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Jayce Talis doesn’t like Jayce Giopara. He doesn’t understand much about alternative universes and multiple timelines and what-have-you, but he does know that he’s confused as to how, as any iteration of himself, in any universe, he—Jayce Talis, a good person by most accounts—becomes that fuckin’ guy.
Giopara’s mean. And not in the fun, light-hearted, teasing-amongst-friends way that Caitlyn is mean to Jayce, or the sardonic affectionate way that Viktor is mean to Jayce, or even the countless other ways that people are backhandedly mean to Jayce.
Now that he mentions it, why is everyone so hellbent on being mean to him all the time?
But either way: Giopara is cruel. He’s a fucking dick. He’s unapologetic about it. He made fun of Jayce’s childhood bedroom, and for what?
To make matters worse, Viktor doesn’t share Jayce’s disdain. Giopara got caught up in a conversation with their Caitlyn, and Jayce took the opportunity to nudge Viktor and ask, “He’s kind of a lot, right?”
And Viktor smiled and said he was alright, actually. He’s sort of funny. And that Jayce shouldn’t give him a hard time because how would he like to be stuck in a different timeline for some unforeseeable reason for an indeterminate length of time? Whatever the fuck that means. Viktor might as well have said that Giopara was charming.
So after Jayce and Viktor show Giopara around their universe—and he’s sufficiently roasted it to shit—and Giopara asks to speak to him alone, Jayce is not exactly of open mind and heart.
“So you’re fucking, right?” Giopara asks, first, motioning to the closed door as soon as Viktor leaves their apartment to give them privacy. Because he’s so funny.
“We’re together,” Jayce says. And Giopara just sort of nods, knowing and cocksure, forcing Jayce to fill the silence (he’s also moderately curious) with: “And you and your Viktor?”
“Oh yeah,” Giopara says. He doesn’t elaborate. Okay, Jayce is morbidly curious. “Do you keep liquor here?”
Jayce snorts. But after today, he could use a drink, too, so he nods and gets the bottle and three glasses, two for them and one for Viktor when he gets back. Viktor said he’d give them no more than fifteen minutes because he doesn’t trust them, with their tendency towards unfettered emotional volatility, to not break the fabric of reality that he perceives to be barely hanging on as it is due to Giopara’s presence in their world.
Leaning on the kitchen counter together, they don’t toast or clink glasses but unceremoniously down their first which leaves Jayce to fill them up again. And then, once they’re both leaning again, Giopara says, “Here’s the thing. I’m going to fuck him.”
“Sorry?” Jayce says, still mentally attached to imagining what The Other Viktor is like, if this is what The Other Him is like, and what fucked-up relationship dynamics they must have. “You haven’t yet, then?” Maybe Jayce should feel bad for Giopara. That puts a spin on things.
“I mean him,” Giopara says. He gestures his half-full glass at the front door and gives Jayce a sideways grin. “Your Viktor.”
“What?”
“I’m going to fuck that Viktor,” Giopara says, as casually as if he’s explaining what he ate for breakfast this morning before being teleported to a new dimension. “Your Viktor. Tonight, most likely.”
Jayce stands up straight and nearly drops his full glass on the linoleum. “Are you fucking kidding me, man? I’ll fucking kill you if you try, I’ll—I’ll—”
Giopara is unperturbed by Jayce’s outburst, which makes it worse. Jayce’s heart pumps acid through his veins and his eyes cloud with a type of rage that he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since the Council attempted to banish him from Piltover and destroy his life’s work. But, unlike the Council, Jayce has no reason to keep his cool with Giopara.
Unless killing him would cause a time rift, or something. But whatever. It would be worth it.
Jayce advances on him, and Giopara just raises an eyebrow and laughs.
“Relax, kid. You won’t do anything to me,” he says. “You’re acting as if I don’t know you better than you know yourself.”
“Stop saying things like that!” Jayce’s fingernails gouge into his palms. Giopara is somewhere between fifteen and twenty years older than him and convinced that Jayce is just one or two formative defining events away from mirroring Giopara’s personality. All day it’s been like this, Giopara with his cocky little asides of I remember when and just you wait and oh yeah, been there.
With Viktor delighting in every fucking remark. Because Giopara is so fucking funny.
Jayce starts, “You don’t know anything about me, like I keep telling you, we are nothing alike—"
“You’re welcome to join us.”
For the second time, Jayce is completely caught off-guard, and he repeats: “What?”
