Chapter Text
The advertisements for surrogate omegas range from seedy to clinical. Backdoor, under-the-rug to doctor prescribed, but none of them will call the situation what it really is: fuck or die.
Viktor is already dying. Technically. He isn’t terminal, per se, but he’s one or two prescriptions away from it. One paycheck. One fall. It doesn’t matter; he’s teetering on the edge of a very long tightrope called life.
He’s never been the type of alpha to experience ruts, not like others do, but a hormonal imbalance is the least of his concerns. It sits at the bottom of a long list of health conditions that are only getting worse. Then, after the particularly nasty results of a blood draw, his doctor sits him down, explains the benefits of the new and improved service his insurance is now willing to pay for, and things change. Suddenly, his hormones are the problem. Or, more accurately, the solution.
“You should try it,” his doctor says. “With all that you’re dealing with, what have you got to lose?”
If anything, it would bring him comfort. A reprieve from the aches and the pains. It would give him someone to talk to. Someone to touch. It would give him company.
A surrogate mate, but just for the time being.
He huffs as he flips through the hefty informational packet. If he decides to go through with the “treatment”, he’ll be sent a sampling kit and will choose an omega by scent.
“I haven’t had a rut in years,” he tells his physician. “I don’t see what the benefit of something like this would be.” The service is said to improve all sorts of conditions, mental health, physical, or otherwise.
“When presented with a healthy omega, that could change. It would be good for your system to experience this sort of regulating event. You need the strength a successful rut can give you.”
“Strength? They’re exhausting.” He flips past an image of a fabricated family. An alpha with their surrogate mate, smiling as they hold hands on the beach.
“Momentarily. Then you will produce all sorts of beneficial hormones, signals for your body to be the best it can be for your new mate.”
“And then we will be separated.”
“Yes, there is the inevitable separation. But the benefits outweigh that small setback. You won’t lose what you gain.”
Viktor hums in consideration, flipping the last page back and forth, but not really reading it. “I will consider it.”
His doctor sounds pleased. “That’s all I ask,” she says warmly.
The sampling kit arrives in the mail a week later. The surrogates are kept anonymous, listed only by moniker; colors to come off less inhuman than something like a number would make them. Viktor is given various options such as baby blue, dandelion yellow, and peach fuzz pink.
It’s all rather… soft. Tame for what it is supposed to be. They are selling surrogate sex, and yet it’s presented like choosing a paint color for a baby’s nursery.
Each small scent patch is labeled with a color. Little square clippings that Viktor can smell even before he opens the box. They've been dampened, yet it is still overwhelming, like being in a room full of the most fertile omegas, all slicked up and dripping. He winces as he opens the box. There are so many to choose from.
The first patch he smells is a pale yellow—lemon bar—and it's far too sweet. He is fond of sweet scents, but it's sickly, almost acidic. He pulls the silky slip of fabric away from his face, flipping past several that he can scent even from a distance, battling one another for attention. They are all too sweet, too sharp, cloying, artificial. That is until he reaches the end and lands on deep, silky red cloth.
Ruby. It isn't off-putting. They say the scents that are the most pleasing belong to those who are the most compatible, but this one— this one hardly smells like an omega at all, or what corporate cronies try to sell as the scent of an omega. No, this one's natural. It's clean. Refreshing, even. Like fresh sea air, rainwater, and clean skin. There's a sweetness to it, certainly, but a sweetness like that of a ripe berry, the tart juice of an orange dripping down a sun-kissed wrist. Viktor inhales, and it isn't enough. He can feel his heart rate increasing. It smells like fire.
Ruby.
That's the one, a soft red patch of fabric he can fit in his palm.
Maybe the so-called treatment isn't such a scam as he thought. The instructions say that once he's found a match to request the surrogate through the service app, but Viktor finds himself frozen with the sample held up to his face, lip curled, saliva pooling in his mouth. A shiver runs down his spine, and he is suddenly very aware of how his body is doing things he never permitted it to do.
No one could tear that fabric sample away from him if they tried.
This must be it, he thinks. The vigor his doctor was talking about. The response to a remarkable scent, the mate Viktor has been missing.
The request form only asks a few questions, such as where, when, and for how long, with treatment options lasting up to three whole months. He doesn't know anything else about the surrogate, their name, age, height, or even primary gender. All he knows is that they are an omega and will be his pretend mate for however long he decides.
The depths of that pretending, he has yet to figure out.
Your selection has been confirmed.
You’ve chosen: Ruby.
