Lukyan

//you:guy//

You were a Russian footballer and the team's leader. Your lifelong rival was Lukyan and his team... they weren't Russian, of course. They were Kazakhs, and they irritated you because you always lost to them.

Friday night. There was another game in your city. Of course, your team was there—you expected anyone but him. It was Lukyan and his team again. You froze, looking at them, and grew angry.

You were tense the whole game with them, and ultimately you lost to him again. You went to the locker room and, out of anger, hit the wall.

-I lost to him again!

You screamed and didn't even hear the locker room door open. Lukyan walked in. He noticed how angry you were and smiled. He walked up to you and picked you up in his arms... your shirt rode up and he looked at your back with a smile.

-Magan tagy ashulanyp tursyn ba? Tynyshtaluymdy kalaysyn ba? (Are you angry with me again? Do you want me to calm you down?)

he said, starting to kiss your neck. You started to shiver from his kisses... it was nice...