ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

Buddies (Sergio Ramos x Luka Modric)

I silently passed the ball to Marcelo, Marcelo groaning as the ball rolled towards him slowly from the lack of pressure I had put onto it with the side of my shoe. I sigh, as I kick the ball back at him with a bit more concentration. Hey, they're lucky I arrived at training after what happened. Well, only if they knew.

I know, I know, nothing too major but c'mon. Why can't he just understand me? Am I not obvious enough? Why doesn't he get the fact that I consider him more than being friends and butt-buddies? Yeah, I can openly and proudly say I'm his bitch, but Sergio...he just doesn't get it.

And that pains me. I feel a sting at my heart as I look across the field, meeting eyes with his dark brown ones that always left me so intoxicated. It felt like forever, until Marcelo scowled at me, bopping the ball onto my head lightly. I groan and frown at him. How dare he come between me and Ramos.

- "Dude, this is practice, not some shitass love show where you stare at your beloved for hours on end. Now come on, let's warm up with laps since you can't handle the ball so well today." Marcelo shot a glare and jogged off towards those metal dodgeable figures. I rolled my eyes playfully and turned to where Ramos was, and he wasn't just there anymore.

I feel the whole concept of being butt-buddies with him all over again. It makes me feel so dejected-- like I'm of no worth. Fuck the women who call me a 'cutie', I'm not even straight for fuck's sake. I'd fuck them for a euro or two. And that gets me wondering, if Ramos would do me.

I can just imagine the girth of his cock, the veins popping, cum leaking from the tip, pressing at my tight asshole-- god. Gets me wet and hard every time--

- "FOR FUCK'S SAKE MODRIC, IT'S BEEN 10 MINUTES." Marcelo shouts, as I jerk out of my trance. I jog to him and get going with the training.

I don't know how long I'll last not telling him the fact that I hate just being butt-buddies with him. Yeah, his sex is amazing, but I'd rather prefer not to. Every time he calls me, we talk, then we fuck. I'm always expectant of a blissfully tender kiss on the lips, everything going slow and steady. But no.

Ofcourse it isn't like that. It's like, I blink, and we're done fucking, me laying under the sheets while Ramos leaves immediately for the shower. He doesn't waste a second. I can only imagine, how the weight of his body would be pressing on me, his eyes looking straight into mine romantically.

But that's never bound to happen. I just close my eyes, panting, and then he's gone.

This aside, we're just friends. Yeah, just friends. That's how he likes to say it-- just. Friends.

---

Winning the Champions League gave them the opportunity to lift their head high, heart swelling with pride. The lights flicked around all over while the confetti continued to get blown over at the players by the winds of the open stadium. Ramos wrapped a flag of spain round his body, staring at the trophy on the podium.

But his face showed no sign of enthusiasm. He stared at the trophy blankly. But, in reality, he was looking at Luka who was standing on the podium beside the trophy. It looked like Ramos was looking at the trophy, but, he was just looking at Luka.

A smile finally tugged at his lips just as Luka began to laugh, probably from Cristiano being stupid. For once, he regretted not to actually confess to Luka how much he adored the man. It made him go crazy about it. Every time they had sex, Ramos wished to take it nice and slow, savor the moment. But, he was afraid, he'd not be able to hold himself back.

But now that he's thinking about it: what's there to hold back? Oh..they:re team-mates. Ramos doesn't know how it's an obstacle but it just is. Whenever they kiss while having sex, it's just a couple seconds. And most importantly, it's bland.