Chapter Text
Viktor posts the advertisement on a Discord he finds for the Greater Piltover Area; uncut cock wanted for a series of video shoots.
Predictably, he's inundated with offers. He's careful to always use a VPN when logging in to check responses to the listings, and never engages with anyone directly during the pre-screening if he can help it.
The last time his DMs were open, his account was flagged for spam.
It's not the best way to move forward after a break-up, and he doesn't expect to find anyone willing to offer up their dick that isn't a major creep, either. But he's still working on his PhD. He needs some form of income to supplement the pennies he gets from the Academy, because unlike his lab partner, Viktor doesn't have support from a family. Viktor doesn't have a family at all, which Salo had reminded him over and over again when they were together.
If we do this and my family finds out, I won't be able to bring you to suppers on Sunday night. My mother would be far too disappointed, and I would be forced to deny my own involvement.
Viktor still doesn't consider the loss of Sunday suppers with Salo's family much of a loss at all, because he had hated them. They were stuffy and boring and Viktor knows for a fact that Salo's parents have always believed their son deserved more than a cripple from the undercity, nevermind the strides that Viktor and his academic partner have made during their PhD research at the University of Piltover.
If he's honest, the only true loss from their break-up is the access he'd had to a dick attached to a man he'd trusted. Mostly trusted. But greed had come between them in the end, and Salo's logic had been so frustrating, Viktor hadn't even attempted to persuade him to stay; It's my cock, Viktor. You can't do this without me.
Well, Viktor can—and he will.
He likes filming the ASMR videos he posts on his OnlyFans, and he's not going to let the lack of a boyfriend stop him from continuing. In fact, he intends on turning everything around. On looking at the beaker as though it's half-full, not half-empty.
He spends two weeks combing through photographs. He's quite busy with his research, and as he lives with his research partner, is forced to check his phone between sessions in the lab, and late at night, after Jayce has gone to sleep. Yet he makes the time, squinting at dusky rose cockheads when he's sitting on the toilet, and zooming in on pale peach frenulums while he's tucked into bed.
Most of them, he rejects on-sight; shafts thicker than soda cans, and peckers too long to be anything other than painful, should he and his future scene partner get far enough along to add deepthroating videos to the ASMR repertoire. At the end of those two weeks, with no true leads to show for his efforts, Viktor is forced to admit that finding the right one will take a bit longer than he'd anticipated.
He posts a video on his OnlyFans with his own fingers stuffed up into his cunt, but it underperforms—and people threaten to unsubscribe. He promises them that the wait will be worth it. That he's in the process of finding the perfect cock, and supplements his posts with old footage to satiate his fans' thirst for long, drawn-out blowjobs, where he teases a cock to completion using nothing but his tongue.
He doubles his efforts to find the perfect dick after that, but it's not as easy as he'd first thought it would be. He collects images and tracks his findings as dutifully as can be expected from a man whose life is in the sciences, but the process is painstakingly tedious.
He'll think he's found a high-quality penis, one with ample foreskin and a nice set of rose-colored balls, but when he requests video footage, he'll realize that the dick in question is the wrong shade to co-star with his mouth. Viktor has a pallid complexion, and when set next to a pale shaft, it makes his face looks waxen, like he's a vampire, not a person.
He'll spend a few days sorting through photographs and reading the short applications over, until he finds another prospect that seems fitting. Then, the man attached will send a video where the cock in question is either a third of the length promised, or it'll double in size when jerked into an erection. Viktor isn't necessarily opposed to a ten-incher. He's hiring a cock for porn, after all, not to be inserted into his pussy—but to consider striking a deal with a man who has a salami more than seven inches when hard, it would have to be flawless in every other way.
None of them are, and so Viktor sets them aside and continues his search.
(A few of the submissions are bad enough, Viktor doesn't solely reject them—he promptly recommends they be forwarded to the most readily-available urologist in the region.)
For the most part, however, when he allows himself to consider the options that are sufficient rather than optimal, his collection steadily grows. He prints the pictures of his top choices out on glossy photo paper, and tucks them into the journal where he's tracking his findings. He'd like to pin them all up onto a wall and compare the pricks side-by-side, but his roommate-slash-research partner is, while a veritable genius, a bit of a prude. He's never brought anyone home in the three years they've lived together, and he's never once mentioned an ex, or even a date.
