Chapter Text
Viktor had originally been an engineer.
But years in academia had left him drained, underpaid and ultimately unfulfilled. No matter how many projects he contributed to, how many papers he published or talks he gave at conferences... something was missing. Something substantial. The dissatisfaction grew, and one day, it simply became too much. He quit.
Sky, his close childhood friend, urged him to finally do what he'd always wanted: help people. He didn’t have the qualifications to study medicine, but why not psychotherapy? The retraining as a counsellor didn’t take long. And Viktor had to admit: with his calm manner and gentle way of speaking, he had always had a knack for reaching those who desperately needed someone to listen but rarely found anyone who would.
He was a good listener. He liked letting others talk. And when it was his turn to speak, he chose his words carefully. In the hectic world of science, where connections, favours and funding mattered more than ideas, Viktor had struggled. Without his professor’s backing, he would never have spoken at a single conference, let alone published a paper. He could make small talk at parties, if he absolutely had to. But most of the time, he didn’t want to. And people sensed that.
The training for his second profession lasted two years. Two years in which Viktor realised how good it felt to help others. Hearing their stories, working together to find solutions. It was unexpectedly fulfilling. And it involved a lot of sitting, which his leg appreciated. The doctorate helped to get a lot of clients, even if it was in biomechanics. But his clients didn’t need to know that.
And so, Viktor found himself in an entirely new profession. His sensitivity was both a blessing and a curse: he could read people effortlessly, understand the emotional temperature of a room like a pro. But he was also deeply emotional himself. Letting go of the painful stories he heard wasn’t easy.
Precisely because he was a sad, uncertain person himself, Viktor often had to smile wryly at the “wounded healer” role he seemed to play. None of his clients knew that he too sometimes cried into his pillow at night. That he stared out the window, wondering whether life still had anything to offer. Why he had so much love to give but no one to give it to.
Viktor was alone. And he felt lonely. He knew it would be good for him to go out, leave the flat. But where to? With whom?
Sky liked him. Perhaps a little too much. That ruled her out as a friend in the quest to find a man. And on top of it all, very truthfully, Viktor also liked being alone. He valued his independence. He loved deciding for himself when to eat, when to go to bed, what film to watch. No man had yet made him want to give up that freedom.
The occasional visits to kinky parties were the only times Viktor pushed himself to go out, meet new people, and just have fun for an evening. He knew what he wanted and since the parties had a clear purpose, socialising there came more easily. He was aware of his limits: his leg, his back, his lungs. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see a “catch”. Too emotional, too sensitive and too much of a coward to talk about it. Too thin, too fragile, too breakable; physically and emotionally.
But in those clubs, he could wear a mask –literally and metaphorically – and enjoy himself for a night. With the help of a bit of MDMA or weed, if need be.
Still, everyday life had Viktor firmly in its grip. He lived on the edge of town, in a faceless housing complex: square, functional, anonymous. He barely knew his neighbours; only glimpses in the lift or the underground garage when coming back from work. His practice was closer to the city centre, just a short drive away. Even so, Viktor regularly cursed the traffic and delayed drives home.
After an especially dreadful week – his leg aching, loneliness weighing heavy, and the lift out of order – Viktor dragged himself up to the fifth floor with his walking aid. In the hallway, he ran into his neighbours; an elderly couple. Their health was failing, that of the man more visibly than hers. They’d never had much to do with Viktor, but they had occasionally looked after his cats when Sky accompanied him to conferences.
The lift was working, but full: a moving team was loading a washing machine and several boxes.
It took Viktor a moment to realise what was happening.
“You’re moving out?” he asked, surprised, glancing between the men and the couple.
“Yes, we’re off to assisted living at the weekend,” the woman said, patting her husband on the shoulder. He stood hunched over his own walking frame.
Viktor knew that one day, he would look just like that. Only, there would be no one at his side to arrange the move for him.
He forced a smile and pulled out his keys. “That’s a shame to hear.” He swallowed. “If I can help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Of course, they both knew he wouldn’t be much help. But the woman smiled and nodded knowingly.
“That’s kind of you, Viktor. But that’s what the moving team’s for. We’re just here watching and hoping everything arrives in one piece.” She laughed and gave her husband another pat on the shoulder. He muttered something unintelligible.
