And I find myself, lost in you. (David Luiz/James Rodríguez)
Title: And I find myself, lost in you
Pairing: David Luiz/James Rodríguez
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,934
Disclaimer: Tragically untrue.
Summary: The night Brasil eliminates Colombia from the World Cup, David encounters James.
Notes: I don't really write random pairings, so this is kind of a big deal for me. These two swept in today and stole my heart, and so I had to take the time to write them some lovin'. <3
AO3
It had been, for all intents and purposes, David's day. The world is bright with it tonight, bringing the fact of it up in sharp relief, in sparkling bursts of green and yellow fireworks in the muggy Fortaleza sky. The unending light show outside sounds like a battle, the pop-pop-pops loud, blocking out even the cacophony of voices, of song, of their national anthem and the jubilant cries of his own name on every person's lips outside.
He sits in a room among his friends, his compatriots, and feels alone.
The smile on his face isn't faked, but any enthusiasm he musters is. They're into the semi-finals, knocked out the bright stars of Colombia, but at what cost?
Marcelo, bright and golden and the life of every party, of every single day, dances by, a smile overtaking his already happy face, his eyes shining when they meet David's.
"Get off your ass, mermao!" Marcelo grabs David's hands and jerks him to his feet, hands clapping down on his shoulders as he beams up at him. "Enjoy tonight. Stop thinking about anything else, got it? Just enjoy it."
A smile tugs at David's lips, a little breath of laughter escaping when Marcelo gives him a shake.
"I am. I promise. It's just--"
"Nope!" Marcelo shakes his head, curls flying. "No. Just figure out whatever you need to do to let you be happy tonight and do it. Even if it involves a couple of hookers and completely destroying your hotel room."
David raises his eyebrows for that. Marcelo drops his hands to his sides, dimple winking as he smirks.
"Okay, fine. At least come dance! And take that damn jersey off! It's making the entire room smell bad." Marcelo plucks at David's shirt, the still-damp James jersey he'd gotten after the match. He tugs back from Marcelo, a frown pulling at his lips.
"I think I'm just going to go for a walk." David reaches down on the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in for his phone, tucking it into his pocket. He gives Marcelo one last smile before he leaves the room full of his celebratory teammates, winding his way down a couple of mostly empty hallways to get to the door that leads outside.
The little outdoor garden is wild and thick with summer, the night air not cool at all but sweltering, almost tangible. He'd forgotten how unforgiving Brasilian summers are, living in London for so long. He wonders what they're like in Paris.
David wades through it, ducking under overgrown vines and past the night-blooming flowers, following the sound of running water from a fountain he'd spied this morning while they were training out here in the little hotel plaza. He turns the corner, spying the fountain just where he'd left it, the water sounding sweet and cool and comforting, like a hideaway. He takes another step forward, heading for the bench just in front of it when he sees him.
James.
This boy, the reason for the sadness he hasn't been able to let go all evening, even more than the news about Neymar. This boy with the pure heart and the young smile and the heart of a lion that he'd been secretly following on newsfeeds and on Twitter and on the news that plays in the hotel gyms, this boy he'd watched almost the entire match just a few short hours ago, the one who had caught and held his attention, just like he had practically the entire world.
And David realizes right then that he's just another one of James' new fans.
He takes a step back, realizing that he's just an intruder on a private moment, probably when James had been seeking solitude just like David had. His shoes rustle in some out-stretching vines as he backs away, and James looks up then, up and up and straight into David's eyes, catching him, stilling him.
David's heart is in his throat, reminding him again, pathetically, that he's probably too taken with this boy.
"Sorry," he offers in Spanish, the language rusty and fumbling on his tongue. His curls fall over his eyes as he turns away, hoping to make as smooth of an exit as he can, but James' soft voice breaks through the thick warmth of the air, stopping him like a hand on his shoulder.
"No, please. Please, you can stay."
