Archive of Our Own

The tunnel buzzed with a tense silence, the kind that stretched right before the gates opened and the blinding roar of the stadium poured in.

Both teams stood in line, boots tapping against the concrete floor, jerseys clinging to tense muscles warmed up for battle. The Barcha squad was stationed at one side, sharp and cocky in their posture, while the newly bolstered RE Al lined up across from them, the tension of rivalry heavy in the air.

For Michael Kaiser, this was one of his very first appearances with the club after the infamous transfer offer that had shaken headlines worldwide, and though his trademark smirk usually masked everything, there was an undeniable electricity around him—the kind of aura that pulled attention whether he wanted it or not.

Bunny Iglesias, however, wasn’t interested in headlines. Leaning casually with one arm braced against the wall, his frame partially caging Sae Itoshi in an act of mock dominance, he tilted his head with that deceptively sweet smile he was infamous for, eyes glinting with malicious delight.

His words, low and dripping sarcasm, danced just loud enough for Sae to hear, teasing him, provoking him, twisting compliments into barbed jokes laced with innuendo. Sae, unbothered as always, didn’t grant him the reaction he craved, but Bunny thrived in the discomfort he created—the predator enjoying his game even without the kill.

And then, mid-taunt, his eyes shifted.

From the stoic Japanese he so loved to needle, to the blond standing just beside him. Kaiser.

He’d heard of him, of course, Michael Kaiser, the arrogant German forward, hailed as one of the New Gen Eleven, a rising star who had traded the chaos of the Neo Egoist League for the prestige of RE Al. Bunny had seen his photos splattered across sports pages and gossip feeds, flashes of blue roses and smug smiles, but standing this close… the boy was something else entirely.

Kaiser’s hair caught the artificial tunnel light, a pale blond that almost glowed, the distinctive blue tips framing his face in sharp defiance. His nose was finely cut, aristocratic, and his eyes—icy, feline, made fiercer by the red liner beneath them, carried the sort of arrogance that could cut deeper than words. His lips, soft and almost delicate in their proportions, pressed together now in a frown that Bunny found deliciously frustrating.

Then his gaze traveled lower, to the ink winding down Kaiser’s arm: roses with thorns curling dangerously, ending with a crown that rested against his hand like a mark of ownership, of pride, of something untouchable.

Bunny’s mouth curved, slow and wolfish, betraying his amusement.

The admiration wasn’t romantic, nor innocent, it was the sharp gaze of someone evaluating prey, dissecting every line of posture, every flaw, every hidden opening. Where Sae was a wall of indifference, Kaiser was a storm bottled up, ready to lash out, and that volatility was far more entertaining.

Kaiser felt it. Years in hostile environments had sharpened his instincts, and the burn of Bunny’s stare was impossible to miss.

His head snapped slightly, eyes narrowing until they locked with those blood-red irises. An instant collision, blue against crimson, sparks dancing in the narrow space between them.

Michael lifted his chin, jaw tense and his expression curled in disdain. He wasn’t about to flinch, not for this stranger. He wanted Bunny to see it, to feel the hostility, defiance and the refusal to bend. But to the Spaniard, that fire looked less like danger and more like a stray cat puffing itself up, hissing in a dark alley while pretending to be a lion.

Bunny’s grin widened. He even let out a short, amused puff of air, eyes hooded and taunting as he raked his gaze shamelessly over Kaiser’s frame.

“So, you are the Blue Rose, right?” His voice dropped, velvet and sharp at once, words slow like honey dripping from a blade.

Kaiser’s only reply was a raised brow, the smallest gesture that still carried enough arrogance to challenge him without stepping down. He didn’t give Bunny his voice—not yet.

Bunny clicked his tongue in mock disappointment and pushed himself fully upright, his arm leaving the wall as he straightened to his full height. The movement was fluid, predatory, his 1.91 towering over Kaiser’s leaner 1.86 with a dominance that wasn’t just physical, it was psychological, a looming shadow that pressed in closer with every second.

The whistle cut through the stadium’s roar, and the ball rolled into motion. In an instant, the pitch was alive with a chaos that only professionals could make look like choreography. The crowd thundered with every pass, every dash, but on the grass itself, the world seemed narrowed down to glances and footsteps, Kaiser threading himself into the rhythm of RE Al while Barcha’s talisman hunted for cracks.

Bunny Iglesias moved like smoke—slipping between defenders, dragging the ball with the lazy arrogance of someone who knew he was untouchable. His smile never left his face, even when his eyes sharpened like blades, and it was impossible to tell where the showboating ended and the cruelty began. He didn’t just play against his opponents, he toyed with them, and today his favorite toy wasn’t the ball. It was the blond shadow trailing him, refusing to give him space.

Kaiser.

“Mm, Blue Rose,” Bunny’s voice carried on the field when they brushed close, soft enough to feel like it was meant for Kaiser alone. “I expected thorns… but you’re prettier than I thought.”

The Spaniard’s grin widened when Kaiser stiffened but didn’t dignify him with a response, his boots snapping against the turf as he closed the distance to cut off Bunny’s advance.

The German leaned in, shoulder pressing hard into Bunny’s chest as he stole possession with clean precision, driving the ball up the pitch without even sparing him a look. The crowd erupted at the move, but Bunny only chuckled under his breath, jogging back into position.

“Oh, I see,” Bunny called out, following his pace. “All business. No words. You must be saving your mouth for something else.”

Kaiser’s jaw flexed, already annoyed but he decided to ignored it, eyes set forward, but the sting of the words clung to his ears like heat.

Every time they collided, the contact lingered. Bunny’s arm brushed his waist longer than necessary, his chest pressed against Kaiser’s back as he cut across him, a murmur ghosting by his ear.

“You’re quick… but you’d look even better flat on your knees.”

“You fucking clown…”

The words seared through him, and Kaiser reacted the only way he knew—by playing harder, sharper, faster.

He drove the ball forward, weaving through defenders, until a strike left the goalkeeper scrambling and the net quivering. The stadium’s explosion of cheers wrapped around him, but instead of basking in the moment, Kaiser’s first glance wasn’t at his teammates. It was at Bunny.

The Spaniard’s red eyes were on him, sharp and amused, lips curled into a smile that promised no congratulations—only further provocation. He clapped slowly, deliberately, and mouthed across the pitch, pretty boy.

Kaiser turned away with a scoff, yet his ears burned.

As the minutes ticked by, their battle became its own game within the game. Bunny’s touches grew bolder, his words softer and more venomous, slipping into Kaiser’s head every chance he got.

“You move well, Rose… every step like you’re begging me to chase you.”

Kaiser spat a curse in German, shoving off him with more force than necessary, but Bunny only laughed, delighted. It was never anger he wanted—he thrived on the cracks forming in Kaiser’s composure, on the little slips where pride battled against instinct, where Kaiser’s eyes betrayed a flicker of heat under all that hostility.
At one point, Bunny hooked his arm around Kaiser’s waist in a tussle for the ball, his breath ghosting hot against the German’s ear. “Careful, pretty Rose. Keep glaring at me like that and I might just believe you’re begging for it.”

Kaiser shoved free, breaking into a sprint, but his heart hammered for reasons that had nothing to do with the match.

By the time halftime approached, sweat gleamed on both their foreheads, the scoreline tied, and neither had relented. Yet Kaiser could feel it—that tension that was no longer just about football. Every shove, every glare, every mocking smile, it was drawing a tighter line between them, one that snapped closer with each passing second. Bunny’s laughter echoed in his head, sharp and warm, the kind of sound that stayed under the skin.

The final whistle was merciless. A shrill cry slicing through the humid air, followed by the deafening roar of a stadium divided between triumph and despair. Scoreboard flashing: 2–1. RE Al’s debut with their prized German signing ended not with the glory Kaiser had envisioned, but with the sour taste of defeat gnawing at his throat.

