention, made him realize that the world has always been so much bigger than him and filled with a never ending cosmos tainted in pink and blue, purple and all the most beautiful hues.

But not to Jayce, to whom holding Viktor close was to hold a piece of eternity itself–a fragment of existence too beautiful to be real. 

None of it was as breathtaking as Viktor, his beautiful, beautiful Viktor. None of it could even compare to the soul cradled in his arm, to the body pressed against his. 

His confession was one for him as much as it was one for Viktor. Years of feelings bottled up, confined in the intimate walls of his heart, his never fully filled heart. Because Jayce loves so much, too much, too big. 

And it screams for Viktor’s name. It has been for a while.

The three forbidden words lingered on his tongue, but they were not strong enough to describe what was going on in his heart. Nothing could ever be strong enough.

–

One night, Jayce comes back home, tired from an uneventful day where he had done nothing but swing a hammer. He, who feared having to end his life with this fucking tool in his hand, was sentenced to sway it until his last breath.

His showers are cold, quick, and he only takes the time to trim a bit of his beard. He hasn’t shaved in a while. He tends to not care anymore. But he never, never forgets to take care of Viktor. 

He runs a bath, the warm water all for his partner. Viktor waits sitting on a chair, his eyes shining more than usual, his face less robotic. He stares at everything with strained attention, but especially at Jayce, and he sighs. 

He’s been a bit more independent these last few months. 

He sometimes cooks very simple meals for himself, showers when his body allows him, and takes interest in the books Jayce brings from the town’s library. 

Yet, his lips remain shut. 

Viktor does not feel like himself anymore–he doesn’t know if he will ever feel like it again. He feels like a polished, expensive marionette doll being played with by Jayce, who has to look out for him all the time. He hates it, despises his incapacity.

And he’s almost sure that Jayce feels the same way–that this big, ridiculous dollhouse they have trapped themselves in is a distraction. A distraction that is bound to fall apart. 

Viktor feels unworthy of all this care, this attention, this love. 

Bile foams in his throat when Jayce takes him by the waist to guide his body in the hot bath. 

Jayce moves over on the tub, confident in his gesture–he’s not clumsy like he used to be. He lifts Viktor’s arm to rub some soap on his ribs, even though Viktor could have quite easily raised it himself. Jayce does it with so much care, so slowly, as if Viktor was made of porcelain.

He whispers “I hope the water’s not burning you.” The water, however, is barely warm.

The taller man then pats a large hand on Viktor’s back to moisten the thin skin there, and Viktor hiccups at the gesture. He’s going to puke. He mutters, out of breath–

“Makes me want to vomit,” He brings his knees to his face to hide in them, feeling shameful. “How kind you are to me.” 

Jayce drops the soap bar in the tub and gaps, speechless, his jaw on the floor. His head spins and jolts as he hears the familiar voice for the first time in forever.

“I must quit you. I wish I knew how to.”

–

Viktor never learns how to. He tries to, but Jayce never lets him. 

A year passes by, and Jayce cries every time Viktor’s not looking. But Viktor is always looking. So he tries to get better–and it’s almost impossible after everything he did. 

But he tries regardless. Because is there anything else he can do?

If he jumps, Jayce jumps. So Viktor, for once, controls when death will find him.

–

They guess that summer is near thanks to all the festivities taking place in town. There are flags depicting the sun and frescos on the paved walls, all telling stories from another time.

There’s music coming from everywhere, and children are dancing in circles,  hands in hands, their high-pitched voices singing along the traditional chants. The religious statues are all decorated for the occasion and flooded with offerings at their feet. 

Viktor rolls his eyes at them. It’s been a while since his last walk there, as he usually goes into town to do groceries or clock in for work. Jayce holds his hand tightly, his grip almost bone breaking. Viktor won’t admit it, but he wishes Jayce could do this with his whole body.

They wander around the stands, and there is so much food to try, so many songs to discover, so many traditions they have yet to understand. A bartender calls for their attention, and they walk in the crowded pub.

Viktor feels overwhelmed. Yet, he feels human. And as much as he loathes it, the pure, unfiltered happiness on Jayce’s face is enough to convince him that he will be okay–even if there’s no room for redemption for someone like him. 

That night, he kisses Jayce. 

