Fic - Games. Second round. - Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Title: Games. Second round. 
Author: tifosarossonera
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, don’t own them, bla bla, never happened…all just my dirty imagination.
Summary: Harry takes revenge.
Archive: Beautiful Games, if accepted
Note: Takes place immediately after “Games. First round.” Another big “Thanks you” to cerulean_eyes, who helped me a lot with all those great suggestions! <3333
Warning: Minor violence, a tiny bit of blood.
“Milan, what was this about? Why did you do that?” Harry followed Milan on his way to the kitchen, pulling up his boxers quickly. Still he didn’t understand what just had happened. Why hadn’t Milan fucked him? But why had he preferred thrusting into him with his fingers instead, rather than taking him the “normal way”? No matter how hard he tried, Harry just couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for himself. “Why?” he repeated.
But Milan only grinned at him, giving no answer. He always does, when he’s not willing to reply, Harry thought, annoyed. He was not only confused, but also really upset. However the Czech grabbed a tissue before he pulled the midfielder close to clean off the evidence of Harry’s earlier pleasure. He placed a hasty kiss on the Australian’s nose, before he went over to the phone.
“So, what do you want me to tell the pizza guy?”
“Don’t try and change the topic. Fucking talk to me! Just answer my question, alright?” Harry’s eyes gleamed with anger and frustration. The feelings of uneasiness, confusion and embarrassment had been replaced by offence and rage. Harry hardly ever felt like this, especially not with Milan.
The emotions he had shown towards Milan could rather be described as lust, desire, tenderness and confusion, sometimes even discomfort and embarrassment - whether he wanted or not.
Discomfort and embarrassment. Isn’t that something lovers shouldn’t feel whenever they are together? Maybe he felt like that because there were simply too many features of Milan that he didn’t understand. And there had to be even more he didn’t know about at all. Shouldn’t he know Milan’s feelings better than his anatomy and every inch of his muscular body?
Harry looked back at Milan, who yet made no signs of answering the question.
“So?” Harry asked again impatiently, still being furious and angry.
“So what? What’s your problem Haz, you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
The fact that Milan never answered his questions, but preferred avoiding them pissed Harry off madly. The fact that they never talked things through, the fact that Milan never seemed to think about things like these, the fact that he never worried about that strange kind of commitment between them made Harry even angrier. The Australian felt the strong urgency to let his backed up emotions burst out and tell Milan about everything that upset him. Usually Harry was more of a calm and patient person, unlike Milan. The Australian was always striving for harmony, even if this sometimes meant giving in. So it came almost natural that they never fought, they never had arguments, but maybe this was the right time for it.
“Why can you never answer my questions? I just want one simple answer! Do I ask for too much? I…ehm…you.” It was almost impossible to put his thoughts into words. “Where’s your problem, Milan? And…and why do you always reduce me to my cock? Don’t you think I have feelings, too? Do you…”
Harry didn’t have the chance to finish the last sentence, as he was suddenly interrupted by Milan.
“Shut the fuck up and calm down, ok? You behave like a 15 year old girl!”
This was it. This was too much. Harry’s move was so fast, that Milan had no change to react. With an enormous force and speed the Australian’s hand met the strikers face. Harry’s fist connected to the strong jaw with a loud bang.
Milan’s slim fingers reached for his jaw which would probably be covered by bruises the following day. He stared at Harry in disbelief, never had he been beaten before (if you don’t count the slaps he received as a little boy, when teasing his older sister until she had had enough or when he had ignored his parents’ instructions purposely).
Harry’s hand left a red mark on the tanned skin, but he didn’t care. There were no words to describe his feelings right now. He felt relieved, somehow punching Milan felt good in this moment, although Harry didn’t consider himself a violent person at all. He wanted Milan to take him serious. Maybe this had been the only possibility.
Harry’s breathing was deep and hard. Still they glared at each other with eyes wide open, neither making the first move. Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence.
“You can be such a fucking idiot, you know?”
“Harry, listen.”
