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It was on an ordinary day when Jayce first noticed: obvious from his colleague's exacerbated pallor, clear the moment he entered the lab.
It was as if Viktor were recovering from a very, very bad vision.
His clothes were disheveled. His limbs trembled, not excessively, but enough to cause some odd movement in his light body. Jayce wondered if the man was in more pain than usual, which would also explain why his hair seemed to have been tousled and rearranged several times, in addition to his shirt being a little wrinkled. After all, Viktor always tried to dress well, fearful of giving the wrong impression (and not fall into Zaun’s stereotypes) to the public of Piltover.
The problem was that, in pain or for any other reason, Viktor wouldn't tell him what was bothering him. He knew how to be as stubborn as Jayce sometimes, and would insist that everything was fine, didn't feel anything different, was just a little tired. And, well, Jayce knew Viktor very well, because that's exactly what happened.
“It's a little colder than usual, it makes me sleepier, so I missed the time” he said, lying, because Jayce recognized the eyes that didn't stay still on him and the fingers fidgeting his lap, intertwined with each other, in a form of letting the anxiety escape.
The worst part of it all was that it wasn't just that day. Every week, at least twice, Viktor arrived worse than usual. Not that it was a problem for their work. After about fifteen minutes, he would leave behind the astonishment he carried and work as always, talkative and curious and hand in hand with Jayce. They always worked well, even when Viktor caught a cold or Jayce felt more nervous than usual.
But Viktor was his partner. His friend, his companion, his…
It was obvious that Jayce noticed and worried. Lately, his colleague occupied his mind in the same way that magic did — a pleasant, albeit urgent, constant, and perseverance-filled buzzing. Hextech was his life, his future, and Viktor… Viktor shared it with him. He knew how to handle Jayce, in a way that made it seem like they shared the same neurons.Through their new partnership, Jayce felt so much more connected; not only to the world, but also to himself.
It was natural for affection to multiply and spread — in fingers supporting his lower back, in memories of Viktor at random moments (seeing a candy store or an illustration of some deer reminded him of his friend), and even in the folds of his brain that activated his imagination. He didn't allow himself to go too far, but he couldn't stop thinking about his colleague's pleasant smell, or how cute his pout of dissatisfaction was, or the way his voice lowered when he didn't understand Jayce properly. He clung only to that, to Viktor's natural sweetness, despite everything.
It was admiration, affection, friendship. Attraction too, he couldn't lie. His partner had beautiful hips, which angled up in a sensual way when he stood still, and long, elegant legs. Even so, he was still shorter than Jayce and needed to look up to talk to him, and the way that made his eyes seem bigger was, at the very least, pleasing. A way of carrying himself that made Viktor so Viktor. Yeah, screw it, he was very attracted to Viktor.
And seeing him suffer in silence was awful.
Jayce wondered many things. Was it really the pain, or was Viktor losing the ability to do something? Because something physical didn't make much sense, since Viktor felt better after the first half hour of work and didn't stop moving or building with it. Something with the family, perhaps? He tried to bring up the subject, to which Viktor affirmed that he had received letters from his uncles recently, the ones Jayce didn’t understand if they were married or what, with a smile on his face. It wasn't that. What, then?
He needed to investigate; things couldn't continue the same way.
He noticed that Viktor's change occurred on specific days: Mondays and Thursdays. A lot of research was done to find out if any particular program aired late at night on the days before, but nothing was found. Firstly, Viktor would be tired for the rest of the day and not just at the beginning, and secondly, there was nothing interesting on the channels Jayce checked.
Another thing he noticed was that on those days when he was worse, Viktor sometimes took longer to leave work, as if he were avoiding something. There was even a week or two when he arrived much earlier or much later, but on those occasions he felt bad for the rest of the day, sleepy (from waking up so early) or guilty (for being late). Jayce then suspected it was some medication that Viktor was taking precisely on those days, although the aforementioned event didn't make sense in this case.
Even so, he decided to investigate properly.