Bunny stood a few paces away, arms lifted, basking in the cheers as if the night belonged to him alone, red eyes glittering with the smug satisfaction of a predator who had won his hunt.

Kaiser’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He had run, he had fought, he had scored, but the brilliance wasn’t enough. The match was gone.
At his side, Sae Itoshi walked off the field with the same placid detachment he had carried since the first minute.

No anger, no visible disappointment, not even a furrow in his brow. He was a marble statue gliding across the grass, as if victory or defeat meant nothing to him. Kaiser wanted to scream at him for it.

How could he be so indifferent? How could the so-called star of Japan, a man worshiped across continents, not feel the sting of humiliation clawing at his insides the way Kaiser did?

The applause hurt. It was meant for him, he knew that much—chants of Kaiser! Kaiser! swelled from the stands, the crowd recognizing his skill, praising his performance. And yet, threaded among the voices were sharp whistles, jeers, even the crash of plastic cups hurled down from drunken hands, the bitter stench of cheap liquor reaching him as the liquid splattered near the tunnel.

The German shot a murderous glare toward the stands, shoulders rigid with fury. He didn’t need pity, didn’t need consolation. He needed victory.

Inside the locker room, the mood was softer but no less suffocating. Some teammates clapped his back, offered words meant to soothe his bruised pride, but they slid off him like rain against glass. He endured their presence, endured the hollow camaraderie, until one by one they left him in peace. He told himself he wasn’t angry with them, not truly; Bastard München had spoiled him, let him play god, and he knew he couldn’t carry that arrogance here.

Still, a part of him burned. They didn’t understand. They weren’t him.
There would be time, he promised himself as he stripped off his jersey, to prove to every last one of them that he wasn’t just another flashy signing. He would make them kneel if he had to. He would make them see.

By the time the room was nearly empty, only one figure remained, Itoshi Sae. The Japanese midfielder stood before the mirror, methodical and unhurried, dabbing product onto his skin with a detachment that was almost insulting. Kaiser sat on the bench, already changed, his bag at his feet, but unwilling to leave. Something in him refused to let the night end so easily.

Minutes dragged, the only sounds the zip of bags and the faint splash of water at the sink. Sae finally finished, collected his things, and walked past without even glancing—until he paused, pivoting with the faintest tilt of his head. His expression didn’t change, his voice flat, bored, as if delivering nothing more than a passing observation.

“You shouldn’t let that idiot get to you.”

The words hung in the air, deceptively plain, before Sae turned and walked out, leaving the German frozen on the bench. Kaiser blinked, unsettled.
It was a warning? Advice? From Sae of all people?

By the time he finally grabbed his bag, the locker room felt too still, too empty, and the echo of Sae’s voice lingered in his ears. He didn’t know if it was comfort or mockery, but either way, it left him cold.

The scoreboard burned behind his eyelids—2–1—and the thought of Bunny Iglesias’s mocking smile only sharpened the sting.

Suddenly, the calm and silent of the room was interrupted by a sound that was soft, almost playful, a flat palm smacking lazily against the door in three mocking taps. Kaiser’s head lifted, sapphire eyes narrowing as the frame filled with a tall, broad figure.

Bunny Iglesias stepped in as if he owned the place, dressed already in Barcha’s sleek tracksuit, damp strands of snow-white hair falling across his forehead, a few beads of water still clinging to them. The fluorescent lights caught on the sharp edges of his jaw, on the curve of his smirk, and though his expression was dressed in counterfeit warmth, there was nothing sincere in it. He walked with a slow sway of confidence, every line of his body sculpted for attention, a predator wearing charm like a costume.

Kaiser didn’t rise. He stayed planted on the bench, back straight, gaze cautious but defiant, watching the Spaniard’s approach like one might watch a fire edging too close.

“Hola, hola, rosita.” Bunny’s voice rolled out, deep and velvet-smooth, pitched high enough to echo faintly off the lockers.

The last word, in particular, dripped with teasing affection, the way one might speak to a cherished pet.
Kaiser’s brows knitted. He knew enough Spanish from half-forgotten lessons to understand the greeting, but that final word slipped through his memory like smoke. He’d have to look it up later, though he already had a sinking feeling it was meant to mock him.

“Cut the act,” Kaiser bit out, his tone sharp, dismissive, almost venomous. “Say whatever bullshit you came to say and get out.”

The albino lifted both brows at the crude response, a low whistle escaping him as if amused rather than offended. He stepped closer until his shadow stretched over the German, standing directly in front of him, their eyes locked in a clash of sapphire and crimson.

“That’s how good boys talk now, hm?” Bunny teased, his tone sing-song but undercut with menace, head shaking slowly as though scolding a child. “But relax, rosita. I’m not here to bother you any further.”

Kaiser’s lips twitched into a bitter line. He hated him already. He hated the arrogance, the grin, the way he carried himself as if the entire world bent to his presence. It was impossible not to despise him.

“Congratulations on your debut,” Bunny continued, smiling with mock civility, his voice honeyed yet condescending. “Even if your team put on a dreadful show, I can say without hesitation you carried them on your back.”

Kaiser stiffened, jaw grinding, but Bunny wasn’t finished.

“Truth is,” the Spaniard murmured, leaning in slightly, eyes narrowing to slits of scarlet, “you surprised me out there. You’ve got guts. Talent. Fire.”His words trailed, dropping lower, velvet sinking into steel. “But…”

The pause was unbearable, every inch of Bunny’s towering frame folding in closer, until his face was just above Kaiser’s, his lips curving with satisfaction as he tilted to brush against the blond’s ear. Kaiser felt the warm ghost of his breath on his skin, could even feel strands of his own hair tickle across Bunny’s cheek.

“…you’re still mediocre standing next to me.”

The words were a dagger.

Rage snapped through Kaiser’s body like lightning. In a blur, he was on his feet, seizing the Spaniard by the collar and shoving him hard against the metal lockers with a resounding crash. His hand clamped around Bunny’s throat, firm and unrelenting, sapphire eyes blazing with fury, his face a storm of wrath and pride.

“Say that again,” he snarled, voice sharp, guttural, dripping with venom. “Say it one more time, you fucking rabbit, and I’ll crush your throat myself.” His grip tightened fractionally, enough to emphasize the threat. “You should learn your place before you decide to provoke someone out of your league.”

For all the ferocity behind the words, what infuriated Kaiser most wasn’t resistance. It wasn’t fear. It was the damn grin that lingered on Bunny’s lips, curved, amused, as if the chokehold was just another game for him to savor. His crimson eyes glowed with delight at the German’s fury, at the heat radiating off him.

Bunny tilted his head against the metal, the smile widening into something sinful, his voice a low purr even with Kaiser’s hand against his throat.

“I’ll be waiting for that, Blue Rose.”

Their gazes locked, fire and ice colliding, neither willing to break. The room vibrated with the weight of unspoken challenge, with tension so sharp it felt like it could snap at any second, until the air between them was no longer breathable but something heavier, intoxicating, dangerous.

From the moment they first faced each other on the pitch, it became obvious to everyone—Kaiser and Iglesias weren’t just rivals, they were oil and fire, constantly sparking whenever they collided. Every match only made it worse. Bunny’s cocky smirks, his mocking words and intentional brushes on the field, and Kaiser’s sharp retorts and ruthless tackles fed into a cycle of venom and heat.

The press called it “a rivalry born of egos,” but on the grass it was far more than that; it was personal, raw, a need to break the other apart or burn with him in the process.

