Working up a sweat

Cassandra lay back on the bench, . Her short black hair fanned out against the headrest as she gripped the barbell. The weight was significant—seven hundred pounds—but for her, it was a warm-up.

“Ready,” Cassandra announced, flat and focused.

Calvin was behind behind her, his dark, muscular frame looming. His hands hovered near the bar, ready to spot. But from Hiro’s angle, perched miserably on a weight bench ten feet away, the scene was agonizing. Calvin’s nude body was directly over Cassandra’s. His hips were level with her face. His cock, that eight-inch, thick, black cock, hung down. It was right there. Inches from her lips, her nose, her cheek if she turned her head.

Hiro’s fingers dug into his thighs. 'Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.'

“Lift,” Cassandra said, and pushed the bar up. Her pectoral muscles flexed, her small, pert breasts flattening slightly with the strain. A soft grunt escaped her lips—a short, sharp exhale.

“Good. Controlled,” Calvin murmured with a smile. He watched the bar and he was happy to see the warm-up. This woman knew what she was doing. But from Hiro's perspective, again, his dick… it just hung there.

'So fucking close.'

Cassandra brought the bar down to her chest, her arms trembling just a little. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. She wasn’t looking at the penis hovering near her. She wasn’t seeming to notice it at all.

'How?' Hiro screamed internally. 'How can she not notice a giant black dick in her peripheral vision? She has to! R-right?'

It sure didn't look at it. This woman was locked in. Was it fucking loyalty to Aaron or just dedication to working out? Or both?

Up again, down again. Her biceps corded. A bead of sweat traced a path from her temple, down the side of her neck, between her breasts, and over the tight plane of her stomach. Hiro tracked it with a ****, jealous hunger.

Up again, down again. Calvin shifted his footing. His cock swung. The head brushed against a stray strand of Cassandra’s hair.

'He touched her!'

Why was this dude naked? Why were either!? Uggghh!

“Twelve reps,” Cassandra said, sitting up. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and finally looked at Calvin. Not at his crotch. At his face. “You’re a good spotter. Thank you again."

“It’s easy when the lifter knows what she’s doing,” Calvin replied, that warm, easy smile back on his face. He seemed completely unselfconscious about his nudity, about the proximity of his genitals to her. It was just… normal to him.

Wait...was this a multiverse thing? Was this, like, more acceptable in this world? Fuck. Fuck!

'It shouldn’t be normal!' Hiro wanted to shout.

“Lat pulldowns next,” Cassandra announced, hopping off the bench. She moved with that fluid, economical grace, her bare feet silent on the rubberized floor. Her ass, perfectly rounded and firm, jiggled.

Hiro’s mouth went dry.

He watched, a silent specter of resentment, as the two moved through the gym. Cassandra would choose a machine or a weight, and Calvin, ever the helpful training partner, would adjust it for her or work nearby. They didn’t flirt. Calvin was a perfect gentleman. Cassandra was focused, intense, and utterly disinterested in anything but the burn in her muscles.

That made it worse, in a way. The sexual tension wasn’t coming from them. It was all brewing inside Hiro, a toxic stew he had to sit and watch cook.

“So, Aaron,” Calvin said during a rest period, while Cassandra sipped from a water fountain, her back arched beautifully. “He must train a lot too?”

Cassandra straightened up, water dripping from her chin. “Aaron? No. Not like this.” She said it simply, as if stating the sky was blue.

Aaron is just… genetically lucky.” She blinked, then added, “And I am too, to have it.”

Hiro made a sound like a deflating balloon. Calvin coughed, covering a laugh.

“I… see,” Calvin said, recovering. “Well, good for him. And you.”

“Mm.” Cassandra nodded, then pointed to the cable machine. “Can you set that to two hundred? For face pulls.”

“Of course.”