His Muchachos

A/N:

This is my submission to the Yay Team 2025 Literotica author's challenge event! I've been wanting to write about college athletes for a while and this was the perfect opportunity.

Content warning: As the blurb indicates, it's a foray into gay male polyamory. There will be lots of threesomes. Also, it does grapple with nonconsent (albeit pretty non-graphic and minor). Steer clear if you think you can't stomach it.

This is a complete stand-alone story. That said, there are lots of ideas I didn't include in this one. If you liked it, leave me a shout in the comments and I might write a sequel someday.

Thanks to @Comentarista82 for beta-reading the first part of the story and providing useful feedback on the Spanish! I knew it was going to be an important part of the story and wanted to make sure I got it right.

If you see any remaining errors they are undoubtedly mine. (And feel free to leave a comment so I can fix it. Enjoy the ride!

-- Z

=====================================

The front doors of the college pool creaked open right on schedule, followed by the familiar slap of bare feet and the rustle of swim bags being dragged across tile. I didn't need to look up. I knew that walk--knew the rhythm of those footsteps like the ticking of my own pulse.

"Dieeegooo," Mason's voice echoed through the space, dragging out the vowels like he was singing a lullaby. Then--whuff--a large, damp body dropped behind me. Two muscular arms wrapped around my shoulders, with the unthinking certainty of someone who never asked if he was welcome. He just was.

I let out a small oof as I was pulled back, my clipboard jostled against my chest. My head landed squarely against a warm, solid sternum. Mason buried his nose in my hair and inhaled like he meant it.

"Mmm. chlorine and coffee. My favorite."

"Güey. You're dripping on me," I murmured, without real protest, patting his forearm where it crossed my chest. His skin was cool and wet, his biceps like coiled ropes under my palm.

"That's not a complaint," he said, smug. I could hear the grin in his voice. "You smell like home."

I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth tugged upward. Mason always said things like that--offhandedly, like they didn't mean anything. Like he didn't know how those words stuck in my ribs for hours afterward.

Mason's hair was still wet from the shower, curls tousled and golden, like someone had wrung out a sunbeam. He rubbed his cheek against my temple, then ruffled my hair--hard--like I was a particularly beloved golden retriever.

I sighed, though I was smiling. "¡Ay, Dios! You know I just brushed that."

"Brushed it for me, huh?" he said, tightening his grip just slightly. "You shouldn't have."

Before I could swat at him, another voice cut in--lazy, teasing, unmistakably amused. "Yo Mace! Don't hog him, dumbass."

Jayden padded up, goggles hanging loose around his neck, his towel slung low around his hips. His skin gleamed wet under the morning light--amber and chocolate and muscle, water sliding in rivulets down his chest like it couldn't bear to leave.

He crouched beside me with feline grace, one hand braced on his knee, the other reaching out to flick Mason's ear. "You treating him like a damn pillow again?"

Mason shrugged, entirely unbothered. "He's warm."

"I'm warm," Jayden said, nudging at my knee with his own. "And I smell like eucalyptus body wash. Tell him, Diegs."

"¡No mames, cabrón! You both smell like wet laundry," I said, deadpan. But I didn't move away.

Jayden grinned. "That's not a no."

He leaned forward and peered at my clipboard. "Oooh. You redid our splits again. Did you sleep, boss?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I nudged the warm-up sheets toward them like I hadn't just spent the last hour obsessing over them.

"Jayden, amigo, you're doing two sets of shoulder rotation before you even touch the water."

He groaned. "Ugh. You're so mean to me sometimes."

"You'll thank me when you don't tear your labrum," I said, then added with a smirk, "Again."

Mason barked a laugh and reached for the protein bar I'd already set out on the bench beside him. "Peanut butter!" he cheered. "You do love me best."

"I bought it in bulk," I muttered, but he wasn't listening--he was already tearing into the wrapper like it was a gift.

It was always like this in the mornings. Half-chaos, half-devotion. Bodies everywhere, towels in the wrong place, wet footprints where there shouldn't be, boys hollering too loud. A hundred things I could complain about. But I never did.

Because they were my muchachos. Because I got to take care of them. And for now--while the water still shimmered untouched, and Thomson had yet to stalk through the doors like a storm on two legs--everything felt golden.

---

By the time the first whistle blew, the pool had come alive.

"¡Ándale, ándale! Keep up the pace!" I called. Water slapped against tile in rhythmic bursts, arms cutting through the lane lines like metronomes. Kickboards smacked. Splashes echoed. The pace clock ticked on.

I stood barefoot on the deck, stopwatch in hand, squinting at Lane 4. Jayden's freestyle was too tight again--he was overcompensating for the shoulder, rolling his torso like he thought I wouldn't notice. I blew the whistle twice and pointed. He groaned mid-stroke but nodded and adjusted.

Lane 2. Mason was barreling through a 200m like he'd been shot from a cannon. His backstroke had finally stopped looking like a drunken crab. I tapped the side of my clipboard approvingly as he hit the wall.

"Órale! Thirty-one flat on that split, güerito," I called.

He surfaced with a whoop, flipped his goggles up, and shot me a grin. "I'm the fucking man, right?"

"Language," I said, though I couldn't help a smile. "And fix that breaststroke pull. You're dropping your elbows again."

His grin widened. "Still love me though."

I didn't dignify it with a response. Just scribbled his time on my clipboard and moved down the lane line.

The air was humid, thick with chlorine and effort. Music hummed faintly from the overhead speaker--a low-beat lo-fi track I'd queued earlier. Something steady. Encouraging. The kind of rhythm that kept you focused.

I moved between lanes like a conductor with no baton--timing splits, correcting form, reminding them to hydrate. There was no yelling. No barked orders. That was never my style.

"Breathe every third on this next lap, Kevin," I said, crouching by the edge of Lane 5. "Tranquilo--you're tightening up too fast. Long strokes."

"Got it," he gasped, already kicking off the wall.

It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't loud. But I knew every swimmer's form like a signature. Every tic. Every compensation. Every moment their body betrayed something they didn't want to say out loud. And I caught them, quietly, without making it a thing.

At the bulkhead, someone coughed hard. I looked up. Jayden had pulled himself out of the pool, dragging one arm slightly. I jogged over, crouching beside him.

"Still hurting?" I asked quietly.

He didn't meet my eyes. "It's fine."

"Jayden. Imbécil."

He sighed. "Just tweaked a little. I'm good."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then do the stretches I gave you before warm-up."

He groaned. "You're relentless."

"And you're dramatic. No mames! Get back in the water once you've done two sets. Don't make me babysit you."

He smirked at that. "But I love when you babysit me."

Before I could swat him, Mason cannonballed into the adjacent lane, sending up a wave that drenched the bottom of my shorts.

"Mason!"

"Was that me?" he shouted, surfacing like a very smug sea lion. "Could've sworn it was Lane 6!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Para, pendejo! Quit it, or I'm pulling you out for the rest of the set."

"Awww," he whined, but the next moment he was back under, kicking into his fly like a rocket.

Chaos. Always chaos. But it was mine. And as long as I was here--watching, correcting, helping them inch closer to better--I felt like I was on top of the world.

---

When practice was done, Mason was the first one out of the water. Though he could take to the water like a fish, on land he seemed too-big, too-clumsy. He lumbered over, before flopping down on the bench beside me with a groan. Drops of water sprayed on me as he shook his head vigorously.

"Diegooo", he said, pouting, lightly patting his thighs. "Can you handle my stretches? My legs are feeling sore."

"¡Ay, dios. Can't you bother Jayden with this?" I muttered, not looking up from my clipboard. Thomson could be out any minute, and I needed to have the final times tallied if I wanted to avoid a tongue-lashing.

"Nah," he said with a grin, letting his legs fall open with theatrical exhaustion. "Only trust your magical hands."

I snorted, but my cheeks warmed anyway. "My hands can't fix your form."

"Didn't say they would," he said, lying back with a dramatic sigh. "Just figured you might be nice to me. Since I'm dying." He looked up at me with puppy eyes, making a show of begging. "Please?"

I rolled my eyes, fighting a resigned smile. I could never say no to Mason when he gave me that look, and he knew it, the spoiled cabrón. Setting my clipboard down, I positioned myself at his feet. He was still slick from the pool--bare-chested, water beading on golden skin, swim shorts clinging just slightly too low on his hips.

Maybe I was imagining things, but the front of his shorts seemed to be bulging just a little more than usual.

"Lie flat," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

He obeyed, with a pleased little hum, stretching out along the bench, a relaxed smile spreading on his face as he closed his eyes. His abs tightened slightly as he adjusted, ridged, lean muscle contracting and relaxing. It drew my gaze for a second longer than I meant to.

I grabbied an ankle and lifted it in the air, exhaling hard--with Mason, it always felt like I was hefting a tree trunk. Slowly, I pressed forward, feeling him moan quietly as I worked his knee down towards his chest, making sure to properly stretch the quad and glute. I'd had to throw most of my bodyweight against him to make it work, so I was now hunched over his prone body. I tried not to think about how close my crotch was to his upturned ass cheek.

"Mmm," he murmured, breathy, as I bottomed out. "Feels... nghh... good." Lying on his back, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, Mason looked just like an angel. I felt a stir of heat go down my spine, and I bit my lip, fighting for control.

Jayden sidled up as I was finishing off Mason's other leg. "Yo, no fair", he drawled. "When do I get a turn, Diegs?"

I eyed him doubtfully as I let Mason's leg slowly back down onto the bench. "What do you need it for?" I felt proud of how even I managed to keep my voice.

"C'mon, can't you tell? My chest is killing me." He made a show of scrunching his face as he squeezed his pecs together.

"¡Ay, jódete," I said, sharply. "Cut the bullshit. Your chest seemed just fine when you were doing your butterflies a minute ago."

"Damn. Alright, alright, you got me." He grinned easily, unashamed. Mason chortled as he stood, a dopey expression on his face. "Seriously though, my shoulder needs some work.'

I looked at him closely. Jayden seemed to be putting on his best innocent expression, rocking lightly back and forth on the balls of his feet. He did look like he was holding his left shoulder slightly differently though. It was probably nothing, but on the off-chance he'd not stretched it properly--again--

"Órale. Fine", I said, sighing. "Get over here. I'll have a look."

His face lit up, breaking into a wide grin as he promptly strode over, eyes flashing. "Knew you couldn't resist me." I didn't dignify that with a response, just made him sit down and put his arms in the air. He sighed pleasurably as I worked his arm around in a large circle.

At one point, his face tightened. "Sensitive?" I asked. He nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

Damn, it looked like he might have strained something after all. His cockiness was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it had softened now--bent slightly inward around the ache.

"Alright," I said, quieter this time. "Let's try a release. Tell me if anything hurts."

He gave a little salute. "Yes, Doctor Diego."

"Jayden."

"Right, right. Professional setting. No flirting. Got it." He shot me a wide grin, which lasted until I slid my hand beneath his shoulder blade and pressed my thumb into the dense knot of muscle just beneath his collarbone.

He exhaled sharply, body jerking under my hand. "Jesus."

"Cálmate. Breathe through it."

