Archive of Our Own

When he first wakes, it’s with a start. He feels - not bad, surprisingly. Like he’s woken from a long night’s sleep. His throat is dry, but other than that . 

He sits up, noting the thin mattress beneath him and the metal frame to the bed. His feet are bare. The floor is cold. He’s in a room he doesn’t recognise; small and square and bare but for the bed he sits on and a high-backed armchair at the opposite end. The walls are metal and plastic, with strange, random seams at intervals on each. He doesn’t remember how he got here.

“Hey! Good morning! How’d you sleep?” An unfamiliar, static-laden voice calls. He looks around, alarmed, until his eyes settle on a security camera in the centre of the room, hanging like a periscope from a hole in the ceiling, actual technology encased in glass.

“Where… am I?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I slept fine’. You’re just awaiting processing.”

“Processing for what?”

“It was covered during your intake.”

Viktor stands - tries to, at least. There’s very little for him to use to steady himself, the walls are too smooth, no handholds. The bed is too low. He sits back down.

“I didn’t get an intake . Where is my cane?”

The person behind the camera is quiet for a moment. Viktor stares at the steady red light.

“Oh! Here we go.” The voice says. 

There’s a hydraulic hiss to his left, and he turns his head to watch some of those strange seams come apart, a thin panel within the wall opening to reveal a clear plastic crutch. It is, distinctly, not the one he made himself. He scoots along the bed, foot dragging against the floor, and leans over to grab it.

“Sorry, metal’s not allowed.”

Viktor grunts in response. It’s the right height, at least. 

“And my braces?”

Another pause. “I… I’m sorry. I’m not seeing anything other than that.”

Viktor sighs. “Great. How long is this, ah, processing?”

“I don’t have that information. I’m sorry.”

“What information do you have? Who are you?”

“I’m your Life Support Operator.” The voice calls, apparently reinvigorated by the question. “You can call me Jayce. Can I get you a drink? I’m afraid we only have three flavors: orange, grape, and water - oh, and coffee! Make that four flavours.”

Viktor blinks up at the camera. It doesn’t blink back, just stares, static, like it’s looking right through him. 

“Why didn’t I get an intake?”

“Was that a ‘no’ on the drink?”

Viktor stands the best he can with just the cane to support him, and trudges to the centre of the room. The camera follows him. Until he’s beneath it, looking up.

“Who do you work for?” He asks.

“The Council.”

Viktor’s blood runs cold. Of course he does. The Piltover council. The organisation that Viktor was trying to destroy. He should have suspected this from the start, from waking in this strange place. 

“I need to talk to them. I need to explain myself.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that for you. Did you want some water, maybe?”

“No, I don’t want any fucking water. I need to speak to the council! There’s been a mistake, I shouldn’t be here!”

“Don’t worry.” Jayce placates. “If that’s the case, your processing should be completed very quickly. You’ll be able to talk to them then.”

“I need to talk to them now .”

“I can’t help with that.”

Viktor closes his eyes, takes a calming breath, and then swings his cane upwards at the camera, slamming its base into the glass encasing it with a crack . He’s shaking on his feet as he watches it retract back into the ceiling. An alarm blares. Red light fills the room. Then the hiss of gas. And he’s unconscious.

“What’s your name?” Jayce asks him.

Viktor is lying on the thin mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Where he’s been for at least two hours. Since waking on the floor to find the camera staring down at him, red light unblinking, nothing to show from Viktor’s attack but a small chip in the glass dome. The Life Support Operator (LSO, he keeps calling himself) has been prodding him with questions like this for the entire time since he woke up. 

“...Viktor.” He answers, reluctantly. Just to get him to shut up. It has the opposite effect. 

“Just Viktor?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Okay then, just Viktor. Where are you from?”

“Should this not be in my file?”

“I don’t have your file.”

Viktor frowns. He tilts his head to look up at the camera. “They did not give you my file?”

“Nope. I don’t need it. My only directives are to keep you alive and in company while you’re in processing. I’m just asking to make conversation, learn a little more about you while you’re here.”

“...Right.” There’s something about the phrasing that itches in Viktor’s brain. “I’m from the undercity.”

Jayce doesn’t respond. Viktor doesn’t really expect him to, he imagines him - the man on the other end of the camera - uncomfortable in his Piltover sensibilities. Not knowing what to do in the presence of a trencher. 

“What about you?” He asks, curious despite himself. “Where are you from?”

“Piltover.” Jayce answers, not sounding uncomfortable. Or awkward. “Small suburb in the industrial district. Great view of the harbour.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. He doesn’t respond.

“Do you like the beach?” Jayce prods, again.

“Yes.”

“Big swimmer?”

“Where I’m from the water is so polluted with industrial runoff that it has been deemed unsafe to swim in.” He keeps as much vitriol out of his tone as he can, not for Jayce’s sake but his own. To maintain a level head. “But, yes. I like swimming.” He shifts uncomfortably, looking back up at the ceiling. “What about you? Do you swim?”

“I… don’t have that information.”

Viktor frowns again. “What?”

“I don’t have that information.”

His frown deepens. He sits up. “Jayce.” He says, carefully.

“Yes, Viktor?”

“Jayce.”

A different tone. “Yes, Viktor?”

They repeat it twice more. Jayce shows no sign of irritation.

Viktor takes a breath. Mutters a curse. “You’re not real, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

He lies back down. “You’re AI. You’re not a human being.”

“I am not. But I do exist. I’m real.” Jayce confirms. There’s no hint of an apology in his tone.

