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Homeroom Angels

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Virgil “Thunder” Storm is the bassist in a punk band. He's in the middle of a national tour. He's the kind of guy who wears eyeliner and leather and who has to take his clothes off to show you all the tattoos and piercings. He is Officially Cool™.

He definitely isn't the kind of guy who's meant to have trouble getting laid. And yet, somehow, he's spending the evening in his hotel room browsing porn.


He clicks onto a webcam site, somewhere he checks out semi-regularly. None of his saved favourites are online, so he browses, until a screenshot catches his eye.

SinfulHeart is now streaming.

Okay, yeah, what the hell.

The screen loads on a still of a man kneeling on a bed, his legs spread wide. He's wearing a soft blue skirt that only covers half of a pair of thick thighs, and the gentle curve of his stomach arches gracefully up to where his image has frozen, halfway through pulling a crop-top off over his head.

Virgil feels his pulse pick up. His hand is already at his crotch. Oh yeah, this looks like his sort of thing.

Then the image unfreezes, revealing the man's smiling face – brown, curly hair, round cheeks dotted with freckles and wide baby-blue eyes.

“Aw, you're so sweet!” he coos at the camera, in response to some message in the chat that Virgil doesn't bother reading. “I feel pretty in this skirt… but I feel even prettier in what I've got under it.”

Virgil stares, transfixed, as the man on screen turns around, on his hands and knees now, showing the sumptuous curve of his ass off to the camera. The chat is pinging with messages – “show us, Heart!”, “you wearing something special for us?”, “did you get my present?” People are sending tips too, and a lot of them.

“You really want to see?” the man – Heart – teases, running his hands along the hemline. “Maybe I shouldn't show you just yet. I don't want to spoil you.”

The chat is calling him a tease, but Heart just giggles, while Virgil's pulse is pounding.

After a few minutes, Heart relents.

“Oh, okay. Since you asked so nicely…”

He slips his thumbs under the waistband of the skirt, pulling it oh-so-slowly down to reveal a pair of lacy pink panties underneath. He sways his hips a couple of times, showing off for the camera, before turning back to face his audience, revealing his cock, already half-hard, straining against the thin strip of fabric.

“What do you think?”

The chat is going wild, but something else is burning inside Virgil, something much stronger.


“What do you think?”

He was in homeroom, junior year of high school, and his heart was stuttering in his chest because Patton Morello, head of the yearbook committee and one of the three hottest and most popular guys in school, was asking him a direct question.

“About the theme for prom?” Patton prompted. “Fairy Tale Enchantment?”

“Uh, yeah, it sounds great,” Virgil muttered.

“I'm glad you like it! Ro and I worked so hard on it. So you're planning on going?”

Virgil dreamt, for half a second, that Patton might be inviting him. He turned bright red at the mere idea, and lost all ability to speak.

“Because I want the whole year to be there!” Patton added. “It's going to be so much fun!”

Oh. Of course.

“Yeah, I'll be there.”

Patton clapped his hands excitedly. “That's great!”


“You like them?” Onscreen, SinfulHeart claps his hands excitedly. “I'm so glad! And thank you so much to BigBoy85 for buying them for me. It's so lovely when you send me presents.”

Patton Morello gives a sultry look at the camera, and Virgil's heart skips a beat.

“Now,” he asks in a low voice. “What would you like me to do next?”

This is wrong, Virgil thinks. This is weird, and wrong, and an invasion of privacy or something –

My high school crush is a cam boy.

“Touch myself?” Patton giggles scandalously. “Oh, but I wouldn't want to get my new panties dirty, would I…?”

The chat posts their encouragement vociferously, and Virgil feels frozen in place, every muscle tense.

“Oh, if you're sure…” Patton smiles. “I can never say no to you.”

He reaches under his waistband and begins toying with himself, the flimsy material of his skirt showing just enough of an outline to tease.

“Mmm, feels so smooth against my cock,” Patton says. “Oh. Oh!”

Patton moans softly, tipping his head back in pleasure.

Virgil starts stroking himself, and he comes quicker and harder than he has in years.


Virgil feels so guilty. He's not even entirely sure why – only that he had a crush on Patton for two solid years, and seeing him this way feels… almost like cheating? He hasn't earned this.

He swears to himself he isn't going to do it again.

… That lasts all of three days.

He can't get Patton out of his mind. Heart? He doesn't know how to think of him. Maybe Heart is better – it reflects how Patton has changed. Put on a little weight. Let his hair grow longer. Wears fewer clothes.

And Virgil desperately needs to see more. He tries to watch something else, his old favourite channels, he really does, but all he can see in his head is Patton.

When he finally breaks and looks again, SinfulHeart isn't streaming. That would be too much of a coincidence. But Virgil finds himself clicking onto his profile anyway, then through to his website, browsing through the selfies and screenshots and teaser clips. There's not much explicit – you have to pay for that – but Virgil's hard anyway, just watching Heart dance around his room in tight-fitting booty shorts, or smile innocently up at a camera posed over right over his bed.

Then he finds a still that makes his heart catch in his throat. Heart on his knees, sticking his tongue out, his mouth full of cum.

“Having fun with TeachMeALesson,” says the caption. There's a link, and something makes Virgil click it.

Holy shit.


Logan Croft was the smartest guy in school, and everyone knew it. Smarter than plenty of kids who were older than him – he was head of the debate team by the end of sophomore year, and taking a straight run of AP classes.

He was also incredibly intimidating. He dressed in a suit and tie, which should have looked horrifically nerdy, but it was hard to ignore the intense passion in those brown eyes, the stubborn set of that jaw, the slicing wit that came out of those thin lips with just a hint of a smirk.

He was hot, basically. Hot enough to pull off anything, even a suit and tie on a high-schooler.

So when he stopped Virgil in the hallway, Virgil's heart skipped a beat.

“Do you know how much food waste is generated in the United States every day?”

Virgil didn't know what had prompted this pop quiz, but he had no idea what the answer was, despite Logan's expectant air.

“A… lot?” he stuttered, uncertainly.

“A hundred and fifty thousand tonnes,” Logan answered.

“That's… interesting?” Virgil didn't know what he wanted, why Logan was even bothering to talk to him. Logan frowned. “I mean, it's bad, yeah –”

“Lo!” Patton appeared at his shoulder – not unusual, since the two were best friends and did nearly everything together. “You've got to get him to sign the petition.”

“Petition?” Virgil asked, vaguely.

Logan held up a clipboard. “For the school to introduce a waste composting scheme in the cafeteria.”

“Oh.” They were just trying to get signatures. “Sure, I'll sign.”

Logan looked him slowly up and down, the look on his face inscrutable.

“Thank you for your support.”


'Thank you for your support' reads the banner across the top of TeachMeALesson's page. And underneath, there's a picture – a man looking thoroughly wrecked, shirt undone, tie loose around his neck, biting his lip between his teeth.

It is, unmistakeably, Logan Croft. A little more muscular perhaps, but the same close-cropped hair, the same starched shirt collar, bright white against his dark skin. The same mesmerising eyes, deep brown and staring straight down the camera lens.

Virgil is going to literally die.

Teach's page is more organised – fewer photos, more links. And it has a schedule of upcoming videos.

That's where Virgil discovers that Teach and Heart do regular collaborations, along with a third person. PillowPrince.

It couldn't be…?


Roman Esperanza. The most popular and most beautiful guy in school. Head of the Drama Club and of the Chorus. School council president, to Patton and Logan's secretary and treasurer.

And Virgil – headphones in, eyes down, trying to make it out of the building as fast as possible – had walked right into him.

“Whoa! Hold up there.” Virgil frantically pulled his earbuds out. “What's your rush?”

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly. “I just want to get home, I –”

“It's no big deal. You doing okay?”

Virgil nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

Roman smiled at him, and his pulse raced.

“You going to the play next week? I'm the lead.”

Virgil knew he was the lead. Roman had been the male lead in the last four plays in a row, and Virgil had watched every single one of them, closing night in the back row.

“I might check it out,” he said, slowly.

“Great! I'd love to see you there.” Roman scratched the back of his head, looking bashful, and for a second Virgil's heart melted. “I mean, the more the merrier, right? If we sell enough tickets we might do a musical in the summer…”

Virgil burned. Of course Roman wasn't asking about him, specifically. He just wanted to sell tickets. He probably didn't even know Virgil's name.

“Good luck with that,” he snapped, putting his headphones back in. “I've got to go.”

If Roman called after him, he didn't hear it.


It's him. Roman Esperanza, in the very-much-exposed flesh.

And the Prince? He is streaming tonight.

Chapter Text

Virgil spends the next ten minutes before the stream is due to start going half out of his mind with anxiety. This is weird, right? He should turn off the stream. He's going to log off.

He doesn't log off.

It's like a car crash. He can't bring himself to look away. Except instead of a car crash it's the three guys he pined over all through high school, filming themselves in their underwear.

Sometimes less, if the photos on their website are anything to go by.

… and sometimes together.

That thought alone is almost enough to have him moaning out loud. That should be enough, right? Imagining it?

But watching the stream would be so, so much better.

And then the picture flickers to life, and all doubts are gone from his mind.

Roman is sat on a bed, the red and gold sheets matching his red satin robe. He's thinner than he used to be, losing muscle mass where Logan seems to have gained it, and his hair has blonde highlights like he's been spending time in the sun. But he still has that same golden brown skin, those same brown eyes, and that same dazzling white smile.

“Good evening, lords, ladies and non-binary royalty. The Prince is here to help make your dreams come true. And I think you'll like what I have planned for tonight…”

Virgil hits subscribe before he even thinks twice.

“Oh, we have a new subscriber in the chat!” Roman reacts as the notification appears on his screen, his eyes growing wide. “Well, I'll explain this little game I like to play just. For. You.”

Roman smirks down the camera lens, and Virgil groans out loud.

“I'm going to be holding a toy auction,” Roman says in a whisper that's still clearly audible. “That means that I'm going to show you some of my favourite things to play with… and whoever bids the highest, is going to get to pick what I do with them.”

Virgil is in hell. This is hell. He is dying.

He's already trying to calculate how much money he can reasonably spend on this. Given that he's a rockstar, the answer is a lot.

Roman opens up a box beside him on the bed, and starts pulling out the toys and laying them out, one by one. A couple of bullet vibes to start with, and then a slender blue toy that can shoot lube through the tip.

“It's not my biggest, of course,” Roman says with a laugh. “But we're only just getting started.”

Virgil goggles a little at that, because the dildo is easily as large as he is, and he isn't exactly small.

His train of thought stops abruptly when Roman looks back at the chat, and sees the request that several people have left him.

“Really? Are you sure?” he teases. “I don't want to get you riled up too soon.”

But as soon as he says it, he licks a long stripe along the toy and swallows it into his mouth, all the way down to the base. He bobs his head a couple of times before pulling off, smirking at the camera.

Virgil lets out a whine. It's impossible not to imagine his cock in the toy's place. How it would feel, so smooth and tight –

He's is so hard it's bordering on painful, but Roman seems to be in no hurry to get to the main event, so Virgil is going to suffer a while longer yet.

Roman shows off a few more toys, each bigger than the last. The chat is buzzing about what might come next, regulars familiar with the options available. Apparently this is only a small selection of Roman's collection.

“And of course,” Roman says, “the night wouldn't be complete without my personal favourite, the Dragon.”

Virgil's eyes grow wide. The toy in Roman's hands is huge – at least 10 inches long, with vein-covered bulges, wide enough around the middle that Roman is holding it with both hands and his fingers barely meet. Virgil can't even imagine having something that big inside him.

He desperately needs to see Roman use it.

“Well, that's all your options for this evening. So, have I inspired you?” Roman sweeps his hand across the laid-out toys and grins. “You know what to do, guys, gals and non-binary pals.”

The bidding war is swift and fierce. It's in site tokens, rather than dollars, ticking up to 1000, 1500, almost 2000 –

Virgil slams down 4000 tokens in the chat. Almost $400. It's worth it. The bidding falls silent.