The problem was that the best way to investigate would be to go to Viktor's house during the mysterious days of terror (as he was mentally calling them now), and he had no idea where Viktor lived. Far enough that he had to take the subway, but he didn't even know which direction it was. And Jayce couldn't just invite himself to Viktor's house, it wouldn't be polite — his mother had taught him well and, huh, he had to listen to her advice at least once.
So he did the best he could.
(And, yes, it might have seemed wrong at first, but it was the most logical thing to do. He was thinking about protecting and helping his partner, that was all.)
After a very busy Thursday, Viktor tried to linger at the lab, but Jayce warned that he was going to the bathroom and leaving soon after, which put the necessary pressure on Viktor to pack his things and say goodbye as well. Despite the mysterious days of terror, Viktor, as time passed, also seemed anxious, and not just nervous, about whatever tormented him — he would often look at the clock several times, lose his train of thought in the middle of work, and easily give up on arriving earlier and leaving later than usual. As if he were getting used to what was happening and started expecting it, or something like that, which only increased Jayce's curiosity.
He changed out of his uniform into more discreet clothes, with a hood to disguise his appearance, and followed Viktor's steps, echoed by the cane. Despite his health problem, Viktor walked at a good pace, with his head held high as citizens in Piltover were taught since childhood — a habit he acquired on the streets to disguise his origins, but often, if someone of high rank appeared in the laboratory, he forgot. Jayce was happy to see Viktor like this, resplendent in the middle of the crowd — again, he remembered the figure of a beautiful deer stepping where he knew he could, confident but calculated.
However, the closer he got to the subway, the more his appearance changed. He began looking around for something, which made Jayce hide better among the people, and his shoulders tensed more and more. He seemed much smaller this way, more fragile, and a strange feeling passed through Jayce.
They entered the train. There were many people between them, but Jayce made an effort to be able to see his partner in the reflection of the windows. Despite being a man with a clear disability, no one gave up their seat for him, so Viktor settled himself standing near the walls, with one hand holding the handrail and the other on his cane. He still seemed a little anxious, but he was relieved. Jayce considered staying in place, quietly observing so he could discover Viktor's stop, but after the door opened once more and let more people in a sea of pushing and adjusting bodies, he noticed something that took all the air out of his lungs.
A man was standing behind Viktor. He wasn't just standing still, though: he was very close to his partner. And because the stranger was at least thirty centimeters taller than Viktor, his strong physique skillfully covered his figure, leaving just a thin side of Viktor to see. Jayce's gaze followed that mountain of muscle and fat, of the man who must have been in his well-preserved fifties, from the arm that extended to the hand that held onto—
Onto Viktor's hips.
And Viktor, with both hands occupied, could do nothing but lower his head, embarrassed.
Who was that guy? He was leaning slightly forward, his face close to the man's ear. His other hand disappeared into the crowd, but Jayce managed to see one side of him, the way his hip pressed against the smaller man's, the smile that took hold of him, and Viktor, Viktor—he was blushing, mortified, because despite the train's movement slightly rocking them, it was obvious that his own body was trying its best not to move. Petrified, Viktor tried not to give in to the man's rubbing against him, wedged between his buttocks and his back, but the absurdity of being molested must have agitated him more than usual, and his small body (compared to Jayce's, as well as the man's) slid against the other in a way that seemed delicious.
The shock was so great that Jayce barely noticed the time passing. That was his best friend, his savior, his life partner, receiving inappropriate attention from a stranger (he was a stranger, wasn't he? Otherwise, Viktor would have told Jayce; besides, he didn't seem to be enjoying the act. Right?), and Jayce was…
While trying to contain his own erection, he barely noticed the moment the stranger was satisfied, although he saw him murmur at the subway stop, get off at the station, and leave the emptiness and the blood flowing between Jayce and Viktor.
Viktor, still with his head down, making it difficult for Jayce to see. And Jayce, with a tent in his pants and his thoughts racing.
When he regained control of his own body he dashed off the train, without seeing the station where Viktor disembarked.
The problem, then, wasn't something in the final destinations, but in the journey.
