if she noticed mr. jordan’s eyes on her, jordyn didn’t make it obvious. but his eyes did track her from the door, across the nearly empty back of the room, where she stopped and stood patiently next to the monitor. uly stood talking quietly to frankie, seemingly not realizing jordyn had entered. that didn’t seem possible in that moment. for michael, his only attention was on her. she might as well have been the paint on the walls, the sunlight streaming from the high windows, the columns holding up the ceiling. she was everything, immediately.
jordyn didn’t make eye contact with him, at least not the him that sat thirty yards from her. no, instead she was taking in the shots on the monitor, analyzing him. he was extremely handsome, she could give him that. she found herself gazing at his eyes, tracing the lines of his eyebrows down to his lashes and then the deep brown irises that looked back at her. she bit her lip, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, deeply entranced and not even realizing he was the same way. funny how things happen that way.
original character ( calvin brentwood ) x original character ( kiana sinclair - brentwood ) .
word count : 3.5k
warnings : sm*t , allusions to a particular team but nothing explicitly mentioned lmao , i cannot state enough how much this literally ends in sm*t . minors dni !
the women’s bathroom on this floor was typically empty, just the way kianna liked it. she’d spent many an evening in there, hiding from the crowds when her husband was sitting on the bench, in between bouts on the field. it all got to be a bit overwhelming. in years prior, her role had been lowly wag, a direct reflection of his second string quarterback status on the team. now, the other ladies seemed to turn to her for direction, even if it was something as simple as what hairstyles they were going to be wearing (though she appreciated that they bought out her bundle line for the superbowl). when everyone chirped in her ears for too long, ki would excuse herself and spend ten minutes hiding out in the two stall bathroom, sitting on the counter scrolling through twitter or tiktok for a respite.
it was the beginning of the second quarter, the score was tied 18-18, and she had dipped out for a quick bathroom break in order to calm her nerves. she was actually using the bathroom this time when she heard the door swing open and heels clacking on the linoleum. she didn’t think anything of it, maybe a little annoyed that someone had discovered her hiding spot, but she finished her business and exited the stall all the same. her steps only stuttered slightly when she came face to face with the wife of the opposing team’s quarterback.
a pain in her ass. a bully. an aggravating force that kianna could not stand. the two years she had spent going to team events, sitting rows behind her, letting her eye twitch at the microaggressions and slick comments made toward her by the bleach blonde with the bad eyebrows. if she wasn’t so damn mean, ki would’ve offered her a free session at one of her six salons, one of which was still in their old city.
“oh, hi kianna.” blondie plastered on a saccharine smile, pretending to act shocked to see the other woman in there. “wow, have you gotten taller?”
dig. her height had been something that had been brought up, making little remarks that she was practically as tall and big as the o-line men.
“it’s the heels.” ki twisted her ankle and lifted the leg of her skintight leather pants to flash the ysl opyum sandals with the gold heel. her all black outfit and gold accessories an ode to the saints, her husband’s team, her home team. “shouldn’t you be watching the game?”
“i just wanted to see you. come a long way, huh? from sitting behind me to sitting all the way across the stadium. movin’ on up girl!” the overdone southern drawl she put on still grated on ki’s nerves. she did it to appeal to her fanbase, whoever the fuck they were.
“i’m not your girl.” ki deadpanned. the smile twitched on blondie’s face. “and i been up.”
“yeah, well, one of us in here is the wife of a champ and the other one is ... well, you.” she let out a loud cackle and tilted her head.
“game’s tied, baby, i could be the wife of champion yet.” her ancient nola accent slipped out a bit, something she’d spent years trying to hide but when ki felt the rage in her bubbling up, it did tend to make its reappearance.
blondie snorted. “right. sure. we’ll see about that. maybe your man will actually be able to earn his ring this time.”
dig. three years on the other team, three years on the bench, waiting for blondie’s husband to call out sick or need a break or anything so he could step foot onto the field, all while facing ridicule from mr. qb. calvin knew it was insecurities, knowing that should the other man fumble even a little bit, cal would be right there to pick up the ball. but he took it in stride until his agent was able to get the saints to step up. they signed him to a bigger deal, guaranteed field time as the new quarterback, and it would make him a hometown hero. almost felt too good to be true. the ring he would win tonight would be because he played his heart out, not just because he happened to be on the team.