Viktor has never overheard him watching porn, never listened to Jayce jerk off through their thin walls. He's never found any evidence of lube, condoms, or poppers. Hasn't seen a single alert pop up into his notifications from any of the popular dating apps…and whenever they've watched movies or television shows with a bit of risqué content, Jayce has stared directly at the screen; silent and unmoving for the duration of the intimate scenes.
Admittedly, it's one of the only reasons Salo didn't protest their living arrangements—though Viktor did fight more than once with his ex-boyfriend over PDA when Jayce was near.
I don't want to make him uncomfortable in his own home.
If he doesn't care about sex, why would he care about my hand beneath your shirt?
(In hindsight, Viktor should have ended things with Salo sooner.)
If pushed, however, Viktor might concede that it is a bit ironic that Jayce seems so completely uninterested in sex. Not for the same bigoted reasons Salo had always implied, but merely for the fact that Jayce looks as though he was crafted for sex; particularly in the winter months, when he grows his facial hair out until he resembles a rugged lumberjack. The sort that belongs on the cover, and in the pages, of the trashy romance novels that Viktor hoards on his Kindle like a gremlin. The ones featuring women falling in love with aggressively possessive men that eat pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and are strong enough to crush their adversaries with a single fist.
(Jayce dedicates a lot of time to weight lifting.)
Viktor's point, however, is simply that Jayce is likely the single most attractive human that the gods have ever crafted; a body carved from marble, a personality that everyone can't help but adore, and the sort of fingers that everyone dreams of having stuffed up inside of their bodies. It could be considered a shame for someone that thinks about sex as much as Viktor does, but it's also none of Viktor's business, and so he tries not to think about it at all—to varying degrees of success.
At the end of the day, Viktor tells himself it's actually quite fitting. It makes their partnership more well-balanced; Jayce has no interest in sex, and Viktor is…incredibly hypersexual. He masturbates at least once a day, he enjoys gooning while he's studying—and when he can't listen to ASMR of sex, but he needs that low-level thrum of arousal to keep himself focused, he'll pop a vibe or a plug into his body to edge himself. He has a thirty-gallon storage bin tucked into his small closet; the top layer is clothes, the rest of the bin is filled with toys of all shapes and sizes. And he spends more time than is healthy thinking of ways to improve his own OnlyFans content; new blowjob techniques, new sounds he wants to try out, and new camera angles to maximize the hedonism of a single clip.
So it's for the best that things are the way that they are. If Jayce were even half as interested in sex as Viktor is, he's fairly certain they'd never make any progress in their research.
Besides. Viktor likes and respects Jayce, and he appreciates that Jayce likes and respects him. Pinning a bunch of phallic photographs up on his bedroom wall would be the opposite of respecting the signals Jayce has put out regarding sex. Particularly because Jayce is one of those guys who was raised in a happy, healthy family that has no regard for what a closed door means, because there were never any secrets to hide from one another.
(He wandered in on Viktor masturbating three times before Viktor finally purchased a deadbolt for the inside of his bedroom door to prevent it from happening again. Not because he doesn't enjoy the idea of Jayce watching him jerk off, but because he doesn't want to make things uncomfortable, and Jayce had been visibly uncomfortable for days following each encounter.)
So he keeps his journals carefully hidden, his research sequestered away in the bottom of his bookbag so that Jayce won't stumble upon it at any point in their shared apartment—but he doesn't stop looking, doesn't stop interviewing men.
By the time that Viktor has whittled the pool down to three, beautiful dicks, he's heard more than enough insults to last a lifetime—both from the men, and from his ex, who keeps implying that he's won some sort of competition because Viktor has yet to post a new dick-sucking video since their breakup. But Viktor ignores the latter, and refuses to feel bad for the former. He's not looking for a boyfriend. He's holding a casting, is seeking out a scene partner.
Which is to say that Viktor is trawling the meat market for one, simple reason; to find the best-looking prick available.
And what do you know?
After weeks of searching, Viktor casts aside two of the three final contenders, and settles on the perfect dick during a Sunday afternoon. It's beautiful in pictures, stunning in videos. The bronze penis hangs an ideal seven-and-a-half inches long while soft; which is perhaps a bit long for reality, but perfect for porn, because it's a mouthful, but not so much of a mouthful that Viktor can't drool around it while it's flaccid.
Surprisingly, Viktor has elected to go with one of the growers—mostly because in the videos where DefenderofTomorrow sat with his cock in his hand, and used nothing but his thumb to stroke it to hard, the swelling of the prick made Viktor's mouth water, even as it inflated to nine-and-a-half inches long. He had delayed his final choice for a bit longer than he meant to, because Viktor had initially believed that nine-and-a-half was way too big.
