Sex, Lies, Saudade (R), ficlet
Title: Sex, Lies, Saudade
Pairings: Paulo Ferreira/John Terry, Paulo Ferreira/Ricardo Carvalho
Rating: light R
Warning: Angst
Disclaimer: 100% fiction
Summary: Paulo’s love life is a race which he might not win.
A/N: For inesdelsol who wanted wine yesterday. There’s no wine in this one, just coffee and bitterness, but hope you’ll enjoy it, dear.
Some parts of John’s body still make Paulo aware that he’s with another man now.
He can’t suppress the urge to duck when John raises his hand just to ruffle his hair affectionately; he’s used to curling up close to the edge of the bed after sex because John’s mighty chest and long supple thighs are too much - not that Paulo likes Ricardo’s delicate bone structure more, but the idea of lying like that, pressed against John’s strong body, slightly terrifies him. He doesn’t want it to be so intimate.
It’s just they’re so different.
John’s awkward at times; when he pulls at the shower curtain, Paulo feels self-conscious about his own proportions, even though John often looks at him when Paulo soaps himself, spreading white lather all over dark, made-in-South skin, and Paulo can tell that the captain likes what he sees, but then it can’t stop crossing his mind, he’s used to Ricardo’s shy glances and how he blushes so easily, when Paulo runs his hand down the inside of his thigh, but with John, with John he never knows what to do.
John never blushes.
He pulls off Paulo’s clothes quickly, never thinking about making it slow.
He’s not a seducer, but for Paulo it still seems like it’s a first time he gets fucked.
First time early in the morning, when John wakes him by pushing his thigh in between Paulo’s legs and his stubble is rough against Paulo’s too, his kisses hard and impatient.
First time when they have half an hour and John doesn’t bother with taking off his clothes. Just unzips himself and there’s something so coarse about it, perhaps the way his belt snaps and the buckle hits Paulo’s hips.
First time when he sucks Paulo in the showers, when there’s no one else left, and Paulo shivers from cold, but pushes into John’s mouth and lets the man put his huge hand on his belly, where Paulo’s muscles constrict. Paulo still remembers that weird taste and nails scratching at his cheeks later, when John kissed him.
It’s all new, but doesn’t move out Ricardo from Paulo’s life; he finds it hard to comprehend how he manages to lie so much, but then at some point it dawns on him that he doesn’t cover the truth, he simply keeps his mouth shut.
-
Ricardo’s lazy and sleepy in the mornings, and Paulo watches him for a brief moment before he gets up and pads to the shower where he looks at himself in the mirror and sickness makes his stomach churn.
There’s a carpet burn on his shoulder blade, but it’s the mirror itself, and the towels, and the navy blue sink that give him a headache. He would find it amusing how his two lovers do the same things without knowing it, but he’s not that careless.
They make love then, steadily, so unlike they used to do it back then, before John, but Ricardo likes it, and when Paulo sees delight in his half-closed eyes, his mind wanders back to their first time with Riccy. When blood used to boil in their veins, and they’d get off just from grinding against each other, desperate to break the tension.
But now it’s different, and when Ricardo throws his head back, damp curls sticking to his forehead and chest so sweaty, Paulo loses it and his own groan seems so fake to him, and glistening shoulder smells nice, but Paulo wouldn’t decipher the smell anymore.
He always texts John when he sits in his car later, and knows that Riccy is there on a balcony, peaceful and sober, as if he doesn’t feel that something’s not right. Sometimes Paulo wonders how it is possible for him to be so oblivious, but most of the time he doesn’t.
His texts are quickly becoming a habit, and he’d rather it bothered him that he thinks of another man when his dick is still glowing from Ricardo’s touch, but he can’t find the right way for him to feel anymore.
-
Every so often he looks at both men intently, searching for the signs of their jealousy starting to rise, but Paulo admits himself later that John’s too independent and Riccy’s too trustful to even think of it.
His own infidelity is exactly what’s getting on his nerves the most; he often wishes he had enough courage to tell Riccy, but his fingers are too used to stroking the man’s hair, and they still fit each other. They do.
Paulo doesn’t know if it’s a real thing between them. Between him and John. Him and Riccy.
As the mornings become colder, he spends these early hours right after the dawn alone, lips lingering on the rim of his coffee mug, fingertips cold and three new messages waiting. Paulo waits for his phone to beep again and places the mug on the table, making the still burning hot white coffee spill out. He sees the dark rings inside the mug and presses ‘reply’ uncertainly.