–

Jayce’s head collides against the freezing window, cooling his forehead for an instant. He sighs, and puts his hands on the glass to support himself, tiredness slowly enveloping him. 

A year, maybe two, had passed since then. Yet, they remained trapped in this place. 

Well, not trapped. Friends and family aside– if you could ever put them aside–, this town had everything Jayce ever craved for. 

They usually woke up to roosters singing, and the city would come alive at the sound of it, the marketplace bustling with calls for a new fish coming from the North, or for a discount on a freshly imported spice. Travellers, anthropomorphic creatures, mothers and their children, all wandered freely in the lively roads made of sturdy, brownish bricks. Both men blended in the crowd, their hood always tightly secured on their head.

Half-timbered houses adorned the busy streets with tall trees and patches of grass, immersing the place in an eternal summer. Because the sun never ceased to shine on this heavenly Piltover. 

It felt so unrealistic, so out of this world, so romanticized, an ideal version of where they had grown up. Zaun was the name given to a village outside of the town’s heart, and the council only belonged to where they came from. 

In the midst of their research on the political situation of this place, the auberge’s owner laughed in their face, hand on her stomach and all, when they dared asking about their governor.

“A council? With seven chosen advisors…? I guess we could say that, given how big the royal family is. But no, no, no.” A chuckle. There’s a bit of disdain in there, but they ignore it. “I don’t know where you come from, but we’re governed by royalty here. Piltover’s wealthiest family, the Heimerdingers. We’ve never been at peace like that before them. Don’t forget to pray for them.” She had said, her head nodding toward the small praying statue outside of the inn.

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a knowing look, their surprise hardly hidden on their faces. When they tried to gather more information, the Yordle they once knew was nowhere to be found in the description given by the woman. 

This Piltover was different, so far away from the one they knew. It felt almost medieval, encapsulated in time with a simpler, easier way of life. 

The auberge they had been living in for two years was now their home.

Jayce still worked at the forge, and Viktor occasionally busied himself in an apothecary linked to a massive library ; it was the best way for him to discreetly pursue his researches. 

They had fallen into a comfortable routine despite the tension they never seemed to be able to break from. The question: Will we ever come back home? Hangs heavily in the air, Damoclès’ sword floating closer and closer to their head and ready to strike. In ten seconds, in eight hours, in five years. 

Neither of them knows. But Jayce selfishly lingers in this unknown, in this new home– Viktor never dared to call it home, scared of its inconsistency . 

Everything Jayce ever wanted is currently sleeping soundly in their shared bed, soft little snores occasionally breaking the deep silence he has immersed himself in for the past hour. 

It’s late in the night, yet sleep does not want to find Jayce. And he does not want to either, if it means admiring Viktor calmly resting, his head heavily falling on the thick cotton pillow, almost melting with it. 

He had let his hair get longer, and Jayce absolutely loves twirling them in his calloused fingers, the silky feeling a reminder of how much he loves everything about Viktor. Short hair, long hair, purple skin, mutilated skin, cured leg or not. It does not matter. He’s safe and sound here–for now, at least. 

Jayce sits perched over Viktor on the bed, one leg–his broken one–on the other with a hand softly caressing his lover’s cheek, never forgetting to rub his thumb on the small mole at the top of his lips.

Then, he pins a rebel strand of chestnut hair behind Viktor’s ear. He could cry. Oh, he could. He stands still for an instant. The inevitable passage of time will steal away from him this moment when he will go to sleep. So he fights against it, just for an instant.

But then something shifts, and an uneasy feeling pools in his lower stomach. The smell–the smell is weird, different, it smells like fumes and burnt. There’s a fire. He can feel it and his skin shivers. He’s trembling now, and he looks around, desperate to know where the blaze comes from. 

Blue has shifted into red, and the bedroom looks like a battlefield, then a bedroom, then the council, and there are bodies–there are bodies everywhere . It’s raining blood and screams fill his ear canals. 

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and he shudders, his whole body quaking with fear, and he’s there again, on his knees under the rumble, and he sees Viktor dead, dead again . 

He sees his face, strangely at peace for the first time since forever. Jayce realizes, among the chaos around him, that it has been a while since he last saw Viktor smile. 

The walls are all collapsing on themselves, and Jayce is trembling at the edges. His chest is heavy, his ribs on the verge of breaking–his heartbeat is pounding, too loud, too fast, the air becoming poison to his lungs. 