But Harry didn’t want to. In this very moment he was so angry, so upset, so disappointed that he didn’t want to hear any of Milan’s excuses anymore, although he knew that he at least should give the Czech the possibility to explain his behaviour. But he felt rather like escaping. How ironic, he thought. Escaping in my own house.
All he wanted now was to get out of the kitchen, away from Milan. If he were Milan he probably would have stayed watching the other closely in his confusion, somehow enjoying it. But Harry wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like that at all. He didn’t want to see Milan, facing him, looking hurt and bemused.
Quickly he left the room. He could hear Milan calling him, asking him to wait. In the corridor between living room and bedroom he felt a strong grip around his wrist.
In the moment Harry turned around to face the striker, Milan shoved him against the wall, pressing his lips on Harry’s. The Australian could feel how Milan tried to force his way into his mouth, how Milan tried to insert his tongue. But Harry wouldn’t surrender, not this time. He wasn’t eager to give in.
Breaking the kiss, Harry placed both of his hands on Milan’s shoulders and pushed him back hard. The Czech’s head crashed against the opposite wall, with a loud crack. Milan whimpered almost silently, as his tongue reached out to lick his lips. Due to the red wetness Harry assumed that Milan had bit his own tongue or lip, when being shoved back.
Usually this sight would have provoked a certain need within Harry. The need to stroke Milan gently, to caress Milan’s lips with his tongue before he whispered sweet words into Milan’s ear and kiss the pain away.
Not so much this time. He couldn’t deny the fact that he did feel sorry for Milan though. But there was still so much anger inside him. He kept thinking about Milan’s behaviour that sometimes simply drove him insane. And in the end maybe he should have enjoyed this awkward situation a bit more, Milan probably would.
Harry used his whole body to keep Milan in place. Both were breathing hard as they gazed directly into each other’s eyes. Little pearls of sweat appeared on the striker’s forehead and upper lip and Harry wondered whether this happened on his own face, too. The air between them was thick and the silence almost eldritch. Their long and deep gasps were the only audible sounds.
Suddenly the Australian shoved even harder against Milan as he bent forward to kiss him again, bite him rather more. Greedily Harry sucked on the Czech’s lower lip, opening the little wound again, making more blood spill out. Next to the familiar taste of Milan there was now the metallic taste of blood in Harry’s mouth.
Their tongues were striking fiercely, as Harry let his hand slide down the other man’s waist, reaching for the cock. Running his slick fingers over the rough and thick denim fabric, he could feel Milan’s arousal throbbing against its prison. Harry cupped the hard-on through the clothing just before squeezing it, maybe a bit too hard.
Milan moaned into his mouth, bucking his hips forward, searching for more friction, for more contact, simply for more. The Australian continued the squeezing, as he kissed and nibbled his way over to the younger man’s ear.
“This time we’re playing by my rules. If you don’t want to, feel free to leave at anytime.”
To endorse his statement a bit more Harry tightened his grip on Milan’s cock once more, anticipating the Czech's decision. Milan groaned again, as Harry angled for the button and zip of the striker’s jeans.
He opened them only enough to free the hard-on, allowing it to spring up. With feather light touches he ran his slick fingers over it, feeling its shape, however hardly touching it.
Milan’s hips bucked forward again as he groaned against Harry’s shoulder, licking the naked flesh.
“Stop moving immediately.” Harry liked his new role, he enjoyed being in charge of things. Perhaps this was the first time ever that he was.
The Czech obeyed and even as Harry curled his fingers around the hard-on he kept still.
Slowly the Australian pumped Milan’s cock, almost teasingly slow. He rubbed his hand up and down, making Milan moan out loud with each stroke. Harry could see how Milan pressed his head against the wall, biting his lower lip.
His breathing became faster and heavier, as Harry added another squeeze to the slow strokes.
Placing wet kisses on Milan’s face and neck, caressing the sweet skin with his tongue, Harry moved over to the Czech’s ear again. While his hand still elicited complaisant noises from deep down Milan’s throat, Harry blew hot breath, before he whispered “Don’t you ever. Tease me. Like that. Again”
He couldn’t deny the fact that Milan writhing underneath him with closed eyes, gasping for air, moaning and chanting his name aroused him as well.
