[ after their first date, jayce has made it a habit in asking viktor to sneak off for plenty more midnight promenades— but in a shifty, dreadfully romantic way. during the day, on the clock in the stables, he'd slip smoldering gazes. if he were in the forge, his shirt was sure to be gone, and his musculature a bit more flexed than rested. in viktor's presence, no matter the distance— he'd make his appeal in the little gestures, dangerously toying with the limits of publicly appropriate— but never breaching them. it's always when he thinks no one is looking. it's always when jayce's colleagues have their backs turned.
it's always then, too, that jayce has begun to smuggle letters to viktor. in his gear or snug between saddlewhere when certain horses are prepared for his practice. in his pocket, when no one would notice but himself. in his hand, when he's explaining something about hooves or shoes, or the details of viktor's saddle design, passing blueprints with the letter just underneath it and a knowing gaze.
they always start similarly, charcoal fingerprints smudging the letter's body or edges. viktor, it addresses some times. my dearest partner in others.
they are always a declaration of colorful feelings; short, sweet, genuine language, an overwhelming amount of yearning. who knew jayce was such a romantic? they weren't very long. a paragraph at most, separating sentences with lines. the rest of the body was art. a little unkempt, as he was, but indubitably detailed, a scene from sometime during the day when he'd seen viktor. it is viktor, down to every feature. smiles, smirks, gazes he'd exchange, more serious looks of thoughtfulness . . . the mole above his lip, under his right eye, even the one on his neck— all of them are snapshots that jayce takes to heart and brings to life in his bedroom.
it's never signed ordinarily, if one were to simply look over it. only scrutinizing eyes would be able to find the intricately hidden initials in each sketch: JT. not only that, but there is a pattern jayce is certain viktor will have the time of his life cracking: codes. placement of certain letters forming a new word that he'd have to solve.
every time, it's a location, and an hour.
this time, the cracks something different than the others.
There is beauty in imperfections, and it is everything I admire about you.
You choose the place tonight. I'll be where I always am. ]
[ Their courtship remains a secret for the time being, not out of shame but rather something held close, precious, just for them. The clearing becomes Viktor's favorite place because they can sit and talk for hours or lay in silence while charting the stars. He learns that his favorite color is hazel, the name gleaned from overhearing a conversation about Mr. Talis' lovely green eyes, both words written in the margins of his journal.
Those are the sweet parts of his love.
The not-so-sweet parts are sitting on a chair in the forge, watching sweat drip down Jayce's back and dodging between flexing muscles, the heat in Viktor's body having little to do with the fire across the room. It's running a hand over the small of Jayce's back as they dance around each other in the stable or library, lost in their science but never enough for the touches to be truly absentminded. Viktor is far from being sweet when he catches Jayce's eye across a dinner table and takes a lavish bite, sucking the fork clean and giving a moan of appreciation for the flavors.
He strikes a balance, sweetness and flirting, affection and barely-bridled lust.
The letters always put him in a softer mood. At first, it's embarrassing how Jayce draws him, talented sketches featuring all the little flaws that Viktor sees in the mirror—crooked teeth, thin lips, uneven nose. But he gets used to it from the sheer number Jayce slips him in all his cute little ways, always secret and full of a language just for them. Viktor looks forward to the little codes as much as the romantic words, and it's a surprise when they take a different meaning today.
He doesn't know what Jayce has planned, but he heads to the stables in the evening, a little earlier than usual but impatient to see what's changed this time. ]
[ coming in early meant that, when viktor arrives . . . jayce is not at the stables. the horses in all barns have been fed and turned in for the evening, munching quietly as the setting sun brightens the view of the sky's horizon line and vast expanse of clouds. he's no where to be seen, and doesn't pop up when called, so . . .
he's probably in the cottage some ways next to the main stables he situates in, where the retired stars and geldings stay, the faint drizzle of a showerhead wafting out of the smallest bathroom window. jayce is cleaning up for a date night, but since he thinks he's got some time—
he's admiring the beautifully warm colors of the sunset through the small shower window at his eye level. gold or amber, it's called. the eye color of his beloved and the time of day where it stains the greatest part of the sky. he could whistfully stand there and think about him all the while, but time was of the essence! the running water cuts, and jayce talis moves along with his plans to get ready, a smile already stupidly tugging at his lips. ]
[ Greeting the horses and slipping Mercury a sugar cube, Viktor looks around for Jayce in the usual corners of the stables. He calls his name and, when he isn't answered, wanders out the back towards the place that Jayce has made his living quarters. At first, Viktor thought that he should live in the main house with everyone else, but once he learned that the offer had been made and turned down, he'd let that sleeping dog lie.