Jayce will repeat it all ; he won’t let Viktor die. So he gets up as fast as he can, his limbs all aching and screaming and hurting him. But he doesn’t care. 

On the tip of his fingers, under his palms, he feels it all crumble. The sensation is too realistic, too vivid, a quiet dread slipping through the cracks of his reason. His breath gets caught, shallow and sharp, at the sight before him.

Viktor’s chest remains flat, not heaving at all, his lips are parted yet no air escapes them. 

The weight of it–this unbearable what if –suffocates him. He acts before he thinks, pressing down on Viktor’s ribs with his palms. 

It cracks. It breaks. It shatters under his weight. Jayce feels like vomiting.

He screams for help to no avail. Jayce, in all his glory, remains powerless, a man without a weapon and without a partner and without any reason to live anymore. He cries, tears flowing and flowing on the cascade of his cheeks, of his jaw, falling on Viktor’s dirty face. The watery drops clear the ashes on his forehead. 

Jayce tries to take off Viktor’s clothes in another desperate attempt to massage his heart, heavily breathing and on the verge of losing consciousness. The terror around him blends in with the bedroom, the burning fire now cold, freezing, as if a blizzard had been provoked by the explosion, rationality out of the window in Jayce’s illusions. A hooded man’s hand reaches for his wrist–

Jayce feels shaken back to life, two hands tightly gripped on firm and broad shoulders in an attempt to jolt him out of his awake nightmare.

“Jayce, please Jayce, breathe, calm down–” It’s his voice, Viktor’s voice, the most beautiful voice to Jayce’s ears, “Jayce, come back to me, please.”

He blinks away his tears–which are endlessly flooding on the blanket under him–and he lets them uncontrollably drip on Viktor’s hand. Slowly, he inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales again, his breath going back to a more steady rhythm along the reassuring caresses of Viktor’s hand on his heart. 

He raises his head and meets his partner’s gaze, tender and full of love yet wretched by fear and anxiety. “Are you feeling better? I heard you heavily breathing, as if you were suffocating.” 

Viktor leans his head to the side, examining his partner’s face. His other hand is slowly soothing Jayce's face, the skin burning to the touch. “It’s been a while since your last attack. I feared they would eventually come back.” He says, lips trembling.

“I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, love.” He keeps massaging Jayce to numb away the pain. 

“It never was.” His tone is sweet, carefully articulated to calm down Jayce, whose eyes are closed while he tries to stay focused on steadying his breathing. His strong hand has joined Viktor’s one on his jaw as he leisurely caresses it, unhurried.

“It’s not yours either, V.” There’s a smile in his words, and Viktor chuckles, the sound full of air.

“Oh, it is. But let’s not mention this, will you?” His eyebrow is arched up and his slight smirk can be heard through his words, Jayce, eyes still closed, knows it. He knows Viktor by heart. He could have his eyes folded all the time and he would still know what kind of expression Viktor would make. 

“I love you, I love you so, so much. Sorry I woke you up, Sorry .” His head fully falls on Viktor’s palm, who’s cradling him with both his hands now. Viktor approaches him, sliding on the sheets, creased under their weights, and holds Jayce close to his chest, his slender fingers massaging his partner’s scalp. 

He whispers the three words, lacing them with intimacy and care. 

Viktor, despite the decades spent with Jayce, still has a hard time saying it out loud. It feels too raw, too important. Jayce doesn’t mind–he knows that Viktor feels the same way.

“It’s fine. I was having a weird dream anyways.” Jayce shifts and lay on the bed, Viktor’s thighs his pillow for now. The older man lowers his head and takes in the sight, cheeks tainted in red hues. Jayce is so tall, so muscular and toned compared to him, and yet he’s always the one acting like a puppy under his touch.

“Do you want me to narrate it to you? Maybe it will lull you to sleep.” He feels Jayce nodding, his beard tickling his knees. 

“We were together, and I was dressed in a loose white dress. You had this thick red tissue on you, showing off your chest. What a sight.” He teasingly says, his fingers tiptoeing on Jayce’s pectoral before coming back to long brown hair. 

“I don’t remember the details well after that. You know how it is with dreams, they all blur the instant you try to remember them.” 

He goes on, Jayce’s small hums audible enough to encourage him to continue.

