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Viktor doesn't watch much porn, he finds it too fake. Maybe he's a particularly pretentious and esoteric seventeen year old, but he finds the over the top moaning and garish positioning too off-putting to be very effective at its purpose. Recently, though, he's been watching it almost obsessively for an alternative purpose.
At some point Viktor realized there were millions of point-of-view blowjob videos, practically tutorials, at his fingertips— a simple Google search away. When this realization came to him, frankly he didn't remember, but the obsession had become a near fixation. Frequently, Viktor finds his hands wandering close to his lips, picking and biting his nails, sucking his fingertips when deep in focus. Try as he may, he could not kick the habit no matter how many hard candies he hoarded in his pockets. His need to find an outlet for this fixation surpasses any other— enter Jayce Talis. He wants— no, needs— to get his mouth on his dad's cock.
The boy on screen is thin, dark hair, big brown eyes and freckled cheeks. He's kneeling on the floor in front of the viewer, a hand from offscreen is firmly grasping a fistful of his hair. It's an amateur video, but the production value isn't exactly what Viktor is focused on. Skipping forward a few minutes, he gets his prize.
He can't see the top's face in this video, but he imagines he's rough around the edges, ruggedly masculine, soft yet firm in the way he's guiding his sub's movements, and the thought makes him almost lightheaded and giddy— like dad he thinks. The boy in the video is getting used like a toy, gagging on the larger man's cock all the way down his throat.
Almost mindlessly, Viktor's fingers start toying with his lips. He can't rip his eyes from the screen as he watches that unknown boy— who he realizes with a hot face looks an awful lot like himself— get his throat abused.
The man in the video spits some derogatory remarks to the camera about the boy hanging off his cock. It makes Viktor think about the night he and Jayce first met— the things Jayce called him— Whore, slut, little fuck toy. Woefully, Viktor wonders if he had gotten his mouth around Jayce's cock back then and shown him how good he could be, maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe he would have Jayce all to himself sooner. Then again, if things had gone down any differently, maybe Jayce wouldn't be calling him different names now— Baby, sweetheart, son.
Viktor fights with himself over sliding a hand down his shorts, which are soaked through by the time the little progress bar reaches the end of the video. He always mourns the way his fingers slide clumsily over his little cock, less practiced than his father's big, calloused hands.
Jayce won't touch him— yet his hormonal mind comes up with all sorts of creative solutions to fill the gaps. Sometimes he thinks about squishing together the meager fat on his chest to make a nice snug space for Jayce to fuck between— he's seen videos of girls doing it before and the thought gets him wetter than he'd like to admit. Or letting his slick ease the way for his dad's cock to glide through the little space between his thighs, now covered in a downy fuzz from a few months on T.
He wonders how far his father's arbitrary boundaries can be pushed. What does he count as 'not touching'? Sometimes, for a few fleeting moments he entertains the mind-melting thought of sitting on his dad's face.
In fits of midnight frustration, tossing and turning with a sodden patch of slick pooling in his underwear, Viktor often goes to war with himself over throwing the covers back, marching upstairs, and demanding Jayce take responsibility for his actions— for making a monster out of his son's libido.
+
It's almost ninety degrees out and miserable. The kind of oppressive heat that's so humid you already feel like you're swimming. Sky and Viktor languish with their feet in a rapidly warming kiddie pool drinking Kool-Aid Jammers by the fistful while Viktor eyes Jayce's hard seltzer with contempt. Nearly six months away from his eighteenth birthday and he laments not yet being allowed to have a real adult drink. In his own home no less. Legal drinking age be damned.
Damn Jayce too while he's at it, because the man— no, his father— has been driving Viktor up the walls. Blame it on his raging teenage hormones, whatever, but Jayce was somehow oblivious yet infuriatingly spot-on about pushing every single one of Viktor's buttons. Even now, obliviously catching rays in his stupid lawn chair, drinking his stupid seltzer, with his stupid shirt off, showing off his stupid pecs. (In front of Viktor's even more stupid friends, no less. Embarrassing.)
"Go long, horndog," Jinx tosses a bomb-pop package at Viktor and Sky each and sits down in the shallow pool with a plop.
"Shut the fuck up," Viktor snaps with as much vitriol as he can in the hot sun. He barely catches the package with the tips of his fingers.
They unwraps their own popsicle and shake the sticky wrapper off their hand, "I could see your hate-boner from inside," Sky snorts at that. Viktor curls a caustic lip.
Sticky red, white, and blue syrup runs down Viktor's fingers that he chases with his tongue. Frigid drops of the stuff evade him and land on the bare skin of his belly, making him hiss and laugh. He scoops up the liquid sugar with sticky fingers and pops them in his mouth to suck them clean. He can feel his father's gaze on the back of his neck, hotter than the rays of the late afternoon sun, sure to burn fierce later.
