Out of Touch (Marc Bartra)

Cinco

"You into football?" He asks, his big eyes rolling towards me.

"Yeah, Leo was kinda training me when he was starting to get discovered but I never once picked a football since then"

"Okay then" He sighs, pushing his empty plate away.

"Nice to meet you, Julie I'm your new coach

"Goddammit, I can't fucking do this!" I yell out, patting a few strands of sweaty hair from my dripping face. 
Thank God I had no makeup on.

"Just focus on the ball and catch it.  Easy"

"Yeah?!" I bark at him.
"Well if it's so easy, why don't you come and do it?"

With that illegal smile, he jogs over to me and picks up the ball. His triceps and biceps mocking me from under his shirt. Making me snap into a brief daydream of having him for just one night. As I jog in reverse to my spot, I place the ball on the ground and with my right foot, shoot it straight towards Marc.

Since I have pretty amazing aiming, the ball lands straight on his balls.

"Shit" I swear to myself as I leap over to him. He's holding his crotch, his face in deep pain with small veins and sweat already lining his forehead.
"Oh gosh, are you okay? Marc?"

"Fuck" he whispers, looking down at his pants.

"Should I get ice, or something?" I have to bite back a moan just imagining my hands rubbing ice all over him. And him groaning wasn't really helping with my arousal.

"No-no, it's fine." He breaths out. "I'm fine. It's just- shit. If I never have kids it's all on you"

Patting his back, I help him straighten up and walk him inside where he collapses onto the sofa with a content sigh. "Okay so, teaching you football the old fashioned way wasn't really helpful. How about we give the more sophisticated and modern version a try?"

An hour later, we are both in his living room, elbowing, nudging, head butting each other as we try to win the match on his FIFA.

"Fuck yes!" I scream, seeing the score pop up. 3-1. Not bad.
"Is it awkward getting beat in football by a girl who never even liked this sport? "

He sticks out his tongue at me and pouts, his bottom lip out, before letting out a small hiss. "I swear to God, I think you broke my penis"

"Would you like me to check?" I did not just say that. Mustering a quick chuckle, I try to wave it off and think of another subject to move on to. Any subject besides his penis.

"And why would I want a Victoria's Secret Angel to check my penis?" Is he flirting? Is he being serious?

Shooting me a somewhat look, either I start to get dizzy or he just steps closer, but somehow his smile is getting closer to my smirk. Before the door slams closed and that annoying voice calls out again.

That bitch has just signed her death sentence.