[Fic] Stronger (Cristiano Ronaldo / Wayne Rooney)
I... have no excuse whatsoever for this pile of sap that I wrote. I absolutely had no clue how. It just.. kind of played itself in my head and I just felt compelled to write it.
So for a change, now, some sugary sweetness fluff and sap. I hope I didn't overdo it, and hope you can enjoy it :)!
Title : Stronger (God, it's so cheesy!)
Author : hiro_chan
Pairing : Cristiano Ronaldo / Wayne Rooney
Rating : NC-17
Disclaimer : Not happening. Only happened in a fangirl's perverted mind ;)
You didn't expect it to hurt like this.
Cristiano was thrusting into you, as gently as possible, but still pain blossomed on your backside, like fire that crawl along your spine. You moaned and arched against him, trying to ease the pressure, the pain, but his hands held your hips in place, preventing you from hurting yourself further.
You knew it, because you did the same way too when you were the one on top. But you didn't expect - you kind of wondered whether it was this painful for him also when he was the one receiving. You promised to yourself that you'd be much, much more careful after this.
You watched his lips move, words formed between them, but you couldn't really comprehend what he was saying (“easy, Wayne, easy...”), because your world was reduced to the pain there as he moved deeper - gently, gently - and you felt the alien feeling of being stretched like you've never felt before.
Your fingers dug into his arms and your breath came in short gasps and your pupil dilated as you watched the room spin and blur and to your horror, you realized that there were tears in your eyes.
Which was so fucking pathetic because it was you who asked for this, asked for the roles to be reversed, asked for him to be inside you, to fuck you, because you thought it was only fair, that the relationship had to be balanced, that he deserved this and you, for some reason that you couldn't really understand, wanted this. And the way he looked after you suggested this made you want to do this even more.
So why was the tears? Cristiano never cried when you did this to him - he moaned and he screamed and he clawed madly at your back and he bit and nipped at your shoulder, but he never cried and you felt so pathetic that you cried now.
You could feel that the tears were about to fall, that you couldn't just blinked them away anymore, and you put your hand over your face, not wanting him to see you like this. It was true that you'd seen each other cried before, but not in this situation, never in this kind of moment, and to think that you'd be the one that cried first --
A few moments and his movement stopped. You felt his weight settled on top of you - heavier than his slim built suggested - and you felt his warm breath against your cheek.
He put a hand on top of yours, gently pulling it away from your face but you resisted. You could feel your tears had started to smear on your cheeks, and you wished you could hide from this moment, from his gaze that you could feel on the back of your hand.
And then he said, in a voice almost choked with the intensity of the moment, “Don't hide, Wayne.”
Something in the way he said it push your defence down and you didn't resist when he tried again to pull your hand away.
“Are you okay?”
You couldn't reply for a few moments, your throat felt like it locked itself, refusing to let any words out. When you finally got your reply out, you couldn't believe at how vulnerable, how weak and unsure your voice was.
“It's just - it's just - it's so embarrassing,” you mumbled, almost in defeat. “Can't believe I'm crying -- ”
“Oh, Wayne, it's okay,” he whispered, brushing your hair gently. “Do you want me to stop? Should we just --”
“No!” you cut harshly. “Don't stop now. I'm sorry if I'm being a crybaby but don't stop now.”
His gaze lingered on your face and he smiled then, the kind of smile that made your heart flutter and your breath caught in your throat. “You're beautiful, Wayne.”
Heat flared on your cheeks, and you spluttered, couldn't believe what he just said. “I'm - I'm not!”
“Yes, you are,” he said, his hand cupping your face, his eyes gazing deep into yours. “You have gorgeous blue eyes and you have nice smile. And it's okay. You don't need to be ashamed, Wayne. There's no one here. Only me, and I love you, and I do think you're beautiful.”
He kissed you then, tasting the salty tang of your tears. It wasn't a deep, passionate kiss that made you needy - it was a gentle one that let you know that he was being true.
And in that moment, you knew he was right. There was no one here. There was no fans that looked at you with deep adoration, no team mate and coaches that looked at you in expectation, no opposition that looked at you with apprehension, no media that waited for you to fall.
There was no one to impress and you didn't need to pretend that you were strong. You could be yourself, and even if you slipped into your weak moments, it was only him there, and he didn't mind catching you and picking you up and kissing the pain away until everything was better again.
“Have I ever said how much I love you?” you mumbled between the kisses.
You felt his lips curved against yours. “Many times. But I don't mind you saying it again.”
“I love you,” you said against his lips, cupping his face with your hand and kissing him deeply. “So fucking much.”
