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In his youth, Viktor had a particular fondness for succulents.
They appealed for a number of reasons. Some grew in geometrically intricate patterns that he could happily wile away hours examining. Some had medicinal properties and others dangerous toxins. (The aloe vera had both). He filled the available space of every home he’d found with them, dotted between schematics and taller, broader plants and empty mugs. He tended to them as though they could feel his love and in a way, as they thrived, he supposed they could.
They were hardy and resilient. He thought often of how, should something happen to him, the plants would live on in his absence.
He never assumed that thirty years would pass and he would still be watering his succulents.
He smiled at the dewy spiral of the plant he was tending to, a fine sheen of water clinging to it just as a fine sheen of water clung to him. He’d not long since climbed from the bath; they both needed watering after all. The plant sat inside a broken glass bottle, short and wide, the neck missing entirely as well as part of the wall on one side. When the light from the window caught against it, it illuminated the plant from several angles, like a gracious green centrepiece.
The door clicked open and closed behind him, but Viktor didn’t turn around. Who else could it be?
If there had been any tension in his body, he would have lost it all on the deep, satisfied sigh he let out as strong arms encircled his waist from behind. A warm chest pressed along the length of his spine, the jut of a chin atop his shoulder.
“You love that plant more than me,” Jayce grumbled, but kissed his skin regardless. His beard tickled.
“Not at all,” Viktor countered. “I have merely known this plant for longer. It is a simple matter of seniority. I love you dearly, but I would sell you out in a heartbeat for the sake of this plant. Also, the plant is older than you.”
“Oh, I get it.” Jayce squeezed Viktor closer to him. “I always knew one of these days I’d lose you to an older man. Should’ve known you couldn’t spend your whole life pissing around with a controversially younger boyfriend like me.”
Viktor rolled his eyes. “You are thirty-four, Jayce.”
“A child,” Jayce lamented.
“An adult man.”
“A fetus.”
Viktor set his watering can down to lay his hand over Jayce’s. The other clutched his cane, though with the support of Jayce’s arms he didn’t really need it. “You are not making a strong case for me to stay with you,” he teased.
Jayce hummed. He swayed them side-to-side, peppering kisses from the juncture of Viktor’s shoulder up to where his beard just began to fade, before he pulled away completely and retreated towards the sofa.
“Let me try harder.”
As Viktor turned, resting the small of his back against the side table his plants resided on, he saw Jayce rifle through the bag he’d abandoned on the sofa. The sun shone against his back, seeped into his skin, sank through to his very soul, and he felt alive. Jayce glanced back at him, his regal recline backlit by the window. His hair was ablaze in the light. God, he was beautiful.
An upturn at the corner of Jayce’s mouth. “Close your eyes, baby.”
Viktor grumbled, “Jayce…”, but did as he was told. He heard the pitter of Jayce’s steps near and then stop just before him.
One of Jayce’s hands smoothed down his forearm. It lit a trail of warmth over his skin, down and behind Viktor to the place that Viktor’s fingers curled around the top of the side table, and as the action drew the space between them to a close, he pressed their mouths together, chaste and languid. Viktor lost himself in it. He melted into Jayce’s touch, relaxed as Jayce had always inspired him to, and before he realised it, his hand was no longer gripping the table. Instead, he felt the rough edges of an old tome.
He glanced down. A beaten, well-loved collector’s edition of Physics in Nature by Professor Esther H. Grey.
“How did you know I wanted this?” Viktor asked, awestruck.
Jayce’s hands found their way to his hips. “You mentioned it,” he replied. Viktor met his fond smile with a furrowed brow, so Jayce elaborated. “When we went to that restaurant, uh… the one with the weird fish statue in the window. You had pasta.”
Viktor’s gaze turned disbelieving. “Jayce, that was three years ago.”
Jayce chuckled. “It took a long time to find.”
Because it was rare. The book had come under great renowned in its niche when it was published, but the publishing company fell into bankruptcy before more than a few hundred copies could be printed. Since then, the legal battles surrounding its copyright had become so entangled and complicated that agencies had just about given up on ever seeing a second print. The copies that still existed were few and far between. Rare. Expensive. To Viktor, priceless.
Viktor’s jaw shut with a click. Okay.
He tapped the book against Jayce’s chest, his tone level but unserious. “So, how do I repay this? Cook for a week? Iron all your ties? Let you wear me on your arm like a wristwatch at a gala I will no doubt detest?”
Jayce laughed. “V…”
“Or are we to settle this like gentlemen? Are you going to take me to bed now, Mr Talis?”
With an airy chuckle, Jayce bumped their foreheads together. “Only if you want to,” he answered. “Just read it. Tell me what you think.” He slipped the book from Viktor’s hand and began to flick through, their heads still bowed close together. “There’s this passage about the geometric growth patterns in succulents I thought you’d like.” His mouth lilted a little sheepishly. “I read some of it in the shop,” he admitted, holding the book back towards Viktor.
Cute. He was cute. Viktor needed to free his hands. He thumped the book back against Jayce’s chest and let go, leaving Jayce to scramble for a hold on it. Then, Viktor leant his cane against the table, leaving him open to squish Jayce’s flabbergasted face between his palms and drag him into a deep kiss.
No matter how many times they kissed, it still felt like breathing for the first time. It stayed slow for a while, the deliberate drag of lips against lips, serene like this sunny afternoon, but as anything does, the kiss evolved. Viktor’s hands slipped back from the soft tangle of Jayce’s beard to the softer tangle of his hair. He hummed into the kiss and toyed with the strands and sank right into Jayce.
Jayce opened up for him so easily, and yet Viktor’s body remained resolutely devoid of the touch of Jayce’s hands. Eager to be near, Viktor raised his arms to hook over Jayce’s shoulders until their torsos pressed as close as he could bring them. The corner of the book jutted against his ribcage.
Viktor broke the kiss, not bothering to put even an inch of space between them. “Put the book down and touch me,” he grumbled, mouth brushing Jayce’s as he spoke.
He felt Jayce’s frown. “I don’t wanna damage it.”
Viktor started to pull back, catching a glimpse of Jayce’s kicked puppy expression, and just as he opened his mouth to tease Jayce for his sweetness, his back twinged awfully. He lost his balance, grasping tighter to Jayce’s shoulders to save himself. His wide eyes met Jayce’s panicked ones.
The flowerpots and vessels on the table rattled with the force that Jayce slammed Viktor’s book against its surface. He caught Viktor by the waist but Viktor’s momentum tugged them off-centre as he did. Jayce planted his feet, tightened his grip, and by the time they’d stopped Jayce had Viktor suspended in a dip, like two ballroom dancers.
Jayce smiled ruefully. “Pretty sure your old man cactus can’t do that.”
“And there goes the moment,” Viktor quipped.
Jayce hauled them both upright. He wrapped his arms firmly around Viktor’s waist, pressing their chests back together.
“Good?” he asked.
“Fine,” Viktor replied, arms flexing behind Jayce’s neck.
Jayce tugged Viktor, walking backwards and prompting Viktor to step forwards with him, another facsimile of a dance.
“Come on, the sofa’s calling my name.” He snatched the book from the table before they strayed too far. “You can even read me a story.”