“I was trapped underground in a narrow cave, and the air was hot and burning my lungs. I was sentenced, already dead in hell, perhaps? But I was very much alive, waiting. Then there was a light coming from the entrance, shining so bright it blinded me to the point I had to cover my eyes. And then there was a voice. It was yours, singing and calling my name. You sounded so hurt, so desperate. But you were not facing me, no. Your back was. And you told me that the Gods had given you the permission to take me back to life. To resurrect me. But to one condition : you must not look back.”

Viktor’s lips seal, and he frowns, as if the dream had tormented him more than he would have thought. 

“And yet you did. You looked back. Teary eyed, horror written all over your face. You took a look at me, afraid that they had lied to you. And I died. Nothing less, nothing more. Tragic, isn’t it?”

“How am I supposed to fall asleep after hearing this?” Jayce mocks, but there’s a tender akin to sadness in his tone. “Well…don’t. Stay with me a bit longer.” 

Silence falls between them, and they can hear the strong wind outside, the storm quiet compared to the ones they have known. Viktor’s hand never leaves the hair he’s now entangled in. 

“Would you have looked back?”Jayce twitches at the sudden interrogation as he meets Viktor’s gaze. He’s serious, deep in thoughts, and repeats himself with frowned eyebrows.

 “Would you have reached out for me despite being told not to? Would you have turned around just to see my face for an instant?”

The questions are heavy and loud, a deep insecurity rooted in them, but Jayce instantly knows, he’s sure of it as if he had been asked if the sun would rise tomorrow. 

There are no cells, no atoms, no nerves in him that wouldn’t instantly look back for the man. There is no universe where he doesn’t crawl back to him. And this one, made up in the caves of Viktor’s skull, is no exception.

“I would have.” A pause. “I’ve already done it, in a way.” He gets back to a sitting position, facing Viktor who’s almost teary eyed. He tenderly smiles at him.

“You know that I will only look back for you.” 

It’s almost a whisper, a secret not really well kept with the way Jayce never stops reminding Viktor how much he means to him. His words also a reminder of Viktor’s own confession from years ago. Viktor thinks he’s falling in love all over again. 

When they transcended together, Viktor had, for the first time in his weird and mystic existence, accepted that there would always be someone on Earth, and anywhere else in the Universe, looking out for him. His questions, vulnerable and empty of confidence, were just a way to reassure himself. Because he already knew the answers. Deep down, he knew.

Lost in thoughts, Jayce’s amber eyes pierces his soul and sees through him, so warm and inviting, so expressive. He can’t look away, until Jayce’s lips open again to add something to the conversation. Oh, his lips. His soft, never dry lips. 

“You remember, the seven years we spent in the lab?” Viktor laughs, openly mocking Jayce’s question. “Of course I do. I was already so smitten with you at the time. It was ridiculous.” 

“I was too, you know.” “Liar.” 

He bumps his forehead with his lover’s one in a chuckle, rubbing them together. 

“No…I just didn’t know it yet. Have I never told you?” Jayce looks up, and they’re so close, so close and not far at all. He can hear their hearts beat loudly in the silence.

Viktor closes his eyes in a shaky exhale and nods left to right in disapproval. “I loved Mel too at the time. And I was confused, because I think I truly loved her, and when we got together I felt–I felt lost. I was so happy but at the same time…At the same time you were there. And I don’t think I will ever be able to explain how messed up it was in my head. One second I was in bed with the woman I loved, and the second after I was crying at your b–” “You cried?”

“You have no idea how much.” Jayce's thumb soothes away the crisp in Viktor’s lines, his expression a mixture of jealousy and relief. 

“She’s the one who kept insisting on me staying by your side. I would have done it anyway, but I needed her to say it to me. I don’t know why. I still don’t know if she ever truly loved me, or if she used me til the end.” 

Viktor weakly chuckles. “Oh, she did. I saw the way she looked at you. From the benches, I observed her, you know. And her eyes–She looked at you like I would look at you.” A pause, and Viktor shyly looks away. “But you never noticed it.” 

Jayce gasps, hurt visible on his face. He feels stupid, oblivious. “I should have known.”

“It’s fine. In the end, it is me who’s kissing you here.” And he pecks him on the lips, sweet and brief, enough to tease Jayce. He adores the way the slight cut on Jayce’s upper lip feels on his own lips. He’s the one kissing him here–but at what cost? 

