A Violation of the Ethos 18+
  Turbuggy  

“Stop squirming.”

Broad hands tied the ropes tightly, hemp woven strong and secured with visible skill— he had done this before.

“Bite me.”

The expertise is not appreciated.

It was supposed to be a routine check; quick, painless, and over with enough time for Jayce to return to his cabin and toss a few hours into his research. The route was straightforward— felt almost short when taken on wheels— and he knew each and every location by heart. He had set those traps himself, after all. If nothing caught his attention as he swung by, he needn’t bother getting out of his vehicle to investigate— it wasn’t as though a dangling, writhing net hanging from a bough was a difficult sight to miss. No, they certainly weren’t the most intuitive method in monster-hunting, but they didn’t have to be. Jayce had only strung them for extra protection around his residence, and in his opinion, they did that job well enough.

Well enough, apparently, to reward him with the task of hauling a particularly frustrated demon down the dirt path that led to his cabin, tied and secured in the rear of his pickup truck.

No, finding a demon in the woods wasn’t unheard of, but it was certainly uncommon. It was more common to encounter them in rural areas— cities, mostly— as their interests tended to include the lives of human beings. They just couldn’t get much out of a place like this, as remote and scarcely-intruded as it was. Unfortunately, that left Jayce woefully unprepared to handle this new predicament he had found himself in. He had gotten quite used to woodland supernaturals, and had come to know them well— their quirks, what methods best ensured their capture. Knew what he was up against when it came to those that roamed among the trees. But all of his knowledge on the Underworld was strictly theoretical, and he was left uncertain about how to proceed. So far, he had simply set the creature down onto the wooden floorboards, wrists and ankles tied, and sprinkled an uneven circle of salt around it. That worked against demons, right? Salt? It seemed to, at the very least.

“Let me go.” It spoke in a sort of lilting accent that Jayce couldn’t quite place, though it sounded human in nature. He wasn’t knowledgeable enough on Underworld linguistics to tell whether or not this was manufactured, or a naturally-occurring phenomena caused by exposure to humans. He supposed it didn’t matter, in the long run, but he couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Sorry, doesn’t work like that.” Jayce was already busying himself, stepping over to his desk and shifting books and paperwork aside, rifling through the organized chaos in search of a specific text. When he found it, he held it up with a raise of his brows and an instinctual ‘ah-ha!’— a book detailing the creatures inhabiting the Underworld. He had received it, along with many others in the series, when he had first begun the job. Large, overstuffed tomes, each corresponding to a different paranormal plane or hotspot. This one would, hopefully, aid in shedding some light on the nature of his newest catch.

The Hunter turned, then, leaning back against the edge of his desk and crossing one ankle over the other. Calloused fingers turned the worn pages with care, brushing over them with far more tact than his eyes, which roved and scoured the paragraphs with intent. After a moment of this, he hummed in thought, and, with a finger still tracing a line of text, he absently asked, “What kind of demon are you, anyways? Drude? Familiar?” he frowned, shook his head, added in a mumble of, “No, no, can’t be that one…”

“Kretén.” It’s spat through bared teeth, fangs pointed sharp and lip curled in a snarl, “What makes you believe I would indulge your curiosities? You’ve won no favor with me!”

Jayce notes an odd quality to the creature’s voice; a kind of breathlessness that makes its words sound strained, as if it was winded, or physically worn. Honey-brown eyes flick up to peer over the top of the tome, brows furrowed and gaze searching. He watched as his captive tugged against the rope that tied its wrists, and seemed to generally squirm. Arch its back and squeeze its legs together. Its breathing came in audible huffs through its nose, its eyes were shut, and its face was… flushed? It almost seemed less like it was attempting to escape, and more of an uncomfortable inability to sit still.

“Are you… sick? Or, uh… hurt, or something?”

“If I say yes— will you release me?” There’s spite in the way the creature speaks, though it seems it hasn’t the energy to emphasize it nearly as much as it would prefer. “I’ll even make you a deal. If you let me go now, I promise I won’t kill you.” It grimaces, and groans quietly in its throat.

Only a scoff is returned, as Jayce’s nose twitches into a brief scrunch, and his eyes return to his reading. The entity was proving itself stubborn, and the Hunter assumed that further conversation in this manner would get him nowhere. It was just as well, he supposed. The less he got insulted over the next God-only-knew how many hours, the better.

