Archive of Our Own

Day 1.

“. . . and over here is the little kitchen area. Kitchenette? Kitchenette.” Jayce opened the fridge and showed off some of the meal-prepped containers. “I got some things you liked from the Zaunish grocer you shop at. I, ah . . . well I found some of your old receipts.” It was a little awkward to admit to the person you loved that you scrounged through their junk trying to piece together a portrait of their life. But Jayce had already kidnapped him, so he supposed they were past that.

Viktor was radiant. Legs pulled up under him on the bed, balled up to make himself small. He’d already changed into his sleep clothes when he drank the drugged sweetmilk, and he was angelic in loose shorts and a faded t-shirt from a concert he went to in Zaun three years ago. Jayce remembered the photos he uploaded after that night. None of himself. Jayce would have remembered.

Doesn’t matter, he reminded himself. He could see Viktor whenever he wanted now.

Of course, the handcuff connecting Viktor to the bed wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured it. But it was a temporary situation.

Jayce finished showing off the apartment, itself a masterpiece of devotion. The furniture was all things Viktor had saved online or passed over in an antique shop, things he wanted for himself but would never spend money on. Dark wood and midnight blue and lavender-purple that reminded Jayce of Zaun. Hopefully Viktor found it homey instead of weird and pathetic. But that was probably asking for too much.

The whole time Jayce showed off the basement/apartment, Viktor sat in silence, never taking his eyes away. Tight-lipped and twitchy. Watching. Even as he knew it wouldn’t happen, Jayce hoped his performance met expectations. He wanted Viktor to like his new home. He wanted it to feel like something he would choose for himself. Somewhere he would never want to leave.

One day. Jayce could be patient. Not often, but when it was something important, he could do it. And this was the most important thing in the world.

Jayce finished by showing off the cup of pills for Viktor to take when he was ready. He had already portioned them out for the day. The bottles themselves were upstairs, just in case Viktor got any ideas about how to escape. That wouldn’t happen. Jayce had thought of everything, he was sure. Even the handcuffs were perfectly measured to allow Viktor to use the bathroom on his own without letting him out the door. And the door was lined with deadbolts that Viktor would never get through on his own.

Hopefully Viktor would feel safe taking his meds soon. These, Jayce hadn’t even considered altering, knowing it would ruin the trust between them before he even had a chance to build it. Viktor’s health was something he took seriously. Even the birth control pills were accounted for, no matter how badly he wanted to flush them down the toilet. Everything in time. Foundation before the house.

Jayce stood by the end of the bed, but didn’t sit down. See? I'm a considerate kidnapper. The best you’ve ever had. No more boundary crossing after that little hiccup. “I'm going to be upstairs for most of the day. I have things to iron out. Your landlord needs to know you won’t be renewing your lease. Your boss already knows you’re not going back, so don’t worry about that. I promise I won’t make a mess for you to clean up.” That was the opposite of what Jayce wanted. He wanted Viktor to love his new, stress-free life so much that Jayce snatching away his old one seemed a blessing.

But for now, Viktor needed time to acclimate to the idea.

Jayce didn’t kiss him, because that would ruin his whole “taking it slow” plan. Instead, he kissed two of his fingertips and pressed them, gentle, to Viktor’s cheekbone. He loved Viktor’s cheekbones. Had for years. Now he got to love them forever.

He had to stand quickly, banishing the fluttery feeling before it could overtake him and he put his tongue down Viktor’s throat like he wanted. If he did that he wouldn’t be able to stop, wouldn’t want to stop, and his mother had raised a better man than that. Instead, he flashes his golden boy smile, all reassurance. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

Viktor said nothing.

Jayce remembered the first time he saw Viktor the way other men remembered their wedding day.

He was a sophomore at the Academy, and a few of the patron families of Piltover had already taken notice of him, his excellent grades and potentially profitable ideas. He was at the top of all his classes, an early pick for the Kirammans’ sponsorship. The year was on track to be perfectly ordinary.

Then Viktor introduced himself to the class and changed his life.

Two years his senior, Viktor was Professor Heimerdinger’s TA, a coveted position that many hated him for occupying as a Zaunite. If the vitriol ever got to him, Viktor never showed it. He simply continued to prove his excellence with everything he did.

As a TA, Viktor was frustrating. Jayce used to groan whenever he got his work back, blotches of red ink pressed into the margins. Lazy. Sloppy. Pathetic. You are too smart to actually turn this in.

It burned. Of course it burned. Jayce was used to being the smartest person in the room, and his classwork was often thrown together to buy him time for his personal projects. It had never been a problem before. His knowledge of the subjects had always been enough to keep him comfortably on top. Just not with Viktor. Viktor demanded excellence. And, slowly, Jayce found himself rising to the challenge. He put thought into essay questions he used to do without thinking. Where he used to turn in first drafts, now he spent hours in the library, dawn breaking over him as he edited and re-edited his papers. He researched shit he didn’t even know existed, searching for the perfect morsels to offer up to Viktor like a penguin with a pebble. The day he saw the words No notes in Viktor’s neat handwriting was the day he fell in love.

It didn’t hurt that Viktor was gorgeous. Gorgeous and genius, with fluffy hair and golden eyes that cut you to the bone and kissed the wound better. Wanting him made Jayce feel like the greediest man alive. Mamá would have been so disappointed if she knew.

But Jayce had kept a good hold on his greed. He had let himself be content with Viktor’s half-smiles when he did well on an assignment, the approving glance of his gold eyes. Jayce took those moments and held onto them until they hurt. And when Viktor graduated — left him — Jayce had watched from afar. He convinced himself that he was okay with just this. Just looking. It wasn’t even that creepy, really. Lots of people followed their classmates on social media. Reading Viktor’s research wasn’t weird, either. Viktor was brilliant. Anyone who wasn’t an idiot should really do the same. The sheer number of personal notes Jayce added just showed he was paying attention. And lots of people with Jayce’s background knew how to find someone's password, or address, or bank information, or medical records. That arguably wasn’t even impressive with how companies handed out personal data like candy. He wasn’t going to do anything with it. He just wanted to . . . keep an eye on an old friend (who probably didn’t even remember his name). And he swore he would have left it at that . . .

They just had a bad year.

Because Viktor did have a promising career ahead of him. Until a mega corporation bought the research firm he worked for, shutting his work down as unnecessary and frivolous. He'd stepped on too many toes and committed the profane transgression of being unprofitable. Even that would not have been enough to hold him back on its own, Jayce was certain. But the loss of his job had coincided with the death of his mother. And that did break Viktor a little.

Burdened with a mountain of medical and funeral bills, Viktor had been forced to take a job with the exact kind of people he hated, making meaningless techslop to hold onto his health insurance. Jayce burned with hatred on his behalf. He wanted Viktor to have every good thing in the world. He wanted his life to be beautiful, full of meaning and pleasure.

