Fic - Initial
Title: Initial
Rating: NC17
Author: Ivorylasenza
Pairing: Daniel Agger/OC/Sami Hyypia
Prompt: Grass
Disclaimer: So very, very untrue as to be ridiculous.
Summary: Daniel's life, so far, is a series of firsts...
Daniel's first times are always...extreme, to say the least.
First time at school, scared of his own shadow, he lasted fourteen minutes before he pissed himself and cried for his mother who hadn't even left the building, she was so upset to leave him.
He'd have been bullied for that, only the toughest kid in the Reception Class did the very same thing, only he screamed the fucking place down, never quite recovered, not like Daniel did who was given a new pair of shorts and a lollipop and told that Mummy would be back later.
Score one to Agger. Or, at least, he could call it a draw.
Five years old, and he was already building up "scores."
The first time he got a detention, it was for a gang fight in the playground that he instigated, with his best friend at his side, that very same kid who pissed his pants on the same day, who cried for his mother on the same day and who had drawn the exact same Thundercat as he did in their art project, six years old and obsessed with those talking felines who said "Ho" and came in figures that fit in their short, schoolboy trousers.
One of the other kids had called his best pal "Fat" and Daniel had taken offence.
He'd been seven years old. He'd flushed the little fucker's head down the toilet and forced him to eat mustard the previous day, and first thing on Thursday morning, he'd been punched in the face as retaliation.
Split lip, blood on his teeth, he'd 'formed a gang' and had beat the living shit out of the little fucker.
He'd been grounded for a month, after that little occurrence.
"Was just standing up for my best friend," he'd argued, but, not for the first time, his excuses were ignored.
The first time he 'met a boy' he was eleven, and it was that same little bully who he befriended years before. He was good at football and he chose him to be his training partner. They signed up for the team and met up, twice a week after school, and in between beating each other over the heads with the mock goalposts, they kissed...
The first time they did it, they said it was "gay" and vowed it would never happen again.
Spat on the grass like proper little footballers.
"Dirty cunts, we are..."
Swearing like troopers, because that's what eleven year old boys do.
The second time they did it, they said "Fuck it" and accepted themselves for what they were.
The first time he ever had sex, he fourteen was hyped up on speed and ecstasy, a virtual ball of energy that just wouldn't give in, and he'd dragged his 'partner' down onto the green grass and fucked him bareback, no condom, no lubricant just pure, teenage lust that came under the heading of "stupidity" when he found himself unable to walk straight for four days afterwards and chewing his own gums for some jaw movement.
The first time he got off on porn, it was hardcore. Hardcore gay porn, with ball gags and rubber masks and dildos and chains and he'd found it...intriguing, to say the least, had been wanking off to it when his mother came in to put his washing in his drawers.
She beat him with the rolled up magazine and told him not to bring that filth into her house ever again.
She told him that she wanted grandchildren...
He told her she'd have a long fucking wait.
First time he ever swore in front of his mother. Certainly wasn't the last...
The first time Daniel pulled up a floorboard, he had a bruised shoulder-blade from where the very magazines he was hiding cracked across his bones as his mother crashed them down on her previously innocent little boy.
He was fifteen when he first realised that he was fucking his own life up, that this little renegade attitude he'd taken upon himself was sending him on that downwards spiral to hell that'd either leave him deadbeat and living off porn and Burger King or, worse still, dead.
He was the same age when he first realised that his love of sports might just be a better option than the fighter pilot ambitions that he'd unrealistically harbored for fucking years because he didn't have 20/20 vision and never would have.
His second love, or probably his first realistic love was football, and he was coming up to his sixteenth birthday when he realised that people were actually taking note of that.
"I'm shit-hot," he'd told his brother, who had laughed at him and told him to stick to his paper round.
The first time his brother actually agreed with him was when he scored four of the school team's five goals and went on to win the league, lift the trophy, made captain, that year.
The first time Daniel signed a contract as a professional footballer, he burst into tears...then ran home to tell his boyfriend, who glared at him, back to that same bully child he'd been when they first met, and had told him that he'd better have a nice fucking life, then, while he languished in a dead end job with no prospects.
The first time Daniel realised that his 'first love' was a cunt was just after the happiest moment of his life.
At the time, he put that down as the saddest.
The first time he ran out onto the pitch for a first team game, his debut in this world, in this life, he assisted two goals, cleared two more off the line and went down, in the newspapers, as "the next big thing."
The first time he fucked more than one man at once was directly after that game.
He was nineteen.
And, it was so much better than that hardcore porn that was still stashed in his floorboards, back in his mother's spotless residence.
Daniel never thought he'd experience First Love a second time around, but when he first steps out onto the Anfield pitch, to the chorus of You'll Never Walk Alone, all of those feelings come crashing back to him.
His first day at school. His first detention. His first fight. His first kiss. His first fuck. His first dabble in drugs. His first porn magazine. His first day of his new life.
And, now this.
His first sight of the fanatical fanbase that could make or break him, could mould and shape his career, could build him or tear him apart...could love him or loathe him.
His first encounter with an English defender leaves him verging on broken, his leg swollen to twice its size, but his first brush with the British critics is a pleasant one, doesn't leave him tarred and dirtied like he thought it might.
His first fuck, against the tiles in the Melwood showers.
That might just, though.
Hyypia seems so very, very clean and so clinically precise, though, as he enters him for the very first time, telling him, quietly, in his ear "This will be the first and last time I give you the courtesy of warning."
Daniel shudders.
Gets hard.
"Is that ok?"
"Fuck...yeah, yeah, that's fine, that's fine..."
It won't be the last time he does so.
This fuck, in the showers, will be one of many.
