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He returns to the commune covered in smoke and blood.
His hammer drags behind him, smearing the red against the pale dirt, disturbing the smooth canvas. His head pounds with each step, mind numb with adrenaline, legs shaking. Though the Herald healed his leg, he still favors the other one more, echoes of a traumatic memory refusing to fade. The limp jostles him with every step.
He pays no mind to the wandering eyes following him, silvery, opal gazes that swallow him up. The Communites pause as he passes, part like the sea when he walks through the market. Several point him in the right direction. He follows instinctively, a cart on a track, unable to alter its course.
Jayce finds Viktor in the greenhouse.
The Herald’s back is to him, speaking softly with a short man with red hair. He turns immediately and like always when he sees Viktor, his breath catches in his throat.
Viktor’s eyes meet his, brilliant like diamonds. Jayce isn’t sure if he imagines it, but he swears they flicker gold for a moment. His long hair trails down to his shoulders, a couple of strands tucked behind his ear. The bright sunlight catches and shimmers off his violet body, so stunning that Jayce finds it hard to look at for too long. The blue robes tuck around his figure like they’re tailored to him.
Jayce’s heart pounds. Viktor is so beautiful, too beautiful, and he feels trapped in his gaze, a specimen under a microscope, ready to be torn apart and studied. Tears sting his eyes, and he wavers on his feet. “Viktor.”
An expression of understanding passes over Viktor. He gestures towards the commune member, not breaking eye contact. “Huck, leave us.”
Huck nods. “Of course.” And then they’re alone.
Viktor closes the distance between him. He lays a gentle hand on Jayce’s shoulder. The warm metal seeps into his skin, a gesture much too soft for his fractured mind. It’s all it takes to break him.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I tried. I didn’t want to hurt them.” Flashes of screams and blood fly through his mind, and he winces, shakes his head to wring them out. “But they wouldn’t listen, Viktor, I’m–”
“Hush,” Viktor silences him. He wipes a strand of hair out of Jayce’s face, heavy and sticky with blood. The red contrasts sharply against Viktor’s perfect hands. Jayce’s temper spikes at it, like he can will the stain away.
“Are you injured?”
Jayce shakes his head. “I didn’t want to hurt them,” he repeats. He tried to talk to them. He wanted them to listen. If they had just listened…
Jayce’s hands are shaking. Viktor takes them both in his own, rubs a thumb against his bruised knuckles. “I know, Jayce,” Viktor soothes. “The price of peace is often war. As our Defender, you shoulder the burden of it all.”
Jayce nods. He’s heard this before. “I know…my Herald.” He kneels. The position feels natural, right. “Please forgive me.”
“You have already been forgiven. This is your duty.” Viktor cups his chin and tilts his head up. “What can I do to help?”
Jayce swallows. “Need you to fix me, please.”
Viktor quirks an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Jayce begs. “Need it. Please.” He nuzzles against Viktor’s thigh.
Viktor’s breath catches. “Okay, Jayce. Alright.” He brings him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned.”
Viktor leads Jayce to the bathhouses in a daze. He runs the bath and strips Jayce of his soiled clothes. A commune member retrieves them and slips out before Jayce even notices them. Jayce stands before him, naked, exposed like a nerve. He shivers as Viktor trails his eyes down his chest, peppered with fingerprints. Translucent marks like opal, adorning him like jewelry. The Herald’s Defender, marked from head to toe.
He adores it. This need to protect Viktor, to protect this way of life. To do everything in his power to keep the Commune safe. It’s what he is meant to do, he’s sure of it. He’ll do anything for Viktor. He’ll kill a dozen more Noxians. Slaughter the remaining Enforcers. Anyone who threatens to disrupt their way of life. Their blood soaks under his nails, into his scars, and he begs Viktor to wash him of it, to make him right again, anew.
And he knows he’ll do it again.
Jayce doesn't realize he's crying until Viktor wipes a tear off his cheek. “My brave Defender,” Viktor purrs. “It's okay. I will make it better.”
Jayce once asked why Viktor didn't tap into his mind, quiet his emotions. He knew Viktor did this to other Communites. It’s how they avoided conflict before it begins, how each member understands their role before they’re given it. Viktor responded that violence can only be answered with rage. That emotions drive the greatest motivations. That Jayce's greatest strength and weakness are one in the same.