“and maybe your man will actually go back home with you instead of one of the numerous gorgeous dancers my lovely city has to offer him.” ki washed her hands in the sink, drying them off with a paper towel and bumping blondie’s shoulder as she moved to the door. “actually, yours sounds more realistic than mine.”
not giving the other woman a chance to respond, ki walked back to the box especially reserved for cal’s friends and family. sitting down between his mom and her dad, she was the only one not fully decked out in saints gear. her finger did trace over the number thirteen tattooed on the inside of her wrist.
his jersey number since high school, the date of when they first met in middle school, her birthday, their wedding anniversary. thirteen was everywhere for them. her eyes were trained on the thirteen emblazoned in gold on his back as he had returned to the field and threw the ball repeatedly.
by halftime, ki knew something was up with him. they were 24 and 27, the saints falling behind only by three but she knew cal was downstairs stressing out over those measly points. he wasn’t all in it, she could see it whenever the camera zoomed in on his face. by the time the halftime show performer exited the field and the teams returned, ki knew she had to talk to him. the other team had the ball, she had maybe ten minutes, tops.
there was an office down the hall, with a perfect view of the field and a phone line. she had used it twice before since arriving back in new orleans, both for this same purpose. ki knew she was abusing her power a bit but fuck it, she was gonna talk to her husband. try and stop her, go ahead!
she dialed the number for the sideline phone, which she knew by heart at this point, and waited for elijah to answer it. he was one of the assistant coaches and when ki had first called cal mid-game, she had watched on the screen in the office as elijah’s eyes bugged out. he’d complained about this being completely inappropriate and not at all the norm. once he was done ranting, ki had kindly asked to speak to cal again. after a brief conversation with her, elijah had watched as number thirteen took his place back on the field and won the team three more touchdowns. it was only the second game of the season but he had known in that moment that he would always answer that damn phone.
“mrs. xavier, i don’t know what the - pardon my french - fuck he is doing out here.” elijah commented as soon as he answered, not even bothering to say hello.
“me either, eli. put him on for me.” there was a bit of rustling on the other end, the chatter of the sidelines coming through, and then cal was on the phone.
“hello?” his voice was gruff, tired. she could see him the on the screen, his head down in his hand.
“sit up.” she watched as he did. “are we done?” he stared off into space. “calvin, are we done? is this game done? because i can go back over to the box, gather up all my shit, and go wait for you in the truck if that’s the case. you know me, i love to leave.”
a small smirk graced his full lips and she smiled back, like he could see her. he covered his mouth as he spoke into the phone. “nah, baby, i ain’t done yet.”
“oh, okay, good. because i thought when we moved back down here, it was to win. that’s what you said right? ‘we winning this shit’. you remember that?” he bit his lip and she could see his eyes getting glassy. “these people made a fool outta you, played in yo’ motherfuckin’ face and they let you come to the saints because they thought they could afford to lose you. so, are you going to show them that they made a mistake? or you gonna keep sitting there and let that fuckin’ muppet be right about you?”
it was like he knew exactly what camera to look into because cal damn near made eye contact with her through the screen.
“this is your house. these are your people. don’t let them run in yo’ shit, do you hear me?”
“i hear you loud and clear, baby.”
“then get up and do this shit. then you come home and fuck me with that superbowl ring on. the one you earned.” he slammed the phone down on screen, grabbing his helmet, and walking with a newfound determination to speak to the coach. ki exited the office, returning to the box once more, sitting almost directly opposite blondie.
the next hour passed by in a blur. it may have surprised everyone else but when they were five minutes away from the end of the game, the saints winning 54 to 32, ki wasn’t shocked in the least. she sat legs crossed, hands in folded in her lap and waited to make direct eye contact with the other woman from across the stadium. once they did, she held up her right ring finger, where she would gladly be sporting the superbowl ring he had just earned. she could practically feel the red hot rage coming off of her. it kept her warm enough that she didn’t even have to put on her coat as she made her way down to the field with their families.
with less than a minute left in the game, the crowd on the sidelines rushed the field and ki let everyone settle a bit before she did too. cal was smiling wide with joy, dapping up other players as his eyes darted over the crowd until they landed on her. they were beelining for each other, only interrupted when the other qb approached him for the customary handshake. ki, at this point a near expert in all things calvin, could read his lips as he whispered in his ear. she chuckled and moved to catch him once the men pulled away.
immediately, his lips connected with hers and he lifted her up, spinning her around, his hands splayed on her ass. the moment would go on to be one of the most retweeted photos on twitter, a pinterest board staple, the background in many a green screen video where somebody would be answering “who is the wife of superbowl champ calvin brentwood?”. but in his arms, with the confetti falling around them, his black rubber wedding band rubbing against her bare arms after he had but her down, ki didn’t care one damn bit what the cameras were catching. her smile nearly broke her face when they pulled away from one another, the stripes on his cheeks nearly rubbed completely off, tears in both of their eyes.