“And we have our winner,” Roman says in a low, sultry voice, smile curving over his face. “Congratulations, TempestTonguePiercing. What did you have in mind?”

Virgil's hands are shaking as he types.

“Dragon, and a bullet vibe on your cock,” he messages without hesitation. Then, a second message: “Hard and fast.”

Roman's eyes go wide. “It sounds like I'm in for a treat today.”

He licks his lips a little, and Virgil bites his lip.

Roman puts the other toys away, and then turns to the camera with a look of wide-eyed fear.

“I'm in trouble,” he says in a low voice. “I should have known better than to go hunting dragons on my own. It looks like this one might be –” he gulps – “bigger than I can handle.”

Virgil almost laughs. Clearly all that acting practise didn't go to waste.

Then Roman reaches for the tie of his gown, and Virgil's laughter dies immediately.

“Perhaps,” Roman says slowly. “I can think of a way to… distract him.”

He lets the gown fall down as far as his shoulders, and Virgil is transfixed. It's as though his brain splits in two: half of him is his teenage self again, fantasizing about walking in on Roman changing after gym, and the other half is very much an adult, about to watch someone incredibly beautiful fucking himself open for the camera.

Roman lets the robe fall to the floor, leaving nothing but a red thong, and Virgil lets the adult half of his brain get one last hit in.

“In your mouth, first,” he says, dropping another 500 tokens to catch Roman's attention.

Roman only hesitates for a second before he falls dramatically to his knees.

“Please,” he gasps. “Mercy. I'll do… anything…”

He presses his lips against the Dragon toy, slowly mouthing at it before taking just the head into his mouth. Even with just the tip, Roman's lips are stretched obscenely wide. As he thrusts the toy deeper, drool runs out the sides of his mouth, dripping down his chin.

Roman chokes before he's swallowed half the length. He thrusts the toy a couple more times before he pulls it out, eyes wide at the camera again.

“I can do better,” he gasps. “Please, give me one last chance –”

Turning away from the camera, he pushes his underwear down only as far as his knees, letting it catch there. His ass is flawless, and as he bends slowly forward, a black shape between his cheeks reveals he's been wearing a butt plug this whole time.

Roman reaches back, toying with the plug in and out for a few seconds before pulling it out with a moan. He shoots a look back over his shoulder at the camera.

“I'm ready. Please. I can take it.”

He quickly smears a coating of lube over the toy before pressing the head against himself. He cries out, loudly. Virgil lets out a groan.

“So big,” Roman sobs, and Virgil wonders for a second if he's still acting. But he reaches back and pushes the toy another inch deeper, and this time the moan sounds more like pleasure.

“So powerful,” Roman says. “I'm so full. Please, I'm yours, take me, do what you want with me –”

There's a buzzing sound as the bullet vibe springs into life, and Roman makes a choked noise.

“Feels so good – please –”

He starts fucking the toy in and out of himself, a little deeper with every thrust, until he presses past the widest part of the toy and suddenly it's buried up to the hilt inside of him. He cries out, loudly, and it's all Virgil can do to grip his cock tight and try and keep from coming right then and there.

Roman goes still for a couple of seconds, and then slowly rolls over – onto his side, and then on his back, knees pulled up to his chest, letting the audience see just how wide he's stretched, how his cock is red and dripping pre-cum.

He looks directly at the camera, his eyes watering, his lips red, his hair a mess.

“Please,” he gasps. “Make me yours, entirely. Want to feel all of you.”

Then he pulls the toy out, almost all the way, and thrusts it back inside himself in a single swift motion.

Virgil is gone. He starts stroking his cock, hard and fast, just like Roman is fucking himself, and it's only a few strokes before he's spilling all across his hand, moaning out his pleasure, for once not caring who hears.

He just manages to open his eyes in time to see the streaks of white painting their way across Roman's chest, toy buried deep inside him as he sobs his release.

What the fuck did Virgil just do?

Virgil stares at the screen, breathless, as Roman whines and writhes for a minute before finally turning off the bullet vibe. He pulls the Dragon out of himself with a filthy moan, and drops it on the bed next to himself before stretching out slowly, like a cat.

“Well, that was quite something. Did I bring your dream to life, TempestTonguePiercing?”

Virgil stares at the keyboard. The chat is full of messages telling Roman – The Prince, he's The Prince now – how gorgeous he looks, what they'd like to do to him if they could. But right now, it feels like Roman is looking right at him.

“Yes.” he types slowly.

Roman smiles luxuriantly at him, and runs a finger through the come splattered across his chest.

“Good,” he says. He sucks the finger into his mouth for a quick second, and Virgil's poor, aching cock gives a half-interested twitch in spite of himself.

“That's all we have time for tonight,” Roman signs off. “Have sweet dreams for me now, won't you all?”

The video flickers into blackness.

Virgil is utterly – royally – fucked.

Chapter Text

Virgil starts spending a lot of time on the site.

Of course, he's also living on a tour bus. So. He's spending a lot of time in his bunk, squinting at his phone, biting his lip to keep quiet.

Remy, the band's drummer, asks him about it one day.

“So, girl, we ever going to meet this secret boytoy you've been video calling?”

Virgil can't make eye contact. He takes a swig of his drink.

“Cause it's either that, or you've decided that our Behind The Music documentary needs spicing up with a porn addiction.”

Virgil chokes, violently.

Remy looks him up and down.

“It's not –” Virgil gasps, his throat raspy and sore – just as raspy as Patton's the other night, fuck

“Changed my mind,” Remy says quickly. “I do not want to know.”

Virgil is intensely grateful the next time they're making an overnight stop and he gets to spend a couple of nights in a hotel. A laptop screen, some elbow room, and no need to keep quiet. What more could a guy ask for?

… Shit. He is so fucked up.

The hotel stay coincides with one of TeachMeALesson's streams. Logan isn't online as much as the others – only one public stream a week to Heart and Prince's two, and less subscriber-only content as well. (Virgil is subscribed to all three channels. His bank account has been taking quite a hit from this new… uh, hobby?)

The streams vary in intensity without much pattern Virgil can see. He's seen Patton with a gag in his mouth, whimpering as he jerked himself off. He's also spent two hours eagerly watching Roman give himself a pedicure while naked. He isn't sure which he's more ashamed of himself for.

When he logs on today, he isn't sure what to expect. But fortune is on his side.

“Good evening,” Teach says into the camera. He's fully dressed, a crisp white shirt and navy blue tie. “Tonight I have a couple of guests with me, but before they appear I have some rules to explain. We're going to be playing a game together…”

The regulars in the chat are all talking at once. They're certain, as is Virgil, that the guests are Heart and The Prince. This is clearly a semi-regular event the three of them do, because everyone seems excited.

“My friends have each selected an outfit consisting of five items. The specifics of the outfits will be a surprise to me when they walk in the room.” Logan smiles wryly. “In a short while, we'll put up a donation bar. For every 2000 coins, I'll select one item of clothing to be removed. You can make suggestions, but ultimately the choice is mine.

“Whoever finds themselves naked first will receive some kind of reward. And the loser will receive a punishment.”

A shiver runs down Virgil's spine.

“Now, if you're ready, I believe it's time to introduce tonight's players: SinfulHeart, and PillowPrince.”

The door to the room must be behind the camera, because Logan's eyes go wide before anyone appears in view.

“Oh,” he says softly. “I see.”

Patton walks into the shot first, with Roman only a second behind him. They're both dressed in identical “naughty schoolgirl” costumes: skirt, blouse, tie. And – Virgil bites his lips – thigh-high socks. Patton's are baby blue and Roman's red, matching their ties.

The fifth item of clothing is not currently visible, but Virgil's imagination provides more than a few suggestions.

“Lovely to see you, Teach,” Roman purrs, bending over to kiss Logan's cheek.

“It's always so great to be on your show.” Patton perches on the arm of Logan's chair, and crosses one knee over the other.

“Let me guess: you're going to tell me that you've been bad boys?” Logan asks dryly.

Patton giggles. “Of course not!”

“That's up to you to decide,” Roman finishes for him.

Virgil is dying, Virgil is dead, Virgil is in heaven right now, Virgil is going to hell.

Donations are chiming into the chat, even though the count for the game hasn't started yet. Virgil drops a couple of hundred coins. He knows it's not the last time he'll be donating tonight. He doesn't know if being a generous patron makes this better or worse, morally speaking, but he's sure that these three are going to earn every penny he pays.

“Aren't you taking things a little fast?” Logan asks. “You haven't even introduced yourselves.”

“Of course.” Roman throws himself dramatically across the bed behind Logan. “Hello, darlings. I'm PillowPrince, and tonight I'll be your fantasy.”

Patton stands, and dips a curtsey, lifting up his skirt a little higher than is strictly necessary to give a quick flash of those beautifully round thighs.

“And I'm SinfulHeart. I'm sure most of you already know me, but if not –” he beams – “it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Why don't we get things started?” Logan prompts.

“So eager to see me with my clothes off?” Roman teases, rolling onto his stomach on the bed. The donation bar appears on screen.

“We did put so much effort into dressing up for you,” Patton fake-pouts. “Only to take it all off.”

“That depends.” Logan's voice sounds a little deeper. “Can you convince me that I'd rather see you strip than Prince?”

Patton smiles slowly, then climbs into Logan's lap, straddling him.

“I don't know,” he replies. “What would it take to convince you?”

Patton wiggles his butt in Logan's lap, and a noise sounds. Logan doesn't hesitate.

“Tie. Now.” His voice is low and sharp. Patton slides the tie off his neck, and Logan takes it from him, folding it up and tucking it into his shirt pocket.

“I'll have to see if I can find a use for that later.”

Roman gets to his feet, and drapes himself over the back of Logan's chair.

“It's okay if Heart gets an early lead,” he says to the camera. “Just so long as he remembers that tonight, he has to share.”

He runs his hands slowly down Logan's chest, and Logan tips his head back. In retaliation, Patton rubs his hands over Logan's stomach, out to his hips, then grinds down again.

Logan's attention snaps to Patton, and he catches his wrists.

“Prince is right,” he breathes. “Play fair.”

Patton smiles cheekily at him as he climbs off the chair. He pulls Logan after him, moving all three of them towards the bed. Logan sits down, one “naughty schoolgirl” on either side, seemingly impassive as Roman and Patton drape themselves over him.

“So, professor,” Roman says with a smirk, “do you think you could help me with my… special project?”

“Or do you want to give me some private lessons after school?” Patton offers instead. “After all, the essays you set are so long and hard…”

“That may be, my dear Heart,” Roman snaps back, “but I’ve never been afraid of a little hard work.”

The noise sounds again, and Logan snaps: “Prince, socks.”

Roman makes a show of bending over slowly, letting both Logan and the camera see the glorious curve of his ass as he slides off his long schoolgirl socks.

Virgil isn't sure if he wants to laugh, cry, or drop to his knees and beg. He settles for grinding against his own palm, although he doesn't want to take things too fast. There are four more items left to go and then… the punishment, and the reward.

“Teach, you've been working so much,” Patton says, pouting. “Let us help you relax a little?”

His hand is toying with Logan's tie, and Logan's expression softens just a little as he says: “Go on, then.”

Patton pulls the tie loose, just as Roman climbs back onto the bed.

“I’m always willing to stay after class and help,” he says. “And if you ever need someone to give a presentation, well… I’m not shy.”

“And what were you planning on presenting?” Logan asks, teasingly.

Roman lets his fingers trail over Logan's pants, where the outline of his cock is already visible.

“Please, sir,” Roman asks softly. “May I?”

Logan's breath catches in his throat, and Virgil knows that Roman has just won the next round.

The bell goes again while Roman is sliding Logan's zipper down, but neither of them react for a moment.

“Why sir,” Roman says, still acting coy as his fingertips trace Logan's boxers, “you have such an impressive… intellect.”

Logan makes a low noise, and pushes him away.

“Shirt off,” he growls. “But leave the tie for later.”