Jayce thinks it's because Viktor's greatest weakness is Jayce.
Viktor gently guides him into the bath. The water is hot, stinging against unknown cuts and scrapes. The bath runs red, and Jayce starts to shake.
“Close your eyes,” Viktor commands, and Jayce does. He focuses on the gentle fingers running through his hair, the sweet scent of the soap, and he disappears for a moment. He’s out of his body, watching as Viktor bathes him. He’s led out of the bath, toweled dry. Only Viktor. Never anyone else. For some reason, only Viktor likes to touch him.
Jayce dons a loose robe and they head to the sphere.
Several pillows and blankets have been laid out on the floor. Jayce sheds the robe and kneels on them, waiting.
Viktor tilts his head up. “I’m asking one more time,” he says quietly. “I want to be sure.”
Jayce nods. It’s always been like this. The Herald, despite being able to take anything he wants, will not start without explicit permission. The gesture sends tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, wondering what he did to deserve this care. “Viktor, please,” he begs. “I need it.”
Viktor nods. He lifts his other hands, where Jayce recognizes the ropes—soft and white, a perfect match of the material that holds Viktor’s own robes together.
Viktor takes his time, wrapping around the thighs first, loose, then pulling taught, forcing Jayce’s calf to touch his thigh. He whimpers. The sensation sends a pulse of anxiety through him, and he feels like a caged animal, trapped in the bottom of that ravine. “Help,” he mumbles. “Can’t relax.”
Viktor’s eyes flash. “Help?”
Jayce nods furiously. He’s crying again, but he doesn’t hide it, lets them spill over.
He isn’t sure if Viktor will indulge him—it’s an unspoken rule, that Viktor will not alter Jayce’s mind, that he will only enter it when absolutely necessary. But Jayce considers it one of those moments—his breath is picking up, heart hammering in his chest, and he knows it won’t be long before he loses himself completely. He needs his Herald to guide him back.
Viktor seems to notice this. There’s only a brief pause before Viktor reaches forward. He touches Jayce’s forehead along the four marks.
Instantly, Jayce’s mind goes blank. His train of thought vanishes, leaving a warm pleasure that chases away the aches and pains. His breath falls into a steady rhythm. He can only focus on the sensation of Viktor’s hand on his face and the ropes against his thighs.
The pleasure continues to flow through him. Jayce moans–the rush of arousal fills his senses, and he twitches his thighs together, begging for purchase. It isn’t long before he feels his own wetness trickling down his hips.
Viktor chuckles. He removes his hand and Jayce chases after it, whining in disappointment. The sensation fades slowly from his body, leaving him shuddering and his cock throbbing in excitement.
“Good boy,” Viktor purrs, and Jayce adores the heat creeping up his face. “Let me finish.”
Vitkor continues to tie the ropes, securing Jayce’s other leg, forcing him to sit on his legs. He doesn’t move as Viktor secures his hands behind his back.
Finally, Viktor is finished. He shifts back on the blanket.
Jayce flexes, happy when his thighs remain in place, the muscles bulging against the white knots. He can’t move. Tears blot out his vision as relief floods his chest. “Thank you, my Herald, thank you–”
“Shhh. Jayce, it’s alright.” Viktor stands. “I have a few things to attend to, so be patient and wait.” Viktor stands, sighing wistfully. “You’re a beautiful sight. I won’t take long.” Then he’s gone.
Jayce nods slowly. Already the world moves slower as he sinks down into the sensation of the rope, the friction against his wrists. Arousal pools within him, and he groans. He glances down at his spread legs, marveling at the mess he’s already made on the blankets. His slick coats his thighs, his little cock pink and swollen.
He’s not sure how much time passes like this. The initial flood of endorphins in his system have receded into a steady build, like the tide before rising. Each strain against the ropes only builds upon it, and soon Jayce finds himself lying on his side, thighs clenching and unclenching as he chases what friction he can get. He knows his mouth is open and drooling, knows that if anyone else walked in on him now, he would not notice. Would not care. He doesn’t dare attempt to touch him himself, though he probably can’t with his hands bound. His cock is for the Herald’s use only, for his bidding. His mind floats like this, at the edge of arousal, his brain going blessedly quiet for the first time in days.
