Chapter Text
Jayce sees him first, where he stands at the door of the clinic.
He’s lanky, bone-thin, his frame crooked. He leans heavily on a cane, glancing around annoyedly, clearly at the lack of seating. A fair complaint– for a physical therapy office, they’re barely ADA compliant. His neck is long and elegant, skin cool and pallid, but there’s the slightest hint of a flush to his cheeks. It looks natural, not makeup or from exertion. His bones jut out, sharp and angular, and it makes him appear almost like a doll, and his face.
God, his face.
Jayce steps closer from the hallway to get a better look.
Even from this far away, the view is even better. Jayce can see the moles that speckle the man’s face, the way his lips are red and bitten raw, likely from a nervous habit. He holds his phone casually, and glances down at it only to check the time. He’s not overly attached to it, even a bit distasteful of the object, like he finds it an unfortunate necessity. His dark brown hair curls loosely under his ears, with that casual effortless pushback that actually means at least fifteen minutes spent in the mirror every morning. His brow bone is low, or maybe it’s partially from the scowl he wears, and then his eyes flick up and meet Jayce’s.
They’re golden, a warm amber, filled with suspicion.
Jayce knows then and there that this is who he’s been waiting for all his life.
He walks down the hall and plasters on a sheepish half-smile, the one that always worked on girls in highschool, an easy start. “Hey, who are you here to see today?”
“Talis,” the man replies stiffly. He glances up and down Jayce’s body– sizes him up, and his eyes fix on Jayce’s face for a moment, probably wondering if his smile is sincere.
“Oh, that’s me! Just call me Jayce.” Jayce chuckles, and he turns with a tilt of his head to the door of his office a few feet away. “C’mon in.”
The man huffs, and he follows Jayce into the room. Jayce shuts the door behind him, and his mind runs wild with possibilities. The man’s eyes continue to dart around, like a trapped animal taking in their new cage. Jayce wishes he could lock the door to guarantee that no one interrupts them.
“So…” Jayce starts, grabbing his clipboard and pointing to the exam chair. The man doesn't even glance at him, he simply sets his cane aside and climbs onto it, arms crossed in his lap. He seems uncomfortable– physically and mentally. As though this is torture. Jayce has to change that, fast.
Glancing over his patient sheet, he catches the name. “--Viktor,” he says. “What brings you to my fancy chair today?”
Viktor doesn't even acknowledge the joke. He clearly isn't in the mood, so Jayce shifts himself. Viktor doesn't like funny Jayce yet. He needs to try a few different strategies. Jayce has a lot of masks. He’s never understood how others talk about personality traits. Can’t everyone harness a bit of each within themselves, present them on a platter when necessary?
“Would you like the abbreviated list?” Viktor asks dryly. Oh, so you do have a sense of humor? It’s so dry, slightly mocking, the subtle sort of sarcasm that means intelligence and wit. Jayce lets the edge of his mouth quirk up, and he flips the page over after giving it a scan and committing every detail to memory.
Viktor is 23. A little young for Jayce, maybe, but that might work in his favor. Viktor identifies as male, with no indication of sex, so likely transgender. Jayce has no problem with this, but he suspects it will be a delicate subject, so he files it away in his mind carefully. Viktor has a severe spinal and leg deformity, causing chronic pain and potential future nerve damage. He takes two antidepressants, and several prescription painkillers and sedatives. Jayce will take the medication names down later– they could be incredibly useful. Viktor is a frequent medicinal marijuana user, and a long time smoker despite the obscure lung condition he suffers from.
Viktor’s body is fighting against him, and he is fighting right back, tearing himself to shreds in the process.
Jayce will help glue them back together. By force, if necessary.
“I see you’ve got quite a history, here. I’ve worked with chronic pain sufferers a whole lot, so you’re in good hands.” Jayce sets the clipboard aside, and leans against the countertop casually. He needs to build trust, a rapport. Patients that come to the clinic are often resistant, so he’s used to selling himself, but he can already tell Viktor is going to be a special case. His situation is even more severe than usual, and he’s probably been through the ringer with the medical system for years, the defeat evident in his whole aura. So Jayce is going to turn on the charm the best he can, and hope for the best before bringing out the big guns.
