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Jayce doesn't mean to do it.
His body is warm, the air smells uniquely satisfying, and something heady is thrumming just beneath his skin. He's spent all day studying the anomaly. The substance itself; iridescent, creamy, almost foam-like. Sketches he made just after delivering his partner's body into the hexcore. Doodles, too. Nothing he'd ever show to anyone, of course. Just a few illustrations that can hardly be deemed as such; purple lips, a pink cock. Folds in various shades of purple-pink-gold. The perfect curve of a backside, with a violet furl tucked between each cheek, a cunt just below that drools a little bit for dramatic effect.
Whenever he thinks too hard on what, exactly, it is that he's sketching, the haze in his mind pulses sharply in a way that threatens a migraine. He'd rather not deal with a pounding headache on top of the stress he's already having over his partner being stuck in a coma, so he changes his focus when that happens. Drops heavy topics about ethics and logic. Resumes his doodles and his studies. Ignores the way that his balls ache a little more with each detail he adds.
Besides, he's a scientist. Illustrating diagrams, seeking answers to wayward questions. These are all things that he's paid handsomely to do. He's the Man of Progress. It's to be expected that he might want to learn everything about that which has consumed the bulk of his partner's body.
And it can't be helped, what he does with his own body. What happens to his own body. The air is warm, the environment lush and heady. He's aching between his thighs, and it's not like there's anyone else around the lab this late at night. Besides, it feels so right to simply undo his pants and free his cock from tight restraint, that he just…does it.
Moves subconsciously to adjust his body. Continues studying the sketches. Then the small sample of the hexcore that he's gathered. He doesn't touch himself right away or anything. But when he pulls Viktor's goggles down over his eyes, magnifying the white foam of the hexcore, a shiver ripples through him that raises his cockhead even higher. High enough to brush the underside of the desk.
It's only natural to take himself in-hand when that happens. To squeeze his prick a few times. It's not like he's chasing an orgasm or anything. He's just adjusting himself. Making himself more comfortable in the lab as he studies, as he searches for answers. He's striving for vague relief, not charged release.
And perhaps if he were less sleep-deprived, he might be horrified with himself. But he's been awake for three days, now. And besides that, his mind is, admittedly, a bit off these days, even as a baseline.
Viktor has been wrapped in the cocoon of the anomaly for weeks, and though his vitals are now stable, he's yet to awaken. Remains completely comatose in the iridescent cradle; eyes unblinking, face unmoving.
But he's alive, and that's what matters.
It's the only thing that matters.
The attack terrified Jayce. It also woke him up to how much he'd taken for granted—namely, Viktor. Their partnership. As a result, Jayce has refused to leave his partner's side for the past few weeks. He resigned from the Council, rebuffed their demand that he construct weapons, and has remained in the lab ever since, using his status as the Man of Progress to ensure that the door remain locked, his studies undisturbed.
He eats, sleeps, and breathes in the space that was once theirs, but that has been void of Viktor's thick accent, his dry humor, for weeks, now. He's spent countless bells pouring over the Hexcore notes he unearthed from Viktor's work station, and set to searching for answers with the same sort of single-minded focus that allowed him to develop Hextech in the first place.
At first, Jayce was filled with a weighty sorrow at learning that Viktor hid his mechanized limbs from him. But he's come around. He's grateful that his partner has such thorough notes. The neat sketches and tidy scribbles Viktor left behind haven't given Jayce a ton of insight into that place at the apex of his thighs, but there was enough information about the rest of his body that Jayce was able to construct the frame that now suspends Viktor's body within the anomaly.
Yet he's been stuck in limbo ever since, unsure of how to proceed. Of what he might be able to do to help speed along his partner's healing. He supposes he could wait it out. Could trust that the same substance that stabilized Viktor's vitals and put breath back into his dying body will continue onward in the same path. But the need to understand what is happening beneath the shimmering shell is far too great for a scientist—an inventor—to ignore, and so when the sun was setting earlier in the evening, Jayce took a new step forward. Managed to extract a small sample of the anomaly to study beneath his magnifying goggles.