But everything else is perfect, and so Viktor decides that he'll simply have to learn how to take more meat down his throat. A kind dick owner, Defender offers his own knob up for the job.
We can do a few sessions before we get the camera out, I don't mind…I know it's a lot to take.
I will pay you, if it comes to that.
Pay for our drinks tonight, and we can call it even.
Viktor agrees, because how can he not? Defender's penis is perfect. It juts out from a bed of dark curls, a few shades darker than the tan skin of the man's stomach. The stomach itself is that of a fit man, though one that would probably be willing to share a basket of bottomless fries over a couple of beers—not that Viktor is going to be participating in meals with the owner of the cock, aside from their scheduled meet cute. It's merely something that he took note of in his journal, because Viktor took note of everything.
There's ample foreskin for playing with, a shiny glans that seems to be the perfect shade of burnt umber, and Viktor is salivating over the idea of dragging the tip of his tongue along the shapely ridge of the man's corona. He wants to flick his tongue at it, teasing the edge until the cock begins to tremble, so that he can assess how much edging Defender is truly able to withstand.
Best of all, Defender's hog isn't the only faultless feature of the man's genitals, meaning they might even be able to film more than what he'd been limited to with Salo. Defender's ballsack is proportional, the gonads big enough to fill out a palm—important for when Viktor massages out an orgasm after ten-to-thirty minutes of edging—but not so big that Viktor won't be able to take at least one at a time into his mouth for teasing. The man's scrotum also hangs before two thick, muscular thighs that look stronger than tree trunks, which is a decent argument in and of itself for expanding the style of the videos—once they start working together, that is.
He hasn't mentioned the additional ideas to Defender yet, but he's certain that the man will be amenable, because Defender has been a very, very reasonable man thus far. He seems genuinely excited about the prospect of making a few bucks off of porn, but not just because it's sex. Curiously enough, he seems invested in the brand, too.
Defender sends every picture, every video, that Viktor requests; promptly, and without complaint. He goes out and buys a ring light that features multiple lighting options so that he can display his schlong under cool, natural, and warm temperatures, showcasing it beneath ten different brightness levels, without Viktor even needing to ask.
When Viktor requests the exact dimensions of his penis, both flaccid and erect, he digs out a sewing tape measure and sends a dozen of them from varying angles, and then follows that up with a video that may or may not have made Viktor wet.
Then there are the various performances; videos that Viktor requested from each of the final three options, where they'd jerked off silently to prove that they could, in fact, remain quiet for the actual production that Viktor is seeking their cocks for. Defender blew the others out of the water.
He sent three perfect videos.
Viktor had requested twelve minutes from each man; nine minutes of merciless edging, where they were to follow a jerk-off script, and three minutes for the finale, featuring an orgasm and a bit of continued stimulation, so that Viktor would be able to judge each man's ability to withstand post-orgasm play.
Defender's videos were much longer than twelve minutes, and there wasn't so much as a single misplaced whimper across all three of them. Each video featured the man's long, thick fingers playing with his prick until he'd blown his load…but also, for the entire duration of time it'd taken for his penis to finish softening. He'd revealed that he has a bit of an overstimulation kink—that he enjoys being tongued past reason, enjoys having his flaccid cock held in a warm mouth as he comes down. But he'd also revealed his genuine interest in joining Viktor.
I want you to know how serious I am about this.
Viktor had responded with one hand, because the fingers of the other had been shoved up inside of his pussy; I'd like to meet you tonight in a public setting, if you are amenable.
If the guy isn't a serial killer, he's a diamond in the rough. Viktor's best actual guess is that he's a butterface. Someone with a great dick, a great body, but an ugly face. After all, who else would be willing to jump through Viktor's countless hoops?
Either way, his willingness to do so is a great indication for the future of their partnership. Viktor has always worked best with someone willing to go out on a limb and trust him, someone willing to obsess over every, little detail of a project. It's why he and Jayce work so well together. It's why Salo and his constant negging, and his imperfect dick, weren't anything close to the ideal partner for Viktor.
He's eager to get started, and so as soon as he finalizes his decision, he lets Defender know where to meet him for a drink; a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant around the corner from the apartment. He's hoping that if they get along well enough, he might simply bring the stranger back home, where Viktor can get his lips around the man's hog to test the product out in the safety of his own apartment, which features the equivalent of a live-in bodyguard.
