Archive of Our Own

She's abnormally late today. Viktor muses to himself as he leans one forearm against the cool, marble counter top.

Just above his head, suspended from two gold-plated chains, is a chalkboard sign that reads "Order Pickup" in swooping, cursive letters. As per usual it's a new design, distinct from the one of the previous morning. This time there's a drawing of the stripped ears and tail of a cat, surrounded by sketched paw prints and a voice bubble that reads "Happy Meow-nday".

Viktor lets out a soft breath through his nose.

Too cute.

He continues to scan the room for a familiar head of cobalt-blue dyed hair, that of his regular companion (whom he has yet to utter a single word to). He's figured out her name is Caitlyn, according to the student ID she carries strapped to her book bag most days. She's the only patron besides himself that comes in regularly enough that he could pick her out of a lineup.

He's suddenly aware of a familiar hulking presence out of the corner of his eye, just behind the counter. His paper travel cup is placed gingerly in front of him, and he turns back to get a full, clear look at Hazel Eyes. Viktor's slightly infuriated that he still can't figure out what the guy's name is.

The first time he caught Viktor's eye on a shift, he was wearing a ribbon that simply read "Barista in Training" as he eagerly trailed the one pale, lanky barista with the cropped, blue pixie cut.

After that first week there were a couple of variations. "Chris", "Jinx", "Alaric", "Ekko", "Jayce", "Danny". Viktor's current theory is that the guy forgets his real name tag on occasion, and snags one from a departing coworker, hoping no one will notice. He's narrowed it down to either "Chris" or "Jayce". For now, he doesn't know, so Hazel Eyes it is.

"Order for 'Viktor with just a K'…" He's grinning at Viktor like a madman. It's hard not to immediately give the same energy back; his smile fills Viktor's chest like fresh morning air.

Normally, his order call-outs are loud and boisterous, but they know each other well enough now it seems. This is a private moment for them alone.

Viktor turns the cup so that Hazel Eye's newest masterpiece is unveiled to him bit by bit. Peaking out from behind the cup jacket is a similar stripped cat tail to the one on the chalkboard. Ears poke out from the top, and with a dimpled, gap-tooth smile, Hazel Eyes slides the jacket down to reveal what appears to be a self-portraitesque kitty face. He even drew on the thick eyebrows, with an identical scar across the right one.

Viktor can't help himself, he chuckles, terribly endeared. Hazel Eyes drops his smile slightly.

"It's perfect," Viktor says quickly.

Oh dear, he thinks I'm laughing at him.

From the force of attempting to stifle the next wave of giggles, he snorts, rather unattractively. His face starts to burn as he finally reaches to swipe the cup off the counter top. He risks one more glace at Hazel Eyes, who's looking at him again, with an expression that he can't quite read.

"Enjoy, Viktor."

Viktor swears his heart nearly stops. He says Viktor's name like he's written it on the drink jacket, in looping, methodical, cursive letters. As if his breath and tongue are swirling the word out into the air with practiced grace and lethal intention.

He thinks he would like to hear Hazel Eyes say his name again, under different circumstances. Possibly even whispered into his hair, against his ear, between his thighs.

He needs to get it together.

His brain feels disconnected from his spine as he stumbles back to his regular seat— at the high top table by the window.

Hazel Eyes goes back to manning the espresso machine. Viktor pretends not to watch him as he moves around the kitchen with practiced ease. Viktor needs to be looking anywhere else. He's struggling to breathe, his mouth has gone dry from just watching the muscles move under the skin in the man's forearms. He has a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist, something that appears to be a geometric line art interpretation of a gemstone.

A chime heralds the door opening; Viktor sees a spot of deep blue out of the corner of his eye.

Oh good, here she is.

Caitlyn steps up to the counter, seemingly in a huff. Her face is a bit flush from the early winter cold. Just behind the counter is the barista with the pink hair and the undercut.