Not that it was difficult, what with the anomaly having reached out to him a few times in the past. Almost begging for Jayce to get a closer look, to pay more attention.
It's a strange substance. Appears almost as though it's sentient, because it ebbs and flows around anything Jayce presses into it—makes room for bubbles, for tools, for the point of Jayce's quill. It's as soft as foam, but more solidified than that. Attempts to cling together even when separated, not quite a liquid, not quite a solid—something more akin to a putty, though it's not sticky at all.
Yet the strangest aspect of the anomaly, is that the scent has evolved over time. It smelled of magic before, a sharp, metallic scent not unlike the way that it smells when one is standing inside of the Hexgates. Now…now, it's sweet on the air. A bit salty, a bit musky. Alluring, for truth. But not like a perfume, because it smells nothing of what is sold down in the shops. It's more like…more like the way that the human body smells in the throes of sex; like sweat and slick and want.
Jayce squints through his magnifying goggles, inhaling deeply as he leans forward to get a better look at the shimmering, bubbly substance that he's extracted from the anomaly. To get a better sense of the evolved scent.
He supposes that it's not exactly a stretch to theorize that what he's scenting is Viktor's natural musk. It has, after all, fully encased Viktor, save for the scientist's face. It's wrapped Viktor so completely, that when Jayce stands in front of the anomaly, he can't see much beyond Viktor's face and neck.
Though from behind the anomaly, it's a bit of a different story. He can see parts of his partner that he knows he shouldn't; the tuck of his waist, the perfect curve of his backside, the spread of his thighs…the lips nestled between, if he fails to avert his eyes.
Heat flushes up Jayce's neck as he's reminded of why he positioned Viktor the way he did; face towards the door, just in case someone does manage to wander in.
The anomaly has tilted his body, pitched it forward in the encasement so that from the front, it's fairly obscured. But from the back? Well, when Jayce considers once more the way that Viktor's thighs have drifted apart, considers the moment a few days prior, when he caught a glimpse of purple-pink—of Viktor's cunt, spread and empty—
When he caught a glimpse of something vaguely phallic-shaped nuzzling at the entrance.
At least, he thinks.
He isn't certain—realizes how asinine that would be; that the Hexcore might be pressing itself into Viktor's sex, taking him like a lover. Thrusting into his body, teasing at his cock. It's been healing him, sure. But that doesn't mean it's sentient. Plenty of salves heal peoples' bodies without the sentience necessary to engage in sexual acts.
It'd be crazy to assume that what he saw was the Hexcore fucking his partner.
Crazy.
Jayce swallows roughly, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. He shouldn't be thinking about this. Not penetration. Sure, it's reasonable to assume that he might privately examine the way that Viktor's sex has changed color beneath the nearly-transparent putty, because if it's for science, it's not the worst thing. But there's a difference between sketching body parts and vividly imagining scenarios where Viktor is held at the mercy of the Hexcore, and fucked like he's some sort of animal, restrained for breeding.
Though when Jayce thinks about it, he does acknowledge that his theory about the scent—about the room smelling more and more like musk—can't that far off from the truth. The anomaly is flush with his skin everywhere. It's completely logical to assume it would be flush against his cunt, too. That's not a sexual thought, it's simply fact. He can think about that.
"Jayce."
Jayce sits up, blinking. He releases himself, and pushes his goggles up onto his forehead. Turns towards the anomaly, but Viktor is just as still as he's been this entire time. He's imagined the voice, imagined the plea. Imagined the soft moan, too.
