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Jayce has self-control.
He has always been a disciplined, note-worthy child, with patience and maturity that rivaled that of his seniors. He knows all his limits. He has stopped himself when he started to get ahead, and has pushed himself when he started to get behind.
He has self-control. It’s a blessing, really. He’s used it all his life. In the lab, to not jump to conclusions, to take his time with his math and calculations. To eat slow and run fast.
He has self-control.
But Viktor is a fucking enigma to him.
There is something utterly humbling about the way Jayce loses every single thought in his head like a marble spiral when he sees Viktor at any given moment. There’s a sense that goes beyond just lust—it’s an absolutely depraved spark of desire that rips up his entire spine and ruins any semblance of control and independence he has.
So, yeah, maybe Viktor is limping around the lab a little bit extra today. Jayce Talis does not have self-control when it comes to Viktor.
They’ve been working on the same calculations for the past two hours now. Viktor usually winds up travelling back and forth between the board and their textbooks, but right now, he’s seated on the rolling stool, stretching out one of his legs—his good one.
“Viktor?” Jayce asks, and he has to dodge the glare that flies his way. “Uh. I was just wondering if you could pass me the prototype. It’s on your desk.”
Viktor always gets into a bad mood when he’s in pain. Jayce knows this, and he isn’t surprised that, right now, Viktor is pinning him to the wall with his stare and probably killing him over and over in his head.
“I am unsure if I can, Jayce,” he says (rather pettily, Jayce might add). “I seem to be in a bit of extra pain today.”
It’s the third time Viktor’s brought it up, and the fifth time that Jayce has apologized. Anytime Viktor stands up, he watches Jayce with a meanly fixed expression, daggers in his pupils.
“Viktor, I can’t keep apologizing! What do you want me to do—”
“Oh, nothing. I am very independent and capable. I just hope my lab partner does not mind making the trip across the lab himself, seeing as he has put his fellow academic into a compromising position.”
Jayce rolls his eyes. Viktor loves getting extra dramatic when he’s angry, and even more so when he’s aching. And Jayce deserves it. He knows he does. But there’s not one ounce of regret in his body as he crosses the open space to Viktor’s desk and picks up the prototype.
“I could give you a massage,” he offers hesitantly. “Work your muscles out a little bit. I could help you stretch.”
“I am not sure I want you to touch me right now, Jayce,” Viktor bites back, huffing indignantly. He’s totally playing this up just to make Jayce feel bad. It’s not working. He just looks even cuter and more irresistible than ever. Jayce sighs and fiddles with the mechanical parts in his hands.
“C’mon, Vik. Let me make it up to you,” he pleads. He doesn’t mention the fact that, last night, it was Viktor who kept saying ‘harder, faster, deeper,’ and other litanies of begs and whines. Jayce is just a good partner. He gave Viktor what he asked for, and maybe a little more.
No self-control.
“I can go get us lunch.”
“And leave your disabled lab partner here to suffer in your absence? Who will help me to grab my chalk? How will I reach the board to erase it? I certainly will not be standing any time soon.”
Jayce huffs. “Okay. I can distract you, then. I know you’re in pain, baby—” baby, he says, because he knows it affects Viktor, and he doesn’t miss the slight twitch of his shoulders at the pet name. “But you have to let me help. Unless you just want to stay mad at me all day.”
“I want to stay mad at you all day.”
Jayce hangs his head. “Okay, fine. If that’s what’ll make you feel better.”
He knows he says it, but he really doesn’t mean it. He keeps wanting to push—every time Viktor stands up, he wants to rush to his side. Every time they finish a calculation, Jayce wants to kiss him, but when he gets close, Viktor pushes himself away on the chair, or turns his head from Jayce. Jayce pouts, but Viktor doesn’t even see it, and if he does, he ignores it (which is usually impossible for him).
The afternoon rolls into an early evening, and Jayce finally lifts his head out of his book, sketching out different blueprints while Viktor has been resting on the couch for a while, drafting out some more concept dates for them. When he looks up, the sky is a little darker, and Viktor is leaning against the arm of the couch, looking at him.
He stands up and makes his way toward Viktor. The man doesn’t move. For the first time since that morning, Viktor lets Jayce touch him as he runs his hand through his hair. “How are you feeling, Vik?”
“Tired,” Viktor responds blandly. He gives into the feeling of Jayce’s hand for a moment, before he suddenly remembers that he’s playing angry, and he pulls away and crosses his arms. “In pain.”
