boyofprogress | closed rp for [recursiveimpulse]

...Well huh. That was more upfront than he had expected.

He can give back just as well.

"Why hypothesize? We can test the theory right now."

Without missing a beat, he stands with his arms out, swaying slightly on his feet under the muzzy haze of the alcohol.

His smile kind of looks like a challenge.

Oh sweet Janna, he is in so much trouble, isn't he? Viktor is standing (mostly) in front of him, arms out like he's about to be measured for a new suit, or something similar.

He's barely breathing as he reaches out, setting his thumbs against Viktor's stomach, letting his hands settle at the slimmest part of his waist. Carefully, staring down at his hands rather than dare to look Viktor in the eye, he wraps his fingers around him. And, sure enough, his middle fingers just about meet at the small of Viktor's back.

"Love it when a hypothesis is proven right," he manages to mumble, heart hammering against his chest.

And that's that. Viktor sets his jaw, trying to hold still while he can feel himself starting to get...well, wet.

He's got a decision to make here. And he knows that it has to be him, because Jayce will absolutely not.

He could pull away. Put an end to this here and now.

Meh.

Instead, his hands reach out to find Jayce's biceps, watching the paths his fingertips take to commit the contour to touch and memory both. Humming approvingly.

"You're huge, you know."

He can't even hide the undercurrent of want in that statement.

"I'm in the forges a lot." It sounds stupid the moment it leaves his mouth, because Viktor's all too light touch is leaving lines of fire in its wake and his eyes are still fixed on his hands around Viktor's waist.

He should stop touching Viktor.

He doesn't want to. He can't, it feels like his hands are fused there. They fit together perfectly and it's making Jayce salivate, thinking of all the other ways they could fit.

"Mm," Viktor grunts, as though that's interesting in any way compared to how SOLID Jayce is under his hands.

Which, between the alcohol and the hands around his waist, has sent his mind straight down into the gutter. (Injection day. Of course. He should have known better to go drinking on injection day.)

He looks at Jayce's downcast face, looks at the way he's moving, sounding, and....

"Oh, fuck it."

A half a second later and Viktor is grabbing Jayce's shoulders and pulling him down, low enough that the tinker can catch the other man's mouth in a hungry kiss.

"Thank fuck." His arms wrap around Viktor, embracing him almost greedily and hauling him close, feeling confident that even if he throws him off balance with the tug forward, he can take his weight.

He tastes like anise and the olive Jayce watched him suck off the toothpick that came with his martini when he was trying and failing not to think too hard about his mouth. The kiss is messy, too much tongue and teeth getting in the way and it's exactly what he needs right now.

Excellent. Ideal, in fact. It's been too, too long since Viktor had had this kind of attention - and right now, he's quite happy to set all thoughts of professionalism and propriety aside in favor of...blowing off a little steam.

It's with that thought that the tinkerer hums approvingly into that wet, open-mouthed kiss (messier than he normally is, but he's like a man starved right now), carelessly tossing his cane off to one side in favor of pressing his small, fragile body right up against Jayce's wall of muscle for all the support he needs.

Depending on how this goes, there may be some...discussion to have. But that's a bridge that can be crossed when they reach it, and his mouth is very, very busy right now.

Jayce happily takes his partner's weight, letting Viktor lean into him as much as he wants to right now. As much as he needs.

Jayce's hands are everywhere, greedily exploring Viktor's body like this might be the last time he gets to touch him like this. Now cupping those birdskull shoulder blades, now sliding down his back, feeling the outline of the brace underneath his clothing, finally settling with one hand against the middle of his back and one against the slight curve of his ass.

He's making noises, he realizes faintly. Little sighs and whines as his hands explore Viktor's body and they work on claiming each other's mouths.

It's...vulnerable, for Viktor to be doing this. Even drunk as he is, part of him is still all-too-aware of just how fragile he must feel under Jayce's hands - at the contours of his ribs being a little too obvious, at the shape of bolt and brace that proves his failing body.

But at least there's nothing wrong with his ass. He's fine with the hand there.

He's fine with the noises, too. They're encouraging, and...well, kind of cute. Viktor finds himself wanting to hear more of them, and so his own hands slide up Jayce's strong back, pulling back just enough from the kiss to nip experimentally at the other man's bottom lip.

He loves it. He loves how perfectly Viktor fits into his hands, the way their bodies slot together just so, like they were two unlikely puzzle pieces made to fit. Viktor's straight lines and Jayce's curves somehow complimenting each other.

The nip is -- good, fuck, and Jayce makes some sort of affirming sound, squeezing Viktor's ass and trying to pull him closer, in response. Yes, that. Do that again.

And speaking of curves and fitting together - being pulled in tighter pushes Viktor's packer firmly against him, and he lets out a little gasp into Jayce's mouth, his hands raking up to card through the back of his hair.

The more he whines, the more Viktor is encouraged to push, which...isn't an impulse he's gotten to indulge in a while.