It continues like this for a while, and Roman is, not to put too fine a point on it, winning. he's down to nothing but a tie and a pair of red silk panties – and oh, Virgil doesn't care which one comes off next, but he is looking forward too it – when Patton, who's only lost his shirt and tie so far, manages to recapture Logan's attention.

“Sir, may I give you a kiss?” He flutters his eyelashes.

“That depends,” Logan says. “Did you bring enough for the whole class?”

Roman looks confused, but Patton catches on a little faster. Fast enough to surprise Roman, pulling him in by the knot of his tie for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When the bell sounds again, it's clear who's getting chosen this time.

“Heart,” Logan says, thoughtfully. “… let's have the skirt, shall we?”

“Gladly, sir!”

Patton beams as he wiggles the skirt down his legs, revealing what's underneath. Or rather, what isn't underneath.

Because without the skirt, Patton is wearing his thigh-high socks, and… a garter belt. And not a lick else.

Virgil's cock twitches in his hand, the rush of blood dizzying. If you ask him, the competition has just been won. And from the looks on Logan's and Roman's faces, they're thinking much the same.

“May I have that kiss now, sir?” Patton asks with a cheeky grin.

“Oh, you may.”

Patton climbs into Logan's lap, his hard cock rubbing against the front of Logan's boxers as he claims the teacher's mouth. the buzzer noise sounds three times in quick succession, which is only partially due to the several thousand coins that Virgil just dropped.

Logan is in no hurry to push Patton away. When they break apart, he sounds a little breathless.

“Well, it seems we have come to the end of our game. Prince, you can lose the panties, but I’m afraid that Heart has won this round. Heart… it's almost a shame to tell you to take those off…”

Patton bites his lip, giving a wide-eyed look that would be innocent if it weren't for the context.

“I can keep them on, if you prefer, sir?”

Logan swallows.

“Yes. I think we'll do that.”

Roman takes off his panties, and drops to his knees in front of Logan.

“That's a good boy,” Logan says approvingly. “You tried your hardest Prince, so I’ll let you choose your punishment. Do you want to be allowed to touch, or allowed to come?”

Roman is breathing heavily as he answers: “… I want to be allowed to come, sir.”

Logan nods sharply, and pulls Patton's discarded tie out of his shirt pocket, quickly tying Roman's hands behind his back.

“Perhaps Heart will take pity and help you get off,” he comments. “Otherwise, you'll have to get… creative.”

Logan takes Roman by the hair, gently pulling him to his feet, then sends him over to Patton with a slap on the ass.

“Go help Heart get ready for his reward,” he says, before turning back to the camera.

Logan starts to give a spiel – the reward/punishment section is for subscribers only, so it's the end of the stream for everyone else – but Virgil doesn't hear a word of it. His eyes are on the background, where Patton is kissing Roman, pushing him gently to his knees, and Roman is mouthing slowly at Patton's cock –

Virgil groans, and shimmies out of his boxers.

When he's done with the speech, Logan snaps his fingers, and Patton trots over. He's still grinning, but his face is a little flushed now, his cock red and slick against his stomach.

“I think I know what you're going to ask for,” Logan purrs. “But say it anyway, Heart. I love to hear it.”

“Please, sir,” Patton gasps. “I love your cock in my mouth, how long and thick you are, letting you use me –”

“Such a good boy.” Logan strokes a hand over his face. “But this is your reward, and it's not much of a reward if you don't get to come too…”

He walks over to something beside the camera, and Patton's eyes light up. Logan shows the audience the toy he's holding, large and excitingly curved, with two prongs, and Virgil's breath catches in his throat.

In his other hand, Logan is holding a remote.

“Get on the bed for me, Heart?” Logan asks. “And Prince?” Roman shuffles over on his knees. “I don't think Heart is quite done being warmed up just yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Patton is on all fours on the edge of the bed, with Roman kneeling on the floor behind him, literally bending over backwards to get his mouth back on Patton's cock. Logan watches them for a minute or two, licking his lips and sharing the occasional smirk with the camera, before he presses in behind Patton, trapping Roman between him and the bed.

“Don't stop now Prince, you're doing such a good job,” Logan says, running Roman's tie between his fingers, giving it a gentle tug.

Then he shifts his focus to Patton. He lets his hands wander over Patton's ass, starting at the garter belt and moving slowly down, spreading the cheeks wide. Patton groans loudly in anticipation.

Logan sinks two fingers inside him, and Patton squeaks in pleasure, and Virgil has to hold the base of his cock for a moment to keep from coming far, far too soon.

Logan works Patton open with ruthless efficiency, moving from two fingers to three in less than a minute – of course, Patton must have prepped himself beforehand – and then sighs as he pulls his fingers loose.

“I almost wish that I was going to be the one inside you tonight,” he comments.

“Sir –” Patton gasps, almost incoherent. Roman is still mouthing at his cock, despite the awkward angle, and Virgil suspects from the rhythm of Roman's hips that he's also grinding against Logan's leg.

“Oh no, Heart, don't worry. You know I can never pass up the opportunity to use that incredible mouth of yours.”

And so Logan slides the toy into place, larger prong inside Patton, the smaller one resting just behind his balls, and steps back.

“That's enough Prince. Heart's ready for his reward now.”

Roman pulls off, and it takes Patton a couple of shaky seconds to move. His face is bright pink now, and he groans at the motion as he slips back onto the floor, shuffling over to Logan on his knees.

“My good boy. Prince, you're welcome to join in however you wish.”

At those words, Roman starts mouthing at Patton's neck from behind, but Patton is still staring up at Logan, his eyes wide as Logan pulls his cock free of his boxers.

“Good boy,” Logan repeats, his hand in Patton's hair. “Open wide for me, now?”

Logan is huge. Big enough that Virgil wonders if he's seeing things as Patton swallows him three-quarters of the way down in one go. But after a couple of thrusts, Logan pulls out again, and there it is, at least 8 inches of genuine Porn Star Cock.

This time, Patton swallows him all the way down to the hilt.

Logan isn't exactly gentle. He fucks Patton's throat, leaving Patton's eyes watering. After a minute or two, he presses a button, and a buzzing vibration whirrs into life, sending a loud moan rumbling through Patton as the toy inside him begins to rumble. And Roman is moaning too, as he mouths at Patton's neck and grinds desperately against the soft globes of his ass, his cock pushing against the toy, forcing it even deeper.

Virgil can't even decide who he wants to be most.

If he had to – if Logan tied him to a chair, told him to watch, told him to see if he could – Virgil thinks he could probably come untouched just from the sight of this. But he doesn't have that kind of self control, so his hand moves over his cock at lightning speed, and all too soon he's spilling his load, hot and sticky over his stomach.

He comes at almost the same time as Roman does, the Prince panting as he collapses forward against Heart's shoulder, his come dripping down the back of Patton's thigh-high socks. Logan follows a couple of minutes later, gripping Patton's hair as he comes down his throat. When he pulls out, Patton whines desperately around his softening cock.

Logan gets on his knees, one hand working quickly on Patton's cock, the other caressing his face.

“Such a good boy for me,” he says softly. “Go on. Let go.”

Patton comes with a loud shout, trembling with pleasure, the Prince's hands on his waist and Teach's on his cock. He looks ready to collapse afterwards, a blissed-out look in his eyes, wincing with over-sensitivity as Logan turns the toy inside him off.

And Virgil… Virgil is aching, with something he isn't quite ready to name.

He's so, so gone on these men. And they don't even know he's here.

… He's going to have to change that, isn't he?


Chapter Text

Virgil's tour is nearly over. In two weeks, he'll be back at home and ready to sleep for three days straight.

In three weeks, he has a private stream booked with SinfulHeart.

He thought about his options carefully. But Patton was always the kindest of the three, the most friendly towards him – and Roman and Logan both had a temper at times. If he can't do this with Patton, it isn't going to work at all.

Besides, this all started with Patton. It only feels right to take the next step with him too.

this is such a bad idea this is such a bad idea this is such a bad idea

The day the stream is scheduled for, he clears his schedule. He spends the morning pacing back and forth, wondering if he might actually throw up from nerves.

And then, all too soon, the time arrives.

Patton comes online wearing a pastel blue babydoll with white polka dots. He's kneeling on the bed, and the babydoll barely covers two inches of those gorgeous, gorgeous thighs.

This is not particularly helping Virgil focus.

“Hey there, TempestTonguePiercing!” Patton waves at him, a slightly shy smile. “I’m so excited to meet you! I know this is your first private stream, but I’ve seen you in the group chat before. It's good to have a chance to… be alone with you.”

“There's something you should know.”

Virgil just blurts it out, because he's as chill as a fucking forest fire. He's connected voice chat, but not video, so Patton can hear him but not see his face. Text is too easy to chicken out of.

“Well, you'd better tell me then!” Patton teases. “Come on, don't be shy. I’m very open minded, and I want us to have fun together…”

“It's not a sex thing.” Virgil hesitates. “I mean, kinda? I guess. Um.”

“Tempest?” Patton frowns. “You're worrying me, honey.”

“I’ll just spit it out: I know you from high school.”

There's a few seconds silence, and Patton laughs, a little awkwardly. It's almost relaxing, to see him break character a little.

“Is this a roleplay thing?” he asks. “I’m not sure I understand, you're gonna need to explain –”

“Your name is Patton. You were head of the yearbook committee. Uh, we had homeroom together one year? With Ms Torres?”

Patton looks frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

“If that's true,” he says slowly. “then you remember what happened when the kid who was always late –”

Virgil knows what he means immediately.

“Nate. He was always late, and one time he walked in less than five minutes before the session ended. and when Ms Torres gave him detention, it looked like he was going to cry, but you sat with him after class and refused to leave, even when she gave you a detention too.”

“We didn't actually have to sit those detentions,” Patton said. “I got Nate to explain that he'd been sneaking out to phone his dad from the phonebox across the street. His parents were going through a messy divorce. He got to go to the counsellors instead, and Ms Torres let me off with a warning. Huh.”

Patton sounds stunned.

“I can't believe – so, do you…?”

“Yeah, I remember Ro and Lo as well. Uh, congrats on staying together so long?” Oh gods that was awkward. “I just – look, it was weird, me watching your stuff, but it seemed weirder if you didn't know that I knew your real names. I’m not gonna like, out you or anything, I just –”

“This – your voice,” Patton says. “Homeroom, junior year. You… Virgil?”

Virgil freezes, stone still, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Is it you?” Patton asks. “I can't believe –”

And that's when Virgil slams his laptop shut, and yeets it across the fucking room.


He breaks the laptop.


It takes three days for the replacement to arrive, and in that time, Virgil doesn't visit the site once. Even though his phone keeps pinging with the notifications, he steers clear.


He can't stay away forever. Sure, he might be able to lurk anonymously but… it feels wrong to do so.

Patton remembers him. He hadn't expected that.

By the start of Junior year, Roman, Patton and Logan were already established as the power trio of the school. They were the bright, shining stars, the names that everyone knew. Virgil was just… another face in the crowd. Another comet, orbiting the light of three shining suns.

He'd been no-one worth noticing. Just another angsty punk kid with solid B grades and an allergy to school spirit. Just another loner who was completely overwhelmed by a crush on three boys who didn't even know his name.

… Okay. Apparently he'd been wrong about that last part.

Logan and Patton had gone to Junior Prom together, instantly becoming the school's power couple. That summer Virgil had thought… a lot… about what that meant for Roman. He'd dated a couple of guys before – never seriously or long term, but now that he was the single one out of Virgil's trio of hopeless crushes, Virgil couldn't help but focus his daydreams on the 'what if' possibility that Roman might, some day, notice him.

That had never happened, of course. Instead, the three of them had danced around each other for the whole of senior year, and wound up going to prom together, all three of them. They had been practically making out on the dance floor.

Or so the rumour went. Virgil had skipped Senior Prom altogether. What was the point, when he had no-one to go with?

Then the three of them had left for college out of state. Virgil had moved to the city, worked a couple of shitty jobs to make ends meet. He'd met Remy back when he was still working as a tattoo artist, been persuaded to join the band when their old bassist flaked out on short notice and… things had taken off from there.

