FIC: the world cup series, or cesc's life in song; in my head
Hey guys! Weekend's almost over for me so I gotta get back to doing work, but one last happy thing: fic! :)
the world cup series, or cesc's life in song, pt. viii: in my head.
cesc fabregas/gerard pique. nc-17/r. how cesc erases boredom while gerard's visiting.
author's note: this is a series based on all the songs from Cesc's (atrocious) WC2010 playlist; except for O.M.G. & the Spanish ones (because I can't understand them). all the parts are very loosely connected and can be read individually, but I'll be posting them in sequence. Hope you enjoy!
i. every breath you take - the police
ii. apologize - timbaland & onerepublic
iii. sweet dreams - beyonce
iv. whatever you like - T.I.
v. love is wicked - brick & lace
vi. stereo love - edward maya & vika jigulina
vii. need you now - lady antebellum
Lying across his sofa, Cesc flips through channels, waiting for Piqué to return with dinner. Bored out of his wits, he continues to surf the hundreds of programs, none of them striking him with any sort of interest. Flipping past early evening news reports and sitcom reruns, everything starts to melt together, all voices droning on, blending into one monotone. For a brief second he lands on 4Music and he hears an unexpected bite of catchy pop that wakes him from his stupor. Clicking back down to the channel, he hears the song that’s been played on the radio all week. He’s been listening to this on the way to and from training and he’s been dying to know the name of it; he should google the lyrics at some point. Mostly the song makes him wants to dance, but driving and bouncing around in his seat isn’t the safest of ideas he’s had. Now, in the empty of his living room, he can do whatever he wants. Turning the volume up, he gets off the couch and for a second he feels slightly awkward, but the dancing silhouettes of the music video tell him no one’s watching and that no one cares.
Moving from left to right, he lets his muscles loosen and lets the catchy tune entice a small smile to form on his lips. Slightly more comfortable after warming up, he starts to dance as he wants, unrestricted and free; compared to when he’s out with the boys. He works up a sweat and can feel it gathering at the top of his t-shirt, coating his neck in a thin sheen. Peeling off his sticky shirt, Cesc slings it across the room haphazardly. Permitting himself to let his mind run with his thoughts, he thinks about his summer holiday so far, thinks how nice a break from football can be, thinks how great it is that he can finally spend time with Piqué, how great sharing Piqué’s space is, how hot Piqué looks with his new haircut, how yielding Piqué’s lips are, how they feel on his own. Cesc loses himself to the music and his eyelashes flutter shut as all his desires and the accompanying raunchy imagery fill his head.
Swinging his hips, he thinks: how much he wants to feel Geri’s lips trailing fire across his body, feather-soft kisses all over; first his mouth, then down his neck and collarbone. He wants to feel Gerard hovering over him as he lies on his back in bed. He wants Gerard to bite his chest, wants to feel Gerard mark him as property, his body desperate to arch up into the lingering warmth. Then he wants to feel Gerard tonguing his nipples as he moans breathily, his toes curling at the stimulation, his dick now rock-hard pressing against his stomach and the soft hairs on Geri’s chest.
Grinding with his hands above his head, he thinks: how he wants to see Geri lick up the pre-cum leaking from his head, wants to see those lips wrapped around his cock. Cesc wants to run his fingers through Geri’s hair as Gerard bobs up and down, the wet heat of that mouth driving Cesc to grip tightly and tug while thrusting deeper, out of his mind. He knows Geri could take it; he would swallow as Cesc’s cock hit the back of his throat and Cesc would groan as he watched his boyfriend’s adam’s apple bounce.
Circling his ass and slowly getting low, he thinks: how he’d pull Gerard off his cock and take those perfectly-sized fingers and suck them into his mouth, lave them and flick his tongue over them, covering them in a generous coat of saliva before withdrawing them. He would guide Gerard’s hand down and rub one of those fingers against his hole, teasing but never breaching. He wants to see Geri’s pupils blown wide and dark with lust as he finally forces a finger in, savoring the intruding pressure. He can see in his head how Geri would then work his finger deeper in and Cesc would release his grip on Gerard’s hand, leaving him to reach for his cock and stroke slowly to Gerard’s pace. As Gerard adds a second finger and starts scissoring, Cesc can imagine how his mind would scream in flames, how the soles his feet would burn at the growing intensity of pleasure. He wants to ride those (now-three) fingers, all the while begging Geri for more, please Geri, please, more, now. Cesc can imagine the immediate feeling of emptiness as Piqué extracts his fingers and quickly slathers on hand lotion before hiking Cesc’s knees over his shoulders. Cesc would feel the blunt head of Gerard’s cock, pushing against him and he’d cry out for Geri to do it now, please, dios mio-
“Francesc.” Cesc hears that low, gravel voice - that one Gerard uses when he’s turned on - whispering into his ear, feels Geri’s hot breath wash over his neck. He shivers but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Bedroom. Now.”
Cesc scampers quickly down the hall to their bedroom; doesn’t even remember that he’s hungry.
