Chapter Text
“Congratulations, Miss Talis. You looked beautiful. Stunning, even. I like to think that you feel not coerced but a smidge of comfort in the fact that you are already beloved. My wife has already mentioned how much she would love to spend some time with a young lady such as you, and maybe help you in terms of etiquette, if you were so inclined…?”
No one pays attention to Jayce, which is all the better, he thinks as he stares ahead and curls his hands around the edges of his chair. He does not know if he could keep his cool if he would have to try and make conversation.
The older gentleman is shaking Viktor’s hand. Jayce knows, because he can feel it. He can feel the slight movement of his wife’s ass against his cock when his skinny body is moved as a whole by something so simple as getting his arm moved.
Once the gentleman shuffles away, Viktor has a moment to turn his head and stare at Jayce out of the corner of his eyes. He’s done so every time the wedding guests have gone out of their way to feminize him and while he hasn’t said a word, his opinion on that is very clear.
Jayce kind of wants to be petty and reach beneath the tulle of his plump skirt to see whether he truly is as put out by it as he pretends to be, but he doesn’t; for one, he doesn’t dare to touch Viktor in such a way in public, and for the other, he… well… he’s been taught to be an absolute gentleman to ladies.
Viktor isn’t a lady. He’s made that absolutely clear yesterday. He is a little slut. The thought of him in his yellow dress stretching and begging him for more than a finger keeps replaying in his mind over and over again, tormenting him.
It’s been difficult to even remember his vows. He must have looked like an absolute freak, stuttering and stumbling his way through the ceremony and staring at Viktor like… like…
Like I want to fuck him.
“Congratulations, Jayce.”
He startles. Blinks profusely, sits up straighter on pure reflex and immediately regrets it because that means Viktor’s scrawny little ass is pressing harder against his erection. Or, maybe, his erection is pressing harder against Viktor’s scrawny little ass. Semantics. (Viktor would call it the latter, most likely, and smirk at him. Maybe he would do so while stepping on Jayce’s cock again… pinning it beneath his cruel foot and giving Jayce complexes on top of his complexes.)
Viktor shifts, ostensibly to get more comfortable, but actually to thrust against the warm erection pressed against him – so Jayce wraps one arm around his belly and holds him tight. Tries to keep him contained from being an absolute menace.
He throws a wobbly smile at the old lady in front of him looking at him with a shrewd gaze.
“This is unorthodox, my boy. There are quite a few free chairs about.”
His stomach immediately twists up into many tiny knots, horror spreading through his chest as he stares up at her and wonders just how much she knows and how much she’s seen and-
“It was me,” Viktor interjects, smooth like he’s done this a million times. “He’s more comfortable than the other chairs. He’ll just have to deal with it.”
The older lady’s face immediately smooths out and she nods, her attention fully off of Jayce as she turns toward Viktor.
“That is right. You don’t let those men step all over you, young lady! I’ve been worried that you might not know how to hold your own. Jayce is a very headstrong boy, you see. His mother has had to have a very firm grip on him…”
Jayce does not protest, but his fingers tighten, wrapped around Viktor’s hip. He has always been submissive; always done what his mother has asked of him without question. He still does now, after all. He’s married a teenager, after all – for politics.
Only now he is no longer beneath his mother’s thumb – he is beneath Viktor’s.
Viktor’s bony, long-fingered hand drops onto Jayce’s one finger idly tracing the warm band of his wedding ring.
“I think I still have to learn a lot about Piltovian culture,” Jayce hears him say through a little cloud that has started to envelop his brain. “I will endeavor to be strict with him.”
Jayce closes his eyes. He hopes he looks… he doesn’t know what. Not like his cock is pulsing out a dribble of pre that so desperately wants to soak into the soft fabric of Viktor’s panties but instead gets soaked up by his own underwear.
He must give off contrite sinner energy because the old lady shuffles off after praising Viktor.
Blessedly, there is a lull in the long line of congratulating strangers that Jayce had suffered through for the past hour, trying not to look like he’s sporting an overeager hard-on with Viktor right there on his lap.
