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“You aren’t sleeping,” the mage says on the third night, Jayce twitching at his words. He thought the mage was outside, but he stands, willowy and elongated over Jayce as he lays in the bed. His shadows move strangely, larger and longer than they should be, like a beast opening its terrible, sharp mouth—Jayce’s eyes flick away, his head beginning to pound. Not a sight meant for human eyes.
When he looks back at the mage, he’s normal again, or as normal as he ever gets—tall and spindly with those pearlescent luminous eyes.
“Can’t,” Jayce grunts, refusing to think about a body pressed against him, hard, organic metal angles softened by fur, a chest rising and falling next to him. He doesn’t think about fingers, curled in his mouth, nor flushed pale cheeks and bright eyes.
He can hear the mage take a steady inhale, and realizes abruptly that he doesn’t think he’s heard him breathe before. Does he even need it? He exhales sharply through his nose, feeling the pulse of a headache coming on, and scratches at his wrist. He hears the mage shift but when he looks up, he’s gone.
He refuses to feel a way about that. Good or bad.
He rolls onto his back, rubbing his dry eyes, his mouth tacky from lack of sleep. For perhaps the first time in his life, he wishes it was winter. He wants to be back in the cold, quiet cottage of his timeline, would even take his Viktor giving him the cold shoulder just to see him again. He's already exhausted his mental fortitude to understand one Viktor—he doesn't think he can do it again with another. Especially not this one, who watched him suffer months alone, living on rotted lizard flesh and drinking puddle water. His leg twinges, an ache that travels up his hip, as if reminding him of where he is. Who he's with.
Fuck. He exhales, pressing both of his palms hard enough to his eyes that he sees red behind his closed eyelids. He has to get out of here.
On the fourth night when he wakes up with a guttural scream trapped in the back of his throat, Viktor is there again, and for a moment he reaches for him, his Viktor, before he remembers where he is and drops his hand, embarrassed.
“Jayce,” Viktor says.
“What?” he snaps, feeling more wounded animal than man, nails digging into his wrist as sweat makes the shirt on his back stick to the sensitive scar tissue, the feeling like skittering bugs along his spine. He shudders, unable to help it, and can see the mage tilt his head to the side. He’s more bird-like than his Viktor is, Jayce thinks absently. Like some kind of long, fucked up heron.
Something flashes in those strange eyes and Jayce shifts back, alarmed, when the mage begins to peel his robe off and get into the bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, but his traitorous body betrays him, heart rate already slowing at the prospect of Viktor—whatever version of Viktor this is—being in bed with him.
“You need to sleep,” he says simply. “And this will help.”
Well. Alright then.
It’s not like he’s wrong.
Jayce rolls over to stare at the ceiling, and the mage—Viktor—lays next to him, stiff and unyielding and, he bites back the hysterical laughter building in his throat—awkward. Like his version had been, all those months ago.
“So are you always like this, then?” His voice is loud in the silence and he hears the mage shift, very slightly. He doesn’t say anything and for some reason Jayce can’t stop running his mouth. “You know,” he gestures at the mage’s prone form, “Tense.”
After a moment, a flat: “What.”
Jayce has to bite back another giggle, feeling delirious. In bed with another version of the love of his life and he just can’t shut up.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never shared a bed with someone before,” he says and then goes rabbit-still when he feels something brush against his wrist. The mage doesn’t touch him, not if he can help it.
“Jayce,” that flat voice says, an edge of resignation in his tone. “Go to sleep.”
Jayce does as he says.
Jayce gasps softly awake, the taste of rot and congealed flesh in his mouth. He panics for a moment, feeling something touching him against his back, around his waist, and then awareness floods through his body when he remembers where he is, who is with him.
It’s dark, Jayce’s very human eyes adjusting to the moonlight to see a pale, long arm thrown over his waist, the mage breathing softly against the nape of his neck with his chest pressed to Jayce’s back. Jayce waits for the panic to hit, the badly healed wound on his spine usually a source of anxiety—fear seeped into his very marrow from his time in that ravine—but it doesn’t come. His body recognizes the mage as a known entity, as something trustworthy. Something shaped like Viktor enough to bypass his alarms.
His muscles lose their tension, and it dawns on him that he’s being spooned. By the mage. Who is clearly asleep, hand resting almost possessively against his belly as it moves with Jayce’s breathing. Jayce feels a blush beginning to travel from his neck to his ears, and now he can’t stop thinking about the mage’s weight behind him, his deceptive strength belied by that lean body usually hidden by the robe, his sharp eyes. He wonders if the mage could hold him down, force him to take whatever he wants to give him.
His cock twitches traitorously in his loose underpants and he swallows hard. He’s never fucked a man, or been fucked by one, but he already knows he wants it, has already felt that switch in his head where Viktor became something he doesn’t just love but also desires. Lust, that often unfamiliar sensation, roars inside him, the enormity of his want that made a mess of him every night he spent with his Viktor, like he’s all of fifteen years old and discovering his own dick for the first time.
Is what he’s feeling now because the mage is some form of Viktor? Or is it the childhood crush he had on the mysterious figure who saved him, the crush that never quite went away and manifested as his bullheaded obsession with magic? He doesn’t know which would be worse.
