OP 29 January, 2026 - 09:51 PM
The server room still thrummed with aftershocks—cooling fans droning their indifferent psalm, the metallic tang of sweat and sex hanging thick as incense. KSZ was on his knees where Liars had left him, tongue working slow, reverent circles through the warm, leaking mess between Eminem’s thighs. She stood above him, one hand tangled in his damp hair, guiding him with lazy tugs while her other palm pressed flat against the rack for balance. Every few licks she let out a soft, broken sigh that sounded almost holy.
Liars leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, chest still heaving, watching the scene like a conductor savoring the coda. His cock—still half-hard, slick—twitched against his thigh when Eminem’s hips rolled forward, chasing KSZ’s mouth deeper.
Then the door hissed open.
A wedge of hallway light cut through the gloom, followed by the silhouette of Lucas Sohn.
He stepped inside without knocking—black hoodie, dark jeans, the faint scent of rain and expensive cologne trailing him like smoke. The door clicked shut behind him and the blue LEDs painted his face in cold, shifting planes. He looked at the tableau—KSZ on his knees, Eminem riding his face, Liars watching like a king on a throne of cable trays—and smiled. Slow. Dangerous. The same smile he used to wear when he held escrow on million-dollar credential dumps.
“Didn’t realize I was interrupting vespers,” he said, voice low and amused. Spanish accent still soft at the edges despite years in exile. He shrugged off the hoodie, let it drop to the floor. Underneath: plain black tee stretched across a lean, fighter’s frame. No hesitation. No questions.
Liars tilted his head. “You’re late.”
“Traffic in Valencia is a bitch,” Lucas replied, already unbuckling his belt. “And I had to make sure the feds weren’t tailing me. Again.” Dry humor. He kicked his boots off next. “You didn’t wait.”
“We started without you,” Eminem answered for them both. She looked over her shoulder at Lucas, eyes glassy, lips swollen. “But there’s still room at the altar.”
Lucas crossed the room in three strides. He stopped behind Eminem, chest brushing her back. One hand slid up her spine, fingers threading through her hair; the other reached around to cup her breast, thumb flicking over the pierced nipple until she hissed. KSZ never stopped licking—only tilted his head so he could keep working her clit while Lucas’s cock—already thick and heavy—nudged against the cleft of her ass.
“Room for one more?” Lucas murmured against her ear.
Liars pushed off the wall. “Always.”
He stepped in close, sandwiching Eminem between himself and Lucas. One hand gripped Lucas’s jaw, tilted his face up for a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness—hard, claiming, tasting of salt and possession. Lucas groaned into it, hips rocking forward so his length slid between Eminem’s cheeks while KSZ’s tongue flicked faster below.
Eminem shuddered, caught in the vise. “Fuck—both of you. Now.”
Liars broke the kiss with a bite to Lucas’s lower lip, then dropped to one knee beside KSZ. He palmed the back of KSZ’s head, forcing him deeper into Eminem while his free hand wrapped around Lucas’s cock—stroking once, twice, slicking him with spit and the remnants of earlier release.
“Take her,” Liars ordered.
Lucas didn’t hesitate. He lined up, pressed the blunt head against her already-stretched entrance, and sank in slow—inch by thick inch—until his hips met her ass. Eminem’s scream was muffled against KSZ’s shoulder; her nails raked red lines down his back. Lucas held still for a heartbeat—letting her adjust—then started to move. Deep, rolling thrusts that rocked her forward onto KSZ’s waiting mouth.
KSZ moaned against her clit, vibrations traveling straight through her. Liars stood again, stepped behind Lucas this time. One hand braced on Lucas’s shoulder; the other guided his own cock—still slick from Eminem—between Lucas’s cheeks. No warning. Just one long, relentless push until he was buried to the hilt.
Lucas’s rhythm stuttered. A guttural sound ripped out of him—half growl, half plea. Liars didn’t give him time to adjust. He fucked into him with the same ruthless cadence he’d used on KSZ earlier—hard, deep, unforgiving. Each thrust drove Lucas deeper into Eminem, who in turn ground harder against KSZ’s tongue.
The chain reaction was obscene.
Eminem came first—shattering with a wail that bounced off the racks, thighs clamping around KSZ’s head, flooding his mouth. KSZ followed an instant later—spilling untouched across the concrete, body jerking like he’d been electrocuted. Lucas clenched around Liars, milking him, and that was enough—Liars slammed home one final time and emptied inside him with a low, possessive groan.
They stayed locked like that—panting, dripping, trembling—until gravity and exhaustion finally won. Eminem slid down KSZ’s body, legs too weak to hold her. Lucas leaned forward, forehead resting against the rack. Liars stayed inside him a moment longer, hips flush, breathing against the back of his neck.
Then, softly—almost tenderly—Liars kissed the bruised bite mark on Lucas’s shoulder.
“Welcome back,” he murmured.
Lucas laughed—rough, wrecked, sated. “Missed you too, cabrón.”