Yet, he just couldn’t help himself from thinking aloud— it was a vice, to be sure.

“Don’t usually see many of your, uh, kind out here. Would have thought you’d be more interested in Piltover. Unless I caught you on the way over?” Jayce glanced up in time to catch the dagger-glare he received. He tried to focus on taking mental notes, instead of the way the expression made him want to shrink away. Yellow sclera, slit black pupils.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your— Mmh—“

Jayce had stepped closer. Hadn’t even looked up from the passage his eyes had returned to, but the moment he had drawn nearer, the demon’s speech had devolved into a sound, stifled, that sounded strikingly like a moan. It turned its face away, squeezed its legs together, and barely managed to pant out a breathless ‘stay away from me’. Though the Talis boy didn’t return to his desk, he stopped in his tracks, stood there halfway between the edge and the circle of salt on the floor. That squirming seemed to have worsened now, the demon barely missing the grains that entrapped it as it writhed and tugged against its restraints. When it spoke again, its voice held far less venom.

“You need to— to let me go.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No. I-I mean, yes, but—“ a sharp gasp, let out in a shuddering breath. The creature swallows, clenches and unclenches its jaw, “Just— s-step back. Please.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, wherein Jayce simply stands. Assesses the request, observes how the demon’s body seems to tense, how its breathing becomes more irregular, the redness in its face increases. It rubs its legs together in a futile attempt at— something, though it doesn’t seem to be offering the desired effect. Finally, the Hunter steps back, returning to the edge of his desk, and there’s a near-immediate shift in behavior. The demon lets out a heavy, relieved whoosh of air from its lungs, lolling its head back and trying to catch its breath. It sits leaning backwards on its elbows, thighs pressed together and knees bent. Its lips are parted just enough to expose a sliver of crooked teeth, allowing short huffs to pass unfettered between them. There’s a few droplets of sweat on its flushed face.

It almost looks… pretty?

Those thoughts are immediately pushed back down into whatever recess of Jayce’s mind they originated from. He was a monster Hunter, and this was an enemy. A creature, bound for death by his hand, or the hand of his superior— whatever he advised, when Jayce eventually called this in. Which, admittedly, he should have done the moment he had caught the creature. He wasn’t even entirely certain why he hadn’t. Jayce was good at his job— had been for two years now— and the boss favored him. He’d no doubt be reprimanded for negligently failing to call in and make a report, but… Jayce knew that if he did so, the time he would have to speak to— and subsequently learn from— this entity would be limited. He was only located roughly an hour outside of Piltover, if the boss didn’t just tell him to do away with the thing on the spot.

The clunk of heavy boots on creaking floorboards follows Jayce’s pacing as his instincts move his body from one end of the desk to the other. Cradled in one hand, the book stands open under a scrutinizing gaze, the other held against the man’s chin. His brow is creased, eyes flicking from left to right, scanning and skimming, taking in as much information as quickly as possible. A new chapter is met, an assessment is made, and Jayce moves on. Not a Drude. Not a familiar. Maybe a Cambion? Hard to say.

‘Heat Cycles’ is the subheading that finally catches his attention, nestled within the chapter on Succubi and Incubi— lust demons.

“…both variants experience a quarterly cycle, during which the entity becomes insatiable, feverishly seeking out human companions with which to copulate. These cycles, dubbed ‘heat cycles’ by most paranormal researchers, tend to last up to seven days. Careful observations have suggested that, upon abstaining from indulging the Cycle, the intensity with which the entity is driven increases. Entities who abstain for the entirety of the Cycle period are assumed to be near-incoherent with desperation by the time it completes.”

Jayce chews absently on his bottom lip as he passes over each new sentence. He can feel his cheeks beginning to burn, and for the longest moment, all he can do is read and re-read the passage, unable to make himself look back at the creature on the floor. It all fits too well. He can hear its— his— panting, the sounds of his uncomfortable shuffling, and it makes the man’s pulse quicken. All this time, all of those shuddering breaths, those little groans, and the flush on his face…?

“You’re… an Incubus.”

“I was beginning to wonder if you would figure it out at all.” An attempt at sarcasm falls flat when it’s said through heavy panting, and with a half-lidded, slightly groggy glance, “Congratulations. You’ve completed step one.”