Strange, he could've sworn the kid with the dark skin and dreads was standing there a second ago.

Undercut taps her fingers on the side of the register. Viktor can only see about a quarter of her side profile at this angle, but her mouth is clearly turned up at the corner. He can't make out exactly what words are being exchanged, but he notices the way Undercut shifts her weight from one leg to the other, hips swaying in the process. Caitlyn replies with a knowing smile. She doesn't smile often. Something in Viktor's brain suddenly slides into place.

Has his silent companion…been coming in every day like clockwork to talk to her crush too?

Not that he can even begin describe…whatever it is he feels for Hazel Eyes at this point. It feels ridiculous to be a grown man with a crush.

He's nice to look at, he seems to genuinely enjoy interacting, and makes Viktor smile. He's already become such an integral part of Viktor's day. Which means, in Viktor's mind, he must be straight. There's no way Viktor would ever be that lucky. So he pushes the feeling down, it's not a crush. He does not feel that fluttering of anxiety that comes with a possibility. He has to be content with just looking, never reaching out. He hasn't even allowed himself to ask the guy's name.

Something settles behind his ribs as he watches the two women giggle, something not entirely welcome. Something that feels suspiciously like envy as he watches Undercut press down on the FEED button on the register, tearing away the blank receipt paper and pulling a pen out of the pocket of her apron. Caitlyn rolls her eyes, but takes the pen and scribbles down what Viktor assumes is her phone number. She winks as she leans to reach back across the counter, and tucks it behind Undercut's ear. Her pinky finger lingers on the back of Undercut's ear for a moment; now it's her turn to flush.

A loud buzz from Viktor's work phone pulls him out of his eavesdropping session. He pulls it out of his back pocket with a huff.

Cory (PiltSide Electrics): Hey Vik, we got a call about a busted ceiling fan…fell straight out of the drywall and everything… i know you're not supposed to get on ladders, but our other guy on shift called out.

A flash of ice-hot frustration sears Viktor's chest.

As much as this current contracting gig has been paying pretty good money, he's getting real tired of having to chose between working and being in considerably less pain.

Every work hour counts towards applying to be a part of the local chapter of the electricians union, and each turned down job brings a new pang of anxiety. He's over halfway there, but he's come to find there are only so many jobs that don't require getting up on a ladder, or climbing multiple flights of stairs. He just turned down a job yesterday, which is why he'd sat glued to his usual cafe spot for most of the previous morning. His hips are sore from it. His knuckles turn white from where he's gripping his cane.

He's good at his job, he knows he is. He enjoys taking things apart to see how they work, and without fail he can always put them back together. It's been that way since he was small. He has the work ethic and the problem solving skills, not to mention the hours of unpaid training.

Suddenly, everything is piled on all at once. He cannot just sit here, stewing in these thoughts and feelings. His back aches, and his hip and leg aren't fairing much better. Something behind his eyes has started to burn as he watches Caitlyn lean back in her usual chair, all smiles and a red flush.

As always it's damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

He quickly shoves his tablet back into his bag, his work phone into his back pocket, and makes for the door.

He's halfway out when someone calls his name. He almost doesn't hear it over the clear chime of the bell, but it comes again, much louder this time. He turns and suddenly he's face-to-face with Hazel Eyes' collarbone.

Fuck, he's never been this close. He's…bigger…than Viktor thought. He's probably only got a couple inches on him in terms of height, but he's wide at the shoulders. And his hands…

Viktor's pulled from his musings when Hazel Eyes hastily offers him a piece of receipt paper.

"You… forgot your receipt." There's a hint of a husk at the back of his throat and he clears it, swallowing. If Viktor didn't know any better he would swear the paper was fluttering, that there was a hint of maroon crawling up the golden skin of the barista's face.

It's because of the cold, and the wind pouring in.

"Thank you?" Viktor takes the slip between his thumb and forefinger.