Viktor's mind wanders to the videos in his incognito tab while he races the heat to finish his dessert before it can melt away. Curling his tongue around the very tip to suck away more sugary liquid brings about the thought of practicing. That thought makes heat pool in his swim shorts and his sensitive nipples harden under the tape on his chest, so much to the point that it nears discomfort.
Lips curling into a smirk, Viktor points upward, "Jinx, Sky, look. Is that a rainbow?"
While his friends are looking away, Viktor makes eye contact with his father across the yard, still holding that wry grin, and shoves his popsicle so deep down his own throat he chokes hard, sputtering and spitting out red and blue drool down his chin.
"You're a nasty dog, Hex!" Jinx cackles. They make some crude hand gesture involving the phrase 'throat goat', and Viktor can practically see his dad's eyes pop out of his head from across the yard.
Jayce clears his friends out sooner or later, citing not wanting to send them home to their families with heat stroke and sunburns.
+
Jayce helps Viktor out of the tape on his chest, sitting up on the bathroom counter— just like they do when Viktor gets his injections— and his father works oil into his hands and carefully peels the tape away to reveal tender flesh underneath, like digging his fingers in and tearing the rind away from bruised fruit. He preens under the callused fingertips that massage and prod at his irritated skin, pads of his father's thumbs lingering for just too long on the sensitive undersides of his chest. It's something Jayce insists on doing since the first time Viktor tried to on his own and wound up with blisters. Maybe the humiliation of turning red, nipples growing stiff under tender touches— getting wet— is a twisted punishment for hurting himself, being careless.
"That good?" Jayce murmurs. He doesn't sound like he's talking about the sting of adhesive separating from skin. His breath ghosts across Viktor's forehead when he speaks, close enough to kiss.
"Mhm," Viktor hums in agreement. He's hardly paying attention. He's watching the way his dad's large hands grasp and palpate the fat on his chest, rougher now, nearly groping, and entirely unnecessary.
Jayce starts playing closer to the raised buds of his nipples. His touches have shifted from firm to ghosting, barely brushing the pinkened skin. The first real touch against his nipples sends a shock straight down to his swollen little cock. It's with a shiver that Viktor realizes two things; Jayce is looking at his chest with a hungry expression, and he's hard too.
"Are you cold, sweetheart?" Jayce's hands— god his hands— leave Viktor's chest and run down his arms to soothe his goosebumps and fuck Viktor feels like he's going to die. The skin is reddened here, too, from the sun and warm, almost feverish.
"Not at all," he breathes.
He raises his arms and the fabric of a shirt falls over him, one of Jayce's, soft and worn that falls to his knees and stretches at the collar. It smells so strongly of his father, Viktor has to resist lifting the collar to his nose to take in greedy lungfuls of the scent right in front of the man.
"Why don't we go cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, hm?" Jayce suggests, pupils blown.
Viktor can't help but agree.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" comes Jayce's half-joking remark when he sees Viktor return with what has to be his third popsicle of the day.
Viktor pretends to consider the suggestion for a moment, "no, I don't think I have," he says.
He feels like the cat that got the cream seeing his dad's exasperated expression when he flops down on the other end of the sofa from him and sucks the popsicle between his lips with a loud smack, "have you had enough, old man?" he pokes Jayce in the side with his foot.
Viktor has to resist a giggle at Jayce's grumbled "just about".
He tries to play it up, the "practicing". While the movie goes on, he copies what he saw in those videos, swirling his tongue around the tip of the frozen treat and trying to suck the whole thing into his mouth. He tries not to grin too widely when he notices the slack jawed side-eye he receives from his father.
When it's all gone, Viktor snuggles into the blanket next to his dad, leaning against his shoulder with a content and innocent sigh. Jayce's hand goes straight to where it belongs, twirling a lock of his hair between his fingers.
The movie goes on, and Viktor grows bored. Jayce, like always, seems fully engrossed in the film. He inches closer, hand creeping up the inseam of his father's jeans.
"Viktor," the warning voice of his father startles him.
"Yes, dad?" Viktor tries to feign innocence, picking at the blanket.
Jayce pauses the movie. "Is there something you need from me, baby?"
Fuck. He's been found out. For once in his entire life Jayce isn't entertaining his bullshit.
Heart in his throat, Viktor mutters, "I just want to…" he trails off.
Jayce sighs, that terrible, dreaded dad sigh, "Use your words, baby," unintentional condescension simply drips off of him.
Deciding, fuck it, Viktor's hand slides all the way up to grip his dad's bulge through his jeans. Fuck he's big.
"Daddy," he puts on the best pout that he can, "I wanna suck you."
Jayce's sigh speaks louder than words, "No, baby. I'm not going to hurt you like that."
