Chapter Text
Piltover University sat on a windswept bluff above the Atlantic, ivy-clad walls and Gothic spires poking through the thick fog that rolled in from the sea. The campus was a world of its own, small and largely secluded from the rest of the world. Among the students and faculty, whispers of the Professor of theology and literature, Viktor, carried like salt in the air. He was a figure of fascination and myth, a man whose lectures left entire halls silent, teetering on the edge of their seats.
In the two days since his arrival, Jayce heard the name Viktor more times than he could count on his fingers. Even before his books were unpacked, a line of students passed the door of his dusty office, singing the man’s high praises. They were on the way to a special lecture of his, open to students of all kinds and disciplines on John Milton’s Paradise Lost.
Curious, Jayce could not help but follow them.
The boxes in his office were piled high and the first day of classes were fast approaching, but Jayce had to see and hear for himself what enamored Piltover so. Besides, he was always open to learning new things. Both on the subject of theology and the art of captivating an audience.
Jayce and the group of students he trailed silently behind arrived early to the auditorium, securing coveted seats near the front. He reclined fully, watching as the room filled by the minutes, growing louder and louder with chatter and laughter. As he waited, he took a moment to imagine himself in Viktor’s position. Holding a lecture outside of the bounds of the school year, outside his registered classes, and still being able to garner a crowd. Coming from far and wide just to hear him speak, to engage with his ideas and research.
So lost in his own fantasies, Jayce almost missed the gradual quieting of the hall as a dark-clothed figure ascended the stage. It was like every breath was held, every body stilled.
Physically, Jayce already understood the appeal. Viktor was a good-looking man, his features and build bordering on pretty. He was slight, tall and thin in a well-fitted, three-piece slate grey suit. Long, wavy hair framed an angular, sharp-eyed face. Sitting as close as he did, Jayce spotted two moles on his pale skin. One beneath his eye and another above his thin lips. He leaned his meager weight on a gold-tipped cane, the sound of it hitting the stage with every movement echoing off the walls.
Jayce sat up straighter.
“Paradise Lost is an answer John Milton gives us to a frequent, chronic question. A question that is, at its core, the very basis of the entire study of theology.” He spoke with a thick, lovely accent. Something European that reminded Jayce of winter winds and heavy snow. Jayce looked around the room and found himself to be one of the very few not scribbling in a notebook or on a pad of paper. Even people all the way in the back, late-arrivers forced into less than desirable seats, leaning and bent at odd angles to hear Viktor better. “‘How can God be omnipotent and good and still allow the existence of evil?’”
He moves to the chalkboard, writing two words in large, neat letters: ‘FREEDOM’ and ‘AUTHORITY’.
“In his depictions of the rebellion led by Satan against Heaven and the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, Milton seeks to justify the ways of God to men. This, by itself, is as much an act of intellectual defiance as it is theological. Outside his writings, Milton was no stranger to the defiance of authority. He was what was known at the time as a Republican, an outspoken voice against the crown and all sorts of structures that demanded blind obedience without reason or right. He was a rebel, and this thinking bleeds through every line of his work.”
Viktor faced his audience, holding his cane in front of him. “The greatest gift God has given us, Milton believes, is freedom. Despite his omnipotence, God has given angels and humans alike the freedom to choose, even if that choice leads to rebellion, suffering, and the fall. This is not a flaw in creation–it is its highest virtue, an example of the goodness of God. Because to take choice from us, from angels and humans, is tyranny, and there was nothing more repugnant to Milton than tyranny. Thus, God’s goodness is not offset by the existence of evil. Instead, it is proven.”
He paused, shifting his weight from one side to the other. Jayce noticed that he favored his left leg, that any stress on the right one caused him to briefly stop and wince. His continuation was so smooth and graceful that anyone, even the incredibly attentive room could miss it, but Jayce did not. “In the third book of twelve total, God reveals that He knows humans will fall, just like Lucifer, the angel He once loved and still does. He speaks to Satan directly, and by extension, us. He tells the fallen angel not to blame Him, that the fall of his creations pains Him as much as it pains them, but he cannot interfere lest He wishes to impede on their freedom. Which would make him the tyrant Milton so abhorred.
“The time at which Milton wrote Paradise Lost is key. 1667, a time filled with civil war, upheaval, and the questioning of divine rights. Kings were being overthrown, people were discovering their free will. So he writes Satan as a representation of all this, a character so defiant and ambitious and human that he would defy his very own creator. But Satan is not Milton’s hero. Curiously, though an epic, Paradise Lost seems to escape the classic convention of requiring a hero. For the one that learns their lesson, saves the day, and lives happily ever after is found not in Satan, Adam, Raphael, or even God Himself. The rebellion that the first few books depict is not celebrated, as its final destination is ruin. Suffering. Hell. This is Milton showing to us, his readers, that rebellion needs cause, and that cause must be righteous.”
