[ jayce's gratitude comes in presses and perfect nuzzles. he has no idea— but he would talk with him all night if he did. share in the worst of each other just as mu h as their best, because why else would they be together? he too, would fight for him. kill for him. do . . . unspeakable things for him.

but they had the sweetest of explorations and delights to still indulge in. present matters that mattered the world for each other. jayce cradles and pecks at the side of viktor's exposed cheek to him, shivering at the touch to his raw bite and thinking: he's going to love seeing it in the mirror, just like the prize of scratches on his back. ]

Can I wash you?