“Promise it!”
Probably this wasn’t the right moment to draw guarantees from Milan, but Harry had to get it off his chest. And maybe situations like these were the only possibilities to gain some kind of insight into his lover.
“I-I promise.” Milan only gasped as his tongue slipped out again to moisturize his lips once more, running over the scar in slow motion.
Harry ran his thumb carefully over the head of Milan’s cock, smearing pre-come over it. He could feel that the striker was close, a bit too close maybe.
Just in the moment Milan was to jerk off, Harry stopped moving. Milan’s eyes spread open immediately, his breathing still fast and almost intoxicated.
“Don’t tease me, Harry. Please.” The Czech almost begged.
Harry looked deep into those huge black eyes, sparkling in lust.
“I-I want you say you’re sorry.” Harry paused. “And-And I want you to mean it.”
It was a weird situation, and although Harry was in charge he felt insecure and vulnerable. What happened if Milan said he wasn’t? Or what would happen if he said so, but as a matter of fact he wasn’t?
Milan’s hands reached up for the Australian’s face and cupped it gently, running his slim fingers over it, tracing the soft features of Harry’s face.
“I am sorry, Harry. I really am.”
The midfielder pressed his lips onto Milan’s. He didn’t want him to say anything more. All he needed to hear had been said. He smiled against the Czech’s mouth. It was like a load being taken off his mind.
With a firm grip Harry started moving his hands over Milan’s cock again. After a few more strokes Milan came, loud and hard, right onto the Australian’s palm.
For a few seconds they stood there, leaning against each other, neither speaking. In this very moment everything was said with glances being exchanged. Milan’s body was still shaking from the orgasm that had just hit him.
Harry’s body was shaking, too. But rather more from the striker’s guarantees, than sexual release. Probably this kind of release was far more important anyway.
He bent forward to kiss Milan on the lips again, before he moved towards the bathroom to wash his hands. As he almost arrived, Milan’s call caught his attention.
“You know Haz. I don’t reduce you to your cock only. Your ass is pretty fine, too.”
Smirking, Harry moved on.
-END-
Author: tifosarossonera
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, don’t own them, bla bla, never happened…all just my dirty imagination.
Summary: Harry takes revenge.
Archive: Beautiful Games, if accepted
Note: Takes place immediately after “Games. First round.” Another big “Thanks you” to cerulean_eyes, who helped me a lot with all those great suggestions! <3333
Warning: Minor violence, a tiny bit of blood.
“Milan, what was this about? Why did you do that?” Harry followed Milan on his way to the kitchen, pulling up his boxers quickly. Still he didn’t understand what just had happened. Why hadn’t Milan fucked him? But why had he preferred thrusting into him with his fingers instead, rather than taking him the “normal way”? No matter how hard he tried, Harry just couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for himself. “Why?” he repeated.
But Milan only grinned at him, giving no answer. He always does, when he’s not willing to reply, Harry thought, annoyed. He was not only confused, but also really upset. However the Czech grabbed a tissue before he pulled the midfielder close to clean off the evidence of Harry’s earlier pleasure. He placed a hasty kiss on the Australian’s nose, before he went over to the phone.
“So, what do you want me to tell the pizza guy?”
“Don’t try and change the topic. Fucking talk to me! Just answer my question, alright?” Harry’s eyes gleamed with anger and frustration. The feelings of uneasiness, confusion and embarrassment had been replaced by offence and rage. Harry hardly ever felt like this, especially not with Milan.
The emotions he had shown towards Milan could rather be described as lust, desire, tenderness and confusion, sometimes even discomfort and embarrassment - whether he wanted or not.
Discomfort and embarrassment. Isn’t that something lovers shouldn’t feel whenever they are together? Maybe he felt like that because there were simply too many features of Milan that he didn’t understand. And there had to be even more he didn’t know about at all. Shouldn’t he know Milan’s feelings better than his anatomy and every inch of his muscular body?
Harry looked back at Milan, who yet made no signs of answering the question.
“So?” Harry asked again impatiently, still being furious and angry.
