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The distinguished, the ambitious, the insufferable… Jayce had spoken to them all tonight.
He’d shaken hands until his fingers ached, smiled until his cheeks hurt, and entertained an endless stream of empty pleasantries.
The air inside the grand hall was thick with perfume and expensive cologne, mingling with the scent of champagne and varnished wood. The chandelier overhead cast a golden glow over the polished marble floors, and the murmur of conversations filled the space like an ever-present hum. It was, indeed, a beautiful scenery, but also an extremely exhausting situation.
It was something he had to endure, Jayce knew that. Especially on an occasion like this, where he had signed himself into this chaos. The Distinguished Innovators Competition was a great opportunity for getting crucial visibility for their project, or, at the very least, allowing Viktor and him to indulge in their favorite thing: science just for the sake of it.
This was their second year competing, and he could only hope it wouldn’t be as disastrous as the last one, when their invention had suffered more than a few technical malfunctions, and Viktor, wracked with nerves, had ended the night throwing up from sheer anxiety. It had been a mess, and yet, for some reason, they had signed up again. Perhaps to prove that they were more mature now, better scientists. Or perhaps, Jayce thought, they were just a little bit masochistic.
The event itself was interesting. It gave young inventors the chance to be seen, to be heard. It was a space where true innovation could shine. But the rest of it? The exaggerated politeness, the stiff formalities, the suffocating grandeur of Piltover’s elite… It was exhausting.
The whole night felt like an endless performance, and Jayce wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep playing his part. And yet, despite it all —despite the vastness of the hall, despite the sea of faces and the countless eyes watching— his gaze always, always found Viktor.
It was like a magnetic pull, something inevitable, something his body did without thinking. A brief flicker of his eyes across the room, and there he was. Always.
And Gods, he looked good.
Dressed in a tailored ensemble of white, crimson, and gold. The colors of House Talis. His colors. A small, irrational part of Jayce took pride in it, in seeing Viktor dressed in something that was, in some way, a claim. No one else in the room would notice the significance, but Jayce did. It felt like a quiet victory, a whisper of ownership, subtle yet deeply satisfying.
He had been marking Viktor for a long time now, in ways that anybody else would overlook. The deep red accents in the design of his leg brace, the gold detailing on his cane… Little things, small details that Viktor had never complained about, even when he must have noticed.
And then there were the marks Jayce left in far more intimate ways.
Hidden beneath fabric, pressed into skin with lips and teeth, deep purpling bruises along Viktor’s chest, his ribs, the inside of his thighs... A secret between them, a silent confession that would never reach another soul.
Jayce rolled his glass between his fingers, the ice clinking softly against the crystal as he exhaled through his nose. He had long since stopped paying attention to the conversations around him. His focus was singular. Across the room, Viktor was sitting alone, twirling his own drink absently, watching the amber liquid swirl. Then, as if sensing Jayce’s gaze, he looked up.
When their eyes met, a slow, knowing smile curved on Viktor’s lips, and Jayce felt it like a hook beneath his ribs.
He looked absolutely stunning. A faint flush from the alcohol warmed his cheeks, and his hair was an artful mess, careless in a way that only made him more captivating. The loosened tie at his neck exposed just a sliver of skin, tempting in its subtlety. Those sharp, intelligent eyes were half-lidded, glowing with something equal parts amused and hungry. With his cheek resting against his palm and his elbow propped lazily on the table, he tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was contemplating something deeply. Like Jayce was nothing more than an intriguing little puzzle, waiting to be solved.
And, oh, Jayce knew that look.
He swallowed thickly, his pulse drumming in his throat. He wanted to cross the room and kiss him. Right here, in front of everyone. He wanted to push Viktor against the nearest surface and let the whole damn hall see who he belonged to.
But things didn’t work that way. They couldn't.
They had an image to maintain. Viktor had made that clear when the idea of them had first become something tangible. It was more about him than Viktor himself, Jayce knew that. In his partner’s own words, ‘he was the face of Hextech now’. His name was printed on banners, on coffee mugs, on stupid fucking airships.
“You are Piltover’s brightest mind. Their golden boy.” Viktor had said. “You cannot afford scandal.”
Jayce hadn’t given a damn then, but he supposed Viktor had a point. Besides, he knew Viktor had always been a very private man, cautious even.
“Oh, Mr. Talis! How lovely to see you again.”
Jayce barely had time to mask his frustration before a voice broke his train of thought. Suddenly, a well-dressed woman, accompanied by who seemed to be her daughter, stopped him in his tracks. She smiled, polite but deliberate, and placed a hand lightly on the young woman’s back. The girl —bright-eyed, but clearly embarrassed for whatever matchmaking attempt her mother was about to make— smiled shyly.
Jayce had to bite back a groan. He’d seen this play out more times than he cared to admit.
“Good evening.” He greeted, inclining his head slightly.
“This is my daughter, Elise.” The woman began. Okay, well, straight to the point then. “She’s just beginning her studies at the Academy, and she’s just fascinated by Hextech. I told her she simply had to meet you.”
Jayce tried not to let out an exasperated sigh, putting on the kind of easy, charismatic smile that had become second nature to him. “My pleasure.” He said smoothly, shaking Elise’s hand. She blushed furiously.
Her mother, ever the orchestrator, beamed at the exchange. “She's brilliant, you know? Always asking the right questions. I'm sure she'll make a name for herself one day, just like you.”
The girl smiled at the praise, but Jayce could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She was likely caught in her mother's ambition more than anything else.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll go far.” Jayce added, trying to wrap up the conversation without sounding dismissive.
Elise leaned in a little, her voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone. “I... I just find the idea of combining magic and technology so fascinating. Like, how you make it seem so... seamless. I really admire your work.”
Jayce’s smile remained steady, but internally, he couldn’t help but bristle. “Right. Well, thank you. But it’s a team effort, really. Hextech wouldn’t have come to fruition without my partner, Viktor. We’ve both put in the work.”