So when Germany fell against Spain in the U20 clash, it wasn’t just the score that left the air heavy—it was the weight of their obsession. Kaiser’s pride swelled and burned with irritation, because of that fucking Bunny Iglesias that smiled like he won a cup. And Bunny, furious beneath that angelic grin, wanted nothing more than to tear the smug look off Michael Kaiser’s beautiful, infuriating face.

By the time the locker rooms cleared out and only the two of them remained, the tension that had built over weeks of games and insults snapped.

The locker room after the U20 match was heavy with the stench of sweat, damp jerseys, and frustration. Spain’s defeat against Germany rang in the silence, the echo of the final whistle still buzzing in the back of Michael Kaiser’s head.

The score burned into his pride, but more than anything, what burned was knowing who had been on the other side of the field.

He sat on the bench, towel draped around his bare shoulders, damp blond hair sticking to his forehead. His jaw was tight, his blue eyes fixed on the floor. He was ready to leave, ready to forget the humiliating tension of the match.

Most of his teammates had already left, muttering curses or pretending not to care. He stayed behind, half-dressed, his towel slung around his shoulders, jaw tight with the taste of frustration.

The last thing he needed was that voice, when a slow clap broke the silence, mocking and deliberate.

“Hey, Michael… I almost thought you’d pull it off” came the familiar drawl, smooth and venomous all at once.

Kaiser turned sharply, and there he was—Bunny Iglesias, leaning lazily against the frame of the doorway, still in his Spain training jacket, his damp white hair sticking rebelliously to his forehead. His crimson eyes glittered with amusement, the curve of his mouth infuriatingly smug.

“Too bad you can’t carry an entire nation on your back. Or maybe you can, but it broke you tonight, didn’t it?” he added, stepping into the room with the slow, predatory stride of someone savoring the discomfort he caused.

Kaiser’s glare could have cut glass.

“You’re disgusting. You think a single win makes you superior? Don’t fool yourself, Iglesias.”

Bunny laughed, low and taunting, shaking his head as though amused by a child.

“Oh no, Kaiser. I don’t think I’m superior because of the win. I know I’m superior because you look like you want to strangle me every time I smile at you. Admit it, you hate how much space I take in your head.”

That was it. Kaiser closed the distance in two long strides, his hand fisting in Bunny’s shirt before slamming him against the cold lockers with a metallic thud. The metal rang with the impact, and before the Spaniard could even smirk, Kaiser’s fist connected hard with his cheek. The blow snapped Bunny’s head to the side, a sharp crack echoing in the empty room.
Kaiser didn’t give him time to recover—his other hand shot up to the Spaniard’s collar, jerking him forward violently, forcing his dazed face inches from his own. His knuckles still stung from the strike, but he didn’t care; the satisfaction of finally landing it was almost intoxicating.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” he snarled, voice low and trembling with fury. His knuckles dug into Bunny’s chest as if daring him to laugh again.

And Bunny did.

The impact had split his lip, and a thin line of crimson trickled down to his chin. Instead of cursing, he dragged his tongue across it slowly, deliberately, tasting the copper tang with a wicked grin. His eyes half-lidded, heavy with a kind of perverse delight, never left Kaiser’s.

—“Mm… is that supposed to scare me, Rosita?”—he whispered huskily, licking the last of the blood from his lip—“Because all it does is make me wonder how you’d look with me pinning you down instead.”

Kaiser’s cheeks flushed, heat rising unbidden to his skin, though his scowl deepened to cover it.

—“You’re sick in the head,”—he spat, shaking Bunny roughly by the shirt, their faces inches apart—“Keep talking and I’ll—”

—“Kill me?”—Bunny cut in, tilting his head, his breath fanning against Kaiser’s mouth, voice dripping with mockery—“Do it then, Blue Rose. Break me.”

The challenge hung in the air, heavy and electric, until Bunny moved first. With no warning, he surged forward, crashing his mouth against Kaiser’s.
The kiss was brutal, teeth clashing, nothing tender in the way their lips collided.

Kaiser froze, the sheer audacity stunning him for a heartbeat, his grip slackening just enough for Bunny to take advantage. A hot tongue pressed past his lips, demanding, unrelenting. Michael growled into the kiss, retaliating with sharp bites that made Bunny hiss in delight.
Their mouths moved together like a fight disguised as intimacy—messy, raw, every pull of lips and scrape of teeth a battlefield. Kaiser shoved him harder against the lockers, his hand gripping Bunny’s jaw tight, forcing his head at an angle as if to reassert control, but Bunny only arched into it, laughing breathlessly between their kisses.

The albino’s fingers tangled in Michael’s golden hair, tugging it back harshly, exposing his throat just enough to drag his lips down over his jaw. Kaiser retaliated by biting down on his swollen lower lip until more blood mixed with spit between them. The metallic taste burned on their tongues, intoxicating and violent.
It wasn’t a kiss born of desire alone—it was pride, anger, rivalry, all crammed into something so reckless and filthy that neither of them could stop. Their breaths came ragged, their lips red and bitten, the sound of their struggle echoing through the empty room like a war no one else would witness.
Bunny pulled back just enough to smirk, his voice rough, lips slick and swollen.

“That’s it… I knew you’d taste like fury.”

Michael’s chest heaved, the bare skin of his chest flushed and marked with a sheen of sweat that caught the dim locker room light. Only his dark shorts clung to his hips, leaving every carved line of his torso exposed to Bunny’s shameless stare. For a split second, Kaiser’s expression twisted in surprise, almost disbelief—how the hell had he let himself be kissed like that, so brutally, by Iglesias?

His tongue darted over his swollen lips, tasting the bitter tang of his own blood. The metallic flavor was sharp, grounding him in the chaos of the moment. His hands twitched at Bunny’s shirt as if to push him away, but the Spaniard was quicker.

Bunny’s palm slid low, pressing against the small of Michael’s back, his fingers grazing the waistband of his shorts before he drew him closer with a possessive pull. Their bodies collided, heat to heat, and Bunny leaned in again, his breath hot against Michael’s cheek.

“What's up with that face, rosita” he purred, voice dripping with mockery, each syllable a tease. “Lost your thorns already?”

Kaiser bared his teeth, a snarl curling at his lips.

“Get your filthy hands off me or I swear I’ll-…”

The threat broke off with a gasp. Bunny’s hips surged forward, grinding into him with a force that made the lockers shudder. Their pelvises collided in a raw, brutal rhythm, and Michael’s breath hitched, betraying him with a sound dangerously close to a moan.

The shock of it all froze him. He hated it—hated how his own body betrayed him as the hard press of Bunny’s arousal shoved against his thigh. His muscles tensed, every nerve screaming, but the evidence was undeniable, the Spaniard was hard, shamelessly so.

Michael’s voice came out fractured, incredulous.

“Son of a bitch… you’re hard?”

The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them, his wide blue eyes locking onto Bunny’s face. And there it was, that infuriating, crooked grin, those crimson eyes sparkling with obscene delight. Bunny tilted his head, feigning innocence so flawlessly it made Michael’s stomach twist.

“Uhm…?” Bunny’s tone was playful, almost sing-song. His lips brushed dangerously close to Michael’s jaw as he whispered. “And shouldn’t you take responsibility for that? After all… it’s your fault.”

Michael’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. He could push him off—he should push him off. Yet something in the way Bunny’s face lingered so close, lips grazing the curve of his neck, eyes burning like fire, rooted him to the spot. The Spaniard’s voice vibrated against his skin in a low, decadent rumble, a purr that made it impossible to think clearly.

Kaiser hated him. He hated every mocking word, every shameless touch. But the heat radiating between them, the shameless friction, the way Bunny’s breath ghosted over his ear like a wicked promise—
He couldn’t make himself let go.