“So what? What’s your problem Haz, you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
The fact that Milan never answered his questions, but preferred avoiding them pissed Harry off madly. The fact that they never talked things through, the fact that Milan never seemed to think about things like these, the fact that he never worried about that strange kind of commitment between them made Harry even angrier. The Australian felt the strong urgency to let his backed up emotions burst out and tell Milan about everything that upset him. Usually Harry was more of a calm and patient person, unlike Milan. The Australian was always striving for harmony, even if this sometimes meant giving in. So it came almost natural that they never fought, they never had arguments, but maybe this was the right time for it.
“Why can you never answer my questions? I just want one simple answer! Do I ask for too much? I…ehm…you.” It was almost impossible to put his thoughts into words. “Where’s your problem, Milan? And…and why do you always reduce me to my cock? Don’t you think I have feelings, too? Do you…”
Harry didn’t have the chance to finish the last sentence, as he was suddenly interrupted by Milan.
“Shut the fuck up and calm down, ok? You behave like a 15 year old girl!”
This was it. This was too much. Harry’s move was so fast, that Milan had no change to react. With an enormous force and speed the Australian’s hand met the strikers face. Harry’s fist connected to the strong jaw with a loud bang.
Milan’s slim fingers reached for his jaw which would probably be covered by bruises the following day. He stared at Harry in disbelief, never had he been beaten before (if you don’t count the slaps he received as a little boy, when teasing his older sister until she had had enough or when he had ignored his parents’ instructions purposely).
Harry’s hand left a red mark on the tanned skin, but he didn’t care. There were no words to describe his feelings right now. He felt relieved, somehow punching Milan felt good in this moment, although Harry didn’t consider himself a violent person at all. He wanted Milan to take him serious. Maybe this had been the only possibility.
Harry’s breathing was deep and hard. Still they glared at each other with eyes wide open, neither making the first move. Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence.
“You can be such a fucking idiot, you know?”
“Harry, listen.”
But Harry didn’t want to. In this very moment he was so angry, so upset, so disappointed that he didn’t want to hear any of Milan’s excuses anymore, although he knew that he at least should give the Czech the possibility to explain his behaviour. But he felt rather like escaping. How ironic, he thought. Escaping in my own house.
All he wanted now was to get out of the kitchen, away from Milan. If he were Milan he probably would have stayed watching the other closely in his confusion, somehow enjoying it. But Harry wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like that at all. He didn’t want to see Milan, facing him, looking hurt and bemused.
Quickly he left the room. He could hear Milan calling him, asking him to wait. In the corridor between living room and bedroom he felt a strong grip around his wrist.
In the moment Harry turned around to face the striker, Milan shoved him against the wall, pressing his lips on Harry’s. The Australian could feel how Milan tried to force his way into his mouth, how Milan tried to insert his tongue. But Harry wouldn’t surrender, not this time. He wasn’t eager to give in.
Breaking the kiss, Harry placed both of his hands on Milan’s shoulders and pushed him back hard. The Czech’s head crashed against the opposite wall, with a loud crack. Milan whimpered almost silently, as his tongue reached out to lick his lips. Due to the red wetness Harry assumed that Milan had bit his own tongue or lip, when being shoved back.
Usually this sight would have provoked a certain need within Harry. The need to stroke Milan gently, to caress Milan’s lips with his tongue before he whispered sweet words into Milan’s ear and kiss the pain away.
Not so much this time. He couldn’t deny the fact that he did feel sorry for Milan though. But there was still so much anger inside him. He kept thinking about Milan’s behaviour that sometimes simply drove him insane. And in the end maybe he should have enjoyed this awkward situation a bit more, Milan probably would.
Harry used his whole body to keep Milan in place. Both were breathing hard as they gazed directly into each other’s eyes. Little pearls of sweat appeared on the striker’s forehead and upper lip and Harry wondered whether this happened on his own face, too. The air between them was thick and the silence almost eldritch. Their long and deep gasps were the only audible sounds.
Suddenly the Australian shoved even harder against Milan as he bent forward to kiss him again, bite him rather more. Greedily Harry sucked on the Czech’s lower lip, opening the little wound again, making more blood spill out. Next to the familiar taste of Milan there was now the metallic taste of blood in Harry’s mouth.
