Chapter 17: FIFA turns to Fucking
The scent of Aleksandar’s apartment was a familiar comfort—fresh coffee, clean linen, and the faint, metallic tang of the city air filtering through his open balcony door. Vanja let herself in with the key he’d given her months ago, a token of their easy, sibling-like friendship. The comfort evaporated the second she saw Josip Stanišić lounging on the large sectional sofa.
He looked up from his phone, and the air in the room tightened. His gaze was a physical touch, hot and immediate, raking over her from her loose dark blonde hair to her simple jeans and t-shirt. It was the same look he’d given her in the sauna, stripped of its initial shock and now pure, undiluted hunger.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a little rough.
“Vanja!” Aleksandar emerged from the kitchen, holding two bottles of beer. He smiled, his face open and warm. “Look who I found lurking near the vending machine. Thought I’d save him from a lonely evening.”
“How charitable,” Vanja said, her voice carefully light. She dropped her bag by the door. “I didn’t know we were having a party.”
“Just a bit of FIFA,” Aleks said, handing a bottle to Josip. “You can be my good luck charm. Josip here thinks he’s got my number.”
Josip’s eyes never left Vanja. “I know I do.”
The game started with a competitive, friendly buzz. Aleksandar, controlling Bayern, was all fluid, attacking play. Josip, on Paris Saint-Germain, was defensively rigid, frustratingly disciplined. They sat side-by-side on the sofa, controllers clicking, while Vanja perched on the armrest beside Aleks, her thigh almost touching his shoulder.
She could feel the tension radiating from Josip. Every time she leaned forward to point out a player’s run or curse a missed pass, his attention would fracture. He’d fumble a pass, miss a tackle.
“Getting distracted, Josip?” Aleksandar teased after scoring a slick passing goal.
Josip just grunted, his jaw tight. His character made a reckless, two-footed tackle and earned a red card. The digital referee held up the pixelated card, and something in the room snapped.
“Fuck this,” Josip muttered, tossing his controller onto the coffee table. He stood up, his body coiled with a restless energy that had nothing to do with the game. He walked around the sofa until he was standing in front of Vanja. The screen’s glow lit the determined set of his face. “I can’t think when you’re this close.”
Aleksandar paused the game, the sudden silence deafening. He looked from Josip’s intense stare to Vanja’s composed, expectant face. Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a flicker of surprised arousal.
Vanja held Josip’s gaze. “Then don’t think.”
She reached out, hooked her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, and pulled him toward her. He came willingly, his hands finding her hips, his mouth crashing down on hers. The kiss was nothing like the hesitant one in the locker room. It was all pent-up frustration and raw need, his tongue claiming her mouth with a desperate intensity.
Over his shoulder, she saw Aleksandar watching, his beer forgotten, his lips slightly parted. She broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps.
“Aleks,” she said, her voice husky. “Come here.”
He didn’t hesitate. He moved to her side, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. He kissed her gently, a stark contrast to Josip’s fury, but with no less heat. It was the kiss of a friend crossing a line, full of curiosity and longing.
She was the center of their universe, the pivot point. Pushing Josip back onto the sofa, she turned to Aleksandar, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I want to watch you,” she told Josip, her eyes locking with his as her hands worked on Aleksandar’s belt. “I want you to see what you can’t have yet.”
She pushed Aleksandar onto the cushions next to Josip and straddled him. His hands flew to her waist, his eyes wide with awe. She rocked against the hard ridge in his jeans, making him groan. Reaching back, she unbuttoned her own jeans, shimmying out of them and her panties while still grinding down on him. She was already wet, her slickness soaking through the fabric onto his stomach.
“Fuck, Vanja,” Aleksandar breathed, his hands gripping her hips.
She leaned forward, capturing his mouth in another deep kiss as she reached between them, freed his cock, and guided him to her entrance. She sank down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion, taking him all the way to the hilt. He cried out, his back arching off the sofa.
She began to move, a steady, rocking rhythm that had him clutching at her. But her eyes were on Josip. He was watching, mesmerized, his hand stroking his own hard cock over his sweatpants, his breath ragged.
“You see how he fits inside me?” she moaned, lifting herself up and slamming back down, making Aleksandar gasp. “You see how deep he can go?”
