football fujoshi

“What?” Mason asks, laughing in a whispered shock.

“Shagged him.”

“You—you what?”

His grin somehow widens, leaning forward and adjusting himself in his seat. “Yeah,” Declan smirks, leaning closer, “Fucked him. Loved it.”

Mason groans, scrunching his face, and feels the heat rising to his cheeks. His stomach turns sour at the thought— Kai moaning softly under Declan. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. He feels jealous. Around the restaurant, he sees people laughing amongst themselves, prickling anxiety in his veins. Declan erupts with a laugh, head thrown back and back plastered against the chair. Mason glances around again, embarrassed, with all the eyes peering at the disruption.

Mason shushes him, but Declan doesn’t give up. He kicks him in the shin, a small, ow, before Declan settles down, giggling softly. “I don’t need to know that part,” Mason grumbles.

“Well,” Declan purses his lips, dragging a finger around the rim of his glass. Mason’s eye follows it, waiting in anticipation. “Could join us.”