(no subject)
Title: There Is A Fire In Me
Author: almitablanca
Recipient: lunasenzanotte
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. In fact, nothing in this fic belongs to me. It is not true. I made it all up. It’s lies. You getting the picture?
Fandom: Tennis RPF
Pairing: Juan Monaco/Gaston Gaudio
Prompt: Candles
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slight BDSM
A.N: For the Valentine’s Day Challenge at tennisslash.
~
Retirement is not going quite the way Gaston had initially assumed it would. Of course, he should have known better than to assume that Pico would let him fade into quiet obscurity. Pico’s so far from quiet that sometimes Gaston wonders how they’ve managed to make any sort of relationship work for as long as they have.
It’s times like this that he’s reminded though. “So, I was thinking that we should have dinner while I’m in Buenos Aires,” Pico says. The words seem unnaturally loud to Gaston, seeing as Pico blindfolded him with what he’s pretty sure is one of his old headbands almost as soon as they’d made it to the bedroom and stripped off completely.
“You’re in Buenos Aires right now, and we have dinner every night,” Gaston returns, pulling slightly on the material with which Pico’s tied his hands to the headboard. It’s soft and slippery. He probably used a tie of some sort, which will no doubt be ruined after this. Gaston can’t find it in himself to feel the least bit sorry though.
“With the others,” Pico adds, tracing a finger down his sternum, and Gaston bites his lip to stop the shiver building along his spine.
“Whatever,” he allows. Pico’s body is a comforting weight on his hips, preventing him from shifting too much.
“The others want to see you,” Pico continues. “They miss you.”
The words get stuck in his throat, and Gaston has to swallow once, twice, three times to work them free. “I miss them too.”
He doesn’t need to see Pico to know the other man is smiling that wide smile that means he’s particularly happy with how things have turned out. “Good, I’ll arrange it and text you the details, okay?”
Gaston nods his head in response.
“Now, where were we?” Pico continues. Gaston knows Pico’s mostly talking to himself so he doesn’t bother to reply. “Oh, right,” Pico continues, “here.”
The familiar clicking noise of a lighter sounds unnaturally loud in the bedroom, and Gaston can’t stop himself from pulling on his bonds a little. A second later, he catches the scent of melting wax and cinnamon. Pico probably bought the candle in America last summer. That seems like something he would do.
Pico laughs at little, but he doesn’t say anything more, so Gaston has to listen, really strain his ears, to know what’s coming next.
The slight creak of the bed springs is all the warning he gets. The wax burns as it pools on the soft skin of his belly, and he can’t help but hiss. Pico laughs again, but this laugh is soft and filled with promise.
More wax, higher on his chest this time-closer to his heart-and Gaston welcomes the burn, loses himself in the sensations of the wax slowly drying on his skin, in the momentary pain.
“You okay?” Pico questions, and it’s only then that Gaston realizes that he’s been whimpering.
“Fine,” he manages to say, although, really, that should be obvious to Pico by now. He’s pretty sure he’d be thrusting embarrassingly if Pico weren’t still sitting on his upper thighs.
“Good.” And then Pico shifts slightly, and his erection brushes against Gaston’s thigh, and it’s so good that he can’t contain his moan.
There’s a sharp click, probably the candle being set aside, and then he can feel Pico’s fingers tracing along the dried wax, peeling it back slowly and running his fingers over the tender skin.
They’re both quiet for a little while, Pico tracing the path of the wax and Gaston quivering underneath him, until Pico reaches down and jerks him off. His grip is just this side of painful, and it’s perfect.
Gaston comes embarrassingly quickly. After that, he just lets himself float through everything. He can feel Pico slowly untying his wrists from the headboard-the fabric seems even slicker and cooler against his overheated, sensitive skin. Pico shifts off of him, and Gaston makes a little noise of complaint, not willing to lose the contact so quickly, but Pico only settles down next to him and slowly slides the blindfold up off his eyes.
The first thing he sees is Pico’s wide, happy smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” the other man says.
Gaston reaches out and touches Pico’s cheek. The other Argentine presses a gentle kiss to his palm, and Gaston lets his hand drop. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” he responds. “And thank you.”
Pico shrugs and settles down next to him, letting his head rest over Gaston’s heart. “Any time. You know that.”
Gaston does know that.
And that’s probably why they’re still together after everything.
fin.
Notes:
1. I got this prompt last minute, and I really don’t know much about Monaco, so I hope I haven’t messed up his character too badly. I know a little bit more about Gaston, so I tried to focus on him a little more.
2. My prompt was ‘candles,’ and this probably isn’t what the recipient had in mind, but it’s the first thing of which I thought.