Hazel Eyes is nodding, and without another word he retreats back behind the counter out of view. He's never even touched Viktor, this is the closest he's gotten, and Viktor's heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

He doesn't think about the fact that he told the kid with dreads behind the counter that he didn't need a receipt, or the fact that the paper is folded so that it's hard to get a proper look at what's scribbled just between his fingertips. All he can think is: I really need to stop coming here. And I need to get laid, soon.

He tosses the receipt in the trash can just outside and sets his path back to where he parked at the end of the street.

He's halfway down the block, typing out a confirmation message to Cory, when his personal phone buzzes in his front pocket. He has all notifications except direct text messages silenced, so it's something important and or personal.

It's Silco, almost as if Viktor's summoned him with his vague thoughts of needing to get some action.

Silco (Wayward House): Vikki! It's been a couple months since we've seen you…the little ones miss you terribly. Got some feedback from your peers that your absence is noticeable. Monthly play-date is scheduled for this weekend. Hope to see you there. xx.

It's a tempting offer, even if he feels stretched thin by this new work schedule. Occasional domming is yet another thing Viktor knows he's good at, that he enjoys, that he almost dreads now that it requires logistics and scheduling.

He shoves his hands back in his pockets. He thinks. He fishes his keys out of his tote bag and unlocks his car.

Not today, he won't make a decision today. Tomorrow is his day off. He'll have plenty of time to think about it then.

The ceiling drifts foggily into view as Viktor rolls over to snooze his alarm. As expected, his joints in his leg whine at him and he groans.

Taking the ladder job was a bad idea, go figure.

Weird…his phone is plugged in on his nightstand, but the screen is still dark. He picks it up to find it still and silent. He rubs at his eyes, blinking away confusion.

Oh shit.

He catches a glimpse of the time on his cell, it's past 1pm.

That isn't his personal phone, it's his work.

He overslept. In his exhausted stumble home last night he must've forgotten to set his alarm. He's been asleep for damn near sixteen hours.

Shit, shitshitshit.

He nearly meets the tile floor with his face as he bolts upright and scrambles over to his work bag. He yanks the offending device out of the front pocket.

"Hello?" He croaks.

"Viktor?"

Cory.

"Yes?"

"Hey there, kid. Er, so sorry to call you on your day off."

It is his day off. What the fuck.

"But we had two contractors call out today, and we've got an emergency call on the Southeast side of Piltover, close to the bridge. We don' have all the deets, jus' that the caller wants someone over as soon as possible."

Viktor's stomach sinks. After supposedly overcoming all of that dread and self-doubt yesterday, of course this is the thanks he gets. He grits his teeth.

"There is no one else you can call?"

"I'm really sorry, kid. Hey, I know you're needin' the hours to apply for yer union membership anyway. Plus, we wouldn't want anyone going around sayin' yer difficult to work with, right?"

Logically it's probably an empty threat, but that truth does nothing to calm Viktor's nervous system.

"I will be there in forty-five minutes."

"Atta boy."

The call is for one of the high-rise apartments lining the South bank of Piltover. Living arrangements such as these are designated to a level of wealth that Viktor does not aspire to. He's sure the annoyance and disdain are clear on his face as he turns his car onto the block.

All things considered, it is nice to be back on this side of town. He has a clear view of Zaun across the river as he pulls up to the designated accessible parking spots.

To the untrained eye, it might look as shrouded in haze as ever, but Viktor knows better. He's seen his little city on it's worst days; he knows there's a new rustling of life just behind the veil. Ever since a team of Pilt U researchers started funneling money into efforts to clean up the air and water in the bank, it's as shiny as it once was only in his heart. His little jewel, his earthy-toned home.

He used to get the view from the other side as a boy when he walked home from school. The shimmer off of piltie sky-scraper windows and holiday lights in the winter months used to stir something in his chest. He'd vowed to move here one day, that he could make it out no matter who cast him aside. He's older now, perhaps a bit more jaded, now that he knows not all that glitters is gold.

