Page 7 of Bubblegum Pop

We’d taken on alphas who had been competing for years, guys ten years older than us. It was rare for men our age to win World’s Strongest Alpha, especially first and second place, but we had a magic charm that kept us going through all of it.

“Another round of drinks for my new friends! And my mate! We’d never have won without him!” I hollered, my voice bouncing around the bar. I was already half-cut, but we deserved to get plastered.

Seven years of pushing ourselves, and we could finally celebrate.

Apollo burst out laughing as I grabbed him by the waist, hauling him between my thighs, pressing his back to my chest. High on my barstool, he fit perfectly against me. I buried my nose in his neck, inhaling his luscious mango scent. “And thank fuck, eh?” I said, just for him, giving him the look, the one that told him I was going to be balls-deep inside him by the end of the night.

Apollo’s tongue creased his lips as he notched his head back to my shoulder, grinning up at me.

If my brother and I hadn’t met him all those years ago, there was no way we could have made it here. It wasn’t just that we were pack; it was the fact he was as motivated to win as we were.

He grew up learning under his dad, a world-class boxer,and spent years at uni training to be a coach. We were the first and last guys he worked with, and we were so fucking lucky to have him.

I lifted my head, finding my twin in the mess of celebrating bodies. Odin had stuck himself at the end of the bar, deep in conversation with a couple of geriatric alphas. That was his thing; he loved reliving the past instead of living in the moment with us.

Odin met my gaze, letting a smile trace his mouth, raising his pint as he nodded. Pride pulsed through our bond from all three of us, and we fucking owned it.

Odin and I pulled a full-on truck around an entire football field. Each. We literally just grabbed a rope and went for it.

And we were kings for the night.

I’d dragged them both out to a pub where everyone else was headed as soon as we stripped down and cleaned up after the finals. It was either that or fucking Apollo in the locker room in front of everyone, claiming my mate in victory. Though I could still bend him over the bar and take him if he let me…

The animal in me was coming out, my instincts blazing with the thrill of the win. All I wanted to do was fuck and prove I was the real alpha. Except for Apollo. He might have been small compared to us, but he was our pack leader, the true alpha. Odin and I shared him as a mate, though Odin could never get over the fact he wasn’t Apollo’s scent match, and tried to push Apollo away whenever he got into one of his moods. Odin talked about bonding with an omega one day, but I didn’t need anyone but Apollo. Apollo was the most dominant of the three of us, even though he was usually the one sinking down onto our cocks.

We were all here, the top ten contestants, their managers, all our fans, and anyone else who could squeeze into the place.

Apollo’s hand trailed up my neck, grabbing my ear lobe and tugging me down for a kiss, both of us moaning as we fell into each other.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard when we get home, you won’t be walking tomorrow,” I growled against his lips.

“That’s a given,” he said, sending his need down the bond, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“God, I’m so glad you found us,” I groaned into his shoulder, my cock already stiff. It felt like yesterday that my twin and I were grungy pack fighters, earning shit cash in the London underground fight clubs. Apollo happened to be there, scoping out the crowd with his dad, looking for new talent. Our scents matched instantly, and we were already biting each other by the end of the night.

And now we were here—a fucking £10,000 cash prize for first place, £7,500 for second. And we were going to go to South America like we always wanted. The plan was to travel along the coast, soaking up the sun and each other, and doing whatever the fuck we wanted to because we could afford it.

I jerked suddenly, knocked off my stool as another competitor shoved me aside to get to the bar.

“Hey!” Apollo shouted, tipping over with me. I caught myself with a slap of my palm on the bar top, pulling myself up, one arm around Apollo’s waist.

I was all pumped up, and we were partying. My alpha instincts were demanding I show him who was the boss, but with my mate against my chest, sending out his peaceful love through our pack bond, I wanted to keep it mellow.

“Come on, man. Be more careful,” I said to the beefy alpha who knocked into us.

The look in his eye told us he wanted a fight. It took me a second to place him, but Stan Martin was one of the top ten we’d slaughtered as soon as they narrowed down the contestants. During the shot put, Odin and I got at least three metres on him. But none of that fucking mattered as he looked down at Apollo, his upper lip curling as he sneered at us.

I bit back my need to smack a bitch. “We’re celebrating. Don’t ruin it by being a cunt, alright? Let me buy you a drink.” I grinned, ignoring the urge to grab his face and stop him from judging my mate.

The guy was stacked, but he had nothing on me. There was a reason Stan got knocked out of the competition, and it wasn’t because he was a foot shorter than us. It was because he went for bodybuilding, rather than raw strength, and he was so bulked he couldn’t even fit between the barstools.

“I don’t need a pity buy from guys who cheat,” he growled. “It’s obvious you’re both on hormones. They just couldn’t prove it.”

A snarl ripped from me. Because how fucking dare he? They didn’t know shit about what the three of us put ourselves through to get to the top.

He scoffed, nodding to his left. Two more alphas joined him, Barton and Pud, boring-ass wannabees, both stacked, both of them only getting to the top twenty, and both looking like they were going to kick off.

And, in my testosterone-filled state, I was ready to fucking go.