Chapter Text
Valarr's POV
The Great Hall was drafty and far too quiet, leaving Valarr with nothing to do but obsess over the placement of the gold-rimmed knives. He was double-checking the table settings, hunting for any tiny mistake, when he felt his father’s hand settle on his shoulder.
“Valarr, when I told you to check if everything on the table was perfect back when you were eight, I only did it to keep you occupied while I was busy. You know you don’t have to do this anymore, right?” Valarr merely offered a small smile in response to his father's joke, recognizing it as an attempt to distract him from the visible tension.
He knew he didn't need to do it. However, focusing on such a simple, familiar task helped ground his anxiety. Usually, he was an exceptionally relaxed and composed person, controlling his emotions was as natural to him as breathing. Yet, the prospect of this event - the first family dinner since his divorce from Kiera - was making him lose his edge.
He had decided long ago that he wasn't exactly fond of his family. While some members were tolerable, most were problematic individuals who served as nothing but a headache for both him and his father. Uncle Maekar’s children, especially, seemed to exist for no purpose other than creating problems for everyone around them. Valarr often found himself wondering how a man as severe and disciplined as Maekar had managed to raise such a spectacular collection of disasters.
Throughout history, their lineage had seen every kind of madman, murderer, and pervert. Unfortunately, Maekar’s children were of that same breed, and Valarr couldn't help but think, When I ascend the throne, I’m the one who will have to clean up their messes. He could already feel a headache coming on before dinner had even begun.
Perhaps he should have made an excuse about not feeling well to skip it, but he was a bit too old to hide in his room like a child. He found himself longing for these next three hours to be over so he could retreat to his room and be alone again.
~~~~~~~~~~
Just as he predicted, his headache had intensified before the main course was even served. They were an absurdly large family; Maekar’s younger children, in particular, were being far too loud, showing a total lack of table etiquette. Though they would quiet down momentarily when met with their father’s stern glare, their voices would inevitably rise again. They’re just children, Valarr reminded himself, but the same couldn't be said for Daeron and Aerion, Maekar’s older sons.
Even though they hadn't moved past the appetizers, Daeron was already so drunk he could barely lift his head off the table. At this rate, Valarr thought, he would be unconscious before dessert. Meanwhile, Aerion had spent the entire evening buried in his phone like a moody high schooler, refusing to join the conversation. Aside from the occasional giggle, he remained silent. Valarr didn't mind the silence. Whenever his cousin opened his mouth, it was usually to drive people to their breaking point.
Compared to other family dinners, this was actually a peaceful evening. However, the heavy sighs coming from his Uncle Maekar suggested this peace wouldn't last. Valarr took a deep breath, mirroring his uncle’s frustration, but before he could even exhale, another of Aerion’s giggles was cut short by Maekar’s angry voice. “Aerion, unless you want me to break that phone over your head, put it in your pocket this instant and join the conversation.”
And here we go, Valarr thought. Aerion did as he was told - he rarely defied his father - and his gaze immediately locked onto Valarr’s. Even before he spoke, the sheer malice in his eyes told Valarr exactly what kind of comment was coming.
“Congratulations, cousin, on finally splitting from Kiera.” For the first time all night, a heavy silence fell over the table. “Word is you two broke up because you couldn't manage to get her pregnant. Is that true?” While his tongue spat venom, he looked at Valarr with the feigned innocence of a kitten.
When I take the throne, if someone hasn't killed Aerion yet, I will exile him from this country, Valarr thought. I’ll strip him of every right and every gold he owns. The thought calmed him. He was facing a sadist who loved to watch people lose their minds; he could not give him the reaction he wanted.
“My marriage to Kiera wasn't a love match. It was a calculated arrangement for the benefit of our family,” Valarr replied, his voice as calm as ever. It didn't sound like a defense against an insult in front of his entire family; it sounded as if he were simply instructing the servants on which silver set to use. “We thought we might grow to love each other in time, but it didn't happen, so we parted ways.”
He watched Aerion clench his jaw. He hadn't gotten the reaction he wanted, and he couldn't push further without risking a physical reprimand from his father. Instead, Valarr smiled faintly and asked, “You started university this year, didn’t you? Are you seeing anyone?”
The question hit its mark. Even if there was a person masochistic enough to be with him, the boy could never mention that relationship in front of his family. He was gay, and even though he was spoiled by the King, people wouldn't take kindly to a prince sleeping with men.
