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Jayce notices it when Viktor leans over the table to adjust a schematic.
It’s faint, but unmistakable: a dark bloom of color just beneath the sharp line of Viktor’s jaw, where the collar of his shirt dips slightly. Jayce is almost sure he’s imagining it.
But no. There it is again when Viktor turns his head; a lovebite.
His brain stutters to a halt.
“Uh.” Jayce clears his throat, a little awkward and louder than he intends. Viktor doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in the blueprint spread across the table. Jayce stares for a beat longer before blurting,
“What happened to your neck?”
The question comes out rough and rushed, and the instant Viktor straightens and fixes him with a sharp, inquisitive glance, Jayce regrets it.
“My neck?” Viktor repeats. A crease forms between both brows. “What are you talking about?”
Jayce gestures vaguely in Viktor’s direction, his face heating. “That. The, uh—” He falters, cringing at his own inability to articulate. “Got a mosquito problem I should know about?”
“Mosquito?”
“You know, the giant bug that clearly attacked you right there?”
Viktor reaches up to press two fingertips to the side of his throat. When they brush against the spot in question, recognition flickers across his face. “Ah. That.”
Jayce waits for him to elaborate. When Viktor doesn’t, he clears his throat again, shifting awkwardly. “So, uh . . . who did that?”
Viktor’s lips twitch—just a fraction. “A particularly amorous mosquito. It whispered sweet nothings in my ear before its tragic demise.” His stare becomes more serious then. "Do you not know what a hickey is, Jayce?"
Jayce goes scarlet. “I know what it is! I just . . . ” He trails off, fumbling for a way to steer the conversation somewhere less humiliating. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to have one.”
“And why not?”
“Well, I just—uh—didn’t think you were seeing anyone?”
Viktor hums thoughtfully. He brushes nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “I would not say I am ‘seeing’ anyone in the conventional sense. It was a momentary distraction.”
The casualness of the response makes Jayce’s chest tighten. A momentary distraction? The words dig at him in a way he can’t quite place, and he has to grip the edge of the table to ground himself.
“Right,” Jayce says, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. “So . . . who's it from?”
Viktor glances at him sidelong, one eyebrow raised. “Why are you so curious?”
Jayce flounders. He wants to say something casual, something that will put him back in control of this conversation. But all that comes out is, “I just didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.”
Viktor lets out a soft snort—low, almost mocking. “What sort of thing, exactly?”
“You know. Hooking up. Random distractions.” Jayce forces the words out, each one feeling heavier than the last. “I thought you’d find it, I don’t know . . . inefficient?”
Viktor exhales out of his nose at that; it sounds a little like a laugh. Jayce’s stomach flips. “Life is not always about efficiency, Jayce. Even I am capable of indulging on occasion.”
Jayce’s hands tighten on the table. Indulging. The word loops in his mind. It draws vivid pictures of Viktor with someone else—someone leaning close, pressing their mouth to his neck, sucking that splotch into being. The thought makes his throat tighten in a way he doesn’t want to examine too closely.
Who was it? What kind of person gets that close to Viktor? What do they know about him that Jayce doesn’t?
It had to have been a man, of course.
Jayce's mind tumbles back to a quiet night in their first year working together. The memory feels hazy but vivid in its details; an old photograph brought suddenly into focus.
The lab had been nearly empty except for the two of them. Jayce, ever one to fill the silence, was rambling about a cute girl he’d met. He doesn't remember the details now—her name, the way she smiled, the slight awkwardness of their first interaction—but it had felt monumental at the time. The kind of thing worth sharing. Worth dissecting aloud.
“She had this laugh,” Jayce had said, smiling to himself as he tightened a bolt. “You know the kind that’s, like, contagious? I mean, she could’ve been laughing at me for all I know, but it was nice.”
Viktor hadn’t looked up from his work, but Jayce caught the faintest flicker of a frown on his face. Emboldened, Jayce had asked, “What about you? Any girls caught your eye?”
The question had been casual. But Viktor’s response—or rather, the brief pause that preceded it—had caught Jayce off guard.
