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This has been building inside him for a long time.
It’s the banality of it all, the farce. The endless rotation of smug, simpering, and sly faces. The arch of their aristocratic brows, the stench of their expensive perfumes. The way they leer at him, frown at him, scoff at him.
It’s odious.
He’s a scientist, so he notices it all. They forget that, which he uses to his advantage. Mel thinks she’s the reason he’s so good at getting what he wants.
Nah. It’s not that. He’s always known how to do this. It was just he never saw the point; people are easy to read. Where’s the challenge in manipulating them?
But they’ve shaped him into this creature, the golden boy, the Man of Progress. At first, yeah, it was exciting. He wanted to share their breakthroughs, make them understand the brilliance of Hextech, the potential. He let them lure him in with the glamour, the power, the funding.
Now he sees what sitting at the top looks like, and all he wants to do is fall down to the fucking ground, sift the dirt between his fingers, let the grit of the forge settle under his nails.
Naive to think they would see the vision. Up here amongst the minarets of Piltover they care only for one goddamn thing: how much money Hextech can make them.
None of them understand. Not even Mel.
There’s only one who does.
And he’s not here.
Viktor knew from the start, of course. An orphan boy from the Undercity; he’s known the truth of the world since childhood. So unlike Jayce’s own youth, sheltered by the comfort of a gentle mother, a strong father, and a middle class upbringing that walked the sweet thin line between struggle and corruption.
Why the fuck am I here?
He looks out over the ballroom, the exquisite clothing, the evening sunlight beaming through wide windows, the servers carrying flutes of Shimmerwine and Sungold Porter.
“Excuse me,” he says absently to whoever is prattling at him. He shoves through the group inelegantly, using his height to his advantage. Murmurs of discontent follow him; he ignores them. From across the room Mel notices the undercurrent of annoyance and glances over with a raised brow.
He flashes her a wry smile, rolling his eyes like he’s being interrupted by something pressing. She nods minutely, returning to her conversation.
She’ll cover for him. For that he is thankful.
He doesn’t take a steam carriage to the lab. He walks to soak in the summer air, the sticky warmth of it. Nothing at all like the touch of ice in a blizzard, so chill the memory shivers down his spine decades later.
The heat is sizzling into his skin. His coat comes off first, then he rolls up his shirt sleeves. As an afterthought he loosens a few buttons around his neck, exposing the damp skin of his throat to the sluggish breeze.
It’s not enough to cool him. The burn inside him is growing as he gets closer to the lab, rising through his bones and flesh, languid and demanding.
Want. Pure, undiluted, hot as fire. He’s tired of denying it, of pretending that everything he really yearns for is not wrapped inside a package of pale skin, tousled oaken hair, and slender muscle. That the only mind of value in this city lies behind golden siren eyes, and it’s sharp as diamond, swift as quicksilver.
Everything about Viktor has driven him mad from the start. His accent, his confidence, his devoted pursuit of progress. He’s cutting, acerbic, blunt, impatient; and he’s brilliant, intense, witty, fiercely beautiful.
He is hopelessly gone on him, and knows Viktor reciprocates the feeling. It’s easy to tell: men and women have been admiring Jayce’s body since puberty. He’s intimately familiar with the signs of desire, but between them it has always felt- dangerous. There’s an unspoken agreement not to act on it, because they’re partners first and foremost, best friends second. Risking their dream on a messy romantic entanglement is a terrifying thought.
So they’ve avoided it, and he's tried to be content while ignoring the simmer between them.
Tonight, though. He’s feeling reckless. Or maybe it’s just that becoming a Councillor has changed him, making him like all the other wealthy scions of this city, taking what they want when they want it.
The lab doors are slightly ajar when he gets there. He pushes them open, steps inside.
Fiery sunset light is spilling down through the Academy’s windows, sparking with motes. It falls upon their main workbench, across hunched shoulders, the soft skin of a bowed neck.
Viktor stirs from the stool, swivelling to face him. He’s frowning. He’s gorgeous. His braced leg is extended out before him; he too has taken off his cravat, scrunched up his sleeves in the warmth of their lab. His vest is lying on the table near him.
“Jayce? Hasn’t the fundraiser just started?”
“Yup,” he replies, slinging his coat onto a hook by the doors.
“Then- why are you here?”
“I wanted to be.”
Viktor slides his eyes to the side, but he sees the slight curve of his mouth.
