What Makes A Man 18+
  Turbuggy  

Jayce hadn’t realized just how quickly things would move once they had retreated to Viktor’s dorm room. It was late, and they had done this multiple times over— gotten so engrossed in their research that even when they attempted to retire for the evening, they just couldn’t separate. It usually entailed one offering to walk the other home, only for the former to end up staying at the latter’s residence until the sun began to peek over the horizon. Thus, when Jayce mentioned accompanying Viktor back to his room, there hadn’t been any underlying intent in his mind. Apparently, the same could not be said for Viktor.

The kiss had been sudden. Had caught Jayce so off guard that for a brief moment, all he could do was sit, eyes wide, stalk still. They had been seated together on the couch in the small living area, knees touching, notes in their laps, when Jayce’s passionate rambling had been cut off mid-sentence. Viktor’s lips were dry against his own, and thin fingers moved to grasp the fabric of his shirt. Jayce’s hands raised, he placed steady palms against his lab partner’s shoulders. Honey-brown eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the contact.

“Viktor…”

It’s barely a sigh. Those lips are traveling, brushing over his cheek, his jaw, down his neck. The Zaunite’s breath is hot against his skin, and he tilts his head obediently to give the wanderer easier access. The edges of his thoughts begin to fade, grow hazier. Jayce had lost count of how many times he had dreamed of this— of Viktor’s hands on his body, those dexterous fingers and those pretty curved lips. How many times he had awoken from sleep with an ache between his legs, and a longing that threatened to eat him up from the inside. It was almost too good to be true.

“Lean back.” Viktor instructs with a lowered tone, interrupting his trail of kisses only long enough to speak. His accent is thick, and sends fingers down Jayce’s spine.

“W-Wait, I—“ Hands dip under the Piltovan’s shirt, slide palms up over his sides, and though the touch feels so very right, it sends a sudden burst of fear through Jayce’s entire body. With movement panic-quickened, he latches onto his partner’s wrists, and pulls them away, “Viktor, stop!”

He’s met with bewildered golden eyes as Viktor immediately leans back, returning the distance between them.

“I’m sorry, I, eh— must have misinterpreted your reaction.”

“No! No, i-it’s not that, I just…” Jayce can’t bear to look at the other scientist now. Can’t stand that confused, slightly hurt expression on his face. Instead, he directs his gaze down to where he still holds the man’s wrists, releases them. Draws his hands back to wring them nervously, “Um… ”

“Jayce,” Viktor frowns, voice gentle but firm, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I don’t want you to feel— pressured to do something uncomfortable. That wasn’t my goal.”

“You didn’t— I mean, you don’t— make me uncomfortable, Viktor, it’s…” A deep, frustrated sigh has Jayce’s shoulders slumping, and he raises his hands to rub over his face, “It’s not like that.”

“Then… what is it like?”

The genuineness with which the question is asked would almost be endearing, if the Piltovan’s heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of his chest. When he peers out from between his fingers, Viktor is looking him over with those searching eyes of his, analyzing, attempting to read him. Studying him, as he would study a difficult equation. Perhaps that was what it felt like. It certainly felt like something equivalent, as far as Jayce was concerned.

“I, um…” There was a crack in his voice, and it made him stumble, made any confidence that may have remained shrink and hide away, “I don’t know if I can… tell you.”

For a moment, Viktor is silent. Jayce can’t be completely certain, but from the way his eyes flicker over his face, a quiet concern in their depths, he assumes his partner is grappling with whether to press, or to leave the topic at that. Part of him wishes that Viktor would be happy with his answer, that he would give him one of those quick, decisive nods of his, and they could go back to talking about Hexgems and his visit to the Shurima desert. Another part of him wanted more than anything for Viktor to speak further, to coax the answer out of him and tell him that everything was fine. Kiss him like that again, as if nothing had happened.

“…Are you afraid?”