He did, mouth falling open slightly as I began slow, rhythmic pressure. My other hand braced him at the hip, anchoring his body against mine so I could work deeper. The angle was awkward, but I didn't shift. I couldn't. Not when I could feel every twitch of him. Not when my palm was flush against skin that radiated heat like sun-warmed stone.

His breath grew shallow, chest rising and falling under my touch. My thumb moved lower. He didn't stop me.

"This part tight?" I asked, voice low.

His eyes were still closed. "Yeah," he murmured. "But keep going. Feels good."

I did. My fingertips brushed the edge of his lower pec, skimming the skin just beneath. It was deliciously firm, flexing slightly under my touch. I bit my lip, and willed myself to focus on working the tight muscle. Jayden moaned, not quietly, as my fingers dug in. I felt a rush of heat in my cheeks.

A few moments later, I was sure the knot was finally gone. I pulled my hands back before I did something stupid--like slide them down his ribs, or lean in and taste the sweat and chlorine at his throat. I adjusted my pants subtly as I stepped back.

"Ya está. We're done," I said, grabbing the towel I'd folded earlier just to have something to hold.

Jayden stretched luxuriously, arms over his head. His spine arched, lean and golden. He caught me looking, and his lips curved up in a smirk. "Thanks, Doctor," he said, breaking into a sly grin. "Next time, maybe you can check both shoulders."

I didn't answer. Just turned sharply and started reorganizing my clipboard again, writing down times that didn't matter, pretending the ink didn't smear from the sweat on my hands.

Behind me, Jayden whistled low and tuneless, satisfied.

---

The locker room after practice always smelled like wet tile, eucalyptus soap, and too much Axe body spray. But at least it was our chaos.

"Yo, Diegs," Jayden called, swinging a towel over his shoulder. "Tell me why the shower was colder than my ex's heart today."

"You have exes?" I shot back.

Mason chortled. "Diego 1, Jayden 0."

"Jealousy's a cruel disease, man," Jayden said, pointing a finger at me as he passed. "Eats you up and spits you out. You better get well soon, Big D."

I rolled my eyes and crouched by the gear bins, sorting out the scattered kickboards. We'd finished late today, and the locker room buzzed with post-practice energy: slamming lockers, low-slung towels, boys laughing too loud. It was my favorite kind of mess.

"Yoink," Jayden said, swiping my clipboard off the bench.

"Jayden," I warned.

"What's the penalty for insubordination?" he teased, flipping through the sheets. "Gonna put me on double laps?"

"No sé... maybe synchronized breath control drills with Mason."

"Ugh. Cruel and unusual."

"Hey!" Mason objected, grinning as he wrestled his way into a dry shirt. Before I could reclaim the clipboard, he snuck up behind me and hoisted me into the air like I weighed nothing.

"¡No hagas estupideces--Mason!"

He just laughed, spinning us both. "Get in the ice bath, Diegooo," he sang, dragging my flailing form across the slick tile.

"Don't--I'm not even wet!" I sputtered, kicking ineffectually. But he'd lifted me too far away, and my flailing legs hit only air as he slid me closer to the edge.

Despite myself, I couldn't help laughing. "¡Ya, ya! Put me down, imbécil!"

Jayden doubled over, cackling. "Dunk him! Dunk him!"

"Mason--güerito--"

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Thomson's voice cut through the noise like a scalpel. Heads turned, conversations died, and the entire locker room went silent, the sharp kind of quiet that follows something broken.

Mason froze, before quickly setting me down. Jayden straightened slowly, towel clenched in his hands, hiding the clipboard behind his back. I stepped forward, smoothing my shirt and lowering my head.

"Rodriguez!" Thomson barked. "You were supposed to clean out the pump filters by the end of practice. You get distracted playing around with the talent?"

My face burned. Thomson wasn't a pleasant man on the best of days, but today he seemed especially irate. I bit my tongue. "Ay--I thought we were focusing on cool-downs today. I planned to get to it after the locker room--"

"You thought," he sneered. "That's your mistake."

He stepped closer, looming. "I don't pay you to lollygag. I pay you to do your job." He had the look in his eye which I knew meant serious business.

My stomach turned. I nodded quickly, eyes on the ground. "Yes, sir."

"Filters. Now. And the rest of you--get changed, then get the fuck out of here."

He turned and left, the door swinging closed behind him with a hollow, metallic thud.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My lungs felt tight, like I'd gone underwater without a breath.

Then--softly--Mason touched my shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured. "Hey. Look at me."

I did, barely. His eyes were dark with something new. Not just anger--fury. "That wasn't okay," he said, voice tight, teeth clenched in a rictus.

Jayden crossed the room in three steps, all but shoving the clipboard back into my hands. "Don't listen to that prick," he said, voice low and dangerous. "You do more for this team than he ever has."

"He talks to you like you're nothing," Mason added. "But he's the one who's useless."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Está bien. It's alright, really. Coach is just... stressed about the swim meet. And I really should have cleaned out the filters first." I grinned up at them ruefully. "Qué estúpido. Silly mistake. Go on now, get iced. I'll see you tomorrow."

Jayden just looked back at me, gaze full of cold fury. And Mason's eyes seemed to burn unabated, even as I made my way out the locker room.

---

A long time later, after I'd taken care of the filters and placated Thomson, I was back in the locker room. Scrubbing it down on my hands and knees.

"Told you he'd still be here," Jayden's voice echoed behind me.

I turned, startled. "Muchachos? What are you doing here?"

It was late at night. I'd sent the team home - Mason, Jayden included - before I'd gotten back to work. Thankfully, Thomson had decided to let me off today with some physical labour. Not the worst, all things considered.

Mason was already stepping into the locker room, dragging a mop bucket behind him like it offended him personally. Jayden followed, twirling a damp towel in one hand and balancing a half-eaten granola bar in the other.

"You really thought we were gonna leave you to clean this place alone?" Mason asked, setting the bucket down with a decisive splash. "After that asshole went full drill sergeant on you?"

"Ay. I'm fine," I said quickly. "You don't need to--"

"You always say that," Jayden interrupted, tossing his towel onto the nearest bench. "And we never believe you."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then looked away. "Still. It's not your responsibility."

"Neither is picking up after thirty other dudes who can't aim at a urinal," Mason said, grabbing a rag. "And yet, here we are."

Jayden grabbed a squeegee from the wall rack. "Besides, I need the workout. Gotta keep my glutes tight for my OnlyFans."

Mason snorted. "You wish."

Jayden winked at me. "What do you think, Big D? Would you subscribe?"

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "You're insufferable."

"Say it again," he purred. "Slower."

Mason snickered as he handed me a clean sponge. I couldn't help but laugh along with them.

We worked like that for a while, the three of us settling into a rhythm. It wasn't glamorous--scrubbing soap scum, rinsing out drains, collecting wet towels that no one had bothered to hang. But it felt... easier, with them. Lighter. Like I wasn't being punished. Like I wasn't alone.

At some point, Jayden put on music from his phone. Old-school soul. The kind of stuff my mami used to play on Sunday mornings while scrubbing the kitchen floors. It made my throat feel tight.

"Hey," Mason said, after a long quiet stretch. "Can I ask you something?"

I glanced over. He was crouched beside the ice bath, wiping down the edge. He looked almost comical, a half-giant on his knees, tongue sticking out absently with concentration.

"Sure." I said.

"Why'd you even want this job?"

"¿Qué?" I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, sitting back on his heels, "you do everything. Fix equipment, organize drills, handle scheduling, clean this mess--and you get paid peanuts for it. So why stay?"

Jayden leaned against a locker, arms folded. "Yeah. You're smart as hell, Diegs. You've got a degree. You could be doing anything. Not like us himbos." He grunted as Mason punched him lightly in the side.

I chuckled once, then let it fade, looking down at the tile. It was freshly scrubbed, glinting slightly under the harsh fluorescents. A blurry silhouette gazed back up at me. It seemed curious. Contemplative.

"No sé... I dunno. I guess I just like helping people," I said softly. "I like... seeing someone improve. Knowing I had a part in it."

It was true, I reflected. Not all of it, but definitely part of the truth. They didn't say anything, so I kept going.

"When I was a kid, I thought I'd be a coach one day. Not for the glory or anything. Just... to be that person someone trusts. That someone needs. I liked the idea of that."

It sounded stupid, I knew, as I said it. I'd never had lofty goals or ambitions. I just wanted to feel useful. But when I glanced at them, they weren't laughing.

Jayden's voice, quieter now: "You'd be a great coach."

I let out a bitter little laugh. "Pues, Coach Thomson doesn't think so."

"He's a washed-up bastard with a God complex," Mason said bluntly. "You're already more of a coach than he'll ever be."

"Yeah," Jayden agreed. "You're the only one who actually cares. Like, actually sees us."

My throat thickened. I hadn't expected sincerity at this late hour. Coming from Mason and Jayden, it meant that much more. I wiped my eye briefly with a knuckle.

"Even now," Mason added, "you'd rather talk about drills and shoulder rehab than admit he treats you like shit."

I looked away. There was a long silence. Maybe they sensed I didn't want to talk about it.

Eventually, Mason stood, then walked over and handed me the protein bar I'd tucked into his locker that morning. "You keep feeding us," he said. "Let us feed you back."

I took it, slowly, my fingers trembling.

Jayden pressed in on my other side. Not touching--just close. "One day," he said, "you're gonna be the head coach somewhere. I'm calling it now."

I laughed, watery and unexpected. "Yeah?"

"Hell yeah," Jayden said, grinning. "And I'll be your hot, uncoachable swimmer with too much attitude."

"And I'll be the senior captain who makes him do drills until he pukes," Mason added cheerfully.

"Ay. I already do that," I muttered.

They both laughed, and I let myself laugh with them.

We finished the cleaning. The music played. The night wrapped around us like something warm. At the end, after Jayden and Mason had bid me adiós--sweaty, chortling--I sat on the bench and closed my eyes. Breathing deeply. Wishing it could have lasted a little bit longer.

---

A few days later, Thomson called me into his office, as he always did.

The office smelled like old coffee and sweat and whatever Thomson had been drinking before I arrived. In my own mind, where nobody could overhear, he was just Thomson, never Coach.

His eyes were bloodshot. Red around the edges like something raw. He hadn't said anything when I knocked--just waved me in and shut the door behind me.

I stood awkwardly by the filing cabinet, hands folded in front of me. The AC was rattling overhead. The blinds were drawn, the room lit only by a single flickering bulb. His desk was empty, except for a half-empty bottle of vodka and the broken picture frame where a married couple had once smiled.

"You've been busy lately," he said finally, voice rough with something that wasn't just alcohol. "Team looks happy."

I swallowed. "We've been tightening relay exchanges. Jayden's turn time dropped by--"

"That wasn't a compliment."

He stepped out from behind the desk. Moved too close.

"You've been getting comfortable," he said, eyes dragging over me. "Laughing with them. Touching them. They don't even call you 'sir,' do they?"

I bit my tongue. "Ay--I'm just the team manager, sir." I said quickly. "They don't mean anything by it."

"No?" He murmured. His hand came up suddenly, fingers grazing my jaw. I flinched. He didn't stop.

