Learning to Breathe
Title: Learning to Breathe
Author: Anonymous (see A/N)
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: All fiction
Summary: A first time
Warnings: None
A/N: This is a follow-up fic to a fic called “Meant to Live for Something More.” The author no longer maintains a journal due to real-life concerns, and would appreciate your help in maintaining her anonymity. The author would also like to thank tetila for her encouragement and help in posting this. :)
Fernando emerges from his first shower at home-that word, and all it encompasses still threatens to overwhelm him at times-after basic training to find Dan sitting at the foot of the bed, not even bothering trying to hide the fact that he’s waiting for him. Fernando flushes a little, not out of modesty, because Dan’s seen him in a lot less than a bath towel, but it’s been a long six weeks of grueling physical conditioning and weapons training, all hard work and strict commands and regimented routines, and even though he liked it, relished it, the soft edges in Dan’s expression make him realize how much he’s missed him.
He walks across the room, bumps his knees against Dan’s until Dan opens his legs so Fernando can ease between them. Dan looks up at him and Fernando smiles down, reaches out to clasp his hands around the back of Dan’s neck.
“They made you cut your hair,” Dan notes, slightly mournfully. Fernando laughs a little, brings one hand up to rub his now-short hair.
“It’ll grow out again,” he replies. Dan smiles, finally brings his hands up to Fernando’s hips. His palms are warm. The kiss he presses to Fernando’s stomach is even warmer. He looks up again, like he’s about to ask, but Fernando beats him to it, reaches for the knot in the towel around his waist and undoes it so it falls to the floor. At this, Dan grins up at him.
“Shut up.” Fernando preempts the inevitable jibe about being impatient and pushes Dan back, straddles his hips.
The first touch of Dan’s mouth on his is almost enough to make him moan. His fingers falter in their mission to undo the buttons of Dan’s shirt, and when Dan tries to draw back, Fernando surges down to follow him, sink his lips into Dan’s again. He gets the last buttons undone and Dan sits up to shrug out of the shirt, stops halfway to press his open mouth against the skin under Fernando’s ear, and this time Fernando does moan because it’s just so fucking good and he’s missed this so much.
“Pants too,” Fernando says, slightly breathless, when Dan finally gets his shirt off. Dan smiles, not quite a smirk, and traces a finger lightly down the inside of Fernando’s thigh.
“Impatient?” he asks. Fernando smacks his hand away, and Dan rubs his side in apology. Dan gets his trousers off, and Fernando turns them over, spreads his legs so Dan can settle between them. He tries not to arch at the friction, but then Dan rolls his hips in the most delicious way and Fernando gives in, pulls Dan down for another kiss as he cants his hips up.
“I need-“ he gasps a few minutes later, “I need-“ He forces himself to stop moving against Dan, reaches for Dan’s wrist.
“…Wait.” Dan resists as Fernando tries to take his fingers into his mouth, and Fernando feels a beat of uncertainty, wonders if he’s done something wrong. Still breathing heavily, Dan looks down at him for a long moment, and Fernando’s sense of unease grows.
“Dan…” Fernando reaches up, presses his fingers to Dan’s cheek. Dan turns a little into the touch, then encircles Fernando’s wrist, brings his fingers round to his own mouth. Fernando shivers a little at the heat of Dan’s breath on his skin.
“Dan, what-“
“I want…” Dan strokes his thumb lightly against Fernando’s wrist, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “I want to give you…”
He trails off, and Fernando starts to say he doesn’t understand, but then Dan is sucking his fingers into his mouth, and it’s only his fingers, but it still takes his breath away, the hot, wet slide of Dan’s tongue up and down his index and middle fingers, into the sensitive V between them.
“Dan, what-“ He starts to question again. Dan releases his fingers, then starts to guide them behind him, and suddenly Fernando understands.
“Dan,” he says, and his voice wavers. Dan leans down to rest his forehead against Fernando’s.