A thick, dry swallow, “Which means… y-you’re in, um…” Jayce stops himself. He has to, what with the way his heart is hammering against his chest. That feeling of fire has only spread, radiating heat from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, and he can feel a tightening coil in his gut. He has to physically stop his thoughts from wandering, dwelling on those angular features, striking eyes, and accent that sounded so smooth and enticing…

A hand moves to cover his mouth, and Jayce turns away, widened eyes flicking over the passages again. He can feel the warmth under his palm, the way it radiates from his flesh and threatens to suffocate him. Was he really doing this? Feeling this? Perhaps it was some kind of demonic manipulation? Jayce couldn’t know for certain. All he did know was that he was housing a lust demon— one currently squirming in desperation on his floor— and he was woefully attracted to him. Surely he would lose his job on the spot, should the boss find out? How humiliating.

“I was attempting to hide.” The Incubi’s voice interrupts Jayce’s personal crisis, “I came here with the intent to, eh, wait this out. There weren’t supposed to be any humans.”

Slowly, with some reluctance, the Hunter turns back again, looking over the demon in confusion, “What? Why?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, wherein the entity’s face scrunches, and he seems to consider whether or not he should continue, “These eh, cycles, they’re… unpredictable. Overwhelming. I’m not keen on having the potential to lose control of myself.”

“So let me get this straight; you’re claiming you were fleeing into the woods to, what, protect people?” There’s a clear edge of incredulousness in Jayce’s tone. One that’s met with a disdainful glare, and an indignant huff, before those piercing yellow eyes are turned away again. Clawed hands flex in their restraints, and his chest flattens with a shuddering breath. With his book placed aside, Jayce now stands with his arms crossed, expression set. He’s leaning back against the edge of his desk, though his posture is far less relaxed than it had once been. He’s not certain what to believe, whether or not he could trust what was being said. Demons were known to be tricky, weren’t they? Knew what to say to sway you, change your mind and ingratiate themselves with you?

“Why don’t you just, you know…” Jayce makes an awkward half-gesture with one hand, mimicking grasping something in his palm, ”take care of it?”

“I can’t. Not by myself.” The demon’s legs shift, bend a bit more, press together until they shake. He refuses to look back, “It doesn’t— work. There’s no relief.”

Jayce pauses, considers, “…How long have you been, uh… like this?”

“Four—“ a quiet, stifled noise in his throat. The words that follow are spoken breathlessly, “Four days.”

If the Incubus had been looking, he would have witnessed a slight softening of the Talis boy’s demeanor. The easing of creased brows, relaxing of tensed muscles. Perhaps it was his inexperience. Perhaps he was naive. Perhaps he was just a bleeding heart, or perhaps he was a fool. Maybe even all of the above. But after thinking just a moment longer, Jayce stepped forward, his movement accented by a sharp gasp and subsequent groan from his temporary housemate. This time, he didn’t stop halfway between his desk and the circle of salt, instead allowing his heavy boots to carry him over the old floorboards until he was standing tall over the demon, honey-brown eyes looking down and observing its increased discomfort.

“No, no, you h— have to stay back, you— Mhh—“ The entity’s back arched, his head lolled back. A pitiful moan escaped his lips as the waves of heat overwhelmed him, exacerbated by Jayce’s proximity. His clawed toes curled, and he tugged desperately against his bindings, “Too— Too close—“

Jayce said nothing, as he stepped a single foot over the line of salt, and, with a quick swipe of his boot, broke the circle. Through thick haze the feeling of entrapment faded, and yellow eyes cracked open to look down, dragging groggily over the scattered grains. An expression of genuine confusion crossed the demon’s face then.

“Wh— What are you—?”

“You need a human to fix this, right?” The Hunter was already moving to kneel, and untie the rope that bound his enemy’s feet. He noted the dark rings it had left on his skin— burned by the hemp, “Let me help you.”

Fingers, merely brushed over the demon’s skin, have him biting his bottom lip and squeezing his eyes shut. It feels white-hot in his veins, muddles his thoughts and makes his body shake. He swallows, shifts in discomfort, feels his need throb between his legs. Curses under his breath, “What if I— hurt you?”

“You won’t.” Even Jayce is surprised by the conviction with which he speaks. He was well aware that he couldn’t confirm his safety, and yet, he felt no doubt in his mind. He should have, he knew he should have. But all he could think about at the moment was a growing ache, and the burning of his cheeks, “Here, let me see?”

