[ at first, jayce doesn't say a word. first thought: fuck you. gods, fuck you. he should go off but his nose twitches from a frown. his shadow from the moon's near blue glow only hands in front of the open back seat, his own bleak hesitation being put on brazen display. it was too dangerous and far too soon to take him up on that offer. every part of jayce's intellect bellows at him to stay standing, at the very least take the edge of the vehicle to rest his hooves (there is no longer a particularly "bad leg", but two bad legs with one overcompensating for the worse one). he doesn't need to remain distant, but there does need to be a limit. a line drawn. after everything, the voice makes his ears flip low—
and his heart skip.
the crackling white noise of their past drifting in and out of frequency stirs another beat in him that squeezes his chest so tightly he doesn't know if he's seconds from prancing or screaming— that viktor had been doing the same thing he was was a daunting revelation to seal the doubt boiling as much as make the base of his own recent musings solidify under any more of it: they're both hurting. and he doesn't want this wedge between them.
another thing worth noting is jayce's inability to stay rationally mad at viktor on sight. he made the mistake of staring, perhaps too long at the curve of his cheekbones and the bob of his neck as he spoke in an almost familiar way. the pang of guilt when jayce could not see the beautiful gold he himself had taken away from such a sharp, striking gaze. with both mind and body at war, jayce forces discipline. firmness. he will stay where he is.
his brain is on high alert; it tallies his wounds. it replays betrayal, it replicates how it felt perfectly, to the point that the whispers ring true: this was a bad idea.
and yet, the body has been directly and seductively spoken to. it speaks to the yearning, the starvation he suffers not in blood but in familiarity and warmth. it targets the animal, the stag that begins to twitch at the waft of scents, of the half man's musk and the bed of soil, lush crispness of fresh greens. it's too heavy in the air. he can even feel his vision turn sharper as his pupils swell, as viktor's words keep repeating and bypass every warning signal jayce had put up, destroying every planned action he's meticulously routed on his way over. something deep and purring chuckles in his chest and up his throat with no humor attached. it's not a man-made sound.
jayce's body begins to move before he can even command himself to stop. his gut clenches and releases all at once— and he lays in the cool earthy bed next to his former partner, in surrender and self-destruction, all in one silent breath. it doesn't feel like a triumph, that, he can say with certainty. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-08-09 01:01 am (UTC)and his heart skip.
the crackling white noise of their past drifting in and out of frequency stirs another beat in him that squeezes his chest so tightly he doesn't know if he's seconds from prancing or screaming— that viktor had been doing the same thing he was was a daunting revelation to seal the doubt boiling as much as make the base of his own recent musings solidify under any more of it: they're both hurting. and he doesn't want this wedge between them.
another thing worth noting is jayce's inability to stay rationally mad at viktor on sight. he made the mistake of staring, perhaps too long at the curve of his cheekbones and the bob of his neck as he spoke in an almost familiar way. the pang of guilt when jayce could not see the beautiful gold he himself had taken away from such a sharp, striking gaze. with both mind and body at war, jayce forces discipline. firmness. he will stay where he is.
his brain is on high alert; it tallies his wounds. it replays betrayal, it replicates how it felt perfectly, to the point that the whispers ring true: this was a bad idea.
and yet, the body has been directly and seductively spoken to. it speaks to the yearning, the starvation he suffers not in blood but in familiarity and warmth. it targets the animal, the stag that begins to twitch at the waft of scents, of the half man's musk and the bed of soil, lush crispness of fresh greens. it's too heavy in the air. he can even feel his vision turn sharper as his pupils swell, as viktor's words keep repeating and bypass every warning signal jayce had put up, destroying every planned action he's meticulously routed on his way over. something deep and purring chuckles in his chest and up his throat with no humor attached. it's not a man-made sound.
jayce's body begins to move before he can even command himself to stop. his gut clenches and releases all at once— and he lays in the cool earthy bed next to his former partner, in surrender and self-destruction, all in one silent breath. it doesn't feel like a triumph, that, he can say with certainty. ]