Jayce hadn’t realized just how lost in his own head he had become, until he heard the other speak. His eyes snapped up from their distant stare at the ground, and he stammered out an unsteady ”what?”, prompting a repeat of the question. His hands were clasped in his lap, shaking and clutching one another in a desperate attempt to ground himself. When he spoke, his voice wavered, “Yeah.”

A hand reached out, and though it hesitated once, was placed gently upon the Talis boy’s knee. Jayce froze, looking down at it as if it were foreign to him— which, he supposed, it was. Viktor rarely ever engaged in the same type of physical contact that he did. It had never bothered Jayce— his partner showed his appreciation and support in other ways— but he couldn’t say that he didn’t crave it, deep down.

“Easy.” That hand gave his knee a careful squeeze, accentuating Viktor’s uncharacteristically quiet instruction, and Jayce felt the tight jumble of emotions inside him untwist and fall away. His vision swam, and though he swallowed around the lump in his throat, he couldn’t manage a sound. Only a simple nod, which Viktor returned in kind, “Can you tell me why you feel afraid?”

Slow breath, in, and out. Jayce focuses on calming himself, keeping his composure and blinking the water from his eyes before it could wet his cheeks, “I‘m… scared you might look at me differently.” He admitted, “Or that… you might be angry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Have I, eh, done something to give you that impression?”

“What? No! No, of course not!” Jayce’s hand moves before he can stop it, takes Viktor’s in its grasp and holds it there against his knee, “You’re my partner, V, I— I trust you more than anyone else.”

He feels Viktor’s muscles stiffen at the contact, watches those golden eyes flick down to their hands for a brief moment. The Zaunite seems to consider them, before looking back. Jayce thinks, for a second, that perhaps he had overstepped. But Viktor doesn’t pull away. His tension slowly eases, and he turns his hand over, offering his palm for Jayce to hold— and he does.

“It would be unrealistic of me to expect nothing to be kept private between us.” There’s a light smile on the Zaunite’s face, “And wrong of me to be angry if there was.”

Viktor was right, of course. Jayce knew he was right. Surely their partnership status didn’t negate their right to privacy. If the Piltovan wished to keep some things about himself to himself, he needn’t feel guilty for doing so. His eyes met Viktor’s, and for a moment, all he could do was stare into them, and wonder how a man with features so angular could look so soft, and make him feel so warm. He gave a breath, and nodded, just once. Laced their fingers together, “I want to tell you.”

“Then I will listen.”

“But…” Hesitation, a diverting of eyes, and an uptick in Jayce’s pulse, “Can you— Can you kiss me again, first?”

“Jayce—“

“Please, Viktor.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the strained desperation in his voice. He just couldn’t bear to allow this opportunity to pass him by. Couldn’t bring himself to move forward without feeling those sparks again, without knowing what Viktor’s lips felt like against his own, without having a chance to commit it to memory. Not when there was a chance this time would be the last, once all was said and done. Viktor’s expression is uncertain as he shifts a bit closer, leans in as he had before. Jayce wonders if he can hear his heart beating when their lips meet, and everything else in the room goes quiet. It’s a much more hesitant gesture than the first, and doesn’t linger quite as long as either man would like— but it isn’t without feeling. Not if Viktor’s faintly flushed cheeks, or the way his grip on Jayce’s hand tightened ever-so-slightly, subtly tugging him forward, was any indication.

“You told me once that… you were only interested in men.” Jayce was speaking before their lips had even ceased brushing against one another. He received no verbal answer from Viktor, only a quizzical expression on that oh-so-pretty face. All the Piltovan wanted to do was kiss it away, but instead he continued, determined to finish this before his nerves stole his voice away for good, “What if I wasn’t— I mean, what if I was, um…” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, “What if I wasn’t… born. A man?”

Silence follows, forces the Talis boy’s eyes open again. He isn’t certain what he’s expecting to see when he meets Viktor’s gaze, but it isn’t that same old amused smile he always wore, slightly lopsided and so very endearing. His heart stops, and Viktor speaks, “Technically no one is born a man.”

“Viktor—“

“You grow into one.”

