The empty gym feels like a psychological pressure cooker, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to be the thing that explodes first.
Qualification deadlines wait for no one's complete mental breakdown.
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead like pissed-off hornets, and all I can hear is the echo of my own footsteps and ventilation that sounds suspiciously like my anxiety given audio form.
I'm standing by the uneven bars, trying to look casual while internally cataloging all the ways this situation could go spectacularly wrong.
Sienna's been pacing for ten minutes, and I don't know how long I've been watching her slowly unravel. She hasn't noticed me yet, too busy having what appears to be a full-scale war with her own thoughts.
I should probably announce my presence instead of lurking like some kind of coaching stalker.
She looks like she doesn't want to exist in her own skin right now.
I should leave. Professional boundaries, career preservation, all that responsible adult bullshit.
Instead, I lean against the platform edge, watching her like something primal in me refuses to abandon ship after witnessing that systematic destruction.
"You didn't have to stay," she says without looking up. Voice steady but hollow, like she's speaking from the bottom of a well.
I drop into a crouch beside her, heart still hammering from adrenaline and rage. "Couldn't walk away after that shit show."
Eyes stay glued to the floor. "You interfered again."
"I protected you."
Finally looks up. Face composed but her eyes tell the real story—exhausted, worn thin as tissue paper, barely holding together.
"You really think they'll keep you after this?" she asks. "Committee's backing George."
Don't flinch. "I'm not here to keep the job. I'm here for you."
She pushes to her feet so fast it catches me off guard. Voice isn't raised, but every word hits like a targeted missile.
"Whatever this is between us, it's a distraction. Pulling focus. And I can't afford distractions. Not now."
"Then let it pull," I fire back. "Let it be messy as hell. Let it complicate everything. Because I'd rather deal with nuclear fallout than pretend this doesn't mean anything."
She stares at me like she can't decide whether to scream or completely fall apart. Chest rising and falling like she just stuck a landing, hands trembling like earthquake aftershocks.
Then, without warning, she stepped in, grabbed my collar and kissed me. Not gentle. Not careful. Not some bullshit movie moment with perfect lighting and orchestral swells.
This is desperate. Raw. Like she's been drowning and just found oxygen.
I kiss her back because there's literally nothing else to do except meet her in this moment of beautiful disaster.
We stumbled backward, hitting the wall of mirrors hard. Her mouth was on my jaw, then back on my lips, breathing hard. No hesitation and nerves, just skin and heat.
Her mouth opens beneath mine like it was made for me—soft, desperate, tasting like surrender and something far more dangerous. I kiss her harder, deeper, needing to feel every part of her.
Her hands slide up my chest, curling behind my neck, pulling me in like the space between us is a problem she refuses to tolerate.
It’s not just lust. It’s something sharper, something that’s been building for months. And now that I’ve got her, I know—I’m not stopping.
My body presses into hers, anchoring her against me. She’s so small and strong at once, all heat and tension wrapped in soft skin and raw nerves. I don’t even think—just move.
My hands grip beneath her thighs and I lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist with instinct and a soft gasp, and I pin her back against the padded wall behind the balance beam.
Her spine arches as the cold surface hits her skin, and I feel her tremble in my arms.
“I need you,” she breathes into my mouth. “Right here. Right now.”
“Yeah?” My voice is already wrecked.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Please.” One word, and it nearly breaks me. “I need to feel something that isn’t pressure. Or fear. Or… empty.”
I stare at her. That little voice in my head screaming at me to stop finally goes silent.
And then I kiss her. Hard. Brutal. Like I can pour everything I’ve kept inside into her mouth. She moans, and I grab one of her legs, hiking it higher around my waist, grinding my hips into her.
My hand slips beneath her leotard and my breath stutters.
She’s soaked.
“Fuck… you’re dripping,” I groan, voice like gravel.
She gasps as my fingers slide through her folds, spreading her open. My control starts to splinter. She’s shaking in my arms, and I know she’s ready—I know she wants this as bad as I do.
She reaches down, frantic fingers tugging at my waistband, and my cock springs free—already hard, leaking, aching for her. Her eyes widen, but there’s no hesitation.
I press her into the wall, line myself up, and drag the thick head of my cock through her slick heat.
“Eyes on me, baby,” I growl, voice rough with restraint.
She looks up at me—vulnerable, bold, mine—and I push in.
Her gasp punches straight through me. She’s tight, clenching around me, taking every slow, stretching inch like her body was made for mine. My grip tightens on her thigh, steadying her as I bottom out, buried to the hilt, her leg trembling against my hip.
“Jesus fuck,” I breathe, forehead pressed to her temple. “You feel unreal.”
Her head falls back with a moan, and I start to move—deep, slow thrusts that make her whole body bounce in my arms. I grip her ass, grinding her down onto me, fucking her harder.
The wall behind her shakes.
The gym is silent except for the brutal rhythm of our bodies, the wet slap of skin, the sound of her moans echoing through empty space.
“Harder,” she’s begging, panting. “I need it, fuck, don’t hold back.”
There’s no hesitation, no filter left in me. I tighten my grip on her thighs and start slamming into her with everything I’ve got. Every thrust echoes through the empty gym, the wet sound of our skin colliding brutal and filthy.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she cries out, the sound bouncing off walls and rafters. The fact that we’re here—where anyone could walk in, where I’ve trained her for years—only twists the knife deeper into my control. It’s wrong. It’s perfect. It’s ours.
I shift my angle, adjusting her hips and driving in deeper—until I feel her start to unravel.
“I’m gonna come,” she gasps, voice shredded.
“Yeah?” I snarl. “Then give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy come all over my cock.”
The second the words leave my mouth, she breaks—clenching around me so tight I nearly lose it right there. Her body pulses with it, shaking in my arms, crying out, wrecked and wild. But I don’t stop. I fuck her through it, holding her up, keeping her pinned and open, using every inch of her until she’s gasping my name like a prayer.
Then I yank out and spin her before she even catches her breath.
She yelps when her chest hits the padded wall, hands scrambling, legs spreading like instinct. I press one palm between her shoulder blades, pinning her flat while my other hand grabs her hips and yanks her back onto me.
I thrust into her from behind with a growl—hard, deep, claiming. She screams. Her voice echoes like sin in this place I’m never going to see the same again.
I cage her with my arms, my chest flush to her back, mouth dragging over her shoulder as I pound into her, relentless. “You like this?” I growl in her ear. “Pinned like this? Fucked where anyone could see what a good girl you are for me?”
“Yes, yes—God, yes!”
I slide a hand down and circle her clit. Her body jolts, clenches.
She falls apart again—louder, harder this time. Legs shaking. Nails scraping the wall. Moaning like she’s never felt anything this good.
“Ford, please—”
“Say it,” I pant. “Tell me what you want.”
She looks back at me, eyes glassy, voice ragged. “Inside me. I want to feel you come. Please.”
My control shatters.
I drive in deep and spill inside her with a roar, hips jerking as I fill her. The feel of her clenching around me triggers another wave, her third orgasm slamming into her as I hold her tight, grinding until we’re both shaking.
We stay like that, pressed together, breathing hard.
Then I wrap my arms around her, pull her close, dress her again with trembling hands—and kiss her temple like I never want to let her go.
Because I don’t.