The words are Portuguese, round and raspy like they speak it back in Portugal. David has done his homework over the last few weeks. Knows this kid played there, that he speaks Portuguese probably much better than David speaks Spanish. It's a relief, one that makes him turn back around, not quite meeting his eyes but taking a step closer.
"I didn't know anybody would be out here. I just needed to get away."
James laughs, an almost cynical sound under his breath. He turns away from David to look back at the fountain. David realizes then that James is barefoot and that his feet are submerged in the cool water.
"Trust me," James says softly, down to the water. "I get that."
David hesitates, feeling for all the world like a damn school girl as he shifts from one foot to the other before he finally just takes a deep breath and steps toward him, lowering his aching body down until he's sitting beside James on the small bench, their bodies warm and touching.
They turn to watch the fountain together, their hands clasped between their respective knees, the night air alive around them, the celebrations out in the city faint but audible, even here. It's weird, and nothing he'd ever be able to explain to anyone else, but David feels like he's in the right place tonight, for the first time.
James looks over at him after several long minutes of an almost comforting quiet, and David can see his smile even from the corner of his eyes.
"I can't believe you're still wearing that jersey. It stinks like hell."
There's a pause and then they're both laughing, James rubbing his face and David plucking at the bottom of his shirt. He shrugs, a grin spread across his face as he tugs it over his head, all of his thick hair bouncing out around his face when he pries it off, dropping it down carefully on the stone next to his feet.
"There. How's that?"
"Much better," James grins, these words in Spanish, like he couldn't keep himself from saying them. David's face heats in the safe darkness, and they both lower their eyes, looking back to the safe zone of the fountain once again.
"Are you leaving tomorrow?" David doesn't know why, but it makes him sad to think about. That this boy, this star, this player meant for finals and for gold and glory and headlines, is going home. And maybe, just maybe, it's why David has been upset all evening.
"Yeah," James sighs, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. He slouches and leans back against the tree behind them, stretching his legs out to keep his feet in the water. "Need to figure out what I'm going to do, I guess."
David nods, doesn't reply for a few beats. He feels this boy's sadness all around them, like it's cloaking them. His fingers tremble to reach over, to light on his skin just like they had so easily earlier, in front of millions of eyes. Here, now, when there's nothing around but dark and the moon lazing behind clouds and an endless, Brasilian summer night, he's afraid.
"I'm sorry," he finally replies, his voice soft with how completely he means it.
"No, don't," James starts in Spanish, cutting himself off before trying again in Portuguese. "Please don't be sorry. It's what we do. It's what happens, and if it wasn't you out here saying this to me, it'd be me saying it to you. It's okay."
"You're incredible." The words crackle between them, too honest for the short history between them, for what they should be to each other, which is nothing. David's heart is in his throat, pounding loud and thick there, but he's already said it, damage done, and so he keeps going. "Seriously, you... you just take my breath away. I've spent so much time watching your goals. Watching you play. Wishing somehow that you'd be on my team. That you'd been born here, or that I could play wherever you're going. Just."
He licks his lips, his cheeks burning because he can feel James' eyes on him, those dark eyes studying him in the moonlight.
"Your passion. That kind of passion just can't be bottled. Can't be learned."
"Says the number one player of the tournament." James is smiling, David can hear it in his voice. He closes his eyes, absorbs those words from this boy. Doesn't look at him because he doesn't trust himself to.
"So you're leaving tomorrow?" David repeats the question but his tone is different, decisive, his tongue sliding out to soothe over his sunburned lips.
"Mmhmm." James sounds so close, like his mouth is right against David's ear. David turns a little, lifting his eyes to catch James that are already gazing right at him, like he'd just been waiting.
"Then I don't want you to forget tonight." He's facing James now, has crowded him back against the tree without even realizing it, the air between them trembling in wait until David closes the space and kisses him, kisses his sweet, young mouth, the one that still tastes like tears, that is hotter than the night around them, the one that responds immediately, lips softening, parting, like he'd only been waiting, dying to give David this permission.