Viktor was being harassed (was it always in the same way?), probably on the days Jayce calculated (could there have been more?), and that's why he seemed so bothered when arriving at and leaving work (again, he was bothered, right?). It had nothing to do with TV shows, books, apartments, or chores. It was a man.
Was it always the same man? The sight of one touching his friend already made Jayce sick; he couldn't imagine more of them, all passing the message to each other, about how there was a cute man's ass ready to be grabbed, used on public transport…
No.
The problem is that Jayce couldn't stop thinking about the scene he witnessed, not even when changing transport and arriving at his own apartment. The large hands on Viktor's small waist, his flushed face, the idea that he was biting his lips to keep from crying. The man’s hard on brushing against his backside, wishing there was no one else around to properly enjoy the soft skin — or maybe not, maybe the excitement lay in being in a public place, touching a defenseless man right in front of everyone.
How come nobody else noticed?
Or maybe they did notice? There were many men in the carriage. Had others also torn a piece off him, taken advantage of the train's swaying to press themselves against his partner, and that's why they didn't report anything? Worse: why didn't Viktor do it?
Jayce hissed, holding back his own questions. Despite the horrifying vision that perhaps Viktor enjoyed that kind of indecency, despite the anger he felt at them taking advantage of a disabled man, despite the jealousy he felt thinking that they had touched his partner before him, Jayce was even angrier at his own perversion. He couldn't stop imagining scenarios and letting his mind wander through dangerous waters — and how the more he thought about it all, the harder he got.
He wanted to punish Viktor for letting himself be touched by strangers (and already in his mind there were more than one, so the fire burned even brighter). He imagined arriving at the train car after work to see Viktor wearing a skirt at his command and lifting it to show the strangers how wet or hard he was from being publicly humiliated. Trapping his wrists with one hand on the train windows, fogging the glass with that beautiful face pressed against it, seeing in the reflection the gasping of his mouth, open and desperate, as he ate Viktor from behind. Making his legs get caught on one of the bars, his hole wide open twitching for anyone who passed by.
It was horrible, but the more perverse it was, the more he couldn't resist seeing more, rubbing his cock against the palm of his hand through his pants with trembling relief. He imagined Viktor's figure, standing in the middle of the car, that deer-like posture — elegant and innocent, ready to be hunted — wearing long skirts of light fabric that would easily fly with the movement against his ass; or wearing short skirts to easily access his thighs, warm and soft, perfect for sliding his cock in; with tight shorts, highlighting the curve of his ass; with long, well-pressed pants, to ruin the fabric with his come.
“Shit,” Jayce cursed through his teeth, reaching his climax with all the disturbing images hovering in his imagination, the punishments and desires he wanted to inflict on Viktor. He came confined in his underwear, against the palm of his hand, like the stranger on the subway earlier against his partner's body. The guilt of masturbating in a way similar to the molester would come soon, but, while he came, Jayce decided to focus on another delicious detail he would have, if he were in that place: the smell on Viktor's nape, warm and soft, with a small bead of sweat from spending all day in the lab. Something that should only be his, but that other men were taking advantage of.
He cursed again — at himself or the whole situation, he wasn't sure.
Viktor didn't tell.
Which was to be expected. After all, Jayce spent weeks not understanding the origin of his friend's illness, and only understood it once he had pursued him — an uncomfortable detail to mention, within a conversation even more uncomfortable if Jayce decided to bring up the subject. He shouldn't pressure him, just make it clear that Viktor trusted him enough, and so they would make a decision together, right?
But Viktor didn't say anything at all. Several days passed, and his friend's reactions to the days were always the same. Sometimes he arrived relieved, but sometimes his face was contorted in agony, and Jayce was sure of what had happened. On a Thursday that came two weeks after his discovery, Viktor seemed so lost when he arrived that Jayce couldn't help but imagine large fingers on Viktor’s sides, moving up and down, useless words expelled in a gruff voice — “stay still, yeah, like that” — while a man took advantage of him. For some reason, all his fantasies revolved around someone tall, strong, with short hair, hands encircling his waist: someone like Jayce himself.
And, for obvious reasons, this put him in bad places at work.
