Theo cracked the office door open just enough to poke his upper body through the gap, keeping the rest of himself—and the very obvious evidence of what had just been happening—hidden behind the solid wood. His shirt was haphazardly buttoned, one tail tucked in and the other hanging loose, and his face was still flushed a deep, guilty scarlet. Sweat beaded along his hairline. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.
The man on the other side was Vice Principal Marcus Reyes—late twenties, broad-shouldered, dark hair cropped short, jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Marcus had been hired three years ago, one of the few administrators who actually commanded respect because he could still raise his voice without stuttering and because his own exaggerated ass—while impressive—was carried with the kind of confident swagger that made students listen when he barked orders. He wore a fitted polo that strained across his pecs and khakis that hugged the dramatic flare of his hips and the thick, jiggling shelf of his cheeks. In his early thirties now, he was still undeniably hot—muscular arms, deep tan from weekend runs along the bayou trails, and a perpetual five-o'clock shadow that made him look perpetually ready to either discipline someone or pin them against a locker.
"Principal Hawthorne," Marcus said, voice calm but edged with that professional suspicion administrators cultivated. "You called for an update on the senior prank budget approvals? I've got the revised spreadsheet ready if you—"
Theo waved a hand too quickly, almost knocking the door wider. "Y-Yes, Marcus, excellent timing. I was just… reviewing it myself. Come back in ten? I'm in the middle of something rather urgent."
Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned forward a fraction, trying to peer past Theo's shoulder into the office. "You sure? You look… flushed. Everything alright?"
Theo laughed—a high, brittle sound that cracked at the edges. "Perfectly fine! Just, ah, a touch of gout acting up again. Stress, you know. The board meeting last week was rather intense. Father was… insistent on certain line items. It flares when I'm tense. Nothing to worry about."
Marcus didn't move. "Gout. In your… twenties? That's unusual."
"Genetic predisposition," Theo said rapidly. "Runs in the family. Hawthorne men have delicate constitutions. Too much sitting behind this desk, apparently." He forced another chuckle. "I'll be right as rain after I elevate it for a bit."
Under the desk, Kota crouched in the shadows, heart hammering so hard he was sure the vice principal could hear it. His jeans were still around his thighs, cock still slick and throbbing angrily against his abs. The knee-well was cramped—his shoulders pressed against the underside of the drawer, knees bent awkwardly—but the view was obscene. Theo's slacks were only halfway up. The waistband sat bunched just below the dramatic swell of his hips, leaving most of his monumental, hairless ass completely exposed. The deep cleft gaped open, the pink pucker still glistening and slightly puffy from the earlier penetration. Each cheek quivered with every nervous shift of Theo's weight.
Kota stared. Then, without fully thinking it through, he reached forward.
His palms landed on the smooth, warm globes—soft as fresh dough yet firm underneath, like they were packed with warm silicone. He squeezed.
Theo let out a startled, high-pitched "Eeek!" that he immediately tried to cover with a cough.
Marcus frowned. "What was that?"
"N-Nothing!" Theo squeaked. "Just… stubbed my toe on the chair leg. Clumsy today. Gout makes me unsteady."
Kota's fingers dug in deeper, kneading the plush flesh. The cheeks overflowed his hands; he could barely get a grip on the sheer mass of them. He spread them slightly, watching the cleft open wider, exposing that slick, stretched hole again. Theo's tiny nub twitched uselessly between his thighs, leaking a thin string of precum that dripped onto the carpet.
Marcus took another half-step closer. "You sure you're okay? You're sweating buckets. And your pants—"
Theo glanced down in horror. The slacks had slipped another inch while he was distracted, now hanging precariously just above mid-thigh. The top curves of his ass cheeks were visible from behind if Marcus leaned any further.
"They're… they're fine!" Theo yelped, yanking them up with one hand while keeping the door braced with the other. The motion made his cheeks clap together audibly—wet, meaty thunder that echoed in the small gap. "Just adjusting. You know how these post-Vanishing trousers never quite fit right anymore. Always riding up or slipping down. Fashion tragedy, really."
Marcus crossed his arms, the fabric of his polo stretching tight across his chest. "You've been acting strange all week, Theo. First the closed-door meetings, now this. If there's something going on—budget issues, student complaints, whatever—I need to know. I'm vice principal for a reason."
Theo swallowed hard. "It's nothing like that. Truly. Just… personal. Father's been on my case again. Called this morning to say my last performance review was 'lackluster.' Said I stutter too much in board presentations. That I embarrass the family name. You know how he is."
