be rough with me

The Allianz Arena was a cathedral of noise, a pulsating sea of red and white that usually made Nini feel small in a way she enjoyed. She liked being the quiet observer, the girl tucked away in the family lounge who waited patiently for Aleksandar Pavlović to finish his duties on the pitch so he could wrap his long, athletic arms around her and shield her from the world.

But tonight, the air felt different. Nini wasn't feeling particularly quiet.

She sat in the stands, her coat draped carefully over her shoulders to hide the crime she was committing underneath. It had started three nights ago, an accidental overhear of a conversation between some of the older players' wives and a few stray comments from Aleks’s childhood friends. They had spoken of a different version of the man she loved—a version who was reckless, intense, and preferred his nights to be "rough and wild."

Nini looked down at her small, pale hands. Aleks treated her like a porcelain doll. Every touch was feathered, every kiss was tentative, and in bed, he moved as if he were afraid his larger frame might crush her into the mattress. She loved his tenderness, but the revelation of his past had ignited a stubborn spark in her chest. She wasn't a doll. She was a woman, and she wanted the fire he was clearly dampening for her sake.

As the final whistle blew and Bayern secured a hard-fought victory, Nini felt her heart hammer against her ribs. It was time.

She made her way down to the private tunnel area where the families waited. The humidity of the post-match atmosphere made her long, curly brown hair bounce with every step. When she reached the secluded hallway leading to the player exit, she checked her reflection in a glass trophy case.

She shed the coat, draping it over a chair in the waiting nook.

The dress was a mistake—or a masterpiece, depending on who you asked. It was a tiny slip of midnight-black velvet, held up by straps so thin they looked like spider silk. It clung to her petite curves, the hemline dangerously high, showing off legs that looked longer than usual thanks to a pair of strappy heels she rarely dared to wear.

She heard the heavy thud of cleats on concrete. The team was coming.

Aleksandar emerged from the dressing room, still wearing his training tracksuit, his damp hair pushed back from his forehead. He was laughing at something Thomas Müller was saying, his tall, lean physique dominating the space. Then, his eyes found her.

The laughter died instantly. His stride stuttered, his dark eyes raking over her from the top of her curls down to the tips of her toes. The heat that flared in his gaze was unlike anything Nini had seen before—it wasn't the soft glow of affection; it was a scorched-earth burn.

"Nini?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, turning thick and gravelly.

He hurried over, his movements suddenly predatory. He didn't stop until he was inches away, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and the metallic tang of the pitch—overwhelming her senses. He looked around frantically, his jaw tight.

"Where is your coat?" he demanded, his hand reaching out to grip her waist, his thumb digging into the velvet.

Nini didn't shrink back. She stepped closer, letting her chest brush against his jacket. "I felt a bit warm, Aleks. Don't you like it?"

Aleks swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His hand on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against him. "It’s too small. Everyone is looking at you. I can see... everything."

"Good," she whispered, reaching up to toy with the zipper of his tracksuit. "I wanted you to see."

His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating until the brown was almost gone. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot. "We are going. Now."

He didn't lead her; he practically hauled her toward the parking garage, his hand never leaving the small of her back. He drove his car with a focused intensity, one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the other gripped firmly on her thigh. He didn't speak a word, but the tension in the car was so thick Nini felt like she could reach out and touch it.

The moment they stepped inside his apartment, the door hadn't even clicked shut before Aleks had her pinned against it.

The wood was cool against her back, but Aleks was a furnace. He didn't kiss her softly tonight. He crashed his lips against hers, a desperate, hungry sound escaping his throat. It was a claim, a demand, and Nini met it with a fervor that seemed to shock him.

He pulled back just an inch, his chest heaving, his hands framing her face. "Nini, stop. I’m going to hurt you if I don't slow down."

"You won't," she panted, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him back down. "I’m not made of glass, Aleks. I know about the way you used to be. I don't want the 'careful' version tonight."

Aleks froze, his eyes searching hers. "Who told you—"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted, her voice gaining a confidence she didn't know she possessed. "I want all of you. Even the parts you think are too much for me. Give me the version that’s rough. Give me the version that isn't afraid."

A low growl vibrated in his chest. It was a primal, raw sound that made Nini’s toes curl. The restraint he had practiced for months snapped like a dry twig.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, his hands sliding down from her face to her shoulders, his grip firm and unyielding.

"Show me," she challenged.

He didn't hesitate. He hoisted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried her toward the bedroom, but he didn't lay her down gently. He dropped her onto the mattress and followed her down, his weight heavy and solid, pinning her into the sheets.

His hands were everywhere—strong, calloused, and demanding. He stripped the velvet dress away with a frantic energy that left Nini breathless. When he looked at her now, there was no hesitation, no fear of her fragility. There was only a burning, desperate need.

"I’ve spent every night trying to be gentle with you," he groaned against the skin of her throat, his teeth grazing her collarbone. "I was so afraid I’d break you, Nini. You’re so small, so perfect."

"I’m stronger than I look," she gasped, arching her back as his hands moved lower.

"I can see that now," he murmured, his voice a dark caress.

The night shifted into something visceral. Aleks moved with a power he had previously kept hidden, his movements rhythmic and intense. He took her breath away, not with his size, but with the sheer force of his passion. Every time he felt himself holding back, Nini would wrap her arms tighter around his neck, whispering for more, pushing him to lose the control he prized so highly.

He was wild, just as the stories had said, but there was a layer of devotion underneath it that made the intensity even more overwhelming. He wasn't just being rough; he was being honest. He was showing her the depth of a hunger he had been starving for her sake.

Hours later, the room was silent save for the sound of their synchronized breathing. The moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting stripes of silver across the tangled sheets.

Aleks was lying on his back, Nini tucked firmly into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped over her, his hand resting on her hip, still possessive even in sleep.

He stirred, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "Are you okay?" he whispered, the old habit of worry flickering in his voice.

Nini shifted, wincing slightly at a new ache in her muscles, but she smiled into the darkness. She felt more connected to him than she ever had. The barrier of his over-protectiveness had been dismantled, replaced by a raw, mutual understanding.

"I’m more than okay," she said, lifting her head to look at him. "I told you I wasn't made of glass."

Aleks reached up, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His expression was soft, but the fire hadn't completely died out in his eyes. "No. You're definitely not. You're much more dangerous than that."

He leaned in, kissing her deeply, but this time there was a balance—a blend of the tenderness she loved and the heat she had craved.

"Don't ever hide that dress again," he muttered against her lips.

Nini laughed softly, curling closer to him. "I think I might have to buy a few more."

Aleks groaned, pulling the duvet up over them both. "If you do, I’m never going to let you leave this bed. The coach will wonder why I’m missing training."

"Tell him you’re busy with intensive one-on-one practice," Nini teased.

Aleks chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through her. He kissed the top of her head, his grip tightening just a little, no longer afraid of his own strength. "I think I can manage that."

As Nini drifted off to sleep, she realized that she hadn't just changed the way Aleks saw her; she had changed the way she saw herself. She wasn't just the petite, shy girl in the stands. She was the woman who could handle the storm, and for Aleksandar Pavlović, that was exactly what he needed.