I am wearing tan slacks, a white button-down, and a sweater vest with a chevron pattern that features two shades of blue. I also have a brace over my right leg, and use a cane. The restaurant is more of a bar, so I am headed over soon to get us a table, as they don't take reservations.
He hasn't spoken about his disability to Defender, yet. They've kept conversation to the relevant topics thus far. It shouldn't be an issue, because Viktor's head is the furthest body part from his leg, but there is no reply in his Discord DMs by the time he has finished strapping his brace into place. His stomach twists into a knot, but he puts his phone into his pocket and departs his bedroom to find his roommate.
Jayce is in the shower, meaning he must have hopped in the moment that Viktor got out. Hopefully he doesn't have plans this evening. Viktor would feel much more comfortable measuring his ability to take Defender's cock down his throat with his enormous roommate nearby, just in case things go wrong.
Viktor knocks once. "Jayce?"
The water shuts off. "Viktor? Everything alright?"
Viktor's lips are parted, but his response is still on the tip of his tongue when the door swings open, and Jayce appears in a cloud of humidity; naked, save for a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. He tucks the towel into itself, and Viktor forces himself not to follow the water trickling down his chest, to where it's slung low on his hips. When they first moved in together, Jayce waxed his chest regularly, but he's grown it out, and if Viktor had a preference, he'd say that he enjoys this scruffier version of his roommate the most; longer hair, a full beard.
Not that it matters.
Heat stings Viktor's cheeks when he realizes he's been staring, but Jayce has moved on. He's shaving the stubble on his neck, moving the razor carefully over his throat as he waits for Viktor to talk, completely unaware of the effect he has on his roommate.
"Ah," Viktor swallows. "I'm going out."
"Cool, cool." Jayce rinses his razor off, and puts it away, reaching for aftershave—something new, something Viktor hasn't seen in their bathroom before this evening.
Viktor stares at the aftershave, at the bottle of Giorgio Armani cologne beside it. It's a woodsy scent, but warm; a spicy top note laid over a vanilla base, perhaps. Not that Viktor is invested in Jayce's scent. "New cologne?"
At the exact moment that Viktor asks this, Jayce tenses, mid-application of the aftershave. "Not to see Salo, I hope?"
Viktor might dislike his ex-boyfriend, but in the weeks since the break-up, it's become clear to Viktor that Jayce dislikes him as well. A lot. Honestly, Jayce might even more than dislike Salo. They'd been curled upon the couch—platonically, of course—watching television just last weekend, and Viktor's phone had started buzzing on the coffee table.
You've been quiet.
Jayce had tensed, the bulging muscles of his bicep going taut over Viktor's shoulder in the same way that usually happened during sex scenes, not re-runs of reality television. "Does he expect you to still talk to him as often as you did while you were together?"
Viktor had shifted, reaching for his phone, but he hadn't gotten it into his palm before the next message appeared.
If you need my dick, the offer still stands.
"Block him," Jayce had growled, the fierce command in his tone shocking Viktor. But then he'd exhaled an aggravated sigh, and run his palm down his face before Viktor could get a word in. "Sorry, V. I just— he's a prick, you know that, right? You deserve better, man."
Viktor had tucked his phone into his pocket, and curled back into his roommate's side. Not out of a need for intimate touch or anything, but because they have a small couch. And maybe he'd been feeling a little touch-starved. A little. "I have realized that Salo is a…prick, yes."
Jayce had thrown his arm around Viktor's shoulder again, and squeezed it. "Good," he'd said. "I'd hate to have to punch him on your behalf—wouldn't want to risk swelling in the hand I use to write up our notes. Right, V?"
"V?"
Viktor pushes the memory from mind. "No, no." He licks his lips, watching Jayce spray the new bottle of cologne on his wrists, his inner elbows. "I have a…date." It's not really a date, but it's also not not a date; there's a time, a place, and a drink to be shared.
"Right on," Jayce says in very neutral tone.
Viktor furrows his brow. "Yes, right…on." He clears his throat, ignoring the droplets of water slipping down Jayce's throat, and wonders if Jayce bought this new perfume set for wherever he is going this evening. "I, ah…I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, of course, but if things go well, I would prefer to bring him back here, rather than to go to a stranger's house." Viktor taps a finger atop his cane. "Being asked to climb up a four-story walk-up might kill the mood."