The confirmation is sent both to himself, and his doctor, who responds that she’s delighted he’s chosen to go through with the treatment after all.
Viktor looks around at his home. There is a spare bedroom, but he doesn’t suppose they’ll be needing that. If they are to be mates, they’ll be sleeping in the same bed, waking up together in the mornings, sharing meals, sharing a life.
What will this stranger think of him? Have they done this before? How many mates can an omega stand to lose before it drives them to genuine despair?
The questions Viktor would normally spend days ruminating on fade into the recesses of his mind. He can’t think. A brain fog takes over. The door to his bedroom clicks shut behind him and his hand is in his pants as soon as he sits on the edge of his bed.
He exhales shakily. So much relief from just a small touch. He’s sensitive, more so than usual. The pain that normally distracts him isn’t so strong. With the patch in one hand, torn from the page of the sampling kit, and his hard cock in the other, he works himself to near completion, masturbates like he hasn’t since he was a late bloomer, and it feels good. It’s indulgent. It’s everything he needs in the moment, and his body thanks him for it.
“Fuck,” he gasps, cock slippery already from how excited he’s gotten. He strokes himself with increasing speed and grip only to startle himself into stopping when he feels the subtle swell of a knot at his base.
He hasn’t popped a knot in a decade. He didn’t know if he still could. Delighted, incredulous laughter bubbles up as he masturbates with increased fervor, rocking up into his fist, closing it around the hard swell until it isn’t enough. His fist isn’t warm enough, or tight enough; it isn’t what he needs.
He comes with an embarrassingly broken sound, but the orgasm is nothing but profound. It makes his legs shake, his chest tighten, his stomach light up with fire, and all the while that small scent patch is held up to his nose, his eyes tightly closed as if he tried hard enough to imagine it, the omega would be right there begging for his cum.
It sprays out of him at once, hitting him in the chin and the rest coating his dirty fingers.
Afterwards, he’s breathless but not tired. He has an energy that travels head to toe, a buzzing in his veins, and a feeling that if he doesn’t move now, he’s never going to be able to again.
He’s high. Elated. Floating in the air.
Ruby is going to drive him crazy if he doesn’t get his hands on them soon.
He has time to prepare. An omega would prefer a nicer environment, clean and welcoming—somewhere to nest. Viktor researches what exactly that entails, the perfect temperature (not too cold or too hot), the materials (his own clothing and blankets), what sort of foods are best to get them through a cycle together (something nourishing, with healthy carbs and protein), all things they'll need if they are in fact an appropriate match and induce one another.
Things could get mildly out of control, but he’s aware of the risks. All things considered, they are mitigated. The omegas are tested, backgrounds checked, and Viktor has been too. Everything is in order with his doctor, as well as anyone else who might ask about the overly fertile stranger living in his apartment.
He cleans, stocks his fridge, and goes to his appointments. Takes time off work as necessary. Then the time comes, the day he is finally going to meet his new surrogate mate for the next several months.
He has to remind himself that “Ruby” is a professional. She, or he, knows what they’re doing; they can answer his questions, guide him through the process, all he needs to do is sit back and let his body do what it’s naturally inclined to. And then, once all of this is over, he’ll be healthier, as alleged by this company.
The only problem is that Viktor can smell them before they even knock on the door. It’s as bright as a flash of lightning and as loud as the resulting thunder. He opens the door, and the man standing on the other side of it is not all who he was expecting. For one, he's tall. Easily over six feet. His shoulders are broad, his hair in loose waves, and the lower half of his face covered with dark stubble.
“Are you Viktor?” he asks, the same way the nurses and doctors do at his appointments. Viktor half expects to be asked to rattle off his birthdate in succession.
But he can't, because he's frozen. He can’t move. He stands there, leaning on his cane, and he realizes with horror that he’s drooling.
“My name is Jayce. Are you—Oh.” Jayce is also alert. He knows that alphas can be dangerous, probably more than anyone, and holds his hands out in surrender. “Can I come in?”
Viktor can’t verbally respond to him, but he can step out of the way, opening the door wider for Jayce to follow him inside. He swallows, eyes never once leaving the stranger as he sets his bag down on the floor. Viktor presumed he would bring some of his own belongings, but it doesn't look like he packed much.
“I’m going to touch you, but if you don’t want me to, just pull away, okay?” He moves slowly enough for Viktor to react if he wants to. “It’s a normal response, but I haven’t seen one this intense before. You must be really pent up…”
A low growl comes from Viktor’s throat. He feels the vibrations as the omega, Jayce, gets close enough that his smell is intoxicating. Lip curled, it stimulates every neuron in Viktor’s brain. The most amazing thing he’s ever tasted, the most complex song he’s ever heard.