James whimpers against his mouth, the sweetest little hurt sound, his hands sliding over David's bare chest, blindly sliding up to find his shoulders. There's the sound of water, of James' feet leaving the pool of the fountain and then there is solid warmth on his lap, that boy settling right on top of him, straddling him, long fingers getting lost in the wilds of David's hair.
David takes a deep breath that he lets out in a low growl as his hands slide up over James' body, heavy and possessive, like this is his to take, like he can lay claim here, like he's going to ruin James for anybody else.
He shoves up on James' shirt, impatient and young in his eagerness but James indulges him, lifts it up and off, tossing it into the flowers beside them and sliding up even tighter on David's lap, his cock burning through his thin shorts, his ass soft and so fucking sweet where it works over David's dick like a porn star would, like a stripper would. It's been a long time since David's had a boy, and he doesn't think he's ever had a boy this beautiful.
His hands glide up over James' warm back, fingers spread in reverence to stroke over his skin as they feed from each other's mouths, his tongue licking and sucked on in James' panting mouth. He edges down into James' shorts, pushes past his underwear and right over his ass, gripping him hard and dragging him in right as he lifts his own hips, grinding his dick right up against all that heat and letting James rub off on his stomach.
James is whispering words against his lips, beautiful, sticky sweet words in Spanish, and David is too far gone, too caught up in the pull and drag of their bodies together in a disturbingly perfect rhythm that his mind doesn't translate the words immediately. He catches up after a few moments, after the words get more frantic, hot breath panted into his mouth.
"Fuck me. FuckmefuckmefuckmeDavidfuckme."
"Jesus, help me. Oh, fuck, help me," David groans, so fucking hard now, his dick fat and leaking through his shorts, straining to get up into that ass, begging now that he's been given permission. He thrusts up against him, bouncing James on his lap which draws a whine out of him, James' thighs spreading around him, body shoving up even tighter, even closer somehow.
"You gonna fuck me? Gonna give it to me? I'll beg, if that's what you what. If that's what you need, I'll--"
"Shh." David's head is spinning, mind flying in colors and rhythms and the smells and weight and fact of this angel straddling him, all but begging for his cock that David is already reaching down to shove his shorts down to free. He kisses James' mouth as he pushes at his shorts, gets a hand around his own dick, giving James time to tug his own shorts down, tugging them down just enough, just freeing the pretty swell of his ass that David can't help but run his dick along, leaking slick all over the dusky, young curve of it, just as plush as it is muscular, the head of his cock slipping between those warm cheeks to nudge right up against the scorching, tight furl of his hole.
It's insane, what he's doing, what they're doing. It's something he's never done, not quite like this, not out in the open, not with someone that he ever felt anything for, but he feels something here, for James, for this boy that he's already calling his in the quiet of his own mind, in the tender way he kisses James' cheek before he turns his head to spit in his palm to slick up his dick.
"I don't have anything with me. I don't--"
"Don't care," James breathes against his mouth, reaching back for David's dick, giving it a few twisting strokes before he lines it up with his hole, tightening his grip before he starts to sink down on top of it, the painful tightness of his ass forced open by how unbelievably hard David is.
It's rushed, it hurts them both, too dry and too tight and not enough care taken but David earns his way inside, fights until James swallows him up, keeping David's cock nestled in his burning hot insides. They shake against each other once he's all the way in, James' thighs trembling against David's hips, his arms wrapped around David's neck, pink mouth right against his ear while David strokes his hands all over his body; all over his long back and his tense belly and his hard, burning hot cock, giving James all the time he needs before he can move.
James starts to ride him, and it feels immediately like they've been doing this forever. Everything slots together, clicks perfectly when they both start to move, every single movement synced up, meeting in the middle, a give and take that neither anticipated. David feels stupid, inexplicable tears build up behind his eyes, and he reaches up to grab the back of James' short, thick hair to drag his face up away from his neck, to get at his mouth.