And just like that, just like that and everything was picking up again. Just like that, just with a simple acceptance from him, and you were free. His kiss deepened and your lips parted to let his tongue in, and your hands moved, roaming his body almost in worship and when he bit and sucked at a spot on your neck, you didn't care whether it hurt or not, you wanted this, you wanted him to move.
“Move. Cris.”
His harsh breathing in your ear. “Are you - “
“Please,” you moaned, thrusting back against him for emphasis.
He moved then, slowly, gently, picking up the pace when you didn't protest. You steeled yourself against the pain until it fade into dull throbs that gave way into warmth and suddenly - there was pleasure, deep and acute that it jolted your body, and you arched high against him and your head thrown back to the pillow and stardust behind your eyelids and your lips opened in a wordless moan -
He whispered your name, over and over, the raspy voice washed all over your mind but you couldn't reply, every word flew out of your brain. You hoped he had tight enough hold on you to not let you be swept away by the onslaught of sensation in this moment - wondering whether he felt this good too when he was in your position, wondering whether you did the job half as good as what he was doing right now, because this eruption of pleasure that made your skin tingling was driving you mad and you never ever wanted this to end and -
The orgasm that came in waves caught you off guard, and tension in your body snapped and melted and pure whiteness blinded your eyes and the first word in your brain was his name and it came with a strangled sob on your lips.
It was okay though - the sob felt as something natural that you didn't need to be ashamed of. A sharp thrust from him and on impulse you tightened around him and you felt him coming inside you - foreign but not uncomfortable - biting your shoulder as he did so and you couldn't believe how sexy that felt.
It took a few moments before everything calming down and your vision cleared and you could see him above you, smiling down at you and he moved his hand to wipe the streaks of tears away from your cheeks.
“You're such a crybaby, lover,” he said, smiling, with so much affection and intimacy that compelled you to smile back at him.
Because it was okay. There was no one here - no one that wanted you to always be strong. Only Cristiano, who loved you and adored you and thought you were beautiful. Only Cristiano, who wanted to see you without any veil of pretences, who wanted you just the way you were.
He kissed you and pulled you close and when you kissed him back, you knew that you both could be weak or strong for and around each other and it would be okay.
You would be stronger for him, for both of you, one day, just like you knew he would. But for now, for this night and a couple more nights after, it was okay to not be strong.
It was okay. You had learned.
~finish~
I'm not sure why, most of the times before posting my fics I always feel not confident, and this one's no different. Reading through it again, I kind of feel it's better when it was still fragments in my head :p. I don't know. Feels like the pace is a bit too fast. Bleh. Anyway. Hope you find this nice enough though ;).
So for a change, now, some sugary sweetness fluff and sap. I hope I didn't overdo it, and hope you can enjoy it :)!
Title : Stronger (God, it's so cheesy!)
Author : hiro_chan
Pairing : Cristiano Ronaldo / Wayne Rooney
Rating : NC-17
Disclaimer : Not happening. Only happened in a fangirl's perverted mind ;)
You didn't expect it to hurt like this.
Cristiano was thrusting into you, as gently as possible, but still pain blossomed on your backside, like fire that crawl along your spine. You moaned and arched against him, trying to ease the pressure, the pain, but his hands held your hips in place, preventing you from hurting yourself further.
You knew it, because you did the same way too when you were the one on top. But you didn't expect - you kind of wondered whether it was this painful for him also when he was the one receiving. You promised to yourself that you'd be much, much more careful after this.
You watched his lips move, words formed between them, but you couldn't really comprehend what he was saying (“easy, Wayne, easy...”), because your world was reduced to the pain there as he moved deeper - gently, gently - and you felt the alien feeling of being stretched like you've never felt before.
Your fingers dug into his arms and your breath came in short gasps and your pupil dilated as you watched the room spin and blur and to your horror, you realized that there were tears in your eyes.
Which was so fucking pathetic because it was you who asked for this, asked for the roles to be reversed, asked for him to be inside you, to fuck you, because you thought it was only fair, that the relationship had to be balanced, that he deserved this and you, for some reason that you couldn't really understand, wanted this. And the way he looked after you suggested this made you want to do this even more.
So why was the tears? Cristiano never cried when you did this to him - he moaned and he screamed and he clawed madly at your back and he bit and nipped at your shoulder, but he never cried and you felt so pathetic that you cried now.
You could feel that the tears were about to fall, that you couldn't just blinked them away anymore, and you put your hand over your face, not wanting him to see you like this. It was true that you'd seen each other cried before, but not in this situation, never in this kind of moment, and to think that you'd be the one that cried first --
A few moments and his movement stopped. You felt his weight settled on top of you - heavier than his slim built suggested - and you felt his warm breath against your cheek.
He put a hand on top of yours, gently pulling it away from your face but you resisted. You could feel your tears had started to smear on your cheeks, and you wished you could hide from this moment, from his gaze that you could feel on the back of your hand.