"You're too pretty for your own damn good," he said. "Must be nice. Being wanted."

My chest tightened. I stared at the floor. "Sir, I--"

"I told you," he said, voice hardening, "I don't like when you play games with me, Rodriguez. I don't like seeing you act like you're in charge."

"I'm not--"

"Then prove it."

I knew what that meant. I always knew what that meant. My knees moved before my brain did, and I dropped, the cold tile sharp under my skin.

There was a part of me that still hoped--stupidly, desperately--that if I just did it quickly, quietly, if I didn't make a sound, he'd leave me alone. That I could stay in the little corner of my mind where I kept the boys' smiles, the soft morning light by the pool, the feel of Mason's arms around me when I couldn't breathe.

But Thomson was in a mood tonight. He wanted it mean.

He unzipped slowly. Tugged himself out. Already half-hard. Already flushed.

"Open," he said, like I was a faucet. I did.

The taste hit first--bitter, stale. He grunted as he shoved deeper, hands bracing on the back of my head. I gagged, but he didn't stop. Didn't slow.

"This is all you're good for," he growled. "Not a coach. Not a citizen. Just a hole to fill."

My nails dug into my thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Bet you like this," he sneered. "Bet you love being used. Must feel good, knowing you've got some purpose."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, hot and silent. I hated my body for not fighting. Hated the heat pooling in my gut that didn't make sense. Hated the way my heart still wanted to be good, still thought if I just endured, I could go back to normal.

He finished with a grunt. Pulled back and zipped up like I was a dirty rag. I felt filthy, coated inside and out with another stain I'd never erase.

"Quit your crying," he said curtly, wiping his hands on a towel. "Don't forget our arrangement."

I stayed kneeling even after he left. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Eventually, I stood. Spat. Washed my mouth in the sink with the shitty hand soap from the dispenser.

The mirror didn't look like me.

---

After I left Coach's office, I made my way slowly back to the pool. As I always did.

Around me, the world seemed dull and colourless, drained of feeling. I barely heard, barely saw, my body moving as if on autopilot. Ingrained habit made me laugh as usual when Mason snuck up behind me to wrap me in a bear hug, and give Jayden a smack when he almost dragged me into the pool. But really, all I could feel was numb. Like a vast, gaping hole had opened inside me, sucking me hollow, leaving just skin draped over the void.

In a way, the deafening emptiness wasn't so bad. At least it didn't hurt as much this way.

"Diego."

I blinked. It was almost the end of practice, the sun low on the horizon. I'd been so blind to the world, I hadn't noticed the two of them quietly getting out of the pool. Now they stood around me, walling me in. Blocking any attempt to escape.

"Muchachos... can we... not do this today?" I said. I'd been trying for playful but I just sounded tired. "I'm not really feeling it."

They exchanged glances, gazes unreadable. Wordlessly, Mason took hold of me, gently turning me to face him. His palm lingered between my shoulder blades--warm and grounding. The usual mischief in his face had gone out like a light.

"Diego. Is Coach Thomson riding your ass again?" His brows furrowed as he studied me closely, eyes never leaving my face.

"No," I said too quickly.

He looked unimpressed, lips curling down into a frown.

"Liar," Jayden murmured, from behind. His voice was soft, but sure. "You never could keep your fingers from twitching."

I looked down. My hand was still on the mesh bag of kickboards I'd grabbed earlier, fingers flexing and unflexing like they had a mind of their own. With an effort, I willed them to stop, my hands balling into fists.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound casual. "It's just been a long day."

Jayden stepped around, appearing from the side like a cat out of shadow. "Man, every day is a long day for you. Don't go giving me that cap." He tilted his head. "You eating enough, Diegs? Or is Coach making you skip meals too?"

"Ay, he's not--"

"He's a piece of shit," Mason said flatly. His lips pulled back into a snarl. "Everyone knows it. He talks to you like you're dirt. And you always say you're fine. Even though you look dead inside."

That landed. I looked away, not saying anything.

Jayden twirled his goggles once, then let them drop into his swim bag. His whole body seemed taut, like a cat with its back up. "Alright, homie. If you won't tell us what he's doing..." He stepped closer, invading my personal space the way only he could. "Let's take a guess."

I swallowed. A flutter of panic rose in my chest. "No. Don't," I blurted. My voice sounded small and weak, even to me.

"Hmm," he hummed, circling behind me now, voice dangerously soft. "What do you think, Mace? Is Coach docking his pay again?"

"Or making him clean the locker room solo after practice," Mason said, a little louder, brows knit into a line.

"Or maybe..." Jayden drawled, voice lowering, quiet as a honed knife. "Maybe, he's asking for something else."

That made me flinch. Just barely. But I felt Mason notice it, his fingers tightening just slightly on my shoulders.

Jayden stopped. His tone softened, but his words stayed sharp. "You don't have to tell us. But if he's touching you, Diego..."

Mason's hands closed gently over my forearms. "We'll break his fucking kneecaps." I shivered at the sudden venom in his voice.

"Or we'll tell Coach Valdez from UT Women's," Jayden said. "She hates Thomson."

"Or we go over his head entirely," Mason said. "Straight to compliance. Or the police. Whatever you need."

I whimpered. "No. Please. That would... it would only make things worse."

"How?" Mason asked. "Worse how?"

My voice caught, forming a solid lump in my throat. All I could do was shake my head, blinking away the tears that were starting to form in my eyes.

Even now, my papi's voice drifted back to me. "Never tell anyone, mijo. ¿Comprendes? Nobody. Not even your best friend número uno." At just seven years old, I'd been scared by how intense he had sounded. It was one of the last memories I had of him, before he'd been taken away.

Jayden watched me, unblinking. His usual cocky grin was nowhere to be seen. "It's not that simple, is it?" he asked, voice uncharacteristically soft. "He's got something on you."

I didn't speak. Couldn't. So I just let my head hang, unable to meet any of their eyes. My voice had gone somewhere dark and unreachable.

"... Goddamn," Mason whispered.

The silence that followed was thick and wet, like the air just before a thunderstorm, broken only by the distant sound of ripples and splashes. The rest of the team was still swimming, still laughing, still living normal, sunlit lives. But we were all here, in the shadow of something ugly.

"Okay," Mason finally said, after a long while. He seemed shaken, but resolute. "Okay. We don't have to fix it today. But you're not alone. You get that?"

I nodded, my face tight. He tugged me into his arms, pulling me tightly against him, a hand stroking the back of my head. I let myself slump against him, the tension finally leaving me with a quiet whimper. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, running down the warm, solid curve of his chest.

Jayden leaned in too, folding his arms over my back, chin resting gently on my shoulder. His breath caressed my ear as he gently rubbed my shoulders. "Chill, Diegs. We got you." His voice hardened with resolve. "We're not gonna let him do anything else to you."

"I know you're scared," Mason whispered in my ear, voice soft. "But we're here for you. Let us help."

And that... that broke something in me. I breathed in, slow, deep. The numbness inside me faded a little, and in its place sprang up something hot and prickly.

"Okay," I said, in a small, trembly voice. And for a while, I just let them hold me close. Letting the warmth melt everything away, and escaping for a time into a dream.

---

[Mason's POV.]

I didn't plan to wait.

The moment practice ended, I watched Diego disappear into the equipment room--tight-lipped, too quiet--and knew I couldn't keep pretending. Jayden was still rinsing off in the showers. The rest of the team was scattered across the locker room, loud and oblivious.

Coach Thomson's office door was ajar. I walked straight in.

Thomson looked up from his desk, clearly annoyed. "Something you need?"

I shut the door behind me. "I want to talk about Diego."

Thomson blinked once. "That so?" He looked at me, reassessing.

"You've been riding him hard lately," I said, voice tight. "The way you talk to him in front of the team? It's not okay. He does more for us than you ever have, and all you do is treat him like shit."

Coach Thomson didn't blink. He just leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "You done?"

"No." I stepped forward. "I don't know what your problem is, but if I see you humiliate him like that again--if I hear you talk to him like he's nothing--so help me God--"

"You'll what?" He interrupted, voice calm and oily. "Go crying to the dean? Get your teammates to sign a petition?"

My jaw clenched. It took all my effort not to bare my teeth in a snarl.

Coach Thomson stood. Not fast. But somehow it felt like a threat.

"You think you're protecting him?" he said, stepping around the desk. "You think you know what's going on here? You don't know shit."

I didn't move, just folded my arms and glowered. "Try me."

Thomson's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Let me tell you something about your precious Diego. He's not supposed to be here. Legally. You understand what that means? One phone call, and he's gone. Not just fired. Deported."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. I staggered back a step.

"Oh, you didn't know," Thomson said, mock-pitying. "Cute. Thought you were saving some poor underpaid student? Turns out he's not even supposed to be in the country."

"You're lying." I said. It sounded weak even to me.

"Am I?" Thomson said. "You want to test it? Go ahead. Make noise. Watch what happens."

My fists curled into balls. For a moment I imagined lunging forward to punch him square in the nose.

Thomson stepped closer, lowering his voice. He stopped directly in front of me, sneering up into my face. "You want to keep him safe? Then stay the hell out of my business. Because if I go down--I'll make sure he goes with me."

I wanted to punch him. God, I wanted to. But Diego's face flashed in my mind--bruised by stress, holding everything in with both hands. Terrified of something none of us could fix with a few threats.

So I turned.

Walked out.

Straight past the lockers. Straight out into the cold.

---

[Jayden's POV.]

I didn't sleep that night. Not after what Mason told me.

I lay on my bed in the dark, one hand resting on the back of my neck, the other holding my phone above his face, scrolling furiously. Through immigration law forums. Through advocacy blogs. Through bureaucratic government pages with text the size of ants. Looking for something--anything--that might help.

If Thomson was telling the truth--if Diego really was undocumented--then I was going to learn everything there was to know about how to protect him.

We didn't tell Diego. Didn't ask permission. Just started digging.

By sunrise, I had three separate folders on my laptop: one labeled "Evidence," one labeled "Legal Options," and one just called Hopeful Shit. That one had a single document in it--a case study from an immigration nonprofit titled: "How DACA, Humanitarian Parole, and U-Visa Petitions Saved My Ass."

I read it three times. And then I started emailing people.

A professor from the law school who specialized in immigration reform. A friend of his older sister's who'd gotten amnesty through a university filing. The local Latinx resource center at UT. Each message was polite, concise, careful.

I was careful. Never named Diego. I just described a situation. And within forty-eight hours, I had answers. Real ones.

Diego qualified.

Not just for one pathway--but multiple. Between his long-term residency, his spotless record, his contribution to the university, and--God help us--his ongoing exploitation by a person in power, there were avenues.

Legal ones. Survivable ones.

I stood up from the library computer and almost cried. Then immediately texted Mason:

J: bro. get here. now. library 3rd floor. bring Diego. don't ask. just come.

---

[Diego's POV]

We sat in one of the study rooms upstairs in the library, the air stale with dust and fluorescent light. Mason had pulled a chair close beside me, one arm draped loosely across the back like he was ready to catch me if I crumpled. Jayden was across the table, fingers drumming on the edge of his laptop, eyes sharp, but soft. Waiting.

