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Felix Fraldarius hates the beach.

What’s there to like with the sand that insidiously creeps its way into every crevice, through the mesh of his water shoes, accumulates between his toes, gritty and irritating, and dusts his hair? Hell, the stuff is everywhere. His skin feels downright crusted with it.

On top of that, his boyfriends seem determined to drive him crazy. There he is on a lounge chair, huddled under the shade of one of the few umbrellas lining the beach, a towel draped over his legs to protect his fair skin from what the shade doesn’t cover, and still he can feel the sun slowly baking him alive.

He’s miserable. Overheated. Itchy. Meanwhile, Sylvain and Dimitri look positively joyful. And they won’t stop touching each other.

Take right now, for instance. Dimitri and Sylvain are sitting next to each other on the lounge chair beside Felix’s, and Dimitri’s fingers are playing over that little gap of skin between Sylvain’s ridiculous red belt and the waistband of his black and teal board shorts. The spot over his right hip, where the cut of the iliac furrow begins. Felix knows the term because Sylvain’s body—like Dimitri’s—is incredible, and Felix looked it up just to know what to call those sharply-defined grooves. “Cum gutters” was another phrase he’d found, though he’d die before he ever actually said that aloud. 

Whatever the name, Felix has traced the path of that groove to Sylvain’s cock more times than he can count. All day, that glimpse of skin, where Sylvain’s shorts are hitched a couple inches lower than the other side—to intentionally draw the eye, no doubt, because that’s just how Sylvain is—has been taunting Felix, driving him to distraction. And Dimitri is touching it, right there, right now, in front of the goddess and everyone. It’s practically indecent.

Worse, Felix just heard Sylvain’s breath catch when the tips of Dimitri’s fingertips dipped below the waistband. Felix is familiar with that sound, too. Sylvain makes it all the time. In bed

Felix’s gaze is caught, following the slow, subtle caress of Dimitri’s fingers, when suddenly he hears, “Oh no, Dimitri, you made a mess. Let me just clean that up for you.”

He jerks his gaze up in time to see Dimitri had somehow managed to spill a bit of the half-melted scoop of vanilla ice cream bobbing at the top of his melon float—all over his right pec.

Felix expects Sylvain to use a corner of the towel draped over his shoulders to wipe it up. Instead, Sylvain leans down and licks the blob of ice cream off, curling his tongue around Dimitri’s nipple as he does so.

Dimitri grunts, and his face, already stained pink across the nose and cheeks, despite how many times Felix has pestered him to reapply his sunblock, goes even redder.

“What are you doing?” Felix hisses. “Anyone can see you.”

Sylvain sits up, smacking his lips. “What’s the problem?” he asks. “I just don’t want our poor boyfriend to be sticky.” He draws a sip from his own bright-green float, a smirk hovering at the corners of his mouth. “Would you rather he be uncomfortable, Felix?”

Felix glares, although the impact is probably lost because he’s wearing the darkest shades he could find. “You could have used that,” he says, jerking his chin toward the towel.

Sylvain shrugs, casual as anything. “I could have.”

“Don’t be angry, Felix,” Dimitri says. “You know how clumsy I can be sometimes. Sylvain was only helping.”

“That’s right,” Sylvain adds, with a sage nod. He offers his glass to Felix. “Want a taste of this? It’s delicious.”

Felix scoffs.

“He’s right, you know,” Dimitri says. “I’m sure I’m not getting the full effect, but from what I can taste, the float is quite good. You should give it a try. It might make you feel better.”

Felix glares at him, too. “I’m hot, not sick. I still don’t like sweet things. You both know this.”

“Perhaps you should go for a swim, then.” Dimitri’s shaggy mane of blond hair is still damp from his own recent foray into the water.

“It’s salty,” Felix tells him.

“Well, it is the ocean,” Sylvain drawls. “You know, saline.”

“I’m aware.” Felix crosses his arms over his chest. “Beaches are made to be admired from a distance.” 

Like the ones off the coast of his family estate in Fraldarius territory. It’s so far north the area rarely gets very hot, even in the dead of summer. Sometimes when he visits he enjoys standing on the cliffside, watching the sea roil whenever a storm approaches and the clouds thicken overhead, shades of gray and black, threatening to unleash their fury.