But even if the universe had left it at that, Jayce thought he could have maintained his self-control. Not entirely, obviously. But he had a good thing going under the Kirammans, and his own family was minor nobility with a few factories to their name, property. It wouldn’t be hard to arrange a meeting. Bump into Viktor at the café 200 feet outside his apartment where he went to read and eat poppy seed bagels overstuffed with chocolate spread. It would be so easy. A nice shirt, some product in his hair, handsome but not trying too hard. Do you mind if I sit here and I love the book you're reading and hey, do you look familiar? Then they would fall in love and Jayce would take care of him forever and Viktor never had to know that Jayce used to calculate how to drug him without throwing his medications out of whack.

Then Ximena died.

Heart attack. Underlying conditions no one knew about, no one looked for. The funeral was missing the one person in the world Jayce wanted there.

He cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore, took bereavement leave, and let a lawyer make all the decisions. It hurt. It hurt like Hell. He slept in his mother’s bed until it smelled like him instead of her. He ate all the leftovers in her fridge. When he tried cooking her recipes from scratch, they weren’t the same and he just cried again. He didn’t know how to live without her. If he even wanted to. He wanted to die.

But he still had one thing left to live for.

In a way, he felt like the grief brought him and Viktor closer together. They had always been so different, Viktor pale and disabled and Zaunite, Jayce tan and fit and Piltover to the core. But this pain was something they shared, something they could bond over. What had been an idle fantasy became a plan. Weekends once spent with his mother or friends were now devoted to converting the basement in his family home to a holding cell. Using a lock pick to break in was so easy it was concerning. Viktor ate his meal prepped dinner and drank his special sweetmilk without thinking. Then he was light as a feather as Jayce carried him to the car. He joked to passerby about how drunk his friend was, how they had to get home, how lucky Viktor was to have someone to take care of him. No one stopped him. Obviously. It was meant to be.

Jayce had been patient. Jayce had been good. He had spent the past six years building a life worthy of the man he loved. And it was love. Obsession didn’t last this long. No, he and Viktor were bound across spacetime, destined to meet and need each other, take each other. It was always going to happen. He just . . . took a shortcut. Viktor was a reasonable person. He would understand.

Jayce would make him understand.

Jayce masturbated twice before going back downstairs. Pants pulled down only as much as needed, heavy balls cupped in his hand, getting off to the knowledge that Viktor was finally here. That Jayce could go downstairs and take him now if he chose. He wouldn’t, of course. He wanted Viktor to want it too, and acting too soon would ruin the chances of that ever happening.

Laying him down in bed, Jayce had wanted so badly to touch him, run his hands across every inch of skin until their molecules were intertwined. But no, he reminded himself, he was waiting. He wanted Viktor to enjoy his touch, crave it, invite it. He had waited for years and he could wait years more.

The two orgasms were perfunctory, business-like. His mind wandered with the second, finding its way back to Viktor’s messy hair, the elegant lily-stem of his throat, the moles dotting his skin . . .

There we go.

Jayce cleaned himself with a cloth and tossed it into the dirty laundry, already rushing downstairs as he buttoned his pants. He stopped just in front of the door. Spent way too long “fixing” his hair. He was sure anyone looking in from the outside would think he was insane. He didn’t care. There was only one opinion he wanted to hear — and he was going to make a good impression.

Jayce opened the door and stepped inside quickly, not giving Viktor a chance to get past him. The door fell shut. Jayce dropped his hands behind his back, non-threatening. “Viktor, I’m home! Are you . . . awake . . . ”

His captive, the man he loved more than invention, stood in the kitchenette, drizzling a cold sauce over two plates of food. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Jayce come in, a smile sliding over his lips. “Jayce! You’ve returned.”

“Uhh . . . Yeah. That was the plan.”

Jayce’s hands clenched and unclenched at his side, unsure what to do. What— what was going on?

Viktor solved one problem by passing him a plate of food, waiting for Jayce to take it before letting go. Their fingers brushed as he pulled his hand back, and Jayce rocked forward on his feet, swaying gently as he told himself not to sink his teeth into Viktor and bite.

Jayce desperately blinked the thought away and cast about for a distraction. “You . . . made me food?”

“Just something you had prepared for me. It's not warm, unfortunately, but this is meant to be eaten cold anyway.”

“I know.” Jayce had done his research in between preparing the apartment. Obviously Viktor would need food he could eat cold, and Jayce had anticipated his every need. “I just didn’t think you would make me a plate.”

“Of course. It is very awkward to eat alone in the presence of another.” Viktor cast a teasing look at him and seriously, what was going on?

Viktor guided him to sit like Jayce was his guest, drawing one leg under himself as he settled down at the table, digging in with plastic utensils. Jayce kept looking at him and the food and back. He didn’t put it past Viktor to find a way to alter the meal; he hadn’t fallen for an idiot. But Viktor was so lovely in the gentle warm lighting that Jayce had chosen to go easy on his eyes. And . . . well it was nice to sit down with him like this. Domestic. He didn’t want to wreck the image before he got a chance to enjoy it.

Moving deliberately, Jayce pinched off a piece of bread smothered in a spiced sauce, cool to the touch. He turned to Viktor and held out his hand. Viktor looked at his hand, then at Jayce. Jayce smiled, aware of the cracks at his edges. “Come on,” Jayce challenged. “Show me you like it.”

The world was still for a moment. They took each other’s measure, both wondering how far they could push. Viktor leaned forward, never once taking his gaze away. He opened his mouth and closed it around Jayce’s fingers. His throat worked. Jayce’s mouth watered. He forgot what he was doing, why. The world narrowed down to Viktor’s soft mouth, his tongue twisting around him, how good it felt just on his fingers . . .

Viktor pulled back, Jayce’s humiliating whimper following him. Viktor smirked. “Delicious.”

Jayce hadn’t lost. But it didn’t feel like he won either.

There was a couch for them, new but comfortable, with space in the room for a TV if Viktor ever wanted one. They settled there after dinner, Jayce shifting awkwardly to hide his growing erection. He’d never been in Viktor’s physical presence this long, and he was seconds from panting like a dog. He nearly wept with relief when Viktor pulled a blanket over himself, hiding the sharp lines of his body, his ankles. (Jayce had never thought he was attracted to ankles, but they were Viktor’s ankles, and thus received a pass.) There was a bolted down coffee table where stacks of paper rested now — essays, journal articles. It didn’t surprise him that Viktor had found them so soon. He knew that his partner would take stock of the place quickly.

What surprised him was Viktor picking one up and dropping it in Jayce’s hands, saying, “Tell me about this. I want to know your thoughts.”

Jayce didn’t think to argue.

He knew the title by memory, could recite the introduction and results without looking. It was the last thing Viktor published before losing the job he loved. Testing different methods of removing pollution from an isolated region — gene-edited bacteria, fungi, flowers. Ten months of work in Zaun. Thousands of dollars in funding. Viktor’s mother had been so proud. Jayce, too. He was always proud of Viktor.