The thing about the mage, Jayce muses on the fifth night while watching him from beneath his lashes, is that he’s a Viktor. A strange, distant one, but still. A Viktor. Which means he’s handsome—a sharp, angular face with a beard he’s never seen his Viktor try to grow, clever, intelligent eyes, long, dexterous fingers. They’re the same fingers he’d had in his mouth once; he can feel the shape of them inside him still as he traced them with his tongue less than a week ago. He wonders if the tattoos on the mage’s skin have a taste, the ink imbued with blood and magic. He wonders if he’d be able to detect it, his body as ordinary as it is, if his mouth would taste like copper—the mage, Viktor inside him.
He can’t help it—he’s wanted the arcane his entire life, even if he’s come to realize it has never wanted him. He wants to trace the runes on the mage’s fingers with his tongue, chase the taste of magic and hold it there, precious, inside him for a brief, spectacular moment before he has to let it fade.
The tattoos look nice on the mage’s fingers, and Jayce imagines them on his Viktor, those big, slender hands touching his neck then higher, along his jaw and then mouth, newly inked fingers down his throat, choking him until all he thinks about is the taste of Viktor on his tongue. He wets his dry mouth, feeling parched, and looks away. This isn’t his Viktor. This Viktor hasn’t seen him with his cock in his hand, hasn’t watched him with that flushed, hooded stare, open-mouthed as he studied him with the intensity he usually reserved for a Hextech experiment.
He shudders, heat crawling up his neck as he thinks of the mage looking at him instead, this strange Viktor with the luminous eyes glowing in the dark of the night, watching him while he fitfully sleeps. Would he enjoy watching Jayce pant for him? Would he reach out and take what he’s been offering to his Viktor with a bared throat and beating heart in his open palms?
Or would he look at Jayce in that impervious, distant way he has, like he’s faintly amused at Jayce’s clumsy attempts to bait him, make him snap?
Jayce muffles a groan in the pillow, cock pulsing uncomfortably in his sleep pants. As established, there’s something wrong with him, some wires crossed in his head, because his body flares with heat at the thought, at sliding his hand down to curl his fingers around himself, biting back gasps and moans to try to not disturb the mage, who sits across the room in his strange, statue-like trance.
It’s to that thought that he settles into a half aware doze, startling semi awake when the mage’s body settles onto the bed next to him before exhaustion drags him back down into the dark depths of his subconscious.
It's the morning after night six and Jayce wakes up slick with sweat, his hips grinding into the mattress with juddering thrusts. He stills, gasping wetly against the pillow that’s soaked with his drool. One glance and he sees that the mage has already left from his spot beside him in bed, dawn light beginning to creep into the horizon, and a mixture of relief and disappointment twists sickly inside him even as his hips move restlessly, chasing the friction his cock so desperately wants.
He forces himself to roll over, panting into the air as his whole body aches from the force of his arousal, the sweet relief of pressure so cruelly taken away from him—from Jayce himself—but the thing is he only has one pair of pants here and if he has to wash them because he came in them he thinks he’ll die of mortification.
Fuck. He breathes hard, trying to calm his racing heart. At least it wasn’t another nightmare.
Night eight and a switch has flipped inside of Jayce, the mage no longer this distant inhuman thing with Viktor’s features, but just Viktor—with his bad jokes and propensity to make fun of Jayce when he’s at his worst, when he’s irritable and lashing out and Viktor just takes it and throws it back at him.
Unfortunately that does things to Jayce’s overactive imagination, his body already pathetically aroused by anything Viktor does. He already found the mage beautiful, awe-inspiring even while anger curled inside him at the way he’s controlled Jayce’s entire life, but now his brain knows he’s Viktor through and through and he feels feverish with want, squirming restlessly on the bed and trying not to disturb the mage next to him. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t noticed Jayce’s new distractedness.
“Jayce,” Viktor says roughly and Jayce has to bite back a mortifying whimper, heat pulsing through his body at the tone of his voice.
On second thought, maybe he hasn’t been as subtle as he thought.
“Viktor,” Jayce breathes, arousal making his voice throaty, and he swallows when he sees the glow of Viktor’s eyes as he opens them. He tries not to shift as the mage looks at him, knows he can see the hectic flush of his cheeks, the tent in his pants. He wishes they were back to chest, like they usually are, so he wouldn’t be able to see Viktor’s face and try to analyze every minute shift of his jaw or twitch of his eyelids.
“This misplaced thing,” he finally says and Jayce swallows hard, looking away. “It’s not for me, what you’re feeling.” The worst thing about it, Jayce thinks distantly as Viktor rejects him, like he always does, is that his voice is so gentle. Like he’s trying not to break Jayce’s heart, when Jayce’s heart has been a wounded, broken thing since the day his Viktor died in the council room. There is nothing left to break.
“Stop,” Jayce says, humiliated when his voice breaks, and he closes his eyes tightly. “Just. Can we go back to sleep?”
He can feel the mage’s eyes on him but he doesn’t open his own, jaw clenched so hard he can feel a headache building.
“I will get you to your timeline soon,” he finally says, still in that awful, gentle voice, and Jayce just rolls over until his back faces Viktor and he buries his face against the pillow, trying to pretend the burning in his eyes is from exhaustion and not grief.
At least the arousal has been thoroughly dosed out, he thinks grimly, flexing his fingers against the sheets and forcing himself to relax. There will be no sleep for him tonight—just the endless loop of his thoughts as he wonders where he went wrong. Again.
