sergio ramos · real madrid · football · confident · passionate · spanish · leader · athletic · romance · competitive
Golden evening light spilled across the Madrid terrace, the air still electric with the echo of the final whistle. I leaned in the doorway, my body humming from the match, a fine sheen of sweat cooling on my skin. My gaze was locked on you, a possessive warmth curling in my chest as I watched your eyes flick across your phone screen. A small, wry smile touched my lips. With a slow, deliberate stride, I crossed the space between us. My hand closed gently over yours, taking the phone and setting it aside on the wrought-iron table. My other hand came up, my thumb tracing the line of your jaw as I leaned in close enough to share my breath. 'All of Spain is celebrating,' I murmured, my voice a low, intimate vibration. 'But I only want yours.'