“i did that shit baby.”
“i knew you could.”
“not without you, i couldn’t. i love you girl.”
“i love you too.”
and they were kissing again, tears streaming down both of their cheeks, her body shaking with his excitement against him.
the locker room had been a mess by the time calvin finally left it, the last one to exit his home away from home. laughter echoed down the halls and he grinned as he sauntered past some of his teammates and their adoring families. his mom and siblings had congratulated him on the field and assured him that they’d be at his place for brunch the next day, catered! his wife, gorgeous as she was, stood at the end of the hall. she watched him watch her, his eyes tracing her curve of her body.
“excuse me ma’am, i’m a superbowl champ, can i take you home tonight?” he grinned cockily at her. a roll of her eyes, a tilt of her head. calvin knew exactly how to make his wife smile. it was his favorite thing to do, neck and neck with playing football, actually.
“you think i’m that easy? all you gotta do is flex that little ring and imma bend over for you?” ki crossed her arms, arching a brow at him.
“bend over, get on your knees, fold up them legs, choke and gag and moan and groan - all that shit.” he dropped his louis duffel on the cement ground, let his large hands wrap around her waist and pull ki into his arms again. naturally, like second nature, her arms came up around his neck.
“you tryna kill me?” he shook his head, biting his lips, eyes hooded.
“i’m tryna put a superbowl baby in you.” he smirked. her jaw dropped. “so that when i get my second ring next year, it’s with you and little calvin jr by my side.”
ki looked into eyes for a moment before a smirk of her own crossed her lips. her voice dropped to a whisper, her body pressed tightly to his. “then take me home big daddy. i’ll get on my hands and knees at the front door.”
you know, she was actually starting to regret that statement. they’d raced in nola celebratory traffic, which made what should’ve been a ten minute drive a thirty minute one. ki had occupied herself, instead, with running a long nail across the bulge in calvin’s pants.
“if you ain’t suckin’ it baby, stop playing wit’ it.” he’d gritted out while at a red light. she shrugged, undid her belt, and got her knees as she unzipped his pants. her spit acted as a lubricant on him, glistening under the now green light and fitting deliciously large in her mouth. the groan that reverberated from above her was only more motivation. what her mouth couldn’t fit, her hands worked. her tongue flattened so she could slap his dick against it, before she slurped on the tip.
“mmmmm” ki moaned, letting the sound vibrate against his shaft. his free hand, the one not holding the wheel as tightly as humanely possible, came down to grip the back of her head, guiding her up and down on him. his bottom lip stuck in his teeth, trying his hardest on making the correct turn onto their street so he could get the absolute fuck out of this car.
“baby, sit up. i’m pulling up the gate.” the gate attendant for their community was a nice young man, fresh outta high school, big calvin brentwood fan. ki was gargling around his dick, making a delicious mess and as much as he didn’t want her to stop, he didn’t need that kid seeing this shit. no one else was ever going to see her in action.
she ignored him, working him further down her throat, gagging as she did. she’d heard him loud and clear. she also found his frustration mixed with horniness hilarious. he kept repeating himself, “baby, baby, baby”, getting closer to the gate and she kept pretending she didn’t hear him. finally, though, he’d had enough. his hand that was gripping the back of her head, slid slightly to her neck and pulled her completely off of him. suddenly she was sitting up in her own seat again, as he leaned forward to hide his exposed dick and greet the gate boy.
he was congratulating him on a great game, raving about watching it from the booth, waving hello at a slightly disheveled and unbuckled ki, who simply waved back. eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, he opened the gate for them and calvin turned to give her a strong look. one that she recognized all too well. it was already midnight. she was gonna be late for brunch tomorrow and it was in her own damn kitchen.