“—ayce. Jayce.” He startles, nearly dropping the hammer from the roof and peering down at Viktor’s face, cast in the soft violets of the setting sun. Viktor has a strange expression on his face that Jayce can’t quite place, and his mind moves sluggishly before he realizes—it’s concern. The mage looks worried, a slight furrow to his usually placid expression, his fractal eyes pulsing that heartstoppingly familiar amber when Jayce meets them.
“I think you should come down from the roof,” he says carefully, and even in Jayce’s exhausted, hollowed out state he can hear the delicacy of Viktor’s voice, like he thinks Jayce is one wrong word away from shattering.
The thing is, Jayce thinks as he exhales deeply and stares down at his trembling hands, Viktor probably isn’t wrong.
He feels carved open, empty from reliving what happened to him in that ravine, from knowing he orchestrated it, the hurt and pain that he didn’t deserve. The rot has finally come out but he doesn’t know what remains, having fashioned himself an identity with it for so long.
Jayce blinks when he feels pressure on his shoulder and realizes he’s made his way down, that the mage is touching him. He’s warm, Jayce thinks nonsensically, turning into the touch and shuddering when Viktor’s hand slides up to rest on the side of his neck, thumb pressed to his pulse. He wonders if there even is a heartbeat for Viktor to feel, if he’s not just a dead thing in the shape of a living man.
“Come inside,” Viktor says, voice low and coaxing, and if Jayce were in his right mind he’d bristle at the condescension, but as is Jayce just lets Viktor lead him into the cottage, dark but for the lantern casting warmth into the shadows, and the bright gleam of the moon shining through the window. He glances at the bed and goes stiff.
“Can’t sleep right now,” he manages, voice hoarse, and Viktor’s expression doesn’t change even as he eases him down onto the mattress.
“Sit,” he says and Jayce sighs, listing heavily into Viktor’s arms. He feels Viktor stiffen for a moment, and he’s about to pull back and apologize, because of course he took it too far, of course the mage touching his arm outside wasn’t meant to be an open invitation for more touch, but then his arms tighten around him and Jayce lets out a shuddering exhale at the strength of the mage’s grip.
He buries his face against that skinny chest, listening to the thrum of his not-quite-heart, a ticking, buzzing noise that abruptly makes him so homesick for his timeline that he can barely breathe. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t think, but he must drift out of his mind for awhile—the way he used to in the cold darkness of the ravine because he didn’t want to be inside his aching, shivering body wracked with pain and fever—because when he is aware again, he’s being held against Viktor’s chest, his back pressed against him, the strength of those arms not having abated in the slightest.
Jayce licks his dry lips and stares down at those hands, so incongruously big against his waist as they splay over his stomach. Jayce is not a small man, and his Viktor is taller than he once was, nearly the same height as Jayce now just as he was when he stepped out of that cocoon, but the mage is something else entirely. Slight in physique but looming, like being an arcane-made creature stretched him out. Jayce forgets, sometimes, but then there are moments when he has to look up at him, and he’s hit with deja vu—the mage’s face replaced by the sharp angles of the god-deity Viktor turned himself into at the end of it all.
He gives into the temptation and traces the shape of the runes tattooed onto Viktor’s fingers, shivering when Viktor’s fingers twitch and then tighten around his waist in response. He feels the heat of his breath against the back of his neck and swallows hard as he lifts one of the mage’s hands and studies it in the lantern light. The silence feels delicate, like one word will shatter the tentative space they’re in, the one where Viktor is improbably letting Jayce touch him, letting him turn his hand this way and that as he takes in the details of the ink, the veins that bulge slightly along the skin on the back of his hand. Jayce feels his lips curl into a small smile—the mage has the same hands as his Viktor—square fingernails with knobby knuckles, palms that are calloused from a lifetime of work. He lifts Viktor’s hand higher, pressing his nose to his wrist and inhaling deeply and Viktor makes a low noise, the tendons flexing in Jayce’s grip.
“Jayce,” he says, hoarse and low, and a shiver runs through Jayce’s whole body but he doesn’t move from his position, cataloguing the differences between his Viktor’s scent and the mage’s. He smells like magic, like petrichor, like a childhood dream long abandoned, and he opens his mouth to press a wet kiss the skin there, tonguing the pulse point in an almost feverish excitement.
“Jayce,” Viktor hisses and arousal sluices hot through Jayce’s veins, cock beginning to fatten up in his pants, and when he presses his teeth delicately to that same piece of skin he’d been kissing he feels the mage shift behind him, something thick and heavy poking against the curve of his ass. He hears himself groan, feeling wild, his hips rocking back instinctively against the pressure and Viktor’s other hand—the one still on Jayce’s waist—grips him tightly.
Jayce gasps when Viktor rips his wrist away from Jayce’s hands and instead grips at his hair, pulling his head back until Jayce’s back arches and his heart pounds, Viktor’s breath hot in his ear.
“You don’t know what it is you are asking for,” Viktor grinds out, low and dangerous, and Jayce’s anger flares, warring with the arousal. It seems every iteration of Viktor always tries to tell him what his own thoughts and desires are, unheeding of Jayce’s own words.