By the time Viktor returns, he can barely move, so far gone into pleasure that his limbs feel heavy and slow. His hands twitch uselessly behind him, grasping for anything that may ground him. Head heavy and fuzzy.
“Jayce.”
Jayce doesn’t quite hear him the first time.
“Love, I’m here.”
Viktor’s face encapsulates his vision. His long hair cascades over him, framing his sharp face like high art. His eyes feel like pools of the arcane itself, shifting in opalescence, precious stones that Jayce wants to keep on him forever. The sun catches his metal cheek, soaking up the shimmers like a divine right, that the sun itself would bend to his will. Jayce sighs. He wants to kneel at Viktor’s feet and kiss every dust particle away, catalogue each metal tendon so that he may worship them properly.
Jayce whimpers at the thought, tears forming and falling so suddenly he surprises himself. “Viktor.”
Viktor smiles at him, and Jayce wonders just how lucky he is to see it, what he can do to see it forever. “I wanted to take you to bed, but I don’t think you want to wait.”
Jayce shakes his head so fast he grows dizzy. “No. Please.”
Viktor brushes his face, and Jayce leans into the touch, drinking in the warm metal fingers against his soft cheek. “So eager. Of course, Jayce. Anything.”
Viktor stands and disrobes. The fabric falls away easily, and a pang of possessiveness flows through Jayce knowing who gave him the blanket. He leans back and takes in Viktor’s body, beautiful and terrifying, machina and flesh merged into one. A scientific impossibility carved into his partner. Jayce’s eyes travel down his pectorals, his gold accents on his stomach, down to his sharp angular hips. Jayce’s mouth grows wet with saliva. He strains against his restraints weakly.
Viktor positions him easily, propping up his hips with a tuck of the blanket. He pushes his thighs open, earning a whine from Jayce as he stares at Jayce’s mess. His eyes flash gold, pupils fat and wanting. “So beautiful,” he purrs, tracing the muscles up Jayce’s leg. “You would wait so long for me?”
The touch is agonizingly soft, and Jayce shudders. “Y-yes.”
Viktor clicks his tongue. “Good.” He brings his fingers to Jayce’s lips.
Jayce knows what to do. He brings the two digits into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and coating them with his saliva. He relishes in the iron taste.
Viktor presses his fingers in a little further, and Jayce moans around them, hollowing out his cheeks for him. Taking them in more. Wanting Viktor so much he’d choke rather than spit them out.
“My defender,” Viktor’s voice was low and thick, “so debased. You work so hard for me. Yet all you want is my cock.”
Jayce feels himself tense, overwhelmed by the words. He needs to come so badly, his cock throbbing, hole weeping and begging to be filled. He only makes a low noise in approval.
Viktor retracts his fingers, and just before Jayce can whine at the loss, Viktor presses their lips together.
Jayce moves like muscle memory against him, moaning softly as presses his tongue in, drinks in Viktor’s taste. He runs his tongue along Viktor’s teeth counting each one. He kisses him with reverence and desperation, determined to worship every atom of Viktor’s mouth. When Viktor withdraws, a long trail of spit breaks off between them.
Jayce lets out a broken moan. “Please, Viktor. Please touch me.”
Without another word, Viktor sinks his fingers into Jayce.
Jayce throws his head back. Viktor’s fingers work into him, slowly stretching him, and the sensation is pleasure, pain, transcendence. His thighs tremble, hands clenching and unclenching behind him. It isn’t long before he’s panting, shifting as he cants his hips, wanting more, more. “More,” he begs. “Need you.”
He makes eye contact with Viktor, who stares back hungrily. “You’re not ready–”
“I am. I can’t wait anymore,” Jayce blinks back tears. His arousal grows taught in his lower stomach, building up. “Oh gods, Viktor…”
Viktor touches his cock and strokes it softly, and Jayce’s orgasm swallows him. His vision blanches and ecstasy overwhelms him like a wave. His hole flutters around Viktor’s fingers and he keens in time to it.
“There you go,” Viktor praises him. “So good for me, Jayce.” He works him through it, only pausing his fingers when Jayce’s moans turn into whines, when the pleasure turns to pain.