And then he said, in a voice almost choked with the intensity of the moment, “Don't hide, Wayne.”
Something in the way he said it push your defence down and you didn't resist when he tried again to pull your hand away.
“Are you okay?”
You couldn't reply for a few moments, your throat felt like it locked itself, refusing to let any words out. When you finally got your reply out, you couldn't believe at how vulnerable, how weak and unsure your voice was.
“It's just - it's just - it's so embarrassing,” you mumbled, almost in defeat. “Can't believe I'm crying -- ”
“Oh, Wayne, it's okay,” he whispered, brushing your hair gently. “Do you want me to stop? Should we just --”
“No!” you cut harshly. “Don't stop now. I'm sorry if I'm being a crybaby but don't stop now.”
His gaze lingered on your face and he smiled then, the kind of smile that made your heart flutter and your breath caught in your throat. “You're beautiful, Wayne.”
Heat flared on your cheeks, and you spluttered, couldn't believe what he just said. “I'm - I'm not!”
“Yes, you are,” he said, his hand cupping your face, his eyes gazing deep into yours. “You have gorgeous blue eyes and you have nice smile. And it's okay. You don't need to be ashamed, Wayne. There's no one here. Only me, and I love you, and I do think you're beautiful.”
He kissed you then, tasting the salty tang of your tears. It wasn't a deep, passionate kiss that made you needy - it was a gentle one that let you know that he was being true.
And in that moment, you knew he was right. There was no one here. There was no fans that looked at you with deep adoration, no team mate and coaches that looked at you in expectation, no opposition that looked at you with apprehension, no media that waited for you to fall.
There was no one to impress and you didn't need to pretend that you were strong. You could be yourself, and even if you slipped into your weak moments, it was only him there, and he didn't mind catching you and picking you up and kissing the pain away until everything was better again.
“Have I ever said how much I love you?” you mumbled between the kisses.
You felt his lips curved against yours. “Many times. But I don't mind you saying it again.”
“I love you,” you said against his lips, cupping his face with your hand and kissing him deeply. “So fucking much.”
And just like that, just like that and everything was picking up again. Just like that, just with a simple acceptance from him, and you were free. His kiss deepened and your lips parted to let his tongue in, and your hands moved, roaming his body almost in worship and when he bit and sucked at a spot on your neck, you didn't care whether it hurt or not, you wanted this, you wanted him to move.
“Move. Cris.”
His harsh breathing in your ear. “Are you - “
“Please,” you moaned, thrusting back against him for emphasis.
He moved then, slowly, gently, picking up the pace when you didn't protest. You steeled yourself against the pain until it fade into dull throbs that gave way into warmth and suddenly - there was pleasure, deep and acute that it jolted your body, and you arched high against him and your head thrown back to the pillow and stardust behind your eyelids and your lips opened in a wordless moan -
He whispered your name, over and over, the raspy voice washed all over your mind but you couldn't reply, every word flew out of your brain. You hoped he had tight enough hold on you to not let you be swept away by the onslaught of sensation in this moment - wondering whether he felt this good too when he was in your position, wondering whether you did the job half as good as what he was doing right now, because this eruption of pleasure that made your skin tingling was driving you mad and you never ever wanted this to end and -
The orgasm that came in waves caught you off guard, and tension in your body snapped and melted and pure whiteness blinded your eyes and the first word in your brain was his name and it came with a strangled sob on your lips.
It was okay though - the sob felt as something natural that you didn't need to be ashamed of. A sharp thrust from him and on impulse you tightened around him and you felt him coming inside you - foreign but not uncomfortable - biting your shoulder as he did so and you couldn't believe how sexy that felt.
It took a few moments before everything calming down and your vision cleared and you could see him above you, smiling down at you and he moved his hand to wipe the streaks of tears away from your cheeks.
“You're such a crybaby, lover,” he said, smiling, with so much affection and intimacy that compelled you to smile back at him.
Because it was okay. There was no one here - no one that wanted you to always be strong. Only Cristiano, who loved you and adored you and thought you were beautiful. Only Cristiano, who wanted to see you without any veil of pretences, who wanted you just the way you were.
He kissed you and pulled you close and when you kissed him back, you knew that you both could be weak or strong for and around each other and it would be okay.
You would be stronger for him, for both of you, one day, just like you knew he would. But for now, for this night and a couple more nights after, it was okay to not be strong.
It was okay. You had learned.
~finish~
I'm not sure why, most of the times before posting my fics I always feel not confident, and this one's no different. Reading through it again, I kind of feel it's better when it was still fragments in my head :p. I don't know. Feels like the pace is a bit too fast. Bleh. Anyway. Hope you find this nice enough though ;).