Yet despite the stillness, despite the silence, the idea that he may have spoken does present a new thought to the scientist. Maybe the Hexcore isn't fucking Viktor, but it's not out of the realm of possibility that Viktor himself might be having dreams of, well, a sexual nature. Pleasurable dreams. Jayce's throat dries out at the thought. More blood swells in his prick, too, as he considers the idea that perhaps, well, perhaps part of having his body suspended, with his legs spread and his cunt encased in the magical iridesence is arousing, even for Viktor's unconscious mind.
He slips easily into the daydream, then—
Viktor, relaxed in the cocoon of magic as the arcane presses inside, tasting the cunt that Jayce yearns to kiss—absorbing the slick before it trickles down the inside of his thigh, consuming it the way that Jayce would, were he able to press his tongue between Viktor's lower lips.
Licking, suckling. Pleasuring Viktor with a disembodied cock, one pale and shimmering and thick as it presses inside, slowly filling Viktor's sex as it heals the rest of his body. Teasing at his dick while he remains in suspension, re-teaching the lithe scientist of nerves and sensation and pleasure as it brings him back to life, injecting arousal into his bloodstream, desire into his sex. Filling Viktor with a carnal sort of lust, but simultaneously meeting the need it creates; caressing his body, his nipples, his dick. Filling him, fondling him, fucking him—
"Stop it," Jayce mutters to himself, shaking his head. "That's so inappropriate, Jayce." He can't figure out why his mind continues returning to that exact scenario, but it's got to stop.
He shoves the magnifying goggles off of his head, and sets them aside, rubbing at his forehead. He's been awake for nearly three days, now. His mind is clearly begging for sleep, because there's no other explanation for why he would be daydreaming about— about the anomaly performing some sort of sex act on his partner.
"You're so fucking perverted," Jayce groans to himself.
He needs to sleep.
He should not be having these thoughts. Ones that dry his throat up, make his balls ache, and create this harsh, envious yearning in his chest. It's absolutely ridiculous to be jealous of a non-sentient…material. Of a healing cocoon. He needs to get himself under control.
Yet as he tells himself this, he pushes his pants down a little further. Frees his own length fully from the confines of his drawers, and rests one hand on the table as he considers the merits of, well, beating off.
It might help him sleep.
It wouldn't be the first time—it's just…usually, he tucks into the office. Or the chemical shower. Usually, he takes measures to ensure that if Viktor were to awaken, it wouldn't be to Jayce jerking himself off like some sort of heathen.
Something touches Jayce's finger, and he jumps—startled by the soft brush of material. By the soft brush of the anomaly, because in setting his hand on the table, he's pushed his fingertips into it, and it seems to be…clinging to him.
Jayce pushes back away from the table, but the shimmering sample of the arcane doesn't remain where he'd carefully set it after the initial extraction. It moves with Jayce, choosing flesh over stone.
"Shit," he mutters, trying to wipe it off on his pants—which is when he realizes, truly realizes, that they're around his ankles…because he'd been considering jerking off.
Jayce groans inwardly. What the fuck, Talis?
Humiliation stings at his mind, because yeah. He'd been hard, been touching himself, right here in the lab. Right here, where Viktor could have seen him if he'd woken up.
Jayce glares at his cock, at the hard, dripping length, and decides the best thing to do is to cover it up—and to get the arcane off of his fingertips. He tries to tug his drawers up as he rubs his finger against his shirt, but he stumbles over his pants, and the white, gel-like substance doesn't catch on the fabric. It remains on his fingertip, and it moves. It travels as slow as molasses, but with clear, sentient intent—traveling up the tip of the digit, clinging to his knuckle.
Fear bites at the edges of Jayce's mind. He shouldn't be afraid. His partner is completely swathed in the material. Yet he shoves back harder, knocking his chair over, stumbling backwards—falling right back into one of the edges of the frame he'd constructed to hold the anomaly aloft.
Or not.
"Oh, fuck," Jayce breathes softly.
