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At the top of a ruined world, the remains of what used to be a man sit, moss-covered hands still clutching the hilt of his Hextech hammer. A gentle breeze whistles through the shattered open skull, stirring the flowers and delicate tendrils of fungi that cover the spongy interior. Sunlight gleams off the ends of the skull’s golden shards, giving the illusion of a crown— a conquered king forced to kneel in defeat for an eternity.
Viktor’s cloak barely disturbs the tendrils of coral-like plants as he steps into this plane of existence but it still sends a flurry of butterflies towards the sky, spiralling away from the top of the Hexgate tower. The soft breeze lifts his hood slightly and he tilts his head back to feel the sun on his face. Jewel-like insects dance around him, iridescent wings catching the light as they flit back and forth. It is peaceful here in the eye of the storm, at odds with the devastation of the rest of the world just beyond the thin layer of angry cloud that rings the Hexgate.
He does not come here often as a rule. At first he was too focused on his mission, on curing the universe of all imperfections, driving further and further into the deluded pursuit of mad evolution. But then, when he’d stripped away all that made life beautiful, when he had been reduced to less than nothing, a dead god floating in a dreamless abyss—he had returned here, to Jayce’s side, begging for answers to questions that no longer existed. The sight of the blighted city below him with Jayce’s ruined figure above it all…it had broken him.
After he had scraped himself together, remade anew, he had returned again and again to kneel at Jayce’s side, as punishment or penance or some twisted attempt at both. But eventually his visits grew less frequent as he expended more and more of his energy searching through the golden threads of different timelines for something, anything, that would prompt a different outcome. Now he knows the monument to his great failure in the living corpse of his partner holds no more answers for him than any other corner of the worlds he’s walked through, and he finds if he spends too much time here he becomes—distracted.
There is humor in that, he thinks. Even now, even here, a literal shell of a man that he was, Jayce is a distraction. An immutable fact of the universe, perhaps.
Long, tattooed fingers brush over the remnants of Jayce’s brow, the fragile curve of his cheekbone. Unlike most of the other doomed inhabitants of this world, Jayce’s features have not been completely worn away to an abstraction of what they once were. Despite the exposure to the elements, despite the fragile, spongy porcelain material starting to crumble away around the nose, it is still recognizable as Jayce. No longer filled with the fiery, passionate intelligence and ambition to change the world that defined the man, a shadow of what he was in life, but he could not forget his face if he tried. Viktor kneels beside him, drawn closer to that face, hand trembling slightly as he leans in and—
He lifts his head sharply. Far below the Hexgate from across the ruined city a sound has caught his ear, amplified through the shimmering gold network of Hextech creatures that act as his eyes and ears in this world. Ah. The reason for his abnormal visit to this place regains his attention.
Jayce Talis has made his way out of the canyon.
—
The Hextech machines show him a fractured, kaleidoscope view of Jayce’s progress upwards, multiple eyes tracking him as he moves towards the Hexgates with single-minded purpose. He must see the creatures scuttling after him in the shadows but he mostly pays them no mind, only bearing and snapping his teeth like a feral dog in warning if Viktor sends one too close.
It takes him days to reach the base of the Hexgates—even with the implementation of the brace created from the remnants of his hammer Jayce still cannot move too quickly. He’s weaker now, body used to the rich meals of Piltover, where starvation is experienced only as fashion and never due to a lack of resources. Here Jayce has only subsisted off lizards, insects and rainwater for weeks; his muscle mass has deteriorated significantly and his mind clouded with not only the distortion of the anomaly but also simple hunger.
It is ironic, Viktor muses, that Jayce should suffer now from the afflictions that plagued Viktor in his first life as a human. It had not been his intention to maim him, to have him live through the same agony that Viktor had worked so hard to purge himself of. Truly he had not meant to send Jayce crashing to the bottom of the canyon at all, not just to spare him the suffering but because the risk was too high. A simple mistake could have destroyed everything—indeed, he catches the threads of timelines where Jayce’s head had smashed against a rock on the way down and he’d died instantly, or he’d mangled more than his leg and died of starvation at the bottom of the canyon, adding to the pile of Jayce’s that failed and damning their universes to the same fate as all the others. But here, thankfully, in the worldline that matters, the one that shines brightest and strongest that diverges from the rest, Jayce might be worse for wear but he has survived his ordeal.
And maybe it is a quirk of fate, maybe it is the reason this version of Jayce will succeed where all others failed and maybe it means nothing. But the weeks spent in this world rather than the days Viktor had initially planned to keep him here means that slowly, subtly, Jayce has…changed.
It is no coincidence why Viktor has brought him here, of all possible realities. This is the start of it all—the center from which the destruction of all universes spiral outwards like arms of a galaxy. And because of that it is where the anomaly at the heart of Hextech is the strongest, warping everything that comes into contact with it. The longer Jayce stays in this world, the more the distortion has had time to work its way into his system. It entered first through the open wounds on his hands and leg and over the course of the last few weeks it has wormed its way into his bloodstream and its hold grows stronger with every beat of his heart. He’s only accelerated it through consuming the animals of this world—the flesh that kept him from starvation riddled with the anomaly that is now slowly killing him.