“Jesus,” Josip whispered, his knuckles white where he gripped himself.
“Take your clothes off,” she commanded him, not breaking her rhythm on Aleksandar’s cock. “I want to see what I’m working with.”
Josip scrambled to obey, stripping off his shirt and sweatpants in a frenzy. His erection sprang free, thick and veined, curving proudly upwards. He was beautifully built, all lean muscle and eager youth.
Vanja increased her pace, riding Aleksandar harder, her breasts bouncing, her moans filling the room. She felt his control shatter. His hips bucked up to meet her thrusts, his groans becoming incoherent.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained.
“Do it,” she panted. “Fill me up. Let him watch you do it.”
With a guttural shout, Aleksandar climaxed, his body seizing up beneath her. She felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release flooding her depths. She milked him through it, clenching around him until he was spent and shuddering.
Slowly, she lifted herself off him, his cum already trickling down her inner thigh. She turned her attention to Josip, who was watching her, his cock leaking pre-come, his chest heaving.
“Your turn,” she said, crawling over to him on the sofa. She pushed him onto his back and lowered her mouth to his cock without preamble. She took him deep, her throat relaxing around the head, her tongue working the sensitive frenulum.
“Oh, fuck, your mouth,” he groaned, his hands tangling in her hair.
She sucked him hard and fast, her head bobbing, her saliva making a wet, obscene sound. She knew he wouldn’t last. She could feel the tension coiling in his balls. Just before he tipped over the edge, she pulled off, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip.
“Not like that,” she said. She got on all fours on the floor in front of the sofa, presenting herself to him. Aleksandar’s cum was still slick between her legs. “I want you from behind. Now.”
Josip didn’t need to be told twice. He moved behind her, his hands gripping her hips, his cock nudging at her soaked, used entrance. He pushed in with a single, powerful thrust that made her cry out. He was thicker than Aleksandar, stretching her exquisitely. He set a brutal, pounding rhythm, his balls slapping against her clit with every drive.
Vanja looked over at Aleksandar, who was sitting up, watching them, his spent cock already beginning to stir again with interest. “Come here,” she moaned, reaching for him. “I want your mouth.”
He slid off the sofa and knelt in front of her. He leaned in and his tongue found her clit, licking and sucking in time with Josip’s thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming—Josip filling her from behind, Aleksandar’s tongue circling her most sensitive spot. Pleasure detonated through her in a violent, screaming orgasm that left her trembling and weak.
Josip kept pounding into her, his rhythm becoming frantic. “I’m close, Vanja, I’m so close.”
“Wait,” she gasped, pushing Aleksandar’s head away gently. She looked at both of them, her body humming, her mind crystal clear with a power she’d never felt before. “Both of you. I want you both at once.”
They understood immediately. A silent, primal communication passed between the three of them. Josip pulled out, his cock slick and gleaming. Vanja lay back on the rug, pulling her knees up to her chest, opening herself completely. Aleksandar moved between her legs, his renewed erection pressing at her entrance.
“Josip,” Vanja said, her voice a command. “My mouth.”
He positioned himself above her, guiding his cock to her lips. She opened her mouth and took him in, sucking him deep as Aleksandar pushed slowly into her pussy. The feeling of being filled at both ends was incredible, a stretching, overwhelming fullness that bordered on pain before transforming into pure, mindless pleasure.
Aleksandar started to move, a slow, deep rhythm. Josip fucked her mouth in time, his groans mingling with her guttural sounds. She was the connection, the conduit. She reached up to fondle Josip’s balls, and reached down to where she and Aleksandar were joined, rubbing her clit as he thrust into her.
The room was a symphony of grunts and wet slaps and ragged breathing. She felt Aleksandar’s pace quicken, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. Josip’s movements in her mouth became more erratic.
“I’m gonna come,” Josip choked out.
“Me too,” Aleksandar groaned, his body tensing.
Vanja nodded, her eyes rolling back in her head. She felt them both let go simultaneously. Josip’s hot, salty release flooded her mouth, and she swallowed convulsively as Aleksandar pumped his second load deep into her already filled pussy, the heat of it a shocking contrast inside her.