He didn’t. Not before Viktor ordered him to make room and then situated himself right where he is now. Not before Viktor made sure to briefly lift the tulle and hard bone wiring of his skirt to ostensibly get more comfortable but actually to flash his bony little bottom clad in soft white lingerie at Jayce.
Hell, he’s even wearing stockings that are clinging to the meager meat of his skinny thighs. Jayce hadn’t known that they were even made in that size. Now, Viktor is leaning back against his chest, using him as the chair that he’s called him in front of everybody that had voiced concerns.
His finger is still petting Jayce’s wedding band in slow, soothing motions.
“You really do have to do what I tell you, yes?”
Jayce feels a shudder coming on, the hairs on his arms trying to stand on end beneath the suit and only managing to make it all tickle and itch. He sits still like a prey before a predator even though Viktor is maybe third of his weight.
It’s just that something about the soft click of Viktor’s accent in that slender throat makes Jayce’s heart pitter patter in his chest and makes him feel a little woozy.
“I don’t… have to,” he tries, but pathetically trails off. Who is he trying to kid? Surely not this young man with the large eyes that look so intelligent that Jayce feels like rolling onto his back and showing his belly in supplication.
However, he knows how that particular move would end, does he not? His belly tightens in a needy throb that creeps down his cock and sits at the very tip.
Viktor’s mouth opens a little. Jayce can feel the hot little puff of his breath hitting the hinge of his jaw. His own lungs seize, horrified and intrigued in equal measure.
“Then,” Viktor continues like Jayce hadn’t said a word; like he had, instead, enthusiastically agreed: “I want us to sit here a bit longer. Until I…” Viktor pauses and shifts a little. Jayce feels a second hand, just as clever as the first, carefully pat against the buttoned fly of his pants. Where they travelled, the restriction of his clothes suddenly seems much less tight, even though he couldn’t even tell they were fiddling with the openings at all.
His eyes widen, throat bobbing as he swallows desperately. “Until I’ve had my fill,” Viktor whispers. The only concession to his own nerves being the slight tremor in his melodic voice.
“You are not allowed to come, though.”
Jayce clenches his eyes shut tightly – but the next guest steps up toward them and Viktor turns to them as if nothing is amiss. As if, beneath the sea of his skirt, he is not pulling Jayce’s cock out of his fly and the slit of his underwear.
Jayce is starting to panic. He is in public at his wedding with his teenage bride and his cock is out in the open. It’s a special kind of nightmare that he thinks he must have had at some point in his life.
He wants to sink into the ground, but there’s nowhere for him to go at this point. He is as low as one can get; but nobody around them seems to notice. If they do turn toward him in an effort to engage him into some conversation, it is mostly to express their relief that he is the groom and nobody else.
Because, as everybody knows, he is a good boy and he would never-
His cock is slotted right up against Viktor’s ass, though. As an older gentleman slaps his shoulder and jostles him, Jayce has to somehow remember how to smile like a human being while he feels his cock getting dragged through the valley of Viktor’s ass.
He’s shielded by the cotton of his white panties but Jayce has gotten everything soaked with his pre by this point and he is certain… he is absolutely certain, that he can feel the shy rim of Viktor’s hole through the thin layer separating them.
“Are you unwell, my boy? You are a tad sweaty…”
Jayce’s mouth goes dry, his gaze becoming a bit wild. He feels like some type of feral stallion, desperate for freedom, hands clutching at Viktor but trying not to make it so obvious. He is certain his gorilla grip must hurt; that it will leave bruising on Viktor’s delicate skin behind – yet Viktor is quiet and not paying any attention, engrossed in a conversation of his own. Pretending he is not nudging his hips back and forth just so to rub along the heated rod he is perched atop.
“He has imbibed too much. Nothing more.”
Jayce is going to die. He is going to perish. Right there on the spot. He does not dare turn toward his mother’s cool, unimpressed voice; just freezes on the spot while his erection is pulsing and dribbling out more pre and getting Viktor’s panties absolutely ruined.