“Viktor, I’m being serious!” It comes out more as a squeak than a proper retort, and Jayce can feel that lump reforming in his throat.

“Do you think that I’m not?”

That stuns Jayce into silence, and though he opens his mouth to answer, his voice is long gone and hidden away. Instead, he swallows, and listens as Viktor continues. He can’t help but notice that his keen golden eyes do not meet his own, and are instead directed just a touch lower, lingering on his lips.

“So you were not born a man. Why should that concern me?” He asks, “You’re a man now, are you not?”

Jayce’s brows are knit, and he can feel a tightness growing in his chest, squeezing his throat and threatening to choke him. His vision begins to blur, his face grows hot, and he has to focus all of his energy on holding himself together. On not allowing the dam to break. Viktor didn’t need to see him cry, not like this. After a slow, careful breath, he nods.

That’s all it takes. The Zaunite stands then, and, using his partner’s thigh as an aide, moves to seat himself directly in his lap, straddle him with both knees on either side of his hips. He leans in, presses a chaste kiss against his lips, breathes out a simple, “Then I’m interested.”

The suddenness with which Viktor moves causes the buildup of emotion within the Talis boy to completely shatter and fall into a pile in his gut, swept away by the feeling of lips against his own. Hot breath against his skin makes those fingers return to run down over his spine, and this time his heart nearly erupts with anticipation. Was this still happening? Did he still have the chance? With hands unsteady and hesitant, he moved to hold Viktor’s hips, feeling them sharp against his palms.

“…Promise?” It’s no more than a whisper, slightly wavering, but so sincerely hopeful.

“Let me show you.” Lithe fingers were already sliding tentatively under the hem of Jayce’s shirt, but didn’t dare to move further until he knew it was desired, “I want to touch you.”

Jayce could feel the heat in his cheeks, could feel it spreading across his face and threatening to burn him up. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Viktor, off of the way he peered up at him, his own piercing golden eyes half-lidded and full of intention. The mere touch of his fingertips alone made the Piltovan ache for more, crave it as if he were starving. Jayce swallowed, nodded, unable to manage anything more than a strained “please”.

Anxiety roiled and fought with desire as Viktor’s palms began to slide over his body, up along his stomach, his sides. They left a trail of fire in their wake, made the man arch up into their touch, though Jayce had squeezed his eyes shut. He could predict their destination, and he told himself it was fine. He tried to will his heart to calm, his pulse to slow, but as Viktor’s hands met his chest, Jayce felt a dizziness wash over him, and every muscle in his body tensed. Could the Zaunite feel him shaking?

“Can I take this off?” The sound of dry palms shifting over tight fabric accompanies the question, and when Jayce cracks an eye open, Viktor’s expression hasn’t changed. The desire in his gaze hasn’t faded. He’s running his hands exploringly over the man’s bound chest, swiping thumbs over hardened nipples, “I need you to answer. Can you do that for me, Jayce?”

Another round of fear and doubt is countered so effortlessly that it makes the Piltovan’s head spin. His body relaxes almost instantly, shudders, and he allows a soft breath to pass his lips. It feels good, the attention he’s getting, and he wants more of it. He nods again, and after another prompt to speak clearly, he mutters out an emphasized “yes”.

Viktor pulls his hands back. Buttons are undone, vest and shirt are discarded, left in a pile to be forgotten for the time being. The Zaunite’s movements are eager, quick to rid his partner of the layers that separated them, and the lowest of them is no different. The binder, its fabric matching Jayce’s skin tone, is pulled up and over his head, added to the pile. Hands are on his chest almost immediately, Viktor’s eyes flicking between it, and Jayce’s face. He gives the man’s nipples a pinch, rolls them between his fingers, and Jayce has to bite down on his bottom lip to stifle a moan, leaning his head back.

“So sensitive.” Viktor mused, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his curved lips. He receives a small whimper in response.

