Chapter 10: Neuer pins Vanja's wrists above her head against the lockers while Kimmich drops to his knees, his tongue lashing her swollen clit as Neuer rams two thick fingers into her dripping cunt. 'Scream and the whole team will hear you,' Neuer whispers, biting her earlobe as Kimmich's fingers join his, stretching her obscenely wide.
The sharp click of the heavy lock was the only sound in the sudden stillness. Vanja froze, her hand still outstretched towards the door handle. The pre-match energy that had hummed through the room moments before evaporated, replaced by a dense, charged silence.
She turned slowly. Manuel Neuer stood with his back to the door, his broad shoulders blocking the exit. His expression was unreadable, but his blue eyes burned with a cold fire. Across the room, Joshua Kimmich had stopped midway through pulling on a fresh shirt. His eyes darted from Neuer to Vanja, his body tense.
“The team bus is waiting, Manuel,” Vanja said, her voice carefully even, betraying none of the sudden thrill of fear and anticipation that spiked in her blood.
“They can wait,” he replied, his tone flat. He took a step toward her. Then another. The space between them shrank, compressing the air. “You think one time was enough?”
The question hung there, raw and challenging. It wasn’t about the sauna. It was about the hierarchy, the unspoken rules he was constantly rewriting with his hands on her body.
Before she could form a retort, he moved. It wasn’t a rush; it was a deliberate, powerful advance. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, shoving her forward until her palms and cheek slammed against the cold, enameled steel of the lockers. The impact stole her breath.
“Manu,” she gasped, the metal chilling her skin through her thin coaching polo.
His body pressed against her from behind, pinning her. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection even through his tracksuit bottoms. One of his hands slid from her shoulder down her arm, his grip firm, while the other went to the waistband of her leggings.
“You walked in here smelling like that, looking at him,” he growled into her ear, his breath hot. “You think I didn’t notice?”
The rip of the elastic fabric was loud in the quiet room. He didn’t bother peeling them down; he yanked, and the thin material tore at the seam, baring her skin to the cool, antiseptic air. He shoved the ruined leggings and her panties down to her knees in one rough motion, trapping her legs.
She heard a sharp intake of breath. Joshua had taken a step closer. His gaze was locked on the exposed curve of her ass, on the vulnerable space between her legs. His own arousal was now unmistakable, tenting the front of his shorts. The conflict was gone from his face, replaced by a stark, hungry focus.
“See something you like, Josh?” Neuer’s voice was a taunt. He didn’t look away from Vanja. “Or are you just going to watch this time?”
That was all the invitation Joshua needed. He crossed the room in three swift strides. His fingers, calloused and strong, tangled in her long dark blonde hair, fisting it and pulling her head back just enough to arch her spine, forcing her body into a deeper, more vulnerable curve against the lockers.
“No,” Joshua murmured, his voice thick, his lips close to her ear. “I’m not just watching.”
Vanja moaned, the sound part protest, part surrender. The contrast was electrifying: the cold, unyielding metal against her front, the heat of the two men surrounding her from behind. Manuel’s hands were on her hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh, spreading her for Joshua’s view, for his own.
“She’s still wet from me this morning,” Manuel said to Joshua, a note of brutal pride in his voice. He slid a hand between her legs, his fingers pushing through her folds. “Feel that.”
He brought his slick fingers up, and Joshua, without hesitation, turned Vanja’s face and sucked them into his mouth, his eyes locked on hers. The obscene intimacy of the act sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through her. This was different from the sauna. This was colder, more deliberate, a calculated debasement that she found herself craving.
“Fuck her,” Manuel commanded, stepping back slightly to give Joshua room. “I want to watch you take what’s mine.”
Joshua didn’t need to be told twice. He freed his cock, its length and hardness a familiar weight in his hand now. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head pressing against her, not pushing, just resting there, a torturous promise.
“You want this?” he asked her, echoing his question from the sauna, but the tone was different. It wasn’t a check-in; it was a demand for submission.
“Yes,” Vanja breathed, the word barely audible.
“Louder.”
“Yes! God, just fuck me, Joshua.”
