Love
Tactical Maneuvers
The silence that followed the click of the phone was heavy, charged with the kind of electricity that only existed between two people who had spent far too long pretending they didn't want each other. Aleks looked down at Nini, her brown curls messy against his chest and her lips still swollen from his kisses. The tactical briefing, Thomas Müller’s warnings, the impending pressure of the Bundesliga—it all felt like background noise.
"You're remarkably calm for someone who just got told he has to be at Säbener Straße in six hours," Nini whispered, her voice a low vibration against his ribs.
Aleks didn't answer with words. Instead, he slid his hand from her waist down to the back of her thigh, pulling her closer until there wasn't a breath of space left between them. "I’ve spent the last three months thinking about you in this apartment, Nini. Thomas can wait. The whole world can wait."
He stood up, effortlessly lifting her with him. Nini let out a small gasp, her arms reflexively winding around his neck as he carried her toward the bedroom. The hallway was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement outside, but Aleks knew the way by heart.
When they reached the bedroom, he set her down on the edge of the large, unmade bed. The atmosphere shifted from the playful tension of the sofa to something deeper, more primal. He stood between her legs, his hands framing her face.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice thick with a raw sort of vulnerability that he rarely showed on the pitch. "I don't want to rush this. I've wanted this for so long that I don't want to get it wrong."
Nini reached up, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw before sliding into his hair. She pulled him down until their foreheads touched. "Aleks, you couldn't get this wrong if you tried. Stop talking."
He didn't need to be told twice. He captured her lips again, this time with a slow, deliberate heat that made Nini’s toes curl into the carpet. Clothes were discarded in a frantic, yet strangely graceful dance. The petite curves of her body were a stark contrast to his lean, powerful athleticism. When he finally pressed her back into the cool sheets, the weight of him was a revelation.
Every touch was an exploration. Aleks was a perfectionist on the field, known for his vision and his timing, and he brought that same focused intensity to her skin. He mapped out every inch of her, his hands memorizing the slope of her hips and the softness of her waist. When he finally moved inside her, Nini let out a sharp, broken cry, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
It wasn't like the movies; it was better. It was the friction of years of friendship turning into something combustible. They moved together in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing, a frantic search for a peak that they eventually found together, breathless and tangled in the dark.
***
The morning sun was unforgiving, cutting through the gaps in the heavy curtains. Aleks stirred, his mind foggy until the scent of vanilla and warm skin hit him. He reached out, his arm hitting the empty space beside him.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and heard a soft hum coming from the kitchen. He glanced at the clock—7:15 AM. He had forty-five minutes before he had to leave.
Stepping out into the living area, he stopped in the doorway. Nini was standing by the counter, leaning over to check the coffee machine. She was wearing nothing but one of his white training shirts. It was ridiculously oversized on her petite frame, the hem falling to mid-thigh, the sleeves rolled up several times. Her curly hair was a wild, beautiful halo around her face.
Aleks felt a familiar, heavy ache return to his lower stomach. He walked up behind her, his bare feet silent on the hardwood, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"You look better in that shirt than I do," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Nini jumped slightly, then laughed, leaning back into him. "Good morning to you, too. I thought you were going to sleep until the very last second."
"I was," he admitted, his hands sliding up under the fabric of the shirt, finding the warm skin of her stomach. "But then I realized the bed was cold."
He turned her around in his arms, lifting her onto the kitchen counter. The shirt rode up, exposing the tops of her thighs. Aleks groaned softly, his forehead resting against hers. Despite the late night and the early morning call, he felt a surge of energy that had nothing to do with the coffee brewing behind them.
"Aleks," she warned, though her hands were already wandering to his hips. "The meeting. Thomas. The leak."
"I have time," he rasped. The physical evidence of his desire was pressing against the thin fabric of his boxers, and Nini didn't miss it. A mischievous glint appeared in her dark eyes.
"You're very... motivated this morning," she teased, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his underwear.
"It's your fault," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "You shouldn't walk around my house looking like that."
Nini didn't argue. Instead, she slid off the counter, but she didn't stand up. She dropped to her knees in front of him, her curls spilling over her shoulders as she looked up at him. The sight of her there, small and pretty in his shirt, made Aleks’s breath hitch in his throat.
"Nini, what are you—"
She didn't give him a chance to finish. She reached out, pulling his boxers down, and the cool air of the kitchen hit his skin for only a second before the warmth of her mouth replaced it.
Aleks let out a strangled sound, his hands flying to her hair to steady himself. He leaned back against the counter, his eyes closing as he felt the incredible, rhythmic pressure. It was overwhelming, the contrast of the quiet, domestic morning and the intense, focused pleasure she was giving him.
He watched her for a moment, the way her eyes stayed fixed on him, full of a quiet, confident heat. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. Every slide of her lips, every flick of her tongue was calculated to drive him to the edge.
"Nini... wait," he gasped, his fingers tightening in her curls. "I'm going to... I won't make it to the meeting."
She pulled back just an inch, a playful, wicked smile dancing on her lips. "Then you better hurry up, Pavlovic."
She went back to work, and Aleks lost all sense of time. The world narrowed down to the sensation of her mouth and the grip of his hands on the marble countertop. When he finally reached his limit, he called out her name, his body shuddering as he surrendered to the release.
A few minutes later, the kitchen was quiet again, save for the final drips of the coffee machine. Nini stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and looking entirely too proud of herself.
Aleks pulled her into a fierce hug, his heart still hammering against his ribs. "You are dangerous. I hope you know that."
"I'm just being a supportive friend," she said innocently, though she was grinning. "Helping you relieve some pre-match stress."
"If I'm late, I'm telling Thomas it was your fault," he joked, though he was already moving toward the bathroom to get ready.
"He'd probably congratulate you," Nini called out after him.
Ten minutes later, Aleks was dressed in his club tracksuit, grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door. Nini was leaning against the doorframe, still in his shirt, looking like a dream he didn't want to wake up from.
He stepped close, cupping her face and giving her a deep, lingering kiss. "I'll call you as soon as I'm done with training. Stay here? Please?"
Nini nodded, her expression softening. "I'll be here. Go play well, Aleks."
He took one last look at her—petite, curly-haired, and glowing in the morning light—before stepping out into the hallway. As he walked toward the elevator, he felt a sense of focus he’d never had before. The pressure of the fans and the weight of the jersey felt lighter. He had a secret waiting for him at home, and for the first time in his career, he knew exactly what he was playing for.