“Ah, yes. Such brilliant minds, so full of promise.” The woman said, as if brushing aside his mention of Viktor’s contribution. “Excuse the intrusion, Mr. Talis, but may I ask you, how old are you?” She asked, already shifting the focus again.
Jayce’s lips twitched involuntarily, and he fought back a sigh of exasperation. “I just turned twenty-seven.” He replied, maintaining his calm demeanor.
The woman’s eyes sparkled, clearly pleased with his answer. “Ah, I see! Well, my daughter is twenty four going on twenty five.” She said with a knowing look, as though she was about to impart some grand revelation. She turned to her daughter with a slight smirk. “But she’s very mature for her age. Isn’t that right, darling?”
Elise’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, but she managed to nod, offering a small, almost sheepish smile.
Jayce gave a polite nod, though his patience was beginning to wear thin. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever escape these constant, uncomfortable interactions. The conversation droned on—polite questions, careful compliments, and awkward attempts at flirtation on the girl's part. Jayce answered as best as he could, but he had stopped listening a while ago. He wasn’t even really there.
His attention kept slipping to the other side of the room.
Viktor was watching him.
He wasn’t even pretending not to.
There was a glint of amusement in his sharp eyes, lips curled just slightly at the edges. But there was something else beneath it, something quieter, something Jayce wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know him as well as he did: a slight flicker of irritation, hidden but present.
Jayce tried to tune out the fact that Viktor had just taken a slow sip of his drink, that his fingers lingered at the rim of the glass before trailing lazily along his own lower lip.
Then he licked them.
A deliberate, slow motion, dragging his tongue along the tip of his fingers as if savoring the taste of the liquor. And Jayce knew for a fact he was doing it on purpose.
Without averting his gaze from his, Viktor slid his index and middle fingers past his lips, sucking them down to the knuckle. He held them there, just for a second, just long enough for Jayce to imagine those same fingers wrapped around himself instead, slick and warm, furiously stroking him with relentless urgency.
The women were still talking, but their words had become background noise. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Viktor was going to kill him.
He finally released his fingers, wiping them idly on the edge of his sleeve, his mouth curving into a smug little smirk. He tilted his head ever so slightly, silently asking “Well?”, and took another languid sip of his drink, as if he hadn’t just turned Jayce’s brain into static.
It was a challenge.
“If you’ll excuse me…” Jayce finally said with a polite little nod, stepping out of the conversation and leaving the two women behind, as he took long, purposeful strides, cutting across the room with only one destination in mind.
Viktor’s smirk widened as Jayce approached.
Oh, he was so in trouble.
The moment Jayce reached him, Viktor’s eyes gleamed with something dangerously close to mischief. “Hi.”
His lips curled into a lazy smirk, and Jayce barely resisted the urge to wipe it away with his own. Instead, he inhaled sharply, fighting against the heat curling low in his stomach.
“Hi.” He dryly replied. “Can we talk?”
Viktor blinked, then let out a soft hum, swirling the remnants of his drink in the glass. “We are talking, are we not?” He pointed out, voice smooth, a little slurred.
Up close, Jayce realized Viktor was far more intoxicated than he had assumed from across the room. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, eyes glassy, narrowed in a way that made them look heavier, darker. The refined liquor of Piltover clearly lingered on his breath.
Jayce sighed, half amused, half exasperated. “How many drinks have you had?”
Viktor’s brows lifted as if the question was utterly ridiculous. He tapped a long, elegant finger against his chin, then made a vague gesture. “I lost count.” He admitted, sounding neither regretful nor ashamed. Then, lowering his voice, he added conspiratorially, “It is very difficult to interact with so many people who have a stick up their ass without resorting to an inhibitor.”
Jayce choked on a laugh, shaking his head. Viktor could be so damn endearing and so goddamn hot at the same time. He rarely drank, but ever since last year’s incident, in these sorts of events, he allowed himself a little self-indulgence. And this was what Jayce had learned about Viktor when alcohol seeped into his bloodstream: his anxious demeanor, his carefully measured words, the way he tried to keep himself in the background—all of it melted away, leaving behind something sharp, teasing, and utterly dangerous.
“You’re drunk.”
His partner huffed a short laugh. “Well, thank you for stating the obvious.”
Jayce was about to scold him —gently, affectionately— but then Viktor’s gaze flickered over him, slow and assessing, and the amusement in his expression deepened.
“How many suitors have approached you tonight, Mr, Talis?” He asked, tilting his head in mock curiosity. “Oh, the great founder of Hextech, oh, Piltover’s golden boy, the Academy’s best student…” His accent thickened slightly as he drew out the words, deliberately languid. “Surely, you have broken many hearts tonight.”
Jayce exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re particularly eloquent this evening.” He noted, voice hushed.
Viktor straightened a little, pressing a hand to his own chest. “I am always eloquent.” He countered. “But you, Jayce, you seem to be even more so. Or perhaps that is just your natural charm.”
The way he said it —the way his voice curled around the words, teasing, laced with something dark and playful— sent a sharp jolt through Jayce’s spine. And then Viktor leaned in slightly, and his senses became acutely aware of everything at once: the scent of alcohol on Viktor’s breath, the warmth radiating from his body, the barely-there brush of his sleeve against his wrist.
“Oh, but of course.” He continued, voice smooth as silk, as if he wasn’t entirely aware of the effect he was having on Jayce (which, of course, he absolutely was). “Jayce Talis. Young promise, intelligent, accomplished, handsome…” he dragged the last word out, watching Jayce through his lashes, “...selfless, compassionate, and, let us not forget, utterly beloved by the people of Piltover.”
Jayce swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.
Viktor’s gaze dropped to his lips briefly before flicking back up to his eyes. “Ah, but what am I saying?” He murmured, feigning thoughtfulness. “I am sure you have been told all of this already tonight, no? But, eh…” His voice lowered, turned indulgent, “maybe not quite like this?”
Jayce’s patience snapped.
