Big
Boundary Lines
The dining table was already laid out with warm plates, fresh focaccia, and a simmering pot of truffle pasta that filled the open-plan apartment with rich, savory warmth.
Nini was bustling around the kitchen island, smoothing down the edges of a linen cloth, when the buzzer at the front entrance rang.
"I'll get it," Aleksandar called from the living room.
Before he could take two steps, Nini was already slipping past him toward the hallway. "I'm right here, Alek. Sit down and pour the water, please."
Aleksandar didn't sit down. Instead, he trailed right behind her, his heavy, barefoot tread practically silent on the hardwood. When she opened the door, Tom Bischof was standing in the doorway, wearing a crisp dark jacket, clutching a bottle of Italian red wine, and sporting an insufferable, knowing grin.
"Evening, beautiful," Tom said warmly, opening his arms for an enthusiastic hug. "God, it smells incredible in here. Tell me you cooked and not this giant caveman."
Nini laughed, stepping forward into the brief, friendly greeting. "I cooked, don't worry. Come on in, Tom."
Before she could even pull back completely, a large, warm presence eclipsed her from behind. A heavy, calloused hand came to rest squarely over the swell of her hip, fingers sliding easily around her waist to tug her back a few inches. Aleksandar didn't shove or crowd rudely; he just moved like a tectonic plate, broad shoulders virtually filling the corridor.
"Hands off the chef, Bischof," Alek grunted, though there was a half-smirk tugging at his lips that failed to conceal the possessive edge in his voice. "And give me the bottle."
Tom held the bottle out of reach for a second, his pale eyes glittering with immediate amusement. He looked from Alek's dark, narrowed stare down to the way Alek's massive hand spanned Nini's midsection, practically swallowing her ribcage.
"Look at you, so territorial," Tom teased, shaking his head as he stepped past them into the foyer to slide off his trainers. "I’m just appreciating the host. Someone has to balance out your complete lack of charm, Pavlović."
"My charm is fine," Alek muttered, not letting go of Nini's waist as he turned her around with him toward the kitchen.
Nini shot a sideways glance up at her boyfriend. His jaw was set, and his grip hadn't loosened by a single millimeter. Her waist, already petite, looked impossibly slender under the dark expanse of his fingers. She leaned her shoulder gently into his ribs, murmuring, "Be nice."
"I am nice," he insisted under his breath, pressing a quick, defensive kiss to the crown of her head before finally releasing her so she could dish up the food.
Dinner was supposed to be a relaxed Tuesday evening affair, but Tom, being acutely aware of Aleksandar's low threshold for teasing when it came to his girlfriend, immediately treated the table like a psychological training ground.
They sat around the four-person wooden table. Nini had taken a seat on the long bench, and Aleksandar had instantly claimed the space directly beside her, effectively cornering her against the wall. With his long legs and broad torso, he occupied nearly three-quarters of the bench's capacity, his muscular thigh pressed flush against hers beneath the table.
"So, Nini," Tom began, twirling a generous forkful of pasta onto his spoon. He took a bite, chewed with exaggerated reverence, and closed his eyes. "Holy hell. This is absurdly good. Alek, honestly, how did you pull this off? Every day I see you in the locker room eating plain chicken and rice looking like a lost puppy, and then I come here and find out you have a Michelin-star chef living with you?"
Nini beamed, flattered by the dramatic praise. "It’s really just fresh garlic and a lot of butter, Tom. But thank you."
"Don't sell yourself short. It's magnificent. You're magnificent," Tom said smoothly, leaning his elbows on the table and giving her a theatrically charming wink. "If this idiot ever forgets to appreciate you, you just let me know. I have much better manners."
Under the table, Aleksandar’s leg tensed instantly. Above the table, his hand traveled up from his napkin, moving with slow, calculated deliberation until it reached the back of Nini's neck. His fingers tangled loosely into the soft cascade of her brown curls, gently resting against the delicate curve of her nape.
It was an unmistakably territorial move. He didn't say a word, just took a sip of his sparkling water, his dark eyes fixed dead on Tom across the table.
"She's well aware of my manners," Aleksandar said, voice steady and dangerously calm. "And you have training at eight tomorrow morning, so watch the wine."