Valarr was the only one who knew about this secret, one that would cause a massive scandal if revealed. A few years ago, he had assigned guards to tail Aerion and soon learned that his cousin was making out with guys in secluded corners like a typical teenager. Valarr hadn't confronted him about it to avoid suspicion. Aerion letting himself be used by others might be the most innocent thing he could do, Valarr needed the guards to keep watching in case he caused a bigger problem.
The boy bit his lip and swallowed hard, looking less like an arrogant prince and more like a nervous teenager. However, when he said "No," his voice gave nothing away. He's getting better at acting every day, Valarr thought.
“I haven't met anyone worthy of me yet,” Aerion said, fixing a defiant stare on Valarr, returning to his arrogant persona. Finally, his father Baelor intervened with a playful tone, “I’d love to meet the girl who could actually catch your interest, Aerion.” Following that ironic remark, Valarr joined the few people laughing. Aerion, withdrawn by Baelor’s involvement, backed down and began eating his meal obediently.
He’s always been like this since childhood, Valarr mused. Tormenting those weaker than him, picking fights with his equals, and obeying those he deems more powerful to stay in their good graces. To Valarr, Aerion often seemed less like a prince and more like one of those poisonous women from old court dramas; beautiful, vicious, and always one insult away from ruining someone’s life for entertainment. The mental image of Aerion as a scheming court vixen made him chuckle aloud, drawing Aerion’s furious eyes back to him.
Without breaking eye contact, Aerion stabbed his knife into his food threateningly, but Valarr knew Aerion wasn't crazy enough to kill the heir to the throne, not yet. Valarr simply went back to his meal, calmly cutting his food into pieces.
~~~~~~~~~~
As Valarr stepped out of the shower later that night, his mind was still on the dinner. Not Aerion’s words - he had learned years ago not to take anything that came out of that brat’s mouth seriously - but rather Aerion’s behavior. The boy hadn't looked away from his phone until Maekar scolded him.
He must be seeing someone, Valarr thought, and the idea annoyed him. Even a maniac like Aerion had someone, yet he didn't have that luxury.
The more he thought about it, the more his mood soured. While he had been crushed under the weight of family responsibilities since childhood - even having his marriage decided for him - Aerion was free to see whoever he wanted. I can start seeing people too, Valarr decided. He hadn't even slept with anyone since the divorce from Kiera.
After putting on his pajamas, he looked at himself in the mirror. He saw a loser in a button-up pajama set, someone who got annoyed by teenagers playing on their phones, someone who hadn't been laid in six months. I look like a grumpy old man, he thought. He was only thirty.
For a split second, he considered tearing off the pajamas, putting on the most normal outfit in his closet, and hitting a club, but he dismissed the idea instantly. He could already imagine the headlines before sunrise and the King’s disapproving glare. Besides, he had to welcome foreign envoys tomorrow morning. He couldn't do that hungover.
Defeated, he shuffled out of the dressing room toward his bed. As he lay down and reached for his phone to check his alarm, another idea struck him. It was more embarrassing than the previous one, but far more harmless. He didn't need to go to a club to meet people; he could meet them online. He could stay anonymous until he got to know the person, and if they clicked, they could maybe meet. Before he could change his mind again, he downloaded the first dating app he saw.
The app had a simple interface, similar to other social media platforms. You could create a profile, post updates, and follow others. There was also a section for the most popular posts. Before registering, Valarr decided to browse a bit to see what kind of people were there. He was shocked by the very first post he saw. It wasn't that he’d never seen a breast before, but he hadn't expected this. As he scrolled further, he realized all the photos were like this.
That was when it clicked: he hadn't downloaded a dating app, he had downloaded a hook-up app. After a moment's thought, he decided this was actually better. He didn't have time for a serious relationship anyway. He just wanted someone to talk to, he’d leave the rest for "future Valarr" to worry about and began setting up his profile.
From what he could see, no one used their real names. He saw dozens of names featuring "daddy" or "baby," but he certainly wasn't going to use something like that. Instead, he typed ‘user_030.’ It was basic, but he wasn't about to sift through century-old books in the library to come up with a poetic pseudonym for a hook-up app. However, he planned to fill out the rest of the information accurately because he genuinely wanted to meet someone like himself.
He quickly entered his age as 30 and his gender as male, but he paused when he reached the sexual orientation section and saw the various options. Up until now, he had only been with women, but the idea of being with a man didn't feel off-putting, especially after some of the photos he’d just seen.
