Fic: You just get lost (There's nothing else I can say)
Title: You just get lost (There's nothing else I can say)
Author: el_defe
Beta: lisachanoando ♥♥♥
Fandom: RPF Football
Characters: Paolo Cannavaro/Ezequiel Lavezzi, Christian Maggio
Rating: 18+
Warning: slash, English language
Word Count: 1,695 (FDP)
Note: Before/after Lecce-Napoli (May 2011). All for cheryl_bites who asked for it at the help_japan auction. And horribly late even for my standards. /O\
Subtitle from Lady Gaga's Eh Eh (There's nothing else I can say).
Disclaimer: I do not own them - I DON'T WANT TO OWN THEM XD - and I don't earn anything, except personal and others' amusement.
You just get lost (There's nothing else I can say)
«Oh, shit,» someone cursed behind Paolo, even if scorching air was so hot to distort voices in a stifled pant, «I’d rather die than play tomorrow.»
«I didn’t know I was playing in a girls team, Christian.»
Christian stretched a little his jaw, ready to retort, but heat made him desist. «Fuck you, Paolo» he whispered, squinting behind his sunglasses. «If AC is broken again, I’ll kill the owner with my own hands.»
Ezequiel pouted. «They’ll arrest you.»
«There’s AC in jail, Pocho» he replied, dreamy as a desert traveller in the middle of nowhere in front of his oasis mirage and almost as thirsty as him.
«Yeah, but the coach will kill you before.» Ezequiel got quiet, as Mazzarri, a club officer and a man in blue and white uniform were approaching them. «Speaking of the devil» he muttered so softly that no one but Edi and Christian could hear him.
«Good news. AC works» the officer said, and many of them shouted for joy before he could finish the sentence, «in twin rooms. And someone will have to share a triple if you don’t want to roast yourself in the other rooms.»
«Killing someone is still an option» Christian muttered. Reluctantly, Paolo agreed: he shared a look with Ezequiel, near the entrance, and they both grinned.
Paolo knew that insomnia was among the worst things he could suffer before a match, especially one so important for their season, but he simply couldn’t sleep: he tossed and turned under the sheets, naked except for his underwear, before kicking them far from himself and lying on the back, longing for a mild breeze. He envied Ezequiel, as he was already deeply snoring, and tried to relax and have some rest.
After a while, although, Paolo heard a familiar noise. He slightly opened his eyes and almost jumped in shock as he found that Ezequiel had faked sleeping until then: he couldn’t see well with his eyes almost closed in the half-light of the room, but he saw enough.
Ezequiel was stroking himself, and that wasn’t strange at all: maybe even Paolo would have done that, if he had a single room for the night, but he wasn’t at ease with that if he wasn’t alone in the room. Probably Ezequiel was more easy-going than him. But he was stroking himself and looking at him, in a way Paolo wasn’t sure to like or not. Paolo closed his eyes and pricked up his ears instead; he could distinctly hear Ezequiel’s panting, and he recognized it as a clear sign of what was going on, thus confirming his suspects.
Suddenly, he felt more intrigued than stunned. For no reason at all, Paolo slightly moved his leg, even if he was aware that Ezequiel would have had a clearer view of him - or, at least, of what he was interested to; he heard the rhytmic rustles of the sheet, as familiar as the ones he strove when he was younger, or aroused, or just bored, and once or twice he heard Ezequiel holding his breath.
The most unexpected part of the madness, for Paolo, was his own arousal: unexpected and unexplainable, as he could only think it was insane to be the subject of Ezequiel’s fantasies - a teammate, a friend, someone whom he shared showers and rooms and everything else with. Still, his erection was unequivocal, tense against the cotton sheet of his underwear, and he could bet anything that it was arousing Ezequiel even more: after a while, as he wanted to confirm Paolo’s thoughts, Ezequiel held his breath again, letting it go all of a sudden in a satisfied sigh. Paolo heard his soft footsteps across the room, and then he felt his breath on the bare skin of his arm: he feared Ezequiel would have touched him, even just out of idle, but then he felt the unexistent weight of the sheet again on his body.
While Ezequiel was in the bathroom, he felt both relieved and frustrated; he turned on his side, his erection pressed against the mattress, and he fell asleep before his mate returned.
They lost.
They lost against one of the nearest to relegation teams, thus probably allowing them another year in Serie A. They lost badly, as they played one of the most pathetic matches of the year, if not the worst of all. Paolo didn’t feel as he played so bad, but he had to admit he didn’t do that well either. Mazzarri scolded them as he would have done with a terrible prank of his sons, but he seemed crushed as well, maybe fearing for his own fate at their return.
«I feel so fucked up» Ezequiel muttered, laying sprawled behind him, in the last row of seats. «I can’t believe-»
«Fuck, I know, Pocho, could you shut up for a while?» Paolo roared in anger, but last night memories filled up his mind without notice, and he added, more gently, «Please. I feel bad too. I’d like to forget everything.»