He presses the buzzer that corresponds with unit 1124. There is no response. He presses it again, longer and with greater force this time, as if that will do him any good. He goes to press it a third time when an older woman carrying a large grocery bag walks up to the badge reader. The door unlocks with a click, and Viktor leans forward, adjusting his his cane to pull it open. The woman gives him a silent nod of thanks and continues on her way.

Maybe it's the frantic jitters he's been having since he woke up, maybe it's the memories of a childhood where he learned he would always have to fight for what he wanted, maybe it's some secret unseen force drawing him like a magnet, but he doesn't let the door close. He follows inside. He follows all the way to the elevator and presses the button for the ninth floor for his companion, and then the one for the eleventh for himself.

It doesn't feel wrong. He's supposed to be here, despite all the signs pointing towards the contrary.

The apartment is at the end of the hallway. There is an antique looking bronze doorbell, unique from the doors to the other penthouses. He presses again once again to no response. He gives it another minute this time. Maybe they aren't decent.

Some nerve then, considering he was called it for a supposed emergency.

He rings again, pressing harder. There is only silence in response. He knocks. He knocks again. He knocks a third time. He tries the brass knob.

It turns.

He almost turns around and goes home, but he stays frozen in the threshold. And then he hears a call from inside:

"Hello? Is someone here?"

It's a familiar voice, but there's simply no way.

Viktor clears his throat. "You ordered an electrician? May I come in?"

"What? Ah, um… yeah? I guess?"

Viktor rolls his eyes and lets himself in, closing the door behind him. "You can say no, but we will still have to charge you the convenience fee. For wasting my time. On my day off, mind you."

He immediately feels a tinge of regret.

Professionalism be damned, the faceless man can't even bother himself to meet him at the door.

"It's your day off? Ah shit, man, I'm so sorry." And it does seem like he means it. There's a warm quality to his voice, one that Viktor can't deny recognizing for much longer.

"Where are you?"

The entryway is sparsely decorated. There's an open-concept kitchen to the left and a spiral staircase starting in the far right corner of the common space. All of the furniture is spotless, hardly used, in shades of cool green and beige.

"The uh, bedroom. To your left."

Viktor turns his head and sure enough there's a hallway leading off of the kitchen. The door at the end is propped open.

"Would you like me to wait out here until you're decent?"

"Um, well…"

Viktor suppresses the urge to roll his eyes again.

"By all means, take your time. I get paid a flat rate and then by the hour. Perhaps I can make myself at home on your rather plush-looking sofa." He couldn't say why he's keeping up the attitude, but it feels good, it feels right.

"Sorry I should've…I uh…don't live here."

"You…do not live here?"

Viktor's stomach turns.

Is that why the door was unlocked? It would be just his luck to succumb to a burglary gone wrong.

Still, the faceless man stays in the other room. There's that pull again, like a magnet stuck to Viktor's ribcage.

"Yeah, I'm uh, waiting for the owner to get—"

Viktor's pushing the door to the bedroom open with his cane. It's a bit more lived-in than the living room. There are piles of discarded clothes strewn about. And in the center of all of it, laid out on burgundy bed sheets, baring what feels like miles of perfect, golden skin, is Hazel Eyes.

Viktor's breath catches, he blinks. His heart halts in his chest.

"Viktor!" He says it differently this time. Even with the debauched sight that he makes, arms up over his head and legs tied to the foot-board, there's no hint of sultriness to it. It's breathy, but full of relief. Full of hope.

"You're…"

"Stuck here, and man am I glad to see you!"

Without another word Viktor pulls his multi-tool from the side pocket of his tool bag.

"You're an electrician?! Man, I could've guessed that. Guess I owe Vi and Ekko like twenty bucks. My money was on you being like a surgeon or something like that."