Viktor wished them all the best and retreated into his flat, where Blitz and Rio, his two cats, greeted him as though they were starving to death, even though their bowls were still half-full. Still, Viktor fed them again, as best he could.
He shared the top floor with the couple. While his own flat resembled more of an attic room, theirs was spacious and luxurious. It had originally been planned as a penthouse, but due to construction issues, a second, smaller unit had been added. That resulted in two mismatched flats sharing a floor: a tiny box and a half-penthouse with a huge terrace.
The view, according to Viktor, wasn’t worth much anyway: just a street, more housing blocks, and a bit of forest in the distance. Loud, stuffy, overpriced. The couple had only rented the place after selling their house; they had no children, and nowhere else to put their money. The rent for that penthouse must have been absurd. His own box was already too expensive for the area. But Viktor couldn’t be bothered to move.
Which made Viktor all the more curious who would move in next. Hopefully not a family; children were noisy, even if he liked them. But he needed quiet. If his flat couldn’t offer that, he’d lose his mind.
Nearly a month passed before a new moving company brought in furniture.
Viktor barely noticed them; too much work. But because the building was L-shaped, he had a clear view of the large terrace and part of the living room when he came home from work. The older couple had hardly ever used the terrace, but now it was clearly alive: a garden swing, tables, chairs, plants, a parasol and lots of other things Viktor couldn’t quite make out.
Then, one weekend in May – sunny and pleasantly warm – he saw his new neighbours having coffee on the terrace. Around them, gardeners were replanting flowers and tiny bushes.
Viktor had never seen two such beautiful people. A man and woman, both radiating a presence of their own.
She had the glow of mahogany, a tone somewhere between earth and light, made to draw the eye. Her gold jewellery made her look like a goddess among scrawny mortals; her white dress felt like a rude afterthought trying (and failing) to hide her body. Even her hair shimmered as if it didn’t belong to this world. The elegance with which she held her cup spoke of noble roots, or at the very least exceptionally refined manners.
Her partner, seated directly opposite, was even more attractive to Viktor, not just because he preferred men, but because this man, alongside the same noble grace as his companion, gave off something entirely unique. He was muscular, and the cut of his white shirt left little to the imagination. But the way his chest and arms filled out the fabric suggested more than just gym hours. Perhaps a specific kind of sport?
His face was angular and striking, clean-shaven, his hair combed neatly back. His skin tone was lighter than hers, but compared to Viktor’s ghostly complexion, he was a tanned god. His rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms that gleamed like caramel in the sunlight. His hands were large enough to enclose the coffee cup entirely; it looked tiny in them.
Viktor stared out the window without really looking, and only after a few minutes did he realise how uncomfortable their beauty made him feel.
He felt unsure of himself again. Small and fragile. Next to these two gods, wealthy, elegant, and clearly in love, Viktor felt like an unloved shelter cat.
He quickly closed the curtain and tried to push the dark thoughts away. Instead, he sat down at his desk and attempted to get some work done over the weekend. But no matter how often he tried to start a sentence in his report, his mind wandered back to his neighbours. They looked to be his age, or so Viktor guessed.
Would they ever introduce themselves? Viktor hadn’t, back when he moved in. Perhaps they wouldn’t even glance in his direction. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been ignored.
But as if fate had heard his quiet wish to analyse the pair more closely (as Viktor called it), someone rang his doorbell late Sunday afternoon.
The cats bolted to their usual hiding spots as Viktor cautiously opened the door.
The stunning couple, whose beauty could easily render one blind, stood smiling in the hallway, positively glowing. Viktor, wearing an old band T-shirt and joggers, hair unbrushed, mentally cursed himself for ever answering the door.
“Hi, sorry to disturb you,” the woman began politely. “We just moved in yesterday and thought we’d make a little round of introductions to get to know the neighbourhood.”
Viktor’s eyes widened slightly, but instead of replying, he simply nodded, mouth slightly open.
“I’m Mel,” she said, extending a slender hand. “This is my husband, Jayce. We’re originally from the city, but we decided it was time for something a bit more rural.”
Viktor shook Mel’s warm hand and immediately glanced at Jayce, the supposed husband. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he offered his hand with the same polite manner.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said eventually, gripping Viktor’s hand just a little too firmly.
As the couple stood silently at his door, Viktor realised how odd he must seem.