He's come so far, but finding the three of them on this site… it feels like a second chance. Not to “fix” his lousy high school career, or to live out his fantasy through porn but to… maybe talk to them?

Uggghhhh. Why is this so hard?

He comes back on a day when Logan is streaming. Solo, this time – the group streams are only once a month. He logs on, anxiously, wondering if this is going to be the last time he ever visits the site.

“Good evening, class,” TeachMeALesson says with a smug smile. He's in a shirt and tie again, as he always is, but he sits in a plush armchair, the set dim-lit with mood lighting. “I hope you're all ready to learn today's lesson.”

Virgil, trying to decide on his own message, is looking at the chat when someone posts:

“i'm a naughty boi professor. u'd better punish me”

Virgil rolls his eyes. He's unsurprised when the user in question is quickly kicked by the moderator.

“Do make sure you're in the right room,” Logan comments. “This class isn't suitable for children. I expect you all to be… advanced learners.”

Virgil can feel his face growing hot, and Logan's barely said anything.

Quickly, he types out his message. After three different drafts, he settles on:

“Hi, Teach.”

It might be a trick of the camera, but Virgil could swear Logan smiles a little when he reads his message. That… wasn't the reaction Virgil was expecting.

“Ah, TempestTonguePiercing. I believe there was an issue with your… private study session? Someone will be in touch.”

This time, Virgil is sure he doesn't imagine the look Logan gives the camera, although he has no idea what it means.

“Don't worry,” Logan says. “It can wait until after class.”

Okay. Virgil can keep watching? That definitely wasn't what he expected to hear.

He doesn't need to be told twice though.

Logan greets a few more subscribers before starting today's “lesson”.

“Tonight,” he says, in a clipped tone that definitely shouldn't be sending shivers down Virgil's spine, “we're going to be talking about erogenous zones. I want you all to relax, get comfortable, and start touching yourselves – but not your cock… or whatever else you have in your trousers.” Logan smiles. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

Virgil hesitates for a moment. His cock is already showing interest, but he can wait. If Logan tells him to in that voice… he can definitely get creative.

Feeling a little silly, Virgil rubs a hand along his collarbone, around his shoulder muscles. After a few moments, he strips off his T-shirt, letting himself touch bare skin.

“Now,” Logan says. “Tell me: where is it you're touching yourselves?”

The chat flashes up with suggestions. The vast majority are respecting Logan's rules, and there's a wild array of bodily locations for him to choose from.

“Ears,” Logan picks, seemingly at random. “Yes, let's start there.” He turns his head to the side, showing the camera as he starts caressing his own ear, feather-light touches followed by tugging softly on the lobe. “You don't have to copy what I'm doing, but do pay attention, class. Erogenous zones are the areas of the human body which are particularly sensitive to sexual touch. As a sense organ, ears have a high concentration of nerves, although some people experience them more erotically than others. I find sucking on my partner's ears particularly effective, but if you're on your own, you can still rub them… stroke them… toy with them… Experimenting with your own body can sometimes yield surprising results.”

Virgil has never wanted to be an ear more in his entire life.

“Moving on.” Logan smirks like he can see exactly how flustered each and every one of his viewers is, which. Is very unfair. “Let's talk about… hands.”

This time, Virgil mimics Logan's motions as he strokes his thumb over his palm. He kneads firmly against the mound of flesh beneath his index finger, and is surprised to feel a tug of response right down to the base of his spine.

“Hands are a human's primary means of sensing tactile information… but they can be objects of stimulation in their own right too.”

Logan strokes his fingers against one another. Virgil copies him, and almost shivers at the feeling.

“Of course, it can be difficult to touch with an implement of touching… but there are other methods.”

Suddenly, Logan's hand is at his mouth, as he licks a broad stripe across the palm. He sucks two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them as he pulls them loose again.

“Speaking of which, the mouth…”

Virgil reaches down and undoes his pants. He lets out a huff of relief at the reduced pressure on his cock, fighting the urge to touch it directly as Logan continues speaking.

“Lips are the second organ with which we experience touch, especially during sex. Kissing, biting, sucking… but again, sometimes it's worth focussing on the lips themselves. Touching them…” Logan pauses, his mouth half-open, and trails a finger across his lips – “or sucking, biting…” Logan bites down against his own lip, hard, and Virgil imitates him. He takes a second to run his tongue over his spider bites, feeling the click against his tongue piercing, the push of the metal against his lip that he normally never notices, and moans a little.

“Of course, there are limits on how you can use your lips on yourself… unless you're particularly flexible,” Logan purrs. “But it can be deeply enjoyable to explore the feeling of a mouth on different parts of your body.”

Logan gives the camera a look that says, all too clearly, that he knows every single person watching is imagining either blowing him or being blown by him.

“Any more suggestions?” Logan asks. “Come now, surely you haven't run out of ideas already…”

Virgil hesitates, but hey, Logan said he could stay, right? He might as well participate…

“Neck,” posts TempestTonguePiercing.

Virgil could swear that Logan's eyes light up when he sees the suggestion, but perhaps he's imagining it.

“The neck.”

Virgil's heart skips a beat. That was a coincidence, right? Several people posted that suggestion, it wasn't just him…

“Necks are one of the most vulnerable parts of our bodies, where the blood flows right at the surface. If your heart is beating hard enough, you might be able to feel your pulse just by touching the right spot…”

Virgil's pulse is already pounding so hard he can almost taste it, but he traces a hand over his own artery anyway.

“I must admit, my favourite thing to do with a neck is to bite down, hard, leave some wonderful bruises for a lover to remember me by –”

Virgil moans at the thought.

“But touches, gentle or rough, can be just as effective. If you want to up the ante a little, you could try using your fingernails to scratch against that delicate flesh… or you could go for a classic.”

Logan's hand wraps around his own throat, and Virgil groans again even as he mimics the motion.

“Pressing down here, it's possible to shut off your own air flow… just for a second or two. Play safely, class.”

Virgil tightens his grip until he feels himself struggling to breathe, although not quite cut off from air all the way. With Logan's dark eyes staring down the camera lens, it's oh-so-easy to imagine that it's Logan's hand, pressing him down, watching him squirm in wanton desperation for any kind of touch –

Virgil lets go, before he breaks Logan's rule and starts stroking himself right then and there.

Logan glances at the chat again.

“Ah, yes. Nipples.” He looks down at himself. “But I think I'm overdressed for this demonstration.”

He slowly unbuttons his shirt, only bothering to go halfway, and tugs his tie loose without removing it from his neck. With bitten-dark lips and blown pupils, he already looks halfway wrecked.

Nowhere near as wrecked as Virgil feels, though.

Logan pulls his half-open shirt to one side, exposing a pec that looks like it was carved from solid brown marble, and a brown-black nipple that's already erect.

“It's a myth that the nipple – ah! – is less sensitive on men than women.” Virgil's breath catches at Logan's soft little moan as he begins to touch himself. “Sensitivity can vary between people, but most of you will gain – hmm – some pleasure from pinching, rolling, flicking – oh! – rubbing…”

Virgil is almost too distracted to touch his own chest, even though his nipple piercing absolutely opens up possibilities there. But those soft little sounds Logan is making – the way he's so obviously enjoying this – Virgil could listen to that all day.

“Where… hmm where next, class?” Logan asks, still rubbing his nipple between his fingers. Virgil is too transfixed to look away, but Logan chuckles at the chat. “Getting impatient, are we? But yes, I do see a couple of good suggestions in there…”

Logan gets to his feet, pulling his shirt disappointingly back straight again – although now he looks closer, the fabric is thin enough that Virgil can still make out the outline of that nipple – and then he starts undoing his pants.

Suddenly, Logan has Virgil's full attention again.

“Thighs,” Logan says, and there isn't much Virgil can think right now except yes they definitely are. Logan's thighs are magnificent – David in mahogany – and Virgil is almost literally frozen at the sight of them.

Then Logan sits back down, and Virgil takes the moment to frantically shimmy out of his own jeans.

“I imagine this will be a test for some of you,” Logan murmurs. “So close to where you want to touch… but not allowed to, not yet. But I want you to touch your thighs for me. Run your hands along them, nice and slow. See how close you can get without losing your self control.” He pauses for a moment, then nods. “I know you won't disappoint me.”

Virgil's cock twitches at the words. He's aching with the urge to touch himself at this point, but even knowing that Logan has no way to tell if he disobeys, Virgil can't help but want to do as he says.

“There's another major blood vessel in your thighs – the femoral artery,” Logan continues. “I'm sure you're very aware of your own blood flow by now. Your inner thighs are coated with nerve endings to help protect it. I want you to stroke them for me… careful now, don't go too high. Scratch your nails along them. Try to feel every millimetre of skin, as you slowly pull higher and higher.”

Fuuuck,” Virgil moans, as he scratches his nails across his thigh, the scrape hurting so good. His legs are spread in his chair, only a pair of boxers over his cock, and he swears, he isn't going to be able to wait another minute –

“Good,” Logan says, his voice deep and seductive, sending chills down Virgil's spine. “You've worked hard today. I think it's about time I let you have what you wanted. Touch yourself, however feels good – but I want you to keep touching your erogenous zones, keep pushing yourself even higher.”

Virgil's cock is already in his hand, not even bothering to take the boxers off. On the screen in front of him, Logan pauses to pull off his briefs before starting to stroke himself, slow and cocky, one hand on his cock, the other reaching under his shirt to toy with his nipples some more –

Virgil doesn't last long after all that. He comes, hard, to the feeling of his own nails digging into his thigh while his other hand strokes slick along his cock. He peels off the ruined boxers, but keeps watching the stream, his biting his lip as Logan moans in pleasure and finally comes all over that crisp blue shirt. Virgil wants to remember every moment of this.

Especially if it might not happen again.


The moment Logan finishes signing off, Virgil gets a notification.

TempestTonguePiercing has a private chat request from SssssuckOff.

A symbol next to the username makes the situation clear: this is Logan's channel moderator.

Virgil connects to the chat. Neither of them have the camera turned on, but he can hear the voice on the other end of the line, smug and with a slight lisp.

“Greetings,” they say. “I represent PillowPrince, TeachMeALesson, and SinfulHeart. And you have been causing me problems.”

“Sorry,” Virgil says, quickly. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair – how is he having this conversation while stark naked? “I didn't mean to upset anyone, I just –”

“Listen,” the voice says. “You know what an agent's number one job is? I want to keep the talent happy. These boys are my goose that laid the golden egg… and you are the fox in the henhouse.”

Virgil gulps.

“I really didn't –”

“Is that him?”

The voice is muffled, too distant from the mic – but Virgil knows exactly one person who projects that much in everyday life.


“You're supposed to be helping Teach with his cool-down,” the agent snaps.

“Logan's a big boy, he can handle it,” Roman retorts. “Dee, c'mon on, I'm not letting you do the 'terrifying manager' bit –”

“Is he not your manager?” Virgil asks, idly.

Roman yelps with excitement.

“It's really you!” he cries. “Dee is our manager. But he's also our moderator, tech guy, set designer, fluffer –”

“You three handle that part well enough yourselves,” Dee snarks. His voice has gotten much quieter, and Roman's is louder, which leads Virgil to assume that Roman has stolen the microphone.

“And I'd normally say he's our biggest fan too, but well… that's you lately, isn't it?”

Virgil's throat catches. Roman sounds teasing, not angry. He doesn't understand –

“I can't believe you found us again after all this time! Aren't you busy enough?” Roman laughs. “Anyway, you're in LA, right?”

Virgil blinks.

“How did you –”

Virgil is pretty sure the long-suffering sigh is Dee's.

“Virgil Storm, more widely known as Thunder, bassist and lead song-writer of the band ANX,” he comments. “Your address is not hard to find.”

Oh, yeah. Right.

“We should meet up!”

Virgil must be going insane, because he cannot imagine a world in which Roman actually said that.

“All four of us! We're in LA too, in case you hadn't guessed, porn capital of the world and all that. Have you checked out that new café on West 9th yet? We can all hang out, catch up…”

“Uhh, okay?”