“Listen, Talis,” he says, and Jayce scoffs, because he still hasn’t gotten over being called by his last name. He’s the real Jayce, isn’t he? “I’m going to fuck him. With or without you. But I’m an exceedingly reasonable man, you’ll find, so I’m more than happy to share.” Giopara’s lips twist into a smirk. “And he’ll love it.”
“No he won’t,” Jayce says, on autopilot.
And yet.
“How do you know that?” Jayce continues, furrowing his brow, unclenching his fists a little. He regrets asking almost immediately, since Giopara’s agenda has been consistently on the I know better than you because I’ve been through it train, but Jayce is also morbidly curious again. His Viktor does like to be handled roughly—when Jayce can stomach doing so. He’s into some weird shit. It’s part of his multifaceted charm.
Giopara takes another drink. Finishes it. Hands Jayce the empty glass. He doesn’t answer. Maybe it’s too obvious. Glad to have something to busy his shaking hands and calm his mind, Jayce finishes his own glass and pours them both another.
“Good,” Giopara says. “We’ll want at least three to make this last. You know what I’m saying.”
Jayce rolls his eyes. But for once, he feels a pinch of camaraderie with the guy he hates.
“I haven’t committed to this yet,” he says. “Even if Viktor would be into it in theory, I don’t think he’s as easy to convince as you think he is. He has way too much pride to say yes to something like that.”
“He’ll do it for me,” Giopara says, and Jayce’s face flushes again, the glass threatening to shatter in his hand. “My apologies, Talis, he’ll do it for you.” He works his mouth. “Listen, he’ll do it. I promise you that.”
Jayce sips his third glass and chews on the inside of his mouth. He can’t believe he’s even considering this.
And then the apartment door opens, and Viktor enters. He closes the door behind him and regards them both skeptically, gives Jayce in particular a long look like he thinks he may have broken the time space continuum. And Jayce is worked up enough to immediately start, “He wants us to—”
But he’s not buzzed enough to say it. Even though he’d very much like to be the one to bring it up.
Giopara, however, probably doesn’t require even a single glass of liquor to say the most brazen shit imaginable, so he cuts in, “How about a threesome, babe?”
Jayce almost reverts to his original plan: deck the fuck out of Giopara. Jayce doesn’t even get to call Viktor uncondescending pet names without getting teased at best and shut down at worst.
Jayce starts, “You don’t have to answ—"
“Okay,” Viktor says.
Giopara looks over at Jayce and nods. And it’s less arrogant than Jayce expected, and more of that commiseration amongst friends. Like they’re in this together. Like they’re both getting something out of this.
And Jayce isn’t so sure that’s true, yet. But if Viktor wants it…he’ll do it.
“Get the man a drink already,” Giopara says, at Jayce, who realizes he’s been blinking into space and unresponsive.
“Uh, okay,” Jayce says. He finishes his third, and doesn’t pour a fourth per Giopara’s advice, but doles out one for Viktor and hands it to his partner. He makes careful eye contact along with the exchange, and Viktor—master of nonverbal communication—lets him know that this is okay. That he’s not feeling pressured.
But externally, Viktor says, “We’re doing this because I don’t trust either of you to do or talk about anything else without fucking something up.” He tosses back half of the liquor and wipes across his mouth. “At least if you’re preoccupied with this you can’t get into any real trouble.” He finishes the drink and gestures for more, but Giopara stops Jayce from fulfilling the request with a casual hand on his shoulder.
Maybe it is sort of funny, how well Giopara knows the kinds of advantages they need. It does endear Jayce to him. An infinitesimal amount. Or maybe that’s the three glasses of liquor talking.
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, sweetheart,” Giopara says, and Viktor again has no visible protest for his patronizing. Jayce bristles. The endearment fades. This is going to be whiplash all night, he just knows it.
Giopara, surprisingly, isn’t the one to push things forward after that. Viktor crosses the foyer into the small kitchen, rests his cane on the counter, and steps up into Jayce’s arms to kiss him. Him, Jayce. Not Giopara. A nice gesture, and typical that Viktor knows how the idiosyncrasies of Jayce’s insecurities play out and that he’s eager to assuage them here.
“What do you want?” Jayce asks, once the kiss breaks, because he can’t help it. And he’s a little, in a frayed part of his brain, worried that Viktor—one of the most risk-tolerant and curious-to-a-fault people he’s ever met—will push this in a weird direction. Is it incest to bang your counterpart from a different timeline? Or just textbook narcissism?
Jayce glances over at Giopara, who is leering at them. If the latter, he would probably be into that. Jayce himself isn’t so sure. Not tonight, at least, is he ready to unpack whether or not he wants to get fucked by himself.
