[ after the surrounding light, the burst, there is blackness. that's to be expected, nevermind the nightmares of waves leading up to this final day on runeterra— or so jayce thought. just as all goes dim, the water surrounds, and he neither sinks or swims. he simply hangs in nothing, in suspension as unseen tendrils surround him, whisper into his bones and awaken his spine: what is it you want?. he doesn't know who he's listening to, where he is, if he even is in his latency, this limbo. there is something missing from his soul and it's the only thing he beckons for. he answers the only voice that hears him, without thought: viktor.
and then he wakes. not in panic, for some reason, he honestly feels— starlit, still. dreamy. not all there. even his body still warps with the warm colors of the astral plane, but over his face sits a misty mask, nothing solid, nothing he could remove and barely something he could even feel enough to care. the sky looks painted, the trees strike wondrous poses and their bark shimmers like stardust and the night sky. would he count on something as unsupported as an afterlife? absolutely not. but. perhaps whithin the arcane, within an infinite loop of illusions born from their own creativity? (strange, he doesn't thing he'd create any of this, so . . . where on runeterra—?) water trickles into a fountain pool of white marble and the fresh scent of mint, flora and citrus tickles his nose. even with his estranged senses struggling to register every burst of new information, there is only one thing on his mind: ]
[ Grass, and beneath it, soil. It's such a stark contrast to chilled air rushing past him, sound ricocheting off metal plates, the emptiness of space, the blinding lights of astral nebulae. His vision swims into focus on slender, pink fingers with short, clean nails—he flexes his hands and the ones below him clench between the green blades. They can't be his, must be some kind of hallucination or projection. No, he's dead.
He'd been vaguely aware of something crashing into his face, more focused on the minds and souls he was absorbing, one in particular. Jayce had been there with him, floating above it all, showing him impossible memories from another's mind. His mind. A different mind. It had been so... confusing. He'd finally become fully evolved, above the need for things like limbs and legs, things that had betrayed him for so long that they were obviously better cast aside. He'd transcended above emotion, too, and other useless things that weren't efficient. Humanity needed efficiency to be useful—that was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it? Not someone's beauty or ambition or brilliance, unless it was aimed at a goal and an outcome. ]
No... [ His fingers tear at the grass, fists clenched tight as he brings them to his face and run into a barrier between hands and eyes. For a second he's filled with sickening relief and dizzying terror to consider he was still the same, The Herald, but his hands...
Leaning back, he looks down at the rest of himself and sees pallid, pale skin everywhere he looks. His modesty—does he have any left?—is protected by a scrap of blue fabric tangled around his waist. Relaxing his hands and letting the grass flutter down around him, he once again touches his face and feels a mask jostle but not lift, his fingers unable to catch the edges like it's made of mercury. His breathing quickens, which is illogical given he may be back in his old, broken, useless body, but— ]
Jayce?
[ He calls back on instinct when he hears his name, recognizing the voice calling to him and turning towards it like a sunflower in search of sunlight. ]
[ the call rings in his ears like damn church bells and before long, jayce is swerving on his heels to find his partner, an arm's length of space away that he quickly detonates to drop to the ground with. viktor, his voice skips, and louder does the urgency hanmer into him. ]
—I'm here.
[ but it's strange and even if it's obvious, there's a bit of a switch flipped against his reasoning, making it difficult to pinpoint, specifically, where the oddity in this was when they were alive, or at least seemed that way. like being blind to the elephant in the room but aware of the size its taking up.
it doesn't matter; he's also abounding with the kick of adrenaline to really care or even dwell on it for more than a second. jayce's body works before he can register what its doing, like allowing it a mind of its own to get a job done. first: injuries. he looks over viktor clinically but attentive to detail, cautionary and worried but when he sees none— jayce nods his head a few too many times, squeezing viktor's shoulders with the round grip of his fingers. ]
You're alright. We're alright— [ physically speaking.apparently. why he was still a colorful, glowing beacon of his innermost self would have to wait. ]
[ Jayce falls to his knees in front of Viktor and in the back of his mind, he jolts at the thought of his injured leg being treated so roughly. It's ridiculous, though, because a quick look shows a man glowing, skin made up of color and light and the suggestion of a silhouette. He's ephemeral the way Viktor had gotten so used to being, so why... why is he in this mortal form?