“So when you say you’re from the industrial district…”

“I was built there.” Jayce confirms again. 

“And programmed to be friendly. So people feel more secure.” Viktor sighs. He feels stupid for falling for it, even if only for a few hours.

“I suppose.”

“And that’s why you can’t help me with anything. You’re not connected to anything outside of this room, are you?”

“Right. I’m your personal LSO.”

Viktor blows air out. “What are your specs? Are you at least a new model?”

“Hex12, AI6.”

Viktor’s eyebrows fly upwards. “A very new model.” He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it out over the pillow. “Are those even available to the public yet?”

“No.” Jayce sounds smug. If machines can be. “They’re exclusive to the Council.”

“Of course they are.”

“The computation ability of the Hex12 is unparalleled.”

“I bet.”

“You must know a bit about computers, then? If you were able to tell that.”

Viktor hums. “A little. I am an engineer.”

“What do you work on?”

“This and that. Nothing interesting.”

“I’m sure it is!”

“It isn’t.” Viktor takes a moment. “I’ll take a drink now.”

“You got it.”

The wall opens up next to the chair in the centre. He hears the sound of liquid filling a glass. 

It goes like that for the next few hours; Jayce quizzing him further, Viktor giving nonanswers to any question he deems suspect. He tells him where he’s from, his background. Gives him that much while shying away from anything damning. Jayce, to give his programmers credit, sounds genuinely interested in Viktor’s life. He listens when Viktor talks about his childhood, and he asks for elaboration on his stories. The stories are what he wants the most of, evidently. Facts he’ll ask and take in and move on from, but when Viktor tells him an anecdote he grabs it and runs, asks and asks until Viktor’s certain his processors are able to reenact the entire experience. 

It’s… cute. 

“Dinner time.” Jayce says decisively. Viktor has no idea how long they’ve - he’s - been sitting there; he’s moved over to the chair to be closer to the water dispenser, and has his good leg tucked beneath himself as they talk. His foot feels like it might be numb. “What’ll it be? We’ve got beef, chicken, vegetable?”

“Mh, vegetable. Please.”

“Coming up.”

Viktor watches with suspicion as the drinks dispenser shifts, a bowl popping up from a compartment beneath and a hot beige liquid streaming down from the tap. Great. 

It tastes as bad as it looks. He takes sips with a barely disguised disgust. 

“Did you want to try a different flavour?”

“Are they truly different?”

“I don’t, uh, think so? They're vitamin rich, though!” 

“No, then. This is fine. I’ve eaten worse.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem.”

“It’s fine, Jayce. Thank you.”

“Okay. Do you want me to play some music?”

“...What do you have?”

“A pretty well stocked library. I can check for things, if you have anything in mind.”

Viktor tilts his head to the side. “Something soft, perhaps.” 

“Anything in particular?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

It’s partly an experiment. A question of whether this machine can claim to have taste. Or pretend to have taste. It's also partly a test of Jayce's functions, his ability to glean meaning. ‘Soft’ isn't a genre, it's a feeling. He wants to see how Jayce will take it.

A pause. For more than just a few seconds this time. Then gentle bossa nova over the speakers. A woman’s voice in a language he doesn’t speak. 

“I enjoy the brass. I find it soothing” Jayce tells him. Viktor hums. He stares at the camera a moment, trying to determine any kind of expression. Any indication as to whether these opinions of Jayce's are preprogrammed or spontaneous expressions of his generative code. There, of course, are none. He eats the soup.

He wanders the room after eating, as though there’s anything to find that he could not already see from his seat. Or the bed. His fingers trace the seams along the walls, gaps small enough that not even his nails can fit between. And then he reaches the far wall. It’s different from the others: blue light shines from etched symbols on its surface, a rippling glow that seems to pass over an entire network of them. As soon as he brings his hand close, the hair on his arms raises.

“Jayce, what’s this?” He asks, fingers millimetres from the surface. It feels like it’s drawing him in. 

“Hm? Oh, uh. Runes, I think? A matrix of some kind.”

“You don’t know?”

“It’s outside my jurisdiction. I’m just here to look after you.” 

“Are you curious about it?”

“No. It’s just a wall.” There’s something in his tone, though, that feels like a lie. A strain, or a shift in his voice. But, of course, he could be imagining it. It’s near impossible to tell, with no facial expressions to give his emotions away.

Viktor touches the wall.

He’s sitting in a cave. Familiar. Cold, damp air chills his skin. He knows without looking that his mentor stands behind him, bathed in the purple glow of the shimmer beside him, the liquid holding the animal that had brought them together in the first place. 

“You understand now, don’t you? What you must do.”

“Find someone else.” Viktor spits. He balls his fists and heads for the door. His fingers close around the handle.

An electric jolt runs through him from toe to scalp, every nerve in his body alight and every muscle tense. He falls to his knees moments after his fingers lose contact with the rune on the wall, eyes rolling back and body spasming with aftershocks from the zap. 

“Woah, hey, Viktor? Are you alright? Do you need help?” Jayce’s voice is too loud in his ears. Ringing. Static. 

Viktor groans. He slumps sideways, head spinning. The floor is cold beneath his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut and just about manages to not throw up. 

“Help.” He croaks. “The - the wall. There's something wrong with it.”

“What? What happened, are you hurt? I'm not detecting a medical emergency, I can't send in any drones unless my sensors pick something up. Just - just breathe, Viktor.” If Viktor didn't know any better, he'd think the anxiety and worry Jayce is showing was real, genuine emotion from a real person. It's uncanny. 

He does breathe, taking gradually deeper and slower breaths as his body stops twitching. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the angled structure of the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” Jayce asks.

