Page 2 of Knot Just a Spectator
Well, they’retied,but I saw Sol first.
Roxie Calloway walks in barefoot, black tape already wrapped around her knuckles, black sports bra, and fight shorts that should be illegal on a body like hers. A long dark ponytail sweeps behind her as she approaches, that permanent half-smirk making an appearance that makes me want to bite it off her face. Black tea and warm leather rolls across the mats, juniper spiking in her scent the second her eyes land on me. She looks like she wants to eat me alive and then use my bones for warm-ups.
Yes, please.
She stops at the edge of our mat, arms crossed, and stares at me. “Your takedown form is embarrassing for both of us, Reyes.”
I push up off the mat, sweat slicking my curls to my forehead, my singlet plastered to every ridge of muscle, and the very obvious outline of my cock. I twist the new lip ring, letting my grin go feral. “Aw, Calloway. You been watching me? Didn’t know you cared.”
She doesn’t blink. “I care about not having to share mats with someone who wrestles like a drunk toddler. Fix it or get off my mat.”
Sol’s voice cuts in, a dangerous edge to her words. “Calloway. Focus on your own warm-up.” Something in Sol’s voice makes me wonder if there’s a spark there, but I dismiss it.
Roxie’s already stepping onto the mat, circling me slowly, eyes dragging over my body the same way mine dragged over Sol’s earlier. Her scent crashes into mine, the combination of both Alphas’ scents making my hole clench.
I can’t help it. The brat in me wins.
“Careful, Calloway. Keep looking at me like that, and people are gonna think you want a private lesson.”
She laughs once. “Private lesson? Baby, I’d put you on your back so fast you’d tap before you finished begging.”
My cock jerks so hard the piercing tugs against the fabric. Slick blooms between my cheeks, soaking the inside of the singlet. Fuck. I can smell it. So can they. Sol’s cinnamon spikes so hard I taste it on the back of my tongue as Roxie’s tea scent thickens.
I open my mouth for another quip, something filthy about how good I’d look begging, but my body is already screaming at me, slick threatening to drip down my leg if I don’t get the hell out of here.
I jerk my thumb toward the locker room. “Gonna hit the showers. Can’t have the new guy stinking up your precious mats, right?”
Sol’s eyes snap to mine. “Reyes—”
I don’t wait for the rest. I grab my bag and bolt.
The locker room is blessedly empty as I slam the door behind me, flip the lock, and peel the singlet off so fast the fabric burns my skin. My cock springs free, the silver barbell at the head already shiny with pre-cum. My thighs are slick and the scent of dark cherry, bourbon, and burnt sugar and desperate Omega floods the tiled space.
I love the teasing. I love pushing them until their control cracks. But my body? My body is a fucking traitor, and it’s not sure it can take much more without combusting.
I step into the last stall, crank the water as hot as I can stand, and brace one hand on the tile. The other wraps around my cock, slow at first, just the way I know Sol likes to tease me. I close my eyes and it’s her face in my head. That arched brow, the faded scar through her eyebrow, the way her mouth goes tight right before she almost loses it. I stroke faster, my thumb dragging over the piercing, imagining her voice in my ear.
“Reyes, you keep pushing and I won’t stop.”
My hips jerk forward as a broken sound slips out of me.
Then the fantasy shifts, because my brain is a greedy little shit, and suddenly it’s not just Sol. It’s both of them. Roxie behind me, chest pressed to my back, teeth scraping the side of my neck while her hand settles on my waist. Sol on her knees in front of me, red braid loose, dark eyes locked on mine as she takes me down her throat. Roxie’s free hand sliding between my cheeks, two thick fingers pushing into my slick hole while she growls against my ear, “That’s it, brat. Take what you’ve been begging for.”
I moan loud enough that it echoes off the tiles. My hand flies over my cock as I picture Sol’s cinnamon scent mixing with Roxie’s, them sandwiching me between their bodies as they switch positions, Sol’s mouth on my throat, Roxie’s teeth on my inner thigh, both of them claiming me while I fall apart.
“Fuck—Sol—Roxie—”
My balls draw up tight and the orgasm hits like a train, whiting out the edge of my vision. Thick ropes of cum paint the shower wall, my hand, and my stomach. I keep stroking through it, my hole clenching around nothing while more slick leaks down my thighs. The fantasy won’t stop. I see Sol’s eyes blown black with lust, Roxie’s smirk turning soft and dangerous, both of them pressing me down into the mats, into their bed, into their lives.
I come again, a softer orgasm than the first, but my knees buckle until I’m slumped against the cold tile, water beating down on my back.
For ten glorious seconds, it’s perfect.
Then reality crashes back in.
I just jerked off in the locker room shower to a double fantasy about my coach and a fellow athlete, both of whom are currently twenty feet away on the mats. Both of whom definitely smelled how turned on I was before I ran. Both of whom I’ve been lowkey obsessed with for over a year, and who have been dancing around the same obsession right back.
I’m so fucked.
I’m not just talking about the fact that I’m hard again already. I’m talking about the way my scent is going to be all over this shower for the next hour. The way my hole is still fluttering like it’s waiting for their fingers and their tongues. The way I can already feel the emotional coil between the three of us pulling so tight it’s going to snap and take the entire athletic department down with it.
I press my forehead to the wet tile and laugh once, the shaky sound filled with mild hysteria.
“Shit,” I mutter, voice wrecked. “I am in so much fucking trouble.” Dad said I could do whatever I wanted so long as I behaved. This... is not behaving.
And the worst part?
I can’t wait for what happens next.
