fic: insignificant under the same lights
title: insignificant under the same lights
pairing: sergio ramos/feliciano lopez
rating: nc-17
warnings: use of restraints
disclaimer: fiction
summary: in a city so large it's amazing how one can feel so small. though good friends can make you feel less alone.
thank you pretty_panther for the hand holding and liroa15 who knows all things spanish.
this is the first crossover i have actually completed and not deleted like many before it. feedback is appreciated. (also i apologize if you see this on your flist like 3/4 times >.<
Madrid is a very big city - too big at times. With its huge historical buildings and preservation of culture making it a ‘must see’ attraction, millions of people filter in and out of the city constantly. Whether you are a tourist or a local it’s hard not to feel lost amongst the bright lights.
Ironically however the city of Madrid is far too small when you have had a little (or large) taste of fame. Paths cross. Circles intertwine. It’s hard not to know the who’s who of Madrid when you are considered one yourself.
So it’s no surprise for Feliciano to see Sergio Ramos at his favourite restaurant one random night in early September with blonde haired foreign looking girl attached to him. The tenista on the other hand is with friends. He doesn’t approach him. Instead he waits until they ‘run’ into each other in the washroom, stitching surprise onto his face when Sergio greets him with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. They don’t exchange many words however as Sergio is in a hurry to get back to his company. Feliciano doesn’t mind. Why would he?
Feliciano has known Sergio for years. It was inevitable really. They had met years ago after Feliciano had attended a Real Madrid match with Carlos and another friend of theirs. It was Sergio’s first season with the senior squad and he had yet to fully impress consistently though he did turn heads from time to time. When they had met they had gotten along just fine without being overtly friendly though Feliciano had given most of his attentions to the ‘stars’ of the team. However with being close to people in both friends circles it’s hard for them not to be friends.
**
It is a rarity when Feliciano doesn’t feel like going out. Instead of heading to the club with his friends he decides to call it a night and head home. It’s early still, only a quarter past two but Feliciano just isn’t in the mood. A rarity indeed.
It isn’t because he saw the young defender but he cannot help but think about him. The last time they had gotten together - had actually had a proper conversation not plagued by others - had been before the Confederations Cup.
Feliciano remembers that night quite well. Especially the feel of Sergio’s small yet muscular body against his; his eagerness and youth becoming Feliciano’s vices. Some would call their friendship unconventional but both men crave to break the label of ordinary at any cost.
It just had naturally progressed that way anyway. They had gravitated to each other sexually as if it was supposed to happen - a sign written in the stars (if you believe in that of course). And really how could they not? Both men know the commodity of their attractiveness to others and to each other, know how to work a room with a smile, with a laugh, a touch. Their attraction is natural, mutual and always welcomed.
Filling a glass of rich red wine for himself, Feliciano moves to take a seat on the leathered couch in his living room. He cannot help but wonder what the younger footballer is doing this exact moment. Probably fucking that blonde. His hand strays to his pocket nonetheless and Feliciano retrieves his phone. But before he can even press a single button he receives a message.
Are you out right now?
Feliciano laughs at the screen. Sergio Ramos will have a long life indeed. He sends of a quick At home reply before taking a sip of the wine. The glass just leaves his lips when he gets another message.
Okay be there in 10
A feeling of anticipation settles into the pit of his stomach though he doesn’t know why. He knows Sergio, is friends with him. Fucks him. Yet...
Feliciano shakes away his thoughts as he gets up and heads into the kitchen. He goes through his wine selection, his index finger tapping his bottom lip, before settling on one he knows Sergio would like. Retrieving the bottle, Feliciano makes one last stop to pick up one more glass before returning to the living room. As he places both items on the table next to his wine glass, the doorbell rings.
“Well that was quick,” Feliciano says with a smirk as soon as he opens the door.
Sergio, looking flawless and relaxed with his hair in a ponytail, glances up from his shoes. “Hola a ti tambien, puta,” he replies in a snarky tone that has Feliciano laughing.
“Hola, hola.”
He pulls the younger man in for a hug and trades kisses to the cheeks before ushering him inside. Of course he doesn’t need to show Sergio where to go; instead, Feliciano leans against the doorway of the living room and watches as Sergio sits down and pours himself a glass of wine straight away.
“Good choice.” There’s a slight noise of him smacking his lips together in approval.
“Of course,” Feliciano smirks in reply as he joins him on the couch. “So,” he starts, his eyes narrowing in question and wonder. “Why are you here and not with that girl?”
A shrug. “Got bored and you know I don’t stick around later.”
“You don’t like wasting time.”
“Of course not,” Sergio laughs, taking another savoury sip. “Who does? And anyway she’s from America. Her first comment to me was ‘oh you are in the posters around the city’. She was a good fuck though.”
“Aww,” Feliciano teases. He pats Sergio’s cheek playfully. “Did you get offended that she didn’t know who you are?” Sergio bats his hand away.
“Well it wasn’t that but after I told her I play ‘soccer’ she was all too clingy after that. So why stick around?”