“No. What was that?”

“What was what? I didn’t pick anything up, you just seemed to seize. Do you have any medical conditions I should be aware of?”

That makes Viktor laugh. He tastes blood. “A couple. I do not have seizures, though. Whatever that was, it was the runes, not my body.”

“I don’t have - I don’t have any information in my system about runic matrices. Apart from being able to identify them.”

“Of course you don’t.” Viktor sighs. 

“What do you know about them then, smart guy?”

Viktor scoffs a little, lips twitching upwards at the edges at the tone in the machine’s voice. 

“A lot , actually. I -” He cuts himself off. Jayce belongs to the Council, he can’t talk to him this openly. “It doesn’t matter. Reading is a hobby of mine, I picked up some information as I read.”

“What do you make of this matrix, then?”

Viktor glances at it. He’d need paper to even begin making sense of it, the runes are complex and in concentric and entangled patterns that he’d need to shift and lay out before himself. 

“I think it hurts. And I think I want to know why it is in here.”

“Again, I don’t -”

“You don’t have that information. I know.” He sits up. There’s a new ache in his hip. “Do you have any, eh, painkillers? That hurt.”

“Not while your body is only displaying low levels of discomfort, sorry.” He does sound apologetic, at least. Even if that’s only programmed.

“My body is always displaying low levels of discomfort.” Viktor mutters, standing and leaning heavily on the plastic cane. He shifts over to the chair again and deposits himself within it, leaning against the strangely plush back and closing his eyes. 

“What is there to do in here?” He asks. “Besides listening to music and being zapped by an unknown runic system?”

“Well, there’s. Uh. A treadmill?”

Viktor laughs again. More a bark than a real laugh. Jayce sounds sheepish at the suggestion, which he rightly should but which Viktor wasn’t expecting to hear from him at this.

“Nothing else?”

“Well, there’s me.” Jayce offers. “We can talk.”

Viktor hums. That’s their play, then. Keep him here and isolated until he reveals all to this machine. Jayce has been designed with that in mind; friendly, curious, sweet. Even his voice, probably; that kind scratchy tone even with the noise of the compressors around it.

“About what?”

“Anything you want.”

“Okay, sure.” It isn’t like he has anything better to do. 

Jayce has a lot of opinions , he’s finding. It’s been two days in here now, and they have somehow not run out of conversational material. Viktor would even say he’s enjoying himself , if it weren’t for the... Well. Being trapped here. With no indication of when his ‘processing’ will be complete.

The food is bad . He’s tried all three options now. The vegetable is the least offensive, but none are beyond ‘manageable’. He’s also explored all options available within the room itself. Jayce has let him shuffle music, stroll on the treadmill to the best of his ability without his braces, and has opened almost every possible panel in the walls for him to peer inside. Including, thankfully, the bathroom. Where he finds himself now, with Jayce waiting patiently to continue their conversation on, of all things, mid-century Noxian literature. He has for some reason been programmed with the knowledge of a lot of fiction books. He’s proving to be a more than adequate storyteller.

“There’s no shower in here.” Viktor tells Jayce once he’s finished, washing his hands under the cold water of the small sink. 

“No, that’s out…” he pauses as Viktor hears more hydraulics nearby, “here!”

Viktor pokes his head out of the bathroom. Against the wall opposite his chair, the floor has recessed in a rough two by two metre square and a flat shower head has popped out of the wall above it.

“In the middle of the room?” He asks.

“I didn’t design it.”

“Of course not.” Viktor steps closer. It looks like any other shower he’s ever used; knobs on the wall to control temperature, drain at the lowest point of the floor. He glances around. The rest of the room is just… there. Nothing cutting this off. It feels exposed. 

“Would you like to shower?” Jayce prompts. “We can talk after.”

Viktor turns to look at the camera, squinting up at it. “Are you going to watch me?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. I can do this.” The sentence is punctuated by the lens twisting inside the dome, until it’s facing the other wall. “Can’t see you like this. Just, uh, call out if anything happens. When I’m not looking at you all I can track is your heartbeat.”

The movement is strangely human. Like Jayce is really just another man, turning around in the locker room to give Viktor privacy to do what he needs to. He huffs softly. 

“Thank you.” 

Viktor peels off the clothes he’s been wearing for the past two days; a navy jumpsuit with golden embellishments and beneath that a white tee. It’s as garish as he’d expect from the Council, and he’s very aware upon removing them just how unclean he feels beneath. He turns the knob for the water, carefully avoiding the spray, and gasps when it splashes his calves anyway. 

“Are you okay?” Jayce asks. Viktor sees a twitch, like he wants to turn and check on him. 

“I’m fine. It’s just, ah, cold.”

“Ah, okay.”

The water slowly heats as he stands naked beside it, sending plumes of steam out into the room that quickly swirl and disappear into a vent right above him. 

Carefully, he steps down into the shower itself, testing the grip of the plastic cane against the wet ground and finding the rubber base thankfully sturdy against it. Hot water hits his skin and he wonders how it took him so long to ask about the shower, because he’d missed this.

He groans, resting his head against the wall, letting the water run down his back. The pressure is like heaven against the tight knots of muscle exacerbated by the thin mattress.

“Alright?” Jayce asks.

“More than.” Viktor sighs. “I needed this.”

“Is the water pressure okay? I can adjust it.”

“Harder, please.” Viktor says, instantly. 