Kaiser’s face twisted, his brows drawn tight and his lips curled back in a snarl that should have been menacing, yet there was something almost delicate about it. His sharp cheekbones, flushed pink, and the defiant gleam in his bright blue eyes made him look less like a monster and more like a cornered cat, all claws and hissing but still, inexplicably, beautiful.

Bunny chuckled low against his hot skin, the sound vibrating through Michael’s chest. His hands roamed unapologetically over the German’s narrow waist, sliding down to his hips, tugging at the waistband of his shorts until the elastic stretched dangerously low before snapping back. His palms squeezed the firm flesh beneath, and then his fingers went down digging into the tender meat of Kaiser’s ass with a confidence that made Michael’s body jolt.

Michael’s breath caught—sharp, unwilling. His teeth sank into his lower lip as he fought the sound threatening to escape, one hand pressing shakily against Bunny’s shoulder to push him off. But the tingling low in his stomach, the molten heat rushing through his veins, betrayed his efforts. His muscles were strong, yet his will faltered with every shameless squeeze, every mocking caress.

Goddamn Bunny Iglesias… His stupidly handsome face, that serpent smile that could seduce anyone, even him, and those venomous words sugar-coated in a voice designed to tempt.

Bunny inhaled deeply at his neck, burying his sharp nose into strands of blond and catching on the vivid streak of blue woven in. His hand lingered at Michael’s hip while his other toyed with that lock of hair, twirling the electric blue around his finger like he owned it.

“Ah…” Bunny’s voice was a husky murmur, muffled against his skin. “You smell so fucking good, mmh…” He dragged the syllables out in a velvet purr that sent shivers up Kaiser’s spine. His lips brushed the shell of his ear as he added, with a breathless little laugh, “I think I could come just from this.”

The crude confession hit Michael like a slap, his face heating violently as if every ounce of blood in his body had rushed to his cheeks. He jerked his head away, his voice rising in a sharp, almost petulant pitch.

“Could you stop being such a fucking pervert? Do you think no one notices the way you stare or touch me on the damn field like a degenerate?”
Bunny didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grinned lazily, eyes half-lidded as he wound the blue lock tighter around his finger and lifted it to his nose, inhaling exaggeratedly.

“And what if they notice? That’s the point.” His grin widened, shameless. “I want them to see.”

Michael’s retort died in his throat, his thoughts scrambled by the way Bunny’s thumb brushed beneath the hem of his shorts—slipping lower, bolder, until he realized with a start that the Spaniard’s hand had slid beneath not just the fabric but his underwear too.
“Hey—” Michael’s voice cracked with panic. His hand snapped down to catch Bunny’s wrist. “Take your hands off me.” His glare sharpened, but his cheeks burned hot. “I hate you. Don’t you get it? Stay the hell away from me, it's fucking disgusting.”

He spat the words in a voice as sharp as broken glass, his blue eyes blazing. For a moment, his hostility looked almost childish, a boy throwing daggers with his eyes but trembling beneath them.
Bunny straightened slowly, towering over him now, the height difference pressing down on Michael like a weight. The German swallowed hard, throat bobbing as he tried to keep his defiance steady.

“If I disgust you so much,” Bunny murmured, his smile fading into something darker, “then why do you let me touch you, hm?”

For the first time, Kaiser faltered. His jaw clenched, breath stuttering.
And then, like a storm breaking, Bunny’s entire demeanor shifted. The playful smirk vanished. His crimson eyes grew heavy, the shadow of the locker room casting his sharp features into something far more sinister. He looked almost terrifying, the casual light in his face snuffed out, replaced by a darkness that made the air tighten between them.

“Or maybe…” His voice dropped, smooth but poisoned. “You’re just easy. You let anyone touch you, is that it? That’s all you are?”

The words sliced through Michael like a blade. He recoiled, scandalized, his lips parting to spit venom back at him—only to be caught. Bunny’s pale hand clamped over his jaw, fingers digging painfully into his cheeks, forcing his face forward.

The pressure was brutal, and Michael’s eyes watered at the sting. He tried to wrench away, but Bunny’s grip was immovable, iron wrapped in porcelain skin.

Bunny leaned in, their noses almost brushing. His voice came out like venom, low and cruel, with no trace of the playful tease he’d wielded before.

“I can see it. You’re nothing but a whore who spreads his legs for anyone. Isn’t that right? Hah…You are just a little piece of shit.”

Michael’s breath trembled, his eyes locking onto those burning crimson ones. He wanted to deny it, scream at him, fight him. But the words hit too close. His past, the ugliest part of himself he’d buried deep, clawed its way back up. And the worst part, the part he would never admit aloud, was that Iglesias wasn’t completely wrong.

Shame burned beneath his anger, hot and suffocating. His eyes stung, fury and humiliation blurring at the edges. He wanted to strike, to break free, but Bunny’s grip held him still, forcing him to choke on the insult.

“What? Nothing to say?” Bunny taunted, his voice once again laced with mockery. He finally loosened his grip, shoving Michael’s face away with a flick of disdain.

Michael staggered slightly, his chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths, rage swirling with something darker in his gut.

The sharp crack echoed through the locker room. Kaiser’s palm connected against Bunny’s cheek with enough force to whip his head to the side, pale strands of white hair spilling messily over his flushed skin. A vivid mark bloomed across his face, angry red, but the Spaniard only let out a slow exhale through his teeth.
Michael shoved him away with the same hand, chest heaving, jaw locked tight.

“Get the fuck off me already-…don’t fucking touch me again, bastard. I’m done with your shit!”

He spat the words, voice ragged and laced with venom. The German’s glare could have set the whole room on fire, his teeth clenched, shoulders tense as he turned sharply, storming past the taller man without looking back.

But Bunny wasn’t going to let him go.
The instant Michael stepped within reach, a strong arm snaked around his waist, pulling him back with brutal force. The German gasped, feet stumbling, before his back slammed against the lockers once more in a deafening crash. The metal rattled with the impact, echoing through the room.

Bunny loomed over him, red eyes blazing, his grip on Michael’s slim waist like an iron shackle. One arm was enough, just one arm to hold him caged against cold steel. The pressure of his body alone pinned Michael in place, rendering his attempts to shove free utterly useless.

“Tch-…what the fuck! Let go of me, I said!” Michael’s voice cracked high with fury, almost petulant, like a spoiled child throwing tantrums even as his body betrayed how cornered he felt.

He tried to wriggle free, clawing at the pale forearm locked around his waist, but then rough, cracked lips crushed against his own, silencing his curses mid-sentence.

Bunny’s kiss was messy from the start—hard, suffocating, the Spaniard’s hot breath clashing with Michael’s in a brutal rhythm. He didn’t ease into it, he crashed into it. His teeth caught Michael’s lower lip in a savage bite, tearing a strangled sound from the German’s throat. The instant Kaiser gasped, Bunny shoved his tongue past his lips, devouring the sweetness he’d craved.

Michael thrashed, his head jerking to the side, but a pale hand shot up to the back of his neck, forcing him still. Bunny held him by the nape, fingers digging into golden hair, while the other hand pressed firmly into his hip, grinding their bodies closer.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was a theft.

Bunny sucked the air straight from Kaiser’s lungs, swallowing every noise, every attempt to curse him, every tremble of resistance.

Michael’s fists pounded at his chest, weak in comparison, until the hand at his hip slid lower, over the curve of his shorts, fingers deliberately pressing against the bulge straining beneath the dark fabric.

A choked sound tore from Michael’s throat, muffled against Bunny’s mouth. His whole body jolted at the touch, his thighs instinctively tensing even as he tried to twist away.

“Nngh bastard d-don’t—”

The words dissolved into a groan when Bunny’s palm cupped him more firmly, rubbing in slow, taunting circles over the dampening fabric. His hips betrayed him with a twitch, his body arching closer even as he spat venom in his mind.

