the night came after that disastrous match where he missed two goals and a collision with the keeper that cost the team three points. he stumbled into the bedroom, jersey sticking to him, sweat dripping from the bruise forming on his body. you watched him peel off his shirt, every muscle in his back coated with exhaustion. arms crossed, you waited until his shoulders slackened, and he turned that broad frame toward you. “maybe,” you said, voice edged with something dangerous, “you’d score more if you spent more time practicing and less time shopping, you would’ve won.”

he paused, halfway out of his strip, the jersey caught loose around his neck. for a heartbeat you thought he hadn’t heard your statement. then he looked at you, his eyes dark and animalistic, his jaw shifting so you could see the tension in his face. no words came; his gaze was fiery. your heart slammed against your ribs, and you felt small under the length of his silence.

he had you bent over his lap before you could blink, the mattress dipping under his weight as he threw you across his thighs like you weighed nothing. your face pressed into the sheets, the faint smell of his sweat and detergent clung to the fabric. his palm came down hard on your bare cunt, the slap sharp and wet, the sting blooming hot across your folds. you yelped, thighs twitching, but he pinned you with one thick forearm across your lower back.

“say it again,” he growled, voice low and rough from the match. his accent thickened when he was pissed. “tell me i don’t train hard enough.”

another slap landed right on your clit, the sound lewd in the quiet room. your pussy clenched around nothing, slick already dripping down your inner thigh. the pain flared bright, then mixed into a throbbing heat that made your hips jerk back for more.

“fuck, erling,” you gasped, but the words came out half-moan. inside, your mind raced.

maybe you shouldn’t have gone too far.

he didn’t wait, dipping two fingers shoved inside you without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your vision spark. he pumped them fast, the wet squelch filling the air, then pulled them out to spank you again, three quick, stinging slaps right on your swollen cunt. each one sent a jolt straight to your core, and you could smell your own arousal now, thick and musky.

“you think i don’t work for this?” slap. “think i don’t hurt for every goal?” slap. his free hand gripped the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to make your pulse beat against his palm. “bratty little mouth on you. gonna fuck the attitude right out.”

he pulled off the bed, yanking your hips up so your ass was higher. the cool air hit your soaked pussy, then his cock, thick, heavy, already leaking, slid through your folds. smearing pre-cum over your clit, he drove in deep on the first thrust, stretching you wide, the burn perfect and overwhelming. you cried out, muffled, toes curling into the sheets.

“take it,” he snarled, hips snapping forward. the bed frame slammed the wall in rhythm. one hand stayed on your throat, thumb pressing just under your jaw, cutting your air in little squeezes. the other reached under to slap your cunt again, fingers catching your clit with every thrust. his cock pounding deep and his palm batting against your swollen lips, had you shaking. sweat gleamed on your back where his chest pressed down, his breath hot on your ear.

“feel how wet you are for me? soaking my cock like a needy slut.” he laughed, low and dark, the sound shivering through his body to yours. “you wanted this. now you’re gonna come on it.”

every thrust hit that spot inside that made your walls flutter. his fingers worked your clit in tight circles between spanks, the mix of pain and pleasure twisting tighter in your gut. your inner thighs burned from the stretch, as you tasted salt from your own tears or sweat, you couldn’t tell, as he leaned harder on your throat, vision going out gently.

“beg,” he ordered, voice strained. “beg me to let you come, or i’ll edge this bratty cunt all night.”

“p-please, erling, fuck, please let me come,” you sobbed, voice weak. “i’m sorry, i’m your good girl, just—”

he growled approval and slammed in harder, choking you tighter for three more harsh thrusts until your ears rang. then he eased off just enough for air to rush back as his fingers rubbed your clit fast and mean. your orgasm crashed through you like a wave, cunt pulsing around his cock, thighs shaking, a broken moan tearing from your throat. he fucked you straight through it, drawing it out until you were limp and twitching.

only then did he let go of your throat and hook your knees over his shoulders. he drove back in, deeper at this angle, his eyes locked on yours, hungry and still a little wild. “not done with you yet.”

his hand returned to your cunt, slapping the oversensitive flesh in time with his thrusts while the other pinned your wrists above your head. the sting kept you awake, every nerve lit. you could feel every ridge of him dragging against your walls, the heat of his skin, the way his abs flexed against your thighs. the room smelled like sex and his cologne, the only sounds your wet bodies slapping together and his filthy words.

“come again,” he demanded, voice cracking. “come on my cock like the desperate little thing you are.”

you did harder this time, vision whiting out as he choked you lightly again, the lack of air highlighting everything until pleasure ripped through you in hot waves. he followed with a groan, burying himself deep, his cock throbbing as he filled you, hips jerking through it all.

he collapsed half on top of you afterward, still inside, breathing ragged against your neck. his hand stroked your throat gently now, soothing the ache. “i love you,” he muttered, voice soft again. “even when you’re a brat.”