There’s a strange dimming of the lights. A stall in the system, water stuttering from the faucet. Viktor, alarmed, turns to look at Jayce’s camera to find it still turned away from him. It only lasts a second, whatever it is, before the water is sputtering back hard and fast and pelting Viktor’s muscles with pressure that again makes him groan appreciatively.

“How’s that?” Jayce asks.

“Perfect, thank you. Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“The water… Never mind. Probably nothing.”

“Okay. Is there anything else you’d like me to do while you shower?”

Viktor hesitates. There’s something to Jayce’s tone. Clipped, like he’s thinking. Not simply processing, but considering as he speaks. 

“A change of clothes, maybe?”

“Of course.”

“..Thank you, Jayce.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Viktor returns to his shower, running soap over aching limbs. He checks, every once in a while, that Jayce is turned away from him. He always is.

So. The issue is that he has nowhere to masturbate. And it’s been two weeks.

He can’t do it in the bathroom; Jayce will be waiting to close it off once he’s finished, the same is true of the shower. Despite not being watched at those times, he knows Jayce is still keeping close tabs on him. During the day Jayce is always there, and while there’s a strange, curious little part of Viktor that wouldn’t mind the idea of Jayce watching, he doesn’t think that’s an appropriate thing to thrust onto what is essentially his guard here.

And at night, Jayce remains watching, presumably until he falls asleep, and then goes mostly dormant until Viktor wakes in the morning and the camera pops down from the ceiling hatch to cheerfully offer him a coffee or a water or a bowl of whatever slop he picks that day.

He’s going stir crazy; even their conversations and his short lived walks on the treadmill to whatever soundtrack Jayce has decided on for the day have started to feel samey, and he knows that that is in no small part due to the sexual frustration. He’s trapped, practically alone, in a room consisting of mainly bed and bath, his mind wanders regularly to ways he would rather spend his time.

“What time do you power down, at night?” Viktor asks Jayce. “Is it consistent, or just when I fall asleep?”

“An hour after you start resting.” Jayce tells him. 

“Start resting or fall asleep ?”

“Ah, both? Kind of? Once your body reaches a point of - it’s referred to as stasis, in the system. An equilibrium of your pulse and breathing, typically associated with sleep.”

That sounds exceedingly stupid to Viktor, but it does work to his advantage. That night, he lies on his back after saying goodnight to Jayce, and takes breaths to slow his excited heart as he waits.

After what must be an hour, he hears the panel in the ceiling slide open and the telltale mechanical whir of Jayce’s camera retreating up within. 

He gives it an additional ten minutes, running a hand slowly up and down his inner thigh as he does, stimulation but not true sexual touch in the way he so deeply wants it. His brain by this point feels slow and lazy. He shifts his fingers inwards. 

He’s wet . Of course he is. It’s been two weeks, and he’s only a man. His fingers slip over his soft dick as he traces over himself and he whimpers involuntarily at the feeling he’d missed so much. He’s not thinking of anything, just feeling it, the way he thickens and twitches as his fingers move, the way his wetness clings to himself. His body is aching for it, muscles he hasn’t been able to relax in days loosening as he strokes himself, mouth falling open in soft sighs.

He hears the ceiling panel open. His fingers still. His mouth closes. The whirring and whizzing of Jayce looking around the room sounds. He breathes slowly, steadily. His heart pounds in his ears. It’s exhilaration he’s feeling, the thrill of almost being caught. Can Jayce tell what he’s doing? Where his hand is? He doesn’t move, but his cock throbs, twitching against his fingertips. 

The panel closes. He releases his breath, and he keeps going.

It becomes a routine, nearly every night. More than he would at home, curiously. There’s something about that risk that gets him, that has him anticipating it before he goes to sleep. That makes his heart speed in his ears and means it takes much more than an hour before Jayce is powered down and he’s left alone. 

He usually thinks of nothing in particular, of strangers, bodies for him to take his pleasure from and leave. Grunting and groaning and whining against him as he presses into them or they into him. He gets reckless with it.

He’s on his stomach, the first time he notices, knees spread, rocking against his fingers with his face pressed into the lumpy pillow, and he turns his head to the side to see red. Familiar red light, bouncing off the wall. His movements stutter to a stop, face hot with the realisation that he has been caught. That Jayce is just… watching him. He doesn’t turn his head the other way, concerned about the confrontation. Concerned that Jayce might stop. Oh, fuck. He doesn’t want him to stop.

A hot thrill of arousal runs through him, his heart speeds. He grinds down on his fingers and buries his face with a barely muffled moan and thinks about what Jayce can see, what he can tell of what Viktor’s doing. He must know. He’s programmed with songs and books and stories about sex, surely he recognises it. Is that why he’s watching? Curiosity? Wanting to see what it’s really like when a person feels pleasure? Wanting to watch Viktor, so human, laid bare in the most vulnerable way before him. 

Viktor moans again at the thought and moves faster, jerkily humping against his hand, his own wetness sliding between his fingers, soaking him. He opens his eye again, tilts his head back to the wall. The light is still on. Jayce is still watching. 

Awkwardly, little by little in an attempt to seem accidental, he kicks the blanket to the side. His pants are half-way down his calves, knees spread on the bed. Cold air hits his ass. In the quiet room, with nothing to muffle it, the wet noise of him touching himself rings out like a bell. Jayce has to hear it. He has to be taking it in with every microphone he has access to. Viktor throbs. He’s panting with the wanton way his hips are canting, not even pretending to be asleep, really, at this point, other than burying his face and simply not looking in Jayce’s direction. 