So yeah. Thanks for reading again, and oh no, only two more! :(
the world cup series, or cesc's life in song, pt. viii: in my head.
cesc fabregas/gerard pique. nc-17/r. how cesc erases boredom while gerard's visiting.
author's note: this is a series based on all the songs from Cesc's (atrocious) WC2010 playlist; except for O.M.G. & the Spanish ones (because I can't understand them). all the parts are very loosely connected and can be read individually, but I'll be posting them in sequence. Hope you enjoy!
i. every breath you take - the police
ii. apologize - timbaland & onerepublic
iii. sweet dreams - beyonce
iv. whatever you like - T.I.
v. love is wicked - brick & lace
vi. stereo love - edward maya & vika jigulina
vii. need you now - lady antebellum
Lying across his sofa, Cesc flips through channels, waiting for Piqué to return with dinner. Bored out of his wits, he continues to surf the hundreds of programs, none of them striking him with any sort of interest. Flipping past early evening news reports and sitcom reruns, everything starts to melt together, all voices droning on, blending into one monotone. For a brief second he lands on 4Music and he hears an unexpected bite of catchy pop that wakes him from his stupor. Clicking back down to the channel, he hears the song that’s been played on the radio all week. He’s been listening to this on the way to and from training and he’s been dying to know the name of it; he should google the lyrics at some point. Mostly the song makes him wants to dance, but driving and bouncing around in his seat isn’t the safest of ideas he’s had. Now, in the empty of his living room, he can do whatever he wants. Turning the volume up, he gets off the couch and for a second he feels slightly awkward, but the dancing silhouettes of the music video tell him no one’s watching and that no one cares.
Moving from left to right, he lets his muscles loosen and lets the catchy tune entice a small smile to form on his lips. Slightly more comfortable after warming up, he starts to dance as he wants, unrestricted and free; compared to when he’s out with the boys. He works up a sweat and can feel it gathering at the top of his t-shirt, coating his neck in a thin sheen. Peeling off his sticky shirt, Cesc slings it across the room haphazardly. Permitting himself to let his mind run with his thoughts, he thinks about his summer holiday so far, thinks how nice a break from football can be, thinks how great it is that he can finally spend time with Piqué, how great sharing Piqué’s space is, how hot Piqué looks with his new haircut, how yielding Piqué’s lips are, how they feel on his own. Cesc loses himself to the music and his eyelashes flutter shut as all his desires and the accompanying raunchy imagery fill his head.
Swinging his hips, he thinks: how much he wants to feel Geri’s lips trailing fire across his body, feather-soft kisses all over; first his mouth, then down his neck and collarbone. He wants to feel Gerard hovering over him as he lies on his back in bed. He wants Gerard to bite his chest, wants to feel Gerard mark him as property, his body desperate to arch up into the lingering warmth. Then he wants to feel Gerard tonguing his nipples as he moans breathily, his toes curling at the stimulation, his dick now rock-hard pressing against his stomach and the soft hairs on Geri’s chest.
Grinding with his hands above his head, he thinks: how he wants to see Geri lick up the pre-cum leaking from his head, wants to see those lips wrapped around his cock. Cesc wants to run his fingers through Geri’s hair as Gerard bobs up and down, the wet heat of that mouth driving Cesc to grip tightly and tug while thrusting deeper, out of his mind. He knows Geri could take it; he would swallow as Cesc’s cock hit the back of his throat and Cesc would groan as he watched his boyfriend’s adam’s apple bounce.
Circling his ass and slowly getting low, he thinks: how he’d pull Gerard off his cock and take those perfectly-sized fingers and suck them into his mouth, lave them and flick his tongue over them, covering them in a generous coat of saliva before withdrawing them. He would guide Gerard’s hand down and rub one of those fingers against his hole, teasing but never breaching. He wants to see Geri’s pupils blown wide and dark with lust as he finally forces a finger in, savoring the intruding pressure. He can see in his head how Geri would then work his finger deeper in and Cesc would release his grip on Gerard’s hand, leaving him to reach for his cock and stroke slowly to Gerard’s pace. As Gerard adds a second finger and starts scissoring, Cesc can imagine how his mind would scream in flames, how the soles his feet would burn at the growing intensity of pleasure. He wants to ride those (now-three) fingers, all the while begging Geri for more, please Geri, please, more, now. Cesc can imagine the immediate feeling of emptiness as Piqué extracts his fingers and quickly slathers on hand lotion before hiking Cesc’s knees over his shoulders. Cesc would feel the blunt head of Gerard’s cock, pushing against him and he’d cry out for Geri to do it now, please, dios mio-
“Francesc.” Cesc hears that low, gravel voice - that one Gerard uses when he’s turned on - whispering into his ear, feels Geri’s hot breath wash over his neck. He shivers but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Bedroom. Now.”
Cesc scampers quickly down the hall to their bedroom; doesn’t even remember that he’s hungry.
So yeah. Thanks for reading again, and oh no, only two more! :(