Corey sauntered through the open door first, hips rolling in those baggy gray jeans like he owned the place, that long white hair swinging behind him as he let out a low whistle. Kota followed right behind, pulling the apartment door shut with a soft click that echoed in the suddenly transformed space. The moment the latch caught, Kota stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening in genuine surprise. The place looked nothing like the half-empty loft he had helped haul furniture into just hours earlier.
It was fully furnished now, like some professional staging crew had swept through and turned the bare concrete shell into a full-on gothic lounge. Deep purple LED strips ran along every wall edge, casting a soft, pulsing violet glow that made the exposed brick look moody and expensive. Low black velvet sectionals hugged the corners, a massive glass coffee table sat in the center piled with neatly arranged crystals, and tall floor lamps with blood-red shades threw warm pools of light across thick rugs that muffled every footstep. The air even smelled different—incense and something faintly metallic, like ozone after a storm.
Kota's gaze landed on the far wall where a giant flat-screen TV dominated the space, easily seventy inches, playing a looping hypno video. Swirling black-and-purple spirals spun slowly across the screen, overlaid with faint white text that read "SUBMIT • RELEASE • REPEAT" in elegant script, the pattern pulsing in time with the LEDs. Soft binaural tones hummed underneath, the kind that made your brain feel a little fuzzy if you stared too long. Kota blinked hard and turned to Beckett, who was still standing there completely naked in the middle of the room like it was the most natural thing ever. "How… when did all this happen?"
Beckett's monotone didn't change, his blank face never shifting as he clasped his hands behind his back. "For the past seven hours while you were absent, I hired a team of four contractors through an expedited dark-web service(craigslist). They furnished the domicile according to precise specifications. Delivery and installation completed forty-three minutes ago. Efficiency rating: ninety-four percent. The hypno visual is phase one of the inaugural attunement sequence."
Kota snorted, shaking his head as he processed the casual flex of wealth and weirdness. "Made sense at least. You don't do anything halfway, do you?"
Kota moved deeper into the room and dropped onto the big velvet sofa where Mort and Toby were already sitting. Mort immediately looked over with open disgust, nose wrinkling like Kota had tracked dog shit across the new rug. "Ew." He stood up without another word, crossed the room in three sharp steps, and sank into a black bean bag chair in the corner, shiny parachute pants pooling around his short legs as he crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling. Rude… okay, whatever. Toby stayed put but scooted all the way to the far end of the sofa, pressing himself against the armrest like he was trying to disappear into the velvet. Kota felt a little sting of offense he wasn't that intimidating, was he? but before he could say anything, Corey hopped straight onto his lap with a satisfied grunt, landing sideways so his plump ass settled right across Kota's thighs.
Corey twisted around to flash him a cheeky grin, white hair falling into one eye as he wiggled once for emphasis. "Comfy, big man?"
Kota's jaw dropped, mouth hanging open in pure shock at the sudden weight and warmth pressing down on him. Corey's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Gonna French kiss me if you keep that hot mouth open like that?"
From the bean bag, Mort barked without looking over, "Stop flirting, both of you. We're not here for your foreplay."
The sharp knock at the door cut through the tension like a blade. Beckett turned smoothly on his bare heels and padded across the rug to answer it, still completely naked, his slim back and perky little ass on full display for everyone. He pulled the door open without hesitation.
In walked a flamboyant femboy who looked like he'd wandered straight out of a neon rave and decided to crash a goth convention. Long straight hair cascaded down his back in glossy sheets, a bold white streak running through the front like lightning. He wore baggy cargo pants slung low on his hips, the kind with a million pockets and straps, paired with a skin-tight crop top that showed off a smooth, toned midriff and the faint outline of a belly button piercing. His makeup was loud and joyful—glittery highlighter, glossy lips, and thick lashes that fluttered when he smiled. Everything about him screamed bubbly energy instead of the gloomy goth or punk vibe Kota had been expecting from the rest of the group.
"Oh my god, hi hi hi!" he squealed, voice pitching up in pure valley-girl excitement as he stepped inside and did a little spin. "I'm literally Carter, like, so so so happy to be here! I saw the ad and I was like, oh my god this is totally a huge calling for me, you know? I'm so into trying new things, like, literally anything that sounds fun and spicy and a little bit mysterious? This whole crystal cult vibe? Iconic. I'm so ready to like, attune my chakras or whatever, oh my god!" He blew an exaggerated kiss toward the room, struck a quick pose with one hand on his hip and the other making a peace sign, then giggled and shuffled around on his platform sneakers, looking for a spot. "So where should I sit? Like, anywhere is fine, I'm super flexible, oh my god!"
Corey instantly matched the energy, hopping off Kota's lap and bouncing over with a matching grin. "Carter! Love the vibe, mate. I'm Corey—bass player, 2020s expert, and professional chaos goblin. This tall drink of water over here—" he pointed straight at Kota
"—is my boy toy. Isn't he cute?"
"Wait, what now?" Kota interjected, sitting up straighter, face heating fast. "I'm not your boy toy—"
Corey talked right over him, waving a hand like Kota's protest was background noise.
"He's shy about it, but he totally wants to be more than my boy toy. We're working on the labels, you know how it is."
Kota's panic kicked in hard. "I'm not—Corey, stop, I'm literally not your—"
But Corey kept going, chatting brightly to Carter like they were old friends catching up at brunch. "Anyway, he's still figuring stuff out, but trust me, once he admits it we're gonna be so cute together—"
Kota got mad. Real mad. The rage-bait had worked perfectly. He reached out without thinking and slapped Corey's ass in pure frustration, the smack landing loud and sharp against the baggy gray jeans.
Corey let out a super exaggerated moan, loud and theatrical, and dramatically dropped to his knees right there on the new rug, hands clutching his chest like he'd been shot. "Not here, baby!" he gasped, eyes fluttering in fake ecstasy as he looked up at Kota with pure mischief. "We should do this somewhere more private, don't you think?"
"Nooo, that's not what I want at all!" Kota stammered, hands up in surrender, voice cracking with frustration. "I'm not your lover, I'm not your boy toy, I'm not—"
Corey just grinned wider, still on his knees, and turned back to Carter like Kota wasn't even there. "See? He's still in the closet. Super cute, right?"
Carter's eyes went wide, the light bulb practically visible above his head. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Makes total sense! He doesn't want to admit it yet, oh my god, that's so valid!"
Kota almost lost it. His mouth opened, chest puffing up as he prepared to yell something loud enough to rattle the new LED strips, when another sharp knock sounded at the door. Everyone froze, heads turning toward the sound in unison, the sudden silence thick with anticipation.