𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 - 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃, pablo gavi.

𝟎𝟏𝟑 FERRAN TORRES.

જ⁀➴ STAR — CROSSED ༘ ˚౨ৎ ⊹ .ᐟ
-ˏˋ ❝ chapter thirteen  — FERRAN TORRES. ❞ ˎˊ˗

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jocelyn's point of view

pablo smiled, inching closer to my face while he placed a hand on the side of my face. his thumb caressing the side of my aflushed cheek while his remaining fingers rested on my jaw. both my arms hanged off his shoulder, fingers that dug into the layers of his grown out golden, bronze hair while our eyes begin to shut and our faces were mere centimetres away from eachother.

i missed it. i craved it. i longed for it.

the familiar feeling of his pillow-like lips — soft and tender, colliding against mine as his free hand drops from my hip to my ass, his fingers toying around with the hem of my trousers before pressing himself against me.

there was nothing i wanted but more. more of him, more of his taste. the breeze surrounding me felt colder, tensing me underneath his touch after my coat reaches the floor. his tongue only slips into my mouth without a fear, along with fingers that slid themselves underneath the fabric of my shirt. his digits carressed and clung onto my skin. his hold onto me still remains as it was, still trying his hardest to not hurt me in the slightest way.

noticing how i needed to take a breath, he allowed to me do so as soon as he got the warning and pulled away. taking in and releasing the most amount of air i could in the span of five seconds before our faces could reconnect and our lips could reach one another. his eyes were now a deeper shade of hazel. it was so much darker, i could see myself reflecting off his lenses.

a smirk appeared on his face, applying pressure onto my neck to deepen my closure against him for yet, another kiss. i couldn't help but slip out a faint hum while his eagerness only got more greedy, his hold on me toughens. i wanted to disintegrated under his warmth, like a fool.

my lips — now puffed up and claimed the shade of burnt saffron after he pulls away, retrieving the moment by a simplistic peck on the lips. he only shocks me further when he drops down, hands that carefully wrapped around my lower calf and slipped off my flats for me.

like a proud soul, his actions placed a grin on my face.
my hands cupped his face, dahlia dimples beginning to show formation as his lips affirmed a subtle smile.

his fingers entangled with my own, guiding me to the pathway of his room — which seemed more like a house tour by how he kept on describing his furniture and it's meaning. which, to remind you, his home was filled with framed barça pictures. clearly not a usual sight to see for me personally.

he only moves forward, one hand on the cape of my neck and the other locking the door behind him. he's only gotten more desperate, his tongue grazing my swollen bottom lip while our steps continuously got closer and closer to his bed while being caught in the moment we shared.

his familiar fingers wandered around me, stopping at my waistline before a swift movement that were the cause of my pants landing on the floor of his room. pressing his fingers onto the back of my lower torso while his hands still remains wrapped around it, he pushed me against the crisped cold sheets, stopping the heated make-out session just to slide his barça branded t-shirt off his body.

i layed a hand on his tanned abdomen, time consuming-ly dragging my fingertips across to his lower torso before tugging on the hem of his dirty football shorts despite the fact that he had showered before leaving the stadium.