Chapter 4: Brian's face is shoved into the mats as Hayahide spreads her asscheeks, spitting on her tight hole before plunging three fingers inside while Tatsuya fucks Brian's throat with brutal thrusts, her gagging sounds only encouraging him to push deeper until her nose presses against his pubic bone with each stroke.
The silence in the days that followed was a physical weight. Training continued with a brutal, focused intensity, but the easy camaraderie was gone, replaced by a charged current that hummed beneath every instruction, every shared glance. The memory of the dawn in the tent clung to them, a secret so large it distorted the air between them.
It was Brian who finally broke the stalemate, her competitive nature refusing to let the tension go unresolved. After a grueling session of interval runs, she gestured with a sharp jerk of her head toward the equipment storage. "The new resistance bands," she said, her voice flat. "We need them. Now."
Biwa’s eyes met Tatsuya’s, a flicker of understanding passing between them. This was not about bands. Without a word, the three of them walked across the turf, the afternoon sun casting long shadows that seemed to herd them toward the isolated, corrugated metal building.
The inside was cavernous and cool, smelling sharply of liniment, old leather, and dust. A single bare bulb hanging from a wire cast a jaundiced light, leaving deep pools of shadow between towering shelves of hurdles and stacks of gym mats. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them in.
Brian didn't hesitate. She walked to a haphazard pile of folded mats in a dim corner, her back to them. Her hands went to the waistband of her shorts. "Well?" she said, the word echoing slightly in the vast space.
She bent over, bracing her hands on the topmost mat, the powerful muscles of her legs and back tensing. She pushed her shorts and underwear down to her knees in one swift, impatient motion, exposing herself to the cool, dusty air. The light caught the slick, already-glistening flesh between her thighs. "We're not on the beach anymore. Stop thinking and start fucking."
Tatsuya’s breath hitched. The raw command in her voice, so different from Biwa's liquid seduction, was a direct challenge. He moved forward, his own arousal a painful throb, but Biwa was faster. A sly smile played on her lips as she approached Brian from behind.
"Always so impatient, Brian," she murmured, her voice a soft counterpoint to the harsh surroundings. She knelt behind her friend, her elegant hands sliding up Brian's inner thighs. "You never take the time to properly warm up."
Brian flinched as Biwa’s fingers found her, a sharp intake of breath hissing through her teeth. "F-fuck you, Hayahide," she grunted, but she pushed her hips back, inviting the intrusion.
"Look at her," Biwa said, her eyes locked on Tatsuya as her fingers slid deep inside Brian, moving in a slow, twisting rhythm. "So tight. So eager for it. She’s been like this all week, thinking about this. About you."
Tatsuya was rooted to the spot, watching Biwa’s fingers disappear into Brian’s wetness, the lewd, slick sounds impossibly loud in the quiet room. The scent of their arousal began to mix with the odor of leather and oil, creating a heady, animal perfume.
"Your turn," Biwa said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "She wants your cock in her mouth. She wants to taste herself on you."
That broke his paralysis. He strode forward, fumbling with his tracksuit pants. His erection sprung free, hard and aching. Brian’s eyes, dark and blazing with a mixture of defiance and need, locked onto him as he approached. She opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
He didn't need further encouragement. He guided himself between her lips, and she took him in with a desperate, greedy hunger. There was no hesitation, no gentle teasing. She deep-throated him immediately, her gag reflex a mere formality she conquered with a practiced ease that stunned him. The heat and wetness of her mouth was overwhelming, her tongue working furiously along his length.
Biwa increased her pace, fucking Brian with her fingers, her other hand gripping Brian's hip hard enough to leave marks. "That's it," Biwa coaxed, her breath coming faster. "Take it all. Show him what a good girl you can be when you stop pretending."
Brian’s moans were guttural, vibrating around his shaft. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes from the force of his thrusts into her throat. Spit dripped down her chin, onto the mat below. The combined sensations were too much—the visual of Brian bent and being used, the feel of her desperate mouth, the knowledge that Biwa was driving her ever closer to the edge.
"I'm gonna come," Brian gagged around his cock, the words muffled but unmistakable.
"Not yet," Biwa commanded, her voice sharp. She withdrew her soaking fingers and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Brian's ass. The sound cracked through the room. Brian cried out, the vibration a lightning bolt up Tatsuya's spine. "You come when he does. You swallow every drop."
The crude order, the sheer degradation of it, sent Tatsuya over the edge. With a ragged groan, he shoved himself as deep as he could into Brian's throat and emptied himself, his release pulsing down her in hot, thick streams. She struggled for a second, then swallowed convulsively, her throat working around him, taking it all.
As his spasms subsided, he pulled out, breathless. Biwa didn't miss a beat. She positioned herself behind Brian again, but this time, she pressed her own body against Brian's ass, grinding her clothed pelvis against her, whispering filthy encouragement in her ear. "Now. Come for us, Brian. Come all over these mats."
With a shattered cry that was half-sob, half-triumphant scream, Brian's body clenched and shuddered, her orgasm wracking her frame so violently her legs buckled. Biwa held her up, her own face flushed with a vicarious pleasure.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, echoing in the dusty silence of the storage room. Brian slowly straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes avoiding theirs. The competitive fire was banked, replaced by a deep, sated exhaustion.
Biwa was the first to speak, her voice regaining its usual composed tone, though it was edged with something new, something possessive. She looked from Brian's spent form to Tatsuya's stunned face. "The resistance bands," she said, smoothing down her own clothes. "We should probably actually take them. It would look suspicious otherwise."
The mundane statement hung in the air, a flimsy curtain drawn over the raw act that had just transpired. They were still trainer and athletes. The race was still days away. But the track outside, the world of rules and order, felt a million miles away from the truth of this dark, sweaty room.