“Yeah, uhm, I’m Viktor. I’ve lived here for a few years now...”
“Lovely to meet you, Viktor. Maybe we could have a glass of wine sometime? Partners included, of course,” Mel said sweetly, gesturing towards their flat. The invitation seemed genuine.
Jayce, however, was eyeing Viktor’s leg. His brace. His walking stick. Viktor wasn’t sure what to make of the look. He suddenly felt self-conscious about it.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. He didn't really want to drink a glass of wine with two people who were obviously far above his level and probably just assumed that he was as rich as they were because he lived next door. But his curiosity was stronger than expected. “Maybe we’ll find a time for a glass of wine, yes. Though without a partner. Unless you’d like to meet my cats.”
It was meant as a joke, one Jayce acknowledged with the faintest twitch of his mouth. Mel, however, raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, of course without partners as well, do forgive my presumptuous assumption.”
The surreal encounter ended as quickly as it had come. Mel and Jayce said goodbye with a vague promise of a future invitation and took the stairs to the lower floor.
Viktor closed the door and suddenly thought about moving far, far away.
Normally, Viktor never saw anyone around the building. The other residents were either late sleepers, extreme early risers, or simply never left the house. At least, not when normal people would be heading to work.
But ever since the new neighbours had moved in, he ran into Jayce fairly often. Too often. They likely had similar working hours.
The first few times, Jayce would smile politely, nod or mumble a “Morning.” He never used the lift, so Viktor usually only saw him in the hallway. By the time Viktor got to the car park, Jayce was usually gone.
Only once did he catch a glimpse of squealing tyres leaving the garage. As if Jayce were actively avoiding him. He seemed reserved. Maybe put off by Viktor’s limp, his frail appearance. Or maybe he was just like that: a bit weird.
Sometimes Viktor saw Jayce walking alone, big headphones on his head, jaw tight. On warm days, he wore shorts. That’s when Viktor noticed the brace: slimmer, metallic-looking. Left leg. A long scar ran down his shin.
Viktor didn’t have a clear view, but from then on he noticed his faint limp. Jayce didn’t need a walking aid, but he did drag that leg slightly. Suddenly it was obvious.
Viktor was naturally curious. He wanted to ask Jayce what had happened. Whether they shared a story. If it had been an accident.
But Jayce’s face was always tight whenever he saw him. And only with what seemed like a great effort (at least from Viktor’s perspective) did he ever manage to smile. He looked tired. Sad. Burdened.
But Viktor knew better than to pry. Especially since he barely knew the man. He was just a neighbour. And Viktor wasn’t his therapist.
So he did what any small creep might do: watched him from his living room window whenever he went out walking alone. And smiled politely if they crossed paths in the hallway.
Truthfully, Viktor had mixed feelings when he bumped into Jayce one evening in the car park and was greeted with a restrained smile. But instead of disappearing quickly up the stairs, Jayce approached him.
“Viktor,” he called out, raising a hand in greeting. He stepped away from his sleek electric car, which probably cost more than Viktor’s yearly salary, and walked over to meet him at his battered fifteen-year-old hatchback.
“About that invitation my wife extended,” he said, as if it took him great effort, “do you have time tomorrow evening? For a glass of wine? We'd love to have you over.”
Viktor had to look up to him. His nose barely reached Jayce’s shoulder. He smelled good. Musky, but with a soft, almost sweet note. Viktor took a deep breath.
“Yes, sure,” he murmured, forcing a smile after a long day of intense therapy sessions. “I can certainly pop over for a glass.”
He hadn’t planned to go. But part of him wanted to.
Jayce’s smile widened, though it remained slightly guarded. “Great! See you tomorrow, then. Around seven?”
Viktor tightened his grip on his walking stick. “Yes, perfect.”
His attractive neighbour smiled once more and wished him a good evening. He was polite. Friendly. And had a lovely smile. Little dimples, one slightly deeper than the other.
Viktor felt a pang of unease. After so many years of being single, with the occasional hookup but no real emotions, he found himself drawn to any man who gave him a shred of attention.
But usually, that feeling faded quickly, especially once Viktor got to know his temporary partners and realised there was a chasm between them intellectually.
But now? Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking that way about a married man in the first place, no matter how handsome or successful he seemed. He wasn’t even really Viktor’s type.
Even if his caramel skin did look delicious.
