Chapter 13: Training Ground Revelation
The rhythmic thud of footballs against training walls echoed through the sterile corridors of Säbener Straße, a familiar heartbeat beneath the sharper shouts of coaches and the low hum of ventilation. Inside the physio room, the antiseptic scent of disinfectant battled with something warmer, muskier. Vanja Vran rode Joshua Kimmich with abandon, her bare back arched like a drawn bowstring, her long, dark blonde hair whipping against her sweat-slicked skin with each desperate downward plunge. Her full breasts bounced freely, nipples hard peaks against the cool air conditioning. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted in a silent scream that finally tore loose.
"Fuck! Joshua! YES! RIGHT THERE! DON'T STOP! FUCK ME!"
Her voice, raw and ragged, shattered the clinical quiet. Beneath her, Joshua gripped her hips, fingers digging into the flesh just above her ass, his own face a mask of strained ecstasy. His cock pistoned deep inside her slick heat, the angle on the vinyl-covered physio table hitting spots that made her see stars. He met her downward thrusts with powerful upward surges, the wet slap of their joining flesh echoing obscenely off the tiled walls and glass cabinets filled with bandages and tape. His gaze was locked on her face, on the sheer, unadulterated surrender etched there, a possession deeper than any tactical argument they'd ever had online.
"Take it," he growled, his voice thick and guttural. "Take every fucking inch, Vanja. Milk my cock with that tight little cunt. Squeeze it harder..." He bucked upwards sharply, drawing a choked gasp from her. "...like that. Fucking perfect."
He shifted slightly, angling his hips, driving deeper still. Vanja cried out, her inner muscles clamping down violently around his invading length. "Oh god! I'm... I'm gonna... Joshua!"
"Come," he commanded, his own control fraying. "Come all over my cock. Now!" His hand flew from her hip to her clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles. The added stimulation detonated her. A raw, guttural scream ripped from her throat as her orgasm slammed through her, convulsing her body, her cunt spasming rhythmically around his thick shaft, milking him desperately.
The ferocious clench of her inner walls shattered Joshua's restraint. With a roar that drowned out her cries, he slammed up into her one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and erupted. Hot, thick pulses of cum flooded her depths as he ground against her, his hips jerking uncontrollably, his face contorted in release. They froze, locked together, trembling violently, slick with sweat and exertion, the only sounds their harsh, tearing breaths and the wet squelch as he pulsed inside her.
The door to the physio room swung open with a soft hydraulic sigh.
Thomas Müller stood frozen in the doorway, his usual grin widening into a leer of pure, unadulterated amusement. Behind him, Manuel Neuer’s stoic face registered a flicker of weary disbelief, quickly masked by his customary impassivity. And beside them, Aleksandar Pavlović’s jaw hung slack for a split second before snapping shut, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock, exasperation, and something akin to vindication.
Müller recovered first. He let out a piercing, theatrical wolf-whistle that cut through the heavy silence like a knife. "Well, well, well!" he crowed, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Looks like someone finally found a use for the physio table besides fixing groin strains! Kimmich, you dog! Didn't know you had it in you!"
Neuer simply sighed, a low, rumbling sound of profound resignation. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Training starts in ten minutes," he stated flatly, his voice cutting through Müller’s laughter. "Kindly... disengage."
Aleksandar, his face flushing crimson, didn't say a word. Instead, with a swift, frustrated motion, he yanked the white towel draped over his shoulder and hurled it with surprising accuracy. It sailed through the air, landing squarely over Vanja’s bare shoulders and back like a damp, accusing shroud.
"About fucking time!" Aleksandar exploded, his voice tight with a mixture of embarrassment and fierce protectiveness. "Jesus Christ, Vanja! Here? Now? Have you lost your damn minds?!" His gaze darted between Vanja’s flushed, stunned face and Joshua’s slowly registering expression of dazed possessiveness mixed with annoyance at the interruption.
Vanja jerked as the towel hit her skin, the cool cotton a shocking contrast to the heat radiating from her body and Joshua’s still buried deep inside her. Reality crashed down. Mortification flooded her, hotter than any climax. She tried to scramble off Joshua, but his hands, still locked on her hips beneath the towel, held her fast for a crucial, agonizing second. His eyes, clouded with fading lust and a fierce, territorial glare, met Müller’s amused gaze and Neuer’s impassive stare before finally landing on Aleksandar’s furious, protective one.
"Get off her, Kimmich," Aleksandar snapped, stepping further into the room, his fists clenched. "Now."