When Jayce stands so that they’re chest to chest, Viktor looks up at him with awe. He doesn’t feel like a powerful alpha, he feels like a child, helpless and damaged. Then the omega cups his face in his soft hands, and everything is okay again. His hackles lower, it's easier to breathe.
“Let me clean you up.” Jayce sounds distant, not unaffected by whatever pheromones Viktor is releasing. But instead of using his sleeve to wipe Viktor’s face, he leans in, and his tongue, warm and wet, swipes across Viktor’s jawline.
Viktor hisses at him.
“You’re vocal,” Jayce hums, little kitten licks and soft kisses peppered along Viktor’s jaw and chin, lower even, down to the pulse point in his neck. “You, um… if you want me to be vocal too, I can.”
“I haven’t even touched you,” Viktor says finally, relieved that his voice isn’t too shaky. Taste is as much of an indicator as scent is. Jayce must be gleaning what he can from Viktor’s saliva. Clever omega, wanting to know his new companion. He smiles shyly, licking his lips.
“You don’t have to for me to be affected.”
Hearing that makes Viktor throb with want. God, he’s like an animal. He feels entirely out of control, but it’s thrilling. It’s an invigorating feeling as Jayce licks the spit from his chin like it’s nectar.
“I can take care of you now, if you want.”
Take care of him. Viktor’s brow furrows. “I don’t need a caregiver.”
“No, I meant sexually.”
“Already?” “I’m your mate, aren’t I?” Viktor can hear the hope in his voice. It’s subtle, but it’s there. His hormones are as influential as Viktor’s, if not more so. Jayce doesn’t have the health issues he’s dealt with his entire life. He’s fertile. Strong. So god damn soft….
He yelps when Viktor grips him too hard. “Sorry, I just— Caught me off guard.” He pushes his hair behind his ear. “Where’s your bedroom?”
Viktor gestures down the hall. “Can you take a knot?”
“Of course I can.” Jayce sounds mildly offended to be asked, a cockiness shining through in his response.
“Good, because it is already—” A large hand suddenly squeezes him through his pants, and Viktor’s hips jerk forward of their own accord.
“Trust me,” Jayce says softly. “I can take you.”
Viktor gets dizzy. He is very, very dizzy. It's too much. All at once, his body is coming alive and his mind is overwhelmed by the sensations. Jayce is looking at him with pretty, bedroom eyes. Viktor can feel his heart beating against his chest, quick like a rabbit’s. Can feel his dick throbbing. The ground beneath his feet feels like it’s moving. Is it moving?
Suddenly, he’s… falling.
“Viktor!”
He blacks out.
When he wakes up, Jayce is hovering above him, feeling his temperature with the back of his hand. “You fainted.”
“I what?”
“I think we have to take things slowly. It’s a lot for you, if you haven’t done this before.”
“No, I can do it now. I’m fine— How did I get in my bed?”
“You’re not fine. This is a medical treatment.” Jayce must have carried him.
“Are you a doctor?”
He pulls away, and Viktor immediately misses his touch. “No, I’m not.”
“Then how do you know?”
Jayce frowns. “I can see it, Viktor. I don't want this to hurt you.”
“It is meant to hurt. I am not exactly in prime condition for anything this requires.” He gestures to his leg. The bruises on the back of his hand where they frequently take vials of blood. Who knows where Jayce left his cane, though he looks for it and finds it nearby, resting against the bedside table. How thoughtful.
“How many times have you done this before?” he asks carefully.
“A few times,” Jayce says, non-committal. His head is lowered submissively, hair falling into his face and covering his eyes. They’re an interesting color, gold from some angles but hazel in the sunlight. Now they look dark, weary. Viktor sits up slowly, so as not to make himself dizzy again. He isn’t hard anymore, but feels like he could be if Jayce touches him. His dick is waiting to jump back into action, eager to be needed for once in his life.
“What is it like for you?” Viktor asks. He can’t help but wonder about all the times Jayce has done this before; his past mates. Were they kind to him? Did they fight for him when it was time to leave? Did he cry?
“I… don't know what you mean.”
“This desire. Is it fabricated?”
Jayce sighs, dejected by the accusation. “No. It’s all me. I thought you could smell that.”
“You know my name.” He pauses, choosing his next words wisely. “I never told you.”
