fic: a question unasked is a question unanswered
title: a question unasked is a question unanswered
pairing: raul gonzales/karim benzema
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
follows directly after chaos around me
Stepping out from the cloud of steam, Karim reaches for a soft fluffy light blue towel and proceeds to dry himself off. It’s done rather methodically, just to wipe away the once warm now chilled droplets of water that cling to his pale skin. It isn’t until his eyes catch the mirror does he stop and observe his body.
Little spots of purple, a bluish tinge, spatter across his hips. He moves closer to the mirror, his eyes wide with fear. The marks on his skin appear to have the outline of fingernails, dark and ugly against his pale complexion. One sits directly on top of his hipbone, the indent clear and haunting.
Karim tears his eyes away from his waist and trails up. His body relaxes a little when he sees no further marks (his nipples safe from any blemishes) only to freeze up again when he sees the bruise on his shoulder. Bumping his hips into the counter in attempt to get as close to the mirror as he could, Karim brings trembling fingers to touch the mark. His fingers barely ghost it when he closes his eyes, memories plaguing his mind.
There isn’t much sound; no real noise floating about and Karim isn’t sure if he’s dreaming all this up. But then Raul bites down on his shoulder (enough to break skin, he won’t know until later) and laves at it with his tongue. His moan cuts through the air, hanging loud and proud. He can feel Raul’s smile upon his skin. A hand slips into his sweats once again, past his boxers this time and fingers curl around his rapidly hardening cock. Karim pushes into Raul’s hand as he bites down on his lip to suppress another moan.
Looking down, Karim can make out the distinct marks of teeth, of Raul’s punishing touch. It makes him shiver though he tells himself it’s because he’s completely bare of clothes. He doesn’t cover up however. Instead he continues to stare at his body, at the abuse he had endured willingly the night before.
Hesitantly, Karim turns around. He closes his eyes, breathes in, opens them again and looks behind him into the mirror. Scratches mar his back, fading red lines starting at the nape of his neck that trail all the way down. He winces at the sight, idly wondering when and how it became like this. He doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember a thing but Raul inside him, surrounding him, dominating him. And really, that’s all that matters.
With trembling hands, Karim touches his backside, scared though he knows he shouldn’t be. Sure Raul was rough and it had hurt but it wasn’t anything overtly brutal. He would like to think that he would have stopped it if it had. After careful inspection, he breathes a little easier after seeing no real damage a part from more little blue spots and scratches. Karim then begins to dress, his thoughts though still stuck on the subject of last night.
It’s unhealthy, this relationship that is developing with Raul, not only on his body but for his mind as well. It has only happened twice, fulfilling this need of Raul’s, but Karim has a feeling that it isn’t going to stop there. And a part of him doesn’t want to stop. There’s something about Raul, the way he doesn’t explain himself, the way he just takes, the way Karim knows he’s in good hands.
It’s not like Raul was his first, not in any way but being taken like the way he was, is definitely something entirely new to Karim. He could feel Raul’s frustration pour into him, could taste his confusion on his tongue. No matter how experienced Raul may have been, Karim knows that this is new to him too.
He wanders out dressed in pair of black sweats and a white t-shirt as he heads for the kitchen. As he searches fruitfully through cupboards he wishes that his mother was here right now. He has always depended on her, on his family for taking care of him. Now he is on his own and isn’t sure how he got here exactly. Deciding on crackers, Karim makes a cup of tea, something herbal but strong to warm and wake him.
He proceeds to the living room of his modest flat. Taking a seat on the couch, Karim turns the television on to fulfill his need to have background noise. His eyes glance from time to time to the screen but he’d hardly call it watching.
Later when the crackers have been consumed and the remains of the tea now cold, his mind wanders back to his captain. Karim wonders if he had done something, anything to cause this unexpected side of Raul. Before leaving Lyon, everything he had heard about Raul had been unsurprisingly positive and appraising. Karim had already known about his actions and demeanour on the pitch but it was the talk about his character (also with what he has seen so far this season) that doesn’t fit with the Raul that had barged in and fucked him, like he had something to prove.