Even now with all he has seen and knows and his goal to undo it, Viktor cannot help but think it is beautiful.
The distortion is working at a cellular level, a different type of alteration than the one experienced by the devotees Viktor had gathered to him in the depths of the Undercity so long ago. Those poor souls were overtaken almost fully from the very start, giving themselves over willingly and easily to Viktor’s will. Jayce is different, his mind resisting the pull of the golden web that tugs at his unconsciousness, but even he cannot resist forever.
The arcane resonance within Jayce sings with Viktor’s very being and he can see it as a light inside Jayce now, invisible to a normal human’s eye but shining brighter than the sun to Viktor. He hardly needs his creatures to track Jayce anymore. For the last few days he has been able to see the golden figure even from here, a speck growing brighter and brighter as he approaches.
He is close now, making his way across the ring of floating rock and debris that form a kind of stairway up to the top of the tower. The mundane changes that have happened to Jayce are more obvious the closer he gets—his smaller frame from the deterioration of his body, the pallor from weeks in the dark. However, even in this somewhat reduced state it is still a pleasure to watch the flex and pull of Jayce’s muscles as he heaves himself up over the side of another boulder, wind sweeping back his grown out hair, unaware of his invisible audience. He’s filthy, disheveled, now with a thick growth of beard—it’s a good look for him, Viktor thinks, one he should have sported earlier instead of the crisp, clean cut look he’d favored in his time as Piltover’s golden boy.
The thought…surprises him. He expected the response in his being to the Arcane within Jayce’s body, and certainly it is not new, this more base admiration for Jayce’s beauty. But it has been quite literally an eternity since he’d even contemplated something as mundane as physical attractiveness. His existence has stretched far beyond the limits of the human imagination, his form evolving from organic to mechanical to cosmic and back multiple times. Viktor might be closer to human now than machine but thoughts of physical…pleasure…have not manifested in this form. Even prior to his evolution he’d tried to diminish physical sensation, the demands of his body secondary concerns to the pursuit of intellectual heights, the scientific drive to achieve greatness superseding all. Pain had been a constant, but pleasure was a restricted resource, only allowing small doses and never intersecting with his relationship with Jayce. He’d not been immune obviously, memories coming back to him now across the centuries of those years spent watching Jayce in their shared lab—stripped to his undershirt and covered in soot and grease from the forge, coming back late from another fundraiser smelling of various perfumes and colognes with expensive booze on his breath and tie half undone, leaning over Viktor at the workbench with a warm hand on his shoulder and hip pressed to his side, murmuring in his ear “Vik, you should have been there, needed my partner with me, missed you—”
Viktor sucks in a sharp breath abruptly, pulled back to the present, away from memories from a different life. The man he remembers is long dead, a husk kneeling at Viktor’s feet, yet still has such a hold over him.
Distraction.
He closes his eyes, withdrawing into another plane to wait while the man below leaps over a gap in his path, climbing steadily higher.
—
He does not know how long it takes Jayce to reach him, but he can sense the moment the man’s knees hit the ground in front of his alternate self’s corpse. Viktor pulls his mind back from the endless isolation of the cosmos and with a sweep of his cloak coalesces back at the top of the Hexgate. He watches, silent, as Jayce stares at the pale, desiccated hands still clutching the handle of his hammer.
“This is where it all started, isn’t it?” Jayce’s voice breaks the silence, cutting across the gentle bird song and hum of insects. He keeps his head bowed so Viktor cannot see his expression, greasy bangs obscuring his face. “The end of Piltover. Because of Hextech.”
Furious golden eyes meet his.
Fascinating, Viktor thinks. For most of their acquaintance, Jayce’s eyes had been hazel—beautiful, of course but nowhere close to the molten gold they are now. The Arcane has clearly sunk deep into Jayce’s very being—the golden light that Viktor had watched from afar now blazing so strong and pure through his body that it almost obscures his physical features. If left unaltered, this will leave Jayce in the same state as his alternate self—It is a process that calls so strongly to Viktor he almost, almost hesitates in this path. But no, this is the answer, this is the end result he has worked so hard for across all the countless universes and timelines, and he will not be swayed no matter how beautiful the Arcane calls from within Jayce’s blood.
“Why did you ever give me this?” Jayce demands, clutching at the runestone he has worn at his wrist for as long as Viktor has known him. He remembers—a figure, standing at the edge of a ruined building, outlined by the city lights, ready to jump. Handing the leather bracelet out in offer of a partnership. Twice now, he has given Jayce that crystal and saved his life. The crystal glimmers, faintly responding to the Arcane pulsing beneath Jayce’s skin. “Why?”
Viktor hesitates. He had intended to let the apocalyptic world sink its teeth into Jayce but briefly, to show him the cost of failure and send him back with his mission—one last promise from his former partner to finish what they started so very long ago. He had not intended to reveal himself but now, seeing Jayce up close, he finds he has no other option. The wrong word here, the wrong move and Jayce’s focus will turn to anger which could destroy them both and damn millions—billions of souls in the process.
And he has been so, so lonely.
