This Scandalous Life - CHAPTER 18 / 20
Author: original idea and plot by 
devioussoul10 and
kitty69lover eventually written by
kitty69lover !
Rating: NC-17: containing mild slash smut, het smut, femslash smut and other crazy sexual things...
Category: it's a romantic drama, with a pinch of humour
Characters: there's a plethora of footballers, from Ligue 1 and La Liga. for plot security reasons, the characters will not be revealed right now, but when they make their appearance i.e. check under the cut.
Length: mid-length story, 20 chapters + Epilogue
Summary: Wag that has it all comes across the world of slash. fleeing from her broken home, she embarks on a quest to find true love, of course for a man that isn't gay, while losing her head and path several times.
Disclaimer: i do not own the footballers in this story, nor their families. this is completely made up and quite AU too.
Authors Notes: this is not my idea, i'm just writing it. for plot issues, address
devioussoul10. the writing is mine, so you can correct mistakes and all. The taglines are all taken from IMDb
18.
Location: Barcelona
Date: September 24, 2011
Tagline: “Look, I've had a lot of girlfriends, right? And sometimes I'm the rebound guy. Other times, when I get lucky, I'm the "explore new areas of your sexuality" guy.”
Characters: Fiona & Zlatan
Driving at a speed way over the limit, Fiona didn't even know where she was going. She was upset, annoyed, frustrated and felt she had lost the biggest opportunity in her life so far. His words had dynamited all her inner peace and her self confidence alike.
She couldn't go home, because she had no such thing. She had no place to call home anymore and Jelena wasn't even there. She had no right to barge on her now ex lover at work, even if they were friends. This was something she had to deal with on her own, somehow.
Yet, she had no other destination except Jelena's place at the outskirts of Barcelona. And even if she'd arrive just to stay in her car, in front of the house, it was better than to go in a bar somewhere and get wasted. It was better than taking the highway and leaving Barcelona, that had become the city of delusion. It was still something she could try, in order to calm down.
Fiona was usually a very good driver, a little rash in her taking over decisions and perhaps a little too passionate about high speed. But that was when she was in good inner form and she could focus properly on the road. And now, now when she was a wreck, she was hardly paying attention to her driving.
She crossed a couple of red lights, scaring some pedestrians that had to take the step back or rush to cross before the mad woman ran them over. But she didn't even notice. She didn't notice the area under construction, nor the piled up gravel in the middle of the road until it was too late to swerve and not lose control of the car, regardless of hitting the break pedal hard.
The vehicle crashed into a dumpster on the other side, and only wearing the seat belt saved Fiona from bumping her head. It had not been a too horrible accident, she was not harmed at all, although the metallic studs on the hem of her dress had left a mark in her flesh. The shock awoke Fiona and she could feel the pain building up. She got out of the car a little dizzy and walked away.
When it started raining, she had been walking for 25 minutes already, having taken off her sandals, pretty but otherwise impossible to walk in for more than 10 meters at a time. She welcomed the rain, even if it was September and it wasn't warm or light. She felt the desperation wash out of her as she was being drenched.
Although she thought she had been walking aimlessly, her feet were taking her to the only place she could've gone. Marseme. But walking to Maresme was not easy, and after 10 minutes in the cold September rain, Fiona began to regret ever leaving her car. She could call for a cab and just go somewhere, anywhere, but that was when she realised she had forgotten the purse in her car.
Cursing out loud and tempted to throw her sandals, since their weight was just a burden now, Fiona stopped to check the surroundings. She understood where she was going and she knew it couldn't be too far now. She should just brave the rain and the cold and the sudden chilly wind and get there already.
What she planned on doing once she got there, she didn't know. Her mind didn't seem to function anymore. All she could think of was that it was all over, that she had no more reason to believe she would ever fall in love and have her love returned, which was exactly what she was trying to forget.
In about 15 more minutes, Fiona reached the street. She was so cold, so wet and so demoralized, she just wanted to be able to crawl somewhere dark and warm and just lay there forever. Reaching the front door however, she took an immediate U-turn and walked the 15 meters separating the main building from the guest house. She didn't need to be alone, sobbing in some forgotten corner. She needed a man. And there was only one man she could go to.
She knocked on the door, pounding repeatedly and desperately after it had been a full minute and Zlatan wasn't answering. She began to lose hope and tried to recall if Zlatan should be training or not at that hour, and she was deep in thought when the door finally opened, Zlatan appearing in the doorway in sweatpants only. One man that would take her no questions asked.