Stomach dropping, Viktor suddenly feels all too aware of the sugar staining his lips and tongue blue— it might as well be clown paint with how embarrassed and exposed he feels. He fights the childish urge to scrub a fist across his mouth to clear the stain like a snot-nosed kid.
"Dad," the word comes out too whiny, too needy— childish, "I just want to learn,"
Jayce sighs again. Here it comes, Viktor thinks. It's the same sigh Jayce does every time he says 'we can't do this'. Every single time.
"Kid, I can't-"
"Don't you want to teach me?" Viktor says instead, feeling a little manipulative.
Jayce freezes, his hand grows stiff in Viktor's hair. Okay, this is getting somewhere. Switching tactics.
"Please?" Viktor prods him even further, "I've been practicing,"
Jayce's sigh is different this time, it's a sigh of defeat. Viktor holds back a delinquent smile.
Jayce hoists him up onto his lap, "C'mere, kid, it's okay," he says with huff. Viktor shudders at the show of strength. He still feels small up here on dad's lap. Up here, the world can't reach him, he is allowed to be small.
"You're a smart boy, you're my smart boy," the broad pad of Jayce's thumb swipes across Viktor's cheek, "you want me to teach you?"
Viktor nods, wordless. Jayce pulls him in, and he obeys.
Kissing dad is playing follow the leader, obeying unspoken orders and receiving reward in the form of a tongue laving across the lower lip, a grope, a deep chested groan. Viktor is addicted to the rasp of Jayce's beard on his cheeks as they keep kissing, and the guiding nip of his father's teeth against his lips and tongue as he tries to keep pace, overeager. He's getting better at kissing, he can tell by the way Jayce grips his jaw, not as firm as their first few kisses, sloppy and inexperienced. He knows he's doing well because he can feel the hard line of Jayce's cock through his jeans.
A surge of bravery sends butterflies off in Viktor's tummy, flushed from cheeks to toes, as he breaks the kiss to slide to his knees in front of the couch. Shaky hands work to unbuckle dad's belt.
"I'll get that for you, baby," Jayce interrupts, going to undo his belt and slide his jeans and briefs down his hips.
Jayce's cock twitches in his grip when he frees himself from the confines of his briefs and, oh. He's big. Bigger than the guys in the videos Viktor watches. He's seen it before, just never analyzed it properly enough with the intent to suck it down his throat. His confidence starts to wane. He doesn't know if it's even possible anymore.
"Baby," Jayce's gentle tone breaks through Viktor's rambling internal stream of consciousness, "We don't have to keep going if you-"
"No!" Viktor insists, "I can do it. I'll do it. Just need you to help me."
"Fuck, okay, okay we can keep going,"
The musky scent of his father is intoxicating up close, sweat and sun and skin. Viktor's tongue darts out quickly to lick his lips. He pokes his tongue out and screws up his face in anticipation for the taste.
Sky kitten licks and kisses on the tip make Jayce hiss and buck his hips. The taste is salty, musky, acrid. Viktor thinks back on the videos he's studied, what made the doms in those videos moan the loudest. He gives the shaft a few broad licks from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the crown and moaning in delight at the drops of precum he licks up. He puckers his lips a bit and sucking the head into his mouth. That makes Jayce groan throatily and squeeze his hands into fists.
Confidence renewed, Viktor starts a slow rhythm of bobbing his head, trying in vain to take more of the length on each down stroke. He makes his own little hands into tight fists and throats his dad's cock deep, gagging hard at the intrusion.
Viktor whines high in his throat, frustrated. It looks so easy in those videos. He tries again. An accidental graze of his teeth makes Jayce hiss and groan, which he tries to soothe with a messy lathe of his tongue down the shaft. If the scrunch of his snotty nose and his tear-streaked face do anything for Jayce, he has no idea, but he feels like an utter failure.
Viktor takes him deeper this time, more than halfway, and gags even harder. Jayce moans, hands fisted at his sides. Viktor pulls off with another nauseating gag. Strings of pearlescent saliva snap and break between the head and his lips.
"Daddy," Viktor's voice has gone raspy from abuse, "help me?"
Jayce looks like a deer caught in the headlights, his hands tight at his sides and panting like he's run a marathon.
"It's okay, you can do it, kid," is all the encouragement dad gives him. It feels forced out, like a knee-jerk reaction.
Viktor sniffles, "I'm bad at this," mortification settles itself in the back of his throat alongside the burn of abuse.
"V, baby," his father rasps. Jayce's hands are finally on him now, if only brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead.
He's going to tell me to stop. Viktor feels dejected, humiliated— inexperienced and most of all, small.
