Derek was officially too old for this shit.
He was a man pushing well into his forties with a shitty programming job that barely allowed him to afford a studio out west. His weekends should've been spent sipping mojitos and enjoying fusion cuisine while having brunch with other people his own age, pretending that he wasn't well into the tail end of his midlife crisis.
Instead, here he was, placing an ice pack against his forehead in the middle of the fucking Nevada desert. His skull was pounding due to the heavy thud of ceaseless party music that seemed to fill every square inch of his existence. He didn't even know the fucking name of this so-called genre, let alone the specific artist who was playing it. If you could even really call this music in the first place.
He was the only person for a mile around with grey in his thinning hair and he was the only bear in a crowd that was filled with methed-out twinks and twunks who thought that they were the shit because puberty had given them a little chest hair.
Who in their right mind thought that it was a good idea for him to go to Burning Man?
Oh right, it was you and you yourself who made that amazing decision, Derek. Get it off your bucket list, you said. It'll be fun, you said.
Lord above, he hated himself for that.
He scoffed and tossed the ice pack back into his tent, standing and stretching his arms above his head. His entire body cracked as a dozen different stiffnesses made themselves known.
As he looked around, he noticed that the campsite was mostly abandoned with only a few strung-out junkies and losers like himself loitering around. Good... good... he liked bumping shoulders with the kind of people that even the dregs of society thought were dregs.
At the very least, there wouldn't be a line to go take a piss at this time of day.
He grabbed his wallet and started to make his way over to the Porta Potties in the distance. It took all of his willpower to ignore the ache in his back, the itch of his reddened sunburnt skin, and the smell of a body that had gone unwashed for the last forty-eight hours.
This wasn't a midlife crisis... it totally wasn't a midlife crisis.
"You doing okay?" someone called.
Derek stopped and looked to his side.
There was a fire a few feet from him with a single guy sitting next to it. They seemed like the very definition of a Tumblr queer with rainbow-coloured hair, a figure on the edge of consensual starvation, and enough piercings that Derek could actually feel the they/them in their bio as if it perspired from their skin like a socially aware sweat.
Still... they didn't seem like a junkie or loser. Which made him wonder why the fuck they were even here and not with the other twinks getting railed by some questionable midday dick.
"Just a little sunburnt," Derek grumbled.
The kid laughed. "Tell me about it." They nodded back towards their tent. "Been trapped in there all day because of it. I swear to God that these companies are just bullshitting the SPF rating of their sunscreen at this point." They shrugged. "But that's corporations for you, right?"
Of course, they were like this. Of course, they were bitching about corporations. This kid probably posted Mao memes when people talked about Airbnb.
Derek offered a constrained smile and took a step away. "Anyways, I need to get going."
"Hey why don't I come with you," the kid said, springing to their feet. They flashed a smile that was only a little mischievous in nature. "You look like you could use some company."
Wait were they... was this... no way... right?
The kid rocked back and forth upon their heels, sparing a moment to wink at him.
Don't stick your dick in them, Derek. Don't do it. Don't stick your dick in the future generation.
It turned out that Derek had genuinely terrible impulse control.
He thought as much as his back slammed against the inside wall of this Porta Potty, causing the whole structure to horrifyingly wobble. For a brief, terrifying second, it jerked abruptly to the left, disobeying gravity, before arching back to the right and landing upon solid ground with a sloshing thud.
The kid barely gave him even a moment to bask in his relief before they were upon him.
This little rainbow-haired vixen was a twink on a mission, clearly caring little for small talk or foreplay. Their hands were aggressively nimble as they tugged at Derek's belt and undid it, pulling the leather out of the way. Those fingers were so quick as they started to unzip his fly and pull it down as well, exposing his boxers and the bulge nestled inside.
"UWU what's this?" the kid asked, grinning from ear-to-ear. They winked at him, looking more and more like a succubus with every passing second. "Does Sir have a treat for me?"
Derek blinked. "What?"
"Jesus, you really are old," the kid teased, tugging at the waistline of Derek's boxers and starting to ease them down as well. They spared little time exposing his erection as it sprung to life in the middle of the air. "I bet you're old enough to be my dad, huh?"
Derek shuddered. He very much did not want to think about that right now. "I hope not." He scoffed. "Why? How old are you?"
The kid pressed their mouth into his erection, dragging their tongue along his shaft and trailing their way up towards the head of it in one smooth motion. They spared little time as they approached the tip, saying nothing to his question as they suckled upon it. Instead, they wiggled their hips from side-to-side as they continued to bat their lashes like an absolute fucking gremlin.
"I'm however old you want me to be," the kid eventually answered, murmuring around the dick in their mouth.
Derek groaned. "And how old is that?" He swallowed a lump in his throat. "You're legal, right?"
