You Owe Me
Renée Slegers x Reader
18+ content MINORS DNI! Just smut with plot really
TW for getting yelled at and injury I guess🤷♀️
A/N this started off as the aftermath of a dream I had right when I hurt my knee . It rapidly spiralled out of control because I simply could not leave Renée untouched could I? No.
~5.1k words
You had no idea where you were supposed to be going. It had been months since someone showed you around, long enough to forget where important things were, but not long enough to have actually learned yet. Your track jacket felt itchy and tight this morning, perhaps a side effect of the nerves, but nevertheless you tugged on a sleeve as you made your way to the stairs up to the medical centre. You were sure there must be a lift- what kind of medical centre is up two flights of stairs? But it was 9:05 already, you were running late, and so the option of hobbling up the stairs seemed mildly more appealing than a proper telling off.
The building felt strange at this time. Clean, clinical, the smell of iodine and lemon scented antibacterial soap tinging the air even this far from the infirmary. There was no one around, which only added to the overall uneasiness crawling up your spine. Too early for players, presumably all staff were confined to their rooms for one reason or another- but it was unsettling, and more importantly not very helpful when you were trying to figure out where to go.
At 9:09 you pushed open the double doors into the medical centre. If the rest of the building was dead, this was where the life was- people bustling around, an administrator talking loudly on the phone, staff in scrubs and club uniform chatting as they walked the hall. There were maybe six rooms, presumably each with a different purpose, their doors closed but failing overall to obscure the murmur of noise. At the end of the hall, the emergency suite was curtained off- too early for anyone to be in there, and hopefully not today anyway. You looked around slowly, taking it in, trying to decide the best course of action. Was it better to walk with purpose and figure it out as you went? Or just ask? But as you flicked your gaze from person to person, trying to catch someone with a sympathetic smile, you realised they barely saw you. You were supposed to know what you were doing, after all.
So option one it was. A slow, steady walk down the corridor, moving politely to the side as some med staff passed, eyes travelling from door to door for some desperate inkling of which room would contain an x ray machine and hopefully a person to operate it.
Then, at the far end, the pieces clicked into place. A door, clearly marked, the room beyond dark and empty by the looks of it. You pushed the door open gently, and almost behind it a man was bent over a laptop screen, the blue light illuminating his face in the dark room.
“Ah, good morning,” he looked up, a sympathetic grin crossing his face.
“You must be my nine o clock.”
You nodded, shuffling into the room, feeling slightly less sick but also slightly more nervous now you were actually there.
“This will be super quick,” he continued, still tapping away at the computer.
“Hop up on the bed, I just need to ask you a couple of questions and then we’ll get the pictures.”
You did as you were told, sitting on the paper bench cover, legs dangling over the side. Sitting like this made it hurt, actually- really hurt. You winced a little, hoping he wouldn’t see.
“So, we’ve ruled out ACL.” He started, walking around the bed with a clipboard. You nodded.
“Had my scan at the end of last week. A little inflamed but no other damage.” He made a note of this, looking back down at his papers.
“Okay, so most likely suspect we’re looking at is hairline fracture, maybe severe dislocation. Is it swollen?”
Another nod.
“I’ve been icing it, but it hasn’t really gone down.”
“You shouldn’t be walking on it.”
The voice took you by complete surprise, heart hammering in your chest. It had come from the other side of the room, where it was completely dark. But it was familiar- as familiar as your morning alarm or your father’s voice on the phone. And then Renée stood up from her chair, and stepped into the half light.
“Good morning.” She said carefully, a little stilted, and then leaned in and put a single arm around your shoulders. Measured, professional. In control.
“I’m glad it’s not your ACL. We really need you this weekend.”
You nodded, but the man interrupted immediately.
“Uh- sorry boss, but she’s going to be out for at least two weeks.”
You cringed.
“Two weeks?” She retorted. “This isn’t even a football injury.”
That made it worse.
“Yeah, not much we can do I’m afraid. ‘Specially if it’s a fracture. Could be longer, or we risk doing serious long term damage.”
