The stadium lights were already off when the last of the team cleared out. Mia's event, the 400-meter, had finished twenty minutes earlier. She'd crossed the line first, arms pumping, legs a blur, personal best by almost a full second. The crowd's noise had died down fast; it was a Friday night meet, small-school stuff, most people already heading to whatever parties were happening across town.
Alex waited near the chain-link fence until the parking lot thinned. His phone buzzed once.
Locker room. Now.
He slipped through the side gate the coaches never bothered to lock after hours. The hallway smelled of rubber track and old sweat, fluorescent tubes buzzing overhead. The girls' locker room door stood ajar, light spilling into the corridor.
Mia was alone on the long bench in the middle of the room, still in her uniform, navy sports bra, tiny matching shorts, the gold medal hanging between her breasts like it belonged there. Sweat still gleamed on her skin, darkening the fabric at her collarbone and down her spine. Her ponytail was half-undone, strands clinging to her neck. Legs crossed at the ankle, she looked up when he stepped inside.
"You watched the whole thing," she said. Not a question.
"Every step."
She uncrossed her legs, stood. The medal swung gently against her sternum. She walked toward him slow, deliberate, like she was still running the final straightaway in her head.
"Close the door."
He did. The latch clicked. The room felt smaller instantly.
She stopped in front of him, close enough that he could smell her: salt, adrenaline, the faint rubbery scent of the track baked into her skin. Her eyes flicked down to the front of his jeans, then back up.
"Only I get to use this," she said, voice low, edged with something possessive that hadn't been there before the laundry room. "No one else. Understand?"
Alex nodded once. "Yeah."
Her hand slid to his zipper. Pulled it down slow. Reached inside and freed him, eight inches, already thick and heavy in her palm. She stroked once, root to tip, thumb circling the head where a bead of pre-cum had gathered.
"Good boy."
She pushed him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bench. He sat. She straddled him immediately, knees bracketing his hips, weight settling onto his lap. The thin shorts did nothing to hide how wet she was; he could feel the heat soaking through against his cock.
She ground down once, slow roll of her hips, then again, harder. The friction made him groan. She leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
"Take them off."
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband. She lifted just enough for him to drag the shorts down her thighs. No panties underneath. Her pussy was flushed, lips swollen and slick, clit peeking out. She sank down without warning, took the head inside, then more, stretching around him inch by inch until her ass met his thighs.
They both exhaled at the same time.
She didn't move right away. Just sat there, full of him, walls fluttering like she was adjusting to the stretch. Her hands braced on his shoulders. Nails dug in.
"Fuck," she whispered. "You feel bigger like this."
Then she started to ride.
Slow at first, lifting almost off him, then dropping back down, controlling the pace. Her abs flexed visibly with each rise and fall, the medal swinging between her breasts like a pendulum. Breasts bounced lightly inside the sports bra; she reached back, yanked it up over her head in one motion. Let it fall to the floor. Perky C-cups, nipples dark and tight, flushed from the race and the heat building between them.
Alex gripped her ass, round, muscled, flexing under his palms with every downward thrust. He slapped once, sharp, echoing off the lockers. She moaned louder, hips snapping faster.
"Mark me," she gasped. "Bite. Scratch. Whatever. Just, fuck, make it obvious."
He leaned in. Teeth found the unmarked side of her neck, bit down hard enough to leave a bruise. She cried out, pussy clenching around him so tight he almost lost it right there. His hands roamed, up her back, down to her thighs, fingers digging into the firm muscle. Red marks bloomed where he gripped.
She rode harder, hips grinding in tight circles now, clit rubbing against his pelvis on every downstroke. Her breathing turned ragged, broken little moans escaping with each breath. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto his shirt.
"Come inside me," she demanded. "Want to feel it. Want to walk out of here full of you."
The words snapped something in him. He thrust up to meet her, hard, deep, taking over the rhythm. She braced her hands on his chest, head thrown back, medal slapping against her sternum. Her walls started to flutter again, warning.
"Fuck, Alex, "
She came with a sharp cry that bounced off the tiled walls. Pussy spasming, milking him, pulling him deeper. The sight, her arched back, breasts bouncing, face flushed and wrecked, pushed him over.
He buried himself to the hilt, hips locked against hers, and came hard, thick pulses flooding her, spilling out around his cock as she kept grinding through her own aftershocks. She shuddered on top of him, walls still pulsing, drawing out every drop.
They stayed like that for a long minute, her forehead against his shoulder, both of them breathing hard, the room quiet except for the low hum of the vents overhead.
She lifted her head eventually. Looked down at where they were still joined, then back at his face. A slow, satisfied smirk curved her lips.
"Good boy," she murmured again.
She climbed off slowly, his cock slipping free with a wet sound. A thin trail of their combined mess leaked down her inner thigh. She didn't wipe it away. Just stood there, legs slightly apart, letting him see.
She reached down, scooped a little with two fingers, brought them to her mouth and licked them clean, slow, deliberate, eyes never leaving his.
"Shower's through there," she said, nodding toward the back of the room. "We're not done."
Alex stood. Legs shaky. She grabbed his hand, pulled him toward the showers.
Hot water hit them both a minute later. She backed him against the tiles, kissed him under the spray, possessive, hungry, tongue claiming every inch of his mouth. Her hand wrapped around him again, stroking lazily while the water washed away the sweat and the evidence.
She broke the kiss, lips brushing his ear.
"Only I get to touch this," she whispered. "Only I get to ride it. Only I get to feel you come inside me. Say it."
"Only you."
She bit his lip, hard enough to sting, then soothed it with her tongue.
"Good. Because if I catch you looking at anyone else…" She squeezed him once, firm. "I'll make sure you regret it."
She turned off the water. Stepped out dripping, didn't bother with a towel. Just walked back to the bench, picked up her sports bra and shorts, and started dressing like nothing had happened.
But everything had.
Alex followed her lead, dressed in silence, the weight of her words settling deep in his chest.
They left the locker room together. She locked the door behind them with the spare key she'd swiped from the coach's office weeks ago.
Outside, the night air was cool against their still-warm skin. She slipped her hand into his, casual, possessive, and started walking toward the parking lot.