It bothered him that people younger than him seemed to have themselves so thoroughly figured out, while he, at thirty, was still clicking buttons at random. He hadn't had the chance to explore these things in his youth; as the second in line, there was no option other than marrying a woman and producing heirs. He selected *Everyone* and moved to the next item.
For his location, he chose a coffee shop near the palace where his assistant usually picked up his morning coffee; it was surrounded by enough apartments to provide a good cover.
When it came to interests, he decided on a "rich guy" persona. He listed his actual hobbies, flying light aircraft, skydiving, and archery alongside more traditional pursuits like horse riding, piano, and musicals. He knew it looked like an exaggeration, but he wanted someone who could actually keep up with his lifestyle.
The "Dislikes" section felt far too small for the list in his head. He quickly typed Lannisters, Baratheons, and The Faith, three groups that had been testing his patience for years, and added family dinners for good measure.
Finally, he reached the section for his preferred role. He chose Top and moved to the kinks. Valarr had spent his entire life being the perfect, controlled heir, but the app offered a different kind of power. He bypassed the more vanilla options, his thumb hovering over terms like bondage play and edge play. He found himself deeply drawn to the idea of giving degradation.
He continued to scroll, his face heating up as he checked box after box. From breath play to specific fixations on lips and piercings, he found himself selecting things he had never even admitted to himself in the dark. By the time he reached the bottom of the list, he was surprised by how many boxes he had actually checked; a long, revealing list of desires he’d kept buried for years. He knew he should probably hit save, but he hesitated.
A profile full of kinks and hobbies didn't mean much without a face to go with them, and he didn't want to look like one of the "blank profile" accounts he’d been scrolling past.
He sighed, glancing at the empty circle where his profile picture was supposed to be. He’d spent his life being photographed by professionals in tailored suits, but taking a picture of himself for a hook-up app was a different kind of challenge
He didn’t have any photos on his phone that fit the app’s atmosphere, so he’d have to take a new one. He unbuttoned his navy silk pajama top completely and settled back against the headboard. Holding the phone steady, he snapped a picture from the neck down.
Under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, the result was surprisingly good. His skin lacked that "dead white" pallor typical of his family. He looked healthy, and the dark silk highlighted his toned physique.
Unlike the hairless, marble-like look of his relatives, Valarr had inherited his father’s Dornish traits. A neat growth of dark hair crossed his chest, narrowing into a bold trail that led toward his navel. He wasn’t overly bulky, but he possessed the lean, disciplined build of a man who stayed active. Even his hands looked right; strong and elegant, with faint veins tracing over his knuckles.
He spent fifteen minutes obsessively zooming in on the background, checking for any stray royal crests, family heirlooms, or identifying architecture in the shadows. Satisfied he was anonymous, he finally hit upload.
His account was finally ready. After saving the profile, a few suggestions appeared under a "Recommended" heading. It showed the person’s photo, name, and some preferences. The first was a red-haired, pale-skinned male, a gym mirror selfie with his face hidden. Because he reminded Valarr of his brother Matarys, he swiped left immediately. He had never approved of the incestuous traditions some of his family members still practiced.
Next was a brunette, curvy woman, a photo of her in lingerie on a bed with her face visible. She reminded him slightly of Kiera; after some hesitation, he swiped right. He rejected and liked a few more people, but he hadn't encountered anyone who made him want to study their profile in detail and send a message.
Until he saw the profile of a girl with a belly piercing. Like Valarr, she was wearing a satin pajama set, but nothing else was similar. The set was baby blue. The shorts were quite short and hugged her pale legs tightly as she sat; instead of a button-up shirt, she wore a camisole with thin straps. Unlike the shorts, it didn't cling to her body; her chest wasn't prominent, but it wasn't hard to guess she was small-chested.
But what really caught Valarr’s attention was her stomach, which she showed by lifting her top. Beside the piercing, there were bruises on the sides of her waist that were very clearly made by hands. Is it because her skin is so pale, or was the treatment that rough? Valarr wondered.
Staring at the photo as if mesmerized, he was already starting to get hard. When he looked down at the bio for a few seconds, he realized the "girl" was actually a boy.
“Fuck,” he muttered. This new information didn't cool him down; on the contrary, it made him even harder.