You're alright. The words fall on ringing ears. Viktor can't bring himself to move for fear of his body betraying him, once again plagued with a leg that can't support him and lungs that drown him. Fear is irrational at its core and yet, Viktor is terrified about where they are and how, why repeating in his head like a twisted prayer.
Belatedly, he flinches away from Jayce's hands on his shoulders. He'd been so close to hurting him—he denies any killer intent, even now—and had almost wiped away everything about Jayce Talis that he— ]
Alright... [ He echoes it hollowly, shivering and finally lifting his eyes to look around them. Nothing is familiar, but then again, when had he last been fully aware of the physical world? When had his head last been below the clouds and clear of obsession? This could be Piltover and he just doesn't recognize it. ] Where are we?
[ viktor— flinches back and jayce's fingers stiffly curl into his palms. through a few rapid blinks, he considers, quickly and to himself: okay. alright. that's valid. he gives him space, no pushing for contact. especially not when he'd moments sooner had carved his own heart out, served it to viktor and said here. it's yours. i'm ready to go if you are and i wouldn't have it any other way.
that, with him assuming that was the end. jayce doesn't know how he's managed to look viktor in the eye, yet. must be the adrenaline. ]
I . . . I don't know, we must've . . . [ teleported, he starts with a hush, but his brain doesn't seem to be keeping up with the barrage of information, neither is it properly assimilating. too much going on. too much he's shifting to without greater awareness, a dent in rationale caused by a rush that only doesn't boil into panic because he still feels disconnect through the priority of endurance. barely.
jayce takes another look around to collect any possible evidence of jarring landmarks, anything he could recognize from books or memory. in the end, either there were none or he's still failing to digest and make sense of what he's seeing. it's just an orchard, with the sky spreading colors like oil paints.
and he's still . . . like this. not that it concerns him yet. he's just glad viktor looks exactly like the day he'd lost him. ]
[ Viktor's gaze snaps up to Jayce's face, ready to be indignant about being asked to stand, but the words die on his lips. He shouldn't be so quick to anger, shouldn't take a harmless question about the state of his well-being as a jab at his disability. Can he even stand? It's not sure at this point, but the point is, something on Jayce's face distracts him entirely. ]
Why are you wearing that? [ A mask hides his features, and even though Viktor can clearly see Jayce's eyes through the holes that allow him to see, looking at the accessory is unsettling. His gaze keeps trying to slide off of it, down to the mouth left visible, and Viktor raises his hands to feel at his face again. ] Why am I...
[ His hands shake as he lowers them as slowly as he can, careful not to seem as panicked as he feels. He'd been prepared to die, and now he has to live? That hadn't been the plan, if what had happened in the end could be called as such. It was too generous a word for something decided by pregnant silence and heavy looks.
Head hanging again, he shakes it almost imperceptibly. ] I don't think I can, and I... Well, I think I'm naked.
[ The instant Jinx confirms it, Sharon reaches for Jayce through the Murmur. He’s not difficult to find. Everyone leaves behind their own signature in that place: distinct feelings, shades of thought, a scent of themselves. ]
Hey. [ Her voice threads through the link, faintly strained, a subtle tension humming at the edges. ] About what Jinx said about you... is it true? [ There’s no sharpness in it, no blame, just the clear, quiet urgency of someone who needs to hear the answer for herself. ] You killed her kid? Her dad?
[ jayce had a feeling this was coming. he simply wasn't going to give it ear unless anyone who mattered asked— he's sure everyone here is big enough to formulate their own opinions with the right evidence, and what jinx presents is twisted completely out of proportion, so much that it shouldn't need defending.
well. someone who mattered enough was asking. ]
. . . No, Sharon. [ jayce sounds and feels exhasperated. better than a few days ago, a week, even. but this is the kind of thing to make his hair go prematurely grey. ] Not directly.