Without thinking, he grabbed the man’s arm, fingers curling around his small wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Come with me.” He said, voice rougher than intended.
“Oh my, how forward.” Viktor mused. He barely had time to grab his cane before Jayce was already leading him away, cutting through the crowd with purpose. He let himself be pulled along, his fingers curling lazily around the handle of his cane as he walked. “Jayce, Jayce… It is not very polite to manhandle one’s business partner in front of so many people.”
The aforementioned clenched his jaw, focusing on moving forward, on getting them somewhere —anywhere— private.
Viktor’s smirk turned downright sinful at his partner’s silence. “At least have the decency to wait until we are alone before making a spectacle of yourself.” He whispered.
Jayce bit his tongue to keep himself from growling out the truth: Viktor wouldn’t have to wait very long at all.
He barely registered the path he took, only that he needed to get Viktor alone, away from the sea of judging eyes and suffocating propriety. The grand hall was left behind as he led him through dimly lit corridors, his grip firm, his mind hazy with need.
When they reached a narrow, deserted hallway, Jayce couldn’t hold back anymore. Without thinking, without caring, he pushed Viktor up against the wall, caging him in, and kissed him—hard. It was all tongue and teeth, desperate and unrestrained, fingers digging into the man’s waist like he was afraid he might disappear if he let go.
Viktor groaned against his mouth, the sound vibrating straight through Jayce’s spine, but before he could deepen it, his partner turned his face away, exhaling sharply. “Not here.” He muttered, voice breathy, barely restrained. Jayce tried to chase his lips, still drunk on the heat of his mouth, but Viktor’s fingers curled around his jaw, holding him back. “They could see us.”
“Let them.” He murmured, tilting his head to capture his lover’s lips once again.
But Viktor stopped him with a firm hand around his throat. He held him there, squeezing just enough to make Jayce’s brain short-circuit.
“Jayce.” He hissed, low and reprimanding. His amber eyes were sharp, burning with something between warning and heat. “I do not want to get you in trouble. Do not make me repeat myself. Not here.”
Jayce groaned in frustration, torn between the disappointment of being denied and the thrilling sensation of Viktor’s fingers wrapped around his throat. His mind scrambled for a solution, for a place they could go, because waiting was definitely not an option.
They were supposed to stay near the hall for the judges’ deliberation, to find out whether their project would win this year’s competition. Leaving now would be rude, reckless even. But their lab was too far, and the thought of walking all the way back to his house with this fire simmering under his skin was unbearable. He needed Viktor now.
Jayce’s eyes darted around the hallway, frantic, until they landed on a door left slightly ajar. He didn’t think, he just acted. With a firm grip on Viktor’s wrist, he pulled him towards it, ignoring the young man’s muttered complaints as he pushed the door open and dragged them inside. The moment they stepped in, Jayce turned and shut the door behind them, locking it in place.
Darkness engulfed them.
Jayce blindly felt around the wall, searching, until his fingers brushed against a chain. He gave it a sharp tug, and a dim, flickering light illuminated the small space they had stumbled into.
A supply closet.
Cleaning supplies, spare uniforms, and miscellaneous objects filled the cramped space.
Viktor arched a brow, unimpressed. “A closet?” He deadpanned, his voice full of irony. “How very… classy.”
Jayce barely spared him a glance. He twisted the lock into place and turned on him, his hands finding his waist again as he yanked him close, their pelvises flush together. “Since when have you ever cared about class?” He murmured, his lips brushing against Viktor’s jaw.
“I suppose you have a point.”
Then, with a quiet clatter, Viktor let his cane slip from his fingers, and in the next breath, his arms were around Jayce’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss that was nothing short of filthy.
It was aggressive, messy, all heat and desperation. Viktor tasted like liquor and something sweeter, something distinctly him, and Jayce groaned into his mouth, dizzy from the way he seemed to melt into his arms. The sloppiness of it, the feverish way he kissed him, only made Jayce more desperate, more reckless. He needed more, needed him, right here, right now.
The moment Jayce stepped forward, Viktor was pushed back against the wall again, the force of it knocking a few things over in the cramped space. Neither of them cared. Jayce’s hands were firm on his lover’s waist, holding him steady as he jerked his own hips forward, pressing against him with a shuddering breath. His mouth latched onto Viktor’s neck, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, down to where his pulse pounded beneath his skin.
Impatient, reckless, Jayce’s hands roamed until they found the collar for Viktor’s shirt, clumsily fumbling with the buttons so he could bite the skin of his throat, shoving his thigh between his partner’s legs.
Viktor exhaled sharply, breath catching at the messy intensity of it all. With a flicker of impatience of his own, he let his own hand slide down between them, cupping Jayce through his pants with deliberate pressure.
“Getting a little eager, aren’t we?” Viktor murmured, the teasing lilt in his voice barely covering the way his own breath had turned ragged.
Jayce let out something dangerously close to a whine, bucking into his touch without thinking. “It’s your fault. For looking at me like that.”
Viktor laughed, low and breathless, tightening his grip just enough to make Jayce hiss through his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Liar.
Jayce didn’t hesitate—his fingers threaded through Viktor’s hair, tugging sharply enough to pull his head back. Viktor let out a breathy gasp, his pupils blown wide, swallowing up the amber of his irises.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Viktor’s chest rose and fell in deep, heavy breaths. His lips were parted, red and slick, his face still flushed from alcohol and kissing. Then, slowly, deliberately, his fingers dipped inside Jayce’s waistband.
“Do I?” He asked, voice mockingly innocent, his hand brushing against his erection through his underwear.
Jayce sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tensing. And at that, Viktor smirked. The absolute bastard.
“God I hate it when you’re drunk.” He groaned, gritting his teeth, and his partner laughed again, soft and cruel, his lips brushing against Jayce’s ear.
“I don’t think your body agrees.” He countered.
Jayce sucked in a sharp breath as his long fingers worked him up with infuriating patience. His self-control was unraveling fast, and Viktor fucking knew it. That shit eating grin on his lips was evidence enough.