“Don’t worry,” Viktor says, suppressing full-blown amusement, clearly reading Jayce’s mind. “Nothing like that. But…perhaps you should kiss? To get comfortable with each other.”
“Uh,” Jayce says. Compared to what he was thinking, that’s not so bad. And Giopara is admittedly attractive, even if he’s not exactly Jayce’s type. Because Jayce is that type, minus the fifteen years and thirty pounds or so. They’re the same fucking person. God. “Yeah, sure.”
Giopara’s been listening in, of course, since they’re all tucked into the cramped apartment kitchen together. He’s behind Viktor in an instant. He doesn’t let him step away, though, and instead places his gloved hands on Viktor’s shoulders and leverages their height difference to make eye contact above Viktor’s head.
“Not exactly what I meant,” Viktor says. An attempt at sarcasm is there, but it’s thoroughly washed away with—something else. And Jayce gets it; he’s just an observer, but Viktor is now sandwiched between them, the slightness of his form starkly contrasted to Jayce and Giopara, towering over him.
Jayce turns his eyes from Viktor between them to Giopara, and places his hands on Viktor’s shoulders as well, overwhelming him with all four. Giopara’s caught the wavering desire in Viktor’s voice, too, of course, and he gives Jayce a knowing look. Like they’re about to give Viktor the night of his life.
So Jayce lets the whiplash settle back to appreciation for his asshole counterpart, takes a deep breath, and leans in.
It’s fine. It’s weird. It’s…too familiar. Like kissing the mirror in grade school or tracing your hand on paper. Giopara’s bone structure is almost identical to his own, and Jayce finds himself focusing less on the lips on his or the tongue attempting to make progress into his mouth and more on the feel of Giopara’s jaw under his fingertips. It’s all there, every twinge of embarrassment, every suppressed wisecrack, every flush of anger Jayce has ever had, mirrored in the third dimension and mappable through the whorls of his fingerprints.
Scientifically, it’s fascinating.
And it’s not a turn-off at all. It’s just not really doing it for him the way Viktor, now squirming a little between them and trying to get a better view, is.
Giopara turns out to be less narcissistic than Jayce accused him of being and is the one to break the kiss.
“Had enough, kitten?” Giopara says, down to Viktor. He doesn’t make any move to step away, keeping Viktor pressed between them snugly, and Jayce follows suit. It sort of seems like Giopara does know what he’s doing. He’s had a lot more years to figure out what makes his Viktor tick, at least. Viktor’s facing Jayce, and he can see the pink tainting his cheekbones and how his lips are parted to draw in air. It usually takes Jayce going down on him for at least a few minutes to get those kinds of reactions so quickly.
Viktor’s voice is still steady, at least, when he says, “Should we take this to the bedroom?”
Giopara only has time to finish his third glass of liquor and Jayce only has time to adjust his weird boner before they’re abandoning the kitchen. Jayce instinctively starts to undo his tie to unbutton his uniform, but Giopara halts him again with a discrete hand on his arm.
That’s nice, too. That Giopara is directing him without making it abundantly obvious to him, and Viktor, that Jayce has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. Probably that’s by design to make it more exciting for Viktor, but he appreciates it all the same.
“On the bed,” Giopara says. And Viktor gets on the bed. “Yeah, there. Sit on the edge, sweetheart.”
The pet names, the ordering him around, and all without protest from his partner. It boggles the mind. Jayce wonders what kind of soft submissive mess The Other Viktor really is, for Giopara to know this so confidently about his Viktor.
Giopara leads Jayce to join Viktor and they sit on either side of him on the bed, hands on his thighs, hands on his shoulders. Giopara kisses Viktor’s temple and Viktor leans in for it and Jayce feels that nauseating jealousy turn his stomach and poison his veins again. He sits with the feeling, doesn’t let it overcome him but doesn’t try to drive it out. He lets it ride and reminds himself why they’re doing this. It’s fine. They have the same goal, here.
When he’s calmed down again, he brings a hand to Viktor’s neck and loosens his tie. Giopara follows his lead, now, unbuttoning down Viktor’s shirt. And Viktor’s got the dazed look of someone being thoroughly ravished already, glancing between them both and breathing hard.
“Look at you,” Giopara says, carding a hand through Viktor’s hair, soft, and then grabbing it at the base, rough, to tilt Viktor’s neck back a little, force eye contact. “Always knew you’d be into this.”
“You haven’t done this before?” Viktor asks. Exactly what Jayce was thinking of asking, of course.