“I do,” he says hotly, hands clenched into fists at his sides and twisting his neck in Viktor’s grip until he can look at him, Viktor’s hold loosening automatically to avoid hurting Jayce. “I do, Viktor.” Viktor’s eyes, kaleidoscopic opals with pupils sharp pinpricks in the dim light of the moon, pierce him like a dagger to the ribs. But Jayce’s pain tolerance is high these days—he’s spent months letting his own Viktor carve him open with a knife to get to his heart, letting Viktor lift the offending organ out of the bloody viscera of his chest with the precision of a surgeon all for him to find it wanting. The mage, this lonely, not-so-distant version of Viktor, can’t hurt him in any way that matters, not in any way he hasn’t asked for already.
Helplessly, he says, “Viktor, it’s you,” and Viktor inhales sharply, pinprick pupils blowing wide like spilled ink, and it’s like something snaps inside him, a decision made, because suddenly finds himself with the mage plastered against his back, his hand back in his hair and a mouth hot on the side of his neck. He moans, wild and loud, and when Viktor grinds his hips against Jayce’s ass his cock twitches, fully hard and dampening the front of his pants in its eagerness.
Jayce feels alive, present in his body in a way he hasn’t experienced since he landed in this timeline, with this strange, distant version of Viktor who was also a symbol of a childhood obsession, who avoided touching him until today, until now, his hands on Jayce’s body burning like the heat of a forest fire.
Viktor slides his other hand under Jayce’s thin undershirt, and it feels incongruously huge on his stomach, splaying over it with possessive ease. Jayce hears himself whimper, feels himself melt against Viktor’s chest, shuddering because it feels so good to be wanted like this, wanted so bad that he’s pretty sure this Viktor would keep him if he could.
“I had forgotten how maddening you are,” Viktor breathes, biting gently on his earlobe. Jayce’s hips jerk, a gasp caught in his throat, because he had no idea his ears were so sensitive, no idea that Viktor’s tongue pressed to the soft spot of skin just behind the lobe would make heat rush through his body with an intensity that leaves him shaking.
“D-did you—ah—ever do this with—” Jayce’s words peter out into a low groan when Viktor’s hand slides down from his stomach into his pants, fingers curling loosely around his cock. Jayce whines pathetically, unused to any touch except his own hand, and Viktor’s fingers tighten around him and stroke slowly, expertly. For a maddening moment he wants to ask if he’s been practicing with someone else, if he’d found other mages to pass the time with. He has no right to it, not with any version of Viktor but especially not this one, but he feels the ugly burn of jealousy curl inside him all the same.
Viktor slides his thumb under Jayce’s foreskin and tugs, almost mean about it, and Jayce grunts at the flash of pain-pleasure it gives him, the way it makes him leak all the more over Viktor’s fingers.
“Stop thinking,” Viktor orders, pushing Jayce’s foreskin up and tracing the pulsing vein of his dick before he slides it back down. Jayce shudders, all thoughts of jealousy and fear wiped completely from his mind. Viktor’s other hand—the one in his hair—slides down to cup his jaw, to trace along his lower lip, and Jayce’s mouth opens to try to suck one of them into his mouth.
“Must be a shared trait between every version of you,” Viktor murmurs, twisting the wrist of his right hand in a way that makes Jayce keen. He pushes two fingers into Jayce’s mouth, petting slowly along his tongue as Jayce drools around them. “This obsession with having something for your mouth to do. Whether it’s constant talking, or biting the ends of pens, or sucking on a candy. All designed to drive me mad.”
Jayce moans, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to get the mage’s fingers in deeper, sucking hard, and he chokes on another strangled noise when Viktor grinds his hips, pressing the hard heat of him against his ass. He’s humiliatingly keyed up, doesn’t know if he can last, but he wants to touch Viktor too, wants to feel the weight of him in his palm, on his tongue, splitting him open. He wants it all, as selfish and greedy as he’s always been because once someone gives him a taste he’ll gorge himself on the entire thing.
And if he can only have Viktor once, he wants to feel it. Wants to move around the next day and be able to know what Viktor did to him in the pull of his sore muscles as he walks, the sweet pain of the bruises on his hips, the deep ache when he sits.
“Please,” Jayce mumbles around Viktor’s fingers, whining when he teases the head of his cock with his thumb and smears precome down the shaft. He can feel himself pulse in that hand, can feel the heaviness of his balls, drawn tight.
“Shh,” Viktor says, pressing his fingers in deeper, Jayce swallowing around his gag reflex to try to choke himself on them. His eyes flutter shut and he shudders when he feels the pleased hum Viktor makes vibrating up his spine, pleasure coiling tight in his lower belly.
“Mmph!” Jayce tries to warn him, not wanting it to be over too soon, but the mage just strokes him faster and tighter, until the heat and pleasure inside him break and he comes hard, watching deliriously as he spills over Viktor’s fingers and stains that dexterous inked hand with it, as much a claim as he can give to him.
Viktor slowly slides his fingers out of his mouth and Jayce slumps back against his chest to catch his breath, sweat beading along his hairline as he struggles to process what just happened in the silence. Jayce licks his lips, cock now soft in Viktor’s palm, but he still feels hot with arousal, and he tips his head against Viktor’s shoulder and purposefully rolls his hips back, grinding his ass against his still-hard dick. Viktor grunts, fingers still wet from Jayce’s spit as he grips his hips tight enough to bruise. Jayce moans softly at the thought of it, of the shape of the mage’s fingers blue-black on his skin, matching the glowing fingerprints on his forehead.
“Jayce,” Viktor hisses and Jayce just pants softly, lost in the slow grind as he tries to imagine how it’ll feel to be fucked, to be so consumed and broken open. He thinks he’ll like it.
