Kota woke up with morning wood, surprising even himself after the absolute marathon he had endured the day before. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing painfully against the thin fabric of his boxers, the head already leaking a small wet spot that soaked through the material and left a cool, sticky patch against his thigh.
He groaned as he stirred, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling for a long moment while the morning light filtered through the cheap blinds in thin golden stripes across his chest. Every muscle in his body ached like he had run a marathon and then been hit by a truck, hips burning with a deep, dull fire, thighs sore and trembling from all the gripping and thrusting, lower back tight and knotted from being hunched over and ridden so relentlessly, balls heavy and sensitive from being drained so many times that they felt bruised. The sheets smelled like dried sweat, lube, and faint traces of cum that had leaked out of him overnight, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin in several places. He didn't even remember falling asleep; one second he was staring at that insane video from the unknown number, heart racing and cock leaking, the next his eyes were closed and the sun was creeping through the blinds, painting the room in soft morning hues.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a new notification that cut through the quiet apartment like a knife. He reached for it with a heavy arm, muscles protesting the simple movement, squinting at the bright display. It was from Elliot. A video attachment.
Kota's stomach twisted with a mix of dread and reluctant arousal. He tapped play, turning the volume low just in case his dad was still home, even though he already knew the place was empty. The footage opened on Elliot and Grayson in what looked like Elliot's bedroom, the two of them tangled together on the edge of the bed in a way that screamed their weird, twisted dynamic. No overt sex, but the intimacy was thick and uncomfortable to watch, charged with that forbidden brotherly tension that made Kota's already hard cock twitch again despite the soreness. Elliot had Grayson pinned gently on his back, leaning over him with that calm, older-brother smile that always carried an edge of control. He started with soft kisses—slow, lingering presses to Grayson's neck, then up to his jaw, then across his cheek, each one deliberate and wet. Grayson tilted his head back, letting out a shaky breath, his hands clutching Elliot's shirt tightly as if he needed something to hold onto. "You're such a tease," Grayson whispered, voice breathy and low, his body arching slightly into the contact. Elliot chuckled low and licked a long stripe up the side of Grayson's throat, tongue flat and wet, tasting the skin like he owned every inch of it. "Mmm, you taste like trouble. Keep talking like that and I'll fuck you right here until you can't walk straight for days."
Grayson moaned softly, arching into the lick, his fingers tightening in the fabric of Elliot's shirt as the older brother continued the slow assault. Elliot kept going, kissing down to his collarbone with wet, open-mouthed presses, then licking again, slow and deliberate, leaving a shiny trail of spit that glistened in the bedroom light. "Riley told us everything that happened yesterday," Elliot murmured against Grayson's skin, voice calm but laced with heat and promise. Elliot's hand slid down Grayson's body, slipping under the waistband of his loose shorts. His fingers found Grayson's hole and pushed in slowly, two at first, then three, pumping gently while he kept licking and kissing his brother's neck and jaw, the recording capturing every slick thrust and every soft gasp. The camera angle showed everything in intimate detail: the way Grayson's hips rolled up to meet the fingers, the soft wet sounds of Elliot fingering him deep and steady, the way Grayson's cock twitched untouched in his shorts, leaking steadily onto the fabric. "Today youre all getting picked up and taken to the Hawthorne mansion for a proper fucking," Elliot continued, voice steady as he curled his fingers inside Grayson, hitting that spot that made the younger brother whimper. "Theo's already arranged everything. You're gonna be on your knees the whole time, taking whatever Kota gives you. And if you're lucky, I'll let you watch while I remind you who you really belong to."
Grayson moaned louder, body trembling as Elliot's fingers moved faster, the recording capturing every slick thrust, every wet sound, every little twitch of Grayson's hips. "Please… Elliot… I'll be good… I'll take it all… I'll be your good boy…" Elliot licked up to Grayson's ear, whispering threats between more slow, wet kisses. "You better. Or I'll tie you down and edge you for hours while Kota watches. I'll make you beg to be fucked like the slut you are. I'll lick every inch of you until you're shaking and then deny you until you cry." The camera shook slightly as Elliot kept fingering him, kisses turning hungrier, tongue dragging across Grayson's lips in a filthy promise. Grayson's moans grew desperate, hips bucking wildly against the fingers. Suddenly Grayson tensed, crying out as he came untouched on the sheets, thick white ropes spilling across his stomach and the bedding in messy spurts. Elliot pulled his fingers out slowly, licking them clean with a satisfied hum while the camera caught every detail. "Look at that mess. Kota's gonna punish you for being a baaaad boy."
The video cut off abruptly, the screen going black.
Underneath the attachment was a text from Elliot: "Already outside your house. Theo marked you present for the day. Get down here."
Kota sighed, long and exhausted, staring at the ceiling for another full minute while his morning wood throbbed insistently. His body still ached from yesterday's endless rounds, the soreness deep and unrelenting, but the video had stirred everything up again. He dragged himself out of bed, body protesting every movement, and got ready as quickly as he could. He pulled on a clean pair of jeans that felt rough against his sensitive skin, a simple black hoodie that hid the marks on his neck, and his usual sneakers. He glanced around the apartment, his dad was already gone, probably at the site for the early shift, the kitchen table empty except for a folded twenty-dollar bill with a note that said "For lunch, don't skip meals." Kota grabbed the cash, stuffed it in his pocket, and headed out the door. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, each step sending fresh aches through his overworked legs, the sticky feeling between his thighs reminding him he really should have showered. The morning air outside was cool and crisp, the sun just starting to warm the pavement as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
Parked right in front of the building was a bulky, modern BMW SUV, all black with tinted windows and that sleek, expensive shine that screamed money and power. The driver's side window rolled down smoothly. Elliot was behind the wheel, grinning wide, one arm resting casually on the door. Riley sat in the passenger seat, platinum hair perfectly styled, already looking fresh and ready for whatever the day had planned. Elliot leaned out slightly, his calm smile widening into something playful and knowing. "Get in."