"Are you hurt?" Viktor makes quick work of cutting the ropes that bind his feet. They're bright neon-yellow. Polypropylene, he guesses. "Who brought you here? Do you need me to call someone? Are we alone? Do I need to get you out of here without being seen?" His brain is going a mile a minute.

"What? Oh, no! It's nothing like that. The dude that owns this place is a friend of mine, Asher. He uh, wanted to try something new in the bedroom, I guess."

One piece of the endless puzzle snaps into place.

"You are his sub, then?" A pang of jealousy, unreasonable but still razor sharp. It soon turns to anger. "And he left you here, like this? Tied with polypropylene ropes."

"What, is that bad?" Jayce rubs at the raw skin as Viktor finally cuts the ones holding his arms loose.

There are blooming scratches and bruises from where he's clearly tried to pull at them. Someone cared enough about restraining him to research ties that would bind him so he couldn't get free, but not enough about him to buy him softer rope. Someone left him here, and didn't care enough to check to see if he would chafe, if he would bleed. Viktor fights the urge to snarl. To pull the mans arm into his hand and kiss at the angry, red marks. Whoever this Asher is, Viktor wants his heart ripped from his chest and roasted on a spit.

"Hey, it's okay," Hazel Eyes has the nerve to lean in closer, as if Viktor is the one in need of comforting. "My name's Jayce, by the way. Sorry that this is how you had to find that out."

Of course it is, Viktor should've guessed. The sky is blue, Zaun is home, and Hazel Eyes is named Jayce.

"You…make bets about me?"

"Huh?"

"You and the eh, other baristas, you were placing bets about me?"

"Oh! Yeah," Jayce chuckles. He shuffles back on the bed, out of Viktor's space, and Viktor immediately misses his warmth. He leans back against the headboard and crosses his legs at the ankles, pulling his knees in. Like he's shy, like this is for Viktor's comfort. His black, looser-fitting boxer briefs leave a bit to the imagination, but not a lot.

"We do that kinda stuff at Last Drop. Yesterday Jinx and I bet Vi she wouldn't ask her crush for her phone number. I feel like you were in when that happened? I need to stop putting down twenty bucks every time honestly, or one of these days I'm gonna go completely broke."

"They are always, eh, crush related?"

This time Jayce is blushing, there's no mistaking it.

His eyes are turned away now. Curious.

"I am so sorry, man, this is not how I ever want a cute guy to see me mostly naked for the first time." He looks to Viktor as if he expects a laugh, but Viktor is deadly serious.

"It is not your fault, Jayce. Someone betrayed your trust, they hurt you. You are the one who should be receiving an apology." He stands and stares down at the floor, breathing in through his nose, trying to ignore that the cutest man alive has now called him cute.

"For what it is worth. There are doms out there who will treat you properly. Who will care for you and follow your lead."

"Oh yeah?"

It sounds like a genuine question, their eyes finally meet again.

"You have never been a sub before?" If this was Jayce's introduction, Viktor will hunt Asher for sport.
"No, not really. I guess Asher likes to tell me what to do sometimes, and I like to make him happy."

"You must be a very good boyfriend."

Jayce chuckles, less embarrassed and more genuinely amused this time. Viktor reckons it's the sweetest sound he's ever heard.

"I'd like to think I could be."

There is a pause.

"You and Asher are not an, eh, item, then?"
"Nah," Jayce laughs, louder this time.

Viktor doesn't know when Jayce got closer, but he can feel the heat radiating off his skin. It's as if he feels the same magnetic pull, like they were never meant to stay apart for long.

"In that case." Viktor stands. His eyes meet those pools of hazel that he's so come to adore. Jayce's face is so open and warm, Viktor could sink and drown in it. "I have a proposition."

"Yeah?" Jayce's pupils swell.

Fuck, this is going to be fun.

"I have a couple of ideas. One, I will help you piece together an outfit from whatever is strewn about here. It is not ideal, but I wouldn't want you to catch your death from chill—I will drive you home to make sure you are safe. Two, all of the former, but I will also kiss you."