“No,” Giopara says. Spits, really. And it’s refreshing being so telepathically in tune with everyone in the room for once in Jayce’s life. He can feel the subtext in Giopara’s one word—his own possessiveness and nauseating jealousy, his own years of single-minded obsession with his Viktor, playing out like they were plucked from Jayce’s brain and etched to record. Grittier and resentful and clearly distinct contrasted with the mostly saccharine years that Jayce has shared with his own Viktor, but a discernible facsimile all the same.
It’s also a little insulting that Giopara clearly sees Jayce as an extension of himself, not worth being jealous of. Or it’s freeing. As with most things, Jayce hasn’t totally decided yet. But Giopara is right—Viktor looks undone from just the proposition of being handled by both of them.
Jayce pulls Viktor’s tie off him, pushes his shirt off his shoulders, revealing soft blushing skin and delicate collarbones and his intricate leather brace. Giopara forces Viktor into a kiss—their first kiss, in a technical way—and rather than let the jealousy consume him again, Jayce noses into Viktor’s overexposed neck and laves a tendon with the flat of his tongue, attaches his teeth to the soft skin under his ear and tweaks Viktor’s hardened nipples under his calloused fingers.
Viktor’s practically vibrating under his touch from the dual attention.
Giopara’s still kissing him, swallowing him whole, really, and Viktor’s drawing in little gasps of air and practically moaning for the loss each time Giopara lets him breathe.
Jayce has spent enough time under Viktor’s guidance to know that there’s always a way to channel raw, impractical emotions into forces for change and progress. Maybe there’s a competitive angle to this that Jayce should be carving into the jealousy. Giopara’s got him beat in years, a veteran of unwinding the general concept of Viktor, but Jayce is the only one who has fucked this Viktor a thousand times over. He’s gotta have an edge because of that.
Viktor breaks away from Giopara and turns to Jayce, his cheekbones bright red and his golden irises thin rings around his pupils. Jayce grits his teeth and grabs Viktor’s hair and presses their lips together.
He’s never going to be able to compete with Giopara’s aggression; it’s just not in his nature, especially not when Viktor’s concerned. Which is fine, because tenderness is what has gotten him this far. And Giopara’s taken up his role with the active ministrations, gloved hands teasing down Viktor’s blotchy chest in the corner of Jayce’s eye, so it’s not like he’s depriving Viktor of the roughhousing he’s so wanton for tonight. They both have their roles to play, here.
“Jayce,” Viktor says, into the corner of his mouth, a pithy whimper. He’s been kissing his Viktor for so long he knows exactly what to do, exactly how to squeeze under his jaw and bite his lips to turn him soft and malleable.
“Yeah, I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Giopara says.
“He’s talking to me,” Jayce says, dumbly, against Viktor’s chin.
“I’m talking to both of you,” Viktor says, and Jayce hears Giopara laugh into Viktor’s neck. Jayce’s jaw twitches. And he breathes out. And he slides his hand into Viktor’s undergarments, and Viktor’s so fucking wet for this—for them—that it finally, for fucks sake, erases the jealousy from his cerebral cortex entirely.
“Fuck,” Jayce says. His fingers slip against Viktor’s slick folds, settle around his swollen cock, and Viktor groans into his mouth. “Fuck, Viktor. God.”
Giopara pulls away from assaulting Viktor’s neck and watches Jayce’s hand disappeared into Viktor’s pants, gives him a leveled look. For a second, Jayce catches reciprocal jealousy in his counterpart. And rather than be smug about it, he decides to share his newfound collectivist outlook on this whole situation.
“He’s dripping fucking wet,” Jayce says, as if Viktor isn’t in the room, or something.
Giopara presses his tongue into his cheek and nods, but he’s suppressing something there. “Of course he is.” He grabs Viktor’s hair again to make him face him and continues, “Lay back on the bed for us, babe.”
Viktor shifts further onto the bed and does as he’s told, and Jayce uses the momentum and his grip on Viktor’s waistband to rid him of the rest of his clothes, leaving him exposed and spread-out on the center of their bed in nothing but his brace. He and Giopara are still fully clothed, as planned—Giopara’s even got his fucking gloves on, still—and Jayce has to admit there’s a vulgar appeal there. And that Viktor’s clearly into it.
“Knees up, spread yourself,” Giopara says, and Viktor can’t do it fast enough for him. God, he’s good at the shameless orders. Jayce doesn’t want to be anything like him, but like, he could use that kind of effortless, assertive charisma to get his way more often with the Council. And, y’know. Viktor.