“My entire spine, shoulders, hips, and obviously legs give me a lot of trouble. I was strongly recommended to start physical therapy,” Viktor says, his voice carefully polite but badly concealing his continued annoyance. He doesn't want to be here; someone is forcing him to come. Another doctor, a family member, a friend, a partner. Jayce needs to know who, so he knows who else to watch out for, who may interfere with his future plans. But the entrancing sound of the accent Jayce finally picks up on is enough to forgive anybody. Russian, maybe, or Polish, lilting and sharp. It's melodious in his clipped voice.
“Well, you're in the right place. It’s definitely a good idea– with your combined conditions, preventing atrophy is really important.”
Jayce takes the dive off the highest plank, and steps away from the countertop, rubbing his hands over his thighs briefly before he leans down and hovers them slightly above Viktor’s injured leg. “Mind if I touch you?” He asks, light and simple, with easily controlled eagerness. Viktor nods.
Jayce reaches out, and it’s like he’s touching a statue of a god. He already wants to worship Viktor, treat his body like a machine in need of repairs, a delicate music box that will chime beautifully once again with his hard work and perseverance. He carefully slides one hand underneath Viktor’s knee, feels the metal of the brace dig into his palm as he does. The other smooths across the top of his thigh.
“If you’re interested, I can explain what my plan is, here,” Jayce says, glancing up at Viktor as he casually traces his thumb in a light circle over the worn denim that covers Viktor’s thigh. Viktor still sits there stiffly, his posture like a startled cat trying to edge back.
“Sure,” Viktor replies quietly, and Jayce smiles.
“Awesome. So, to help support this leg, we actually should focus on releasing the tension from your posteriors. The backs of the thighs need more support to balance your weight.” Jayce indulgently drags his fingers under Viktor's knee and skates up the underside of his thigh. He wishes he could tear the fabric off, sink his nails into the creamy pale skin, map every inch with his tongue.
“Relax a bit for me. I’m going to press into this muscle, I want to test the tension,” Jayce says, and he taps under Viktor’s thigh. Viktor lets out a huff, his head falling back to the headrest of the chair. His thigh gradually relaxes, and Jayce digs his thumb into the hamstring. The tension there is severe, unsurprisingly, and as Jayce drags his finger up further, Viktor inhales sharply.
“Yeah. We’ll definitely have to work on releasing these. It’s really common for anyone with leg issues.” Jayce carefully extends his leg, returning it to the chair. “Mind rolling over for me? I’ll give that spine a check.”
“Try not to gasp in horror, if you would,” Viktor says dryly, and Jayce chuckles as he rolls over. Viktor once again reveals his sense of humor– that dry wit, one that probably puts people off. He wants to come off as an asshole, and doesn’t really care about that. Other people don’t concern him. Viktor is self-assured. He knows who he is, and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks anymore. He needs no validation, needs no reassurance, and he always expects the worst so he won’t be further disappointed.
Jayce is fascinated.
He places his hands on Viktor’s shoulders, moving to trace along the bumps of his spine, and he carefully presses into the sides of each vertebrae. As expected, Viktor’s spine is definitely misshaped, a major curve that could stump a number of professionals. The amount of scattered tension all along his back is kind of crazy– some muscles feel so underdeveloped they are deeply atrophied, and others appear overdeveloped, clearly supporting most of his weight and posture. Viktor’s lower back is a mess of clenched and twisted knots, and as Jayce’s hands slide down and then up once more, his shirt rides up slightly.
There’s a pair of dimples in his back, right above the protrusion of his pelvis.
Jayce tries not to salivate.
“You weren’t kidding,” he murmurs, digging the heel of his palm into Viktor’s upper glutes. Viktor twitches on the chair, his hips jolting up, and Jayce has the urge to repeat the motion until Viktor is writhing for him. Instead, he pulls his hands away and grabs his clipboard.
