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It starts off as a stress relief tactic—Viktor’s phrasing, of course. Jayce is skeptical, unfamiliar with the concept as he often first finds himself with Viktor’s suggestions. But since Viktor’s suggestions also have a track record for being extremely fucking good, he obliges.
Jayce arranges all the cushions in their apartment on the floor in front of the couch, sets up a nice, cozy space for Viktor to comfortably get on his knees for Jayce, to stay on his knees for Jayce. A space where Jayce can thumb through his notes from the day with one hand and idly pet Viktor’s hair with the other. A space that makes it all feel casual without being too clandestine; Jayce considered tucking Viktor under his desk but he’s too selfish to deny himself the ability to look at Viktor as much as he wants.
Especially when he looks like this.
Viktor’s golden eyes, heavy-lidded, reflect the dim, warm lighting. He has one hand pressed into the cushions, the other curled around Jayce’s leg in a weak grip. His striped shirt is unbuttoned all the way down, hanging off his bony shoulders, and apart from that he’s just got his gray boxer briefs on.
And, of course, his mouth is lax and open and stretched around Jayce’s cock, and has been for the last twenty minutes or so. He’s got about half of it in his mouth, the head resting on the back of his tongue, lips sealed around the shaft, drool gathered in the corners of his lips.
Jayce is just glad he had the wherewithal to get himself off once in the bathroom before they started this, because—fuck.
This isn’t their first attempt to relieve Viktor’s stress. Viktor’s been wound tighter and tighter every day over the last several weeks, it seems. He’s in and out of bed, joining Jayce sometimes as late as three in the morning and then still tossing and turning, and Jayce can’t do much but avoid the condescension of asking can I help and just quietly try to help. Viktor appreciates action over platitudes; Jayce is well aware of that at this point in their relationship.
But nothing’s worked so far.
And Jayce has been wound tighter because of Viktor’s insomnia. With the bureaucracy of hextech becoming Hextech and too many voices in his ear and endless long-term projects, Jayce’s days are increasingly wrought with decision making that leads to increasingly murky results—negative feedback is rare and positive feedback even rarer. And the thing is, it’s difficult to secure that sweet mesolimbic pathway dopamine from decision making that disappears, intangibly, into the void.
He used to channel his need for tangible success, for visible accomplishment, into his work at the forge. But he’s found it easier—and a lot more fun—to please Viktor.
Tangible success. Visible accomplishment. Viktor’s not a prize to be won, no, but there’s no denying how successful and accomplished Jayce feels faced with Viktor’s satisfaction, tracked qualitatively in his flushed face and trembling body and quantifiable in how many times Jayce can make him come on his cock.
The dopamine from racking up Viktor’s satisfaction actually might be a little addictive. Because now that Viktor’s sleepless nights are accumulating, and Jayce has thrown every sleep-inducing method he’s aware of at him—not just orgasms, obviously, but tea and carb-heavy dinners and countless medications and so on—Jayce’s engineering brain, his problem-solving brain, his dopamine-starved brain, is on full alert. Viktor’s sleeplessness is causing Jayce to develop his own form of insomnia.
Probably there are some co-dependency issues to be explored there, but Jayce is choosing to be sentimental about it. And to keep approaching the problem from new angles like it’s his fucking job.
This solution, as aesthetically pleasing as it is, doesn’t seem to be working yet. Viktor’s gorgeous and exhausted and filled kneeling in front of Jayce, sure, but Jayce knows all-too-well what Viktor looks like when he’s actually relaxed. And right now, with the corners of his eyes still creased with stress, the lines of muscles in his neck still taut and coiled with tension, and his pupils still alert, still focused, still reflecting his worries—Viktor is anything but cured.
He asked Jayce to give him half an hour before checking in, and they’re approaching that. Jayce drags his fingers through Viktor’s hair a little harder, scratches at his scalp with his nails, and Viktor gives a token hum in response. Jayce smooths his thumb over the furrow in Viktor’s brow and it doesn’t disappear, Viktor just tilting his weary gaze up at Jayce.
Yeah, this isn’t working. Like, at all. But Jayce can fix this. Jayce can take action. Jayce has got this.
“It’s been thirty minutes,” Jayce says, and sets aside his notes when it’s been maybe twenty-five, but it’s not like Viktor has any idea.