One week, and Jayce saw the situation as something horrendous. Two, and he couldn't contain his erection whenever he saw Viktor's pressed lips. Three, he felt angry at his friend for not trusting him. Four, and it all came together: what was happening on the transport was awful, but was Viktor learning to like it? Maybe he wanted it to be his little secret, and he was still a victim, but fuck, he was being touched by other men when he shouldn’t, like a slut…
No. Jayce couldn't be as awful as those men, and he knew his friend better than anyone else. Viktor was brilliant, a scientist far greater than all the preppy guys from the Academy. He was fearless, didn't mind making mistakes and experimenting, but was also kind and considerate of others, treating the employees around him cordially. Viktor was firm when speaking to Jayce, but could be very shy with strangers. He wasn't intimidated by challenges, and his unique perspective on things always saved them both from trouble. He was cute, with a gentle personality and worthy of being around.
And Jayce was a dreadful person for even thinking about any perversion regarding his friend.
But it was hard to resist. Little by little, besides his beauty, Jayce noticed details about the scientist that he only began to see after the incident: how the end of his back had a soft curve, how his ears blushed easily, how his hair had a special way of falling when Viktor moved a lot. It was impossible to stop the images from pumping through his mind, now that his eyes were wide open. Viktor would be absolutely delicious to have in bed. No matter what was between his legs, Jayce could cover it all with one hand. He could make that stern face turn into nothing but moans and gasps with a finger, with a rub, with a squeeze…
He was starting to run out of steam. Masturbating at work was far from ideal, and the more time passed, the more Jayce returned to the root of the problem: Viktor was in trouble. The image of the man rubbing against him still fueled anger, but the memory was fading, giving way to an overly fertile imagination, which sent shivers down his spine. What else were they doing to Viktor while he wasn't looking? Was it just on the train, or could the situation escalate to them taking him to one of the small cabins at the stations, to take full advantage of him, to fuck him open, unprotected?
The idea disgusted him. He knew that perverts, when they didn't receive the due punishment for their actions, worsened the situation over time. If Viktor wasn't going to mention it, then Jayce would have to do something on his own. It was risky for their friendship, but Viktor would understand.
It was, after all, for his own good.
Jayce decided to follow him for a few more days to ensure that the harassment didn't happen all the time.
It wasn't very easy. Having to make up that a cousin was visiting so he could leave early and get ready was a terrible image he was projecting about his commitment to Hextech. He cared so much about the research that he took documents about it home to study before bed (risky, he knew), but he felt even more committed to Viktor and his mission. Without Viktor, there would be no research, after all.
With the plan formed, Jayce was able to get to know his friend a little better than he was allowed on normal days. Well, it’s more fitting to say Jayce discovered a lot by following his friend around.
Even when Viktor managed to get a seat, he always gave it up to pregnant women or women with small children, smiling when they thanked him. It was sweet. He greeted the doorman and the cleaning ladies, spoke softly to the vendors at the bakery, waved to small children along the way. Just like in the lab, he was distracted by his own thoughts as he walked, but not enough to misstep or fail to be polite to others.
(It almost made Jayce feel guilty about his own fantasies. Almost.)
He ended up going a little further to better understand Viktor's day-to-day life, but who could blame him? His colleague was an interesting man. He could understand the unscrupulous attraction that certain people felt for him, to the point of hypnotizing his body into constantly wanting to be near his presence. Even if he was just doing the weekly shopping, choosing a new book, or hanging sheets on the balcony, Viktor was an interesting figure to observe. While Jayce watched him having tea before bed, not entirely covered by the curtains of his bedroom window, he even felt the urge to touch him again.
At work, he compensated for the intrusion: he didn't hold his shoulders as often, stopped inviting him to lunch several times and forgot to bring the coffee Viktor liked. If Viktor was upset, he didn't show it, although Jayce had the impression that his head stayed down longer when he got on the train. At those times, Jayce hardly needed to worry about being discovered, since Viktor didn't notice who was around.
More episodes occurred while he observed.