“Oh, it's you.” Zlatan stared at the pitifully rained on woman staring back at him with sad eyes and smudged makeup but looking so sexy in her disheveled state.
He soon understood what she was seeking, so he wrapped his arms around her, immediately spreading warmth into her almost stiff limbs. Their lips clumsily found each other and Fiona felt Zlatan's arms picking her up and carrying her inside, so she finally let go of the ruined suede sandals, a remnant of the wasted first part of the day.
Zlatan put her down once inside, as he wanted to touch her, and soon she could feel his hands all over her body, roaming, feeling, arousing her when they touched her bare shoulders or when he caressed her butt over the fabric of the dress.
Their kissing turned hungry, deep, demanding, and Zlatan tried to get his hands under Fiona's dress, pulling at the wet fabric that clung to the skin, unwilling to leave the body it was tightly wrapped around. Zlatan muttered something under his breath, annoyed with Fiona's dress and the stuck zipper, which he kept working on.
Fiona scraped her nails across Zlatan's broad back holding onto for dear life, absorbing all the heat she could, her cold body starved for warmth, coming both from inside, spreading from her heart upwards and downwards, as well as from the outside, the warmth of friction.
Leaving the blasted zipper alone for a second, Zlatan's fingers attacked Fiona's hair, grabbing fistful of wet locks, wringing the water out of them, in a both erotic and therapeutic fashion.
Fiona smiled against Zlatan's mouth, their lips clashing, their teeth gnawing at each other, their tongues playfully licking at each other, so that she felt the hurt inside her retreating to a distant place in her heart; she felt relief, the sexual frenzy deliciously numbing all her other senses.
Zlatan had had enough and with a swift move he pulled the dress down, freeing Fiona and interrupting their kissing for the first time. She giggled, exposed and lustful. Zlatan cupped her boobs, playing with them, twirling the nipples with his thumbs and making Fiona moan. He then pulled her into another soaring kiss.
In panties only, Fiona felt Zlatan was overly dressed, so she reached into his pants, grabbing his hardening cock, not without an appreciative smile. Zlatan broke the kiss and pulling Fiona effortlessly in his arms, he carried his wet and deliciously wild looking burden onto the couch.
Dropping Fiona carefully, he climbed on top of her, once again capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Trailing long, wet kisses down her body, accepting Fiona's moans and hair pulls, he reached her panties and pulled them down, caressing her thighs in the process.
Discarding the underwear, Zlatan finally looked up to lock eyes with Fiona, and in her half closed eyes he saw the need to be ravished and that was more than enough for him. So he plunged between her thighs, biting their tender flesh gently, teasing Fiona, until the woman started bucking her hips at him in a clear indication of what she wanted. He buried his face in her pussy, licking at her moist folds, before finally beginning to suck on her clit, prompted by the hands lodged in his hair, giving Fiona what he thought she had come all the way from god knows where, and through the blazing rain no less, for.
Fiona couldn't help but thrust her hips as much as Zlatan tried to steady her on the couch. She felt the morning's misadventures and mishaps pour out of her, leaving her somewhat less frustrated and quite satisfied as she came.
Zlatan looked up at Fiona and proceeded to spread her legs open, as open as the couch backrest allowed. He then discarded his trousers, and not forgetting to take a condom from the pocket, he flashed his trademark grin at her.
“Quicker!” she prodded him with the foot in his chest, as he took his time in tearing the wrapper and applying the condom on.
He pushed her foot away playfully and aligned his cock to her entrance. Kissing her once again, he pushed inside and Fiona sucked hard on Zlatan's tongue as the man started thrusting.
Zlatan was slower than Fiona needed, Fiona was more demanding than Zlatan's ever had before, but soon they settled into a pace commanded by the rain still battering against the windows, Zlatan went deeper and deeper with every thrust, hitting the right spot and making Fiona go mad with pleasure, the climax coming over her swiftly and commandeering her whole body. A last powerful push got Zlatan coming as well, as he grunted in the midst of his orgasm.
A few minutes afterward, Fiona extracted herself from under Zlatan's body, sitting up on the couch.
“I broke up with your sister. I'm in love with Xavi, but he doesn't want me. I can't live in the same place with Jelena anymore. Could I stay here for a while?” she informed him, as if she was letting him know the weekly forecast.
“Uhm, yeah, I guess...as long as we get to fuck some more.”
Fiona grinned and patted him on the thigh, her hand running up and down his tensing muscles, obviously arousing him.