“Can— Can I touch you— too?” It comes out a little breathily, as Jayce lifts his head to look down at Viktor. With the Zaunite in his lap like this, he can feel him, hard, pressing against his stomach. It makes his entire body feel hot, too hot, and he aches to feel him, “Please?”

Jayce is met with a hum. Viktor’s head tilts to the side, and he seems to consider the other for a moment, his fingers never ceasing their teasing. It drives the Talis boy mad, has him panting softly through parted lips. After a moment, and another flash of that smug smile, the Zaunite relents, gives his permission. Jayce’s hands are shaking as he moves to undo Viktor’s vest, and he curses the Academy for making their uniforms so complex and layered. His fumbling elicits a light chuckle from the other, which only makes Jayce shiver.

“Lay back.” The instruction follows the removal of Viktor’s shirt, leaving his torso bare, save for the fusion of metal and leather that made up his brace. Viktor was fiddling with the aide now, and Jayce already missed the feel of his hands.

It takes a moment for the brace to join the pile, and as the position is changed, the Zaunite works to wiggle out of his pants. Jayce can’t help but watch as Viktor is revealed, his slight form and thin waist, skin irritated where the leather had laid, pulled tight, against it. He was as pretty as the Talis boy had imagined him to be, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on him. The sight of his cock, achingly hard, knowing that he had caused it, was almost too much for Jayce to handle. He closed his eyes as he stifled another quiet moan, squeezing his legs together.

“Fuck, Viktor, you’re—“ His words were cut off by a quick, fiery kiss. Viktor wasted no time in working the rest of partner’s clothing down over his legs.

“I want to see you.” The Zaunite was insistent, and Jayce didn’t resist. Though he did feel an unavoidable prickling of anxiety, he found it far more difficult to pay attention to it with Viktor so eagerly undressing him.

As the last shared article of clothing was dropped onto the ground, the Talis boy slid his hands up over his partner’s hips. Rough palms over slim sides, rubbing over sore skin and the curve of Viktor’s back. He felt good under Jayce’s hands, like he was meant to be there. It left the scientist starstruck, made him feel warm in a way entirely separate from their intimacy.

But he didn’t have much time to focus on that. Not when Viktor was shifting his position, switching from straddling him to kneeling between Jayce’s knees, one hand on either thigh. “Spread your legs for me.” He instructed, and with gentle coaxing, the Piltovan obliged. Jayce was clean-shaven, save for a small patch of hair that traveled up over his waist and belly. He was swollen and standing erect between his folds, eager and waiting. Viktor’s body visibly shuddered at the sight, and he breathed out an unsteady curse. His cock twitched, dripped onto the couch between them.

“Viktor…” Jayce could barely hold the sheer amount of desire he felt inside himself. His brows were pinched, toes curled, and he was so obediently presented, just for his partner, “I-I— need—“

“Easy.” Viktor was already shifting forward, hands gripping the undersides of Jayce’s thighs and hoisting them up, further spreading him and positioning his legs so that one rested over his shoulder, and the other wrapped around his waist. One hand dipped inwards, brushing fingers between lips, each stroke ending in a long, slow rub over his cock. He chuckled as Jayce whimpered, arched his hips up in an attempt to chase Viktor’s touch.

“Look how wet you are.” The Zaunite teased, easily slipping two fingers inside, each teasingly slow shift in and out coupled with a slick sound, “You’re soaking.”

“Ah—! Viktor—!” Jayce pressed his head back against the arm of the couch, his hips rolling as thin fingers slid forward, disappearing inside him and making his entire body come alive with electricity. It wasn’t nearly enough. Didn’t fill him enough, didn’t stretch him enough, and Viktor’s motions were so agonizingly slow. Was he doing this on purpose?

If the smirk he wore on his face was any indication, he absolutely was. Viktor worked almost lazily, a leisurely bend of his wrist, reveling in how Jayce whimpered, how his thighs shook as he tried to keep from bucking his hips, from desperately fucking himself on the Zaunite’s fingers. His thumb pressed against his partner’s aching cock, rubbed against it with each slick movement forward.