Viktor looks even more defeated, now, and Jayce’s heart squeezes in his chest. No, he won’t let Viktor give up. He knows what is missing here, what his partner is failing to consider. Viktor’s still so wrapped up in his own head he can’t relax. When it comes to this kind of stuff, Viktor can set the initial parameters, but unless Jayce surprises him, unless Jayce viscerally pulls him out of his expectations, this isn’t going to do much for his—their—insomnia.
Viktor shifts, mouth flexing around Jayce, a long-awaited swallow. His tongue laves up against the bottom of Jayce’s cock and his soft palette undulates, pressing down. Jayce can see his throat adjusting from here, and then Viktor moves to drop Jayce’s cock.
Jayce grabs Viktor’s face in his free hand. He presses his thumb into one cheek, the rest of his fingers into the other, and pulls forward. Viktor’s eyes snap to Jayce’s, his lips still strained around Jayce’s cock, now even more so with Jayce forcing his cheeks to hollow out.
“Give it another five,” Jayce says. “I’ll keep watching the clock for you.”
Viktor’s expression regresses ten years, his eyes going wide and pleading, his lips pouting a little. God, he needs Jayce’s help so bad. And who is Jayce to deny him this? It would be selfish to not indulge in Viktor holding his cock in the hot seal of his mouth a little longer.
“Try taking it all the way,” Jayce says. Like he’s altruistically offering something. He threads his other hand tighter in Viktor’s hair and squeezes his face firmer with the other. “Try holding it down your throat.”
Already, Jayce can tell this is working better. Viktor relaxes his mouth again, eyes falling half-lidded and a flush burning along his cheekbones, and he noses closer to Jayce’s pubic hair. He’s not controlling the narrative anymore, doesn’t know exactly what’s coming next, and it’s visibly letting him break away from his brain.
But now he’s even more of a sight to look at, stuffed with Jayce’s cock. He sighs a little through his nose and contentedly nuzzles down, nose finally bottoming out so that Jayce is fully sheathed down his partner’s tight throat, and he glances up at Jayce again. Maybe for approval. Maybe to see how much he’s affecting Jayce. Probably both.
“There you go,” Jayce says, even though what he wants to say is God, fuck, are you kidding me. He thumbs the corner of Viktor’s stretched lips and nods his approval. “That’s better. Five minutes. Keep relaxing for me. Breathe through your nose.”
The five minutes are exceedingly longer than the initial twenty-five. Jayce’s cock twitches in Viktor’s mouth, and he can just imagine how he’s leaking pre-cum where he’s buried into his throat. It takes all of Jayce’s self-control to keep his hips still, to keep from leveraging his fist in Viktor’s hair to pull him off and plunge him back down.
But it’s definitely working. Viktor’s eyes are steadily glossing over, steadily losing focus, steadily signaling to Jayce that he’s not working under his own parameters but eager and willing to be guided, directed, controlled.
It’s not something Jayce ever expected to see from Viktor when he first met him, that’s for sure. It’s not something that Viktor has shown to anyone else, probably. Viktor relishes in the control he holds over himself and others and his autonomy, it’s part of what makes him so admirable, part of why Jayce loves him. And Jayce has been at the receiving end of Viktor’s control issues enough times—more often than not, actually—that it’s not like he’s not into that side of him.
But.
Viktor is, of course, multifaceted. They’ve built up a mutual trust over several years of spending nearly every waking hour together. And Viktor, as it turns out, enjoys relinquishing control, too. He just doesn’t trust anyone enough to take it from him.
Except Jayce.
Jayce, who hasn’t been watching the clock at all, if he’s being honest. Who’s fully fixated on Viktor, on circling his stretched lips with his thumb and carding through his tangled hair and reveling in every little sigh and whine that vibrates through his larynx.
“How’s my cock feel in your throat?” he asks, and Viktor hums louder for him, doing nothing good for Jayce’s thin veneer of self-control. Jayce slides his hand on Viktor’s face to his neck and holds it there, until Viktor swallows instinctively, and Jayce can feel where his partner is accommodating him. That does even worse things to Jayce’s self-control.
There’s really no getting around the fact that Jayce is going to fuck Viktor’s face before this is over. It’s only a matter of whether Jayce can execute it in a productive way. A way that will activate that mesolimbic reward pathway Jayce is so addicted to. Because for all the massages and orgasms and pots of herbal tea Jayce has thrown at the insomnia problem, he hasn’t tried forcing Viktor out of his mind.
