Viktor's eyes are like embers as they burn into him, smoldering. Bright with intent, with command, and Jayce can't remember the last time he'd gotten this hard this fast. The hand in his hair, the sharp pull hits just right and he stares back down at his partner, lips parted and breath panting.

"Yeah," he says, dumbly. Trying to remember what he was even trying to do in the first place. Right -- Viktor's shirt. And his fifteen fucking vests. It's a struggle, but he manages to get his hands to cooperate and work together and start unbuttoning the first layer, starting at the bottom and working his way up. "Fuck, yeah."