Viktor’s fingers curl around his thighs, holding himself open for them to drool over. His hair is a mess on the sheets, every inch of his skin bitten or flushed or longing as he glances between them both, cock slick in the cool air above his tight, glistening slit.
“You’ve gotta let me eat him out,” Giopara says. Viktor whines a little.
“You’re asking me?”
“Listen, kid,” Giopara says. He clenches his jaw and reconsiders. “Man. Let me show you a few things. You’re going to appreciate having the edge someday, I promise.”
“Go ahead,” Jayce says. He involuntarily shrugs, even. Viktor’s evident satisfaction has rerouted his neural pathways and life priorities, per the usual. Giopara grants him another pleased, sideways look, and turns a more calculated expression to Viktor.
“Changed my mind, kitten,” he says, and kneels at the edge of the bed. “Need your legs on my shoulders.”
Viktor’s quick to action, again, and Giopara’s not shy about wrenching his thighs closer around his face. Jayce gets on his knees next to him, pretends not to be overly fascinated about what’s to come. Giopara spreads Viktor’s dripping cunt open with two, thick fingers, and Jayce bites his tongue, his mouth flooding with saliva like he’s been classically conditioned.
Giopara drives a gloved finger from his other hand into Viktor, slow, until it’s buried to the knuckle. He withdraws and adds a second, and Viktor’s hand that Jayce can see from where he kneels on the floor curls into the sheets. A third, and there’s the start of moan, the hand disappearing to clap over Viktor’s mouth.
“Hey,” Giopara says, pausing, glancing up at their partner. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. I’m trying to show him something and we need your feedback.”
Viktor’s hand returns to fist the sheets, and Jayce stifles an impressed chuckle.
“He’s pretty responsive,” Giopara says, to Jayce, with an unexpected dose of surprise. Maybe Giopara’s Viktor isn’t so submissive, after all. “You teach him that?”
“He’s being that way for you.” Jayce’s really transcended above the whole jealousy thing, if he’s able to admit that so freely, but who’s listening? Just Viktor, who already knows what their dynamic is, and Giopara, who’s been on his side from the beginning of this if he’s being honest.
“Huh.” Giopara stuffs Viktor with three fingers again, drags his thumb against his cock, and Viktor cries out for the sudden, direct contact. “How does that make you feel?”
Jayce blinks. He’s not really down for that conversation. Certainly not here, certainly not now. And why is Giopara asking him about his feelings cracking open some unresolved father issues?
Fortunately, Viktor sits up on his elbows and says, “It’s almost as if you two are more focused on each other than the task at hand.”
It’s Jayce’s first instinct to apologize, but Giopara says, casually, “Don’t act like you don’t like it, baby. I know that behind it all you’re just screaming to get put in your place, but it sounds like that’s not happening often around here, is it?”
Jayce is pretty sure there’s an insult in there directed at him, but Viktor’s expression is enough to keep him from breaking whatever spell Giopara’s cast. Giopara fucks Viktor open with his fingers again and draws the flat of his tongue along his swollen cock, does something with his mouth that makes Viktor collapse onto his back, arching for it, whining for it, and Jayce is glad he kept his mouth shut.
“Can you show me that again?” Jayce asks. Like Giopara is teaching him a new fucking welding technique or something.
Giopara repeats the action; there’s some sucking going on there around Viktor’s cock, his fingers stuffed to the knuckle and curled up, and Viktor can’t keep his voice down to save his life.
“Ah,” Jayce says. He scratches the back of his neck and swallows. “Uh, maybe show me one more time.”
“Jayce,” Viktor says, maybe in protest or maybe in agreement. But he’s definitely talking to him this time, even though Giopara is the one with his mouth on Viktor’s cock.
Giopara’s relentless after that, and it’s almost a treat to see a master at work, here. Jayce knows what Viktor likes, but Giopara’s got Viktor’s pussy so thoroughly mapped out it’s unreal. Probably he shouldn’t be surprised; if Giopara’s bone structure felt like home beneath his fingertips, their Viktors should have the same over-sensitive nerve endings.
Once Viktor’s hands are threaded in Giopara’s hair and he’s futilely attempting to lift his hips up and his voice is breaking on the higher octaves, Giopara pulls away at the right moment to leave him gasping his dissent, saying, “Y-you have to be kidding me I—”
“How do you want us, kitten?” Giopara cuts him off.
“Oh, y-you’re asking me, now?” Viktor huffs a little, hips trembling, voice raw. But he doesn’t seem to have an answer.