He drove into her with a single, deep, punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful motion. A cry was torn from her throat, muffled by the cold steel against her lips. He felt huge inside her, stretching her, filling the empty ache Manuel’s taunts had created.
He set a hard, relentless rhythm from the start, his hips slamming against her ass with each thrust. The locker door rattled with their movement, a metallic percussion to the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies joining. His grip in her hair tightened, holding her in place, a prisoner to his pace.
Manuel watched, his arms crossed over his chest, a silent, dominant spectator. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight. “Harder,” he instructed, his voice low. “She can take it. She loves it.”
Joshua grunted, adjusting his angle, pounding into her with renewed force. Vanja’s world dissolved into sensation: the burn of his grip in her hair, the brutal, perfect friction of his cock stroking deep inside her, the knowledge that Manuel was witnessing her complete loss of control.
“I’m… I’m gonna come,” Joshua choked out, his rhythm faltering.
“Not yet,” Manuel snapped. He moved in behind Joshua, his presence a wall of heat. He put a hand on Joshua’s back, pushing him forward, driving him deeper into Vanja. “You come when I say you can come.”
Vanja felt the tension coiling in Joshua’s body, the struggle for control. The sight of Manuel commanding them both, orchestrating their pleasure, pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm ripped through her without warning, a silent, seizing wave that clenched around Joshua’s cock, milking him desperately.
The feeling was too much for him. “Manu, I can’t—” he gasped.
“Now,” Manuel growled.
The permission was all he needed. Joshua’s body shuddered, and he spilled into her with a guttural cry, his thrusts becoming erratic, then stilling as he emptied himself deep inside her.
For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Joshua leaned against her, spent, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades. Slowly, he pulled out, his softening cock slick with their mixed release.
Manuel was there immediately. He didn’t push Joshua aside; Joshua moved on his own, stepping back, his eyes wide and dazed as he watched what happened next.
Manuel turned Vanja around to face him. Her back was against the cool lockers now. Her eyes were glazed, her body limp and used. He kissed her, a deep, possessive kiss that tasted of dominance and victory. Then he dropped to his knees.
He buried his face between her legs, his tongue licking, lapping, cleaning Joshua’s spend from her flesh and from inside her. The intimacy of it was more shocking than anything that had come before. Vanja cried out, her hands flying to his hair, her hips bucking against his mouth as a second, sharper orgasm trembled through her, wringing a broken sob from her chest.
He rose to his feet, his lips glistening. He looked from Vanja’s wrecked expression to Joshua’s shell-shocked one.
“The bus is waiting,” Manuel said, his voice once again that of the captain, calm and in control. He unlocked the door. “Get cleaned up. Both of you.”
He walked out, leaving them alone in the silent, sex-scented locker room. Vanja slid down the lockers to the floor, her torn leggings around her ankles, her body trembling. Joshua stood frozen, staring at the space where Manuel had been, the taste of her still on his tongue and the image of his captain on his knees burned into his mind. The game was far from over. It was just beginning.
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them in the sterile silence. Joshua stared at Vanja, slumped against the lockers with her clothes torn and her body gleaming with sweat. The scent of sex and her specific perfume filled his lungs, a fragrance now permanently fused with shame and a gnawing, relentless hunger.
He should walk away. He should go to the bus, to his life, to Lina. His feet remained rooted to the spot. “Get up,” he said, his voice rough.
Vanja looked up, her golden-green eyes hazy but sharpening with defiance. “Or what?” She made no move to cover herself, instead letting her thighs fall open a fraction wider, a blatant display of the wetness glistening on her skin. “You’ll tell on me?”
The taunt snapped something inside him. He crossed the room in two strides and hauled her up by her arms. Her body was limp, pliant, yet he felt a current of fierce energy humming beneath her skin. “You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered, dragging her toward the physio’s shower room.
“I’m your mess,” she corrected, a sly smile playing on her lips as he pushed the door open. “You helped make me this way.”
The clinical white tiles of the shower area amplified every sound. He turned on the nearest showerhead, a blast of cold water hitting them both. She gasped, her nipples hardening instantly against the soaked fabric of her polo. He backed her into the corner, the water plastering her hair to her skull and his clothes to his body.