You watched Renée’s face as it cycled through emotions. Frustration knitting her brow, melting into something between alarm and fear at that last part. Then she cleared her throat, straightened her posture a little, and looked right at you. Apparently without consideration for the man watching you so closely, she dropped her voice and said
“I wish you’d use those sleeves I got you. If you were more careful, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
She was right- you knew that. She had got you those stupid knee sleeves, and you’d refused to use them, wanting to prove to yourself you were stronger than she thought. Now look at you.
“I know. I’m sorry.” There wasn’t much else you could say, not in front of this man. Renée just shook her head.
“I’m going to wait in the other room. We’ll talk about this after.”
Her tone was clipped, professional again, but you knew what she meant. Without another word she left the room, ponytail swinging behind her, and disappeared through a side door. There was a window into that room too, presumably cordoned off to shield the tech, but the blinds were pulled down and she vanished the moment she entered.
The man cleared his throat, his posture a little awkward now.
“Okay, just swing your legs up and lie back. Try and keep the bad knee straight if you can. I’ll give you these glasses- you’re going to want them- and then I’ll go into the other room, ‘kay? You’ll hear my voice through the speaker.” He pointed to the corner of the room where a small box hung on the wall.
Then he too disappeared, although within moments the blind into the little room was up. Still, the only light came from his laptop, but Renée’s face was faintly visible, scowling.
It was over in a matter of seconds.
You shifted on the bed as per instructions, waited for the flash each time, and then they both appeared at the door.
“All done.” The man said, moving back to his corner. Then he turned to Renée.
“I’ll get the images sent over to you as soon as they’re processed. Should be 15 minutes, tops.” She nodded curtly, but still offered her arm as you climbed down from the bed. It was steady under your grip- even in her anger, the support came like an instinct.
“Thank you, Dan.” She smiled, but her eyes darkened when she looked at you.
“My office. Now. We need to have a serious talk.”
As she pushed open the door to her office, stepping inside to allow you past, you felt Renée’s eyes on the back of your neck. It was almost the same feeling as when you’d first met her- that feeling of being intensely watched, like she was trying to figure out exactly what her next move should be.
It had been just as disconcerting four months ago as it was now- although now she was pissed off, which added a whole other dimension to the bubble of anxiety pressing on the inside of your ribs. Slowly she let the door fall shut behind her, and without saying anything she clicked the lock. You gulped.
There was nothing to do but sit- in a hard plastic chair, opposite her desk, which reminded you a little too acutely of being raked over the coals at school. You sat, trying not to watch too obviously as she pulled the blind down over the little window in the door, and then moved to the actual window and closed that one too. The light from the lamp on her desk was bright, but angled away, casting weird shadows and a yellowy glow over her face as she sat on the other side.
“I don’t hear from you for three days.” She started, and you could already feel the tirade coming.
“And then I find out it’s because you’re here? And not only are you here, but you’re hurt? And you didn’t tell me?”
What’re you supposed to say?
“I didn’t want you to think I was stupid. I acted like an idiot, and I fucked up because I didn’t listen to you.”
She laughed in disbelief.
“Well, at least I didn’t have to say it. You’re an idiot, that much is clear. You trained off schedule, for some fucking reason, completely alone in a commercial gym, and now you’ve ruined your season. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
That stung. Your chest tightened, the lump of tears threatening in your throat. But you would not cry- you would not let her see how much she’d affected you. This was not meant to be that, you’d agreed that much after the first time. Emotions would risk everything.
“You know what they told me, when I called the damn place? They reviewed the cctv, to make sure I wasn’t going to sue, and you didn’t even have a spot. No fucking spot. Are you really that thick? Really?”
There was a venom in her voice you weren’t used to, even when she was in one of her fits of passion from the sidelines. It was icy- not angry, closer to disgusted, like she couldn’t really believe you’d acted like that. That she’d chosen someone who could act like that.
