#support me

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the empty soccer field. The two of you had been playing for a while now - just passing the ball back and forth, no pressure, no competition.

Chris had invited you out, saying something about needing a training partner, but you both knew it was mostly an excuse to spend time together.

"You’re getting better," Chris commented, flicking the ball toward you with a grin.

You stopped it with your foot, raising an eyebrow. "You sound shocked."

He smirked. "I mean… considering your last attempt at a volley nearly took out a pigeon—"

"CHRIS!" You lunged at him, but he was already dodging away, laughing.

Now? It was just you chasing him.

Chris darted away, laughing breathlessly as you tried to catch him. "C’mon, is that all you’ve got?"

"You’re so annoying!" you huffed, pushing yourself faster.

He smirked, but he should’ve known better than to underestimate you. Because just as he turned to glance back at you—

You tackled him.

The two of you crashed onto the grass, rolling over each other until Chris ended up on top, his hands gripping the ground on either side of your head, his body pressed against yours.

The second you stopped moving, the energy shifted.

Neither of you laughed.

Neither of you moved.

Chris was right there, his face inches from yours, his breath mixing with yours, his body heat sinking into you. His gaze dropped—first to your lips, then back to your eyes.

"You got me," he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher.

Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, your own breath coming unevenly. "Yeah. I did."

Chris's eyes flickered with something darker, something hungrier. He leaned in—slow, teasing—giving you just enough time to push him away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

The moment his lips met yours, the game was over.

The kiss started slow, but that hesitation didn’t last. The second you responded, Chris deepened it, one hand slipping down to your waist, fingers pressing into you possessively as he pulled you tighter against him.

You gasped slightly at the intensity, and he took advantage of it, his tongue slipping past your lips, deepening the kiss in a way that made heat pool in your stomach. His body shifted, pressing more firmly against you, the weight of him pinning you down in a way that made your head spin.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly, and he let out a quiet, almost frustrated sound before kissing you harder, his grip on your waist tightening. It wasn’t just playful anymore—it was needy, heated, messy.

And you didn’t want it to stop.

By the time you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, his forehead pressed against yours, lips slightly swollen from the force of it all.

Chris exhaled a short, breathy laugh, his hands still locked around your waist. "So… do I win, or do you?"

You licked your lips, still tasting him, and smirked. "I think we both do."

Chris grinned, running his thumb along your bottom lip, eyes dark with something that made your stomach flip. "Rematch?"

Your fingers trailed over his jaw, voice soft but teasing. "Depends. You playing soccer… or playing me?"

Chris laughed, dipping his head back down, kissing you again—this time even deeper.