FIC: Taking Back My Love (5/??)
Title: Taking Back My Love (5/??)
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Martin Skrtel, David Villa, Fernando Torres/ Sergio Ramos (later)
Rating: PG13; kissing... touching?
Disclaimer: nothing is real!
Summary: Martin was in an abusive relationship. This is a AU fic!
"Martin..." he whispers into my neck, as if the name had been sacred to him, as if it pained him to say it out loud. His arms tighten around me, how good it felt to have them surround me again, to have once believed that he loved me. I force my tears away, I let him hold me and brush his soft lips against the side of my neck. I allowed him to breathe in my scent.
"I've missed you so much." He lets out a staggered breath as he sighs into my neck, as if he had finally found what he had been aimlessly looking for. Maybe once I would have believed that you actually loved me. But that was long ago. I turn and pull myself out of his arms, gently pushing him away as I look into his dark eyes.
"Have you really? Or do you just miss throwing me against the wall? Or maybe you miss forcing yourself in me? What is it that you miss, Daniel? Do you miss having a slave that you can abuse and demand to have everything ripped from him? Is that what you miss?"
He forces me back into his arms, one swift move that I never saw coming. I wish now that the parking lot was not so secluded, I wished there were people to view how hard his arms came around me, maybe it would have been easier to escape him, but my wish was not granted.
"Stop." He whispers into my ear.
"You can't tell me what to do anymore!" I yell at him as I pull on his clothes, I try to writhe my way out of his arms but they only tighten until I let out a gasp of pain and a groan caught in my throat. I needed air.
"I missed you." he said with conviction, with so much love and longing that my knees buckled and I felt myself fall into him. I want to believe that you did miss me, but I can't. To believe is something I can no longer afford.
"How can I believe you? Why would I believe you?" I sob into his chest as I my fingers coil around the cuff of his suit. Everything came into a blur then, as if time had stopped and then fast forwarded until I found myself seated on his white coach, soft and comforting. It had a scent that was familiar to me, his scent.
I remember having been led into his car, then on an elevator and when reality finally hit me, I was on a coach, a blanket over my shoulders. I scanned the place. It was intimidating. No longer the apartment we had once shared together. This place was different; it was larger and much more updated. The furniture looked to have cost him quite a sum of money. I began to wonder why he didn't just buy a house, I'm sure he was able to afford it.
He came out of what must have been the kitchen a glass of warm milk in his hand, I could vaguely remember asking for warm milk, and here he was, placing it in my hand and helping me drink the contents of the glass. His sleeves were casually folded just beneath his elbow, giving him an air of sophistication and at the same time, style. I push the glass away when I had had enough, coughing slightly. He looked at me with his dark eyes, worry written on his face as I cough into my hands.
He lifted my hands up into the air, helping my lungs expand. This was what Fernando usually did when I would get sick and cough uncontrollably. I pulled my hands from him, I expected him to slap me but he did nothing, only watched me as I tried to even my breathing.
"You should rest, why don't you sleep?" he suggests.
Sleep? I can't sleep, I have to go back to work. I try to push myself up but he pushed me down, gently but managing to catch me off balance anyway. I fall back on the coach.
"I have to go back to work." I glare up at him.
"I called your office. I told them you were ill." He replies as he wraps the blanket tighter around my shoulders. He sits next to me and forces me to fall into his chest. It had been my mistake that I sighed contentedly as he pulled me into his arms. But it felt so good to be back in his arms, to feel him surround me with warmth. He pulled the blanket off one shoulder and threw it over himself as well. Including himself in its warm comfort.
I felt selfish and tried to pull the blanket back to myself, but he pulls on it and I fell hard onto his chest, he kept me in his arms until I began to relax into his embrace. To once again feel safe and secure, I wished it could have lasted but I knew that it wouldn't. I felt his hand snake its way under my shirt, roaming against my skin, feeling the flesh on my back. Panic stirred in me but before I could voice out a protest, my head was snapped up and my lips were forced into his, my mouth forced open as his tongue shoved forcefully into my mouth. His fingers dug into my back, gripping my flesh and relishing its feel. He moaned into the kiss.
Everything about him screamed for control, his tongue, his fingers that felt my back, and his arms that were tight around me. His tongue dug deep into my mouth, exploring every cavern that used to have once belonged to him. I could taste blood in my mouth and I knew it was mine, it was always mine. I let out a groan of pain as I tried to push myself off him, my hands were pinned between us and I tried to wedge them out.
He pulls away from the searing kiss and nips at my lips, relishing the blood that he licked from my lips. I could feel his hot breath as he breathes through his mouth, his dark eyes veiled from heavy lids of lust.
I gasp for breath, panting. I could still taste him in my mouth. In one swift and forceful move, I was shoved on my back and he came on top of me, his body pinning me to the coach. His fingers tangled themselves into my strands and my head was forced to tilt to the side, giving him full access to my neck as I cried in horror. My heart began to pound into my head, I knew what came next. I tried to push at him but he was far stronger than me. How did I become the victim once again? When I had alleged that I could for once be the victor.
