meow

don lorenzo is a busy man.

not in the ordinary sense others might think, not ordinary things like stacked appointments or an over-filled calendar from a corporate job. his life is always set into perpetual motion: training sessions, recovery schedules, media obligations that he only half pays attention to, and flights that blur one city into the other. 

in other words, his professional football life leaves little room for anything else, and yet he still fights to maintain your presence in his world, but it would never be enough. weeks would pass before your schedules would align again, and even then, something always stole him away before either of you could pretend the time had been enough. 

so when the knock finally came, you barely registered it at first, assuming it was a delivery marked with your name, or perhaps someone who had ventured out to the wrong door, but it was neither. 

as soon as you opened the door, there he was, travel-worn and with a nest of hair that was messier than usual, as though he’d run his hand through his tresses a thousand times before arriving. he hadn’t announced he was coming, hadn’t given you the tiniest hint, hadn’t asked if you were busy; he had simply…appeared. 

your hands reach for his sleeves before you realize you moved. don barely has the time to flash that familiar crooked grin before you’re pulling him forward by the front of his jacket, and the surprised laugh that starts in his throat never quite escapes. 

instead, it disappears under the warmth of your lips. it was quick, impulsive, and an action fueled by depravity. you wrap your arms around his shoulders to reel him in closer, moaning into his mouth. the corners of his lips curl upward against yours, as if your desperation were humorous. 

don pulls back, only slightly, though you’re still clutching his clothing like he’d disappear any moment if you let go. 

“i’m here now, ok?” he murmurs. 

you don’t respond, you never get the chance. the progression toward completely getting into your house was almost impossible. there was no point in time where you separated, like the mere thought was repulsive, clinging to each other, shedding off every article of clothing unceremoniously on the way in. 

the house becomes irrelevant, and so does the sense of direction. 

you’re breathless now, against the cushions of your couch, attempting to catch your breath from the insurmountable feeling of him pushing inside you, dragging the head of his cock against your walls before slamming back in. it had been ages since he’s taken you like this; your legs hiked up at his waists, his overbearing figure enough to ensure your legs were spread completely—obediently for him. 

“mmm–i missed you so much—” a strangled gasp comes from your lips, hands reaching for his forearms for any anchor of support you could find while he fucked you mercilessly. 

don’s eyes immediately snap up to your face, removing his gaze from his shaft sliding seamlessly between your tender folds, the imprint of your arousal forming a solid ring around the base of his cock. 

he grins stupidly, a poorly concealed moan coming from his lips. “yeah?” he pauses, eyes sliding back down the planes of your body. “say that again.” 

“i—ohh fuck!” your words slur as he maneuvers both of your legs to rest on his shoulders in one swift motion, reaching deeper than you ever thought possible. you missed this, and to have him all to yourself was a fortune compared to anything else. 

oh, but don lorenzo is a busy man. 

his phone buzzes on the coffee table nearby, a contact lighting up his phone. he pays it no mind, completely and utterly enraptured by you, between your legs, savouring your pussy clenching around him every time he muttered something sinful into the air. 

it buzzes again, almost more insistently than before. finally, he looks up, glancing at the screen like it personally offended him, but his face immediately lit up, a mischief gracing his features. you already knew. 

your expression shifts before you could stop it, a silent protest; head shaking, don’t you dare. the palms of your hands trying to ease him back, afraid that he’d answer the phone while inside you. 

and your fears were correct. lorenzo notices, of course he does. his grin deepens, not apologetic, never that. he shoves your hands away, leaning over to place a hand over your mouth, muffling your moans of protest as he fucked you harder—slow at first, but with enough force to knock the breath out of you, clinging onto him more desperately, trying not to expose the intimate position he had you in. 

he tilts his head, slowly lifting the phone. 

“yeah?”

he listens exactly for one second, his thrusts never faltering as he watched your fucked-out expression combine with your mounting fear. 

“lorenzo. sorry to interrupt. are you busy?” 

lorenzo looks directly at you. “no.” 

your eyes widen slightly, your noise of protest gets muffled by the palm of his hand. you could distinctly hear the voice on the other line: marc fucking snuffy. 

snuffy sighs over the phone, a practiced ritual of collecting his thoughts, but that becomes all lost to you. 

“no noise, tesoro.” 

lorenzo haphazardly throws his phone on the armrest of the sofa, putting it on speaker as he reigns you in; both hands on your hips pulling your weight to meet the ardent roll of his; one of his hands returning to your lips before you could voice out your pleasure.

your back arches off the cushion, hands waging war with themselves, deciding if you wanted him closer or farther, to risk the possibility of being caught or not. his hand stood solidly still over your lips, muffling anything that attempted to pass. 

“i called because i needed to go over tomorrow’s schedule.” 

don’s act doesn’t last nearly as long as he intended. his composure becomes difficult to maintain when you’re finally in arm's reach, with him deep inside you. 

“mhm…” he finally responds, a weak indication that he’d been paying attention. 

“…are you actually listening to me?” 

lorenzo is late to respond—again. the conversation with the striker fades halfway through, more interested in watching your expression struggle to stay somewhat controlled. he catches himself smiling at you as his free hand settles along your flesh just below your naval, pushing down as he slightly lifts your hips. 

“i am listening, ok?” he responds after a beat. 

the pressure from his palm practically amplifies the feeling of his cock prodding at you, kissing up against that spot you love so much. 

a restless energy settles in the pit of your stomach, growing heavier with each passing moment, each punishing thrust he gave you. your head falls back, whimpering against his hand. 

“yes—yes. cum for me, i want to see it.” lorenzo murmurs as he had seemingly forgotten that he had been on the phone—and so did you. his immediate priority was to make you come undone all over his cock, and his awareness of marc snuffy had completely gone out the window.

don removes his hand from your lips, putting a confident thumb over your clit, rubbing rough circles to help facilitate your awaited orgasm. you whimper once more, moaning his name in a desperate plea. your hips subconsciously roll forward, as if meeting him halfway would expedite the pleasure tenfold; the familiar sensation coiling in your gut tighter and tighter, like a spring wound to its limits. 

“i’m gonna cum n’side you, ok? gonna fill you up—you gonna be good and take it?” 

your nodding becomes frantic, “yes!—please.”

“cum and i’ll give you what you want.”

his words finally push you over the edge, cumming and clenching around his shaft, your body involuntarily shaking beneath him, loud and lewd with its assault.

lorenzo seals his promise, cumming shortly after you, a racy, fucked-out smile spreading along his lips, lathering your walls with his seed; never pulling out once to ensure you kept in every drop he had to give you, slowly fucking his cum back into your sensitive pussy. 

you take in a sharp inhale at the sheer feeling of it, ribcage rising and falling with the aftermath of your orgasm, watching the slow rock of his hips against yours with rapt attention. 

“see? knew you could take it.” 

“don please—give me more," you plead, holding him tighter, not quite satiated, and nor was he. 

“....you disgusting bastard.” 

beep

the call disconnects, and you both stare at each other like the world just ended. lorenzo’s grin falters into a sheepish smile, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.