You can't leave when I just found you, David kisses into James' mouth, emotions pushing up around them, making them clutch at each other. You're mine now, and I can't just let you go.
James isn't quiet when he's being fucked, and he's hungry in the way he rides cock, working David so good that he can't do much but sit there, back getting scratched up on the bark of the tree he's leaning against, can't do anything but stare into James' eyes that are glittering and midnight right in front of him, can't do anything but wrap an arm around him and hold him close, but get a hand around his dick and jerk him just like he does himself, but try and make it as good for James as James is for him.
The garden echoes with the sounds their making, with sweat-damp skin slapping together, with their spit-slicked mouths sucking at each other, with David's low groans and James' pleading, sweet whimpers, with his sighs of David, sí, ay, David, sí, qué rico.
David tightens his arm around him, the bones in their chests straining together when he starts to come, James' tight ass milking the come right out of him, drawing his orgasm straight from his body. He buries his face in James' neck and pants there, latching onto his neck to suck so he doesn't just scream as he loads him up.
James' hand joins David's on his dick, jerking himself off right along with David and he shakes apart on top of him beautifully, coming right against David's belly, his hole fluttering and clutching at David's cock so tight that David has to close his eyes, grit his teeth so he doesn't cry out.
They come back into themselves around the same time, mouths blindly seeking each other out and meeting with a shared, relieved sigh, arms sliding around each other, keeping each other close, stay right here. David smiles against James' mouth after a long moment, his body still shaking, weak with orgasm.
"I didn't come out here for this," he mumbles against James' lips just to feel him grin.
The kiss he gets then is quiet, it's slow and sweet and feels like a promise, like a beginning and not an end. James' hand slides over his cheek, and David opens his eyes to stare up into dark ones just above him.
"Take me up to your room. Maybe you can convince me to stay for awhile."
And that, even over his goal, even over headlines and an impending semi-final, is exactly what David wants.
Pairing: David Luiz/James Rodríguez
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,934
Disclaimer: Tragically untrue.
Summary: The night Brasil eliminates Colombia from the World Cup, David encounters James.
Notes: I don't really write random pairings, so this is kind of a big deal for me. These two swept in today and stole my heart, and so I had to take the time to write them some lovin'. <3
AO3
It had been, for all intents and purposes, David's day. The world is bright with it tonight, bringing the fact of it up in sharp relief, in sparkling bursts of green and yellow fireworks in the muggy Fortaleza sky. The unending light show outside sounds like a battle, the pop-pop-pops loud, blocking out even the cacophony of voices, of song, of their national anthem and the jubilant cries of his own name on every person's lips outside.
He sits in a room among his friends, his compatriots, and feels alone.
The smile on his face isn't faked, but any enthusiasm he musters is. They're into the semi-finals, knocked out the bright stars of Colombia, but at what cost?
Marcelo, bright and golden and the life of every party, of every single day, dances by, a smile overtaking his already happy face, his eyes shining when they meet David's.
"Get off your ass, mermao!" Marcelo grabs David's hands and jerks him to his feet, hands clapping down on his shoulders as he beams up at him. "Enjoy tonight. Stop thinking about anything else, got it? Just enjoy it."
A smile tugs at David's lips, a little breath of laughter escaping when Marcelo gives him a shake.
"I am. I promise. It's just--"
"Nope!" Marcelo shakes his head, curls flying. "No. Just figure out whatever you need to do to let you be happy tonight and do it. Even if it involves a couple of hookers and completely destroying your hotel room."
David raises his eyebrows for that. Marcelo drops his hands to his sides, dimple winking as he smirks.
"Okay, fine. At least come dance! And take that damn jersey off! It's making the entire room smell bad." Marcelo plucks at David's shirt, the still-damp James jersey he'd gotten after the match. He tugs back from Marcelo, a frown pulling at his lips.