Bunny swallowed the sound with another bruising kiss, sucking at Michael’s swollen lips until they were slick and raw. His tongue plunged deep again, dominating, claiming, while his hand kneaded at the growing hardness between Michael’s legs.

Michael hated the way heat surged through him, hated how his breath broke into short, shallow gasps, hated the burning flush crawling up his chest and neck. His body trembled with anger, shame, and something far worse than desire.

Bunny broke the kiss for only a second, their lips wet and strings of spit connecting them. His forehead pressed against Michael’s as he whispered, voice low, husky, dripping arrogance.

“Mnh… you’re hard already… fucking knew you’d feel good in my hand.”

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, calloused tips brushing directly against heated skin. Kaiser’s eyes widened, lips parting in shock, a sharp whine tearing from his throat despite himself.

“Fuck you i-…s-stop it…!” he snarled, but his voice cracked, trembling with something less certain.

Bunny’s grin returned, wolfish.

“Stop? Why? When your cock is begging me to keep going?”

His hand wrapped around him, squeezing firmly, drawing out a strangled moan that Michael bit down against his lip to suppress.
Pinned against the lockers, breathless and flushed, Kaiser looked every bit like the furious, beautiful mess Bunny had dreamed of—his rival’s pride crumbling inch by inch under his touch.

His chest rose and fell, bare and flushed, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring ready to snap. Bunny’s grin only widened, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head, looking him up and down like a challenge he already knew he’d win.

“Why so serious, blue rose” Bunny’s voice dripped with taunting warmth, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. “You look like you’re about to bite me.”

La mano grande de Bunny acariciaba de arriba a abajo a un ritmo dolorosamente lento para el propio placer de Kaiser, al cual la expresión poco a poco se le descomponía, cediendo al placer que el toque lascivo de Bunny daba.

“M-maymmhg-…m-maybe I should,” Kaiser hissed back, his jaw clenched, eyes dark and fevered. He shoved Bunny, hard, but the Spaniard barely stumbled—only laughed, breathless, a sound that scraped deliciously against Michael’s patience.

That laughter was the last spark before the explosion.

“Get off me—”

His protest broke off when Bunny leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching, heat crackling between them mientras su mano aumentaba el ritmo, el líquido preseminal de Kaiser hacia mas facil la accion de deslizar su palma desde la base hasta envolver la punta del pne del rubio.

“You always look so angry,” Bunny murmured “But you don’t fool me, Kaiser. You make the prettiest faces when you’re losing control.”

Kaiser froze, his lips parting with an unsteady breath. Bunny watched every flicker of emotion—rage, defiance, confusion—slip across his expression like a storm behind glass. He couldn’t help it; the sight was too good. Too addictive.

“Stop talking,” Kaiser ground out, his voice rough, almost trembling tratando de mantener la compostura y dignidad.

“Make me,” Bunny whispered back.

Their breathing tangled—shallow, uneven, daring. Bunny’s thumb brushed along Kaiser’s jaw, tracing the edge of his chin until the blonde’s eyes fluttered despite himself.

“See?” Bunny’s tone dropped lower, almost affectionate now, though the smirk never left his lips. “You really don’t know what to do with me, do you?”

“Go to hell,” Kaiser bit out, but it came out more like a plea than an insult.
Bunny chuckled quietly, leaning just enough for his breath to graze Kaiser’s ear.

The wet sound of Bunny's palm pleasing Kaiser echoed throughout the room, Kaiser's low, elegant gasps in an attempt to silence them only seemed more obscene than they should be, as his thighs trembled with anticipation and he felt the knot tightening in his belly, he was going to cum.

Bunny couldn't stop staring at Michael's beautiful face, how his fine eyebrows furrowed in a pitiful expression as his lips, red from dirty kisses, parted, letting those sounds escape until he pressed them together again to silence himself. His eyes were clouded by drooping eyelids, his gaze fixed on a random spot in the room to avoid seeing who was responsible for his pleasure.

He hated Bunny, that was a fact, but letting him touch him? That was much worse.

So when he felt he really couldn't take the pressure on his penis and Bunny's hard bulge rubbing against his thigh anymore, he decided to slap the strong shoulder he was clinging to.

“Stop. I'm going to cum...!” he muttered through gritted teeth, blushing. “If... if you're going to fuck me, have the damn decency to do it somewhere else.”

Bunny could only think how demanding and spoiled Kaiser was, making demands like that, but he decided to comply.

That didn't stop him from coming against the palm of his hand, though. The wet stain on his dark shorts was almost camouflaged.

Bunny pulled her hand out, admiring the warm, thick, whitish liquid between her fingers. She stretched them out, watching Micharl's semen spread between them in sticky threads.

Kaiser's defined abdomen contracted with each breath, and he was taken by surprise when Bunny forcefully inserted his index and ring fingers into his mouth, forcing his pink lips to open against his will. Michael opened his eyes, surprised to have Bunny's long, thick fingers in his mouth, soaked in his own seed.

But if the stupid Spanish rabbit wanted to play, Kaiser would prove to be worse than him.

And for the first time since Bunny arrived, Kaiser let his pink lips stretch into an evil smirk. He relaxed his expression enough as his tongue savored and played with Bunny's fingers inside his mouth, his cheeks engulfing them deeper.

“You little bitch,” Bunny murmured amusedly. “Let's get fucking going.”

It was the last thing he said before pulling his fingers out of Kaiser's hot mouth.

______________

Kaiser honestly hadn’t expected Bunny to care where they did it. He’d pegged the Spaniard as the kind of shameless bastard who’d do it anywhere—on a locker room bench, in the car, maybe even in the middle of the damn hallway if given the chance.

But apparently, even Bunny Iglesias had a fragment of decency hidden somewhere under that smug grin.

That’s how they ended up here—standing in the marbled lobby of an exclusive hotel whose chandeliers probably cost more than most cars. It was the kind of place where everything gleamed too much, where silence had its own price tag.
Not that Kaiser couldn’t afford it. His paycheck had enough zeroes to rent the entire top floor if he wanted to.

But if Bunny wanted to fuck with him, he was damn well going to pay for it.

Literally.

They’d practically rushed through the entrance, both trying and failing not to look like two men who had just fought—and almost torn each other apart. Kaiser’s hair was a mess of blond and blue strands sticking in every direction, his shirt barely tucked in, his pulse still hammering against his throat. Bunny, on the other hand, looked infuriatingly composed.

Almost. His collar was loose, his lower lip faintly swollen, and his smirk hadn’t left once.

The receptionist—a young woman with a nervous smile—fumbled with the keyboard as soon as she looked up. Her gaze flickered from one to the other, recognition dawning in her wide eyes. Two professional football idols, standing right in front of her, looking like they’d either been fighting or making out in a parking lot.

Kaiser felt her stare and inwardly groaned. Perfect.

And of course, Bunny noticed too.
Instead of acting normal—or at least pretending to—he leaned casually against the counter, flashing that devastating grin of his.

“You don’t happen to have a penthouse suite available, do you, sweetie?” he asked, tone dripping with charm that was as shameless as it was deliberate.

The girl’s cheeks went crimson.

“Y-yes, sir, I’ll check right away.”

Kaiser shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” Bunny replied innocently, tilting his head just enough to let his hair fall over his eyes. “I’m just being polite.”

“Polite my ass,” Kaiser hissed, tugging the edge of his jacket lower, hoping to God she didn’t notice the very obvious reason they needed a room so quickly.

Bunny bit back a laugh, watching the way Michael avoided eye contact with anyone. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, but the slight color still dusting his cheeks gave him away.
The contrast was almost too good—his sharp, controlled posture undone by the smallest flicker of embarrassment.

