Kinktober Day 2 - Coming Untouched
Kinktober Master list: Here
König x Fem!Reader
CW: Sexual frustration/Shame, Voyeuristic undertones, Light Humiliation, Accidental Stimulation/Ejaculation, Semi-Public
Only the dull thump of distant weights and the rubber squeak of sneakers against the mat could be currently heard in the gym. You and König were both warming up before sparring, facing each other in mirrored stretches.
You bent forward, your palms flat to the mat, hips sinking low as your shorts rode higher with each movement, the fabric tugging tight against your plush rear. König tried - he really did - to keep his eyes on the floor. On the laces of his boots. On anything but you.
But every time you moved, his gaze slipped. To the curve of your spine. The way your shirt slid up and revealed just a hint of skin. The soft sound of your breath with each deep stretch. It was unraveling him thread by thread.
His gloves sat loose in his lap, completely forgotten now and his pulse hammered in his throat, in his chest, lower. He shifted awkwardly, trying to adjust without drawing attention, but the friction made it worse. Heat flushed up his neck, his cock already pressing painfully against his shorts.
'ScheiĂe⊠not nowâŠ' he cursed himself internally.
He dug his nails into the mat in an attempt to will the tension away, but it only built. Watching you move so easily, totally unaware of what you were doing to him. It had his body betraying him. He tried to look away. Tried to breathe steady. But every twist of your hips was torture, every stretch another spark catching on tinder already too dry.
The coil inside him wound tighter, each beat of his heart echoing like a drum in his skull. Every subtle shift, every faint hum or sigh you let slip pushed him closer and closer to the edge and he couldn't look away. His chest heaving as if the effort alone could anchor him, but it did nothing.
Heat pooled low, the pressure building unbearably until the tension snapped like a rope frayed one too many times. A strangled, guttural sound tore from his throat before he could even think to stop it, a sharp exhale of shame and need. His thighs locking, shaking with the sudden violent pulse of release, and wet warmth flooded his shorts, clinging hot and humiliating against him.
He gasped, his shoulders jerking as he tried to sink lower into a stretch to hide the tremor running up his legs. His hooded head bent close to his knees, sweat mingling with the flush on his face, but it didn't matter. He could feel every jolt, every heartbeat, every pulse that left him trembling. His body betrayed him in the quiet gym, and the weight of that humiliation pressed down on him heavier than any barbell ever could.
His breath came ragged and broken, each inhale a struggle as aftershocks wracked his thighs and abdomen. He clenched his fists at his sides, as if gripping could somehow reclaim control, but it was already gone. The sticky, hot mess in his shorts was proof, and the thought that you might notice - even for a second - made him want to vanish into the floor.
'VerdammtâŠ' he hissed under his breath, the sound muffled against his hood, hips twitching once more despite himself. Every pulse reminded him of how completely undone he was, ruined by nothing more than watching you stretch so innocently, so completely unaware of the chaos you'd caused.
And then - worse - your voice. Light, warm, casual. "You good, big guy? You look a little red."
König froze, heat searing his face as you shifted closer to grab your water bottle, your hand brushing his thigh as you leaned in. Just a graze of fingers, so innocent and thoughtless. But to him? It felt like lightning. The damp cling of his ruined shorts right there beneath your touch.
His breath hitched audibly and he jerked back, but it was too late to make it look natural.
You tilted your head, smiling up at him. "Did I scare ya?"
He swallowed, his throat dry and words stumbling out thick with his accent. "N-nein, I⊠eh⊠it is just⊠too warm in here, ja?"
You laughed, a light little sound that spilled from your lips, shaking your head as you turned back to your stretch. Oblivious. Unbothered.
König sat rigid, his hands digging into his knees. The mess in his shorts was sticky and shameful, but his cock still twitched, aching for more even as guilt burned hot in his chest.
And you - bless your heart - were still stretching, still humming lightly to yourself - and had no idea what you'd just done to him.
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