粉笔与汗水

"Don't move."

Lena's voice cut through the empty gym, sharp as the smell of rubber mats and old sweat. Marco froze, one hand on the pull-up bar, mid-reach. The late afternoon sun slanted through the high windows, dust motes dancing in the light.

"I wasn't," he said, but his eyes were on her, not the bar.

Lena circled him, sketchbook pressed to her chest. She'd been coming here for a week, ostensibly to draw the athletes, but really—really she'd been watching him. The way his back muscles shifted under that thin tank top. The way he'd catch her looking and grin, slow and knowing.

"Drop the bar," she said. "Face me."

He obeyed. Up close, she could see the sweat beading at his temples, the pulse in his neck. She reached out, touched his collarbone, felt him shiver.

"You know why I'm really here?" she asked, voice low.

Marco's grin widened. "To sketch me?"

"To sketch you." She traced a line down his chest, over the damp cotton. "And to fuck you. In that order, maybe."

He laughed, surprised. "Bold."

"You're a model. I'm an artist." She backed toward the yoga mats in the corner. "Show me your lines."

He followed, shedding the tank top as he walked. His skin was golden, slick, the muscles of his torso carved like marble. Lena's mouth went dry.

"Lie down," she said, and he did, stretching out on the blue mat with a grunt.

She knelt beside him, sketchbook forgotten. Her fingers found his stomach, traced the V of his hips. "God, you're beautiful."

"And you're staring."

"Shut up." But she was smiling. She leaned down, kissed the hollow of his throat, tasted salt and heat. His hands came up, tangling in her hair.

"Lena—"

"Shh." She straddled him, the thin cotton of her leggings pressing against the growing bulge in his shorts. "Let me look at you first."

She sat back, drinking him in. The broad shoulders, the hard planes of his chest, the way his breath quickened under her gaze. She reached down, traced the outline of his cock through the fabric.

"Hard already?"

"Fuck, Lena. You're on top of me."

She laughed, low and dirty, and pulled her tank top over her head. Her breasts swung free, heavy and full, and Marco's hands found them immediately, thumbs circling her nipples until she gasped.

"Your turn," she breathed, and slid off him to work the waistband of his shorts down.

His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, and Lena wrapped her fingers around it, stroking slowly. Marco groaned, hips bucking.

"Fuck, that's good."

"I haven't even started." She leaned down, took him in her mouth, and his whole body went taut. She worked him slowly, tongue tracing the vein along the underside, savoring the taste of him, the sounds he made—low, guttural, desperate.

"Lena—I'm gonna—"

She pulled off, grinning. "Not yet."

She shimmied out of her leggings, panties already soaked. Marco sat up, grabbed her by the hips, pulled her onto his lap.

"Let me taste you first."

His mouth found her clit before she could argue, and Lena cried out, fingers twisting in his hair. He licked her slowly, deliberately, until her thighs trembled and she was grinding against his face.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, Marco."

He looked up, lips glistening. "Please what?"

"Fuck me. Now."

He flipped her onto her back, positioned himself between her legs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, teasing, and Lena clawed at his shoulders.

"Stop teasing."

He thrust in, deep and sudden, and she moaned, arching into him. He filled her completely, stretching her, and for a moment they just breathed, connected.

"God, you're tight," he groaned.

"Move. Please."

He did. Slow at first, then harder, each thrust driving her into the mat. Lena wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the gym echoed with their sounds—skin slapping, breath ragged, the wet heat of them.

"Look at me," Marco commanded, and she did, eyes locked on his as he fucked her. "You wanted this, didn't you? All those sketches—"

"Shut up and fuck me."

He laughed, then grabbed her hips, flipped her onto her stomach. She braced herself on her forearms, and he drove into her from behind, deep and relentless.

"Yes—fuck—right there—"

His hand came down on her ass, sharp, and she gasped, clenching around him. "Again."

He spanked her again, harder, and Lena moaned, pushing back against him.

"You like that?"

“操，太爽了。”

He leaned over her, breath hot on her ear. "I'm gonna come inside you."

"Do it. Fill me up."

He fucked her harder, faster, until they were both trembling, and then he came with a guttural groan, spilling deep inside her. Lena followed, her orgasm crashing over her in waves, clenching around him until he collapsed on top of her.

They lay there, panting, the gym silent around them. Marco rolled off, pulled her into his arms. She could feel his heart hammering against her back.

"That was—" he started.

"Don't ruin it with words."

He laughed softly, kissed her shoulder. The sun had shifted, painting them in amber light. Lena traced a pattern on his arm, and they lay there, listening to each other's breathing.