Strong hands are placed on either of the demon’s knees, and, gently, they guide them apart. No resistance is felt, and no objection is given. Instead, when Jayce’s eyes flicker up to the Incubi’s face, he finds him watching with hazy eyes, his own face flushed a deep red, lips parted to allow heavy, panting breaths. There’s a tightening in Jayce’s gut, and he takes in a soft, shuddering breath of his own, swallowing hard as his gaze wanders, assessing the creature’s body.

His skin is a pale ivory, save for the deep, mottled purple that engulfs the entirety of his right leg, and its matching hand. This purple is inlaid with snaking magenta veins, glittering and seeming to flow as if with liquid. More veins of purple stretch past the mass, creeping their way up his side, his arm, shoulder, and face. His horns, curled inward, match this hue, their bases adorned with gold rings that get partially lost in messy brown hair, as do the better part of his pointed ears. Both ancient runes, seemingly once carved into flesh and scarred, and scattered moles, cover his form. Jayce particularly finds himself drawn to the two dots on his face— situated under his right eye, and above the left side of his upper lip. He was absolutely enchanting, and Jayce found himself intoxicated.

Finally, the Hunter’s eyes fall between the demon’s legs, where he finds him achingly hard, standing erect and leaking. The entire shaft is that same mottled purple color, veins spreading out over his waist and downward. Jayce feels his mouth water, and he swallows, willing himself to calm, to take his time. These were uncharted waters, and he was hopelessly underprepared.

“What, um… What do you want me to do?”

“Touch me.”

Jayce doesn’t have to be told twice. He shifts forward, slipping his knees under the creature’s, keeping his legs spread as he takes him into his hand. The moan that escapes his throat the moment he feels the contact is unabashedly lewd, and the Talis boy is suddenly grateful that he’s currently without neighbors. Jayce’s movements begin slowly, a leisurely up-and-down that already has the demon coming undone. It’s the first inkling of relief, the promise of release from his torture. Desperation increased tenfold by the insatiable need to chase that feeling. It’s so overwhelming, he nearly misses when the man speaks.

“My, uh… name’s Jayce, by the way.” there’s a sheepish expression on his face, like a schoolboy admitting his first crush, “If you, um, wanted to… say that.”

“Jayce—” It falls from the demon’s lips in a hot wash of breath, and it sends sparks down the Hunter’s spine, “Yes—“

“Shit.” His voice is unsteady. The sound goes straight to his cock, makes him throb and ache between his legs. Jayce can feel the uncomfortable wet spot forming on the front of his pants, and wants nothing more than to strip them off, touch himself, “Tell— Tell me your name?”

Each stroke engulfs the Incubus in another wave of suffocating fire, and he finds himself unable to keep from shifting his hips up towards it, bucking into Jayce’s hand. He barely registers the question at first, the only thing in his mind being more, more, more. With a tongue dry from gasping, he manages, “Vik — Viktor.”

“Viktor.” Jayce repeats, mimics the creature’s own verbalization with a touch of reverence in his tone, “Gods, you’re… beautiful.”

“Untie me.” Compliment heard, but disregarded— for now, at the very least. From the sounds of it, it wasn’t a request, “It’s not enough. I need— Mh— I need to fuck you.”

Another breathy curse, and the Hunter feels a wave of his own, his cock twitching and straining against the fabric of his pants. Holyshit, yes, Gods, yes. He nods, pulling his hand back, “Let me just— get something.”

That ‘something’ is fetched with as much urgency as Jayce is physically capable, and it isn’t long before he’s back on the floor, with the bottle of lubricant sitting next to the both of them, untying the demon’s wrists. As the rope falls away, Viktor is completely freed of his captivity, and makes use of this newfound freedom by nearly leaping over Jayce, taking a fistful of his hair and leaning over his back to push his face down against the floor. His purple tail lashes over the floorboards as he gropes at the Hunter’s belt with his free hand. The initial movement sends a spike of fear through Jayce’s heart, only to be alleviated when the pain of attack never comes. They were really going to do this, weren’t they?

