ic contact.

[deushexmachina]

"Hi, probably just easier to find me in the lab. I'll get back to you."

Comments

[deushexmachina]

I agree, [he eases into a grin, his relief evident.] It's Silco's fault, manipulating her like that. We have to minimize his influence.

— And, [Jayce leans back into Viktor's touch,] yeah. Good call.

[theorems]

Yes. Minimize the influence of manipulators.

[His fingers through Jayce's hair halt for a moment, and he pulls his hand away as Jayce leans into it, and instead he places his hand on Jayce's shoulder. Holding onto Jayce for balance, he lowers himself to the ground. His back still is horrible, even if his leg no longer causes much issue.

Level contact. Equals.]

We will need to find scissors. Or some equivalent.

[deushexmachina]

Scissors, [he bites at his lower lip,] to cut the strings Silco pulls Jinx with. Viktor, you've got a poetic—

—Oh. [He scoffs, a chuckle slipping out.] You mean my hair.

[theorems]

Yeah,

[Viktor says with a laugh, twirling his finger around the strand of hair that usually hangs over Jayce's forehead.]

I meant your hair. Feel free to still attribute the poetry to my words.

[He releases Jayce's hair, and then cups his cheek. Viktor closes his eyes as he presses their foreheads together, and then next, their lips.]

[deushexmachina]

[A sequence of emotions: comfort, shock, thrill. The cold of Viktor's fingers convect the warmth of his face, lips rough against lips, lights blinding his closed eyes — yellow, yellow, gold, ochre.

Jayce's hands, warm as dawn, find Viktor's hips to hold, skin and sinew. What doesn't melt away in this moment? Their bodies of bone and flesh, metal and leather, everything time aches to decay.

The kiss breaks.

He whispers:]

I could attribute a lot more to you.

[theorems]

Ah.

[Viktor realizes moments after the kiss, the lightest hint of flush on his cheeks. His hand still cupping Jayce's cheek, thumb stroking over the five o' clock shadow that's permanent there now.]

I- I probably could have made that more romantic.

[Instead of talking about haircuts, and death threats, while sitting on the stone and dirt floor. But he hadn't been thinking about the setting, only that in this moment, he wanted to feel their lips press together once again, for the first time in... a long time.]

Is this...

[He's at a loss for words, a little lost in his own spontaneity. He knows what Jayce had with Mel. Still has.]

[deushexmachina]

You were perfect. [The stroking by his thumb, feather-light touch over his cheek. A soft gaze drifts over Viktor's own face, detailing that blush (faint was it was). Pressing lips over his teeth, he tastes Viktor's touch in echo.]

Is this, [an invitation, dangerously given,] is it what?

[theorems]

This is okay?

[His thumb travels ever closer, now running over Jayce's bottom lip. Wet, moisturized (somehow), flawless. He wants to meet them again, but not without knowing that this is really, truly what Jayce wants. They've been down this path before.

Maybe if he were younger, he would care more about the potential... home-wrecker status he would be attaching to himself. But in his most selfish, egotistical mind- he saw him first.

Now, all he cares about is Jayce's decision.]

Be certain. This is what you want?

[deushexmachina]

[He knows what Viktor means. The words unspoken ring loud as cathedral bells, the implications thundering his eardrums. Yes, in Piltover, there's Mel waiting. Mel, who was stronger than him, whose spine ossified with steel, who could endure anything with the perfect composure of a slight smirk and a knowing look.

She'd walk on coals, easily without him.

Jayce needed the warmth. He needed the man who always understood him, intuitively, analytically, intimately. He couldn't survive this otherwise.]

Yes, [breathless words,] this is what I want. [Spoken with a conviction rare for him. He reaches for Viktor's hand to hold, his fingers quick to curl around that frail wrist.]

[theorems]

[Time stretches on, his blood rushing through him, he feels lightheaded. He knows Jayce isn't the best when it came to making such immediate decisions. Viktor understands wanting to take time and care to answer correctly, and fully commit to it. His own impatience still sends jitters down his spine with every second Jayce spends weighing his answer, his mind thoughtless and foggy all at once.

Yes.

The wind's knocked out of him, in relief. In joy.

Viktor laughs, his glee expressing itself in the form of a single, sudden "ha!" as he leans in, kissing Jayce's lips again and again, pecks of elation.]

[deushexmachina]

[Kisses rain down upon him, crisp as spring thaw. He tries to catch those lips in return, always a second behind, ambition enduring. Viktor's evident glee shot adrenaline into his veins; a bright, glowing warmth floods his ribcage. Jayce grins, eyes following the pretty geometry of Viktor's face.]

I think you're taking it well, [he wraps an arm around Viktor's waist, magical journal forgotten on the ground.]

But I might need more convincing.

[theorems]

Hm.

[More convincing? The kisses weren't enough? Well. There's plenty of other things he could imagine.