His dad's large palm settles on the back of his head and Viktor resigns himself to giving up, but rejection doesn't come in the form of being gripped and pulled away. Instead, Jayce's fingers trace soothing circles over his scalp as he settles a firm grip on Viktor's hair and presses down just slightly. Not too much pressure, but already enough for the waves of dominance rolling off his father to be practically dizzying. Distantly, Viktor recognizes the faint twirl of his hair between Jayce's fingers. It's a habit of his father's— stroking his hair when they watch a movie on the couch, a passing ruffle in the morning getting ready for school, soothing comfort when he seeks out his dad's warmth in the middle of the night.
Viktor's eyes are watery and red-rimmed when he raises his gaze to meet his dad's. There isn't an ounce of disappointment in Jayce's.
"Baby," Jayce's voice sounds darkened by lust, "let Daddy show you, okay?"
"Mhm," is what Viktor wants to say. All that comes out of his mouth is a garbled hrlck.
With a newfound confidence, Viktor lets himself be guided into a slow rhythm of bobbing his head up and down, deeper every time. Drool and precum slip down the corners of his lips to drip down his chin.
"Suck a little bit when you get to the tip, baby— fuck that's it," Jayce babbles encouragement, hips twitching in restrained pleasure.
Viktor finds himself leaning into each deep thrust, living off the feeling of Jayce's grip on his hair and the thick cock invading his senses. Jayce thrusts up, deeper punches every time until Viktor gags on it, feels it threatening to breach his throat. He cries out around his daddy's cock, wide, tear-filled eyes and hands scratching at Jayce's thighs until his father takes one of his hands in his own.
"We'll go slow," Jayce wipes a stray tear from his boy's eye. Viktor nuzzles into his cupped hand, "You can take it. Deep breaths, in and out,"
The hand returns to the back of his head. Viktor whines at the loss of his dad's hand on his cheek, blazing hot. He focuses on taking deep breaths while Jayce slowly pushes him down to throat him further, groaning. He forces down the urge to cough. He settles on closing his teary eyes and letting daddy guide him through it.
Jayce distracts him with more panted words of encouragement, "Keep going, baby boy. You can take me, you're almost there."
With his eyes squeezed shut, Viktor has no idea how much more he has left to take. His whole world is reduced down to the smell, sound, taste, feel of his daddy. He struggles through taking more until his nose brushes the wiry hair at the base of his dad's cock. He swallows hard to fight off the urge to gag again.
"You're such a fast learner, sweetheart. You're perfect at making Daddy feel good," Jayce rumbles deep in his chest. The words make warmth pool in Viktor's shorts. He did it.
Viktor opens his eyes, gazing up through teary lashes. Jayce is panting, puffing out hot breaths that make his burly chest rise and fall.
"Daddy's going to fuck your throat now, okay sweetheart?" He readjusts his hands to grip both sides of Viktor's head, cradling him between his big hands, "hold on, baby."
Viktor grips onto Jayce's thighs tight in anticipation. He feels dizzy. His daddy grips him hard and pulls him off a few inches, then pushes him back down, forcing Viktor to take his cock all the way down his throat again. Viktor whines and thrashes in his grip, trying his hardest to make it feel good for his daddy. Jayce moans deep in his chest.
It burns his throat. Tears well up and spill down Viktor's cheeks as Jayce picks up the pace, fucking his throat in earnest now. He gags and gasps for air when he can, chokes on spit and precum that pools in his mouth and spills from his lips. The obscene sound of gagging and the smack of his dad's heavy balls on his chin overtake the room.
"Yeah, baby, gag on it for daddy," Jayce praises, "Your throat feels so good, so tight,"
Viktor squeals in delight, hips jerking to get some kind of friction against his little cock. Daddy takes pity on him and gives him his calf to grind against. Viktor nearly goes off from the premise alone.
"Oh, fuck, I wish I could fuck you, baby. If your mouth feels this good— mmh," Jayce's voice is getting raspy now, his thrusts less coordinated.
Viktor looks up through his lashes again, copying the pretty face of the boy in the video. He hollows his cheeks, bats his eyelashes.
"Baby you're so cute, gonna make me— Oh, are you ready for it?"
He's ready for it. He jerks his hips against daddy's leg faster, soaked through his shorts.
Jayce lets out a guttural moan, "Here it comes, baby, you've earned it,"
He thrusts deep, one, two, three times, and holds Viktor in place, pressing his nose tight against his pelvis when he comes. Cum floods Viktor's throat, who is helpless to do anything but swallow and swallow and swallow. He jerks and shudders against the leg crammed between his own until he realizes he's coming too.
Strong hands grip and pull the boy's slack form up and away, messy and gasping.
"That's it, breathe. Breathe for me, baby," Jayce praises, pulling him onto his lap, "you did so good for me, made me feel so good. Did you feel good too?"
Viktor chokes on air, trying to find his voice, but no words come out.
"Oh, my baby," Jayce scoops him up and squeezes him tight.
Viktor smiles, satisfied.