3. The title and LJ cut come from “This Fire” by Franz Ferdinand, which was suggested to me by the lovely calzamante. Thank you so much for your help. ♥
Author: almitablanca
Recipient: lunasenzanotte
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. In fact, nothing in this fic belongs to me. It is not true. I made it all up. It’s lies. You getting the picture?
Fandom: Tennis RPF
Pairing: Juan Monaco/Gaston Gaudio
Prompt: Candles
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slight BDSM
A.N: For the Valentine’s Day Challenge at tennisslash.
~
Retirement is not going quite the way Gaston had initially assumed it would. Of course, he should have known better than to assume that Pico would let him fade into quiet obscurity. Pico’s so far from quiet that sometimes Gaston wonders how they’ve managed to make any sort of relationship work for as long as they have.
It’s times like this that he’s reminded though. “So, I was thinking that we should have dinner while I’m in Buenos Aires,” Pico says. The words seem unnaturally loud to Gaston, seeing as Pico blindfolded him with what he’s pretty sure is one of his old headbands almost as soon as they’d made it to the bedroom and stripped off completely.
“You’re in Buenos Aires right now, and we have dinner every night,” Gaston returns, pulling slightly on the material with which Pico’s tied his hands to the headboard. It’s soft and slippery. He probably used a tie of some sort, which will no doubt be ruined after this. Gaston can’t find it in himself to feel the least bit sorry though.
“With the others,” Pico adds, tracing a finger down his sternum, and Gaston bites his lip to stop the shiver building along his spine.
“Whatever,” he allows. Pico’s body is a comforting weight on his hips, preventing him from shifting too much.
“The others want to see you,” Pico continues. “They miss you.”
The words get stuck in his throat, and Gaston has to swallow once, twice, three times to work them free. “I miss them too.”
He doesn’t need to see Pico to know the other man is smiling that wide smile that means he’s particularly happy with how things have turned out. “Good, I’ll arrange it and text you the details, okay?”
Gaston nods his head in response.
“Now, where were we?” Pico continues. Gaston knows Pico’s mostly talking to himself so he doesn’t bother to reply. “Oh, right,” Pico continues, “here.”
The familiar clicking noise of a lighter sounds unnaturally loud in the bedroom, and Gaston can’t stop himself from pulling on his bonds a little. A second later, he catches the scent of melting wax and cinnamon. Pico probably bought the candle in America last summer. That seems like something he would do.
Pico laughs at little, but he doesn’t say anything more, so Gaston has to listen, really strain his ears, to know what’s coming next.
The slight creak of the bed springs is all the warning he gets. The wax burns as it pools on the soft skin of his belly, and he can’t help but hiss. Pico laughs again, but this laugh is soft and filled with promise.
More wax, higher on his chest this time-closer to his heart-and Gaston welcomes the burn, loses himself in the sensations of the wax slowly drying on his skin, in the momentary pain.
“You okay?” Pico questions, and it’s only then that Gaston realizes that he’s been whimpering.
“Fine,” he manages to say, although, really, that should be obvious to Pico by now. He’s pretty sure he’d be thrusting embarrassingly if Pico weren’t still sitting on his upper thighs.
“Good.” And then Pico shifts slightly, and his erection brushes against Gaston’s thigh, and it’s so good that he can’t contain his moan.
There’s a sharp click, probably the candle being set aside, and then he can feel Pico’s fingers tracing along the dried wax, peeling it back slowly and running his fingers over the tender skin.
They’re both quiet for a little while, Pico tracing the path of the wax and Gaston quivering underneath him, until Pico reaches down and jerks him off. His grip is just this side of painful, and it’s perfect.
Gaston comes embarrassingly quickly. After that, he just lets himself float through everything. He can feel Pico slowly untying his wrists from the headboard-the fabric seems even slicker and cooler against his overheated, sensitive skin. Pico shifts off of him, and Gaston makes a little noise of complaint, not willing to lose the contact so quickly, but Pico only settles down next to him and slowly slides the blindfold up off his eyes.
The first thing he sees is Pico’s wide, happy smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” the other man says.
Gaston reaches out and touches Pico’s cheek. The other Argentine presses a gentle kiss to his palm, and Gaston lets his hand drop. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” he responds. “And thank you.”
Pico shrugs and settles down next to him, letting his head rest over Gaston’s heart. “Any time. You know that.”
Gaston does know that.
And that’s probably why they’re still together after everything.
fin.
Notes:
1. I got this prompt last minute, and I really don’t know much about Monaco, so I hope I haven’t messed up his character too badly. I know a little bit more about Gaston, so I tried to focus on him a little more.
2. My prompt was ‘candles,’ and this probably isn’t what the recipient had in mind, but it’s the first thing of which I thought.
3. The title and LJ cut come from “This Fire” by Franz Ferdinand, which was suggested to me by the lovely calzamante. Thank you so much for your help. ♥