Jayce did not recite the facts of the work back verbatim, though he could have. He knew that was low-hanging fruit, not at all what Viktor wanted. Instead, he talked about the future. What Viktor could do to continue the work, what they could do. A different strain of bacteria, a new discovery in the mines of Zaun from when Viktor was busy planning his mother’s funeral. Radiation-devouring fungi and the opportunities that presented. What he thought went wrong with the flowers. How to fix it, how to fix it. Viktor was already brilliant, and didn’t he see how they could be brilliant together? Just give him a chance, any chance, please, Jayce could be so good for him—

Viktor caught Jayce’s wrist, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence. He stopped instantly, looking at him. Viktor’s golden eyes, a lock of messy hair over his forehead. His lower lip seemed more plump than usual. Bitten, wet with spit. Dizzying. Viktor touching him was everything he ever wanted. If Jayce dropped dead that second, he would be satisfied.

Then Viktor said, “I want you to fuck me,” and Jayce realized that nothing else would ever satisfy.

Jayce said, “Are you sure?” because he still considered himself a gentleman, wanted to be one.

Viktor arched a brow, giving him a strange look. Are you serious right now? “You’ve gone through this much trouble to have me. Surely you are not scared now.”

Scared, no. Not that. He wanted only to be good for Viktor.

Viktor was giving him an opportunity to do just that.

In a single motion, Jayce reached across the couch, wrapped his hands under Viktor’s skinny thighs, and lifted him into his arms. Viktor yelped, then laughed, and Jayce twitched in his pants. It was like he never touched himself. His pants were painfully tight and so was his skin. Like he was trying to pour out of himself, out of his body, and into Viktor.

That was maybe a thought he should save for later in a relationship.

He dropped Viktor on the bed, grinning as he bounced. His canines shone through when he grinned and Jayce had to get his pants off now, before he could ruin the evening. He pulled them down and off, struggling around his feet, and ended up with one sock on, one lost. Luckily Viktor seemed to find this charming instead of pathetic. Maybe both; he listened to men whimpering to get off.

Viktor sucked in a breath when Jayce was finally naked, his gaze turning soft and hazy. He sat up, tilting his head. Jayce’s breath caught in his throat when Viktor touched him, feather-light and teasing. One hand on Jayce’s erection, the other on his waist. Viktor looked up at him, biting his lip. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

Jayce had maybe five seconds of genuine panic before he realized Viktor was teasing him. Viktor’s golden eyes glinted up at him as he struggled to hold back a laugh. Jayce relaxed a little. “I’ve seen you take bigger toys than this.”

This time, Viktor’s surprise seemed genuine. “You watched?” His hand closed around Jayce’s cock, holding it in place as he stroked, dry and rough and hot as hell. Jayce was whimpering when Viktor said, “What was your favorite part?

“The—” Fuck, Viktor, please, “—the stretch. You . . .” Jayce threw one arm out, pressing his hand to a wall to hold himself up. “You always look so fucking greedy.”

“Truly?” Viktor made a thoughtful expression before spitting into his hand and returning it to Jayce. “Did you ever record it?” Jayce whimpered, nodding. “What’s your favorite? I’m sure you have one.”

“God, you—” It was an enormous effort to think. “Sometimes you start off with just your fingers. And you try so, so hard not to get out your toys. Like—” His eyelids fluttered when Viktor spit into his hand and put in back on Jayce’s cock. “Like you're trying to cut back or something.”

“I’m bad at edging myself.” Viktor admitted this like someone cheating on a diet.

“I know,” Jayce groaned. “You always get frustrated and get a toy out anyway. Any of them, it doesn’t even matter by then. It’s so hot.”

Viktor was rubbing his thighs together the way he did when he was horny, but edging himself so he couldn’t get off. “You have a strange idea of what’s sexy. You’re lucky I like it.” He was going to give himself a friction burn if he rubbed any harder. “Come on, don’t hold back, I’m so wet—”

“I know,” Jayce groaned. “Can smell it.”

Viktor’s pupils dilated. He reached up with one hand and wrapped it into Jayce’s shirt, pulling him down to the bed. His teeth dug into Jayce’s jaw, biting. Jayce groaned like he was in heat. It was everything he’d dreamed of. He’d pictured having sex with Viktor so often that it comes to him like a lovingly remembered dream. Like a dance he'd been practicing on his own, no one else to rely on, that finally had a partner. When he first slid into Viktor, that look of shock and awe in his golden eyes, the way he looked at him . . . God, he’d dreamt of this. Everything about them fit.

Viktor lay sprawled across his chest in the aftermath, playing with Jayce’s chest hair, running his fingers through the sweat. Jayce was still inside him, soft and warm, with no intention of leaving. It felt like he might start purring. He wouldn’t have really noticed if he did.

Jayce was half-asleep when Viktor sighed. “Very well. We can make this work.”

Jayce had no idea what to make of that.

Month 1.

Time passed. Jayce got more confused.

He still worked for the Kirammans and was gone four days a week, rushing home in the evening, getting more than one speeding ticket. Every time, he expected to find Viktor somehow gone, escaped. It drove him to more than one panic attack locked in a bathroom, struggling to control his own lungs. He thought he was prepared for everything, but reality still knocked him on his ass. He came home red-eyed and exhausted.

Viktor greeted him every time.

The stress would fall from his shoulders. Tears escaped more than once. Viktor would just glance at him, half-frowning, and ask how work went, if he needed anything. Sometimes that meant making Jayce tea with the kettle he was finally allowed to have. Sometimes that meant laying Jayce down and riding him until he forgot why he was upset.

Every day he got to stay home was precious. The strangest part being how natural it all felt. Jayce came downstairs with his notes from work in one hand and breakfast in the other. Viktor would scribble down notes while chewing pancakes, unbothered by Jayce’s stare. Sometimes while Viktor wrote, Jayce would slink under the table and eat him out, a skinny thigh thrown over his shoulder, Viktor sweet on his tongue. Viktor would run his hand through Jayce’s hair and make encouraging noises, but never stopped his work.

Jayce wasn’t sure if this really was how he thought it would be.

“Do you think you ever want to get bottom surgery?”

They were laid out in bed, sweaty and twitching as the air cooled. Cardboard boxes darted the basement, half-filled with Viktor’s books and clothes. They were moving his things upstairs. An inevitability, but one Jayce thought wouldn’t be so easy. He could see one of Viktor’s Talis-red ties thrown over the side of a stack of cardboard. If he wasn’t completely spent, it would be enough to get him going. He loved Viktor’s ties.

His partner squirmed, propping himself up on one hand and looking over Jayce with . . . Not confusion. Not mockery, either. Even Jayce could never be entirely certain be was interpreting Viktor’s moods perfectly. “Why? Do you want to change me?”