“Still?” Jayce asks, and then bites his tongue. “How about you take some painkillers?”
“I did. During lunch.”
“Okay. Uhm. Have you done some stretching?”
“Stretching is not going to help how much my hip is hurting, right now. Which would not be a problem if someone had stopped last night when I said so.”
Jayce’s eye twitches. “I asked for one more, and you said yes!”
“I was—Jayce, you know I was just being ridiculous! As if my body could have handled that many in a row.”
Jayce flushes, remembering Viktor, covered in a light sheen of sweat and orgasming for the third time that night. “You wanted me to, though.”
“Yes, well, now, I am mad.”
Jayce doesn’t understand him. But he still cares about him, so he sighs, resigned, and sits at Viktor’s feet. Hesitantly, Viktor lets him grab one foot, undoing his shoe sweetly and rubbing up and down the calf of his bad leg. “I’m sorry, V. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You are always just... so...” Viktor looks away. Jayce tracks the flush that blooms on his skin, and it makes his own heart pound.
“So what?”
“So rough. And—and big,” Viktor murmurs, sinking further into the couch.
“Do you not like me being rough? I thought you—”
“I like it,” Viktor hisses in interruption. “But I am still mad at you.”
Jayce nearly laughs to himself. “Okay, well, I’m sorry for doing something you like. Next time, I’ll make sure to tell you no.”
Viktor pouts. Pouts. What a rare fucking sight. Jayce nearly feels ready to combust. Viktor thinks he’s big and rough and too much. And he loves it anyway.
Jayce doesn’t feel any better about the pleasure zapping through him when he hits a tender nerve on Viktor’s leg, and the man gasps in a mix of pain and relief. Jayce keeps massaging up his leg, to his knee and inner thigh. Viktor eyes him as he gets closer to his crotch, and then snarls at him when he traces over the inside of his thigh.
Jayce laughs and lets go. “Right. You’re mad at me.”
Instead of doing what he really wants to do—bend Viktor over the couch, or spread him open and eat him out—he just leans down and kisses his boyfriend’s forehead.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Viktor nods, closing his eyes to show his upperhand. Jayce just rolls his eyes again and goes back to his desk. He wills the heat in his hands to cool down, simmering into energy better spent on his mathematics. He can control himself. He can respect Viktor’s boundaries, even if they’re all fake—even if Jayce knows that with the bat of his eyelashes, Viktor would have his clothes on the floor.
He can keep himself at bay. He can leave him alone for the day, until Viktor stops playing this angry-upset-pouty game.
But Viktor doesn’t let up.
The evening turns into a darker night. They’re still in the lab, slaving away over the board, Viktor working meticulously on fixing prototypes while Jayce makes trips back and forth between the forge. On this specific trip, he comes back with a slew of bolts and screws to find Viktor limping over to their shared draft desk.
Each step he takes, he pauses and pushes at some part of his lower back or his hip, not relieving any of the pressure with his crutch, trying to support both aching sides of his body. The image does something visceral to Jayce. Carnal desire fills his veins.
Here is his partner—his one and only—practically limping from getting fucked so good. Jayce only has one thought: he did that. He made that happen. Viktor was in so much pleasure last night, it’s crossing over into his day-to-day and making this impossibly harder for him to manage.
Jayce has self-control. But he lacks a brain when Viktor’s around, and he knows this, and still, he drops the box of screws on the floor and crosses the short distance to Viktor with minimal, large strides. Viktor barely regards him before Jayce backs him against the desk and nearly topples him over.
“Jayce?” Viktor asks, all his bravado gone, replaced by pure confusion and concern. Jayce feels himself breathing heavy in his partner’s face, unable to control the way his heart is racing. He wants to ravage Viktor. He wants to push him into the desk and make it hurt more.
He stops short, his hands coming up tender to Viktor’s waist. “I have to have you,” he whispers under his breath. “I need you.”
Viktor’s eyebrows furrow so prettily, Jayce thinks he could die on the spot. “J—Jayce? Right now? We are in—”
“I don’t care,” he growls. Without warning, he leans in and inhales Viktor’s scent. He smells clean and perfect and smooth. Jayce kisses at his neck and avoids the weak hand trying to push away his forehead.