But that will take time, and Viktor’s already been kneeling for half an hour.
Jayce pulls Viktor’s hair and slowly, slowly extricates him from his dick. The head pops out with a satisfying suction sound, and Jayce’s cock is shiny with saliva, strings of it still connecting to Viktor’s parted lips. The corners of Viktor’s mouth are wet with it, his chin too, but he doesn’t move to wipe his face, he just stares up at Jayce with quiet patience, eyes still hazy.
Maybe it won’t take as long as Jayce expects, if Viktor’s already like this. But maybe that’s just the weeks of sleeplessness caught up with them both.
“Take my place on the couch,” Jayce says, in favor of asking Viktor if he’s tired of kneeling. Of course he’s fucking tired of kneeling. Jayce helps him up from the floor and onto the couch, and then he stands in front of Viktor, his own dress shirt open. He steps out of his shoved-down pants and boxers to get them out of the way.
And Viktor’s already grabbing Jayce’s cock in one hand and guiding it back to his mouth, sealing his lips around the head and dragging his tongue across the slit to gather and swallow Jayce’s pre-cum.
“Yeah,” Jayce says. He’s trying to be cool, but he can’t help but be in awe of his partner’s eagerness. “You’re going to be so good for me.”
Viktor’s eyes flicker up to Jayce, and they’re suddenly no longer hazy. They’re lucid and sharp and Jayce can just fucking see the gears turning in his brilliant mind when he pulls off of Jayce’s cock and says, “Really, Jayce, I thought that this was for—"
Jayce cups one hand around the back of Viktor’s head, grabs Viktor’s face with the other, and stuffs his mouth full with his cock, relishing in the indignant mmmmmf that turns to a contented moan as soon as Jayce is down his throat again. Jayce holds him there, nose buried into his pubic hair again, eyes turned up to meet Jayce’s, and the soft muscles in Viktor’s throat undulate around him.
“We’re doing this for you,” Jayce says, holding Viktor’s face firmly, praying his voice doesn’t waver. Because what he’s built up in his head is sort of a filthy masterpiece, but dirty talking isn’t exactly his strongest skill set. “I’m going to help you relax so you can actually get some sleep. So don’t fuck it up by talking, okay? You just keep your pretty little mind empty for me. I’ll tell you what to do.”
Viktor exhales a shocked whine through his nose and attempts to nod, and his eyes are webbing over with that glossiness again. So Jayce is pretty sure that landed the way he hoped it would.
To be fair, it’s certainly easier to talk down to Viktor when Viktor can’t talk back.
“Hands on my thighs,” Jayce says. He pretends not to marvel at how fast Viktor does it, curling his fingernails into the skin there, catlike. “You’ll let go and tug on my shirt if you need me to stop. Understand?”
The offering of an out seems to erase any remaining reservations Viktor had, his fingers flexing against Jayce’s thighs again, more saliva pooling around the corners of his lips as he waits, wet-mouthed and open-throated, for Jayce to move.
“You’re such a fucking mess already.”
Jayce fists Viktor’s hair harder, his fingers twisted within it, and drops his hand from Viktor’s face, and then he slides out, the head of his cock sitting on the tip of Viktor’s tongue, before slowly rocking back in.
Viktor’s pliant and relaxed, his mouth and throat bowing to Jayce’s cock, and he breathes heavier through his nose. Jayce repeats, and repeats, and then he grabs the sides of Viktor’s face with both hands and stuffs his throat harder. Viktor’s eyes roll back, and then close, his fingernails digging into Jayce’s skin.
He’s obscenely pretty like this, his eyelashes fluttering against his carved-out dark circles and flushed cheekbones, his hair pushed off his forehead, cheeks hollowed and mouth shiny with spit. He’s shiny all the way down, actually—drool covering his chin and neck, almost reaching his chest already.
Jayce withdraws entirely, once, to see just how shameless he’s rendered his partner, and Viktor heaves in air through his mouth, sticky threads of thick saliva and pre-cum connecting his swollen lips to the head of Jayce’s cock. His eyes open halfway again up at Jayce, golden irises eclipsed by fat, hazy pupils, and his mouth stays wide open and lax in preparation of swallowing Jayce down again.