Eminem reached up, tugged KSZ down beside her on the floor. She curled into his side, still leaking, still glowing. KSZ pressed a kiss to her temple—gentle, reverent.
And in the sacred dark of the server room, the cooling fans kept their vigil, humming the only hymn that mattered.
The requiem was complete. For now.
Liars leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, chest still heaving, watching the scene like a conductor savoring the coda. His cock—still half-hard, slick—twitched against his thigh when Eminem’s hips rolled forward, chasing KSZ’s mouth deeper.
Then the door hissed open.
A wedge of hallway light cut through the gloom, followed by the silhouette of Lucas Sohn.
He stepped inside without knocking—black hoodie, dark jeans, the faint scent of rain and expensive cologne trailing him like smoke. The door clicked shut behind him and the blue LEDs painted his face in cold, shifting planes. He looked at the tableau—KSZ on his knees, Eminem riding his face, Liars watching like a king on a throne of cable trays—and smiled. Slow. Dangerous. The same smile he used to wear when he held escrow on million-dollar credential dumps.
“Didn’t realize I was interrupting vespers,” he said, voice low and amused. Spanish accent still soft at the edges despite years in exile. He shrugged off the hoodie, let it drop to the floor. Underneath: plain black tee stretched across a lean, fighter’s frame. No hesitation. No questions.
Liars tilted his head. “You’re late.”
“Traffic in Valencia is a bitch,” Lucas replied, already unbuckling his belt. “And I had to make sure the feds weren’t tailing me. Again.” Dry humor. He kicked his boots off next. “You didn’t wait.”
“We started without you,” Eminem answered for them both. She looked over her shoulder at Lucas, eyes glassy, lips swollen. “But there’s still room at the altar.”
Lucas crossed the room in three strides. He stopped behind Eminem, chest brushing her back. One hand slid up her spine, fingers threading through her hair; the other reached around to cup her breast, thumb flicking over the pierced nipple until she hissed. KSZ never stopped licking—only tilted his head so he could keep working her clit while Lucas’s cock—already thick and heavy—nudged against the cleft of her ass.
“Room for one more?” Lucas murmured against her ear.
Liars pushed off the wall. “Always.”
He stepped in close, sandwiching Eminem between himself and Lucas. One hand gripped Lucas’s jaw, tilted his face up for a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness—hard, claiming, tasting of salt and possession. Lucas groaned into it, hips rocking forward so his length slid between Eminem’s cheeks while KSZ’s tongue flicked faster below.
Eminem shuddered, caught in the vise. “Fuck—both of you. Now.”
Liars broke the kiss with a bite to Lucas’s lower lip, then dropped to one knee beside KSZ. He palmed the back of KSZ’s head, forcing him deeper into Eminem while his free hand wrapped around Lucas’s cock—stroking once, twice, slicking him with spit and the remnants of earlier release.
“Take her,” Liars ordered.
Lucas didn’t hesitate. He lined up, pressed the blunt head against her already-stretched entrance, and sank in slow—inch by thick inch—until his hips met her ass. Eminem’s scream was muffled against KSZ’s shoulder; her nails raked red lines down his back. Lucas held still for a heartbeat—letting her adjust—then started to move. Deep, rolling thrusts that rocked her forward onto KSZ’s waiting mouth.
KSZ moaned against her clit, vibrations traveling straight through her. Liars stood again, stepped behind Lucas this time. One hand braced on Lucas’s shoulder; the other guided his own cock—still slick from Eminem—between Lucas’s cheeks. No warning. Just one long, relentless push until he was buried to the hilt.
Lucas’s rhythm stuttered. A guttural sound ripped out of him—half growl, half plea. Liars didn’t give him time to adjust. He fucked into him with the same ruthless cadence he’d used on KSZ earlier—hard, deep, unforgiving. Each thrust drove Lucas deeper into Eminem, who in turn ground harder against KSZ’s tongue.
The chain reaction was obscene.
Eminem came first—shattering with a wail that bounced off the racks, thighs clamping around KSZ’s head, flooding his mouth. KSZ followed an instant later—spilling untouched across the concrete, body jerking like he’d been electrocuted. Lucas clenched around Liars, milking him, and that was enough—Liars slammed home one final time and emptied inside him with a low, possessive groan.
They stayed locked like that—panting, dripping, trembling—until gravity and exhaustion finally won. Eminem slid down KSZ’s body, legs too weak to hold her. Lucas leaned forward, forehead resting against the rack. Liars stayed inside him a moment longer, hips flush, breathing against the back of his neck.
Then, softly—almost tenderly—Liars kissed the bruised bite mark on Lucas’s shoulder.
“Welcome back,” he murmured.
Lucas laughed—rough, wrecked, sated. “Missed you too, cabrón.”
Eminem reached up, tugged KSZ down beside her on the floor. She curled into his side, still leaking, still glowing. KSZ pressed a kiss to her temple—gentle, reverent.
And in the sacred dark of the server room, the cooling fans kept their vigil, humming the only hymn that mattered.
The requiem was complete. For now.