«Sorry. Yeah, I feel like you. And I’m tired, and I can’t even think properly.»
«Less jerking off at night and you’ll be fine.»
Again, Paolo had to got suddenly quiet, worried by both his feelings and Ezequiel’s presence; he said those words as a joke, but Ezequiel turned crimson and started looking outside the windows, and he felt guilty.
«May we talk?»
Paolo opened the door lock of his car and looked around for a moment, realizing that half the team had already gone away from the park; he was expecting that Ezequiel would have approached him after that afternoon, but he didn’t think that their confrontation would have come so early.
«Sure» he said, surprised when Ezequiel got into his car, on the passenger seat, but both grateful and fearful for the sudden intimacy of the conversation. «Tell me.»
«You know, don’t you?» Ezequiel asked, waiting for his firm nodding. «I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t get offended.»
«I didn’t. I’m just… uncomfortable. It doesn’t happen often, you know.»
«Yeah, right.» He blushed a little. «You also got aroused, after a while.»
«And I know that, too. But…» Paolo tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. «Don’t ask me why. I mean… that is… Cristina shouldn’t… I’m not gay. I think. I just felt…» He was aware he was blushing as well and couldn’t finish the sentence.
«“Not bad”?» Ezequiel suggested, and Paolo couldn’t help but laugh.
«I guess it’s a good definition» he replied.
«Well, you’re not gay just for that.» Ezequiel seemed interested by the almost empty parking lot for a while. «I mean, I’d like to kiss you, now, and I’m not gay.»
«How could you kiss a man and denying you’re gay?»
«Because I always kissed women and I liked it. You got aroused just by knowing of my handjob, but you’re not gay. I just don’t care about being this or that. Gay, bisexual, curious, mad, who cares? No one would look in my bed to see who’s sleeping with me - and they won’t find anyone in any case. I never let almost anyone do it.»
Paolo thought about his words for a while. «Sounds foolish and senseless. But acceptable.»
«Thank you.» He breathes out. «I want to kiss you.»
«Do it.»
Ezequiel approached him and Paolo had to close his eyes. They kissed, deeply, aggressively, sucking each other’s breath as it was the only way to survive. Paolo felt the courage to look into his eyes after a while, when Ezequiel’s hands grasped at his arms, and he found desire and doubt in his look.
«Let’s go somewhere» Paolo whispered, shocked by his own words rather than what he did. Ezequiel gave him his address.
«I don’t know what to do» Paolo muttered, jumping on Ezequiel thirty seconds after closing behind his apartment’s door and undressing him as in the most pressing of emergencies. He trembled, as Ezequiel licked his naked neck, and felt even more aroused by that.
«I don’t care.» Ezequiel unbuttoned his jeans and stroked him once or twice over his underwear at a very slow pace, holding him tightly after that. Paolo smiled, recalling what happened less than a day before and just fantasizing about how much pleasure he would have felt just by touching his cock, if he were Ezequiel. Paolo lost his grasp on him, as he fell on his knees and lowered his jeans and underwear. «I want it» he said, and he didn’t wait for a reply: Paolo moaned loudly at the first contact of those lips on his cock, and moved his own hand on Ezequiel’s neck, without pushing him.
«Don’t you want…» he babbled, but he had to moan again as Ezequiel went further, giving into his most unexpected desires. Paolo pushed him on the bed when he felt he was near to come. «Your turn, now» he said, his eyes veiled by the slowly fading pleasure as he finished to undress him: Paolo kissed his cock and it got rock hard against his smiling lips almost instantly. «Tell me if it’s good.»
«Wait.» Ezequiel waited for him climbing up the mattress and looked him in the eyes. «Fuck me.»
«You’re not gay.»
«I’m not.»
«I’m not gay.»
«You aren’t.»
«This is pure madness.» Paolo kissed him roughly, aware of his own taste, but stopped thinking about consequences. «I don’t even have condoms, or lu-»
«I don’t care» Ezequiel said again, making some room for him. «We can do without them. Tongue.»
«Tongue?» Paolo replied, confused. Then he felt the tip of Ezequiel’s finger brushing against his buttock, and he understood. Paolo approached to his cheeks and enjoyed his moans.
At 4 AM, Ezequiel wasn’t sleeping yet. He couldn’t avoid to think that he shared his bed with someone since he left Deborah, and he always believed that he would have asked that to Yanina first. He just had the time to think that he hadn’t any right to mess up with Paolo’s marriage as he did with his own and that he will never approach him again as he just did, when Paolo leaned his arm towards him, strong enough to make Ezequiel’s body stick to his.
As Ezequiel realized that he wasn’t dreaming about his wife or Miss Italia and that he was awake and aware of what he was doing by rubbing against him, he forgot everything but him at once.
