BETWEEN US
🎞️: the olympics brought you closer. now a championship party brings everything to a head
⚠️: mfm threesome, jealousy, poly tension,language, praise + degradation, light possessiveness, double penetration, exhibition hints, deep affection, competitive men being messy
Nobody ever talks about how lonely the Olympics can be.
The lights, the press, the medals—yeah, it’s loud. But the nights? When you’re in some sterile dorm in a foreign city and your body’s aching in places you didn’t know existed, and the only people you can be real with are the ones going through it too?
That’s when you get close. Real close. To your teammates, to your health team, to other athletes.
That’s how it started with the three of you. Long-ass nights, half-dressed in compression shorts and tank tops, sitting on tile floors with Gatorade bottles and stories you shouldn’t’ve told. You were on the national soccer team. On a historical run, surrounded by vets from all over the world. You were young, hungry, and ready to win—just like Ant and Ty.
Tyrese was the one who made you laugh.
Anthony was the one who made you quiet.
It was harmless at first. The three of you did everything together. Walked markets in Harajuku. Snuck mochi into dorms. Stole time between practices. When you’d walk between them, they’d both tilt inward like they were protecting you from the world. Tyrese made playlists for your commutes. Ant always carried your charger in his bag just in case.
One night, after some exhibition match, Tyrese told a story that had you doubled over on the couch, cheeks hot from laughing. You didn’t notice Ant staring at you until you wiped your eyes and caught him mid-glance. He looked away so fast it made your stomach flip.
He never said anything.
But from then on, the air felt different when he was near you. Quieter. Charged.
You loved the 360 Ant did when he was around you—the whole “crashout” persona gone. He was just him. It’s what made you fall for him.
But you also noticed the way Tyrese started sitting closer, letting his thigh touch yours, offering his hoodie before you even said you were cold. He wasn’t subtle. He never was.
Tyrese was loud about the way he liked you—mentioning you in interviews, posting up with you on Instagram. Maybe that’s what made you really fall for him.
So when he kissed you after that last game—soft, certain, in the shadow of the locker room—you didn’t stop him. Of course Anthony saw it happen from across the hallway and ducked his head like it hurt to look. You pretended you didn’t see him.
But you did.
A year and some change later, you and Tyrese were still together. No strangers to winning. You were signed to Barcelona, predicted to go to the Champions League once again. Tyrese led his team to their first championship. Life was beyond good for you two.
The party wasn’t wild—just a few teammates, a couple cousins, the people who’d been down since high school. The ones who knew the win felt too big to celebrate with strangers.
Your shared house still smelled like fresh flowers and tequila. You were barefoot, moving between the kitchen and the back patio with a champagne flute you’d barely touched. Tyrese kept pulling you into side hugs like he couldn’t believe you were real. Like he had to keep checking that the championship ring wasn’t a dream—and neither were you.
Then Ant showed up.
You knew he was coming—Ty had mentioned it in passing—but it still felt like a breath caught in your throat.
He wore all black. Of course he did. Black tee, black joggers, clean shoes. Silver chain catching the light. His eyes flicked to you when he walked in, and he smiled a little, but didn’t come over.
The music was louder in the kitchen, bass thumping low under people’s laughter and the sizzle of oil on the stove. Tyrese stood near the counter, pouring tequila into two red cups. He didn’t bother with a chaser. Neither did Anthony.
“Good looks,” Anthony muttered, taking the cup and leaning against the fridge. “Your spot always got the good shit.”
“‘Cause I don’t let everybody drink here,” Tyrese said with a grin, lifting his cup in a half-toast. “I gotta have an idea of where yo lips been.”
They drank. Anthony swallowed his slow, eyes roaming the living room through the open archway where you were laughing with a few other folks—head tilted back, your waist beads catching a sliver of light when you moved just right.
“On some real shit…”
“Yo.”
“What.”
“She ever call you ‘Ant’ in that voice?”
Anthony raised his brow over the rim of his cup, squinting like Tyrese just asked him something crazy. “What voice?”
“You know that voice,” Tyrese said, grinning, shoulders bouncing like he already knew he was being messy. “That little raspy-ass one she use when she want somethin’?”