But of course, he has the perfect excuse not to swim in those frigid waters—he doesn’t want to freeze his balls off. Here, everyone is splashing amid the waves and giggling, relishing the heat, and he’s the grouch lurking in the shadows with a scowl on his face. Just another day that ends in Y, Felix supposes. All he wants is to return to the hotel and bask in the air conditioning. They can always come back later for the bonfire. Of course, that means they’d have to take a taxi since they rode on a bus with the rest of the team to get here. But the point remains.

Dimitri brushes his drying bangs off his forehead, his blue eyes pensive. His other hand still rests on Sylvain’s hip, although he’s stopped moving his fingers. “I don’t understand you. Why did you come if you only intend to sit here being miserable? You’ll feel cooler if you get in the water, I promise you.”

Felix frowns and looks away from him, out at the ocean which stretches far toward the horizon. “I… You both wanted to be here. You love this trip.” They have ever since the season Dimitri and Felix joined the Blue Lions soccer team when they started at Garreg Mach University, a couple years behind Sylvain. He didn’t want to be left at home while they went off to enjoy themselves on a weekend getaway. Not that he’ll admit as much; he never likes to seem needy.

“We also want you to have fun,” Sylvain murmurs. He’s gnawing on the straw in his drink when Felix glances his way. His round sunglasses aren’t dark enough to hide his eyes, and Felix squirms under Sylvain’s knowing copper-colored stare. “You know that, right?”

Felix slides his gaze to the side. “Of course,” he says gruffly.

“Then you can guess why we don’t like seeing you sitting here like a grump,” Sylvain says, reasonable as always. “What can we do to make it better for you?”

“Turn the temperature down about twenty degrees,” Felix answers immediately.

Dimitri chuckles, the sound rumbling in his broad chest. Sylvain whips out his most charming smile, the one known for making people swoon and hand over their phone numbers without compunction. Or at least it had been, before he started dating Felix and Dimitri. 

Felix, however, is impervious to that expression. After over a year together and months of friendship before that, he’s well-acquainted with the myriad of masks Sylvain wears to hide his true feelings or to cajole people into buying his bullshit or forgiving his indiscretions, and Felix has built up an immunity to them all.

“Something not impossible,” Sylvain amends, grinning wider. “We’re hot, too, and neither one of us likes the heat. That’s why we go for swims, ya know. I can carry you to the water bridal-style if you like.”

“Try it and lose a hand,” Felix snaps.

“You’re wasting your breath, Sylvain.” The chair creaks beneath Dimitri as he shifts, reaching to set his unfinished float on the table. He’s so tall and broad the lounger can scarcely contain him. With both him and Sylvain seated on its edge, Felix worries about the integrity of the legs. That’s a lot of muscle weight for one spindly little chair to bear. “But, Felix, I hope you will try to have fun today. This is the last season Sylvain is eligible to play on the team. It won’t be the same next year.”

Felix’s mouth turns down at the corners, because of course Dimitri is right. Sylvain could technically accompany them on the annual beach trip next year, but he won’t be part of the Blue Lions anymore, won’t be traveling with them for games. He’ll be digging into his graduate studies, and his days of playing soccer for Garreg Mach will be over. Felix sighs. “I’ll try.”

“Look, I have an idea,” Sylvain declares. And then he reaches over and unceremoniously dumps the rest of his drink right into Felix’s lap.

Felix yelps and jumps, leaping sideways like a frightened cat. He ends up in a pile of flailing limbs, kicking up sand in every direction when he lands on the other side of the lounge chair.

“Sylvain, what the fuck?” Felix demands once he’s managed to sit up. He shoves the wet towel off his lap and scowls at Sylvain, sunglasses askew, dampness spreading at the crotch of his teal trunks. A bright-green stain now mars the hem of his white swim shirt, and he can already feel the material starting to stick to his skin from all the sugar.

“Oh, no!” Sylvain gasps, and it sounds even more contrived than it did when Dimitri spilled the ice cream on his chest. 

Dimitri snorts.

Felix gets to his feet, shaking sand off his arms. “If this is your idea of having fun, asshole, I’ll—”

“I think we should go to the showers and help Felix clean off, don’t you, Dimitri?” Sylvain interrupts.

