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It turned out that it was very easy to coax Viktor into attending gala dinners if he was given the right incentive. Free wine helped, as did the admittedly excellent food, as did Jayce's promise to run interference if anyone tried to corner Viktor with political jargon and impolite curiosity. Best of all, though, was Jayce himself: coiffed to perfection; shining; laughing; listening with that sharp, interested gaze that made one feel as if they were the only person on the planet he wanted to speak to at that moment. All of it was an act — a veneer, really — but Jayce handled it brilliantly, and in watching him maneuver, Viktor was quietly overcome with gratitude that his partner was the kind of man who'd run himself ragged to make sure their funding was secure.
Later, Jayce would push his palms against his eyes, murmur that he had a headache, and collapse into rare silence against Viktor's chest. They'd keep their apartment quiet and dark while they stumbled out of their clothes and crawled into bed. Tomorrow morning, Viktor would peel himself away from Jayce's spine and bring coffee back to bed, and they'd lean against each other while they reviewed the night, groaned over conversations they'd grimaced through, and toasted another successful round of thinly veiled fundraising.
A soft blush was dusted over Jayce's cheekbones. Seated across the table from him, utterly tuned out of the conversations on all sides of him, Viktor followed the line of that colour over to his ear, imagining the warmth that had to be pouring off of Jayce's skin and the little shudder of a breath he'd have hitched in Viktor had been pressed up behind him, nosing at the shell of his ear, scraping teeth over his lobe —
The only part of Viktor that moved was one hand, which was busy fiddling absentmindedly with the sleek, understated watch Jayce had gifted him. He could play off his distraction as a consequence of having had slightly too much to drink if someone asked, but thus far, no one had so much as glanced questioningly his way. He was free to watch a show their fellow dinner guests had no idea was being staged. The most minuscule movements were beginning to drive him insane: Jayce reached for his glass, and Viktor thought of his fingers; Jayce took a polite sip of wine, and Viktor watched his throat bob minutely in the low, golden light.
Viktor thumbed one of the dials on the watch face.
Jayce inhaled sharply, choked, and set down his glass in a hurry while he concealed himself behind a hand. "I'm fine. I'm fine!" he squeaked, waving off the laughing concern from his immediate neighbours and Viktor's straightening in his seat. "Went the wrong way. Don't mind me." He checked himself surreptitiously for stains and took a sip of water, blushing worse than ever. The glass trembled a little when he returned it to the table.
Interesting.
The other enticement that worked extraordinarily well to convince Viktor to attend the dinner had been the nondescript little package Jayce had pressed into his hands an hour before he'd been scheduled to leave.
"You're sure about this?"
"I want to." Jayce extracted the remote — cleverly concealed as a small wristwatch — from the box and offered it to Viktor on his fingertips. "And we've talked about it before."
"Yes, as a fantasy." Viktor was already securing the remote around his wrist anyway. He frowned gently as he touched one of the dials, then glanced up in alarm, briefly transfixed by the near-silent vibration he'd activated. It was an impressive little toy, in any case. Low-profile, quiet… no discernable on/off switch of its own….
Jayce had just about the most hopeful puppy-dog look Viktor had ever seen.
"I'll come with you," Viktor sighed.
He hadn't activated the vibrator until they'd been at the dinner table for several minutes. Jayce had an excellent poker face when it came to the plug itself; sitting down hadn't been an issue, nor had standing around making small talk while guests filtered into the hall. He was his usual perfectly charming self, and if it hadn't been for the honey-dark glint in Jayce's eyes every time he'd glanced Viktor's way, he might have thought Jayce had forgotten about the evening's experiment altogether. It was a trick to figure out just how sensitive the controls were, too, and Viktor was becoming increasingly aware of their error in not running thorough tests at home before they'd even thought about the gala. No one had pointed out Jayce's jumpiness thus far, and most of what was visible could be explained away by the heat in the room and slightly too much wine.
They were getting away with it. Viktor didn't even mind that they'd already been here half an hour longer than Jayce had promised they would be.
The wristwatch buzzed once, politely.
Viktor glanced down and lifted his wrist, tilting it minutely back and forth until he found a tiny, blinking red light on the opposite edge from the dials. It pulsed once, twice, then went out completely with one more vibratory hum. He kicked himself internally, his mouth twisting slightly with disappointment; neither of them had thought to charge either part before they'd left. At least they'd had enough time to prove Jayce could handle the teasing. Next time, they'd prepare themselves better, and Viktor would be equipped to work the controls with some finesse —
He looked up, and Jayce was bright red.
Some silent, instant communication shot across the table. Jayce's gaze went to the watch — it died? — and Viktor straightened up — unfortunately, yes — and Jayce narrowed his mouth — there's a problem — and Viktor lifted his eyebrows a degree — oh? — and Jayce flicked his eyes down to his own lap, rigid and breathing shallowly — this hasn't died.