Rating: NC17
Author: Ivorylasenza
Pairing: Daniel Agger/OC/Sami Hyypia
Prompt: Grass
Disclaimer: So very, very untrue as to be ridiculous.
Summary: Daniel's life, so far, is a series of firsts...
Daniel's first times are always...extreme, to say the least.
First time at school, scared of his own shadow, he lasted fourteen minutes before he pissed himself and cried for his mother who hadn't even left the building, she was so upset to leave him.
He'd have been bullied for that, only the toughest kid in the Reception Class did the very same thing, only he screamed the fucking place down, never quite recovered, not like Daniel did who was given a new pair of shorts and a lollipop and told that Mummy would be back later.
Score one to Agger. Or, at least, he could call it a draw.
Five years old, and he was already building up "scores."
The first time he got a detention, it was for a gang fight in the playground that he instigated, with his best friend at his side, that very same kid who pissed his pants on the same day, who cried for his mother on the same day and who had drawn the exact same Thundercat as he did in their art project, six years old and obsessed with those talking felines who said "Ho" and came in figures that fit in their short, schoolboy trousers.
One of the other kids had called his best pal "Fat" and Daniel had taken offence.
He'd been seven years old. He'd flushed the little fucker's head down the toilet and forced him to eat mustard the previous day, and first thing on Thursday morning, he'd been punched in the face as retaliation.
Split lip, blood on his teeth, he'd 'formed a gang' and had beat the living shit out of the little fucker.
He'd been grounded for a month, after that little occurrence.
"Was just standing up for my best friend," he'd argued, but, not for the first time, his excuses were ignored.
The first time he 'met a boy' he was eleven, and it was that same little bully who he befriended years before. He was good at football and he chose him to be his training partner. They signed up for the team and met up, twice a week after school, and in between beating each other over the heads with the mock goalposts, they kissed...
The first time they did it, they said it was "gay" and vowed it would never happen again.
Spat on the grass like proper little footballers.
"Dirty cunts, we are..."
Swearing like troopers, because that's what eleven year old boys do.
The second time they did it, they said "Fuck it" and accepted themselves for what they were.
The first time he ever had sex, he fourteen was hyped up on speed and ecstasy, a virtual ball of energy that just wouldn't give in, and he'd dragged his 'partner' down onto the green grass and fucked him bareback, no condom, no lubricant just pure, teenage lust that came under the heading of "stupidity" when he found himself unable to walk straight for four days afterwards and chewing his own gums for some jaw movement.
The first time he got off on porn, it was hardcore. Hardcore gay porn, with ball gags and rubber masks and dildos and chains and he'd found it...intriguing, to say the least, had been wanking off to it when his mother came in to put his washing in his drawers.
She beat him with the rolled up magazine and told him not to bring that filth into her house ever again.
She told him that she wanted grandchildren...
He told her she'd have a long fucking wait.
First time he ever swore in front of his mother. Certainly wasn't the last...
The first time Daniel pulled up a floorboard, he had a bruised shoulder-blade from where the very magazines he was hiding cracked across his bones as his mother crashed them down on her previously innocent little boy.
He was fifteen when he first realised that he was fucking his own life up, that this little renegade attitude he'd taken upon himself was sending him on that downwards spiral to hell that'd either leave him deadbeat and living off porn and Burger King or, worse still, dead.
He was the same age when he first realised that his love of sports might just be a better option than the fighter pilot ambitions that he'd unrealistically harbored for fucking years because he didn't have 20/20 vision and never would have.
His second love, or probably his first realistic love was football, and he was coming up to his sixteenth birthday when he realised that people were actually taking note of that.
"I'm shit-hot," he'd told his brother, who had laughed at him and told him to stick to his paper round.
The first time his brother actually agreed with him was when he scored four of the school team's five goals and went on to win the league, lift the trophy, made captain, that year.
The first time Daniel signed a contract as a professional footballer, he burst into tears...then ran home to tell his boyfriend, who glared at him, back to that same bully child he'd been when they first met, and had told him that he'd better have a nice fucking life, then, while he languished in a dead end job with no prospects.
The first time Daniel realised that his 'first love' was a cunt was just after the happiest moment of his life.
At the time, he put that down as the saddest.
The first time he ran out onto the pitch for a first team game, his debut in this world, in this life, he assisted two goals, cleared two more off the line and went down, in the newspapers, as "the next big thing."
The first time he fucked more than one man at once was directly after that game.
He was nineteen.
And, it was so much better than that hardcore porn that was still stashed in his floorboards, back in his mother's spotless residence.
Daniel never thought he'd experience First Love a second time around, but when he first steps out onto the Anfield pitch, to the chorus of You'll Never Walk Alone, all of those feelings come crashing back to him.
His first day at school. His first detention. His first fight. His first kiss. His first fuck. His first dabble in drugs. His first porn magazine. His first day of his new life.
And, now this.
His first sight of the fanatical fanbase that could make or break him, could mould and shape his career, could build him or tear him apart...could love him or loathe him.
His first encounter with an English defender leaves him verging on broken, his leg swollen to twice its size, but his first brush with the British critics is a pleasant one, doesn't leave him tarred and dirtied like he thought it might.
His first fuck, against the tiles in the Melwood showers.
That might just, though.
Hyypia seems so very, very clean and so clinically precise, though, as he enters him for the very first time, telling him, quietly, in his ear "This will be the first and last time I give you the courtesy of warning."
Daniel shudders.
Gets hard.
"Is that ok?"
"Fuck...yeah, yeah, that's fine, that's fine..."
It won't be the last time he does so.
This fuck, in the showers, will be one of many.