“Want to stay on your back and have us take turns?” Giopara unhooks Viktor’s legs from his shoulders, stands up, and Jayce follows so that they’re looming over Viktor, spread out for them on the bed. “Should we spit-roast you? Or did you want us both at the same time?”
“Same time?” Viktor blinks and licks his lips and glances between them both, looks down at himself, his flushed abdomen. Leave it to him to attempt the mental math. Viktor’s so impossibly tight, even when he’s just taking Jayce, that Jayce almost wants to answer for him, but hey. It’s his fantasy.
Then, resigned, Viktor continues, “Ah, spit-roasting is fine. If you can keep the pressure off my knee?”
Giopara presses his tongue into his cheek and gives Jayce a look, like they’re fucking brothers in arms still. “I think we can manage that, right man?”
“Yeah,” Jayce says. “What do you—”
“What do you think?”
Jayce huffs a laugh. Damn. He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is. Giopara’s not so bad, maybe. In the right context. “Okay, yeah. Watch his knee, then.”
“You stay standing. I can hold his hips up on the bed.”
Giopara’s gift for making demands extends to Jayce, too, he has to admit, and he’s quick to help Viktor get into position on his hands and knees near the foot of the bed. Giopara mounts the bed and finally they both undo their trousers, free their cocks, and Jayce glances between them curiously. There’s no difference, really, same as the jawline, as the chestnut eyes, their height. This multiple universe shit is bizarre.
Jayce cradles Viktor’s face in one hand, meeting his eyes as Giopara figures out the positioning behind him. They’re glassy, half-mast, all starving pupils. And he looks soft like this, too, maybe a little lovesick on top of the raw need. Who knew that Viktor needed so many hands to be overwhelmed into submission?
Jayce has got to step up his game once they get Giopara back to his own world.
Jayce grabs Viktor’s hair in his other hand, slides the one on his face down to his slender neck, and Viktor surges forward, licks up the pre-cum from Jayce’s cockhead before letting Jayce into his wet mouth, his throat. He coughs, the vibrations doing horrible things to Jayce’s stamina, and readjusts, but before he can get comfortable Giopara smacks a gloved hand across Viktor’s ass, sending him down to deep-throat Jayce. His shocked little mmmmmf noise does it for Jayce more than the actual blowjob, truth be told.
Giopara’s done aligning himself, lifting Viktor’s slight hips as high as he can to keep weight off his weaker knee, and Jayce can see and hear and feel all at once when Giopara sinks entirely into his partner. Viktor moans for it around his cock, pressed forward, nose buried in Jayce’s pubic hair. Jayce yanks his hair up harder to make sure he doesn’t get neglected.
He makes eye contact with Giopara above Viktor’s trembling body, and then, on nonverbal communication alone, they begin to move.
Really, Giopara’s thrusting does most of the work, which is fine by Jayce, who gets to see Viktor’s eyes roll back into his head, feel every muffled, strangled groan out of Viktor’s throat, watch his hands make little fists in the sheets.
At one point, Viktor makes a new, strange sound and attempts to pull off of Jayce’s cock. He almost doesn’t let him. And after Viktor keens a little and catches his breath, he bites down on his lip and then gets right back to work, so Jayce doesn’t think much of it.
Until he glances up to check on Giopara, whose got one, thick, shiny gloved finger buried into Viktor’s spread asshole. He doesn’t look caught, and gives Jayce a shameless, charming smile. Looks like Viktor’s taking both of them after all. Jayce is pretty sure that’s what Viktor wanted, anyway.
“Oil?” Giopara asks. He’s using his spit, for now, and working a second finger in. Jayce gestures at the bedside table. It’s there for him, nine times out of ten; Viktor rarely needs it by the time Jayce is done warming him up. “We might not need it. He’s soaking wet.” Giopara’s other hand reaches under their partner, leveraging him up, and with the way Viktor’s moans start to break Jayce guesses he’s working Viktor’s cock.
He doesn’t leave it there for long, and Viktor pops off of Jayce again, indignant, and says, “D-don’t stop—"
“Patience, sweetheart,” Giopara says. His ability to deny Viktor what he wants is impressive. Jayce usually has made Viktor come at least once at this point, but there’s something to be said about leaving him chasing that first high.
Viktor looks up at Jayce, like he thinks he can appeal to his partner’s better nature, and Jayce pretends not to take delight in shrugging at him. He can’t control what Giopara does. The fact that he also doesn’t want to is irrelevant.