Pairings: Paulo Ferreira/John Terry, Paulo Ferreira/Ricardo Carvalho
Rating: light R
Warning: Angst
Disclaimer: 100% fiction
Summary: Paulo’s love life is a race which he might not win.
A/N: For inesdelsol who wanted wine yesterday. There’s no wine in this one, just coffee and bitterness, but hope you’ll enjoy it, dear.
Some parts of John’s body still make Paulo aware that he’s with another man now.
He can’t suppress the urge to duck when John raises his hand just to ruffle his hair affectionately; he’s used to curling up close to the edge of the bed after sex because John’s mighty chest and long supple thighs are too much - not that Paulo likes Ricardo’s delicate bone structure more, but the idea of lying like that, pressed against John’s strong body, slightly terrifies him. He doesn’t want it to be so intimate.
It’s just they’re so different.
John’s awkward at times; when he pulls at the shower curtain, Paulo feels self-conscious about his own proportions, even though John often looks at him when Paulo soaps himself, spreading white lather all over dark, made-in-South skin, and Paulo can tell that the captain likes what he sees, but then it can’t stop crossing his mind, he’s used to Ricardo’s shy glances and how he blushes so easily, when Paulo runs his hand down the inside of his thigh, but with John, with John he never knows what to do.
John never blushes.
He pulls off Paulo’s clothes quickly, never thinking about making it slow.
He’s not a seducer, but for Paulo it still seems like it’s a first time he gets fucked.
First time early in the morning, when John wakes him by pushing his thigh in between Paulo’s legs and his stubble is rough against Paulo’s too, his kisses hard and impatient.
First time when they have half an hour and John doesn’t bother with taking off his clothes. Just unzips himself and there’s something so coarse about it, perhaps the way his belt snaps and the buckle hits Paulo’s hips.
First time when he sucks Paulo in the showers, when there’s no one else left, and Paulo shivers from cold, but pushes into John’s mouth and lets the man put his huge hand on his belly, where Paulo’s muscles constrict. Paulo still remembers that weird taste and nails scratching at his cheeks later, when John kissed him.
It’s all new, but doesn’t move out Ricardo from Paulo’s life; he finds it hard to comprehend how he manages to lie so much, but then at some point it dawns on him that he doesn’t cover the truth, he simply keeps his mouth shut.
-
Ricardo’s lazy and sleepy in the mornings, and Paulo watches him for a brief moment before he gets up and pads to the shower where he looks at himself in the mirror and sickness makes his stomach churn.
There’s a carpet burn on his shoulder blade, but it’s the mirror itself, and the towels, and the navy blue sink that give him a headache. He would find it amusing how his two lovers do the same things without knowing it, but he’s not that careless.
They make love then, steadily, so unlike they used to do it back then, before John, but Ricardo likes it, and when Paulo sees delight in his half-closed eyes, his mind wanders back to their first time with Riccy. When blood used to boil in their veins, and they’d get off just from grinding against each other, desperate to break the tension.
But now it’s different, and when Ricardo throws his head back, damp curls sticking to his forehead and chest so sweaty, Paulo loses it and his own groan seems so fake to him, and glistening shoulder smells nice, but Paulo wouldn’t decipher the smell anymore.
He always texts John when he sits in his car later, and knows that Riccy is there on a balcony, peaceful and sober, as if he doesn’t feel that something’s not right. Sometimes Paulo wonders how it is possible for him to be so oblivious, but most of the time he doesn’t.
His texts are quickly becoming a habit, and he’d rather it bothered him that he thinks of another man when his dick is still glowing from Ricardo’s touch, but he can’t find the right way for him to feel anymore.
-
Every so often he looks at both men intently, searching for the signs of their jealousy starting to rise, but Paulo admits himself later that John’s too independent and Riccy’s too trustful to even think of it.
His own infidelity is exactly what’s getting on his nerves the most; he often wishes he had enough courage to tell Riccy, but his fingers are too used to stroking the man’s hair, and they still fit each other. They do.
Paulo doesn’t know if it’s a real thing between them. Between him and John. Him and Riccy.
As the mornings become colder, he spends these early hours right after the dawn alone, lips lingering on the rim of his coffee mug, fingertips cold and three new messages waiting. Paulo waits for his phone to beep again and places the mug on the table, making the still burning hot white coffee spill out. He sees the dark rings inside the mug and presses ‘reply’ uncertainly.