“I need you to fuck me senseless, it's the only medicine.”
“I can do that. Now go take a shower, I don't want my fuck buddy to get pneumonia.”
*
Fiona had learned to spend the days dressed in an old robe Zlatan had found for her and nothing else. She was still in hiding, her phone turned off. Zlatan had been kind enough to retrieve her car and helped her leave Jelena a note.
Sometimes Fiona felt bad for living a minute's distance from her friend and yet letting her believe she had left the country. Sometimes she even allowed the other, greater sorrow take over her. But most of the time, Zlatan was at home and that meant one thing only: fucking. That was all she needed, no heart to heart talking, no plans for the future, not even a makeover. She loved that nobody in the world knew where she was and that she could be left alone, with her medicine.
She was in the kitchen, doing the dishes when Zlatan came in to grab a glass of water. As she was bent over the sink, Zlatan decided he would take the opportunity. He stealthily approached Fiona, wrapping his arms around her before she could react.
“Oh Zlatan! You scared me.”
He didn't reply, just rubbed against her, his hands untying the robe's cord.
“Here?”
“Shh.”
He quieted her with kisses on her neck, then he quickly removed her robe, letting it slide down her slender body. He cupped her breasts and then his hands slipped down, caressing her, inserting a finger then another, as Fiona turned off the faucet and grabbed the sink's edges. Zlatan pulled his pants down and was quick with the condom this time. Kissing her neck again, he adjusted his position and entered her slowly, inch by inch.
Fiona shuddered and bucked against him, grinding her hips to deepen the penetration. Once inside, he stopped, his fingers strumming her clit.
“You're going to leave.” he almost hissed in her ear, suddenly starting to thrust.
Fiona let out a surprised cry and had to hold onto the sink for dear life. Soon, Zlatan's hands were next to hers, his arms trapping her body, as to prevent escape, while he slammed into her with great power. It was intense and raw, savage and merciless and Fiona knew it was a punishment fuck, but how could she stop and think about it, about what she had been doing to Zlatan when he was making her come again and again?
Panting, Zlatan pulled his pants up and left, Fiona understanding that her time was up. She had been in hiding for almost a week and she had to face the music. Even if that was just the sad screech of her scarred heart.
She put her robe on and resumed washing the dishes, having decided she would leave as soon as it was dark enough to go unnoticed.
devioussoul10 and
kitty69lover eventually written by
kitty69lover !
Rating: NC-17: containing mild slash smut, het smut, femslash smut and other crazy sexual things...
Category: it's a romantic drama, with a pinch of humour
Characters: there's a plethora of footballers, from Ligue 1 and La Liga. for plot security reasons, the characters will not be revealed right now, but when they make their appearance i.e. check under the cut.
Length: mid-length story, 20 chapters + Epilogue
Summary: Wag that has it all comes across the world of slash. fleeing from her broken home, she embarks on a quest to find true love, of course for a man that isn't gay, while losing her head and path several times.
Disclaimer: i do not own the footballers in this story, nor their families. this is completely made up and quite AU too.
Authors Notes: this is not my idea, i'm just writing it. for plot issues, address
devioussoul10. the writing is mine, so you can correct mistakes and all. The taglines are all taken from IMDb
18.
Location: Barcelona
Date: September 24, 2011
Tagline: “Look, I've had a lot of girlfriends, right? And sometimes I'm the rebound guy. Other times, when I get lucky, I'm the "explore new areas of your sexuality" guy.”
Characters: Fiona & Zlatan
Driving at a speed way over the limit, Fiona didn't even know where she was going. She was upset, annoyed, frustrated and felt she had lost the biggest opportunity in her life so far. His words had dynamited all her inner peace and her self confidence alike.
She couldn't go home, because she had no such thing. She had no place to call home anymore and Jelena wasn't even there. She had no right to barge on her now ex lover at work, even if they were friends. This was something she had to deal with on her own, somehow.
Yet, she had no other destination except Jelena's place at the outskirts of Barcelona. And even if she'd arrive just to stay in her car, in front of the house, it was better than to go in a bar somewhere and get wasted. It was better than taking the highway and leaving Barcelona, that had become the city of delusion. It was still something she could try, in order to calm down.
Fiona was usually a very good driver, a little rash in her taking over decisions and perhaps a little too passionate about high speed. But that was when she was in good inner form and she could focus properly on the road. And now, now when she was a wreck, she was hardly paying attention to her driving.