Felix goes still, staring at him in confusion.

“Oh, yes, I agree.” Dimitri stands up and comes around to where Felix is gaping at them, his impressive height meaning he towers over Felix by a good six inches. “Come along, Felix.”

“Wha—” But Dimitri doesn’t give him a chance to finish. He grips Felix’s arm and starts urging him along.

Coach Byleth and his husband Yuri watch as their trio troops by. Byleth is blank-faced as usual, but Yuri smirks, his pink lips gleaming with gloss. He tips his head back so he can look at them from beneath the wide, floppy brim of his black straw hat and crosses his admittedly amazing legs at the ankles. His big, stylish sunglasses shield his eyes from sight, but Felix knows if he could catch that lavender gaze, he’d see amusement lingering there.

“Too bad that drink spilled,” Yuri comments, idle and slow. “That was quite the accident.”

“Wasn’t it just, Mr. Eisner?” Sylvain asks cheerfully. “I’m so clumsy. It’s the worst. The drink slipped right out of my hand. So we’re going to get Felix here into some clean clothes.” He hefts the bag they brought along onto his shoulder, as if for proof.

“Mm-hmm.” Yuri sips at the purple contents of his martini glass. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Felix’s face flushes, and he opens his mouth, on the verge of asking just what the hell Yuri’s implying—but Dimitri, likely sensing this and wanting to spare them all from their coach’s wrath in the form of endless wind sprints, drags him toward the path that leads to the shower and restroom facilities.

“What are we doing?” Felix asks. “I thought that little stunt was meant to get me into the water.”

“But you don't want to go in the water,” Sylvain says from close behind him. “Do you?”

Well, he hadn’t wanted to go swimming, no. Felix was perfectly willing to go into the ocean to rinse the stickiness off, though. They didn’t have to make it some big production, but he shrugs out of Dimitri’s grip and follows along, resigning himself to the inevitable. Both of his boyfriends can be as stubborn as he is. No sense in making an even bigger spectacle.

When they reach the squat, beige building, Sylvain leads the way in and looks around. There are two family shower stalls in the men’s locker room, built big enough for a parent to wrangle and keep an eye on a bunch of kids if necessary. Sylvain heads right for one, and Dimitri ushers Felix in after him, locking the door behind them with a decisive click.

Sylvain casually strolls over to a slotted wooden bench in the corner and sets down their beach bag.

“Is this really necessary?” Felix asks, huffing. “I could get into one of the stalls and clean up on my own, you know.”

“Oh, we know,” Sylvain says as he returns to where Felix is standing. He reaches for the hem of Felix’s stained swim shirt and starts pushing the material up.

Felix smacks his hand away. “I’m not a child. I can take it off myself.”

Sylvain smirks. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Sothis save me, you really are insatiable.”

“And so are you,” Dimitri says, setting his hands on Felix’s waist, a warm, solid presence at his back. “And we like it.”

Felix swallows, finally catching on to what’s happening, why they’d brought him here instead of dragging him into the waves. He’s not normally this oblivious—most times it’s Dimitri who’s slow to clue into what his boyfriends want unless Sylvain or Felix just grab him and pounce—but to be fair, being hot, grumpy, and covered in the sticky remnants of melon float doesn’t exactly rev Felix’s engines.

“What—” he starts, but it ends in a sputter as Sylvain uses his distraction to yank his shirt over his head. “Sylvain .”

“Be nice to us, Felix,” Sylvain says. He tosses the shirt somewhere over his shoulder, his gaze focused on Felix’s chest. Then he lifts a big hand and thumbs one of Felix’s newly healed nipples, toying with the thin bar that pierces it. 

Felix hisses, back bowing as a shock of sensation buzzes along his nerve-endings, sending a rush of blood to stiffen his cock.

“We want you to have fun, too. We’ve been messing with you all day. Didn’t you notice?”

A gasp shudders out of Felix when Sylvain captures the other nipple between the fingers of his free hand, squeezing gently. Felix’s knees threaten to buckle, and Dimitri’s grip tightens at his waist, holding him upright. His nipples are so achingly sensitive, like tiny electrical cables wired straight to his dick, even the slightest touch is enough to get him going. Sometimes he covers them with bandages just so the constant rub of fabric against the sensitized buds doesn’t have him distracted and hard all day. It’s worse now, with the piercings. Both Dimitri and Sylvain know this—in fact, they convinced him to get them in the first place—and if they loved playing with Felix’s tits before, they’re absolutely obsessed now. 