As Jayce suspected, it wasn't the same person (or perhaps, distracted enough by the actions, he hadn't memorized the men's appearance?), but the ritual was the same: busy day, chest close, hand on hip, and a look of shame. At first, Jayce would get so angry that he would stop observing and get off the train at the next stop, but over time he got used to observing through a cold, calculating lens. The key was that they only did that to his colleague because there was no punishment. But Jayce couldn't just show up, beat up a dozen strangers in front of Viktor, and pretend nothing had happened. He had to punish everyone who hurt his colleague, and make it very clear to those who wanted a piece of the pie next that the plate belonged to him.
He decided to take justice into his own hands when he noticed that one of the men was related to an enforcer. If Viktor made a complaint, they wouldn’t take him seriously — just like Viktor told Jayce sometimes, that government only cared about the illegality of an action when it posed a threat to the main power; Jayce understood that now.
The man wasn't tall, but still bigger than Viktor, his heavy hands groping the curve of his colleague's buttocks; hands too disgusting to touch such a sacred place. He slid them there, going up to his lower back, Jayce's favorite spot, the second most significant contact he made with Viktor (first was his shoulders, safer). As if soiling the place, the outlines of his fingers were painted there, on Viktor's lower back, in Jayce's eyes. The man was corpulent and reasonably handsome, with a short beard and a wicked smile.
Jayce got off at the same station as him.
The man might have been strong, but, caught off guard, didn't pose much of a threat. In fact, it was almost a ritual of humiliation — not public, unlike what he did to Viktor — quick and firm, with the guarantee that it wouldn't happen again.
At least, the man swore he wouldn't do it again.
And that was true. He never touched Viktor again.
With the first one eliminated from the list, the rest was very easy.
Taller and stronger than Viktor, with short hair, a grown or trimmed beard, white with their pale or overly pink blushes, men with their smells of men's deodorant, aftershave, and the day's sweat — a warm, pervasive aroma that Jayce noticed lingered a little on his colleague when he arrived on the mornings of the harassment. Even if there was no direct skin-to-skin contact, Viktor carried the mark of those men with him, as if the terror of having been touched wasn't enough.
Two more were cut. Jayce followed the same formula: he followed them after the train, attacked by surprise, left them crying and humiliated on the ground, like pathetic insects who thought they were good enough to take advantage of their colleague's vulnerability. As if Viktor were something to be used — his thin shins, soft thighs, the little cries he gave when he felt a stronger squeeze, as if he were being hunted and shot down to be devoured… — or exploited. Pfft, pathetic men who thought they were predators. And yet, when confronted, they seemed like brats, defenseless animals who “couldn’t resist,” as if they were poor victims of the succulent, too strong seduction of a man just taking public transport.
With the fourth man, perhaps Jayce exaggerated a bit, even threatening his descendants, but how could he not when the man declared that Viktor was known by his small community of exhausted workers as the train whore, who begged for more while being groped by them?
It was a lie, for sure, a way to blame the victim. They didn’t know the real Viktor. His brilliant mind and out-of-the-box ideas, his above-average intelligence, the way he managed to overcome his own mistakes not with condescending pride, but with humility and recognition. He was an incredible man and a perfect partner, and they didn’t deserve to touch him.
Little by little, the occurrences decreased. Getting the message across to some was working. Viktor hummed as he chose his tea at the shop, yawned comfortably as he read before tucking himself to sleep and completely focused on the calculations during work, raising his face to the walls of the Hextech building, without the fear of before. He smiled sweetly when Jayce returned to serve their coffee, which made Jayce start thinking about maybe asking him out sometime.
More relaxed too, Jayce went back to keeping to his regular work schedule and pampering his colleague with sandwiches, hot drinks, and conversations after work. He stared at his partner's hips and waist, no longer thinking about strange hands stopping there; he saw his back and knew that his ass was safe from rubbing and indirect contact with dirty and undeserving dicks.
Everything seemed fine.
But Jayce had to check.
He chose a random day to follow Viktor again — although, by this point, he already knew the right way to the small apartment a few blocks from the lab by heart — and, feeling bolder than usual, he didn't even change his clothes for his mission. If Viktor spotted him in the train car, Jayce could pretend he was going to a nearby market or something like that.