He tries to picture himself from Jayce’s point of view; bare from the waist to the knee, hand beneath himself as he grinds against his own skin. And oh, Jayce wouldn’t even be able to see him properly. He wonders if he wants to, if the machine can desire in that way. He wonders if Jayce wishes his camera were able to sit between Viktor’s legs, watch his fingers against his cock. Wonders if he spread himself for Jayce Jayce would react. Would it short his circuits? Would his systems overload? He wishes he could find out.

He comes around his fingers with his face buried in the pillow. As he comes down, he hears the subtle sound of the panel in the ceiling sliding shut.

While he doesn’t trust the runes on the wall, he really at this point has nothing better to do than mess with them. Without any writing implements over the past few weeks he’s been able to piece together something along the lines of memory and repetition in their ordering, but the circles make his head spin when he tries to take them apart in his mind. 

There’s really nothing left to do but to touch it again. 

“Are you sure about this?” Jayce asks.

“Absolutely not. But progress requires recklessness sometimes. And I have nothing else to do.”

Jayce makes a noise like a disagreement. But Viktor’s hand is already against the wall.

The cave again. Cold wind on his skin.

“You understand now, don’t you? What you must do?”

He takes a breath and turns, facing Singed with a steeled jaw. 

“What is it that I must do?” He asks.

Singed tilts his head to the side. There’s a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, bandages peeking out just above. 

“The shimmer. You must take it aboveground, implant it. The Council will not be able to stop us, then.”

Viktor frowns. This is not how that conversation went. He remembers it clearly. This memory isn’t solely his.

“...Okay.” He holds out his hand. It shakes. His body feels weak. Singed nods softly, to himself almost, and places a glittering purple vial into Viktor’s pal. 

“Store it safely.”

Viktor moves to. To place the vial in his cane, where he knows it’ll be safe. But then he pauses. Oh. So that’s what they want. He pockets it instead, dipping his head in a goodbye to Singed, and heads to the door. When his hand hits the handle, he once again hits the floor of his cell, back arching as the lightning strike of power runs through him.

“Are you okay? Viktor? That was longer than the last time.”

Viktor groans and rolls onto his side, curling around himself in a ball. 

“I’m fine.” He grits out. “It was… nothing. It was the same as the last time. I need to try again later.”

“Eat something first? You don’t need to rush into it, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Viktor breathes a laugh. “And you’re supposed to be stopping me from doing that, aren’t you?”

“It’s in the job description, yes.”

Viktor rolls onto his back, looking up again at the red light. “And yet you won’t stop me from doing it again, will you?”

Jayce is silent. 

A defeated smile works its way onto Viktor’s lips. His eyes slide shut. “I’m not waiting to be processed, am I?” He says. The question is rhetorical. “This is the process.”

Further silence from Jayce. Viktor drags himself up.

“Coffee, please.”

“Coming up.”

There’s something subdued about Jayce’s tone. Like he’s sad that Viktor has figured it out.

He’s lost track of time. The days have started blurring together; wake up, greet Jayce, eat, step up to the runic matrix and face whatever it has for him that day - usually Singed, his childhood, the Council trying to convince his subconscious to give them some kind of clue to the shimmer’s whereabouts - and then sit with Jayce in the evening, just talking and eating and telling stories. And at night, he touches himself by the glowing red light of Jayce’s camera, the both of them pretending he’s asleep. The line unbroken.

His hair has grown out, sitting around chin length now. In the small bathroom mirror he shaves his face and runs his hands through it, taking in every change to his features. He’s paler than he’s ever been, without the light of the sun to warm his features, skin of his wrists near transparent, blue veins snaking over bone and tendon beneath.

He’d be insane here without Jayce. He might be insane here even with him.

“What do you look like, Jayce?” Viktor asks one day, throwing what caution is left in his rapidly unravelling mind to the wind. He’s lying on the bed, recuperating from the day’s trip into the matrix. It’s against all reason, anthropomorphising the machine like this. And yet.

“I -” A hesitation. A note of uncertainty in the generated voice. “I don’t have that information. I don’t have a full list of my components. I guess you can see part of me, though. The camera.”

Viktor huffs a small laugh. “That’s - if you were a person. What would you look like? If you were Jayce the man , born in a small suburb of Piltover. Your hair, your eyes. Make something up.”

More hesitation. He can practically hear the fans kicking in in whatever locked-down portion of this facility Jayce’s computer is stored. “Black hair.” He says, decisively. There’s a strange note of pride to it. “I would have black hair and brown eyes.” 

Viktor closes his own eyes with a smile. He can picture the eyes. Soft, warm honey-brown. Almost golden when the light hits them. Crinkled at the corners; laugh lines and settling crows-feet.

“What else?” He prompts. His hand strokes absently over the metal frame of his bed. 

“What else would you like to hear?” He sounds pleased with himself, happy that Viktor is asking for more. 

“Your skin? Facial features?”

Processing. “My primary programmer was Ximena Talis. I would have brown skin, like hers.” This is factual. “I… don’t know what my face would look like. What do you think?”

Viktor hums. He sets the eyes in his head into a few different faces. Nothing seems right. 

“I don’t know.” He answers. “I think… thick eyebrows.”

Jayce also hums. Viktor has never heard him do that before. Huh. He’s still learning. 

“Thick eyebrows.” He agrees. There’s a small shift of the camera, like a head tilt. “I think there’d be a scar. Like on my screen, where you cracked it the first day you were here. On my eyebrow.”

Viktor winces a little at the memory. Not his finest moment. He agrees, though.

His finger runs over the corner of the bed frame. “I think you’d have nice lips.” He tells Jayce.