Their tongues were striking fiercely, as Harry let his hand slide down the other man’s waist, reaching for the cock. Running his slick fingers over the rough and thick denim fabric, he could feel Milan’s arousal throbbing against its prison. Harry cupped the hard-on through the clothing just before squeezing it, maybe a bit too hard.
Milan moaned into his mouth, bucking his hips forward, searching for more friction, for more contact, simply for more. The Australian continued the squeezing, as he kissed and nibbled his way over to the younger man’s ear.
“This time we’re playing by my rules. If you don’t want to, feel free to leave at anytime.”
To endorse his statement a bit more Harry tightened his grip on Milan’s cock once more, anticipating the Czech's decision. Milan groaned again, as Harry angled for the button and zip of the striker’s jeans.
He opened them only enough to free the hard-on, allowing it to spring up. With feather light touches he ran his slick fingers over it, feeling its shape, however hardly touching it.
Milan’s hips bucked forward again as he groaned against Harry’s shoulder, licking the naked flesh.
“Stop moving immediately.” Harry liked his new role, he enjoyed being in charge of things. Perhaps this was the first time ever that he was.
The Czech obeyed and even as Harry curled his fingers around the hard-on he kept still.
Slowly the Australian pumped Milan’s cock, almost teasingly slow. He rubbed his hand up and down, making Milan moan out loud with each stroke. Harry could see how Milan pressed his head against the wall, biting his lower lip.
His breathing became faster and heavier, as Harry added another squeeze to the slow strokes.
Placing wet kisses on Milan’s face and neck, caressing the sweet skin with his tongue, Harry moved over to the Czech’s ear again. While his hand still elicited complaisant noises from deep down Milan’s throat, Harry blew hot breath, before he whispered “Don’t you ever. Tease me. Like that. Again”
He couldn’t deny the fact that Milan writhing underneath him with closed eyes, gasping for air, moaning and chanting his name aroused him as well.
“Promise it!”
Probably this wasn’t the right moment to draw guarantees from Milan, but Harry had to get it off his chest. And maybe situations like these were the only possibilities to gain some kind of insight into his lover.
“I-I promise.” Milan only gasped as his tongue slipped out again to moisturize his lips once more, running over the scar in slow motion.
Harry ran his thumb carefully over the head of Milan’s cock, smearing pre-come over it. He could feel that the striker was close, a bit too close maybe.
Just in the moment Milan was to jerk off, Harry stopped moving. Milan’s eyes spread open immediately, his breathing still fast and almost intoxicated.
“Don’t tease me, Harry. Please.” The Czech almost begged.
Harry looked deep into those huge black eyes, sparkling in lust.
“I-I want you say you’re sorry.” Harry paused. “And-And I want you to mean it.”
It was a weird situation, and although Harry was in charge he felt insecure and vulnerable. What happened if Milan said he wasn’t? Or what would happen if he said so, but as a matter of fact he wasn’t?
Milan’s hands reached up for the Australian’s face and cupped it gently, running his slim fingers over it, tracing the soft features of Harry’s face.
“I am sorry, Harry. I really am.”
The midfielder pressed his lips onto Milan’s. He didn’t want him to say anything more. All he needed to hear had been said. He smiled against the Czech’s mouth. It was like a load being taken off his mind.
With a firm grip Harry started moving his hands over Milan’s cock again. After a few more strokes Milan came, loud and hard, right onto the Australian’s palm.
For a few seconds they stood there, leaning against each other, neither speaking. In this very moment everything was said with glances being exchanged. Milan’s body was still shaking from the orgasm that had just hit him.
Harry’s body was shaking, too. But rather more from the striker’s guarantees, than sexual release. Probably this kind of release was far more important anyway.
He bent forward to kiss Milan on the lips again, before he moved towards the bathroom to wash his hands. As he almost arrived, Milan’s call caught his attention.
“You know Haz. I don’t reduce you to your cock only. Your ass is pretty fine, too.”
Smirking, Harry moved on.
-END-