Feliciano raises his glass of wine in salute to the younger man before drinking a little of the liquid.
“So why aren’t you out right now then?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Not in the mood tonight.”
Laughing, Sergio tilts forward to place his drink on the table in front of him before leaning back to rest his head against the couch. His eyes close.
“Neither am I,” the young defender replies.
“Why are you here?”
Sergio turns his head to the side and cracks open one eye. A smile settles onto his lips. He knows Feliciano knows why he’s here and knows on most days he doesn’t have to justify his reasons anyway. But Feliciano is looking down coyly at him, expectantly. It’s all just a game after all.
Shrugging, Sergio turns his head back and closes his eye again. “I was bored and thought you could be bored with me.”
The room is silent. All Sergio can hear is breathing - his own and the older tenistas - and it’s comforting until suddenly the couch under him shifts and there’s a heavy weight of a body pressing into his. A warm puff of breath falls onto his ear.
“What if I don’t want to be bored?”
“Then do something.”
It’s quick. Unexpected? No. Unwanted? Never. Feliciano slides on top of Sergio and kisses him hard, forgoing the pretence of soft and gentle. His hands settle on the younger man’s neck, his fingers toying with baby hairs that rest on the base; he feels Sergio’s arms come around him and pull him to settle into his lap properly though the fit is a little bit awkward.
“So,” Feliciano pulls back slightly, his lips red, wet and smirking. “Why are you here now?”
“Because you want me here, Feli.”
This time it is Sergio who pulls Feliciano tight and close to his body, forcing their lips to reconnect. Mouths open up to each other and Sergio pushes his tongue deep against Feliciano’s, the taste of wine heavy and strong.
Sergio slips a hand into Feliciano’s shirt, the pads of his fingertips ghosting over tiny hairs and smooth skin. Feliciano arches into the touch and Sergio’s body has no choice but to follow to keep in contact. It’s no surprise to Feliciano when he feels how hard the young defender already is.
“Upstairs?” He asks with a chuckle against Sergio’s lips as he snakes a hand between their bodies. The cock against the palm of his hand grows quickly - harder - and Feliciano feels a little envious that Sergio would come at least twice tonight.
Nodding, Feliciano licks at his lips before shifting off. He reaches for the glasses of wine that sit on the table before him and drains one. He locks his eyes onto Sergio’s and knowing he has his full attention, Feliciano licks away at a drop of wine that may or may not have strayed on his bottom lip before he places the glass down onto the table and leaves the room swiftly. If he knows Sergio has well as he believes he knows the Sevillano won’t be too far behind.
Before he can even reach the stairs, Feliciano is spun around and kissed so fiercely he has to reach behind him to hold onto to the wooden railing of the staircase to steady himself.
“Sergio. Sergio. Upstairs,” He can barely gasp out as the younger man effective wraps his body against Feliciano’s, moulding them into one. A hand skates around his waist before dipping into the back of his jeans. The feel of soft skin of his palm yet rough in some spots as result of hard work on his body sends a shiver through his body. “Sergio.”
There’s a chuckle against his lips before Sergio pulls away, a smirk heavy on his mouth. He doesn’t say a word only motions with his hand instead for Feliciano to lead the way. It takes a second (or a few) for Feliciano to gather his wits before he continues up to his room. Sergio however slips an arm around the tenista’s front and presses himself close. It makes the walk a little difficult and despite Feliciano’s curses and protests he doesn’t let go.
When they reach just outside of his bedroom door, Feliciano finds himself being slammed around again and his mouth swept up in a rough kiss, the second time in mere minutes.
“You know,” Feliciano struggles moments later as he tears his mouth away from Sergio’s. “If you just get into the fucking bedroom this would be so much easier. And better.”
With his hands on his shoulders, Sergio runs them down Feliciano’s chest, his thumbs dragging slowly over his nipples. “Don’t tell me you’re not as eager, Feli.” He stops and circles them until Feliciano’s nipples harden under his touch.
“If I didn’t know better Sergio, I would think you hadn’t already had sex tonight.”
The snarl in Feliciano’s voice only increases the size of the younger man’s smirk.
“Don’t be jealous, Feli. I’m young enough to keep you up all night.”
Sergio then proceeds into the older man’s bedroom, well aware that his strides are being watched. So he adds a little something extra in each step. Calculated. Smooth. Easy.
He doesn’t even wait for Feliciano, just starts to undress immediately instead. They’re comfortable enough with each other to drop the act of pretence. Sergio settles on top of the bed, sitting Indian-style with his legs folded. It’s not the sexiest of poses but when he raises his arms to stretch out his body, Feliciano cannot hurry off his clothes quick enough.
“How are we doing this?”
Feliciano shrugs as he throws his shirt to the ground and shuffles out of his jeans. “I don’t care. Fuck me?”
Sergio grins before moving back to rest against the headboard. “Of course.” He lets his eyes roam over Feliciano’s body. Sergio has fucked his fair share of men before so he can honestly say that nobody has a body like Feliciano’s. Feliciano is in a league of his own.