When the receptionist handed over the key cards, her fingers trembled slightly. Bunny took them with a smooth “Gracias, hermosa,” and winked.

Kaiser didn’t wait. He grabbed Bunny by the wrist, muttering something in German that definitely wasn’t friendly, and dragged him toward the elevator.
Bunny followed easily, his grin never fading.

“You know,” he murmured, stepping in close as the elevator doors slid shut, “you’re adorable when you’re mad.”

“Shut up.”

Bunny tried to move closer again, but Kaiser shot him a warning look and pointed toward the security camera in the corner of the elevator. As if that wasn’t enough, he gave him a sharp kick to the shin to keep his hands off.

The ride up was silent—except for the low hum of tension between them. And yet, somehow, that silence turned into something else entirely the moment the penthouse door closed behind them.

A few missteps, a crash against the wall, and Kaiser found himself pinned near the edge of the massive king-sized bed that Bunny had rented for the night.

His breathing hitched as the other's warmth pressed close, as his long, heated fingers slid lower, and after pouring a bit of lubricant between his buttocks and massaging the same oil into his glutes just for the sheer pleasure and fetish, his fingers finally toyed with Kaiser's entrance.
Bunny groped a little and without much care, he insert them slowly and painfully. Kaiser had to stifle a high, shrill moan at the moment.

Bunny’s other hand gripped his hip, kneading the smooth skin of his side as if testing how far he could push him. The clothes that once made Kaiser look untouchable were now a forgotten mess around his ankles.

The faint sound of slick movement filled the air, obscene and rhythmic.

“You’re so tight. Are you virgin or what?” Bunny teased, his breath brushing against the nape of Kaiser’s neck, hot and heavy.

Kaiser clenched his jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound, though his body betrayed him with every shallow breath. Bunny didn’t care that they hadn’t even reached the bed properly—impatience was written all over his touch.

“Uhmg…! None of your business,” Kaiser managed to mutter, voice sharp and strained.

“Oh? Why not? Come on, tell me,” Bunny purred, his tone low, mocking, coaxing him into breaking. His eyes stayed fixed on how his own fingers disappeared and reappeared, coated in translucent fluid that dripped down Kaiser’s toned thighs. “I bet you are so tight there because nobody has touch you or fuck yo-…”

“No.”

“Huh?” Bunny tilted his head, pretending to have misheard. “What? Wait—who was it?”

Kaiser rolled his eyes, cheek pressed against the wall, recognizing that edge in Bunny’s voice. Was that irritation? Jealousy?

“It was a long time ago,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “and I told you it doesn’t m-matter, it’s not like it was m-more than once—”

The sound of a slap cut him off, sharp and loud, followed by the sting of Bunny’s palm landing on his ass. His skin burned instantly, the mix of pain and heat pulling an involuntary shiver from him.

“I didn’t ask when, I asked who,” Bunny demanded, his tone firm and low, every word scraping with possessiveness.

“Like I’d ever tell you” Kaiser hissed back, his voice dripping venom.

Kaiser would never confess who it had been—the one who’d first stripped him of his dignity, who had claimed something so humiliatingly intimate. Because that person was another rival, someone he hated with the same fire he now felt for Bunny.

What would that make him? A fool who let his enemies break him open and still walk away? Pathetic.
And yet, the memory burned hot in the back of his mind—the awkward inexperience, the pain, and the sharp, guilty pleasure that followed.

“Tell me. Come on, say it,” Bunny growled, his hand tightening around the soft flesh of Kaiser’s ass as his crimson eyes dragged over the flawless lines of his back.

Kaiser’s pale skin flushed in blotches of pink, the intricate blue roses tattooed along his neck stood out vividly under the warm light. Strands of blue and blond hair clung to his damp skin, his breathing uneven. There was something dangerously beautiful about him in that moment—fragile, defiant, and utterly breathtaking.

“I'm not going to tell you a f-fucking shit! Ah…” Kaiser groans loudly when Bunny touches a sensitive spot inside him.

“Ah, what a whore, I knew you couldn't be worth much, umm.” His tone sounds flat, dry, and cruel, as if he suddenly doesn't care. “Then, I guess I shouldn't have mercy on you, right?”

Michael has spent a lot of his life reading books about the human mind, psychology, and much more, at least enough to wonder if that lunatic Bunny had some kind of personality disorder or something similar, because there was no way he could suddenly go from being that cocky, proud player to a moron who kept saying ridiculous things and behaving childishly, only to then behave like the cruelest person who genuinely scared him. And he didn't know which of those facets turned him on the most.

He pulled his sticky fingers from Kaiser's core, only to brush the tips of them from his groin, slicing through his trembling, contracting abdomen and rising to his pectorals. The hot liquid cooled in seconds, only causing more spasms in the blond's body.

Bunny's right hand squeezed one of his pectoral muscles, and the other, covered in lubricant and fluids, traced circles around his nipple, erect and soft to the touch. Kaiser bites his lips, but his body seeks Bunny's warmth behind him.

After a rather dirty grope against his pectoral muscles and nipples, which end up red and slightly swollen, his left hand moves up to his neck, wrapping itself around it and forcing his gaze, twisting him into uncomfortable position.

“You are a work of God, Michael, beautiful and delicious…” he murmurs against the skin of his neck, his masculine cologne filling the air. “Today, once again, you prove that you can’t beat me on the field. You’re mediocre, that’s a fact… What do you think about quitting soccer and dedicating yourself to warming up my dick with your body, Umm?”

Ah, damn. He shouldn’t have been turned on by the humiliating way Bunny spoke to him. In fact, he should have been furious at his stupid insinuations, but his mind, on the verge of liquefying in pleasure, could only respond with a pitiful moan when that hand tightened around his neck.

Kaiser was too weak to fight back.

The truth was simple, whenever someone more dominant than him took control, his body turned to jelly. His mind quieted, his breath trembled, and all that was left was the urge to give in completely. To let himself be used, molded, moved.

The pleasure spread through him in waves; it wasn’t that the touches themselves were too intense, it was who was giving them.

It was Bunny’s hands, his voice, his warmth, his scent. It was the weight of someone bigger, stronger, more commanding than him.

For once, he didn’t have to lead, didn’t have to control or dominate, he could just feel, and it was almost terrifying how good that felt.

Bunny’s strong hands shoved him onto the wide bed, the soft sheets pressing against his chest as his breath hitched. Those same hands slid along his body, coaxing him up again with rough, effortless strength.

“Micha, how can you already look so messed up when I haven’t even done anything yet?” Bunny’s laugh was deep, masculine and too natural. It hit somewhere inside Kaiser that he didn’t want to name.

Damn it. He felt like some foolish teenager in love every time Bunny opened his mouth, every time that stupid grin flashed across his face. But who could blame him? The Spanish striker was infuriatingly attractive, charming, magnetic, and utterly animalistic.

Something about him pulled Kaiser in, like gravity.

He buried his face in the sheets, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks just before Bunny’s hands grabbed his hips and forced them upward.

“Come on, come on, rosita,” Bunny teased, his voice low and lazy, as he pats his right thigh. “You really gonna hide from me now? That’s cute.”

Kaiser groaned, muffled against the sheets, then turned his head just enough to glare over his shoulder.

"If you don't stick that stupid cock in there, I swear I'll cut your penis off."

Bunny laughs again, this time quite loudly, and apparently finds it quite amusing to tease Kaiser even when his own erection hurts. Michael just blushes as he watches Iglesias cover his smile with the back of his hand.

"Fuck, it's way more fun fucking you than Sae." Kaiser feels like strangling him just for comparing him to the Japanese guy who makes his blood run wild.

He doesn't even notice it, but something about him triggers something in Kaiser when he sees him win or lose, and he remains unfazed.

However, a heavy, firm hand forces his head back into the mattress.

