Chapter 5: The workout
Coco did not move away after slapping him, because Coco Adel never teased and retreated unless retreat itself was part of the hunt. She turned in the middle of the padded gym floor with that slow, wicked confidence of a woman who had stared down Grimm, criminals, war machines, and fashion critics, and found all of them less entertaining than making her husband lose control by inches. Forge watched her come back toward him with the same focus he brought to hostile rooms, except there was no coldness in his eyes now, only heat and the kind of trust he never let the world see. She reached him, planted both hands on his bare chest, and dragged her palms over the hard slabs of muscle with open, hungry appreciation. “Goddamn, soldier boy,” she murmured, pressing her fingers into the thick pectorals beneath his scarred pale skin, “you walk around that station looking all stern and professional while hiding this much meat under a uniform. That should be illegal as hell.”
Forge let out a low breath that was almost a laugh, his hands loose at his sides because he knew she enjoyed being the first to claim ground. Her fingers traced the surgical scars around his shoulders, then slid down the packed ridges of his chest and over the dense wall of his abdomen, where every muscle stood cut and hard beneath her touch. Coco’s thumbs pressed into the grooves of his abs, exploring the brutal definition like she was admiring sculpture and preparing to ruin it at the same time. “Look at this,” she said, her voice getting filthier as she leaned in and kissed one scar below his ribs. “Seven foot two of scarred Spartan bastard, all discipline and dry humor, and I still get to put my hands all over you like you were built just to make me greedy.” Forge’s eyes softened in that private way that belonged only to her, the war in them quieting as her touch moved over the body the Spartan program had treated like equipment and she treated like something worth loving.
“You make possession sound like a tactical doctrine,” he said, his voice lower now, warmer, the dry edge still there but turned intimate. Coco looked up at him through dark lashes, her smirk curling with dangerous delight. “Hon, when it comes to you, I’m not tactical, I’m fucking territorial,” she said, dragging her nails lightly down his obliques and watching the muscle twitch under her hands. “All those cops get Captain Cole, the scary wall-breaking son of a bitch with command voice and a death stare. I get the man underneath, the one who groans when I bite his shoulder and forgets how to pretend he isn’t starving.” Forge’s jaw flexed, and this time he did not hide the effect she had on him. “You have always had a talent for identifying weak points,” he said.
Coco laughed against his chest, then bit him lightly near the collarbone just to prove the point. Forge’s hand finally moved, settling against her waist with reverent pressure, and the heat in the room shifted from teasing into something heavier. His palm spread across her carved abs, feeling the deep-cut ridges tighten beneath his fingers as she breathed, every line of her core hard from years of combat, training, and the vicious athletic discipline that made her one of Remnant’s most dangerous huntresses. “You say that like you don’t know mine,” Coco said, arching deliberately into his touch, her F-cup breasts pushing against the bikini top so hard the UNSC eagle looked like it was fighting for its life with her nipples hard. “Go on, soldier boy. You’ve been staring at my abs since I walked in here. Touch them like you’re done being polite.”
Forge obeyed, not because she commanded him, but because with Coco obedience could be a kind of mutual attack. His fingers moved over her stomach, slow and firm, tracing each ridge and groove, then sliding to the sharp V of muscle at her hips where the waistband of her booty shorts clung obscenely tight revealing a perfect outfit of her pussy. Coco exhaled through a grin, her hands moving up his arms to squeeze the massive biceps and triceps, thumbs digging into the thick cords of muscle as if testing how much power he kept leashed beneath his skin. “Fuck, you’re ridiculous,” she said, wrapping both hands around one of his arms and still barely covering it. “These arms look like they were made to carry a minigun, snap a monster’s spine, and then hold me down while I talk shit in your ear.”