“We’ve definitely got some work to do. Obviously I’d recommend you come in at least twice a week, but whatever works for your schedule is fine.” He scribbles down a few basic notes on the bottom of the sheet, circling the muscle groups as Viktor turns over and sits up.
“Once a week is doable,” Viktor concedes. He’s clearly still opposed to this whole concept, but Jayce is taking the small wins. Once a week is one day a week Jayce can absorb more and more of him. The rest of those days, Jayce can spend learning how to further tear Viktor apart. He can methodically work his way into Viktor’s subconscious first.
“Great. I can do home visits, too– you’ve got a lot going on, so I understand it’s probably hard to get out of the house sometimes. Just give the office a call if you’d prefer I come by.”
This is patently untrue. Their clinic has never done home visits, but Jayce can give his secondary number. Getting into Viktor’s house is a step he needs to take quickly.
“That would be appreciated,” Viktor mutters, still resistant. Small wins, Jayce reminds himself.
Jayce quickly glances down to his watch– he desperately wants to stay here, to learn more about Viktor. He wishes he was graced with the blessing of extra time, but unfortunately, intake sessions only run fifteen minutes.
“We have a little bit of time left, if you want to try out a few exercises,” Jayce offers, setting the clipboard aside and returning his gaze to Viktor. Viktor hums in consideration, but Jayce can already sense the rejection on the tip of his tongue. He can’t let Viktor get away like this. If he leaves now, he’ll probably never come back, and Jayce is too intrigued to let that happen. So he uses his trump card.
“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting down in his rolling chair to get close to Viktor. “I get it. You think I’m another P.T. that’s going to misunderstand your issues and ignore your symptoms. But I’d really like to help you. I don’t take on many patients for a reason– I like long-term cases, the ones that require perseverance. Mind giving me a try?” Jayce flashes a sheepish smile, putting all his chips on the table.
Viktor licks his lips. Jayce gets the chance to study his face up close, and it’s like gazing at a painting of a child of Aphrodite. His skin is so smooth, the dark rings under his eyes not doing anything to hide their brightness, the warmth in the hazel irises. His strong bone structure makes every expression even more dramatic on his shadowed face. Viktor sighs, blessedly defeated, but the expression he gives Jayce is heartwarmingly curious.
“Alright,” he replies loftily with a nod. “I will give you a chance. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be any easier, there’s really no difference.”
Jayce laughs again, and prays that he doesn’t sound insane as the relief crawls out of his throat with it. This will be a slow process, he can tell. Breaking down Viktor’s walls will require as much persistence as working his body. Viktor is clearly a complicated person, with a strong outer front of coldness that he uses to keep himself alone. Jayce thinks he can break it down all the way, see the gooey insides of Viktor. He imagines Viktor is secretly a romantic– he wishes someone would dote on him, spoil him the way he deserves, worship his body for all its supposed imperfections. Jayce can do that. He’s going to do it.
“I’ll take what I can get,” Jayce says, and he means it. He reaches out, places his hand on top of Viktor’s and gives it a light squeeze. He wants to start encouraging touch, get Viktor used to feeling Jayce’s hands on him. It’s not surprising that Viktor startles, but he only shifts away slightly.
It’s clear that Viktor is at his limit, so Jayce lets him go. The rest of the day is a blur of nothing, radio static in Jayce’s head as he goes through the motions. Every moment after he touches Viktor’s hand is unimportant. All he can do is think about how to get closer.
There’s something undeniably magnetic about Viktor. Jayce watches as he walks out of the building, and he knows Viktor makes heads turn. Viktor seems to think he’s undesirable– Jayce can understand, with his life revolving around a body that he likely thinks hates him. But the mixture of confidence and indifference that oozes from him, the fascinating beauty of his contrasting features– how can anyone resist him?
I’m so lucky I got to him first.