“He marked you,” Joshua said, his thumb stroking over the fresh, red bite mark on her neck that Manuel had left moments ago. “He always fucking marks you.”
“And you watch,” Vanja breathed, her hands going to the waistband of his soaked shorts. “You always watch.” She pushed them down, freeing his cock, which was already hard again, jutting out thick and eager. “But you don’t just watch anymore, do you?”
He didn’t answer with words. He spun her around, bending her over the cold, wet bench in the center of the room. He pressed his chest against her back, his mouth finding the shell of her ear. “He cleaned you out with his mouth,” Joshua whispered, the image seared into his brain. “But he didn’t get it all. I can still feel me inside you.”
He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick, swollen folds. She was so open, so used, and the thought of it made him dizzy with a possessive rage he didn’t recognize. He drove into her with a single, deep thrust, burying himself in the heat that was both his and Manuel’s.
Vanja cried out, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the slick bench. The water cascaded over them, mixing with the sweat and the evidence of their previous joining. He fucked her with a frantic, desperate rhythm, each thrust a punishment for her, for himself, for the impossible situation.
“Is this what you wanted?” he grunted, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “You wanted him to see? You wanted me to see?”
“Yes!” she screamed, the sound echoing off the tiles. “I want you both to see! I want you both to lose your minds over this cunt!”
Her words were a catalyst. He slid a hand around her hip, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it in rough, frantic circles, his other hand moving to her throat, not choking, just holding, a mirror of Manuel’s dominance. He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter, a frantic pulse around his cock.
“I’m close,” he warned, his rhythm becoming jagged, uncontrollable.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she begged, her body arching, straining against his. “Please, Joshua, more. I need more. Harder. Fuck me harder, please!”
The raw, desperate plea shattered his last shred of control. He pistoned into her, his orgasm tearing through him with a force that blurred his vision. He emptied himself inside her with a guttural roar, his body convulsing against hers.
He stayed there for a long moment, buried deep, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The water began to run lukewarm, then cold. Slowly, he pulled out, his softening cock slick with their mingled release. He turned her around to face him.
Her expression was one of sated, victorious exhaustion. She reached down between her own legs, gathered a mixture of their fluids on her fingers, and brought them to his lips. He opened his mouth without hesitation, his tongue cleaning her fingers, the taste a brutal, final confirmation of his capitulation.
“The bus,” he said, his voice hollow.
“They’ve left,” she replied, her gaze steady. “We’ll take my car.”
He followed her out of the shower room, his body humming with a profound and terrifying understanding. He was no longer just watching. He was complicit. He was addicted. And he had no idea how to stop.
And he had no idea how to stop.
The sleek black Audi sliced through the Munich night, the silence inside its cabin heavier than the engine’s hum. Vanja’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the road, but her mind was replaying the feel of Joshua coming inside her, the taste of herself on his tongue, the image of Manuel on his knees. The power of it was a drug, and she was mainlining it.
Joshua stared out the passenger window, watching the city lights smear into streaks of gold. “He’s going to know,” he said, his voice flat. “The second he looks at us, he’ll know we did it again.”
“Let him know,” Vanja replied, her tone cutting through the quiet. She downshifted, pressing the accelerator. The car surged forward. “What’s he going to do? Bench his best midfielder? Fire the coach’s granddaughter?”
“This isn’t a game, Vanja.”
“It’s the only game that matters.” She took a sharp turn, the G-force pushing him against the door. “And you’re still playing by his rules. When are you going to start making your own?”
She pulled up not to his apartment, but to a modern, low-slung house overlooking the Isar. Manuel’s house. The lights were on. Joshua didn’t move. “What are we doing here?”
“Finishing this.” She killed the engine and got out, not waiting for him. The click of her heels on the pavement was a deliberate, challenging rhythm. She didn’t ring the bell. She walked right in, the unlocked door a testament to Neuer’s unshakable confidence, or perhaps his invitation.
He was in the living room, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of water in his hand. He turned as they entered, his eyes sweeping over them, taking in Vanja’s determined stride and Joshua’s hesitant posture just inside the doorway. The air crackled.