Forge’s mouth finally curved into a real smile, small but devastatingly human on his scarred face. “You skipped the part where I carry groceries because you refuse to make more then one trip into the house,” he said. Coco snorted, then squeezed his forearm, feeling the ropey veins and hard tendons shift. “Don’t ruin my fantasy with domestic accuracy,” she said, then leaned closer until her breasts brushed his torso through the strained bikini fabric. “Besides, I like watching you carry things. Makes me think about what else those hands can do when you stop acting like a responsible public servant.” Forge’s hands dropped lower, framing her hips, thumbs pressing into the thick muscle where her obliques cut down into her shorts. “A responsible public servant would tell you this is distracting from the workout,” he said.
Coco’s grin sharpened into something openly filthy. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t marry a responsible public servant,” she said, sliding her hands down his sides and over his waist before gripping him through the fabric of his shorts with shameless confidence as she felt his 19in length and 8 and haft inches thick dick already hard. “I married my soldier boy, my scarred-up, stubborn, seven-foot war machine who tries to act like he’s above being led around by a hot woman with big all natural tits and thighs strong enough to crush his damn skull.” Forge’s breath hitched, and Coco’s eyes lit because she caught it immediately. She always caught it, every tiny fracture in his composure, every warmth he tried to bury, every human reaction the Spartan program had failed to kill. “There he is,” she whispered, squeezing once and smiling like a predator. “That’s my husband. Not the captain, not the myth, not the classified nightmare. Mine.”
Forge’s hands tightened on her hips, and when he spoke his voice had lost some of its armor. “Yours,” he said, rough and quiet. Coco’s face softened for one heartbeat, the vulgar smirk giving way to something fiercely tender, and then she leaned up and kissed him hard enough to make the moment catch fire. It was not gentle for long, because Coco was not in a gentle mood and Forge was done pretending restraint had any authority in the room. His hands slid down over the brutal flare of her hips to her ass, gripping the dense, powerful muscle through the skin-tight shorts, and he gave a low appreciative sound against her mouth. Coco broke the kiss with a wicked little gasp and laughed. “Oh, now he remembers he has hands.”
Forge looked down at her, gray eyes darkened by heat and trust. “Your ass is difficult to ignore,” he said, the words blunt enough to make her grin. He squeezed again, not timidly, feeling the hard round strength of her glutes flex under his palms as she rocked her hips into his grip. “Good,” Coco said, voice rough with satisfaction. “I worked like hell for it. Squats, drills, hunts, Grimm fights, years of running rooftops with a handbag that turns into a damn minigun. If my husband doesn’t grab this ass like it’s one of the best things in two universes, I’ll assume he took head trauma at work.”
Forge’s laugh came quieter than hers, but it was real, warm, and unguarded in a way only Arc Haven ever got to witness. “It is one of the best things in two universes,” he said, then leaned down and kissed her neck while his hands kneaded the thick muscle with slower, rougher confidence. Coco tilted her head back, exposing her throat, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as if she could pull more of him out from under all that discipline by force. “That’s better,” she breathed. “Say more crude shit like that, soldier boy. I want to hear the big bad Spartan admit exactly how much he likes my body.”
He paused against her skin, and for a moment the old word hung there between them, known only because she knew everything that mattered. Spartan was not something he gave the world anymore; it was not a badge for this Earth, not a story for Mid-Wilshire, not a truth to drop into a police report or a fashion interview. But with Coco, it did not sound like a weapon designation. It sounded like history, pain, survival, and love folded into one name she had earned the right to use.
Forge’s hands slid from her ass to the backs of her thighs, exploring the huge, defined power there, the muscle heavy and solid beneath smooth fair skin. “I like your body because it is honest,” he said, voice low and heated as his thumbs pressed into the dense sweep of her hamstrings. “Every inch of you says exactly what you are. Strong, dangerous, arrogant in ways you can defend, beautiful enough to make rooms forget what they were doing.” Coco’s lips parted, her teasing faltering just slightly because Forge’s warmth always hit harder when he stopped hiding it. Then his mouth moved close to her ear, and his tone dropped into dry, crude honesty. “And because your tits, your ass, and these thighs have been sabotaging my judgment since Beacon.”