“Aren't you a smartass?” Jayce bit out, his voice ragged.
“I do have a reputation.” The other man mused, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly.
Jayce hissed, his hips jerking forward instinctively once again. “Well, maybe I should put that pretty little smart mouth of yours to good use.”
Viktor's pupils dilated at the words, his amusement flickering into something darker, something molten. “Oh?” He drawled, voice thick with desire. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind?”
“Oh, so now you're playing dumb.”
Viktor scoffed, shaking his head. “Not at all. You just have to explain yourself properly, Jayce. How else do you expect me to understand you if you’re not clear? Come on, now. Use that big brain of yours and tell me exactly what you want.”
Jayce groaned in frustration. His patience was gone. Completely, utterly gone.
Without thinking, he grabbed Viktor and forced him to sit onto a near stack of wooden crates against the wall. His partner yelped, startled, hands flying to Jayce’s arms for balance.
Immediately after, Jayce’s fingers fumbled at the zipper of his pants, yanking it open with shaking hands. A sharp breath left him as he shoved them down to his knees, pulse hammering, body burning.
The closet was silent, save for their ragged breathing.
Jayce met Viktor’s gaze—his golden eyes, dark with want, lowered down to the heavy shape of Jayce’s cock, mere inches away from his lips, which remained slightly parted, breathless and kiss-swollen.
“Is this clear enough for you?” Jayce asked.
Viktor adjusted his position on the wooden crates, settling in comfortably. He leaned in slightly, his hands ghosting up the outside of Jayce’s thighs. “Well, well…” He murmured, his tone edged with amusement. “Looks like Piltover’s golden boy isn’t as selfless as they all say. Look at you, tossing me around, acting all selfish...”
Jayce tangled his fingers into Viktor’s messy hair, tilting his head back slightly, forcing him to meet his gaze. “And you,” Jayce countered, voice a rough whisper, “are acting like a fucking brat.”
Viktor opened his mouth to retort, a sharp, sarcastic reply ready on his tongue. “Oh, please, you know you-”
Before he could shoot back some sharp remark, Jayce tugged him forward, cutting off his words. Viktor let out a strangled gasp as the man above him filled his mouth with his own overwhelming flavour.
“You talk too much.” Jayce muttered, voice thick, letting his head fall back while his fingers tightened against Viktor’s scalp, as if to make sure he stayed exactly where he was.
Viktor let out a shaky exhale, gripping Jayce’s legs for balance, and let his eyes flutter close for a moment as he took in the length of him, the tension in his muscles, the barely contained desperation. Above him, Jayce cursed under his breath, hoarse and wrecked, his thighs trembling faintly beneath Viktor’s hold.
“Take your time.” He soothed him, voice barely above a breath. Viktor let out a strangled hum in response, his hands tightening their grip as he pulled Jayce closer, swallowing him down his throat, fingers digging into the flesh of his hips. “Fuck.” Jayce groaned. “See? You’re even prettier when you keep quiet.”
Viktor looked up at him, honey eyes already filling up with tears. Jayce felt his controlled breathing, the warmth of his tongue, the way Viktor’s hands tightened their hold on him as he started to move with a slow confidence that sent sparks of pleasure crackling down Jayce’s spine.
“That’s right.” Jayce rasped, his voice hoarse, gaze locked onto Viktor with something bordering on reverence. “That smart mouth of yours looks much better wrapped around my cock.”
He swallowed hard, nearly choking on his own words. He kept telling himself this was just a game—one Viktor liked to play, a push and pull of sharp tongues and sharper glances. And to be fair, Jayce had downed a couple of drinks himself, though nowhere near as many as Viktor. The warmth of the alcohol hummed beneath his skin, loosening his restraint just enough, making it easier to slip into the role Viktor liked him to play.
His lover let out a muffled cry against him as a response, exhaling sharply through his nose. Jayce’s fingers trailed over the nape of Viktor’s neck in return, tracing the beads of sweat that clung to his skin. “God, I’ve been thinking about this all night…”
He felt his control slipping, head spinning, every nerve in his body set alight by the unbearable, intoxicating presence of Viktor between his legs. He almost felt lightheaded, overwhelmed by the heat pooling in his gut, head swimming, barely able to hold onto a coherent thought beyond the way Viktor moved, the way he looked at him—cheeks flushed, golden eyes hazy and half-lidded, framed by damp lashes.
Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a small voice reminded him that this was just lust, just a mutual arrangement between two young, eager (and, quite frankly, a little bit stupid) men, who spent way too much time together. It made sense. It was easy. They both had needs, they both wanted this, and neither of them saw a reason why they shouldn't have indulged in something that felt this good.
But another part of Jayce, quieter yet far more insistent, knew that what they had was more than just stolen moments like this. He couldn't put a name to it—didn’t dare to, really, because defining it would make it real, and making it real would make it more complicated. And it was already complicated enough as it was, considering they had to keep this a secret. And, honestly, the secrecy only made everything more suffocating.
Still, Jayce figured he shouldn’t be thinking about any of that now. Not when Viktor had his mouth around his dick, looking up at him with those sweet, glassy eyes, his thick brows knitted together in something that looked almost pathetic, breath coming in uneven, needy little gasps.
Jayce swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he reached down, brushing his thumb across Viktor’s cheek, catching the dampness beneath his eye, and grazing the small mole there. “You're taking me so well, baby. You’re doing so, so good.”
Jayce allowed himself to sink into desperation, rocking his hips forward with a low moan, biting his lip to try not to make a sound. He gave a couple of rough thrusts, gripping Viktor's hair with infinite care. After a moment, his partner let out a choked gag sound, and Jayce carefully pulled back to let him breathe.
“Shit.” He said under his breath. “Sorry.”
Viktor pulled back just enough to catch his breath, dragging his wrist across his mouth before looking up at Jayce, still panting, and yet, his eyes held something teasing.