The screen was still lit. It glowed with bullet points and acronyms I didn't yet understand--DACA. U-visa. Parole.

Not the kind that meant prison. The kind that meant maybe. Maybe I could stay. Maybe Coach couldn't touch me anymore. Maybe I didn't have to live with the knot in my stomach every time I saw a government seal, every time someone said the word "paperwork," every time I walked past a campus cop and couldn't quite breathe.

I didn't say anything. I just sat there, shoulders tight, breath caught somewhere in my throat, while my mind moved in a thousand directions at once.

This couldn't be real. It was too much. Too kind. Too possible.

"I know it's a lot," Mason said softly. His voice anchored me. "You don't have to decide anything now."

Jayden was watching me too, uncharacteristically quiet. "But it's real," he added. "This isn't some pipe dream. It's law. And it's yours if you want it."

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. Not violently. Just a small tremor, like my body didn't know what to do with this sudden absence of pressure.

For so long, I'd shaped my life around silence. Around invisibility. I'd learned how to carry the weight of being undocumented like a second spine--rigid, permanent, painful. I told myself it was fine. That I could manage. That if I worked hard enough, was useful enough, small enough... maybe no one would look too closely.

But now Mason and Jayden were looking. Not with suspicion. Not with pity. With love. They weren't asking me to vanish. They were asking me to stay.

"No sé cómo..." My voice cracked. "What if I mess it up?"

"You won't," Mason said, firm. "And if you do, we'll deal with it. Together."

"Muchachos. I don't want to ruin your lives," I whispered.

Jayden leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Diegs. You've been saving ours since the day you joined the team. We're just finally returning the favor."

I laughed--wet, breathless. I wiped my eyes. "You're both loco."

"You're in love with us," Jayden said, grinning.

"Painfully," I muttered.

Mason's fingers brushed my spine. "So?"

I looked at them then--really looked. At the way Jayden's leg bounced like he was holding back too much energy. At the way Mason's hand rested just above my hip, not possessive, just present. Warm. Steady.

They didn't see a liability. They saw me.

I sat back. Exhaled slowly. Let it sink in.

I could do this. I wasn't ready to say it out loud. But inside, something had shifted.

I was tired of being afraid.

---

I didn't knock. I'd spent too many years waiting for permission.

The door slammed open as I pushed it, the fluorescent overhead buzzing faintly as I stepped into Coach Thomson's office. It was dim--blinds half-closed, papers scattered across the desk, a half-empty bottle of something sharp and brown glinting in the corner. The air stank of sweat and old anger.

He looked up, sluggish and squinting, like light hurt him. Like truth hurt him.

"Rodriguez," he slurred. "What the hell do you think you're--"

"Cállate. Sit down," I said. My voice was quiet. Even. Cold.

Behind me, Mason and Jayden stepped into the doorway and stopped. They didn't say a word, but they didn't need to. I could feel them there. Like wings at my back.

Thomson blinked, trying to muster some of his usual menace. "You don't come into my office like that."

"Not your office anymore," I said, moving forward. "Not for long."

Something flickered behind his eyes--confusion. Fear. Then it curdled into spite.

"What, you bringing your little boyfriends to back you up? You think I'm scared of some wetback charity case and his--"

I slammed both hands on the desk. The sound cracked like a gunshot.

"Say that again," I whispered.

He went silent.

My chest heaved. I could feel it rising, all the things I'd swallowed over the years--every humiliation, every threat, every time I'd gagged on my own silence just to survive.

"You thought I'd never fight back," I said. "You thought I'd let you keep using me because I was scared."

He snorted, but it didn't have bite. "You were scared."

"I was surviving." My eyes didn't leave his. "But ya no más. I'm done with that now."

I dropped the folder onto the desk. Thick. Labeled. Tidy. It landed between us like a blade.

"Documentation," I said. "Of every night. Every schedule change. Every locker room you made me clean alone. Every late meeting. We have photos. Time logs. Witnesses."

Thomson stared at it like it might explode.

"We've spoken with compliance. With immigration lawyers. With the Title IX coordinator. No me vas a joder más, pendejo. You can't touch me anymore."

He looked at me--really looked. For the first time, I think, he realized I was out of his power.

"What do you want?" he rasped.

"I wanted you to stop." I said. "Quería que te detuvieras. But now? I want you gone."

Coach's face collapsed in on itself--blotchy, grey. He sagged back in his chair like the weight of his own cowardice had finally crushed him.

I stepped back. And I breathed. For the first time in years, I breathed.

Then I turned around, and left the office. My muchachos followed me out--silent, sure. And the door shut behind us like the end of a sentence.

---

I thought that was the end of it. So I didn't know anything was up until I stepped into the gym, a few days later.

The air was wrong. Still. Expectant. Like the water was holding its breath.

It was early evening, hours past practice, but the building wasn't empty. There were footsteps echoing--heels, not slides. The scent of chlorine hung thick in the air, mingling with something sharper. Metal. Leather.

I rounded the corner and stopped dead. Coach Thomson was in the lobby. So was Coach Rachel Valdez, of the women's team. There were two campus security officers. And a woman in a navy suit with a clipboard and an unimpressed stare. Mason and Jayden stood off to the side, silent. Watching.

"What--?" My voice caught.

"Mr. Thomson," the woman in the suit said crisply, "you are being taken into custody pending formal investigation by Title IX and campus police. You have the right to remain silent--"

Thomson's head whipped toward me. I caught the murderous gleam in his eye. "You little--you set me up?!"

I flinched, taking a step back, instinct screaming. But Mason was already between us. So fast I didn't even see him move. Just--solid, immovable, eyes hard as steel. In the next heartbeat, Jayden was at my side, hand wrapping around mine.

"No, we set you up, bitch," he said coolly. "He doesn't get his hands dirty for trash like you."

Thomson struggled, but the officers restrained him quickly. His eyes stayed on me, wild, furious.

"You think this is over?" he spat. "You think you're safe?"

"I know I am," I whispered.

The doors opened, and they took him away. Just like that. Gone.

Coach Valdez glowered after him. "Always hated that old bastard," she spat. "Nothing but a stain on the whole athletics department. It's a goddamn stone off my chest he's finally gone."

I stood there, rooted. The air prickled across my skin, like it didn't quite know what to be without his shadow in it. My heart was thundering, but my feet wouldn't move. It felt too big. Too unreal.

"Órale. You did it," I breathed.

Mason turned, looking guilty. "We... kind of didn't tell you. We didn't want to get your hopes up."

"I thought you'd be scared," Jayden added. "Thought you'd stop us."

"I would have stopped you," I said, voice breaking. "I--I didn't want it to come to this. I didn't want--"

Mason stepped close and pulled me in. Held me tightly to his chest. His hands traced soothing lines down the back of my neck.

"You didn't have to want it," he murmured. "You just had to deserve it."

Jayden pressed in from behind, arms sliding around my waist, cheek against my temple. "And you do. So much more than he ever did."

I sank into them. My body trembled. My hands were still curled into fists--ready to fight. Always ready. But I didn't need to. Not anymore.

I let the fists unfurl. Let my head drop. Let their warmth carry me. My voice cracked, soft against Mason's chest: "You really got him?"

Jayden kissed my jaw, featherlight. "We buried him, baby."

And this time, when I cried, it wasn't from fear.

It was from the wild, giddy relief of being free.

---

When I walked into the locker room the next morning, I expected stares. Whispers. Maybe even questions I couldn't answer.

But the boys were quiet.

Not cold--never that. They greeted me like always. Jayden winked. Mason grinned, wide and sunny. Logan threw a protein bar at my head and muttered something about "narrow hips and poor leadership."

But under it all, the air felt different.

I kept waiting for someone to ask about Thomson. About the cops. About the woman in the navy suit. But no one did.

Instead, they swam harder. Cleaned up after themselves. Split lanes with zero whining. Someone had scrubbed the locker room showers without being asked. The stereo was already on when I arrived--an old-school playlist I recognized from the nights I'd cleaned alone. It was like a nightmare had lifted and the world had heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Jayden slid into my periphery during warmups. "We good?" He peered at me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I blinked. "Sí. I just--what's going on?"

He shrugged, casual. "Nothing. Team meeting last night. You weren't invited."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd tell us not to do anything dramatic."

Mason popped up from the lane like a golden retriever who'd learned English. "So we did it anyway!"

I stared at them both. "What... did you do?"

"Just... shared some stuff." Jayden's smile was all teeth. "Sent a few emails."

"Let a few folks know how long you've been carrying this place," Mason added.

"I--" I started, and stopped. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something warm. Something impossibly wide.

"Ay, dios, muchachos. You didn't have to--"

"Yeah," Jayden said softly, "we did."

And then I noticed: someone had scrawled something on the whiteboard above the schedule.

"LISTEN TO COACH DIEGO."

Someone else had doodled a little crown over my name.

---

Later that day, the coach of the women's team, Rachel Valdez, dropped by and handed me a clipboard.

"I'm officially taking over the men's team," she said with a smirk. "But unofficially? I don't have the damn time to babysit a bunch of half-naked dolphin boys. God knows I've got my hands full already with the girls."

I blinked. "So...?"

"So you're in charge. Coach."

She left before I could say anything.

That afternoon, the team clapped when I gave instructions. Clapped. Like they'd been waiting years just to hear me say start your warmup like it meant something.

And I guess... it did. I wasn't just the manager anymore.

I was theirs.

Their corazón.

Their coach.

---

The music was too loud. The pizza was already half-devoured. Someone had started a game of beer pong using kickboard paddles.

It was perfect.

"TO COACH DIEGO!" someone shouted. Mason, probably. Or maybe Logan. I didn't care.

"Coach Diego!" the team roared back, raising their solo cups.

I felt myself flush--shy, overwhelmed, glowing. Someone pressed a drink into my hand. Jayden? Kevin? It didn't matter. It was sweet and cold and bubbling over, just like me.

I didn't usually like crowds. But tonight wasn't a crowd. It was family. Everywhere I turned, I saw someone I'd patched up, drilled, stretched, scolded, believed in. And now they believed in me, too.

Jayden danced barefoot on a coffee table, shirtless, swinging a towel above his head. "You look hot, Coach!" he hollered over the music.

"Shut up!" I yelled back, grinning like an idiot. Mason swooped in behind me and kissed the top of my head. "He's not wrong, though."

I was laughing before I could stop myself. Really laughing. The kind that curls in your chest and spills out, unafraid. I didn't even know I could sound like that.

Eventually, the party started to drift. A few swimmers peeled off. The music softened. The mess waited. But not Jayden. Not Mason. They flanked me on either side, calm and close.

"Come on," Mason said, nudging my hip. "You're coming with us."

"Ay, somebody should clean--"

Jayden cut in smoothly. "Not tonight, Diegs. Tonight, we take care of you."

Mason pulled me by the hand. Jayden opened the door. And I let myself be led.

---

Mason's room was dimly lit, warm with leftover heat from the day. The window cracked open just enough to let in the cicadas.

He closed the door behind us with a soft click, and the quiet pressed in, intimate.