You bit your lip to keep it from wobbling and tried to breathe. It was true, everything she’d said- you’d been cocky, gone on your own late at night, thought you could handle it. You’d been wrong. But the way she laid it out- so plain and brutal- brought a whole new layer to the self flagellating thoughts that had been spinning in your head for the last 72 hours.
You’re such a let down.
You’ve ruined the season for yourself and probably everyone else.
She doesn’t even want you any more.
That last one was the worst, spinning over and over like a stuck record.
“Are you done?” You croaked, still clinging desperately to a semblance of control.
She looked at you then, really looked, and you watched her eyes as the rage fell away. Her lips parted, just a little, like she was reaching for something to say to fix this.
“My god. I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve… I’m just scared. I’m so sorry. You… I just need you to be okay.” Her voice shook, barely above a whisper, the words unsteady and jumbled. The tears that had been threatening in your eyes spilled- hot and heavy down your cheeks, plopping onto the front of your hoodie, marks of exactly what she’d done.
Renée leapt up from her seat, practically hurdled over the desk, and within moments she was knelt on the floor, wiping your cheeks with her sleeve.
“No, baby please. Don’t cry. I- I should never have said that. You just made a mistake. It’s going to be okay. Come here.” She leaned over, crawling between your knees and pulled you into a hug. Her touch was firm, warm, a complete contrast to the chill of the words that had left her mouth barely moments ago. But you settled into her, head on her shoulder, and she held you as you cried.
“It really hurts.” You sniffled, eventually pulling away. Renée trailed a thumb gently over your cheek, paused with the pad pressed to your lips. It was such a strange, quietly intimate gesture, although certainly not the first moment of weakness either of you had displayed in this environment. She let go, though, letting her hands fall into your lap, and sat back on her heels.
“How bad is it? Can I see?”
You nodded.
“Yeah, it’s… not great. Just be gentle.”
She was, of course, easing the waistband of your joggers down, extra careful and slow as she tugged them past your knee and let them pool on the floor around your ankles. With apprehensive fingers she turned your calf, frown flickering down to the swell of your knee.
It did look pretty bad; the swelling had gone down a bit but it was still significant, your kneecap a slightly sickening shade of purple, the area around it red and inflamed.
“Oh baby,” her voice was soft, sympathetic as she pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee. It was a sweet gesture really, but you could not help the jolt of electricity it sent up the inside of your thigh, straight to your centre, making your breath falter.
She heard it.
You knew she heard it, because she smiled softly against your skin, and pressed another, more intentional kiss, a little higher up your leg.
Your eyes flicked to the clock above the desk. 9:25. 35 minutes until you both had to be in the changing rooms. But she kept going, her mouth trailing lazily over your skin, teeth snagging occasionally with stinging marks she soothed with her tongue. Only 35 minutes and yet she was immediately determined to make it up to you.
“Renée…” you hesitated, trying not to fuss as she slipped one hand into the small of you back and tugged you forward.
“Yes?” She looked up, licking her lips. A trail of saliva and tiny red marks littered the inside of your thigh, and she’d paused with her breath exhaling heat into the fabric of your underwear. It was almost impossible to resist her, especially now. You had time. You hadn’t seen her for three days, and she was begging for forgiveness.
“We don’t have long.”
She grinned.
“I know. You owe me.”
That sent a bolt of heat through you- you had the whole day to decide exactly what you’d do to her. But she brought your brain right back into the room as her hands tugged urgently at the elastic of your underwear, and with one smooth movement she threw them and your joggers under the desk.
There was nothing dignified about the events of that morning. A plastic chair, a half dark office, your hand over your own mouth to muffle the cries through a very not-soundproof door. The rattle of the lock two, maybe three times as people tried to get in- everyone wanted a piece of her.
But for thirty minutes, she was yours. She took you apart like she was rebuilding her own house from the ground up- lifting your good knee up over her shoulder, her cheek brushing against your thigh as she drank you in. There was no slow start, no merciless teasing as she so often preferred- no, today she was on a mission to prove herself.