“No. I am not particularly inclined toward women.”
Jayce remembers blinking. Staring.
It hadn’t been a grand declaration, nor did it feel like a secret unearthed. It was stated with the same indifference Viktor reserved for weather reports or lab protocols.
“Oh,” Jayce had replied. “So, uh . . . guys, then?”
“Yes,” Viktor said simply. “Though it is not something I often think about."
Jayce hadn’t pressed further. It wasn’t his style to pry, and truthfully, Viktor’s response didn't seem to invite more questions. It was just another detail filed away in the growing compendium of things he knew about Viktor.
But now with the memory unspooling, Jayce feels its weight anew.
The hickey on Viktor’s neck feels like proof of a life he knows nothing about—a side of Viktor that exists beyond their work. Beyond the banter and shared silences of the lab.
And that thought beats something inside Jayce.
Who had been close enough to coax that mark into existence? The questions pile up. For the first time, Jayce realizes how much he doesn’t know.
How much he wants to know.
Viktor is watching him closely now. There’s no trace of humor in his expression anymore. It is a quiet intensity that sits there.
Jayce shifts under the scrutiny, but it does nothing to ease the heat that seeps down his chest like a slow burn. It’s infuriating how Viktor’s gaze alone can make him feel so bare. So raw. He’s used to being the one who’s larger, louder, more confident in any room—but here, he feels small. Exposed. Vulnerable.
And maybe—just maybe—a little pissed.
“What?” Jayce snaps, more defensive than intended. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Viktor doesn’t flinch. His pupils skitter over Jayce's face, as though he’s peeling back another layer of the man's bravado. “You seem troubled,” Viktor says evenly. “I am trying to understand why.”
“I’m not—” Jayce starts, but the words catch. He’s not what? Troubled? Angry? Jealous? He doesn’t even know anymore. The ambiguity twists like a blade.
“Your face is very expressive, Jayce. It betrays you.”
Jayce groans. “Okay, fine! Maybe I’m a little—” His tongue trips over the truth. Instead of finishing the sentence, he deflects. “It’s just . . . you’ve got this hickey, right? And I’m supposed to just not be curious? Who even is this guy?”
There's a flash of surprise in Viktor's expression. It's quickly masked, though not fast enough to escape Jayce’s notice. “I did not realize my personal life was of such interest to you."
“It’s not. I’m just saying that if I showed up with a whole bite mark on my neck, you’d probably have questions too."
Viktor’s mouth twists, and for a moment, Jayce thinks he’s going to laugh.
He doesn't, thankfully.
“Maybe,” Viktor concedes. “Though I suspect your reasoning would be far less intriguing than mine.”
That does it. The heat in Jayce’s chest explodes outward: a mix of frustration and impatience. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands.
“It means,” Viktor says slowly, the accent curling around each syllable, “that you are overthinking this. You are, as they say, making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Jayce tries to say something witty—yet it flees him. Because Viktor is right. He knows it, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He’s spiraling over something that shouldn’t matter.
But it does. For reasons Jayce doesn’t fully understand, it does.
“I am not a robot, Jayce,” Viktor remarks. “Like any other grown man, I am not immune to seeking pleasure. Sex is not out of bounds.”
Jayce freezes like someone just hit pause on his brain. “Excuse me?” he squawks. “Did you just say—?”
“Sex?” Viktor repeats, a little too wicked for Jayce's liking. He draws out the word like it’s a delicacy to be savored. “Yes. I believe I did.”
“You . . . ” Jayce flails, gesturing wildly as if his hands might somehow contain his spiraling thoughts. “You can’t just say that like it’s nothing."
Viktor is entirely unbothered. “It is not ‘nothing,’” he says with mock seriousness. “But it is also not taboo. Why are you blushing, Jayce? It is a perfectly normal subject.”
“I am not!” Jayce snaps, although his reflection in the glass cabinet nearby tells a very different story. “It’s just weird, okay? I don’t need to hear this from you, man!”
“Why not?” Viktor arches an elegant brow in feigned innocence. He is clearly enjoying himself. “Ah, I see. You find it uncomfortable because you cannot imagine me in such a context.”