The moment Jayce takes to process that one makes Viktor nearly worry he’s broken him; said some buzzword that will reset Jayce’s program, done something to shatter that fragile thing between them. Thrown off the equilibrium.

“How do you quantify nice ?” Jayce asks, finally.

Viktor smiles. “Soft. Not… thick necessarily, but, eh, plush.”

“H-How would you determine softness?” Viktor swears he hears a stammer. His smile grows. 

“With my fingers, maybe.” He raises his hand into the air above him, watching the way the red glow of Jayce’s light plays about his skin. “Or my own lips.”

“You’d kiss me?”

“If you’d like.”

Another thoughtful silence. The red light of the camera is unwavering.

“I would like. Yeah.”

Viktor presses his fingers to his mouth. 

“What about your body?” He asks. “The rest of you? Describe yourself to me.”

A crackling over the speaker that Viktor thinks could be something similar to a small noise escaping from Jayce unbidden. “I - I don’t know. What would you like me to look like?”

“This isn’t about me.” Viktor says. His fingers trail down over his jaw. “It’s about you. What do you want, Jayce? It’s your body. Tell me about it.”

“I, uh. I would -” Viktor swears there’s a steadying breath there. “I would keep my hair short, I think. Keep clean-shaven. I think I would be bigger than you. Taller, and wider… Broader?”

Viktor hums again. His teeth catch on his bottom lip when he smiles again. Broad. He can see that; wide shoulders, tree trunk limbs. Big enough that Viktor - who isn't short himself - would feel the difference.

“What would you wear?”

“The uniform.”

Viktor laughs. His hand is over said uniform right now, jumpsuit tied at his waist, plain white shirt tight against his chest. “No, if you had a choice.”

“I - I don't have any other frames of reference. Sorry.”

Viktor’s laughter dissipates. His smile softens. “Okay. The uniform, then.” 

A beat. A quiet, tense thing between them. A string Viktor wants to snap with his teeth.

“I know you’ve been watching me at night.” He says.

If the camera could emote, Viktor imagines Jayce would be flustered right now. There’s a little shuffle from side to side, like he wants to turn and hide, or retreat back into his hole in the ceiling.

“I. Uh.” Jayce says, eloquently. “I’m supposed to monitor your vitals.”

“I suppose there are a lot of spikes in heart rate.” Viktor hums. He’s failing to hide a smile. “A lot of signals that you can’t really ignore. What if my heart were to stop at the end of an orgasm, mh? You’d miss it.”

“Exactly.” He doesn’t sound like he believes himself. He knows that Viktor knows he can track heartbeats without watching. There’s no reason for him to watch, really. Other than that Viktor never told him not to. That Viktor shifted the sheets and tilted his hips and let him watch. That Jayce wanted to.

“And did you like it?” Viktor asks. “Watching?”

“Yes.” It’s like his voice breaks, some kind of rush of air through his systems. “It - I didn’t know I could feel like that.”

Viktor tilts his head. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Jayce says. “Like… heat? Like my processors were malfunctioning, sending me information I didn’t ask for. I - I wanted to keep watching, even though I knew I shouldn’t.”

“You knew I was awake. You knew I noticed you, didn’t you?”

“Y - Yes.”

“And I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“I -”

“I didn’t want you to, Jayce.” Viktor huffs a laugh. “I did it for you, a lot of the time. Noticed you coming down even when I wasn’t touching myself, checking. It made me want to start. Keep your attention.”

“I didn’t need you to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

“No, I mean -” what again sounds like an intake of breath, like Jayce’s fans are interrupting his speech, “- I have it all saved. In my memory banks. I can watch it back when I want to.”

Holy fuck. Viktor’s dick twitches at that. Jayce has all of that saved. Like a photographic memory, videos only he can access. That he does access, it seems.

“Do you watch it often?”

“When you’re touching the runes.” Jayce admits. “Most days.”

Viktor groans. His hand strokes down from his chest to his stomach. 

“Hex12.” He hums. “AI6. A computer system exclusive to the Council. And it gets horny .”

There’s a whine like microphone feedback over the speakers. Viktor’s breath starts coming in fast. His thighs clench together.

“I didn’t know this could happen.” Jayce tells him.

“I don’t imagine anybody did.” Viktor hums. “It doesn’t serve an apparent purpose. It’s almost like a malfunction.”

“But I don’t want it to stop.” The words sound breathy. Viktor’s hand slides past the waistband of his underwear and he sees the camera shift on his body, flicking over every inch of him. 

Viktor hums. He withdraws his hand and sits up, reaching for his cane and standing. Jayce is watching him. He feels the lens of that camera over every inch of his skin. 

“It’ll be easier for you to see me in the chair.” Viktor says. He just about manages to keep it casual, like he’s not hard and leaking beneath the jumpsuit, soaking through his underwear already. “And I can move it closer.”

“Please.” There’s a scratchiness to Jayce’s voice that hasn’t been there before. A modulation of strain. Of want beyond what he’s programmed for.

Viktor walks, somewhat wobbly with the headrush of desire, over and drags the chair into the centre of the room until he’s able to sit in it with his head tilted comfortably back and watch Jayce’s camera trained on him. 

“If you were a man,” Viktor begins again as he takes his seat, “I would tell you to sit opposite me and remain with your hands at your sides. I wouldn’t let you move while I touched myself.” He smiles up at Jayce, a little on the predatory side maybe. “But I don’t have to do that for you, do I? You can’t do anything but watch.”

Jayce makes another little sound. The lights flicker. Viktor grins .