With one hand pressed to your back and the other knuckle deep in your body, she curled and dragged her fingers in perfect tandem with her tongue, sending trickles of sparks radiating through your whole body. The chair squeaked against the linoleum as your hips twitched, her hand steadying it, but her attention never faltered from you. You were used to time constraints, and the fragility of a locked door, but usually those were for tiny touches or leading kisses that promised more once you were out of the building.
Today that was not the case- Renée was intent on ruining you, and apparently her chair, before the first whistle went. She swallowed you down like it was her saving grace, barely surfacing for air, her own moans almost a plea for your pleasure as they vibrated through you. And it mounted quickly, under her impeccable control and perfect skill, rapidly snaking into a spiral of heat at your core that moved so rapidly you almost fell off the chair. But she held you steady as your legs trembled, mouth firm and fingers still dancing inside you, not stopping even as you snapped.
Without thinking, you sank your teeth into your hand. The scream caught in your throat, and only passed as a sharp exhale, your hips rolling and head thrown back as ecstasy wiped the colour from the world and the room fell away.
Everything ceased, except for her. When you landed back in your body she was still, pressed close but completely still, her breathing heavy against your body. When you shifted, she took that as her cue, easing out of you gently and pressing a sticky kiss to your stomach.
And then it was over. No more affection, no more begging, her job was done.
For a reason you couldn’t quite place or weren’t quite ready to examine, that made you feel hollow.
As she got up from the floor and moved across the room, brushing her knees off, she muttered-
“You better be on your best behaviour all day. No more idiotic stunts.”
You just nodded again, lost for words. There really was nothing left to say.
“Here.”
She tossed a packet of wipes from her desk towards you.
“Get cleaned up. You’ve got ten minutes to be out on the field.”
Quietly, you cleared yourself and the chair of all evidence. Renée barely seemed to notice, wiping down her own face and hands, and retying her hair.
“Meet me at my car at four.” She said, just as your hand reached for the door handle.
You turned.
“What about my car?”
She smirked.
“Don’t need it. You won’t be going home tonight.”
Your eyes widened, but she just smiled.
“Go. See you in 10.”
The day passed torturously slowly. Steph gave you a look as you slipped into the changing room, but didn’t ask what had made you late. Of course you weren’t training- you were hardly walking- which meant sitting pitch side. Just observing, watching Renée run drills, gave you extensive time to contemplate your plans for the evening. And watching her- pacing, barking instructions, face lit up with passion and occasionally frustration, made your heart flutter.
It was worse, though, when she stepped in to physically correct one of the girls. They were your team mates, she’d never touch them like that- except you were sure they all thought that about you, too. You watched Leah smirk jokingly as Renée stood behind her, adjusting her hips as she opened up to receive a pass, and Renée laughed and smacked her arm lightly. It was just a joke, just fucking around, but it made your breath stutter and your jaw clench.
Renée hadn’t noticed. She didn’t notice all through lunch, or that afternoon’s analysis either. She didn’t even notice when she came out to the car, smiling as she crossed the car park to find you waiting.
It finally clicked when your hand slid across the centre console, grip firm on her thigh.
“Not now, I’m trying to focus.” The lack of conviction in her voice as she adjusted in her seat was almost laughable.
“I’ve been trying to focus all day. And you fucked that up, didn’t you?” It comes out a little more aggressive than you intended, but still has the desired result. Renée bites her lip slowly, eyes trained steadily on the road.
“You think you’re the only one that’s been distracted all day? How am I meant to concentrate when you’re sitting on the bench, staring me down like I’m lunch?”
“Dinner, actually.” You licked your lips to emphasise the point.
“And dessert.”
The time you spent at Renée’s was always strange. Sometimes you’d talk about football, about the team, but it cast a strange light on the situation, enhancing the power dynamic perhaps more than either of you wanted outside of work. Usually though, it was just a waiting game of stilted pleasantries until one of you gave in and grabbed the other. But tonight- tonight was different.
Tonight you had a plan. You wanted her relaxed- more relaxed than she would usually be, at least in the build up. Normally she would be tense, restrained, careful until the moment her clothes came off, and then it was like a switch flipped.
