[fic] till the end of time
Title: Till the end of time
Disclaimer: This fan-fiction, and portrayal of any characters in it, is entirely fictitious. Any reference to true events is entirely coincidental. Any references to the sexuality of the characters are completely untrue.
Pairing: Iker Casillas/Sergio Ramos
Word count: 404
Rating: NC-17 [to be safe]
Warnings: The Ramos, some mentions of explicit sex
Beta: _runningmascara
A/N: For 4jinx_removing <3 Happy birthday hun :) you make me smile :) Thank you for miss_black91 for her help :)
Sergio's body is a song, a song in the morning, when it's warm and a bit wet. Sergio's body is a taste of sweat and salt in the noon, when he's swimming in the sea. Sergio's body is a dance in the evening in Sevilla when his hands are clapping to the rhythm of joy and life.
Sergio's body is a glorious praise of primal beauty.
Iker is not a poet. He cannot recite Lorca or quote Marquez. But every time he's looking at Sergio, he sees the sea, the dance, the Andalusian evening. He sees the bulls and the sand of the plaza. He can hear the blue song and the strings of the sleepy guitar. It's like Sergio was the wind, the sun, the water, the air. Iker can feel every element in Sergio - in his smile, his voice, in his breath and the taste of his skin. He can smell the sea in his hair, he can taste the oranges on his skin. And Sergio is dancing under his fingertips, arching his back under the firm touch of keeper's palms, Sergio is like a young bull who doesn't want to give his freedom away for anything.
Iker is not a torero. He doesn't know how to tame Sergio, he cannot fight him or make him to obey. But each time Iker manages to grip Sergio's neck and press his face to the pillow, Sergio is fisting the sheets, opening for him, like it was the silent vow - You've overcome me, now you can conquer me. And Iker enters this trembling body, every time so virgin and at the same time so ready and welcoming. Iker closes his eyes, because he cannot look at Sergio's little tattoo behind his ear, he cannot look at the bruises he leaves on this body, because it's too much.
They have to make love blindly, they have to keep it quiet. The song is under Sergio's skin and Iker is moving to
its rhythm. And when the peak is coming, Iker opens his eyes and he can see the olive groves and oranges and smells malaga wine. And he's coming and coming and he is sure he can feel the warm red soil of Cordoba under his fingers and then he can hear Sergio's quivering voice
Mas, mi amor... hasta el fin de los tiempos.
Disclaimer: This fan-fiction, and portrayal of any characters in it, is entirely fictitious. Any reference to true events is entirely coincidental. Any references to the sexuality of the characters are completely untrue.
Pairing: Iker Casillas/Sergio Ramos
Word count: 404
Rating: NC-17 [to be safe]
Warnings: The Ramos, some mentions of explicit sex
Beta: _runningmascara
A/N: For 4jinx_removing <3 Happy birthday hun :) you make me smile :) Thank you for miss_black91 for her help :)
Sergio's body is a song, a song in the morning, when it's warm and a bit wet. Sergio's body is a taste of sweat and salt in the noon, when he's swimming in the sea. Sergio's body is a dance in the evening in Sevilla when his hands are clapping to the rhythm of joy and life.
Sergio's body is a glorious praise of primal beauty.
Iker is not a poet. He cannot recite Lorca or quote Marquez. But every time he's looking at Sergio, he sees the sea, the dance, the Andalusian evening. He sees the bulls and the sand of the plaza. He can hear the blue song and the strings of the sleepy guitar. It's like Sergio was the wind, the sun, the water, the air. Iker can feel every element in Sergio - in his smile, his voice, in his breath and the taste of his skin. He can smell the sea in his hair, he can taste the oranges on his skin. And Sergio is dancing under his fingertips, arching his back under the firm touch of keeper's palms, Sergio is like a young bull who doesn't want to give his freedom away for anything.
Iker is not a torero. He doesn't know how to tame Sergio, he cannot fight him or make him to obey. But each time Iker manages to grip Sergio's neck and press his face to the pillow, Sergio is fisting the sheets, opening for him, like it was the silent vow - You've overcome me, now you can conquer me. And Iker enters this trembling body, every time so virgin and at the same time so ready and welcoming. Iker closes his eyes, because he cannot look at Sergio's little tattoo behind his ear, he cannot look at the bruises he leaves on this body, because it's too much.
They have to make love blindly, they have to keep it quiet. The song is under Sergio's skin and Iker is moving to
its rhythm. And when the peak is coming, Iker opens his eyes and he can see the olive groves and oranges and smells malaga wine. And he's coming and coming and he is sure he can feel the warm red soil of Cordoba under his fingers and then he can hear Sergio's quivering voice
Mas, mi amor... hasta el fin de los tiempos.