“Fuck me,” Jayce says and Viktor uses both his hands to grab Jayce by the waist and force him still. Jayce makes a pathetic noise, soft cock twitching when he realizes he can’t move at all, that the mage’s—Viktor’s—hands nearly wrap around his entire waist, those inked fingers long and wide. I look small when he holds me, he thinks dizzily, his mouth open as he pants.
“I thought that would be the end of this. But look at you. You still want more.” Viktor sounds amused, almost condescending, and fuck, Jayce’s toes curl at the tone—he guesses he’s hot for that too.
“Please,” is all he says, aware that he sounds pathetic but his mind is wiped of anything except this, of finally getting what he wants and now that he has it he’s not sure what to do with himself. He feels Viktor wipe his hand on Jayce’s shirt and he huffs a little at that, nose wrinkling. but then is distracted by Viktor tugging Jayce’s pants down. He grunts at the awkward positioning, and Jayce wiggles until they’re at his knees, kicking them off with a wince. Viktor touches the calf of his left leg gently, rubbing his thumb along the atrophied skin there, and Jayce swallows around the lump in his throat at the unexpected tenderness of the gesture. When Viktor begins to slide his hands up his back he makes a plaintive noise and Viktor pauses.
“Can we—” He clears his throat when his voice cracks. “Can I look at you—for this part?” He hears Viktor inhale sharply and he winces again, this time not from the pain in his leg but from how small his voice has gotten, his shoulders hunching because who is he to ask for more, when this is more than he ever thought he would get?
After a long moment, Viktor starts moving again, continuing to pull at Jayce’s shirt, and he holds back a sigh because of course Viktor doesn’t want to see his face, doesn’t want to see a monument to his mistakes. Jayce lets Viktor peel the shirt off of him and then he’s the one who goes silent and still when he feels a finger trace up his spine, along the knotted scar there.
“Is this also from me?” Viktor asks in a quiet voice and Jayce shivers at the gust of his breath against the nape of his neck.
“No,” he manages after a moment. “That one is all mine.”
He holds himself very still as the mage continues to follow the path of the scar with his fingers, until it kisses the top of his shoulder and then his hand curls over it and pushes Jayce down. He goes with a grunt, eyes widening when Viktor moves so he’s looming over him, still fully dressed while Jayce is naked as the day he was born. He wets his lips, eyes roving hungrily over Viktor’s features—that normally pale and placid face flushed, eyes burning and so alive as they rake over Jayce’s body. Jayce arches his back, flushing when he realizes what he’s doing but he can’t help it—he loves being looked at like this. Loves being looked at like he’s the only thing Viktor has ever seen.
Viktor’s hands, when they finally touch him again, burn like lava, big palms spreading down his chest and fingers running through the hair there like the discovery of it is a revelation to him. Jayce gasps when his nails drag along his nipples, already peaked from arousal and terribly sensitive in a way he didn’t know they could be. He sees Viktor’s eyes flash pink-red, his mouth twitching up to one side, and Jayce bites back a groan when he does it again, the pain of the sensation bleeding into sharp pleasure that goes straight to his slowly hardening cock.
Any version of Viktor, when given an unexpected reaction after testing an action, will not stop repeating the experiment until he is satisfied with the results and this Viktor is no different, toying with Jayce’s chest until he’s writhing on the sheets with his cock half hard against his belly. He goes limp when Viktor finally seems to have gotten what he wanted, panting hard as he tries to calm his racing heart only for it to begin galloping in his chest again as Viktor uses his hands to push Jayce’s thighs apart and settle between them.
Jayce watches him through half-lidded eyes, taking note of the vial of oil Viktor retrieves from the nightstand that he can pilfer later before he goes back to his timeline.
“How long has it been?” Jayce asks as Viktor cups the oil in his palms to warm it up. He looks up at him, startled, and the sight of him like this—greying wild hair, sharp features, like a great horned owl that has been chased from its burrow—knocks the breath out of him. He wonders if this is what Viktor will look like twenty years down the line, the two of them older and greyer. He hopes his Viktor is softer than the mage, that he lets himself rest and eat and lose the hollowed gauntness of his body. He hopes he’s allowed to see that transformation, that he has one of his own right next to him.
“How long has it been since you touched someone? Since you let yourself touch me?” He pauses, then licks his lips. “Since I touched you back?”
Viktor’s eyes widen and something flashes on his face, a crack, a brief glimpse at the kind of yawning grief that would leave most people catatonic—a pit of endless despair that knocks the wind out of Jayce in the few seconds he sees it before the mage is able to gain control of his expression.
He rests a hand on Jayce’s thigh, tracing muscle that quivers under his touch.
“You are far too intelligent to ask me a question like that, Jayce,” he says, and when Jayce opens his mouth to reply the mage presses one slick thumb to his taint, a sensation so foreign to him that it shuts him up immediately, muscles in his thighs clenching in effort to not immediately snap them closed.
Viktor’s eyes are knowing as he slides his thumb down lower, tracing around his rim and Jayce sucks his lower lip into his mouth, pressing his face against the pillow as he tries to catalog the feeling. He feels…shivery, almost ticklish, and he has a strange urge to burst into laughter. His cock, now fully hard, twitches when Viktor presses the tip of his thumb just barely inside, and he whines a little, confused even as his body flushes hot with pleasure.