Plus, something about Jayce staying in his own little cottage was incredibly charming.
Viktor can hear the running of water and slowly circles the cottage until he spots a window with steam coming from it. ]
[ he'd just finished wiping the excess water still clinging to him post shower in the tiniest shower box, and its there that jayce returns to the window, lifting his chin for a better look below. oh—
he's here early, but jayce wasn't one to complain. he'll just rush his grooming. ]
I'll, ah— I'll be done in a minute. [ there isn't a place to sit outside unless he gets the desk chair, so— ] Front door's open— come in.
[ Viktor catches a glimpse of Jayce, hair wet and touseled, and smiles back at him. He hadn't expected this, but then again, his partner did some dirty work and was often cleaned up for their nightly rendezvous. Viktor would take him either way, and sometimes, seeing him dirty after working with the forge all day was the best sight to greet him at the end of a long, clean, prim and proper day. ]
No rush. It's just a shame I wasn't earlier. [ Chuckling to himself, he makes his way around to the front door and lets himself inside to wait. He's a little hesitant only because it's his first time actually stepping through the front door, and the resident isn't even there to guide him. Inside is clean and tidy, simple but in a cozy way that comes from everything inside having a purpose and serving it well.
Viktor can hear Jayce humming in the bathroom, and to studiously avoid nearing or even looking at the bed that takes up one corner of the cottage, he gravitates towards a desk on the opposite side. Jayce's notebook sits there, open to a page of now familiar handwriting and sketches of Viktor. Blushing, he runs a finger over the line of his own neck, staring at his own eyes. ]
[ viktor would hear jayce's own chuckle behind the closed door and a vigorously rubbing towel to get the wetness off. ]
To see all the soot and horse shit?
[ it is a tone of gentle play between them— because they both know they like the smell of horse, and the smell of the forge has always felt like home for jayce. now, he can't speak for viktor, but he thinks he knows . . . judging by his impromtu visits from time to time, to check on his progress. yes.
jayce has all kinds of sketches of viktor in there. it's funny how it all started out as a journal for his daily thoughts, so good and some bad, a few sketches of horses here or there which then gravitated to inventive prototypes. then he met viktor, and . . .
well, ever since that day, marked by the header i have a new partner; his name is viktor, the pages had begun to fill with more and more of him. until its all that loads the gaps between his late night thoughts, pictures of memories, theories and steel work. it's . . . a little obsessive. but it carries its purpose in eternalizing what his eyes, mind and heart always saw.
now, jayce's clothes are stretched across the bed— new clothes, in fact, but not knewly tailored. viktor probably knows by now that jayce barely spends money on himself, but this dark waistcoat with a small, embroidered "T" that looked awfully like a hammer was exceptionally dapper, used a few times but never by himself. slacks, suspenders and blouse folded underneath, he's looking to be particularly sophisticated tonight. the wooing continues . . . as jayce ventures closer and closer to the thought of an engagement. but that's kept to himself.
he opens the door of the bathroom to retrive them, towel wrapped around his waist— he'd intended to pop in and out, only for the clothes to spare viktor the indecency, or the temptation, but. jayce doubletakes immediately when he sees that viktor has found his notebook.
his eyes glisten; he lingers, for just a moment more, this lopsided tug on his lips—
before flushed hues invade his face like the steam rolling behind him; he ducks his head and goes back into the bathroom with his clothes bunched into a single hand. ]
[ Keeping the notebook on the desk, feeling to guilty to pick it up properly, Viktor pages backward through its contents in slow, methodical fascination. It feels like looking through the rough drafts of Jayce's love letters, and when he hears the door open behind him, he's quick to withdraw his hand. They've shared notes before, but only ever about research or horses or technical designs—this felt like infringing on privacy.
He turns around in time to see a flash of clothing and a hand disappear into the bathroom. Having avoided the bed, he's also unaware of what had been on it and so is in for a surprise when Jayce returns clothed. It's for the best, really, that he hadn't turned around to see him standing there, mostly naked, glistening wet...
