Domina Cariño (12/?)
Domina Cariño (12/?)
Type: AU
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: soft R (overall)
Word count: 1,200
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: This is a story about trust and control, in both love and lust.
A/N: I changed my mind; this chapter turned out to be a long one and will be a separate chapter on its own, and the previous one will be the full chapter 11. :-D And oh, there's gonna be angst! I hope nothing's too dramatic though...
It takes a moment longer - a couple of seconds seemingly stretching to several more - for Sergio to acknowledge him. Fernando could pinpoint the precise moment, the flash of recognition in Sergio’s eyes quickly followed by other, less palatable emotions. He supposes that’s good, though; he had been steeling himself for a punch to the face but hadn’t quite yet decided whether to allow it or deflect it. Either case, he’s prepared for this confrontation, had prepared since that phone call with Olalla, had earlier already half-expected and half-feared that Sergio will open his eyes. But now he can’t bring himself to do any more than say Sergio’s name, a tentative greeting.
“Fernando, what -” Sergio stops himself and blinks. The moment passes and he abruptly withdraws his hand from the damning bruise, as if burned. “You -”
“You can punch me,” is the first thing that comes out of Fernando’s mouth. He had been steeling himself for a punch, and he thinks now he will allow it.
If only it were that easy. Sergio seems to have come to himself and ignores his offer. His eyes are now narrowed, his jaw set, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
“You… are Niño.” It’s not a question. His voice is clipped, emotion barely held back in the tone. “You are Niño.”
“Yes,” Fernando replies simply - there’s no going around it. “But my real name is Fernando,” he hastens to add. He’s really Fernando.
“That’s just great,” Sergio mutters and pushes up from the bed, scrambling to stand by the far edge. “You knew it was me all this time, didn’t you?”
Fernando notices Sergio’s hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, but he’s out of reach now for that punch. He doesn’t say anything back, and Sergio rightfully takes it to mean ‘yes’.
“When we met at the coffee shop, when I took you back to my place…” He trails off, voice wavering a little then. “…you never said anything.”
Fernando gets up from the bed slowly and tries not to wince at the twinge on his lower back. He knows he has to say something, diffuse the situation a little, but his heart thudding wildly in his chest gives him pause. He hadn’t said anything because he had never planned on going back; it wouldn’t have mattered, shouldn’t have mattered.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, trying to hold his gaze steady.
“Oh shit, you never even planned on telling me, did you?” Sergio throws his arms up jerkily. “What is this, some kind of game to you? You do this for fun?!”
Yes. No. It’s a game, was, but Sergio hadn’t agreed to play outside these four walls. It’s something Fernando has wondered about - been racking his brains about it, actually - because as a professional Dom he should’ve known better.
He watches Sergio pace the floor looking for his clothes. “Listen, Sergio,” he says after a moment. “I know I’ve lied to you and I’ve hurt you, and I’m really sorry. Please believe me when I say this.”
He tries to catch Sergio’s eyes but he’s decidedly not looking at him, roughly pulling on his pants and gritting his teeth.
Fernando feels a seed of panic in his gut. He has some things he wants to say. “I was curious about you, okay? That’s why I came up to you at the coffee shop -”
“Were you following me?” Sergio’s head snaps up suddenly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“It was an accident,” Fernando feels himself flush as he explains. “I recognized your name when the barista called. You just seemed… interesting.”
“After you practically kicked me out my first time here?” Sergio glares at him, moving now to button up his shirt.
“I regret that, alright? I wasn’t being a proper Dom, but you just - you caught me off-guard. You being gentle when I’ve been cruel.” Fernando keeps his head up stubbornly, refusing to give in to embarrassment. “And I admit that I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so when I heard your name I was curious to know what you were like.”
“And then you decided to play your little game on me,” Sergio huffs and bends down to slip on his shoes, not bothering with socks.
“I was… yes, I was playing with you at the start, I’m sorry.” No other way around it.
