jayce lowers his hands down, palms first, reposing against the sides of viktor's shins; the inside of a hand curves to the underside of his calf, pushing up just enough to prompt gravity to adjust the first strap and buckle. he tests the snugness of the interior cushions with a tame slide of his pinky finger. he didn't want enough space for it to slot in, but he also didn't want to leave any bigger gaps that could cause knocking. it had to be just right.
after an approving hum, jayce continues to the forth buckle, at the shin, then the first buckle, high around the thighs. his touch is meek all the while, but how his hands, hot like a furnace, clean from his shower but bulky and hardworking, travel up and down are deliberate, confidential; he feels his heart begin to flip, and race, to which he tries very hard to quell it to moderate silence.
the only result of that is greater heat around his face. the charge continues to be discernable. jayce distracts himself with the conversation, but feels a leap in his chest instead. ]
I, uh . . . [ he's so painfully focused on his tasks that if someone interested in viktor rolled up to get to know him and the property, he wouldn't have noticed. but then again he thinks he'd notice, accutely, if viktor was with someone. the thought pricks his upper lip. he tries to ignore the fire it flames. ] No, I don't think, [ he starts opening his tool box for a screwdriver. ] It's— not my business.
[ was viktor betrothed? he never mentioned it, but— what if it was something arranged? such marriages between the upper class happening more often than not, jayce . . . didn't like the thought. it made him feel possessive, angry and aching, and that led to embarrassment.
he'd understand if it were a secret he's only touching upon now, but hoped to god it wasn't that. ]
no subject
jayce lowers his hands down, palms first, reposing against the sides of viktor's shins; the inside of a hand curves to the underside of his calf, pushing up just enough to prompt gravity to adjust the first strap and buckle. he tests the snugness of the interior cushions with a tame slide of his pinky finger. he didn't want enough space for it to slot in, but he also didn't want to leave any bigger gaps that could cause knocking. it had to be just right.
after an approving hum, jayce continues to the forth buckle, at the shin, then the first buckle, high around the thighs. his touch is meek all the while, but how his hands, hot like a furnace, clean from his shower but bulky and hardworking, travel up and down are deliberate, confidential; he feels his heart begin to flip, and race, to which he tries very hard to quell it to moderate silence.
the only result of that is greater heat around his face. the charge continues to be discernable. jayce distracts himself with the conversation, but feels a leap in his chest instead. ]
I, uh . . . [ he's so painfully focused on his tasks that if someone interested in viktor rolled up to get to know him and the property, he wouldn't have noticed. but then again he thinks he'd notice, accutely, if viktor was with someone. the thought pricks his upper lip. he tries to ignore the fire it flames. ] No, I don't think, [ he starts opening his tool box for a screwdriver. ] It's— not my business.
[ was viktor betrothed? he never mentioned it, but— what if it was something arranged? such marriages between the upper class happening more often than not, jayce . . . didn't like the thought. it made him feel possessive, angry and aching, and that led to embarrassment.
he'd understand if it were a secret he's only touching upon now, but hoped to god it wasn't that. ]