It doesn’t make sense. Why him? Out of everyone, Karim is pretty quiet. Sure he laughs and joins in conversations but at the same time, he keeps to himself. He’s new after all, and with so many different languages, sometimes it is easier just to smile and remain silent.
Methodically, Karim cleans up before heading back up into his room. There isn’t much today, with no training and the raining pouring down making it undesirable to wander the city. Madrid is everything and more of what Karim had expected when he had left home. His mother never tried to get him to stay but she had said that Lyon was one of a kind. And now Karim could say Madrid is as well.
He throws himself onto the bed, wincing when his elbow connects with something, his mobile. Laying flat on his back, he picks it up and stares at the screen. There are messages from his friends and teammates alike but instead of reading them, he lazily scrolls for a familiar name and hits dial. When he realizes what he’s doing exactly, it’s too late because he hears hola in such a soft Spanish lilt that can only belong to his captain.
{*}
Forty-five minutes later, Karim finds himself in front of Raul’s house. He wipes the sweat of his palms before he raises them to knock on the door. He doesn’t know why he’s here, really doesn’t. When he called Raul, they had talked (albeit a little difficultly) before Karim had spit out that he needed this conversation to be in person. Raul had offered his place (Mamen and the children had been gone for the weekend) and Karim stupidly had agreed.
The door opens, revealing the older Spaniard clad in a pale blue shirt and black jeans, a soft smile reaching his lips upon seeing Karim. He offers a kiss to either cheek as a greeting before stepping aside to allow the younger man inside.
Raul leads them into the living room, gesturing Karim to sit down as he gets him some tea. Karim does so, nerves filling him at an incredible speed. He tries to calm down, concentrates on the task so hard he doesn’t notice Raul place the cups down on the table, nor when he takes a seat next to him. And when a hand lands on his thigh Kaim all but jumps.
“What’s wrong, Karim?”
Karim just shakes his head before leaning forward for the cup of tea. He needs something to ease his nerves or else he has no idea how he’s going to get through this.
Raul reaches for his cup as well and shifts away from his teammate a little. He takes a sip before turning to the Frenchman again, though he doesn’t say a word. Karim’s body is tense, his back straight and stiff. Raul doesn’t like it one bit but remains silent.
Minutes tick on by and when Raul thinks Karim has fallen into a catatonic state, the younger man finally speaks up, though barely audible.
“Pourquoi moi?”
Instead of responding, Raul leans in and cuts off the distance between their bodies and lips. Taken by surprise, Karim’s eyes widen before they close, his body slowly submitting to the inevitable.
This is different - everything from the softness of Raul’s lips to the gentle touch of his fingers on Karim’s neck and cheek. He doesn’t know what to make of it besides letting it be. Karim relaxes, letting his captain take the lead as he has before. Thus he doesn’t protest or put up any kind of argument as moments later he is being reclined to lay down.
Soft lips are pried open by a curious tongue. Too distracted, Karim doesn’t notice the hands that trail down to grip his hips before moving to slip inside his pants. However once fingers curl around his cock consequently gripping his attention once again as well, he lets out a moan that is swallowed by the older man. His own hands sink into Raul’s thick dark curls, efficiently pushing their bodies as close as possible.
The strokes on his cock are maddening, the friction burning his skin. But he doesn’t speak up, can’t because Raul won’t let him. The kiss is no longer soft and gentle but punishing, like Raul is reinforcing his authority over the young Frenchman (though that has been determined as a universal truth since the first time they fucked).
Raul pulls away and when Karim opens his mouth, he smiles down shaking his head, leaving no room for argument from the other man. He looks away as he spits into his hand, the gesture feeling too dirty, too real. But then he’s turning back and pressing down against the muscular body underneath him. With his free hand, Raul pulls down Karim’s sweats, pushes his shirt up in the process, and presses their lips together as his wet palm begins to stroke slowly.