“No!” Jayce blurted out, though even a second later he could tell Viktor was messing with him. “I just want you to be happy.” Jayce would miss his perfect pussy, but the thought of Viktor with a cock made his mouth water. It wouldn’t be weird. He didn’t even learn Viktor was trans until after he started stalking him. Several sketches had required adjustments. He remembered listening in as Viktor argued with a receptionist that yes, actually, he did need to make a gyno appointment and to please let him talk to someone else. Jayce filed a complaint. (Several complaints. But only a couple threats.) “I'd do anything to make you happy.”

Viktor’s smirk softened. He pressed a kiss to Jayce’s forehead, sending tingles all through him. “Sweet boy. Always so thoughtful.”

Well, Jayce didn’t want to brag . . .

Viktor considered the question as he pet Jayce’s hair. “Before . . . eh, probably no. Not for a lack of desire. My body and I have always been at odds. Anything to bring the damn thing in line.” Jayce, appreciative of Viktor’s body in all forms, wisely bit his tongue. “But there was never enough time, never enough money. Insurance alone would be a nightmare. Besides, who would have taken charge of my care while I recovered?” Silence held him for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was a little rougher. “And my condition makes any surgery, even necessities, more dangerous. Now . . .” He played with Jayce’s hair. “Perhaps.”

An easy joy overtook Jayce. There was no longer a question of who would take care of him. Jayce would do it, happily, eagerly. He loved taking care of Viktor, did it with pride. He didn’t know how to imagine another world. This was . . . right.

“After we have children, of course,” Viktor said suddenly. “I have no interest in a surrogate.” He stroked Jayce’s brow, tilted his chin up to face him. “No one else gets to carry your babies.”

Jayce stared at him, brain-broken. Then he threw himself at Viktor, pushing him into the bed and attacking his mouth. Viktor let out a breathless noise of shock before grinning into the kiss. There wasn’t much talking after that.

Month 2.

When they finished moving Viktor upstairs, Jayce expected him to make a run for it. When Viktor cooked him dinner, he was waiting for the knife in his back. When he let (begged) Viktor choke him during sex, he was stunned at how quickly the bruises faded. One day Jayce came home from work and Viktor asked him to come look at some paint swatches. “I’ve decided to have the bathroom redone,” Viktor said without preamble. “I need your credit card. Which green do you prefer? I want new tiles.”

Jayce monitored his credit account for weeks before giving up. It’s not like he was gonna take it back.

He didn’t really know what to do now. It felt like when he first graduated — all this work and buildup to a rousing success that he didn’t know how to use. He would have been utterly lost without Viktor as his guiding light. Now . . .

He was figuring it out. Mostly he tried not to let his mind wander on its own.

Viktor helped. Viktor always helped.

How did I end up here? Jayce wondered, thought distant and fuzzy as he knelt between Viktor’s legs, his partner’s bright-blue strap hitting the back of his throat. He still wasn’t sure of the answer, but he was pretty happy with the position.

Viktor sat with his back up against the headboard, long fingers playing with Jayce’s hair in between pushing his head down. Jayce choked, sputtered, drool dripping down his chin. His vision blurred. He pulled his head up to cough, his own erection heavy between his legs, leaking all over the sheets. He kept pulsing, eager and pathetic, making a mess. Viktor’s eyes shone with pleasure as he watched, one hand cupping Jayce’s cheek. Jayce pressed into his hand like a cat. He’d always loved Viktor’s hands, so certain, so clever. Viktor smiled and pushed him back down, chuckling when Jayce choked again. “Sweet boy,” he muttered and brushed away a tear. “Knows exactly what I want, and always makes sure I get it.”

Jayce nodded, eager and pathetic. Yes, that was it, did Viktor see? He’d only ever wanted to make him happy, make them happy. They were happiest together. It had always been this way. It would always be this way. “Want you,” Jayce managed to choke out. “Want to make you happy.” He wrapped his lips around the strap and sucked, like he could make Viktor feel it, and took the toy down as far as he could. Want to make you feel good forever, my partner, my Viktor, mine mine mine—

“Of course you do,” Viktor cooed, making aborted little half-thrusts that pushed the toy deeper into Jayce’s aching throat. “I know, you do it so well.”

Jayce moaned, thrusting against the bed to drag his neglected cock over the damp fabric. The air smelled good, like sex and Viktor. One of his hands clutched Viktor’s hip. The other tore at the sheets, knuckles white. He pulled back a bit, the toy pushing at his lips like a kiss. “Smell good,” he slurred. Viktor’s giggle sent a full-body shudder through him, weakening the already loosening grip he had on his self-control. The tears came easily, and his defenses fell to them. “V, c’mon, please, I’ve been so good—”

“Shh.” Viktor cupped Jayce’s chin. His eyes burned into Jayce, dark and golden and approving. “Of course you have. My good, sweet thing. Absolutely precious. How could I deny you?”

Please don’t, Jayce thought, needy even in his own thoughts.

But Viktor was good to him, and didn’t keep him waiting. He pulled Jayce up to meet him, mouths joining together in an almost violent kiss, teeth on each other’s lips. A little mean, a little playful. Viktor’s hand in his hair grew tight, pulling Jayce away with a chuckle. “Alright, be good now, yes?”

Dragging him by the hair, Viktor shoved him face-first into the bed, Jayce burying his face into a pillow. The rest of his body went lax, no complaints to be heard. He tried to imagine himself as Viktor saw him. The strong lines of his muscles, gold-brown skin stretched over a body that only occasionally felt like it knew what it was doing. The dark tussle of his hair, Viktor loved his hair. He loved to play with it, pet it, get tangled up in it. Viktor was playing with it now, one hand curling along the curve of Jayce’s ear as he lined their bodies up, Viktor’s hips against his ass, Viktor’s chest pressed into his back. Viktor nipped at his ear lobe and Jayce let out a low, rattling moan that shook his chest. “Please . . .”

“Please?” Another bite, lower, leading down his throat. “Please what?”

“Viktor, please!” Jayce kicked out uselessly, feeling like he was about to shake out of his skin. “C’mon V, fuck me!”

“So needy,” Viktor growled. He shifted his hands around, one on Jayce’s waist to hold him in place. The other went lower, finding Jayce’s hole, slick with lube and prepared for him. They’d been playing for what felt like hours. He’d been ready for so long. Viktor was good at keeping him on edge. Jayce had burst into tears under his hand more than once. But Viktor always brought him back to himself. “What did you even do without me?”

Jayce whined with need, trying to push his ass back against Viktor’s strap, like he could trick Viktor into fucking him. When it became clear Viktor wouldn’t move until he obeyed, Jayce struggled to pull his thoughts into coherence. “I fucking . . . masturbated all the time.” Memories flitted through his head, some of them bright and shimmery. “I took pictures of you getting . . . getting undressed.”

“Oh?” Viktor prodded at his hole with two fingers, gently stretching out the rim. “Continue.”

“Wha—” Jayce choked on his own spit, Viktor’s fingers splitting him open. “What do you wanna know?”

“Hm . . . ” Viktor pet at him from the inside, gentle strokes that drew high-pitched whines from Jayce’s throat. “Did you ever watch me having sex?”