Joshua’s jaw tightened. Slowly, deliberately, he eased Vanja off him. The sensation of his softening cock sliding out of her swollen, cum-filled cunt drew a soft, involuntary whimper from her lips, lost beneath the towel and the roaring in her ears. She clutched the towel tightly around herself, shrinking into its meager cover, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, her skin burning with humiliation. She could feel Joshua’s release trickling down her inner thigh.
Joshua swung his legs off the table, standing naked and unapologetic, though a flush crept up his neck. He snatched another towel from a nearby rack, wrapping it hastily around his waist. His gaze was defiant, fixed on Aleksandar. "Mind your own fucking business, Pavlović," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
"My business?" Aleksandar shot back, stepping closer, ignoring Müller’s chuckles and Neuer’s watchful silence. "She’s my friend! My sister! And you’ve been treating her like shit for months! Now you’re fucking her on the physio table? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Things changed," Joshua stated flatly, his eyes flicking to Vanja’s hunched form. A different kind of intensity burned there now, cutting through the residual lust and annoyance. Possession, yes, but something deeper, fiercer. Something declared naked on a balcony at dawn.
Vanja finally lifted her head, peering out from behind the towel. Her dark green eyes were wide, filled with humiliation and a desperate plea for Aleksandar to stop. "Sasha, please..." she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Changed?" Aleksandar scoffed, not backing down. "Changed how? You finally realized she wasn't just some PR flunky trying to climb into your bed? Took you long enough, you arrogant prick!"
Before Joshua could retort, Müller interjected, his tone still amused but carrying an edge. "Alright, children, settle down. Fascinating as this soap opera is, Neuer’s right. Training." He gestured towards the door. "Kimmich, Pavlović, locker room. Now. Vanja..." He gave her a slightly softer look, tinged with understanding beneath the humor. "...maybe take a minute. Use the shower. Deep breaths."
Neuer simply turned and walked out, his silent judgment hanging heavier than Müller’s words.
Aleksandar glared at Joshua for another long moment, then turned his furious gaze on Vanja. "We are talking about this," he hissed, low and intense. "Later." He spun on his heel and stalked out after Neuer.
Müller lingered, looking between Joshua and Vanja. He winked at Joshua. "Penthouse balcony wasn't enough, eh? Had to christen the workplace? Bold move." He chuckled and followed the others, leaving the door open.
Silence descended, thick and suffocating. Vanja stood frozen, clutching the towel, staring at the spot where Aleksandar had been. The sounds of the awakening training ground – distant shouts, the thud of a ball, cleats on concrete – felt miles away. Shame warred with a residual, traitorous thrum of arousal still echoing through her spent body.
Joshua moved first. He stepped close to her, his presence radiating heat even through the towel barrier. His hand came up, not grabbing, but gently brushing the damp hair stuck to her cheek. His touch was unexpectedly tender, a stark contrast to the raw fucking moments before and the confrontation just passed.
"Look at me," he said, his voice softer now, rough but devoid of anger.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze. His hazel eyes held hers, intense, unwavering. The possessiveness was still there, but layered over it was something else: a fierce protectiveness, a raw honesty that mirrored his naked proposal on the balcony. And beneath it all, a flicker of shared mortification.
"They saw," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Everyone... Aleks..."
"Fuck them," Joshua stated, his thumb tracing her jawline. "Fuck what they think." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for her. "You heard Pavlović. 'About fucking time.' He knew. They probably all fucking knew." A ghost of his usual arrogance touched his lips, but it was tempered. "What matters is what we know." His gaze dropped pointedly to her lips, then back to her eyes. "What I know. You're mine. Engaged. Fucked senseless on a physio table." He paused, his eyes searching hers. "Still mine?"
The question hung in the antiseptic air, charged with the scent of sex and disinfectant. The humiliation was still a live wire under her skin, Aleksandar’s anger a fresh bruise. But looking into Joshua’s eyes, seeing the vulnerability beneath the defiance, feeling the echo of his possession deep inside her body and the weight of the ring-less promise hanging between them… the chaos coalesced into a single, undeniable truth.
A shaky breath escaped her. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly as it covered his where it cupped her cheek. Her fingers tightened over his. "Always," she breathed, the word thick with exhaustion, residual arousal, and a terrifying, exhilarating certainty. "Yours."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Joshua’s face, pure satisfaction lighting his eyes. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was far too brief, far too chaste for the circumstances, yet carried the weight of everything unsaid. "Good," he murmured against her mouth. "Now get cleaned up. We have a wedding to plan." He pulled back, his gaze sweeping over her towel-clad form with undisguised heat. "And later... we finish what they interrupted."