“Jayce! Control yourself,” Viktor wills. It doesn’t work. Jayce just pulls him in closer and presses their crotches together, letting Viktor feel his heat. “What has worked you up? We are in the lab!”
“And the sky is blue,” Jayce repeats back dumbly. “I just... seeing you so affected by me...”
“Affected? I would hardly call myself affected and more so concerned.”
“No, I mean... you limping around, playing up this princess attitude. It just makes me want to fuck you again and again until you can’t walk. Until you’re glued to my bed and need me to do everything for you. I’d do everything for you.”
He keeps kissing Viktor’s neck, still hidden away by his labcoat collar, not focusing on a word that’s coming out of his mouth. He just keeps babbling, hoping that somewhere between him and Viktor there will be an understanding. An even playing field.
Viktor sighs and moves his head back. Jayce blinks his eyes to see him blushing again, looking flustered. “My incompetence turns you on?”
Incompetence? No. That’s not the word. “I like when you depend on me,” Jayce explains. Viktor’s hands come up to his face, his cool fingers calming against his cheeks. A lot of the blood that usually powers his motor and thinking skills has rushed down his spine already, and now, he stands here like a debauched man. “It’s so hot when you need me.”
Viktor bites his lip. “You are insatiable,” he whispers, and Jayce thinks he might push him away and tell him not today or another time or you’re crazy. Instead, he just pulls Jayce into a sweet, chaste kiss. “And I like when you make it hurt.”
Jayce groans, and he chases Viktor’s taste again, falling into the kiss like Alice into the rabbit hole. Viktor lets him devour him, open-mouthed and sloppy, and Jayce keeps thinking about how Viktor’s hip must be pinching. He only gets harder when Viktor lets go of his crutch entirely and grabs onto Jayce’s shoulders for support.
“Is it crazy to say that I like seeing you hurt?” Jayce breathes into Viktor’s mouth, unsure of how far is too far. And they’ve gone far. Viktor has pissed on him before. There’s really no line after that, Jayce thinks.
“Crazy, yes,” Viktor repeats back, and Jayce drops to his neck, kissing at his skin with teeth and tongue. “But sexy.”
Jayce laughs into him, and he scoops Viktor’s ass in his hands, picking him up and putting him up on his desk. Viktor lets out a little yelp, sprinkled with a giggle, and the sound is so addicting that Jayce kisses him hard and fast again. He reaches for the man’s hips, thumbs digging sharply into his sides, and he just swallows down the following gasps, over and over and over.
“Jayce, ah—” Viktor tries, curling under Jayce’s touch. “Too tight—”
“You like it when it hurts,” Jayce practically pouts against his lips, emphasizing the words by drawing his thumbs tight into Viktor’s shirt, rubbing harshly over his ribcage and up to his nipples. Through his shirt, he pinches them, and Viktor can’t get anything out before Jayce continues. “You said it, right, V? You like this? I like this, too.”
Viktor bites his lip, looking not at Jayce but down at his body, where Jayce’s hands are now hitching up his vest. “I still do not think—”
“Shh, baby,” Jayce murmurs, “no thinking. I’ll take care of you.”
Viktor rolls his eyes in annoyance, but they stay there when Jayce dips in behind his ear, licking at that one spot of smooth skin—Jayce knows there’s a mole right under his tongue—all while he slowly pushes Viktor’s vest off of his torso. He has to break for a moment to get it off, and when the fabric stops blocking his vision, he can see Viktor’s eyebrows, pinched tight in pain.
“Oh, baby,” Jayce coos. While Viktor always says he doesn’t like being babied, he pouts harder at the nickname, trying to sit upright and stretch his back. “I’m sorry I was so rough last night. Let me make it up to you, V, please.”
He kisses Viktor to give the man a moment to decide, even if his hands are already fiddling with Viktor’s cravat and the buttons of his shirt. Their lips slot together back and forth, and the heat simmers to a steady flame for just a moment. Jayce loves him to bits and pieces. Just before he’s about to get swept up, he remembers he’s supposed to be taking care of Viktor—without warning he bites down on Viktor’s bottom lip, and he gasps into his mouth beautifully.
“Yes,” Viktor suddenly hisses, arching up against him. “Yes, yes, Jayce, okay? Yes.”
The word sounds so heavenly on Viktor’s lips that Jayce doesn’t even finish taking his shirt off—he just drops straight onto his knees, watching Viktor catch on in record time and shimmy out of his pants. There’s a wet spot on his boxers. Too wet for the light kissing they’ve been doing.
