Chapter 10: No Mercy Reps
The iron scent of the gym was a familiar comfort, a metallic tang that clung to the back of Derek’s throat. He’d come here to clear his head, to sweat out the lingering memory of Scott’s weight and the feel of three different loads drying on his skin. The cavernous room was silent save for the hum of a vending machine in the corner, the dim lights casting long, distorted shadows from the weight racks and benches. He ran a hand over the cool, padded leather of a flat bench, his muscles still humming with a residual ache that was equal parts pain and pleasure.
The heavy door creaked open, and two large figures filled the doorway. Nate entered first, his presence shifting the air in the room, making it feel smaller, hotter. Peter followed, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the cable machine, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“Looks like you started without us,” Nate’s voice cut through the silence, low and knowing. His eyes, dark and intense, scanned Derek from head to toe, lingering on the tight fabric of his shorts. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”
Derek’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Just warming up.”
Nate closed the distance between them in a few swift strides. His calloused hands landed on Derek’s shoulders, turning him with an effortless strength that sent a shiver down Derek’s spine. He pushed him forward, bending him over the cool vinyl of the weight bench. Derek’s cheek pressed against the leather, the smell of old sweat and cleaning solution filling his nostrils.
“This is the only workout you need, Omega,” Nate growled into his ear, his breath hot.
Derek heard the rustle of clothing, the clink of a belt buckle. Nate’s hands gripped the waistband of his shorts and underwear, yanking them down to his thighs in one rough motion. The cool air hit his exposed skin, and he felt impossibly vulnerable, spread open over the bench.
Nate’s thumbs dug into the flesh of his ass, spreading his cheeks wide. Derek flinched as he felt the warm, wet glob of Nate’s spit land directly on his twitching hole. It was a crude, possessive gesture that made his cock jerk against the cold leather.
There was no warning, no gentle push. Nate aligned himself and drove forward, his thick, uncut cock spearing into Derek’s tight channel in one brutal, searing thrust.
“Fuck!” Derek screamed, the sound muffled by the bench. The stretch was exquisite, a white-hot pain that instantly bloomed into a deep, radiating pleasure. His fingers clawed at the vinyl as Nate set a punishing rhythm immediately, his hips slamming against Derek’s ass with enough force to make the entire bench shudder and rattle against the concrete floor.
“That’s it, take it,” Nate grunted, his voice a rough scrape. He leaned over, his chest plastered to Derek’s back, one hand fisting in his black hair to yank his head back. “You love this, don’t you? Being our little cum dump. Still loose and wet from Scott.”
Derek could only moan in response, his body already coiling tight. The feeling of being so thoroughly used, so completely filled, was short-circuiting his brain. Each thrust jolted through him, lighting up every nerve ending. He could see Peter from his skewed perspective, still leaning against the machine, but now with his own cock out, stroking it slowly with a fascinated gleam in his eyes.
“He’s gonna come just from your ass, Nate,” Peter commented, his voice casual, almost conversational. “Look at him. He’s already close.”
Nate’s pace became erratic, more frantic. “You gonna come all over this bench without a hand on your dick?” he snarled into Derek’s ear. “Do it. Make a mess for us.”
The command, the raw filth of the words, combined with the relentless pounding against his prostate, was too much. Derek’s body seized, his back arching violently as a strangled cry was torn from his throat. His cock erupted, untouched, painting the leather bench with hot, white streaks, his internal muscles clamping down on Nate’s cock in rhythmic, milking spasms.
The sensation tipped Nate over the edge. With a final, deep thrust that buried him to the hilt, he roared, his own release pumping into Derek in hot, pulsing waves, adding another layer to the mix already inside him.
For a moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the faint drip of cum onto the floor. Nate pulled out slowly, a satisfied smirk on his face as he tucked himself away.
Peter pushed off the machine, his own erection still in hand. “My turn,” he said, his friendly smile not quite reaching his eyes now, which held a darker, hungrier look. He looked at Derek, who was still trembling, spent and leaking over the bench. “Think you can handle another round, or are you all tapped out?”
Derek pushed himself up on shaky arms, a slow, defiant smile spreading across his own face. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
A slow, appreciative smile spread across Peter’s face. “That’s what I like to hear.” He moved behind Derek, his hands, smoother than Nate’s, tracing the welts left by Nate’s grip. He pressed his body close, his hard cock nestling between Derek’s sore cheeks. “Nate left you a real mess, didn’t he?” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble.
Derek shuddered, the sensitivity of his overstimulated flesh a live wire. “Feels… full.”
Peter’s fingers slid down, tracing the swollen, leaking rim. He pushed two fingers inside, not with Nate’s violent ownership, but with a slick, probing curiosity. He scooped out a mixture of his own previous spend and Nate’s fresh release, holding his glistening fingers in front of Derek’s face. “Taste it,” he commanded, his tone deceptively gentle. “Taste all of us.”
Derek, his mind hazy with submission and need, obeyed without hesitation. He sucked Peter’s fingers clean, the complex, salty flavor of multiple Alphas exploding on his tongue, a potent cocktail of ownership.
“Good Omega,” Peter praised, his voice dropping to a whisper. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against the loosened, twitching entrance. He didn’t slam in. He pushed, a slow, inexorable pressure that made Derek gasp as he was filled all over again, the stretch a different, deeper burn. “Fuck, you’re still so tight. Like you’re milking me already.”
He set a relentless, deep rhythm, each thrust a precise, grinding piston that sought out every over-sensitive nerve ending. He wrapped one arm around Derek’s chest, holding him upright and arching his back, while his other hand snaked down and began to stroke Derek’s spent cock with a cruel, knowing rhythm.
“You think you’re done?” Peter breathed into his ear, his hips never faltering. “You’re not done. You’re going to come again. You’re going to scream while I’m buried inside this well-used ass.”
The dual sensation was overwhelming. The deep, grinding penetration combined with the ruthless stroking of his oversensitive cock was too much, a brutal overload of pleasure-pain. Derek’s body, which had felt utterly spent moments before, coiled like a spring, tension building in a terrifying, glorious wave.
“I can’t,” he choked out, his head falling back against Peter’s shoulder.
“You can,” Peter insisted, his voice hardening, his thrusts becoming sharper, more demanding. “You will. Now.”
The command shattered him. A broken, ragged scream tore from Derek’s throat as his body convulsed, a dry, agonizing climax wrenched from him, his cock pulsing in Peter’s fist with nothing left to give. The violent clenching of his insides was all the encouragement Peter needed. He drove in one last time, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, his own release flooding into Derek’s already overflowing channel.
He held himself there for a long moment, both of them trembling and slick with sweat, before slowly pulling out. The sound was wet and obscene. Derek slumped forward over the bench, his legs unable to hold him.
Nate, who had been watching with a satisfied smirk, tossed a towel at Derek. It landed on his back. “Clean yourself up. We’ve got a chapter meeting in twenty.” The words were casual, the transition back to normalcy jarring.
Peter tucked himself away, his kind smile back in place as if he’d just finished a casual workout. “Don’t look so wrecked, Derek. It’s a good look on you.”
They left him there, kneeling on the cold floor, their footsteps echoing in the empty gym. Derek reached for the towel, his body humming, every muscle aching, the scent of the three of them clinging to his skin like a brand. He felt utterly hollowed out and completely full, all at once. The meeting was the last thing on his mind. All he could focus on was the slow, hot trickle making its way down his inner thigh.