“Such a mess,” he cooed, shifting to lean over the man, hold himself up with his free arm, “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re very nearly dripping.”

Jayce, panting and deeply flushed, moves his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. His head feels foggy, and he can’t focus on anything but how Viktor’s fingers feel inside him, how badly he wants more, wants the other to take him and fuck him until he couldn’t remember his name. These thoughts are only amplified when the Zaunite dips in, closes his mouth around Jayce’s chest, flicks and swirls his tongue over a hardened nipple. Jayce gasps, and the sound that follows is somewhere between a moan, and a choked sob.

“Gods, V, please—“ It’s desperate, coupled with another roll of his hips. His toes curl, one leg bent up against his body, sandwiched between him and Viktor, “I-It’s not enough, I— I need you!”

Teeth barely brush over skin, tongue teases, and Viktor hums in amusement. He had imagined Jayce the vocal type, but he was highly enthused by what he had managed to elicit thus far. Little whimpers and stifled moans, pleas and barely-controlled squirming. He wondered just how far he could push his luck, just how much he could make the man writhe, make him beg for Viktor to fuck him. But they hadn’t discussed that. Perhaps… next time. There was absolutely no way that there wouldn’t be a next time.

With one last quick flick of the tip of his tongue, Viktor leaned back up, licking his lips as he pulled his fingers back. He held his hand up in front of the both of them, the light glistening off of the fluid that strung between his digits. He smirked, seemed to admire it a moment, before slowly dragging his tongue over the mess. Jayce, watching him with hazy eyes, couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped his throat. He allowed his head to loll back, his hips to arch. He felt so painfully empty.

“Gods, fuck me, Viktor!” He begged, his words coming out breathy and urgent, “I need— I need you inside me—!”

“I believe you can ask me more politely than that.” Viktor teased, whilst his hand, still wet, worked over his length. He shifted to position it between Jayce’s lips, right against his entrance, where he could rub it, cover it in the Piltovan’s fluid, but not yet enter. He gave a soft, shuddering breath as he slid over the man’s heated skin, felt his muscles clench, his hips roll to try and chase the feeling, “You know your manners. Why don’t you show me again?”

“Please!” Jayce whined, the word almost sticking in his throat. His eyes were squeezed shut, brows tightly furrowed, expression contorted in desperation, “Please, please, fuck me!”

“Hm. Good boy.”

The cacophony of emotions and sensations that both the smug praise and the feeling of Viktor finally slipping inside caused within Jayce was nearly enough to push him over the edge right then and there. Somehow, miraculously, he managed to hold himself together, though just barely. It was absolutely indecent, the moan that came out of him as he was stretched open, felt his partner’s cock so easily plunge deep inside him with an overly wet sound.

“Big— Ah—! Inside me—!” Jayce’s head was pressed back against the armrest, his hands moving to clutch onto whatever he could get ahold of. Viktor didn’t waste any time, beginning his movements and thrusting into his partner with vigor, purpose. He held onto the leg he had draped over his shoulder with one hand, the other gripping Jayce’s hip.

Viktor hadn’t planned to move so quickly. Hadn’t planned to be so rough right out of the gate. But the feeling of finally being inside of Jayce, the sound of his moans, it was overwhelming, better than he could have imagined— and Gods knew, he had imagined. The man was soaked, looked so unimaginably attractive laid out beneath him, his face flushed and lips parted. Viktor couldn’t have dreamed of anything more ideal, if he tried.

“You— take me so well.” He huffed out, breathing a little uneven from the effort. Viktor held nothing back, ignored the burn that radiated through his leg and back as he thrust hard and fast into Jayce’s eager hole, and Jayce took everything he gave, “Per— Perfect.”

“So— good—! F-Fuck, Viktor— Ah—! Don’t stop!”

