Before Ash could detangle his thoughts—disgust, confusion, a flicker of unwanted possessiveness—the metallic scrape of the door latch cut through the humid air. They’d forgotten to lock it. The clock on the wall ticked audibly, hitting 9:00 AM precisely as the knob jiggled violently, then turned.
The door swung open with a protesting groan. Framed in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway stood Liam Yang, the team’s star junior heavyweight. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, his usual cocky grin instantly freezing into stunned disbelief. His eyes scanned the wreckage of the practice room: the discarded gear, the sweat-slicked mat, Coach Miller sprawled naked beside Jake, who was wearing nothing but Asher’s blue jockstrap, and Asher himself, lying naked and spent, cum drying on his stomach. The scent of sex and exertion hit Liam like a physical blow.
The fluorescent hallway lights backlit Liam’s towering 6'3" frame, rendering his short white athletic shorts almost translucent. Beneath them, the stark black straps of his jockstrap cut sharply across the powerful swell of his ass—globes that strained the fabric. The pouch cradled a heavy, unmistakable bulge. An old, grey university hoodie loosely fit across his massive frame. Below, clean white Nike crew socks disappeared into scuffed high-top sneakers that hinted at hours spent drilling on these same mats. Every inch radiated coiled, impatient power.
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Liam’s gaze locked onto Jake’s hands adjusting the blue straps on his hips, then flicked to Miller’s naked form, then finally settled on Asher’s exposed, trembling body. His jaw clenched, knuckles whitening on the doorframe. "What," Liam finally rasped, his voice low and dangerously tight, cutting through the stillness, "the *actual* fuck is going on here?"
Miller pushed himself up onto one elbow, his expression shifting from post-sex satisfaction to sharp, calm calculation. Asher scrambled backward, grabbing his discarded navy singlet to cover himself, the vinyl chilling his bare skin. Liam stepped fully into the room, his imposing frame blocking the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping over the scene with a mix of confusion and dawning fury. The air crackled with tension, thick as the scent of sex still hanging heavy between them.
Liam’s gaze lingered on the blue jockstrap stretched taut over Jake’s ass, then snapped to Miller. "Coach?" he said, the word clipped, dangerous. "You running some kind of... *special* training session?" His knuckles whitened on the doorframe, the tendons in his thick neck standing out like cords.
Miller rose slowly, fluid and unashamed, his cock swaying with the motion. His dark eyes locked onto Liam’s. "Exactly that," he replied, voice steady, authoritative. He gestured casually toward Asher and Jake. "Private coaching. Advanced drills. These two needed to learn composure under extreme physical duress." He met Liam’s furious stare without flinching. "Every participant here consented. Fully. It’s about pushing limits, Yang. Something you should understand as a seasoned member of this team."
Liam’s laugh was sharp, brittle. "Bullshit," he spat, stepping further into the room, his sneakers squeaking on the vinyl. His gaze raked over Jake’s lean, muscular form, the drying streaks of cum on Asher’s abdomen, the raw flush on Jake’s neck where Miller’s teeth had left marks. "This isn’t coaching. This is a fucking orgy." He jabbed a finger toward Miller. "You think the board will buy that? ‘Special drills’?" His voice dripped with contempt. "I’ll have your job for this." His eyes flicked to Asher and Jake. "How dare you take advantage of these students under your supervision."
Jake stepped forward, leading with his bulge. He met Liam’s furious glare with a lazy smile. "Advantage?" he drawled, spreading his hands. "I asked for it, Yang. I organized this skin-on-skin practice sesh." He gestured toward Asher. "Ash too. We needed this." Coach Miller interjected, sharp and challenging. "Try telling anyone. Who’s gonna believe you walked in on your coach and his two freshmen wrestlers blowing off steam? Sounds like a jealous fantasy." Beside him, Asher nodded stiffly, his knuckles white on the singlet bunched in his lap. "It was mutual," Asher forced out, voice thick but firm. "Our choice."
The words tasted like ash, but Asher held Liam’s stare. A strange heat bloomed beneath the shame. He remembered Jake’s choked moans beneath him, the raw power of Miller’s body yielding to his thrusts. The submission. The control. His cock twitched against his singlet. He *had* been scared and unwilling at first, confused by the pressure, the intimacy. But now? The memory of Jake writhing under him, Miller’s guttural praise in his ear… it coiled low in his gut, dark and undeniable. He *wanted* it again. Wanted the sweat, the strain, the claiming. He met Liam’s eyes. "We’re not victims," Asher added, voice gaining strength. "We’re learning."