“I want to give you this,” he says, bringing Fernando’s fingers to rest against his entrance. Fernando’s mouth goes dry, and he doesn’t know how to say that the thought of doing this scares him, not because he doesn’t want it, but because he does want it, and he doesn’t know, does that make him more like the people who used to visit him, does wanting to be inside Dan, wanting to make him arch and come, what does that make him-
“Please,” Dan whispers against his lips, and Fernando realizes this is similarly complicated for him. Dan, his Dan, who exercised more self control than anyone, even Fernando, could have ever asked of him. Dan, who through no fault of his own but by virtue of their relationship, was always in the relative position of power. Dan, who would never ask for it openly, but sometimes, quietly, needs assurance, affirmation that he has done no wrong.
Fernando reaches with his free hand for Dan’s, presses their palms together, and slowly, carefully pushes a finger inside him.
“Ah-h-“ Dan stutters, moves against Fernando, but not in a way that suggests pain.
“Okay?” Fernando asks, even so. The tightness around his finger yields slowly but surely, and he slides deeper. Dan arches back, jaw slack, and Fernando feels a sharp curl in his gut at the knowledge that it’s him who’s making Dan react like that. He pushes deeper, knows from personal experience that there’s more to be had here and-
“Fuck-“ For a moment he thinks he’s pushed too hard too fast, that he’s hurt Dan because Dan curses and jerks against him. Then Dan is curling over him, lips parted, breath coming in uneven pants. Fernando can feel him hard against his stomach.
“More,” he gasps, “Just like that.” Fernando’s gut hitches again at the raw edge in Dan’s voice, and he moves his finger in an experimental out-and-in motion, looking for the same reaction. Dan makes a small noise at the back of his throat with each stroke, and then, suddenly his voice is breaking on the edge of a moan. Fernando stills his hand.
“Here?” he asks, curling the tip of his finger inside Dan.
“Nng-yes-“ Dan mouths sloppily at Fernando’s jaw, moans again when Fernando repeats his action. The fears Fernando had only a few minutes ago feel like a distant shadow at the edge of his mind, and the thought of how many times Dan has helped him through such moments sends another stab of sensation through Fernando, although it’s not between his legs and further up his chest instead.
“Can I…?” Fernando seeks entrance with his second finger, and Dan nods his assent. It’s harder to get at his prostate with two fingers, Fernando discovers, but after a few minutes, he also discovers, almost by accident, that a slight twist with those two fingers elicits other deliciously fragile noises out of Dan. He watches Dan’s face the whole time, catalogs each wince and every gasp, each flutter of eyelids and every time his lips fall open and it’s new and different, in the best way possible.
He doesn’t know, exactly, how to tell when Dan’s ready, although he thinks he might be able to guess by the way Dan starts to move against him with more urgency. Dan saves him the trouble altogether, leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against Fernando’s lips and murmurs that he’s ready. Fernando releases his fingers slowly, and Dan groans out something that sounds like, “tease.” He reaches back for Fernando, positioning him, and then Fernando’s gasping up at the ceiling, kept from arching only by the weight of Dan on top of him.
It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Dan is hot and tight, incredibly tight around him, and as he lowers himself all the way down he lets out a stretched sigh-moan that makes every muscle in Fernando’s body twist with want. Fernando still, barely, has the wherewithal to watch Dan’s face for any signs of discomfort, and that thought briefly gives way to a realization of just how much control Dan must have had to exercise during their earliest meetings. Then Dan clenches around him, and part of Fernando, a part that he’s not sure he ever even knew existed just wants to hold Dan there and buck up into him and push more sounds out of him. It thrills, exhilarates, and scares him all at the same time.
Fernando hesitantly reaches out and presses his hands to Dan’s hips, as if to test out what it feels like. Dan sighs at the contact. Fernando eases his hips up, feels himself slide further into Dan.
“Is this…is this okay?” he asks breathlessly. He pushes his hips up again, with just a little bit more purpose.