“Feeling a little impatient today, hm?” He rasped, his voice lower than usual, rough from exertion. “And here I thought you liked to take your time.”
Jayce’s fingers twitched at his sides, a mix of heat and slight frustration curling in his stomach at the taunting edge in the man’s voice. He let out a low growl before reaching down, grabbing Viktor, and lifting him effortlessly from his improvised seat.
Viktor let out a surprised yelp, fingers gripping Jayce on instinct as he was manhandled —once again— and spun around, his chest softly hitting the wall this time. His palms pressed against the surface, bracing himself as he sighed. Jayce was on him in an instant, chest pressing against his back, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear before trailing down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of his neck, sucking a small bruise just beneath the collar of his shirt.
Viktor shivered at the sensation, his breath catching in his throat. “You’re being awfully bossy today.” He murmured, voice threaded with amusement.
Jayce exhaled a short, breathless laugh against his skin. “Maybe I’m not bossy. Maybe you’re just especially insufferable today.”
Before he could get a response, he dragged his hands down Viktor’s sides and worked his belt loose, pushing down the fabric of his pants in one clumsy movement. The other man gasped, his whole body tensing for a fraction of a second before he let out a quiet, shaky, “Jayce-”
Jayce nearly groaned at the sound. There. Finally. A crack in his armor.
Satisfaction curled inside him, hot and unrelenting, as he pressed closer, letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin just below Viktor’s ear, his lips curling slightly as he murmured, “What? What do you want? You’re not making yourself very clear.”
Viktor let out a frustrated whine, clearly annoyed at how Jayce had used his own words against him. His head tipped forward slightly, resting his forehead against the wall. His knuckles were white from the effort of keeping himself steady.
“You know what I want.” He murmured, voice strained, thick with need.
“Mh…” Jayce hummed, his tone mockingly thoughtful, as he gripped the outside of Viktor’s legs and pressed them inward, closing the space just enough to trap his leaking erection between his thighs. “Do I?”
Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, biting down on his lip before a choked, frustrated sound escaped him—needy, impatient, barely restrained. “Yes.” He breathed, his voice cracking, the words slurred ever so slightly under the haze of Piltover’s expensive liquor coursing through his veins. “You do. Because it’s the s-same thing you want.”
Jayce smirked, satisfied, his fingers digging into the flesh of Viktor’s thighs as he rocked forward and back in a slow, deliberate motion. The steady friction sent a shiver down his spine, making every nerve in his body stand on edge.
“If you want it,” he said, slow and commanding, “beg for it.”
Viktor scoffed, turning his head just enough to shoot him a sidelong glance, his golden eyes gleaming with challenge. “I don’t beg for anyone.”
Jayce clenched his jaw, his patience snapping as he reached up, gripping the back of Viktor’s head and pressing him forward, forcing his cheek against the wall. Viktor let out a strangled gasp at the sudden roughness, his breath shuddering as he swallowed hard.
Jayce leaned in close, his tone dropping to a rough whisper: “Beg. For. It.”
He let the weight of those words settle between them, as he kept rocking his hips forward into the heated space between the man’s thighs, dragging himself against flushed skin, feeling the slick warmth spread, just inches away from where it began to trail down the sensitive inner curve of his legs.
Viktor's breath hitched as his hips instinctively moved, pushing forward just slightly before pulling back, chasing the fleeting friction with desperation. His fingers dug into the wall, knuckles white, as a quiet whimper escaped his lips, unable to suppress the mix of frustration and need swirling inside him.
Jayce licked his lips, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watched his partner surrender to the mounting tension. He couldn't help but relish the sight of Viktor's struggle, the way he started to give in, inch by inch.
“Come on.” He coaxed, voice like gravel, tone teasing yet firm, “I'm waiting. Wanna hear you.”
And, of course, Viktor eventually broke. His legs trembled beneath him as the last remnants of his resistance crumbled away, every inch of him taut with anticipation, with need, until finally-
“Please.” The word was barely above a whisper, fragile, almost lost in the thick air between them.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“Fuck, Jayce.” Viktor pouted, his cheek still pressed against the wall. “Please.”
Jayce hummed, dipping his head closer, his fingers threading in soft trends of brown hair. “Please, what?” His voice was steady, composed, but the way his hips twitched against Viktor betrayed him.
For a second, Viktor hesitated—jaw tight, pride warring with need. His breath stuttered, hot against the cool surface of the wall, before he whispered a barely audible string of words, almost slurred, practically lost.
Jayce clicked his tongue, leaning in, breath ghosting against the shell of his lover’s ear.
“C’mon. Speak up, Vik.” His hand traced down his trembling legs, grip bruising. “Be good for me.”
And that was it. Whatever dam Viktor had left, whatever scraps of dignity he’d been clinging to, crumbled all at once.
“Please, fuck me.” He whined, frustration bleeding into his voice as he pressed himself back against Jayce, desperate, beyond caring. “Just fuck me already.”
Jayce let out a slow breath, dragging his tongue across his lips as if savoring the taste of Viktor’s surrender. He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “See?” He murmured, voice thick with approval. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Viktor let out a frustrated noise, half a growl, half a breathless complaint. “Jayce, I swear-”
But whatever half-formed threat he had on his tongue was lost the moment Jayce adjusted his stance and finally pressed forward, sinking into Viktor in one unrelenting motion, bottoming out inside without hesitation. The movement was just a bit aggressive, the perfect amount of roughness for knocking the air from both of them in a sharp, strangled moan.
“Fuck-!” Viktor yelped, his mouth falling open as he gasped for air, one hand flying to Jayce’s wrist, fingers digging in, nails scraping against the worn leather of the bracelet that never left his skin.
Jayce exhaled harshly, his gaze locked onto the sight of Viktor’s cunt tightly sucking him in with unrestrained hunger. Slowly, his grip shifted, one hand abandoning the back of Viktor’s head to find purchase at his waist instead, fingers digging in with a possessive kind of fervor. He could feel the heat radiating between them, the way Viktor clenched around him, the way his own pulse hammered wildly in his ears.