Jayce’s exclamations nearly completely overpowered the sound of skin against skin, the rough, wet motions, the deepened breaths. The longer they went, the harder it was for Viktor to keep his cool, to hold himself together and prevent his composure from crumbling. He eventually removed his hand from his partner’s hip, to instead press his palm against his abdomen, just below his waist. He could feel himself shifting inside him, and the pressure of his hand seemed to cause an uptick in Jayce’s vocalizations. Viktor cursed under his breath, brows furrowing as he felt a hot, coiling pressure beginning to build in his gut.

With each thrust, Jayce could feel his partner’s shaft rubbing against him, and it drove him wild. The palm against his stomach only pushed him further into a frenzy, desperate for more, for Viktor to ravage him and leave him gasping. He dared to release the couch cushion, one hand dipping down between his legs to rub his fingers over his swollen cock, the other moving to tease and pinch a nipple. He squirmed, felt almost overly sensitive, and couldn’t get enough of it.

“H-Harder, V, I’m— Ha-ah—! I’m so close—!”

As much as Viktor wanted to oblige, he could feel his own climax continuing to build, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew they should have spoken about this, “I— Sračka—“ His grip on Jayce’s leg tightened, “I can’t— I won’t be able to— Mh—! H-Hold it—“

“Holyshit, yes, Gods, please, fill me!” The conviction with which the Piltovan spoke surprised Viktor, and he cracked his eyes open, raised his head.

“A— Are you sure?”

“Yes, Viktor, please,“ it was desperate, Jayce’s voice cracking as though he were close to a sob, “please, cum inside me!”

It was all over from there. Both men unraveled like the cheapest tapestry, Viktor managing only a few more good thrusts before they came undone. His movements were nearly feverish as hot, thick ropes of cum filled Jayce from the inside. Jayce cursed, gasped, moaned out as he felt a gush of fluid soak over Viktor’s cock, his fingers rubbing frantically at his own. His body shook, his back arched, he saw stars. When all was said and done, all he could do was lay there, panting heavily, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead. Viktor had to catch himself as he fell forward, slowly lowering Jayce’s leg so that he could lay out on top of him. There was a broad, gentle, slightly unsteady hand resting in the curve of his back only moments later.

“…How do you feel?” The Zaunite’s voice broke the silence that had come over them, interrupting the sound of uneven breathing, “Still nervous?”

“After that? Are you serious?” Jayce could only laugh airily, his body feeling heavy and wonderfully numb, “That was… amazing. I-I didn’t even think I could, um…” Honey-brown eyes wander down over his body— their bodies. He could still feel the warm, wet mess he had coated them in. That had never happened before.

Viktor quirked a brow, shifting so that his chin rested against the Piltovan’s chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, smug, “Look at you, discovering new talents.”

Flushed cheeks and a sheepish laugh was exactly the kind of reaction the Zaunite had been looking for. Jayce averted his gaze, flustered and smiling foolishly, “You… seem to have that effect on me.”

A pause, wherein the Talis boy worried his bottom lip, face still radiating heat. When he looked at Viktor, his eyes retained some of that haziness, “Can— Can I… see?” He ventured, “What you did?”

Who was Viktor to deny him? He gladly shifted back up onto his knees, held onto his partner’s hips as he pulled back. The sound of his cock sliding out of the man’s hole was sloppy, and Jayce shuddered. He peered down at himself, open and oozing cum out onto the couch— they would probably have to pay someone to deep-clean these cushions. A hand dipped between his legs, slipped two fingers in, breathed a soft huff. It was warm, wet, and he missed how full he felt with Viktor inside him.

“Feels… empty.” He mumbled, shifting his fingers to stretch himself open, allowing more cum to dribble out and drip over his heated skin. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as his partner. With a soft groan, Jayce spread his legs a little further, directing pleading eyes towards Viktor, “Can we go again? Please…?”

Lips were caught in a kiss, the Zaunite chuckles amusedly into his mouth. A hand is already joining Jayce’s, rubbing teasing fingers over the Piltovan’s oversensitive cock, causing him to whimper. “You’re insatiable.” Viktor teased, nipping that soft lower lip, “Let’s see if we can make any more discoveries, shall we?”