The gentleman that has talked to him stiffens as well. They very studiously do not look at each other as he quickly nods and bows. “Of course, of course. Please excuse me.”
He shuffles quickly after his wife who has stopped her conversation with Viktor. As he does so, Ximena’s hand lands on his shoulder and her breath softly fans against his red ear.
“I do not know what you are up to,” she whispers softly, “but you will stop it this instant. You will not embarrass me in front of the whole of Piltover’s upper class.”
Can she see? Can everybody see? Do they know Jayce is a goddamn degenerate? Probably not to the actual degree, but he must look like a pervert; sweaty and red and near panting.
He clears his throat and attempts to sit up straighter. As a result, his cock thrusts through the valley of Viktor’s ass and bumps into the soft little mound of his sac. Both of them stifle their respective sounds that maneuver tries to rip right out of their throats.
Ximena looks at the both of them; there’s a calculating look in her eyes but maybe she does not want to make a scene right here out in the open because after another warning squeeze to Jayce’s shoulder, she steps aside and leaves them be.
It is late. Jayce thinks. He is not so good at thinking anymore when all his blood has gathered in his cock.
“Can we leave?” he asks, voice cracking halfway through. Viktor shakes his head. There’s a red hot flush to his ear that looks like it would taste like cherries if Jayce would just tilt forward and gather the hot little edge between his teeth.
He’s going insane. Insane. He is going insane. Maybe he is already insane. Or Viktor is, because without peering at Jayce to see his reaction, he begins to rock.
That crazy little piece of work begins to shimmy and shift and drag himself along Jayce’s pride and joy, right there in front of everybody and his mother.
His movements are stealthy enough not to be all too visible due to the puffiness of his skirt, but Jayce can feel every. Single. One of them.
His breath freezes in his lungs, stomach going tight and hot within seconds of Viktor dragging his wet cotton panties along Jayce’s desperate, hot rod. His cock is pulsing with each drag; with each time that he can physically feel Viktor’s soft little sac dragging across the ridge of his brutishly big erection.
A shrill siren starts to screech in his head and nobody else is aware of it because nobody does so much as glance at them when they step toward his mother to start and say their goodbyes.
Nobody knows that Viktor is being a little degenerate just an arm’s length away from them. Which is good. Very good. Perfect, even. But that also means that nobody can stop his little bride from just doing it again and again.
Jayce can’t see Viktor’s face, but he can hear the soft gusty gasps he expels as he ruts on the warm column Jayce has to offer. He even goes so far as to shuffle just a tad forward so he can brace himself on the edge of the long table and have a more favorable angle.
To do what?
To rub the crown of Jayce’s cock specifically across his little hole over. And over. And over again.
Jayce can feel it. He can feel the little pouty donut right through the clinging fabric. He can feel it move against his crown, trying to open up and suckle him in when he knows… he knows that there is no way Viktor can take him without a huge amount of prep.
His lungs are burning. He dimly realizes he hasn’t been breathing in a while but he can’t make his body do anything other than sit there and be still and try to pretend he does not look constipated while holding on to his orgasm by the skin of his teeth.
Simply because… simply because his wife said so…
Gods, what will happen with his life now?
Viktor suddenly snaps one hand off of the table edge and instead claps it across his mouth. Jayce’s lips go slack, jaw hanging a little looser as he hears the mousy noises muffled into the cup of Viktor’s palm as he comes, pumping his load into his panties right then and there.
“Everything alright?”
Jayce’s attention snaps to a young woman that has a polite smile and a frown on her face at the same time, eying Viktor, then Jayce, then back again.
“Of course,” he says quickly. “I’ll have to… He- She. She is very exhausted from today. I’ll bring her to bed.”
The young woman’s glare smooths out when Jayce corrects himself. She folds her hands in front of her lap. “Yes, good idea. It’s a relief that we do not have to worry about your hands wandering, at least. It would be most improper, given Viktor’s age.”
Jayce feels like all the blood is being drained out of his body at once.
“Yeah,” he croaks. “Yes, of course.”