Jayden peeled his shirt off without ceremony and tossed it onto the desk chair. His chest gleamed faintly in the low light, skin still smelling faintly of chlorine and citrus. Mason flicked on a bedside lamp, casting the room in soft amber glow.

I stood there for a second, awkward. Floaty. Still tipsy with laughter, but the kind that made your ribs ache a little when it finally faded.

They watched me like I was something sacred.

"You okay?" Mason asked gently, brushing a hand against my shoulder.

"Sí--yeah. Just... overwhelmed." I let out a breath, shaky but real. "Good overwhelmed. Es que... I've never had something like that before. People cheering for me."

Jayden stepped in behind me, slid his arms around my waist. "You deserve it," he murmured into my neck. "Every bit."

"We just wanted to celebrate you properly," Mason said. "Our way."

I blinked, suddenly aware of how close they both were. Jayden's hips nudging mine from behind, Mason's fingers gently brushing my arm.

"¿Oh?" I tried to sound casual. Failed.

Jayden leaned closer, his breath hot on my ear. "You really haven't figured out what this is?"

My heart kicked up. "Pensé que... I mean, I didn't know you meant--"

Mason stepped in, cradling me close, cutting me off. For several long beats he just looked at me, face floating before mine, giving me plenty of time to pull away. When I didn't, he leaned in and kissed me. Slow. Like he had all the time in the world. His hand cradled the back of my neck, thumb stroking behind my ear.

"We want it," he murmured into my lips. "But... only if you want it too."

When he pulled back, Jayden was grinning.

"Oh yeah." he said, voice low and thick with promise. "Me, I've wanted your cock up my ass for ages."

I froze. For a beat, the world narrowed to just that sentence. That grin. The flicker of challenge in his eyes. He'd stripped down to nothing but a pair of black briefs, arms behind his head like he was posing for a calendar shoot. Mason stood on the other side of me, his hand on my lower back--warm, grounding.

"Ay--" I started. Then stopped.

Jayden walked up slowly, stalking toward me like something predatory, oiled dark skin glowing in the low light. "What? You think I'm joking? After all the times I flirted with you? All the times I got hard on purpose during cooldowns, hoping you'd notice?"

I swallowed hard. "I noticed."

"Good," he said, and shoved his lips to mine.

It wasn't a tease, not this time. It was hungry, unguarded--his lips warm and open, his hand cupping the back of my neck like he couldn't bear to let go. I kissed him back with everything I had, months of tension bleeding out of me in one desperate rush. God, I'd wanted this for months. My dick throbbed heavily in my boxers.

When we finally broke apart, panting, Mason was right there, pulling me in for another kiss, slower this time. Sweeter. His fingers brushed my jaw, thumb stroking the curve of my cheek like he was afraid I might shatter. I clutched his lips close to mine, my hands massaging the back of his broad neck.

"You don't have to do anything," he murmured, panting. "We're not expecting--"

"I want to," I said, breath catching. "Quiero sentirme bien. I want to feel good with you. With both of you." I shivered, closing my eyes. Even now, sex filled me with a sense of overwhelming shame. I wanted them to clean me out. Make me forget everything.

Jayden let out a sound halfway between a groan and a purr. "Fuck. Don't tease us like that."

I shivered as Mason leaned in, lips grazing my ear. "Let us take care of you, Diego. Just this once. Let it all go." He looked at me again, eyes like an oversized puppy. Hopeful. Begging, just a little. I'd never been able to say no to that face.

I let them undress me--slowly, reverently. Mason kissed the slope of my shoulder as he peeled my shirt off. Jayden sank to his knees in front of me, hands sliding up my thighs like worship, not lust. When he mouthed over the bulge in my briefs, I choked on a gasp, my knees buckling slightly. Mason caught me from behind, arms around my waist, lips brushing the back of my neck.

"Easy," he whispered. "We've got you."

I nodded, barely able to breathe.

Jayden pulled my briefs down, and my cock sprang free--thick, aching, flushed dark with need. His eyes went wide with hunger. "Fuck, Diegs," he breathed. "Your cock..." He licked his lips, greedily. "Guess I was right to call you Big D."

I flushed, body tense--but he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head, tongue flicking out to taste me like he'd been starving for it. I groaned at the sudden warmth, my hips twitching forward before I could stop them.

Mason guided me down onto the bed, onto my back, with Jayden between my legs. I didn't fight it. I let them arrange me, let them strip me bare and press me open. Jayden sucked me slow and deep, his mouth wet and perfect, while Mason leaned down to kiss me, one hand stroking my chest, the other tracing slow circles around my nipple.

It was too much. It wasn't enough.

Jayden pulled off, eyes blown dark. For a moment, a thin line of spit connected my tip to his mouth. "You still want to fuck me?" he asked, licking his lips.

"Yes." I said, hoarse. God, yes. I'd wanted to fuck him ever since I laid eyes on him.

"Good." He rolled onto his back and spread his legs like a prayer. When he spoke, his voice was low, edged with need. "Then take me."

I moved over him, hands trembling, but Mason was already there--slick in hand, gentle fingers guiding mine as I prepped Jayden carefully, reverently. He moaned under me, biting his lip, pushing back on my fingers like he wanted more.

I ​​lined up, the head of my cock brushing against his entrance. His hands reached up to grab my face. And for a moment, I froze--flashes of other nights, other hands, shame tangled up in arousal--

Then Jayden looked up at me, eyes dark and wide and mine, and whispered: "Don't go anywhere, Diego." Mason nuzzled my neck from behind, big hands spread--warm, comforting--across my chest. "Stay here," he said softly. "Stay with us."

I breathed in. Grounded myself. Let the nightmare fade. And I pushed in.

Dios mío, he was tight. Hot. His thighs trembled on either side of me. I kept my eyes locked on his face the whole time, watching every twitch, every sharp breath, every sigh. My mind flashed back to every time he'd lain under me, just like that, as I stretched him. Only now his expression was infinitely more filthy. It sent a hot pulse through me, my cock throbbing as I slid in further.

"Yeah," he rasped. "That's it. Just like that. Fuck--!" He spasmed briefly as I bottomed out, lips parted in a wordless cry.

"Ay cabrón", I hissed. His insides were gripping me so hard I thought I was going to explode. "Órale. I can't believe you took all of me."

Mason moved behind me, trailing kisses down my spine, whispering praise. "You're doing so good, Diego. Look at you. Gorgeous."

I rocked into Jayden slow, deep, careful. He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down into a kiss, messy and aching. "Harder," he gasped. "Please. Don't hold back."

He looked unbearably eager. Keening. It was an expression I'd never seen from him--open desire, unadulterated, bared at last. I shook briefly, overcome with how needy he seemed to be.

Then I let him have it.

Not rough--not cruel. But honest. Unleashed. I let the sounds fill the room: the slap of skin, the gasp of breath, the creak of bedsprings as I pistoned in and out of him. With every thrust, Jayden bucked beneath me, twitching, gasping, eyes blown wide. Dios mío, but he was incredible. His legs hooked around me--muscled, eager--urging me on, coaxing to me pound faster and harder into his ready hole. I hissed. Moaned. I couldn't believe how much he wanted it.

Beside us, Mason watched hungrily, jerking himself off, eyes locked on the place where I stretched Jayden open. Then he moved up beside us and kissed me hard as I fucked Jayden, our hands tangling, our bodies a mess of heat and salt and need. My cock throbbed violently. I was overcome, sandwiched between Jayden's heat and Mason's warmth.

Jayden came first--gasping, back arching, cock untouched. Mason followed soon after, groaning into my neck, cumming hard over both our stomachs.

I was the last. Held between them. Worshipped. With a quiet grunt, I unloaded deep inside him, painting his insides white with my release. He gasped, as if feeling the warmth bloom inside him.

When it was over, we lay tangled in the sheets, breathless and quiet. Jayden curled into my side, nuzzling my shoulder like a satisfied cat. Mason lay sprawled across my chest, his arm heavy and safe across my belly. No one spoke. There was no need.

I felt whole.

---

I woke slowly.

For the first time in what felt like years, my body didn't lurch awake. There was no tightness in my chest, no acid in my throat. No clanging alarm in my mind screaming you're late, you forgot, he's waiting. Just breath. Just warmth.

I was warm.

And not just under the blanket. I was wrapped in it--limbs tangled, skin pressed to skin. Mason's arm lay heavy across my waist, his breath soft against the back of my neck. One of his thighs was slung lazily over mine, like he'd anchored me in place with his whole body.

And on my other side... Jayden. Bare-chested, all long limbs and reckless sleep, curled into me like a cat staking its claim. His fingers rested low on my stomach, just beneath the sheets. Possessive. Protective.

I didn't move. I just breathed.

There was a quietness to the room that felt holy. The golden hush of early morning filtered in through the curtains, casting everything in that soft, amber light that makes even clutter feel sacred. The air smelled faintly of sweat, sex, and whatever citrus body wash Jayden was always pushing on the rest of the team.

And I felt... light. Like something enormous had been lifted off my shoulders. Like I'd been holding my breath for years and only just now remembered how to let it go.

Jayden stirred, nose nudging into my collarbone. "Mmm. You awake?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

His voice was rough with sleep, but fond. "You sound different."

I blinked. "Different how?"

"I dunno." He stretched against me, one long leg sliding between mine. "Like you don't hate the world anymore."

A small laugh escaped me. "I don't think I ever hated the world."

"You hated how it treated you," Mason mumbled behind me, voice muffled against my shoulder blade. "But we're working on that."

I swallowed hard. There was a silence. Not awkward. Just... full. Like none of us needed to rush.

Jayden's hand moved gently over my stomach, fingers drawing soft, aimless circles. "You feel good," he murmured. "Relaxed."

"I feel..." I started. Then stopped.

Mason kissed the nape of my neck, lazy and slow. "Say it."

"I feel safe," I said.

The words came out smaller than I meant. Like they weren't used to being said aloud. But neither of them teased me. Jayden hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. Mason tightened his arm around me.

"We've got you," Mason said, simple as anything.

"We're not going anywhere," Jayden added.

And maybe I didn't say anything back. Maybe I didn't need to. Because they both felt it, I think--how my body eased, how my hand found theirs beneath the sheets and held on.

We stayed like that for a long time. Warm. Quiet. Wrapped around each other like there was nothing in the world but us.

---

I must have dozed again, because the next thing I felt was a slow drag of fingers down my chest. Mason's hand. Warm. Calloused. Familiar. I blinked blearily, breath catching as he slipped lower, tracing the faint line of hair down my stomach.

"You're hard," he murmured, voice low and lazy against my ear.

I flushed, instinctively shifting under the sheets. Jayden had curled tighter against me, still half-asleep, lips parted as he breathed soft into my shoulder. But Mason--Mason was very much awake. His palm pressed flat over my cock through the fabric of my briefs. I groaned, hips jerking upward before I could stop them.

"That's what I thought," he said, with a grin in his voice. "My turn to take care of you."

I shivered. "Ay, Mason. You don't have to--"

"I want to." His voice was firmer now, threading with something hungrier. "You gave yourself to Jayden last night. Let me have you this time."

My cock throbbed under his hand. The cotton of my briefs was already damp at the tip.