Clearing his throat before his imagination runs away from him, he paces away from the desk and continues to look at various items tucked in here and there. ]
[ jayce doesn't have much to offer in terms of lavish decor. but there're some little trinkets— the first shoe he crafted as a young apprentice to his father, a small portrait of his mother, and an iron horse figurine that's been smelted back together so many times one would suspect its terribly old. a loose cog sits on his nightstand, and his bed has a singular blanket he carries with him since childhood, of blue and red fabric, soft to the touch and warming for any occasion. the only other item that is by the bed's edge is his brace, that he'll put on before they leave.
plenty of time is given for jayce to preen himself in the meantime. the scent of birch musk and pine waft through the singular room when the door swings ajar, and out he comes— a waistcoat that defines thin hips and broad shoulders. a tie. slacks that define his thighs and calves and suspenders that define the rise of his bottomside. his beard is only slightly trimmed, while his hiar is combed back, despite the shorter locks of his bangs still falling onto his forehead.
he only fixed himself up proper because viktor was already such, and gorgeous in his gowns. ]
My Lord.
[ that was a joke. just to get his attention. they're well beyond lord, or mr. ]
[ Gently tracing the lines of the iron horse, admiring the welding work that gives the joints more knobbly life rather than detracting from the beauty, Viktor turns to see Jayce looking... impossibly handsome. The clothes fit him well, especially compared to the baggier work clothes he wore both for protection and comfort during the day. Even the clothes that he would change into for their dates is simpler than this outfit, and Viktor is suddenly feeling severely underdressed. Hell, Jayce is even wearing a tie.
Viktor is aware that he's staring, but he can't help it. The trimmed beard, the slicked back hair that's still damp from a fresh shower. And Viktor can smell him, the fresh scent of soap and forest, and amidst it all, hazel. It draws him in, his fingers going right to that tie and straightening it needlessly just to touch. ]
You know I'm not a lord. [ Smiling up at Jayce, he walks his fingers over to the Talis symbol and traces the embroidery. ] You certainly look like one right now. What's the occasion, Lord Talis? Have you called me for service?
[ but the desired effect was achieved: a smile that makes his own spread. jayce lowers his head to the adjustment of his tie— which isn't perfect, mind you, and this is probably the first time he's even wearing one to begin with.
jayce's heartbeat picks up from the close proximity; his back straightens and he just looks pleasantly sheepish. ]
That's supposed to be your choice, tonight.
[ it is very hard to keep his hands to himself, but jayce straightens his back and allows viktor the freedom to look— and tug. behind him, his hands clasp together in a demure little at-ease for his hulking size. his fingers fidget out of sight, in the meantime, wondering if he looks good enough for viktor— because viktor does for him.
today might be the day, after all. the day he asks. ]
[ The tie is perfect because Jayce is wearing it, just like the rest of the outfit. When he straightens his back, biceps flexing beneath the sleeves of his dress shirt, Viktor cocks his head to one side. ]
It's just that I feel underdressed. If we're going somewhere, I'd like to match you.
[ As he is, Viktor is just wearing his usual combination of dress shirt, waistcoat, and trousers. He's not sure of the colors, other than not being green, but they're soft and fit him well. Still, it's nothing impressive, nothing like Jayce.
Humming as he takes in Jayce's stance and the way he keeps his hands to himself, Viktor steps away. There's something going on, something that's making Jayce nervous, and Viktor wants to get to the bottom of it. ]
[ viktor's probing, and that makes jayce feel like he's being boiled in hot water. he goes from fidgeting to downright squeezing his fingers to try and keep himself focused. ]
That'd make me predictable, hah.
[ laughing at his own jokes! oh, he's getting fried, isn't he. as to matching him, jayce rolls his weight on his right leg, careful with his braceless left. he may need to sit soon. ]
You look stunning, Viktor.
[ the charm is turned up. he means that with those big hazel doe eyes. ]
There's nothing wrong with predictable. Predictable is how you know your equation is balanced.
[ Raising an eyebrow, wondering if he's just imagining the nervous edge to the laughter, Viktor takes note of the weight shifting. The compliment is sweet, but not the reason he'd remarked on his own daily fashion.