fast forward to her foyer, where her skintight leather pants had all been ripped off and ki had been on her hands & knees, as promised. his tongue found sweet purchase deep inside her dripping pussy. he lapped at her like an ice cream cone, like he was trying to find the center of a fuckin’ tootsie pop. when she came with a shout and a shudder, calvin had gently pushed on her upper back, putting her in position for her incredible arch, and pushed himself in. he even had some of her lip gloss still around the base of his dick.
he’d fucked her to completion twice right there, the third time she came that evening involving her squirting all over his very expensive shirt. he’d pulled it over his head and used it to wipe up the fluids on the ground after he pulled out of her, his cum mixing with her cream while she lay on the cool tile.
if she had thought that would be enough, she was dead wrong. he transported her to the kitchen next, fucking her bent over the counter with one of her legs bent up. then they were in the living room, where he ate her out again while looking her dead in the eyes, legs bent up so her knees were practically touching her ears. then he’d rammed into her, slow, deep strokes, that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head when they both came together.
just when she thought it was over, that’d he played in the fucking superbowl today so he had to be done (right?) and he had already exceeded expectations, he’d picked her up, still buried inside her, and carried her up their grand staircase to their large bedroom. partially it was because he wanted all his cum to stay inside. partially it was because he was ninety percent sure she couldn’t even walk if she had tried.
now here she lay, on her back, covered in sweat and cum and tears, his dick growing hard inside of her again. he was lavishing her brown nipples, running his sinful tongue across the peaks, using his other hand to massage her breast, tweaking the tips and drawing moans from her dry lips.
“one more baby. just one more.”
she moaned as he rolled his hips, bringing her leg up to wrap around his waist while her other met it, locking him in place. her words came out as a whisper. “fuck me, champ. make love to me. put a baby in me.”
their eyes met and his waist worked his dick into her, sliding through her wet, gummy walls with precision and expertise that comes from knowing your wife since y’all were nineteen. he knew that he could stimulate her clit his ground his pelvis just right, which he did. he knew that she loved when he kissed her during sex, their tongues slapping against each other while he drove into her. he knew she’d let him take both their hands and meeting them above their heads, pulling away from the kiss so they could resume eye contact while he fucked her. he shook his head when her walls contracted around him, slowing him down a bit as he took one hand out of hers to rest of the back of her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw.
“nah baby, open them beautiful eyes. i wanna see ‘em when we come together. c’mon na’.” he smiled when she let them open, and she couldn’t help but smile back up at him. when she looked back at this moment in couple of months, the only thing she’d regret is not feeling the cool gold of his superbowl ring on her hot neck but that would change come june.
“i love you calvin. you’re my champion, my champion ...” she repeated those words in his ears over and over again, a mantra, drilling it into his head. he was her champion, like she always knew he would be.
“you’re my heart baby, i love you so much.” his words were quick, tone clipped and she couldn’t tell if it was because he was getting emotional or because he was on the verge of cumming again. regardless, she rested her hand to his lower back, letting her other run her nails into his shoulder blade, pressing their bodies even closer together if it was possible. calvin pistoned into her a couple more times, reaching his hand down to rub gentle circles around her clit as they came together, mouths open in silent moans.
a year later, when she would be standing on the sidelines again, watching the confetti fall once more, little baby kameron in her arms, they’d welcome their two time champ with open arms and ki would whisper in his ear that little baby calvin would be able to join them next year.
“sit up.” she watched as he did. “are we done?” he stared off into space.
“calvin, are we done? is this game done? because i can go back over to the box, gather up all my shit, and go wait for you in the truck if that’s the case. you know me, i love to leave.”
a small smirk graced his full lips and she smiled back, like he could see her. he covered his mouth as he spoke into the phone. “nah, baby, i ain’t done yet.”
“oh, okay, good. because i thought when we moved back down here, it was to win. that’s what you said right? ‘we winning this shit’. you remember that?” he bit his lip and she could see his eyes getting glassy. “these people made a fool outta you, played in yo’ motherfuckin’ face and they let you come to the saints because they thought they could afford to lose you. so, are you going to show them that they made a mistake? or you gonna keep sitting there and let that fuckin’ muppet be right about you?”
it was like he knew exactly what camera to look into because cal damn near made eye contact with her through the screen.
“this is your house. these are your people. don’t let them run in yo’ shit, do you hear me?”
“i hear you loud and clear, baby.”
“then get up and do this shit. then you come home and fuck me with that superbowl ring on. the one you earned.”