“Y’know I did.” There was no way Viktor didn’t know that by now. Jayce had watched, equal parts furious and horny, harshly judging each performance. Too rough, too quick, too concerned with getting off to worship the divinity in their bed. One-night stands that never seemed to satisfy Viktor for more than a few moments, and the guest stars never repeated. Jayce was proud of himself for never killing any of them. He came close once — a man who pushed Viktor’s boundaries until Viktor was screaming at him to get out of his apartment. Jayce had thought it might turn violent when the man grabbed Viktor’s wrists and slammed him into a wall so hard it had to hurt. Jayce had been about to run into the apartment when the man finally left, visibly pissed off as he left Viktor stunned and shaky on his bedroom floor. Jayce didn’t leave that night until Viktor was safe and asleep in his bed.

He took care of the man later, of course. Hammer to the hands. Some people had to be taught a lesson.

“And?” Viktor asked. “What did you think?”

That was easy, at least. “They didn’t deserve you.”

Viktor stilled above him. The head of his toy prodded at Jayce’s hole, teasing him. “Do you think you deserve me?”

Jayce’s tongue was thick in his mouth. The tears were coming easily now. Jayce couldn’t stop them. “I do. Don’t I, V? C’mon, I take such good care of you . . . ”

He sucked in a breath, feeling each tightening of his lungs like a band of iron. Viktor was inside him.

“Yes.” Viktor’s hand curled around Jayce’s throat, a playful squeeze that stole whatever air he had. “Yes you do.”

Viktor pushed his left foot into the bed for leverage. One hand clung to Jayce’s waist for strength, the other holding onto his neck, squeezing it. Then finally, finally, Viktor moved.

A strong, forceful roll of his hips that brokered no arguments. Jayce clawed at the pillow, whimpering whenever he managed to suck in a breath. His head was full of clouds. He was pretty sure his tongue was numb. It was such a distant worry that he almost had to wonder why he cared. Almost, because nothing could distract him from this. From Viktor’s bony hips pressing into the meat of his ass. The long lines of his fingers digging into Jayce’s throat, making him wonder each time if this was it, if Viktor meant to kill him and leave. He never did. Just kept moving, kept fucking Jayce like the whole world depended on it, because it did, this was all that mattered in the world.

Jayce buried his face in the pillow, screaming, sobbing. He was pretty sure his whole body was trembling and Viktor could see it, he knew. Knew how easy Jayce was for him, how desperately he wanted him. He must have known already, it was impossible not to — but like this, the proof all laid out beneath him . . .

The fabric under his face was wet with tears. Of joy, of ecstasy, of something sharp and painful he couldn’t put a name to. Viktor wasn’t moving fast, but he fucked Jayce with absolute clarity of purpose. He knew exactly what angle he wanted, how to make Jayce keen, how to make him cry. And he loved to make Jayce cry. Jayce was crying now. He was dizzy with tears. All the blood in his body was filling his cock, keeping it dark and plump for Viktor’s pleasure. Every gasp of oxygen was a rush through his nervous system. He was going to be wearing high-collared shirts for weeks.

“Fuck, Jayce,” Viktor cursed, biting on his earlobe, then his shoulder, searching for some kind of release. A sound like a purr rumbled through Jayce as he realized that Viktor was as affected of him. The fingers digging into his skin were painful with desperation. “Jayce, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

Jayce nodded.

“Then be a good boy—” Viktor’s hand, tight around his throat, cutting off his breath “—and come for me.”

Jayce was good, and good for Viktor, and he did exactly as he was told.

Viktor was gentle with him in the aftermath. His own hands twitched with his release, and he winced with over-sensitivity when he removed the strap. Jayce had long forgotten about the toy itself, and was already thinking about a timeline of surgery and recovery and incredibly eager babymaking. They weren’t entirely coherent thoughts. He’d come back to it.

“Enjoyed yourself?” Viktor teased, brushing damp strands of Jayce’s hair out of his face.

Jayce nodded.

“Not ready to speak?”

He shook his head.

Viktor chuckled and shook his head. He collapsed into the bed next to Jayce, uninterested in showering just yet. Whatever. The sheets had to be washed anyway, and neither of them were doing that tonight.

Viktor pulled the blankets up over them and turned off the lamp beside the bed. Jayce made a happy rumbling sound when Viktor curled up next to him. He summoned the strength to throw an arm over him, drawing Viktor close, and kissed his temple. “Sweetheart . . .” Jayce muttered, losing his trail of thought. He kissed him again and didn’t bother with words.

“I . . .” Viktor, usually so eloquent, stumbled over his words. “. . . thank you, Jayce.”

Jayce had no idea what he’d wanted to say. But that was okay for now. Just right now.

Month 3.

For Viktor’s birthday, he was clear that he didn’t want anything too over-the-top. Jayce was disappointed. But he always tried to give Viktor what he wanted.

It was a Monday; he took two days off work. One to enjoy together, and another to recover from the inevitable sex hangover. They spent the day in the city. A café for breakfast, followed by a car ride to the upper levels of Zaun to visit their botanical gardens where Viktor had spent two years volunteering as a teen. Jayce listened with what had to be the sappiest face possible as Viktor rattled off information on the highly-specialized plants of his home city, unaware of the leaf that settled in his hair. When Viktor was finally ready to leave, they headed back up to Piltover. Two hours spent in an art gallery ended with Jayce spending a painful amount of money on an art nouveau piece for the bedroom. According to plan.

The whole day, Viktor had Jayce tell about their years apart. Where he would sit and wait while Viktor was in a building, what cameras he used, his favorite memories of watching him. Viktor loved hearing about how Jayce stalked him. By the end of the day, he was clutching Jayce’s hand like a lifeline and his bottom lip was swollen from biting.

Viktor soaked in a hot bath when they got home, sluicing off the day’s aches and pains while Jayce made dinner. Spiced soup with dumplings. The original recipe was Zaunite, but Jayce added a handful of spices from Ixtal. Light and fragrant. Ximena would have liked it.

Viktor came out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers and one of Jayce’s button-downs sliding off his shoulder. Jayce almost dropped the damn pot.

Viktor brushed a wet lock of hair from his face, slicking it back. Teasing him, a playful glint to his eyes as he licked his lip. Jayce swallowed and reminded himself that he was being good. So, so good. Viktor sat down at the table, wrapping an ankle around the other chair to pull it out. He propped his chin in his hands. “It looks good.”

Something does. Jayce shifted awkwardly to get his pants in order before joining him.

They ate in silence, occasionally interrupted by the clinging of metal on ceramic, by Viktor’s grateful moans, by Jayce trying to keep it together.

Viktor broke the silence.

“Jayce. I think we should speak.”

Oh. Jayce thought. Here it goes.

