Chapter Text
In Piltover, showing your status was considered taboo—an intimate truth never to be discussed openly. It was a paradoxical secrecy, given how essential it was to find a compatible match, but the polished facades of the upper city demanded restraint. To address this, the Council introduced supplements—small, transparent pills marketed as harmless regulators. In truth, they were potent hormonal suppressants, designed to quell the urges that biology demanded. By the age of sixteen, every citizen was placed on them, their needs dulled to manageable levels. They promised control, promised protection, and promised that if you took them daily, you’d never drop. Too bad they never really took the edge off.
Every morning, Jayce swallowed his pill like clockwork, just another routine alongside brushing his teeth or tightening his tie. But life in the upper city was relentless, especially when you carried the weight of an entire Hextech revolution on your shoulders. Sleepless nights blurred into one another, and in the rush of it all, Jayce forgot. One missed dose became two, then three. Before he realized it, a week had passed without the tiny pills. His body had warned him—subtle at first, a persistent itch crawling under his skin—but he ignored it. Until it was too late.
He dropped. And it hit fast.
The sensation was like drowning, an overwhelming tidal wave of despair. His chest tightened, and panic set in as if the very air had turned to glass, sharp and suffocating. He collapsed to the cold, unforgiving tiles of his workshop, gasping as his nails raked across his forearms, leaving angry, bloody trails. The pain barely registered. His mind spiraled into a vortex of loneliness, rejection, and fear, the shadows of his thoughts whispering cruel lies. He tried to rise, only to crumple again, smacking his chin against the floor. The taste of copper filled his mouth as his vision blurred, and he let out a broken sob.
Desperation drove him to crawl, dragging himself toward the desk, his breath ragged and shallow. His trembling fingers gripped the drawer handle, yanking it open with such force that the contents spilled onto the floor—blueprints, tools, wires, and, somewhere amid the chaos, salvation. He pawed through the mess, searching frantically for the familiar white box. His fingers brushed against it, trembling, as if grasping a lifeline.
The door creaked open behind him.
“Jayce?” Viktor’s voice cut through the haze, tinged with concern and disbelief. Jayce barely managed a whimper in response, his hand still fumbling through the scattered debris.
“What’s wrong?” Viktor’s cane thudded against the floor as he hurried over, his steps uneven. He knelt beside Jayce, wincing as his injured leg strained under the effort. “Jayce, what’s happening? What are you looking for?”
“Pills,” Jayce gasped, his voice raw and broken. “Need them.”
Viktor frowned, confusion evident in his sharp features. “Pills? What kind of pills?” His tone was laced with alarm, but Jayce couldn’t answer, his throat constricted by panic. His limbs trembled violently, and Viktor’s voice became a distant hum as icy cold surged through Jayce’s veins. The world tilted, and then there was nothing but black.
—
Jayce woke slowly, the world swimming back into focus in disjointed fragments. There was warmth beneath his cheek—solid, steady—and he blinked blearily against the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows. He shifted, trying to move, but his body ached, his muscles stiff and sore. Something tugged at his neck, tight and unfamiliar. Frowning, he raised a trembling hand, fingers brushing over the smooth texture of leather.
A belt.
Confusion clouded his thoughts as he followed the line of the surface he had his head rested with his eyes, up to the familiar vest and belt buckle of the man who had evidently propped him up. Viktor sat over him, his face drawn with a mixture of concern and irritation, his brow furrowed as if Jayce were a puzzle he was still trying to solve.
"Finally awake," Viktor said with a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea how irresponsible this was? Letting it get this bad?"
Jayce struggled to sit up, his limbs sluggish, but the moment he moved, the belt around his neck tightened. His heart thudded in his chest as he fumbled to remove it, his fingers shaking. "You—" His voice cracked, hoarse. "You belted me?"
"I had to improvise," Viktor replied flatly, leaning on his cane as he spoke. "I couldn’t find a proper collar. You were dropping, Jayce, and I had to do something." His eyes were sharp, cutting through Jayce’s disoriented haze. "Why didn’t you tell me you were this close to breaking?"