Viktor pulls back, no longer waging the war of pecks.]

What part was not persuasive enough? The smiling? The laughter? What could I do to satisfy your skepticism?

[deushexmachina]

I might, [a glance to the corner of the room they shared and adjacent to their quiet hearth, the bedding,] have an idea.

[His smile, fractured with uncertainty, lacks the bravado mimicked in his words.]

[theorems]

[Brows raised, eyes wide, and a slight pinkness dusts his nose. It's faint even on his milk-pale skin.]

You mean...?

[He's not misinterpreting this, is he?]

[deushexmachina]

If you think that's appropriate, [a quick refrain dancing on his tongue.] I don't need you to prove anything to me, obviously. [Flustered, he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glancing to his lap.]

To clarify.

[theorems]

No, no. Very inappropriate.

[The scolding is so obviously half-hearted.

Viktor tears his gaze away from the bedding, to instead focus on those brilliant golden eyes before him. So shy. Jayce's bravado is so quickly hidden behind his own brow, and it really is a wonder how Jayce can exist, made of so many contradictions. Intelligent and beautiful and bold, but then so hesitant at times.

Viktor smooths his fingers across Jayce's tie, as if there's wrinkles there he needs to remedy.]

I will show you manners.

[Less a peck now, a full press of his lips to Jayce's, his head naturally tilting to the side as he closes his eyes.]

[deushexmachina]

[The embrace in full, the taste of salt and pinch of chapped lips, the perfect geometry of two angles meeting a sublime vector, it thrills Jayce. His hands wrap around Viktor's head, holding him steady, fingerprints bold against a mess of hair.]

You've always been a talented teacher, [he grins, lips so close and humid, aching for another kiss.]

[theorems]

Mm. Lesson one; use your lips less for talking.

[Viktor shifts his position, a hand on Jayce's shoulder to press his back to the wall they're sitting next to, and brings their lips together once more. He teases his tongue across Jayce's bottom lip, seeing if he's open to the idea.]

[deushexmachina]

But I like talking—[oh, oh, he understands now. His shoulder blades meet the wall, their lips press together, the tingle of Viktor's tongue tip dancing over that kiss he just left.

His hands find hips to grasp, fingers supporting angles that challenged Euclidean geometry. Heartbeats double, his lungs burn for air, and Jayce leans forward to again seize kisses from Viktor's mouth.]

[theorems]

[Hunger meets hunger, and Viktor goes that step further, sliding his tongue across Jayce's teeth, inhaling sharp though his nose. His fingers soothe along Jayce's collarbone through his jacket, then dig his fingers into it, curling his fingers into the fabric to get a better grip of it.

The warmth of Jayce's hands on his hips send a shiver up his spine (and a twinge, which he goes stock-still tense at, but then quickly gets over). The heat touching him and within him is not as soon forgotten.

Air doesn't last forever, and he pulls back with a light gasp.]

Okay. Now the bed.

[deushexmachina]

[Viktor's ferocity persuades him; Jayce forces his gaze away from those lovely cheekbones and curved lips and looks towards the bed. Two mattresses on the floor, side by side, draped in a fabric more colorful than both their tastes could savor.

A curt nod before he pulls at Viktor's hips.]

We'll figure out logistics. [Adrenaline sparks his veins, he dares a wink.]

[theorems]

It is simple enough logistics. You have plenty of experience, don't you?

[He can't keep his hands off Jayce. One hand stays on Jayce's lapel, the other running through his hair, mussing it on purpose. He knows he should withdraw just a little to make good on that promise to take things to bed, but what if he hesitated just a bit longer...]

[deushexmachina]

Maybe not as much as you think, [his blush colors darker, his eyes hidden beneath low lids.] Especially since, well, [his hesitance kills the following words, his focus renders wholly onto Viktor's touch. He hair pulls against the friction, his scalp tingles as gentle movement stirs.

Jayce glances down to his lapel, ensorcelled as it was by Viktor's other hand.]

We'll figure it out together. [Like they've always done.]

[theorems]

Oh? Since...?

[Because it was obvious upon getting to know Jayce at first, all those years ago, that he didn't have much experience at all. Things have changed since then, obviously. He supposes he did assume Jayce was... fully ingratiated into Piltovian society by now. More involved in how things were done.

It was wrong for him to think that. Even in the times he thought he had lost Jayce to the Council and their ways, he should have known better.]

Yes. We will. The journey can exceed the destination.

[deushexmachina]

I don't know, [a murmur truant to the question; he maneuvered around it, dodging without apology. Heat reddens his cheeks.] I'm not interested in the past.

[Only tomorrow. And the moments between their skin, the humidity of breath shared so closely, the weight of one body against another.]

Tell me how you want this. I'll do it right. [Anxiety plucks at his vowels, elegy of a people-pleaser.]