"Fuck." I whispered, arching slightly into him.

Mason didn't waste time. He peeled my briefs down with careful reverence, and my cock sprang free--heavy, flushed, already twitching. He hummed low in appreciation.

"God, you're so fuckin' pretty, Diego."

He dipped down and kissed the head, just once, feather-light. I gasped, muscles tightening. Then he opened his mouth and took me in.

Warm. Wet. Perfect.

I bit back a moan, hand flying to his hair instinctively. His lips sealed around me with practiced ease, his tongue swirling just under the crown before he sank lower. I didn't think it was possible to be this sensitive after last night, but my whole body lit up at the first pull of suction.

"Dios mío, Mason--" I hissed, trembling. It felt like my cock had entered heaven.

He looked up at me as he worked me deeper, eyes dark and steady. He didn't blink. Didn't stop. Just devoured me--slow, steady, like he had all morning.

Jayden stirred against my side, eyes blinking open. He blinked at me first, then looked down under the sheets.

A smirk curved over his lips. "Well damn," he rasped. "Lucky me, waking up to this show."

I flushed hard, even as Mason moaned around me. Jayden kissed my jaw, his hand sliding down to cup my balls. "Relax, Big D. Let us handle you."

"I--fuck--" I gasped as Mason sucked harder, his tongue doing sinful things beneath the shaft. Jayden's fingers played gently beneath, rolling me open.

I couldn't take it. The way they touched me, like I was something holy. I came fast--too fast--my body seizing, toes curling as I emptied into Mason's mouth with a broken cry. He swallowed all of it, slow and greedy, licking me clean like he never wanted to stop.

When I collapsed back against the pillows, boneless and gasping, Mason kissed my stomach and crawled up beside me. Jayden nosed into the curve of my neck, chuckling as he kissed the shell of my ear.

"Well damn," he said again. "You're loud in the morning."

Mason grinned, looking unbearably smug. "That's how you know you did it right."

I covered my face with one arm. "You're both the worst. Pinche pendejos."

Jayden kissed my cheek. "And yet you're still here."

And I was. God, I was.

---

We stayed in bed for a while after that.

Jayden curled into my side, tracing patterns on my chest with one finger. Mason sprawled on his stomach across the foot of the bed, chin propped on his arms, looking up at me like I was something miraculous.

"You okay?" Mason asked after a while.

"Yeah," I murmured.

Jayden tilted his head. "You look like you're thinking."

"I am," I said, voice quieter than I meant. I let my eyes drift shut for a second. My body still hummed from the orgasm, but beneath that was something else--thicker. More fragile. A heat that hadn't burned out.

Jayden shifted, reading it instantly. "Still worked up?"

I nodded. Slowly. My cheeks flushed, but I didn't look away. "Last night... this morning... It wasn't just good. It was--" I exhaled. "It felt like I was real again."

Mason's smile dimmed, softened into something almost reverent. "You are real, Diego."

"I know," I said. "I just... forget sometimes."

There was a long pause. Then, quietly, I said: "I want more."

Jayden's hand stilled. "More?"

"Quiero--" I swallowed. "I want both of you. At the same time."

The words hung heavy in the air. Not crude. Not lewd. Just true. Jayden blinked once, then broke into a slow grin. "You want to get spitroasted, baby?"

I flushed to the roots of my hair. "Don't say it like that."

Mason chuckled low, sitting up to stroke my leg. "Say it however you want. Just tell us."

I looked between them, heart pounding. "I want Jayden in my mouth. And Mason inside me. I want to be between you. Filled. Fucked. Owned."

Jayden made a strangled sound. Mason's eyes darkened immediately.

"Oh, fuck," Jayden whispered. "You're gonna kill us."

"I want it," I said, voice trembling. "Not because you want me. Because I do. I want to feel you both. I want to feel full. I want to be ruined by you."

Mason surged forward and kissed me--hard, like a storm breaking. His hands gripped my hips, grounding me as he breathed hot against my mouth.

"We'll give you everything," he said fiercely. "Anything."

Jayden pulled back the covers, revealing my flushed, already-stirring cock. "God, look at you. You're dripping just from saying it."

I couldn't answer. My breath was gone. Mason kissed down my spine as Jayden straddled my chest, cock thick and heavy in his hand.

"You good, Big D?" Jayden murmured, thumb stroking my lower lip. "You still want this?"

I nodded. "Por favor. Please."

He slid the head of his cock into my mouth just as Mason pushed a slicked finger into me from behind. And I opened. Wide. Willing. Worshipped.

Jayden groaned. "Fuck, Diegs. Always knew that mouth would feel like heaven."

His taste was already on my tongue--salty, hot, unmistakably him. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him deeper as Mason worked behind me, spreading me open with two slick fingers now, his free hand stroking my lower back like I was something delicate. I moaned around Jayden's cock as Mason brushed my prostate.

Jayden grinned down at me. "You like that, baby?"

I nodded as best I could, his length stretching my mouth. My hips twitched back against Mason's hand, greedy for more. I was burning. Desperate. Empty.

"Don't tease him," Jayden said to Mason, voice gone husky. "He asked for it."

"I'm not teasing," Mason murmured, kissing the base of my spine. "Just taking my time. He deserves that."

I whimpered around Jayden's cock as Mason finally replaced his fingers with something thicker. The blunt head of his cock pressed against me--hot, slick, demanding.

"You ready?" Mason whispered.

I pulled off Jayden just long enough to gasp, "Please."

Mason pushed in. My breath caught. Dios mio! He was so big--stretching me wide, filling me slowly, like he didn't want to hurt me, like he wanted me to feel all of it. My forehead dropped against Jayden's thigh, and he stroked my hair as I trembled.

"That's it," Mason groaned. "You're taking me so good."

"Ay... feels so full," I choked out, barely able to speak.

"You are," Jayden murmured, threading his fingers into my hair. "Our perfect little coach. Stuffed full like he deserves."

Mason bottomed out with a deep groan, his hips snug against my ass. His hands gripped my waist like he never wanted to let go.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You're incredible, Diego."

Jayden stroked my cheek gently. "Mouth back on me, baby."

Whimpering, I obeyed, my lips wrapping around him again as Mason began to move.

The first thrust knocked the air out of me. The second made me moan around Jayden's cock. The third--God, the third--made me float.

They fucked me slow. Deep. Rhythmic. Mason pile-driving into me from behind, Jayden filling my mouth, both of them murmuring praise with every motion.

"So good for us," Mason growled. "Taking me so deep. Like you were made for this."

Jayden wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb, cock twitching against my tongue. "Look at you. Sweet thing. Can't get enough, huh?"

I couldn't respond. I didn't want to. All I could do was moan around them, my body a livewire of sensation. Every thrust made me shake, made my cock leak against the sheets below. I was lost. Owned. Home.

Mason shifted his angle, grinding into that perfect spot inside me, and my whole body convulsed. I cried out around Jayden's cock, pleasure crashing over me like a wave.

"That's it," Mason rasped. "Come on, Diego. Let go."

Jayden pulled out just in time for me to scream his name as I came, untouched, coating the sheets in thick ropes. My whole body shook with it--raw, cathartic, electric.

"Shit," Jayden gasped, stroking himself fast. "That was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Mason thrust once more, deep and hard, then came with a groan that vibrated through my spine. I felt him pulse inside me, heat blooming deep. Jayden followed seconds later, painting my chest with his release, his breath ragged as he whispered, "Fuck, Diego. Fuck."

We collapsed into a heap--limbs tangled, skin slick, the room spinning with the scent of sex and sweat and safety. I was between them again. Spent. Drenched. Full. And I'd never felt more loved.

Mason kissed my temple. "You okay?"

I nodded against his chest. "Perfecto."

Jayden laughed softly. "Told you we'd take care of you."

---

We didn't stop after the first time. Not even close.

They took me again--together, then one at a time. Jayden riding me with that cocky grin until he collapsed on my chest. Mason flipping me onto my stomach and whispering filth in my ear as he slid back in. They didn't stop touching me. They didn't stop kissing me. They made me come so many times I lost count. And each time I did, they fucked me softer.

Gentler.

Like they were trying to fuck something out of me. And maybe they were. Because by the time we finally collapsed for real--drenched in sweat, slick, and cum--I felt...

Clean.

I didn't know sex could feel like that. Like worship. Like surrender. Like healing.

Now the sun was high, filtering soft and hazy through the blinds, and we lay tangled together on the ruined sheets. I was in the middle--of course I was. My head on Mason's chest, my thigh draped over Jayden's. My cock was soft and sore. My hole ached in a way that felt more like having been wanted than being used.

My left hand traced lazy circles across Mason's stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. My right hand rested over Jayden's heart, his skin still flushed from where I'd bitten him earlier.

They were quiet now. So was I. But I felt the weight of everything in my chest. All of it. The tenderness. The safety. The way they'd held me like I was something precious. The way they never rushed. Never mocked. Just touched me like they meant it.

The tears came without warning. Soft. Slow. Silent at first.

Jayden noticed before I could hide it. "Hey," he said gently, brushing my hair back. "What's wrong?"

"Nada," I whispered. "Not a damn thing."

Mason tilted my chin up. "Diego..."

"Es que--" I blinked hard. "No one's ever... touched me like this. Not like they wanted to. Not without taking something."

Jayden's arms slid tighter around my waist. "We didn't take anything."

"Ay, sí," I said, voice cracking. "That's why it hurts."

And then I was crying for real--quiet, shuddering sobs against Mason's chest, tears soaking the skin I'd worshipped hours ago. Mason held me tighter. Jayden kissed the top of my head.

"Let it out," Mason murmured. "You're safe."

"We've got you," Jayden said, his voice barely more than breath.

I cried until the ache in my chest softened. Until the guilt melted into gratitude. Until all that was left was love, humming warm and quiet under my skin. When I could finally speak again, I pressed a kiss to Mason's chest, then reached up and tangled my fingers with Jayden's.

"Los amo," I said, heart full. "I love you."

Jayden stilled. Mason exhaled. They exchanged a glance briefly, full and heavy. Then--together, like they'd practiced it--they turned to me. Whispering back:

"We love you too."

---

The promotion came a month later. The petition had every name on it. Not just Mason and Jayden, though I knew they must have started it. Everyone. Even the quiet ones. Even the kid who never spoke above a whisper and the sprinter who always forgot his towel. It was unanimous.

Coach Valdez printed it out. Framed it. Hung it above my desk.

"Don't cry," she said when she handed me the new contract. "Or I'll revoke it on principle."

I cried anyway.

--

The promotion came with some perks. Not least of all--exclusive access to facilities.

The locker room was quiet after hours--just the gentle drip of showers cooling off, the distant hum of the old ventilation fan.

I shouldn't have stayed behind. But Jayden and Mason had grinned at me in that way, and now here we were. The place still smelled like eucalyptus soap and sweat, and something about it felt--illicit. Familiar. Hot.

They flanked me in the middle of the room, both leaning against the bench, towels loose around their hips. Jayden's was already slipping low. Mason was half-hard and smirking about it.

"You said we weren't gonna start anything," I muttered, dropping my gear bag to the floor.

Mason shrugged, innocent. "We're not starting anything. You are."