Jayce’s breath hitched, shame burning hot in his chest. He scrambled to his feet, almost knocking Viktor off balance, and yanked the belt free, throwing it to the ground. "I can’t… I can’t talk about it," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It’s not that simple."
Viktor watched him with narrowed eyes, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean, not that simple? You should have asked someone for help before it got this bad. You could’ve died." His voice softened, though the sharp edge of frustration remained. "Where’s your collar, Jayce? Every sub has one."
"I don’t have one," Jayce snapped, his voice raw, walking towards his desk.
"You what?" Viktor stared at him, incredulous. "How do you not have a collar? Didn’t your parents get you one when you presented?"
"I don’t need one!" Jayce shouted, panic rising in his chest. He gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. "Just give me the pills, Viktor. Please."
Viktor’s eyes darkened as he turned to the desk, where the small white box sat amid the chaos. He picked it up, turning it over in his hand. "These?"
"Yes!" Jayce’s voice broke, desperate. "Give them to me!"
"No." Viktor’s voice was calm, unyielding. He met Jayce’s frantic gaze with a steady glare. "You don’t need pills, Jayce. What you need is a Dom."
Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. "That’s… that’s taboo," he whispered, horror lacing his words. "We don’t talk about it. We don’t ask for that kind of help."
Viktor’s face twisted in disbelief. "Taboo? It’s biology, Jayce. Suppressing it is madness." He raised the box and, before Jayce could stop him, hurled it into the forge. Flames licked at the edges, consuming the pills in seconds. Purple smoke curled into the air, the sharp smell of burning chemicals filling the room.
Jayce stared, horrified. "What have you done?" His voice trembled, breaking under the weight of his panic. "I don’t get another refill until next month."
"You don’t need them." Viktor’s voice was soft now, almost kind, as he made his way towards him. "You need to let someone help you before it destroys you."
Jayce sank to the floor, staring into the dying embers, his breath shuddering as he hugged his knees to his chest. "We don’t… we don’t talk about our status," he whispered, defeated. "It’s too dangerous.”
"Jayce," Viktor said gently, "you can’t live like this. In the Undercity, we survive by taking care of each other needs. You’re hurting yourself for no reason."
Jayce looked at him, his eyes glassy. "Aren’t you afraid? It only takes one command." His voice was hollow. "One command, and a Dom can do whatever they want."
Viktor sighed, shaking his head. "Only if you let them." He rested a hand on Jayce’s shoulder. "You have a choice. But not if you destroy yourself first."
Jayce closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, feeling the warmth he'd been so desperate for. "I don’t know how to stop."
"Then let me help," Viktor said softly. "Just this once. Let someone care for you."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Jayce let himself breathe.
---
"Are you sure?" Viktor's voice was soft but probing, tinged with both concern and curiosity as his
eyes studied Jayce's face.
He wasn't just asking for confirmation--he was searching for doubt, for hesitation, for any sign that Jayce might not be ready for what he was about to ask. Jayce stood with his shoulders tense, his hands slightly trembling as he held out a small, unassuming box. The blush on his cheeks deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears.
"I asked Vi to help me find one in the undercity," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile moment between them. He averted his eyes, unable to meet Viktor's piercing gaze. "I haven't opened it yet."
Viktor accepted the box, his fingers brushing lightly against Jayce's. The cardboard felt light in his hands, deceptively so, considering the weight of what it represented. He opened the lid slowly, the faint creak of the box breaking the thick, pregnant silence that hung in the air. When the collar was revealed, Viktor felt his breath hitch, his eyes widening in surprise and something close to awe. It was simple but beautiful--thin, golden, unadorned save for a small silver tag stamped with a bold, clear "J."
It lacked the opulence often associated with the collars worn by the wealthy of the upper city, resembling more of a dog's collar than the ornate, gem-encrusted designs he had expected. Viktor's lips twitched in amusement. The tag was undoubtedly Vi's handiwork, a playful jab at Jayce's earnest nature. He almost chuckled, ready to point out the humor, but the sight of Jayce leaning in stopped him cold.