She crossed a couple of red lights, scaring some pedestrians that had to take the step back or rush to cross before the mad woman ran them over. But she didn't even notice. She didn't notice the area under construction, nor the piled up gravel in the middle of the road until it was too late to swerve and not lose control of the car, regardless of hitting the break pedal hard.
The vehicle crashed into a dumpster on the other side, and only wearing the seat belt saved Fiona from bumping her head. It had not been a too horrible accident, she was not harmed at all, although the metallic studs on the hem of her dress had left a mark in her flesh. The shock awoke Fiona and she could feel the pain building up. She got out of the car a little dizzy and walked away.
When it started raining, she had been walking for 25 minutes already, having taken off her sandals, pretty but otherwise impossible to walk in for more than 10 meters at a time. She welcomed the rain, even if it was September and it wasn't warm or light. She felt the desperation wash out of her as she was being drenched.
Although she thought she had been walking aimlessly, her feet were taking her to the only place she could've gone. Marseme. But walking to Maresme was not easy, and after 10 minutes in the cold September rain, Fiona began to regret ever leaving her car. She could call for a cab and just go somewhere, anywhere, but that was when she realised she had forgotten the purse in her car.
Cursing out loud and tempted to throw her sandals, since their weight was just a burden now, Fiona stopped to check the surroundings. She understood where she was going and she knew it couldn't be too far now. She should just brave the rain and the cold and the sudden chilly wind and get there already.
What she planned on doing once she got there, she didn't know. Her mind didn't seem to function anymore. All she could think of was that it was all over, that she had no more reason to believe she would ever fall in love and have her love returned, which was exactly what she was trying to forget.
In about 15 more minutes, Fiona reached the street. She was so cold, so wet and so demoralized, she just wanted to be able to crawl somewhere dark and warm and just lay there forever. Reaching the front door however, she took an immediate U-turn and walked the 15 meters separating the main building from the guest house. She didn't need to be alone, sobbing in some forgotten corner. She needed a man. And there was only one man she could go to.
She knocked on the door, pounding repeatedly and desperately after it had been a full minute and Zlatan wasn't answering. She began to lose hope and tried to recall if Zlatan should be training or not at that hour, and she was deep in thought when the door finally opened, Zlatan appearing in the doorway in sweatpants only. One man that would take her no questions asked.
“Oh, it's you.” Zlatan stared at the pitifully rained on woman staring back at him with sad eyes and smudged makeup but looking so sexy in her disheveled state.
He soon understood what she was seeking, so he wrapped his arms around her, immediately spreading warmth into her almost stiff limbs. Their lips clumsily found each other and Fiona felt Zlatan's arms picking her up and carrying her inside, so she finally let go of the ruined suede sandals, a remnant of the wasted first part of the day.
Zlatan put her down once inside, as he wanted to touch her, and soon she could feel his hands all over her body, roaming, feeling, arousing her when they touched her bare shoulders or when he caressed her butt over the fabric of the dress.
Their kissing turned hungry, deep, demanding, and Zlatan tried to get his hands under Fiona's dress, pulling at the wet fabric that clung to the skin, unwilling to leave the body it was tightly wrapped around. Zlatan muttered something under his breath, annoyed with Fiona's dress and the stuck zipper, which he kept working on.
Fiona scraped her nails across Zlatan's broad back holding onto for dear life, absorbing all the heat she could, her cold body starved for warmth, coming both from inside, spreading from her heart upwards and downwards, as well as from the outside, the warmth of friction.
Leaving the blasted zipper alone for a second, Zlatan's fingers attacked Fiona's hair, grabbing fistful of wet locks, wringing the water out of them, in a both erotic and therapeutic fashion.
Fiona smiled against Zlatan's mouth, their lips clashing, their teeth gnawing at each other, their tongues playfully licking at each other, so that she felt the hurt inside her retreating to a distant place in her heart; she felt relief, the sexual frenzy deliciously numbing all her other senses.
Zlatan had had enough and with a swift move he pulled the dress down, freeing Fiona and interrupting their kissing for the first time. She giggled, exposed and lustful. Zlatan cupped her boobs, playing with them, twirling the nipples with his thumbs and making Fiona moan. He then pulled her into another soaring kiss.
In panties only, Fiona felt Zlatan was overly dressed, so she reached into his pants, grabbing his hardening cock, not without an appreciative smile. Zlatan broke the kiss and pulling Fiona effortlessly in his arms, he carried his wet and deliciously wild looking burden onto the couch.
