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They were not in love. Their arrangement was out of convenience, a way to let Jayce channel his sexual desires without having to really confront them. His wife could not give him what he needed, which wasn’t her fault, he’d said, but it was okay. Because he was still in love with her. That this was not a reflection on how he felt about her.
Viktor can very much recall all of the excuses Jayce would tell him - rather, tell himself - to feel better. Because it is easier when there are no emotions involved, he says. Maybe Jayce’s blatant paranoia should make him feel a bit more conscious about their situation. It does not. If it did, he would not have responded to Jayce’s text. He wouldn’t be standing in front of Jayce’s door. He wouldn’t have knocked, or anticipated Jayce on the other side.
“Viktor,” Jayce says, quietly, one hand resting against the door, the other laying limply at his side.
Viktor swallows thickly, his gaze lowering, eyes unable to move anywhere below Jayce’s chin. He does not need to say anything to prompt Jayce into wordlessly inviting him in, slowly closing the door. He’s greeted with the sight of, what was obviously, a home. Lived in. It should have felt warm, comfortable. Instead, it made Viktor want to vomit all over the hardwood floors. He would walk into here blindfolded if he could. Bereave himself of all senses just to forget about where he was. He shudders as he feels Jayce’s arms slowly wrap around his torso, his lips gently pressing into the side of his throat.
Jayce’s actions spoke volumes. Not exactly demanding anything, but just firm enough to suggest his need. Viktor’s eyes flutter shut, his head tipping back on a small hum. He could hear Jayce breathing, a harsh puff against his skin, giving his own encouraging sigh in response. They stay like that for a minute, and Viktor lets himself slip into the tranquility of the moment.
“Come on,” Jayce murmurs after a while, brushing his nose against the hinge of Viktor’s jaw. “I’m sure you don’t want to stand here any longer.”
Viktor chuckles softly, tilting his head just enough to look at Jayce, nodding faintly. He remains quiet as he feels Jayce’s hand, splayed over his lower back, guiding him down the hall, shifting them to the left, into Jayce’s room.
It was, most notably, cleaner than usual. Not that it was ever dirty, but it had been thoughtfully cleaned up. The dresser lacked jewelry, there were no clothes draped over the back of a chair, the missing wedding photo on the bedside table.
As opposed Viktor was to the homeliness of the living room, this seemed to be much more jarring.
“Hey,” Jayce whispers, placing a kiss beneath Viktor’s ear. “Let me help you get comfortable?”
Viktor nudges his head back against Jayce’s, blinking up at him. It takes him a few moments to remember to respond. “Yes,” he swallows. “Yes, that would be nice.”
Jayce is always surprisingly polite when it comes to undressing Viktor. While he claims to be great at detaching himself emotionally, he’s still very gentle. He likes putting his lips anywhere he can get them, clearly. On Viktor’s collarbone as he pops the button of his slacks. Then his sternum when he pushes his shirt up. His hips, mouth dragging along moles that Viktor wasn’t previously aware of prior to Jayce. And Viktor responds in kind, a soft noise every time Jayce presses his lips against sore muscles, a gentle rustle of Jayce’s hair, stillness when Jayce tenderly unhooks his leg brace.
Viktor should feel undeserving of the gentleness, as he reaches up to hold Jayce’s left hand, fingers curling into the spaces between Jayce’s own, watching his other hand wander.
Jayce indulges, fingertips delicately gliding over Viktor’s briefs. Viktor shudders, his head falling back against a silk pillow, eyebrows pulling up on a weak sigh.
“I missed this,” Jayce says quietly, as if it hasn’t only been a few weeks. “The way you move - fuck.”
Viktor’s eyes flutter open, and all he can see is Jayce’s gaze locked on where he was palming Viktor. His brow, the scarred one, is slightly furrowed, the skin between both eyebrows creased. His jaw is tense, too. Viktor can see the muscles ticking, a bit more apparent the firmer his hand gets. He is also slowly beginning to realize how badly he needs Jayce to touch him directly. It’s embarrassing how quickly he slips his hand from Jayce’s grasp to fumble with the waistband of his briefs.
Jayce chuckles softly, his hands smoothing over Viktor’s thighs, coaxing him to still. His fingers slide down, slowly tugging them off the rest of the way, mindful of his soreness, and discarding them somewhere to his right. “You’re trying to rush?” He asks, gently pressing his thumb into the dip of Viktor’s hip.
“You are just,” Viktor breathes loudly. “Very slow. I am falling asleep.”
Jayce lowers his head with a crooked smile, playfully squeezing the outside of Viktor’s thigh before reaching across his body, fumbling to open up a side table. A familiar routine. Something Viktor was quite comfortable with.