Jayce glares at Viktor with what he hopes is righteous indignation. “I’m not imagining anything."
“What did you think I do in my free time, Jayce? Tinker endlessly with machines? Solve equations until I see you again?”
“Yes! Exactly that! That’s what I thought you did!”
“Well, now you know better.”
“I hate this conversation. I hate it so much.”
“Do you? Or are you simply curious?”
“Stop talking,” Jayce growls. He buries his face in his hands. But Viktor’s self-satisfied expression replays in his head, and Jayce knows he’s never going to live this down.
Viktor doesn't speak for a long time. Jayce begins to think the conversation is over, but then:
“Are you jealous?”
The question cuts through Jayce's spiraling thoughts like a blade. He snaps his head up to find Viktor watching him again; eyes sharp and tinged with humor.
“W-What?” Jayce sputters. “Why would I be jealous?”
Viktor shrugs one shoulder. “I do not know. But you are turning a rather impressive shade of red.”
It's teasing, yes, but there’s an undercurrent of something else in Viktor's tone—something probing. Like he’s testing the waters for a reaction.
“I’m not jealous,” Jayce insists. It lacks conviction. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He angles his head again, those pretty eyes narrowing in that way Jayce has come to dread—and secretly admire. It’s the look Viktor gets when he’s working through a problem; dissecting every piece of data until there’s nothing left. And right now, Jayce is the puzzle laid bare before him.
Then, after a pause, Viktor hums.
“If you wanted to give me a hickey, Jayce, all you had to do was ask.”
The words bitch-slap him across the face.
“I—I wasn’t—" Jayce splutters. "I don’t—”
"No?" Viktor leans back on his stool with infuriating nonchalance, his cane resting against his knee like a regal scepter. “I can repeat it, if you need clarification.”
“No!" Jayce shoots upward so fast he nearly knocks his chair over. "No need for that. Absolutely no need.”
There’s a glint in Viktor’s eyes that doesn’t match the casual slant of his lips. It lingers even as he turns back to the blueprint sprawled across the table, his focus shifting to the neat columns of calculations. “There is no need to get upset,” Viktor says, as smooth as silk. Each word is wrapped in a veneer of playful nonchalance. “I am teasing, Jayce.”
The taunt hangs in the air like an uninvited guest.
And Jayce is left rooted to the spot, staring at Viktor as his own thoughts churn into a tangled mess.
Confusion. Frustration. Something else entirely.
Jayce doesn’t even know what to do with it—this inexplicable cocktail of feelings Viktor has stirred up with just a few words and a look. His gaze drifts back to the mark on Viktor’s neck. It’s still visible above the collar of his shirt.
A secret hiding in plain sight.
The rest of the evening feels like a blur. Viktor is absorbed in his work, gesturing at equations and murmuring about energy dispersion with the intensity that comes so naturally to him. Jayce tries to keep up—he really does—but his mind keeps pulling him back to that damn hickey.
Every time Viktor moves his head, every time he leans over the table, Jayce catches a glimpse of it; that smudge of purple.
It feels strange to see. Wrong, almost.
Not wrong. That’s not fair. Viktor deserves to have a life outside of their work. To have connections and intimacy. Jayce knows that. He knows it, but the knowledge doesn’t stop the unwelcome sting of jealousy.
The logical part of Jayce, the part that prides itself on being reasonable, tells him to stop overthinking it. It’s just a hickey. Just a bruise. It doesn’t mean anything.
There is no need to get upset. I am teasing, Jayce.
If only it were that simple.
Later, Viktor pauses to stretch and mutter something about needing coffee. Jayce’s gaze flickers to the hickey one last time before Viktor disappears down the hall, and his thoughts stumble into territory he has no business treading.
He wonders if Viktor knows. If he can sense the shift in the air between them. If he’d ever consider . . .
Nope. No. Absolutely not.
Jayce scrubs a hand over his face. “Get a grip, man,” he mutters, but the words feel hollow.
Because no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of Viktor’s throat.
Or the reckless thought of how it would feel to press his lips there.