Coco made a delighted sound and shoved both hands against his chest. “There we fucking go,” she said, laughing with wicked triumph as she backed him toward the padded floor. “That’s the mouth I wanted. Not Captain Cole giving a briefing, but my soldier boy admitting he’s been down bad for years.” Forge allowed the backward steps until she pushed him onto the mat, his massive body landing with controlled ease while she stood over him like a queen admiring conquered territory. She reached behind her neck, slowly untied the bikini top, and let it fall away without shame, her F-cup tits bare, full, and lifted by the dense pectoral muscle beneath them Witt her light pink nipples hard and erected. Forge’s eyes tracked the movement with undisguised hunger, and Coco’s smile turned positively obscene.
“You just realized what kind of workout I want,” she said, dropping the bikini top onto his chest like a challenge flag. Forge picked it up between two fingers, glanced at the UNSC eagle, then set it aside with solemn care. “The eagle fought bravely,” he said. “It was overmatched.” Coco barked out a vulgar laugh and stepped out of her shorts just enough to make the act slow, intentional, and cruel, revealing more of the muscular body she had been using like a weapon since the first rep. “Poor thing never stood a chance against these tits,” she said, cupping herself and giving him a filthy grin. “Neither did you.”
Forge rose on one elbow, the sight of him sprawled on the mat making Coco’s eyes drag over him with open hunger. He looked less like a captain now and more like what he truly was beneath every cover story, a scarred giant of war finally safe enough to be desired instead of deployed. “I surrendered years ago,” he said. “You were too busy being smug to notice.” Coco dropped to her knees over him, straddling his waist with the casual strength of a huntress who knew exactly how powerful she was. “Bullshit,” she said, leaning down until her hair curtained around them and her breasts brushed his chest. “I noticed the first time you looked at me like discipline had just taken a bullet.”
Forge’s hands returned to her thighs, sliding up the heavy outer sweep of them, tracing the deep separation of quad muscle, the tension of a body built for explosive movement and lethal grace. “You enjoyed that,” he said. Coco rolled her hips down against him, slow and deliberate, and watched his composure thin as she grinds her pussy again his cock through their shorts. “I enjoyed every damn second,” she said, her voice vulgar and warm against his mouth. “I loved watching the stoic soldier boy realize he wanted me. I loved making you stare at my tits, my ass, my legs, all of it. And I really love that after all these years, I can still make you look at me like I’m the only thing in the room worth surviving for.”
Forge’s expression changed at that, the heat staying but something deeper opening beneath it. He reached up, not for her body first, but for her face, one scarred hand cupping her cheek with care that made her bravado quiet for half a second. “You are why I remembered I was more than surviving,” he said. “Before you, I existed between missions. With you, I came home.” Coco’s eyes softened, and for once she did not immediately bury the tenderness under a joke. She kissed his palm, then his mouth, slower this time, letting him feel that she understood.
Then she smiled against his lips, because she was still Coco, and tenderness with her always came armed. “That was beautiful,” she whispered. “Now put those big hands back on my ass before I start thinking you got sentimental enough to forget what I’m sitting on.” Forge’s chest shook with a quiet laugh, and his hands obeyed, gripping her with rougher certainty as she pressed down against him. “Demanding,” he said. “Spoiled,” Coco corrected, kissing along his jaw. “Dangerous, gorgeous, and spoiled by a man who can bench half a damn patrol car.”
The gym filled with the intimate rhythm of them moving together, not a performance for anyone else, not the polished violence of training or the distant professionalism of their public lives, but the messy, heated honesty of two people who had been soldiers too long and lovers long enough to know where every scar lived. Coco’s hands roamed over him greedily, worshiping the hard bulk of his shoulders, the enormous swell of his arms, the carved brutality of his abdomen, and the scarred planes of his chest as if she were reminding his body it belonged to pleasure too. Forge answered in kind, his palms mapping the powerful architecture of her, abs, thighs, hips, ass, back, every muscle earned through battle and stubborn pride. His touch was reverent and crude at once, the hands of a warrior and a husband, strong enough to destroy, careful enough to adore. Coco kept talking because she knew what it did to him, filthy praise and shameless teasing spilling between kisses while he grew warmer, more responsive, more human under her.