Viktor’s heavy gaze swept across the room. Spines straightened, people nearly fell from their seats. And for a moment, Jayce swore Viktor’s amber gaze lingered on him.
“So Milton has given us a God that is an authority that can be chosen. A God who governs not through force, but through choice. A God that will allow a fall, a katabasis. This begs the question, is freedom a gift? Or is it, as the fall of Satan has shown, the cruelest burden we carry?”
-
The line after the lecture ended to ask Viktor questions was nearly out the door. Though Viktor’s words had nearly stolen the breath from Jayce’s lungs, and he ached to hear more from him, he could no longer ignore his responsibilities. He trudged in the dark back to his office, the autumnal winds gentle and crisp against his face.
It was half past ten by the time he unpacked his office, finalized the syllabus for his classes on an Introduction to Ethics and Science and Ethics, and finished his lecture notes.
He exhaled dramatically, leaning back in his seat and rolling his neck to the side, trying to ease the tension and knots.
“Professor Talis?”
A familiar head peeked around the corner, smiling slyly as she entered his office without invitation.
“Caitlyn,” he said, standing to greet her. “I’ve been wondering when you would show your face.”
An old childhood friend and tenured Professor of Criminology, Caitlyn Kiramman recommended Jayce to the job he now had. In the chaos of moving and settling in, he had not been able to pay her a visit and thank her again for the opportunity. Slightly ashamed that she had to be the one to seek him out, he was happy to see her. Apart from letters and postcards, their relationship was nonexistent. This was his first time seeing her in years, and she had grown up well. Refined and regal, just like her mother. Just like the Kiramman name demanded.
“How have you been adjusting? Are you all ready for tomorrow?”
“I’ve been doing well, mostly. A little nervous.”
“I know a way we can fix that,” she began. “Let’s get a drink. Your treat.”
Jayce laughed. “Lead the way.”
-
Caitlyn took Jayce to a small, dimly lit cocktail lounge a twenty-minute walk away from campus. Violet, she said it was called. “It’s nearly impossible to find anywhere the students haven’t infested,” she explained, taking off her coat and sliding into a booth. “So you have to be very quiet about this place, alright? After this, there isn’t anywhere else left to go.”
“My lips are sealed.” He looked around. It was a nice place, if not sparsely populated. Real candles burned on every table and smooth jazz played over the radio. He directed his attention back to Caitlyn. “What can I get for you?”
“Vi knows.”
“What–”
“Just go.”
He smiled, fishing his wallet from the pocket of his overcoat before heading towards the bar. A broad-shouldered woman with dark hair shaved on the sides and a multitude of piercings on her face and ears was wiping down the counter. “Hi,” he said, taking a seat on one of the stools.
“Hey there. What can I get for you?”
“Whiskey. Neat, please. And my friend,” he started, shifting to the side and gesturing over his shoulder. At their table, Caitlyn waved. “She said ‘Vi knows’?”
The bartender smirked. “She sure does.” She handed Jayce his drink first. “I’m Vi, by the way. If that wasn’t already obvious.” It was not, not to him, but he did not want to admit that. “You?”
“Jayce Talis,” he said, extending his arm over the bar. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, Jayce, I know you. Cait’s old friend from home, right?” She returned his handshake with one hand while placing a lime on the rim of a slim glass with another.
“Right. You must have a good memory.”
“Just something you pick up in the profession.”
Jayce opened his wallet. “We can close out right away. First day of classes tomorrow, and all that. How much do I owe you?”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.”
“What?”
“Any friend of Caitlyn’s a friend of mine.” She grinned. “Please. It’s on me.”
“Well, as much as I appreciate that, I actually owe Caitlyn a favor or ten. Are you sure I can’t pay?”
Vi looked over his shoulder, her pierced bottom lip between her teeth. “Well,” she hummed. “If you insist, there might be one thing we can do for each other. Wait here.”
Before Jayce could say a thing, she disappeared into a room behind the bar. Jayce closed his mouth and folded his hands in front of him, waiting.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed movement. A moment later, the door opened and a bell rang. He turned his head to see who was coming in, simply curious, and his jaw dropped to the floor.
Wrapped in a long, dark coat and a deep, red scarf was Viktor.
Jayce felt his tongue grow dry and heavy in his mouth. All the compliments, all the questions that grew in his mind during Viktor’s lecture suddenly disappeared. He wanted to call out to him, to introduce himself as a colleague and fellow academic, but all his body wanted to do was stare dumbly. There was a light pink in Viktor’s cheek, raised by the cold of the evening, and he was even more stunning up close than he had been on the stage.