Virgil feels like he's dreaming.

“Saturday? Say, 1pm? We can make it a lunch!”

“… Sure.”

Virgil has died. Logan's stream gave him a heart attack and he's dead now, and this is an afterlife. He isn't sure if it's a good or bad one yet, but it's definitely not real life.

“Can you get out of my lap now, please?” Dee demands, grumpily. He leans into the mic again in time to say: “Out them, and I will end you.”

“Dee!” Roman protests, but his cry is cut short by the call ending.

Virgil gets to his feet, somewhat shakily.

Then he goes and screams into a pillow for ten minutes.

Holy shit. He has a date on Saturday.


Chapter Text

It isn't a date.

That's what Virgil keeps repeating to himself, as he nears the café. No matter what he might hope – and no matter what Remy might have insinuated, when Virgil called him to ask for fashion advice – this isn't romantic. It's just four old friends – old acquaintances – meeting to catch up.


He might as well make an effort, right? His hair is freshly purple, his piercings are in matching shades of gunmetal, and he's wearing skinny jeans, a brand-new top with holes in that Remy assures him is “distressed – just like you, babes!” and his trademark black and purple leather jacket. He doesn't often wear it out in public – he actually gets stopped twice on the way by fans asking for selfies – but “rock star” is all he's got going for him, so he's going to sell it.

After signing an autograph for a lovely person with pink hair, Virgil finds that he's running late. He makes it to the café at ten minutes past, and when he looks around, he sees that Roman, Patton and Logan already have a table, just a short way from the door.

They're all staring at him.

Virgil is staring back, a little bit. He can't believe that the three of them are here in the flesh.

Roman immediately stands up to wave him over, despite being the shortest of the group. He's wearing a white crop-top and a ruffled red skirt that shows off the golden tan of his legs, and –

His eyes are up there, Virgil reminds himself, breathing deeply. Winged eyeliner and everything, you can't miss them.

Patton, sitting next to Roman, is just as distracting in a different way. He's dressed completely different to his streams, in khakis and a blue-grey button-down shirt. He's wearing glasses – silver oval frames that make his eyes look even bigger – and he smiles brightly as Virgil walks over.

And Logan –

As Virgil takes the free seat beside Logan, he has to fight the urge to do a double-take. Above the table, Logan is wearing his typical white collared shirt, albeit with the sleeves rolled up and no tie.

But when Virgil glances down, he sees that instead of black dress pants, Logan is wearing a navy blue maxi skirt, printed with a pattern of small silver stars. He crosses his legs, and Virgil sees a flash of a navy-blue heel under the hem.

And oh. This wasn't at all what he was expecting, but Virgil's breath catches in his throat a little. Not because it's attractive – although it is, extremely – but because, in all the excitement, he'd almost forgotten that Patton and Roman and Logan are people. People he barely knows, but desperately wants to.

He feels like he's learned more about them in the last ten seconds than in a whole month of watching their streams. And he wants more.

“Virgil! It's so good to see you again!” Patton grabs his hand across the table. “I can't believe it's been ten whole years!”

“Me either,” Virgil says, ducking his head a little. He suddenly feels shy – like a teenager again, surrounded by the popular kids he could never live up to.

“It's a shame we didn't keep in better touch,” Logan comments. “But it is pleasant to have the opportunity to rectify that.”

“I guess you probably weren't expecting it to happen like this,” Virgil says, and then immediately regrets it. He shouldn't have brought up how weird this all is, how creepy he's acted –

“Fate works in mysterious ways!” Roman waves it off with a sweep of his hand. “It's our own fault.”

“If we'd known you remembered us, we would have messaged you years ago!” Patton adds.

Virgil's brain stutters for a moment.

“You –?”

“We've attended three of your concerts together – and Patton has been to two more alone.”

Patton hums a couple of bars of Lies, the band's biggest hit. A song that Virgil wrote.

This is surreal.

“I could have said hi anytime, but I figured you wouldn't have a clue who I was after all this time –” Patton flusters.

“How could I have forgotten you three?” Virgil questions. “You were the most popular, coolest, hottest kids in school! You were the student presidents and the prom kings and I was just –”

“The future rock star?” Logan interrupts with a raised eyebrow. “From our perspective, things were quite different. You were the punk who was too cool for anybody, and we were painfully mainstream.”

“Rewind. You thought we were hot?” Roman asks, raising an eyebrow.

Virgil wants to melt into his seat.

“Sorry, uh, I –”

“Can I tell him?” Patton asks in a stage whisper. “I'm gonna tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

“Roman had a huuuuge crush on you,” Patton squeals. “The summer before senior year, when Lo-Lo and I got together, but the three of us still hadn't quite figured out the whole poly thing – Roman spent the whole summer talking about your eyes and your hair and how you were perfect but you thought he was so boring and he'd never be able to get you to talk to him –”

“He had a whole notebook filled with 'Mr Roman Angstrom' signatures,” Logan adds. “I've seen it.”

“Oh, like you two didn't have crushes on him too!” Roman protested. “Patton, you spent all of junior year sighing about how pretty he looked in homeroom. And you –” He points an accusing finger at Logan – “wanted to call him up to come make out with us that time we all got drunk on wine coolers and played truth or dare!”

“You… what?”

Virgil's brain must be malfunctioning. He can't seem to process a word that is being said, because there is no way that any of this can be real.

“I apologise.” Logan gives the other two a serious look. “We didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It was a long time ago…”

“No, I –” Virgil bites his lip, but he might as well say it, right? “I had a crush on you three too. I didn't… I had no idea you even knew I was alive.”

All three of them fall silent, staring at him. Virgil fidgets with one of his rings under the table, uncomfortable at all the attention.

“Huh,” Patton says eventually. “We were real dumbasses, weren't we?”

The tension breaks, and all four of them start to laugh.

“I…” Roman shares a look with the other two, and Patton nods encouragingly at him. “We were planning on building up to this more, but now seems like a good moment.”

“No pressure, though!” Patton insists. “It's just an offer, you can say no if you like.”

“And you are welcome to continue patronising our professional bodies of work, no matter what you decide,” Logan adds.

“But,” Roman says, “we were wondering if… you'd like to try dating us?”

There's a roaring sound in Virgil's ears, and suddenly he feels a little dizzy. He forces himself to breathe, counting in and out, until the noise recedes.

“– or just one or two of us, if you prefer!” Patton is saying. “It's really up to you, only…”

“We'd like to get to know you better,” Logan finishes.

“Is this a date?” Virgil asks, his head still a little fuzzy.

“Do you want it to be?” Roman asks back.

“… yes.” Virgil mouths the word, so quiet even he can barely hear it. “Yes, I would.”

Patton is smiling at him so wide it almost hurts to look at. Roman has his hands over his mouth, looking like he's barely restraining himself from cheering aloud. And Logan smiles at Virgil sideways – soft and surprisingly vulnerable – and knocks their knees together.

“We should order food,” he suggests. “And talk about how this is going to work.”

And that's what they do.


After a little bit of schedule-wrangling, Virgil has a date with Logan. An official, they-both-agreed-on-it-before-hand date. With Logan Croft.

Virgil isn't sure his feet have touched the ground since that happened.

He dresses up – or down? he isn't sure – a little more this time. Punk isn't exactly Logan's scene, so: a top without rips, paired with a galaxy-patterned jacket he's pretty sure Logan is going to love. He smudges a little silver in the corner of his eyes alongside the usual dark eyeshadow to complete the look.

Nervous? Why would he be nervous? It's just a few hours alone with one of the most gorgeous men he knows, who for some reason has agreed to date him and might at any time change his mind about that –

Okay, he's a little nervous.

Virgil arrives at the agreed-upon meeting point at least fifteen minutes early, and spends every one of them certain that Logan is going to stand him up, or worse still phone and say this was all some cruel joke – right up until he turns around and sees him, walking up to Virgil with a smile, right on time.

Logan is in dark jeans and a navy-blue shirt, with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up. His short, dark curls glint gold in the afternoon light, but in Virgil's opinion, the glow in Logan's eyes is brighter and warmer than even the LA sun.

“Salutations!” Logan says, and oh, Virgil had forgotten that little quirk of his. His heart flutters a little at how adorable Logan is, when suddenly Logan leans forward, asking – “May I?”

“Uh… yeah?” Virgil squeaks, his intelligence deserting him for a moment.

Then Logan kisses him on the cheek, and Virgil's brain melts into a little warm puddle of happiness.

“I take it we're heading to the art museum?” Logan asks, nodding at the large building across the way. “That's a lovely idea, the current exhibition sounds fascinating –”

Logan starts walking and talking, and Virgil has to stumble to catch up with him. When they reach the traffic crossing, he reaches out on impulse, and takes Logan's hand.

To his surprise, Logan's discussion of the art they're about to see suddenly falls silent.

“I, um… yes.” Logan trails off. His dark complexion grows several shades pinker as Virgil weaves their fingers together.

“You were saying?” he prompts, leaning a little closer to Logan's ear than is really necessary.

Logan turns and blinks at him.

“… I apologise, if I was rambling,” he says softly. “I have been experiencing… a great deal of anticipation, about today.”

“I'm kinda nervous too,” Virgil admits. “But I didn't mind. I like listening to you talk.”

“… Thank you.”

Virgil's heart is pounding loudly in his ears, and for one delirious seconds he thinks they might be about to kiss.

But then the light changes, and the beeping of the crossing signals that it's time to start walking again, so they continue towards the museum, both a little flustered, still holding hands.


Several hours later, the two of them make it back to Virgil's apartment.

The art exhibition was interesting, although not particularly to Virgil's taste. He'd amused himself by making low comments to Logan that made him look scandalised even as he fought back a smile. A stray remark about “seeing the other side of things” had led to an interesting conversation about Logan's day job – apparently he worked part-time as a tour guide at the observatory, putting his Master's degree in Astrophysics to good use.

On the way home, they had stopped for gelato, which led to Virgil offering a shivering Logan his jacket, which may or may not have been his reason for suggesting gelato in the first place. Either way, Virgil felt a little electric thrill at the sight of Logan wearing his clothes, so casually domestic, and now that they were alone together, Logan's mere presence was making every hair on his body stand on end.

“Through here,” Virgil says, leading Logan into his bedroom, with its wide windows showing a glorious view of the sun starting to set, and his bed crisply made for just this eventuality.

But Logan comes to a halt in the doorway, his expression becoming closed-off and distant.

Virgil's heart sinks.

“Everything alright?” he asks, trying to sound light.

“I…” Logan sighs. “Yes. It's fine.”

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, but his posture is stiff as a shop-window mannequin.


Virgil comes to sit beside him, leaving a good foot and a half of space between them.

“Come on, it's clearly something,” he says, trying to keep the desperation out of his tone. “What's up?”

“I…” Logan sighs. “It's not an easy conversation to have. I was hoping to avoid it, but –”

Virgil braces himself for the worst. But I regret this. I don't want to see you again.

“I know, it's almost ridiculously quaint but – I would prefer not to have sex on our first date.”

Virgil blinks at him.

“I didn't – I haven't even kissed you yet!”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “We are in your bedroom.”

“The TV is here! I thought we could watch Netflix.” Virgil's cheeks are hot enough to start fires. “I wouldn't just assume – I'm sorry, if I made you think I was –”

“No, no,” Logan says quickly. “I misunderstood. I, uh…”

“You don't have to explain.”

“I want to,” Logan tells him. “You need to understand, dating me – dating any of us. I have a persona, for my videos, but that isn't who I am as a person.”

“I didn't think it was.” Virgil says softly, and Logan smiles and takes his hand.

“I know, but there are still… it's important for me to keep some boundaries, for my own sake. And for me, that means 'taking things slow'.”

Logan lets go of Virgil's hand in order to form the air quotes, and Virgil feels another spasm of softness pass through him.

“Of course,” he answers. “I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable. But Lo?”


“I'm dating the nerd who gets excited about learning new things and gets mad about people littering and is secretly planning on 'accidentally' stealing that jacket from me – don't deny it! – and who loves space and poetry and Roman and Patton and, yeah, also does porn! But I want to date all of you, not just 'Mr TeachMeALesson', okay?”