The anomaly has caught him, saved him from crashing into the cocoon that holds Viktor—embraced his body, and is holding him up. He's naked from the waist-down, save for his boots, and when he attempts to move away from the Hexcore, it clings tighter to his body. Pulls on his clothes until his chest is straining against the linen shirt he's wearing. Pulls, and pulls, and pulls—until it rips.
Until Jayce is essentially naked, bound in the anomaly; wrists held by long tendrils of iridescent goo, thighs restrained just the same. He fights against the hold, and it only curls around his limbs tighter.
"No," Jayce groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he mindlessly thrashes, jerking against the binds, "this cannot be happening."
But it is, and the worst part about it, is that it feels…good. He blames it on the exhaustion, on his lack of sleep and his perma-stressed state, but he can't deny that the anomaly is caressing him with intent to arouse. That it feels a bit, well, magical.
There's a current within; a soft, shifting static electricity that zaps at his skin cells, and leaves them feeling…pleased. It strokes across his hip, licking at his skin the way a lover might. Making him shiver as it extends more and more tendrils over his form; two thin ones around his ribcage, strands of shimmering material that wrap around each nipple and squeeze like some sort of thread. One around his neck and pulses in a way that isn't unlike how it feels to be given a hickey by a lover.
"Fuck," Jayce hisses, opening his eyes and gazing down as a tendril reaches out to wrap around his drooling prick. "No, no, no, no, no."
Jayce gives one last jerk of his limbs, but the Hexcore only holds him tighter—and then, his mind is hazy again. His thoughts, heavy. As though there's smoke in his brain, clouding over his fear. Telling him to relax, to cease his panic.
He wonders if he's dreaming.
His heartbeat is quick in his chest, and he pants for air—but parting his lips is a mistake, because the moment he does that again, another tendril is there. Creeping along his jaw. Teasing at his lips. Begging him without words to relax, to give in, to stop fighting that which is inevitable.
Jayce shakes his head. Dream or not, this isn't something he should be involved in.
And yet—
He's aching. He's been aching for hours; the low-level thrum of something warm and erotic. And the Hexcore isn't unpleasant. It caresses him gently, pulsing against his skin like the suctioned kiss of a lover. That charge is back, the slight fizz of hedonism lapping at his cock, at his nipples, at his neck.
Jayce grinds his teeth together, refusing the Hexcore access between his lips—thinking that maybe it's find to be touched, to be caressed, but that allowing it to penetrate his mouth is a step too far.
Something prods at his ass.
Something nudges inside of his ass.
Jayce gasps, arching away from the invasion—and the Hexcore slips inside, encircles his tongue. Holds him tighter, despite his thrashing. Shoves a length down his throat that makes his mind even hazier. His vision spot black. It holds him there, forcing Jayce to choke around the intrusion, to drool a little bit around the solid, yet wet, tendril.
Then, so subtly that Jayce isn't sure he's not imagining it, something like honey drips down the back of his throat. He gags. His eyes water. And then, he relaxes.
It's as sudden as the snap of a cog into place; the way that everything just feels…lighter. The way all the tension is released. The way the slick sounds of the Hexcore fondling his body become erotic, rather than terrifiying.
Jayce moans around the phallic tendril pressing into his throat, and gives in to that urge to slurp at it. To stop the drool from dripping out of the corners of his lips and down his chin. To suckle a little, to work his jaw around the length. To close his eyes and lean into the touch, until he's weighless; held by the anomaly as his partner is beside him.
And there, penetrated on both ends, bound to the iridescent slime, Jayce lets go entirely.
"Fuck," Jayce groans, a sound garbled as it spills out from his mouth, "fuck."
It's not fear, it's arousal—and he'd feel stupid, but there simply isn't anything else to say. The Hexcore is zapping his nerves, kissing his flesh with a charged touch. It works him open with a tendril in his ass, with one in his mouth, too. It pulls drool from his mouth, makes his entire body shiver where it brushes his prostate. It caresses his cock, squeezes his balls, and begs for seed.