When thinking about how this conversation would inevitably go, Jayce had always thought he’d be scared. That when the time came and Viktor tried to wriggle out of his grip, Jayce would be heart-stricken. Right now the only thing he felt was relief. Finally, finally, they were getting it out in the open. Viktor was going to tell him that they gave it a shot but he was ready to leave. Jayce, knowing this would happen, was always going to happen, wouldn’t let him. Viktor would resist. Obviously. Jayce hadn’t fallen for him because he was easy. And once he did, Jayce could return to the original plan, tie him down and keep him here, keep him safe—

“I think that we should go to couple’s counseling.”

“. . . What?”

“I am quite serious. I have considered it and I’ve decided it’s the smartest option. You do not trust me yet—”

“Trust you?” Jayce’s voice seemed quiet and far away to his own ear. Like he was shouting through water. He cast his eyes around, searching for some way to make sense of what he was hearing, and found none.

“Yes. Jayce, surely you know that I enjoy our life together—”

Viktor was cut off in a sudden yelp as Jayce moved without thinking. He shouldered the table out of the way, the sound of broken ceramic a distant bother, something not quite real. His hands found Viktor’s waist, grabbed him. His thumbs met in the middle. So vulnerable. Jayce was still moving, pulling, pushing. Their chairs crashed to the ground. Viktor’s head jerked back when Jayce slammed him into a wall. His partner gasped, struggling to catch his breath. He tried to push Jayce’s hands away. It would have been easier to stop a river in its path. Jayce closed in on him, foreheads pressed together as he forced Viktor to meet his eyes.

“You.” Jayce’s whole body was hot. It was consuming him. He didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know if he wanted to stop it. “I could break you in half without thinking.” He squeezed Viktor’s waist, fingers curving over fragile bones, pressing bruises that he would kiss for weeks to come. “Do you even– It would be so easy.”

For the first time, there was a flicker of fear in Viktor’s eyes . . . but no, that wasn’t what he wanted either, that was never what he wanted. Jayce choked on a sob. “But it’s not just your body I want. It’s you. It’s all of you, V.”

He dropped his head down, nuzzling into the curve of Viktor’s throat. The frightened thrum of his partner’s pulse soothed something inside of him. Jayce’s knees buckled and gave out. He hit the floor.

“Jayce!”

Viktor startled and tried to pull Jayce up. He refused, burying his face in Viktor’s stomach, and breathed in the honey and citrus scent of his body wash. Tears flooded his eyes. “How do I know you aren’t lying at me? How do I know this is real?” His eyes burned. He crumpled in on himself. “Viktor, please, just tell me—”

Day 1.

Passing out was not a foreign sensation to Viktor. From exhaustion, from medication, from bad luck. When he felt his body slow and his vision spotted black, Viktor went into a controlled fall, catching himself on the third-hand couch he'd inherited from a roommate before slipping to the floor. Then he was out.

When he woke, his head hurt. Which was strange, but not as strange as waking up in an unknown location with a stranger hovering over him.

Viktor waited until he was certain the man was gone before stretching his legs out, wincing in anticipation of a pain that didn’t come. His kidnapper had laid him down correctly, a pillow or folded piece of blanket for every joint that needed support. He was wearing the same clothes as before, which was a relief. His mouth tasted of bile and foam, which was not.

Raising his arm, Viktor tested the handcuff. Too strong to break. Expert welding, too. He wondered a little at the craftsmanship before remembering it didn’t matter. The cuff wasn’t tight enough to chafe, but he'd have to break half his hand to get out of it, and without a way out, he doubted that would amount to anything other than more intense restraints. The thought of going back to the hospital was enough to stop him before he tried.

When he felt certain his kidnapper wouldn’t burst inside the second he moved, Viktor stood. His cane rested against the wall by the bed and he took it then. He stopped, frowned. It felt . . . different. Lighter. Leaning on the wall with one hand, Viktor lifted it up with the other and looked.

The gold handle was new.

Viktor rolled his eyes and pushed off of the wall, determined to explore his . . . prison. The bathroom was ordinary, and he had enough give in the chain to comfortably take a shower. His captor must not have thought him capable of drowning himself. He was correct; Viktor had a stubborn will to live that had dragged him through greater pain than this. And the soaps were all the correct brands, so he was in no hurry to die.

He even got the correct toothpaste . . . Viktor had never thought himself interesting enough to merit such attention.

The rest of the basement — he was pretty sure it was a basement — had been converted into a studio apartment ripped straight from the websites he saved for a nebulous “one day”. It occurred to him far too late that he did not take internet safety seriously enough. Eh . . . too late now.

There was no stove or oven, or even a microwave. Fair. He could have deconstructed them easily enough, and anyone this invested in him surely knew that. The fridge was packed with things he liked. Some Zaunish dishes that looked homemade and could be eaten by hand. Enough fresh raspberries to make him worried when they would mold. His stomach growled. He considered eating something and decided against it. He couldn’t put it past his captor to drug him twice in a row, and he was still on his medication.

Not one thing he found could be a weapon. Except maybe his cane . . . but his captor had been very careful to leave that with him.

The walls were lined with antique bookshelves taller than himself, screwed into the building so he couldn’t knock them over. They must have cost a small fortune on their own, but he couldn’t deny they were exactly the kind of thing he would long for in a vintage shop but never buy. They weren’t empty, but filled with books — books he’d read and loved, books he swore he’d get around to, books he hadn’t heard of. Fiction and non-fiction in equal measure. He supposed his captor didn’t think Viktor could paper-cut himself to death.

Viktor peeked through them, nosy despite himself. It was, begrudgingly, a very nice collection. He spent a while mentally cataloging everything, irritated and amused to find they were even arranged to his preference . . .

The last bookshelf had two rows at the bottom. Not filled with books, but with folders, papers stapled together, notes upon notes, carefully stacked to avoid further damage than time had already done. These intrigued him more than the rest. Carefully levering himself to the ground, Viktor crossed his legs and flipped through them, eyes widening as he read. He recognized this work.

They belonged to two authors. Himself — and Viktor winced flipping through his earlier work, how sophmorish it was, how hopeful and naïve — his words annotated with an unfamiliar pen. The pages spilled with ink blotches, filled equally with insightful comments and incredibly graphic sexual fantasies. A few pages even had crude stick-figure drawings, as though the writer had been trying to figure out the right position and needed a visual aid. He had never known anyone to be so aroused at the thought of radiation-devouring fungus (one of his earlier works, something he didn’t speak of now; too painful, to be reminded of work he actually cared about).

The other author was Jayce Talis.

Viktor remembered Jayce. His work, his brilliance, matched only by his efforts to skate through. Viktor remembered resenting him. Handed every privilege on a platter and picking at the plate, like he could do better. He hated when Jayce turned in sloppy work more than he hated anything else back then. Mostly because it was so obvious that Jayce was brilliant and he did care. He just wasn’t showing it.

Older and more worn-out, Viktor empathized. You could be the smartest person in the world and still have a hundred pressures pulling you in different directions. Some things had to be sacrificed. He could have been kinder. He should have been kinder.

But Jayce rose to the challenge.