“You—” Felix breaks off, his hips jerking reflexively when Sylvain drags the pads of his thumbs across both nipples at once, but he’s no match for Dimitri’s strength. Felix is strong himself, and scrappy as hell besides, but Dimitri is on another level. Runs in the family, he claims. Whatever the case, he holds Felix in place easily, and Felix lets his head fall back against his firm, broad chest. “You guys were doing that on purpose? All the touching?”

“Of course.” Dimitri’s voice rumbles against him. “We wondered if you might do something about it eventually.”

“But you left us waiting too long,” Sylvain says, grinning, teasing. “Our grumpy boy, suffering in the heat, enduring the annoying sand and all this pointless fun just for us.” He leans down and noses along the side of Felix’s neck. “You should be rewarded for loving us so much you’ll even put up with a day at the beach, hmm?” He kisses the spot right under Felix’s ear, lightly sucks at the tender patch of skin that sends a shiver racing through Felix every single time it’s touched. “We want to play a little game. It’s called ‘Who can make Felix come first?’”

Felix groans. Already his cock is hard and starting to throb, straining against the front of his trunks. Soon he’ll be leaking precome, too. He always gets so wet, dripping much more than Sylvain or Dimitri ever do, and Sylvain loves to lap at the slit, moaning as the slick, clear liquid coats his tongue. 

“You’re… you’re both... going to lose,” Felix forces out between breathy little moans as Sylvain sucks at his neck and plays with his nipples. Dimitri grinds his own rigid cock against the small of Felix’s back, pressing in close. They’re so much taller than him, Sylvain only maybe an inch shorter than Dimitri, and so much bigger, too, packed with hewned, heavy muscle. 

Felix likes the way it feels when they surround him. He’s average height, not short at all in the grand scheme of things, and he’s built from wiry muscle he works hard to maintain, but compared to them, he feels small. With most other people, he’d hate being in any position that seemingly left him at a disadvantage or at risk of being overpowered. People underestimated him often, especially players on opposing teams, and Felix lived to make them eat crow. 

But with Dimitri and Sylvain, the size difference turns him on. Makes him want to be manhandled, held down by large, strong hands and wrecked to within an inch of his life, until his ass is sore, his brain is melting, and his cock hurts from coming so hard. Even if, realistically, he could kick Sylvain’s ass six ways from Sunday, if he wanted. Half of Sylvain’s body type is sheer genetics, the lucky bastard, and Felix knows he slacks off on his training regimen. Eventually, it’ll all catch up to him, but for now, he’s in peak physical condition. Him and Dimitri both.

Felix still can’t quite believe the three of them are a thing. He and Dimitri are high school sweethearts, a twee expression Felix only ever uses in his head, if he’s feeling particularly sentimental. They’d met Sylvain, briefly, through their parents’ mutual business dealings when they were all young kids, but they didn’t see each other for years after that—not until Dimitri and Felix enrolled at GMU together, and they reconnected with Sylvain when they were recruited to the Blue Lions. They’d hung out fairly often over the rest of that semester. Then, early in their sophomore year, they’d invited Sylvain over to their apartment to watch a baseball game and gorge on hot wings. By the end of the night, Felix was riding Sylvain’s cock while Dimitri sat on his face. 

Their twosome had been a threesome ever since

It’s difficult for Felix to say it—difficult for them all sometimes, in different ways—but he loves them both so much. That’s why he’s here on this stupid trip, when he hates the sand, hates getting sunburned. Both Dimitri and Sylvain dislike the heat but adore this annual tradition anyway. They enjoy spending time with all their teammates and friends, and Felix does like that part, too, even if he struggles with social graces and hasn’t always had the easiest time connecting with people.

But most of all he likes the fact that they want him here. Not only on this trip, but here, between them, beside them, together in all ways.

We’re going to lose?” Sylvain asks, an amused whisper near Felix’s ear. “You’re already falling apart, babe, and we haven’t even touched your cock yet.”

