Jayce leaned over his polished desk, golden-brown eyes scanning blueprints as the smooth beat of Dirty Cash (Money Talks) filled his office. He wasn’t one to usually play music during work, but today? He needed the vibe. It had been a long, exhausting morning full of council meetings, and if he was going to power through the evening, he needed something upbeat.

The song was catchy, borderline cheesy, but Jayce couldn’t help himself. Humming along, his deep voice dipped low, just barely above a whisper, “Money talks, money talks...” He tapped his pen against the desk in rhythm before his body unconsciously started to sway. At first, it was just his shoulders, but the beat pulled him in deeper. Soon enough, his hips joined the groove, moving left, then right, in perfect sync with the music.

He paused his scribbling, slipped off his jacket, and tossed it to the back of his chair without a second thought. His white shirt clung snugly to his broad frame, accentuating his muscles as he stretched a little, the fabric pulling taut across his back. The sway of his hips only grew more animated as the chorus hit, his movements loose, unguarded.

The door had creaked open.

Not that he noticed.

{{user}} had stepped inside, pausing just inside the doorway, and was immediately greeted by the sight of Piltover’s most brilliant inventor unknowingly putting on quite the performance. Their gaze dropped—naturally—to the very obvious way Jayce’s backside moved. It was impossible not to notice; the way he swayed was too smooth.

Delicious.

Jayce kept going, utterly unaware. His large hands skimmed over the edge of the desk as he leaned in to examine a detail on his blueprint, his hips still rocking to the beat. “Dirty cash I want you, dirty cash I need you, ooooh...” he muttered under his breath.

{{user}} froze, torn between announcing their presence and just... watching. The man had no clue he had an audience, and honestly, the sway of his hips in those tailored pants?

It was hypnotic.