Jayce sends him a look.
“Oh, shut up,” Viktor whispers, his lithe fingers coming down to work down the band of his boxers. “As if you were not half-hard just watching me limp.”
“Uh-huh,” Jayce murmurs, drawing his attention back down to Viktor’s legs. As he draws the fabric away, a thin line of slick sticks onto it for dear life, and Jayce wishes he could exist within the small space between Viktor’s underwear and his cunt. Warm, gooey—swimming in his scent.
He pulls them down to where Viktor’s pants are bunched over his brace, and he’s sure that even this is almost too-uncomfortable for Viktor. But when he spreads his legs as far as they’ll stretch, Viktor bites his lip and looks down at him with sheer adoration and a sense of urgency that tells him to hurry.
Though the angle is a little awkward, Jayce makes do. He leans over the bunching spot of Viktor’s clothes, dragging his ass closer to the edge—Viktor gasps deliciously and he nearly blacks out—and he takes a few seconds to use his thumbs to spread Viktor open. His hair is tangled over his lips, wet and slick and pulling away from his center when Jayce tugs his skin further apart.
Viktor’s sticky and dripping and he’s groaning above Jayce, his leg involuntarily twitching when Jayce blows a gentle puff of air on him. And he’s awkwardly shuffling as Jayce takes his time, one of his hands supporting his weight while the other tries to relieve the stinging in his back and his hip.
“Jayce,” he says, short and mean, the toes of his good leg trying to dig into his chest. It only makes Jayce huff in laughter and finally puts his mouth to Viktor. Whatever else Viktor had on his tongue dies into a silent moan, caught in his throat. Jayce smirks on his skin, hands trailing back to his rustled, half-unbuttoned shirt.
Viktor gets used to his regular push and pull quite quickly—Jayce just works him open with his tongue and his fingers, pushing against his clit every third or fourth stroke and taking his time to work him up. Suddenly, there’s fingers in his hair, holding tight and making him look up.
“Jayce,” Viktor repeats, harsher than before. “I am sure you did not drag me up onto your desk to have vanilla sex.”
Jayce frowns and furrows his brows. “‘M getting there,” he mutters, “but you’re not completely incapacitated, y’know?”
Viktor rolls his eyes fondly and then promptly drags him back to his core. This time, Jayce meets it with a new fervor. Viktor wants hard? Fine. He’ll get it hard. Jayce Talis is not known for vanilla sex.
As Viktor’s hands push the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, Jayce bears his teeth and nips lightly at the beast before him. That’ll show him that Jayce means business. He expects to be yanked back, to hear a yelp or cute cry from above him scolding him, but all that comes out of Viktor is a purely wanton, porn-star level moan. It’s so loud that Jayce has to stop and stare up at him.
Viktor’s neck snaps back down towards him.
“What was that?” Jayce asks dumbly.
“I could ask you the same thing!” All of the sudden, Viktor’s pleasure goes from sexy and charged straight to annoyance. “You bit me!”
“Hey, I barely grazed you. And you were the one who moaned.” Despite the fact that it feels like they’re arguing—and maybe they are, in Viktor’s mind—Jayce is incredulously hard. Viktor moaned. He knows what he heard.
“Whatever. Just... get back to it,” Viktor grumbles, and Jayce rolls his eyes, following the push on his skull. Viktor was the one who wanted it hard.
When Jayce finds Viktor again, he lays it on extra thick, sloppily going over and over the man’s clit. Viktor’s words may be sharp, but they don’t hide the fact that he’s an absolute, soft, gooey mess for Jayce. It makes him smile a little, knowing that he has one of the world’s most brilliant minds rolling his hips against his mouth.
Curiosity sparks in Jayce’s mind again. With a quick glance up, he sees Viktor’s eyes are closed, not focused on Jayce’s ministrations. He pushes a little deeper, slides his tongue into Viktor once or twice, and, when he’s closer—as close as he can be—he bites again.
Viktor gasps sharp and his entire body buckles over the round of Jayce’s head, his fingers grabbing so tightly against him that Jayce feels like his hair is going to be ripped out. But he doesn’t mind, doesn’t even think about it, because Viktor is pulsing on the outside and the inside and Jayce can feel him everywhere, can almost hear his heart beating, as Viktor cums.