Felix groans. “Told you not to— Ahh.” He whines, shaking, when Sylvain dips his head and swipes a lick across one nipple. “Not to call me ‘babe.’”

Sylvain laughs and peers up at him through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, tonguing at the barbell piercing the achy, sensitive bud before he closes his lips around it and sucks, hard.

Felix tries to go up to his toes, wanting to escape, craving more at the same time. “Fuck.”

“Yes, Felix.” One of Dimitri’s big hands leaves his hip and cups his throat instead, his thumb tracing the sharp line of Felix’s jaw. “We will, beloved. You’re ours, and we intend to prove it to you, now and forever.”

Felix groans again and squeezes his eyes shut. Goddess, Dimitri is such a sap. He just… he just says things like that, totally earnestly, as if it’s a perfectly natural thing to say while they’re clustered together in a muggy beach shower stall.

Ugh. He’s utterly ridiculous. And maybe Felix is worse, because he can’t wait to get Dimitri’s dick in his mouth.

Felix reaches behind him to grab Dimitri’s cock through his trunks, squeezing the thick shaft. “You’re going to lose,” Felix repeats as Dimitri grunts and presses into his touch. “I can outlast you both.”

Sylvain straightens, a grin curving his mouth. He reaches up and takes off his sunglasses, and then pulls Felix’s from his face, too. “Let’s test that theory.”

He goes over to their bag while Dimitri takes over tormenting Felix’s nipples. He’s still gripping Felix’s neck in his other hand, only holding tightly enough for Felix to feel it when he swallows, but Felix shivers at the faint hint of danger, horny as fuck with his vulnerable throat under Dimitri’s palm. Dimitri could seriously hurt him, if he wasn’t careful. But with Felix, he’s always, always careful, mindful of his size and his immense strength. And that consideration only makes Felix love him more, desire him more.

Felix writhes beneath his touch, eyelids sliding half-shut. He’s free to move his hips now, and he does without thinking, rolling them, seeking friction even though there’s nothing for him to rub against—yet.

“Bring him over here, Dimitri,” Sylvain says, and Felix is already too sex-dazed to do more than slap at Dimitri’s side when Dimitri spins him around and hoists Felix into his arms. It’s instinct for Felix to wrap his legs around Dimitri’s waist, but he gets his revenge by sinking his teeth into the place where Dimitri’s neck meets his shoulder. 

Dimitri makes a low sound, a bit of a growl, but he doesn’t stop moving until they’re standing beside Sylvain. He lets Felix slide down his body until his feet are on the tiled floor, and Felix bites him again, threateningly close to his nipple. Dimitri only laughs and cups the back of his head. “Bite me all you like, love. Anywhere you want.”

Sylvain chuckles behind Felix. It’s all the warning he has before Sylvain’s fingers grip the waistband of his trunks and yank them down his thighs. The trunks pool around Felix’s ankles, and Sylvain pats his hip, encouraging him to step out of them.

“Pick him up again,” Sylvain tells Dimitri, because he knows what Dimitri likes, how in this and no other area of his life, he prefers to give up control, allow Sylvain to arrange things, to orchestrate how they have sex and make each other come. It’s part of why they all work together, and Felix’s cock throbs at how easily Dimitri obeys.

Dimitri lifts him up like his weight is nothing, Felix’s cock leaving a sticky trail of precome along the groove bisecting his hard abdominal muscles. 

Sylvain pulls Dimitri’s trunks down, too, and then Felix feels Sylvain’s hand move under his ass, feels Dimitri stiffen and grunt. He realizes why a moment later, when slippery fingers press between his ass cheeks, spreading lube over his hole.

“You planned all of this,” Felix says, scowling, but really, why is he surprised? Sylvain has sex on the brain twenty-four-seven.

He hears the smile in Sylvain’s voice when he says, “I never go anywhere unprepared.” A finger pushes into him, and even being slightly annoyed at how his boyfriends played him, Felix bears down on it, welcoming the stretch.

“We’re going to take turns fucking you,” Sylvain says, his lips brushing Felix’s nape as he adds another finger. “First one to make you come wins.”

“Wins what?” Felix asks on a moan.

Sylvain huffs a laugh. “Getting to come all over your face. I don’t know.” He pulls his fingers free. “This is meant to be fun. Try not to think about it too hard. Or well… you like it hard, don’t you?” He chuckles again. “How about you just try not to be contrary and enjoy yourself, Felix?”

