Wrong Shirt — PD
summary: in which she can’t wear his shirt…
warnings: smut, nsfw content
“Quítatela.” (take it off) Paulo keeps smirking at you, his finger pointing at the shirt you’re wearing. You grin, shaking your head. You knew when you put it on it was going to piss him off, but you both also know you can’t just wear his jersey. For two main reasons: you are not dating and you’re the sister of one of his teammates, none other than Lorenzo Pellegrini.
“¿Porqué, no te gusta?” (Why? You don’t like it) you answer, trying out the spanish you’ve so far learned from the Argentinian. He’s impressed and you can tell by the way he raises his eyebrows, yet his eyes still look down at the shirt you’re wearing. When he saw you stepping on the pitch with the number 7, he instantly glared at you. But you love it. You love it when you rile him up, when he gets annoyed at you. Because you enjoy the consequences.
“Esta camiseta no te pertenece, nena.” (this jersey doesn’t belong to you, baby) he insists, now walking closer to you. Your whole body is tense, you wait for his touch eagerly. As you watched the game intently you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. It was hard to follow the match when he was on the field, running around.
“¿No? Pero es la de mi hermano.” (No? Well it’s my brother’s) you tease him, Paulo sighs and he’s so close you back up against the wall. You are fighting the urge to kiss him, you’ve been waiting for this moment for more than two hours and now that he’s finally here you are almost melting in his arms. Paulo knows it, he knows how much you love playing games, especially when it involves getting under his skin.
“Está bien, te la quito yo.” (it’s okay, I’ll take it off for you.) Paulo grabs the hem of your jersey and pushes it past your head. You yelp but don’t oppose yourself. The Argentinian wets his lips when he sees you’re wearing just a lacy bralette beneath and, although he already knows you’ve prepared yourself for this moment, your outfit gives him the confirmation.
“Pongate esta.” (Put this on) Paulo takes one of the extra shirt he has in the bag and hands it to you. You could tease him more but the idea of him fucking you in his jersey turns you on just as much. You oblige and he chuckles because he knows you’d do anything he asks you to. You take your shorts off as well, standing with just his shirt and your garments on.
“Mucho mejor, ¿no crees, nena?” It’s the last sentence you hear from him that doesn’t include absolute filthiness.
“Mirame, nena. Eres tan hermosa.” (Look at me, baby. You’re so beautiful) you don’t care if you look like a mess or like a princess in that exact moment. You just know that the man behind you never fails to amaze you. His thrusts are hard and constant, Paulo keeps his eyes on you through the mirror. You moan, eyes threatening to close as the pleasure becomes too much to bear.
“Paulo…” you can only mumble his name like a chant. He’s all over you, all over your head, body, soul. You can never get enough of him. As much as you love to play this little game, you know you need him. The Argentinian chuckles lowly, his head disappearing in the crook of your neck as he bites and sucks on the skin. You squirm beneath him, your legs tremble and you’re lucky he’s decided to fuck you on the bathroom counter because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to stand on your own.
“Paulo… Por favor…” you beg and beg and beg again. It’s like music to his ears. He likes hearing you beg him, call for him, look for his permission. He knows the power he holds over you and he gets off on it. But he also knows the power you usually have over him. He’s just better at hiding it.
“No te preocupes, amor. Te estoy follando exactamente como querrías, ¿o no?” (Don’t worry, love. I’m fucking you just like you wanted, or not?) You can’t see him but you can feel the shit eating grin on his face as he speaks. You nod, like nothing wrong could ever come out of his mouth. He smirks, his eyes drifting to look at your shirt— well his. He grunts, fucking your harder. You squirm again, squeezing around his cock. You can’t get used to the feeling of his length stretching you out, filling you up with each thrust. You can just take it as best as you can.
“Mi preciosa bebé… Solo mía, ¿si?” He asks but he knows the answer to it. You nod, teeth biting onto your bottom lip. His green eyelids stare right into yours as he watches you take it for him and from him. You look so stunning it knocks the air out of his lungs and it makes his cock twitch. The skin-to-skin sounds make the hairs on your body stand and the filthy words he whispers turn your legs into jelly. But it’s the look he gives you through the mirror that lets you know that you’re extremely and utterly fucked…
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