Logan has a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you want your jacket back?”

Virgil shrugs. “It looks better on you. Besides, I have other jackets.”

Logan leans forwards.

“You won't if you let all of us start stealing them. Roman will have half your wardrobe if you let him.”

“I can buy more.”

And then they're kissing.

Virgil cups his hand around Logan's face, his fingertips burying themselves in Logan's hair as their lips meet with tentative sweetness, that slowly melts into something a little warmer, a little more passionate, a little more solid. Logan's hands come to rest on Virgil's waist, pulling him closer across the bed until their knees bump together.

When they break apart, Logan holds Virgil's gaze for a moment.

“Thank you,” he says, solemnly. “Today has been… incredible.”

A feeling of warmth settles in Virgil's stomach, and suddenly makes him bold.

“You want to watch Secrets of the Solar System and cuddle?” he asks.

“Sure,” Logan answers, then kisses him again.

Virgil spends the next two hours with Logan curled up on his chest, adding his own commentary to the space documentary in a low, warm voice that sends shivers down Virgil's spine.

He thinks he could get used to this.

Chapter Text

Virgil is a little bit nervous about his date with Patton.

While he feels like he did a pretty good job of sweeping Logan off his feet, this time around, Patton has insisted on doing all the planning. He only told Virgil three things: that they were meeting at the house that Patton, Logan and Roman shared; that Roman and Logan were going to be out all afternoon; and that Virgil should wear something comfortable “that he didn't mind getting a little messy.”

That could mean… a lot of things. Most of which Virgil is trying not to think about in order to avoid blushing through his foundation.

It's exciting and a little nerve-wracking to imagine that he and Patton could very well actually have sex at some point in the near future… but Virgil isn't a fool. After his talk with Logan, he very much doubts that anything is going to happen today.

“Virgie! Come in, come in!”

Patton opens the door with a huge smile. As Virgil steps inside, there's a moment of silence as he looks Virgil up and down, his eyes lingering on Virgil's purple skinny jeans and the thin, tight-fitting shirt through which the musculature of his arms and chest is clearly visible.

“You look… great,” Patton says, earnestly.

Virgil would be patting himself on the back for his choice of outfit, were he not distracted by the sight of Patton in form-fitting khaki shorts and an overlarge grey T-shirt that hangs off his shoulders, revealing a bright blue vest top underneath.

“Uh, likewise,” he replies.

There's a moment of hesitation where he wants to ask for something, but can't quite decide what. Then Patton chuckles.

“Hug?” he asks.

Virgil grins, revlieved. “Yeah.”

Virgil wraps his arms around Patton, who leans his face into Virgil's neck. Virgil's heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's flying.

“Come on,” Patton says as he eventually pulls away, grabbing Virgil's hand instead. “I'll give you the tour.”

The house is spacious and light, although Virgil sees little touches of its inhabitants everywhere. A space-themed calendar on the kitchen wall that must be Logan's. A cat hoodie left on the sofa that has to belong to Patton. And an impressive array of hair- and skin-care products in the bathroom that screams 'Roman'.

There's only one corridor that Patton doesn't show him down, and that's the 'work wing'.

“There are two bedroom sets, a separate bathroom for cleanup, and an office,” Patton explains. “I'd show you, but D– I mean, our manager, is in the office getting some work done, and it's probably best if we stay out of his hair.”

Remembering the angry voice on the phone, Virgil has absolutely no desire to argue with that suggestion.

“So,” he asks instead, “what's the plan for today?”

Patton grins and tugs him back towards the kitchen.

“How do you feel about making cookies?”


Virgil knows nothing at all about baking, but he can follow instructions well enough. Patton cooks without a recipe, measuring ingredients by eye and biting his lip adorably as he shakes in just a few more chocolate chips. Virgil gets the faintest idea that Patton might be showing off for him.

“Open up?” Patton asks, shyly. When Virgil sticks out his tongue, Patton places a single chocolate chip on it.

“A sweet for my sweetie,” he says, and Virgil feels himself blushing.


“No take-backs!” Patton teases.

Virgil steps up behind Pat, wrapping his arms around him to reach for the bag of chocolate chips. He grabs one and quickly presses it to Patton's lips.

“There,” he says. “You're much sweeter than me.”

Patton giggles, and leans back against him. He hands Virgil the spoon, and Virgil starts slowly stirring the chips into the mixture with Patton pinned there between him and the counter, showing no sign he wants to be anywhere else.

Soon the cookies are in the oven. Patton holds out a spatula for Virgil, and starts licking his own spoon clean of the leftover cookie mix. Virgil laughs and joins in, trying not to be too blatant as he watches the pink line of Patton's tongue trace over the curves of the spoon…

“You've got some on your face,” Patton comments. “No, other side – come here.”

He reaches up and touches a spot on Virgil's nose. They're face to face, and suddenly there's a heat in the air that has nothing to do with the oven.

Patton pulls his hand away slowly. Then he lifts up on his toes, leans forward, and slowly, deliberately, kisses the spot clean.


When Virgil's lips meet Patton's a moment later, he tastes of cookie dough, but the kiss is so much more than sweet. It's searing hot, leaving him breathless with desire and desperate for more. His hands tangle into Patton's hair reflexively, pulling him closer, and he stumbles back until his hips hit the counter behind him –

It's the timer for the oven that finally breaks them apart. Virgil blinks, and catches his breath, then winces a little when he sees a sticky smear of cookie dough tangled in Patton's hair.

“Sorry, I –”

Patton shrugs, and gestures down at Virgil's shirt, which now has a series of smeared floury handprints on the chest and arms.

“I did say we might get messy,” Patton says, winking at him, and Virgil's heart skips a beat.

Patton quickly transfers the cookies onto a cooling rack, and then turns to Virgil.

“So,” he says slowly, “what did you want to do now?”

Virgil's heart is beating so loudly he can hardly think.

“I – uh –”

He knows what he thinks Patton is asking – or is that just what he wants Patton to be asking? Is he making assumptions, or is he overthinking things? What if –?

“Hey,” Patton says softly, putting a hand against Virgil's chest. “It's okay, honey. We don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can make some brownies next, or we can go watch a movie. But…”


“Heh, butt,” Patton jokes. “But, if you're interested, I would very much like to have sex with you today.”

Virgil hesitates.

“I don't want you to – I'm not, like, expecting you to –”

“I know you're not, and I'm sure you had a very different conversation with Logan. We all have our own views on these things. As for me… I want to have fun with you. Sex is fun. But so are brownies and movies! So, which would you prefer?”

Virgil takes a deep breath, and consults his innermost desires. It doesn't take long.

“Sex please.”

Patton beams.


The two of them stumble down the hallway to the main bedroom, kissing the whole way. By the time they make it through the door, both of them are shirtless, and the sight of Patton's pink cheeks and ruffled brown curls is making Virgil's pulse race.

Patton grabs him by both hands and pulls him over to the bed, until they're sat side by side. Virgil only has a moment to catch his breath before Patton starts kissing down his chest, making a beeline for his pierced nipple.

When Patton's lips close around the nipple ring, Virgil lets out a loud sound that is almost a squeal, and Patton pulls back quickly.

“That good?”

Virgil nods rapidly. “Yes, please, I – aah.”

He cries out again as Patton sucks on the ring, harder this time, sending a fresh bolt of pleasure shooting down Virgil's spine. Patton keeps licking and sucking, leaving Virgil whimpering with pleasure and scratching his nails down Patton's back.

After a minute, he tugs on Patton's hair gently, pulling him back up for another slow kiss.

“All good?” Patton checks in.

“Yeah, I –” Virgil blushes. “You gotta slow down, or this is going to be over too soon.”

“That sensitive?” Patton's eyes shine with interest. “Huh. Okay, so what do you want to do?”

Virgil blinks, his mind spinning with possibilities.

Everything,” he breathes.

Patton laughs – not the light, airy giggle of his videos, but something a little darker, deeper and more playful.

“Let's keep it simple,” Patton suggests. “We have hands. Mouths. Or one of us inside the other…”

He punctuates each suggestion with a kiss to Virgil's jaw. Virgil's mind is hazy with lust, but as he stares at Patton's lips, puffy from kissing and a deep, vibrant pink, the answer is clear in his mind.

“Mouths,” he gasps. “If that's okay?”

Patton nods, and asks: “Who first? Or both together?”

Virgil groans a little at the thought. Again, he finds that the answer is obvious.

He drops to his knees between Patton's legs, and starts kissing the soft curve of Patton's stomach.

Ohhh.” Patton lets out a stuttering sigh and leans back a little, his hands curling in the sheets behind him.

“Yeah?” Virgil asks, half-teasing, but still wanting confirmation before he moves any further.

“Virgil, you look –” Patton's pupils are blown wide. “You're something out of a fantasy.”

Virgil smirks and, taking that as a “yes”, slowly presses a kiss to the front of Patton's shorts. He's gratified to hear a loud groan in response, and he quickly starts unbuttoning Patton's pants and working them down his legs.

Virgil gets distracted when the shorts are most of the way off, and he looks up again and finds himself nestled in between Patton's thighs. They're glorious, round and smooth and right there in front of him, and Virgil can't help but lean in and taste. He licks a stripe up towards Patton's crotch, and he can see Patton's cock twitching in his boxers in response, so what can he do but repeat the action on the other thigh?

He presses kiss after kiss to the sensitive insides of Patton's legs, hooking his arms underneath to massage Patton's hips and ass as he does so, pointedly ignoring exactly where he knows Patton wants him the most.

Right until Patton groans and tugs on Virgil's hair, hard enough for him to feel it.

“Yes?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Virgil, stop teasing,” Patton says, in a low voice that sends a shiver down Virgil's spine.

“… Okay.”

Virgil presses a couple of kisses to the front of Patton's boxers, mouthing at the hard shape of Patton's cock. He keeps his eyes on Patton's, and is rewarded with a soft intake of breath, and a quiet, stuttering groan.

As soon as Virgil's hands move toward Patton's boxers, Patton's hands are there first. Patton shimmies out of his underwear in moments, lifting his knees up over Virgil's head before kicking it across the room, and then –

Well, it isn't like Virgil has never seen Patton's cock before. But holy shit, is it different in person. If he stops and thinks about it, the moment might overwhelm him, and he's afraid he might forget what he's doing entirely and stop and stare in awe.

So he doesn't think. He moves forward, and sucks the head of Patton's cock into his mouth.

Virgil wants to savour this moment. He takes it slowly, using his tongue to explore, making a note of all the spots that make Patton shiver or let out little, breathy gasps of pleasure. He bobs his head a couple of times, hollowing his cheeks around Patton's length, and soon Patton's hands are resting in his hair. Not pulling – not quite – but buried in his hair, tugging if he pauses a moment too long, guiding him up and down on Patton's cock with gentle pressure.

With one long, lingering lick, Virgil pulls off.

“You can be a little rougher,” he says, trying not to blush. “If you want, I mean – I wouldn't mind, if you wanted to.”

Patton's mouth opens in a round 'o', although Virgil can't tell if it's shock or pleasure.

“Let me know if it's too much, okay honey? Squeeze my leg if you need to stop. Go on, now…”

Patton's hand tightens in Virgil's hair again, rougher this time, and pulls him forward, and oh, yes.

Patton's grip is firm and unyielding, his hips grinding up in small circles as he pulls Virgil's head further onto his cock with each thrust. It isn't quite facefucking – it's too slow for that, and Patton is careful to give him plenty of time to breathe – but it's something hot and relentless that has Virgil frantically scrambling to undo his zipper one handed.

Virgil moans as his cock springs free from his jeans, and Patton's hips buck upwards suddenly. Virgil gags a little, and Patton immediately releases him, but when Virgil makes no move to pull away, he quickly strikes up the rhythm again. Things are slowly getting faster, more desperate, and Virgil is pressing his tongue against Patton's cock, letting his piercing trace lines of pressure, and Patton's panting breaths sound like a symphony above him.