For some reason, he wanted to feel what it was really like to be in that routine. To be a man taking the train south, letting his body lightly bump against the other passengers, swaying on the tracks as if he were like everyone else. To see Viktor from afar, his eyes distant, gazing at the darkened landscape outside, as if he were part of that daily life; Jayce wanted, perhaps, to be like one of those men…
When he realized it, there was already a guy near Viktor. Tall, strong, big hands, middle-aged, the typical type. Fury rose in his head: shouldn't they leave Viktor alone at this point? Jayce made sure to get his message across firmly. How could they not understand that Viktor belonged to him and no one else?
But perhaps that was the part of the plan that needed to be tested. He insisted that they shouldn't give in to their perversions, but he never stated that Viktor had an owner. Not that he owned his colleague, of course not. But... they were partners, weren't they? And Jayce had the mission to protect him. Because he was a Piltovan, with more power of speech, of course. That's all. Jayce could, so he should. But how to make something like that clear?
As usual, that disgusting hand went up his thigh, pressed near his groin, and a tongue dared to brush against the top of his ear. Viktor bent down, trying to escape the contact but ended up pressing even closer. The man murmured something, smirking, the bastard, as if he were pleasing Viktor, whose eyes were downcast and cheeks flushed, his eyelashes trembling, and the asshole spoke, raising his hand, moving closer to the center—
Jayce gripped that hand so tightly that the man let out a silent gasp of surprise. He yanked it away, stepped in front of him, replacing the hip grip with his own. When the man turned to complain about the theft, his eyes widened in recognition — Jayce had never seen him before, but rumors of his appearance must have circulated — and, pale, with a sweaty brow and his collar too loose, ashamed of having been caught in the act, moved to the back of the carriage, plunging into the crowd. Jayce smiled with the victory.
Squeezed between the passengers, however, he himself couldn't get out of that place yet. He was about to tell Viktor that it was alright, that he could straighten up, but something in his mind screamed not to. His hands were still gripped at his waist. Viktor was still bent over, frozen pose looking doubtful, yet suspicious.
He must have thought that another man had taken the first man's place to take advantage of him.
Although Jayce couldn't do that. He wasn't just any passenger, no matter how much he tried to act like one of them. After all, he knew Viktor, he was his partner, he already knew the smell of his hair, and the pressure on his lower back, and how he… he…
Just like he imagined, Viktor’s perfume was even stronger felt from behind.
And thinking about it, maybe those men weren't really big, but rather Viktor's waist was small — rather, Viktor was just small. Jayce could almost touch his thumbs together, and the fit in his hands seemed perfect. He could move Viktor precisely against his body, so lightly and easily, and not that he did, but someone passed behind him and the train accelerated, rocking them to get even closer.
And his groin fit perfectly against his buttocks.
“Fuck,” Jayce murmured, but his voice was swallowed by excitement, leaving only consonants that rattled against his teeth, grinding against each other as Jayce noticed he already had an erection. Against his best friend’s ass. Inside a crowded subway.
It was exactly the kind of thing he shouldn’t be doing, despite having seen and imagined countless others doing it in the last few weeks. That’s why he punched those guys, wasted his free time, prayed, and cursed himself for it happening. Jayce shouldn’t. He knew Viktor and wanted to do everything the right way, invite him for coffee, give him a sweet first kiss, and make love cuddled up in his own comfortable bed.
But the train slowed down, pushing Viktor’s body even closer to his with the suspension of movement.
His cock throbbed inside his pants. Several times in the last few months he had touched himself while wearing clothes to understand what was so exciting about what those men did, and now he was discovering that it wasn’t something physical, but rather the simple possibility of doing it. It was a matter of power, and Viktor seemed to be giving it to him, being so obedient and not changing places. Besides, more people were coming in, crowding bodies, making it impossible to see what was happening below their chests. Jayce could simply do whatever he wanted.
It was pure instinct. He wasn't thinking. His hand simply released from his waist, went down, and slipped inside his pants. Viktor usually wore a belt, but today there wasn't one to get in the way, and his fingers easily passed through the barrier of his underwear, finding the warmth of pubic hair, open fingers, the corners of his lower lips. It was warm and, as he moved closer to the center, wet, perfect for sliding.