"I think I'm just going to go for a walk." David reaches down on the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in for his phone, tucking it into his pocket. He gives Marcelo one last smile before he leaves the room full of his celebratory teammates, winding his way down a couple of mostly empty hallways to get to the door that leads outside.
The little outdoor garden is wild and thick with summer, the night air not cool at all but sweltering, almost tangible. He'd forgotten how unforgiving Brasilian summers are, living in London for so long. He wonders what they're like in Paris.
David wades through it, ducking under overgrown vines and past the night-blooming flowers, following the sound of running water from a fountain he'd spied this morning while they were training out here in the little hotel plaza. He turns the corner, spying the fountain just where he'd left it, the water sounding sweet and cool and comforting, like a hideaway. He takes another step forward, heading for the bench just in front of it when he sees him.
James.
This boy, the reason for the sadness he hasn't been able to let go all evening, even more than the news about Neymar. This boy with the pure heart and the young smile and the heart of a lion that he'd been secretly following on newsfeeds and on Twitter and on the news that plays in the hotel gyms, this boy he'd watched almost the entire match just a few short hours ago, the one who had caught and held his attention, just like he had practically the entire world.
And David realizes right then that he's just another one of James' new fans.
He takes a step back, realizing that he's just an intruder on a private moment, probably when James had been seeking solitude just like David had. His shoes rustle in some out-stretching vines as he backs away, and James looks up then, up and up and straight into David's eyes, catching him, stilling him.
David's heart is in his throat, reminding him again, pathetically, that he's probably too taken with this boy.
"Sorry," he offers in Spanish, the language rusty and fumbling on his tongue. His curls fall over his eyes as he turns away, hoping to make as smooth of an exit as he can, but James' soft voice breaks through the thick warmth of the air, stopping him like a hand on his shoulder.
"No, please. Please, you can stay."
The words are Portuguese, round and raspy like they speak it back in Portugal. David has done his homework over the last few weeks. Knows this kid played there, that he speaks Portuguese probably much better than David speaks Spanish. It's a relief, one that makes him turn back around, not quite meeting his eyes but taking a step closer.
"I didn't know anybody would be out here. I just needed to get away."
James laughs, an almost cynical sound under his breath. He turns away from David to look back at the fountain. David realizes then that James is barefoot and that his feet are submerged in the cool water.
"Trust me," James says softly, down to the water. "I get that."
David hesitates, feeling for all the world like a damn school girl as he shifts from one foot to the other before he finally just takes a deep breath and steps toward him, lowering his aching body down until he's sitting beside James on the small bench, their bodies warm and touching.
They turn to watch the fountain together, their hands clasped between their respective knees, the night air alive around them, the celebrations out in the city faint but audible, even here. It's weird, and nothing he'd ever be able to explain to anyone else, but David feels like he's in the right place tonight, for the first time.
James looks over at him after several long minutes of an almost comforting quiet, and David can see his smile even from the corner of his eyes.
"I can't believe you're still wearing that jersey. It stinks like hell."
There's a pause and then they're both laughing, James rubbing his face and David plucking at the bottom of his shirt. He shrugs, a grin spread across his face as he tugs it over his head, all of his thick hair bouncing out around his face when he pries it off, dropping it down carefully on the stone next to his feet.
"There. How's that?"
"Much better," James grins, these words in Spanish, like he couldn't keep himself from saying them. David's face heats in the safe darkness, and they both lower their eyes, looking back to the safe zone of the fountain once again.
"Are you leaving tomorrow?" David doesn't know why, but it makes him sad to think about. That this boy, this star, this player meant for finals and for gold and glory and headlines, is going home. And maybe, just maybe, it's why David has been upset all evening.
"Yeah," James sighs, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. He slouches and leans back against the tree behind them, stretching his legs out to keep his feet in the water. "Need to figure out what I'm going to do, I guess."