Marcus softened a fraction—pity flickering in his eyes. Everyone knew about Theodore Hawthorne Sr. The man had a reputation: ruthless lobbyist, iron control freak, the kind of father who turned sons into puppets. "Yeah. I've heard the stories. But you don't have to handle it alone. If you need time off, or—"
"No, no," Theo interrupted, voice pitching higher. "I'm managing. Really. Just need a moment to… compose myself. Gout flare's making it hard to stand for long. If you could, ah, pick up some medication for me later? The over-the-counter anti-inflammatory from the pharmacy on Main. I'd be ever so grateful."
Marcus studied him for a long beat. "You want me to run errands now?"
"Just this once," Theo pleaded. "I'd do it myself, but walking's rather painful at the moment. Swelling, you see. In the… lower extremities."
Marcus sighed. "Fine. I'll grab it on my lunch break. But Theo—this isn't sustainable. You're the principal. Act like it. Whatever's eating you, deal with it before it bites the school in the ass." He paused, then added dryly, "Figuratively speaking."
Theo forced a weak laugh. "Right. Figuratively. Thank you, Marcus. You're a lifesaver."
Marcus turned to leave, then stopped. "One more thing. There's a rumor circulating—something about a senior getting pantsed yesterday. Big stir in the halls. Kids are saying—"
Theo cut in desperately. "Handled! Already handled. Just boys being boys. No formal complaint filed. We're moving on."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."
He started to turn away.
That was when Kota moved.
Still crouched, still hidden, he rose just enough to align himself again. One hand gripped Theo's hip, the other guided his cock back to that slick, waiting entrance.
He thrust in—hard, sudden, burying half his length in one smooth stroke.
Theo's entire body jolted. A strangled moan tried to escape; he clamped his lips shut at the last second, turning it into a choked gasp that sounded almost like a hiccup.
Marcus spun back. "You okay?"
Theo nodded frantically, knuckles white on the doorframe. "F-Fine! Just… cramp. In the calf. Gout complication. Happens sometimes."
Kota didn't stop. He pulled back slowly—agonizingly slowly—then slammed forward again, bottoming out. Theo's ass clapped loudly against his hips, the sound muffled only slightly by the door. Theo's knees buckled; he had to brace both hands on the frame to stay upright.
Marcus's eyes narrowed further. "That didn't sound like a cramp."
Theo laughed—high, manic, breathless. "It's… it's a bad one. Shooting pain. Right up the… the leg. I'll be alright. Just need to sit. Or lie down. Or—medication. Yes. Definitely the medication. You'll get it, won't you? Please?"
Kota started a steady rhythm—deep, deliberate thrusts that made Theo's cheeks ripple and jiggle with every impact. The principal's tiny cock leaked steadily now, dribbling onto his own thighs. His walls clenched and fluttered around Kota's shaft, milking him greedily.
Marcus hesitated. "You're shaking, Theo."
"Adrenaline," Theo gasped. "From the pain. It's… intense. But manageable. I promise. Go on. I'll see you after lunch. With the pills. Thank you."
Marcus stared for another long second—clearly unconvinced—but finally nodded. "Alright. I'll be back in an hour. Take it easy."
He turned and walked away down the hall, footsteps fading.
The moment the sound disappeared, Theo sagged against the door, panting. "You… you absolute—"
Kota pulled out just long enough to spin Theo around by the hips, then pushed him back against the door so the wood thumped shut. Theo's eyes were glassy, pupils blown, lips parted.
Kota leaned in close, voice low and rough. "Shut up."
Theo opened his mouth—whether to protest or beg, no one would ever know—because Kota thrust back inside in one brutal stroke, pinning him to the door with sheer force.
Theo's head thunked back against the wood. A broken whimper escaped him.
Kota didn't give him time to recover. He fucked hard—deep, punishing strokes that made Theo's ass clap rhythmically against the door. The principal's skinny arms wrapped around Kota's neck for support, legs trembling, toes barely touching the ground.
"You think you can just… just use me like that?" Theo managed between gasps. "While I'm talking to my vice principal?"
Kota's hand clamped over his mouth again. "I said shut up."
Theo moaned into the palm, eyes rolling back.
Kota kept going—relentless, owning every inch of that smooth, hairless, impossibly perfect ass.
Finally, Theo reached behind himself with a shaking hand, fumbling for the lock. His fingers found the deadbolt.
Click.
The door locked.
They were alone again.
Theo's eyes met Kota's—wide, desperate, utterly wrecked.
And still, neither of them stopped.