A pussy, a confirmation of what Jayce had suspected for a while, but never could ask about, especially after noticing different things in Viktor’s shopping and trips to the market. And wet, ready for him to take — maybe that man, who called him the train whore, was right… No. No, that wasn’t right, that could have been just a natural response, yes, a completely natural response to Jayce’s presence…
Jayce tried circling his friend's cock, and received a weak response, having to hold his other hand on him more firmly. In truth, there was no room to fall, but his instinct was only speaking louder, and Jayce felt that holding on would be necessary while he played with the folds, experiencing the warmth of the cunt available in front of him.
Jayce could no longer think, nor notice the rigidity of the body; after all, Viktor was wet for him, heavy breathing making a force against his chest. He inserted two fingers into his opening, curved them, and pressed his entire hand against his cunt to increase the friction of his own cock against that ass.
He had all his clothes on and couldn't feel it all through only his fingers, but the sensation was already enough to drive him crazy. Jayce buried his face in his nape, pressing against any point he could find inside the other, rubbing and enjoying every possible contact of his organ against Viktor's softness. He opened his mouth, wanting to taste him — a need he felt whenever Viktor brought his lips close to a mug, smiling calmly, saying, “Thank you, Jayce, today’s coffee is especially great.” Viktor’s accent always thickened when he enjoyed something — and God, it was perfect, salty from sweat and sweet from affection. He almost wished Viktor could do it back, taste his sweat and seed and say “Thank you, your come tastes especially great today,” with that pretty, mind numbing accent of his, voice cracking behind desire.
Little did he know everything Jayce saw him doing in their daily life and twisted into sick imaginations. Little did he understand what about him attracted this kind of perversion.
And that's why Jayce could understand those men. Even though they knew him much less than him, his partner's figure was truly irresistible. The soft moans that came from his mouth, the trembling of his body, his legs weak from the moment, the weight against him, and the sweet scent of his skin were enough to drive anyone crazy. And Jayce couldn't allow that anymore.
Viktor was his.
They were supposed to get off — well, Viktor was supposed to get off — two stops back, but Jayce was so distracted by the pleasure building in his groin that he didn't notice; Viktor, then, must have been lost too. Was he enjoying it? He certainly seemed to be, his body arching further and further, looking close to an orgasm. Again, did he, deep down, always enjoy being taken advantage of like this? The thought infuriated Jayce, who increased the depth his fingers reached and quickened the rhythm of his own hips. Too furious to go down that path, he decided to replace the thought with the fantasy of being able to pull down his pants right there and fuck Viktor in front of everyone, of bending him over the metal bar and squeezing his hips while penetrating him without any protection.
Of leaving his mark on the other's body in every way possible — on fingerprints nailed into his skin, on his seed taking in his womb.
Which he couldn't do that way, being still confined to his pants; he couldn't act out all his fantasies, not in public…
Then an idea came to him at the same time as Viktor's body seemed to give way, trembling softly and weighing even more against Jayce. He came, Jayce realized, amazed and scared at the same time with all the implications. Viktor came with my fingers, he wanted to laugh, but used his strength to keep his partner standing, kissing the skin of his neck to calm his breathing somehow, as if Viktor understood that this was Jayce and not just any stranger and as if it were impossible for him to be caught by someone more observant.
After a while, less than a third of the way to the next stop — Jayce realized that Viktor might very well finally decide to get off the train — Jayce removed his hand from inside Viktor's underwear, brought his fingers to his face and inhaled, feeling a pang of pain at not having enough courage to lick them; it was a missed opportunity, but perhaps he could do it next time, with his impending orgasm not coming too soon. Even more so because now he had to gather all his courage for something more important.
He had to mark Viktor, get his message across.
Awkwardly, desperate and about to explode, Jayce unzipped his own pants, scratching his hand with the waistband during the messy process, and pulled his cock out. He couldn't get it all the way out, and his balls were squeezed inside his clothes; the opening hurt his cock, and he trembled like crazy, but he managed to withdraw discreetly, using Viktor's body as a shield. One of his hands held his prey in place, and the other began to pump his own cock.