Jayce swallows, breath catching in his throat audibly. It's close to a whimper. Viktor's cunt suddenly feels a flush.

"Three, all of the aforementioned, and I will also give you my phone number."

There's a hint of confusion passing through the haze on Jayce's handsome face.

"I…tried to give you mine yesterday. I guess I assumed you weren't interested."

The receipt, of course.

"Quite the contrary, Jayce, I would like to do much more to you than text you. I am sorry that I missed the hint." Their faces are closer now, a hair closer and Viktor could kiss the tip of Jayce's nose.

"There is a forth option."

"Please," Jayce voice cracks, rather adorably.

"Before we do all of the aforementioned, I play with you a bit. Give you a small taste of what it's like to be with a dom who knows what they are doing."

"Gods, please."

"First: may I touch you, Jayce?"

Jayce nods.

"I need words, Jayce."

"Yes, as much as you want, yes!"

"Good boy."

Viktor places a firm hand under his jaw and tilts it upwards. Somehow, by the will of the gods, his pupils have swelled even further.

"Ah, you love being called a good boy, don't you?"

"Yes…um,"

"You may call me Sir."

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy, perfect boy. Now, what is your safe word?"

"I don't have one, Sir."

"Well, as this is apparently BDSM 101, I must tell you that simply will not do. This is all on your terms, Jayce. Maybe one day in the future, in the comfort and privacy of my home I will be a bit rougher, take some of these choices away from you, but for now I need you to keep talking to me, sweet boy. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir."

"What is your safe word?"

"Espresso, sir."

"Good, that's very good Jayce. Do you have a condom?"

"There are some in the bedside table drawer."

Viktor slides off the side of the bed as gracefully as he can manage without his cane, which has since been discarded on the floor. He pulls out the box of what he knows to be decently expensive, ultra-thin condoms and scatters them across the bed. A few spill onto the floor Jayce blinks in surprise.

"You… think we'll need all of those?"

It's Viktor's turn to laugh.

"As I said, I'm being paid by the hour, and Asher thought it was appropriate to leave you high and dry." Viktor presses a gentle hand against Jayce's solar plexus, and Jayce spreads out against the satin at the contact, like a warm slice of butter, like a dream. If Jayce were a cat, Viktor's sure he would be purring. "I think it's only fair that we eh, make a bit of a mess. If I were a less responsible man, I would let you come inside of me and dribble it out onto his sheets."

"Fuck."

Viktor unzips his jeans and wiggles his hips, sliding his pants and briefs down onto the floor. It's a good thing he worse his compression brace under his clothes today.

Though, it might've been nice to watch Jayce kneel before him, undoing the straps of his proper brace. An idea for later. There's truly no end to his imagination when it comes to the things he would like to do with this man.

"Lean back. I will not tie you up again, especially not with those ropes, but hold on to the headboard and do not move."

"May I talk, sir?"

"Yes. Thank you for asking, my sweet, polite boy."

"Gods, you're so pretty. Even prettier now that you're letting me be good for you. Gods, Vik, I want to be so good for you."

Viktor slides into Jayce's lap and Jayce groans at the feeling of slick over his clothed cock. Viktor's own cock throbs at the feeling.

He's big, bigger than Viktor ever could've hoped. Hazel Eyes is going to be the death of him.

Viktor rocks his hips gently, setting an alternating rhythm. Slick and sweat builds up in the space between them and the squelch and smell of sex permeate the air. Viktor trails his fingertips up Jayce's sides and the larger man shivers.

"Ticklish?"

"No, sir, I just like the way you touch me."

Gods.

"That's all you need, huh, some teasing touches? I bet you could come like this."

"No…"

"No? You do not want me to touch you?"

"Please…"

"Need your words, sweet boy."