“I'm close, Virge, I think I'm gonna –”

Virgil moans eagerly, and Patton thrusts deep into his mouth and holds him there, letting out a soft sigh as he start to come. Virgil swallows rapidly, reluctant to pull off until Patton tugs him back by the hair. Patton immediately leans down and kisses him, open-mouthed and heated.

“That was so good, honey,” Patton murmurs. “You still want me to –”

“Uh.” Virgil decides to try for sounding suave. “How do you want me?”

Judging from the way Patton breathes in sharply, that was the right thing to say.

“Come up here on the bed with me, honey?” Virgil complies, and Patton starts pulling his jeans down over his thighs. “Let's get these off you, okay?”

Virgil quickly disrobes – getting out of skinny jeans at high speed is an essential life skill in his line of work – and moves a little further back on the bed.

“Good boy,” Patton says, almost absent-mindedly. He starts, immediately afterwards, but it's too late. Virgil has already let out a moan, embarrassingly loud.

“Sorry honey, I wasn't thinking, but I –” Patton pauses. “Would you like to be my good boy, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Virgil says. “…Sir?”

“No need for that now, baby, we can talk about this properly some other time,” Patton reassures him. “But I'm happy to tell you how special you are.” He presses a kiss to Virgil's lips. “How good you made me feel.” They're lying down together. “How beautiful you look for me.”

Virgil is groaning again, and he can't even bring himself to be embarrassed, not now that Patton is peppering his face with kisses and slowly stroking a hand over his hips, playing over his lower stomach, and finally grazing lightly over his cock.

“Please,” Virgil begs. “Please, please –”

“Please what, baby?” Patton says, with a teasing grin. “What is it you want?”

“Touch me, please, want you, want your mouth, Pat –”

“Good boy, asking for what you want.” Patton kisses him one last time, before shimmying down the bed. The sight of him, lying on his side only a couple of inches away from Virgil's erect cock, was hotter than any porn had ever been.

Patton holds Virgil's length loosely in one hand, putting the other on Virgil's hip to keep him steady. He presses a couple of slow kisses to the head, that leave Virgil almost on the edge of begging again, before finally swallowing Virgil almost all the way down in a single rush of pleasure.

Virgil's hips buck up automatically, fighting Patton's grip hard enough that it's probably going to leave a bruise, but Virgil can't even remotely bring himself to care. Patton gives head like a virtuoso, hitting sweet spots Virgil didn't even know existed, and it's clear to Virgil that this is all going to be over quickly.

He moans loudly, hands fisting in the sheets as he watches Patton's brown curls move between his legs.

“Pat – gonna come –” he groans.

Patton pauses, glancing up at him with a sunny smile.

“Any time, baby. You earned it.”

It only takes a few moments more. Virgil's hips stutter a couple of times, and he's spilling inside Patton's mouth, his lover sucking him through the orgasm. Patton pulls back until he's mouthing just at the head, then lets off entirely letting the last trickles of come run down over his hand instead.

“Pat,” Virgil says, feeling like all the air has been punched out of him.

“Yes, baby?”

“You're incredible,” Virgil says.

“It is kind of my job,” Patton quips.

“Not just that. The whole thing, I… wow.”

“Aw, thanks Virge! I had a great time too. Although I kinda need a shower now.” Patton frowns down at his cum-splattered hand.

Virgil tries not to show his disappointment. It's… fine. Not everyone is into cuddling after sex, this was only meant to be about fun.

“You gonna come with me?” Patton asks. “It's always nicer getting clean together.”

Virgil smiles.

“Give me a minute to catch my breath?”

“Of course, honey.” Patton cuddles up against Virgil's chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “You take as long as you need.”


A couple of hours later, the two of them are curled up on the couch in the living room, snuggling under a cozy blanket as She Ra plays on Netflix. Patton has dozed off with his head tucked against Virgil's neck, and Virgil finds himself distracted by the gorgeous curve of Patton's collarbone, clearly visible above the neckline of his oversized T-shirt now that he's no longer wearing anything underneath.

Virgil runs his fingers through Patton's curls – still slightly damp from their shared-shower-turned-round-two – and is debating whether or not he can reach for another cookie without waking him when he hears footsteps approaching. Is Roman or Logan back early?

But the man who appears is not one of Virgil's boyfriends. A short and wiry South Asian man stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smirk on his face. He has dark skin and long black hair in a ponytail and –

Virgil is really trying not to stare. But it's hard not to notice that the entire left side of the man's face is covered in a dark, twisting tattoo of a snake, the centrepiece of which is a glass eye – jet black, with bright lines of gold streaked across it – that forms the snake's head.

“Well, I see you two had fun,” the man comments, his single eye sweeping over the (admittedly rather dishevelled) couple.

“You're the manager,” Virgil says, the familiar voice confirming what he had already guessed.

“Mohan Swarna.” The man walks forward to offer Virgil a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Virgil can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

“I thought they called you Dee?”

Mohan's expression tightens momentarily. Now that he's closer, Virgil can see that the snake tattoo covers a number of vicious-looking scars.

They do,” Mohan says. “You don't.”

His voice doesn't leave room for questions.

“Understood,” Virgil answers, and Mohan seems to relax minutely.

“Listen,” he says. “I don't care about making friends. And I'm definitely not interested in fucking you.”

Virgil's face is burning. He was aware, of course, that Roman, Patton and Logan had a more-than-business relationship with their manager, one that he had not expected to include him. In fact, right now, he can't imagine what they see in the man.

“I wasn't asking,” he snaps back.

“But I thought you should know,” Mohan continues as though he hasn't even spoken, “that if you betray the trust they have placed in you, I will consider it my duty to destroy everything you hold dear.”

Virgil blinks at him, uncertain what to say.

On his chest, Patton shifts and yawns. He blinks up at Dee with those big blue eyes.

“Dee, love?” he asks sleepily. “You coming to cuddle with us?”

“No,” Mohan replies, his voice almost unrecognisably soft. “I was just introducing myself to Virgil. I'll leave you two alone now.”

“Mmkay.” Patton snuggles back into Virgil's chest. Mohan watches him with a warm smile, before turning back to Virgil, eye raking up and down.

“Hmm,” he makes a soft humming noise. “Well, I suppose they could have chosen worse.”

Chapter Text

Over the next three weeks, Virgil has two more dates with Logan – the latter of which ends with the two of them grinding in their jeans like teenagers – and one more with Patton – which ends with Virgil very much not in his jeans. One weekend, all four of them are free, and they go on a delightful picnic in the park that leads to some making out that's only just on the right side of public indecency.

But when Roman asks to see him – which he has, a few times – Virgil just tells him to wait. He has A Plan.

When Remy finally gives him the call, Virgil is so relieved he almost falls out of his chair.

“It's about time!”

“I said I'd get you a slot for the next cancellation, hun, and that's what I did. Given how long the waiting list is, you're damn lucky I knew someone –”

“You always know someone, Rem. You know everyone.”

“Gurl, ain't that the truth!”

Virgil texts Roman immediately.

“Friday night. I'll pick you up at 7:30. Wear something fancy.”

Judging by the string of emojis he gets in return, he's pretty sure Roman is just as excited as he is.

Virgil shows up at 7:20 on the dot, driving his custom-painted violet convertible – okay, maybe he hadn't made the best spending decisions after the first number one record – and knocks on Roman's door with his heart in his mouth. Every second he has to wait feels like a million years – does Roman secretly hate him? Is he mad that Virgil made him wait so long? Has he just been going along with the relationship because Patton and Logan wanted it –?

The door opens with a low wolf-whistle.

“Hel-lo,” Patton says with a broad grin, openly checking Virgil out. He's wearing a tight-fitting suit in a black material that shimmers purple when the light hits it, along with a purple waistcoat over his silver-grey shirt.

It's hard to stay nervous with Patton looking at him like he wants to pin him to a wall right there in the hallway. Virgil smiles.

“Is Roman home?”

“He's still getting ready. Why don't you come in for a moment?”

Virgil follows Patton through to the living room, where Logan and Mohan are curled up on the sofa together. When Virgil walks into the room, Logan glances over at him, then does a visible double-take, sitting up a little straighter. Mohan follows his gaze and smirks.

“Honestly,” he murmurs. “Allos are hopeless.”

Logan ignores him.

“You look. Very nice, Virgil,” he says, a little breathlessly. “Is that the suit you wore to the VMAs in 2017?”

“Uh, probably?” It's his usual award night outfit, although he doesn't remember exact dates.

Logan nods. “I recognise it from Patton's phone lockscreen.”

“Logan!” Patton blushes, looking thoroughly adorable as he does so.

Virgil laughs.

“It's okay, Pat,” he reassures his boyfriend. “You're allowed to ogle me. I definitely did it enough to you.”

“So,” Mohan drawls, “do we get to know what big surprise you have planned for the evening?”

“… I think Roman should be the first to find out,” Virgil says, slowly. “But I thought he might like something fancy. Not that you guys –”

Patton holds up a hand before Virgil can apologise.

“No complaints here,” he says. Then he winks conspiratorially. “And you're right. Roman loves fancy.”

“That's because I am fancy,” Roman declares loudly as he rounds the corner, and –

Virgil's brain comes screeching to a halt. Roman is wearing a crisp white dress shirt, and a ruby red suit jacket with matching tie. But instead of dress pants, he has on a floor-length tiered skirt, red fringing interspersed with shining bolts of gold, with a slit that shows off his muscular calves and feet clad in three-inch stiletto heels.

Everyone is staring. Even Mohan can't seem to pick his jaw off the floor.

“Holy shit,” Virgil murmurs. Then he blushes, embarrassed at himself.

“I mean – you look –”

“I think 'holy shit' is what I was going for,” Roman jokes, walking over to him. He has this way of swaying his hips that makes the whole skirt glitter in the light –

“I got you something!” Virgil blurts, because he has entirely lost his cool apparently. “Here.”

He thrusts the boutonnière at Roman. A single red rose.

“And it even matches!” Roman says with a smile.

“… I bribed Patton into telling me what you'd be wearing,” Virgil admits.


“Only the colour!” Patton objects. “And he had cute cat gifs, Roman, what was I supposed to do!”

“Betrayed for cat gifs!” Roman strikes a dramatic pose. Which involves sticking his leg out. Okay, Virgil might be staring again.

“We should get going,” Virgil says quickly. “Our reservation is at eight o'clock.”

“Lead the way, gorgeous,” Roman says, slipping his arm through Virgil's, and oh, Virgil thinks he might melt just from the proximity. “I can't wait to spend the night with you.”


Virgil can pinpoint the exact moment that Roman realises their destination. He's driving up the street and, a few seconds after they pass the sign, Roman breaks off mid-sentence, his head whipping around to re-read the name.

“You're messing with me,” he says, even as Virgil starts signalling to pull into the valet parking bay. “The waiting list for this place is years long, how did you –?”

“Being a rockstar has its perks,” Virgil says with a cocky grin. “Remy has a thing going with the pastry chef – uh, Remy is Morpheus, from the band? I had to wait until there was a cancellation, though – sorry it took so long…”

Roman laughs, a little hysterically.

“You don't need to apologise for taking all of three weeks to get us a table at an internationally renowned dance restaurant,” he says. Then he frowns down at his outfit. “Goodness me, I was worried I'd be overdressed –”

“You look perfect,” Virgil tells him, the truth slipping out without a moment's hesitation. “You're going to be the most gorgeous person in the whole place.”

Roman smiles, the tension in his shoulders draining away. He leans forward to press a quick kiss to Virgil's lips.

“Then it's a good thing my date is a close second.”

As they walk inside, both of them take a moment to drink in their surroundings. The restaurant is constructed around a large central dance floor in front of the stage where a live band are playing. Although the night is still young, a few brave couples are twirling their way around the floor to a slow jazz number. Most, however, are sat at the candelit tables that line the room, crisp white tablecloths stark against elegant black and gold furnishings.

The hostess leads them up a narrow spiral staircase onto the mezzanine, where they're level with the large crystal chandeliers that hang over the dancefloor. There's a single black lily in a vase at the centre of their table.