“You feel that, soldier boy?” she murmured, grinding down with a wicked smile, her voice thick with want. “That’s your wife, the hottest huntress Remnant ever produced, sitting on you in your own gym because she decided weights weren’t enough today.” Forge’s hands flexed around her ass, his breathing heavier now, eyes fixed on her like she was the center of gravity. “You are impossible,” he said. “Loud, vulgar, shameless, and impossible.” Coco leaned down until her lips brushed his ear. “And you fucking love it.”
“Yes,” Forge said, not hiding, not deflecting, not retreating behind humor this time. “I love it.” Coco stilled just enough to look at him, her smirk softening into something radiant and possessive. She kissed him again, then dragged her mouth down his throat and chest, worshiping scars the world would have only stared at, treating each one like proof that he had made it back to her. Forge’s hands moved through her hair, over her shoulders, down the powerful flare of her lats, feeling the body of the woman who had been a leader, a fighter, a huntress, a wife, and the first person who had made him feel allowed to break without being discarded as his hands continued to group at her ass he feels something between her ass as he realizes she been wearing a butt plug this entire time . He let out a low groan as he realized this, his cock twitching in anticipation.
Coco looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire and a smirk on her lips. "You like that, soldier boy?" she asked, grinding down on him again, the plug pressing against his cock through their shorts. "You like knowing I've been walking around all day with this in my ass, just waiting for you to find out?"
Forge's jaw flexed, and he nodded, his voice rough. "Yes."
Coco's grin widened, and she looks down at him saying, “See here the problem we still have shorts on and I didn’t wear any underwear but you did so what are you going to do about it, soldier boy?”
Forge's hands tightened on her hips, his eyes darkening with a mix of desire and possessiveness. "I'm going to make you take them off," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to make you strip for me, just like you did the first time I saw you in that damn Remnant uniform."
Coco's laughter was breathy and teasing as she leaned down to kiss him. "Oh, you're so sweet," she murmured, her lips brushing against his. "But I think you're forgetting something."
Forge's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her.
"I'm not forgetting anything," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her, "except the fact that we are still wearing clothes while we both know what you would have as being doing.” His hands slid down to her hips, gripping her with a possessive strength that made her breath hitch. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, Coco. You know how hard it is to think when you're sitting on my cock like this." He leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "And you know I can't wait any longer."
Coco felt the heat of his breath against her skin, and she shivered, her body responding to his words. She rocked her hips slightly, grinding against him, feeling the thick length of his cock through his shorts as her pussy is extremely wet and the plug inside her is making her even more sensitive. "Oh, you're right," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. "I do know exactly what I'm doing to you." She leaned back slightly, her eyes locked onto his, watching the desire burn in his storm-gray eyes. "But you're forgetting something too, soldier boy."
Forge's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he watched her with an intensity that made her breath catch. "What's that?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.
Coco smirked, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest. "You're still dress I while I’m enjoying grinding against your cock I would rather do it with out anyone in the way," she said, her voice teasing.
She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he opened for her. The taste of him—salt, iron, and something uniquely Forge—filled her mouth, and she moaned into the kiss, her body arching against his. Her hands slid down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abs, and she felt the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. "You're making me crazy," she whispered against his lips. "I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel every inch of you."
Forge groaned, his hands tightening on her ass as he pulled her closer, his cock pressing against her through the fabric of his shorts yet Coco pulls then down letting his 19 in long and 8 and half in thick cock free as she grins as one hand touches it as she says “This is. spear of steel hard fuck meat that is more of a truncheon of a cock than a dick. And thank god for my aura for it keeps me nice a tight otherwise I would be so loose nether of us would get any enjoyment and I still a bit shock that can fit inside my pussy with it hitting my womb but I love the feeling so I don’t care. But how about before you fuck any of my holes for I love taking your cock in my mouth, pussy or ass as much as you love using them how about I first give you a nice titty fuck?”