Jayden leaned in, voice a murmur. "Unless you don't want to touch us."

Cocky bastard.

I didn't answer. I just stepped forward, pulled their towels off in one smooth motion, and dropped to my knees between them.

They both let out audible groans. Their cocks were already hardening--thick, twitching, flushed at the tips. I wrapped one hand around each shaft, squeezing lightly, then began stroking them in slow, alternating rhythms. Mason gasped. Jayden hissed through his teeth.

"Shit," Jayden whispered, bracing one hand on the wall behind him. "You've been practicing."

"Mm," I said, flicking my wrist just right on the upstroke. "Guess I just like making you come apart, morenito."

They were so responsive. So loud. I loved the contrast--Mason trembling, grunting low in his chest, biting down on his knuckle. Jayden more vocal, hips twitching into my fist, breathless curses spilling from his lips like water.

The wet sound of my palms stroking over them filled the locker room, echoing just slightly off the tile. Their thighs brushed my shoulders. Their cocks swelled in my hands.

"You're gonna make me blow just like that?" Jayden whined. "You're mean, Diegs."

"I'm fair," I said sweetly. "Equal attention."

They came almost at the same time--Jayden shuddering, Mason groaning, thick ropes splattering across their abs and my knuckles. I watched their faces the whole time--open, messy, beautiful.

I stood slowly, licking a gob off my fingers, wiping the rest on a nearby towel.

"Now that," I said, smacking my lips, satisfied, "is how you finish cooldown."

Jayden wheezed a laugh. Mason pulled me into a sticky, grateful kiss. Best locker room cleanup I'd ever done.

--

It didn't stop there. We soon made a habit of fucking late at night in the locker room. I was always overcome by how they always wanted more. And overtime--I felt the hesitation and shyness fade. Replaced by a warm, burning desire to give them back what they'd given me.

It was just us one day, post-practice, the air thick with steam and something heavier. I'd locked the doors. I'd told them to wait. And now? I was going to ruin them.

Jayden and Mason sat obediently on the bench, towels discarded, cocks already stiff and glistening from earlier teasing. Jayden looked defiant--of course he did--but his chest was rising fast, betraying him. Mason just looked desperate, his thighs already twitching where they spread open. Both of them had their hands behind their backs, just like I told them. Looking adorably eager.

I leaned against the wall across from them, still fully dressed. Still untouchable. I took my time unwrapping a protein bar, snapping off a piece, popping it into my mouth with exaggerated care.

"Remind me," I said, slowly chewing, "why do you think you deserve to cum?"

Jayden licked his lips. "Because we've been good?"

I raised a brow. "Have you?"

Mason jumped in, eager. "I helped clean the gear room. Didn't even complain this time."

Jayden glanced at him. "Snitch."

"I'm just saying," Mason said, eyes fixed on me, voice low and hungry, "I'd do anything for a taste."

"¿Oh?" I said, taking a slow step forward. "Anything?"

They both leaned in just slightly.

I dropped to a crouch in front of them, close enough for them to smell the heat on my skin--but not touching. "Then prove it."

Jayden went first--because of course he did. "Let me eat your ass," he whispered, eyes gleaming. "Right here, right now."

Mason groaned. "Fuck--don't say that while I'm trying to behave."

I laughed, delighted. "Trying and failing."

I reached out and ran my knuckles down their chests, slowly--Jayden's sharp and lean, Mason's thick and trembling. Their cocks twitched in unison. I didn't touch them. Not yet.

"Okay, muchachos," I murmured. "Here's how this works."

I sat back on my heels. "First one to beg the prettiest gets my mouth. Second one gets my hand."

They stared at me, stunned.

"Ándale," I said, smirking.

And just like that, they fell over each other--words, whimpers, filthy promises. Jayden crooned about how good my lips felt, how he'd cry if I just sucked him once. Mason whispered that he needed me, that he'd carry my bags for a week, clean my apartment, massage my feet--just please, please touch him. I watched them both squirm, biting my lip. God, I loved this game.

Jayden's voice tipped the scales. To be honest, I wasn't surprised. He'd always been the more daring one.

"I've been dreaming about it," he murmured, voice low and trembling. "Waking up hard thinking about how your lips would feel. How wet your mouth gets when you're moaning around my cock. Please, Diego. Please."

Mason groaned aloud. "Fuck, he's gonna win, isn't he?"

I smirked. "He is."

Jayden looked smug as hell--until I leaned forward and licked a slow, lazy stripe up Mason's shaft.

He gasped. "Wait--!"

"Shh," I said, gripping the base of his cock in one hand, and Jayden's in the other. "I said first one gets my mouth. I never said I wouldn't give it to both of you."

Jayden let out a breathless curse. "You bastard."

"Language," I said, before swallowing the head of Mason's cock in one smooth motion.

He keened, legs jerking, one hand twitching behind his back like he wanted to hold on to something--me. I sucked him slow, letting my lips drag over sensitive skin, my tongue teasing the underside, while Jayden watched, panting, hips shifting like he couldn't stay still.

When I finally pulled off, Mason was whining under his breath.

"Fuck--Diegooo..."

I turned to Jayden, locking eyes with him as I took him just as deep, letting him feel every inch of my hunger. His hand shot out to grip the bench, white-knuckled.

"Jesus," he whispered. "Don't stop."

I didn't. I bobbed between them, one cock in my mouth, the other in my hand, trading off until they were both gasping, dripping, begging. The sounds were obscene--wet suckling, the slap of skin against my palm, their desperate moans echoing off the tiles. My name, again and again, wrecked in two different voices.

Jayden came first, with a strangled cry, spilling hot over my tongue. I swallowed him down, licking my lips as I turned back to Mason.

He was already there--cock twitching violently, eyes locked on my face. "Please," he whispered. "Let me--"

I swallowed him deep, and he came with a full-body shudder, collapsing back against the bench like he'd just swum a mile. I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth.

"Next time, muchachos," I said, smirking, "maybe you'll beg together."

--

Being Coach also meant I could indulge in a fantasy I'd had for a long, long time. And Jayden and Mason were all too happy to play along.

"I said ten more laps," I bark, pacing along the tile with mock severity. "And if I see either of you slacking on breath control again, it's double."

Jayden grinned from the pool, treading water like a smug little menace. "Yes, Coach," he said, dragging the title out like it was something filthy. "Anything else you wanna punish me for?"

I didn't answer. Just blew the whistle again, short and sharp.

Beside him, Mason groaned dramatically. "You're so mean," he whined, swimming toward the edge. "Diegooo, my arms are jelly. I think I'm gonna drown."

I crouched by the edge, face stern. "You're a national-level athlete. If you can't handle a basic endurance set, maybe you need extra conditioning."

He blinked up at me, wet curls clinging to his forehead, mouth open. "... You mean like--"

"Locker room. Now."

It was cute how quickly they managed to scramble out of the water.

Inside the locker room, the air was humid and charged. The second the door swung shut behind me, Jayden was already dropping to his knees.

"Didn't follow directions," he said innocently, eyes wide. "Guess we need to be disciplined, huh, Coach?"

Mason leaned against the bench, dripping wet, arms crossed over his chest. "You gonna punish us together?" he asked, voice a low purr. "Or take turns?"

I stood in front of them, letting the silence hang. The whistle still dangled from my neck. My cock was already straining in my shorts.

"Strip," I said finally.

Jayden smirked. Mason bit his lip. They obeyed, shedding their trunks, revealing bare flesh beaded with droplets of water. God, but they looked perfect.

I paced a slow circle around them, the wet slap of my slides echoing through the empty locker room. I let the silence linger--let it build--before I finally spoke.

"So." My voice came out low, measured. Almost lazy. "You wanna disobey me in the pool?"

Mason cleared his throat, looking to the side. Jayden didn't even pretend to apologize.

"Guess we need to be punished," Jayden said, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a smirk.

"Mm." I crouched down in front of him, cupping his jaw. "You think that's cute?"

He nodded.

"Wrong answer." I lean in closer, nose brushing his. "You don't get to decide when you're punished. You just take what I give you."

Jayden's eyes went wide. He shivered. "Yes, sir."

I looked up at Mason next. "What about you?" I ask. "What do you think you deserve?"

He breathed in through his nose, jaw tight. "Whatever you decide," he murmured. "But... maybe something I can feel tomorrow."

A pulse went straight to my cock. I straightened up slowly, letting my eyes drift between them.

"Okay," I said. "Jayden's getting edged. Mason--hands on the bench. I want you spread and ready."

Jayden groaned like he just got praised. Mason dropped his shorts and obeyed, his thick, golden body displayed like an offering.

"Good boys," I murmured, stripping off my own shirt. I left the whistle on my neck.

Stepping closer, I let my hand cup Jayden's jaw. "You always talk so much," I murmured, brushing a thumb across Jayden's bottom lip. "But now you're quiet. Why's that?"

Jayden didn't answer. He just opened his mouth obediently, tongue flicking out in offering. He gazed up at me, eyes wide, panting, no sign of his usual cockiness.

"Mmm. There it is," I said, and leant down to kiss him--slow, teasing. I tasted his need, the way he melted when I took control. Then I pulled away.

"Not yet," I whispered, and moved past him to Mason.

He was bent over the bench like I'd told him. Ass high. Shoulders braced. I let my fingers trace the small of his back, trailing down the curve of his spine, until he shivered.

"You said you wanted something you'd feel tomorrow," I murmured.

"Yes, sir," he groaned, voice already ragged.

"Then be still."

I reached between his legs--slow at first. Stroking the thick line of his cock, heavy and hard beneath my fingers. I didn't jerk him. I just teased the head, smearing precum across his slit with idle cruelty.

Then I drew back. And spanked him.

Not hard. Just enough to make the sound echo through the locker room. Mason moaned, cock twitching.

I did it again. And again. Slow. Measured. Building a rhythm. Between each slap, I praised him--softly, so only he could hear.

"Good boy."

"Taking it so well."

"My beautiful güerito."

Behind me, I heard Jayden panting. I turned and saw him palming his cock through his shorts, hips twitching like he was losing his mind.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did I say you could touch?"

"No, sir," he gasped, yanking his hand away.

"Then you can wait."

I stepped behind him, pressed my chest to his back, and whispered in his ear: "You're not cumming until I decide."

He whimpered.

And now--now--I let myself indulge. I dropped to my knees between Mason's thighs, spreading them wider, letting my tongue drag a slow, sinful line across the curve of his hole.

Mason jerked forward, bracing himself with a curse. "Fuck--Diego--"

"Be still," I reminded him.

I ate him out slowly, thoroughly. Letting the moans echo off the tile. Letting Jayden watch. His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, cock visibly leaking through his briefs.

"You're such a fucking tease," Jayden hissed, jaw tight.

I glanced up at him. Smiled lazily.

"Good. That means I'm doing it right." Then I dove back in.

Mason was panting now. His arms were trembling where they braced against the bench, sweat beading along the curve of his spine. His cock was flushed and leaking, twitching every time I so much as breathed on him. He was whining under his breath--low, ragged sounds that made my own cock throb with pride.

But I wasn't done. Not yet.