Burying his face into Viktor’s soft curls, he inhaled deeply, greedily, letting the soft, heady scent of him flood his senses, making him dizzy. “There you go.”
“Move.” His partner ordered, accent thick, drowned by pure, unfiltered lust. Then, after a sharp swallow, he added —hesitant, almost shy— a quiet, reluctant, “Please.”
And really, who was Jayce to deny him, especially when he’d asked so politely?
And so, he did. He pulled his hips back, and then, he gave a quick experimental thrust forward, pulling a sharp whine from both of their mouths. After that, Jayce found a steady rhythm, filling the small closet with the wet, echoing slap of skin meeting skin.
The pace was unrelenting from the start, pushing Viktor forward with every snap of his hips. Their breathing turned ragged, uneven—panting into the thick air, swallowed by the dimly lit room around them. Viktor braced himself against the wall, fingers splayed wide, struggling to hold himself up as tremors wracked his body from head to toe.
Jayce inhaled sharply, his nose buried in Viktor’s hair, savoring the warmth of him, getting high on his sweet, intoxicating scent. “You’re so pretty, Vik.” He murmured against his skin, voice thick, letting his hands roam over the heated flesh beneath his shirt and vest. “And you look even prettier in my colors.” He panted, his lips brushing Viktor’s skin with each word. “Wearing this just to provoke me, huh? You think I wouldn’t notice?” He grinned, the hunger in his tone unmistakable, as if he couldn’t wait to make Viktor his, piece by piece. “I’ve been wanting to tear this stupid tight outfit off of you since we got on the carriage to come here.” His fingers pressed against his ribs, possessive, reveling in the way Viktor felt under his words. “So damn beautiful, just for me.”
Viktor huffed out a breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm even as he trembled. “Are you just going to keep telling me how pretty I look? Or are you actually going to do something to claim me?”
Jayce stilled for half a second, momentarily thrown by the challenge, and lifted his gaze. Viktor met him with a sidelong glance, cheek pressed against the wall, flushed all the way down his neck, forehead damp with sweat, hair a tousled mess, sticking to his face. Even like this, he was defiant—lips parting to draw another breath before exhaling a slow, teasing, “C’mon… I know you’ve got it in you. Is that really the best you can do?”
Something inside Jayce snapped.
His grip tightened—one hand setting firmly around Viktor’s nape, and the other steadying his waist, fingers digging into soft skin. He set a sharper, more aggressive rhythm, and the sudden shift pulled a sound from Viktor that sent Jayce’s irises rolling into the back of his head. And, oh, what a sight Viktor became... He was suddenly a babbling mess, crying and hiccuping and practically drooling, open-mouthed and desperate, his face wet with tears and sweat.
But, as much as it pained him, Jayce had to raise the hand on Viktor’s neck to his mouth, muffling the noises he was making. “Keep quiet.” He murmured, barely above a breath, “We’re gonna get caught.”
Viktor’s hands curled into tight fists against the wall, his knuckles turning white, uselessly trying to keep himself quiet, biting down on his lip as broken noises still slipped through. A few stray tears gathered at the corner of those beautiful sunset eyes, trailing slowly down his face and hitting Jayce’s fingers. He watched them with rapt attention, chest tight with something he didn’t quite know how to name.
Jayce slowed his pace as he brushed his lips over Viktor’s damp cheek. Then his tongue darted out, tasting the salt on his skin. “You always say you want to keep a low profile. That you want this to stay a secret.” Jayce mused, dragging his tongue along the path of a tear. “But you like this, don’t you? The thought of getting caught drives you insane.”
He let his words hang in the air, his fingers tracing down from his mouth to lightly graze the front of Viktor’s neck. His partner swallowed, feeling Jayce’s hand gently press against his throat, but he didn’t seem to find something smart enough to say.
“I bet you’d love it if someone walked in right now.” Jayce continued. “If they saw us like this.” There was a flicker of something wicked in his tone as he added, “I saw your face back in the hall. Were you jealous?” Viktor bit back a groan as Jayce’s fingers curled a little harder around his throat. “Did it bother you, baby?” He teased. “Thinking I belonged to anyone but you?”
Viktor’s breath hitched, uneven, and though he tried to stay composed, his voice cracked.
“Oh, please. You’re one to talk.” He began, his accent thick with the weight of his words. “I think- Hah, fuck… I think you're the one who gets off at the idea of us getting caught.” His voice still wavered, but the smirk was there, persistently curling at the edge of his lips. “I think you’d actually like all of those rich assholes to know the great father of Hextech is holed up in some filthy supply closet, f-fucking his business partner senseless, wouldn’t you?”
Viktor’s hand moved, finding Jayce’s still wrapped around his neck. His fingers curled over his, guiding him to squeeze just a little tighter, just enough to steal a fraction more of his breath, a shaky, broken groan breaking inside of his throat. It was daring, defiant; a statement without words: I own you.
When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper, a thin thread of sound pulled straight from the pit of his chest. “Deep down... you want them to know.” His lips twitched, sharp and cruel and knowing. “That Jayce Talis isn’t their golden boy at all.” His grip tightened just slightly over Jayce’s. “He’s nothing but an obedient little slut when I’ve got my hands on him.”
Jayce growled low in his throat, his forehead pressing against Viktor’s back. Of course, he’d like them to know. Of course, he wished everyone could see that Viktor was his and only his. Of course, he'd prefer it if desperate mothers stopped trying to pair him off with their daughters. Of course, he’d love to throw away the facade of the perfect businessman. Of course, he'd rather let go of the image of being the founding father of Hextech, just for a moment, and simply be Jayce. In his lab. With Viktor. His Viktor.
But he couldn't. He knew better than to believe it could be that simple.
But at least, in moments like this, he could let himself dream of it.
“Let Piltover think they own us. That I belong to them.” He whispered against Viktor’s sharp vertebrae. “They never had me. I’ve only ever been yours.”