“Fuck, yes,” Dan chokes out. Fernando moves into him again, and again, tightens his grip on Dan’s hips, and Dan starts making these helpless, desperate noises and clenching around him and Fernando tries to hold on, tries to last, but his vision starts to white out at the edges and then he’s coming apart, muscles wringing pleasure from what feels like every fiber of his body.
He knows, even before he fully comes down from his high, that it’s a bad thing, that he should be embarrassed. He remembers being punished in the past for coming too soon, for coming at all. He looks up at Dan, still flushed and sweaty and aroused, and feels his face start to burn.
“Dan, I’m sor-“
Dan cuts his attempted apology off with a kiss. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed, but Fernando knows he has to be. He reaches, clumsily, for Dan.
“I can-I can-“
Dan stops him again, this time with a hand on his wrist. He eases off Fernando, gasping a little as he does, and for one horrible second Fernando thinks he’s just going to leave, but then Dan re-settles himself along Fernando’s side, presses his mouth against Fernando’s ear.
“Can I have your fingers again?” he asks, his voice ragged, and Fernando thinks if he hadn’t just come, he’d be hard all over again. Embarrassment fading, he trails a hand obligingly down Dan’s back and slips two fingers inside him. He’s slick and relaxed and they go in easily, and Dan moans gratefully. He lowers his own hand to his arousal, strokes himself a few times, and then Fernando feels wet spatters of heat across his hip and thigh, accompanied by a fractured, broken groan in his ear. He leaves his fingers inside Dan until he feels the other man relax against him, then carefully eases them free. Dan is breathing against the crook of his neck, arm draped across his chest.
“Okay?” Fernando asks quietly, and they both know he’s not asking about just physical condition. Dan needed this, he realizes, and maybe he did, too.
Dan presses his mouth against the side of Fernando’s neck.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, sounding sleepy and content, “You?”
Fernando smiles, closes his eyes. He needs another shower, but that can wait.
“Yeah.”
Author: Anonymous (see A/N)
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: All fiction
Summary: A first time
Warnings: None
A/N: This is a follow-up fic to a fic called “Meant to Live for Something More.” The author no longer maintains a journal due to real-life concerns, and would appreciate your help in maintaining her anonymity. The author would also like to thank tetila for her encouragement and help in posting this. :)
Fernando emerges from his first shower at home-that word, and all it encompasses still threatens to overwhelm him at times-after basic training to find Dan sitting at the foot of the bed, not even bothering trying to hide the fact that he’s waiting for him. Fernando flushes a little, not out of modesty, because Dan’s seen him in a lot less than a bath towel, but it’s been a long six weeks of grueling physical conditioning and weapons training, all hard work and strict commands and regimented routines, and even though he liked it, relished it, the soft edges in Dan’s expression make him realize how much he’s missed him.
He walks across the room, bumps his knees against Dan’s until Dan opens his legs so Fernando can ease between them. Dan looks up at him and Fernando smiles down, reaches out to clasp his hands around the back of Dan’s neck.
“They made you cut your hair,” Dan notes, slightly mournfully. Fernando laughs a little, brings one hand up to rub his now-short hair.
“It’ll grow out again,” he replies. Dan smiles, finally brings his hands up to Fernando’s hips. His palms are warm. The kiss he presses to Fernando’s stomach is even warmer. He looks up again, like he’s about to ask, but Fernando beats him to it, reaches for the knot in the towel around his waist and undoes it so it falls to the floor. At this, Dan grins up at him.
“Shut up.” Fernando preempts the inevitable jibe about being impatient and pushes Dan back, straddles his hips.
The first touch of Dan’s mouth on his is almost enough to make him moan. His fingers falter in their mission to undo the buttons of Dan’s shirt, and when Dan tries to draw back, Fernando surges down to follow him, sink his lips into Dan’s again. He gets the last buttons undone and Dan sits up to shrug out of the shirt, stops halfway to press his open mouth against the skin under Fernando’s ear, and this time Fernando does moan because it’s just so fucking good and he’s missed this so much.