“The team medic called,” Manuel said, his voice dangerously calm. “He said you both missed the bus. Something about a last-minute tactical review.”
Vanja didn’t break stride. She walked right up to him, stopping only when they were toe to toe. “We were reviewing tactics,” she said, her chin lifted. “The tactics of you, me, and him.”
His blue eyes were glacial. “Is that so?”
“You locked me in a locker room. You tore my clothes. You put him inside me and then you watched.” Her voice was low, each word a carefully placed bullet. “You don’t get to be cold now. You don’t get to pretend this is just about possession.”
“It is always about possession.” He set his glass down on a side table with a sharp, final click.
“No.” Vanja shook her head, a slow, deliberate movement. “It’s about surrender. You wanted to see him surrender to you through me. And you did. But you never counted on me wanting the same thing from you.”
She reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, her fingers hooking into the fabric. He didn’t stop her. She pulled them down, freeing his already hardening cock. She looked back at Joshua, who was still frozen by the door, his face a mask of conflict. “Get over here,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Joshua moved as if in a trance, crossing the expensive rug until he stood beside her. The three of them formed a tense, silent triangle.
Vanja kept her eyes locked on Manuel. “You want to own this?” Her hand closed around his length, stroking him once, firmly. “Then prove it. Stop using him as your proxy. If you want to fuck me, fuck me. But stop pretending you’re above it all. You’re in the dirt with us.”
A low growl rumbled in Manuel’s chest. The controlled mask finally shattered, revealing the raw, predatory hunger beneath. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and crushed his mouth to hers, the kiss brutal and consuming. It was an answer.
He broke the kiss, his breath ragged. He looked at Joshua. “Hold her.”
Without hesitation, Joshua moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. He was Manuel’s instrument again, but this time it was different. This time, it was Vanja’s design.
Manuel backed her up against the cold glass of the enormous window, the city lights sprawling behind her like a captured galaxy. He hiked up her skirt, his fingers tearing aside the fragile lace of her thong. He didn’t bother with preamble. He drove into her, a single, deep, claiming thrust that slammed her body against the window.
Vanja cried out, the sound swallowed by the vast room. Joshua held her tight, his face buried in her hair, his own erection pressing against the small of her back. He could feel every one of Manuel’s thrusts reverberate through her body into his.
“This what you wanted?” Manuel grunted, his hips pounding a relentless rhythm against her. “You wanted to see me lose control? You wanted to see me just as animal as him?”
“Yes!” she screamed, her head falling back against Joshua’s shoulder. “Fuck yes! This is you. This is all you are.”
He fucked her with a raw, unrestrained violence, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider for his penetration. The window groaned under the force. He was marking his territory against the entire city, a primal announcement. Joshua’s hands slid from her waist up to her breasts, squeezing them through her shirt, his teeth grazing her neck, adding his own mark to the collection.
Manuel’s pace became frantic, his breathing a ragged saw. He was close. He looked over Vanja’s shoulder, his eyes locking with Joshua’s. “Touch her,” he commanded, his voice thick and guttural. “Make her come while I’m inside her.”
Joshua’s hand slid down her stomach, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed her in tight, frantic circles, his other arm still banded around her, holding her upright as Manuel pounded into her. The overload of sensation, the two of them working on her body, the very public privacy of the window, broke her.
Her orgasm was a silent, seizing earthquake that clenched around Manuel’s cock. The feeling tore a raw, broken shout from his throat. He shoved into her one last, deep time, his body stiffening as he emptied himself inside her with a guttural groan, his forehead dropping to the cool glass beside her head.
For a long moment, the only sound was their harsh, overlapping breaths fogging the window. Manuel slowly pulled out, his body slick with sweat. He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over Vanja, who was still held upright by Joshua, her body limp and glistening.
He looked from her sated, triumphant expression to Joshua’s shell-shocked one. The dynamic had shifted. The challenge had been met.
Without a word, Manuel turned and walked out of the room, leaving them there against the glass, exposed and bound together in the aftermath. Vanja finally opened her eyes, meeting Joshua’s reflected gaze in the window. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips. She had confronted the king, and the throne was now in play.