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?"
Jake met Liam’s stare, a spark of defiance flashing in his green eyes before it was smothered by a slow, challenging grin. He wiped his sticky hand on his blue jockstrap. "Six AM? Brutal," he drawled, stretching his lean arms overhead, the movement making his pecs bounce. "But if the future Captain thinks I’ve got hunger…" His grin sharpened, predatory. "Guess I’ll prove him right. See you bright and fucking early, Captain." He nudged Asher’s shoulder with his hand. "Right, Ash?"
Asher flinched at the touch, hit by a fresh wave of post-nut clarity that warred with the lingering heat coiling low in his gut. Six AM. More locked doors and skin on skin. Liam’s intense scrutiny… and Jake, grinning like this was just another drill. Now that he was completely out of cum, the taste of salt and shame was thick on his tongue. His massive cock, still half-hard, twitched against his thigh. He nodded stiffly, avoiding Liam’s piercing gaze, his voice a gravelly rasp. "Yeah," he managed. "Six AM."
Liam grunted, a sound of finality. He bent, the powerful muscles of his back rippling beneath sweat-slicked skin as he scooped his discarded white athletic shorts off the vinyl. He stepped into them swiftly, the thin fabric clinging instantly to the damp curve of his ass beneath the stark black straps of his jockstrap. The shorts rode high, barely covering the lower swell of his glutes. He snatched up his black undershirt and grey hoodie, slinging them carelessly over one massive shoulder. He took a step towards the door, then paused. His dark eyes scanned the floor, landing on the crumpled white jockstrap Jake discarded earlier. He scooped it up, the fabric dangling from his fingers for a moment before he turned and threw it at Asher’s feet. "Here," Liam stated, his voice humorous. "You look cold." He then gathered the rest of the scattered clothes—Jake and Asher’s singlets and shorts, even Miller’s discarded clothing—into a rough bundle under his arm. "Freshmen," he declared, looking pointedly at Jake and Asher, both still streaked with drying fluids, "have to earn clothes. Coach," he added, turning his gaze to Miller, who was wiping cum from his jaw, "I’m sure you’ve got another pair of shorts stashed in your office." Without waiting for a reply, Liam strode to the door, yanked it open, and stepped into the hallway.
The harsh fluorescent light of the corridor flooded in, backlighting Liam’s formidable silhouette as he paused just outside the threshold. The light etched every detail: the short white shorts stretched taut over the twin globes of his ass, the stark black straps of his jockstrap clearly visible beneath the thin fabric, cutting deep into the firm, tan flesh. His thick, muscular thighs tapered down to clean white Nike crew socks landing perfectly above scuffed high-tops. His back was a landscape of dense, corded muscle—lats flaring wide, traps like boulders rising to his thick neck, the deep groove of his spine shadowed between slabs of power. He radiated coiled strength even in stillness.
The heavy metal door swung shut with a resonant clang, plunging the storage room back into the humid quiet punctuated only by heavy breathing. Asher stared down at the white jockstrap in his hands, the fabric cool against his skin. Jake let out a low, shaky whistle beside him. "Well," Jake breathed, running a hand through his ginger hair, his gaze fixed on the closed door. "Captain Yang plays for keeps." He nudged Asher again, a ghost of his earlier grin flickering. "Tell me that wasn't fun, bro."
Miller moved towards the door, his stride unhurried despite his nakedness and the streaks of drying cum on his face and chest. Jake’s eyes widened. "Coach? Seriously?" he blurted, gesturing at Miller’s state. "You’re just gonna walk out like that? Covered in…" He trailed off, waving vaguely at the evidence. Miller didn’t pause. "My office," he stated flatly, his voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space, "is twenty feet down the hall. Door locks. Shower inside." He reached the door, his powerful back muscles flexing as he gripped the handle. Sweat still glistened on the dense olive skin of his shoulders and the deep groove of his spine, tracing the hard lines of his ass as he moved. The faint scent of sex and exertion clung to him.