Jayce isn’t sure why he’s like this, why he gets fixated on someone with barely any knowledge of them. A near stranger can be the focus of his affections for months. This isn’t the first time. But this is going to be the last. Jayce is sure of that. Viktor is the one. He’s Jayce’s matched half, a beautiful conundrum of vivid expression and guarded feelings.
Jayce needs to understand him. He needs to know every inch of Viktor, inside and out. If he didn’t so desperately want Viktor alive, he would cut him open and do it himself. But he possesses some restraint. So he’ll settle for learning Viktor from the outside, first.
There’s a variety of preparations Jayce has to do in order for his plans to work out. He starts on his walk home after his final appointment of the day. He already had a recording of the office’s typical voicemail, so he adds it to his secondary number. He gives it a test ring, and when he hears the woman’s chirpy greeting, he hangs up, satisfied.
Next is a thorough e-stalking. He isn’t working tomorrow, so staying up all night on the internet isn’t a problem. He has a generous amount of information already. It can’t be that hard, can it?
Surprisingly, it is. Viktor doesn’t have any public social media profiles. With a sigh, Jayce finds his name in an alum list website, and searches until he finds someone that doesn’t seem to have any social media either. He makes a fake Instagram profile, quickly setting it up with their identity and follow-requesting Viktor on his Instagram and Facebook. While that simmers, Jayce turns to any other occurrences of his name. His name is in a single published paper on complex engineering theory, where he’s listed at the very bottom of the contributors, and a page on ratemyprofessor with mixed reviews as a TA at Piltover University. Not much else.
Once Jayce gets access to Viktor’s social media, everything will fall into place. For now, he shuts his laptop and goes to sleep. Tomorrow starts the first day of a week off– Jayce put in for one to start his investigation for real, and he’ll cut his PTO the second Viktor schedules his next appointment. That’s his goal.
There’s a coffee shop conveniently across the street from Viktor’s apartment– it was easy to find the address, stored in his patient file. Jayce is becoming no stranger to breaking HIPAA laws. Not that it matters; no one needs to know, and he’s only using it for innocent reasons. He just wants to know Viktor. That’s all.
Jayce spends his days in that coffee shop, working sometimes on his laptop, but mostly watching Viktor as he comes and goes. He doesn’t leave the house often, which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, Jayce doesn’t have to worry about tracking him, since he stays in one place. But it also means that Jayce will have a much harder time actually getting inside.
Viktor really only leaves the apartment late at night, and comes back in the early hours. He occasionally stumbles out early in the mornings with a messenger bag, and then he comes back in the afternoon clearly drained. Jayce suspects he’s a student, probably in a graduate program, as he’s clearly too smart to be stuck in undergrad still.
His mornings are Jayce’s best bet. Viktor’s apartment is only on the second floor, but he keeps all his blinds closed constantly. Otherwise, Jayce would rent out one of the offices built on top of the coffee shop to watch him. But getting inside would be better. He aches to see what Viktor does when he thinks he’s alone in there, observe all his tiny habits and daily routines. Maybe catch him doing something more salacious, if Jayce gets lucky. But he settles for breaking in.
It’s a pretty terrible neighborhood, so Jayce has no doubt that Viktor has a number of locks on his door, but he’s pretty sure Viktor tends to be careless about that sort of thing. He doesn’t seem like the type to value his things too much– whatever he keeps in that apartment is solely what he needs to live, and he probably is the type that is used to picking up his life and running.
On the third day, Jayce gets the notifications that Viktor accepted his follow requests on Instagram and Facebook. He barely contains his excitement as he sits at a cramped booth in the coffee shop, and opens the tabs on his laptop.
Viktor’s social media pages seem pretty standard. He posts infrequently, but is tagged in a number of photos from a woman who hugs him close with a grin in each of them. They do appear to be coworkers, a few photos of hers taken with Viktor sheepishly presenting projects with her, but the relationship is obviously closer.
Viktor’s posts themselves are mostly photos of complex machinery in the process of being built and an awkwardly ugly orange cat named Rio. A few have links to articles he’s written, all of which Jayce saves for later.
