Work Text:
He pasa'o tre' día' con la misma ropa puesta
Loco por ti, perdiendo apuesta'
Dime en quién piensa' cuando te acuestas
Porque yo pienso en ti
-C. Tangana, Tú me dejaste de querer
Jayce was late.
The thing was, Viktor couldn’t exactly hold it against him—the man was not even aware Viktor was waiting for him in the first place, so he was hardly at fault of the time Viktor had wasted. If anything, Viktor himself was to blame, both for the impromptu visit and for the miscalculation of the arrival time—based on a rough estimation based on previous data, with the inherent bias of the previous data being at days Jayce had been somewhat available, which did not necessarily have to be the case this time, therefore skewing the distribution and allowing for mistakes like Viktor arriving hours before Jayce entered the place.
Not having corrected for said bias was an oversight on his part. Much to his chagrin, it was far from the first oversight Jayce had led him to make as of late.
That, and the fact that—despite his best efforts to entertain himself with the early-stage projects Jayce left around in his bedroom—he found himself glancing at the clock, unable to focus, had him quite annoyed.
His life would have been so much easier if he’d never loved him at all, he mused.
The sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts.
“You’re late,” he stated.
If Jayce was surprised to find him there, sitting on his chair with his legs over the small, wooden desk, he showed no signs of it. “Late meeting,” he shrugged, without looking. Viktor hummed. “I suspected it would run well into dinner time. I’d have warned you if I’d known you’d—" If I’d known you’d come. Yet he trailed off before finishing the sentence, hesitating to voice out loud one of the intricacies of the little dance they were doing around each other. Having the schedule verbalized made it one step closer to being real, and much as Viktor was aware of the irrationality of the feeling, he couldn’t help the way the prospect rattled his brain.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Your designs kept me plenty entertained,” he lied. Jayce walked towards him then, but stopped right in his tracks, surprise evident in his face. Their eyes met, blue over amber. Viktor’s brow furrowed. “What? Is this not a convenient time?”
“No. I mean, yes. Uh, you’re good, I mean. But that’s not—," he scratched the back of his neck, searching for the words as his eyes scanned over Viktor’s body. “You look…good, that’s all,” he finished, in a low voice.
It made Viktor regret having taken off the armor, at least in part: being in Jayce’s room in the form-fitting undershirt and pants he wore beneath the metal plates had seemed comfortable when he was alone, but having Jayce’s gaze on him so intently made him feel…vulnerable. Curse the mortifying ordeal of being known. He forced himself not to react to it: like learning to walk again or use the hexclaw, he knew he had to push through the discomfort of conscious motions before they became automatic once again.
He tried to focus instead on the sparks of electricity that Jayce’s appreciative stare sent down his spine: that, at least, was familiar, and so he let himself enjoy the low hum of pleasure at the man’s obvious attraction.
Jayce walked closer. Viktor’s body tensed, preparing for contact, but it didn’t come. Instead, Jayce reached for one of the drawers in the desk, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and half-empty bottle of pills. Viktor recognized the label immediately as Piltover’s most common painkillers. He arched an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”
The man barked a laugh. “You have no idea.” He then picked some pills out of the bottle and swallowed them in one go.
“I believe you shouldn’t be taking those without water,” Viktor said.
“You blasted me in the shoulder with something called the death ray last Tuesday,” Jayce said, “so I think I will not take health advice from you, thank you very much.”
Eh. Fair.
He’d purposefully aimed somewhere covered by Jayce’s very protective armor, anyway, but that was a thought that he kept to himself.
Jayce dug out a cig from the packet and put it on his lips. He patted his pockets, searching. Viktor pulled out a small metal lighter from his own clothes. “You left it at my place,” he said, as an explanation. Jayce raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
He also made no motion to retrieve it: the golden metal object sat still between Viktor’s fingers, reflecting the dim light of the room. Viktor got up then, lighting it with his thumb, and brought the flame close to the cigarette loosely hanging from Jayce’s lips.
“Here.”
Jayce met his gaze. From this close, he could smell the ridiculously expensive cologne the man liked splurging on, mixed with sweat and the lingering traces of tobacco. The scent made his knees go weak. Or perhaps it was the way Jayce’s eyes shone as the flame flickered in the mirror they created, the electricity as their fingers brushed just slightly, the tenderness of being so close again.
Or, most likely, Viktor was still just an old, sentimental fool, despite it all.
Jayce moved infinitesimally closer, bridging the gap between the flame and the tip, and took a deep lungful of it, closing his eyes before breathing it out. Viktor saw some of the tension leave his body then, and before he could help himself he was moving again.
“Let me,” he said, grabbing the fur on Jayce’s coat. The smell was intoxicating, and he knew he had to do move before he succumbed to madness. He ran his hands underneath, slowly easing the man out of the heavy piece of garment.
Jayce let out a rather audible sigh of relief when he finally took it off and hung it on the chair. “Thank you,” he breathed, as if Viktor had taken off a huge weight off him.
Viktor loosened the knot on the tie next, leaving the string of silk around the collar of the white shirt as he undid the fist few buttons. Jayce let him: he could physically feel the muscles relax where his fingers touched, going limp like a puppet whose strings Viktor was cutting off. Under the low hum of pleasure of having Jayce surrender so beautifully, he wondered—not for the first time—how many hands had been on his body today, how many pats on the shoulder and lingering brushes the suit had witnessed. Did Jayce melt with all of them, soaking on the contact—and oh, how that made something fiery and possessive spark alive in his gut—or was that a privilege reserved for Viktor only? Oh, how he yearned—stupid and irrational feeling as it was—to be the only one to witness such a response from him.