Karim can’t breathe, never seems to be able to when Raul has him trapped as he always does. He reaches for the front of Raul’s jeans but a tight grip around his wrists stops him from proceeding. All he can do now is moan against Raul’s prodding tongue as he works his cock perfectly (how they got to perfect after two times Karim doesn’t know but he doesn’t question the fleeting thought). He just lets the feeling of his captain overwhelm him, overpower every nerve in his body.
When he comes, Karim arches up hastily, his whole body bucking from the sensations running through his body. The hand restraining him falls away and he immediately wrap them around Raul’s neck, trying to get their bodies impossibly closer.
Finally Raul pulls away, breaking the kiss that just doesn’t want to end. Karim’s eyes flicker open and another bout of lust fills him upon seeing such tenderness and understanding in Raul’s eyes.
“Don’t question why, Karim,” Raul whispers. His fingers gentle massage the fluid around the still hard length. And Karim is ready to beg him to fuck him, not caring how needy and pathetic it’ll sound.
He leans down and places a chaste kiss onto young lips before moving away completely. “Do you want to stay? Guti, Iker and Sese are going to be here in a bit.”
And that sobers up Karim faster than anything before. He sits up straight as if the doorbell had rung and their teammates already at the door. The panic stricken look on his face has Raul chuckling. He pats his Karim’s cheek patronizingly. “You can borrow pants if you want?”
Karim shakes his head. “N-no. I should go.” He moves to tuck himself in but Raul beats him to it, all the while keeping their eyes locked together. There’s another kiss before he moves to the side and completely off the young man who gets up right away.
{*}
It isn’t until Karim is safely inside his flat with his head hitting the plaster of the wall does he realize that instead of answering questions, he has just created more. And when he's showering for the second time that day he frowns when he doesn't see any new little blue spots, only fading purple ones.
pairing: raul gonzales/karim benzema
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
follows directly after chaos around me
Stepping out from the cloud of steam, Karim reaches for a soft fluffy light blue towel and proceeds to dry himself off. It’s done rather methodically, just to wipe away the once warm now chilled droplets of water that cling to his pale skin. It isn’t until his eyes catch the mirror does he stop and observe his body.
Little spots of purple, a bluish tinge, spatter across his hips. He moves closer to the mirror, his eyes wide with fear. The marks on his skin appear to have the outline of fingernails, dark and ugly against his pale complexion. One sits directly on top of his hipbone, the indent clear and haunting.
Karim tears his eyes away from his waist and trails up. His body relaxes a little when he sees no further marks (his nipples safe from any blemishes) only to freeze up again when he sees the bruise on his shoulder. Bumping his hips into the counter in attempt to get as close to the mirror as he could, Karim brings trembling fingers to touch the mark. His fingers barely ghost it when he closes his eyes, memories plaguing his mind.
There isn’t much sound; no real noise floating about and Karim isn’t sure if he’s dreaming all this up. But then Raul bites down on his shoulder (enough to break skin, he won’t know until later) and laves at it with his tongue. His moan cuts through the air, hanging loud and proud. He can feel Raul’s smile upon his skin. A hand slips into his sweats once again, past his boxers this time and fingers curl around his rapidly hardening cock. Karim pushes into Raul’s hand as he bites down on his lip to suppress another moan.
Looking down, Karim can make out the distinct marks of teeth, of Raul’s punishing touch. It makes him shiver though he tells himself it’s because he’s completely bare of clothes. He doesn’t cover up however. Instead he continues to stare at his body, at the abuse he had endured willingly the night before.
Hesitantly, Karim turns around. He closes his eyes, breathes in, opens them again and looks behind him into the mirror. Scratches mar his back, fading red lines starting at the nape of his neck that trail all the way down. He winces at the sight, idly wondering when and how it became like this. He doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember a thing but Raul inside him, surrounding him, dominating him. And really, that’s all that matters.