Jayce squirms, and the Hexcore allows it, but doubles down on the caressing; begins to thrust the phallic-shaped tendril in his mouth in and out. Adjusts the hold it has on his cock, until it's focusing on cradling his balls, and caressing that place on Jayce's cock where his foreskin is attached to his shaft; the frenulum. The anomaly works his frenulum in small, tight circles, the same way a lover might with a fingertip. But it's wet, or at least, feels wet. Like his body has been swathed in something slick.
His nerves are all alight with pleasure, and the next time Jayce speaks, it's to moan; low, thick, guttoral. He's never been one for pain play, would never have considered static as erotic—but each little zap is ethereal. The barely-there one against his prostate makes him vibrate. The simultaneous one against each of his nipples makes him cry out in pleasure. The one against his frenulum sends him floating into another plane, entirely.
It's pleasure like he's never experienced it; his body entirely consumed by the Hexcore. And with each little bit of deliverance, it clings to him tighter. Pulls him closer. Stretches out over more and more of his form, of his body. Until he's been sucked into the Hexcore itself—until there's nothing but his face outside of the pulsing caress of the anomaly.
"Jayce."
This time, Jayce knows he's not imagining it. His eyes snap open, and he realizes that he's changed positions. That his partner has awoken. That it's he who is bound, Viktor who stands; body of purple machine before him.
"Viktor," he tries, "Viktor—I can explain." But his words are choked by the tendril shoved down his throat, and cut off mid-way by a moan of pleasure as the Hexcore presses on his prostate from the inside and out.
Viktor's gaze is hooded, and his lips are parted. "Jayce," Viktor breathes.
Jayce is too close to the edge to respond. Static pleasure ripples around him, and he moans, begging his partner to understand as the phallic-shaped tendril in his throat continues thrusting. He tries to reach for Viktor, but he can't. He tries to lean towards Viktor, but he can't.
Viktor lifts a hand to Jayce's cheek. It's cool, and the soft tingle of electricity is not unlike the way that the rest of Jayce's body feels. "Are you in much pain?"
Jayce would wonder why he's asking, but his vision is a little blurry. He can feel the tear trickling down his cheek as he slurps at the tendril and it shoves deeper into his gullet, as he squirms against the anomaly, and it presses deeper into his ass. As he shivers from sensation, and it seizes his nipples tighter. His cock with more force. His body with a grip that delivers such pleasure, such pain.
He whimpers, wishing he could speak—and then, the tendril in his mouth pulls out. It receeds into the Hexcore, drenched in thick saliva, and leaves Jayce gasping.
"Viktor," Jayce pants, "I'm so sorry— I—" Jayce has no idea what to say, how to explain what has happened, but as he tries, he's shocked. Shocked hard. The orgasm strikes him, and it comes with such force, that his words become a moan as his body is devoured by the anomaly. He cries out as he comes, and his soul nearly leaves him, but the release isn't the end, and so the anomaly refuses him relief.
The Hexcore forms a suction over his slit, and suckles everything out with the sort of intensity that would never be possible, were it a human drinking his spend. And once he's empty, once his hips have stopped twitching and his vision has blurred and straightened, Viktor's palm still on his face, that look of concern in his multi-colored gaze, the Hexcore starts again; suckling, shocking, caressing.
It even spins a thin tendril, and slips down the very thin opening of Jayce's urethra—begins fucking him there as it milks his shaft. Greedy, insatiable. Mad.
Absolutely mad.
"It's too much," Jayce pants, though part of his mind denies even this, "it's too much sensation, V. Please, please make it stop." Yet when the caressing, when the touching, when the slime-like substance around him softens, his body revolts.
He needs this, even if he doesn't particularly want this.
"Viktor," he pleads, though for what, he's no longer sure.
Viktor drags a thumb over Jayce's lower lip. "You're beautiful," he says, and then presses his mouth to Jayce's. Kisses him with a cool tongue, a cool set of lips. It's ice against fire, and Jayce welcomes it as the only anchor he has on reality—because the rest of him is lost; mind floating, body buzzing, nerves aflame as he's taken to the edge again, as he's held there by the Hexcore.