Viktor’s mouth lazily falls open as he watches Jayce flick open the cap of a small plastic bottle, and pour a generous amount of lubricant into his palm.
“Is it almost empty yet?” Viktor tries weakly, fingers up by his head, moving down the side of his face, just close enough to mindlessly nibble on a knuckle.
“I mean,” Jayce tilts the bottle, testing the liquid, eyes squinting. “Almost? I’d say we’ve still got a quarter left,” he says, setting it off to the side to pet Viktor’s side with his free hand. “Why? You want me to use all of it tonight?”
Viktor snorts softly, rolling his eyes. “No,” he says, running his hand over his face. “I was merely asking.”
Jayce shrugs, his dry hand easily guiding Viktor’s legs apart. His coated finger slowly moves forward, gently running right up against Viktor’s opening, keeping him held down when he twists at the temperature of the lube.
Viktor could almost say that the prepping was his favorite part, that he almost preferred it over the sex itself. He felt like there was something to fall back on, that he was more aware and grounded when he still had a grip on the reins.
“Stay still,” Jayce murmurs, and pushes in.
Viktor can only give a shaky wheeze in response, his eyes squeezing shut as his spine bows. He’s never been extremely loud, a trait he has both in and out of the bedroom, but he mouths an, oh shit, Jayce, to let Jayce know he’s doing something right.
The pressure is mind numbing. Viktor wants to bend his legs, close them tightly, give himself a breather. But the thought of Jayce moving his hand away, especially when he finally hooks his finger upward, almost makes Viktor ill. He had done this countless times, with Jayce, with others, but it never got truly boring. How could it, when Jayce knew what he was doing? Kept it special for him?
Viktor isn’t aware of the noises he’s making until he hears Jayce coo a few inches away from his ear.
“Breathe,” Jayce quietly reminds, forehead pressing into Viktor’s temple.
Viktor exhales loudly, a heavy thing that tickles his throat, makes his head spin a bit. Another bad habit.
“Oh, Jayce. Jayce,” Viktor chokes out, his vision unfocusing, eyelids drooping. He gracelessly presses a hand to Jayce’s chest, atop his heart, trying to match his breathing. He stares up at the way Jayce supplies him with a nod, inhaling deeply before prodding with an added finger, getting Viktor’s body to open up.
Viktor’s stomach tenses, his face going embarrassingly lax while his attention is forced elsewhere. He can feel Jayce’s lips on the tail of his brow, then the mole under his eye. A quick peck to the corner of his mouth. He whimpers, the noise cracking near the end when Jayce gently scissors both fingers. He moans at the feeling of Jayce pushing him further into the mattress when he squirms.
“I know, I know, baby,” Jayce murmurs, and Viktor can barely keep his eyes open. He wants to laugh. He wants to sob. He really tries not to cum immediately. “You’re taking it perfectly.”
Viktor knows he doesn’t need the praise. He’d be fine if Jayce was completely silent. But the way it makes his thoughts fuzz up is so fucking gratifying. He chokes out a quiet, ugly noise, coughing it up from the depths of his chest, and is rewarded with a twist of Jayce’s fingers. His hand is unable to stay pressed against Jayce’s chest, limply falling beside his head.
“Keep breathing,” Viktor’s head sharply tips back, his chest stuttering as he tries to remind himself to do just that. Jayce has to pin Viktor’s hips down to keep him from writhing out of his grip when he adds a third finger. “There we go.”
Viktor groans softly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. His entire body is warm now, and he imagines the sheets under him must be a bit clammy at this point. He can feel Jayce’s fingers slow.
“You think you’re ready?”
“Yes,” Viktor responds. Too quick. Humiliatingly eager. “Yes, fuck. I need you,” he inhales. “Inside of me. Now, please.”
Jayce’s smile is so sweet, like he cares. Viktor cannot begin to imagine what it would look like if he were not himself, as Jayce pulls his hand back and grabs for the condom. Thinks, does he smile at his wife like this, maybe, as Jayce tugs his own pants down, haphazardly. It’s an irrelevant thought, really. Perhaps not even his business to begin with, as Jayce grabs for Viktor’s hand again, nudging his legs back apart with his knee.
Viktor was never a poet. Or a writer at all. But there was nothing mundane about the way Jayce fucked into him, and it made him want to be. He wants to find the words, beautiful fucking words, to describe how the first initial press of Jayce’s hips feels, how it feels when Jayce doesn’t stop until he’s completely inside of him.
He has to settle for a shattered cry instead, and let his aggressive nails dig into any nearby object willing to take them.
His eyebrows furrow, weakly pressing his hand up against Jayce’s chest again, sliding up to grab the back of his neck. The air was knocked from his lungs, a dull burn settling in the pit of his stomach.