Satisfied for now, Jayce returns to working out how to get inside Viktor’s place. He needs to guarantee Viktor will leave the house in enough of a rush to leave his door unlocked, but also leaves his phone and/or laptop behind. He also has to make sure Viktor is gone long enough for Jayce to actually get in, get a good look, and get into his tech. Getting a copy of his keys would be ideal, but there’s no way to do that and then get inside without seeming suspicious.
Jayce sighs and drums his fingers on the table. His coffee has long gone cold, and he still doesn’t have a concrete plan. He gazes wistfully up at Viktor’s apartment through the window, from the locked front door to the window on the side of the building covered with blinds.
Just let me in. I want to know you. That’s all. Let me in.
Jayce peers a little closer.
Viktor’s window has no bars on it. Jayce can barely see a rusted latch connecting the wood, which could be broken easily. His window is connected to the fire escape in the alley.
The idea comes to Jayce, and he’s already planning.
Jayce sits reading outside of the coffee shop long after it closes. It’s already past eleven p.m., and he remains patient.
The streets are relatively quiet, besides the occasional gunshot, drunken yelling, and squealing of tires. But this is Zaun, after all. Jayce is a large man dressed in inconspicuous clothing– it’s unlikely anyone would ever bother him.
He perks up when he sees the front door of Viktor’s building swing open, and Viktor comes walking out. He’s hurrying, the way he always does for these late night errands. He walks down the street with purpose, and Jayce waits until he turns the corner before standing up and crossing the street.
He walks into the dark alley, and easily grabs the fire escape’s ladder, tugging it down before scaling the first flight. Viktor’s window is right there. Jayce gives it a pull, and it swings open for him without any resistance.
The lock wasn’t even latched. It was like Viktor wanted him to come find him.
He climbs inside, carefully landing on the floor with a quiet grunt. He can’t risk turning on the lights, so he pulls out his flashlight as planned and flicks it on.
Viktor’s apartment is cramped, but the lack of things he actually owns doesn’t add to the effect. There’s stacks and stacks of books surrounding stuffed bookshelves, and several whiteboards, one standing on the floor and another on the wall. There’s a tiny couch and television, and the kitchenette is basically empty. Jayce quickly walks to the bedroom.
And then he feels fur brush against his leg.
“Rio,” he mutters, biting his lip. Jayce crouches down, and his eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see the scraggly orange cat at his ankles. It gives him a growl, tail puffing out, but Jayce extends his hand, letting the cat sniff it.
Rio nips at his fingers, hisses, but then licks the spot clean. She promptly skitters away, and Jayce lets out a relieved sigh. That was close. If Rio threw a fit, he’d be completely screwed. Jayce continues his exploration into Viktor’s bedroom. It’s incredibly simple, a queen bed shoved into the corner with a ton of pillows and blankets tossed on top. There’s just as many books in here, as well as scattered pieces of paper and diagrams pinned up on the wall. Jayce is glad they’ll at least share a hobby: obsessive study.
Jayce instinctively reaches out to run his fingers over the covers. He feels the plain cotton, imagines Viktor laying out here for him, gazing up at him seductively. His head tilted, lashes fluttering, whispering Jayce–
Before he knows it, Jayce throws himself into the bed, burying his face into Viktor’s sheets with a groan as he fumbles to pull his cock out of his pants. He’s already rock hard, and he lets out a sigh as he starts to stroke himself. The smell of Viktor surrounds him, cigarette smoke and a light musk of sweat, a hint of herbal soap, and it all makes Jayce dizzy. His cock throbs as he remembers that Viktor’s whole body touched these same sheets, every inch of his pale skin. Maybe Viktor sleeps naked, with his delicate pale limbs splayed across the bed. Jayce would empty his bank accounts to see Viktor sleeping here, exposed and delicate, peacefully unconscious like a dying saint in a Renaissance painting.
