Kota sighed the moment Riley's grin widened behind the locker door, the sound heavy and exhausted even to his own ears. The hallway buzzed around them lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking on waxed tile, distant laughter echoing off cinderblock but right now it all felt miles away. He shifted his binder to his other arm, shoulders already tensing under the compression shirt.
"What do you want, Riley?" he asked, voice flat, eyes flicking left and right to make sure no one was lingering too close.
Riley didn't answer with words at first. He just leaned in, platinum hair falling forward, and made a slow, deliberate blowjob motion fist near his mouth, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, eyes locked on Kota's like he was daring him to look away. Then he pulled back just enough to speak, voice low and teasing. "Not giving up till I see that cock again, cutie. Been thinking about it nonstop since the hallway drop. Four soft, thick as my wrist? I need the full show."
Kota's jaw tightened. He could still feel the ghost of last night's marathon—eight relentless rounds that had left him hollowed out, raw, barely able to walk straight this morning. "No."
Riley tilted his head, grin faltering into something almost curious. "Why not? You were fine with half the school drooling over it last week. What changed?"
Kota glanced down the hall again—no one close enough to overhear, but he still lowered his voice. "I came a lot last night. Like… a lot. I'm tapped out. Can't even get hard right now if I tried."
Riley's eyes lit up instead of dimming. He stepped closer, close enough that Kota could smell vanilla body spray and the faint musk underneath. "Even better. Quickie then. I'm horny as hell and my dad's been hiding my dildos and fleshlights again. Thinks he's 'saving me from myself.' Asshole. I need something real. Just bend me over in the bathroom stall five minutes, tops. I'll do all the work."
Kota stared at him. "How is that my problem?"
Riley pouted, full lips pushing out in exaggerated hurt. "Meanie. You're supposed to be the nice guy with the monster dick. Help a boy out."
Kota opened his mouth to shut it down again firm, final, no room for argument but Riley's expression shifted. His grin turned sly, eyes narrowing like he'd just remembered something delicious.
"Wait," Riley said, voice dropping even lower. "My dad works in sales. Regional manager for that big construction supply chain. He was bragging last week about closing a huge deal with this guy named Khalil Abdel. Said he was a beast worked overtime like a machine, hit every quota. Sound familiar?"
Kota's jaw dropped. The hallway noise faded to a dull roar in his ears. Khalil Abdel. His dad. The same dad who'd dropped him off twenty minutes ago, bragging about college funds and overtime bonuses. The same dad who'd spent years lecturing him about "real men" and staying away from "ass-shakers."
Riley leaned in, lips brushing Kota's ear. "Guess that means I have an excuse to see you later. Family discount on monster cock, right?"
He laughed bright, wicked, delighted and spun on his heel, hips swaying as he walked away down the hall, leaving Kota rooted to the spot. Confusion crashed over him like cold water. Riley knew. Or at least suspected. And now he had leverage thin, circumstantial, but enough to make Kota's stomach twist. He stood there for a long second, binder clutched to his chest, heart hammering, before forcing his legs to move.
He entered AP English two minutes before the bell, slipping through the door just as the warning chime sounded. The classroom looked the same rows of desks, faded posters of Shakespeare and Hemingway, the smell of dry-erase markers and old books—but the teacher at the front wasn't Mr. Hargrove. The old guy with the tweed jackets and endless tangents about symbolism was gone. In his place stood a tall, lanky twink—mid-twenties maybe, slim build, sharp cheekbones, dark hair swept back, wearing a fitted button-down rolled to the elbows and slim black trousers. He was writing something on the board today's objective in neat block letters and didn't look up when Kota walked in.
Whatever. Who cared. Kota kept his head down, slid into his usual seat near the back window, and dropped his binder on the desk. The chair creaked under him. He stared at the blank page in front of him, mind still spinning from Riley's parting shot.
Family discount.
He swallowed hard, opened the binder, and tried to focus on the date at the top of his notebook.
The bell rang.
The new teacher turned.