This is a bad idea, professionally.

But the series of martinis that he's had is telling him otherwise.

It's a terrible idea, professionally.

But currently, his higher brain functions are rather firmly erased by a mix of alcohol and lust, and the feeling of Viktor pressed against him. And then, he realizes, the feeling of Viktor pressed against him, and he groans at the sensation.

Still, he's greedy for more. He wants something, feeling restless and needy and without warning, he grips the backs of Viktor's thighs and turns the two of them to set Viktor on the edge of the closest desk, standing between his legs.

His hands tug uselessly at Viktor's shirt in a messy attempt to untuck it, and he smears his mouth over the sharp angle of Viktor's jaw. "Fuck you are so hot."

Oh. Well, then, that answers questions of continued consent for a moment or two, now doesn't it?

There's something in Viktor, deep down - a tendency that doesn't normally get indulged...but now? Now, he's being picked up and praised by a man so much bigger than him, and that tendency is greedy for more attention.

"You think so?" It's half-gasped, half-purred. He's made up his mind. He takes the risk, his hand wrenching and YANKING Jayce's hair backward to look him in the eye, gaze burning.

"Then be a good boy and pay attention to what you are trying to do."

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."

Viktor's head swims a little. The rush of heat as he watches Jayce obey him so readily, so eagerly - it has him wet enough that his packer shifting against him is starting to make him pant and flush.

He still knows he'll have to explain, but - not yet. Not yet, while Jayce is being so accomodating.

"If I didn't know better," he purrs, his voice low and rumbling, "I might think that you get off on being a good boy, Jayce."

"Only if I'm yours." The answer comes fast and easy and a little breathless, his fingers trembling as he finishes unbuttoning the vest and starts in on the shirt, taking the same path bottom to top.

Gods, how long has he been waiting for this? Maybe not the first night they met, but not long after. There's been a tension between them, almost physically tangible, and Jayce is hoping they can start to resolve it tonight.

Viktor's tie is still there, but it's fine. He can take care of that in a second. If Viktor tells him to.

"Let's see how you do, then." It feels like such a rush, leaning into this kind of play - but like so many things in their work already, it seems that Jayce fits seamlessly in the spaces where Viktor does not.

He tries not to flinch or look away as his shirt is opened - the scars on his chest are not so pronounced, compared to what his back looks like, so perhaps it will all keep sliding by.

(He could just tell him. But he's been burned before, and if it's going to happen again, he may as well have what fun he can first.)

"Your precision is still pretty good...even with your hands shaking."

The scars don't register for what they actually are; because of the leg and back braces, Jayce assumes Viktor has plenty of scars, perhaps from past treatments, or from the wear of leather and metal against skin.

No, he's more focused, in this moment, on that gap in the leather at the bottom of Viktor's ribcage, where his skin is visible. Accessible, even, and Jayce's hands fit in that space as if magnetized. Viktor's skin is cooler than his, but Jayce tends to run hot, anyway.

"My hands are shaking because I want you so damned bad," he sighs, giving Viktor a nervous but oh-so-eager smile. "What next?"

That comment actually gets a breathless laugh out of Viktor - it's almost giddy, accompanied by a little wrinkle of the nose. It feels sort of nice to be objectified.

"Good boy. The pants next."

He has to say it soon.

Just...not yet.

Oh Janna's mercy, yes. Jayce lets out a whine, his fingers pressing briefly against Viktor's sides while he gathers himself enough to attend to the task at hand.

He leans in to brush their mouths together, one hand sliding between them to press his palm against the front of Viktor's fly -- and he pauses. He was expecting heat and firm flesh, but that isn't what he's feeling. Not exactly, anyway.

Jayce pulls back with a puzzled expression, raising his eyebrows at Viktor. "Wh -- "

...Shit. Okay, maybe he should have said it a little sooner.

His brows pinch together, expression apologetic. "...Uh, Jayce, there is - since we are doing this,n there is...something about my body that you...should know ahead of time."

Oh, that expression tugs at his heart a little, and Jayce rests his hands against Viktor's hips again, nosing at his cheek in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "Anything, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Ugh, how can he be so nice?

He blushes deeper, watching the other man up through his eyelashes with nervous eyes.

"...Well...I...the truth is, Jayce, that I was...born...incorrectly."

"... I know," he answers, brow furrowing in confusion. His left hand moves down to settle just above Viktor's knee, his thumb tracing over the top of the brace.

"Your leg turns in a bit, I think you said? So it needs correcting."

Oh.

Viktor laughs, soft and breathy. "It - does, yes, but that...is not what I was talking about." He shivers, briefly, at the huge, warm, gentle hand skating over his bad leg...but there's a matter at hand.

He takes a long breath to steady himself, and then...gently, he grabs Jayce's hand and directs it to one of the scars on his chest.

"I was not...born a man, Jayce. What you...felt down there is...a prosthetic. For packing."

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