Sergio snorts. “So you’re telling me now that you’ve begun to like me, that it stopped being a game?” He grabs his jacket from the floor and whips around, taking two steps toward Fernando where he’s still seated on the edge of the bed. “Tell me then Fernando, Niño, or whoever the hell you are -”
The tone is dangerous enough that Fernando feels himself flinch, and the sneer on Sergio’s face seems to grow wider. “Tell me, those couple of times that you disappeared or said you were going to work, did you go here to play your sick sex games with some hapless guy and get paid for it? Do you follow them around in the city too so they would give it to your ass for free, like you’re some filthy cockslut?”
The words hang in the air painfully. Fernando holds his breath, willing down the shame that’s bubbling in his belly and threatening to spill out of his mouth as bile. Seconds pass and neither of them speaks; Sergio seems to have frozen on the spot, fully clothed now but not walking out.
Fernando speaks after a while, once he feels it’s a bit easier to breathe again.
“And you, Sergio, you didn’t know I’m Niño and yet you came here intending to be my filthy cockslut.”
Their gazes lock, and Fernando sees the flare of anger in those eyes again, when earlier it had sobered down. He notices Sergio’s grip on the jacket tighten before he abruptly turns for the door.
He’s up from the bed before it even registers with him. Sergio stops and looks down at Fernando’s hand encircling his wrist. This hasn’t yet registered as well.
“Don’t go.” Fernando whispers it, another thing to add to the list. But when it finally registers, he already means it.
Sergio’s frown deepens, but he keeps his head down. It’s a long moment - a couple of seconds seemingly stretching to several more - but then he grits out, “Freckle.”
Fernando’s grip falls from his wrist. Sergio just said his safeword, the one he had chosen for this session. Things are funny like that.
“Sergio -” He tries to say something, wishes instead to wrap his arms around Sergio and force him to the ground, tie him to the bed, lock him in the room.
“I’m sorry, I can’t… I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Sergio says it with a heavy sigh, and Fernando wishes very much to take this tiredness away, care for him here even if he has to shackle him down. But Sergio turns around then and opens the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.
Freckle. It’s only a silly word but it stops Fernando from moving. He finds the word more painful than the other ones Sergio had spoken before.
Type: AU
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: soft R (overall)
Word count: 1,200
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: This is a story about trust and control, in both love and lust.
A/N: I changed my mind; this chapter turned out to be a long one and will be a separate chapter on its own, and the previous one will be the full chapter 11. :-D And oh, there's gonna be angst! I hope nothing's too dramatic though...
It takes a moment longer - a couple of seconds seemingly stretching to several more - for Sergio to acknowledge him. Fernando could pinpoint the precise moment, the flash of recognition in Sergio’s eyes quickly followed by other, less palatable emotions. He supposes that’s good, though; he had been steeling himself for a punch to the face but hadn’t quite yet decided whether to allow it or deflect it. Either case, he’s prepared for this confrontation, had prepared since that phone call with Olalla, had earlier already half-expected and half-feared that Sergio will open his eyes. But now he can’t bring himself to do any more than say Sergio’s name, a tentative greeting.
“Fernando, what -” Sergio stops himself and blinks. The moment passes and he abruptly withdraws his hand from the damning bruise, as if burned. “You -”
“You can punch me,” is the first thing that comes out of Fernando’s mouth. He had been steeling himself for a punch, and he thinks now he will allow it.
If only it were that easy. Sergio seems to have come to himself and ignores his offer. His eyes are now narrowed, his jaw set, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
“You… are Niño.” It’s not a question. His voice is clipped, emotion barely held back in the tone. “You are Niño.”
“Yes,” Fernando replies simply - there’s no going around it. “But my real name is Fernando,” he hastens to add. He’s really Fernando.
“That’s just great,” Sergio mutters and pushes up from the bed, scrambling to stand by the far edge. “You knew it was me all this time, didn’t you?”
Fernando notices Sergio’s hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, but he’s out of reach now for that punch. He doesn’t say anything back, and Sergio rightfully takes it to mean ‘yes’.
“When we met at the coffee shop, when I took you back to my place…” He trails off, voice wavering a little then. “…you never said anything.”