“You have never done this before,” Viktor murmurs and Jayce swallows convulsively, staring down at Viktor with wide eyes.
“That obvious, huh?” he asks weakly and his good leg kicks out a little when Viktor begins to slowly push his thumb inside. Viktor just hums and Jayce shouts when he leans down and sucks the head of Jayce’s cock into his mouth as he pushes his thumb the rest of the way inside of him. He arches his back, fingers twisting in the sheets below him as his body wars between pushing into the velvet heat of Viktor’s mouth and back against Viktor’s finger.
“Feels—mm!” Jayce’s voice cuts out when Viktor pulls back to suck on the head of his cock, his thumb curling inside of Jayce. He can feel something in his body give, the scorching heat of Viktor’s tongue loosening his muscles in pleasure and he melts back into the mattress with a shuddering sigh. Viktor hums an approving noise that makes the pathetic creature that’s desperate for validation inside Jayce purr in pleasure and he knows Viktor can feel the way his cock twitches, dripping onto his tongue. His eyes crinkle at the corners, smug in a way that’s unbearably sexy, and Jayce is distracted again by the thought of growing old with Viktor, getting to see his face turn into something like this as they live their lives together.
Jayce comes back to his body in a rush when the mage slides his thumb out of him and then pushes in his index finger, hips jerking in surprise at how much deeper and bigger it feels, then convulsing in shocked pleasure when Viktor curls his index finger up inside him and presses his thumb to Jayce’s taint at the same time.
“Fuck,” he pants, stunned, and when Viktor slides his mouth off of Jayce he doesn’t have time to mourn the feeling because Viktor’s finger finds a spot inside him that makes him light up, ears ringing as an electric surge of sensation rips through him with the force of lightning bolt. It’s not unlike the first time he and Viktor stabilized Hextech, feverishly working in the dim light of Heimderdinger’s lab with the first person who has ever seemed to understand him, his heart racing as footsteps came closer and magic arcing through his body, euphoric and weightless and exhilarating.
The mage slides one finger out and Jayce nearly whines at the loss, but then he sinks in two, and the stretch is so strange, but his brain has finally caught up with his body and is processing the feeling as good, as if Viktor’s fingers have a direct link to his dick, twitching against his belly. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this kind of pleasure before, as if his cock is barely part of the equation and his body is just an instrument of pleasure that Viktor is playing with expert precision. He’s making noises, desperate, needy, pathetic ones that he’s never made before in his life but he can’t stop, and the mage’s eyes gleam with a kind of possessive smugness that makes Jayce want to make a bad decision, like pull him in close and kiss him.
“Viktor,” he gasps when he adds a third finger, his body open in a way it’s never been before, and his thighs clench when Viktor finds that spot inside him and doesn’t let up, making Jayce let out a keening cry.
“Look at you,” Viktor breathes, eyes roving over Jayce’s face with the hunger of a starving man finally given a feast. “You have been neglected in your timeline, haven’t you? Rejected, when you are so wanting and desperate for touch. How could I have resisted you?”
Jayce whimpers, feeling the beginning of tears forming at the corner of his eyes.
“This is all you need, isn’t it?” the mage murmurs, curling his fingers as he works him wider, and Jayce’s hips jerk, his whole body flushed hot as his words break him open more than the fingers inside him do. He wants, he always wants, wants to be touched by Viktor, loved by him, fucked by him and to fuck him. He wants too much and too desperately, clings when he should let go, and this Viktor has seen it, taken it, and decided to give back.
He sobs when Viktor slides his fingers out, so empty, too empty, and he reaches for him because he needs to touch, needs to know if this is real, that he won’t wake up and find himself alone. Viktor takes his hand and presses a gentle kiss to his fingertips and Jayce’s fingers curl into empty air when he lets go, tingling, but he doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of Viktor’s touch as he watches with bated breath as Viktor shoves down his own pants and pulls out his cock.
“I thought it would be weirder,” he blurts out and then blushes when Viktor pauses and then laughs, a short, rusty thing like he is out of practice with the motion. His dick is long, longer than Jayce’s but slimmer, and Jayce is gratified to see how hard it is, proof that Viktor is just as interested in the proceedings as Jayce has been. It’s not the color of skin—it reminds Jayce more of the color of his arcane-touched scars, faintly pink and purple with streaks of gold like the metal that adorns his Viktor’s body, though the mage doesn’t seem to have any evidence of that anymore.
“Do you want to touch it?” Viktor asks knowingly and Jayce licks his lips as he nods. Truthfully, he wants his mouth on it, but his hands are the next best thing, and easier to use in the position they’re in. Viktor shifts forward onto his knees, settling between Jayce’s spread legs and Jayce shivers when his cock brushes against his thigh.
“Go on,” Viktor murmurs and Jayce runs his fingers along the shaft, tracing the ever shifting colors, the streak of gold that pulses like a vein. He hears the mage inhale sharply as he curls his fingers around him and strokes, slow and languid so he can test the give of the skin. It doesn’t feel exactly like normal human skin, not quite retaining the same heat, but there is an organic give to it and it is velvet soft to the touch. Jayce feels saliva pool in his mouth and he swallows it, entranced as he runs his thumb along the slit of the head of his cock, gathering the pearl-colored slick leaking out of it and bringing it up to his mouth for a taste.