Anthony blinked, then looked away—like he didn’t wanna confirm. Like his silence wasn’t loud as hell.
“Oh yeah,” Tyrese said, smirking as he poured another shot. “She be doin’ that shit to you too, huh.”
“Man, shut up.”
“Nah, you shut up.” He slid him the shot and leaned on the counter with a cocky tilt. “I knew somethin’ was up in Tokyo. You used to look at her like she had gold on her ass.”
Anthony snorted. “And you used to jump up every time she needed help openin’ a water bottle.”
“‘Cause I’m a gentleman,” Tyrese deadpanned. “You was sittin’ over there rock hard behind a Gatorade towel.”
Anthony shook his head, laughing into his drink. “Boy, you lucky you moved fast.”
“Nah, you lucky I’m generous.”
That made Anthony pause. He gave him a side-eye. “Generous how?”
Tyrese sipped, eyes low. “You want her bad as me. We could just… figure somethin’ out.”
“You talkin’ ‘bout a poly shit again?” Anthony squinted. “You sound like you tryna do a group project with my dick involved. I don’t like that.”
Tyrese cracked up, leaning forward. “Nigga, shut up! I’m just sayin’, she loves you too. Don’t act like you never felt that shit.”
Anthony looked away for a beat, jaw flexin’. “She ain’t say it.”
“She ain’t gotta. That girl blush when you in the room. Get extra soft with you. She don’t do that shit with me.”
“So what you tryna say?”
“I’m sayin’ maybe she ain’t gotta choose.”
Anthony scoffed. “You think that’s how that work? You gon’ be cool with me puttin’ it down?”
“Nigga, please,” Tyrese said. “I bet you I fuck her better.”
Anthony choked on his drink. For real this time. Turned half away, coughing, hand on his chest.
“Oh nah. You got me fucked up,” he rasped, wiping his mouth. “You talkin’ crazy now.”
“Am I lyin’, though?”
Anthony stepped forward, cup dangling from his fingers. “You think just ‘cause you be talkin’ sweet, you the only one who know what she like?”
“I know she like my pace,” Tyrese said, smooth. “You the type to rush.”
Anthony’s grin turned wolfish. “Nah, I’m the type to finish shit.”
They stood there for a second, too quiet for it to still be funny. Both of them lookin’ just a little too serious. Then Tyrese broke first, laughing like he couldn’t help it.
“You really tight, huh.”
Anthony smirked. “I just don’t like losin’, that’s all.”
“If that was true we woulda saw yall
in the finals but—.” Tyrese looked toward the living room, where you were still out of earshot, smiling at something somebody said. “But if this really happen… that means we both gotta bring it.”
Anthony followed his eyes, then took another sip, letting the burn ride out.
“Just don’t get mad when she start screamin’ my name louder,” he muttered.
“Nigga, please.”
You found them both outside a little while later—leaning on opposite sides of the back fence like they’d just finished arguing or plotting something. The air smelled like heat, cologne, and bad decisions. Tyrese beckoned you over with two fingers and a smirk.
“You good, baby?” he asked, sliding a hand to your waist the second you got close.
You nodded, but your eyes were already drifting to Anthony, who still hadn’t said a word. His gaze dipped from your waist beads to your mouth, then flicked back up like he hadn’t just traced every inch of you with his eyes.
Tyrese noticed.
“Tell her man,” he said, licking his lips like he was about to say something reckless. “Tell her what we was talkin’ ‘bout.”
Anthony tilted his head. “You full of shit”
“Hell nah, you must be scared now?”
Anthony exhaled slow through his nose, then looked at you. Dead in your face. “We wanna fuck you.”
The way your heart jumped made your knees soften. You blinked.
“Both of us,” Tyrese added, voice low, hand gripping your hip a little tighter. “Together. Same time.”
You didn’t say anything. Not with your mouth, anyway. But the way your breath caught and your thighs pressed together? That was enough.
Sure, you’d thought about it but to actually do it was almost insane to you. Tyrese was the love of your life, attraction to men seemed almost impossible when you all got together. Although, Anthony was always the exception. You bit your lip any time he did a new photoshoot, or posted a thirst trap. It was a fantasy that you never fed into. Tyrese wasn’t exactly vanilla but average man doesn’t take well to his woman desiring to be shared.