The eyes get him, in the end. He doesn't care if he never sees another color as long as he keeps seeing this one. ]
Alright, keep your secrets. We're going to have a picnic dinner in our meadow.
[ our meadow. it is just— so endearing that they have their own little hideouts. jayce's shoulders visibly give a little slouch to relax, his hands releasjng from behind him to stead a seat on his bed. ]
Great. Good, that sounds— perfect. [ so he'll reach for his straps— unfasten, and get ready to tighten his brace right around his leg, starting at the buckles that clench his thigh. ] Are you in the mood for fruits?
[ The tension leaving Jayce doesn't go unnoticed, but Viktor won't comment—for now. Instead he takes a step forward, looking down at his partner sitting on the edge of the bed and thinking about how easy it would be to push him backwards and join him.
No. Jayce had put effort into looking nice, and so Viktor can behave a little longer; at least until tonight, he'll continue being a proper gentleman. ]
[ jayce is a bit distracted now that his focus has relaxed to his brace. two of the three thigh buckles have been properly fastened and tightened around the slab of muscle, now fixing the final one. huh. sausage– jayce muses, partially to himself. ]
I don't have any . . . [ he trails off, and becomes increasingly aware that he's fallen into innuendo, drawn by the quick double-take turn of his head and a tight pull of the brace's final buckle. too tight. agh, ow—
Viktor, [ he warns, in between a sheepish grin. more than that and perhaps they wouldn't leave his abode without another one of his many raging boners. jayce shakes his head with a flash of teeth, finalizing a knot and bold in his brace that tightens at his knee and clamps at his heel. ]
[ Viktor laughs, unabashed and bright. ] Alright, I'll behave, for now.
[ Seeing that Jayce is finished with tightening his brace, Viktor offers him a hand. It isn't about helping him up, more just an excuse to pull him close enough to kiss once he's on his feet. He keeps it chaste, though, considering how close they are to a bed. ]
[ it is quite clear that jayce is fighting for his life when he's helped to his feet and terribly close to everything that sets his inner fire aflame. lips that press so sweetly makes the animal in him want to strike; the smell of his dearest becomes a pungent musk he wants to brazenly burry himself in, reminded of nights where he couldn't take his lustful yearning and had to put an end to his pent up load— oh, every fantasy in his bed was wilder than the last, sending him over the edge, quelling his desires for only a brief period. he's been steadfast for sometime now, they've only ever fooled around with passionate kisses and heavy petting before jayce shies away. never because he didn't want, because oh did he want.
be he didn't want to taint viktor's reputation in any premarital way, should they be found out. the classy nobles, specifically viktor's parents, would throw him out of the property, never allow him to see viktor again. and viktor—
well, he doesn't want to think heavily on it. that's why he needs to do this. the right way. first, viktor. if he accepts, his parents were the next day's battle. jayce ushers viktor's arms with his hands, which do seem to shake. subtle, but there.
he's happy, but the mystery thing still has him in a very tight vice grip of eager anxiety. did he feel the very same way? would he accept? even if he doesn't have his own house and is surely, very independent, he wouldn't want things to be different—
but it isn't what's desireable in your usual sutirs, is it? ]
And if someone sees us?
[ he still has a playful tone; he too like that exciting game of cat and mouse— only theirs. ]
[ It's been long enough since their confessions that Viktor is starting to wonder if Jayce maybe isn't interested in sex with another man. True, they have an undeniable bond and their kissing is certainly passionate, but that didn't mean that he wanted anything... more. If that were the case, Viktor knows that he'd be happy for things to continue as they are: partners by day, and something like lovers by night. As long as nothing takes Jayce away from him, he'll be content with as much or as little as he's willing to give.
That doesn't mean that Viktor doesn't want, that he doesn't wake from dreams sweating and panting. He'd had plenty of restless nights where he's only able to sleep after satisfying his own lust, silent whimpers of Jayce's name on his quivering lips.
He tells himself that all of this is enough, and if Jayce ever wants less... No, it just doesn't feel possible. Their souls are inextricably entwined with the cosmos, a fact that feels proven by their shared memories and strange color blindness.
Smiling at Jayce, Viktor pulls him close for another kiss before heading for the door. ]
Then they see us.