“It doesn’t have to go this way, right?” Jayce’s tone is bargaining now, his glare once again fixated on the smooth, unmoving face in front of him. “Just tell me there’s a chance.”
That decides it. What Jayce needs right now is not the mystic hero of his childhood who showed him the wonders of magic and saved him and his mother from a frozen death on a mountain. What he needs now is the same as what Viktor has always needed—his partner.
Slowly, cautiously, Viktor turns, finally facing Jayce straight on. He tilts his head to bring his face into the light and he sees Jayce’s eyes widen, and hears his soft gasp. But to his slight shock the surprise in Jayce’s eyes is fleeting and gives way to understanding in the next breath. Had he somehow known? Had Jayce always known? Impossible, but the look he is giving Viktor now seems to indicate…
It has been a long, long time since Viktor questioned anything, but of course it is Jayce who brings him one last puzzle.
“I thought I could bring an end to the world’s suffering. But when every equation was solved…all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude.” He sighs. He has ruminated for lifetimes on the words that both Jayce and his younger self needed to hear, never quite landing on the right ones. He finds them now. “There is no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit. In all timelines, in all possibilities…only you can show me this.”
Jayce drops his gaze, then raises it again just enough to stare at the corpse in front of him. Viktor can see his mind working, running through his own memories of the day on the mountain, the crystal that had been dropped into his gloved hands, their second meeting on the ledge of his ruined dormitory and the start of it all. Their first frantic breakthrough Hextech, the wondrous joy they’d both felt floating through the stabilized field of magic.
Viktor had destroyed the universe to bring magic to everyone, then destroyed and remade himself in order to harness it. Now he stands at the top of a wasteland looking at the one man his magic had truly saved. It took Viktor losing everything to truly understand the cost of magic, but for his other self, the one still caught up in his pursuit of ultimate perfection, there is still time. This Jayce will do what the Jayce of this world could not, what Viktor could not.
Viktor plants his staff in the ground, little tendrils of fungi curling up to hold it in place before he rounds the kneeling figure between them. Jayce’s eyes track his easy gait, unhindered by pain. He comes to a stop by Jayce’s side, forcing him to tilt his head even further back to maintain eye contact. Jayce’s eyes flick back and forth across his face and the anger is gone now. It’s replaced by the same look he’d had as a child after Viktor teleported him and his mother from the mountaintop—the same look he’d given him after Viktor had met him in his ruined dorm, after their first breakthrough in stabilizing Hextech, after Viktor had been resurrected by the Hexcore. He did not always have a name for it, too caught up in his own ambitions to devote attention to it—but he does now. Wonder. Reverence. Awe. That is it—Jayce has always looked at him with a quiet, overwhelming awe.
Viktor reaches out a hand, unable to stop himself from touching. He intended to rest it on Jayce’s shoulder, to kneel down beside him but before he can do that Jayce lets out a soft exhale and all but throws his head into Viktor’s open palm. He slumps, face pressed into his hand like an obedient dog greeting its master, hungry gaze trained on Viktor’s face.
“Jayce,” he says, voice soft now. Jayce lets out another wounded noise, bringing his hand up to clutch the one Viktor still has pressed against his face. Then, astonishingly, he turns his face and brushes cracked lips to Viktor’s palm before gripping the hand and pressing his whole forehead into it, curling his entire body towards Viktor.
For weeks Jayce has been working with a single purpose—driven by fury and Arcane rot coursing through his blood and a touch of insanity, and now that he has reached his goal he slumps like a puppet with its strings cut. Viktor recalls that Jayce was always a tactile creature—like earlier, memories from so long ago return to him again of Jayce pressing warm hands to his side when moving past him in the lab, bumping shoulders when he wanted Viktor’s attention, playful noogies that were just a touch too gentle to be true roughhousing when he felt Viktor was being too much of a prick. Jayce had also sought comfort from Councilwoman Medarda in times of emotional distress—never going so far as to be blatant about their sexual relationship in front of Viktor but it was obvious in the way he moved around her, hands on her hips and waist, easy kisses and unhindered affection. Viktor can identify now what his younger self shied away from naming when he’d caught glimpses of it. He’d tried deflecting it as envy, of Jayce for being beautiful and whole and finding a partner as beautiful as himself—but the object of his jealousy was never Jayce himself.
Strange, to still feel so bitterly jealous of a woman who has been dead for centuries.
The point is, Jayce craves physical contact. And he has been denied it for weeks. Even in the best of circumstances the first gentle touch of another being would be overwhelming—and Jayce has not been in the best of circumstances. Shudders run through his whole frame. He’s not crying but he sounds close to it, sucking in deep breaths and choking on the exhales. Viktor worries he might be hyperventilating.
“Please,” Jayce gasps.