Viktor spent nearly half the afternoon standing in front of the wine aisle at the supermarket, trying to choose a bottle. He didn’t want to spend too much, since it was just a token, after all, but neither did he want to turn up with something cheap.
They clearly had money. They probably owned a professional wine fridge filled with bottles Viktor couldn’t even buy at his local shop. Maybe he shouldn’t bring wine at all? Perhaps snacks? But what if one of them was gluten intolerant? Or lactose sensitive?
Viktor could feel his blood pressure rising as he paced the aisle for the third time.
Just before 7pm, he stood at his own front door with a bottle of rosé. He checked his dark red shirt, his deep brown trousers, and his hair, which was desperately in need of a cut, sticking out in every direction. Blitz and Rio looked at him with mournful eyes, sensing he wouldn’t be spending the evening on the sofa with them.
“Just for a bit,” Viktor said softly, kissing each of them on the forehead.
Then he made the long trek across the corridor. A few short steps. He knocked. Then noticed the doorbell. Of course he was meant to ring. Why had he knocked?
As he pressed the bell, the door had already opened and Mel was deafened by her own chime informing her someone was at the door.
“Hello, Viktor,” she said warmly. “Lovely to see you, come on in.”
She wore a white silk blouse embroidered with gold and a matching pencil skirt.
“Thank you for the invitation,” he said quietly, handing her the wine at the threshold. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred red or white, so I guessed.”
Mel took the bottle in her delicate hands and turned it over.
“I’m more of a white wine girl, but my husband loves red. So rosé is the perfect middle ground, thank you.”
Or the perfect compromise that satisfies no one , Viktor thought grimly.
Mel invited him in and disappeared into another room. The hallway was long but decorated with tasteful pictures and a beautiful mirror. Viktor had never seen the flat from the inside, the elderly couple before had never invited him. And he’d never particularly wanted them to.
“Come on through, Viktor,” he heard Mel call.
Uncertain, he took off his Birkenstocks and placed them by the wall next to an elegant shoe rack. Beside them were glossy black dress shoes. And beside those, white pumps; pristine, not a scratch on them. Ashamed, Viktor nudged his worn sandals a little further towards the door.
As he stepped into the open-plan kitchen and living area, Viktor had to stop and stare. The space was spacious and minimalist in style. The kitchen, made of dark wood yet unmistakably modern, boasted high-tech appliances and a sculptural LED light fixture suspended above the island. Jayce was standing behind the counter, preparing canapés. With his large hands, it looked almost comical, though Viktor was admittedly more distracted by the dark red shirt clinging to his torso and the slim-fitting trousers that left very little to the imagination. A touch tighter and Viktor might have guessed his condom size.
“Hi, Viktor,” Jayce greeted him with a warm smile. “Thanks for the wine. I’ve put it in the fridge – just say the word if you’d like a glass.” As Viktor had suspected, Jayce gestured toward a professional wine fridge neatly integrated into the kitchen island.
Viktor simply nodded and watched as Mel walked over to the enormous dining table that could easily seat twelve. Instead of sitting down, she picked up a glass carafe of water and placed it next to a golden drinks trolley standing beside the L-shaped sofa arrangement. Everything in Mel and Jayce’s home exuded class. Absolute, deliberate class.
“Do take a seat,” Mel said softly, gesturing towards one of the two sofas, which were kind of plush yet somehow uninviting.
Viktor wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He made his way over cautiously, leaning on his walking stick, and sat down slowly. Mel observed him closely as he moved. Eventually, she offered him a glass of wine.
“Red, please,” Viktor replied uncertainly, gripping his walking stick tighter than necessary.
Mel and Jayce moved fluidly around each other, like a well-rehearsed team. He stepped aside any time she passed behind him. She poured her husband a glass too, placing it gently on the side table next to his coaster, but she didn’t smile. And he didn’t look at her. Only once Jayce had finished arranging the canapés and placed them neatly on the ornate coffee table did they all settle onto the sofas, raising their glasses for a toast.
“So lovely you could make it,” Mel began with a smile on her flawless lips. “We really hope this can be the start of a good neighbourly relationship. My husband and I are both very busy professionally, so it’s always nice to meet new faces.”
Viktor sipped his wine. Perfectly chilled. Perfect in taste. Everything, absolutely everything, was perfect . And Viktor felt completely out of place.