A calloused hand moves to help in undoing his belt, and with the releasing of the clasp, it isn’t long until Viktor has stripped the clothing off of him, leaving him naked from the waist down. His hands are immediately on the man’s ass, feeling the weight of it in his palms, spreading it and watching how Jayce twitches in anticipation. There’s a rumbling sound in the demon’s chest, a lick of his lips, before he’s snatching up that bottle and pouring some lubricant into his hand. It goes first onto his cock, a few strokes over its entirety, before he’s returning his attention to Jayce, smearing some over his entrance and watching its reaction.

The man bites his bottom lip, and lets out a breath through his nose. “Please…” He breathes, “I— I really want it.”

Viktor smirks, amused by just how quickly Jayce devolved into begging. He, of course, knew what the man liked already. It was all part of being exactly what he was— a creature of lust, of desire, of physical pleasures and secret shames. But it was always a treat to see it in action, no matter how many times he did it. With a flick of his tail, the demon pressed two fingers inside, eliciting a gasp from Jayce. Under normal circumstances, Viktor enjoyed toying with his partners a little. Edging them and listening to them whimper and plead for his mercy. Today? His body was alight, he was suffocating in the heat. He felt delirious, felt both separate from himself and painfully present. A few minutes of teasing is all he can manage, before he’s spreading Jayce open and sliding his length over his hole.

“Yes— please, Viktor—“ Begging barely has a chance to pick back up before that simple spoken name surges through the Incubi’s entire body. His hips buck roughly forward, enough to physically move Jayce’s body, and he’s sliding inside. There’s no easing into it, no slow beginning, just Viktor relentlessly fucking him on the floor of his cabin.

Viktor has always loved a noisy partner, and he believes Jayce has to be one of the noisiest. Each hard thrust forward rewards the entity with an exclamation, a moan, a slurred plea for more. It spurs him forward, fuels that raging fire, feels like euphoria in its purest form. Clawed fingers dig into the skin of the Hunter’s hips, Viktor’s grip relentless and unforgiving. Jayce is quickly unraveling, cock drooling onto the floorboards beneath him. He sees white, has to scramble to keep himself upright on his knees, can’t hold back his pleas. Viktor is big, stretching him and filling him so deeply, he swears he can feel it in his stomach. He’s never felt quite so profoundly good.

“FFFFuck, Viktor— Ah—! Fuck me! Ha— Harder, please—!”

Viktor, himself, was having a much more difficult time keeping his composure. He was usually so calm, collected, lording his smug power over a willing, submissive partner. But this, finally indulging in the Cycle, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced— impossible to overcome. He was leaning over Jayce, one hand buried in the man’s short black hair, pushing his cheek down against the floor. The other remained on his hip, raking marks across olive skin. His mouth remained open, fangs gleaming as he gasped, struggled to stifle his moans.

“Good— Good boy, Jayce.” Viktor managed, brow furrowed and sweat dripping down his temples, “Such a good— Mh— little pet for me.”

Those words went right through the Hunter, caused his cock to twitch and more cum to leak from its tip. He desperately dipped a hand downward, taking his length into his palm and attempting to give himself a little more attention, only for Viktor to hiss and give his arm a light smack.

“Ah-ah.” He scolded, “Don’t touch. That’s mine.”

“Y— Yessir.” It was barely more than a breath, Jayce’s eyelids fluttering, “All yours.”

Viktor grips that hip a little tighter, tail lashing around his legs, a fierce possessiveness overtaking him. Yes, he was all his. Every impassioned plea, every pleasured moan, it was all for Viktor . He quite liked the sound of that. The demon leaned forward, and, without warning, chose an accessible patch of skin on Jayce’s neck, and sunk his teeth into it, intending to leave behind a pretty bruise, and a bite wound to match— like a sign of ownership.

“Ah—! Shit—!” The sting bloomed like a rose, beautiful and red and full of thorns. Soon Jayce felt a warm, wet tongue lap sensually at the beads of scarlet, dragging the color up his neck, the taste of copper mixing with the tang of sweat, “Yes, fuck, mark me, Viktor!”

Before long, Jayce is adorned with a scattered necklace of purple splotches, splayed out over his neck and shoulders— anywhere Viktor could reach from his current position. All the while he’s relentless, the rough, wet sound of skin against skin filling the lonely cabin, mixing with their respected moans and exclamations of pleasure. The Hunter can feel a coiling in his gut, a pressure beginning to build and demanding to be released. His body shakes in anticipation, he grows louder, more disjointed in his speech.

