The Hawthorne mansion shrank in the side mirror as Kota walked down the endless driveway, gravel crunching under his sneakers. The evening air had cooled, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant exhaust from the highway. He had pulled on his clothes in the dark of Theo's bedroom, the black button-up still rumpled from earlier, gray slacks slightly creased at the knees. His body hummed with that strange, restless energy that never quite faded anymore, the constant low thrum of fullness in his balls a reminder that his condition was always waiting, always hungry.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Corey again.
Kota answered, already bracing for whatever chaos was about to spill through the speaker. "Yeah?"
"Cutie! Where the hell are you right now? I'm driving around like a lost puppy and Toby's getting worse. He's literally vibrating in the back seat. I need an address. A real one. Not 'some fancy neighborhood with big houses.'"
Kota glanced back at the mansion's distant silhouette, its countless windows glowing warm gold against the deepening purple sky. "I'm at my boyfriend's place."
Silence. Then a low, impressed whistle.
"Boyfriend? Damn, Kota. Didn't think you had it in you. Figured you were just out here breaking hearts and flooding holes. Didn't think anyone actually locked you down."
Corey's voice took on that teasing, probing edge.
"So who's the lucky guy? Someone rich, obviously, if the house is as big as you say. Bet he's only after that monster cock, though. Probably just wants a piece of the famous Kota Abdel experience like everyone else."
Kota felt a flicker of irritation but kept his voice level. "Knock it off, Corey."
"Ooh, sensitive subject. Is it true love? Are you gonna get all angy at me and fuck my tight ass the next time you see me? Come on, big man. Get mad. I know you want to. You've been so patient lately. Don't you just want to pin me down and—"
Kota realized what Corey was doing halfway through the sentence. The probing questions, the pushing, the deliberate mentions of his ass, Corey was trying to ragebait him.
Just like Riley had done in the bedroom, just like Yuki tried during the kidnapping. Poking and prodding until Kota snapped and turned dominant, giving them exactly the rough treatment they craved.
The pattern was so obvious now that Kota almost laughed.
"Not gonna work, Corey," Kota said, voice calm with a hint of amusement.
"I see what you're doing. You want me to get pissed so I'll rail you into next week. But I'm not falling for it. You'll have to wait like everyone else."
Corey let out a long, disappointed groan. "Ugh. You're no fun anymore. Ever since you got that boyfriend you've been all controlled and mature. It's gross. Bring back the wild Kota who fucked me in the van for six hours straight."
"The wild Kota is still here. He's just not stupid. Send me the address and I'll text you back where to pick me up."
Kota hung up before Corey could whine again, opened his maps app, and copied the Hawthorne estate address. He pasted it into the chat and hit send, then continued his walk down the long, winding driveway. The trees on either side were perfectly trimmed, their branches forming a dark canopy overhead that rustled softly in the evening breeze. Ten minutes of walking later, he reached the massive iron gates at the edge of the property. The guard in the small booth recognized him from earlier, tipping his cap with a knowing smile before buzzing the gate open.
Corey's beat up black van was already waiting on the other side, engine idling rough, the tinted windows hiding whatever was happening inside.
Kota walked around to the side and pulled the sliding door open, the familiar smell of stale energy drinks, sweat, and old cum washing over him. Some things never changed.
Mort was in the driver's seat this time, his blunt bob haircut perfectly still as he glared at Kota through the rearview mirror. The shiny black parachute pants and cropped sweatshirt with the skull graphic were the same as always, his short, compact frame radiating pure irritation.
"Get in," Mort snapped, voice flat and threatening as always. "And you better not stain the back of this van with your stupid cum. I just cleaned it. Sort of. Toby and Corey were supposed to keep it clean and they already made a mess. I swear to god if you add to it I will step on your balls until you cry."
Corey, lounging in the passenger seat with his white dyed hair falling messily over his face, turned around with that signature cocky grin.
"Relax, Mort. He just got here. Let him breathe before you start threatening bodily harm." His hand drifted lazily across the center console, fingers brushing against the baggy matte black pants that hung low on Mort's hips. Specifically, his hand wandered toward Mort's crotch, fingertips tracing the outline of the small bulge hidden under the loose fabric.
Mort's hand shot out like a viper, slapping Corey's wandering fingers away with a sharp crack that echoed through the van. "Touch me again and you lose a finger. I'm not playing, Corey."
Corey just laughed, completely unbothered, and shimmied in his seat. "You're so mean to me. I love it."
Kota ignored their bickering and climbed into the back of the van, pulling the sliding door shut behind him with a solid thunk. The interior lights were dim, casting everything in soft shadows, and that was when he saw Toby.
Toby was on his knees in the far corner of the van's large trunk space, completely naked except for his socks. His ginger hair fell in messy waves around his flushed, freckled face, and his soft, curvy body glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. Between his spread thighs, a small pink dildo, maybe five inches, nothing compared to the monster toys Corey usually wielded—was suction cupped to the floor of the van. Toby had been bouncing on it when Kota opened the door, his plump ass rising and falling in quick, desperate motions, the dildo making soft wet squelching sounds as it slid in and out of his lubed hole.
The moment Toby noticed Kota, he let out a high pitched squeak of pure embarrassment and scrambled off the toy with a wet pop. His face turned bright red, freckles disappearing under the flush as he grabbed a nearby blanket and yanked it over his lap.
"Kota! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were here already, I was just trying to blow the edge off because Corey said it would help with my nerves but it's not working and now you saw me fucking a dildo like some desperate slut and I'm so embarrassed I should have waited or found somewhere private but the van is small and there's nowhere to hide and I'm really really sorry please don't think I'm weird for this I just needed to calm down before the show and—"
Kota held up a hand, cutting off the flood of apologies. "Toby. It's fine. I've seen way worse."
Toby's mouth snapped shut, but his cheeks stayed crimson. He clutched the blanket tighter around himself, still trembling slightly. Kota climbed further into the back, stepping over scattered magazines and empty cans, and sat down heavily on the floor of the trunk space beside Toby. The metal was cold through his slacks, but he didn't care. He leaned back against the side of the van, letting his shoulder brush against Toby's.
From the front, Corey suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt and started shimmying between the two front seats with the grace of a hyperactive ferret. His plump ass squeezed through the gap, massive cheeks catching briefly on the armrest before popping free with a jiggle. He tumbled into the back trunk space, landing in a sprawl of white hair and baggy gray jeans, already grinning like he'd just won something.
"Nobody better start fucking without me," Corey announced, crawling forward on his knees until he was right in front of Kota and Toby. He sat back on his heels, hands planted on his thighs, and looked between them with sparkling, hungry eyes. "Alright. We've got about thirty minutes before we need to be at the venue for setup. So how are we gonna do this?"