Kota stepped out of the locker room with his backpack slung over one shoulder, gym clothes swapped for his usual cargo pants and compression shirt, but the raging boner refused to quit. It strained painfully against the fabric, thick and insistent, every step sending a jolt of friction that made his breath hitch.
The shower scene replayed in his head on loop: those two playful seniors under the water, their massive asses clapping together as they humped and groped, the teasing "stawwwp" that sounded more like an invitation than a protest. The wet slaps, the giggles turning into soft moans, fingers sliding over skin, one tiny penis rubbing along a deep cleft while hands explored every jiggling curve. It had been sooo fucking hot, hotter than anything he had seen in the ritual the night before, and now his cock throbbed like it had a heartbeat of its own. Pre-cum had already soaked through his boxer briefs, leaving a dark spot he hoped no one would notice. He adjusted himself discreetly in the hallway, pressing the heel of his hand against the base to try and force it down, but that only made it worse. The pressure built, balls heavy and aching, like he might blow right there if he did not get relief soon.
Last period was history, some dull elective about post-Vanishing economics that usually put him to sleep anyway. No way he could sit through it like this. The thought of trying to take notes while his dick pulsed under the desk, every shift in his seat grinding against the seam of his pants, was unbearable. He would either cream himself mid-lecture or snap and do something stupid, like drag one of those femboy seniors into a closet. He needed privacy, somewhere to handle this before it became a problem.
Library? Nah, who the hell skips to read? The place was dead quiet, full of kids pretending to study while scrolling underground group chats or edging discreetly under tables. One wrong move and the librarian, some sharp-eyed twink with a permanent frown, would call him out.
Hallway? Fuck no. Open corridors meant constant foot traffic, and one of the annoying vice principals always patrolled like they had a personal vendetta against truancy. A single sighting and he would get a slip, detention, maybe even a call home to Khalil. That was a one-way ticket to a lecture about responsibility and staying strong.
Bathroom? Risky as hell. The boys' room near the science wing was notorious for vaping sessions, while guys huddled in stalls trading nudes or worse. He would be damned if he got guilty by association, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and labeled a troublemaker. Khalil would lose it.
Which only left one place. Theo.
The principal's office sat at the far end of the admin wing, tucked behind a set of double doors with frosted glass that read "Principal Theodore Hawthorne" in neat gold lettering.. Theo's family name carried weight, the kind that made teachers look the other way and kept Kota's grades pristine. More importantly, Theo had a private office with a lock, a couch long enough for two, and zero chance of interruption unless someone knocked. It was the safest spot on campus right now.
Kota walked fast, keeping his backpack low in front to hide the obvious bulge. The hallways had thinned out as classes started, only a few stragglers rushing to their rooms. He passed a group of juniors near the water fountain, their hips swaying, asses clapping softly with each step, but he kept his eyes forward. No eye contact, no lingering. His pulse hammered in his ears, cock twitching with every stride, the friction from his pants almost painful now. He reached the admin wing, pushed through the double doors, and nodded at the secretary's empty desk. He was probably on lunch. Good.
The principal's office door stood slightly ajar. Kota slipped inside and eased it shut behind him, turning the lock with a soft click.
The room smelled like Theo: expensive cologne, fresh coffee, and that faint hint of vanilla body spray he wore when he knew Kota was coming by. Sunlight filtered through half-closed blinds, striping the carpet in gold bars. Theo sat behind the big oak desk, head tilted back against the leather chair, mouth slightly open, soft snores escaping. His tie was loosened, top button undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Papers were scattered in front of him, a half-finished email glowing on the monitor, but he was out cold, one arm dangling off the side.
Kota paused for a second, taking in the sight. Theo looked younger when he slept, the usual flustered confidence replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. His dark hair fell across his forehead, lips parted just enough to show a hint of teeth. Kota's cock gave another insistent throb, reminding him why he was here. He stepped closer, careful not to make the floor creak, and rapped his knuckles lightly against the wall beside the door.
Theo jolted upright, chair creaking as he snapped awake. His eyes flew open, wide and disoriented, one hand flying to his tie like he could straighten it in half a second. He blinked rapidly, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Kota. A flush crept up his neck, turning his ears pink.
"I was totaly not sleeping on the job," Theo muttered, voice still thick with sleep, dragging out the word in that exaggerated whine he used when he got caught. He rubbed his eyes, trying to play it off, but the sleepy slur gave him away completely.