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Summary
Sergio was half convinced he had died and gone to the great green rolling fields they put football players out to pasture. What a beautiful eternity, one more day on the pitch with his Lukita.
He leapt to his feet, grabbing Luka around the waist and hoisting him as high as he could. Luka shouted, his hands scrabbling briefly at Sergio’s shoulders before he gave up, going limp in Sergio’s hold. For one pure moment Sergio delighted in the feeling of his little Vinagrito in his arms again.
Luka’s hair was on the lighter side, as Sergio remembered it when hours in the sun had lightened its color. It was darker near his nape, stuck close to his neck with clean sweat. When Sergio buried his face in Luka’s damp honey colored hair he smelled like clean sweat and the sweet undertone of his shampoo and something else rich and hot that was just Luka.
And God forgive him, he felt his cock harden in his shorts against Luka’s stomach.
Or:
Sergio Ramos wakes up in a strange new world and makes a lot of really strange decisions.