Chapter 5: The hot water cascades over their entwined forms as Brian fingers Hayahide's dripping cunt while Tatsuya slams into her tight ass, their moans echoing off the wet tiles as soapy hands roam across trembling flesh.
The resistance bands felt like a lie in his hands, a flimsy prop from a play they’d all forgotten they were in. The walk back to the main building was silent, the only sound the crunch of gravel under their feet. The air was cool, but it did nothing to quench the heat radiating from the three of them.
Training the next day was a study in forced normalcy. Tatsuya called out splits, corrected form, offered encouragement, all while his skin prickled with the memory of Brian’s throat convulsing around him. Brian ran with a furious, pent-up energy, her kicks throwing up divots of turf. Biwa was calmer, more measured, but her eyes followed Tatsuya with a new, unsettling ownership.
When the final whistle blew, the silence returned, heavier than before. “Showers,” Tatsuya said, his voice hoarse. It wasn’t a suggestion.
The shower room was a cavern of white tile and echoing water. Steam billowed from the stalls, clouding the air with the scent of cheap soap and the deeper, musky odor of horse and exhausted earth. Brian and Biwa stripped without hesitation, their movements economical, their eyes never leaving him. He stood just inside the doorway, still clothed, a spectator in his own life.
Water sluiced over Brian’s powerful shoulders, tracing the hard lines of her musculature. Biwa’s elegance was somehow more pronounced in the starkness of the tiles, her body a study in graceful curves. They stood for a moment under the separate streams, watching him.
Then Brian moved. It wasn’t a walk; it was a pounce. She crossed the space in two strides and pushed Biwa back against the wet, cold tiles, her body slamming into her friend’s with a damp smack. Biwa gasped, a sharp, surprised sound that was swallowed by the steam, but her hands came up to clutch at Brian’s slick shoulders, her nails digging in.
“You think you’re in charge now?” Brian growled, her mouth against Biwa’s ear. Her thigh shoved between Biwa’s legs, pressing insistently. “After what you did? After what you made me do?”
Biwa’s head fell back against the tile with a soft thud. Her eyes, dark and gleaming, found Tatsuya’s over Brian’s shoulder. “I didn’t make you do anything. You were begging for it.” She arched her back, grinding herself against Brian’s thigh. “Just like you’re begging now.”
Tatsuya’s feet were rooted to the spot. He could only watch as Brian’s hands slid down Biwa’s back, over the swell of her ass, gripping hard. Their bodies were a single, glistening form in the steam, sliding and grinding, all wet skin and strained breath. Brian bit at Biwa’s neck, not a love bite, but a claim. Biwa cried out, a sharp, pleasure-pained sound that echoed off the tiles.
Then Biwa’s hand snaked behind herself, fingers splaying across her own buttock. She looked directly at Tatsuya, her gaze unwavering, challenging. “Stop watching,” she breathed, her voice a husky command that cut through the splash of water. “Your turn.”
She pulled her cheek aside, exposing herself to him completely—the tight, hidden furrow between her legs, glistening and offered. “Fuck me properly, Sensei.”
That broke the last of his resolve. He was out of his clothes in a frantic, clumsy rush, his own arousal a painful, urgent weight. The steam enveloped him as he moved forward, the warm, wet air thick in his lungs. Brian didn’t move away. Instead, she pressed Biwa harder against the wall, pinning her in place, her own body providing the leverage.
He guided himself into the heat between Biwa’s spread cheeks. She was impossibly tight, and she let out a choked, guttural moan as he pushed inside, her body yielding to his with a wet, surrendering gasp. Brian watched, her face a mask of fierce concentration, her own hips moving in a slow, rhythmic grind against Biwa’s ass, mirroring his thrusts.
“Harder,” Brian snarled, her voice rough with a lust that was both for him and for the control she wielded over her friend. “Don’t you fucking hold back on her.”
He obeyed. He drove into Biwa, his hands gripping her hips, the sound of their bodies meeting a wet, slapping counterpoint to the drumming shower. Biwa’s moans became a continuous, breathy stream of filth. “Yes—right there—oh god, fill me up—!” Her words dissolved into a shattered cry as Brian’s teeth found her shoulder again.
The world shrank to the three of them in that steam-choked space: the push and pull of bodies, the smell of sex and soap and sweat, the raw, crude sounds of their coupling. It was overwhelming, a sensory flood that swept away all thought. Tatsuya felt his climax building, a tight coil in his gut, spurred on by the sight of Brian’s possessive dominance and the feel of Biwa’s tight, clutching heat.
He came with a raw, shouted groan, his release pumping into Biwa as she convulsed around him, her own orgasm triggering Brian’s. Brian’s body stiffened, a silent, powerful shudder racking her frame as she ground herself against Biwa’s ass, her face buried in the other girl’s wet hair.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, propping each other up, breath coming in ragged gasps. The steam began to thin. The sound of a distant voice echoed from the hallway, a reminder of the world outside.
Brian was the first to move. She pulled back, her expression unreadable, and stepped under her own shower stream, letting the water rinse the evidence from her skin as if washing away a stain. Biwa sagged against the tiles, spent, a small, satisfied smile touching her lips before she, too, turned back to the water.
Tatsuya stood there, naked and exposed, the water from their showers beginning to run cold around his feet. The race was tomorrow. The stands would be full, the cameras would be rolling. He looked at the two powerful young women washing themselves clean, and felt the terrifying, exhilarating truth solidify in his gut: he had no idea what game they were playing anymore, or who was really training whom.