Joshua's thumb traced the damp curve of her lower lip, a silent promise burning in his hazel eyes. The sterile chill of the physio room still clung to her skin beneath the towel, a stark counterpoint to the furnace heat radiating from his body. She shivered, the echo of Aleksandar’s furious "later" a cold knife alongside the slick warmth still trickling down her inner thigh.
"Clean up," Joshua repeated, his voice rough velvet. He grabbed his discarded shorts, pulling them on with economical movements, the powerful muscles of his back flexing. "Shower. Five minutes." He didn't wait for an answer, striding towards the door, pausing only to snag his training shirt from the floor.
Vanja moved on autopilot. The hot water in the players' shower stung her scraped knees but couldn’t wash away the thick residue of mortification or the phantom sensation of Joshua’s cock stretching her, filling her, the brutal ecstasy of her scream still ringing in her ears. She scrubbed fiercely, trying to erase the smell of sex and disinfectant, the memory of Müller’s whistle, Neuer’s impassive judgment, Aleksandar’s protective fury. Engaged. The word pulsed in time with the water hammering her shoulders. Fucked senseless on a physio table. Her skin flushed anew.
Dressed in clean, spare training gear she kept in her office – grey sweatpants, a simple black tee – Vanja emerged, her damp hair braided tightly back, armor against the world. The sounds of training – the sharp thwack of ball against boot, the guttural shouts, the whistle blasts – were louder now, invasive. She saw Joshua already on the pitch, effortlessly controlling a pass, his movements fluid and focused. Müller shot her a knowing, exaggerated wink. Neuer, guarding the goal, gave her a brief, unreadable glance before turning away. Aleksandar avoided her eyes entirely, his jaw tight as he drilled passing sequences.
Training unfolded in a tense bubble. Vanja forced herself into work mode, clipboard in hand, observing drills, noting coordination patterns, her academic mind a desperate refuge from the raw intimacy still vibrating in her core. Joshua moved with predatory grace, his usual intensity amplified. He intercepted a lazy pass from Müller with a sharp tackle, sending the older player stumbling.
"Wake up, Thomas!" Joshua barked, his voice carrying across the pitch. "Or Vanja’s analysis will just be pages of your fuck-ups!"
Müller grinned, unfazed. "Jealous she was screaming my name earlier instead of yours, Josh?" The casual crudeness hung in the air. Several players nearby chuckled nervously. Aleksandar froze mid-run.
Joshua didn’t rise to the bait immediately. He trapped the ball dead with his instep, his gaze sweeping across the group – Müller smirking, Neuer impassive, Aleksandar glaring, the rest watching with varying degrees of curiosity. He looked directly at Vanja, standing near the sideline. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, pure challenge and possession.
"Thomas," Joshua called out, his voice dropping slightly lower, cutting through the background noise. "She wasn’t screaming your name." He let the implication hang, heavy and undeniable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he added, the words clear and unadorned, "She was screaming her fiancé’s."
Silence. Utter, stunned silence. The rhythmic thud of balls ceased. Even the distant hum of the city seemed to pause. Müller’s grin vanished, replaced by slack-jawed astonishment. Neuer’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Aleksandar looked like he’d been punched in the gut, his eyes wide, fixed on Vanja.
"Fiancé?" Müller choked out, the first to break the spell. "You? And... Vanja? Engaged?"
Joshua kept his eyes locked on Vanja, ignoring Müller. He held out his hand towards her, a silent command, an invitation laced with absolute certainty. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The eyes of the entire squad burned into her. Shame warred with defiance, the memory of his body claiming hers warring with the terrifying vulnerability of this exposure. She saw the flicker of hurt in Aleksandar’s eyes, the sheer disbelief on Müller’s face.
She walked onto the pitch. Her legs felt leaden, but her chin lifted. She reached Joshua, her hand sliding into his. His fingers closed around hers, warm and possessive, an anchor in the storm. He pulled her slightly towards him, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, a gesture both protective and claiming.
"Yes," Joshua stated, his voice ringing with finality, addressing the entire frozen squad. "Engaged. We’re getting married." He looked down at Vanja, his gaze fierce, demanding her confirmation, her complicity in this public declaration born in private chaos.
The air crackled. Vanja met his stare, the intensity stealing her breath. She saw the balcony dawn in his eyes, the raw need, the unexpected vulnerability beneath the arrogance. She swallowed, the taste of him still faint on her tongue. "He asked at dawn," she said, her voice surprisingly steady, carrying across the silent pitch. A simple fact. A seismic shift.