He steps to the side and touches Dimitri’s face with the hand that isn’t slick with lube. Sylvain leans in to kiss him, brief but deep and with lots of tongue. Dimitri groans and digs his fingertips into Felix’s ass, squeezing with enough force Felix knows he’ll probably have bruises later.

When he pulls back, Sylvain is grinning and Dimitri looks dazed. “You’ve got five minutes, babe. See if you can make him come before your time’s up.”

Dimitri turns his attention to Felix then. His hand moves down to line up his cock, and he presses inside, or rather, pushes Felix down, stretching him around his shaft, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Felix stifles a gasp, gritting his teeth. Dimitri’s cock is as big and thick as the rest of him, and regardless of how often they’ve fucked, it always takes Felix a bit to adjust to his girth. “Do…” He pauses, licks his lips. “Do your worst.”

“Oh, no, Felix,” Dimitri says, lifting him until only the head remains inside. He drags Felix back down, rough, unyielding. Felix yelps, then moans when Dimitri does it again. And again. “Only the best for you.”

He cuts off Felix’s groan with his mouth, presses him against the tiled wall, and pins him there so he can start drilling into him.

Felix’s brain scrambles over the next few minutes. Dimitri isn’t holding anything back, he’s pounding in, absolutely merciless, and then pausing to stir his hips, stretching Felix’s rim, seeking out the places that make Felix want to scream.

They’re not joking around, then. Felix knows Sylvain will go at him just as hard when it’s his turn. But they’re a trio of competitive bastards, and Felix is the most ruthless of them all. He hates losing more than just about anything—even if that loss would technically include an orgasm.

That’s not to say it’ll be easy to resist. Dimitri knows Felix’s body, knows how to play it like a violinist plays the strings, and Felix can feel that aching pleasure building in his pelvis, heat curling in his balls as his cock rubs along the ridges of Dimitri’s abs, gliding on the sweat they’ve created between them. Dimitri kisses him again, and Felix bites sharply at his lip, clinging to his shoulders, nails leaving crescents in the skin. He’s nearly on the verge, in spite of his best efforts, when the sound of Sylvain’s phone alarm completely breaks the mood.

Dimitri stops dead; Felix’s jaw drops open.

“You actually set a timer?” Felix asks as Sylvain walks up to them.

“Sure did.” Sylvain licks a drop of perspiration from the side of Dimitri’s neck and winks. “My turn.”

Dimitri pulls Felix off his dick and sets him on his feet as Sylvain saunters over to the bench and sits down, thighs spread. He’s naked now, and his cock curves toward his stomach, already shiny with lube. Sylvain fiddles with his phone for a moment, then sets it on the bench beside him and grabs his dick, aiming it toward Felix. The curved barbell in the slit glints in the overhead light. 

He’d had it put in at the same time Felix got his nipples pierced, and they’d been trying to tempt Dimitri into getting something done ever since. For now, Dimitri remains free of any body mods, but knowing how much he loves their jewelry, Felix thinks he'll be convinced soon enough. Maybe he’ll get his tongue pierced. Mmm. Yeah, maybe that. Felix bites his lip, imagining how it would feel if Dimitri sucked his dick with a barbell through his tongue. He likes the idea. A lot. He’s definitely bringing it up later.

“Like what you see?” Sylvain asks lazily, pulling Felix out of his little fantasy. “Come on then, babe. Time’s a-wastin.”

“You need to shut up before I decide to leave you there with blue balls,” Felix says, glaring, but he stomps over anyway, still wearing the damn water shoes that squeak against the tile. But he’s not about to walk on this gross floor in his bare feet.

Besides, Sylvain’s smug expression looks like a challenge, and for better or worse, Felix never backs down from one of those. He might love Sylvain’s cock and the way he uses it, but Felix isn’t about to let him win. Friendly competition or not. 

He straddles Sylvain’s lap, lifts up so Sylvain can position himself at his entrance, and then sinks down in one smooth motion, the muscle giving easily after Dimitri worked him open. 

“Mmm.” Sylvain grips his hips and smiles—a real smile, not one filled with false charm and flirtation. “You feel so good.” He looks over Felix’s shoulder and jerks his chin, beckoning Dimitri closer. “Doesn’t he, Dimitri?”