“May I ask what you do for work?” he asked cautiously, knees pressed tightly together. He sat stiffly upright on the sofa, though to be fair, neither Mel nor Jayce looked particularly relaxed on the posh piece of furniture either.
Mel smiled gently and looked towards her husband, who was absently staring into his wine glass. As if waking from a trance, he glanced between Mel and Viktor and let out a somewhat sheepish laugh.
“Er… I work at the Academy. As a researcher.”
Viktor’s ears perked up immediately. His eyes locked onto Jayce. “Really? Which faculty?”
“Robotics,” he murmured, almost embarrassed, or perhaps expecting little interest from Viktor, just as Viktor had grown used to blank stares when speaking about his own research in the past.
But the slighter man clutched his walking stick excitedly, trying to contain his enthusiasm. “Then you must know Professor Heimerdinger?”
Jayce’s eyes shot up. Large, hazel, and surprised. “He supervised my doctorate. You know him too?”
Viktor nodded eagerly. “He was my supervisor as well. Sounds like we just missed each other. Though I was in biomechanics and wrote my thesis on limb asymmetry, not robotics.”
Even Mel’s eyes widened. She glanced between the two men in clear surprise. Jayce shifted slightly closer on the sofa, turning his full attention towards Viktor.
“That’s wild!” he laughed; and it was the first time Viktor had seen the otherwise reserved, almost gruff man genuinely smile. “So, you are at the Academy too? Which department?”
But Viktor shook his head straight away. “Not anymore.” He bit his lip. There were typically two types of reactions to his career shift: A) “Oh wow, I better be careful what I say around you, haha!” or B) “Headshrinker. Interesting.”
So he tried for something honest but gentle. “I work in psychological counselling now. Therapy. It suits me better than academia ever did.”
The sparkle in Jayce’s enthusiastic hazel eyes dimmed only slightly.
“That’s quite a shift. Respect,” Mel chimed in, sipping her wine. But it was Jayce who kept the conversation going, now almost leaning forward in his seat. Viktor half expected him to jump up at any moment.
“I recently spoke with Professor Heimerdinger about a researcher who left the institute and whose departure he still mourns. So wait, you’re the one who published all those studies with him? No way! Your name… your PhD! That’s incredible! Your paper, ‘Kinematic and Muscular Compensation in Lower Limb Asymmetry: A Motion Analysis Approach’ was groundbreaking. I’ve been waiting for you to publish more, but then nothing came.”
He ran a hand through his thick hair, sloshing his wine glass at a dangerous angle. “I get it now, you left academia. That’s why you never published more. Heimerdinger mentioned something along those lines. But I never imagined you’d end up as my neighbour.”
Viktor gave a small, uncertain smile. He wasn’t sure what to do with such genuine praise. It made him nervous. “Strange that we never ran into each other, given we had the same mentor.”
The man in front of him now looked less like a stoic bodybuilder and more like an excited child. “Yeah, odd. Though I only finished my doctorate recently. I was abroad for a year, did a lot of work off-campus. Maybe we crossed paths, just not knowingly.”
Jayce shook his head again, as if he still couldn’t believe he was sitting across from someone he’d cited. “I’m in robotics now. We’re currently developing a specialised exoskeleton –your paper was essential to our research. I mean, your analysis of how functional leg length discrepancies affect gait dynamics and muscle activity? The significant changes in gluteus medius and plantar flexor activity, especially during stance phase, that had major implications for lumbopelvic stability. It was huge for us.”
Viktor’s vision blurred. His breathing quickened. This man wasn’t just ridiculously attractive – he was also intelligent. Exceptionally so. And if there was one thing Viktor found dangerously erotic, it was intelligence. He had to close his legs a little more, otherwise a wet spot would have been visible.
“Thank you…” he murmured, eyes dropping to the floor. Jayce’s presence was overwhelming. His brain was already tying itself in knots at the thought of hours spent talking about research again.
“I wish we could work together,” Jayce said suddenly. “Imagine the possibilities. You could analyse the biomechanics of our exoskeleton, help us measure its impact on human gait. Maybe even… in a live experiment.”
Jayce’s tone softened, and Viktor noticed his eyes flick to his leg.