Viktor’s definitely there. He’s in subspace, or whatever. Or he’s doing an exceptional acting job despite being mentally and physically exhausted.
But Jayce thinks he can push him a little deeper. He thinks, actually, that the exhaustion is exacerbating Viktor’s willingness to descend into it, to turn brainless and subservient and eager to please. And since Jayce is solving the exhaustion tonight even if it fucking ruins him—he might as well take advantage of it.
Jayce thrusts his hips forward again without warning, pulling Viktor onto his cock with both hands, and Viktor gags, his throat contracting tight around Jayce.
It takes everything within Jayce to not ask if he’s okay. But Viktor’s hand isn’t tugging on his shirt, and he’s coughing a little but coming back to himself, and the vibrations of his struggle feel sort of fucking fantastic.
So instead, Jayce takes a slow breath and says, “Yeah, that’s right. There you go. You’re so good at taking my cock.”
That commitment to the role turns Viktor inside out, apparently, because when he’s done catching his breath and Jayce starts—slowly—fucking his face again, Viktor’s whimpering with every withdraw, starving for it. And he’s just streaked with drool and pre-cum, tracked down all the way to the waistband of his gray boxer briefs…which are dark and damp where his neglected cunt soaks through them. Fuck.
Okay, well. That was fast. Jayce has definitely never seen Viktor like this before.
“Fuck,” he says, accidentally out loud, almost breaking face.
But apparently that doesn’t matter to Viktor anymore, deep enough in the headiness of it that he just tilts his head up at Jayce.
It’s heady for Jayce, too, how much power he’s been given, here. Viktor, for once, seems to want no input on what happens next. He wants to be told what to do. Jayce is pretty sure at this point if he asked Viktor if he wanted him to fuck him, he’d be met with the same mindless agreement as if he asked him if he wanted to be locked in a cage.
And it’s tempting, the idea of pulling Viktor off his cock and into his lap and sliding into that soaking heat. It’d probably take no effort at all, and Viktor would probably make the sweetest sounds for Jayce. He might come on Jayce’s dick from penetration alone, so worked up and wet, or he might whine in need until Jayce jerked off his swollen little cock.
Jayce pauses with his dick resting on Viktor’s tongue and digs his thumb and index finger into the hinge of Viktor’s jaw, holding him there. His expression is hungry for guidance, eyes never leaving Jayce’s.
Yeah, it’s so, so fucking tempting. Jayce is overwhelmed, truthfully. Maybe more than Viktor in a sort of sick way. Viktor’s got his mind shut off, overwhelmed to full circuit overload, but Jayce can’t stop thinking. He needs to make the right choice for Viktor. He needs to make him sleep through the night for once. He needs to make a decision that leads to that clear, tangible accomplishment he craves so fucking badly.
And he’s pretty sure that keeping Viktor here, untouched and lost in his daze, serving Jayce and not getting anything out of it but praise and appreciation, is what Viktor needs most right now.
“Look at you,” Jayce says, and suppresses his surprise at how serrated his voice is, low in his chest, looking at Viktor. “You’re so pretty like this.” He cards through Viktor’s matted, disheveled hair with his other hand, pushing it off his fever-hot forehead as he ruts his cockhead along the textured hard palate above Viktor’s tongue.
Viktor hums in appreciation, eyes falling nearly shut, and he nuzzles Jayce’s hand. His tongue leaps into action, at the opportunity to be useful, Jayce guesses, and laves along Jayce’s cock where it’s depressed down to the floor of his mouth.
“Yeah. That’s good. You’re being so good for me, aren’t you?” Jayce thumbs over the intersection of Viktor’s eyebrows again, and it’s smooth and relaxed and free of tension. Viktor’s lax and boneless all over, really, except where his wrists flex to stay propped up on Jayce’s thighs. And his tongue, of course, isn’t relaxed, fully committed to servicing Jayce. “So good. My sweet, pretty, mindless little cockslut.”
The words feel filthy in Jayce’s mouth, only tempered by the fact that even more than the soon-to-be-requited fantasy of pumping his load down Viktor’s pliant throat, he’s just imagining Viktor satisfied and sleepy and curling up next to Jayce in bed and passing out for at least twelve hours.
But to get there, yeah, he’s gotta keep up the throat fucking thing. What a shame.