Even in that horny state, he decided to learn everything he could about the boy before messaging him. The boy also chose a name that didn't give much away: lavenderboy. Valarr thought; It was a bit cringe, but certainly better than names with "baby" or "daddy" in them.
When he saw the boy’s age, he caught his breath: 18. Valarr stared at the number for a moment. Young enough that he should have closed the app immediately. Young enough that he knew better. He was a child compared to him, but that unsettling realization wasn't enough to stop him.
As he scrolled through the boy’s info, he couldn't believe how similar and compatible they were; the same hobbies, the same dislikes, even the same dry irritation toward half the world around them. By the time Valarr reached the end of the profile, he found himself far more interested than he should have been in someone whose face he still had not seen.
His relationship status was listed as open relationship. So he’s seeing multiple people at once, Valarr thought. He wasn't exactly the jealous type, but he wasn't relaxed enough to share a partner with others either. His father had taught him humility, but he hadn't raised a son to be a spineless loser who settled for half-hearted loyalty. He knew his worth; even without the title, Valarr was still the most eligible bachelor in the country, and he wasn't about to share.
After hyping himself up as a perfect partner, he began looking at the boy’s posts. There were only a few photos. The first was unexpectedly taken at a stadium. The boy was wearing a short-sleeved jersey with black and red stripes, and again, his face wasn't visible.
The jersey and the stadium were very familiar to Valarr. It was one of the oldest teams in the country and had been founded by the Targaryen family. He wasn't a die-hard fan himself, but he liked the photo and moved to the next one.
Valarr had assumed everything on the account would be like the profile picture, but he was wrong. This time it was a short video. The boy was sitting on a pier, dangling his pale legs over the water. There was something strangely intimate about the careless movement of it. He found the way the boy slowly swung his legs as if he were bored to be quite cute. For a brief moment the boy stopped feeling like a collection of suggestive photographs and started feeling dangerously real.
However, the next photo had nothing to do with cuteness. It was completely different from anything he’d seen. This time, the boy was wearing a traditional Dornish dress. Taken under the orange glow of sunlight, the photo looked quite artistic. The boy’s naturally pale skin glowed beautifully in the sun. The light purple transparent fabric was draped elegantly over his glowing skin.
The cut of the dress was very revealing. The boy’s shoulders and arms were bare, and the deep V-cut on the chest went almost down to his stomach. As Valarr studied the photo, he discovered something new about himself: he was attracted to boys in traditional clothing.
Through the thin, transparent fabric, every line of the boy’s body was visible. He wasn't curvy like a woman, but his waist looked incredibly thin. He had a slender figure, but he didn't look flat either. He looks amazing, Valarr thought, his hand already sliding beneath the waistband of his pajamas as he began to stroke himself.
By the time he reached the final photo he was already stroking himself slowly. It was a close-up of his mouth and his chest piercings, with a half-melted vanilla ice cream caught between his parted lips, pale drops sliding down his chin and onto his chest.
Valarr’s imagination supplied the rest instantly: he would be the one holding the stick, fucking the boy’s throat deep and slow until the ice cream completely melted and the boy was gasping and choking around it.
At the same time he would roughly play with those pretty piercings; tugging, twisting, and pinching the sensitive nipples until the boy was whimpering and arching into his hand. Then he’d lick every sticky drop of cream from those swollen lips and that messy chest, paying special attention to the cool metal piercing each nipple, tasting sugar and skin and the boy’s desperate little sounds.
He scrolled back to the other photo, the one featuring that Dornish dress. Material wealth meant nothing in the face of such a sight. Valarr would have traded every luxury he owned just for the chance to see that purple dress pooled around the boy's waist as he took him.
When he was done the dress would be ruined, but Valarr could buy him a dozen new ones. The thought of fucking him senseless and then lavishly spoiling him afterward pushed Valarr over the edge. He came hard, making a mess of his stomach and underwear.
Still breathing heavily, an idea struck him. He wiped some of the cum onto his belly, then took a new photo from almost the same angle as his profile picture, partially hiding his cock with his hand. He tagged @lavenderboy and added a caption: “Loved your photos. Especially the one in the Dornish dress.” Without pausing to think, he posted it.
Just as he was about to set the phone aside, a notification pinged: I would like to lick you clean. Valarr’s breath caught for a heartbeat—until he realized it was from a different account. With an irritated groan, he flung the phone onto the bed and headed to the bathroom to clean up.