After so many months rubbing against himself through his pants, so many days of lewd fantasies, so much time repressing his own feelings to stay away from it, a mere touch with his own skin was enough to bring Jayce to the climax.
Once again, he buried his forehead against Viktor's neck, pressing his cock against his partner's lower back so the hot spurts would fall only on that curve, without dripping onto the floor between them. He didn't stop rubbing until the last drop came out, white and thick, enough to stain his uniform and mark him properly as Jayce Talis’ territory. Jayce silently whispered “Fuck,” ecstatic at Viktor's strong presence around him, despite being in…
Shit.
Everything hit him at once: the public place, the non-consensual act, the shame of having his cock out, the wrong path they were both taking. With surprising speed, Jayce straightened up and removed his hands from Viktor, although part of him felt proud of the stain on his back, the redness in his ears, the fact that he had scared away a stranger and had duly marked his propert—he means, his territory. No. His friend. He had, correction, protected his friend. Now no one would get near him again, right?
Even so, he stepped away as if the contact suddenly burned. Looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed the crime he had committed, not even the man from before seemed to be nearby.
The train stopped, the voice on the loudspeaker announced the stop, and Jayce took a step back to push his way through the crowd and escape, but his hand was grabbed.
Still with his back turned to him, Viktor kept his head down, his hand trembling in his shirt sleeve. Jayce's heart froze at all the possibilities that could happen — being recognized was just as horrifying as being remembered as a mere stranger who harassed Viktor — which made him remain in place, sweating profusely.
The tone of voice came low, but just loud enough for Jayce to hear. Embarrassed, but smiling, relaxed in a way.
“T-Thank you…”
And, skillfully, without turning his head to him, Viktor picked up his cane and entered the crowd, disappearing into the middle of the station.
Jayce didn't see the rest of the day go by, nor did he understand how he had gotten home, everything and everyone passing by like blurs in front of him. He seemed to be outside his own body. The moment he got to his apartment, he felt everything surrounding him as something tainted — he threw his clothes, keys, documents, and wallet to the ground, horrified by the fact that it wasn't the things, but him who was dirty.
He was a horrible person, a terrible friend, and a man who should never be an example. He should be ashamed of who he was. How could he do something like that? How could he copy all those men and take advantage of his friend like they did? He should have protected Viktor, that's all. Jayce was horrible. How could he?
And how could he still feel so excited when he remembered the texture of Viktor's warm cunt?
Jayce furiously masturbated three more times and ended up going to bed late. In the morning, he felt dread at having to get up and see Viktor again, uncertain of how his friend would be — it was a wide gap between just having covered groins rubbed against him and having a hand inside his body bringing him to orgasm — whether he had been recognized, whether he would be able to maintain normalcy. He didn't even have the time or energy to think about the man's murmur before he got off the train.
When he arrived at the lab, however, he was surprised once again: Viktor was acting normally, like a lab partner who got along very well with Jayce, as usual. He wished him a good day, asked for coffee, showed Jayce part of the project he was working on. It was so natural that nothing else crossed Jayce's mind, the fear and shame swallowed and exhausted after so much tension. At no point was he left alone to torture himself with his own thoughts, which relieved him, in a way. The other's presence was so powerful that it was capable of making him forget — something worthy of someone who convinced him not to kill himself years ago...
When it was time to leave, Viktor stood up and stated that he would take the train. Finally, he asked for company, and, despite using a lie — claiming that the Piltovans were very rude to those who used canes — for the request, it was still a step further. He didn't recognize Jayce then, which was good, because it meant Jayce hadn't ruined their friendship, but it also meant his action had probably hurt his friend, enough to make him ask for his protection.
And that almost made him spiral. However, as he agreed and started walking with Viktor, Jayce noticed where he was holding him, right in the lower back.
His uniform had a white stain.
“Shall we go?” Viktor smiled at him innocently. “I’ll show you the path. My station is only four stops from here…”