Jayce slides his hands back to hold the sides of Viktor’s face, then down to hold his neck, thumbs resting in the soft divot of his clavicle. He holds tight enough that Viktor doesn’t need to activate his own muscles to keep his head from lolling, but not so tight that he’s restricting his airflow or cutting off his carotid arteries. He’s already going to have trouble breathing. Jayce doesn’t need to make it any worse.
“Don’t forget to pull on my shirt if you need a break,” Jayce says, and Viktor blinks, his nails knead into Jayce’s thighs in response.
Jayce draws his hips back, just the head of his cock sealed in Viktor’s lips, and then he ruts forward, pressing all the way into his partner’s throat again. With his hands ensconcing his neck, taking up every inch of it, Jayce can feel where his cock distends Viktor’s throat so clearly it shuts Jayce’s own brain off, in a different, feral sort of way.
He repeats, and repeats, palming himself through Viktor’s delicate skin with every thrust, and Viktor goes nuts for it, eyes rolled back in his skull, all choked-off moans and new, fresh drool rolling down his chin every time Jayce withdraws.
It doesn’t take long, now, for Jayce to ride up to his orgasm. To draw it out, he stops withdrawing completely and just stays stuffed into Viktor’s throat, rutting in shallow thrusts, grunting and feeling up where his cockhead is bulging through Viktor’s neck in tangible, heady presses.
Viktor’s eyebrows start to furrow, and his whole body squirms, and Jayce figures it’s the oxygen deprivation. But he doesn’t pull back, just keeps fucking into his partner’s convulsing throat. Viktor’s lost like this, sure, but he’s still perfectly capable of performing a safe signal, still knows his own limits.
Jayce is like, almost certain, at least.
“Almost there,” he says, to be safe, and some of the tension eases from Viktor’s face. “Breathe through your nose. You’re okay.”
Viktor’s already doing that, but he exhales harder, huffing air into the minimal space between his face and where he’s buried into Jayce’s pubic hair, and the cute exertion of it, of his saccharine struggle to keep Jayce’s cock down his throat as long as possible while he’s clearly on the edge of choking on it, has Jayce driving forward a final time, holding Viktor still, and filling his throat with cum.
“Mmmmf—” Viktor protests, his face red. Jayce releases him, finally withdrawing his cock at the same time that Viktor goes to tug desperately on his shirt.
Viktor heaves in huge breaths, his hands falling to his own knees, saliva rolling from his parted lips. Jayce thinks he may have taken it too far, thinks Viktor might have been ripped from his mindless state by the need for oxygen, until Viktor finishes catching his breath and stares back up at Jayce, eyes tired but still cloudy and wordlessly asking what’s next?
Jayce crouches down, getting them on eye level again, and he kisses Viktor’s swollen, spit-shiny lips once. He presses his palm to where Viktor’s soaked through his boxers, and Viktor whines, yelps really, like he hadn’t even considered how good it would feel to be touched until now.
“Don’t worry,” Jayce says, and withdraws his hand. Viktor whimpers at the loss like he is, in fact, worried. “Gonna take you to the bed and make you come so many times you won’t be able to move. God, you did so well, Viktor. Wrap your legs around me.”
Viktor acquiesces, and his whole body is a fucking mess, plastered to Jayce’s when Jayce stands up. His skin is tacky with dried saliva and pre-cum from his chin to his stomach, and Jayce can feel his cunt, sticky and hot, through his boxers against his abdomen.
If he didn’t think Viktor was two or three or hopefully four orgasms away from passing out until the following afternoon, he’d convince him into the shower. Jayce supposes they always have tomorrow.
“Such a mess,” Jayce says, soft and appreciative, into Viktor’s ear, instead. He walks them to the bedroom, and Viktor moans quietly with every step, his swollen cock grinding through the fabric against Jayce’s stomach. “You were so good and wet for me, drooling like that. Can’t wait to get my fingers in your tight little cunt and repay the favor.”
“Jayce, please,” Viktor says, in a desperate whine, voice raw, using actual words so suddenly Jayce is almost surprised enough to break character. He almost hushes him, wanting him to stay so out of his mind he can’t talk, but Jayce supposes that’s not a given to his subspace. He just couldn’t talk before.
In the bedroom, Jayce is faced with another decision. He sort of wants to watch Viktor come undone, but he doesn’t want him to fall asleep on his back, knows the pins in his spine become uncomfortable after a certain amount of time. What he wants is to make it effortless: a mindless slide from exhaustion to orgasm to dead sleep, so seamless that Viktor can’t help but surrender to it.