[ He is worn thin, and she sympathizes, but his answer pulls a sigh from her. ] The man giving the orders is just as guilty as the man pulling the trigger.
[ it's not like he owes anyone anything, but— for sharon, he can warrant an answer. he just needs a minute to put some pressure on his temples. it eases the ache. ]
I did cause something. Something I had to— and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
[ That eases something in her chest. But he still set events in motion, still has blood on his hands. Jinx's people died because of it. And yet, she doesn't judge him. Can't judge him. That's the trouble with caring for someone: it twists the lens, softens the edges, and suddenly every terrible thing they've done looks different in that light. ]
[ there doesn't seem to be the skip of a lie or exaggeration in the mix. what he says, to him, is candid disclosure, rounded in earnestness. ]
. . . That doesn't justify a thing and it doesn't make me a hero. [ he seems to resent that word, tied to this, and him. "hero". what he did was never to be heroic. it was painful and upsetting and there was the chance that he and viktor would never recover from it. ] But I made my decision. She told you her side. I'm telling you mine.
[ he seems to imply that he won't judge her for whatever opinion she has of him, now. ]
So, what's this about you being some kind of murderer?
[ Something isn't adding up. Not that he thinks Jayce is incapable of it. Just ... it's hard squaring that image up with the guy who gets overexcited about runes and talks 5000mph about them. ]
[ Trust, he feels that pinch and the immense sigh that likely follows it. ]
To be clear, not making a judgment call; there's two sides to every story. Seems like a pretty complex thing and I've only gotten the surface. What's your side of it?
If you're measuring threats, she outweighs me ten to one.
[ and you don't see him going around making her grave— arthur may feel the quips of his frustration, even more in still keeping to his lane despite that. rubbing his face and sitting back against his resting spot, jayce tries to figure out what he wants to say, and where to begin.
might as well start where things sour for her. ]
. . . I had to make a choice. It had nothing to do with her. [ jinx was never his target after his priorities changed. before that— perhaps, but only to put her behind bars. ] From my understanding, she and her family got caught in the aftermath.
[ While he's gotten more than enough information to get a picture of ... well, Jinx's instability to say the least, he wants more context.
So, at least he's forgiving of the flares of Jayce's frustration. ]
Whether your decision didn't target her specifically or not, she ended up in the blowback from it. I imagine that makes it feel like she was in the crosshairs. [ That said: ] What was the choice?
he knew the follow-up was coming, perhaps, but jayce just seemed to avoid answering it anyway. he gives no names— it's between himself and viktor, and they have enough strain on their trust as is. it felt too personal, at the moment.
jayce closes off, emotionally, but guilt hangs over the edges of his presence in voice. ]
Let's just say it was either take one shot or leave thousands dead. I made my choice. [ he's not going to elaborate further. ] An army happened to be in the middle of it, exaggerated the response. If it was just me, then . . . There'd hardly be more casualties.
[ the ones that were lost were lost long before he set in the final blow. he tries to bite that part of his conscience back when it echoed but they were all casualties. ]
[ there is only one surefire way for jayce to get rid of the problem flagging him from his pants, and he's not about to think of the worst possible thing to force himself soft. not when he's in a big fucking mood, and what had once been a controllable passing thought is now off the leash and out to get him, wild and clawing at the cage of his own want. jayce stiffly makes it into the bathroom with a new change of clothes tucked under his arm while he still fights to pin his blanket around him. door: locked. he swings a bathroom stall wide open to shuffle into and sit on a closed toilet seat. he throws the blanket over the stall walls and does the same with his clean pants. the one he wears now is . . .
an embarrassing, fucking mess. so wet with chilled spend that he swore he could hear the sound it made with each step and it felt like the entire world could hear him trying to waddle down the steps with his legs spread ridiculously enough to avoid that squelch that shifted right along with the fabric folds, unbothered.
jayce drives his weight to his heels, unbuttons his trousers and gods almighty, it nearly pops out like a horror movie jumpscare. really fucking scary, actually, to have essentially came in his sleep and still this hard.
has he ever even been this hard?