He thought he would feel ashamed looking at his own face in the mirror. Instead, he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. For once in his life, having done something wrong and selfish made him feel free.
If satisfying himself just by looking at the boy’s photos felt this amazing, he began to wonder what talking to him or even sleeping with him would feel like. The odds of meeting someone in person from an app like this were slim, but at the very least, he wanted to talk to him.
Still, he thought, I’m pathetic – not because he liked someone 12 years younger – but because he was so affected before even seeing the boy's face. He told himself, It’s normal since I haven't slept with anyone in six months, and after throwing the tissue in the trash, he left the bathroom and headed to his bed. When he picked up his phone, he saw the notification he had been waiting for.
The boy hadn't written anything, but he had liked his photo and followed him. A quiet thrill ran through him. He knows I was jerking off to him, Valarr thought. He saw what he did to me and he liked it.
While debating whether or not to message him, Valarr felt absurdly like a stupid high schooler. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the glowing screen, hesitating over a simple text to a stranger he barely knew. The feeling irritated him more than he cared to admit. He had spent his entire life speaking to ruthless politicians, iron-willed generals, and sharp-tongued diplomats without ever second-guessing himself. Yet, somehow, a faceless eighteen-year-old on a hook-up app had managed to make his pulse race.
He typed out three different versions and deleted them all. One sounded too royal; another sounded too desperate. Finally, he decided to stop overthinking. Before he could lose his nerve entirely, he thought, Fuck it, and sent: Hi. I’d like to get to know you better, if you're up for it.
Valarr didn't expect an immediate reply. The boy was young, strikingly attractive, and bold enough to post those kinds of photos publicly; his inbox was likely a graveyard of messages from men far more shameless than Valarr. He set the phone down on his nightstand, but his eyes stayed glued to the screen.
When the notification banner lit up the room less than a minute later, he actually blinked in surprise. His heart gave a strange, heavy thud against his ribs. He picked up the phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen for a moment as he looked at the username.
It felt strangely like stepping off a ledge. He opened the message.
@lavenderboy:
god, you really are 30
at least you didn’t lead with a dick pic like half the creeps on here
even if you did post one for the entire app to see
Valarr read the words once. Then he read them again.
Standing there in the quiet of his room, with his hair still damp from the shower and the phone warm in his hand, he felt the tension that had followed him all evening loosen all at once. And with a faint sense of disbelief, he realized he was smiling.
It was not simply that the boy had answered. It was the tone of it. There was no awkward politeness, no forced flirting, no carefully measured distance. The reply felt teasing in a way that was far more dangerous than outright interest, as though the boy had looked at Valarr’s impulsive little display and decided not to be offended by it, but to play with him instead. Valarr stared at the screen for another moment before his thumb finally moved.
@user_030:
Yes, and you liked it.
Valarr chuckled at the "typing..." indicator lingering on the screen. The boy was likely looking for a comeback, but thanks to his cousin Aerion, Valarr had become an expert in polite snark, and he didn't think anyone on earth could challenge him more than Aerion did.
@lavenderboy:
yeah, a 30-year-old jerking off to my pictures got me hot
sue me
user_030:
You’re quite outspoken and bold for your age.
@lavenderboy:
You shared that photo with the whole world, I could never be as bold as you
@user_030:
Does it bother you that I posted it at all… or that I posted it for everyone instead of sending it only to you?
When the "typing..." indicator appeared again, Valarr began to smirk. He had felt pathetic earlier – getting so worked up over just a few photos like some desperate fool. But the boy was proving to be no better. He was already acting like a jealous girlfriend, possessive and demanding even though they had only just started talking. What would he do if I started calling him girl? Valarr wondered. The idea of teasing him like that sent a slow, curious heat through his chest.
@lavenderboy:
Yes.
If you got that hard because of me, then it’s my right to see it
It’s only fair
Think of it like a trade or an exchange
@user_030:
You have more photos than I do on this app
@lavenderboy:
Those photos and your photo aren't the same
You got like that because of me
My pics have nothing to do with you
Do you understand?
If I touched myself to your photo, I’d film myself and send it only to you
not thrown it to the whole app like a slut.
It’s annoying
Valarr couldn't help but giggle at the boy's words, but he understood the logic. He began to agree with him. Besides, he didn't want to upset him further.
@user_030:
You’re very sweet.
I didn’t think of it that way, I’m sorry.