Viktor remembered his own smile as he wrote No notes in red ink, biting his lip. He hooked up with someone that night, someone good-looking, but he didn’t remember them. That part hadn’t really mattered. Just that when he shoved the idiot away and took his pleasure in hand, he came thinking of a stupidly handsome boy with every advantage in the world still so desperate to prove himself.

Viktor put the papers aside and considered his situation.

Viktor was a scientist. Not only as a vocation like so many of his peers, but as a philosophy. He sat with the facts he had and examined each in turn. He had a mountain of medical debt waiting for him, both his and his mother’s. He hated his terrible job and the terrible people he worked with. He was tired. And . . . lonely. He could admit that. Viktor had always been lonely. He had gone from hating this to taking a perverse pride in it to simply accepting it. But the past year had made everything worse. He could admit this to himself, in the quiet chambers of his mind and nowhere else: he did not want to be alone.

He considered all of this as he found the pills.

Jayce was nice. As nice as a kidnapper could be, at least. And he liked Viktor, his ideas, his theories. That alone would have intrigued him. But Jayce was also stupidly attractive, to the point that it was absurd he’d abducted Viktor instead of just introducing himself like a normal person. But Viktor was not entirely normal himself.

So Jayce’s behavior was . . . rude. But perhaps not unforgivable. Flattering, even, to take up so much real estate in another’s head. If Jayce was as devoted as he claimed, and so long as he was very good from now on . . .

He was either trustworthy or he wasn’t, and Viktor didn’t care to wait to find out. He downed the pills with a cup of water.

Afterwards, Viktor dragged himself back to bed and collapsed, exhausted. It had been so long since he rested. He needed it.

“Jayce,” Viktor said carefully, “you misjudge me.”

Jayce was still weeping into his stomach, stress and anguish spilling off of him in waves. He looked so sad and pathetic, Viktor had to stop his mind from wandering. He rested a hand in Jayce’s hair and sucked in a painful breath when Jayce’s hold tightened. He swore he could feel his bones shift under his skin. “Jayce? Jayce, can you speak?”

A painful pause before Jayce shook his head.

“Alright, darling.” He brushed a hand over Jayce’s soft hair. “Be good and listen.”

“I am not some innocent thing, as you seem to think. But you know that, I believe. You would not have wanted anything less than yourself.” Viktor smiled. “You’re sweet that way.”

“‘M not,” Jayce managed. “I’m not sweet.”

“Oh, I think you are. I like that about you. My sweet, smart, obsessive boy. I would have found you anyway.” He cradled Jayce’s face with both hands and tilted him to look up. “Makes me feel safe, makes me feel loved. Makes me happy.” Viktor smiled, threatening and golden and honest. “Why would I ever leave? I am exactly where I want to be.”

“I’m not, I—” Jayce’s tongue seemed suddenly too large for his mouth. Viktor waited patiently. “I'm a liar. I'm not good, not good for you at all. I— sometimes I think of hurting you. Even though I never want to see you hurt, I just—”

Viktor was intrigued, but he wasn’t sure that was the reaction Jayce needed just yet. “Jayce, you must realize you are not the only dangerous one in this relationship. I've considered poisoning you just so you will stop leaving me to go to work. I think you would let me, too.”

The absurdity of the statement seemed to cut straight through to Jayce, who lifted his head to look at him. “. . . seriously?”

“I've given it a great deal of thought.” Viktor shrugged. “I get lonely without you, you know.”

Jayce hadn’t known. Viktor wasn’t sure how. He loved his partner very much. He would have to be better at showing it. Relationships were give-and-take after all. Especially ones this unconventional.

“I think I couldn’t be anything but lonely without you,” Jayce admitted. He was breathing a little easier now, and his grip had loosened enough that he was just pressing down on fresh bruises instead of creating new ones. “I think if I ever lost you, I would have to die. I’d want to die.”

The normal response to that probably wasn’t unbridled pleasure. But Jayce would not love him if he was normal. “We’ll go together.”

Jayce shivered and pressed a kiss to Viktor’s stomach. Viktor held him close, resting back against the wall. The simplicity of the moment was achingly perfect, now that Jayce knew he wanted to spend all the time in the world with him. Soon, he intended to start working with Jayce. He'd had a much-needed break after burning out, but the idea of spending every day with Jayce made him smile without realizing it.

He really wanted it to stay a sweet moment. As sweet as they were capable of, at least. But . . . he wanted to know more about what Jayce had said. “Darling?”

Jayce murmured into him, but didn’t speak.

“When you say you think of hurting me, how do you mean?” He had an inkling, but no evidence. The way Jayce looked at him sometimes when they were in bed, that dark glint that got Viktor excited, but never led to anything. He was very interested in seeing where it led.

Jayce stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I want to hear about it.” Viktor gripped Jayce by the hair and yanked him back, stopping him when he tried to look away. “Well?”

Jayce blushed furiously. “I wouldn’t actually do it.”

“I believe you. Tell me anyway.”

“I . . . I don’t . . .”

His sweet boy. Maybe Viktor could help him. “You want to hurt me . . . in or out of bed?”

“V . . .” Jayce quickly dropped the whine at Viktor’s sharp look. Sucking it up, he said, “In bed.”

A happy shiver ran through Viktor’s muscles. “You want to hurt me. To have power over me? Nod or shake.”

Jayce hesitated before nodding.

“You want to have power over me . . . the way I have over you?” Nod. Viktor fluffed his hair as a reward. “Six years with no acknowledgement, and I never released my grip on your mind. You feel I have left a mark upon you. It would only be fair to do the same.”

Jayce gazed up at him, eyes glazed, almost delirious. “Do you want that?”

“I want us to leave our mark on each other every way we can.” He lightly grazed the back of Jayce’s neck. “Are you going to give me what I want?”

Jayce stared at him, dumbfounded, adorable tooth gap visible. Viktor already knew he’d won. Jayce always gave him what he wanted.

Viktor let out a little squeal of surprise when he was tossed over Jayce’s shoulder, strong hands holding him by the thighs. Then he giggled as Jayce wove through their apartment, getting it out while he could. He’d been thinking of this for months, craving Jayce’s darker side, the little glimpses he got in between Jayce struggling to prove himself, something he hadn’t had to do for a while. A rush of air flew from his lungs when Jayce threw him back on the bed, standing over him with crazed eyes. Viktor didn’t have time to catch his breath before Jayce was on top of him, gold-green eyes burning. “Do you have any idea how tired I am of you driving me crazy?”

Not enough to stop. “I—”

Jayce hit him, an open palm on his cheek that rocked Viktor’s skull, taking root in his teeth. Viktor’s mouth clicked shut. His face burned. He was sure he was looking at Jayce with open adoration. The low growl in Jayce’s throat made him shiver.