Viktor groans, low and fervent, and Jayce jerks his head up to stare at him as he sucks his finger into his mouth. Jayce has never tasted any other man except himself once, when he was curious after he took himself in hand, so he has nothing to compare it to but it isn’t bad, he decides. A little bitter, a little sharp, like the magic he’s made of lingers even in this.
“Enough,” Viktor says, that endless well of patience finally at an end as he uses those pale, inked hands to spread Jayce’s thighs wide, and Jayce is struck by the sight of them, splayed against his tanned skin. He looks back up at Viktor, at the mage, his long grey hair loose and falling over his face and he tries to keep his eyes open so he can see the way his expression changes as Viktor slowly pushes into him.
Three fingers, even when they’re as wide as Viktor’s, are nothing compared to a cock pushing inside you, as Jayce abruptly discovers when he makes a mortifying, desperate noise as Viktor begins to fill him. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but he feels like he’s being torn open, an ache in his lower back and hip that makes him clutch at Viktor’s shoulders desperately. Viktor pauses, peering down at Jayce with a small frown before he reaches over him and pulls a pillow from the top of the bed and hikes Jayce’s hips up with a hidden strength that makes Jayce squeak as he slides the pillow underneath his hips.
“Better?” Viktor asks and it is, body aching less, but Jayce is panting like a racehorse less from the ease of pain and more from the way Viktor just moved him around like it was easy.
“How strong are you?” he asks, dazed, and Viktor’s expression changes into a smug little smirk that makes Jayce’s slightly softened cock twitch and begin to thicken again.
“Stronger than I used to be,” is all he says and when he finally bottoms out Jayce shudders, nails digging into the skin of Viktor’s shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Viktor has both hands planted on either side of Jayce’s head, his grey hair falling over them both like a shield, and Jayce realizes that if he doesn’t get his hands on Viktor’s skin right now he’s going to lose it, clawing at Viktor’s shirt and yanking it up and off of him. He barely gives Viktor a chance to reposition his hands before he’s gripping at his shoulder blades and groaning when Viktor pulls back and then rocks back in, slow, almost a tease.
“Please,” he gasps, because it has finally happened, the empty pit inside himself that has haunted him for as long as he can remember, the gaping maw of need that he’s been living with his whole life is finally full, Viktor filling him, hot and hard, and Jayce wraps his legs around his waist because he needs more. Viktor grunts and even that is hot to him now, the masculine, wiry strength of him being put to full use to fuck him into the mattress.
It’s an experience unlike one he’s ever had, his pleasure almost an afterthought compared to the sensation of being filled, of being fucked, for once in his life not needing to think of what he’s doing, not needing to know if the other person is having as good a time as he is, because he’s just the vessel for Viktor’s pleasure, tight and hot and clenching as Viktor rolls his hips and fucks him harder.
“Viktor, fuck,” Jayce pants and he arches his head up, pressing their foreheads together, noses brushing, mouths—
Viktor rears back, going still, and Jayce whines, trying to rock back against him and get Viktor moving again.
“Don’t,” Viktor says, and he sounds shaken for the first time, the storm of his eyes dizzying as Jayce looks up at him, uncomprehending.
“What—oh,” Jayce swallows. He had almost—
“It’s—it is fine,” Viktor says, shifting his weight to his knees so he can cup Jayce’s cheek with one hand, as if he can sense the wave of self-loathing that is threatening to bubble up inside Jayce’s mind. “I just…can’t. Not like this. Not with a version of you I will lose.”
Jayce exhales shakily and nods against Viktor’s hand. He can’t help but feel sad, hates the idea of any Viktor being alone, but the mage is right. He can’t stay. He has to go back and shake some sense into the Viktor of his timeline, make him see that his place was always right beside him.
“But this?” Jayce murmurs, sliding his hands up to cup his face and pressing their foreheads together. “Is this still good?”
He feels the way Viktor swallows, feels the heat of his breath against his cheek as he nods and Jayce makes a soft noise when Viktor finally begins to move again and Jayce thinks he might become addicted to this, to the way Viktor fucks him like he’s the only thing that matters.
“Feels good,” Jayce slurs, then cries out when Viktor finally finds his prostate and grinds into it, slow and dirty and fuck, he feels close again, feels his entire body throbbing for release, but he doesn’t want it to end yet, doesn’t want to lose this closeness, doesn’t want to feel that gaping emptiness come back. He throws his head back, breaking their forehead connection and he can feel Viktor’s hand sliding down his chest, pinching one of his still swollen nipples and making him writhe at the spark of pain-pleasure. He’s so wet his stomach is streaked with it, cock slapping against his belly with every thrust.
“N-no,” Jayce pants when Viktor’s fingers curl around his cock. “Not yet, not yet,” he gasps. “I want—Viktor, please, I love—”
Viktor’s hand presses over his mouth and he whimpers, eyes flying open when Viktor fucks into him hard before going still.
“Don’t,” he rasps, chest heaving, and Jayce sees how flushed the mage is, his pale face ruddy, hair dark with sweat. His eyes are wild, almost feral and Jayce clenches hard around him at the sight, which makes Viktor hiss. “Don’t,” he pants. “Not to me. Save that for him.”
And then he slides his hand away from Jayce’s mouth, down again, wraps his fingers around Jayce’s cock despite Jayce begging him for longer, his other hand finding Jayce’s and pinning it over his head and now Jayce is gone, his free hand scratching down Viktor’s back as he’s fucked into oblivion and then beyond. He’s barely aware of coming, of the way he spills over himself and the tight, punishing grip of Viktor’s fingers, his body a far off thing compared to the way his mind blanks, empty—at peace for the first time in his life.