They collapsed together on the rug, a tangled, sweating, spent heap of limbs. The only sound was their harsh, shared breathing. Vanja lay in the middle, feeling their cum leaking from her, the taste of Josip still on her tongue. The digital players on the paused television screen were frozen in mid-action, a silent, absurd audience to their primal scene.
After a long while, Josip stirred, pulling on his clothes with a quiet, almost shy efficiency. He mumbled a goodbye and left, not quite meeting either of their eyes. The door clicked shut behind him.
Aleksandar rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. He looked at Vanja, his expression a complex mix of awe, affection, and confusion. He traced a finger through a drop of sweat on her collarbone.
“Joshua knows, doesn’t he?” he asked quietly.
Vanja closed her eyes, the name a splash of cold water on her heated skin. She didn’t need to answer. The truth was in the deliberate, performed nature of it all, in the way she had orchestrated the scene not just for her pleasure, but for an absent audience of one.
“He wanted a show,” she whispered.
Aleksandar’s finger stilled. He understood. He saw the whole, twisted game. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, a brotherly gesture that felt like an anchor in the sudden, unsettling quiet.
“Then I hope he fucking chokes on it,” he said softly.
The silence after his words was thick and heavy, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. Vanja stared at the ceiling, the textured white surface a blank canvas for the chaotic replay of images in her mind: Josip’s desperate thrusts, Aleks’s warm mouth, the cold, calculating reason behind it all. The cooling stickiness between her thighs felt less like pleasure and more like evidence.“He set this whole thing up,” she finally said, the words tasting sour. “From the sauna onward. It was all a game to him.”Aleksandar shifted, his skin warm against hers. He propped himself up on an elbow, his gaze thoughtful, tracing the line of her jaw. “So play a better one.” He paused, a slow, cunning smile spreading across his face. “I have an idea. A bet.”Vanja turned her head on the rug to look at him. “What kind of bet?”“We make him think his little plan worked perfectly,” Aleks said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We give him his show. But we turn the camera around.” He leaned closer, his breath ghosting her ear. “The next time he’s watching, you don’t just perform for him. You look right at the motherfucker. You smile. And you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life, showing him exactly what he’s too much of a coward to take for himself.”A sharp, electric thrill shot through her, cutting through the post-coital haze. It was audacious. It was dangerous. It was perfect.“And what do we win?” she asked, her voice low and steady.“We win the game, Vanja,” he said, his eyes glinting. “We win the whole fucking game. His fascination, his control… it’s a house of cards. You look him in the eye while you’re coming on my cock, and you watch it collapse.”The image solidified in her mind with visceral clarity: Joshua’s shocked face in the shadows, his cool detachment shattered, his own desire turning against him like a weapon. It was a power she hadn’t known she craved.She sat up, the cum drying on her skin a badge of impending war. “Okay,” she said, a new, fierce energy coursing through her. “Let’s bet.”
The silence after their pact was a live wire, humming with unspent energy. Vanja’s skin still felt charged, the ghost of Josip’s frantic hands and Aleksandar’s filling release a sticky testament to the performance. She stood, her body aching in a dozen new ways, and walked naked to his bathroom. The cool tiles were a shock under her feet.
She let the water run hot, watching it steam up the mirror until her reflection blurred into a smudge of gold hair and pale skin. When she returned, damp and clean, Aleksandar was still on the rug, now wearing just his jeans, his gaze fixed on the frozen FIFA screen. The room smelled of sex and their shared conspiracy.
“He’ll be watching the next team event,” he said, not looking at her. “The PR mixer at the Hofbräuhaus. He always watches you there.”
Vanja pulled on her t-shirt, the soft cotton a comfort against her sensitized skin. “So that’s the stage.”
“It is.” He finally turned to her, his eyes dark and serious. He reached out, his fingers gently circling her wrist, pulling her down to sit beside him on the floor. His thumb stroked the delicate skin over her pulse point. “I know you love him, Vanja.”
The words landed not as an accusation, but as a simple, devastating truth. She opened her mouth to deny it, but the lie wouldn’t form. She looked away, towards the balcony where the city lights bled into the night.
“And I know you love me, too,” he continued, his voice softer now. “It’s a different thing. I know. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “or him. But he needs to understand what he’s playing with. Maybe then he will…”
“He will what?” Vanja cut in, a sharp, brittle laugh escaping her. “Be normal again?”
