Kota had his phone propped up on his knee, the camera angled perfectly to capture the absolute debauchery unfolding on the dressing room floor. Toby was getting fucked six ways to Sunday. Theo was going to lose his mind when he saw this.
Corey sauntered over, his plump ass swaying with each step, his white hair a wild mess around his flushed face. He had been stroking himself while watching the chaos, but now his eyes were locked on Kota's phone with a mischievous glint. He tried to put on the tough guy act he had used earlier with the recording femboy, planting one hand on his hip and jabbing a finger toward the device.
"Oi, what do you think you're doing? No phones allowed in here, mate. This is a private event. Put that away before I—"
He reached for the phone, but Kota snatched it back before his fingers could close around it.
Corey blinked, his tough guy persona crumbling instantly. It was impossible to be a dom to Kota of all people.
Kota raised an eyebrow, tucking the phone against his chest. "Why the fuck are you taking my phone? I'm recording. Theo's gonna want to see this later."
Corey let out a low whistle, his grin spreading wide and teasing. "Theo, huh? Your little boyfriend? Crikey, you're so worked up from not being able to record your favorite band mates getting absolutely wrecked. Look at you, all huffy and protective over your little video. It's cute. Real cute."
"I'm not worked up," Kota said flatly, even though the constant throb in his slacks suggested otherwise.
"Nah, nah, I get it. You wanted to capture the moment. But here's the thing, cutie." Corey stepped closer, close enough that his bare chest almost brushed Kota's arm. His voice dropped into that low, syrupy purr.
"How about we make a personal video instead? Just you and me. Something special. Something you can watch later when you're all alone and missing this tight little ass."
Kota's cock twitched hard. He glanced down at Corey's plump, pale cheeks, still reddened from the earlier slaps, then back up at his face. "How? You got a camera crew hidden somewhere?"
Corey laughed and turned away, walking backward toward the couch with an exaggerated sway in his hips. He dropped onto the cushions, the springs groaning under his weight, and spread his legs wide. One foot went up on the armrest, the other planted on the floor, leaving his hole completely exposed and glistening with the lube he had clearly applied while Kota was distracted. The position was obscene, deliberate, and very, very inviting.
"Right here, big man. Get my good side." Corey patted his inner thigh, grinning. "Come on. I've been waiting all night. Toby got his turn, now I want mine."
Kota stepped between Corey's spread legs, his hands moving to his belt. "You don't need any prep? Last time I checked, I'm not exactly small. I'd hate to break you."
Corey threw his head back and laughed, the sound bright and genuinely amused. "Break me? Mate, the last thing I want is your big dick being careful with me. I didn't spend the whole show dreaming about your cock just to have you treat me like I'm made of glass. Fuck me till I cry. Fuck me till I forget my own bloody name. That's an order."
Kota's cock sprang free, thick and veiny and already leaking from the tip. It slapped up against his stomach with a heavy, meaty sound that made Corey's eyes go wide and hungry. The sight of it, eight point nine inches of dark, throbbing meat, was still enough to make even the most experienced femboy pause.
"Your funeral," Kota said, grabbing Corey's hips and yanking him closer to the edge of the couch.
"I changed my mind," Kota added, lining himself up. The fat head of his cock pressed against Corey's slick, waiting hole, the heat of it making Corey gasp.
"I don't even want the video anymore. I just want to fuck you."
He pushed in. One long, slow, relentless thrust buried him to the hilt in Corey's tight, velvety heat. Corey's back arched off the couch, his mouth falling open in a scream so loud it echoed through the dressing room and probably into the hallway beyond.
"AGHHHHHH—FUCK—KOTA—YES—YOUR COCK—IT'S SO FUCKING BIG—AHHH—AHHH—DON'T STOP—DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE STOP—!"
Kota didn't stop. He pulled back until just the head was stretching Corey's rim, then slammed forward again, harder this time. The wet plap of hips meeting ass was obscenely loud, mixing with Corey's high, desperate moans. Kota set a brutal pace immediately, no warmup, no gentleness, just deep, punishing thrusts that made Corey's massive cheeks ripple and clap with every impact.
"YES—YES—YES—HARDER—RUIN ME—FUCK—YOUR BIG DICK IS SPLITTING ME OPEN—AHHH—KOTA—KOTA—I'M YOUR SLUT—I'M YOUR FUCKING SLUT—!"
Corey's moans were shameless, filling the room with a constant stream of broken, filthy pleas. His legs wrapped around Kota's waist, ankles locking behind his back, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His tiny cocklet bounced against his stomach, leaking steadily, untouched but throbbing. The couch creaked and groaned under the force of Kota's pounding, the armrest where Corey's foot was propped shaking with every powerful snap of hips.
The femboys who had been fucking Toby moments ago started to slow down. One by one, they turned their heads toward the couch, their attention pulled away by the sheer, primal spectacle of Corey getting absolutely destroyed. The tall blond's jaw dropped. The lip ring femboy's hands stilled on Toby's hips. The pink haired femboy actually pulled out of Toby's ass with a wet pop, craning his neck to get a better view.
"Holy shit," the blond breathed, his eyes locked on the massive cock pistoning in and out of Corey's stretched hole.
"That's... that's the biggest dick I've ever seen. It's not even fully fitting and it's still tearing him apart."
"Look at the veins," the lip ring femboy whispered, awe in his voice.
"Look at the girth. How is he taking that? How is Corey not split in half right now?"
The pink haired femboy was stroking himself slowly, his earlier enthusiasm for Toby completely forgotten.
"I want that. I want that inside me. I don't care if it ruins me. I want him to fuck me like that."
Toby was left on the floor, still on his ass, his stretched hole gaping and leaking cum onto the dirty carpet. His mouth was swollen and shiny with spit, his freckled face still flushed from the intense ravaging. But the hands that had been touching him were gone. The cocks that had been filling him were gone. Everyone was staring at Corey and Kota.
"Wait," Toby whimpered, his voice small and cracking. "Please. Please don't stop. I was being good. I was taking it. Please keep fucking me."
No one looked at him. The femboys were completely entranced by the sight of Kota's massive cock slamming into Corey's ass, the wet plap plap plap plap echoing through the room like a heartbeat.
Toby's eyes welled up with tears. His lower lip trembled. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not as good as Corey. I'm sorry I'm not as good as Kota. I'll try harder. I'll try my best. Just please don't leave me. Please don't forget about me."
He crawled forward on his hands and knees, cum still leaking from his used hole, spit still dripping from his chin. He approached the couch where Kota was jackhammering into Corey's prostate with relentless, brutal force, and looked up at them with wide, desperate eyes.
"What if... what if I come over here?" Toby asked, his voice trembling with hope. "What if I let Kota fuck me too? In front of everybody? Would you watch me then? Would you want me then?"
Corey, even through his constant stream of broken moans, managed a breathless laugh. "That's—ahhh—fuck—that's my boy—get over here—Toby—let him—AHHHH—let him wreck you too—!"
Kota's hips never slowed, the fat head of his cock bullying Corey's prostate with every savage thrust. Sweat dripped down his chest, his abs flexing with each powerful snap forward. He looked down at Toby, who was kneeling on the floor with his ass presented and his eyes begging, and felt his cock throb even harder.
"Get up here," Kota growled, his voice low and rough with exertion. "Both of you. Now."