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“Stay? Please?” How could Jayce say no?
He’d been doing so well. Holding back. Keeping his hands to himself—or at least keeping them from wandering too far. From wandering where they wanted to. From pushing beneath Viktor’s shirt and memorizing the ridges of each rib, the knobs of his spine—fuck, from slipping beneath the loose waistband of his sweats and taking him in hand, learning the way he’d react to Jayce’s touch. Just kissing was amazing—it was incredible—he could kiss and do nothing more for the rest of his life. If kissing was all Viktor could give him, all he would give—that would be enough. But Jayce wanted to kiss elsewhere. He wanted to drag his lips against Viktor’s nipples, to feel the ridges and veins of his cock against his lips. His tongue. He wanted to open his mouth for Viktor, to have Viktor use him to feel good—
They weren’t there yet. Jayce hadn’t even felt Viktor get hard yet. He hadn’t been hard in all their make-out sessions.
Not that Jayce was keeping score.
He just.
Well.
He knew that he had been hard for all of them. Viktor had been kind enough (or cruel enough) not to say anything.
He had never been hard against Jayce, though, and Jayce had thought it through a hundred different ways—it seemed like Viktor enjoyed what they’d been doing—he often instigated the make-out sessions. Jayce was logging the things that made Viktor push him over and slot their mouths together, learning what things meant more frantic kisses and teeth, which meant they’d be soft and slow.
Every fucking moment of it was thrilling.
So, he knew Viktor liked it. Had paid careful attention to the way his pupils dilated, the flush across his cheeks, the half-lidded look when he wanted—
Beside him, head resting against Jayce’s bicep, an arm slung across his stomach, Viktor snored softly, tucked against his side. It was where he belonged.
They hadn’t talked.
They needed to talk.
But it still felt right.
The thrum of anxiety that pulsed constantly beneath his skin was settled here. Like a wave of calm that Viktor had been kind enough to allow him into—this space with too many blankets and drifting tufts of cat fur. This place that was never the right temperature—with a fridge that was more science experiment than edible food—
Jayce belonged here.
In his sleep, Viktor shivered and moved closer, plastering himself against Jayce’s side, nose pressed against Jayce’s throat.
His heart was pounding so hard and fast, he was afraid it might wake Viktor.
But Viktor slumbered on.
Jayce doubted he’d be able to sleep. How could he sleep with Viktor against him like this. With Viktor moving in his sleep and resting his leg over Jayce’s hips. With Viktor’s breath hot against his throat.
Jayce was going to implode, and what a way to go.
---
When he woke, he and Viktor were tangled together. Viktor’s groin was pressed against his hip, a barely there shift as, asleep, he searched for friction and pressure. The more pressing issue at hand was Viktor’s thigh.
It was slung over Jayce’s hips, solid and warm against his dick, hard and leaking—Viktor shifted it with each movement of his hips, rhythmically using Jayce as leverage to get just a bit more against his dick—his dick that wasn’t hard. Even now, asleep and clearly aroused—
The thoughts stopped there with a breathless groan and a more needy rocking of his hips, the pressure against Jayce’s cock sparking through him—fuck—he didn’t know if he could—if he wanted to—no, he knew he didn’t want to pull away. Not from this. Not from Viktor using him to make himself feel good.
It was for Viktor, not for his own benefit—wasn’t that an okay reason to be a little selfish? To let Viktor grind off on him?
Another harder thrust. A whine muffled against Jayce’s skin. The sharp panting breaths against his throat—Jayce rolled onto his side, slotted his thigh between Viktor’s legs, giving him more leverage—giving Jayce a view. It had the added benefit of more friction and pressure, and Viktor exhaled a contented little sound and rocked against Jayce’s thigh. He wasn’t hard.
Viktor groaned softly, mouth dragging against Jayce’s throat, then suddenly stilled against him, his body going stiff in Jayce’s loose hold. Jayce could cry—he didn’t want Viktor to be awake. He didn’t want him to pull away, to stop touching—“Jayce—”
“Viktor,” Jayce groaned back, and then an echo of the night before, “Please—” His voice hardly sounded like his own, thick and gruff and desperate. His skin heated in embarrassment, but he didn’t retract the plea.
“Mm?”
“Don’t stop—please, don’t stop—” Jayce begged. He felt like he was going to cry a little bit if Viktor pulled away from him. He tugged Viktor a little closer, too hazy and aroused to think better of it.