The joke falls flat, because Jayce takes everything regarding Viktor's disabilities very seriously. "Of course," he says, eyes widening. "Yeah, of course, man. I can clear out."
"I did not mean that," Viktor says quickly. "We will be quiet if things progress."
"No, it's alright. I have a, uh—" Jayce drops his gaze and chuckles, rubbing his forehead without looking at Viktor directly, as though he's considering whether or not to speak at all "—I have a date of my own, actually." He holds up the bottle of amber-colored cologne sheepishly.
Viktor blinks. "A date?"
Jayce reaches for a toothbrush. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know if that's the best term for it." He squirts cinnamon toothpaste onto the bristles, clicks it on, and shoves the head into his mouth, talking around the buzzing sound. "But I'm seeing someone tonight. We've been chatting for a couple of weeks. I'm pretty nervous, but looking forward to it."
Viktor blinks again.
Viktor keeps blinking for two full minutes, until Jayce's toothbrush runs its course and is clicked off, because he has no idea what to say. How to respond. How to process the idea of Jayce Talis on a date. They've lived together for three years. Three, full years—and Jayce has never, not once, been on a date. Viktor had assumed he had no interest in any sort of dating. At all. Even for companionship. He hadn't known that Jayce was even, well…an option. Is Jayce an option? Does the existence of a date mean that dating Jayce is, or ever was, an option? Viktor's mind provides no answer, save for white noise that prevents him from communicating anything at all, and the bottom of his stomach hollows out as he realizes that perhaps he has missed his chance, if Jayce has been talking to someone for a couple of weeks.
Jayce spits into the sink, and then looks at Viktor, who cannot find a single word at his disposal as Jayce gargles mouthwash and flosses his perfect, straight teeth for what is probably the third time in the same day. "V, man— you okay?"
"You have a…date?"
Jayce moves past Viktor, down the short hallway, and into his bedroom—positioned beside Viktor's, and absent any sounds of sex for the past three entire years that they've lived in this apartment together. His phone is perched atop his dresser, and he checks it, typing out a quick reply to someone—his date, Viktor's possessive, territorial hindbrain unhelpfully sneers—and then sets it down again.
"Yeah," Jayce says, pulling open drawers. His voice sounds even lighter, as though the person in his phone has made him happy, and Viktor seethes with an unfamiliar emotion that he refuses to name as Jayce continues speaking. "I think it'll go well, but it's been awhile since I've gone out with someone, and I can't lie—I'm hoping it'll be more than just a fuck buddy situation…but we'll see, I suppose."
Viktor mouths the words fuck buddy, wondering if maybe he misheard.
Jayce pulls out a pair of clean, white briefs. He keeps his back turned to Viktor, but doesn't shut the door. Not that he ever does. Jayce is a door-open kind of guy. He sleeps with it open, he changes clothes with it open, he uses the TRX straps mounted to their ceiling that destroyed any chance of them ever getting their security deposit back with it open, sweating in his bedroom while Viktor sits at the big table that takes up half of their living room and studiously trains his eyes on anything other than his roommate's slick, half-naked body.
In fact, Jayce Talis only shuts the bathroom door because Viktor had finally snapped at him, two months into their living together, when Jayce had stood up during the middle of a conversation about stabilizing reactor cores, went into the bathroom, and proceeded to take a massive shit without shutting the door.
(He still talks to Viktor through the closed door, but Viktor takes his wins where he can.)
So it's not exactly strange that Jayce drops his towel in front of Viktor, exposing his perfect, round ass as he pulls the briefs up, one leg at a time, and then over the muscular bubble of his ass. It's simply that when Jayce turns back to face him, pushing down the elastic band of his briefs so that he can manually adjust his package—briefly flashing the thick root of a cock that Viktor thought was abstient—Viktor is averting his eyes with a newfound panic in the back of his mind…because Jayce…goes on dates.
Jayce puts his cock into people.
Viktor remains standing in the hallway, staring at the man as he dresses. It seems that Jayce has no idea that he has just dropped a nuclear explosive between them, and that Viktor is trying to run the math in his mind to figure out whether or not he's woken up in an alternate dimension; one where Jayce Talis actually fucks.
His mouth forms the words twice before he gets them out. "But you don't…date."
"I date," Jayce laughs. The snap of elastic against his hip is very loud. "I just don't date very often. We've been pretty busy with our research."