He takes the flesh of my neck, his tongue roaming over my skin, his teeth relishing the feel of it, sucking, biting, and licking me until I could almost feel the blood ebb from my skin. He takes the flesh just beneath my jaw and tilts my head back as his other hand snake its way into my chest and run fingers over my nipple, brushing so seductively over it.
I bit my lips as tears began to brim in my eyes. I shut them tight, wanting to drive the memories of those other times he had forced himself on me. He groans as he savagely devoured my flesh, leaving marks wherever his lips roamed. He pulls away and let's himself fall into me, leaning his full weight on me. His hot breath fans my neck.
"Martin..." he whispers huskily, it was low and lustful. He whispers my name again, with more lust and the weight of longing entwined in his tone as he kisses my jaw, then my chin and then my lips. Slow, yet fierce and passionate.
I sob into the kiss. My tears trickling from the side of my eyes. His hands roam against my chest until his fingers brush against my scars and he gasps and his eyes snaps open. He pulls away from me, snapped from his lustful trancelike state, as if he had finally realized what he was doing to me. He must have been shocked to find that my chest was no longer smooth but marred with scars that he had caused. He pants, staring down at me, realizing the tears that were now flowing freely from my eyes, the blood that smeared against my lips.
He sits up, staring at me in disbelief. I hurriedly pushed myself up and shoved his hand from my chest. I tried to control my breathing and so did he. I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself and scooted as far away from him as possible. He looks down at his hands as if they were disgusting and horrid.
"Take me home." I sob. He looks at me with his dark eyes, pleading for forgiveness.
"Now!" It hit me that he didn't know where I lived, but I didn't care; I just wanted to get out of there. The large living room was suffocating me; it was once again taking the form of a jail cell.
He slowly drew closer to me and I scoot back, if that was even possible. He stops, and reaches out a hand to touch me but I shove it away, almost growling at him. I should have seen it coming but I was blinded with tears, his fingers swiftly and efficiently came around my wrist and I was jerked back into his arms. Knocking the breath out of me and I felt my lungs constrict in protest and I cried out in pain, my hand unconsciously clutched against my chest and I bit my lower lip to keep myself from screaming. It didn't help that my heart was pounding uncontrollably.
He unwrapped his arms around me and tilted my head up, he watched as my hand clutched my chest and I groaned in pain. He pulled my arms and placed them over his shoulders and around his neck, forcing my arms up, giving my lungs room to expand. He pressed his lips against mine and forced my mouth open. He inhaled from his nose and exhaled into my mouth, forcing me to breathe this breath. He did this repeatedly until my heart began to pound evenly, my lungs following the rhythmic breath, slowly, I felt my body relax, the torrent of panic ebbing from me.
He releases my mouth and presses our foreheads together; I was too weak to protest. He coaxed me to follow his example, to breathe in deep and slow. He must have seen Fernando do this to me in the hospital after I woke from my lapse.
It was inevitable, I began to feel drowsy, my lids became heavy and desired to be closed. He kept me in that position, my arms around his neck, he kept my head on his shoulder, cradling it lovingly, running his fingers through my strands, relishing the silky feel of my hair.
Slumber called to me, I must have dreamt the warm trickle of liquid against my cheek, the slight sob that wracked his chest as he held me.
I must have dreamt it.
--------------------------
I woke from the trembling of his chest as he chuckled slightly. He was leaned on the arm of the coach, me on top of him. I could hear the soft drone of the TV, he must have found something hilarious to have chuckled the way he did. I pretended to be asleep, to observe. Occasionally, he would rub my back, slow, heavy strokes. Then, it would move up my neck and his hand would massage my neck, his fingers working on my flesh slowly. It would trail up and brush against my strands.
I felt warm, I could feel the hardened muscles of his abdomen and chest, the lithe form lean yet powerful beneath the lithe exterior. I feigned sleep for what seemed to be half an hour until I could no longer tolerate his slow, heavy strokes, the way he would play with my hair, how his fingers brushed against my nape. He was taking advantage of me and I did not like it. I groaned, just to let him be aware of my consciousness. He must have turned the TV off as he sat up slowly and lifted me with him. I opened my eyes slowly and push at him, sitting up, my arms on his shoulders.
I yawned and rested my head on his shoulder, wedging my face in the crook of his neck. He must have wanted to smother me, I could feel his arms tightening but not so much as before, as if afraid that I would break. He must have believed me to be the innocent Martin he used to know, I smiled into his neck.
Let him believe what he wants, as long as I get what I want.
He rubs my back again, as if coaxing me to wake. I breathe into his neck purposely breathing through my mouth, making him feel the hot breath that fanned against his pale skin. I brush my lips against his flesh as I shifted, nonchalantly; my hand slid from his shoulder and came to his chest. I could feel the lean muscles contracting beneath my hand, as if he was trying to control himself from killing me. I realized then that I was straddling him, sitting right on top of his organ.