He felt it immediately—Viktor’s breath catching in his throat, the subtle hitch that betrayed more than any words could. His body went tense beneath Jayce’s touch, like the confession had struck something deep.
Jayce’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, suddenly too aware of the weight of his own words, of how real they’d sounded out loud.
Without thinking, he pressed his teeth to Viktor’s shoulder, where his shirt had softly slipped down. Hard enough to leave a mark. A distraction. A retreat. His hand then moved instinctively, slipping lower with ease, fingers finding their mark in between his lover’s legs with an almost practiced ease, as if his body already knew exactly what to do. All of it, just so the vulnerability of the moment wouldn’t swallow him whole.
He didn’t want to see the look on Viktor’s face. Didn’t want to admit how much he’d meant every word.
Viktor choked on a sound —half a gasp, half a curse— as his body jerked in response, his back arching into Jayce as if caught between resistance and surrender.
They had slipped past the edge of control a long time ago. Now, there was nothing but the dizzying push and pull that had them unraveling in each other’s arms. The world outside ceased to exist—nothing mattered beyond the press of skin, the shuddering gasps, the way every thrust sent sparks through their spines like live wire.
Viktor was shaking apart in his grasp, breath coming in soft, uneven sobs. He wasn’t even trying to hold back anymore. “Harder-”
The word barely made it past Viktor’s lips, fragile and desperate, like a plea torn from somewhere deep inside him. Jayce felt the sound strike through him like lightning. It nearly sent him over the edge right then and there.
“I’m going to break you-”
“Fucking harder, Jayce.” He barked.
Jayce’s head spun, his body ached with the weight of it, but there was no hesitation. He obeyed without question, pounding harder into him, his fingers on Viktor’s small twitching cock becoming more frantic as well. His lover gasped, something between a moan and a sob, head tilting back against Jayce’s shoulder, mouth parted, helpless.
“Like that?” Jayce asked, voice hoarse. “Is that- is that hard enough for you?”
Viktor barely had the strength to nod. His lips moved, but no words came out, only small, choked-off sounds as he tried to hold onto some last scrap of composure and failed entirely. He was a mess—shaking, breathless, hardly even there anymore.
And Jayce—Jayce had never seen anything so devastatingly beautiful.
“Fuck- Close.”
With a faint, trembling inhale, Viktor’s head lolled to the side, and this time, when he spoke, it was barely a whisper—soft, breathless, but certain. “Inside. Please, please, come inside.”
And that was all it took.
Jayce’s breath hitched, his body locking up as everything inside him unraveled at once. His head dropped against the curve of Viktor’s neck, face burying into the damp skin there as he let out a muffled, wrecked sound, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm.
But he didn’t stop. Even as the world blurred, his hips and fingers kept moving, thrusting forward, tracing quick, skilled circles against his lover’s sex, desperate to pull Viktor over the edge with him. He could feel the tension winding tight in his frame, the way his body jerked, muscles tensing, his breath catching, and finally, breaking.
When Viktor reached his own climax, practically collapsing against Jayce, a shattering gasp tore from his throat. Jayce held onto him, anchoring him through it, feeling the way he trembled violently in his arms, hearing the way his voice caught on Jayce’s name like it was the only thing keeping him from entirely losing his mind.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the lingering tremors, bodies still shaking in the aftermath. But then, Jayce shifted, hands tightening over Viktor’s hips as if grounding himself, as if afraid to let go. He was dizzy, drunk on the weight of him, the scent of sweat and stupidly expensive alcohol. Without thinking, he pulled out and immediately dropped to his knees behind Viktor, fingers gripping his legs, lips tracing over the curve of his lower back before trailing downward and finally sliding his tongue inside his leaking entrance.
Viktor startled, a sharp gasp slipping from his lips. “Jayce-!” His voice hitched, unsteady, as he tried to brace himself against the wall. He wasn’t sure if it was from the orgasm, or from the way Jayce’s grip and mouth refused to waver, holding him steady like he had no intention of letting go.
Jayce barely heard him, though. His thoughts were hazy, feverish, drowned in sensation, tasting himself on Viktor’s cunt, shamelessly gasping against soaked skin. He then spread his folds open with both of his thumbs, licked a long stripe from bottom to top, and spat out the excess drool and fluids accumulating in his mouth, earning a muffled whimper from Viktor's mouth before shoving his tongue back in, pushing back inside what was left of his own seed.
God, it was filthy, and at the same time, it felt so inexplicably right. Logic and reason unraveled, slipping away like sand through his fingers. The expectations, the weight of everything he had been carrying on his shoulders, the endless pressure to be clean, to be polished, to be more, to be better—none of it mattered.
Not here. Not now.
Right now, he just wanted to drown in this. To let himself sink into the warmth of Viktor’s skin, of their essences mixing together on his tongue. He wanted to forget about the world outside and lose himself in something messy, something reckless.
Screw the expectations.
Screw golden boy Jayce Talis.
Screw Piltover.
Screw the perfect image they all wanted from him.
This. This was better.
This was real.
And for once, Jayce let himself give in.
Viktor rested his forehead against the wall, allowing himself to lose control for a moment longer. For a while, he simply let himself be consumed by the sensation of Jayce’s mouth against him, breathing deeply, his body trembling with each inhale. His hand instinctively moved behind him, fingers threading into Jayce's hair, seeking some form of grounding, as if clinging to the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
Jayce gave one final flick of his tongue, groaning in between Viktor’s legs, before slowly pulling away. He lingered for a moment, savoring the image before him as if it was a work of art, and he pushed what was left of his own remnants inside Viktor’s twitching hole with his fingers, getting a soft startled gasp in return.
With a final hum of satisfaction, he licked his lips and stood on his feet, holding Viktor’s trembling body and gently turning him around so he could rest his back against the wall.
“You're perfect.” He finally murmured, locking onto his golden gaze.
Viktor, still breathing heavily, responded with a trembling, “And you're filthy.”