David nods, doesn't reply for a few beats. He feels this boy's sadness all around them, like it's cloaking them. His fingers tremble to reach over, to light on his skin just like they had so easily earlier, in front of millions of eyes. Here, now, when there's nothing around but dark and the moon lazing behind clouds and an endless, Brasilian summer night, he's afraid.
"I'm sorry," he finally replies, his voice soft with how completely he means it.
"No, don't," James starts in Spanish, cutting himself off before trying again in Portuguese. "Please don't be sorry. It's what we do. It's what happens, and if it wasn't you out here saying this to me, it'd be me saying it to you. It's okay."
"You're incredible." The words crackle between them, too honest for the short history between them, for what they should be to each other, which is nothing. David's heart is in his throat, pounding loud and thick there, but he's already said it, damage done, and so he keeps going. "Seriously, you... you just take my breath away. I've spent so much time watching your goals. Watching you play. Wishing somehow that you'd be on my team. That you'd been born here, or that I could play wherever you're going. Just."
He licks his lips, his cheeks burning because he can feel James' eyes on him, those dark eyes studying him in the moonlight.
"Your passion. That kind of passion just can't be bottled. Can't be learned."
"Says the number one player of the tournament." James is smiling, David can hear it in his voice. He closes his eyes, absorbs those words from this boy. Doesn't look at him because he doesn't trust himself to.
"So you're leaving tomorrow?" David repeats the question but his tone is different, decisive, his tongue sliding out to soothe over his sunburned lips.
"Mmhmm." James sounds so close, like his mouth is right against David's ear. David turns a little, lifting his eyes to catch James that are already gazing right at him, like he'd just been waiting.
"Then I don't want you to forget tonight." He's facing James now, has crowded him back against the tree without even realizing it, the air between them trembling in wait until David closes the space and kisses him, kisses his sweet, young mouth, the one that still tastes like tears, that is hotter than the night around them, the one that responds immediately, lips softening, parting, like he'd only been waiting, dying to give David this permission.
James whimpers against his mouth, the sweetest little hurt sound, his hands sliding over David's bare chest, blindly sliding up to find his shoulders. There's the sound of water, of James' feet leaving the pool of the fountain and then there is solid warmth on his lap, that boy settling right on top of him, straddling him, long fingers getting lost in the wilds of David's hair.
David takes a deep breath that he lets out in a low growl as his hands slide up over James' body, heavy and possessive, like this is his to take, like he can lay claim here, like he's going to ruin James for anybody else.
He shoves up on James' shirt, impatient and young in his eagerness but James indulges him, lifts it up and off, tossing it into the flowers beside them and sliding up even tighter on David's lap, his cock burning through his thin shorts, his ass soft and so fucking sweet where it works over David's dick like a porn star would, like a stripper would. It's been a long time since David's had a boy, and he doesn't think he's ever had a boy this beautiful.
His hands glide up over James' warm back, fingers spread in reverence to stroke over his skin as they feed from each other's mouths, his tongue licking and sucked on in James' panting mouth. He edges down into James' shorts, pushes past his underwear and right over his ass, gripping him hard and dragging him in right as he lifts his own hips, grinding his dick right up against all that heat and letting James rub off on his stomach.
James is whispering words against his lips, beautiful, sticky sweet words in Spanish, and David is too far gone, too caught up in the pull and drag of their bodies together in a disturbingly perfect rhythm that his mind doesn't translate the words immediately. He catches up after a few moments, after the words get more frantic, hot breath panted into his mouth.
"Fuck me. FuckmefuckmefuckmeDavidfuckme."
"Jesus, help me. Oh, fuck, help me," David groans, so fucking hard now, his dick fat and leaking through his shorts, straining to get up into that ass, begging now that he's been given permission. He thrusts up against him, bouncing James on his lap which draws a whine out of him, James' thighs spreading around him, body shoving up even tighter, even closer somehow.
