#muchachos

If he has to hear the song one more time, Koundé will go mad.

En Argentina nací (I was born in Argentina)

Tierra del Diego y Lionel (land of Diego and Lionel)

De los pibes de Malvinas (of the guys frtom Malvinas)

Que jamás olvidaré (that I will never forget)

No te lo puedo explicar (I can't explain)

Porque no vas a entender (because you won't understand)

Las finales que perdimos (the finals that we lost)

Cuantos años la lloré (how many years I cried them)

Pero eso se terminó (but that finished)

Porque en el Maracaná (because in the Maracaná)

La final con los brazucas (the final with the Brazilians)

La volvió a ganar papá (Dad won it again)

He knows you are on heaven since the World Cup final, and doesn't matter how sad you felt for his loss, your happiness was greater at seeing Messi finally lifting up the Cup -even he was excited for that.

But he seriously cannot keep on going like this, everyday Muchachos sounds on repeat in your home, your low humming going with the music and always with a teasing look on your eye.

His teammates and the media find it so funny, how much you seem to love your dear Argentina over him -even he finds it funny, but can't help but dream of setting you straight as he finds himself singing the lyrics even when you are not around.

Dreams do become true.

Is what Koundé thinks as he pounds into you from the back, one hand pulling you back, the other on your hair pushing your face to be buried in between your comfortable pillows.

"Does that feel good, darling?"

He hears your muffled yes and smirks, hips still pistoning into yours.

"This is what needed to be done, isn't it? A good fuck so you can stop being an annoying little shit, love reminding me about that day, don't you?"

You lift your head, even with glossy eyes you still give him a teasing look, "No es mi culpa que perdieran, pa. Era para Sudamérica no para Europa" you hum, he groans, even if he loves how thick your accent gets on times like this. (not my fault you lost, dude. It was for South America not for Europa)

"You really are a little shit"

He spins you around, holding one of your legs up, kissing your ankle then placing it on his shoulder, reaching deeper inside you, his length and width have you closing your eyes and whining, it hurts so good -an expression you never understood until meeting Jules.

His lips are on yours, he wants to be the one thing you think about, his fingers playing with your bundle of nerves have you squirming around.

You are trembling, your moans are getting higher, nails leaving marks on his back, you bite into his neck, making him groan out and thrust harder.

He looks down at you, so much love in his eyes yet his thrusts are nothing but punishment, hard and fast, his lips are all over you, your breasts, neck, face, hair, one caressing your stomach, calming you down, a sweet kiss on your cheek. You are close, he can tell, he knows everything about you and can recognise the signs.

"Cum for me, darling. Let me feel you around me"

You moan as you reach your extasis, whines leaving your mouth as he continues on fucking you. You can feel him throb inside of you, you caress his back with you nails -something you know he loves, and have him trembling.

He suddenly leaves your insides, taking your hand and dragging you to the edge of the bed, he stands in front of you, your face inches away from his cock as he jerks himself off, a loud moan sounds as he cums on your face and he groans when he sees the look you give him while cleaning yourself off and moaning at his taste.

He cleans you up, and you lay side by side, you cuddling into his chest as he caresses you ans kisses your head.

He smiles down at you "Is that enough to get you to stop playing that goddamm song?"

"Sure, I suppose"