Next time I jerk off thinking about you, I'll send it only to you.
As Valarr smiled at the absurdity of their conversation, the "typing..." indicator reappeared.
@lavenderboy:
You apologized way too fast
I'm not forgiving you that easily
You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to make it up to me
Now Valarr felt like he was talking to a teenager. The boy might be 18, but his emotional intelligence is much younger, he thought, though he couldn't help but admire his confidence.
@user_030:
If you want me to jerk off for you right now, you’ll need to send a new photo.
@lavenderboy:
Pervert.
I'm sending, wait
While waiting, Valarr realized he was smirking like an idiot again, but he didn't care. He was truly enjoying himself.
@lavenderboy:
Here [photo]
Don’t hide yourself with your hand this time
I want to see EVERYTHING
Like I said, think of it as an exchange!!
When the photo loaded, Valarr understood exactly what the boy meant by “exchange.” He had posed almost identically to the one Valarr had posted, sitting on the bed, legs spread, one hand covering between his thighs. Except it wasn’t a cock Valarr was looking at. The boy had pressed his entire hand firmly over his pussy. The realization stole Valarr’s breath for a second and made him rock-hard faster than he thought possible. While he studied every detail, his own hand slid back between his legs for the second time that night.
The boy wore a buttoned satin pajama top just like Valarr’s, only short-sleeved and completely open. One breast was fully covered by the fabric while the other was partially exposed, the piercing glinting. Valarr wondered how that metal and soft flesh would feel against his tongue. His gaze drifted lower to the piercing at the navel, then to the elegant hand cupping between smooth, hairless thighs. Those were the most beautiful hands he had ever seen, adorned with a few plain rings.
The skin everywhere looked silky, completely bare. Valarr’s fingers itched to grab that softness. He imagined the boy in his own bed, tasting the cold metal against his chest while his hands charted entirely new territory, learning the heat of every curve and the hidden warmth between those thighs. He would hold the boy’s hand aside and stroke him, then slide his fingers inside that warmth. He would press their bodies together so the boy could feel every bit of Valarr’s hairy torso against his smooth skin.
The fantasy of that young body breathless and sweaty in his arms made Valarr’s head spin, but he remembered his promise. Right before he came he pulled his cock out, opened the camera, and recorded exactly how he was touching himself. He came so hard his stomach and the phone were a mess.
He turned off the camera, tossed the phone aside, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. The exhaustion of the entire day began to weigh on him, but he grabbed the phone immediately upon hearing the notification sound before he could drift off.
@lavenderboy:
hope it took that long because it was really good and not because you’re old and can’t get it up anymore
@user_030:
Maybe you’re just not as impressive as you think, and that’s why it’s taking a while.
@lavenderboy:
Fuck off
Send the photo like we agreed
Only to me this time.
@user_030:
I can't believe someone in an open relationship is this jealous.
Did you lie about your relationship status just to look cool?
Here you go.
[video]
@lavenderboy:
A video?
Fuck
I want to taste you
You really came hard
Your hands are actually insane
Seriously
You look really big
How many cm?
Hey
Answer me
Did you fall asleep?
I know you’re old but you can’t be passing out mid-conversation
Don’t ignore me
Valarr shook his head in disbelief. He thought the boy would go quiet for a while after receiving the video, just like he had, but it was the exact opposite, he wouldn't shut up. He must be a talker during sex too, Valarr thought, and replied before driving the boy any crazier.
@user_030:
I don’t know.
I’ve never measured it before.
@lavenderboy:
Fuck
Really
If you've never measured it, it HAS to be big
Usually, the ones who are insecure about their size have measured it ages ago
@user_030:
I have to say, I'm fascinated by your logic.
First the "exchange," and now this.
@lavenderboy:
I’m glad you think so
So when are you going to measure it????
@user_030:
Are you serious?
You want me to get out of bed right now and measure it?
@lavenderboy:
Yes
But I want to know how big you get when you're fully hard.
So here's what we do — I send you a video like yours.
You watch it, get hard, then you measure ✨️
Deal?
Don't make me beg.
"My god," Valarr muttered. He had to be up early tomorrow, but it was impossible to say no to this offer. He wanted a clear view of what those beautiful fingers were hiding. While texting "Deal" to the boy, he walked over to the desk in his room to get a ruler. Being hungover and being sleep-deprived were two completely different things, he told himself. He could handle meeting the envoys while running on no sleep.