Jayce doesn’t move, merely watches Viktor adjust, allowing him to shake and tremble for a moment. Viktor was burning now, panting loudly as he tried to fully open his eyes. He could only moan, clamping down on the intrusion.
Jayce chose then to pull his hips back, just enough, before rocking forward.
“Oh - oh, god,” Viktor weeps, his hand fumbling to harshly grip Jayce’s shoulder, bicep, scrambling to find anywhere to keep himself from immediately losing it. “Jayce, fuck, just-”
Jayce slows, just a fraction, but does not stop. Viktor’s body unconsciously chases his own. “I missed you,” he murmurs, giving one harsh stroke to send his point home before slowing again. “You make- fuck, you feel incredible.”
Viktor’s lashes fan out across his cheeks, his breath stuttering when he feels his stomach tense. “Jayce,” he mewls lazily, cock twitching between them. Fuck, he really can’t cum this quickly. He can’t. “Jayce, please, just,” he inhales wetly. “Slow. Move slower.”
Jayce leans forward, planting both hands on either side of Viktor’s head, effectively boxing him in. His hips smooth, a steady in-out every few seconds, with his eyes locked on Viktor’s expression.
“Fucking— ah,” Viktor groans quietly, letting his head fall back, stomach tightening. He tries to focus on breathing, but he struggles when he can feel Jayce all the way up to his throat. It tickles. Aches. But Jayce is staring down at him, forcing the moment to truly stick, and he can’t help but appreciate it. He moans, wraps his arms around Jayce’s neck, and allows his vision to blur.
Jayce smiles, staring down between them, where their bodies meet, before finding Viktor’s eyes again. A particular roll of his hips has Viktor tensing up, a cry being unfairly torn from him. Jayce uses that reaction, as he usually does, to keep repeating that same movement, grunting softly when Viktor immediately clamps down onto him.
“Oh, oh,” Viktor’s breath hitches, and the hiccup it results in is near painful. “Oh my god,” he stammers, and he’s sure he sounds ridiculous, looks ridiculous as his legs thrash.
“Fuck,” Jayce allows Viktor to hold onto him a bit tighter, lowering down to his elbows to let their chests touch. “You needed this?” It’s a self-indulgent question.
“Yes.”
“You’d beg for it?”
“Please.”
Viktor wouldn’t categorize himself as easy. Just… a bit more malleable when Jayce got his hands on him. He still had a little remaining respect for himself. A shudder is sent down his spine, his throat clicking loudly when Jayce moves just a bit harder, his head spinning. “I’m— mmh,” he trembles. “Jayce.”
Jayce drags one hand down on the sheets beside Viktor’s waist, only slides beneath him when Viktor’s back arches, and keeps him there. He breathes loudly, his own eyes unfocusing as he finally grasps Viktor’s cock, giving it a few too-harsh strokes.
Viktor keeps his arms tight around Jayce, practically clinging to him as he’s artfully fucked into. “It’s good,” he babbles. “It’s so good. You’re— hah, I’m-“
“Oh, god,” Jayce chokes out, his voice cracking, face shoved into Viktor’s neck. His thrusts grow erratic before he forces himself to slow, to maintain his rhythm.
Viktor pets the back of Jayce’s neck, vision unfocusing as he stares at the ceiling, his body tingling. His jaw tenses, his bottom lip jutting out slightly when he feels himself slipping, too close to orgasm.
“Please, V,” Jayce mouths at his neck, licks along his collarbone. “Fuck, fuck, please cum, please—“
Viktor was gone at that point, his ears ringing, an overwhelming, almost nausea washing over him as he kept Jayce as close as possible, his mouth falling open in a shattered sob, Jayce’s hand only slowing once Viktor’s noises turned pitchy.
It does not take Jayce too long, either, pressing a weak whimper into Viktor’s neck as, after giving a few hard thrusts, his hips finally still.
Viktor is panting, his body buzzing. He could feel an awful thump in the sides of his head, a usual side effect. His ears were still ringing, rendering him slightly disoriented as Jayce pushes himself back up.
“I’ll be right back,” Jayce murmurs, and Viktor can’t properly focus, giving a short grunt in response. Jayce is careful when he pulls out, his nose twitching in a slight grimace as he moves to remove the condom.
Viktor is still staring at the ceiling, his brain conjuring up nonsense shapes until he had come down enough to realize what he was doing. He can hear the sound of a trashcan lid shutting, Jayce’s feet as he pads back into the bedroom, mutters something under his breath.
Viktor isn’t willing to meet Jayce’s eyes again. Selfishly.
Maybe it’s easier that way.