Kota's sneakers squeaked against the polished linoleum of the admin hallway, each step heavier than the last. The intercom announcement still echoed in his ears like a slap—public, careless, humiliating in its casual broadcast. He'd given Theo everything yesterday: control, release, even that quiet "good boy" that had made the principal melt against the door. And the man's response? Announce his name like it was roll call for detention. No text. No discreet note slipped into his locker. Just Theo's posh, stuttering voice crackling over every speaker in the building.
By the time Kota reached the principal's office door, his jaw was locked so tight his teeth ached. He didn't knock. He twisted the handle, shoved the door open, and stepped inside ready to unload every bit of that simmering anger.
The words died in his throat.
Theo wasn't behind the desk in his usual rumpled button-down and slacks. He wasn't even pretending to be professional.
He was leaning back against the front edge of the massive oak desk, palms braced on the wood, head ducked so his mussed hair fell forward and hid half his face. His skin—impossibly smooth, porcelain-pale glowed faintly under the fluorescent lights. Every stitch of clothing he'd worn that morning lay in a careless pile on the carpet: crisp white shirt, navy slacks, belt coiled like a sleeping snake, even the polished loafers kicked haphazardly to one side. All that remained was a single scrap of fabric: a thin, black thong so delicate it looked more like lingerie than underwear.
The front pouch was stretched tight, barely containing Theo's tiny, leaking nub. The thin straps dug into his wide hips, disappearing between the monumental swell of his cheeks. From the front, the thong framed everything perfectly the pale expanse of his flat stomach, the dramatic inward curve where his waist flared into those obscene hips, the soft tremble of his thighs. But it was the back view Kota couldn't look away from when Theo shifted nervously and half-turned: the thong vanished completely into the deep cleft, swallowed by twin globes so plump they quivered with every shaky breath. The straps sat high on his hips like they'd been measured for maximum exposure, leaving the full, heart-shaped shelf of his ass bare and vulnerable.
Theo's face was crimson ears, neck, chest, all flushed a violent scarlet. He couldn't meet Kota's eyes. His gaze darted to the floor, to the scattered clothes, to the locked door anywhere but Kota's face. His long fingers flexed against the desk edge, knuckles white.
"I—I—is it… nice on me?" Theo stammered, voice barely above a whisper. The British lilt cracked on every syllable. "It's… it's my f-first time wearing s-something like this. I… I ordered it last night. Overnight shipping. Thought maybe… maybe you'd…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. A fresh bead of precum darkened the front of the thong. "I know the announcement was stupid. I panicked. I didn't know how else to get you here fast without… without people noticing me texting you in the halls. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just… I couldn't stop thinking about yesterday. About you. And I wanted… I wanted to surprise you. To show you I'm serious. That I'll do anything. Even… even this."
Kota stood frozen in the doorway, hand still on the knob.
The anger that had carried him here evaporated like smoke. In its place came something hotter, slower, curling low in his gut. He let his eyes travel over Theo again really travel. The way the thong straps cut into soft flesh, leaving faint red lines that would probably bruise prettily later. The way Theo's tiny cock twitched uselessly against the fabric every time he shifted. The way those colossal cheeks jiggled faintly even though Theo was trying to hold still. The blush that refused to fade, spreading down his smooth chest until it reached the sharp peaks of his nipples.
Theo looked… small. Not in size 6'3" of lanky limbs and planetary ass—but small in the way he was shrinking in on himself, shoulders hunched, trying to disappear even as he presented everything. Vulnerable. Desperate. Cute.
Kota exhaled slowly through his nose.
He reached behind himself, pushed the door shut.
Click.
The lock engaged with a soft, final sound.
Theo flinched at it, eyes squeezing closed for a second like he expected yelling. When none came, he risked a peek wide blue eyes peeking through damp lashes.
Kota stepped forward slow, deliberate. One step. Two. The office felt smaller now, air thicker.
"…I can't say I'm not tuned in right now," Kota said, voice low, rougher than he meant it to be.
Theo made a tiny, broken noise half whimper, half relieved sob. His blush somehow deepened. He still couldn't look up. His fingers curled tighter against the desk.
Kota stopped a foot away. Close enough to smell the faint vanilla of Theo's body spray mixed with nervous sweat and the warm, musky scent of arousal. Close enough to see the way Theo's thighs trembled, the way his hole clenched visibly beneath the thin strap that barely covered it.
Kota smiled—small, slow, the first real one he'd felt all morning.
Theo was cute like this. Flustered. Ruined before they'd even started. Blushing so hard it looked painful, stammering apologies and terrible puns in his head that never made it out. Trying so damn hard to please. It was almost sweet. Almost innocent. If innocent could wear a thong that disappeared between cheeks the size of basketballs and leak like a faucet at the sight of him.
Kota's hands moved to his belt.
He unbuckled it slowly deliberate metal clinks echoing in the quiet room. Theo's breathing hitched audibly. His eyes finally flicked up just for a second catching the motion, then darting away again like he'd been burned.
Kota tugged the leather free, let it drop to the floor beside Theo's pile of clothes.
Next came the button of his jeans. Pop.
Theo whimpered soft, involuntary.
Kota dragged the zipper down tooth by tooth. The sound seemed impossibly loud. Theo's knees actually wobbled; he had to brace harder against the desk to stay upright.
Kota hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxers together. He paused there—jeans still mostly on, bulge straining against the open fly, the thick outline of his cock already pushing past half-hard into something heavier.
Theo's gaze locked on it like a magnet. His lips parted. A fresh string of precum dripped from the tip of his tiny nub, soaking through the thong and sliding down the inside of his thigh.
Kota tugged downward just an inch.
The head of his cock sprang free, dark and thick, already glistening at the slit.
Theo made a sound that wasn't quite a word—high, needy, desperate.
Kota kept going, easing the jeans and boxers lower, past his hips, letting gravity do the rest. The fabric caught briefly on the swell of his thighs before sliding down to pool around his ankles.
He stood there—shirt still on, pants around his ankles, cock hanging heavy and half-hard between his legs, veins already thickening along the shaft.
Theo stared. Openly. Shamelessly now. His blush hadn't faded, but his eyes were wide, glassy, pupils blown black.
Kota kicked one foot free of the jeans, then the other. Stepped out of them. Left them in a heap beside Theo's clothes.
He was still wearing his hoodie, socks, nothing else below the waist.
Theo's throat worked on a hard swallow.
Kota took one more step forward—close enough now that the heat of their bodies mingled.
He reached out—slow—fingers brushing the thin strap over Theo's hip.
Theo shivered so hard his whole shelf of an ass jiggled.
Kota's smile widened, just a fraction.
Yeah.
He was starting to like this.
(i love theo bro!)