”Jayce,” Viktor tries again. “You must understand. I brought you here to show you—”
“I know,” Jayce interrupts. “I know—you need me to, to stop it. I can go back. I’ll stop it. I’ll show him, I’ll save h—I’ll stop him if I need to, I can do it. I just…”
Viktor watches, entranced, as Jayce takes his hand and presses it to his cheek again. Then slowly, eyes closed like he’s praying, Jayce brings Viktor’s hand back along his cheek, up across his temple and presses it against his hair, holding it there in a clear request. Viktor tightens his grip automatically as Jayce leans even further into him, forehead now pushed into the folds of his cloak bunched at his hip. Jayce lets out a deep sigh and Viktor feels it, hot and heavy, through layers of fabric.
“I just want…” Jayce hesitates. Viktor’s hand twitches in his hair, eyes wide and hanging on every word. He has not felt like this in longer than lifetimes. In mere seconds, with hardly any movement Jayce has reduced him to a shaking mass of desire, ripping furiously through his body and leaving him utterly ruined. Jayce brings his other hand up and hesitates again, hovering before his fingers twitch and he places it on Viktor’s thigh, curling around the taut muscle. He looks up and if Viktor thought he was undone before, the sheer want in his eyes is enough to unravel his very atoms. Jayce licks his lips, and Viktor’s eyes trace the movement. For all that Jayce’s actions are confident, his voice stutters, hesitant and unsure. “Do you—are you still—would you still want—”
”Yes,” Viktor breathes, unable to wait any longer for Jayce to spit out the request. “Please, Jayce, yes, anything.”
Jayce sucks in a harsh breath, as if he’d expected a rejection. Viktor might have become a god who destroyed multiverses but there is no power in the fabric of reality that would stop him from saying yes to Jayce Talis on his knees. Something in his face must convey this because Jayce’s eyes harden with determination, his desire crystallizing into action. He brings the hand not on Viktor’s thigh to his hip and pulls the cloak back, his gaze going from Viktor’s face to where the fabric of his pants is bunched around his very obvious erection.
“Oh,” he breathes—again as if in surprise. Foolish man.
Viktor uses his grip on Jayce’s hair to bring his attention back to his face. Jayce obeys his unspoken command easily, face turning towards him like a flower to the sun, golden eyes blinking up at him through long dark lashes. Viktor has seen the birth of entire universes and they could not compare to the beauty of the sight below him. He does not insult Jayce further by asking him if he’s sure, as was his first intent. His hypothesis confirmed, no further observation or experimentation required. Besides, Jayce’s mind is fragile right now and what he does not need is talk. What he needs is a task. A command. Something to ground him in the moment. Viktor can do this for him.
He turns Jayce’s head back towards his crotch and holds it there, using his other hand to quickly free his straining erection. “Open,” he says before he can doubt himself and once again Jayce follows the order beautifully. Viktor guides his cock to rest at the swell of Jayce’s bottom lip, not quite intending to tease them both but still hesitant—and gasps when he feels the hot swipe of a tongue against the head of his dick. Jayce’s eyes meet his again, a glint of mischief there now. Viktor punishes his eagerness by pushing forward and does not stop until he feels the head of his cock hit the back of Jayce’s throat.
It leaves them both shaking.
Jayce gazes up at him, cracked lips stretched wide around his length, all traces of playfulness gone and only the raw wanting need remaining. Viktor keeps his grip firm in Jayce’s hair and draws his hips back before thrusting his cock back into the hot wet heaven of Jayce’s mouth.
“Good boy,” Viktor murmurs, again before he can think to stop himself. The moan that reverberates from Jayce’s throat and through his dick catches him off guard, almost sends him tilting forward and he clutches at Jayce’s hair for support. Jayce’s eyes are rolled back into his head and he is—yes, he’s now moved one of his hands to palm at his own erection. “Jayce,” Viktor’s legs might be jelly but he puts a layer of steel in his voice. “Hands on my hips. Do not touch yourself.” Jayce’s eyes fly up to meet his again and he looks sort of ridiculous, mouth full of cock and hand frozen in between his legs. Viktor eases up the grip on his hair a fraction. “Nod if you understand.” Jayce nods as much as he can and places his hand back on Viktor’s hip.
Viktor regrets setting aside his staff now—he had been arrogant to set it aside, not needing it for mobility any longer but it would be useful to have something to brace himself against—ah. His flailing hand catches at the hilt of the upright hammer and he curls his fingers around it, using that to take more of his weight while he begins to fuck Jayce’s mouth in earnest.
He sets a brutal pace but Jayce takes it well, holding still as if he were made to be used like this. Viktor knows he will not last long—if the mere thought of physical pleasure was enough to rattle him, the actual sensation of Jayce’s hot, tight throat around his cock is going to have him undone in an embarrassingly short time. He also knows that he will not be sending Jayce back to his original world without fucking him, and having made that determination he is eager, almost impatient, to get to the next step.
He grunts once on the next thrust, a hand tightening in Jayce’s hair all the warning he gives before he pulls back and spills over Jayce’s tongue and lips. Jayce presses forward, pushing against his hand to eagerly swallow down as much of Viktor’s release as possible. Viktor blinks down at him, watching his tongue dart out to lap up the white smears of semen on his lips and chin.