Liam’s furious expression flickered, replaced by sharp calculation. His gaze swept the room again, taking in the three practically naked men. Captaincy. That was the prize. The leverage here was immense. A slow, predatory smile replaced his outrage. He stepped further into the room, letting the door click shut behind him. "Learning," Liam echoed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Interesting." He crossed his massive arms, the fabric of his hoodie stretching tight over his chest. "So, Coach. I think we have the chance to both benefit here."
He walked slowly towards Miller, his sneakers silent on the vinyl. Stopping just inches from the naked coach, Liam looked down at him, his dark eyes unblinking. "I want the captaincy locked in," he stated, his voice flat and final. "No vote. No competition. My name announced at the end-of-season banquet." He paused, letting the demand hang in the thick air. "You guarantee that, Coach Miller, and what I walked in on… vanishes. My lips stay sealed. The board never hears a whisper." His gaze flicked to Asher and Jake. "And these two? They keep their scholarships. Their futures. Everyone wins." He tilted his head slightly. "Unless you’d rather I walk out that door right now and make a call."
Miller didn’t hesitate. "Done," he said, the word crisp and absolute. "Captaincy is yours, Yang. Consider it handled." He held Liam’s stare, an unspoken understanding passing between them. "Captain Yang. It has a ring to it." He extended his hand. Liam ignored it. Instead, his gaze swept over Jake’s lean corded body, then lingered on Asher himself, still half-covered by the singlet. "Good," he murmured. Then, his voice dropped, thick with intent. "But if this is truly consensual training… advanced pressure drills…"
Liam’s eyes darkened, locking onto Miller’s. "Then I want in." He didn’t ask; he declared it. In one fluid motion, Liam gripped the hem of his grey hoodie and pulled it over his head, taking the tight black undershirt with it. The fabric peeled away, revealing a torso carved from granite—broad shoulders flowed into biceps thick as tree trunks, veins snaking over defined ridges. His chest was a solid shelf of muscle, tapering to a narrow waist where deep abdominal grooves disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts. Sweat glistened on his deep tan skin, catching the fluorescent light. Every flexed sinew spoke of raw, coiled power.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his white shorts and shoved them down his thickly muscled legs. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in nothing but the stark black jockstrap, pristine white crew socks, and scuffed high-top sneakers. The jock’s straps dug into the meaty swell of his hips, framing an ass so powerfully developed it strained the nylon—two perfect, heavy globes that flexed as he stepped free of the shorts. The pouch cradled an obviously thick cock, a pronounced bulge even soft. He kicked the shorts aside, standing like a gladiator surveying an arena.
Miller watched, a slow, approving smirk spreading across his face. "Welcome to the drill, Captain," he said, his voice rough. He gestured towards Jake, who stood frozen, still clad only in Asher’s blue jockstrap. "Riley here earned the right to top Kovac next. Promised him during the session." Jake’s eyes snapped to Miller, a flicker of surprise and something hotter—triumph—flashing in his green eyes. He adjusted the blue straps on his hips, his gaze locking onto Asher. "About damn time," Jake breathed, stepping forward, his lean body coiled.
Liam’s deep brown eyes swept over Jake’s eagerness, then settled on Asher’s naked, sweat-slicked form still half-covered by the singlet. "Round two?" Liam challenged, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the humid air. He flexed his massive shoulders, the black jockstrap straps digging deeper into his tan skin. "You two even have anything left?" His gaze dropped pointedly to Asher’s softening cock, then Jake’s bulge. "Or did Coach drain you dry already?" A grin spread across Liam’s face. "Because I’m just getting started."
Miller stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. "Show them what captain material looks like, Yang," he commanded, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Kovac? Riley? Defend yourselves." Jake didn’t wait. He lunged at Liam, aiming low for the Junior’s thick legs. Liam moved with startling speed for his size—a sidestep that left Jake stumbling past. Before Jake could recover, Liam’s massive hand clamped onto the back of the blue jockstrap, yanking Jake backward. Jake’s feet left the mat as Liam effortlessly hoisted him off the ground, suspending him in the air by the straps digging into his hips. Jake kicked wildly, his face contorted in shock. "Fuck! Put me down!" Liam’s expression remained cold, focused. He slammed Jake chest-first onto the mat with a thud, driving the air from his lungs. "You're out Riley. Have a seat."
Asher scrambled to his feet, his singlet forgotten. He charged Liam, his cock wildly swaying, low and hard, driving his shoulder into the back of Liam’s knee. Liam grunted, buckling slightly—but he didn’t fall. Instead, he pivoted, one hand still pinning Jake’s neck to the mat. His other arm shot out, catching Asher in a brutal headlock. Asher gasped, the crook of Liam’s elbow crushing his windpipe. He clawed at the thick, sweat-slicked forearm, attempting to break free.