Jayce is suddenly shaking and panting, nearly coming apart at the seems. Viktor's hips slow. He holds Jayce's face in his hands.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. You just, feel really good, sir…I want to be inside of you."

So simple, so honest. Viktor's heart feels as rubbed-raw as Jayce's wrists. Viktor pushes up on his knees, a move he will regret tomorrow, and Jayce whimpers at the loss. Viktor makes quick work of Jayce's briefs and tears a condom open with his teeth. Jayce sighs in relief when Viktor takes it in his hand and rolls it down the head of his cock.

And what a cock it is: uncut, thick, and nearly at the bend of Viktor's elbow when he rolls the latex down to the base. There's a thatch of dark hair trailing down from his belly button that Viktor suddenly yearns to bury his nose in as he takes the ruddy head down his throat. Another idea for later.

"Give me your arms, keep your wrists together."

Jayce obeys, like the good boy he is. Viktor takes his wrists gently in his hands. He has to adjust so he can use one hand to line Jayce's cock up with this hole. Viktor's hands barely reach around the sides of Jayce's wrists to hold them in place. But Jayce keeps them still, because he is a good boy. As a reward Viktor rolls his hips and drags the head of Jayce's cock over his folds, tapping at this cock and letting out an unexpected groan as he feels like he's touching a live wire. Everything is so hot.

"Yes," Jayce hisses.

"See something you like?" Viktor grins.

"I like hearing you, sir." Jayce confesses, breathless. A warm and dangerous feeling crawls up the base of Viktor's spine.

"Yes? You would like to hear more from me?" Viktor sinks down, sliding Jayce's cock home.

Fuck. It's a stretch, and in this position it hits spots that Viktor previously thought impossible with the cock of a mortal man.

Viktor has to keep him; there can be no one else. That's another dangerous territory. He's going to to keep that thought to himself. For now.

"You want to hear how much I love your cock? How I'm certain it, and you, were designed divinely for me? You want to hear how much I have wanted you? For months? From that first day I walked in to The Last Drop and watched you climb down from that ladder where you were drawing a butterfly on your little chalkboard? You want to hear how I imagined you picking me up like those sacks of coffee beans and fucking me against that pick-up counter? How I wish I had asked you where your little friend keeps his lube so I could slip my fingers inside you while I ride you like this?"

It's too much, and Jayce is looking at him like he's gazing upon the face of Janna, and Viktor suddenly can't stop himself. He takes Jayce's wrists in both hands and kisses along the angry, red marks, down to his inner wrist tattoo.

"You want to hear how I do not wish to share you with another dom? Especially one that would do something like this to you?"

"Sir, I need to come."

"Then come," Viktor grazes his teeth along the skin of Jayce's wrist. "Come for me."

Jayce comes, a lot. More than Viktor previously thought possible. His own orgasm takes him by surprise as he grinds down and his cock rubs rapidly on Jayce's pubic bone. Jayce's cock still going strong, kicking inside of him.

In the afterglow, Viktor rolls forward so that they're pressed chest-to-chest. His work shirt was in need of a dry clean before, and certainly is now.

"Wow, thank you…" Jayce breathes, voice soft and sweet. Viktor can't help but lean forward and kiss him. His tongue is soft, the juxtaposition against the stubble just beneath the skin of his bottom lip makes Viktor shiver.

"You're welcome, sweet boy."

"Can I call you Viktor now?"

"Yes. Thank you for asking." Against his better judgment, Viktor has started to press kisses across Jayce's forehead and down his nose. He feels giddy, like a school boy in love. There is clear and present danger again, he should be terrified. Nothing has ever felt so right.

"Should we get up?"

"Is your friend coming home soon?"

"I honestly don't know," Jayce huffs a laugh, absent of all bitterness that may simmer beneath the surface. They're both just stewing in happy chemicals.

"Five more minutes. And when we get back to my place, I am making you some tea and putting some ointment on those marks."

Jayce initiates the kiss this time. Viktor's organs do somersaults.