When Viktor pulls away, Jayce whimpers. "How long?" Viktor asks, stroking Jayce's jaw. "How long have you desired me?"
Jayce could laugh, but he can't find it in himself to do so. "Always," he chokes—it comes out like a sob. "Please, V. Please."
"I've got you," Viktor says. "You're so perfect like this, but I understand the compulsion to be freed." He kisses Jayce's brow—when did he become so much taller? "Soon, Jayce. Soon, you will be released."
His voice is different. He speaks slower, in a lower tone. But Jayce can't— his mind isn't— he's not in a place to analyze the changes, not truly, and when Viktor presses his hand into the anomaly, when Viktor takes Jayce's cock into his palm, Jayce doesn't want to think.
Not one bit.
"Viktor," he breathes, another tear squeezing out the side of his eye. He doesn't know how long he's been weeping, but the pleasure is edging on pain, and he needs release. Again. He needs it, or he might perish. "Please," he begs, "please, I can't— I can't—"
"I've got you," Viktor murmurs, moving his hand slowly up Jayce's length. "You can, Jayce. You can come for me."
The second orgasm is just as overwhelming as the first.
As is the third.
His body hurts when the fourth comes near, his hips jerking so weakly that he feels as though he's humping Viktor's hand like a dog on sleep medication, but it's on the fifth that the pain stops.
That he begins to float.
The haze from before has increased well beyond tenfold. It envelopes him completely; a warm, fuzzy thing that makes his body too heavy to remain trapped within.
"Feels nice," Jayce slurs, finally realizing that it does, as the Hexcore continues wrecking his body without care; squeezing his balls, pinching his nipples, torturing his prostate beyond belief with tiny zaps of the most delicious, mind-altering pleasure.
Viktor drops to his purple knees sometime after that fifth orgasm. "You have quite a bit of stamina, though of course, the Hexcore will have aided in that," he comments, moving his palm up and down Jayce's shaft. And when did the anomaly receed around his cock, revealing the length; still hard, still impossibly hard? Jayce isn't certain, but he likes the way that Viktor's cool breath tempers the heat burning in his veins when he exhales over the tip.
"I thought perhaps you needed release. I'm beginning to wonder if there is more that you need," Viktor muses. "The aphrodisiac should have worn off by now." Then he hums. "Perhaps it is my own fault."
Jayce doesn't reply with words. He can't. He floats in the anomaly, gazing through someone else's eyes at his partner on his knees. Viktor is beautiful like this; longer hair, less curly. Darker, with pale highlights. His gaze is a rainbow of iridescence, and his mouth is cool when he takes Jayce's cockhead between his lips.
Viktor sucks him gently. A balm to the sting of oversensitivity. He works his tongue carefully beneath Jayce's cockhead, laving back and forth with a delicate touch. He doesn't drool, not like Jayce did when he was being throatfucked by the anomaly, but he does pause every now and then to pull off of Jayce and wipe the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand.
He's naked, and when he does this, when he looks up at Jayce while wiping saliva from his mouth, Jayce can see his cunt. It makes his hips jerk, his cock twitch. He'd like to taste Viktor's cunt—but it's a distant thought. One he can't articulate. It's just that…Viktor looks so wet. So soft. Jayce wants to know what it is to be buried inside of his partner. Or, at the very least, to have his face buried between the man's thighs. To feast on his partner's sex, rather than on the phallic-shaped limb of the anomaly.
He'd drink Viktor down for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, were he allowed.
"That may be arranged." Viktor drops his hand, and kisses the tip of Jayce's cock. When he pulls back, there's a string of pre that keeps his mouth linked to the flushed, overstimulated cockhead. "You're quite wet as well," Viktor comments casually, holding Jayce's length with one hand as he peers at it. "I hadn't realized cocks could make such a mess."