“No idea.” Jayce sat back on his knees. “You never once stopped to think of what you were doing to me.” His hands fell to the band of Viktor’s boxers. It only then occurred to him that he should be playing his role. He struggled against the iron bands of Jayce’s hands and whimpered when he got another slap for his efforts. Jayce lifted him by his shirt and slammed him back into the mattress. “Stay still! This isn’t about you anymore.”

Viktor bit his lip until it bled. He was so horny, he could feel his underwear stuck to his pussy. When Jayce peeled them off, his partner stopped to stare at him. The scent of his arousal filled the air. Jayce’s pupils were huge. He could see in real-time as Jayce struggled against his softer nature, his desire to wrap Viktor up in his arms and call him beautiful and sweet and perfect.

Jayce’s eyes darkened and the moment burned away.

Jayce picked Viktor up like he weighed nothing, flipping him onto his stomach. Viktor tried to look back over his shoulder, but he only caught a glimpse of Jayce undoing his pants before a broad hand was on him. Jayce grabbed him by the back of the head and pressed him into the pillow, smothering him for a few brief seconds before he let go. Viktor didn’t struggle, allowing Jayce to maneuver him as he wanted, pulling pathetic, scared little whimpers from his throat. Jayce sounded feral as he tore his clothes away, a loud rip cutting through the air as he ridded himself of his shirt.

Viktor gasped when Jayce pressed three fingers into him without warning. His cunt burned with the stretch. Jayce hadn’t fucked him for several days in anticipation of his birthday, and the wait had paid off. Everything felt painful and new. Jayce’s hands fell to either side of his head, the long, muscular stretch of his body pressing up against Viktor’s bony lack of curves. The hard head of Jayce’s cock prodded at his slick hole. He was dripping.

Jayce shoved inside, and Viktor cried.

“Fuck.” Jayce’s voice, dizzy with arousal. “Fuck, V.”

Blood rushed through his ears. The world narrowed down to Jayce. Jayce above him, Jayce inside him, Jayce bullying his pussy. Somehow, it all fit inside; Viktor was always amazed at that. Jayce’s hands fell to Viktor’s waist, lifting him an inch off the bed to bring him closer. The feeling of his hips beating against Viktor’s ass was enough to make him weep, half-delirious, half-ache. Distantly, Viktor remembered his role, remembered what they both wanted. “Please,” he begged, speaking around snot and tears, “please stop, please, please, stop, oh gods . . .”

Jayce made a choking sound. “Fuck.” Jayce twitched inside him and grabbed harder at Viktor, one hand sneaking under his shirt to grope a small breast. Each fit perfectly in his hands. Jayce used this to his advantage now, his hand closed painfully around Viktor’s tit. Viktor shrieked and feebly kicked at him. Another twitch. “Fuck V, just like that, keep begging me to stop . . .”

Viktor was dying, he was burning alive. Jayce was so big inside him; he was ripping him apart. He had to be, there was no other explanation. There would be bruises on his ass, his hips, his chest for weeks. When he dug his nails into his palms, he drew blood.

“Stop,” he pleaded. “Oh gods, PLEASE stop!”

“Baby . . .”

Jayce fucked him harder, the slap of skin-on-skin filling the room. Viktor pulled away from the pillow to breathe, gasping down air. “Fuck . . .” Jayce kissed the tears from his cheek and stuck his tongue down Viktor’s throat, fucking him twice now. His clit dragged against the sheets, overstimulation beating on him from both sides. He was stuffed full. Jayce kept one hand on his breast and wrapped the other around Viktor’s throat. He pressed down. For a moment, Viktor couldn’t breathe.

He came so hard he saw stars.

Viktor was screaming when he came back to himself, choking on tears and pleading for Jayce to stop. “Hurts, please, it hurts so bad . . .”

“I know,” Jayce said. A note of wonder colored his voice as he licked up more tears, pressing mean kisses across Viktor’s cheek and brow and lips. He pressed down on Viktor’s throat. Harder. Black spots inched across Viktor’s vision as a second pressure built up in his pelvis. Jayce pressed his face back into the pillow, cutting off his cries. “Now you know how it felt. All those days, years, I couldn’t have you. Do you know how many times I wanted to do this to you?” Jayce squeezed his tit, moaning when Viktor cried out from pain. “How much I thought of it? Every day, Vik. And every time, I felt so fucking bad.” A sharp thrust, the painful piston of his hips. “But not bad enough to stop. I jerked off thinking of you covered in blood. Yours, mine, both. Didn’t matter. Just the image was enough to get me through the day.”

“You’re hurting me . . .”

“I hope so.” Jayce groaned, painful. “I really fucking hope so . . . God, Viktor— oh—”

The hand on his chest finally let go, relinquishing the aching red flesh. There was no break. Jayce rushed to find Viktor’s engorged clit, petting him. Then Jayce pressed his knuckles into it, harsh points striking at every nerve, ten-thousand painful pinpoints of pleasure. Viktor screamed, thrashed, fought, but Jayce just kept going—

Viktor’s second orgasm laid him out flat, draining every ounce of will from him. He collapsed, an empty vessel for Jayce to use. His poor pussy stretched wide and Jayce kept fucking him, one hand settled against Viktor’s back as he kept going and going and going—

Jayce moaned when he came, filling Viktor’s cunt to the brim. It spilled out of him and gushed over Jayce’s cock with a filthy squelch. Viktor whimpered when Jayce pulled out, but it was just so he could put his fingers back in Viktor, lazily petting his pussy and rubbing his clit with slow, gentle circles. He dragged Viktor back until they were both lying on their sides and started kissing down his neck. It was then that Viktor realized they were both trembling, the rush of emotions mixing painfully with the overstimulation. His throat ached. It would be a while before he was comfortable speaking; Jayce would have to talk to the bathroom renovators.

The memory of normalcy shocked him, and Viktor laughed, a painful croak that quickly turned into a bad idea.

“Hey, be careful,” Jayce chided, using the hand that wasn’t covered in cum to soothe the bruises that circled Viktor’s throat. His eyes turned dark and sad. “I went too hard.”

No, that wasn’t what Viktor meant at all. He caught Jayce by the wrist and pressed a kiss to his palm, shaking his head. “Good boy,” Viktor said through the rawness. “I— liked it.” To his dismay, Viktor felt his face heat up. Ordering Jayce around in bed was easy, practically second nature. Talking about his feeling made him want to run for the hills. Luckily, Jayce would never let him get away. “Like you. Love you.” It hurt sometimes, how much he loved Jayce. How easy this was. If this was so easy, why had everything else in his life been so hard? Why did it take so long to feel right?

Luckily, he enjoyed the pain. “Love you very much.”

Jayce burst into tears, collapsing on top of Viktor and kissing him, tracing a path between his moles. Viktor smiled and kissed him back. Jayce tilted him back, pressing their foreheads together. “V, I love you so fucking much. More than I’ve ever loved anything. I’ll die without you.”

Viktor smiled and kissed away Jayce’s tears. “Sweet boy.” Then it hurt too much to keep speaking. That was fine. Jayce would take care of him. “Not going anywhere.”