The field was nearly empty now, only you and Gaz left grinding through the last of your sets. Your arms burned with fatigue, sweat dripping down your chest as you powered through push-ups in the dirt. Beside you, Gaz was hammering out pull-ups, his shirt dark and clinging, back muscles pulling tight with every lift. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, leather, and dust.

Off to the side, Soap leaned on the rail with a lazy grin, eyes fixed shamelessly on you. König stood next to him, massive and still, his hood shifting slightly as he tracked Gaz’s movements. For a long stretch they just stared, quiet, the tension between what they wanted and what they were holding back almost electric.

Soap finally muttered under his breath, voice tight with need, “He’s killin’ me, big man. Look at him, chest glistenin’, arms flexin’—I just want him flat on his back with me buried inside before he can even catch his breath.” He chuckled darkly, but his eyes never left you. “If I wait another second, I’ll snap.”

König’s response came deep, unhurried, but dripping with the same hunger. “Gaz makes me crazy. Every pull of his body on that bar, I see him dangling there for me instead. I want to take him back, throw him onto the bed, and not let him up until morning.”

Soap glanced at him, smirk tugging at his lips. “So we’re both fucked in the head then.”

König tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting from under the hood. “Not fucked. Possessive.”

That was all it took. Without another word, Soap pushed off the rail and strode across the dirt. You barely had time to glance up before his arms hooked around your waist, hauling you up with ease. He slung you over his shoulder, one big hand gripping your thigh, and laughed low against your side. “That’s enough showin’ off, bonnie. Tonight, you’re all mine, every bloody inch.”

König followed suit, his steps slow and heavy as he closed in on Gaz. Before Gaz could drop from the bar, König’s massive hands caught him, lifting him straight off and flipping him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. Gaz swore under his breath, but König only gave a low rumble of satisfaction, his voice muffled against the hood. “You are finished here. Now, I take you.”

The two men came together for a moment, both with their boys slung over their shoulders, both radiating pride and raw hunger.

“Good night,” König rumbled, steady and certain.

Soap gave a wolfish grin, smacking your thigh once as he adjusted you on his shoulder. “Good night, big man. Don’t keep yours too quiet.”

With that, they turned, each carrying his prize away from the field like nothing else in the world mattered.