When Viktor moved again, it was to press his thigh against Jayce’s dick and Jayce thought he might pass out. He couldn’t fucking breathe. Viktor shivered then pressed closer, his face squashed against Jayce’s throat—he moved again, shallow rocking thrusts, grinding against Jayce’s thigh, grinding against Jayce’s cock. “Jayce,” he panted.
“V—” Jayce groaned. It felt like a prayer as it left his mouth. His voice sounded gruff and thick—he felt like a man starved. Relief rolled dizzyingly through Jayce, and he shifted so he was partially over Viktor, giving them both just a bit more. “Why aren’t—you aren’t hard?” he gasped.
Then. Bafflingly. Viktor laughed, grinding harder against Jayce’s thigh. “I am.”
Blatantly untrue?
Jayce sat up, twisting so he was able to better look down at Viktor’s face. The shift in position made Viktor whine and pout up at him, hips rocking to chase after Jayce’s thigh, which—fuck, made Jayce feel unhinged, quite frankly. “You’re not,” he argued, trying so very desperately to focus on the task at hand. “Is it cuz you’re old?” he demanded before he could think better of it. He needed to know! Why wasn’t he turning Viktor on??? It was a matter of life and death.
Viktor stared up at him, mouth open in surprise for a few long seconds before he covered his face with a hand to try and smother the sharp bark of laughter that tore through him, his cute teeth on full display—Jayce wanted to lick them—why was Viktor laughing about this? “Jayce…” Viktor said, tone amused, slow as though he were saying something obvious.
“Viktor,” Jayce echoed with a frustrated frown.
Viktor searched Jayce’s face, the corner of his mouth curled in an amused, crooked smile. Jayce startled when Viktor took his hand, then immediately felt so dizzy he could die as he realized what Viktor was doing, where Viktor was leading his hand.
It took him several long, embarrassing seconds for his brain to catch up with his fingers.
A cunt.
Viktor—
Fuck—
He looked wildly up at Viktor, so many things suddenly clicking into place. “Oh—” Viktor smiled at him, nervous. Jayce was frozen, his brain felt like a stalled engine. It was going a million miles an hour? He felt like an idiot. He was so hard he thought his dick might fucking pop or something equally horrific—
Viktor led Jayce’s hand against the engorged clit, drawing their fingers in a circle against the head of it. The movement made Viktor’s eyes flutter shut, made his entire body tremble. Fuck.
Fuck.
“Fuck—”
Jayce’s hand was shaking as he pressed his fingers lower, desperate to feel—there was no way. Fuck—how could he be so lucky? This—this he knew he was good at. Fuck, he knew he was good. He’d been good at other things too—Quinn—but this was different.
Viktor was different.
Fuck.
Viktor was fucking made for him.
Jayce shuddered in arousal as he finally dipped his fingers lower. Viktor was soaked.
Jayce had made Viktor wet like this, dripping and panting and hard. Fuck.
Viktor moaned softly and shifted under him, spreading his legs and lying on his back, practically begging Jayce to do more. To taste him. To fuck him. To—
Jayce dropped his forehead heavily against Viktor’s shoulder, shaking as he stroked through the hot, sticky mess. “Fuck, Viktor—oh my gods—you’re so wet.”
The sound that Viktor made—a breathy, desperate keen. His grip on Jayce’s wrist tightened, but he didn’t pull Jayce’s hand away. If anything, he tugged Jayce closer. Jayce was so turned on. How had he not considered—it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Years he’d imagined what Viktor would be like in bed. Years of fantasies of things he didn’t even know he was into, but that he wanted so badly with Viktor it made him feel sick—and he’d never thought that maybe—“You didn’t know?”
“How could I have known?” Jayce asked, rubbing his thumb in light circles against the head of Viktor’s dick. “Can’t believe I’ve been imagining you all wrong,” he breathed, looking down at Viktor. He knew he must look insane—he couldn’t stop smiling with excitement at this new prospect. He must have looked embarrassingly smitten, starry-eyed and in love.
Viktor whined, his lashes fluttering, his mouth falling open and slack as he sucked in a shaky breath. “Disappointed?”