“Good. I could use your help, actually. I’ve been working on equations for the gauntlet’s force differentials, and-”
Jayce shuts the doors and locks them.
Viktor notices, of course. He’s a scientist too.
“-eh, that is, I am getting something wrong…”
Jayce turns, prowls towards him. Viktor stands, looking alarmed; he sweeps a handful of papers off the desk, holding them up like a shield.
“…the formula, it’s unbalanced, and I cannot- Jayce.”
He’s standing before him now, looking down into those lovely amber eyes. Viktor returns his gaze unflinchingly, a light blush creeping up his throat; there is the faintest tremor in his hands, visible only due to the wavering papers he clutches between them.
“What are you doing,” Viktor hisses. His pupils are dark.
“For once: what I want,” Jayce says softly. He reaches up to stroke a thumb along Viktor’s jaw, thrills at the way his eyelashes flutter at the touch.
“Jayce,” Viktor whispers. “You- we- this…”
“Put the papers down, Viktor.”
At this proximity he can both see and feel the war within him. His mouth has gone slack, but his body is tense; he does not move.
Well. Let it never be said that Jayce plays fair.
He slips his other hand around Viktor’s slender waist, drawing him closer. Then he leans in, tilting his head so that he is breathing against his ear.
“Put the papers down,” he murmurs.
“Fuck,” breathes Viktor, and he tosses the papers over his shoulder.
As the sheets rustle through the air, floating across the workbench, some wheeling to the floor, Jayce kisses him. Finally kisses him, and it’s exactly as delicious as he imagined it would be, as perfect as he ever dreamed it could be.
Viktor melts into him, arms circling his neck, those clever fingers stroking into the back of his hair. His heart pounds madly, and when they separate ever so slightly, he sees the same look of overwhelmed desire in Viktor’s eyes, the same hint of fear.
He thinks of that night when Viktor first found him standing on the edge of his destroyed apartment, ready to fall off a precipice, undone by his despair. Only to be interrupted by a lilting accent, then slowly remade by this man’s belief in him, in his dream, wholly unlooked for and unsought for, yet gifted freely nonetheless.
This time, Jayce wants to be brave. For him.
“Viktor,” he says, “I love you. I have from the start, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way about you. God knows I’m scared, I’m so fucking scared of this, but I want you so much I don’t care anymore. I cannot bear to be near you any longer without loving you. I already know every reason you think this is a bad idea; I understand you fear your disease, and hurting me, and ruining our partnership. But I’m telling you now I think it’s worth the risk, because we would be fucking incredible together, and the only thing I want in this world anymore is you.”
He’s breathing heavily by the time he’s done, shocked by his boldness, and utterly terrified of the response. Yet there is a deep relief at admitting to his feelings after so many years of bottling them inside. It feels right to have done it.
Viktor is staring at him, mouth agape, his chest rising and falling rapidly; he looks as terrified as Jayce feels.
But then his eyes soften, and Jayce dares to hope.
“Why is it always extremes with you?” asks Viktor wryly. A dazed, beautiful smile comes to his face. “We could have perhaps, I don’t know, gone on a date before you confessed your undying love?”
Jayce is grinning helplessly now. “You were the one who taught me to crank it,” he teases, and Viktor laughs, actually laughs; god, how long since he heard his laugh?
Viktor touches him, cradles his cheek with a hand. Jayce leans into his palm, suddenly too tender to speak.
“Alright, Jayce Talis. You’ve convinced me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Please kiss me again.”
The flame of desire that kindles in him then is like a wildfire.
“I may want to do more than kiss you,” he warns Viktor, low and deep.
Viktor lets out a slow breath, and the sultry look he flashes at Jayce steals his breath away.
“I’ve lost count of the times I’ve pictured us fucking on this table,” Viktor informs him darkly.
His restraint evaporates instantly. Jayce gets a hand around his throat, pulls him in, pries open that wicked mouth, licks inside him, tastes him. Viktor moans, the sound making his cock harden, and yeah, fuck yeah, they are going to fuck on their table in their lab and he is going to make Viktor feel so good that he will never, ever want to go back to being mere partners.
He picks him up, lifts him onto the workbench, sending more papers sailing across the room. The brace comes away quickly; he knows every buckle, he forged it himself. Then he gets Viktor’s boots off while Viktor works open his pants; Jayce boosts him to get them out from under his ass, letting them slide to the floor.
“Oil,” he says stupidly, stifling a moan as Viktor flings off his underwear too, letting his gorgeous cock bob free. It makes his mouth water. “Where…?”