Before Viktor could respond, Jayce flinched slightly like he'd been stung. “Sorry, that was rude of me.” His smile retreated to something more formal again. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. I’m sure you left academia for good reason. And just because you wear a brace doesn’t mean you should be someone’s test subject. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Viktor muttered, pressing his lips together. Before he could ask about Jayce’s own brace, Mel shifted on the sofa, smiling at both men.
“What a surprise, two brilliant minds in the same room,” she said, sipping her wine with a glint in her eye, as if thoroughly entertained.
Jayce sat back again, returning to his original posture and staring into his glass. “Sorry, love, we got a bit carried away. You probably wanted to talk about your work too.”
Only then did Viktor startle and give Mel a polite smile. She traced a hand along Jayce’s upper arm, but the gesture felt hollow.
“It’s funny to learn that you’re the very researcher he’s been quoting for years,” she said with a polite smile. “My mother’s company funded the lab equipment for that project.”
Viktor’s eyes widened. “So… pharmaceuticals?”
Mel nodded proudly and began talking about the firm. A subsidiary of the same corporate group. She was also politically active, and suddenly the name Mel Medarda clicked into place in Viktor’s mind. She had her fingers in countless research projects. Without her funding, much at the Academy wouldn’t have been possible. But Viktor also knew about the influence that funding brought. When results didn’t align with expectations, grants were pulled and findings buried. It was common practice in science, but one Viktor found ethically troubling.
Jayce, however, didn’t seem remotely bothered that his wife had financed his work too.
"Without my wife's help, I wouldn't be where I am today," Jayce said, smiling warmly at her. She touched his leg with a graceful flick of her hand, elegant, effortless.
"So why didn’t biomechanics manage to keep hold of you, Viktor?" Mel asked, her tone curious as she sipped steadily from her glass of white wine. Jayce was already on his second glass, and Viktor longed for that pleasant buzz that made social situations so much easier to navigate.
He began talking – haltingly at first – about the financial instability. The endless pressure to publish. The futility of repeating the same studies with the same results. He had entered research to help people, but academia had thrown so many obstacles in his path that, after the third consecutive six-month contract with questionable funding, he simply gave up. “Simply” in this case meant a years-long retraining process and multiple tear-filled pep talks from his best friend.
“The system isn’t always ideal, I can understand that,” Mel said diplomatically, as if she and her pharmaceutical empire had nothing to do with the constant funding shortages in research. “Do you like it better now? As a therapist?”
Viktor paused. He wanted to be honest, with them, but mostly with himself.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I’m self-employed. I decide who I see and when. I set my own hours. I can help. And I see the good that I can do. I like that.”
Mel nodded and gave him a look he couldn’t quite interpret. Her gaze was intense, deliberate, but it gave away nothing.
He stayed for another two hours. The conversation shifted to lighter topics: politics, furniture, food, travel. Viktor couldn’t contribute much to any of them, so he let the couple do most of the talking. He hated how automatically he analysed people, but he couldn’t help noticing: there was more friction than spark between them.
Later that same evening, Viktor looked up Dr Jayce Talis’s research. He found several papers, each more intriguing than the last. His writing style was chaotic, as if he were tripping over his own thoughts. Viktor couldn’t help grinning.
For the first time in years, he found himself wondering if he might return to the academic world. Jayce had mentioned needing a partner. And if what Viktor was reading really was his work, they might make a brilliant team.
But then what? Quit his practice, abandon the clients who relied on him, for the slim chance of working on a single project with a man he barely knew? And all for a salary that would barely cover his rent?
No. Viktor closed the laptop after hours of reading and researching. Jayce’s ideas about the exoskeleton were genuinely impressive. Viktor would have loved to see the plans, maybe even the device itself. The material had to be wildly expensive, given how light and strong it appeared. But then again, Jayce had a wealthy, well-connected wife in pharmaceuticals. If it came down to it, she could fund his entire lab.
Just before sleep pulled him under, Viktor thought of Jayce again. The way he’d lit up with excitement. The way he’d praised Viktor’s work. The fascination in his eyes.
It stroked something in Viktor – his ego, certainly. And suddenly he wanted to stroke something else. So his hand slipped between his thighs, touching his folds gently, slowly.
Because intelligence turned Viktor on.
It didn't take long for him to immerse himself in this hot and burning feeling. And when he came, it was with the image of Jayce’s large hands, and all the things they might do to him.