“You loving me back now is enough.”

“But I’ve always loved you, V.” His voice is desperate, begging to be heard. He cradles Viktor’s face in his burning palms, and kisses him anywhere he can in between breaths and words.

“I’ve seen you brush your teeth in the morning. I know what your body odor smells like. I can smell you from five blocks away. I know all your different style kisses. I know how you like your coffee. I can guess your mood by the taps of your cane, if they’re hurried or careless. I know every angle of you, have imagined them over and over in my fantasies.” Jayce leans forward to catch Viktor’s lips, hurried and hungry to taste them.

Viktor whimpers and breaks away from the kiss, and the atmosphere shifts. “Did you study my angles for artistic purposes…” He lets out a trembling breath on Jayce’s exposed neck. “Or for something else?” He teases as he cages Jayce in between his legs. They’re hips to hips, and Viktor puts a hand on his lover’s shoulders to steady himself. 

His other one falls in Jayce’s lap, in between his thighs, and he slowly, agonizingly slowly, takes off the remaining tissue there. He can’t take it very far away, because they’re both on their knees on the messy bed. 

“Show me. Show me how you would do it whenever you thought of me.” 

They’re forehead to forehead, and Viktor’s gaze is impossible to run away from. Jayce groans when slender fingers faintly rub against his most intimate part, so softly it feels like the touch of a ghost. He bites his lips and focuses on Viktor’s words as best as he can.

“Would you go slow at first? Tease yourself as if it were me?” He guides Jayce’s palm on his shaft, urging him. 

“Viktor, I–” “Answer me.” He feels himself gets harder, if it’s even possible seeing how hard he already is, because he can barely contain himself when Viktor is around him like this.

So Jayce obeys. He starts at the base, his large hand covering half of his length. The grip isn’t too strong, and his motion is gentle, careful. “I’d start slowly–let the scenario build.” He closes his eyes, and he feels sharp teeth on his collarbones.

“You would initiate it, kiss me first” He timidly moans. “I’d take you by the hips and lead you against the wall, on the bed, on the desk. Wherever.” 

“Such a beast. You would have fucked me in the lab?” Viktor mutters, punctuating with a kiss on Jayce’s jaw. “Y–Yeah Most of it happened there.” “And after?”

 “After…I would get on my knees, suck you off. But you’d stop me right before finishing. And then–” He struggles to go on as his words get stuck in between hurried breaths, pitifully whimpering when Viktor bites too hard on his skin. “Then, I’d stretch you with my fingers. You’d moan my name, and– and fuck–”

He now moves higher, painfully edging himself with the slow pace he’s settled in. “You would make such obscene sounds. It’s late when we do it, right before night, and you’re bathed in the sunset’s light and you look so fucking beautiful.” “Do I?” Viktor asks after keeping his mouth shut in order to kiss any patch of skin he can. 

“ Of course –of course you’d look beautiful. You’d roll your eyes only with my fingers in you and beg me to make love to you, to take you on the desk.” “Me? Begging? A bit out of character, don’t you think?”

Jayce chuckles, genuinely amused by Viktor’s remark. “Don’t act like you’ve never begged for me to c–” “Shhh. Focus on the story. Did you take me?” He tries to maintain eye contact but is agonizingly tempted by what’s happening in Jayce’s lap. He’s seen his length a hundred times and yet it never fails to shock him how big he is. 

“I did. Fuck, I couldn’t even tell you how many times I did.” His hand slams against his thighs, his pace getting faster with each word. Viktor feels himself hardened too, and it’s more and more difficult to ignore the growing heat in his lower belly. 

“You would cum in me? On my face?” Jayce chokes on air–Viktor’s words are always so dirty, so direct , and laced in such sensuality in that silken accent of his.

“Depends. Usually d–deep in you.” Moans blend into groans, and he twitches as he hears Viktor whimper. It’s subtle, almost inaudible, but that’s enough to set him on edge. “W–What do you want me to do, V? Tell me or I–”

And fuck Viktor if that’s not the hottest thing ever to have Jayce, big, masculine and sweet Jayce, begging for him. He falls on his back, swiftly adjusting his legs so his partner can settle in between them, and guides him in between his thighs. And Jayce’s muscular memory naturally goes for Viktor’s weak, creamy long leg, taking it in his grip without even looking. 