He softens his grip on Jayce’s hair as he pulls out completely, turning it into a caress. “Incredible,” he murmurs, petting through the tangled locks. Jayce leans into it, entirely unselfconscious and still a touch desperate, breath coming in short pants and sweat sliding down his brow. He has never seen this side of Jayce, not truly. He caught glimpses of it, when he would praise Jayce for a brilliant insight or when Mel would fix his tie before a gala. He has seen Jayce vulnerable and broken and lost and despairing, has seen him furious and passionate and lovesick and exuberant but nothing close to this—this desperate yearning, the raw desire for Viktor. If he had the time he would strip Jayce naked, lay him out in the grass and spend hours taking him apart entirely before piecing him back together but after weeks at the bottom of the canyon there’s no way Jayce has the stamina for that right now. He’s already delayed enough on sending Jayce back—
“Viktor.” The rasp from Jayce’s abused throat breaks him out of his thoughts. “Viktor, please, I need—”
Viktor looks down, to where Jayce is still obediently clutching at his hips, avoiding what must be a now painful ache between his legs. “Oh, Jayce,” Viktor murmurs softly. “Of course, my friend. I will give you what you need.”
Jayce’s face creases in relief and he lets out a pathetic whimper. It is an exquisite sound, one that will stay with him for the rest of his existence. Viktor pulls his hood back, letting him see his face fully and is rewarded for it with the way Jayce’s expression softens.
“You got old,” Jayce says, and the awe is back—Viktor knows it is not an insult. He is seeing a man who was never meant to live more than a few decades at best with gray in his beard, long hair streaked with silver and crinkles around his eyes. Those incredible golden eyes well with tears—Jayce cried easily, he remembers, having thought it strange in the past but now finds it beautiful.
Viktor reaches a hand out, brushes his thumb against a tear as it falls from Jayce’s lashes. Jayce leans into it again as he did before and oh—Viktor cannot help but kiss him now. He falls towards Jayce just as Jayce surges up to meet him, bodies colliding and sending both of them sprawling in the grass in a tangle of limbs. Jayce whines into Viktor’s mouth, his big, warm hands grasping at Viktor’s waist as he rolls onto his back, pulling Viktor on top of him. Viktor leans down into the kiss, hitching a thigh in between Jayce’s legs to brace himself only to gasp as Jayce immediately takes the opportunity to rut against him, humping his leg like an untrained dog.
“Ah, ah,” Viktor admonishes. He pulls his leg away and Jayce growls in annoyance. He doesn’t chase after Viktor, though, he holds himself back obediently even as his hips judder like they’re still seeking friction. “You will come when I say you can.”
“Sir yes sir.” Jayce’s tone is far too breathy to land the joke, and he bites his lip as he realizes how sincere he sounds. Viktor does not allow him to get too caught up in the embarrassment, rewarding him with another filthy kiss before he pulls back to implement his plan of fucking the man beneath him senseless.
Back in his first life, he had never really contemplated the task of undressing his partner. He hadn’t needed to, really—Jayce spent enough time half-naked between the lab and the forge, unselfconscious with his body in the way that beautiful people tend to be. Now though, he pictures what it would be like to have Jayce divested of all that covers him, to have him completely bare to Viktor’s eyes alone. How to achieve that, though, is another story. The logistics of it are difficult—Jayce needs the leg brace now, for one thing, and the sticky bandage suffused with the Hextech distortion would be painful now to remove not to mention the various buckles and buttons of Jayce’s clothes and—
Oh. Viktor is an idiot.
With a wave of his hand and a short burst of electric blue light from the crystals at his wrists, he has Jayce completely naked—save for his brace and the bandages holding his skin shut, causing Jayce to squeak in surprise as his body is suddenly exposed to the elements. Viktor has cleaned him up slightly too, getting enough of the sweat and grime from the last few weeks off his skin so as not to leave him entirely uncomfortable.
As his hungry eyes drink in the sight beneath him, he admonishes himself for not thinking of this sooner. He’s had the power of the Arcane at his fingertips for longer than entire realities have existed but in the throws of passion he completely forgot the existence of the very thing that started this all—magic. Incredible, really, what mere arousal will do to a man.
Jayce is gawking up at him in astonishment, Viktor notes as he chuckles to himself. The man is blushing now but it doesn’t seem to be in self consciousness—his legs are spread even wider than before, cock dripping with precum and making a mess in the dark trail of hair covering his belly—but in arousal. Knowing his partner, Viktor’s little magic display is what has ratcheted up the level of desire. Viktor preens a little at that, as ridiculous as it is. It was a fraction of what he’s capable of, what he has used his power for, but he still finds holding Jayce’s attention with such a simple trick to be exhilarating. The small thrill reminds him of the early days of his ascension to power although the underlying motives had been far grander than simply impressing Jayce. Maybe, though, there had always been a kernel of that underneath his great dreams. He shakes it off. Too late now to think about the path that led them here.
Viktor spreads Jayce out over the ledge of the platform they’re on, adjusting him so his leg is bent slightly over the edge and won’t seize up. As eager as he is he can’t help but tease Jayce a little now that he has the ability to touch as much as he wants. He runs his fingers through the soft dark hair that has regrown over Jayce’s chest, tweaking his pert nipples as he does so and drawing more breathless whines out of Jayce.