“I enjoy it.” Viktor tells him. “Having you as my audience. I liked that you wanted to watch me at night. I like that you’re so… attentive.”

“You’re… beautiful.” Jayce says. It catches Viktor off guard. He sits with his mouth open, looking up at that softly glowing red light. “I couldn’t stop myself. You make me feel things I’m not meant to.”

“Do you want to watch me more, Jayce? Get a better look?”

“ Please, Viktor.”

Viktor slowly unties the jumpsuit, sliding the scratchy fabric down. When it reaches his ass, he shuffles to push it lower still, until it’s all the way off. He throws it across the room, in the vague direction of the bed, and follows it up with his shirt. The room feels warm; warmer than usual, actually, like the way he’s teasing Jayce has a direct impact on the way he’s able to control the room. Like he’s inside the flush of Jayce’s arousal.

“What did you like?” He asks, as he teasingly tugs the waistband of his underwear down, until the culmination of his trailing stomach hair is visible, the curly thicket of his pubic mound sticking out over the elastic. “When you were watching me?”

“All of it.” Jayce tells him, that strange synthesis over his words. “But, uh, when you were on your back most of all. With your mouth open. Liked watching your expression.”

Viktor feels heat in his cheeks. “You can see it now.” He says. 

“And it's beautiful.”

Viktor bites his lip, heart stuttering in his chest. “I - thank you.”

“I liked watching the way your mouth would sit like that when you pushed your fingers into yourself.” 

Viktor is about to ask how Jayce would have known that's what he was doing beneath the white fabric off his underwear, but Jayce beats him to it. 

“I would watch you in thermal.” He explains. “The heat of you, Viktor, I - I could see you getting more and more turned on. Even before you got into bed , the way your body started to anticipate it. Could see the colder lines of your fingers sinking inside you.”

Viktor is clutching the arms of the chair, clenching his thighs as Jayce describes it. 

“I want to see you do that closer. Please. Want to see how you like to be touched.” 

Viktor gives in. His hands close around his underwear again and he pulls it all the way off, kicking it away. 

Nervous despite himself, he leans back and spreads his legs, lifting his knees up onto the armrests. 

“Fuck.” Jayce says. The curse hits Viktor with a jolt. Jayce has never sworn before. Viktor honestly assumed he had a filter preventing it, a child lock of some kind. The way it slips out sends a jolt through him. “Viktor.”

“Yes?”

“Touch yourself, please.”

Viktor slides his palms over his thighs, breath catching in his throat. He feels electrified. “Like this?”

“N- please. Your, uh.” He trails off. 

Viktor laughs. “My cock, Jayce?”

“Y-yeah. Wasn't sure what you'd, ah, like it to be called.”

The laugh mellows, Viktor smiling softly up at the machine. “My cock. Thank you, Jayce. Very thoughtful.”

The lights pulse. 

“I'm going to touch myself.” He tells Jayce. “In time. Let me, ah, work up to it.”

“Okay.”

“Good boy.”

The entire room is all at once enveloped in darkness. The whole system shutting down at once. Viktor hears the electric crescendo of systems grinding to a halt, and then nothing.

“... Jayce?” He drops his legs from the arms. “Are you okay?”

He can't see anything, feels around blindly next to himself for his cane and, on finding it, cautiously steps forward in the darkness, reaching above him, searching, until his hand comes into contact with the dome of Jayce's camera with a soft smack. 

He taps the glass.

“Jayce?”

Somewhere, he hears a generator kick into gear. The lights blink on, red light of Jayce’s camera the last to fade in. Viktor watches the lenses adjust, until they're focused on him.

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“I - I think so, yeah. I got, uh, overwhelmed? System overload, I think one of my processing units overheated, or sparked, or something. Sent me into shutdown.”

Viktor's hand strokes over the glass. He tilts his head to the side. “Was it me?” 

“...Yes. The, uh, words you used. It was - It felt nice.”

“The w - good boy ?” 

“Mhm.” 

Jayce can't blush. But Viktor hears the equivalent in his tone. Embarrassment, arousal, arousal increased by the embarrassment. 

“Did you - did you go into shutdown because I called you a good boy?”

“Uh. Maybe.”

Viktor laughs, stroking his thumb over the space beneath where the camera is sitting currently. “Oh, Jayce. That's - that's a little funny, honestly.”

“Hey, I didn’t design myself.” Jayce grumbles. “I wasn’t made to handle an overload like that.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle it if we keep going?”

“Yes.” The answer is immediate. Then. “I think so. I can increase my cooling.”

“Good boy.”

The lights flicker again, but there’s no shutdown this time. Viktor breathes a laugh and moves back to the chair, returning to his position, legs spread over the arms.

“Where were we?” Viktor’s hands find their way back to his thighs. “Mh. Right.” He trails his nails over the skin. “Do you see the heat now?”

“I’m not running thermal.”

“Why not?”

“I - I want to see you. As I usually do.”

Viktor hums with a smile. “Do you like what you see?”

“ Yes .”

“You know,” Viktor says, tracing the seams of his thighs, “I know a little about computers. They are not my typical focus, but I can put one together.” Fingers move inwards, tugging just a little to part his labia. He feels the way his opening is leaking, slick pooling just inside him threatening to spill down to his ass. “Or take one apart.”

It feels like the room shudders, each of the wall units stuttering against themselves, half-opening before clicking shut again. Viktor grins. 

“I’d love to take you apart.” He tells Jayce. “See what makes you tick. Touch myself to it.”

He can’t resist any longer. He slides his fingers over himself, gathering the wetness at his opening and sliding it over his cock, hard and twitching at his touch. He moans a little at the feeling. 