Author: el_defe
Beta: lisachanoando ♥♥♥
Fandom: RPF Football
Characters: Paolo Cannavaro/Ezequiel Lavezzi, Christian Maggio
Rating: 18+
Warning: slash, English language
Word Count: 1,695 (FDP)
Note: Before/after Lecce-Napoli (May 2011). All for cheryl_bites who asked for it at the help_japan auction. And horribly late even for my standards. /O\
Subtitle from Lady Gaga's Eh Eh (There's nothing else I can say).
Disclaimer: I do not own them - I DON'T WANT TO OWN THEM XD - and I don't earn anything, except personal and others' amusement.
You just get lost (There's nothing else I can say)
«Oh, shit,» someone cursed behind Paolo, even if scorching air was so hot to distort voices in a stifled pant, «I’d rather die than play tomorrow.»
«I didn’t know I was playing in a girls team, Christian.»
Christian stretched a little his jaw, ready to retort, but heat made him desist. «Fuck you, Paolo» he whispered, squinting behind his sunglasses. «If AC is broken again, I’ll kill the owner with my own hands.»
Ezequiel pouted. «They’ll arrest you.»
«There’s AC in jail, Pocho» he replied, dreamy as a desert traveller in the middle of nowhere in front of his oasis mirage and almost as thirsty as him.
«Yeah, but the coach will kill you before.» Ezequiel got quiet, as Mazzarri, a club officer and a man in blue and white uniform were approaching them. «Speaking of the devil» he muttered so softly that no one but Edi and Christian could hear him.
«Good news. AC works» the officer said, and many of them shouted for joy before he could finish the sentence, «in twin rooms. And someone will have to share a triple if you don’t want to roast yourself in the other rooms.»
«Killing someone is still an option» Christian muttered. Reluctantly, Paolo agreed: he shared a look with Ezequiel, near the entrance, and they both grinned.
Paolo knew that insomnia was among the worst things he could suffer before a match, especially one so important for their season, but he simply couldn’t sleep: he tossed and turned under the sheets, naked except for his underwear, before kicking them far from himself and lying on the back, longing for a mild breeze. He envied Ezequiel, as he was already deeply snoring, and tried to relax and have some rest.
After a while, although, Paolo heard a familiar noise. He slightly opened his eyes and almost jumped in shock as he found that Ezequiel had faked sleeping until then: he couldn’t see well with his eyes almost closed in the half-light of the room, but he saw enough.
Ezequiel was stroking himself, and that wasn’t strange at all: maybe even Paolo would have done that, if he had a single room for the night, but he wasn’t at ease with that if he wasn’t alone in the room. Probably Ezequiel was more easy-going than him. But he was stroking himself and looking at him, in a way Paolo wasn’t sure to like or not. Paolo closed his eyes and pricked up his ears instead; he could distinctly hear Ezequiel’s panting, and he recognized it as a clear sign of what was going on, thus confirming his suspects.
Suddenly, he felt more intrigued than stunned. For no reason at all, Paolo slightly moved his leg, even if he was aware that Ezequiel would have had a clearer view of him - or, at least, of what he was interested to; he heard the rhytmic rustles of the sheet, as familiar as the ones he strove when he was younger, or aroused, or just bored, and once or twice he heard Ezequiel holding his breath.
The most unexpected part of the madness, for Paolo, was his own arousal: unexpected and unexplainable, as he could only think it was insane to be the subject of Ezequiel’s fantasies - a teammate, a friend, someone whom he shared showers and rooms and everything else with. Still, his erection was unequivocal, tense against the cotton sheet of his underwear, and he could bet anything that it was arousing Ezequiel even more: after a while, as he wanted to confirm Paolo’s thoughts, Ezequiel held his breath again, letting it go all of a sudden in a satisfied sigh. Paolo heard his soft footsteps across the room, and then he felt his breath on the bare skin of his arm: he feared Ezequiel would have touched him, even just out of idle, but then he felt the unexistent weight of the sheet again on his body.
While Ezequiel was in the bathroom, he felt both relieved and frustrated; he turned on his side, his erection pressed against the mattress, and he fell asleep before his mate returned.
They lost.
They lost against one of the nearest to relegation teams, thus probably allowing them another year in Serie A. They lost badly, as they played one of the most pathetic matches of the year, if not the worst of all. Paolo didn’t feel as he played so bad, but he had to admit he didn’t do that well either. Mazzarri scolded them as he would have done with a terrible prank of his sons, but he seemed crushed as well, maybe fearing for his own fate at their return.
«I feel so fucked up» Ezequiel muttered, laying sprawled behind him, in the last row of seats. «I can’t believe-»
«Fuck, I know, Pocho, could you shut up for a while?» Paolo roared in anger, but last night memories filled up his mind without notice, and he added, more gently, «Please. I feel bad too. I’d like to forget everything.»