shit he whispers, between huffs of breathing from the desperate sprint over, peeling soiled briefs back and pulling his pants down from the waist to the knees. most of the fabric has already absorbed the sitting back with legs spread, jayce was aching, painfully aching to blow off the pent up steam— after only a moment's worth of hesitation, jayce hushes fuck it and lines his fingertips over the length of his swollen shaft. he doesn't have a single lick of decency to even fake thinking about faceless silhouettes, or curves or corsets or thigh-high socks. his thoughts go straight to the dream from the night before, the stranger that had welcomed him at his feet, made him part like a vulnerable book and submit with ease— without, technically, doing a single thing to him and vice versa. and hell, if he didn't enjoy it. if he didn't crave it. if he wasn't imagining the accent from start to finish, now, linked to golden amber eyes and defined cheekbones.
good boy, his memory repeats in the very illusion he wants, and jayce plummets like a moth to a flame, a hare in a trap. he leaks from the plump head of his cock in a single stroke upward and forces his throat to strangle the noise begging to part the waves of his need. jayce doesn't have time, nor the patience, to take it easy and enjoy himself. this wasn't about exploration, but indeed the breakthrough already realized. he finds an agreeable pace, picks up from there, and runs with hid mind's eye, unbound by shame—
because he wants viktor. he wants viktor. fuck, he's wanted viktor and didn't do shit but run from it. he wants viktor. he wants him to tell him to sit at his feet, to spread his legs, pull at his tie and tell him to undress, to part his lips to his fingers, to tell him to do anything and gods he'd do it. good boy, he coos, the curl of his thin cupid's bow very being more kissable. by now, jayce is stroking himself at a maddening pace, thighs straining and shivering as the pooled heat building in his dick rises and rises and rises—
jayce he hears, so softspoken, so sultry and so real that jayce himself can't take it; he gapes, covers the spurting tip of his shaft as he comes in the palm of his hand in a sputtering, spasming mess. his frame slumps back against the wall, his hair sticks to the sweat against his temples. his scales burn so bright he's a northern light on legs.
shit, is his first coherent thought between breaths. shit. he just jerked off to his partner of nearly a decade. shit. he had a wet dream, related to the thought of him. shit. guilt seeps through the cracks of mindless indulgence now that he has released it, and with that, the cloudy haze that had plagued his head from the moment he was awake.
things have changed. viktor would never be what he'd just imagined. he'd never be the same again.
shit.
and it was all his fault. ]
. . . Shit.
[ it takes a moment for jayce to find his footing. clean up. change. wash off with bottled water and a cloth, for a dry bath, of sorts.
jayce needed to think.
so he takes a little while longer, to make sure his eyes weren't suspiciously red. ]
[ When your mask goes ring ring ring in your brain . . . What to do but to answer, yes? At least it isn't the thing to wake Jayce, not when he's up long before the sun breaks the horizon. He's probably in the middle of studying, or creating, or piecing together puzzles. It's only a minor inconvinience to stop what he's doing and "pick up the phone", as it were, but really— he's curious, too. Not exactly a social butterfly, but he doesn't mind the talk if it's the right person.
The person in question is understandable, and immediately gets that rather than annoyance. ]
Morning, Doctor. [ He's going to completely butcher "Sakurazuka", so, Doctor is perfectly fine for now. Jayce takes an extra moment to piece together a careful answer; His leg hasn't gotten better, but the decline hasn't gotten particularly brutal enough for him to consider amputation soon. ] The pain's been manageable, within expectations.
[ Jayce grunts. Relief was highly variable, but, you know— he gets the sentiment. It's a relief compared to the future's approaching necessity. He'll take it, even if it isn't much. Small viktories are a lot. ]
If we can sort earning a tail into "recovery", then, [ a lithe shrug, ] Sure. My sense of balance is being challenged.