That’s what makes him let out a gasp as he cums into his fist, his body alight and mind still racing with images of Viktor.
Panting, the post-nut clarity hits Jayce immediately. He forces himself up, furiously wiping the tiny splatter of cum on the sheets in and covering it with a blanket. He nearly starts to harden again at the thought of Viktor sleeping here with Jayce’s cum still in the sheets, but Jayce restrains himself. He spots Viktor’s laptop sitting on one of the pillows, and races to open it. There’s a password, obviously, and he bites his lip.
rio
Nope. Thankfully, with a false answer inputted, Jayce clicks the option of revealing the password hint.
HINT: když jsi smutný
Jayce yanks at his own hair to keep himself from doing anything more drastic in frustration. What language even is that? Viktor’s accent was vaguely Russian or Eastern European, but that could be a whole number of languages. Jayce quickly pulls out his phone, frantically taking a picture of the text on the screen and getting an auto-translation. It’s apparently Czech, and the hint is along the lines of when you are sad.
Okay, so it’s probably something Viktor does when he’s upset. Maybe a comfort food? Viktor is deathly skinny, so he probably isn’t eating his feelings. He isn’t attached to material objects from what Jayce can see. And it’s probably something obscure– a book, a movie, a hobby Jayce isn’t aware of. He needs more information before he can break this barrier. Jayce shuts the laptop in resignation, takes another deep breath of Viktor’s sheets, and finally stands up.
There was one more idea he planned on testing out, a back-up plan for if Viktor doesn’t schedule another appointment. Jayce might need a second try to get him on board, so he’s ensuring this while he can.
There’s a small silver bracelet sitting on the nightstand. Jayce snatches it, sticking it in his pocket, and gives in to the urge to check the drawers. The top isn’t too exciting– a whole bunch of pill bottles, and Jayce already recognizes the names of the medications Viktor takes. He can get the same sedatives on his hands easily enough, so Jayce doesn’t bother stealing any. The middle drawer is cluttered with pens and papers, nothing particularly interesting. Jayce excitedly opens the bottom drawer, because he knows what bottom drawers are for.
He’s treated to the glorious sight of Viktor’s toy collection. It’s one of the neatest things in the apartment– there’s a harness tucked away, a selection of dildos in varying sizes, plenty of lube, and a rabbit vibrator sitting on top of it all. Obviously his favorite.
Jayce hasn’t heard a sound since he entered, and a glance at his phone says it’s barely midnight. Viktor normally leaves for about three hours at night, so Jayce has plenty of time. So, he gives in to his urges again.
Jayce carefully picks up the vibrator, as if it’s a holy object. To him, it is. This was inside Viktor, heard his whines and moans, felt the warmth of his body. Jayce has never been so jealous of an object before in his life. But one day, hopefully soon, it will be unable to compete with Jayce. He’ll show Viktor pleasures unknown, expose Viktor to his devotion and capabilities, his knowledge of the human body and how much that translates to fantastic sex. Jayce runs his fingers along the smooth silicone, dipping his head to indulgently smell it. Unfortunately, Viktor is a practitioner of good hygiene, so it’s clean. The barest hint of a musk is all that remains, but it’s ambrosia to Jayce, and the plain silicone he drags his tongue over lights up every sensory receptor in his body.
But Jayce needs to keep himself in check. He can’t overindulge yet, he doesn’t want to crash and burn. There’s still a long way to go before he can claim his prizes. He sets the toy back in its place, slowly sliding the drawer shut, and moves on to his final objective.
Viktor’s dirty laundry pile is obvious– a basket half-filled with clothing items haphazardly thrown in. Jayce steps closer to it, lifting a t-shirt, pushing aside a pair of jeans, and delicately pulls out what he’s wanted most this whole time.
He shoves Viktor’s worn boxers into his other jacket pocket as he puts the rest of the clothing back where it all was. Jayce flicks his flashlight off, heads back to the window, and climbs out, shutting it behind himself.
Mission successful.
And in less than two days, he’ll see Viktor again.