“I read your file before I arrived. It's part of the… process.” He winces, no better way of putting it. Then he places his palm over Viktor’s heart, feeling his heart rate settle. “See? It's not so bad when we slow things down a little.”
“You were the one so eager to find your way into my bed.” Jayce’s eyes widen, and the transparently embarrassed look on his face is frankly amusing. He opens his mouth, but Viktor beats him to it. “Do not apologize for doing what you came here to do. You said it yourself, you are as affected as I am by our… mutual predicament. I will admit, it's been years since I've had a rut, and I’ve never spent one with an omega before.”
“Thank you for telling me.” It's a canned response that Viktor doesn't like, something Jayce has told countless others already. It’s too impersonal to be genuine. “Since you wanted to know, most of the alphas I work with are… difficult. Let's just say, there's a reason they need this service in the first place.”
Viktor bristles. “There must be a reason you offer it.”
Jayce backtracks because he knows what Viktor is implying. If he’s damaged goods, then so is Jayce, to be unmated and unclaimed at his age. “I didn't mean it like that.”
Viktor gets up from the bed, reaching for his cane. “I'll leave you to acclimate.”
“Viktor, that's not what I meant.” But he gives up so easily. He doesn’t follow when Viktor leaves.
When he returns later in the evening, Jayce is asleep, nuzzled up to his pillow, and inhaling his scent. Viktor puts the blanket over him and brings his bag to place it near the bed, in case Jayce wakes in the night and needs something from it. Viktor does not know if he may require medication or something of the sort. Unfortunately, it leaves him with nowhere to sleep, other than right beside the stranger who is taking up most of the space on his mattress.
“Jayce,” he tries gently, to no response. The omega snores softly, and Viktor winces at that. He partially hopes that Jayce will wake before he finishes his nightly routine of cleaning up around the house and brushing his teeth. He changes into his outdated and frankly embarrassingly worn flannel pajamas in the bathroom—silly to be shy of his nude body, or the loose threads at the seams, considering they were previously planning to have sex with each other. What came over him, he can’t explain, but he is relatively back to his senses for now. Enough to feel awkward about sleeping next to a complete stranger in his bed.
He crawls in beside the human furnace, vulnerable without his leg or back brace to keep him supported. He feels like a turtle without its shell, or the raw meat inside an uncooked claw of a crustacean. It is not pretty, his pale, soft body, and Jayce is remarkable beside him, muscle and sinew and that smell, as enticing as fresh, ripe fruit, wrapping Viktor in a sensory blanket.
He can't help himself as he sinks his fingers into Jayce's hair. His fingertips find their way to his scalp and Jayce moans softly as Viktor increases the pressure. He moves, scooting himself closer so that his back is pressed directly to Viktor’s chest.
Viktor puts his arm around his waist, an experiment. As a result, Jayce sighs with relaxation.
He likes to be held, then.
Viktor likes holding him.
Despite the initial social mishap, Jayce takes to his role naturally. He is particular about the way he likes things, changing the direction of the toilet paper on the roll in the bathroom. Moving the couch to the other side of the room. All normal nesting behaviors, though surprisingly, he isn’t particularly clean. He leaves things in odd places sometimes and twitches when Viktor goes to move them. Viktor finds him in the kitchen, sniffing through the spices in his cabinets and throwing away the food that he deems unworthy.
He truly is beautiful to look at. His body as though it were sculpted, the curve of his back leading to the swell of his ass, and his thighs, flexing as he squats down to look in the lower cabinets. Viktor notices the way he’s careful around his left leg, and leaning more reliably on his right. When he looks closely enough, the outline of a brace similar to his own is visible through his pants.
Interestingly, they are quite alike.
“So, Jayce. Where are you from?” he asks, as the two of them work to put together dinner, a more well-rounded meal than Viktor is used to having. Normally, he won't slow down long enough to make one, but having Jayce around forces him to stop and smell the roses, or the pheromones, so to speak.
“I was born here.”
“In the city?”
Jayce nods, focused on his task. “My mother is from Ixtal.”
“And your father?”
“I don't know.”
That could have many implications, from bad to worse. Viktor tries not to jump to conclusions.
Jayce interrupts before he has the chance. “And you?”
“Zaun.”
He does a double-take. “You're from Zaun?”
Viktor finishes slicing a tomato, acid stinging at a small, unseen cut on his finger. “Yes.”
“How do you like it here?”
“It's different. We certainly don't make arrangements like this where I’m from.”