“Viktor!”
While Jayce was still fumbling around in his brain, Caitlyn noticed the newcomer. She raised her hand above his head, waving him over. Jayce was about to follow without his drinks or his wallet when the loud sound of a hand slamming down on the bar broke him from his trance.
“There we go,” Vi exclaimed, reappearing from the back room. A folded up piece of paper sat between them. “Give that to Cait, from me, and you can consider your drinks paid for.”
“What is–”
“No questions, pretty boy. That’s also part of the deal.”
“Well… alright.” He grabbed all his things and headed back to his table with Caitlyn, equal parts excited and nervous to find Viktor still standing over there, chatting politely.
“Ah, Jayce, there you are!” Caitlyn beamed, all teeth, as he approached. “I want to introduce you to Viktor, he also teaches at Piltover.”
“I know.”
Viktor arched an eyebrow.
“I mean, I-I was actually at your lecture today. I was going to–I meant to try and talk to you about it after, but there was that line, and I–”
“Oh, those lines. I don’t know how you do it, Viktor. I’d simply go crazy.”
Viktor shrugged. “I’m always happy to talk about my work.” His voice was smoother, richer when he was not trying to speak to a room of two hundred people. Like velvet or melted chocolate. Jayce wanted him to never stop speaking, whether it be about theology or literature or nothing at all. He would hang on his every word like gospel, drinking them in like wine.
“Oh, speaking of, would you like to join us? It’s Jayce’s first day tomorrow, we’re trying to calm some of his nerves.”
“Ah, that’s quite kind of you, Caitlyn, but I wasn’t planning on staying for long. Maybe we can have a meal together some time, though.”
“I’d like that.”
Viktor nodded. Then, he looked directly at Jayce, straight-faced and deferential. “It was nice to meet you, Professor Talis. We can talk soon.”
He left, headed towards the bar. Caitlyn focused her attention back on Jayce. “So you met Vi? You know, she actually owns the place. Did you two talk about anything? You were up there for quite some time.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s great. I, uh… I’m sorry, Cait, I really am, but I–”
“Want to talk to Viktor?”
“How did you–”
“Yeah, you and everyone else that meets him.” She sipped her drink through its straw. Judging by the line on the rim, the clear coloring, and little bubbles among the ice, he guessed it was a gin and tonic. “But go on. I’m not really sure I can blame you.”
“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I swea– oh!” He remembered the piece of paper between his fingers and presented it to her. “From Vi.”
“What is–”
But he was already gone.
-
“Is it alright if I sit here?”
Viktor looked at Jayce out of the side of his eyes. He lowered his drink and licked the corner of his lips. “If it pleases.”
“I really did enjoy your lecture. I’ve never had an interest in theology before, but what you were talking about completely changed my mind.” He sat as close to Viktor as the barstools would allow. He smelled like tea and smoke and the old-fashioned in his glass. “I have to ask… do you believe in God?”
For a long moment, Viktor looked at Jayce. He looked at his eyes, his face, his clothes, his Oxford shoes, and his eyes again. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Viktor took a deep sip of his drink, finishing it off. “Do you smoke?”
Jayce did not. “Sure.”
“Come with me.”
On his way out, Jayce caught Caitlyn’s attention to wave goodbye. With Vi in the booth beside her, Caitlyn’s eyes were on him, wide and unbelieving.
-
Outside, on a wire bench, Viktor pulled a silver case of cigarettes from the pocket of his long jacket. He took one for himself and another for Jayce before searching for a box of matches. Jayce used his momentary distraction to his advantage, observing the way Viktor held his cigarette and mimicking it.
With the stick placed between his lips, Viktor lit it and shook out the match. He leaned closer to Jayce, jutting out his chin, putting his mouth closer to Jayce’s.
For a moment, his vision was all white. Incredibly lucky for him, he recovered quick enough and realized Viktor was not trying to kiss him.
Jayce held the tip of his cigarette against Viktor’s until the fire caught on. As soon as it did, Viktor returned to his personal space, exhaling a lungful of smoke away from Jayce.
“I wouldn’t study theology if I didn’t have some sort of belief in a higher power,” Viktor said, leaning back and crossing his legs. The hem of his pants lifted, exposing his thin ankles, clad tightly in black socks. When he shifted, Jayce caught a terrible and teasing glimpse of the garters keeping them in place. “But I believe in him as more of a concept to be studied. Not a being by which I base my life. Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah,” Jayce replied, breathless.