"I didn't tell you could turn over, dumb whore." And the blond would be ready to fight the albino striker if it weren't for the hand cupping his asscheek, revealing the small, tight, pink hole. Too pink and pretty to be real.

"Fuck, how can you hide this pretty thing..." Bunny's thumb teases his hole, brushing against that private and sensitive area, which contracts into nothingness and sends shivers down Kaiser's spine. "...I swear I'm going to enjoy fucking you so much that you won't ever look for anyone else."

Kaiser stifles a loud moan when Bunny spits directly into his hole. That area is still lubricated after the albino fingered him, and there's no other reason than Bunny's twisted mind fulfilling his dirty fantasies on Kaiser's body.

"I was about to fuck you, but damn, you look so fucking delicious," he says, and with each word, his voice grows closer. "So I don't care, I'm just going to eat you out."

I didn't need any more permission or words for Bunny's hot, slippery tongue to take a long lick while his strong hands separated Kaiser's ass cheeks. Kaiser moans loudly, his thighs trembling uncontrollably, and his eyes rolling with pleasure.

"Mmgh...! Ah..."

The scene couldn't have been better, with Bunny burying his face in Michael's ass as the latter moaned with need, his eyes blank and his face red, his pretty lips slightly parted, letting out those little obscene sounds.

He wasn't going to deny that he was moving his hips further toward Bunny's handsome face, asking for something more than the hot tongue inside him.

Bunny pushes his tongue deeper into Kaiser's warm, soft walls, sinking into him without caring that he looks like a dog salivating and eating the ass of the beautiful man in bed.

His hands squeezed the tender flesh of Kaiser's ass cheeks, circling them with his thumb to leave marks. Kaiser's high-pitched, breathy moans were music to the Spaniard's ears; he felt his erection ache beyond belief with every passing second.

Finally, Bunny pulled away, a thread of saliva still connecting him to Kaiser's pink hole.

“So, actually, you are really pink, rosita…” Bunny murmurs, leaving a small bite on his inner thigh, enjoying the small jump Kaiser's body gives. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Bunny finally stripped out of his clothes, piece by piece, until nothing stood between him and the low, golden light of the room. His skin caught the glow like porcelain warmed by fire, smooth in some places, rough in others where faint scars told quiet stories of past battles.

They traced along his shoulders, his ribs, down the hard lines of his abdomen, not flaws, but proof of how many times he’d hit the ground and stood back up stronger.

Every muscle moved with the kind of precision that only came from discipline, hours of training and years of obsession. His physique wasn’t bulky actually, it was sculpted, balanced between elegance and raw strength, the kind that came from being built for speed and endurance.

His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, the veins on his forearms visible beneath pale skin, a reminder that his body was a machine tuned to perfection.

His hair, white as frost, fell in disarray across his forehead. The natural waves caught the light, giving it an almost silver sheen, and a few stubborn strands refused to stay in place no matter how often he brushed them back. They framed his sharp jawline, his high cheekbones, the faint shadow of stubble that made him look effortlessly dangerous.
And then there were his eyes, those deep, burning red irises that didn’t just look at someone, but through them. There was a weight to his gaze, something feral and magnetic that made it impossible to look away for long.

Bunny takes the small bottle of lubricant again, pouring a small amount into his palm and bringing it to his cock. The contact makes him moan, low and needy, as he lubricates his own length with expert wrist movements, his palm cupping the base of his cock all the way up, pressing down on the dripping tip of precum. His red irises traveled from his own actions to Kaiser's pretty ass, he was bouncing against his breast, breathing erratically and bucking his hips in a needy manner.

From that position, he could see all of Kaiser, and he could confirm once again that he had a body too beautiful and unreal to be just a soccer player.

“Get ready, Micha~” His left hand grips the tip of his cock while the other presses hard on Kaiser's hip to hold him in place, positioning himself.

He has to rein in his animal instincts, which scream at him to fuck Kaiser roughly and hard without mercy. The moment his dripping tip rubs against Kaiser's entrance, eliciting a moan from both of them, he finally begins to slowly thrust his cock in, feeling Michael's hot, tight interior.

Fuck, it was overwhelming, hot, tight, and he felt Kaiser's pert ass absorb his entire cock without even having to push.

Kaiser feels his eyes widen at the intruder behind him and roll back in his head as his lips part, trying to catch his breath as Bunny's big cock enters him in one swift thrust. He can feel the entire length of it inside him in detail. Tears fill his blue eyes as Bunny's cock slithers out again. He doesn't even have time to adjust to the intermission when a strong, swift thrust slams back in, eliciting a small cry of pain and pleasure.

“A-ah…! f-fuck Mmngh…!”

He can feel it deep inside him, touching places no one else has and causing his mind to churn into a limp mass of pleasure and desire.

Bunny's weight on him is too much; he can feel his pelvis repeatedly crashing into his ass, pushing him back against the bed, which miraculously doesn't creak from the force with which he's being fucked. His ass squeezes Bunny's cock just right and deliciously with each thrust, their fluids mixing and creating that obsessive sound of skin against skin.

The crude, vulgar image of his length soaked in lube and his own pre-cum mercilessly flowing in and out of Kaiser's asshole and his ass bouncing every time his pelvis collided, was enough to make Bunny even hornier.

Michael raises his butt even more causing the light catch the curve of his lower back, Bunny’s gaze faltered.
There were two shallow dimples, perfectly carved into the smooth expanse of skin just above his hips.

They appeared with every breath Kaiser took, flexing faintly as if teasing him on purpose. For a moment, Bunny forgot to breathe. Those damn dimples. Subtle, but devastatingly attractive as small marks that drew the eye exactly where they shouldn’t.

“Of course you’d have those,” he muttered, his voice thick with amusement. “You just had to be unfairly perfect, didn’t you?”

The kind of detail he knew would haunt him later, when the adrenaline faded but the memory didn’t.
Venus dimples, he thought absently. Even the name sounded sinful when it came to Kaiser.

Bunny’s breathing had turned ragged, a low rhythm that matched the pulse pounding in his ears. His hands moved with a kind of rough precision, possessive, but not careless. When Kaiser’s body tensed beneath him, he shifted his grip, sliding one hand along the curve of his waist and the other to the side of his thigh.

Iglesias pulls out his cock, eliciting a pitiful moan from Kaiser as his hole contracts around nothing and with a single, fluid motion he pulled him closer, then turned him over. Kaiser’s body followed the movement with surprising ease. The sheets twisted beneath them as his back met the mattress, his hair splaying across the bed in disarray, catching faint streaks of light.

Bunny loomed above him, a shadow framed by the dim glow of the room. He looked down at Kaiser, chest heaving, strands of silver hair falling over his eyes. For a fleeting second, there was no arrogance, no challenge, just the quiet awe of seeing something beautiful laid bare before him.

Kaiser looked utterly undone. His golden hair, usually styled to perfection, now framed his face in disheveled strands that clung to his temples and nape. The faint sheen of sweat made his skin glow under the muted light, highlighting every sharp line of his cheekbones and jaw. His lashes, dark from wetting and long, trembled against flushed skin, and those impossibly blue eyes were half-lidded, glassy, the edges rimmed with a watery shine that made them almost luminous.

His lips were parted, soft and pink, curved in that fragile space between defiance and surrender. There was a slight quiver to his mouth, as if he wanted to curse but couldn’t quite form the words. Each breath left him trembling, chest rising and falling in shallow waves that made the light catch on the smooth expanse of his collarbones.

He looked divine, like something too human to be a god, yet too breathtaking to be anything else. And there was something devastating about it, the way his beauty seemed to blur the line between pride and ruin.

Then his smirk returned.