“Pants too,” Fernando says, slightly breathless, when Dan finally gets his shirt off. Dan smiles, not quite a smirk, and traces a finger lightly down the inside of Fernando’s thigh.
“Impatient?” he asks. Fernando smacks his hand away, and Dan rubs his side in apology. Dan gets his trousers off, and Fernando turns them over, spreads his legs so Dan can settle between them. He tries not to arch at the friction, but then Dan rolls his hips in the most delicious way and Fernando gives in, pulls Dan down for another kiss as he cants his hips up.
“I need-“ he gasps a few minutes later, “I need-“ He forces himself to stop moving against Dan, reaches for Dan’s wrist.
“…Wait.” Dan resists as Fernando tries to take his fingers into his mouth, and Fernando feels a beat of uncertainty, wonders if he’s done something wrong. Still breathing heavily, Dan looks down at him for a long moment, and Fernando’s sense of unease grows.
“Dan…” Fernando reaches up, presses his fingers to Dan’s cheek. Dan turns a little into the touch, then encircles Fernando’s wrist, brings his fingers round to his own mouth. Fernando shivers a little at the heat of Dan’s breath on his skin.
“Dan, what-“
“I want…” Dan strokes his thumb lightly against Fernando’s wrist, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “I want to give you…”
He trails off, and Fernando starts to say he doesn’t understand, but then Dan is sucking his fingers into his mouth, and it’s only his fingers, but it still takes his breath away, the hot, wet slide of Dan’s tongue up and down his index and middle fingers, into the sensitive V between them.
“Dan, what-“ He starts to question again. Dan releases his fingers, then starts to guide them behind him, and suddenly Fernando understands.
“Dan,” he says, and his voice wavers. Dan leans down to rest his forehead against Fernando’s.
“I want to give you this,” he says, bringing Fernando’s fingers to rest against his entrance. Fernando’s mouth goes dry, and he doesn’t know how to say that the thought of doing this scares him, not because he doesn’t want it, but because he does want it, and he doesn’t know, does that make him more like the people who used to visit him, does wanting to be inside Dan, wanting to make him arch and come, what does that make him-
“Please,” Dan whispers against his lips, and Fernando realizes this is similarly complicated for him. Dan, his Dan, who exercised more self control than anyone, even Fernando, could have ever asked of him. Dan, who through no fault of his own but by virtue of their relationship, was always in the relative position of power. Dan, who would never ask for it openly, but sometimes, quietly, needs assurance, affirmation that he has done no wrong.
Fernando reaches with his free hand for Dan’s, presses their palms together, and slowly, carefully pushes a finger inside him.
“Ah-h-“ Dan stutters, moves against Fernando, but not in a way that suggests pain.
“Okay?” Fernando asks, even so. The tightness around his finger yields slowly but surely, and he slides deeper. Dan arches back, jaw slack, and Fernando feels a sharp curl in his gut at the knowledge that it’s him who’s making Dan react like that. He pushes deeper, knows from personal experience that there’s more to be had here and-
“Fuck-“ For a moment he thinks he’s pushed too hard too fast, that he’s hurt Dan because Dan curses and jerks against him. Then Dan is curling over him, lips parted, breath coming in uneven pants. Fernando can feel him hard against his stomach.
“More,” he gasps, “Just like that.” Fernando’s gut hitches again at the raw edge in Dan’s voice, and he moves his finger in an experimental out-and-in motion, looking for the same reaction. Dan makes a small noise at the back of his throat with each stroke, and then, suddenly his voice is breaking on the edge of a moan. Fernando stills his hand.
“Here?” he asks, curling the tip of his finger inside Dan.