Jayce's gaze was fixed on the collar, his eyes wide and shining with something akin to wonder. He reached out hesitantly, as if afraid the delicate thing might shatter under his touch.
"It's beautiful," he whispered, his voice reverent. His fingers ghosted over the smooth gold, tracing its simple lines with awe. "Put it on me?"
The request was breathless, vulnerable, and it hit Viktor in the chest like a punch.
"Are you sure?" Viktor asked again, though he knew the answer. The longing in Jayce's voice was unmistakable, the need plain on his face.
Jayce met Viktor's gaze, his expression earnest and open. "I trust you," he said softly, those three simple words resonating with a gravity that made Viktor's throat tighten.
Viktor inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He nodded, his voice firmer this time. "Alright. But if it becomes too much, you need to tell me."
Jayce nodded, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, excitement barely contained.
"Kneel," Viktor commanded, his voice low, gentle but resolute.
Jayce obeyed instantly, dropping to his knees with a loud, almost jarring thud. The sound echoed through the quiet room, followed by a soft, broken whine that escaped Jayce's lips.
Viktor's heart clenched, but when he looked down, he found no pain or hesitation--only bliss. Jayce's eyes were hazy, half-lidded with relief, his lips parted as if the act of surrender had lifted an unbearable weight from his shoulders.
Viktor stepped closer, his heart thudding in his chest as he cupped Jayce's face in his hand. His thumb brushed along the line of Jayce's cheekbone, tracing slow, soothing circles. Jayce let out a low, needy moan, leaning into the touch, his entire body trembling with need. The sound sent a shiver down Viktor's spine.
"I'm going to put it on now," Viktor murmured, his voice rasping with barely restrained emotion. "Understood?"
Jayce whimpered softly, his head falling back in submission, exposing the smooth expanse of his throat.
"Jayce," Viktor said softly, marveling, "you've never done this before, have you?" He traced his fingers along Jayce's jaw, savoring the way Jayce shuddered at the contact.
"You're so reactive."
Jayce whimpered again, the sound broken, pleading, his eyes glassy with need. He was beautiful like this, utterly unguarded, vulnerable in a way Viktor had never seen.
"There, there," Viktor soothed, threading the collar around Jayce's neck with careful hands. He fastened the clasp at the back, ensuring two fingers could slip between the leather and Jayce's skin. His hands lingered for a moment, savoring the warmth of Jayce's neck beneath his touch. "How does it feel? Not too tight?"
Jayce's eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled a soft, shuddering breath. "It's perfect," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"Good," Viktor replied, his voice gentling. "Today, we'll keep it simple. We'll ease your needs, nothing more. Just tell me if you need anything."
Jayce nodded, his body visibly relaxing, the tension draining from his frame as he surrendered fully. Viktor smiled softly, retreating to his chair and settling into it. He patted his good leg. "Crawl to me," he commanded, his voice a quiet caress.
Jayce dropped to all fours, his palms and knees hitting the floor with soft, muffled thuds. He crawled forward with a fluid grace, the sheer trust in his every movement taking Viktor's breath away.
"Good boy," Viktor praised, his voice low, and the effect was immediate. Jayce let out a ragged, needy whine, his body trembling. Viktor felt his chest tighten, the sheer rawness of Jayce's reaction overwhelming.
"You like that?" Viktor murmured, threading his fingers through Jayce's hair, stroking gently. "You like being called a good boy?"
Jayce's response was a broken sob, his body sagging as he rested his head on Viktor's knee, his arms wrapping loosely around Viktor's leg like a lifeline.
"There you go," Viktor whispered, petting him gently. "Just relax. We'll stay like this as long as you need. Let yourself rest."
Jayce let out a soft hum of contentment, nuzzling against Viktor's thigh. For the first time in ever, the strain in his body melted away, leaving only the quiet peace of trust, safety, and belonging.