Chapter 3: The Aftermath and the New Order
Brittany’s trembling subsided into a series of shaky, post-storm sighs. She lay against Percy, her weight supported by his slender frame, her cheek pressed to the damp fabric over his collarbone. The locker room air, thick with the smell of sex and sweat and cheap floral perfume, seemed to pulse around them.
A soft, wet sound broke the silence.
Tiffany had crawled forward, her eyes fixed on Percy’s cock, which was slick and glistening as it slid slowly from Brittany’s loosened grip. Without a word, her movements reverent and urgent, she ducked her head and began to clean it. Her tongue, broad and insistent, lapped up the mixed mess—his spend, Brittany’s slick, the evidence of their violation—with a desperate, worshipful hunger. She moaned softly as she tasted Brittany on him, a low, possessive sound that vibrated against his skin.
Brittany lifted her head, watching through half-lidded eyes. A lazy, satisfied smirk touched her swollen lips. She didn’t push Tiffany away. Instead, she turned her face up to Percy’s, her hands coming up to frame his jaw. Her thumbs stroked the high bones of his cheeks.
“Mine,” she whispered, the word hoarse but absolute. She pressed her mouth to his in a deep, claiming kiss, her tongue pushing past his lips. When she broke away, she nuzzled into the curve of his neck, biting playfully at his earlobe. “You’re my boyfriend now.”
Percy’s breath hitched, a faint tremor running through him. He blinked slowly, his gaze drifting over the wrecked, watching squad. “Don’t you…” he began, his voice a quiet rasp in the humid air, “…have a boyfriend? Chad?”
Brittany pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. Her expression was one of pure, uncomplicated dismissal. “Chad,” she said, as if the name were a piece of lint on her uniform, “has a dick like a canned Vienna sausage. I’m upgrading.” She kissed him again, a sloppy, possessive smack on the mouth.
Tiffany, having scrupulously cleaned Percy to a soft, wet shine, sat back on her heels. Her eyes, wide and hopeful, darted from Brittany’s face to Percy’s. A strand of her red hair was pasted to her cheek with sweat and spit. “Could… could I be your girlfriend, too?” The question was aimed at Percy, but her eyes pleaded with Brittany.
Brittany laughed, a bright, tinkling sound that felt out of place in the glistening mess of the room. She reached out and pinched Tiffany’s cheek, not affectionately, but like one would a overeager puppy. “Aw, Tiff. You’re cute. No.” She turned back to Percy, running her hands over his chest. “He’s mine. You can watch. You can clean up. That’s your job.”
Tiffany’s face fell for a fraction of a second. Then, as if Brittany’s decree was a sacred order, she nodded, a flush of submissive pleasure coloring her neck. “Okay, Britt. Okay.” She shuffled closer on her knees, her hands folded in her lap, ready to be of service.
The rest of the squad, who had been watching in a dazed, jealous huddle, began to murmur.
“So, what, we just get to watch now?” Kelsey asked, her arms crossed over her chest, smearing the drying streaks there.
“Seems unfair,” Mika grumbled, but her eyes were locked on Percy, hungrily tracing the line from his navel downward.
Brittany disentangled herself from Percy, her movements fluid despite the obvious ache between her legs. She stood, wobbling only slightly, and faced her team. Her authority had returned, amplified, forged in the crucible of what had just happened. She was their captain in a new, more primal way.
“You’ll get yours when I say,” Brittany stated, her voice regaining its familiar, commanding edge. “He’s not a community dick. He’s my boyfriend.” She leaned back against Percy, pressing her ass against him, feeling him stir against the small of her back. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “But… he does need to be ready for his girlfriend. And I’m still a little sore.”
She looked over her shoulder at Percy, her blue eyes glittering with a new idea. “Tiffany’s really good with her mouth. Aren’t you, Tiff?”
Tiffany’s head snapped up, hope blazing in her eyes. “Yes! Yes, I am, Britt, I promise.”
“Prove it,” Brittany said, nodding towards Percy. “Get him hard again. For me.”
Eagerly, Tiffany scrambled forward. This time, there was no frenzied competition, only a focused, devout service. She took him into her mouth with a practiced, deep-throating ease that made Percy’s knees buckle slightly. Her head bobbed in a steady, relentless rhythm, her hands cupping and massizing his balls. She made intense, needy eye contact with Brittany the entire time, as if every suck was an offering to her queen.
Brittany watched, one hand idly playing with her own breast over her ruined uniform top, the other possessively stroking Percy’s hip. “See?” she said to the other girls, her tone conversational, as if discussing a new skincare routine. “This is how it’s gonna be. I have a boyfriend with a monster cock. And I share him...sometimes"