“Gonna lay you on your side,” Jayce says, untangling Viktor’s limbs and sitting him on the bed. He eases his open shirt off his shoulders and kneels to roll his boxers off his legs.
There, crouched down with Viktor’s hot, dripping cunt exposed to the cool air for the first time all night right in his fucking face, Jayce grinds his teeth, saliva flooding his own mouth.
He supposes he’s allowed to divert from his own narrative, too. Once in a while. It’s not like Viktor knows what his plans are.
“But, uh, first,” Jayce says, backtracking, wrapping his hands around Viktor’s bony ankles. “Get your legs on my shoulders. Gotta clean up the mess you’ve made of yourself.”
Viktor doesn’t really do any of the work to get his legs on Jayce’s shoulders, but he stays boneless enough that it’s easy to hike them up and over, his heels pressing into Jayce’s traps. Jayce wraps Viktor’s hipbones in his hands, holding them still in preparation. His partner hasn’t had any direct contact yet, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to lose his fucking mind.
More than he already has, Jayce means.
Jayce savors the anticipation, the musky-sweet smell of Viktor and the intermittent whimpering building in his throat. Viktor’s sitting up, still, but trembling a little with the effort to keep his body upright, his core muscles overutilized with his legs propped up like that.
“Lay back,” Jayce says, looking up at him, their positions flipped for the first time that night. “Just relax for me.”
Viktor releases the tension in his abdomen, falling onto his back with a relieved sigh, like he wanted to do that anyway and was just waiting for permission. Jayce shakes his head a little, out of Viktor’s eyeline for once, and cannot believe his fucking luck. Not to mention how ruined he is, forever, now. If bringing Viktor to orgasm was habit-forming on its own, this docile seven-layers-deep-in-subspace Viktor is addictive in a way that leads men to lay waste to cities.
Jayce smooths his hands over Viktor’s hipbones, pressing down now, and then licks up the length of his partner’s flooded slit.
“Jayce—” Viktor’s muscles flex under Jayce’s hold, like he’s trying to thrash himself down for more friction, but he ultimately can’t move.
“Relax,” Jayce repeats, and then repeats the action, drawing more of Viktor’s sweet slick into his mouth and eliciting more feverish whines of his name. “Gonna take care of you like I said. You don’t have to do anything.” He thumbs over Viktor’s sharp hipbones, where the pulled-tight skin gives way to his sensitive lower stomach, and kisses Viktor’s red and swollen cock. “You did so well today, taking me down your throat like that. This is your reward.” Then he kisses Viktor’s inner thighs in turn, a gentle reminder that he doesn’t have to stay on target. “But you have to relax for me.”
Viktor doesn’t stop making all those pathetic, gorgeous little sounds, but he does stop trying to move his hips, does divest his body of tension in slow, gradual waves, until Jayce hums his approval and fixes his mouth around Viktor’s cock. Jayce sucks, and Viktor’s voice turns breathless, and Jayce abandons his hips to push two fingers into the soaking heat of him, and Viktor doesn’t take advantage of the freedom, stays still and obedient and perfect.
Jayce fucks Viktor on his fingers and circles his cock with his tongue, sucking and laving it and drawing Viktor’s noises to a fever-pitch. This is also addictive, mind-numbing even, the taste and the sound and the feel of Viktor clenching up on his fingers every time they bury to the knuckle, and Jayce has to be careful to not dip into that well-traversed mindless headspace of his own.
He has to stay in control so Viktor doesn’t have to be in control. And he still has to get Viktor to fall asleep, but Jayce still has him on his back with half his body hanging off the goddamn bed—fuck.
One orgasm like this. He’ll give him one like this. Then he needs to move him.
God, Jayce sounds like he has a fucking gambling problem. A Viktor problem, rather. Viktor has seriously wrecked Jayce’s mesolimbic reward pathways.
The dopamine-receptor synapse hits too fast, with Jayce’s decision to make Viktor come like this being followed almost immediately by Viktor, in fact, coming like this, soaking Jayce’s hand, gasping his name, convulsing in desperate little flutters around his fingers, spasms that just—keep—fucking—going until Jayce is convinced he should be preceding every one of Viktor’s orgasms with an hour of untouched cock-warming and throat-fucking subspace.