Asher scrambled to his feet, the white jockstrap dangling forgotten in one hand. "Coach, wait!" His voice cracked. "He took all our clothes! You’re just leaving us here? Like this?" He gestured helplessly at himself and Jake, both having only jockstraps – Jake in Asher’s blue one, Asher clutching Liam’s white discard. Miller glanced back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "The future captain," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "spoke. He wants you to earn your gear back. I support my captains." He pulled the door open. The harsh hallway light silhouetted his naked form for a split second – the defined sweep of his lats, the hard curve of his ass, the damp trail down his spine, and the dangling cock– before the heavy door slammed shut behind him as well.
Silence descended, thick and heavy. The only sounds were their own ragged breaths and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Jake slowly turned to face Asher, the blue nylon of the jockstrap stark against his freckled skin. His green eyes held a strange mix of exhaustion, satisfaction, and something else – a spark that hadn’t been there before. He looked down at his own spent cock, then back up at Asher’s massive frame, still flushed and damp.
A slow, lopsided grin spread across Jake’s face. He took a step closer, his gaze fixed on Asher’s thick, soft length resting heavily against his thigh. "Okay, Kovac," Jake said, his voice rough but playful. "Ground rules. From now on? You never, ever joke about how much bigger that thing is than mine." He gestured dismissively at Asher’s cock. "Seriously. It’s just... excessive." He paused, tilting his head, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. "Besides," he added, puffing his chest out slightly despite his near-nakedness, "mine’s prettier. Perfect curve, classic proportions. Yours is just... blunt."
Asher stared at him, momentarily stunned. The absurdity of the statement, delivered with such a casual tone amidst the carnage of the storage room – the lingering scent of sex, the drying fluids on their skin – cut through the fog of shame and confusion. A choked sound escaped him, half-laugh, half-sob. He looked down at his own thick shaft, then at Jake’s leaner cock now nestled in his blue pouch. "Prettier?" Asher echoed, his voice thick with disbelief. He shook his head, a reluctant, weary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re delusional, Riley."
He dropped his gaze to the white jockstrap Liam had tossed at his feet. With a sigh, Asher bent down, the movement making the muscles ripple across his back. He picked it up, the fabric cool and slightly damp. Holding it by the waistband, he stepped one foot in, then the other, pulling the straps up his thick, olive-skinned thighs. It was immediately obvious it was too small – the pouch strained against his girth, the elastic biting uncomfortably. Worse, the leg straps were far too short. As he pulled the waistband up over his hips, the thin straps dug deep into the meaty swell of his ass cheeks, forcing them upward and outward in a pronounced display. The white nylon framed each globe tightly, creating a deep, shadowed cleft and pushing his cheeks into a firm, rounded prominence that felt utterly exposed. He shifted, the material riding high and cutting uncomfortably. "Christ, it’s tiny," he muttered, trying to adjust the straps to no avail. "Feels like dental floss. Give me back my jock dude, this one is not gonna work."
Jake let out a low whistle, his green eyes sweeping over Asher’s predicament. "Damn, Kovac," he breathed, a slow grin spreading across his freckled face. He took a step closer, circling Asher like a predator sizing up prey. "Forget the size. Look at what it’s doing." He gestured pointedly at Asher’s ass, now prominently displayed and lifted by the constricting straps. "That jock? It’s not hiding shit. It’s framing it. Like hell I'm switching with you." Jake laughed, the sound sharp and bright in the quiet. "The chicks are gonna dig you with that much dump if you wear that under your shorts."
Asher’s olive skin flushed crimson. He tugged futilely at the waistband, the thin white straps only digging deeper into the meat of his ass cheeks. "Shut up," he muttered, voice tight. "How the hell are we getting out of here? It’s gotta be past ten by now. Campus is gonna be crawling with people." He glanced toward the door, his expression a mix of dread and resignation. The fluorescent lights hummed, emphasizing their naked predicament.
Jake shrugged, stretching his lean frame with deliberate nonchalance. "Run fast, don’t make eye contact, and pray nobody recognizes us." His grin was sharp, edged with adrenaline. "Ready?" Without waiting, he yanked the door open. Jake darted out first, his freckled skin gleaming, the blue jockstrap stark against his pale hips as he sprinted down the deserted hallway. Asher followed, the straps of Liam’s white jock biting deep into his ass cheeks with every stride.
