The Man Everyone's Watching (10)

It was a first in my life. I'd gotten respect from opposing players or coaches after B-team games a few times—though it might've been lip service—but this was the first time from the opposing fans. How many players ever get standing ovations from the enemy crowd, not even their own supporters? My teammates were all envious, calling it a rare experience.

Definitely, receiving that respect improved my view of RCD Espanyol. Not that I disliked them before, but... now I kinda hope they promote too, so we can face off higher up. Anyway, they seemed on track for promotion this year. They broke through eventually, but so far, they're the only ones who've pushed me this hard. Sure, it was a bus-parked defense crammed into the box... but you can't knock it. Pulling off that kind of lockdown takes real skill—one slip, and you're conceding.

Anyway...

"Hmm."

I thought the RCD Espanyol fans' respect ended there. No, it had gone beyond respect.

After meeting Borja Navas last week, I'd opened an Instagram account, just like we discussed. Vanessa had prepped all the posts and sent them over. So far, just two: one training pic, and a dressing room group shot with the squad before heading home, thanking fans.

But now, RCD Espanyol fans were flooding the comments with hearts. Similar stuff poured into my DMs too.

My post had turned into a battlefield.

"Why the sour face?"

Yuko slipped onto the bed and snuggled into my arms, tilting her head. I gave her an awkward smile.

"Just... sucks seeing them fight and blush over me on a good day. On my Insta, no less."

"Who's fighting?"

She glanced at my phone screen and smirked knowingly. "Fans?"

"Yeah."

"Your follower count's exploded, huh?"

"Yeah... tell me about it."

Less than a week in, and over 50k followers. At this rate, 100k was around the corner. I was crushing my teammates' counts by far.

"Starting to feel like you're a pro footballer for real."

Yuko propped her index finger right on my chest, grinning. "Lotsa DMs?"

The 'from girls' was implied.

"Yeah. Haven't replied to a single one."

"Oho... why say it like you're defending yourself to me~?"

She looked up with playful eyes. Her finger trailed slowly downward, stopping at my navel.

"About those fans earlier."

"Oh, right."

"Don't sweat it. I don't know much, but... sports fans treat fighting like part of the fun."

I tilted my head. Yuko into sports?

Reading my mind, she chuckled. "My dad's a huge baseball nut. Yakult Swallows... ever heard of 'em?"

"Sorry, not big on baseball."

"Just soccer, huh?" Her finger tickled around my navel. "Tokyo team. Whole Nishida clan cheers for 'em."

"Cool."

"Dad fights rival fans on SNS all the time. Once he was fuming, so I asked why bother. He said it makes it more immersive and fun."

She shook her head like it made no sense.

"So don't mind 'em. They're having a blast."

Scratching each other, trash-talking, finding joy in it... I got it, even if I hadn't fanaticized like that. Common in Korean sports communities too.

Bzzz!

Phone rang out of nowhere. Staring at the screen together, I froze at the caller ID. Yuko murmured it softly.

"...Niela?"

My eyes flicked to her involuntarily. We're just sex buddies, not dating. Still, a twinge of guilt hit.

"Niela as in the singer?"

I nodded awkwardly. "Yeah."

"Whoa! Thought so! Tiago mentioned your agent's her brother. That Borja guy, right?"

"Yeah."

"You're texting the Niela...!"

"You a fan?"

She shook her head. "Not hardcore, but my friends are. All the guys at school love her. New single slaps."

Casually: "She's gorgeous, right?"

I started lowering the phone. Was she genuine, or hiding jealousy? Couldn't tell. She had no claim on my private life—not like Niela and I were anything—but she's the girl sharing my bed tonight. Still likes me. Basic courtesy...

"Pick up. It's ringing nonstop."

"But right now..."

"It's polite. Go on!"

I hesitated; she long-pressed accept.

"What's up this late?"

"Haha, thanks." I laughed awkwardly, eyes on Yuko.

I paused. Can't say, "Partner's here, about to fuck."

That'd kill any interest for sure.

As I hesitated—

Slide—

Yuko's hand drifted below my navel. Tapped my flaccid dick, grinning mischievously like a naughty kid. It swelled angrily, as if mad at being woken. I waved her off, but she kept going.

While I silently wrestled her hand—

Yuko now stroked my hardening cock up and down, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Ah, sorry. Got a message suddenly."

"Uh... Korean journalist I know."

Yuko giggled silently at my fluster, jerking faster.

"Sorry, can't right now" reached my throat but sank back. I could shove Yuko off and focus, or say I'm busy for later, bang quick, then call back.

But instead of resisting her hand...

"...Ngh."

I was enjoying it. Guilt and thrill mixing as her naughty tongue teased my glans.

"N-no, it's fine... go ahead."

"Y-yeah. Go on..."

Gently yet intensely, Yuko engulfed my cock, tongue mercilessly swirling shaft and head. Staring straight at my strained face, like savoring it all.

Slurp—!

"...!"

Yuko's eyes screamed victory.

Post-game exhaustion be damned—I had two messy, intense rounds with Yuko. Unlike usual mouth-finishes since she skips pills off-exam-season, she took both creampies. After the second, we collapsed side-by-side and passed out.

...How'd I end the Niela ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠call again?

Eyes cracked open groggily. Yuko hugged my arm like a body pillow, breathing softly. Opposite hand free, I fumbled for the phone on the nightstand.

Just past 7 a.m.

"...Hm?"

Unread notifications flooded the screen. Instagram off, so all from contacts.

Careful not to wake her, I unlocked it. Scrolling blankly—then eyes widened.

Rushed to Instagram, straight to Korea Football Association official account.

There: a fresh pic uploaded an hour ago.

My name, clear as day.