Viktor sniffed, the pink in his cheeks returning. He placed the cigarette back in his mouth and took a long drag. Jayce looked down at his and realized he never even lifted it. He hoped Viktor had not noticed, tapping the ash from it like he watched the other man do.
“What do you teach?”
“Scientific ethics.”
“Hm. That sounds interesting. I might like to watch you teach some time.”
“Please do! I mean, yes, yes, that would be only fair.”
Viktor exhaled, his head turned slightly towards Jayce. The wind blew his smoke into Jayce’s nose. He prepared himself for the acrid smell, the wrinkling of his nose that would reveal to Viktor he had been lying about smoking. But to his surprise, the smell was pleasant. Floral, even.
Viktor was looking fully at him. Smiling. “Lavender,” he said, lifting what was left of his cigarette to emphasize his point. “Which you might’ve figured out had you even attempted to make your lie believable.” He paused, his tongue literally in his cheek. “How ethical is that, Professor Talis? Lying about your vices?”
Jayce’s face burned. “I didn’t–I wasn’t–”
“I’m only teasing.” Viktor threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground and pressed it beneath his dark brown brogues. “But I have to ask… what you had hoped to gain with such a fib?”
Jayce sputtered, despite all his degrees and awards, unable to form a single coherent sentence.
Viktor placed a hand over his knee, his touch sending shocks throughout Jayce’s central nervous system. He leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of Jayce’s ear. “Would you like to take me to bed, Professor Talis?”
-
While awaiting a cab that would take them to Jayce’s apartment, the two men found it difficult to contain themselves.
Emboldened by whiskey and anxieties calmed by second-hand lavender smoke, Jayce backed Viktor into a nearby alley. He pushed him against the wall and pressed their hips together. Viktor’s breath caught. Jayce took a careful hold of his jaw in his large hands, running his thumb along his bottom lip.
Viktor parted his mouth ever so slightly, welcoming the tip of Jayce’s finger inside. He licked it gently, tauntingly, looking up at Jayce through thick, dark lashes all the while.
Jayce released a heavy, desperate breath. He did not believe in God, but he prayed a silent prayer that he would make it home without losing his composure anyway.
Sensing Jayce’s hesitation, his refrain, Viktor opened his mouth and licked from the base of Jayce’s thumb to the tip.
And that was the end of Jayce’s attempts at self-control.
He grabbed Viktor by the shoulders and spun him around, pressing his face into the stone wall while grinding his hips down against his backside. Viktor moaned. A gorgeous, uninhibited sound.
Jayce reached around their bodies and palmed Viktor’s growing erection. When he was able to coax another pretty whine from his lips, he removed his hand.
“What–”
“I do want to take you home,” Jayce whispered, biting softly at the nape of Viktor’s delicate neck. “We should save some excitement for that.”
-
Once inside Jayce’s half unpacked apartment, their coats removed and shoes kicked off, neither Jayce nor Viktor wasted much time in picking up where they left off.
Viktor grabbed Jayce by the sides of his face and pulled him into a hard, messy kiss. While their teeth clacked and bit, Jayce pushed them in the direction of his bedroom and Viktor worked on undoing his tie.
They went for multiple rounds that night, fucking like insatiable animals. First, they did it with Viktor bent over Jayce’s notebooks and papers, his weaker leg hiked up on the desk. His shirt and unbuttoned vest were pushed up into his armpits, his pants pooled around his ankles. Jayce’s shirt was abandoned somewhere in the living room, his pants undone just enough to fuck hard and desperate into Viktor.
Next, they finally made it to the bed, their clothes fully discarded apart from Viktor's socks and garters. Viktor pushed Jayce flat against the mattress and rode him into it, thin fingers wrapped around Jayce’s neck. He squeezed a second orgasm from Jayce, bouncing on his cock like he was born to do it with his tongue down Jayce’s slightly constricted throat. It was unlike anything Jayce experienced, his sexual experiences few and far between. He had been so dedicated to the pursuit of his career and studies that he often forgot to have fun, to enjoy his youth while he still had it.
Nevertheless, he thought whatever had just happened between him and Viktor would have been just as mind blowing had it been his first or thousandth time.
The moment Viktor pulled Jayce out of himself and whispered in his ears that he was going to go clean up, Jayce closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, he awoke in an empty bed with a letter on the pillow that bore no indents. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he unfolded the paper taken from one of his notebooks, written neatly in ink from his own pen.
‘Professor Talis,
Last night was a mistake on my part. I extend my deepest apologies and hope you can forgive me for my immaturity and improper conduct.
I expect what happened to stay between us. For both our sakes.
Sincerely,
Viktor’
The paper still smelled like Viktor. Lavender smoke and tea and brandy. Jayce held it to his lips and closed his eyes.