They burst through the door of the wrestling building onto the campus quad. The quad stretched before them, morning sunlight pooling under ancient oaks. Jake’s pale, muscled legs flashed ahead, lean muscles pumping, the blue nylon of Asher’s stolen jock stark against his freckled hips, highlighting his firm ass. Behind him, Asher’s heavier footfalls thudded on pavement, his own thick thighs straining, the tiny white pouch barely containing his soft dick. The jock’s straps carved twin furrows across the full swell of his olive-toned glutes, lifting and separating them with brutal efficiency. Each bounce forced his cheeks into a taut, rounded display—impossible to ignore, impossible to hide. Wind whispered against skin still damp with sweat and drying fluids.
A group of students clustered near a bench fifty yards away. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Someone pointed. Jake didn’t slow. He veered sharply left, cutting across manicured grass toward their dorm building. Asher followed, the straps digging deeper with every stride, the sensation sharp and humiliating. His massive shoulders hunched forward as if trying to shrink. He focused on Jake’s lean back, the blue straps riding low, the flex of Jake’s calves. The dorm entrance loomed ahead—a rectangle of safety. They crashed through the glass doors into the blessedly empty lobby, the sudden silence ringing in their ears.
Asher leaned against the cool tile wall, chest heaving. He scanned the deserted lobby, then the quad beyond the doors. "You think... anyone saw?" he rasped, voice tight. His fingers instinctively tugged at the waistband of Jake’s jockstrap, trying futilely to lessen the bite across his ass cheeks. "Like... clearly?"
Jake spun around, green eyes bright and unapologetic. A wide grin split his freckled face. "Saw? Definitely." He laughed, sharp and bright. "But if they saw? They were blessed, Ash." He gestured broadly at their near-naked bodies – his lean frame in Asher’s blue jockstrap, Asher’s dense musculature straining his white one. "Look at us. Two prime pieces of NCAA beefcake, fresh off the mat. Who wouldn't wanna get an eyeful?" He flexed a bicep playfully. "We're hot. We're fit. We're practically public service announcements for the wrestling program."
Asher flushed crimson, shaking his head at his best friend. "You're insane," he muttered, pushing off the wall. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding. They stepped inside, the mirrored walls reflecting their flushed skin, the stark nylon straps, the lingering sheen of sweat and exertion. Asher kept his gaze fixed on the floor indicator, acutely aware of how exposed they were. Jake leaned casually against the railing, seemingly oblivious, humming tunelessly.
The elevator climbed. Silence settled, thick and awkward. Jake’s grin faded slightly. He glanced sideways at Asher’s tense profile, then down at the white pouch straining against Asher’s thick softness. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face – part calculation, part lingering heat. "So," Jake said, his voice dropping lower, rougher now. "Six AM Monday. Yang’s private training session. We can head over together in the morning, let's hide an extra set of clothes in the bushes outside though. The anticipation through the weekend is gonna kill me bro."
---
Outside, beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak, Maya Rodriguez paused mid-stride. Her coffee cup hovered forgotten near her lips. Her eyes widened, tracking the two figures sprinting across the quad – lean muscle flashing pale in the morning sun on one, dense olive skin gleaming on the other, stark blue and white nylon straps stark against hips and asses. "Holy shit," she breathed, elbowing her friend Chloe beside her. "Frat initiation must be intense this year." She gestured towards Jake’s lean form darting ahead, then towards Asher’s heavier frame following. "At least," Maya added, a slow grin spreading across her face, "if we have to see naked guys running around campus, they’re seriously hot."
Beside her, her friend Henry Chen squinted, pushing his glasses up his nose. His gaze sharpened, recognition dawning. "Wait," Henry murmured, his voice low with disbelief. "Isn't that... Ash and Jake? The freshman wrestlers?" He shook his head. "They live down the hall from us in Carter Hall. Room 309 and 311 right?" He blinked, shaking his head slowly. "What the hell were they doing out here like that?" Maya just laughed, her eyes still fixed on the dorm doors. "Whatever it was," she said, taking a slow sip of her coffee, "it looked like a hell of a workout."
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