Felix senses Dimitri coming up behind him, stepping between Sylvain’s spread thighs, his hard cock nudging Felix’s back.

“He does,” Dimitri says. He cups Felix’s jaw, tipping his head against his sweaty chest. “Ride him, Felix. Show him how amazing you are. Show us both.”

Felix exhales shakily, rolls his hips. Held as he is by Dimitri’s palm on his jaw and Sylvain’s hands on his hips, it’s more of a dirty grind than anything, but they work in tandem to build up a sweet rhythm, Sylvain pushing up in shallow thrusts, Felix bracing his hands on Sylvain’s shoulders for leverage.

Dimitri’s fingers slip into Felix’s gasping mouth, two of them pushing in deep. Felix sucks them like he’s going to town on a cock, greedy, spit dripping from his chin, addicted to the sensation of having both his ass and mouth stuffed full. 

Dimitri hisses in approval. “Look at you,” he says. “Look how beautiful you are for us.”

Felix moans, the noise muffled by the fingers on his tongue. Sylvain rocks into him harder, and he tries to meet Sylvain thrust for thrust. The room feels burning hot, steamy with their body heat. Felix inhales, giddy, drunk on their combined scent. 

The phone goes off again, and Sylvain groans, but stops moving and reaches over to turn off the timer. He pats the bench beside him. “Sit here, Dimitri. I’d like a front-row seat this time.”

Dimitri pulls his fingers free, drags them, wet and slick along Felix’s cheek to his hair before joining Sylvain on the bench. Sylvain lifts Felix from his dick and deposits him on Dimitri’s lap, which should probably annoy Felix but only arouses him even further.

He leans in to kiss Dimitri and sinks onto his cock with a soft moan. Already he feels swollen and deliciously sore. Sylvain isn’t much smaller than Dimitri, meaning he’s still pretty damn big, and usually they don’t do this sort of constant switching. Felix isn’t sure how much longer he can last. His boyfriends have the advantage, as they’re able to collect themselves between rounds. Felix gets no respite, but still, he doesn’t intend to go down without a fight.

“Fuck me,” he orders imperiously.

Dimitri bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Anything you want, Felix.”

He starts moving, bouncing Felix on his cock, and Felix’s head falls back, his muscles taut, calves tense and toes curled as pleasure washes through him. 

Felix tries to think about anything else, about the upcoming soccer season, about whether or not Coach Byleth has guessed what they’re up to in here, about all that gritty, annoying sand and how long it’ll take him to get it out of all his possessions—anything but how good Dimitri feels, anything but the pressure on his rim, and the way Dimitri’s cock fills him up so right. He tries to ignore the sounds Dimitri is making, the way he gasps “Felix” when he slides in particularly deep.

“Dima,” Felix says back, moaning, twisting his hips and clenching around the thick length inside him. He doesn’t use the familiar version of Dimitri’s name very often, not since they were kids, but he knows the impact it has on Dimitri.

Dimitri shudders beneath him, pulls Felix flush against his pelvis like he wants to crawl into Felix’s body, and comes with a groan Felix echoes as heat spills inside him.

He hears the sound of kissing and opens his eyes to see Sylvain has his tongue buried in Dimitri’s mouth. Sylvain laughs after he pulls back, leaving Dimitri’s lips red and gleaming. “You lose, my dear captain. But that was hot.”

Dimitri chuckles, breathless, his cock flexing, still half-hard inside Felix. He might be captain on the field, but here, they all know who’s in charge. 

Sylvain gets to his feet, fingers already wrapping around his cock. “Why don’t you bend over the bench? Let me at you one last time, Fe. But I think we already know who’s going to be the champ this time around.”

Felix lifts off Dimitri’s cock, his legs wobbly as jelly, but he gets into position, palms braced on the bench next to where Dimitri is sprawled, panting, as he tries to recover.

Sylvain slides inside, his loud groan reverberating in the enclosed tiled room. “Fuck, you’re so wet. I can feel his come in you.” He pulls back, pushes forward with a filthy-sounding squelch, his fingertips pressing divots into Felix’s hips. ”Ahhh. Damn, baby. So hot.” 