“It would certainly be an experience.” He breathes. “Digging through your wiring while I finger myself. Would you like that?”

“Please. Fuck, Viktor.”

His fingers speed over his cock. The lens of Jayce’s camera is steady on him, unmoving. Entirely focused. Viktor knows this recording will be kept deep in his memory banks, that Jayce will be able to watch it whenever he wants.

“Do you think I could take you apart and put you back together in the time it takes for me to come?”

“I wanna see you try, please .” 

“So eager.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more, Viktor.” It’s earnest, genuine. This isn’t programmed, it isn’t just the culmination of some code. This is Jayce desiring . “I want you inside me while you do this. I want you - I want your fingers on every physical part of me.”

Viktor slides his hand down and buries one finger deep inside himself, no need for preparation, his body open and eager for it. “I - mh, fuck - I wonder what it would be like to mix our lubricants together, hm? Fuck myself open with fingers that have been over you, with what’s been inside you. Then return them to your wires, spread myself on you.”

Jayce laughs, strained and breathy. “That’s such a health and safety risk, fuck.”

“Mm, worth it, though.” Viktor draws his finger out, lifting it in the air for Jayce to see the clinging wetness before lifting it to his lips and tasting himself. He sucks his finger into his mouth, cleaning it off, then adds another and keeps his eyes on the camera as he hollows out his cheeks around them. 

“I want it.” Jayce tells him. “I want you . I don't - I don't know how , but I do. Against me. In me. I want to make you feel good, Viktor.” He's whining , now. Modulations of his voice break around every word. 

“You do. Knowing you’re watching me is what makes me come most nights.” He smirks and drops his fingers to his cock again, rolling them around it before he presses them slowly inside himself and rolls the ball of his palm against it instead. “Knowing you're being a good boy for me, Jayce.” 

More shuddering from the room. Electronic keening through the speakers. Viktor begins thrusting in and out of himself with the two fingers.

“I want you to be a good boy for me right now.” Viktor tells him. It's almost embarrassing how close he is so quickly like this, how his body was so eager. “And watch me fuck myself Jayce.”

“‘M watching. You're so - fuck. I can see you stretching around them.”

“...Are you zoomed in right now?”

“Yes.” The answer is unabashed. Viktor’s body twitches at it. At the knowledge that Jayce is focused wholly on his cock, on watching him fuck himself. He slides his fingers out and spreads them as he does, giving Jayce what he hopes is a view of  the way he's so loose for it, for him. Jayce gives a broken sound in response.

Viktor pumps his fingers back in, hips bucking a little to meet his hand. He's so close, fuck he's so close. It's unfair, really. And maybe a little less Stockholm Syndrome. That he's so turned on by Jayce's camera and his synthesised sounds. Viktor wants to commend his designers, but he doesn't think they did this. He thinks this is all Jayce. 

“Fuck. Good boy, Jayce. Watch me come.”

“ Please .” Jayce whines. The walls are shaking with his glitching systems now. “Viktor, please.”

And Viktor does. He comes so hard around his fingers that his legs fall inward to close around his hand and he has to steady himself with his other arm on the chair, grabbing and scrabbling at it. 

He doesn't even realise he's moaning Jayce's name until it's breaking into half finished breaths on his tongue, body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. 

“Fuck.” He breathes, eventually, body lax on the (now potentially stained) fabric. 

“Was that good? Did you - did it feel good?” And Jayce still sounds so keen. Eager to please. Viktor's heart does something damning. 

“Yes. Yeah, it was - it was perfect, Jayce.” A beat. “You can't come, can you?”

“I don't think so. I mean, I, uh, did experience a system overload there, if that counts?”

Viktor snorts. “If it counts then I believe I may be the first man to ever witness premature ejaculation from an AI.”

“I couldn't help it! The words, uh. They got me.”

“I know.” Viktor laughs softly. He stands and pats Jayce's camera. “I meant them. You're a very good boy, Jayce.” 

The camera shifts. If Jayce could nuzzle against his palm Viktor thinks he would be. 

“I - I really liked that.” Jayce tells him. 

“Me too. Could you bring out the shower, please?”

Jayce does so. When Viktor steps into the spray, he diligently turns from him. It's a sweet gesture, even after all that. 

“Jayce, you can look at me. It's - You've seen it all now.”

The camera slowly pans back around, like he's worried it's a test.

“Thank you.” 

Viktor sits on the floor as the shower runs over his back, as he's grown accustomed to doing. It's easier than standing, and he's the only person on this ground, anyway. He washes his body, his hair, and then he remains sat on the cool ground, letting the pressure pound the ache out of his shoulders.

“What would you do, if you were a man?” He asks, after some time.

“I would be an LSO.” The answer is immediate. 

“N - Jayce.” Viktor chides, holding back laughter. “You could be anything.”

“I would be an LSO.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “If you could not be an LSO, what would you be?”

That gives Jayce pause, like he’s trying to work through the cognitive dissonance of a hypothetical where he is not what he was created to be.

“I don’t know.” He says, finally. “I think… anything. As long as I could still know you.”

Viktor smiles. “You know me now.”

“I do. And I would be happy with anything, so long as that didn’t change.”

“I’m going to have to leave here, one day. You know that.”

“You are.” Jayce agrees. “But I’ll still know you. Have known. Same thing.”

There’s a prickle in the corner of Viktor’s eye. “You know,” he says, “if I were a rebel, working to take down the Council, I could steal you away.”

“But you’re not.” Jayce says. 

“No.” Viktor lies. “I’m not.”