Liam wrenched Asher backward, dragging him across the mat. Asher’s back slammed into Liam’s chest, the Junior’s powerful legs locking around his waist in a crushing scissor hold. Liam’s thick cock, straining against the black jock pouch, pressed hot and heavy against the small of Asher’s back. Asher struggled, his own cock stiffening from the friction and tension as Liam’s grip tightened. The friction, the raw dominance—it sent a jolt through him. His breath hitched. Six inches soft thickened rapidly, veins swelling beneath olive skin, rising to seven, then eight. The head flushed dark, foreskin taut, jutting obscenely outward, proudly standing at nine massive inches.
With a grunt, Liam shifted his weight. He hooked one massive leg over Asher’s shoulder, forcing him flat onto his back. Before Asher could react, Liam straddled his hips, facing away. His thick, tan ass hovered directly over Asher’s throbbing erection. Liam reached back, his fingers brushing Asher’s slick cockhead. He spat once, thickly, onto his palm, then slicked Asher’s length roughly. "Hold still, rookie," Liam growled. He lowered himself slowly, deliberately, his powerful ass cheeks spreading. The tight, hot ring of muscle pressed against Asher’s swollen head. Asher cried out in pleasure as Liam slid down, impaling himself inch by inch onto Asher’s massive, rigid cock. The stretch was immense, the heat unbearable. Liam’s deep groan vibrated through them both.
"Fuck," Liam gasped, his voice strained as he bottomed out, Asher’s full nine inches buried deep inside him. He shifted his weight, grinding down, making Asher gasp. "Never felt anything... this thick." He clenched deliberately, the powerful muscles of his ass rippling around Asher’s shaft. "Like being split open." Liam began to move, rising slowly until just the head remained inside, then dropping back down with brutal force. Each downward thrust punched the air from Asher’s lungs, sending waves of white-hot pleasure up his spine. Asher’s hands flew to Liam’s thick hips, fingers digging into the hard muscle as he bucked upward, meeting the rhythm. "Yes!" Asher choked out, lost in the tight, consuming heat.
Jake watched, transfixed, sitting on the sidelines. His green eyes were dark, fixed on the sweat-slicked expanse of Liam’s back, the powerful flex of his ass swallowing Asher whole. Then Jake moved. He scrambled forward, his blue jockstrap straining against his growing dick. Kneeling beside Liam’s head, Jake hooked his thumbs into the black straps of Liam’s jock. With a sharp tug to the side, he freed Liam’s thick, curved cock from the pouch. It sprang free, fully hard, a heavy seven inches with a pronounced downward curve. Jake leaned down, his ginger hair brushing Liam’s shoulder. Without hesitation, he took the swollen head into his mouth, sucking hard.
Liam threw his head back with a guttural roar as Jake’s mouth enveloped him. The dual sensation—Asher pounding up into him, Jake sucking him down—drove him wild. His hips jerked, fucking deeper onto Asher while thrusting into Jake’s throat. Sweat poured down Liam’s heaving chest as he rode Asher with practiced intensity, his powerful body dominating both freshmen, his cock pulsing against Jake’s eager tongue.
Asher lost himself in the rhythm, every thrust driving Liam’s ass down onto his cock with bruising force. The tight heat, the raw power beneath his hands—it consumed him. He slammed upward, burying himself to the hilt, grinding against Liam’s prostate. Liam shuddered, his roar turning into a choked gasp. "Fuck, Kovac! Deeper!" Asher obeyed, pistoning his hips, the wet slap of skin echoing as Liam’s body milked him relentlessly.
Jake gagged but didn’t pull back, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked Liam’s thick curve. His free hand gripped Liam’s thigh, fingers digging into corded muscle. Precum flooded Jake’s mouth, salty and thick. He swallowed greedily, bobbing faster, his own neglected cock straining against the jockstrap. Liam’s hand tangled in Jake’s ginger hair, forcing him down harder. "Suck it, Riley," Liam snarled, hips snapping. "Take it all."
Coach Miller watched from the shadows, arms crossed, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes tracked every movement—Liam’s sweat-slicked back flexing, Asher’s face contorted in ecstasy, Jake’s desperate suction. The air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of sex and dominance. Miller’s own cock stirred, hardening against his thigh. "Good," he murmured, low and approving. "Now that's how we practice."
Liam suddenly stilled, his powerful thighs locking around Asher’s hips. He pulled off Jake’s mouth with a wet pop, ignoring the freshman’s gasp. "Enough," he growled, his voice rough but controlled. He lifted himself off Asher’s throbbing cock, the slick slide drawing a groan from both. "Riley earned his turn." Liam stood, his massive frame towering. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze fixed on Jake. "Show me what you promised, Ginger. Fuck him."