Felix grits his teeth as Sylvain picks up the pace. His cockhead brushes Felix’s prostate, the thick, curved barbell rubbing firmly over the sensitive gland.

Felix whimpers, feels hot pressure gather in his pelvis, the pulse in his cock that throbs in time with Sylvain’s every rough thrust. He won’t last long, not like this. He can’t. The tremors in his thighs and the tension in his stomach are a dead giveaway. He’s going to come—and soon—unless he can get Sylvain to lose control first. 

He squeezes around Sylvain’s cock, bumping back against him, and pushes past his embarrassment to use Sylvain’s weakness against him.

“Fuck me,” he moans. “Sylvain, please. I want… I want your come…” And it’s not a lie, either, though it mortifies Felix to say it. He bites his lip, face burning from more than exertion. He’s not one for dirty talk, no matter how much Sylvain encourages him. 

But here, as in soccer and every other aspect of his life, Felix Fraldarius hates losing.

“Come on,” he whines, playing it up for all he’s worth, his final drive on goal in the last seconds of the game. “Give it to me. G-give me that come.”

Sylvain’s hips stutter, and in the next second, he curses, loud, heartfelt, and slams Felix back on his cock.

Felix feels the thrill of victory as Sylvain gives a few erratic thrusts, working his come deeper inside, and then, at last, withdraws with a sigh.

“I win,” Felix declares, voice ragged, still bent over the bench, arms trembling and face dripping. His cock is rock-hard, aching where it hangs between his thighs. 

Sylvain rubs a soothing hand along his spine. “You did. I think that deserves a prize, don’t you, Dimitri?”

Dimitri’s fingers brush Felix’s cheek. “Oh yes.”

With both their help, Felix gets situated on the bench. He leans back against the wall, sweaty and wrecked, staring as Dimitri and Sylvain settle on their knees, Dimitri between Felix’s spread legs and Sylvain to his right.

Dimitri bends down and presses a kiss to the tip of Felix’s cock. His blond hair clings to his damp skin, and his blue eyes shine as he follows up the kiss with a brief suck. Sylvain leans in and joins him, his tongue trailing up the side of Felix’s shaft. When he gets to the head, he and Dimitri pause to make out around it, their tongues brushing over Felix’s sensitive slit.

Felix groans, jerking up, and he’s probably only going to last another minute or two at most, but fuck, do his men look gorgeous on their knees for him. He wants to see this every day, for the rest of his life.

Felix buries a hand in Dimitri’s hair and licks his lips when Sylvain rests his palm on the back of Dimitri’s neck and presses his head down, guiding Dimitri into a bob on Felix’s cock. Once Dimitri settles into a rhythm, one that has Felix flexing his hips and yanking at Dimitri’s hair so fiercely it has to hurt, Sylvain lets go and bends to take one of Felix’s balls in his mouth. And that’s it. Game over.

Felix comes with a blissed out sound of relief, pushing in so deep Dimitri chokes and gags, but because Dimitri is amazing, he doesn’t pull back completely, just eases up a few inches and keeps sucking as Felix spends down his throat.

When it’s over, Felix is, of course, even messier—and stickier—than when they first walked into the shower stall. But also in a much better mood.

“Well,” Sylvain huffs, mouth slanted and copper eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you like the beach a little better now, Felix?”

Felix looks between him and Dimitri, who’s also smiling, his fair skin flushed as red as Felix’s feels right now.

“No,” Felix says, although he’ll definitely remember this fondly. “But I like you two.”

Dimitri laughs and leans up to kiss him. Felix can taste himself on Dimitri’s tongue, and it draws a moan from him, even as sore and drained of energy as he is. Sylvain joins in, and they share a sloppy three-way kiss that’s as ridiculous as it is hot. Felix loves it.

He urges them up onto the bench on either side of him and pulls Sylvain’s hand into his lap, threading their fingers together while tossing a leg over Dimitri’s thigh and resting his head against his warm shoulder. He feels Dimitri’s lips brush his hair and sighs, content. They’re going to have to make use of the showers, properly, before they go back outside—they reek of sweat, sex, and come—but for the moment, he’s happy right where he is.

“Okay,” Felix concedes after a few more seconds. “Maybe the beach isn’t so bad after all.”