Fernando gets up from the bed slowly and tries not to wince at the twinge on his lower back. He knows he has to say something, diffuse the situation a little, but his heart thudding wildly in his chest gives him pause. He hadn’t said anything because he had never planned on going back; it wouldn’t have mattered, shouldn’t have mattered.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, trying to hold his gaze steady.
“Oh shit, you never even planned on telling me, did you?” Sergio throws his arms up jerkily. “What is this, some kind of game to you? You do this for fun?!”
Yes. No. It’s a game, was, but Sergio hadn’t agreed to play outside these four walls. It’s something Fernando has wondered about - been racking his brains about it, actually - because as a professional Dom he should’ve known better.
He watches Sergio pace the floor looking for his clothes. “Listen, Sergio,” he says after a moment. “I know I’ve lied to you and I’ve hurt you, and I’m really sorry. Please believe me when I say this.”
He tries to catch Sergio’s eyes but he’s decidedly not looking at him, roughly pulling on his pants and gritting his teeth.
Fernando feels a seed of panic in his gut. He has some things he wants to say. “I was curious about you, okay? That’s why I came up to you at the coffee shop -”
“Were you following me?” Sergio’s head snaps up suddenly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“It was an accident,” Fernando feels himself flush as he explains. “I recognized your name when the barista called. You just seemed… interesting.”
“After you practically kicked me out my first time here?” Sergio glares at him, moving now to button up his shirt.
“I regret that, alright? I wasn’t being a proper Dom, but you just - you caught me off-guard. You being gentle when I’ve been cruel.” Fernando keeps his head up stubbornly, refusing to give in to embarrassment. “And I admit that I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so when I heard your name I was curious to know what you were like.”
“And then you decided to play your little game on me,” Sergio huffs and bends down to slip on his shoes, not bothering with socks.
“I was… yes, I was playing with you at the start, I’m sorry.” No other way around it.
Sergio snorts. “So you’re telling me now that you’ve begun to like me, that it stopped being a game?” He grabs his jacket from the floor and whips around, taking two steps toward Fernando where he’s still seated on the edge of the bed. “Tell me then Fernando, Niño, or whoever the hell you are -”
The tone is dangerous enough that Fernando feels himself flinch, and the sneer on Sergio’s face seems to grow wider. “Tell me, those couple of times that you disappeared or said you were going to work, did you go here to play your sick sex games with some hapless guy and get paid for it? Do you follow them around in the city too so they would give it to your ass for free, like you’re some filthy cockslut?”
The words hang in the air painfully. Fernando holds his breath, willing down the shame that’s bubbling in his belly and threatening to spill out of his mouth as bile. Seconds pass and neither of them speaks; Sergio seems to have frozen on the spot, fully clothed now but not walking out.
Fernando speaks after a while, once he feels it’s a bit easier to breathe again.
“And you, Sergio, you didn’t know I’m Niño and yet you came here intending to be my filthy cockslut.”
Their gazes lock, and Fernando sees the flare of anger in those eyes again, when earlier it had sobered down. He notices Sergio’s grip on the jacket tighten before he abruptly turns for the door.
He’s up from the bed before it even registers with him. Sergio stops and looks down at Fernando’s hand encircling his wrist. This hasn’t yet registered as well.
“Don’t go.” Fernando whispers it, another thing to add to the list. But when it finally registers, he already means it.
Sergio’s frown deepens, but he keeps his head down. It’s a long moment - a couple of seconds seemingly stretching to several more - but then he grits out, “Freckle.”
Fernando’s grip falls from his wrist. Sergio just said his safeword, the one he had chosen for this session. Things are funny like that.
“Sergio -” He tries to say something, wishes instead to wrap his arms around Sergio and force him to the ground, tie him to the bed, lock him in the room.
“I’m sorry, I can’t… I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Sergio says it with a heavy sigh, and Fernando wishes very much to take this tiredness away, care for him here even if he has to shackle him down. But Sergio turns around then and opens the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.
Freckle. It’s only a silly word but it stops Fernando from moving. He finds the word more painful than the other ones Sergio had spoken before.