Aleksandar finally found his voice, striding towards them, his expression a mask of bewildered betrayal. "Married? Him? Vanja, what the actual fuck? After everything? After how he treated you? You're joking!"
Joshua’s grip on her hand tightened. "It’s done, Pavlović," he stated, his voice cold steel. "Deal with it."
"Deal with it?" Aleksandar sputtered, stopping inches away, his fists clenched at his sides. "You arrogant prick! You think fucking her on a table and dropping a ringless bomb gives you rights?"
"Sasha," Vanja cut in, stepping slightly in front of Joshua, her own anger flaring, protective now. "It’s my choice. Our choice." The words felt alien, powerful. "He asked. I said yes." She met Aleksandar’s furious gaze, refusing to flinch. The teammate she saw as a brother, the man she’d secretly ached for who’d dismissed her – the collision was dizzying.
Müller whistled again, low and appreciative this time. "Well, fuck me sideways. Congratulations, you crazy kids!" He clapped Joshua on the shoulder. "Explains the... enthusiasm... on the table. Wedding plans already? Open bar, yeah?"
Neuer just shook his head slowly, a rare, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips before he turned and walked back towards his goal, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "So that's what the noise was."
The tension didn’t dissipate; it merely shifted, thickened into a buzzing confusion of congratulations, crude jokes, and Aleksandar’s simmering, silent fury. Training resumed, fractured and distracted. Vanja felt Joshua’s attention like a physical brand, his possessive hand lingering on the small of her back as they moved, his low growl near her ear a constant reminder. "Later."
Later came after the final whistle, aches ignored, tensions unresolved. Joshua steered her not towards the players' exit, but down a deserted service corridor leading towards the back offices, his stride purposeful. He pushed open the heavy door to the dimly lit equipment storage room – racks of balls, stacked cones, the sharp scent of rubber and cleaning solution. He slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the confined space, and flicked the lock.
Before Vanja could react, he had her pinned against the cold metal shelves. His mouth crashed down on hers, not a kiss but a reclamation, fierce and demanding. His tongue plunged past her lips, tasting her, owning her. One hand tangled in her braid, tilting her head back; the other shoved her sweatpants and underwear down over her hips in one rough motion. The cool air hit her bare skin.
"Joshua—" she gasped against his mouth.
"Shut up," he ordered, tearing at his own shorts, freeing his cock already thick and hard again. His eyes burned with the same intensity as when he'd announced their engagement. "Mine. They know it now." He gripped her ass, lifting her easily, her back scraping against the metal. "Wrap your legs around me." She obeyed instinctively, her body arching into him. He didn't hesitate. No slow entry, no finesse. He drove his cock into her wet, swollen cunt in one brutal, unyielding thrust. Her cry was muffled against his shoulder, a gasp of shock and immediate, blinding pleasure.
"Fuck, you're still so fucking tight," he groaned, his hips pistoning, slamming her back against the shelves with each deep drive. "Squeezing my cock... like you never want to let go." Metal rattled. He hooked one arm under her thigh, opening her wider, driving deeper. "Scream my name now. Let the whole fucking club hear who owns this pussy." He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust. "Who owns you."
She couldn't hold back. The raw friction, the sheer force of his claiming, the echoing declaration of their engagement – it shattered her control. "Joshua! Fuck!" she screamed, her voice raw, echoing in the small room. Her nails dug into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Harder! Please! GOD!"
He growled, a feral sound, and fucked her with relentless, punishing strokes. Her inner walls fluttered, then clamped down violently around his invading length, the orgasm tearing through her with shocking speed and intensity. Her scream peaked, ragged and broken. The convulsions of her cunt, milking his shaft, tipped him over the edge instantly. He slammed into her one final time, burying himself to the root, his roar vibrating against her skin as hot jets of cum pulsed deep inside her, filling her, marking her.
They slumped against the shuddering shelves, gasping, trembling, still joined. Sweat stung the scrapes on Vanja's back. Joshua’s head rested against hers, his breath hot and ragged in her ear. He didn’t move, keeping her impaled, his softening cock still pulsing weakly within her. His hand smoothed her braid, the gesture unexpectedly tender after the violence of their coupling.
"Always," he murmured, the word thick with possession and something fiercer, echoing her own promise back at her. His lips brushed the sweat-damp skin beneath her ear. "Mine." The rattling shelves settled into silence, the only sound their harsh mingled breathing and the distant, indistinct noise of the departing team outside. The engagement was real. The claiming was absolute.