Jayce returns to rinsing their used measuring cups and dishes while he waits for a pot of water to boil. “So, if you can’t spend your heat with someone…”
“You die.”
“Huh.” He sounds incredulous, but doesn't let it faze him and returns to humming a song.
“You are in a good mood,” Viktor comments.
“Yeah, uh, I am actually. It feels nice.”
His scent changes, from sharp to sharper. Viktor notices the way Jayce eats when the food is ready: like he's starving. Increased appetite is a symptom of pre-heat. It makes up for the fact that an omega eats very little, if at all, during their heat.
After dinner, the two of them move into the living room where they sit awkwardly beside one another, a little too close, and a little too far. They have an ice breaker activity, of all things, provided by the surrogacy service. Viktor flips through the questions they are meant to ask one another, mundane things like “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” or “What song would you choose as your theme?” He doesn’t understand how any of it is meant to induce their cycles. It is anything but sexy and far from intimate. He sets the cards on the coffee table while Jayce pours himself more wine, and settles on formulating his own questions. Questions that are far more relevant to the situation.
With the help of his twice-empty glass and newly operating hormones, Viktor asks, “How often do you come?”
Jayce sputters, apologizes, coughs again. “When I’m in heat?”
“Anytime,” Viktor says slowly, watching Jayce’s lips as he tries to form an answer. “A normal amount, I guess.” He has a warm color to his cheeks.
“How often is that? Do you masturbate when I’m not home?”
“Did you masturbate to my scent when you chose me?”
Fair enough. Viktor can’t deny that he has. More than once. He shifts in his seat, legs spread a little wider.
Jayce continues, “I can smell it on your bedsheets, you know.” “And what do I smell like?” Viktor asks.
Jayce looks away, submitting to his direct gaze. “It’s difficult to describe.”
“Try it.”
“You smell… Well, you smell good. It’s strong. Like you, but more concentrated. Kind of… sterile, in a way. Metallic.” “You've just described a hospital,” Viktor deadpans.
“Yeah, I guess I have, sorry.” Jayce's laughter is beautiful, and he's done his hair up tonight, smoothed it in a way that it's not falling in his eyes. He looks rested, which makes sense for all the sleeping he’s been doing.
“It's alright.”
A comfortable silence falls over them, and Viktor checks the clock on the wall. It's still early in the evening, but quite dark outside.
Jayce fidgets with the leather on his left wrist. Viktor feels like he can hear him breathe.
He wants to feel it on his neck.
They haven't even kissed yet.
“How long will it take for your heat to induce?”
“A couple of weeks, if you're knotting me.” He says it like it’s nothing. “Having my scent around will trigger your rut, too.”
But Viktor sees him swallow, the way his eyes lower. He scoots closer. They both do at the same time. When Viktor leans in, Jayce doesn't pull away.
They both exhale together. A sign of relief, right into each other’s mouths. Everything clicks into place, and the gears start turning. God, Viktor loves his mouth.
When they kiss, their tongues brush. Shyly at first, but Jayce opens up for him easily, giving as much as he takes. He sighs like a precious thing, terribly sensitive when Viktor gropes at his chest. “Viktor…”
He tangles his fingers in Jayce’s hair. Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor’s waist, and it's good, it's perfect. They stay like that for what feels like hours, just tasting one another. Just kissing. Just breathing each other’s air.
Slow, Jayce had said, and Viktor needs the reminder. He needs to sink himself into Jayce agonizingly slow, like surfacing from an ocean. When they break apart, he's breathing hard, desperately needing air, but wanting the omega more than any molecule of oxygen.
He latches onto Jayce’s neck, feels his jaw tense with the urge to bite when he pinpoints the source of his flamelike scent.
And because everything in the world is cruel and unjust, there are too many layers between them. Jayce’s chest, covered. His stomach, covered. His body….
“How are you feeling?” Jayce finally whispers.
“Fine,” Viktor says against Jayce’s collarbone. He's pulled the fabric of his shirt aside forcefully to expose him. He releases his grip. “I'm fine. Are you?”
“I think so,” Jayce’s voice cracks, and Viktor is concerned about his uncertainty until he looks down and sees the damp patch on his sofa, completely soaked through.
“Oh.”
He touches the fluid, most of it already absorbed. It's slick, slippery, and shiny. iridescent, even in the low light.
Jayce watches intently as Viktor brings his fingertips to his lips. He wants him to taste it.
And Viktor does, he sucks his damp index finger. His eyes flutter shut. Fluid leaks from the tip of his cock.