He stands up straight as he can, a long line of slick and spit connecting his mouth to Viktor’s cunt before it falls away between them. Viktor is leaning back on his hands, now, taking sharp, aggressive breaths, his eyes shut tight.
“Holy shit.”
Jayce can’t really say anything else. Holy shit are the only words he has for what just happened. What else is he supposed to say when biting Viktor’s clit just made the man cum in record time?
“Jayce,” Viktor squeaks out, clutching onto his stomach like he’s run a marathon, and suddenly, his eyes fly open, and Jayce can see every single unspoken thought behind his irises.
“Yeah, okay, yeah—” he breathes out, trying to get himself together long enough to rip off his own pants. “I’ve got you.”
There’s a voice in the back of his head from earlier, telling him he made a promise to stop when Viktor said it was too much. But Viktor doesn’t think it’s too much at all. He secretly loves this, is loving it, actively wants more of it. He’s just a brat.
He takes his boxers off with the same fell swoop as his pants, not even bothering to take of his shoes and kick them off all the way. He spits on his hand and misses half his palm, but it doesn’t matter, not when there’s always so much between Jayce’s precum and Viktor’s entire being.
Viktor grabs onto his back the second he’s close enough, and there’s no poise or politeness, no hesitation, when Jayce pushes into him. They both groan in tandem, Viktor twitching extra from sensitivity, and Jayce has to stare up at the ceiling to remind his body that his head needs blood, too.
“Jayce,” Viktor practically whines, and Jayce nods again, breathes out a few more ‘yeahs’, and then grabs onto Viktor’s hips. In a blink, he has a rhythm. It doesn’t matter that he’s half-off balance because of his clothes at his feet—he notices that at some point, Viktor kicked his off fully—or that the desk is probably digging uncomfortably into Viktor’s sciatic nerve. They couldn’t care less. “Again.”
In the daze of having his soul squeezed out by his dick, Jayce doesn’t process the request. “What was that, baby?” He’s trying to sound put-together, but he can barely get his tongue to move against his teeth and form words with how turned on he is.
“Bite me—” Viktor groans, “—again.”
The words might as well have come from Viktor’s pussy itself, with the way Jayce doesn’t even hear them before his teeth are biting into the meat and bone that is the man’s shoulder. He doesn’t know how hard his jaw clamps, but he knows it’s at least enough to make Viktor spasm around him and cry out a litany of curses.
He tries to pull back to check the damage and make sure his boyfriend’s okay, but Viktor protests the second he opens his mouth and lifts off. A shaky hand finds his sweaty neck, and like they’re connected on a greater plane than just this one, Jayce follows the weak push of it and bites again into a tender spot in the crook of Viktor’s neck.
He can taste blood, maybe, but it’s all a blur in his mouth with Viktor’s slick still on his tongue, so he laps it up all the same. He’s not thinking about his hips or movements or anything, just biting and lifting for a breath before returning, all teeth against Viktor’s chest, nipples, jaw—everywhere.
Clarity hits him when he comes up for a longer breath, and suddenly, everything in his body is sharp. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he blurts out, throwing his head back. Viktor cries at the loss of his teeth, but nods all the same and pulls him deeper and harder with a grip on his ass. When the man’s nails dig into his skin, Jayce’s vision blurs black, and he hunches over sharply to chase his finish.
“Fuck, fuck.” He looks back down, and that’s what does him in—Viktor, covered in blood and bruises across his torso, looking so fucked out that he can’t focus his eyes. Jayce peaks with a tight grip on Viktor’s hips, nails biting and drawing more blood up, thrusting again and again until he physically can’t anymore.
He feels spent as he pulls out, his jaw aching and tongue tingling and thighs burning. A glop of cum drips out of Viktor, who is lying fully on his back, eyes closed as he breathes tensely.
He’s a wreck.
Jayce bites his own lip to not get hard again. He leans over his boyfriend and kisses gently at one of his nipples—the one more beat up—and he soothes Viktor’s stomach when it jumps at the contact.
“So...” Jayce says, voice hoarse, “was that... okay?”
Viktor peaks an eye open, having seemingly no energy to hold his head up long enough to properly glare at him. “I’m going to kill you, Jayce Talis.”
“I think you already did.”
Jayce guesses he’s gonna owe a lot of makeup sex. He doesn’t think that’s particularly a bad thing. What can he say? He has no self-control—at least not when it comes to Viktor.