Jake scrambled to his feet, freeing his cock from the side of the jock's pouch. He didn’t hesitate. Shoving Asher onto his back, Jake spat into his palm and slicked his curved cock. Asher’s legs fell open instinctively, his hole still stretched and glistening. Jake positioned himself, pressing his flushed head against the loosened rim. "Ready bro?" Jake breathed, eyes locked on Asher’s. "I'll try to go easy for you." He thrust slowly, burying himself in one smooth stroke. Asher arched off the mat, crying out—pain and surrender twisting into pleasure as Jake filled him.
Liam watched, a predator circling. He gripped Jake’s hips, forcing him deeper. "Harder," Liam commanded, his voice a low rumble. Jake obeyed, slamming into Asher with brutal force. Each thrust drove Asher’s shoulders into the vinyl, Jake’s freckled skin slapping against olive. Liam’s thick cock pressed against Jake’s ass crack, grinding. "Fuck him like you mean it," Liam growled, his hips rolling. Jake gasped, thrusts faltering as Liam’s cockhead teased his hole. "Don’t stop," Asher choked out, hips lifting to meet Jake’s rhythm.
Miller stepped forward, a challenge in his eyes. "Captain material?" he taunted, nodding at Liam’s straining cock. Liam’s gaze snapped to him, dark and hungry. In two strides, Liam pinned Miller against the cold cinderblock wall. The coach’s back hit hard, breath hissing out. Liam’s thick arms caged him, sweat dripping from his jaw onto Miller’s chest. "Showtime, Coach," Liam growled, yanking Miller’s hips forward. His sneakers squeaked on the vinyl, white socks stark against his tan calves.
Liam spat into his palm, slicked his heavy shaft—seven inches, hard and curved downward, poking out from the left of his jock's pouch. He spun Miller around and pressed the swollen head against Miller’s entrance. "Hold still," Liam ordered. Miller braced, jaw clenched. Liam drove in with one brutal thrust, burying to the hilt. Miller arched, a choked gasp escaping as the pronounced curve scraped deep inside him. "Fuck!" Miller rasped, fingers scrabbling at the wall. Liam’s jockstrap dug into his hips, the black straps framing his ass as he began to piston.
The downward curve hit Miller’s prostate dead-on with every snap of Liam’s hips. Miller’s eyes rolled back, moans ripped from his throat. Liam fucked him relentlessly, sneakers planted wide, socks damp with sweat. The wet slap of skin echoed—Liam’s thick thighs driving into Miller’s ass, the curve grinding that sweet spot again and again. Miller’s cock leaked onto his stomach, untouched. "That’s it, Captain," Miller panted, voice wrecked. "Fucking show me you deserve the title." Liam’s grin was savage as he hammered harder, the wall shuddering.
Beside them, Jake pounded into Asher with desperate, shallow thrusts. His five inches curved upward, rubbing Asher’s prostate with each plunge. Asher writhed, his own massive cock slapping against his stomach, precum pooling on his abs. Jake leaned close, breath hot on Asher’s ear. "You love this, don’t you?" he hissed, fingers digging bruises into Asher’s hips. "Taking my cock after you claimed Liam's hole." Asher could only gasp, nodding frantically, his hole clenching around Jake’s cock.
Liam suddenly pulled out of Miller, leaving the coach sagging against the wall. He stalked toward Jake and Asher, his cock glistening. "My turn again," Liam declared, shoving Jake aside. Jake stumbled back, panting. Liam flipped Asher onto his stomach, gripped his hips, and slammed back into his stretched hole without warning. Asher screamed into the mat, the brutal stretch stealing his breath. Liam rode him hard, his heavy balls slapping Asher’s ass, each thrust driving him deeper than Jake ever could.
Miller recovered, stalking toward Jake. He spun the ginger onto his back, hooked his knees over his shoulders, and thrust into him in one motion. Jake cried out, back arching. The room filled with grunts, the slick slap of skin, the raw scent of sex. Miller fucked Jake with punishing strokes while Liam dominated Asher beside them—a symphony of sweat, strain, and surrender under the flickering fluorescent lights.
Liam caught Miller’s gaze mid-thrust. A slow, primal smirk touched their lips. Still buried deep—Liam in Asher, Miller in Jake—they reached across the tangled bodies. Knuckles met in a rough fist bump, slick with sweat. Approval flashed in their eyes. Then, as one, their rhythm shifted. Gone was the brutal pace. Instead, they began slow, deep rolls of their hips, grinding into the tight heat beneath them. Miller leaned down, murmuring something low and rough into Jake’s ear that made the freshman shiver. Liam’s massive hand smoothed down Asher’s trembling spine, a gesture almost tender amidst the intensity.