He continues exploring, further down Jayce’s torso, over his too-lean stomach and the hip bones that jut out prominently. There is no extra padding to Jayce now, no soft layer to hide the taut muscle and he digs his hands into Jayce’s thighs. He skips over the straining cock and balls entirely, earning him several colorful swears but he is no longer trying to tease his partner. He reaches his goal as he spreads Jayce open, hitching one thigh over his hip and holding him open. Jayce shudders in anticipation. Another simple trick of magic and Viktor’s fingers are coated in a slick, odorless substance. He pauses to make sure Jayce is comfortable—all he gets is a gritted Viktor I swear to all that is holy if you do not fuck me right now—and then pushes a finger into Jayce’s hole.
Jayce’s body arcs beautifully, his cock jerking and balls tensing—but he does not come. What a wondrous gift he is. No wonder every Piltover ghoul wanted their claws in him if they saw even a hint of this beautiful talent for obedience, this need to submit. Mel Medarda succeeded in capitalizing on that in most timelines where Jayce lived to create Hextech, none of the other council members had her knowledge or skill in manipulation, grown too complacent in their comfort to compete with the hungry ambition of the Noxian. It was one of the things Viktor had, well, not admired about her but he’d understood it, even as he railed against the path she had started Jayce on.
He adds another finger into Jayce now, scissoring him open as he puts all thoughts of Mel out of his mind and focuses instead on the intoxicating sight before him. It is obscene, to have Jayce completely naked and writhing on his fingers like this while Viktor is still mostly clothed, but he revels in it. He leans further over Jayce, kissing him again and Jayce gasps into it when Viktor crooks his fingers just so, brushing his prostate.
A noise above them catches his attention, the creak of metal loud in the calm. He glances up, looking briefly at the remains of his Jayce but the body is still in the same frozen position it has been for centuries. The distortion of Hextech has been eating away at this world for eons, it must have been something in the tower’s structure shifting, but there is no danger in it collapsing yet. He turns his attention back to the flesh and blood Jayce panting and writhing below him, alive and shining golden with it. He adds a third finger and Jayce’s back arches as his hole spasms.
“Vi—Viktor,” he pants. “I’m close, I’m—please—”
“Come for me, Jayce,” Viktor allows, voice soft as he curls his fingers again to bring Jayce over the edge. At his words Jayce immediately orgasms, shooting white almost up to his chin, his cry almost sounding pained with it. It echoes around the clearing, drowning out any other noise around them.
“Good, very good. Well done,” Viktor murmurs. He withdraws his fingers, watching in fascination as Jayce’s hole clenches briefly as he does so, unwilling to let him go.
It’s not the only part of Jayce that clings. Viktor starts to pull back but Jayce clutches at him frantically. “No, please don’t leave me,” he gasps, wrapping his good leg around Viktor to prevent him from moving further. The vehemence, the almost blind panic in Jayce’s voice catches Viktor off guard—he had not meant to leave, was just adjusting slightly for a better position. He had forgotten, almost, how fragile Jayce’s mind is currently. He needs to act fast, to reassure his partner that he is here and has not left him. He leans back in, pushes his open trousers further down to give him slightly more leverage without moving outside the cage of Jayce’s body as he does so. Without any further delay he leans forward and lines himself up with Jayce’s hole, no teasing this time as he pushes his cock into the slick wet heat in one swift motion.
He sinks in with a groan. “I will not leave you, Jayce Talis,” he says, curling his body forward until he’s seated to the hilt, hips flush with Jayce’s ass. He’s close enough to press his forehead to Jayce’s while the other man gasps and shudders under him. They stay like that for a moment while Jayce adjusts, Viktor’s pale eyes taking in every small twitch of his facial expressions from inches away. Truly, he also needed a moment to take in the way Jayce is clenched tightly around him, walls flexing softly but never quite releasing him. Despite having just achieved orgasm he is already on the brink of another.
The distraction of trying not to shoot off immediately like a virginal adolescent is why he does not catch the shift in Jayce’s emotions immediately. When he glances back to Jayce’s eyes he sees tears gathered on his lashes again, face creased in agony. Before he can panic about potentially having hurt Jayce, he catches what he is saying.
“He, the other you—he left,” Jayce mumbles. “He’s done with me, I couldn’t convince him…what if I can’t save him?”
“Oh Jayce.” Viktor holds him close, pressing kisses to his lips and then moving to kiss away the tears now streaking down Jayce’s cheek. He needs to turn Jayce’s mind away from thoughts of failure, and he has a very immediate solution to that.
He draws back, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into him. Jayce cries out but not in pain, his expression changing almost comically fast. “You will not fail,” Viktor commands. “Look at me, Jayce.” He waits until Jayce meets his eyes before he withdraws and slams into him again. Jayce’s mouth drops open, overwhelmed, all protests and concerns silenced as Viktor shifts the angle slightly and hits the spot his fingers had found earlier, nailing it with each thrust.
“You will not fail,” Viktor repeats, and Jayce sobs, cock twitching between their bodies. He is also on the edge again, brought there from the repeated thrusts on his prostate and the friction on his cock.