Jayce shivers. He wonders if he's wet because of all of the orgasms, or because of the Hexcore. He still isn't certain as to whether it's a solid or a liquid. Perhaps the residue on his prick is from the anomaly.
"It's not," Viktor replies, lapping at the tip. "It's you." He says this simply. A matter of fact. And then resumes mouthing at Jayce's cock as the Hexcore continues fucking Jayce's body—teasing him closer and closer to the edge. To a sixth orgasm, gods be damned.
The frenzy of the tendrils burning his nerves, rubbing him raw, is contrasted by the calm of Viktor. There's simply no urgency from the man. It's as though he's giving a blowjob for an audience. Not something you might find in a den of iniquity, but rather, a school of curious minds; people who are watching and taking notes. Scientists, interested in the outcome of fellatio. He moves slow, and careful. He pulls off to lap at the tip. Watches Jayce's reaction, and then resumes his minstrations.
It's maddening, but Jayce is no longer inside of his body. He's floating, watching a dream—watching Viktor milk him with a purple palm. And as Jayce wonders how this fantastical dream even developed into his mind, something begins to simmer through his groin again. Something sharp and heady, something that tugs moans from his throat, makes his hips jerk—
"I assure you, this is very real," Viktor croons—then takes Jayce into his mouth again. Suckles with a thoughtful expression as he gazes up at Jayce. As he begins to drool, just a little, without wiping it away. As he takes Jayce deeper, and deeper.
As he pushes down so hard, he gags.
His throat flexes.
Because he's alive.
Viktor is alive, and he's sucking Jayce's prick.
Jayce's cockhead gets caught in the choke of his partner's throat, Viktor swallows around it and gags harder—but doesn't pull off. And then suddenly, Jayce is awake and alive and thinking once more. That sixth orgasm slams into the Man of Progress harder than any idea or invention ever has, and his body goes up in flames of passion and relief. He cries as he comes, as he erupts in sensation and fights the Hexcore. As Viktor pulls off, only to get a face full of seed— as Jayce is released by the anomaly, and falls to his knees. Falls forward, caught by a man much stronger than he should be.
"Viktor," Jayce cries, body still on the fritz—arms weak as he wraps them around Viktor's form, curling around the man soaked in his own seed with a panicked desperation to get closer, closer, closer. "Viktor, you're alive."
"I am," Viktor agrees.
Jayce pulls back, and realizes he's drenched the man's face with cum. "Let me—" he drags his tongue up the side of Viktor's face with a grunt. He's a heathen, but he's no longer out of mind. He's filled with awareness once more—that Viktor is alive, alive, alive—as his cock finally flags, as his ass is finally released, the tendrils withdrawn into the Hexcore, leaving him raw and gaping and empty. He's a nerve, flayed open as he laps up the mess he made, as he mutters apologies, as he cries tears he didn't even know he still had left to cry.
As he kisses Viktor's cheek.
His jaw.
His mole—and then his lips, gods, his lips.
Jayce is exhausted, his entire body spent and overwhelmed. And yet, he can't stop kissing Viktor's cool mouth, can't stop whispering his gratitude, breathing those words, You're alive, until he's rolled onto his back—caged in by his partner, who holds his wrists to the floor and rests his wet cunt against Jayce's belly.
"Stop," he murmurs, kissing Jayce's jaw with a gentle reverence. "You can stop."
"You're alive." Jayce has no other words, no other thoughts. The threat of disassociation clings to the edges of his subconscious, still, and he's not entirely sure that he's awake. That this is real, despite how badly he needs it to be real.
Until Viktor leans closer, kisses his mouth, his cheek, his temple, and sets his lips to Jayce's ear. Asks—not without humor—one, simple question that breaks the disassociation, and brings the Man of Progress right back down to reality one, final time.
"Jayce…how many times did you illustrate my cunt?"