[ He means it to be nonchalant, but it's also the truth. He doesn't care who sees him with Jayce—if merely being around him is a crime, then throw him in jail. Luckily for the authorities, no one spots them when they sneak into the kitchen to grab sandwich makings and fruit, and no one sees them taking their horses out on a now familiar route. It feels like no time at all before they're back in their meadow, lounging on a blanket and watching the sunset over the trees. ]
[ he's always so . . . aloof when it comes to the world outside their privacy, and jayce envies it, in a way. to simply not care about what others felt or thought about you, it must be liberating.
their date is off to a pleasant start, filled with theories and games of the mind, talking about their days, or maybe the latest memory. jayce pops grapes into his mouth squeezing and suckling on the juices. a natural pause stills their laughs and banter, and its then that jayce feels like . . . he should inch closer to his goal. with a hand weaving fingers inbetween the spaces viktor provided with his own. ]
—I've got something for you.
[ giddy? well, yes. he's been practicing all day. ]
[ The date is wonderful as any time with Jayce is, physically relaxed and mentally stimulating. Their picnic is good, but the company is definitely better, and Viktor tries not to get too handsy even while they're flirting. Maybe he's not totally aware of it, but Jayce's lingering nervous energy is just palpable enough for Viktor to echo some of it back.
When Jayce says he has something for him, it's both a surprise and totally expected. Of course there was something up his sleeve, and it was that secret that was coloring their evening together. ]
Not a sasusage, [ he jokes, some flush painting his cheeks. gift giving was particularly important during courtship, specifically what jayce is moments away from completing. his heart dances as he takes both of viktor's hands in his and cups them together. onces that is prepared, he slips a single hand into his waistcoat pocket, places the small object inside it the the little ball of fingers and palms they made— before cupping the entirety of viktor's hands one last time, as if to seal it shut. ]
You can look.
[ it's a simple thing, but endearing and heartfelt, handmade.
it's the smallest little iron horse that could ever neigh. ]
[ Viktor snorts at that, regretting the innuendo just a little bit. Letting Jayce take his hands, fingers thinner and knobbier in Jayce's strong grasp, Viktor watches him rather than immediately trying to get a look at the gift. It's heavy, for it's size, and he opens his hands when instructed.
A little horse. Viktor smiles as he runs a finger over it, stroking the mane and then lifting it up to better look at the details. ]
You made this? It's so delicate. [ Looking up at Jayce, Viktor can feel himself blushing like they haven't kissed, like they haven't shared strange memories. ] Thank you, my love.
[ jayce feels a gasp catch in his throat and makes it bind tightly in his neck. his heart drops, but in a way that he knows makes it flutter and soar. my love. he has not ever said that, yet. my love— the implications of it, something dear and sacred, reserved. it embodies, perfectly, what jayce felt, and what he has prepared for viktor today— his partner has, perhaps, gotten to it before him, but it is no race. if anything, it was confirmation of something very, very special; a nudge in the right direction, even if it felt they've loved for so long.
jayce was his love. jayce, not anyone else. it was jayce—
jayce's eyes fill with ecstatic hope, wide with surprise and pursuing the man with his hands: on both sides, jayce cups the top of his knuckles and envelops them with callouses that have never been more gentle. he looks for amber pools to watch in his own hazel globes, pupils blown— viktor's timing was exquisite.
he just has to get through to shake, and the slight crack his voice emmits. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
☆AR_CANE
it's always then, too, that jayce has begun to smuggle letters to viktor. in his gear or snug between saddlewhere when certain horses are prepared for his practice. in his pocket, when no one would notice but himself. in his hand, when he's explaining something about hooves or shoes, or the details of viktor's saddle design, passing blueprints with the letter just underneath it and a knowing gaze.
they always start similarly, charcoal fingerprints smudging the letter's body or edges. viktor, it addresses some times. my dearest partner in others.
they are always a declaration of colorful feelings; short, sweet, genuine language, an overwhelming amount of yearning. who knew jayce was such a romantic? they weren't very long. a paragraph at most, separating sentences with lines. the rest of the body was art. a little unkempt, as he was, but indubitably detailed, a scene from sometime during the day when he'd seen viktor. it is viktor, down to every feature. smiles, smirks, gazes he'd exchange, more serious looks of thoughtfulness . . . the mole above his lip, under his right eye, even the one on his neck— all of them are snapshots that jayce takes to heart and brings to life in his bedroom.
it's never signed ordinarily, if one were to simply look over it. only scrutinizing eyes would be able to find the intricately hidden initials in each sketch: JT. not only that, but there is a pattern jayce is certain viktor will have the time of his life cracking: codes. placement of certain letters forming a new word that he'd have to solve.
every time, it's a location, and an hour.
this time, the cracks something different than the others.