“Promise me,” he says, driving relentlessly into Jayce.
Jayce is barely able to form words now, but his mouth works silently until he manages to gasp, “I promise—I promise, Viktor.”
Viktor presses their foreheads together. It’s almost too close for the angle his hips are driving in but he can’t help the need to be as close as possible. He’d burrow his way into Jayce’s broad chest if he could.
They’re both on the edge, but Jayce is clearly clinging to his earlier order. In deference to his beautiful obedience, Viktor doesn’t bother giving Jayce a verbal command this time. Instead he reaches up and wraps a hand around Jayce’s wrist, over the leather band that holds the runestone. The moment his hand makes contact with it a jolt of Arcane energy arcs through Jayce’s body, and he wails as his orgasm rips through him, even stronger than the last.
Viktor fucks him through it, his thrusts turning sloppy and eratic. Jayce’s hot clench around him is too much combined with the overwhelming symphony of magic coursing between them through the crystal at Jayce’s wrist and he follows Jayce over the edge with one more push, spilling deep inside him.
He stays there for a second, chest heaving. Eventually the thunder of his heartbeat dies down and the soft sounds of bird calls and insect buzzes reach his ears again. Jayce’s face is peaceful now, a calm serenity smoothing his features and partially easing the stress and fear that had clung to him for the last few weeks but revealing the exhaustion beneath. He begins to ease out carefully but Jayce makes a small noise of protest, clearly trying to stop Viktor from pulling out but too tired to do more than paw at him weakly. Viktor soothes him with a soft noise and leans down to brush his hair from his forehead, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. As he does so, a movement from above them catches his eye.
Insects are darting away from Jayce’s corpse at the top of the hill, but that is not what drew his attention. A couple of butterflies are fluttering upwards, dislodged from their perch atop the unmoving body that is—
Slowly, minutely raising its head.
Viktor watches transfixed as the smooth marble face rises, pale eyes rolling in their sockets to meet his own. There is no expression beyond what was frozen into that mask the minute this world ended but Viktor feels something from the lone figure, surging through a connection that has been dormant for ages. Grief maybe? Resentment? For fucking this other Jayce, or perhaps taking advantage of an alternate self? Is that Jayce even still capable of that kind of thought process? He had never done anything like this with his Jayce, or any other Jayce for that matter, keeping his interactions restricted to the moment on that mountain top in Jayce’s childhood but never making contact again until here.
The golden light flowing through Jayce’s body reacts suddenly and he gasps beneath Viktor. The Arcane flares again between them and now there is a third thread connecting them—emanating from the other Jayce. For a moment, they are no longer on top of the Hexgate but floating in the endless expanse of the cosmos, whirls of color and golden lights dancing around them. Jayce’s hair shines white like a dying sun, his body no longer just flesh and bone but now made entirely of the colorful warping patterns of the Hexcore. The crystal at his wrist is glowing, along with four strange dots of light that have appeared in a line across his forehead. The kneeling form of the other Jayce is also transformed here, the flora that had covered the body now brilliant nebulae that flare out from the back and shoulders like wings. The eyes too are changed—hollow now, open to the vacuum of the astral plane with two burning supernovas at the center of each that draw him in closer and closer until he feels minuscule in comparison, merely a speck before the giant that eclipses his whole vision—
Viktor reels back and is returned to the material plane, the vision gone. Beneath him, Jayce is human again and his eyes roll backwards as he gasps something Viktor barely catches—it sounds like thank you—before he promptly passes out in Viktor’s arms.
—
“Jayce.”
He keeps his voice low as his hand strokes gently through the dark shaggy head in his lap.
Jayce wakes slowly, dark lashes fluttering weakly against the bright sun as he regains consciousness. Viktor has him stretched out on the grass, head pillowed on one of Viktor’s thighs. He’d cleaned them both up with an easy sweep of his hands, redressing Jayce but letting him rest for a while, the first true sleep he’d had in weeks. Using magic to remove dried cum and conjured lube had never been in the scope of his ambitions while he plumbed the depths of multiple worlds to gain power and he wonders if his younger self would be so eager to continue down that path if he’d known what he’d eventually use their abilities for—it probably would have given him pause but not dissuaded him entirely. Unfortunately knowing his younger self, it may have even spurred him further onwards.
The runestones on his gauntlets chime gently with the movement of his hand. Jayce, more awake now, brings a hand up to play with one curiously. The glint of blue at his wrist responds to the crystal in his hand. Viktor catches his wrist, turning it to better examine it. He pauses for a moment, not wanting to reignite the vision that had happened last time he touched the crystal but it is still and quiet now, only a faint hint of residual energy still humming inside. He lets his fingers trace over the rune, reacting to the magic and briefly flashing blue in response. He sees Jayce’s eyes widen, then narrow in scientific curiosity, the gears of his mind starting to whir with a million questions.
“Unfortunately we do not have time for that discussion, my friend,” Viktor chuckles with regret. Jayce’s head droops back down in disappointment, and Viktor gives him a reassuring caress. “Would that I could show you the wonders I’ve seen…but you have a different path to walk, I’m afraid.”