“Fuck,” Jayce says, and then grimaces at himself and pets Viktor’s still-motionless hips with his free hand and continues, “You were perfect, Viktor.” He withdraws his fingers, pulls back a little, and Viktor makes perhaps the most adorable, confused sound Jayce has ever heard in his life.
Jayce actually has to bite back a laugh. Maybe he’s spoiled his partner with all the multiple orgasms. Even this deep in subspace, the prospect of only getting one has him apparently stunned. It’s a little tempting to call him out on his greediness, to lean into the idea that Jayce might only let him come once, but unfortunately that doesn’t serve the whole curing his insomnia goal, so—
“Don’t worry, I know that’s not enough for you,” he says, unhooking Viktor’s legs from his shoulders, licking his lips of the last remnants of Viktor. He stands and indulges in watching over Viktor, spread out on the bed, legs parted and hanging off the side, fingers curled in the sheets above his head.
And then Jayce figures he’ll lean in a little. He deserves it. They both do.
“Greedy little slut,” Jayce continues. “Can’t even fathom the idea of only getting off once.”
Viktor actually looks pleased with himself, with this assessment, parting his legs more and stretching his arms further up, like he’s a fucking satisfied cat or something.
“Gonna make you come so many times you’ll be begging me to stop,” Jayce says. Viktor blinks, the promise catching up to his brain a little late, and he looks less pleased. Or maybe more pleased, in a fucked-up sort of way.
Jayce descends on him, pulling him up and assisting him onto his side where he can lean his weight on his stronger leg. It’s his preferred sleeping position, Jayce knows, and this is it—they’ve gone a little off track because Jayce has a lot of weaknesses tied up in Viktor even when he’s like this, but this, now, is when he’s going to overstimulate his partner so hard he passes out for a whole day. It’s time to cross the finish line and secure that sweet accomplishment dopamine jackpot.
Viktor’s pliant and moveable in his arms, letting Jayce slot a pillow under his head, get him set up so he has no reason to get up after and ruin all of Jayce’s hard work. Then, Jayce tucks against Viktor on his own side from behind, shoving one knee between his thighs to pry him open and wrapping an arm around to cup the damp hair on his pubic bone.
It’s immediately clear Jayce won’t have enough leverage to finger him the way he deserves. This domination thing comes with so much improvisation it’s sort of a fucking joke.
But there’s something to be said about the dopamine jackpot not coming too easy. The more problems Jayce can solve, the better, really.
“Hold on,” Jayce says, and wraps Viktor’s shoulders in both arms instead, rolls onto his back, carefully, so that Viktor is lying on top of him. It’s not ideal, since Viktor can’t just pass out like this, but at least Jayce has full control over his limbs and can roll him back onto his side when they’re done.
And it’s immediately more ideal in the way that really matters: Jayce slides one hand to the apex of Viktor’s thighs and stuffs him with two fingers again, rolls his thumb over his slick, swollen cock. Viktor whines for it, but he still doesn’t rock into it, doesn’t arch his body, staying obedient in Jayce’s arms and trusting Jayce to take care of him.
That trust is doing a lot of things to Jayce, actually. Especially now that Viktor’s lithe body is pressed along the length of Jayce’s, small and malleable and fever-hot, his ass grinded up against Jayce’s half-hard erection.
Jayce ignores that, for now, as best he can, and his other hand ascends to Viktor’s parted lips, pressing two more fingers into his talented mouth.
“Bite down on those if something hurts and I’ll stop,” he says. His voice is sounding pretty wrecked at this point in his own ears. He forces a third in, and Viktor huffs a muffled moan around them, his tongue instinctively jumping to action, licking along the crevices. His mouth can’t help but service whatever Jayce puts in it and fuck Jayce is fully fucking hard again.
He keeps ignoring it, fucking Viktor open on his fingers, sliding in a third and rubbing off his dick. Viktor’s all but screaming around Jayce’s fingers in his mouth, saying something indecipherable over and over until he sinks his teeth into Jayce’s hand.