Tom burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair and resting his palms against the edge of the table. "Look at him! Nini, look at his face! He actually thinks I'm going to steal you away. Mate, you could crush me with your pinky finger and you’re still sitting there sweating."
"I'm not sweating," Alek said flatly.
"You're literally holding her like she’s a trophy you won at a county fair," Tom cackled. He pointed a fork at Aleksandar's hand, which had now shifted down from her neck to rest heavily over her shoulder, fingers tracing the collarbone of her sweater. "Did you see that photo on the fan pages this week? Everyone’s talking about your giant mitts. You're doing it right now! Look at that, you're hiding half her body behind your arm."
Nini couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped her. She picked up her glass of water, struggling to drink around the wide expanse of Alek's bicep hovering near her cheek.
"Tom, stop winding him up," she said, though she was clearly thoroughly entertained.
"I can't help it! He's too easy," Tom said, his smile widening as he reached for the bread basket. "Seriously though, Nini, your hair looks great tonight. Did you do something different with it?"
Aleksandar’s thumb, resting on her shoulder, pressed in just a tiny fraction—firm, grounded, utterly unyielding.
"It's the same," Aleksandar cut in before she could answer. His chest puffed slightly, his posture straightening so that he cast a literal shadow over her side of the table. "She always looks like that."
"I was asking her, Pavlović, not her spokesperson," Tom retorted breezily.
"I am answering for her," Alek stated, shifting his entire body an inch closer to Nini on the bench. He draped his entire right forearm over the back of her neck and shoulder, effectively wrapping around her so completely that Tom could barely see her left arm. "Eat your pasta, Tom."
"Very hospitable. Bayern's finest gentleman," Tom mocked, raising his glass in a mock salute.
Throughout the rest of the meal, Aleksandar remained physically glued to her. If Nini stood up to clear a plate, his eyes tracked her every step until she returned, at which point his hand would immediately find her waist, her hip, or the small of her back. He was a magnet drawn inexorably to steel, unable to keep from establishing physical contact.
It was entirely harmless—Tom was a good friend, and his flirtatious compliments were pure provocation meant to rattle Alek’s cage. But seeing the stoic, composed young midfielder reduce into a brooding, hyper-protective giant who couldn't keep his hands to himself was a sight Nini secretly relished.
By the time ten o'clock rolled around, Tom finally pulled on his coat near the door.
"Thanks for dinner, Nini. Best meal I've had all month," Tom said warmly, stepping into his shoes. He looked at Alek, who was leaning against the hallway wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest, looking like an elite security guard waiting for a nightclub to close. "Try not to squeeze her to death tonight, big man."
"Get out, Bischof," Alek said, but the corner of his mouth finally quirked up, the competitive edge softening into their usual locker-room camaraderie. "See you at Säbener."
"Night, lovebirds," Tom said with a final laugh, slipping out into the corridor and pulling the door shut behind him.
The click of the lock echoed softly through the apartment.
The moment the barrier was sealed, the quiet settled over them, thick and heavy. Aleksandar let out a slow, deep breath through his nose, his shoulders finally dropping from their rigid, defensive height.
Nini turned around, leaning her hips back against the console table in the entryway, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused, knowing look in her dark eyes.
"Are you done being ridiculous?" she asked softly.
Aleksandar didn't answer right away. He stepped forward, bridging the small distance between them in two long strides until he was towering directly over her. Even without shoes, the height difference was staggering; she had to tilt her chin all the way back to meet his gaze.
He reached out, his movements losing the tense sharpness from earlier, replaced by that deep, deliberate gentleness she knew so well. His hands found her waist—fingers splayed wide, palms warm and heavy—and he lifted her effortlessly, setting her up onto the console table so that her face was level with his.
"I wasn't being ridiculous," he muttered, stepping into the space between her knees.
"You were marking your territory like a stray dog," she countered, a bright smile playing on her lips. She reached up, tangling her fingers into the short, neat hair at the nape of his neck. "Tom was just teasing you, Alek. You know he does that on purpose."