“Make it real, then. I’m waiti–” Jayce doesn’t let Viktor finish his sentence as he shoves deep in Viktor’s mouth two thick, burning fingers to wet them. He makes obscene sounds in response to the sudden intrusion, rolling his hips dangerously close to his covetousness. He can’t help but roll his eyes as Jayce swiftly joins him in the heated motion. 

“I won’t make you wait any longer, trust me.” And he obliges, thrusting in Viktor his two fingers, a tad too excited to do it one by one, but he knows Viktor loves it–the stretch, the aching yet thrilling feeling of being opened. The pain reminds him of how fleshed his body is. 

He lets go Viktor’s long leg for an instant to stroke his swollen member with only a subtle touch, and goes back to holding it. 

He thrusts his fingers in until Viktor hits him on the back with his heel, urging him to get started. Viktor is never pleased when he finishes before feeling Jayce fully inside him. 

“Would you go slow? Or pound into me?”

“I’m a gentleman…” And he demonstrates his statement by shoving himself as slowly as possible, making Viktor feel every inch of it. The thigh firmly held in his large hand is shaking, and he smiles seeing how much effect he has on his lovely partner. “I’d go slow, would be sensual and tender. But I know that you…”

Suddenly, he rams in Viktor’s tight core, hitting the bundle of nerves there as if he knew exactly where it was–Which he does, in fact. “You, you like it rough .”

And Viktor smiles, because God, Jayce is such a giver. The corners of his lips quickly turn downward, stuck in a bite as he tries to stifle his mewls–Jayce pounds into him so well , knows his body by heart, and never, ever misses his prostate. Jayce leans lower, getting dangerously close to Viktor’s face, and kisses him with hunger. It’s all tongue, teeth and saliva. 

Then he kisses his moles, his neck, his chin, his forehead, his lobe–everywhere he can reach. Viktor’s skin is tainted in purple bruises in some hidden places, and it saddens Jayce for an instant, but he quickly brushes the thought away.

Viktor’s on the edge, but he doesn’t want to come yet–His body is aching for more . Jayce then presses a hand on his navel to feel himself, and Viktor pitifully moans. He knows Jayce is close too ; he’s pulsing into him like crazy. 

So he pushes back Jayce, who panics thinking he might have done something wrong. But Viktor turns around devilishly smiling and his long hair falls like a waterfall on his back, making him look so ethereal, so beautiful. “I can’t hold long in this position–but hell I need you so much right now.” 

His back instantly arches as Jayce enters him again, grasping a handful of soft hair in his firm grip. He loves, loves, loves when Jayce takes the reins like this, understanding without explanations what the other wants. Strong fingers dip in Viktor’s hips, and they both know it will leave a mark.

“Good boy, Jayce…such a good boy for me.” He languorously says through moans and wet sounds, his right cheek squished against the pillow in an attempt to keep looking at Jayce, whose eyes are half lidded. Tooth-gapped teeth harshly bite on red lips, and Viktor drinks in the sight. 

“I want to hear you, love…” He feels his hair being violently pulled, and his whole body shivers in reaction. He’s so close to coming undone. Jayce lets the whimpers caught in his throat out, but they’re muffled under the sound of skin slapping into skin, the bed squeaking under their combined weight.

Viktor arches even more–if that’s even possible–as he feels Jayce losing control, so he squeezes around him, messing with him. “In me, Jayce finish in me—”

“See? How you beg for me to come in you.” And that gets Viktor’s eyes flying up to the ceiling ; Jayce’s unusual yet erotic dirty talk in that low, breathy voice. Jayce follows suit and slams against his lover’s back, releasing it all in a drawn out moan, Viktor’s name muttered in it along I love you’s . 

He all but slouches on the dirty bed, their fluids all over the sheets. It’s too late to clean up, they’ll take care of it tomorrow–is what Viktor thinks. 

Jayce gets up, limping a bit more than usual, and gets a wet cloth to tidy up his partner. Viktor groans but obeys, and falls asleep in a blink while Jayce gently wipes him, kissing every mole on his thigh at the same time.

Jayce throws away the wet tissue and envelopes them both in a rather small blanket–but it’s fine, if it means tightly hugging Viktor in his warmth. 

