Corey didn't waste a second. The moment Kota sank back onto the velvet sofa after Charlie's endless yap finally trailed off toward the kitchen, Corey hopped right back onto his lap like it was his reserved seat.
This time he didn't just sit he ground down deliberately, slow and filthy, those wide hips rolling in a lazy circle that pressed the soft, plump heat of his ass right against Kota's crotch through the baggy gray jeans. The friction was immediate and devastating. Kota's breath hitched despite himself.
He was still pissed, furious, really at the boy-toy nonsense, the closet whispers, the way Corey kept turning every denial into foreplay. But god, that ass felt so nice. Thick, warm, yielding just enough to make Kota's hands twitch with the urge to grab and hold. Corey knew exactly what he was doing; the satisfied little hum that escaped him proved it.
Kota's palms hovered uncertainly at Corey's sides, fingers flexing. He wanted to wrap both hands around that narrow waist, pin him face-down across the sofa arm, yank those jeans down just far enough, and fuck him senseless until the yapping turned into broken moans and the grin finally cracked into something raw and desperate. The fantasy flashed hot and vivid: Corey's long white hair spilling across the black velvet, hips bucking back to meet every thrust, that pierced tongue flicking out as he begged for more. Kota's cock hardened fast under the grinding, thickening painfully against the denim, the outline pressing up into the cleft of Corey's cheeks like it had a mind of its own. He could feel the heat radiating through the fabric, the subtle jiggle every time Corey shifted. It was torture. Delicious, infuriating torture.
Corey started bouncing now small, teasing little hops that made his ass clap softly against Kota's thighs, the motion so shameless it drew a low groan from deep in Kota's chest before he could swallow it. His hands finally landed, gripping Corey's hips on instinct, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above the waistband. He could feel the muscle flex under the fat, the way Corey arched his back to push down harder, chasing more contact. They were both enjoying it way too much. Kota's pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out the low hum of the hypno video still looping on the giant flat-screen. His thumbs brushed the bare skin where Corey's cropped shirt rode up, and for one dangerous second he almost hooked his fingers under the jeans and pulled.
Carter, thankfully, was too busy having an animated chat with Charlie near the incense burner to notice. Their voices overlapped in a bubbly duet Carter's valley-girl squeals mixing with Charlie's rapid-fire ramble about crystal grids and energy vortices—leaving the sofa corner in its own little bubble of escalating heat. Toby had scooted even farther to the end of the couch, knees drawn up like he was trying to become invisible, while Mort stayed sulking on the bean bag, occasionally shooting disgusted glances their way but saying nothing. Gideon stood motionless by the onyx monolith, arms folded under the corset, red eyeshadow catching the purple LEDs like fresh blood.
Kota was right on the edge of losing it. His hands tightened on Corey's hips, ready to flip him, ready to shove those jeans down and take what the grinding was so clearly offering. He could already picture the stretch, the way Corey's hole would clench around him, the wet slap of skin on skin while the whole room watched. His fingers dipped lower, brushing the button of Corey's jeans—
The door rang again. Sharp, insistent, cutting through the haze like ice water.
Kota seized the excuse with both hands. "I'll get it," he rasped, voice rougher than he meant it to be. He lifted Corey off his lap in one smooth motion ignoring the disappointed whine and set him on the cushion beside him. Corey pouted dramatically, but Kota was already moving, adjusting himself as discreetly as possible while he crossed the room. The hard-on throbbed angrily against his zipper, every step making it worse.
Charlie popped up instantly, long hair swinging. "Ooo I'll open it since I'm a guest I know the homeowner is supposed to invite people in but I just got here and I feel like it's polite and I don't want to be rude and I can say hi first because I'm good at greetings and it'll make everyone feel welcome and I promise I won't talk too much when they come in even though I probably will but I'll try really hard and—"
Kota didn't argue. He just reached the door first, twisted the handle, and pulled it open while Charlie hovered right behind him, still yapping at machine-gun speed.
Two goth femboys stood in the hallway, both dressed head-to-toe in pure black latex that gleamed under the corridor lights like liquid obsidian. The taller one six-six at least wore a skin-tight latex shirt that clung to his narrow chest and shoulders, paired with an obscenely short skirt cinched by a heavy corset that made his monumental hips look even wider.
The latex hugged every curve, shining so bright it reflected the purple glow leaking from the apartment. Those hips tapered dramatically from a wasp waist, flaring out into cheeks so massive they strained the skirt's hem, the material stretched thin enough to show the faint outline of a thong underneath. He stared at Kota with drooling, crazy eyes pupils blown wide, lips parted, like he was already mentally cataloging every filthy thing he wanted to do to him. Unspeakable things. Kota felt the weight of that gaze like a physical touch.
The shorter one six-one, still towering over most of the room had long black hair cascading straight down his back like ink. A laced croptop left his midriff bare, sleeves fluttering delicately, while the tight latex pants molded to long legs and a surprisingly round ass that jiggled faintly when he shifted his weight. He licked his lips slowly, deliberately, eyes raking over Kota from boots to face.
"Heeeeyyy big boy," the shorter one purred, voice low and dripping with intent. "We heard there was a beast in here."
They walked in without waiting for an invitation, latex creaking softly with every step. The shorter one turned once they were inside, flipping his long black hair over one shoulder. "I'm Yuki," he said, smiling with too many teeth. "And that tall boy over there is Kin." He jerked a thumb toward the six-six monster still staring at Kota like fresh meat.
"We came because Beckett said there was a boy here who could fuck like a beast… and we loooooove beasts."
Kota stood frozen in the doorway, door still half-open, staring at the two latex-clad figures now mingling with the rest of the group. What the fuck did Beckett sign him up for?