Anthony came up behind you while Tyrese kissed your neck. His voice was deeper, more commanding than you remembered. “Don’t run now. You gon’ take both of us like you was made for it.”
Tyrese lifted your dress without asking, fingers dipping and dragging into your core. “You wet already. That shit turn you on, huh?”
You nodded, dizzy, caught between both of them. Anthony’s hands were rougher, more impatient—gripping your ass, tugging your panties down like he needed you now.
“Come inside,” Tyrese whispered. “Before we fuck around and bend you over this damn patio table.”
You barely made it to the bedroom.
They didn’t waste time. Tyrese kissed you like he was making up for every moment he had to share you. Anthony kissed you like he hated the fact that he had to wait this long.
You ended up flat on your back, Tyrese between your legs, Anthony holding your face so you couldn’t look away from him.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Anthony murmured. “You gon’ let us ruin you?”
Tyrese groaned from between your thighs. “She already lettin’ me. This pussy too good to share, bro.”
Anthony scoffed. “Then why you sharing?”
You moaned when Tyrese sucked your clit like he was trying to prove something. And he was. So was Anthony—pulling his sweats down, stroking himself while he watched you fall apart.
“You close already?” Anthony taunted. “He eatin’ it that good?”
Your only answer was a high, broken sound.
“She be fakin’ that shit with you?” he asked Tyrese, breathless.
Tyrese shook his head, voice muffled. “Nah, she real with it—my baby so sensitive.”
Anthony smirked. “Bet. Move.”
Tyrese gave him a look like he didn’t want to, but backed up anyway, kissing the inside of your thigh before sliding up next to you.
“You good?” he whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek. “You want this?”
You nodded so hard it made both of them laugh.
Anthony lined himself up slow. “Keep your eyes open.”
When he slid in, your whole body arched. Not just from the stretch, but from the way both their hands found your skin at the same time—one on your throat, one holding your knee open.
“That’s it,” Tyrese whispered, kissing your temple. “You takin’ him so good.”
Anthony cursed under his breath. “Tight as fuck, can’t wait to feel you cumming on me.”
“She is,” Tyrese murmured. “She be such a mess when she cums too,”
You let out a choked laugh, tears welling. “Y’all are so—”
“Shhh.” Anthony started thrusting deeper. “You talk too much.”
Tyrese moved behind you, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his fingers while Anthony fucked into you harder. You were nothing but moans and gasps now—caught in a rhythm you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.
“Look at you,” Anthony muttered. “All that attitude, and now you dumb off dick.”
“She love this shit,” Tyrese said. “Been told me she wanted both of us a year ago.”
“You lyin’,” Anthony hissed.
“Ask her,” he said, grinning. Anthony leaned down, kissed your cheek, then your mouth. “That true, mama? You been wantin’ this?”
You nodded, panting. “Yes. Fuck—yes, please.”
He groaned deep in his chest. “Yeah, you been plotting on this dick.”
Tyrese bit your shoulder, laughing low. “She not goin’ nowhere after this.”
“You better not,” Anthony growled, gripping your waist. “You mine now. Ours.”
You came hard, shuddering between them. Tyrese caught your face in his hands while Anthony kept fucking you through it.
“Come on,” he whispered. “You can give us another one. Be good for us.”
Anthony grunted, close. “She ‘bout to make me nut up in this shit.”
“Do it,” Tyrese said, voice hoarse. “Fill her up, you gotta make up for lost time”
“Fuck,” you moaned, body going limp.
They both came for you—one after the other. Anthony first, rough and deep, hissing between his teeth like the feeling stole his breath. Tyrese kissed your lips while he came against your stomach, whispering how pretty you looked when you took it.
You lay there for a while, panting, sticky, ruined. One head on your chest. One arm slung across your thigh.
You were the quiet between two storms. The softness in the middle of something wild.
And the only thing louder than your heartbeat was the sound of Tyrese laughing, low and smug.
“Guess I was right about that poly shit huh”