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thread the needle
and then he wakes. not in panic, for some reason, he honestly feels— starlit, still. dreamy. not all there. even his body still warps with the warm colors of the astral plane, but over his face sits a misty mask, nothing solid, nothing he could remove and barely something he could even feel enough to care. the sky looks painted, the trees strike wondrous poses and their bark shimmers like stardust and the night sky. would he count on something as unsupported as an afterlife? absolutely not. but. perhaps whithin the arcane, within an infinite loop of illusions born from their own creativity? (strange, he doesn't thing he'd create any of this, so . . . where on runeterra—?) water trickles into a fountain pool of white marble and the fresh scent of mint, flora and citrus tickles his nose. even with his estranged senses struggling to register every burst of new information, there is only one thing on his mind: ]
Viktor—?
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He'd been vaguely aware of something crashing into his face, more focused on the minds and souls he was absorbing, one in particular. Jayce had been there with him, floating above it all, showing him impossible memories from another's mind. His mind. A different mind. It had been so... confusing. He'd finally become fully evolved, above the need for things like limbs and legs, things that had betrayed him for so long that they were obviously better cast aside. He'd transcended above emotion, too, and other useless things that weren't efficient. Humanity needed efficiency to be useful—that was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it? Not someone's beauty or ambition or brilliance, unless it was aimed at a goal and an outcome. ]
No... [ His fingers tear at the grass, fists clenched tight as he brings them to his face and run into a barrier between hands and eyes. For a second he's filled with sickening relief and dizzying terror to consider he was still the same, The Herald, but his hands...
Leaning back, he looks down at the rest of himself and sees pallid, pale skin everywhere he looks. His modesty—does he have any left?—is protected by a scrap of blue fabric tangled around his waist. Relaxing his hands and letting the grass flutter down around him, he once again touches his face and feels a mask jostle but not lift, his fingers unable to catch the edges like it's made of mercury. His breathing quickens, which is illogical given he may be back in his old, broken, useless body, but— ]
Jayce?
[ He calls back on instinct when he hears his name, recognizing the voice calling to him and turning towards it like a sunflower in search of sunlight. ]
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—I'm here.
[ but it's strange and even if it's obvious, there's a bit of a switch flipped against his reasoning, making it difficult to pinpoint, specifically, where the oddity in this was when they were alive, or at least seemed that way. like being blind to the elephant in the room but aware of the size its taking up.
it doesn't matter; he's also abounding with the kick of adrenaline to really care or even dwell on it for more than a second. jayce's body works before he can register what its doing, like allowing it a mind of its own to get a job done. first: injuries. he looks over viktor clinically but attentive to detail, cautionary and worried but when he sees none— jayce nods his head a few too many times, squeezing viktor's shoulders with the round grip of his fingers. ]
You're alright. We're alright— [ physically speaking.apparently. why he was still a colorful, glowing beacon of his innermost self would have to wait. ]
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You're alright. The words fall on ringing ears. Viktor can't bring himself to move for fear of his body betraying him, once again plagued with a leg that can't support him and lungs that drown him. Fear is irrational at its core and yet, Viktor is terrified about where they are and how, why repeating in his head like a twisted prayer.
Belatedly, he flinches away from Jayce's hands on his shoulders. He'd been so close to hurting him—he denies any killer intent, even now—and had almost wiped away everything about Jayce Talis that he— ]
Alright... [ He echoes it hollowly, shivering and finally lifting his eyes to look around them. Nothing is familiar, but then again, when had he last been fully aware of the physical world? When had his head last been below the clouds and clear of obsession? This could be Piltover and he just doesn't recognize it. ] Where are we?
cw: suicidal ideas and such is jayvik
that, with him assuming that was the end. jayce doesn't know how he's managed to look viktor in the eye, yet. must be the adrenaline. ]
I . . . I don't know, we must've . . . [ teleported, he starts with a hush, but his brain doesn't seem to be keeping up with the barrage of information, neither is it properly assimilating. too much going on. too much he's shifting to without greater awareness, a dent in rationale caused by a rush that only doesn't boil into panic because he still feels disconnect through the priority of endurance. barely.
jayce takes another look around to collect any possible evidence of jarring landmarks, anything he could recognize from books or memory. in the end, either there were none or he's still failing to digest and make sense of what he's seeing. it's just an orchard, with the sky spreading colors like oil paints.
and he's still . . . like this. not that it concerns him yet. he's just glad viktor looks exactly like the day he'd lost him. ]
—Can you stand?