Aleksandar’s smile was a slow, cunning thing. “Yes.”
He leaned in then, his lips finding hers not with the frantic hunger of before, but with a deep, claiming certainty. It was a kiss that sealed their agreement. He laid her back onto the rug, its wool rough against her bare shoulders. “Let’s play,” he whispered against her mouth.
His hands pushed her t-shirt up to her armpits, baring her breasts to the cool air. He lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling, then sucking hard until she gasped, her back arching. His teeth grazed the tight peak, sending a jolt of pure lightning to her core. This wasn’t the performative fucking from earlier; this was a conversation, a mapping of territory.
“He thinks he’s a strategist,” Aleks murmured, his mouth moving down her stomach, his stubble scratching her skin. “But he’s never calculated for this.” He hooked his hands under her knees, spreading her legs wide, putting her on full display for the empty room, for the ghost of Joshua’s gaze. He buried his face between her thighs.
His tongue was a ruthless, precise instrument. He licked a broad, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, then focused there, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth. He fucked her with his tongue, deep and messy, then zeroed in again, his rhythm relentless. Vanja’s hands fisted in his hair, her hips bucking off the floor. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain, a sharp, building coil of need.
“Aleks… fuck,” she choked out, her thighs trembling around his head.
He didn’t let up. He added a finger, sliding two inside her, crooking them to press against that spongy spot deep within. The dual sensation was unbearable. Her orgasm ripped through her without warning, a silent, screaming convulsion that locked her muscles and stole her breath. He held her through it, his mouth gentle now, lapping at her sensitized flesh as she shuddered beneath him.
Before the last tremor had subsided, he was moving up her body, his jeans rough against her inner thighs. He freed his cock, thick and already leaking. He positioned himself at her entrance, which was pulsing and slick from his mouth. He didn’t push in immediately. He just rested the head there, a teasing, maddening pressure.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough.
Vanja forced her eyes open, her vision blurry. She met his gaze, dark and filled with a possessive fire she’d never seen there before.
“When we’re there, at the Hofbräuhaus, and you see him watching,” he said, his words measured, “you’ll remember this. You’ll remember who made you come so hard you saw stars. You’ll give him that smile, the one you’re giving me right now.”
He drove into her with a single, deep thrust that punched the air from her lungs. He filled her completely, the stretch a perfect, familiar ache. He set a punishing rhythm, each stroke hitting her deepest points. The wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting filled the quiet apartment.
“This is what he’s afraid of,” Aleks grunted, his hips pistonning. “This. Me, buried inside you. You, taking every fucking inch.”
He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans. One hand tangled in her hair, holding her head still, while the other gripped her hip, his fingers pressing into her skin hard enough to leave bruises. It was a claiming, a branding. Vanja wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his thrusts with a frantic need of her own.
“Tell me you’re mine in this,” he demanded, his breath hot against her ear.
“I’m yours,” she gasped, the words torn from her. “In this, I’m yours.”
His pace became erratic, his control shattering. He was grunting with each thrust, a raw, animal sound. “Gonna come inside you, Vanja. Gonna fill you up again. Let him imagine that. Let him wonder if it’s his.”
The crude promise, the sheer psychological warfare of it, sent her over the edge a second time. Her climax was a violent, clenching wave that seemed to pull the very soul from her body. She cried out, a raw, broken sound as her walls milked his cock.
Feeling her convulse around him was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he slammed into her one last time and held, his body rigid as he emptied himself deep inside her. The hot, pulsing rush of his cum seemed to go on forever, a flood claiming the territory they had just discussed.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight a solid, comforting anchor. Their sweat-slicked skin sealed them together. For a long time, the only sound was their ragged, synchronizing breaths. The digital players on the screen remained frozen, a silent audience to a different kind of game.
Finally, he rolled off, lying beside her on the floor. He turned his head, his eyes searching hers. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”
Vanja stared at the ceiling, feeling his seed begin to trickle from her. A slow, cold smile spread across her lips. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was the smile of a hunter who has just sighted her prey.
“We’re not just going to do it,” she said, her voice low and steady. “We’re going to break him.”