Chapter 35
Between the weight machines and music I'd never choose to listen to, my body was finding a rhythm, but my mind kept stumbling over unsolvable problems. Sweat stuck to my skin, exhaustion weighed down my muscles, and still, I pushed on—as if drowning in the repetition of the movements could save me from something bigger. Lost in that trance, I only snapped out of it when a voice cut through the gym's silence.
"Hey, Mutant, I'm heading out. Lock everything up, alright?"
The order came from the gym owner, already at the door, keys spinning on his fingers before flying over to the trainer. They were the only ones there with me. I watched them, and there was no doubt: they were together. In the lingering touches, in the looks that smiled before their mouths did, in the way they existed for each other. One, a living sculpture, ready for a gold trophy. The other, a discreet shadow, but beautiful—the kind you notice too late, when it's already swallowed you whole.
I'd survived my torture session, and now, a shower was in order. The sweat clung to my skin like a reminder of the effort, the fatigue, the things I tried to forget between reps and songs that would never play in my house. I grabbed my bag, ready to wash off the exhaustion and start it all over again.
"Night, boys."
I smiled, hiding the weight settling in my chest.
Under the hot water, I lingered longer than I should have. Steam rose in slow spirals, drawing silences on the cold tile. I dried off without rushing, perfume, lotion, clothes, bag over my shoulder. I was ready to go. I stepped through the door, light footsteps, but then I stopped. Without meaning to. Without being noticed.
In front of me, a secret.
The two of them, the unlikely pair, lost in each other. A long kiss, like time had a different rhythm there. Bare chests, muscles tense under the sweat. Hands gripping tight, mouths seeking more. Desire hung thick in the air, hot, tangible.
And the mirrors… ah, the mirrors.
They multiplied them in infinite angles, as if their beauty couldn't fit in just two bodies. The reflections replicated them, spread them across the room, made them countless—mouths devouring each other in duplicates, hands tracing overlapping paths, a ballet of flesh and glass. With every new image, a fresh angle on the desire, a new way to see them and, without wanting to, to see myself there, trapped in the reflection, voyeur to a scene that wasn't mine, but consumed me in silence.
It took over my whole body. Heat rose in waves, igniting every pore, bringing a new sweat, different from exhaustion—this one born of desire.
The big guy, rough and brute, took the younger one from behind, holding him firm, possessive. The other, surrendered and yielding, arched against him, sweaty skin sticking to tense muscle, kisses crooked and urgent, like they were trying to devour time itself. It was a fight, a dance without choreography, where mouths chased the taste of the other, where bodies battled for possession and pleasure, where desire was a fierce, hungry animal.
The mirrors multiplied every detail—the grip of fingers in flesh, the ragged gasps, the half-closed eyes of pure abandon. And I, caught between shadows and reflections, hid deeper to stay unseen. But desire had already found me. My breasts firm, skin prickling, belly throbbing. I wanted to be touched too.
Two cocks standing hard, slick with desire, revealed under the gym's white lights. One bigger than the other, both pulsing, ravenous. Their expressions gave away what they no longer needed to say—two men filthy with lust, starving for each other. They laughed between clipped words, a brief clash of wills, until finally, they reached a silent agreement, a pact sealed by a look and a cynical smile.
The slimmer one dropped to his knees without hesitation, without gentleness. I saw his hands wrap around the thick shaft, skin stretched tight and hot, the flushed head vanishing all at once into his hungry mouth. He moved with everything—lips, tongue, throat. Swallowing it whole, disappearing and reemerging, in a rhythm that was as skilled as it was surrender.
I watched, fascinated, stunned.
The muscled one grabbed him firm by the nape, fingers digging in, and took control. His hips thrust against the mouth that already took him without resistance. With every push, a wet, guttural sound, a choke, a muffled moan. But there was no refusal, no protest. Just absolute surrender from someone accepting their own desire as a natural act.
My hand, which had been holding my bag on my shoulder, gave in to the weight of the moment. It slid slowly down my own body, found my breast, sought the stiff nipple between my fingers. My belly throbbed, my legs shook, my desire was a restless, hungry beast. I wanted to leap out, wanted to be taken, wanted to be devoured by those two beautiful specimens.
But it was too late.
The bigger one, now fully naked, shed his pants with the ease of someone who already knew what was coming. He walked to the bench press and, like positioning for a workout, bent over the padding, sweaty skin gleaming under the lights and reflections. The pose was feminine, but the surrender was firm, deliberate, without shame, without modesty. The other came from behind, touched his waist, guided himself by desire. The bigger body tensed at the first contact. The initial tries failed. Small adjustments, muscles tight, breath ragged. There was a moment of hesitation, smiles and curses, a loaded second of silence. And then, finally, he opened up, took him inside.
I held my breath in my lungs. My own body responded to the scene as if it felt on my skin what I was seeing.
The rhythm picked up. The smaller one, now in charge, rode hard, like taming a bull, the slap of thrusts echoing loud, drowning out the gym's music. The sound was pure chaos—moans turned to roars, whispers became screams.
"Fuck me… I'm gonna cum, shit!"
The climax hit like an explosion. They both shuddered at the same time, muscles rigid, every fiber of their bodies seized by ecstasy. Two machines, two animals, lost in an uncontainable fever. They trembled. They seemed to cry from pleasure. Their breathing was heavy, dragging, a remnant of the fury that had consumed them.
And then, silence.
That's when fear hit me. A sudden rush, the dread of being caught. My hands hurried to adjust the bag on my shoulder, my eyes darted to the floor. I crossed the room with quick steps, barely breathing.
"See you tomorrow, boys."
And I left.