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Why are you wearing that? [ A mask hides his features, and even though Viktor can clearly see Jayce's eyes through the holes that allow him to see, looking at the accessory is unsettling. His gaze keeps trying to slide off of it, down to the mouth left visible, and Viktor raises his hands to feel at his face again. ] Why am I...
[ His hands shake as he lowers them as slowly as he can, careful not to seem as panicked as he feels. He'd been prepared to die, and now he has to live? That hadn't been the plan, if what had happened in the end could be called as such. It was too generous a word for something decided by pregnant silence and heavy looks.
Head hanging again, he shakes it almost imperceptibly. ] I don't think I can, and I... Well, I think I'm naked.
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Hey. [ Her voice threads through the link, faintly strained, a subtle tension humming at the edges. ] About what Jinx said about you... is it true? [ There’s no sharpness in it, no blame, just the clear, quiet urgency of someone who needs to hear the answer for herself. ] You killed her kid? Her dad?
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well. someone who mattered enough was asking. ]
. . . No, Sharon. [ jayce sounds and feels exhasperated. better than a few days ago, a week, even. but this is the kind of thing to make his hair go prematurely grey. ] Not directly.
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[ it's not like he owes anyone anything, but— for sharon, he can warrant an answer. he just needs a minute to put some pressure on his temples. it eases the ache. ]
I did cause something. Something I had to— and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
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Why? Why did you have to?
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[ there doesn't seem to be the skip of a lie or exaggeration in the mix. what he says, to him, is candid disclosure, rounded in earnestness. ]
. . . That doesn't justify a thing and it doesn't make me a hero. [ he seems to resent that word, tied to this, and him. "hero". what he did was never to be heroic. it was painful and upsetting and there was the chance that he and viktor would never recover from it. ] But I made my decision. She told you her side. I'm telling you mine.
[ he seems to imply that he won't judge her for whatever opinion she has of him, now. ]
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cw: implied suicide ideation
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murmur, same day or thereabouts when Jinx makes her murderer accusations
[ Something isn't adding up. Not that he thinks Jayce is incapable of it. Just ... it's hard squaring that image up with the guy who gets overexcited about runes and talks 5000mph about them. ]
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People see what they want to see. Blame who they want, too.
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To be clear, not making a judgment call; there's two sides to every story. Seems like a pretty complex thing and I've only gotten the surface. What's your side of it?
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[ and you don't see him going around making her grave— arthur may feel the quips of his frustration, even more in still keeping to his lane despite that. rubbing his face and sitting back against his resting spot, jayce tries to figure out what he wants to say, and where to begin.
might as well start where things sour for her. ]
. . . I had to make a choice. It had nothing to do with her. [ jinx was never his target after his priorities changed. before that— perhaps, but only to put her behind bars. ] From my understanding, she and her family got caught in the aftermath.
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[ While he's gotten more than enough information to get a picture of ... well, Jinx's instability to say the least, he wants more context.
So, at least he's forgiving of the flares of Jayce's frustration. ]
Whether your decision didn't target her specifically or not, she ended up in the blowback from it. I imagine that makes it feel like she was in the crosshairs. [ That said: ] What was the choice?
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he knew the follow-up was coming, perhaps, but jayce just seemed to avoid answering it anyway. he gives no names— it's between himself and viktor, and they have enough strain on their trust as is. it felt too personal, at the moment.
jayce closes off, emotionally, but guilt hangs over the edges of his presence in voice. ]
Let's just say it was either take one shot or leave thousands dead. I made my choice. [ he's not going to elaborate further. ] An army happened to be in the middle of it, exaggerated the response. If it was just me, then . . . There'd hardly be more casualties.
[ the ones that were lost were lost long before he set in the final blow. he tries to bite that part of his conscience back when it echoed but they were all casualties. ]
They weren't supposed to be there.
good lord this got buried in my inbox, apologies
that's totally fine!!