Before Jayce can pull Viktor back onto his cock, Giopara smacks his ass again and withdraws. He dismounts the bed, grabs the oil from the nightstand, and says, “Get him in your lap and sit on the edge of the bed.”
Jayce helps Viktor off his hands and knees, and he’s shaky and hot-to-touch under Jayce’s fingers, his body giving no resistance to being picked up. His legs wrap weakly around Jayce’s waist, slick cunt already fucked open and pressing up against the length of Jayce’s cock, and Jayce groans through his teeth. All it takes is sitting on the edge of the bed to sink fully into him.
“Fuck, Viktor,” Jayce says. He buries his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck and ruts his hips up on instinct. Viktor’s clinging to him, bony arms and legs, and whimpering Jayce’s name and, occasionally, shockingly, please.
“Touch me,” Viktor says, low, like he doesn’t want Giopara to hear. It’s tempting. But they—as in him and Giopara—haven’t gotten this far not working as a team.
“Just a little longer,” Jayce says, into his neck. “We’ll take care of you soon.” He has to bite his tongue to keep from saying sweetheart, and Jayce is suddenly acutely aware that he might be too impressionable.
“Cute,” Giopara says, materializing behind Viktor with the oil. He’s still wearing those fucking gloves. Jayce is torn between thinking he looks like a tool and wondering if he could pull them off himself. “You two are precious.”
Jayce could be imagining it, since it’s not like his brain is firing on all cylinders at this moment, but he’s pretty sure the flicker of jealousy he caught earlier in Giopara’s jaw is back.
It’s gone as quickly as it’s there, though, and Giopara says, “This won’t work. Can you stand up with him? We’re too fucking tall for this.”
Can Jayce stand up with him. Like he even needs to ask. Maybe with anyone else but Viktor and his slight frame the feat would be impressive. Giopara slicks himself with the oil, and Jayce resecures Viktor’s limbs and stands, and then it’s even easier to hold him up, almost laughably so, Giopara feeling up the sides of Viktor’s ribs with his gloved hands. Viktor weighs practically nothing between them.
“Comfortable, kitten?” Giopara asks. Jayce imagines he’s pressed up against Viktor’s ass, just waiting for the signal; he can feel Viktor vibrating with anticipation in his arms.
“Yes,” Viktor says. He rocks a little, against Jayce, against Giopara. “Get on with it. Please—”
Jayce nearly has to close his eyes to handle it. Viktor’s suddenly so much tighter, a vise around his cock, and his fingernails dig into Jayce’s shoulders in ten, painful pinpricks. He’s glad he keeps them open though, if only to watch Viktor arch into it, his own eyes fluttering, his mouth falling open on a silent scream.
“F-fuck—Jayce!” Viktor chokes out, his lips trembling. His body seizes up between them, maybe anxious to move, anxious to break something inside him. “Fuck—"
It makes Jayce nervous, too, to see his delicate partner split in two and stunned into inaction. But Giopara has no such concern. Which is probably for the best.
“We’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, gloved hands wrapped around Viktor’s thighs. “Need you to relax for us. Talis will help with that, won’t you?”
Jayce starts at the request and nods and blinks. He partially wants to look away from Viktor, so clearly in pain, and partially wants to burn the image into his retinas forever. Giopara’s doing the bulk of the supporting now, paired with Viktor’s legs tight around Jayce’s waist, so Jayce frees a hand and rubs the pads of his fingers into the slickness between Viktor’s thighs, draws narrow circles on his sensitive cock. He’s come close twice, now, Jayce knows, based on how Viktor’s voice almost cracked and how his body spasmed, so he thinks it won’t take long.
“Jayce—” It’s even quicker than that. Viktor goes off, twitching around Jayce’s cock with what marginal space he has to give, flooding his already sticky thighs and panting out desperate sounds of encouragement. By the time he’s rode out his orgasm, he’s settled further down, fully stuffed, muscles relaxed and pliable, body willing to take what they’ll give him.
“Fuck,” Giopara says. Jayce’s careful not to make eye contact because he might laugh at how relatable his counterpart sounds right now and kill the mood.
It’s clumsy at first; double penetration isn’t exactly part of Jayce’s rotation of skills and as much as Giopara likes to project reckless confidence it’s clearly not in his, either. But Viktor’s so fucking light in their arms, and so fucking wet, that it becomes effortless, drawing him up, fucking into him. And from his perspective, they can’t seem to do wrong—every thrust and rut and grind has Viktor gasping and chewing his lips and sinking his nails further into Jayce’s flaming skin.