There is beauty in imperfections, and it is everything I admire about you.
You choose the place tonight. I'll be where I always am. ]
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Those are the sweet parts of his love.
The not-so-sweet parts are sitting on a chair in the forge, watching sweat drip down Jayce's back and dodging between flexing muscles, the heat in Viktor's body having little to do with the fire across the room. It's running a hand over the small of Jayce's back as they dance around each other in the stable or library, lost in their science but never enough for the touches to be truly absentminded. Viktor is far from being sweet when he catches Jayce's eye across a dinner table and takes a lavish bite, sucking the fork clean and giving a moan of appreciation for the flavors.
He strikes a balance, sweetness and flirting, affection and barely-bridled lust.
The letters always put him in a softer mood. At first, it's embarrassing how Jayce draws him, talented sketches featuring all the little flaws that Viktor sees in the mirror—crooked teeth, thin lips, uneven nose. But he gets used to it from the sheer number Jayce slips him in all his cute little ways, always secret and full of a language just for them. Viktor looks forward to the little codes as much as the romantic words, and it's a surprise when they take a different meaning today.
He doesn't know what Jayce has planned, but he heads to the stables in the evening, a little earlier than usual but impatient to see what's changed this time. ]
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he's probably in the cottage some ways next to the main stables he situates in, where the retired stars and geldings stay, the faint drizzle of a showerhead wafting out of the smallest bathroom window. jayce is cleaning up for a date night, but since he thinks he's got some time—
he's admiring the beautifully warm colors of the sunset through the small shower window at his eye level. gold or amber, it's called. the eye color of his beloved and the time of day where it stains the greatest part of the sky. he could whistfully stand there and think about him all the while, but time was of the essence! the running water cuts, and jayce talis moves along with his plans to get ready, a smile already stupidly tugging at his lips. ]
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Plus, something about Jayce staying in his own little cottage was incredibly charming.
Viktor can hear the running of water and slowly circles the cottage until he spots a window with steam coming from it. ]
Jayce?
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[ he'd just finished wiping the excess water still clinging to him post shower in the tiniest shower box, and its there that jayce returns to the window, lifting his chin for a better look below. oh—
he's here early, but jayce wasn't one to complain. he'll just rush his grooming. ]
I'll, ah— I'll be done in a minute. [ there isn't a place to sit outside unless he gets the desk chair, so— ] Front door's open— come in.
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No rush. It's just a shame I wasn't earlier. [ Chuckling to himself, he makes his way around to the front door and lets himself inside to wait. He's a little hesitant only because it's his first time actually stepping through the front door, and the resident isn't even there to guide him. Inside is clean and tidy, simple but in a cozy way that comes from everything inside having a purpose and serving it well.
Viktor can hear Jayce humming in the bathroom, and to studiously avoid nearing or even looking at the bed that takes up one corner of the cottage, he gravitates towards a desk on the opposite side. Jayce's notebook sits there, open to a page of now familiar handwriting and sketches of Viktor. Blushing, he runs a finger over the line of his own neck, staring at his own eyes. ]
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To see all the soot and horse shit?
[ it is a tone of gentle play between them— because they both know they like the smell of horse, and the smell of the forge has always felt like home for jayce. now, he can't speak for viktor, but he thinks he knows . . . judging by his impromtu visits from time to time, to check on his progress. yes.
jayce has all kinds of sketches of viktor in there. it's funny how it all started out as a journal for his daily thoughts, so good and some bad, a few sketches of horses here or there which then gravitated to inventive prototypes. then he met viktor, and . . .
well, ever since that day, marked by the header i have a new partner; his name is viktor, the pages had begun to fill with more and more of him. until its all that loads the gaps between his late night thoughts, pictures of memories, theories and steel work. it's . . . a little obsessive. but it carries its purpose in eternalizing what his eyes, mind and heart always saw.