"I know," he admitted gruffly. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. His breath was warm against her lips, smelling faintly of mint and wine. "Doesn't mean I have to like him looking at you."
"He was just complimenting the pasta."
"He said you were magnificent."
"I *am* magnificent."
Aleksandar opened his eyes, dark and heavy with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. A slow, soft smile finally broke across his face, melting the last remnants of his brooding scowl.
"You are," he whispered. "That’s the problem."
He leaned in and kissed her.
It was slow, deep, and utterly thorough. His lips moved over hers with deliberate patience, parting her mouth with a soft sigh that rumbled deep in his throat. He brought his hands up from her waist, framing her jawline with his broad palms, cradling her face as if it were carved from delicate porcelain. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones, unbelievably light, making sure not to apply even a fraction of the raw, athletic strength he carried in his arms.
When he finally pulled back, resting his nose against hers, Nini’s breath was shallow.
"Bed," he murmured against her skin. "Come on."
He didn't wait for her to slide down. In one fluid, practiced motion, he hooked his arms under her thighs and scooped her into his chest. Nini gave a quiet, breathless gasp, wrapping her arms securely around his neck as he carried her down the dimly lit hallway into the bedroom.
"I have legs, you know," she whispered into his ear.
"They're too short, you walk too slow," he retorted, though the tenderness in his voice stripped the words of any bite.
He laid her down on the mattress with agonizing care, making sure her head met the pillows before he followed her down.
The bed dipped significantly under his weight. Aleksandar hovered over her on his elbows, careful to keep the bulk of his heavy frame propped up on his forearms so he didn't crush her. Even so, the sheer scale of him effectively blocked out the rest of the room. He was a ceiling of warm muscle, broad shoulders, and dark, intent eyes.
"You're very clingy tonight," Nini teased softly, her hands smoothing over the wide expanse of his back, feeling the ridges of muscle shift beneath his cotton shirt.
"I had to share you with Bischof for three hours," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, sleepy gravel that always made her pulse quicken. "I'm making up for lost time."
He lowered his head again, capturing her mouth in another languid, intoxicating kiss.
This time, there was no rush to pull away. Aleksandar shifted slightly, bringing one heavy leg over hers, anchoring her beneath him in a gentle, warm cage. One of his massive hands slid down to her waist, his thumb hooking beneath the hem of her sweater, resting directly against the warm, bare skin of her hip. His touch was an intoxicating contradiction—his hand was large enough to span from her navel to her spine, yet every caress was hesitant, infinitely reverent, checking her comfort with every shift in weight.
He kissed her lips, then the soft corner of her mouth, then the sensitive line of her jaw. Every kiss was unhurried, a quiet declaration of belonging that needed no words.
"Alek..." she breathed, tilting her head back to give him better access to her throat.
His lips pressed into the hollow of her collarbone, lingering there until she let out a soft sigh, her fingers tightening in his hair. He loved the sounds she made—small, breathy, entirely his. Whenever they were in public, the world stared at them like an oddity, whispering about how someone so small could handle someone so imposing.
They didn't understand that here, in the dark, she held all the power.
Aleksandar shifted his weight further, bringing his chest flush against hers, but resting his full weight onto the mattress on either side of her hips. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet, comforting scent of her skin, pressing kiss after kiss against the soft curve where her shoulder met her neck.
"You're not going anywhere, right?" he mumbled, his voice muffled by her curls, boyish vulnerability breaking through his athletic pride.
Nini smiled into the dim room, her heart swelling until it felt tight in her chest. She wrapped both arms around his broad, sturdy back, pulling him as close as humanly possible, letting her fingers splay across the wide expanse of his shoulder blades.
"Nowhere," she promised softly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Even if Tom offers to cook for me."
Aleksandar gave a quiet, rumbling laugh against her throat, the vibration sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. He lifted his head, dark eyes soft and completely unguarded as he looked down at her.
"He can't cook anyway," Alek whispered, his thumb lightly stroking the soft skin of her waist one more time before he leaned in to kiss her again, sealing out the jokes, the teasing, and the rest of the world entirely. "And he doesn't love you like I do."
"I know," Nini whispered against his lips, pulling him down until there was no space left between them at all. "I know."