A few moments earlier, Viktor had been lying on that dusty couch, exhaustion pressing him down like a physical weight. His breathing was shallow, uneven. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, twitching as if caught in a half-dream.
A single bead of sweat formed at his temple, rolling slowly down the side of his face.
Then another.
His chest rose and fell with increasing rapidity, each breath coming quicker than the last. Something was wrong. His body felt hot, feverish, but not from illness. This was different. Deeper.
His eyes snapped open.
"What the..." Viktor gasped, his voice barely a rasp. His gaze immediately dropped to his lap, and his blood turned to ice.
His cock was rock-hard, straining painfully against the confines of his trousers, forming an obscene tent in the fabric. The pressure was almost unbearable, a throbbing ache that demanded attention.