–

The storm has been replaced by drizzle when Jayce wakes up, and he softly rises to the sounds of droplets hitting the window. He looks around, expecting Viktor nuzzled on his side, but his warmth is missing. Moreover, his side of the bed is made, clean and intact. 

Jayce bounces on his feet, wincing as he lands a bit too harshly on his bad knee, and calls for Viktor’s name. Only the light rain answers. 

So he gets dressed in a hurry, and makes his way to the inn’s outside as fast as he can. 

Viktor used to do this in their early days in this place–but he knew, was well aware of how frightened, nervous and almost psychotic it drove Jayce. He had to know where the other was–would go insane if he didn’t. 

The owner jumps as she hears the loud, pounding sounds of Jayce’s footsteps on the parquet. It creaks under his weight. Her long cat ears roll up on themselves at the unpleasant noises, and she opens her mouth, not hiding her irritation.

“If you’re looking for your man, he left an hour ago. Saw him taking the sloping street. Told me to not tell you, but y’know…with this storm, I’d be worried too.” Her long nails tap on the wooden desk, irritating Jayce who leaves with a nod. She sighs, but genuine worry lies in her sentences. 

–

Viktor stands tall on the shore, his gaze focused on the waves roaring. They’re fierce, violent, and he knows that they haven’t been like that in a while. Not once since their arrival. 

The water is a magnet and he is one too, and he’s on the threshold of answering its calls. He walks forward and feels it all around him–the rain cascading on his face, the ocean embracing his feet. 

Slowly, he steps further in it, feeling frozen all over. He doesn’t bother holding his clothes out of water’s reach–he only has his long dark navy cape on, and he lets it blend in the waves. 

It’s all so strange, how out of his body he feels. He has known this day was bound to happen, and is even surprised at how late it came. But he never had the heart to tell Jayce. He could not break him again.  

So he goes forward, the ocean now at knee level. Viktor doesn’t know if it’s raindrops or his tears wandering on his cheeks. He does not want to know. 

But suddenly he hears a scream, and it’s screaming his name, and fuck, it’s Jayce. Of course it’s Jayce. Who else could it be? 

Viktor bites his lips and feels some blood melting with rainy tears. He can’t bear it but keeps walking as he suffocates, choking on air and emotions. 

“Viktor, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He can’t answer. He doesn’t even know the answer. 

“Viktor, look at me. Come back. You don’t know what you’re doing.” 

Viktor snaps, but stops himself from facing Jayce. “I absolutely know what I am doing, Jayce. You do not have to monitor me anymore.” He says, not stopping in his tracks. He feels the cold water hitting his navel and winces at the touch, a sensation so far away from what he had felt the night before. 

He hears Jayce running and splashes of water, and he’s not surprised in the slightest. Of course Jayce would run after him. Of fucking course. 

“This play…this made up life…It’s time we let it go, Jayce.” He says, still focused on the ocean. Unlike Jayce, Viktor can’t look back. 

He feels himself losing balance, the water too deep, too shallow, too dangerous. In an instant, strong arms wrap around his waist, and Viktor can’t hear the storm anymore–his ears are filled with cries and his own name. 

“Anywhere you go, I’ll go, V. I don’t fucking care where, don’t fucking care how. We’ll find a way out of here. We’re together. So please–Please don’t do whatever you’re thinking.”

Jayce buries his face in the crook of Viktor’s neck, inhaling the scent there. His hold gets tighter as he endlessly begs for Viktor to listen and stay. “What are we even doing, Jayce? Live like normal people? Lie to ourselves in this house that is not even ours? That is not our purpose. We–"

"Then let’s go back to our researches, find out why we were sent here.” 

Viktor tries to break out of Jayce’s grip, grunting, but the taller man refuses to let go. “I try. Everyday. You know how much I try.” He’s panting. “But I don’t even know what I'm trying for. Jayce, I can’t do this anymore.” He stops fighting and doesn’t even feel his eyes watering and flowing. 

“Let’s go back home. Let’s try together, like we always do. Please V, please .” 

Then Viktor looks back, letting his weight fall on Jayce’s chest. He holds him anywhere he can–his arms, his shoulders, his waist. His handle is desperate and violently tight, almost hurting Jayce whose arms are now around Viktor’s entire body. He won’t let go, not until the water freezes them to ice.

In the distance, the deep rumbling noise of a boat’s engines roars. Viktor smiles fondly at the sound.