Viktor blanches. "But I've never—" heard you jerk off, heard porn from your bedroom, heard you make a single sound that could maybe, possibly, be associated with sex in the past three years that we've lived together, during which, you've left your door open throughout the entire duration to the point of the door itself being almost entirely unnecessary "—I didn't know."
"Don't worry, Viktor. You're my only partner." Jayce says this easily, as though he's talking about the weather. "We're meeting up to see if we're compatible, like, sexually. I don't think he's interested—"
"You're gay?"
The world stops spinning.
A black hole opens up in the stratosphere.
An atom is split, and everyone and everything dissolves and is remade in a nuclear fissure.
Also, Rio hops down from Jayce's bed, and rubs against his bare calf with a yowl, because Rio is a fucking traitor who doesn't remember who adopted her two-and-a-half years ago.
Jayce looks up from where he's fiddling with his leather bracelet-watch-combination, and furrows his thick brows. He has the strangest look on his face. He has also acquired socks, and a formal dress shirt in the time it has taken Viktor to reel himself in from the life-altering information that he's just been presented with. "Viktor, we've watched nothing but Queer Eye re-runs since your breakup."
"I was grieving!" Viktor splutters, using his cane to drag himself two steps closer so that he can stare at the new alien species that is standing in his roommate's bedroom. "You promised not to hold that over my head!"
Jayce looks unfairly beautiful when he laughs; his entire chest shakes, the white shirt rippling against his tan skin as he pushes the buttons together. "You were not grieving, V." He leaves the top two buttons undone, revealing a thatch of dark chest hair, and then reaches for a pair of black slacks, pulling them up slowly as Viktor fights the instinct to start demanding more information about his roommate's sexual history.
It's just— his head is spinning. Everything he knows, and has ever known, has just erupted like a volcano, permanently changing the carefully-balanced ecosystem of their shared apartment. Viktor gapes like a fish flung from water, staring for so long, that Jayce finishes getting dressed in a very attractive, but semi-casual, outfit that shows off his bulging muscles and his well-toned ass and his incredibly gorgeous face.
"Who was your last boyfriend?" Viktor demands.
"Uh," Jayce threads a belt on, "I don't know. Someone in, like, high school, probably."
"Who was—"
"V, don't you have plans tonight?"
Viktor blinks, because departing this apartment for plans with someone else's cock seems an idea just as surreal as the thought of Jayce announcing that he's gay was, only twenty minutes ago. But he did spend an entire month searching for the perfect dick, so he withdraws his phone and opens up Discord to see a message from Defender; I'll find you :peepo_happy:
Viktor clicks his phone screen off. "I do have plans this evening." Plans that seem very, very insignificant all of the sudden, but that he would feel bad canceling. "Will you be—"
Jayce opens a drawer in his dresser, and pulls out a few ketchup-sized packets of what has to be lube, because he also withdraws three condoms, and shoves the combination into his wallet.
Viktor nearly chokes. "Three?"
Red blooms high on Jayce's tan cheeks, and he shrugs. "I really like him, V." He lifts his face, and looks Viktor right in the eye. "If he's not a catfish, I want to make sure he knows how I feel."
"Right." Viktor's throat is dry, and his palms are clammy. "Will you be coming back here?"
"I'm not sure yet," Jayce admits. "Would it be a problem if we did?"
"No," Viktor says immediately. "I would, ah, feel safer with you around…perhaps we could all share a nightcap." The words taste like dirt leaving his mouth, but Jayce lights up like a neon sign.
He steps forward, laying his palm on Viktor's shoulder, and squeezes it. "I'd like that, Viktor."
Viktor can't say that he feels the same way, but he pulls his lips into what he hopes is a smile. "I better go," he tells his roommate. "Have a nice evening, Jayce."
To his credit, once Viktor is seated in the back of the dim bar, at a corner booth for two, where he'll be able to put his palm on Defender's thigh to feel the goods and ensure that the man is packing what he's presented via DM, he's less unnerved. Well, just as unnerved, but more soothed by the thought of getting his mouth around Defender's dick in the next hour or so. Because as he waits, he scrolls through their media tab, and is reminded of what he went through a month of meticulous research to unearth from the dregs of the Greater Piltover Area; the perfect cock.
He taps on a video of Defender pulling his foreskin away from the wet, cum-slicked glans, and feels the tell-tale sign of his core tightening with arousal. Mid-replay, a new message comes through.
I'm here.
Yeah, Jayce will have to wait.