Viktor cleared his throat softly and took a healthy sip of wine. Jayce did the same. As he looked down the table, however, pretending very hard that he was interested in geopolitics, he tapped his forefinger against the glass, which was a code Viktor hadn't yet broken. It wasn't just a nervous tic; he'd angled the back of his hand towards Viktor and shifted his grip so his finger was more or less pointed towards the ceiling. By the time it clicked, Jayce's perfect lips were slightly parted.
Up. It was all the way up.
Viktor nearly launched himself straight across the table so he could grip Jayce's lapels and ask him why in the fuck this vibrator's disconnection failsafe was to run harder.
Jayce was struggling to keep his eyes open. He nodded, made noises like he was engaged in listening to a fascinating diatribe, kept both hands on the table, and avoided Viktor's gaze altogether. Never mind trying to sneak out of here without anyone getting a glimpse of tents in their well-pressed trousers, Viktor thought, near-giddy and more than a little terrified. That option was off the table completely. Even if they could make some limp excuse, they'd never get out of here with their dignity intact now — gods, and he wasn't even sure Jayce would be capable of walking in a straight line by now —
Jayce's breath caught, and Viktor held his.
With his hips only barely tucked away under the table, Jayce's eyes fluttered, his head tipped, his hands clenched, and he curled slightly into himself, clinging with metaphorically raw fingernails to the crest of the oncoming wave. It was over before he could even set his mind to withstanding it. Jayce moved minutely, litle more than a rhythmic tension and release in his shoulders, and remained utterly silent while Viktor watched.
Viktor didn't know if he'd ever been harder in his life. If they'd been at home, Jayce would have been groaning openmouthed into their pillows or begging or murmuring a grateful, needy litany against Viktor's ear. In front of the upper crust of Piltovan society, he was bursting at the seams. The faintest tremor wracked him, and he shut his eyes tighter against something about two seconds before a whimper finally clawed its way free.
"Jayce?" A financier at Jayce's left turned to him at last, setting a hand on his shoulder. "My dear, is everything alright? You look —"
"Fine." It took what looked like superhuman control for Jayce to speak intelligibly; his voice was little more than a tight rasp, but he forced himself to squint an eye open and attempt a smile, his hands on his knees to give himself a chance at sitting up straight. "Sorry. Fine. Just a cramp, I —"
"He pulled something quite badly a few days ago," Viktor offered coolly, meeting the financier's confusion with a hollow smile. "Sitting in chairs like these seem to make it flare up."
The woman clucked and patted him. Jayce looked as if he wanted to slip under the table and stay there. "Oh, poor thing. Don't let us keep you, darling. We can't have you sitting here in pain on our account, much as we'll miss you when you go." She shooed him, which Viktor took as his cue to rise, pretend his posture was worse than it was, and hunch over enough to save himself from embarrassment while he escaped to the end of the table. "I'll make your excuses. Now, go."
Jayce got shakily to his feet, propped a hand on the back of his chair to stabilize himself, nodded a quiet goodnight to the financier, and staggered towards Viktor in a drunken beeline. He looped his arm through Viktor's once he was close enough, held the door for him, and dragged him into the first dark corner they came to.
"Still going," Jayce managed, both hands in Viktor's jacket, twitching forward against him while Viktor cupped his jaw and shushed him. "God, V, if it — hah — if it doesn't stop —"
"Not here." Viktor ran his thumb over Jayce's cheekbone, his heart thundering in his ears. Every bone in his body was screaming for him to turn Jayce around right that second. "We need to go home."
Jayce whined and dropped his head against Viktor's shoulder. "I can't. Please."
"One carriage ride," Viktor cooed, curling his fingers slowly into the soft hair at Jayce's nape. "I have you. Twenty minutes, and we'll be home. Come on."
It took a moment of tugging and guiding, but eventually they were headed for the street and the line of waiting carriages. There were perks to being the first ones out of the function; a few drivers opened their doors for them, and they went straight to the closest one, and Jayce, Janna bless him, still offered Viktor a hand up before he followed him in.
Jayce sprawled when he sat, his gaze locked on Viktor's, fidgeting thoughtlessly as he grasped at his own arms. His knee knocked Viktor's; he seemed to be giving himself as much space as possible, but the sluggishly straining line in his trousers seemed to indicate his efforts weren't entirely successful. Viktor's attention wandered downward, and both hands tightened on his cane once he finally got a good look at the dark-on-black patch on one thigh. Jayce's head was lolling gently by the time Viktor looked up again, and he had one hand cupped tight over his mouth, and Viktor could hear him moan anyway over the clattering of the wheels —
Oh, forget it. Twenty minutes was plenty of time.
Viktor surged across to Jayce's bench and shut the partition between themselves and the driver.