Chapter Text
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.
Again.
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.