He comes back to himself in degrees—his damp skin, sticky with sweat and cooling spend, his sore fingers, clenched in Viktor’s so tightly he’s surprised he didn’t break something. His face wet with tears.
Then he moans softly, eyes opening with difficulty when he realizes Viktor is still inside him, still filling him, not having come yet.
“Jayce,” Viktor says hoarsely, and Jayce shivers.
“Please,” he says, pressing the heel of his right foot against Viktor’s spine and nudging him forward. They both moan—Jayce in shocked overstimulation, Viktor with barely repressed need.
“Come on,” Jayce says, breathy and sweet. “Take what you need.”
Viktor hisses when Jayce clenches around him, hips rocking helplessly.
“Are you sure?” he asks and Jayce just looks at him, nearly delirious with pleasure.
“Viktor,” he says, struggling to make his brain work long enough to get him to move. “Fuck me.”
Viktor makes a guttural noise that sounds like it’s been dragged out of him and Jayce goes limp and pliant under him as Viktor starts to move, slow at first but then faster, erratic, chasing his pleasure by using Jayce’s body and it feels good to be used this way, to know Jayce is wanted so badly despite not doing anything to earn it, the sweet pain of overstimulation making his soft cock twitch against his thigh.
“C’mon,” Jayce pants, running his fingers down the dips of Viktor’s spine, pulling him closer and closer until Viktor is practically humping him, pressed chest to chest and making wounded noises like an animal.
“Let go,” Jayce murmurs against his hair and Viktor thrusts once, twice, then a third time before he sinks his teeth into the meat of Jayce’s shoulder and spills hot inside him, his body shaking. Jayce grunts, toes curling at the sensation—it’s strange, the wet sticky feeling inside him, but it feels claiming, possessive. He wants evidence of this, evidence that at least this version of Viktor wants Jayce just as badly as he wants him.
He holds Viktor as they both breathe, Jayce’s heart still racing and Viktor panting as if his is too, though he can’t really feel it. He wonders if Viktor still even needs to breathe, if this is just a mimicry of humanity that he’s embodying. Maybe Jayce brings him down low, makes him human in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. He decides he likes the idea of that. That his humanity is something Viktor cherishes, rather than how Jayce feels—mediocre compared to the magic that is Viktor’s entire being these days.
Finally, the mage sits up, Jayce resisting the urge to pull him back in when his cock slides out of him. He blinks back tears at the feeling of emptiness, that endless grief threatening to return until he hisses out a startled breath when he feels Viktor’s fingers prodding against his hole and then pushing back in.
“W-what?” he pants, a shiver wracking through his body.
“You like it,” Viktor says, curling his fingers and pressing them in deeper. “Feeling full.”
Jayce flushes in embarrassment and has to look away, but he clenches weakly, not wanting Viktor to pull away. He breathes softly, eyes half closed as he lets himself enjoy the sensation of Viktor's fingers, and then his gaze lands on the oil at the bedside table.
“Do you have more of that?” he asks instead of responding to Viktor’s earlier words.
He can sense Viktor turning to look and he shivers again when Viktor slides his fingers out, this time distracted enough that it doesn’t feel so empty without him.
“Yes,” he says. “In the kitchen.”
Jayce nods decisively. “I’m taking some.”
Viktor huffs and settles down next to him, eyeing Jayce curiously.
“You don’t have any?” he asks and Jayce is about to answer when Viktor makes an imperious gesture with his fingers and suddenly they’re both clean, Jayce’s skin tingling with the aftermath. He feels himself flush, both because of that and the fact that the mage didn’t clean his claim inside Jayce, since Jayce can still feel it dripping down his thigh—and he knows the mage can see his dick twitch at both those things based on the faint smile curving his lips.
“N-no,” he says, trying to remember what he was saying and shaking his head. “No!” He huffs. “I’ve been suffering for months. Do you know how hard it is to make oil out of tree sap?”
Viktor snorts and then looks surprised by it, and Jayce feels a smile tugging at the corner of his own mouth. It’s hard to believe only a few hours ago Jayce was feeling disconnected from himself, the poison of his experiences drained from him like venom from a bite.
Now, Jayce can see the aging lines along Viktor’s face up close, can see the thin lines of red from his nails on Viktor’s back. He can feel the lingering ache of his body—muscles that have never been used making themselves known, the deep mark of Viktor’s teeth stinging his shoulder. Jayce has brought the mage down with him, both of them on solid ground. He’s not sure if he should feel proud of that accomplishment, or sad.
“I wish—”
Viktor looks at him—he’s composed as he ever was, somehow dignified even when completely naked. Maybe that’s a mage thing because Jayce doesn’t feel dignified at all.
“There is no use wishing,” Viktor says softly. “We have given each other what we need tonight. Tomorrow, you will go home. Tomorrow, I will continue as I always have.”
Jayce swallows hard. He opens his mouth and then closes it. He doesn’t know what he was going to say.
Or—that’s a lie. He does. He’s just not sure he believes it yet. This is Viktor. Not his own, but it’s still him. Brilliant, flawed, cruel, kind, all at once
“Sleep,” is all Viktor says. “Tomorrow awaits.”