It was only when he felt the back of Jayce’s knees hit the mattress that he realized they’d been walking towards the bed. “Baby,” Jayce said, and oh how he hated when he used that breathy tone for the word, like he knew exactly what it did to him, “I don’t think I can do anything tonight. I’m exhausted.”
He scoffed. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but the prospect of sucking your dick does not guide my every action. In fact, it is hardly a motivator.” Which was worrying for how true it was: stripped out of the excuse of casual sex, he had no choice but to admit that he was taking care of Jayce because he did care about him, to an extent he’d admitted to himself but which was hard to voice out loud.
Jayce, intelligent as he was, had definitely noticed. But he was also smart enough to not look at a gifted horse in the mouth, so he said nothing and sat on the bed, grabbing the ashtray by the nightstand.
Viktor kept working on his clothes, meticulously undoing the buttons. Jayce let him, all but sighing in pleasure as Viktor undressed him. He paused when he reached the cufflinks, twirling them slightly to see how the light reflected on the T engraved in the metal. “How rebellious. Isn’t Clan Giopara paying enough these days?”
“You can’t let them get too comfortable,” Jayce mumbled. He really was tired, by the way he seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep. Viktor’s hand lingered on his wrist for a moment, feeling the way Jayce’s pulse quickened when their eyes met. He kneeled to help him out of his boots. “You say you don’t want to suck my dick, yet you kneel in front of me so prettily. You have to admit, that kind of gives a guy mixed signals.”
Viktor snorted, despite his best efforts to fake displeasure. “I thought you said you were too tired for sex tonight.”
“I did, but you’re offering a sight that is hard to refuse.” His eyes did linger on Viktor’s kneeling form, going over his body in a way that was rendering the man a little hot under the collar.
“Insufferable,” Viktor mumbled, getting back to the boots if only to disguise the curve of his lips.
“Is it pushing too hard if I ask for a foot rub?” Jayce asked. Viktor did not respond, but gave him a withering gaze. “Eh. Had to try.” He paused. Viktor sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Head scratches? For those I am willing to beg.”
“Does the little puppy want some pets and to be told he’s a good boy?” Viktor asked, scathingly.
“Gods, yes,” and the sincereness in that tone made Viktor almost regret having been sarcastic, if he’d known he’d be met with such enthusiasm.
“Sit on the floor,” he commanded, in lieu of an answer.
Jayce obeyed, dropping to the floor so eagerly it was a sight to behold. He sat between Viktor’s legs, with his back to him. Viktor entertained himself carding his fingers through the hair, carefully dismantling whatever structure the pomade had been maintaining, at a loss for words.
Fortunately, Jayce picked up on the silence. “The Board of Administrators is doing a review of the budget, and I think they want to cut funding on research and channel the money into more commerce-oriented ventures.” Viktor ran his fingers through his scalp with a little more pressure, eliciting a full-body shiver. “Gods, that feels good.”
Viktor took the cigarette out of Jayce’s mouth and brought it to his, taking a drag. “There are at least ten different non-disclosure agreements preventing you from telling me this,” he said, as he exhaled.
“Fuck them.” Jayce retrieved the cig. Viktor’s metal skin burnt where their fingers made contact. “All of them treat Hextech like a black box you pour money into until it spits back even more gold.” He paused. “Keep doing that with your nails, please?” Viktor resumed his motions. “Fuck, like that. No one knows what it takes to do science, where the money actually goes. They only see input-output. You’re the only other person in this city that knows what it means, anyway.”
“Hardly. My own research is not strangled by meters of red tape.” He felt Jayce tense. His research has been a point of contention they’ve been skirting around, in this newfound whatever they’ve been building these days. Viktor regretted having brought it up.
Silence stretched for a beat too long. “Yeah, and that’s why you struggle to make ends meet. I’d gladly suffer these pompous assholes, any day,” Jayce joked. Crisis averted, at least temporarily.
“Fuck you,” Viktor spat, but there was no real venom in his voice. He traveled down with his hand, caressing Jayce’s neck until he reached his shoulders. Jayce sighed, oh-so-prettily, and melted against his touch, head lolling against Viktor’s thigh.
“I thought that we agreed that not today. I feel like I’ve been fucked in the ass enough already, this evening.” Jayce’s shoulders were a wide expanse of skin and muscle that was making Viktor’s mouth water. He compromised by letting his hands roam, scratching with his nails and then caressing the offended skin with the pad of his thumbs. It was clear Jayce was enjoying it immensely as well, with the half-covered whines and the way he melted against Viktor’s touch.
“Should I be jealous?”
Jayce grimaced. “Metaphorically. The guy must be like, two hundred years old.” Then he took off his shirt, granting Viktor better access.
“You’re hardly an Academy freshman yourself, you know. I’m sure there’s more attractive researchers in need for funding these days.” Yet, as his fingers roamed the man’s skin, he struggled to think of someone more enticing.
“You have to admit, I’ve aged like fine wine.” Oh, he did. But his ego didn’t need any more feeding.
“Like milk, more like.”
“You wound me, V.” Yet as he said that, he hummed in pleasure when Viktor’s fingers passed his scalp again, head a solid weight against Viktor’s thigh.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, Defender.”
“I promise nothing.”