Kota stood up slowly, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. His arms still burned from the carry fuck with Gideon. His thighs were sore from the pile driver with Mort. His nose throbbed from the fight with Davion. And his balls, despite having been emptied multiple times tonight, were already starting to fill again with that familiar, insistent pressure.
He grabbed his clothes from where they had been scattered across the van floor and started pulling them on. The black button up was wrinkled beyond saving. The gray slacks had a small tear near the knee that he didn't remember getting. His sneakers were scuffed. He looked like he had been through a war, which, he reflected, was not that far from the truth.
He climbed into the backseat and slumped against the window, the cool glass soothing against his temple. Behind him, in the open trunk space, Corey and Toby were still "cuddling." The word deserved the quotation marks because what they were actually doing was grinding their dicks together in slow, lazy circles while Toby whined and moaned like a puppy who couldn't decide if it wanted more or needed a break. Their tiny cocklets slid against each other with wet, sticky sounds, Corey's hand wrapped around both of them to keep them aligned. Toby's ginger hair was a complete mess, his freckled face buried in Corey's neck, his soft, curvy body trembling with overstimulation.
"Corey—ahhh—I'm still sensitive from earlier—the fans were so rough—my hole is still leaking—"
"Shhh, just a little more, Tobs. You're doing so good. Just feel it. Don't think."
Gideon climbed into the seat beside Kota, still completely naked. His pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the van, his corset and skirt still discarded somewhere in the trunk. He didn't seem to care about his nudity at all. He settled into the seat with his usual eerie grace, then leaned over and rested his head on Kota's shoulder. His long, dark hair spilled across Kota's chest like ink, and his eyes fluttered closed. Within moments, his breathing had slowed into the deep, even rhythm of sleep. He looked peaceful. Content. Nothing like the stoic, mysterious goth who spoke in riddles and wrote poetry about the void.
Kota glanced down at the sleeping giant draped against his shoulder and felt a strange, unexpected warmth bloom in his chest. He didn't move. He let Gideon stay there, his weight a comforting presence in the quiet hum of the van.
"Hey, Corey," Kota called toward the trunk, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake Gideon. "Where do you guys actually sleep? Like, do you have an apartment somewhere, or...?"
Corey didn't stop his lazy grinding against Toby, but he did turn his head enough to answer. His white hair was a wild mess, his cheeks flushed, his grin as cocky as ever. "Well, we're actually pretty well off in terms of shelter. The van always works for us. It's got space, it's got blankets, it's got privacy if you park in the right alleys. We ain't gonna be here forever, you know. One day we're gonna make it big and go fuck sluts in Cali. Hollywood. Real music scene. Real opportunities. This is just the grind."
Mort snorted from the driver's seat, his eyes fixed on the road. "Keep on dreaming. You can't even afford two packs of ramen and you're talking about California."
"I'm manifesting, Morty. It's called manifestation. Look it up."
"Beckett did let us use the basement at the Hawthorne mansion for a while," Mort continued, ignoring Corey completely. His blunt bob haircut was still slightly mussed from earlier, a fact that clearly irritated him because he kept reaching up to smooth it down. "But I hate it there. It's too rich. Everything smells like old money and candles. The floors are too clean. The sheets have a thread count. It's unnatural."
Corey laughed, his hips still rocking against Toby. "Yeah, the Hawthorne mansion was good for the two days we stayed there. But that 11th floor apartment? The one where we did the ritual that one time? That place slaps. Four bedrooms. Actual doors. Enough shower space to fuck Toby in without bumping elbows. It's the dream, mate."
"You're a fucking whore," Mort said, but there was no real venom in it. "But yeah. The apartment building is the best."
Kota's brain snagged on the details. Four bedrooms. The 11th floor. The ritual. His head turned slowly, Gideon's hair rustling against his shoulder. "Wait. You guys live in the same building as me? The one on Kollings Avenue?"
Corey's eyes lit up. He finally released Toby's cocklet and crawled forward, leaning between the two front seats with his bare chest pressing against the console. His grin was wide and predatory.
"That means we're neighbors, cutie. Neighbors. Do you know what neighbors do? They borrow things from each other. A cup of sugar. A wrench. A quick fuck before breakfast."
His arms snaked around Kota's shoulders from behind, his chin resting on top of Kota's head. "I might come over and ask for a pound of sugar one day. Or something else. Something a little more... filling."
Kota rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. "Speaking of you demanding stuff from me, you are not going to keep making me fuck you as payment for driving me to school. That's done. Finished. Find another way to wake up at six in the morning."
Corey fake pouted, his lower lip jutting out dramatically. His plump ass pressed against the back of Kota's seat as he leaned further forward. "But I always looked forward to that. Hell, that was the whole reason I started waking up at 6 a.m. Do you know how unnatural it is for a rockstar to see the sunrise? But for that monster cock? Worth it. Totally worth it."
"How about this," Corey purred, his breath warm against Kota's ear. "How about I don't drive you to school, but instead I... sneak into your house. Late at night. When everyone's asleep. And we have a little fun at the Abdel humble abode? I've always wanted to see where the magic happens. Where the big dick sleeps. Where the sausage gets stored."
"No," Kota said flatly.
Corey's pout deepened for half a second. Then he shrugged, the grin returning full force. "Welp. I tried. Can't blame a guy for shooting his shot. Or trying to get shot. Or trying to get filled with shot. You know what I mean."
"I really wish I didn't."
Corey laughed and pressed a quick, sloppy kiss to Kota's cheek before retreating back into the trunk space where Toby was still waiting, soft and needy and already reaching for him again. The sounds of grinding resumed almost immediately, Toby's whines rising in pitch as Corey whispered something filthy in his ear.
Mort kept driving. The broken window let in a steady stream of cool night air, ruffling Kota's hair and making Gideon shift slightly in his sleep. The city lights blurred past in streaks of orange and white, the roads mostly empty at this hour. They were heading home. Finally. After everything, the fight, the fans, the interviews, the endless fucking, Kota was going to sleep in his own bed.