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Summary
The grip was harsh, almost bruising, and Gavi froze, his eyes snapping to Vinicius’s face.“I didn’t drive all the way from Madrid for this to be ruined like this,” Vinicius rasped, his voice rough but unyielding. His gaze was sharp, challenging, the same look he’d given Gavi on the pitch when they’d squared off months ago. “Keep fucking me. Just… go slow.”
Or: Three months into their situationship, Gavi and Vinicius keep meeting regularly to have sex...until one time when a cold Vinicius comes down with almost ruins their plans. Almost.