The change was electric. Jake’s frantic gasps softened into choked whimpers as Miller filled him completely with each lingering stroke, the coach’s thick cock pressing relentlessly against his prostate. Beside him, Asher melted into the mat, Liam’s heavy downward curve finding that perfect, deep spot inside him with every deliberate grind. The harsh sounds faded, replaced by low groans and the wet slide of skin. Miller’s thumb brushed Jake’s cheekbone, wiping away a tear track. Liam’s free hand tangled gently in Asher’s dark hair, holding him steady. It wasn’t gentle, but it was intimate—a shared, consuming closeness that blurred the lines between dominance and something dangerously close to affection.
Sensation built like a slow-burning fuse. Jake’s freckled skin flushed crimson, his cock leaking steadily onto his stomach, untouched. Asher’s massive length throbbed against the vinyl, precum pooling beneath him. Miller’s breath hitched, his thrusts growing subtly uneven. Liam’s powerful thighs trembled where they straddled Asher.
Liam’s rhythm stuttered first. A guttural groan tore from his throat as his hips snapped forward, burying his thick, curved cock impossibly deep inside Asher. His powerful body locked, muscles rigid as his release surged—hot pulses flooding Asher’s core. Liam gasped, head thrown back, his grip on Asher’s hips bruising. "Fuck... your hole is perfect," he choked out, grinding down, milking every drop into the trembling freshman beneath him.
Asher felt the hot spill deep inside him, bringing him closer to climax. He arched violently off the mat, his massive cock jerking against the vinyl as he fought off the rising tide of cum. Jake watched, green eyes wide and desperate, his own neglected cock hard and leaking. Miller’s thrusts grew erratic, as he gripped the waistband of Jake's jockstrap, his own release imminent. "Everyone pull out!" Miller barked, his voice ragged. "Now!"
Asher and Jake obeyed instantly, scrambling back. Liam’s softening cock slipped free from Asher’s gaping hole with a wet sound, followed by Miller withdrawing from Jake. Coach Miller dropped heavily to his knees between them, his olive skin gleaming under the harsh lights. He tilted his face upward, eyes dark with command. "Do it," he ordered, jaw clenched. "Cover me."
Jake stepped forward first, the blue jockstrap straps digging into the pale skin of his hips. His upward-curved cock, flushed and slick, jutted proudly from the pouch. He gripped the base, pumping once, twice—then thick, pearly ropes spurted across Miller’s forehead and left cheek, dripping down into his dark stubble. Asher followed, his massive, nine-inch shaft still rigid. He fisted himself roughly, a low groan escaping as his release hit—thick, heavy spurts painting Miller’s right cheek, chin, and lips white.
Miller’s own cock twitched, untouched, against his thigh. As the last drops of Asher and Jake’s cum dripped onto his chin, he shuddered. His release wasn’t a spray but a heavy, pulsing spill—thick streams of semen erupting onto the vinyl mat between his knees, pooling beneath him in a glistening puddle. He remained kneeling, chest heaving, face streaked with their cum, his own spend cooling on the floor. His gaze, sharp and assessing, swept over Asher’s broad, sweat-slicked, cum-streaked torso and Jake’s lean, muscular frame.
"Not half bad," Miller rasped, wiping a smear of Jake’s cum from his cheekbone with the back of his hand. His eyes locked onto Asher, then Jake, a flicker of genuine appraisal cutting through the haze of exertion. "Raw. Unrefined. But the core’s there." He pushed himself up, his movements fluid despite the spent energy. "You’ve got the aggression, Kovac," he said, nodding at Asher. "That drive to dominate." His gaze shifted to Jake, who was slowly jerking his deflating dick. "And you, Riley. You’ve got the hunger. The willingness to push, to take control." Miller’s lips curved into a thin, satisfied smirk. "With the right coaching? You might actually become something."
Liam stepped forward, his shadow falling over the kneeling coach. The fluorescent light caught the sharp angles of his jaw. His dark eyes swept over Asher’s muscular frame, then Jake’s flushed face, finally settling on Miller. "They’re promising," Liam stated, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the humid air. "But potential needs training." He crossed his thick arms, the black straps of his jock framing his toned glutes. "Six AM Monday. Both of you." His gaze pinned Asher, then Jake. "We'll see about continuing your... training." It wasn’t a request; it was a captain’s decree, absolute and unyielding. "Understood?"
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