"You gonna fuck me? Gonna give it to me? I'll beg, if that's what you what. If that's what you need, I'll--"
"Shh." David's head is spinning, mind flying in colors and rhythms and the smells and weight and fact of this angel straddling him, all but begging for his cock that David is already reaching down to shove his shorts down to free. He kisses James' mouth as he pushes at his shorts, gets a hand around his own dick, giving James time to tug his own shorts down, tugging them down just enough, just freeing the pretty swell of his ass that David can't help but run his dick along, leaking slick all over the dusky, young curve of it, just as plush as it is muscular, the head of his cock slipping between those warm cheeks to nudge right up against the scorching, tight furl of his hole.
It's insane, what he's doing, what they're doing. It's something he's never done, not quite like this, not out in the open, not with someone that he ever felt anything for, but he feels something here, for James, for this boy that he's already calling his in the quiet of his own mind, in the tender way he kisses James' cheek before he turns his head to spit in his palm to slick up his dick.
"I don't have anything with me. I don't--"
"Don't care," James breathes against his mouth, reaching back for David's dick, giving it a few twisting strokes before he lines it up with his hole, tightening his grip before he starts to sink down on top of it, the painful tightness of his ass forced open by how unbelievably hard David is.
It's rushed, it hurts them both, too dry and too tight and not enough care taken but David earns his way inside, fights until James swallows him up, keeping David's cock nestled in his burning hot insides. They shake against each other once he's all the way in, James' thighs trembling against David's hips, his arms wrapped around David's neck, pink mouth right against his ear while David strokes his hands all over his body; all over his long back and his tense belly and his hard, burning hot cock, giving James all the time he needs before he can move.
James starts to ride him, and it feels immediately like they've been doing this forever. Everything slots together, clicks perfectly when they both start to move, every single movement synced up, meeting in the middle, a give and take that neither anticipated. David feels stupid, inexplicable tears build up behind his eyes, and he reaches up to grab the back of James' short, thick hair to drag his face up away from his neck, to get at his mouth.
You can't leave when I just found you, David kisses into James' mouth, emotions pushing up around them, making them clutch at each other. You're mine now, and I can't just let you go.
James isn't quiet when he's being fucked, and he's hungry in the way he rides cock, working David so good that he can't do much but sit there, back getting scratched up on the bark of the tree he's leaning against, can't do anything but stare into James' eyes that are glittering and midnight right in front of him, can't do anything but wrap an arm around him and hold him close, but get a hand around his dick and jerk him just like he does himself, but try and make it as good for James as James is for him.
The garden echoes with the sounds their making, with sweat-damp skin slapping together, with their spit-slicked mouths sucking at each other, with David's low groans and James' pleading, sweet whimpers, with his sighs of David, sí, ay, David, sí, qué rico.
David tightens his arm around him, the bones in their chests straining together when he starts to come, James' tight ass milking the come right out of him, drawing his orgasm straight from his body. He buries his face in James' neck and pants there, latching onto his neck to suck so he doesn't just scream as he loads him up.
James' hand joins David's on his dick, jerking himself off right along with David and he shakes apart on top of him beautifully, coming right against David's belly, his hole fluttering and clutching at David's cock so tight that David has to close his eyes, grit his teeth so he doesn't cry out.
They come back into themselves around the same time, mouths blindly seeking each other out and meeting with a shared, relieved sigh, arms sliding around each other, keeping each other close, stay right here. David smiles against James' mouth after a long moment, his body still shaking, weak with orgasm.
"I didn't come out here for this," he mumbles against James' lips just to feel him grin.
The kiss he gets then is quiet, it's slow and sweet and feels like a promise, like a beginning and not an end. James' hand slides over his cheek, and David opens his eyes to stare up into dark ones just above him.
"Take me up to your room. Maybe you can convince me to stay for awhile."
And that, even over his goal, even over headlines and an impending semi-final, is exactly what David wants.