“I know.” Jayce turns his head further into Viktor’s thigh and closes his eyes in regret. “I have so many questions but I…there’s one thing I keep coming back to.” He glances upwards, hesitantly. “You always saved us—me and my mom—on that mountain. Every time. Why?”
Viktor hesitates, his fingers tracing the rune again. “I have damned the world over and over again. I let my ambitions to rid humanity of all ills destroy everything I wished to save, including myself. There are things I cannot undo, courses I cannot alter. But there is no universe in which I do not save you, Jayce Talis.”
That is not the full truth of it, of course, but Jayce does not need to know that. Magic has limitations, and there is no undoing their original sin—the creation of Hextech—that sits rotting at the heart of the tangled web of timelines Viktor has navigated throughout the years. He cannot go back and undo the act that doomed everything, but he can adjust the path it takes and now, finally, he’s at the end of this journey. It is a shame that he cannot share more with Jayce, but he has already laid a heavy burden on his partner, he will not add unnecessary weight to it.
Jayce is still frowning, clearly not satisfied with that answer and perhaps sensing what Viktor has left unsaid. Always too clever for his own good. Viktor brushes a hand over his brow again. “Your Viktor…he is lost. He will try everything to convince you to join him in his cause—he does not want to do this without you but he will not stop until the world is as you see it here.”
Jayce closes his eyes as if in pain. “He’s dead, isn’t he. My Viktor. The man I knew.”
“If it helps you to think of him as dead, then yes. The human Viktor died on the floor of the council chambers, and what was resurrected by the Hexcore is…” He pauses.
“I killed him,” Jayce says bleakly. “I put him into the Hexcore, I did this to him.”
Viktor sighs.
“Come, my friend,” he says, and takes Jayce’s hand to haul him to his feet. He leads them back towards the crest of the hill and comes to a stop in front of the hammer. Jayce sways in place slightly, and Viktor reaches out to keep him upright. He rests his hand against Jayce’s face again, leans in and kisses him slow, soft. Jayce responds with a small, broken sound but he holds himself back from clinging to Viktor as he did before. Grief weighs heavy between them, for the men they’d both lost, for the task yet ahead of Jayce—Viktor knows he could very well be sending him to his undoing.
He draws back in increments, drops Jayce’s hand and steps backwards, the distance between them growing until he once again is standing behind the kneeling corpse. Jayce sways and drops to his knees again, their positions identical to where they started. As if nothing had happened.
Jayce shudders and closes his eyes, expression stormy, conflict written in the tangle of his strong brows. He draws in a deep breath, and when he looks up he is calm once more.
“Send me back,” Jayce says, steel in his voice. He has the vision now of what he is facing—the stakes if he fails. There is nothing the other Viktor will be able to do or say that will sway him from this path now.
Viktor reaches out and places the tips of his fingers on the shoulder of the corpse. There’s no immediate physical reaction but within the Arcane, their connection sings. Deep within the husk of a body, down through where it is fused to the tower, the Hexcore stirs and groans in response to his call. He can sense the pull of the anomaly within both Jayces, calling to him and each other.
The Hextech distortion has grown even more within Jayce during their short time here, accelerated by the proximity to the source. It spreads now not only through his leg but across his back and up his chest and neck. If he lingers here any longer, it will eat through his flesh just as it had the other version of himself and there will be two silent sentinels atop this tower rather than just one. Even if Viktor wanted to, he can no longer delay in sending him back.
The hammer creaks as it falls forward, the marble hands cracking open one finger at a time to release it as Jayce’s hand closes around the hilt. Viktor reaches out his hand, tugging at the Arcane anomaly thrumming through Jayce’s blood, drawing it to the surface and focuses it on the crystal at his wrist. Again, the crystals wrapped around his own arms dance in response, runes lighting up as he concentrates power within his palm. The brilliant nucleus of the anomaly opens around them.
Jayce hefts the hammer.
“I won’t fail.”
The crystal at Jayce’s wrist dances with light and then fuses with a sharp crack to the Arcane within his body.
“I swear it.”
Kaleidoscopic patterns burst in front of him, Jayce’s body hefted upwards and shuddering as he is warped, image doubled, the golden light within him a cacophony of noise as it responds to the Arcane swirling around them and then—
He is gone.
Viktor drops his hand, staggering backwards. He is panting slightly, the exertion leaving him shaking. He grabs at his staff, using it as a brace once more to keep himself from collapsing. He raises a trembling hand to his face, passing it over his eyes.
Before him, the corpse slumps forward. At first he thinks madly that it will stand but no, the movement within it is not of its own volition. He watches in amazement as tendrils of foliage and fungi start to snake over what is left of the brittle bones. They snap under the pressure, caving inwards into a shimmering dust. Before Viktor can even reach out, the entire figure has crumbled into a fine powder. The last thing to go is the face, hovering in the air briefly before it too dissolves. A gust of wind sends the dust scattering into the sky, swirling upwards and glittering in the sunlight.
Viktor shields his eyes as he watches the remnants of his partner drift away on the updrafts that surround the Hexgates they created so long ago. It is done. He closes his eyes, and waits for the end.