Tonight you took a bottle of wine from the rack, and popped the cork without asking her. You handed her a glass, met with a raised eyebrow, and gently clinked your glass against hers.
“I owe you.” You smiled, a glint in your eye. Renée was shocked- this was pretty unlike you, all things considered. But she sat back and watched, glass balanced carefully between her fingers, eyes tracking your movements carefully. She was used to taking care of you, to playing hostess, but it was nice to see you take over- collecting groceries from the front door, cooking, humming gently and entirely in your own world.
As you stood over the hob she got up, crossing the kitchen quietly. She wrapped her arms around your waist, fingers splaying over your ribs, and pressed a hot kiss to the back of your neck.
“Just wait, babe.” You twisted in her arms, kissing her cheek but still batting her away.
She waited, patiently. The wine settled into her bloodstream, warm and woozy, and she settled back comfortably in her seat as dinner finished.
“Okay, I think you’ve waited long enough.” You stood, reaching for her hand and pulling her from the table.
Things were different as you crossed the threshold of the bedroom, too. No shoving or tugging, no violent clash of teeth and hunger, just your hands soft on the zip of her jacket, the hem of her shirt, the clasp of her bra. As you bent your head, kissing softly over her collarbones, Renée muttered
“What has got into you?”
You ignored it. The truth was, you’d spent the whole day trying to come up with some evil plan, to pay her back for that morning. But the conclusion you’d reached was simple- you just wanted her to feel good.
So you took your time, mouth working over every inch of skin as you unveiled it slowly, your own clothes hardly a concern. Her skin became hotter under your lips as you worked, a flush creeping up her neck. As you knelt, reaching for the waistband of her tracksuit, her eyes flicked open.
“Wait no! Your knee!”
“It’s fine.” You shushed her with a soft kiss above her navel, working the fabric down over her hips. It was unusual, this kind of reverence from either one of you, but something about it just felt right.
“Come here.” You climbed onto the bed before her, much to Renée’s surprise. But her eyes darkened and her breath caught as you shuffled down the bed, flat on the mattress, and beckoned to her.
“I said come here.”
A little tentatively, she crawled on top of you. She was being cautious, taken aback by the fragility of whatever this was. Whatever this had been seemed a long way away, as she leaned down and found your mouth with her own.
The kiss was heavy- rich like dark chocolate or sticky toffee, the kind of sweetness that gave you a headache. But heavy with something else too, a tension with a gravity of its own, words unsaid and feelings unrecognised. You reached down for her hips, drawing her closer to your own body as her tongue swiped into your mouth. Breathless, she pulled back, a small smile playing on her mouth. Your hands were firm, insistent, tugging her upwards.
“Someone’s eager.” She laughed, but the words sent a spike of heat through your core. You were eager- eager to please her, eager to get your mouth where it was meant to be.
As she knelt over you, so impossibly, tantalisingly close, Renée paused.
“You sure about this?”
You rolled your eyes as she looked down, a little frown on her face.
“You say that every time. Just relax and come here.”
Arms wrapped around her thighs, you brought her to you firmly. At first she was still tense, the sounds escaping her restrained and careful, her legs shaking with the exertion of holding her body up just a little. But you didn’t want that- yanking her down, nose pressed hard into her clit as you curled your tongue inside her. The moment her legs gave felt like victory; she wasn’t fighting it any more.
You revelled in the way she rolled her hips, ever urging you back up towards that tangle of nerves that felt like being unravelled under your tongue. You kept her steady though, drawing it out, pulling back a little or taking your time elsewhere to give her a chance to want it. Above you, her hands came to the headboard, her head down on her forearms.
She groaned, low and primal, like a guard dog sensing danger. But this wasn’t danger, no- it was something else entirely. The kind of letting go that felt dangerous, that left far too much room for the devil to get in, like an unblessed sneeze. She could feel it, writhing and burning, and as it tiptoed up her spine Renée felt her legs lock.