“Nng-yes-“ Dan mouths sloppily at Fernando’s jaw, moans again when Fernando repeats his action. The fears Fernando had only a few minutes ago feel like a distant shadow at the edge of his mind, and the thought of how many times Dan has helped him through such moments sends another stab of sensation through Fernando, although it’s not between his legs and further up his chest instead.
“Can I…?” Fernando seeks entrance with his second finger, and Dan nods his assent. It’s harder to get at his prostate with two fingers, Fernando discovers, but after a few minutes, he also discovers, almost by accident, that a slight twist with those two fingers elicits other deliciously fragile noises out of Dan. He watches Dan’s face the whole time, catalogs each wince and every gasp, each flutter of eyelids and every time his lips fall open and it’s new and different, in the best way possible.
He doesn’t know, exactly, how to tell when Dan’s ready, although he thinks he might be able to guess by the way Dan starts to move against him with more urgency. Dan saves him the trouble altogether, leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against Fernando’s lips and murmurs that he’s ready. Fernando releases his fingers slowly, and Dan groans out something that sounds like, “tease.” He reaches back for Fernando, positioning him, and then Fernando’s gasping up at the ceiling, kept from arching only by the weight of Dan on top of him.
It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Dan is hot and tight, incredibly tight around him, and as he lowers himself all the way down he lets out a stretched sigh-moan that makes every muscle in Fernando’s body twist with want. Fernando still, barely, has the wherewithal to watch Dan’s face for any signs of discomfort, and that thought briefly gives way to a realization of just how much control Dan must have had to exercise during their earliest meetings. Then Dan clenches around him, and part of Fernando, a part that he’s not sure he ever even knew existed just wants to hold Dan there and buck up into him and push more sounds out of him. It thrills, exhilarates, and scares him all at the same time.
Fernando hesitantly reaches out and presses his hands to Dan’s hips, as if to test out what it feels like. Dan sighs at the contact. Fernando eases his hips up, feels himself slide further into Dan.
“Is this…is this okay?” he asks breathlessly. He pushes his hips up again, with just a little bit more purpose.
“Fuck, yes,” Dan chokes out. Fernando moves into him again, and again, tightens his grip on Dan’s hips, and Dan starts making these helpless, desperate noises and clenching around him and Fernando tries to hold on, tries to last, but his vision starts to white out at the edges and then he’s coming apart, muscles wringing pleasure from what feels like every fiber of his body.
He knows, even before he fully comes down from his high, that it’s a bad thing, that he should be embarrassed. He remembers being punished in the past for coming too soon, for coming at all. He looks up at Dan, still flushed and sweaty and aroused, and feels his face start to burn.
“Dan, I’m sor-“
Dan cuts his attempted apology off with a kiss. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed, but Fernando knows he has to be. He reaches, clumsily, for Dan.
“I can-I can-“
Dan stops him again, this time with a hand on his wrist. He eases off Fernando, gasping a little as he does, and for one horrible second Fernando thinks he’s just going to leave, but then Dan re-settles himself along Fernando’s side, presses his mouth against Fernando’s ear.
“Can I have your fingers again?” he asks, his voice ragged, and Fernando thinks if he hadn’t just come, he’d be hard all over again. Embarrassment fading, he trails a hand obligingly down Dan’s back and slips two fingers inside him. He’s slick and relaxed and they go in easily, and Dan moans gratefully. He lowers his own hand to his arousal, strokes himself a few times, and then Fernando feels wet spatters of heat across his hip and thigh, accompanied by a fractured, broken groan in his ear. He leaves his fingers inside Dan until he feels the other man relax against him, then carefully eases them free. Dan is breathing against the crook of his neck, arm draped across his chest.
“Okay?” Fernando asks quietly, and they both know he’s not asking about just physical condition. Dan needed this, he realizes, and maybe he did, too.
Dan presses his mouth against the side of Fernando’s neck.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, sounding sleepy and content, “You?”
Fernando smiles, closes his eyes. He needs another shower, but that can wait.
“Yeah.”