“Just use your spit,” gasps Viktor, pushing him down.
“Fuck,” groans Jayce. He drags the stool forward between Viktor’s legs, gets the weak one over his shoulder to support it, then holds Viktor's thighs apart to eat him.
The sound Viktor makes as he thrusts his tongue inside causes him to dig his fingers cruelly into slender flesh, mad with need. There is little finesse to his technique, too wrought by a decade of unresolved tension; he fucks Viktor’s entrance with his mouth like a man desperate to slake a terrible thirst.
When Viktor is sloppy and soaked he wets a finger and slides that in, starting to stretch him, and the whole time Viktor is cursing and praising him and tugging violently at his hair.
He did not know it would be like this, even though he came to the lab tonight with this in mind; he did not understand it would be so wild between them, so unhinged and so fucking hot, that feeling and hearing his own desire matched in turn would only stoke the flames between them ever more fiercely until they were consumed, burned, crumbled to ash.
“Put it in me,” cries Viktor. “Fuck, Jayce, please- ”
He stands hurriedly, knocking the stool over in his haste, lowering Viktor’s legs. Frantically he unbuckles his pants, pulling out his cock, the tip already weeping; Viktor spits into his own hand and uses that to get him wet, and the feeling of those elegant fingers wrapping around his length makes him bite his lip so hard he draws blood.
“Hold me,” breathes Viktor, still stroking him. “I need you to steady my back- and my leg-”
“I’ve got you,” pants Jayce, leveraging Viktor forward to the edge of the table. He gets an arm under his weak leg, and the other around to support Viktor’s spine; as they come together his cock slides underneath Viktor’s balls, catching on his rim.
“Ah, god,” he cries. Viktor grips onto his forearm viciously, looking at him with eyes completely blown by lust.
“Do not be gentle with me,” he orders. “I want your strength, all of it, do you hear me? Fuck me, Jayce. Do it now.”
He can do nothing but obey; he pushes in, and they both moan, the sound echoing across their lab as the sunset light dims to dusk. Viktor is hot and silken around him, so fantastically tight he can hardly breathe; they quiver together for a long moment, adjusting to the pleasure of their joining.
Then Viktor relaxes ever so minutely, and Jayce takes his cue. He pulls out and shoves back in, and Viktor gasps, so he does it like that again, and this time Viktor cries out; the sound drives him wild, and before he understands how it happened he is pounding Viktor mercilessly on the hard wooden bench, their sweat soaked skin slapping together obscenely, and every single inch of his cock is filled with throbbing pleasure.
“Oh, Jayce,” moans Viktor, throwing his head back as he is rocked with unrelenting force; neither of them managed to get their shirts off, and now the fabric is going transparent from the dampness of their bodies. Jayce leans forward to get a mouth on one of Viktor’s nipples through the weave, and Viktor arches into the caress with a cry.
“I’m gonna come in you,” gasps Jayce, already riding on the edge, body flooded with ecstasy. It's been too long for both of them. He can hardly think; all his world is Viktor’s soft skin and panting breath, the smell of their sex, this riot of pleasure they are stoking in each other.
“You better,” snarls Viktor, taking his own cock in hand and pulling it. “I want to feel it leaking out of me when we fix that fucking equation.”
He glances at a rumpled paper lying next to them, and sees Viktor’s machine-precise handwriting laid out with its typical brilliant neatness; the sight is too much. He cries Viktor’s name as he fucks his orgasm into him, pumping him as full as he can, and as he spurts Viktor shudders, coming between them in turn and coating both of their stomachs with his spend.
Then Viktor sags as if made boneless, so Jayce steadies him, wraps him close and holds him as they both gasp for air, their hearts pounding in unison. His cock is still pulsing inside him; he turns his face into Viktor’s neck to kiss it, and now the malignancy of the fundraiser is entirely removed from his thoughts, replaced by the pure joy born of an incandescent love.
***
They do solve the equation, much later, when the night has grown dark and the stars are studding the sky. Beforehand there was still much to say to each other, and though Jayce knew it in his heart, to hear at last Viktor’s mutual confession of love nevertheless brings tears to his eyes. Viktor kisses them away, smiling all the while.
Then they tidy the lab and go to Jayce’s home, because Viktor's is always a mess. They shower, curl up in his bed, and fall asleep tangled together with smiles on their faces, already thinking of the fresh challenges awaiting them on the morrow, listed on a piece of paper taped to the lab doors.