Dropping Fiona carefully, he climbed on top of her, once again capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Trailing long, wet kisses down her body, accepting Fiona's moans and hair pulls, he reached her panties and pulled them down, caressing her thighs in the process.
Discarding the underwear, Zlatan finally looked up to lock eyes with Fiona, and in her half closed eyes he saw the need to be ravished and that was more than enough for him. So he plunged between her thighs, biting their tender flesh gently, teasing Fiona, until the woman started bucking her hips at him in a clear indication of what she wanted. He buried his face in her pussy, licking at her moist folds, before finally beginning to suck on her clit, prompted by the hands lodged in his hair, giving Fiona what he thought she had come all the way from god knows where, and through the blazing rain no less, for.
Fiona couldn't help but thrust her hips as much as Zlatan tried to steady her on the couch. She felt the morning's misadventures and mishaps pour out of her, leaving her somewhat less frustrated and quite satisfied as she came.
Zlatan looked up at Fiona and proceeded to spread her legs open, as open as the couch backrest allowed. He then discarded his trousers, and not forgetting to take a condom from the pocket, he flashed his trademark grin at her.
“Quicker!” she prodded him with the foot in his chest, as he took his time in tearing the wrapper and applying the condom on.
He pushed her foot away playfully and aligned his cock to her entrance. Kissing her once again, he pushed inside and Fiona sucked hard on Zlatan's tongue as the man started thrusting.
Zlatan was slower than Fiona needed, Fiona was more demanding than Zlatan's ever had before, but soon they settled into a pace commanded by the rain still battering against the windows, Zlatan went deeper and deeper with every thrust, hitting the right spot and making Fiona go mad with pleasure, the climax coming over her swiftly and commandeering her whole body. A last powerful push got Zlatan coming as well, as he grunted in the midst of his orgasm.
A few minutes afterward, Fiona extracted herself from under Zlatan's body, sitting up on the couch.
“I broke up with your sister. I'm in love with Xavi, but he doesn't want me. I can't live in the same place with Jelena anymore. Could I stay here for a while?” she informed him, as if she was letting him know the weekly forecast.
“Uhm, yeah, I guess...as long as we get to fuck some more.”
Fiona grinned and patted him on the thigh, her hand running up and down his tensing muscles, obviously arousing him.
“I need you to fuck me senseless, it's the only medicine.”
“I can do that. Now go take a shower, I don't want my fuck buddy to get pneumonia.”
*
Fiona had learned to spend the days dressed in an old robe Zlatan had found for her and nothing else. She was still in hiding, her phone turned off. Zlatan had been kind enough to retrieve her car and helped her leave Jelena a note.
Sometimes Fiona felt bad for living a minute's distance from her friend and yet letting her believe she had left the country. Sometimes she even allowed the other, greater sorrow take over her. But most of the time, Zlatan was at home and that meant one thing only: fucking. That was all she needed, no heart to heart talking, no plans for the future, not even a makeover. She loved that nobody in the world knew where she was and that she could be left alone, with her medicine.
She was in the kitchen, doing the dishes when Zlatan came in to grab a glass of water. As she was bent over the sink, Zlatan decided he would take the opportunity. He stealthily approached Fiona, wrapping his arms around her before she could react.
“Oh Zlatan! You scared me.”
He didn't reply, just rubbed against her, his hands untying the robe's cord.
“Here?”
“Shh.”
He quieted her with kisses on her neck, then he quickly removed her robe, letting it slide down her slender body. He cupped her breasts and then his hands slipped down, caressing her, inserting a finger then another, as Fiona turned off the faucet and grabbed the sink's edges. Zlatan pulled his pants down and was quick with the condom this time. Kissing her neck again, he adjusted his position and entered her slowly, inch by inch.
Fiona shuddered and bucked against him, grinding her hips to deepen the penetration. Once inside, he stopped, his fingers strumming her clit.
“You're going to leave.” he almost hissed in her ear, suddenly starting to thrust.
Fiona let out a surprised cry and had to hold onto the sink for dear life. Soon, Zlatan's hands were next to hers, his arms trapping her body, as to prevent escape, while he slammed into her with great power. It was intense and raw, savage and merciless and Fiona knew it was a punishment fuck, but how could she stop and think about it, about what she had been doing to Zlatan when he was making her come again and again?
Panting, Zlatan pulled his pants up and left, Fiona understanding that her time was up. She had been in hiding for almost a week and she had to face the music. Even if that was just the sad screech of her scarred heart.
She put her robe on and resumed washing the dishes, having decided she would leave as soon as it was dark enough to go unnoticed.