Jayce immediately stops jerking him off and withdraws his fingers from his mouth, ready to ask what he needs, ask what Jayce has done wrong, but then Viktor’s rambling in his splintered voice, accent thicker than Jayce has ever heard it: “Please, Jayce, why won’t you fuck me? I’ve done everything you asked, I’ve been good for you, I don’t know what more I can do, I need you inside me, please Jayce please Jayce please mmmmmmf—"
Jayce shoves his fingers back into Viktor’s mouth, and his partner keeps begging around them. For a moment, Jayce thinks he’s sort of fucked up this whole doing the best for Viktor thing. This whole getting Viktor out of his mind, thing.
But considering Viktor’s never talked to Jayce like this before, never genuinely begged like this, never repeated himself over and over in a brainless fugue state—Jayce thinks he might have found the breaking point, actually.
All that’s left is to give Viktor what he’s asking for so nicely.
“Shhhh,” Jayce says, depressing Viktor’s tongue with his fingers, and Viktor quiets down. He doesn’t go silent, though, still huffing and whimpering a little. “You have been so good for me. So patient.”
He rolls Viktor back onto his side, gingerly, fingers staying stuffed in his mouth but freeing up his cunt. Viktor starts to get louder again, starts to repeat the involuntary pleaseJaycepleaseJaycepleaseJayce mantra around the fingers, so Jayce hushes him again, kisses the nape of his neck and breathes in the sticky sweet smell of him.
When Jayce slides into him from behind, gathering him in his arms like he weighs nothing and filling him up all at once, Viktor groans in satisfaction and then goes still and quiet again, sucking on Jayce’s fingers in placation. He’s soaked and warm and still fluttering, still convulsing weakly around Jayce even now that he hasn’t come in at least ten minutes.
Jayce is pretty sure reaching a third orgasm is going to take him a while. So he figures he’ll revel in finally getting his fix and draw out the last stretch here, with Viktor filled and trusting in his arms. He presses the heel of his free hand to Viktor’s hard cock and gently works it in waves, thrusting slow in time into the over-slick heat of him.
When Viktor comes a second time, he’s still alive and desperate for his next one, tonguing Jayce’s fingers and whimpering and squeezing the life out of Jayce with those uncharacteristically long-lasting muscle spasms. So Jayce keeps working him in a slow and consistent build.
And when he comes a third time, Viktor starts to fall apart. Jayce frees his mouth, curious to hear what he has to say, but Viktor’s just breathy wordless moans, the edge of overstimulation creeping into them. Jayce uses his newly free hand to hold Viktor tighter, rut deeper into him, feel the way he’s pressing up on his partner’s stomach from within every time he fucks forward.
A fourth time and Viktor’s all at once weak and full-body tension in Jayce’s arms, trembling through it and shaking his head a little and barely able to clench around Jayce as he comes on his cock.
“Can’t,” he manages after, and weathers a vibration from his toes to his skull that has Jayce groaning and rutting harder. Viktor’s not pulling away, even as he’s short-circuiting from overstimulation, still being so good and so obedient and so eager to be nothing but a hole for Jayce to fuck even now.
“Said you’d be begging me to stop,” Jayce says. His voice is fully ruined now, and Viktor whines in response but still doesn’t say anything, still lets Jayce fuck him for his own gain. “But you want me to fill you up first, huh? Still want to be good for me. Even if it hurts. You asked for this, after all.”
Viktor whimpers and nods, and Jayce holds him tighter and comes with a sated growl into Viktor’s neck. And as soon as he’s done shallowly chasing the vestiges of his orgasm, Viktor’s saying, almost inaudibly, “Thank you.”
And then Viktor’s going even more lax in his arms, curling his wrists up to his chest, trembling in the cold air of the bedroom and saying, “Thank you,” again, still so quietly Jayce thinks he may have imagined it.
Jayce untangles from his partner and procures a towel faster than he ever has in his life, wiping down his mess, cleaning him up. Viktor’s boneless for it, eyes unable to stay open for longer than a second at a time, but he’s still eager to please, doing what Jayce says when he asks him to move this way and that. When he’s done, Viktor pulls Jayce down for a kiss and thanks him again, clearly now, exhaling it against the corner of Jayce’s mouth.
And then Viktor’s asleep. Dead asleep. The personification of tangible success and visible accomplishment, lighting up every nerve on Jayce’s mesolimbic reward pathway, eyebrows relaxed and lips parted, the comforter pulled up to his neck shifting with his slow and measured breathing. Jayce tucks in next to him.
Viktor sleeps for nearly twelve hours.
Jayce only finds out the following evening because he passes out for much longer than that.