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The bedsheets under him are soft, caressing his sensitive skin gently.
Jayce pulls at the bonds, but it’s futile — silken rope holds tight, burns his wrist just a little. He’s naked, save for light thigh high stockings and lacy bralette. Vulnerable.
All for Viktor to take.
“How is my girl doing?” the voice is syrupy-sweet, condescending and sets Jayce’s insides ablaze. “Not going to answer me? Naughty, naughty girl.”
Yet, despite the scolding, Viktor’s touch is gentle and Jayce surrenders himself to it. Feels the hand — the one still made of flesh — slowly moving from the neck down to his chest, catching the nipple through thin layer of fabric.
“Such a nice pair of tits you have,” Viktor almost purrs, “a perfect handful. I wonder if you can squirt just from me teasing your nipples.”
Jayce can’t hold a whine — not when Viktor touches him like that, not when Viktor says things like that. Not with Viktor.
“You’d like it, would you? But not today, no. I have other plans for you, sweetheart.”
The hand shifts lower — to the soft belly, then to the thigh, tracing the edge of the stocking, and finally, finally, to Jayce’s pathetic little dick.
“What a slutty girl you are,” Viktor says as he strokes it slowly, not even using his whole hand — just three of his fingers. “Your clitty is already so hard. Is your pussy wet too? Waiting for a real cock to fuck it?”
Jayce nods eagerly. He wants it. He needs it.
Please, please, please.
The bed shifts as Viktor moves to sit between Jayce’s spread legs. Jayce tries to pull Viktor even closer, closer-closer-closer, but stops as he feels a firm squeeze of his thigh. Jayce hopes it’ll leave a bruise.
“Eager girl,” fingers trace the rim of Jayce’s hole, pressing without breaching it. “Are you like this with them too? Is this how you’ve been getting your sponsorships?”
No, Jayce shakes his head, it’s just you, always been you and only you.
“Good.”
Viktor finally pushes in, his cock stretching Jayce’s hole so perfectly. He feels so full, so right. This is where he belongs — under Viktor, being fucked senseless. Like the good girl he is.
“Your pussy is so tight,” Viktor whispers into Jayce’s skin, “so wet for me.”
For Viktor, just for Viktor.
He gives Jayce a moment to breathe, a moment to get used to the stretch — but only a moment, until he starts fucking him roughly, every thrust feeling like it’s in Jayce’s throat. Jayce can’t stop pitiful little sounds spilling from his mouth, and he doesn’t want to. Here, he’s allowed to be loud, allowed to be the needy messy thing that he is.
With Viktor, he’s allowed to be anything.
“They don’t deserve you, Piltover doesn’t deserve you,” the anger, the possessiveness makes Jayce whine louder. “I should keep you. I should breed you.”
Just the though of carrying Viktor’s child makes Jayce feel dizzy. Please.
“Everyone would know that it’s mine. You’re mine.”
Viktor pushes even deeper, like he wants to break Jayce’s nonexistent cervix, to actually breed him full — and Jayce is drunk with pleasure from it.
“You’d look so good — heavy with my child, your tits swollen, so sensitive for me to tease. I should keep you pregnant, fill you over and over until your womb breaks and then some.”
And Jayce wants it so, so badly. He wants to be Viktor’s in every possible and impossible way. He moans as Viktor starts kissing his neck, biting tender flesh, marking him — for all of Piltover to see.
Let them see.
He’s nearing the edge, Jayce can feel it — his dick weeping with precum, heat inside his guts burning stronger and stronger. He isn’t allowed yet. Good girls don’t finish without a permission to, and he needs to be Viktor’s good girl.
“Will you come just with your pussy, or should I play with your pathetic excuse of a clit?”
Jayce whimpers, unable to form words, but it’s fine. Viktor understands him.
Viktor is the only one who always understands him.
“It’s okay, my sweet girl, you can come for me,” Viktor whispers as he shifts the angle — his cock pressing on Jayce’s prostate even harder, and it’s perfect-perfect-perfect.
The pleasure peaks, blinds Jayce with its intensity — his cock finally squirts, few drops landing on Jayce’s own lips. He doesn’t get a chance to lick it off as Viktor pushes him into a messy kiss.
Viktor doesn’t stop fucking him and the pain of overstimulation is indistinguishable from pleasure, both mixed in Jayce’s clouded mind. His cock keeps leaking, dribbling onto his stomach. It hurts so good.
“Going to put a baby in you, breed your needy womb,” Viktor groans, finally loosing his composure, his rhythm stuttering.
Faster, faster, faster — until Viktor spills inside Jayce’s guts with a quiet “mine, mine, mine”, and it’s enough for Jayce to crash over the edge once again.
There’s a pleasant heaviness in his body, a fuzz in his mind. Jayce can feel Viktor pulling out and plugging his hole with a toy instead, barely discernible “so it’ll take” making his cock twitch in desire despite being milked dry.
He can feel the shifting of the bed, ropes loosening. Gentle rubbing of the herbal-smelling salve onto his arms — first the right one, then the left. Soft touches.
The bed shifts again, and Jayce is enveloped in a warm embrace. They don’t talk after sex — that’s the thing lovers do, and they are not lovers.
And whose fault is that?
Still, Jayce lets himself melt against Viktor. Lets himself pretend just for a little bit longer.
He knows that he can only be Viktor’s during nights like this, under the excuse of their games. And then Jayce has to leave, with fading bruises as the only reminder that this is real, that he isn’t gone mad from heartbreak.
Maybe one day Viktor will let him stay.
“My beautiful Jayce,” a barely audible murmur lost, whispered into Jayce’s hair. “Mine.”
Maybe that day is not that far away after all.