“You bad,” Cordero says with a laugh. Propping his hands on his hips, he shakes his head like he can’t believe Sean’s audacity. “Better watch out for Barrett.”
“Barrett can bite me,” Sean replies.
With a smirk, Cordero jokes, “And here I thought you was wanting me.”
Encouraged, Sean takes a few steps closer—not enough to get out of position, but he doesn’t want to flirt across the length of the pitch if he can help it. Turning his back to the game, he drops a hand to the front of his crotch and makes a show of adjusting the budding erection in his shorts. “Tell me you don’t want a piece of this.”
The message is clear—he’s sprung.
Cordero’s grin turns shy and he ducks his head. “I’m considering it.”