A smile crept to my lips. I yawn again and lift my arms into the air and stretched, but this time, I swayed forward, making sure that I brushed against his organ. He lets out a deep groan and I look at him, as if I've just realized that he was there. I push myself off him instantly but not before I brushed against his organ again. He hung his head slightly and looked at me through his lashes, the look on his eyes was a mixture of lust and a deadly glare.
I smile inwardly at my victory. I look around as if noticing the apartment for the first time. I turned back to him. "What time is it?"
"Five." He replies flatly.
"Oh." I looked at my own wristwatch as if I didn't believe what he said and confirmed that it truly was five and I still have two hours before I had to get home. I'm sure Fernando would like to know about my little tryst with the Daniel Agger. He would just love to know how I ended up in his apartment again, not mentioning how he tried to force himself on me again.
"I have to get home." I say as I swing my legs off the coach, he does the same but turns to look at me. "David and Fernando will wonder where I am if I'm supposed to be sick." I say to myself but made sure that he heard it.
"Fernando?" he stands up and lightly pulls on my arm for me to face him. "What is he to you?" his eyes searches mine, looking for truth. I snatch my arm back and take a step back as I glare at him.
"Why should you care?" I scoff. This takes him off guard. I saw the confusion in his eyes but it was gone too soon before I could confirm that it was confusion that clouded his thoughts.
"I... Is he your lover?"
"You could say that." I wasn't exactly lying, just feeding him with half-truths.
"Oh, so he is your lover then." His eyes darken. Fool, didn't you see me kissing him in the bookstore? That should have been an indication of what he was to me, or what we were trying to portray anyway.
"Do you love him?" the words seemed to have scathed his throat.
"Very much." I say as I straightened and fixed my clothes, they were rumpled. I do love Fernando, he's my best friend, and if I could have him for myself then I would.
"Oh." He bites his lower lip as if he was trying to keep himself from saying words that he would somehow regret. I turn to him and sigh.
"I love Fernando but you can't exactly call him my lover."
The bait is set.
"He's my best friend and we do love each other but we never pursued it. Our friendship may sometimes tread further than it truly is, but we know where our relationship lies."
His expression brightened.
He took the bait.
I've just basically told him that I was free for the taking.
"And what about you, don't you have someone special lying around in this apartment of yours? Or is he locked in a closet somewhere?" I say arrogantly. He looks at me for a moment and the sadness returns to his dark eyes. I expected him to be angry but I received the opposite reaction.
"You're an attractive man, I'm sure it wouldn't be that difficult for you to catch a young eye. Someone like the 18 year old Martin, twist their world and then throw them against the wall and break their bones, make sure that they never truly recover and then..."
"Stop." He says softly, so soft that it was barely audible.
"Why? Isn't that what you want Daniel? To have another fuck toy? Weren't you about to turn me into your fuck toy earlier? I don't know why you stopped and realized not to continue but that was truly shocking. Why didn't you consider that I might not have been willing when I was your lover?"
"Stop."
"Or maybe you just didn't want to continue because you found my body marred, no longer the smooth and flawless flesh you used to dig your nails into. That you used to love to force yourself into. Is that it?"
"Stop it!" this time, his tone had an edge to it.
"Or maybe I'm just too old and you want someone younger, a novice, someone who is ignorantly oblivious to who you really are. Like I was."
"I loved you, more than you could ever know." He said softly, his eyes full of conviction as he said those words. I felt as though my heart had been wrenched from my chest and thrown into fire. He forced me to stare at him, to look into his eyes, it was as if I was hypnotized, I wanted to wrench my gaze from him but I could not. I did not want to hear those words, I have longed for it when I was younger but not anymore. I hoped and prayed that he would say those words to me when he would hold me in his arms but he never did. Now that I want something different, he says those words as if he had said them to me so many times.
"I still do." He whispers.
"You loved what!?" I snapped as I took a step toward him and shoved him back, hard, that he staggered. "Throwing me against the wall!? Was that what you loved? Or was it ravishing my body!?" I shove him back again, with the same force as the first. I tried to fight back the tears that were brimming in my eyes. You never loved me, it was only an illusion. You will never know the true meaning of love.
"If you truly loved me, then why did you hurt me!?" I shoved him back so hard that he fell into the coach; he grabbed my arm as he fell and brought me down with him. I tried to push myself up but he kept me pinned to his chest.
"You were my world, Daniel." I sobbed. "I gave you everything, my heart, my mind, and if it was mine to give, I would have given you my soul." I sobbed into his chest. For the very first time, I wanted to tell him everything, my pain, of how much he had influenced what I am today, of the fear I felt whenever he would touch me in bed, of how I believed in his broken promises. I wanted to tell him everything.
Maybe Fernando was right, maybe I truly was a martyr. A willing victim. Why not? Here I am again, back in his arms, loving the feel of his chest, his hot breath on my forehead, how his fingers coiled around my strands. I thought that I was strong enough to resist him; I thought that I was strong enough to face him once again, but I was wrong.
I don't want to have to fall in love with him again.