And then you stopped. Not only stopped, but sat up, flipping her unceremoniously backwards onto the bed. She actually cried out, something like a sob, the mounting throb in every inch of her screaming for release. A release that didn’t come.
“That.” You wiped your mouth on your T-shirt, tugging it up over your head.
“Is for this morning.”
Renée’s mouth fell open.
“Wh-what? But I let you come?”
“No.” You climbed back onto the bed, stripped down to your underwear.
“You made me come. And then made me go downstairs and change into my kit like I wasn’t soaked through. So you don’t get to- not like that.”
She sat up a little, propped on her elbows, and scowled.
“That’s… not fair. You can’t just leave-“
“I didn’t say you couldn’t, if you want to.” You smirked, stretching out on the quilt.
“You can. You just have to show me how much you want it.”
Renée faltered, not sure what to say. She didn’t beg, never ever, but by god was she close.
“I… what do you want me to do?”
Stretched out on your back, you patted your thigh.
“You’re going to ride me. I’m not touching you. And then we’ll see how badly you want to come.”
She turned so red she was almost plum coloured. Unsure whether to be furious or turned on by the smug look on your face, Renée relented.
“If you’re trying to humiliate me, it’s not going to work.”
But as she spoke, she crawled up you again, one knee between yours.
“Oh I’m not. I just want to watch.”
Renée cursed internally as a tiny sound escaped her. It was never like this with you- never this complex, no mind games, just to the point and out the door. This was unexpected, but it tapped into something that had laid dormant in her chest for longer than she could recall.
She wanted you to see. Wanted you covered in the evidence, in bruises and scratches and fluids, branded with the marks of how much she wanted you.
Because she was realising something- she did. Want some claim on you. Maybe not emotionally, but she wanted people to ask you about the marks, to watch your face as you hid the truth from your teammates and friends. The thought of it lit her up in a sick, desperate way.
Without really registering it, she’d pressed down against your quad as her mind wandered. Her own thoughts dredged a moan from deep inside her, only fuelled by the glimmer in your eye when she caught it.
“That’s it.” You urged, hands back on her hips.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, still moving as she leaned down with both hands, fingernails clawing at your shoulders and neck, leaving raking red trails on your skin. You shuddered.
“Fuck, Renée… what am I going to tell the girls?”
“You’ll- think- of something…” she panted out, between shallow breaths. But she sat back then, angling to press down as much as she could, gasping as you flexed the muscle underneath her. You were right, it did feel good, the slick slide of her body against the firm expanse of skin, pressing up into every nerve ending she could fathom. It was different, less precise, more all encompassing, but nevertheless that climax that had danced so close to the precipice came winding back up as she moved.
It was a sight, her coming so thoroughly undone on top of you. You just watched her- the way her head tilted back, hair loose and wild around her shoulders. The arch of her back as she rolled her hips, the way she clutched at her own tits, nipples between her fingers, like she wasn’t sure what else to hold on to. There was a mess, a growing smear of fluid almost from knee to hip up your thigh, glistening in the lamplight as she bucked her hips against you again and again.
She was so completely beautiful like this, consumed entirely by her own need and caring not one bit for what you thought. Her face crumpled and her hips stuttered as something shifted, and her head crashed down onto your shoulder. She became more frantic, the twitches of her body shorter, faster, harder. Then, as she came, her teeth sunk into your delt, the pain enough to draw a throaty scream from you as she latched on, her entire body spasming through the waves of that long awaited peak. She screamed into your neck, hips rutting again and again, each movement seemingly pushing her past sensitivity- and yet still she chased them. Chased until she was spent, breathless, whining into the pillow beside your head. Drenched in sweat, still trembling, she pressed a soothing kiss over the teeth marks- a neat crescent of indents, rapidly turning purple.
“Sorry,” she husked, shifting a little to look at you. You had nothing to say, really- you’d asked her to show you, and she had.
“You are truly something else.” You muttered, kissing the top of her head. She sighed.
“You good?”
Renée nodded, although it was hard to tell, her whole body numb and floating.
“Good. Now I just need to think of a way to explain that tomorrow.”