“So— good— Ha-ah—! I’m close, I— Fuck, Viktor— touch me, please—!”

A slender hand, slightly fumbling in its movements, releases Jayce’s hair and dips down to take his cock into its palm. The man’s hips twitch at the contact, and he has to struggle to keep himself from bucking forward. Viktor strokes him over with intent, allowing his rough thrusts to add some extra momentum. He’s losing himself in the flames, burning up in the heat that just continues to build and build and build, scorching his body and blazing every thought from his mind. The Incubus can’t speak, can’t verbalize anything but delirious moans, until it all reaches a crescendo, and in an instant, those flames erupt into a blinding white-hot inferno, and he’s filling Jayce until his vision goes dark, and he’s slumping forward over the man’s back.

“Viktor—!” Jayce gives a strangled cry as his own orgasm hits him harder than any he’s ever felt, ropes of cum spurting out over the old floorboards, his cock left twitching pitifully and completely spent.

It takes a moment for the two to recover. The only sound in the room is deep breath through parched lips. The Hunter remains on his knees, head resting on the floor, eyes closed, with Viktor draped over him. When the demon’s eyes finally open again, he blinks them into focus, mind sluggishly working to place himself and reorient. Though the scratching feeling in the back of his mind remains, that maddening desperation and scorching heat have dissipated for now, leaving him pleasantly worn.

“You do know the effect of speaking a demon’s name, do you not?” There’s a hint of a smug smirk on his face when he speaks, glancing down at Jayce’s face. The man’s eyes are still closed, “It gives us power.”

“Do you feel more powerful?” He’s trying to catch his breath, his mind slowly beginning to return to him. Jayce feels heavy, full, and warm inside.

A light, single, self-congratulating chuckle, and those clawed fingers are being run back through the man’s hair, “Of course I do.” He quipped, “A simple Incubus vanquishes a mighty Hunter. Should I not feel powerful?” Viktor tilts his head a touch to the side, his tail lazily swishing about his feet, “Or should I prove myself a second time, pet?”

“Aah-hah… Hah… Y-You’ve proven yourself well enough.” Jayce laughs sheepishly, “I’m exhausted.”

“Mm. Disappointing.” Slowly, the creature straightens his back, and replaces his hands onto his unlikely partner’s ass. He spreads him one last time, shifting his hips and sliding out. Jayce takes in a small hiss through his teeth, letting it out in a shudder as his hole winks, a dribble of Viktor’s cum wetting his inner thigh. He suddenly feels so terribly empty, and almost aches to be filled so entirely again. He quietly groans, reaching a hand back to press two fingers into himself, marvelling at how easily they slip inside, immediately slick with lube and spend.

“You… came so much.” He says in a near-whisper, pressing his forehead against the floor, “F-Feels… good. Inside me.”

He has barely a moment to think before Viktor is rounding him, pulling him up into a kneeling position and straddling his lap, each of his own knees against the man’s hips. Jayce can feel his still-sensitive cock pressing against the demon’s, and it makes his breath hitch. Hands move up to slide over Jayce’s neck, his jawline, coming to cradle his face in their palms. Viktor is leaning up, catching his lips in a kiss, pressing forward and stealing the air from his lungs with the darting of a forked tongue.

“You’re a perfect little pet for me.” He purrs against the Hunter’s mouth, tail waving back and forth, dragging over the floorboards, curling possessively around Jayce’s legs. Another kiss is stolen, just as deep and intoxicating as the first, “I’m going to keep you.”

With his hands unsteady, Jayce places them onto the Incubi’s hips, lets himself drown in the praise and attention. His eyes are hooded, face beet red right up to the tips of his ears, and Viktor can’t help but find the look hopelessly charming. The man clears his throat, yet his voice is still unsteady, “Do you, uh… need a place to stay? While this, you know, blows over? You’re only four days in, right?”

“Are you offering?” There’s that smirk again, far too knowing, and Jayce’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest.

“Fuck, please, stay here with me.”

“So insistent. How could I possibly refuse?” Viktor teases, leaning forward and draping his arms back over the man’s shoulders. A corner of those beautifully curved lips quirks up a little further, emphasizing his smug expression, “Perhaps I might even teach you how to properly bind a man’s wrists.”