Coco’s voice was a sultry purr, her fingers tracing the thick veins pulsing along the underside of his cock as she leaned down to kiss the head, her tongue flicking out to taste the pearly bead of precome that had gathered there with her giving a moan as she loves the taste of him. Forge’s breath hitched, his grip on her hips tightening as he felt her hot mouth enveloping the tip of his cock, her tongue swirling around the sensitive underside before she pulled back with a wicked grin.
“You’re going to make me lose control,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “And I’m not done being in charge yet.”
Coco’s laughter was dark and knowing as she took him deeper into her mouth, her lips stretched around the girth of his cock as she bobbed her head up and down, her tongue teasing the underside of his shaft. “Oh, you’re so full of it,” she teased, her voice muffled around his cock. “You know I didn’t have me pre workout protein shake so how about I get my favorite one from you now soldier boy.” Coco’s voice was a sultry purr, her lips still wrapped around the thick head of his cock as she pulled back slowly, her tongue leaving a glistening trail down the length of him. Her fingers traced the heavy veins along his shaft, squeezing just enough to make him groan before has Forge sit on one of the weight bunches as she kneels in front of him and wraps her tits tightly around his cock as she starts kissing the head of the cock as she says “I’m going to get my protein shake then you can do what ever you want so be a good husband and cum for your wife and give her, her favorite protein shake your cum.” Forge’s hands tightened on the bench, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts as he watched her, his cock already throbbing with need. The sight of her full, perky F-cups wrapped around his length, her tongue swirling around the head, was almost too much to bear. He wanted to take control, to dominate, but the way she was teasing him with her mouth, her hands, and her words was driving him wild.
“You’re going to make me cum before I even get inside you,” he growled, his voice rough with need.
His fingers dug into the bench, his knuckles white as he watched her tits envelop his cock, the warm, tight heat of them making his vision blur. “You’re going to ruin this.”
Coco’s lips pulled back from his cock in a wicked grin, her breath hot against the sensitive underside of his shaft. “Oh, soldier boy,” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief, “I don’t ruin anything. I *perfect* it.” She took him deeper into her mouth, her lips stretched obscenely around the thick girth of him, her tongue swirling around the crown before she pulled back slowly, leaving a glistening trail of precome down his length.
Her fingers traced the heavy veins pulsing along his shaft, squeezing just enough to make him groan. Forge’s breath hitched as he watched the way her tits bounced with each movement, the way her lips glistened with his arousal, and the way her eyes darkened with hunger. “And I’m not done being in charge yet.”
Coco’s laughter was dark and knowing as she took him deeper into her mouth, her lips stretched around the girth of his cock as she bobbed her head up and down.
The sound of her throaty moans and the wet slapping noises of her tits enveloping his cock filled the gym, creating a symphony of desire. Forge’s hands tightened on the bench, his knuckles white as he watched her, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts.
Coco’s lips pulled back from his cock in a wicked grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned forward, her tits enveloping his cock even more tightly, her breath hot against his skin.
she purred, her voice thick with lust as she squeezed her breasts around him. "You like the way I take you in my mouth, my tits, and soon my pussy?"
Forge’s fingers dug into the bench, his body tensing as he fought to maintain control. "Coco," he growled, his voice a low rumble of warning. "You’re going to make me lose it."
She pulled back slightly, her lips glistening with his arousal, and looked up at him with a smirk. "And that’s exactly what I want," she said, her voice teasing. "I want you to lose it.
I want you to forget every rule, every mission, every damn thing you’ve ever been trained to be," Coco murmured, her fingers trailing down the thick veins of his cock, her tits still wrapped tightly around him. "I want you to fuck me like you’re the only thing that matters, like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered."
Forge’s breath hitched, his body tensing as he fought to keep his control. The gym was silent except for the faint sound of his ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic slapping of her tits against his cock. He looked down at her, his storm-gray eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something that made his chest tighten. Coco eyes lock onto his as she feels his cock twitch between her tits and as she kiss the head