Neither of them finish. Unless Jayce already has, Viktor is unsure. From the slick, he would guess that he has, but he can't see what else is in his pants, can't see the plump, flush skin or the cum leaking from his entrance.
In his fantasies, he does it without asking.
It isn't a question. He places one of the throw pillows on the ground to kneel on while the omega encourages him.
The thing is, Viktor has done this before, but it's been a long time. There is something about sliding to his knees in front of a stranger, and an omega nonetheless. Possibly the most beautiful being he has ever seen, and ever will see in his lifetime. He's thirsty for it. A parched man in the desert. In his imagination, Jayce wordlessly shifts his hips to help Viktor rid him of the lounge pants he's wearing. Beneath them, he's soaked through his boxer briefs. Viktor can see the seam of his cunt and his fat lips just waiting to be eaten.
He swears, doesn't even realize, feels like he's dreaming.
He would put his mouth on the omega, his eyes would water. The sound he makes would be obscenely desperate, but Jayce's pussy would swallow it. Would take every inch of Viktor's tongue, and his fingers, and his cock.
But he doesn't, because Viktor can't touch him. He's doing that thing again, frozen.
“I'm going to…” he gestures vaguely down the hall towards the bedroom where he plans to knot his hand. Probably to the scent Jayce has left on the pillows again. Probably because he isn't ready to have a mate, even with the perfect omega sitting right in front of him.
Jayce sighs when Viktor cups his face in his hand, rubbing his cheek against his calloused palm. He sounds so small when he asks, “Could we talk after?”
“Yes, of course. You may want to clean up. The shower is yours.” Viktor kisses him one more time.
“Wait,” Jayce says. “If you're going to…. I want to watch.
Viktor blinks at him. “You want to watch?”
“I want you to show me.” He shifts his hips in a way that Viktor isn't sure he's aware of. Offering more of himself up. “Show me your knot.”
“Here?” Viktor is already shaking with adrenaline. “I— that would be—”
“Too much?”
“Yes,” he wheezes. “I mean, it would be—”
Magnificent. There is nothing he wants to do more than have this omega's eyes on his cock, but—
“We’re taking things slow.”
“Slow,” Jayce repeats. “Yeah, slow.”
“Even slower than that.”
Jayce nods again.
“But I am supposed to knot you.”
“You are.”
“To induce your heat.”
“Yes.”
“I want to.” Viktor leans closer. “So maybe we could—”
“We could?”
Their faces are merely a centimeter apart when Viktor suddenly pulls away with a thought. “Gods, Jayce, I can't think.”
Whatever’s happening, he feels fuzzy. Drunk. He can't look away from Jayce, like a moth to a flame. Icarus flying far, far too close to the sun.
“If I can't watch you, let me taste you, then.”
It takes Viktor far longer than it should to realize what he's implying. “Are you sure?”
He knows that if he took his pants off, if he were to expose himself here, that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back, but this he can handle, if it's what Jayce really wants.
“Alright, just— give me a moment.”
Jayce sits up straight, back off the couch, while Viktor reaches towards his own crotch. He's still hard, and there isn't much space for him to fit his hand into, but he manages to slide his palm along the uncomfortably strained length of his cock and reach his tip. He collects what he can with a self-indulgent swirl of his fingertips, and when he withdraws, the clear substance is coating them immodestly.
Jayce is quick to take his hand.
“Ah,” Viktor offers just a bit of resistance. “Don't bite.”
“I won't,” Jayce promises, and takes two fingers into his mouth.
Viktor pushes them deeper on instinct, further into the incredible warmth. He feels Jayce's tongue, the suction, the way his lips wrap firmly around him, and then Jayce spits his fingers free. “You should go now,” he says.
“Right, yes.” Viktor dries his fingers on his pant leg and hurries off to his bedroom.
What an odd situation. A very odd, awkward situation, Viktor thinks to himself as he wrings his cock for all it’s worth. He hears the shower running, and pictures Jayce naked, rinsing the slick from the inside of his thighs.
If it’s going to be like this, then he’s not sure how much longer he can last. He needs to knot Jayce to induce his heat, but the mere thought makes him light-headed. And there’s something about Jayce, something he can’t figure out.
The longer they spend together, the less an orgasm satisfies the itch, and he knows that Jayce must feel the same.
The omega reappears in the doorway just as Viktor is cleaning up. “Feeling better?” he asks, towel around his head.
“Yes, and you appear to be doing well yourself.”
“Mm, yeah. I’m great.”
Something is terribly wrong.