With trembling hands, Karim touches his backside, scared though he knows he shouldn’t be. Sure Raul was rough and it had hurt but it wasn’t anything overtly brutal. He would like to think that he would have stopped it if it had. After careful inspection, he breathes a little easier after seeing no real damage a part from more little blue spots and scratches. Karim then begins to dress, his thoughts though still stuck on the subject of last night.
It’s unhealthy, this relationship that is developing with Raul, not only on his body but for his mind as well. It has only happened twice, fulfilling this need of Raul’s, but Karim has a feeling that it isn’t going to stop there. And a part of him doesn’t want to stop. There’s something about Raul, the way he doesn’t explain himself, the way he just takes, the way Karim knows he’s in good hands.
It’s not like Raul was his first, not in any way but being taken like the way he was, is definitely something entirely new to Karim. He could feel Raul’s frustration pour into him, could taste his confusion on his tongue. No matter how experienced Raul may have been, Karim knows that this is new to him too.
He wanders out dressed in pair of black sweats and a white t-shirt as he heads for the kitchen. As he searches fruitfully through cupboards he wishes that his mother was here right now. He has always depended on her, on his family for taking care of him. Now he is on his own and isn’t sure how he got here exactly. Deciding on crackers, Karim makes a cup of tea, something herbal but strong to warm and wake him.
He proceeds to the living room of his modest flat. Taking a seat on the couch, Karim turns the television on to fulfill his need to have background noise. His eyes glance from time to time to the screen but he’d hardly call it watching.
Later when the crackers have been consumed and the remains of the tea now cold, his mind wanders back to his captain. Karim wonders if he had done something, anything to cause this unexpected side of Raul. Before leaving Lyon, everything he had heard about Raul had been unsurprisingly positive and appraising. Karim had already known about his actions and demeanour on the pitch but it was the talk about his character (also with what he has seen so far this season) that doesn’t fit with the Raul that had barged in and fucked him, like he had something to prove.
It doesn’t make sense. Why him? Out of everyone, Karim is pretty quiet. Sure he laughs and joins in conversations but at the same time, he keeps to himself. He’s new after all, and with so many different languages, sometimes it is easier just to smile and remain silent.
Methodically, Karim cleans up before heading back up into his room. There isn’t much today, with no training and the raining pouring down making it undesirable to wander the city. Madrid is everything and more of what Karim had expected when he had left home. His mother never tried to get him to stay but she had said that Lyon was one of a kind. And now Karim could say Madrid is as well.
He throws himself onto the bed, wincing when his elbow connects with something, his mobile. Laying flat on his back, he picks it up and stares at the screen. There are messages from his friends and teammates alike but instead of reading them, he lazily scrolls for a familiar name and hits dial. When he realizes what he’s doing exactly, it’s too late because he hears hola in such a soft Spanish lilt that can only belong to his captain.
{*}
Forty-five minutes later, Karim finds himself in front of Raul’s house. He wipes the sweat of his palms before he raises them to knock on the door. He doesn’t know why he’s here, really doesn’t. When he called Raul, they had talked (albeit a little difficultly) before Karim had spit out that he needed this conversation to be in person. Raul had offered his place (Mamen and the children had been gone for the weekend) and Karim stupidly had agreed.
The door opens, revealing the older Spaniard clad in a pale blue shirt and black jeans, a soft smile reaching his lips upon seeing Karim. He offers a kiss to either cheek as a greeting before stepping aside to allow the younger man inside.
Raul leads them into the living room, gesturing Karim to sit down as he gets him some tea. Karim does so, nerves filling him at an incredible speed. He tries to calm down, concentrates on the task so hard he doesn’t notice Raul place the cups down on the table, nor when he takes a seat next to him. And when a hand lands on his thigh Kaim all but jumps.
