He reached around, his fingers finding the small remote in his pocket.
Click.
The vibration intensified. Not just a steady buzz, but a pattern now—a long, deep buzz followed by three sharp, stuttering pulses.
"Oh, fuck!" Lance cried out, his hands slapping against the counter. His vision swam. Pre-cum leaking down his thigh "What is that?!"
"That.." Ansel said, voice thick with lust, "is the 'escalation' pattern. It's going to keep doing that, building and teasing, for the next ten minutes. Your speech is in five. You'll walk out there with it building. You'll start talking just as it hits the long pulse. Can you do that for me, Lance? Can you stand at that podium with my toy fucking your brains out and pretend to be a good little academic?"
The pattern repeated again.
The long vibration was a deep, internal massage, the short pulses were like tiny, electric slaps to his core. Lance was panting, sweat beading at his temples. He was so hard it hurt. "I… I don't know if I can."