Jayce spends an inordinate amount of time absorbing his partner’s blissed out expression, his half-mast eyes and inability to keep a blush down for anything, that it’s almost by accident that he notices how Viktor’s stomach looks stuffed on both ends. He’s felt himself fucking up into Viktor before with a curious palm, felt the way his slender body adjusted for Jayce, but he’s really never seen it distend and flatten out again.
“Viktor,” Jayce says, teeth gritted. “Fuck. You—”
Even fully overwhelmed, Viktor catches Jayce’s eyeline, drops his own gaze to his abdomen to watch himself get filled to the limit. And his eyes go so wide, so impressed, that Jayce chances his fingers back on Viktor’s cock to see how responsive he’ll get for him.
Extremely so, it turns out; Viktor groans and grinds down onto them, unable to keep his eyes off his swollen stomach. If Giopara’s envious of the frontal view, he doesn’t show it, his face pressed into the side of Viktor’s neck as he delivers each punishing thrust. Giopara’s gone a bit soft on Jayce, actually, and seems to be mouthing kisses into Viktor’s neck and exhaling praise that turns Viktor’s ears red and breathing deep as if he could take his Viktor’s smell back home with him.
Jayce tries not to think about what that means. Why Giopara likes his Viktor so much. Why he wanted to do this so badly in the first place. It’s knowledge trapped so finely between want-to-know and desperately-never-want-to-know that it’s worth pushing from his mind entirely, for now.
Especially once Viktor can’t take the pressure anymore, can’t take the direct friction from Jayce’s relentless fingering, and he goes off in their arms again, full-body shuddering, moaning their name, head tilted back and eyes glossy.
The three glasses of liquor have put in the work, Jayce thinks, but Viktor seizing up around him a second time is too much to handle. He stifles a groan into the free crook of Viktor’s neck, and it takes just a few more driving thrusts to fill him up. And Giopara, thankfully, follows Jayce’s lead for once.
It’s even clumsier work disengaging Viktor, and so gratuitously messy, but they clean him up and get him into bed. He’s not spitefully talkative, not holding onto his pride like he does after he has Jayce ruin him, but boneless and sweet and receptive. He lets himself be tucked in and doesn’t say anything when Jayce walks Giopara to the front door. Jayce isn’t sure why Giopara’s insistent on leaving, not sure where he’s supposed to stay if not here, but he also can empathize with the restless allure of exploring an adjacent timeline and doesn’t try to stop him.
They lean on the kitchen counter again, for old times’ sake, and Giopara’s still acting more subdued than the man he was most of the day. He’s chewing on the inside of his lip, a too-familiar thinking method, so Jayce asks, “What is it?”
Giopara narrows his eyes and exhales, slow. Obviously, he can’t say too much, Jayce knows that. And he doesn’t want to know too much, doesn’t want to lean into self-fulfilling prophecies and destructive self-sabotage.
“I was originally going to give you advice,” Giopara says. “On how to…handle him.”
“You sort of did,” Jayce offers.
Giopara snorts. “Not in bed, Talis. I can’t fucking believe you didn’t pick up on what he likes earlier than this. It shouldn’t take a break in the space time continuum to realize Viktor’s begging for someone to actually wreck him.”
Jayce considers arguing. But he’s pretty aware of his own lack of observational skills, and this is him in twenty years. A version, at least. He doesn’t really have a case.
“I had advice,” Giopara says. “But after seeing the two of you together…it’s pretty clear you don’t need it. Anything I’d tell you would only make things worse.” He seems disappointed, almost. “Whatever you’re doing—it’s right, Jayce.”
It’s the first time Giopara has called him by their first name.
“Our work is the most important thing to us,” he continues. “But you must have realized a lot earlier than I did that he’s the reason our work is as good as it is.”
Jayce snorts, now. “Maybe I see what you mean. He is the most important thing to me. Without a doubt.”
Giopara smiles, in the least condescending way he has all night. And he squeezes Jayce’s shoulder, and then he’s gone before Jayce can thank him. They’ll have some multiverse teleportation solutions to figure out together tomorrow, but for now Jayce needs to get back to the bedroom.
Viktor’s not asleep yet and reaches across the bed for Jayce when he crawls in next to him. Jayce holds his hand and admires his partner and prays that Giopara’s onto something when he says Jayce is doing right by him.
“Maybe he is kind of a lot,” Viktor says. His voice is heavy, eyelids barely staying open to meet Jayce’s hushed reverence. Jayce laughs, weak, and kisses the inside of Viktor’s wrist.
“He’s alright, actually.”