“What’s wrong, Karim?”
Karim just shakes his head before leaning forward for the cup of tea. He needs something to ease his nerves or else he has no idea how he’s going to get through this.
Raul reaches for his cup as well and shifts away from his teammate a little. He takes a sip before turning to the Frenchman again, though he doesn’t say a word. Karim’s body is tense, his back straight and stiff. Raul doesn’t like it one bit but remains silent.
Minutes tick on by and when Raul thinks Karim has fallen into a catatonic state, the younger man finally speaks up, though barely audible.
“Pourquoi moi?”
Instead of responding, Raul leans in and cuts off the distance between their bodies and lips. Taken by surprise, Karim’s eyes widen before they close, his body slowly submitting to the inevitable.
This is different - everything from the softness of Raul’s lips to the gentle touch of his fingers on Karim’s neck and cheek. He doesn’t know what to make of it besides letting it be. Karim relaxes, letting his captain take the lead as he has before. Thus he doesn’t protest or put up any kind of argument as moments later he is being reclined to lay down.
Soft lips are pried open by a curious tongue. Too distracted, Karim doesn’t notice the hands that trail down to grip his hips before moving to slip inside his pants. However once fingers curl around his cock consequently gripping his attention once again as well, he lets out a moan that is swallowed by the older man. His own hands sink into Raul’s thick dark curls, efficiently pushing their bodies as close as possible.
The strokes on his cock are maddening, the friction burning his skin. But he doesn’t speak up, can’t because Raul won’t let him. The kiss is no longer soft and gentle but punishing, like Raul is reinforcing his authority over the young Frenchman (though that has been determined as a universal truth since the first time they fucked).
Raul pulls away and when Karim opens his mouth, he smiles down shaking his head, leaving no room for argument from the other man. He looks away as he spits into his hand, the gesture feeling too dirty, too real. But then he’s turning back and pressing down against the muscular body underneath him. With his free hand, Raul pulls down Karim’s sweats, pushes his shirt up in the process, and presses their lips together as his wet palm begins to stroke slowly.
Karim can’t breathe, never seems to be able to when Raul has him trapped as he always does. He reaches for the front of Raul’s jeans but a tight grip around his wrists stops him from proceeding. All he can do now is moan against Raul’s prodding tongue as he works his cock perfectly (how they got to perfect after two times Karim doesn’t know but he doesn’t question the fleeting thought). He just lets the feeling of his captain overwhelm him, overpower every nerve in his body.
When he comes, Karim arches up hastily, his whole body bucking from the sensations running through his body. The hand restraining him falls away and he immediately wrap them around Raul’s neck, trying to get their bodies impossibly closer.
Finally Raul pulls away, breaking the kiss that just doesn’t want to end. Karim’s eyes flicker open and another bout of lust fills him upon seeing such tenderness and understanding in Raul’s eyes.
“Don’t question why, Karim,” Raul whispers. His fingers gentle massage the fluid around the still hard length. And Karim is ready to beg him to fuck him, not caring how needy and pathetic it’ll sound.
He leans down and places a chaste kiss onto young lips before moving away completely. “Do you want to stay? Guti, Iker and Sese are going to be here in a bit.”
And that sobers up Karim faster than anything before. He sits up straight as if the doorbell had rung and their teammates already at the door. The panic stricken look on his face has Raul chuckling. He pats his Karim’s cheek patronizingly. “You can borrow pants if you want?”
Karim shakes his head. “N-no. I should go.” He moves to tuck himself in but Raul beats him to it, all the while keeping their eyes locked together. There’s another kiss before he moves to the side and completely off the young man who gets up right away.
{*}
It isn’t until Karim is safely inside his flat with his head hitting the plaster of the wall does he realize that instead of answering questions, he has just created more. And when he's showering for the second time that day he frowns when he doesn't see any new little blue spots, only fading purple ones.