Jayce chuckled softly, a quiet laugh that held just a touch of darkness, before he slowly raised two slick fingers to Viktor’s lips. The gesture was playful, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed the deeper intent behind it. Viktor hesitated for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something raw. The brief pause stretched, a single heartbeat suspended in time. Then, without a word, Viktor parted his lips, and let Jayce guide him.
The touch was almost surreal, like a collision of worlds. Viktor’s tongue darted out, tasting the salt of their combined pleasure, the essence of them both. His gaze never left Jayce’s as he licked along his fingers, savoring the mingling flavors. A soft hum of pleasure escaped his throat, taking his time, as if the act itself was as much about claiming as it was about the raw pleasure they were both tangled in.
After a beat, Jayce let out a soft, satisfied sigh, his voice hushed, still drenched in bliss. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
Viktor smiled, still holding his fingers in his mouth, then playfully bit down. Jayce pulled his hand away, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, their expressions unreadable, caught in the quiet aftermath of everything that had just happened.
Jayce finally broke the silence, voice low, “This is a mess.”
Viktor nodded, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears, holding himself against the wall behind him as he whispered, “I don’t think I can even stand.”
Jayce reached for his cane, his fingers lingering on the cool metal before he spoke again. “I’ll take you home.” He glanced back at Viktor, making a face. “Sorry, I don’t have anything to clean you up. Must be disgusting.”
Viktor smiled mischievously, adjusting his pants with a shaky hand, and shrugged. “I don’t mind.” His smile deepened, almost playful.
Jayce shivered at the mental image of Viktor secretly sitting down on his soaked underwear, still damp and stained with the remaining traces of them both.
After pulling themselves together, Jayce guided Viktor through the door, his arm wrapped securely around his waist as his partner leaned heavily against him. Viktor’s steps were slow and unsteady, his exhaustion palpable.
“I just need to grab my jacket from the hall. My keys are in my pocket.” Jayce said softly, his voice carrying a note of reassurance. “Then I’ll take you home, okay?”
Viktor gave a tired nod as they walked toward the hall. As they moved through the corridor, Jayce kept his pace even, holding tight onto Viktor, their footsteps in sync. The closer they got to the hall, the more the sounds of the crowd infiltrated the air—the low hum of conversation and laughter swelling as they neared the door.
As soon as they entered the place, a loud “Oh, there they are!” broke the air.
The scene hit them like a wave—people were clapping, cheers erupting as they spotted the pair. They both froze, their eyes wide, still processing what was happening. They stood in shock, not fully understanding the situation unfolding before them. They hadn't expected this. And certainly not with Viktor still leaning on Jayce, disheveled and visibly out of sorts. Their appearance didn’t match the formality of the gathering, and the awkwardness of the moment washed over them.
At the front of the room, Heimerdinger, standing on the stage, noticed them and waved enthusiastically. “Ah, here they are… these two brilliant minds of Piltover!” He called out. “We thought you left! Congratulations, my boys! Come up here to collect your prize!”
Jayce and Viktor exchanged a wide-eyed look, the realization dawning on them that they had forgotten, for a brief moment, that they were part of this competition. The surrealism of the situation made their laughter come out in an obviously nervous and embarrassed way. It felt almost like a fever dream, a bizarre turn of events.
Jayce gently steered his partner toward a nearby chair, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” With a quick nod from Viktor, still a little dazed, he made his way to the stage. The crowd’s applause echoed in his ears, but his thoughts were racing elsewhere.
He stepped onto the stage to collect the award, shaking Heimerdinger’s hand, who winked at him and offered him his prize and a microphone. Jayce cleared his throat, clearly nervous, as his words tumbled out in a rush.
“Uh, thank you so much!” He began, his voice carrying the strain of nerves, but also genuine gratitude. “Truly, this is… an incredible honor for us. It’s, um... it’s a privilege to have Viktor as my business partner. He’s... the brightest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and honestly, I... I wouldn’t be here collecting this prize without him.” Jayce could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he spoke, painfully aware of how unkempt he must look. His hair was wild, his face flushed, and his clothes—well, they were far from neat. But he pushed through, determined to make the moment count. “This... this whole thing... would never have been possible without his genius.”
He kept talking, but everything felt wrong, disjointed. His mind wasn’t where it should’ve been, lost in the haze of the evening and Viktor’s presence. His words blurred together, his thoughts bouncing between the audience and the reality that Viktor was looking at him from the audience, a soft, amused smile on his lips.
When Jayce realized how much he was babbling cleared his throat again and rushed to finish his speech. “Well. Thanks again to the Academy and, uh, goodnight!” He blurted out with an awkward laugh, practically tripping over his words as he quickly stepped down from the stage. His face was a deep shade of red as he moved with haste, the applause still ringing in his ears.
His heart was pounding—not from the applause or the crowd, but from the whirlwind of everything that had just happened. He felt disoriented, still high on adrenaline and lust, but the embarrassment was overwhelming.
Jayce tried to steady himself, clutching the trophy with one hand as he walked through the crowd to go get his jacket. People were congratulating him left and right, offering polite words and handshakes, but he could barely focus on any of it. He gave nervous smiles, thanked them all, his mind still spinning, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
When he finally reached Viktor, the older man looked at him with a small, tired smile, his eyes still a little glazed. “Aren’t you a smooth talker?” He muttered, his voice raspy from the night’s events.
Jayce leaned in, giving a half-smile of his own, though it was laced with the nervous energy still swirling in his chest. “Oh, shut up.” he whispered, his voice hoarse, before helping Viktor to his feet, steadying him with one hand.
Together, they walked out of the hall, the eyes of the crowd still on them, their whispered conversations lingering in the air. But Jayce didn’t care anymore. Not one bit. His focus was solely on Viktor, and as they stepped out of the noise and into the quiet, Jayce couldn’t help but smile.
The superficial world of Piltover, with its endless demands, expectations, and facades, faded into the background.
That world didn’t matter, not when he had Viktor by his side.