«Sorry. Yeah, I feel like you. And I’m tired, and I can’t even think properly.»
«Less jerking off at night and you’ll be fine.»
Again, Paolo had to got suddenly quiet, worried by both his feelings and Ezequiel’s presence; he said those words as a joke, but Ezequiel turned crimson and started looking outside the windows, and he felt guilty.
«May we talk?»
Paolo opened the door lock of his car and looked around for a moment, realizing that half the team had already gone away from the park; he was expecting that Ezequiel would have approached him after that afternoon, but he didn’t think that their confrontation would have come so early.
«Sure» he said, surprised when Ezequiel got into his car, on the passenger seat, but both grateful and fearful for the sudden intimacy of the conversation. «Tell me.»
«You know, don’t you?» Ezequiel asked, waiting for his firm nodding. «I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t get offended.»
«I didn’t. I’m just… uncomfortable. It doesn’t happen often, you know.»
«Yeah, right.» He blushed a little. «You also got aroused, after a while.»
«And I know that, too. But…» Paolo tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. «Don’t ask me why. I mean… that is… Cristina shouldn’t… I’m not gay. I think. I just felt…» He was aware he was blushing as well and couldn’t finish the sentence.
«“Not bad”?» Ezequiel suggested, and Paolo couldn’t help but laugh.
«I guess it’s a good definition» he replied.
«Well, you’re not gay just for that.» Ezequiel seemed interested by the almost empty parking lot for a while. «I mean, I’d like to kiss you, now, and I’m not gay.»
«How could you kiss a man and denying you’re gay?»
«Because I always kissed women and I liked it. You got aroused just by knowing of my handjob, but you’re not gay. I just don’t care about being this or that. Gay, bisexual, curious, mad, who cares? No one would look in my bed to see who’s sleeping with me - and they won’t find anyone in any case. I never let almost anyone do it.»
Paolo thought about his words for a while. «Sounds foolish and senseless. But acceptable.»
«Thank you.» He breathes out. «I want to kiss you.»
«Do it.»
Ezequiel approached him and Paolo had to close his eyes. They kissed, deeply, aggressively, sucking each other’s breath as it was the only way to survive. Paolo felt the courage to look into his eyes after a while, when Ezequiel’s hands grasped at his arms, and he found desire and doubt in his look.
«Let’s go somewhere» Paolo whispered, shocked by his own words rather than what he did. Ezequiel gave him his address.
«I don’t know what to do» Paolo muttered, jumping on Ezequiel thirty seconds after closing behind his apartment’s door and undressing him as in the most pressing of emergencies. He trembled, as Ezequiel licked his naked neck, and felt even more aroused by that.
«I don’t care.» Ezequiel unbuttoned his jeans and stroked him once or twice over his underwear at a very slow pace, holding him tightly after that. Paolo smiled, recalling what happened less than a day before and just fantasizing about how much pleasure he would have felt just by touching his cock, if he were Ezequiel. Paolo lost his grasp on him, as he fell on his knees and lowered his jeans and underwear. «I want it» he said, and he didn’t wait for a reply: Paolo moaned loudly at the first contact of those lips on his cock, and moved his own hand on Ezequiel’s neck, without pushing him.
«Don’t you want…» he babbled, but he had to moan again as Ezequiel went further, giving into his most unexpected desires. Paolo pushed him on the bed when he felt he was near to come. «Your turn, now» he said, his eyes veiled by the slowly fading pleasure as he finished to undress him: Paolo kissed his cock and it got rock hard against his smiling lips almost instantly. «Tell me if it’s good.»
«Wait.» Ezequiel waited for him climbing up the mattress and looked him in the eyes. «Fuck me.»
«You’re not gay.»
«I’m not.»
«I’m not gay.»
«You aren’t.»
«This is pure madness.» Paolo kissed him roughly, aware of his own taste, but stopped thinking about consequences. «I don’t even have condoms, or lu-»
«I don’t care» Ezequiel said again, making some room for him. «We can do without them. Tongue.»
«Tongue?» Paolo replied, confused. Then he felt the tip of Ezequiel’s finger brushing against his buttock, and he understood. Paolo approached to his cheeks and enjoyed his moans.
At 4 AM, Ezequiel wasn’t sleeping yet. He couldn’t avoid to think that he shared his bed with someone since he left Deborah, and he always believed that he would have asked that to Yanina first. He just had the time to think that he hadn’t any right to mess up with Paolo’s marriage as he did with his own and that he will never approach him again as he just did, when Paolo leaned his arm towards him, strong enough to make Ezequiel’s body stick to his.
As Ezequiel realized that he wasn’t dreaming about his wife or Miss Italia and that he was awake and aware of what he was doing by rubbing against him, he forgot everything but him at once.