I rose to my feet and beckoned Jayden closer with one finger. He stepped forward, eyes locked on me, already tense like a spring waiting to uncoil.

"Come here," I murmured, brushing his hip as he passed. "You want a job?"

Jayden nodded, quickly. "Anything."

I gestured to Mason's perfect ass. "Then make him sing."

Jayden's eyebrows rose, just a little--then that dangerous grin returned. "Oh, shit. You want me to spank him?"

Mason lifted his head just slightly, eyes widening. "Wait, what?"

"Shhh," I said, stroking his hair. "You said you wanted to feel it tomorrow. Let's see how much you meant it."

Jayden rolled his shoulders like he was warming up for a set. Grinning. "Damn, this is gonna be fun."

He stepped behind Mason, planted his feet, and wound up. The first crack echoed like a whip, sharp and immediate. Mason grunted, his whole body tensing.

"You okay, güerito?" I asked him softly, running my fingers down the back of his neck.

He groaned. "Yes, sir."

"Color?"

"Green," he gritted, eyes closed.

"Good boy," I said. Then, to Jayden: "Don't stop until he's begging."

"Yes sir," Jayden said, practically giddy.

The next slap landed even harder. Then another. And another.

Mason bit his lip, but I saw it--the way his hips twitched, the way his cock pulsed against the bench. He loved it. And Jayden? Jayden was in a rhythm now, alternating cheeks, letting the muscle bounce beneath each strike.

"Say thank you," I murmured in Mason's ear.

"Th-thank you," Mason stammered.

"For what?" Another crack from Jayden.

"F-for letting Jayden spank me, sir--fuck--!"

"Louder," Jayden growled.

"Thank you for spanking me, sir!" Jayden rewarded that with a stinging smack that left his ass rippling with aftershock.

I stroked his hair. "Good boy."

Jayden paused to admire his handiwork--Mason's ass was red and warm to the touch, his thighs quivering with restraint. "Goddamn," he muttered. "You're so pretty when you hurt a little."

I stepped in behind Mason again, leaning down to kiss the curve of his shoulder. He was trembling, needy, breathless. I kneaded his bottom, feeling the heat rising off his skin. He gasped, sensitive.

"Now," I murmured. "Now you've earned it."

Jayden stood behind me, smug and panting, hands still tingling from every slap he'd landed. He looked proud of himself. A little too proud.

I turned my head, speaking low and even. "Strip. Get the lube."

Jayden blinked, then grinned slowly. "Fuck yes."

He peeled off his briefs with zero shame, his cock bobbing up, already leaking, flushed dark and hard. I watched him for a beat--how easily he gave in, how much he wanted this. And I wanted both of them. Wanted to be in Mason while Jayden split me open from behind. Wanted to be filled and surrounded, buried and owned and claiming in turn.

I slicked my cock, lined myself up behind Mason. He arched his back for me instinctively, offering himself with no hesitation. Such a good boy.

I sank into him slowly, inch by inch, letting the stretch pull a cry from both our throats. Dios mio, he was tight, even after all that tonguing. He gasped when I bottomed out, then moaned long and low as I started to move--deep, slow thrusts, rocking us both into a rhythm.

Behind me, Jayden stepped closer, slick fingers teasing the cleft of my ass. "You sure?" he murmured, voice husky. "You're already so fucking deep in him, coach."

I looked over my shoulder, locking eyes with him. "Do it."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He took his time prepping me, fingers gentle but insistent, curling just right, making me tremble even as I fucked Mason. I was already moaning, hips stuttering slightly as he opened me up. My cock throbbed deep inside Mason, who whimpered helplessly beneath me.

Then I felt it--Jayden's cock, hot and thick, pressing against me. And then inside. Slow. Unrelenting.

"¡Ay, dios mio--!" I gasped, my whole body tightening.

"Shhh," Jayden whispered against my neck. "I've got you."

And just like that--I was filled. Mason under me, gripping me so tight it was dizzying. Jayden behind me, stretching me until my legs shook. I was surrounded. Fucked. Held. Worshipped.

Every thrust from Jayden pushed me deeper into Mason, and every squeeze of Mason's body milked moans from my chest. My mind went white with it--pure sensation, pure need. I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Just felt.

"Fuck, Diego," Jayden groaned, pounding into me harder now. "You feel fucking amazing."

"Yeah," Mason choked out beneath me, gripping the bench with both hands. "Please--don't stop--please--"

I couldn't have if I wanted to.

We moved like one thing. One body. One shared hunger. Mason writhed under me, his cock smearing its juice across the bench. Jayden held me tight, his breath hot against my back. I let go--let the pleasure rip through me like lightning. Let the filth and joy swirl together in my chest until I couldn't tell where the pain ended and the love began.

I came first--loud, helpless, flooding Mason's ass with everything I had. That set him off, his cock twitching violently as he spilled across the bench in hot, sticky waves.

Jayden followed seconds later, crying out as he buried himself deep, filling me so full I could feel the heat of it in my gut.

When it was over, we collapsed in a tangle--sweaty, breathless, used up and glowing. Jayden slid down to one side of me, Mason to the other, all of us shaking and stupid with bliss.

And for a long time, no one said a word. Because nothing needed to be said.

---

Over time, I grew to know my muchachos inside and out. I'd always had a keen eye, and it wasn't difficult to apply that to our lives beyond the pool. I got to the point where I could tell what they were thinking and feeling, even if they weren't fully aware of it themselves.

One day, Jayden was being particularly bratty. Acting out. Defiant. I knew that it was really because he was feeling neglected. So I gave him a long, loving session after practice, his hands and feet bound to the bench with the soft cotton ties I kept in my office.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," I murmured, kneeling by the side of the bench, kissing his forehead gently. "Voy a hacerte sentir bien, aunque no lo mereces." I'm going to make you feel good--even if you don't deserve it.

"Fuck," he whispered. But he looked unbearably eager for it.

I stroked him with maddening control, just enough friction to make him whimper, never enough to let him tip over. He twisted against the sheets, wrists flexing in the restraints. His thighs trembled.

"Estás tan duro para mí," I murmured, voice low, Spanish thick with heat. You're so hard for me.

"Diego, please--just a little faster--"

I tightened my grip slightly. "No. You've been a pain in my ass all day. You don't get to rush this."

"I said I was sorry--"

"No, you didn't."

Jayden groaned. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Diego. I--I need--"

"You need?" I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Tú necesitas aprender a obedecer." You need to learn to obey.

He gasped. His body arched. Precum leaked from his tip in thick, needy drops.

I slowed my strokes even more.

"No--please--I'll be good--"

I kissed his temple, then down his cheek. "Eso quiero escuchar." That's what I want to hear. His cock twitched violently in my hand.

"You want to come for me?" I asked, voice velvet.

He nodded frantically. "Yes. Please. I--I can't take anymore--"

"You can. You will."

I leaned over, kissing him hard, swallowing the ragged moan that escaped his throat. My hand never stopped moving--slow, steady, just enough--and his whole body trembled beneath me.

"Come for me, Jayden. Mi morenito," I whispered. "Ahora. Let it go."

He broke. It ripped out of him with a choked cry--thick, hot ropes splashing over his chest and stomach. His legs shook, his wrists tugging uselessly at the ties, every inch of him undone.

I held him through it, hand easing to a stop as he sagged backwards, panting like he'd just run a mile. I kissed the tears from the corners of his eyes, his jaw, the tip of his nose.

Then I untied him, pulled him into my arms, and held him against my chest. He curled into me, quiet. Spent. No attitude now. Just soft warmth and the kind of trust that came only after surrender.

I whispered in his hair: "Buen chico." Good boy.

---

Mason for his part was always too selfless. Too giving. Eager to please, always helpful, but never asked for things for himself. So it fell to me to take the initiative, and reward him whenever I felt he was being too hard on himself.

He watched me with wide eyes as I reached for the soft restraints.

"You trust me?" I asked.

His breath hitched. "Yes. Always."

"Then lie down," I said gently. "Hands above your head."

He obeyed instantly, like it was a reflex. I straddled his hips, leaned forward to kiss him soft and slow, then fastened the ties around his wrists--just tight enough to remind him he wasn't in control. Not right now.

I could see the tension already building in his chest. Not fear--eagerness. Need.

I let my hands glide down his arms, over his pecs, his ribs. I kissed every inch of him like a blessing. "Mírame," I whispered. Look at me. His wide eyes met mine.

"You do everything for us," I murmured, dragging my fingers lower. "You hold Jayden when he spirals. You bring me coffee when I don't ask. You show up early. Stay late. Always giving."

My hand wrapped around his cock. He twitched in my grip.

"But when do you let anyone take care of you, Mason?"

He let out a shaky breath. "When I'm with you."

"Bien," I said. "That's right."

I started stroking him slow--long, steady pulls, just shy of enough friction to send him over. He gasped, head falling back.

"Tan obediente," I murmured. So obedient.

"Tan hermoso." So beautiful.

"Mi niño bueno." My good boy.

He whimpered. I knew he loved the praise--to him, it might have been even more pleasurable than physical touch of any kind. I lavished him with it, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear as I stroked him. Even if he didn't understand all of it, I was sure he could feel the love I was pouring into every syllable. His hips jerked, but he didn't buck. Didn't thrust. Just let me control it--every inch of pleasure filtered through my touch, my voice.

"You want to come for me?" I asked.

He nodded frantically, but I slowed my strokes to a crawl.

"Not yet."

"Fuck--Diego, please--"

I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "You don't need to beg, baby. Just listen. And let me make you feel good."

I picked up the rhythm again--barely--and let the praise pour over him like warm oil.

"You're everything I could ever want."

"I'm so proud of you."

"You make me feel lucky every day."

"No one takes it like you, Mason. No one gives like you."

"Mi güerito."

Tears welled in his eyes. I kissed them away.

Then I whispered, "Ven para mí. Ahora." Come for me. Now.

He came with a broken moan, body arching off the bed, wrists tugging at the ties. His cock pulsed thick in my hand, hot stripes spilling over his stomach. His lips trembled. His eyes never left mine. Even when he was coming, he wanted to be seen. And I saw him.

When he collapsed back into the mattress, still shaking, I kissed his chest, his neck, the corner of his mouth. Untied him gently. Pulled him close.

"Estoy tan orgulloso de ti," I whispered into his hair. I kissed his temple. "I'm so proud of you."

He let out a shaky breath and curled into me, arms around my waist, face buried in my chest.

"Love you," he mumbled, already half-asleep. I kissed his temple, and held him until he stopped trembling.

--

We had many more adventures. In the locker room, at home, in my office. Before practice, during, and after. I adored my muchachos to bits. And they adored me right back.

One night, after a late meet, I stood at the edge of the pool, clipboard in hand, watching the reflections ripple across the tiles.

Jayden padded up behind me, arms sliding around my waist. Mason pressed into my other side, chin resting on my shoulder.

"Coach," Mason said, soft and proud.

"Mm?"

Jayden leaned in, lips brushing my ear. "You happy?"

I thought about it. The cold tile. The fluorescent lights. The smell of chlorine. The low hum of the filter. My muchachos.

"Yeah," I said.

And I meant it.