now, jayce's clothes are stretched across the bed— new clothes, in fact, but not knewly tailored. viktor probably knows by now that jayce barely spends money on himself, but this dark waistcoat with a small, embroidered "T" that looked awfully like a hammer was exceptionally dapper, used a few times but never by himself. slacks, suspenders and blouse folded underneath, he's looking to be particularly sophisticated tonight. the wooing continues . . . as jayce ventures closer and closer to the thought of an engagement. but that's kept to himself.
he opens the door of the bathroom to retrive them, towel wrapped around his waist— he'd intended to pop in and out, only for the clothes to spare viktor the indecency, or the temptation, but. jayce doubletakes immediately when he sees that viktor has found his notebook.
his eyes glisten; he lingers, for just a moment more, this lopsided tug on his lips—
before flushed hues invade his face like the steam rolling behind him; he ducks his head and goes back into the bathroom with his clothes bunched into a single hand. ]
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[ Keeping the notebook on the desk, feeling to guilty to pick it up properly, Viktor pages backward through its contents in slow, methodical fascination. It feels like looking through the rough drafts of Jayce's love letters, and when he hears the door open behind him, he's quick to withdraw his hand. They've shared notes before, but only ever about research or horses or technical designs—this felt like infringing on privacy.
He turns around in time to see a flash of clothing and a hand disappear into the bathroom. Having avoided the bed, he's also unaware of what had been on it and so is in for a surprise when Jayce returns clothed. It's for the best, really, that he hadn't turned around to see him standing there, mostly naked, glistening wet...
Clearing his throat before his imagination runs away from him, he paces away from the desk and continues to look at various items tucked in here and there. ]
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plenty of time is given for jayce to preen himself in the meantime. the scent of birch musk and pine waft through the singular room when the door swings ajar, and out he comes— a waistcoat that defines thin hips and broad shoulders. a tie. slacks that define his thighs and calves and suspenders that define the rise of his bottomside. his beard is only slightly trimmed, while his hiar is combed back, despite the shorter locks of his bangs still falling onto his forehead.
he only fixed himself up proper because viktor was already such, and gorgeous in his gowns. ]
My Lord.
[ that was a joke. just to get his attention. they're well beyond lord, or mr. ]
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Viktor is aware that he's staring, but he can't help it. The trimmed beard, the slicked back hair that's still damp from a fresh shower. And Viktor can smell him, the fresh scent of soap and forest, and amidst it all, hazel. It draws him in, his fingers going right to that tie and straightening it needlessly just to touch. ]
You know I'm not a lord. [ Smiling up at Jayce, he walks his fingers over to the Talis symbol and traces the embroidery. ] You certainly look like one right now. What's the occasion, Lord Talis? Have you called me for service?
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jayce's heartbeat picks up from the close proximity; his back straightens and he just looks pleasantly sheepish. ]
That's supposed to be your choice, tonight.
[ it is very hard to keep his hands to himself, but jayce straightens his back and allows viktor the freedom to look— and tug. behind him, his hands clasp together in a demure little at-ease for his hulking size. his fingers fidget out of sight, in the meantime, wondering if he looks good enough for viktor— because viktor does for him.
today might be the day, after all. the day he asks. ]
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It's just that I feel underdressed. If we're going somewhere, I'd like to match you.
[ As he is, Viktor is just wearing his usual combination of dress shirt, waistcoat, and trousers. He's not sure of the colors, other than not being green, but they're soft and fit him well. Still, it's nothing impressive, nothing like Jayce.
Humming as he takes in Jayce's stance and the way he keeps his hands to himself, Viktor steps away. There's something going on, something that's making Jayce nervous, and Viktor wants to get to the bottom of it. ]
So you have nothing planned? At all?
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That'd make me predictable, hah.
[ laughing at his own jokes! oh, he's getting fried, isn't he. as to matching him, jayce rolls his weight on his right leg, careful with his braceless left. he may need to sit soon. ]
You look stunning, Viktor.
[ the charm is turned up. he means that with those big hazel doe eyes. ]
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[ Raising an eyebrow, wondering if he's just imagining the nervous edge to the laughter, Viktor takes note of the weight shifting. The compliment is sweet, but not the reason he'd remarked on his own daily fashion.
The eyes get him, in the end. He doesn't care if he never sees another color as long as he keeps seeing this one. ]
Alright, keep your secrets. We're going to have a picnic dinner in our meadow.