“Better,” Bunny murmured, voice rough but amused. “Now I can see that face when you try to act like you’re not enjoying this.”

And letting his dirty desires take over again, his eyes lowered even further, until his gaze rested on Kaiser's dripping, swollen cock. Like other parts of the German boy, it was equally beautiful, a perfect length and a pink color at the tip that seemed far more tempting than any candy. His belly contracted in convulsions of pleasure while his fleshy, soft-skinned thighs closed, trembling.

Bunny made sure to make some space between them by spreading them at the knees until his face was against Michael's erect cock.

"Uh, uh, pretty thing. Does it hurt bad?" Kaiser feels both pleasure and pain from the carnal torture Bunny subjects him to. His body is a bundle of sensitive nerves, and the bastard knows it.

Letting out a hot sigh against Kaiser's throbbing cock, Bunny finally darts out his tongue and gives a long lick over the blond's phallus, feeling his body stir and moans that sound like sobs filling the room even more. He plays with the tip a little, as if he wants to take it in his mouth but doesn't, and then he can't help but leave short, wet kisses all over his abdomen, occasionally biting his hips until he reaches his nipples, which look like two pairs of luscious pink jelly beans.

Again, he plays with a nipple in his mouth, circling it with his hot tongue, sucking and licking it as if he were going to get something from it.

"N-no, stop t-this...! i-i Mmngh! I'm gonna cum, wait...!" Kaiser tries to stop him, but it's too late.

His hips buck against Bunny's body, and his back arches against his lewd touch until he feels a sharp heat in his belly. With one last sob, he cums between his body and Bunny's, staining both of them with semen that flows out in staccato streams.

For a moment, the only sound was their uneven breathing, the faint tremor that lingered in the air between them. Bunny’s lips curled into that lazy, wolfish grin of his as he looked up at Kaiser, eyes glinting with something between pride and mischief.

“Well, look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough with amusement, “all that attitude, all that pride… and now you’re shaking like this?”

He leaned closer, close enough for his breath to fan against Kaiser’s ear.

“Tell me, is this how the great Michael Kaiser looks when he finally lets go?”

Then, with a low chuckle, Bunny brushed a stray lock of blond hair from Kaiser’s damp forehead, his tone softening—mocking and fond at once.

“God, you’re dangerous when you’re pretty like that.”

Kaiser let out a broken laugh, rough and breathless, the sound scraping his throat. He tried to steady his breathing, but all he managed was to tilt his head back, his pale skin flushed and glistening, eyes burning in a mix of anger and raw need.

“Stop… talking like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, voice still trembling. “You think I’m done just because of that?”

His chest rose and fell sharply, lips swollen and curved into a crooked smirk that looked half–defiant, half–wrecked. Even exhausted, he pushed a hand weakly against Bunny’s chest, not enough to move him but enough to challenge him.

“Come on, Bunny” he growled, eyes dragging lazily over him in that dangerously slow way. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

The hands that had once clutched tightly to the sheets, now crumpled beneath him, moved to caress Bunny's firm biceps, giving innocent caresses moving up to his firm shoulders and tangling into his neck, drawing his face closer. Then, lower, his voice dipped into something hoarse and dark, the kind of tone that could almost pass for a plea if it weren’t so demanding.

“Keep going. I’m not done with you yet.” His feline movements and gaze enticing Bunny.

Iglesias didn't need more words to act, completely enchanted by Kaiser's words, which sounded more like lascivious purrs, his long eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously as he smiled as only he could.

Kaiser gasped as Bunny's cock dive into him again, his thighs forced to remain as flexed as his ligaments could to give the man greater access to him. Kaiser's smalls "Ah, ah, ah" intensified with each thrust as he continued to hold on Bunny's shoulders.

He could feel Bunny's big hard cock hitting a sweet spot, one that made him moan louder and close his eyes to avoid further intense eye contact with Bunny. That only gave the albino access to his neck, where that blue rose tattoo remained imposing despite the position its bearer was in.

Bunny brought his mouth closer to bite and kiss the tender flesh of his neck, avoiding leaving marks like the ones that were beginning to blossom on his chest and abdomen, even on the innermost parts of his thighs.

Bunny took one of Kaiser's toned legs and placed it on his firm shoulder, trying to bury himself deeper inside him. It was addictive, everything about Kaiser was. Michael's skin was soft against the bare skin of his shoulder, and the sight was exquisite with his precious body beneath him, his own cum on his abdomen and his pretty face stained with tears from overstimulation.

Him could see a bulge appearing and disappearing from Kaiser's abdomen every time his own cock entered and exited, and it was even more noticeable in that position.

The air in the room turned heavy, thick with the echo of their breathing, ragged, uneven, desperate. Kaiser’s body trembled under Bunny’s hands, each breath spilling from his lips in a broken rhythm that sounded almost like surrender. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, skin slick and glowing faintly under the dim light.

Bunny’s movements grew rougher, more erratic, his voice a low growl close to Kaiser’s ear. The sound was hungry, restrained only by the faintest thread of control. Kaiser could barely think, his thoughts dissolved into heat, light, and the pulse that roared in his ears. Every muscle in his body quivered, caught between pain and pleasure until it all blurred together.

Then the rhythm faltered —once, twice — and the air left Bunny’s lungs in a sharp exhale. His grip tightened on Kaiser’s hips, pulling him close as if trying to hold onto the moment itself.

Iglesias came inside Kaiser, his hot, thick seed filling him up.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Only the sound of their breaths filled the silence. Bunny’s forehead came to rest against Kaiser’s shoulder, his breath ghosting against the flushed skin there.

Kaiser’s chest still rose and fell in uneven bursts, his flushed skin coolening slightly as the tremors ebbed. His hair had fallen haphazardly over his forehead, strands sticking to his damp skin, giving him a softer, almost fragile look. He could feel Bunny's hot cum falling out of his hole, seeping onto the white sheets.

Bunny shifted closer, resting against Kaiser’s side, letting the heat linger between them without words.

Kaiser let out a shaky laugh, turning his head slightly to meet Bunny’s gaze. His blue eyes were still glossy, the intensity of before replaced by something more vulnerable.

Bunny lounged back on the bed, arms behind his head and that infuriating grin plastered on his face.

“You know, Micha,” he started, his tone dripping with mock casualness, “I’ve been thinking…”

Kaiser shot him a look, already suspicious. “That’s new.”

Bunny ignored the jab, smirking wider.

“Maybe football’s not really your calling.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kaiser drawled, voice dry. “And what would you know about my career, idiot?”

“I’m just saying,” Bunny continued, tilting his head as if genuinely analyzing him, “with that pretty face, perfect skin, and body sculpted like a damn sin—” he paused, eyeing him from head to toe, “…you’re wasting your talent chasing balls on the field.”

Kaiser blinked, half-offended, half-confused. “You wanna repeat that before I knock you out?”

Bunny laughed, unbothered.

“I’m serious, rosita. You could make a fortune doing porn. You’ve got the whole package, angel face, devil’s attitude, perfect physique. People would eat that up.”

Kaiser’s jaw clenched. “You’re disgusting.”

“Disgusting?” Bunny feigned offense. “Please, I’m just being realistic. You’re too beautiful for press conferences and post-match interviews.” He leaned closer, grin turning lazy and sharp. “Imagine the views, you’d break the internet before halftime.”

Kaiser rolled his eyes hard enough to see his own brain. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Bunny said, voice dropping to that dangerously smooth tone he used when he meant every word, “but tell me I’m wrong.”

Kaiser hesitated, glaring but unable to meet his gaze for long. “…You are.”

Bunny chuckled low, tilting his head.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, pretty boy. But if football ever gets boring….” he smirked, eyes glinting wickedly, “…call me. I’ll be your manager.”

Kaiser wantes to kill him right now.