“You’re ready now,” Viktor murmurs, kissing Jayce’s cheek. He pulls back and Jayce forces his eyes open.
There’s a blinding flash, and Jayce watches as a harness materializes around Viktor’s hips. Viktor’s cock presses forward through the front of the harness, huge, purple and leaking some unknown fluid. Jayce nearly cries at the sight of it.
Viktor lines himself up, panting softly. Vitkor presses his length along Jayce’s slit and gasps. “You are so wet for me, Jayce.”
Jayce nearly melts at Viktor’s voice, sounding equally wrecked. The sensation is overwhelming, but he doesn’t dare move away.
Finally, Viktor presses in and Jayce’s insides spark. It’s never an easy stretch, and he whimpers, a pleasant burn as Viktor carves into him. He sucks him in slowly, desperate, like he needs him or he’ll shatter. They moan together, harmonics bouncing off the echoing walls, a hymn for their ears only.
Viktor looms over him, hands on either side, bracketing in Jayce as he bottoms out. The press of his cock inside him punches another moan out of Jayce. He feels so full, so complete. The sensation alone is dizzying.
Viktor sets a slow pace, sweet, hips rolling dexterously, something he never could have done before his transformation. Jayce doesn’t realize he’s sobbing until Viktor wipes his face, kisses his cheeks. “It’s okay,” he says between breaths, “let go, Jayce.”
Jayce feels like his nerves are alight. He wants to touch Viktor so badly, pull him closer. He struggles weakly against his restraints, but they hold fast. Viktor shifts, and the next thrust hits Jayce right where he needs it. His sounds are broken, babbling, as Viktor drags his cock up and down his g-spot, shattering his mind, cracking him open into something raw and new, reborn.
He comes again, untouched, Viktor holding him through it, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. “Good, good boy.”
Jayce's skin prickles at the words. Good. He's good. The words undo him, wring him out until there's nothing left. Viktor doesn't stop the pace, gripping his thighs, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He watches as new marks appear on his body, shiny and brilliant fingerprints where Viktor touches too deeply. He loses himself to the sensation. It's suddenly too much, and he struggles limply against the ropes. “Please, no more, can't–” he mumbles weakly.
“You can,” Viktor responds, own voice shattered like glass. “One more, Jayce.” He picks up speed and Jayce cries out. He shudders as his arousal slowly builds again, weak and sparking. His skin feels like it's on fire. He wants it to stop, but he has to be good. He has to atone for what he's done. He has to be fixed.
His orgasm rips through him, and his vision blanches, body clenching as the waves of pleasure swallow him whole. He feels Viktor follow him off the edge, warmth flooding his insides, filling him, overwhelming him.
He doesn't remember his body giving out, but when he comes to, the ropes are gone from his body. His limbs are stiff and sore and covered in red lines. Just like the marks Viktor's braces would give him, Jayce realizes. A sense of deep pride goes through him, and he runs his hands over the welted skin.
Viktor, his beautiful Herald, sits between his legs, wiping him with a warm cloth. He cleans him methodically, and Jayce watches, transfixed. He moves suddenly, ignoring the small sparks of pain. “No, let me–”
“Jayce,” Viktor's tone is sharp, and Jayce flinches back. “You've done enough. Let me do this.”
Jayce's head bows. He lets Viktor finish wiping him off. When Viktor is finished, he gently lays the cloth to the side. He holds out his arms.
Jayce climbs into them immediately. Despite being much larger, he folds into his arms, and Viktor cradles him.
“Sorry,” Jayce says into his neck. “Sorry, sorry.”
Vitkor doesn’t say anything. The Herald only holds him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Jayce lets himself be held, lets himself feel small. When Viktor shifts, he untangles himself numbly. Viktor holds out a hand and Jayce takes it.
He lets Viktor dress him, barely registering it. He feels something drip down his thigh, and he knows that Viktor hadn’t cleaned him fully, purposefully letting the world see, letting them know that the Herald has claimed him and made him whole again.
Tonight there will be a celebration, food and drink and dance as the Commune celebrates their most recent victory. Jayce will be honored, adorned with flowers, but he will not notice, too busy sitting at Viktor’s feet, always within arm’s reach. And when the Herald needs his Defender again, he will be right there, waiting.