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Great. Good, that sounds— perfect. [ so he'll reach for his straps— unfasten, and get ready to tighten his brace right around his leg, starting at the buckles that clench his thigh. ] Are you in the mood for fruits?
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No. Jayce had put effort into looking nice, and so Viktor can behave a little longer; at least until tonight, he'll continue being a proper gentleman. ]
Hm, I'm actually craving sausage.
[ Well, mostly a proper gentleman. ]
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I don't have any . . . [ he trails off, and becomes increasingly aware that he's fallen into innuendo, drawn by the quick double-take turn of his head and a tight pull of the brace's final buckle. too tight. agh, ow—
the face he makes. ]
Viktor, [ he warns, in between a sheepish grin. more than that and perhaps they wouldn't leave his abode without another one of his many raging boners. jayce shakes his head with a flash of teeth, finalizing a knot and bold in his brace that tightens at his knee and clamps at his heel. ]
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[ Seeing that Jayce is finished with tightening his brace, Viktor offers him a hand. It isn't about helping him up, more just an excuse to pull him close enough to kiss once he's on his feet. He keeps it chaste, though, considering how close they are to a bed. ]
Let's go sneak something from the kitchens.
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be he didn't want to taint viktor's reputation in any premarital way, should they be found out. the classy nobles, specifically viktor's parents, would throw him out of the property, never allow him to see viktor again. and viktor—
well, he doesn't want to think heavily on it. that's why he needs to do this. the right way. first, viktor. if he accepts, his parents were the next day's battle. jayce ushers viktor's arms with his hands, which do seem to shake. subtle, but there.
he's happy, but the mystery thing still has him in a very tight vice grip of eager anxiety. did he feel the very same way? would he accept? even if he doesn't have his own house and is surely, very independent, he wouldn't want things to be different—
but it isn't what's desireable in your usual sutirs, is it? ]
And if someone sees us?
[ he still has a playful tone; he too like that exciting game of cat and mouse— only theirs. ]
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That doesn't mean that Viktor doesn't want, that he doesn't wake from dreams sweating and panting. He'd had plenty of restless nights where he's only able to sleep after satisfying his own lust, silent whimpers of Jayce's name on his quivering lips.
He tells himself that all of this is enough, and if Jayce ever wants less... No, it just doesn't feel possible. Their souls are inextricably entwined with the cosmos, a fact that feels proven by their shared memories and strange color blindness.
Smiling at Jayce, Viktor pulls him close for another kiss before heading for the door. ]
Then they see us.
[ He means it to be nonchalant, but it's also the truth. He doesn't care who sees him with Jayce—if merely being around him is a crime, then throw him in jail. Luckily for the authorities, no one spots them when they sneak into the kitchen to grab sandwich makings and fruit, and no one sees them taking their horses out on a now familiar route. It feels like no time at all before they're back in their meadow, lounging on a blanket and watching the sunset over the trees. ]
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their date is off to a pleasant start, filled with theories and games of the mind, talking about their days, or maybe the latest memory. jayce pops grapes into his mouth squeezing and suckling on the juices. a natural pause stills their laughs and banter, and its then that jayce feels like . . . he should inch closer to his goal. with a hand weaving fingers inbetween the spaces viktor provided with his own. ]
—I've got something for you.
[ giddy? well, yes. he's been practicing all day. ]
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When Jayce says he has something for him, it's both a surprise and totally expected. Of course there was something up his sleeve, and it was that secret that was coloring their evening together. ]
Oh? And what kind of something is that?
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You can look.
[ it's a simple thing, but endearing and heartfelt, handmade.
it's the smallest little iron horse that could ever neigh. ]
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A little horse. Viktor smiles as he runs a finger over it, stroking the mane and then lifting it up to better look at the details. ]
You made this? It's so delicate. [ Looking up at Jayce, Viktor can feel himself blushing like they haven't kissed, like they haven't shared strange memories. ] Thank you, my love.
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jayce was his love. jayce, not anyone else. it was jayce—
jayce's eyes fill with ecstatic hope, wide with surprise and pursuing the man with his hands: on both sides, jayce cups the top of his knuckles and envelops them with callouses that have never been more gentle. he looks for amber pools to watch in his own hazel globes, pupils blown— viktor's timing was exquisite.
he just has to get through to shake, and the slight crack his voice emmits. ]
You love me?
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