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🎀
gooning
an embarrassing, fucking mess. so wet with chilled spend that he swore he could hear the sound it made with each step and it felt like the entire world could hear him trying to waddle down the steps with his legs spread ridiculously enough to avoid that squelch that shifted right along with the fabric folds, unbothered.
jayce drives his weight to his heels, unbuttons his trousers and gods almighty, it nearly pops out like a horror movie jumpscare. really fucking scary, actually, to have essentially came in his sleep and still this hard.
has he ever even been this hard?
shit he whispers, between huffs of breathing from the desperate sprint over, peeling soiled briefs back and pulling his pants down from the waist to the knees. most of the fabric has already absorbed the sitting back with legs spread, jayce was aching, painfully aching to blow off the pent up steam— after only a moment's worth of hesitation, jayce hushes fuck it and lines his fingertips over the length of his swollen shaft. he doesn't have a single lick of decency to even fake thinking about faceless silhouettes, or curves or corsets or thigh-high socks. his thoughts go straight to the dream from the night before, the stranger that had welcomed him at his feet, made him part like a vulnerable book and submit with ease— without, technically, doing a single thing to him and vice versa. and hell, if he didn't enjoy it. if he didn't crave it. if he wasn't imagining the accent from start to finish, now, linked to golden amber eyes and defined cheekbones.
good boy, his memory repeats in the very illusion he wants, and jayce plummets like a moth to a flame, a hare in a trap. he leaks from the plump head of his cock in a single stroke upward and forces his throat to strangle the noise begging to part the waves of his need. jayce doesn't have time, nor the patience, to take it easy and enjoy himself. this wasn't about exploration, but indeed the breakthrough already realized. he finds an agreeable pace, picks up from there, and runs with hid mind's eye, unbound by shame—
because he wants viktor. he wants viktor. fuck, he's wanted viktor and didn't do shit but run from it. he wants viktor. he wants him to tell him to sit at his feet, to spread his legs, pull at his tie and tell him to undress, to part his lips to his fingers, to tell him to do anything and gods he'd do it. good boy, he coos, the curl of his thin cupid's bow very being more kissable. by now, jayce is stroking himself at a maddening pace, thighs straining and shivering as the pooled heat building in his dick rises and rises and rises—
jayce he hears, so softspoken, so sultry and so real that jayce himself can't take it; he gapes, covers the spurting tip of his shaft as he comes in the palm of his hand in a sputtering, spasming mess. his frame slumps back against the wall, his hair sticks to the sweat against his temples. his scales burn so bright he's a northern light on legs.
shit, is his first coherent thought between breaths. shit. he just jerked off to his partner of nearly a decade. shit. he had a wet dream, related to the thought of him. shit. guilt seeps through the cracks of mindless indulgence now that he has released it, and with that, the cloudy haze that had plagued his head from the moment he was awake.
things have changed. viktor would never be what he'd just imagined. he'd never be the same again.
shit.
and it was all his fault. ]
. . . Shit.
[ it takes a moment for jayce to find his footing. clean up. change. wash off with bottled water and a cloth, for a dry bath, of sorts.
jayce needed to think.
so he takes a little while longer, to make sure his eyes weren't suspiciously red. ]
no subject
Good morning. This is Dr. Sakurazuka. I thought it might be good to ask how your wound is faring?
no subject
The person in question is understandable, and immediately gets that rather than annoyance. ]
Morning, Doctor. [ He's going to completely butcher "Sakurazuka", so, Doctor is perfectly fine for now. Jayce takes an extra moment to piece together a careful answer; His leg hasn't gotten better, but the decline hasn't gotten particularly brutal enough for him to consider amputation soon. ] The pain's been manageable, within expectations.
no subject
That's good. A relief. There was always the possibility that whatever... forces have arrested this world's progress would stay your execution.
( How else, after all, to name it? ) And you are... recovering in other ways?
no subject
If we can sort earning a tail into "recovery", then, [ a lithe shrug, ] Sure. My sense of balance is being challenged.
[ Not just because of a tail too, mind. ]
no subject
no subject
Anything you'd find on a reptile is likely on me.
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