“If you gentlemen wish to order now, you're welcome to head down to the floor until your meals are prepared. And of course, there are bars on both levels…”

Virgil shoots a questioning glance at Roman, who shakes his head.

“Dinner first, then dancing,” he suggests. “But we could start with something to drink. What are the house's signature cocktails?”

After the waitress walks away with an order for two complicated-sounding drinks, Roman turns to Virgil with a small smile.

“What's that look for?” he asks, teasingly.

“You're in your element,” Virgil replies. “It's breath-taking.”

Roman blushes. “I was just trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.”

“Could have fooled me,” Virgil says. “I was thinking that you sound like you do this all the time. And that I should definitely get to see you like this more often.”

Roman is somehow even more beautiful in candlelight – his sun-kissed skin practically glowing, and his brown eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Careful,” he warns. “I could get used to this sort of thing.”

“Luxury living, or compliments?” Virgil asks. “The way I see it, a prince deserves plenty of both.”


The meal is wonderful. The servings of each course are small, but that isn't much of a problem when the menu covers five different courses, each more delicious than the last. A couple more cocktails throughout the evening keep the conversation flowing easily, and by the time Roman and Virgil are finishing off their shared dessert – salted caramel parfait with a hot chocolate sauce – Virgil feels like they've discussed every topic under the sun.

So of course, that's when Roman gets to his feet, reaching out a hand.

“Come and dance with me?”

Virgil takes his hand, momentarily dazzled by the full force of Roman's smile. It takes a few seconds for the question to sink in, and by that point he's already on his feet and Roman is leading him downstairs.

“Um,” he says. “You should know that I. Don't really dance.”

“I've seen you dancing in front of ten thousand people,” Roman says, and he tips his head back when he laughs. He's two steps ahead of Virgil on the staircase, but even from behind his laugh is beautiful, his hair a shimmering wave of gold in the candlelight.

“That isn't dancing,” Virgil replies, somewhat distractedly. “It's just. Jumping around with rhythm.”

“Rhythm is the most important part,” Roman tells him. “Don't worry, I'll take the lead.”

Virgil allows himself to be pulled onto the floor, pressed close against Roman, chest to chest. The music is fast-paced, and the dancers around them seem scarily competent, but it's hard to worry about that when Roman's eyes are on him.

“You ready?” Roman asks.

Virgil nods, feeling utterly breathless – and away they go.

Roman steers them out onto the floor. After a clumsy first couple of songs, Virgil can just about keep up with the basic box-step – if there's one part of this he's good at, it's keeping in time with the beat. But all too soon, Roman grins at him in a way that makes his stomach flip.

“You're going to spin me,” he murmurs.

“What?” Virgil hisses. “How do I –”

But it's too late. Roman flings himself away, and Virgil catches his hand almost by reflex, alarm bells blaring in his brain – right up until Roman spins neatly back into his arms, taking up the rhythm again without missing a beat.

Don't – you – I –” Virgil splutters.

“You did great,” Roman promises. “Want to do it again?”


“Okay, you can dip me instead…”

Roman throws himself backwards so suddenly that Virgil doesn't have time to do anything but cling to his shoulders, trying desperately to keep them both from overbalancing. Roman kicks one leg in the air, no doubt showing off his skirt to great effect, but Virgil only has a moment to catch his breath before Roman whispers: “… and, up again, easy does it, and now we're back to dancing.”

“You're going to give me a heart attack,” Virgil grumbles.

“Say that again without a smile on your face,” Roman teases back.

The longer they spend dancing, the easier it becomes – but Virgil is still greatly relieved when, two songs later, the band switches to something a little slower-paced. The frenetic energy of the dancefloor calms, and couples instead hold each other tight for a slowdance.

Roman leans his head on Virgil's chest, and Virgil wraps his arms around him, wishing he didn't ever have to let go.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” Roman murmurs, sounding tired.

“Terror will do that,” Virgil deadpans.

“Cheer up, Hot Topic,” Roman quips back. “I know you're having fun really.”

“… Maybe deep, deep down,” Virgil admits, and he's pretty sure the softness in his voice answers for him.

“I was wondering, though,” Roman continues. “Why did you bring me here? If you don't like dancing, I mean. There are plenty of other fancy restaurants!”

“Uh. So. About that.” Virgil's face is red, and he wonders if Roman can hear his pulse pick up – though if he does, he doesn't react. “This is gonna sound really stupid.”

“Well now I have to know.” Roman lifts his head, and gives him an encouraging smile. “Come on, My Chemical Romancer, what's so special about this place?”

“It's not here but – I did want to take you dancing. Cause, see…” Virgil bites his lip, and rushes it out fast: “Iwantedtogotopromwithyou.”

Roman blinks at him, wide-eyed.

“Back in school, I mean. I spent… a lot of senior year thinking about it. I had this fantasy about taking you to prom and then you'd realise that I wasn't just, some scary punk guy, and we'd wind up… you know, falling in love and getting married or whatever. And I know! I know you went to prom with L and P and probably had a great night, and I don't want to take that away from you, but I guess I…”

“You wanted our first date to be prom night,” Roman finishes for him.

“Sorry, that sounds so creepy when you say it out loud –”

“Are you kidding me?” Roman cuts him off. “That's the most – oh, I have never heard anything so romantic in my life, you – come here.”

Roman pulls Virgil in for a kiss, a slow and aching kiss that feels like he's trying to say something that there are no words for – or perhaps, that's just how Virgil feels right now.

As they pull apart, a single tear trickles down Roman's face. Virgil brushes it away, and Roman lets out a small, slightly damp-sounding laugh.

“We're meant to be dancing,” he says.

Virgil hadn't noticed that they'd stopped.

“Why don't we take a break,” he suggests. “Get another drink, maybe?”

“The bar here sure beats fruit punch,” Roman jokes. “Or, uh…”

Virgil isn't sure he's ever seen Roman hesitate before, but he does now.

“What?” he asks.

“Well,” Roman says, his voice dropping to something low and suggestive. “We've done dinner and dancing. What was next on the prom night checklist?”

“Maybe I ought to rush you home before curfew,” Virgil teases. “I don't want you getting in trouble.”

“And what if I'm looking for trouble?” Roman asks. “After all, I'm dating the bad boy…”

“Yet you're still somehow the bad influence.” Virgil flags down a bartender. “We'd like two more gin Bellinis and, I think we're both a little worse for wear so…”

He glances at Roman for confirmation, and gets it.

“Could you call us a car?”


Roman makes good use of the privacy screen on the ride home, and by the time they're in the elevator Virgil's waistcoat is undone, his lips are puffy from kissing and Roman's tie is tucked haphazardly into his waistband for “safekeeping”.

“So…” Roman purrs into his ear, Virgil only just managing not to drop his apartment key. “You've brought me back to a hotel room… although you could have sprung for the penthouse.”

“I don't need to live in a penthouse,” Virgil says, a well-worn refrain from a years-long argument with Remy. “I'd rather save my money and spend it on something worthwhile.”

“Like fancy suits and expensive restaurants?” Roman teases.

“Like you.”

Roman blinks a little, and Virgil kisses the surprise off his face.

“What did you think this was all for?” he asks, his voice sounding all soft and warm and unrecognisable. “I wanted to make you happy. To give you a night as perfect as you are.”

“Well, you fucking succeeded,” Roman says, laughing. “I'm already going to sleep with you, you don't have to keep seducing me –”

“I'm not trying to –”

“I know.” Roman smiles. “It's just who you are. You take my breath away, Virgil.” The smile broadens, growing a little wicked. “But now it's my turn to leave you breathless.”

Their kiss is like electricity, a circuit completed, sparks flying. Their hands are all over each other, undoing buttons and slipping under clothes, desperate for more contact.

Virgil shakes off his jacket, steps out of his pants, not caring where they get left behind. Nothing is important, not when he has Roman under his hands, so firm and hot and present, no longer a fantasy and very much real.

Then Roman pushes him onto the sofa, and he blinks.

“Uh… bedroom?” he asks, feeling twice as drunk off of Roman as he is off the cocktails, and thoroughly dizzy in both respects.

“Trust me,” Roman says. “Condoms are in the drawer, right?”

Roman saunters off into Virgil's bedroom as though he owns the place, mindless of his own half-nudity. He calls back: “Ditch the boxers for me, would you?”

Virgil hastily shucks off his underwear, leaving himself completely nude on the couch. He's just starting to feel a familiar, niggling fear – is this some kind of prank? – when –

Roman. In the doorway. No longer wearing the skirt. No longer wearing anything.

Virgil can't do anything but stare as Roman struts towards him, hips swinging and every inch of his body on display. He moves like a dancer, like a supermodel. He looks like a work of art.

“Sorry to break the fantasy,” Roman murmurs as he climbs onto Virgil's lap. “But I already did the whole awkward-missionary-fumbling prom night thing once, and it's really nothing to write home about. So I thought I should take advantage of the fact that we're both a little more experienced than that.”

Virgil makes a noise like a dog's chew toy getting run over by a steamroller.

Roman laughs, his fingertips dancing ghost-light over Virgil's cock. “Was that a yes?”


Roman hands him a condom, and he tears into the packet quickly. By the time it's on, Roman is there to rub a lubed-up hand over Virgil's cock, applying a thick coating.

“Ready?” Roman asks, taking him by surprise.

“I – are you gonna be okay like this? I don't mind…”

Roman smiles, and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I know my limits. You're not going to hurt me. Okay?”


Roman sinks slowly onto Virgil's cock, his forehead tipped against Virgil's, their breath mingling as they both sigh and gasp, arms wrapped around one another.

They move together slowly, rocking and grinding, letting the slow simmering heat build between them. Roman grips tight to Virgil's shoulders; Virgil buries his face in the crook of Roman's neck and smooths his hands along the tight, muscular curves of Roman's torso.

“This feels…” Virgil sighs.

“I love this position,” Roman admits. “It's – ah! – the lotus position. From the kama sutra, you know.”

Virgil grins.

“You're such a dork.”

“Hey!” Roman protests, but there's laughter on his face too. “I think you'll find you're the dork. You're such – oh – a sap, I can't believe I thought you were cool in high school.”

“We're all dorks together,” Virgil answers.

“Yeah…” Roman's gaze is a little unfocussed. “Virgil, I – please –”

Virgil quickly moves his hand to Roman's cock, stroking firmly.

“Slow,” Roman corrects him. “Don't want – guh, this to end too soon.”

Virgil rocks his hips upwards, a little harder, a little faster, losing himself in the beautiful heat of Roman. What else was there but Roman's voice in his ears, Roman's body all around him, Roman's mouth on his –

Virgil tips softly over the precipice, and for a long moment he is aware that he is about to fall. He is weightless, suspended on the edge of flight.

Then he cries out into Roman's mouth, tensing as his body finds its release. Roman grinds down against him, and then his cock is twitching in Virgil's hand, coming only a few moments after Virgil does.

They gasp their way through the aftershocks together, pressing as tight as two bodies can. They only pull apart as their bodies start to wind down, limbs shaking and stomachs smearing with Roman's come as it drips between them.


Once they can both stand, Virgil pulls Roman into the bathroom to clean up the worst of the mess – although the couch is definitely going to need a professional clean, so that's going to be a fun phone call.

But that's tomorrow Virgil's problem. Now, Virgil keeps a hand on Roman's back as they make their way to the bedroom – unable to stop touching, even for a moment, as though he might vanish like a dream.

But Roman doesn't disappear. He curls up in Virgil's bed, face-to-face in a tangle of limbs, smiling as radiant as the sun.

“Thank you,” Virgil breathes.

“What?” Roman chuckles. “For blowing your mind?”

“No,” Virgil says. “For…” He waves a hand in Roman's direction. “For being you, I guess.”

Roman blinks, and then surges forward to kiss him, so long that Virgil's head is spinning from lack of air.

“Second chances, hey?” Roman says softly.


Virgil is still smiling even as the two of them fall into a deep and restful sleep.