What? How—how could Viktor even think that? He stilled, searching Viktor’s face. Had he done something to make Viktor think he might be? That he could possibly be disappointed in anything Viktor gave him? Viktor could have been doll-smooth, and Jayce would have still been delighted by him. He could have had some secret alien genitalia and Jayce would have sank to his knees, eager to learn just what pleased him—“Never,” he said urgently. “Fuck, V—never—you were,” he sucked in a breath and exhaled all at once. An admission that had his skin scorching with embarrassed heat. “Gods, Viktor, you were made for me—”
Jayce had the pleasure of watching Viktor’s pupils blow out, a blush bloom across his cheeks. He was so gorgeous. Viktor tangled his fingers in Jayce’s hair and was rough as he yanked him down, their mouths colliding with a near-bruising force. Jayce groaned, going willingly, eagerly kissing Viktor back. “Lovely boy,” Viktor breathed in the hot space between their mouths, saliva connecting their mouths—Jayce almost blacked out.
“Viktor,” he gasped, desperately kissing along Viktor’s jaw, his ear, his throat. Dragging his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He wanted to devour him. Fuck, he was starving for him. “Viktor—” he pressed a finger into the tight, wet heat of Viktor’s cunt, pressed his palm against his dick. He could feel it twitch and throb against his hand.
Viktor exhaled a moan and rolled his hips down into Jayce’s hand, fucking himself on Jayce’s finger, rutting his cock against his hand, trembling from the contact. “That’s it, just like that,” he panted in encouragement as Jayce curled his finger. “Good boy, Jayce.” Jayce moaned at the praise, electricity lighting up down the length of his spine. He adjusted his position, grinding against Viktor’s thigh. “Yeah? You like that?” he asked, tone a teasing coo. Jayce nodded, vision blurring. He rubbed his thumb against Viktor’s clit, hard and fast, eyes locked on Viktor’s expressions. The way his lashes fluttered, what made his brow furrow, and his mouth fall slack, the sharp breaths—
“I’ve known that for quite a long time, Jayce,” Viktor murmured. Jayce made a soft noise of question. Known what? He wasn’t even sure what they were talking about—the words washed over him, building him up higher, higher—“Heard what being called lovely did to you on the phone,” Viktor admitted breathlessly. “’ve thought about it a lot.”
Fuck.
The pieces fell into place. Viktor knew—Viktor had heard—
Embarrassment jolted through him at a dizzying speed. He rocked his hips harder, more desperate against Viktor’s thigh. He sank a second finger into him, wrist twinging from the angle of it. “Fuck—you knew?”
Viktor laughed, a sound that broke off into a breathy moan when Jayce thrust his fingers rough and desperate—“Yeah, I knew.”
Jayce felt dizzy. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Neither did you,” Viktor panted.
Did he touch himself? Did he like it? “Did you—”
“Yes,” Viktor gasped, pulling Jayce down into another hungry kiss. “Fuck, the whole time, Jayce.” The admission made Jayce shake, teetering on the edge. He bit Viktor’s lip hard, trembling and rutting against Viktor faster, harder, desperate. Viktor kissed him back. Jayce could feel him smiling into it. Then Viktor’s hand was pressing between them, his hand gripping Jayce through his boxers—“My lovely boy.” Before he was ready, before he wanted to be done—that was all it took. Jayce bit down at the side of Viktor’s throat, biting harder than he meant to as he came, hips jerking as he rode it out against Viktor’s thin thigh.
He urgently fucked his fingers into Viktor, curling his fingers, roughly rubbing his cock—he didn’t feel real. Viktor’s cunt on his fingers was all he could think about. His cunt. Hot and tight and so fucking wet—
Viktor was kissing him again, licking into his mouth, pulling his hair, fucking himself down onto Jayce’s fingers. He was so desperate. He was shaking for it. Begging for it—Jayce would do anything for him. Fuck, he wanted to do everything for him. My lovely boy—Viktor had no idea just how much Jayce belonged to him. Jayce was his. He had been for years—
“Yours,” he exhaled into Viktor’s mouth.
Jayce could have made a valiant effort at going again. That word was enough. Somehow—the admission, the plea, the promise—
Viktor shook against him, clenching down on Jayce’s fingers, slick spilling out of him. Jayce was soaked up to the wrist. He was panting hard, a faint rasp to each shuddery exhale. His nails digging into Jayce’s skin, tearing at his hair hard enough to hurt—Jayce was his.