“Puta,” the older man replies though with a smile when he sees Sergio all but eye fucking him. He walks over to the side the bed where the nightstand is and opens the bottom drawer. As he goes to retrieve the lubricant and stripe of condoms that are always there a shine of metal catches his eyes. His mind is already made up before it can even process the actual thought.
He tosses the supplies towards Sergio (who has been watching him the entire time with a smile on his face). As he sits down next to him, Feliciano shows the younger man his find.
“Interested?”
Sergio watches Feliciano twirl a pair of silver cuffs from his index finger. He moves his gaze to meet Feliciano’s eyes, blue depths mysterious with want. “What do you have in mind?”
Much to his surprise, Feliciano drops them onto his stomach. Sergio looks down. The contrast of the harsh silver to gold of his tan skin is quite astonishing.
“Whatever you want.”
Feliciano lies down next to him, efficiently closing off the space between their bodies as he slides half on top of Sergio. Their lips meet and their kiss is much like it was earlier. Hot. Needy. Bruising.
Gripping the older man’s biceps firmly, Sergio rolls them over so he is on top. The cuffs slide off and onto the bed but not forgotten as Sergio gropes for them haphazardly, not daring to break away their mouths. Feliciano moans into his mouth when he feels the sharp press of metal into his side but Sergio just swallows the sound.
Sergio pulls away, his slightly smaller stature still looming over Feliciano as he looks at him. “Last chance to touch, Feli.” He dangles the cuffs above him, his eyes dangerous as his smile. Feliciano leans up on one elbow and reaches for Sergio’s neck with his free hand. His fingers crawl into the younger man’s hair and pulls away the band that holds the locks together. Sergio’s hair now frames his face and Feliciano settles back, looking slightly satisfied.
“Better. Much better.”
Sergio laughs before reaching down and grasping Feliciano strong wrists in his grip. He brings them above Feliciano head and immediately begins to fasten the cuffs. He doesn’t ask if Feliciano is okay and he doesn’t need to.
Once restrained, Sergio looks down at his handiwork and smirks when he sees Feliciano smiling as well. He covers said smiling lips with his own, his teeth tugging teasingly first before he relents and gives Feliciano his tongue. He feels Feliciano relax under his body which only spurs him on.
It’s crazy how much Feliciano trusts him. They may have not said to each other but body language does not lie. Not ever.
Palms flat, Sergio runs his hands up Feliciano’s flanks and over his nipples. The touch causes the tenista to arch a little and it never fails to surprise (and amuse) Sergio how sensitive Feliciano’s nipples are. He bends down and plays with them with his tongue, laving them until they are hard and wet, causing Feliciano to arch up.
A quiet moan causes Sergio to direct his gaze up to the older man; Feliciano has his eyes closed, his lips ever so slightly parted, his skin taut around the metal cuffs on his wrists. Coyly, Sergio licks at the nub before biting down firmly. Feliciano shakes a little underneath him but Sergio pays no attention to it, only continues to lick his way around his chest.
Lips and tongue trail downward to tease a slightly quivering bellybutton, the salty taste of sweat heavy in Sergio’s mouth. He swiftly moves down where Feliciano’s cock sits hard and hot on his stomach. But instead of taking him down his throat like he usually would, Sergio licks the head, suckles it a little before moving over to strong thighs. Feliciano isn’t too happy with that decision.
“Sergi, don’t fuck around.”
Sergio pulls his mouth away though his hands grip on his thighs. The grin he wears is dangerous.
“Who’s tied up right now, Feliciano?”
When Feliciano just glares at him (and tries not to rattle the cuffs too much), Sergio laughs, his hair falling back off his shoulders to show off the column of his neck, his tan skin teasingly the restrained man.
“If you don’t like it then you should have thought twice about the cuffs, yes?”
He knows Feliciano has a retort for him but before the tenista could utter a word, a syllable even, Sergio fastens his lips onto his hipbone and sucks hard; all Feliciano can do is push his body into it even more.
“Sergi... Sergio. Just do something.”
So he does.
Gripping his thighs, Sergio spreads Feliciano’s legs and pushes them back.
“Look at me.”
Raising his head off the pillow, Feliciano complies and sees Sergio give him a wink. It all goes downhill from there. Or uphill. In this moment, Feliciano could care less.
Having him spread out and open for him, Sergio licks over his entrance, his tongue laving and teasing at the smooth yet puckered skin. He can feel Feliciano’s deep moan on his tongue as he circles and circles yet doesn’t push in. Not yet. He cups his ass firmly, using his thumbs to keep Feliciano as open as possible.
“Sergi”
It’s breathy. It’s needy. It’s desperate and Sergio relents. He pushes his tongue inside slightly but Feliciano pushes back, effectively getting more of Sergio’s wet muscle.
“Fuck!”
Sergio feels Feliciano tremble under his touch, against his tongue and it makes his cock pulse, reminding him of his own need (though it could never neglect that even if he tried). He fucks him with his tongue a few times, in and out, in and out; he circles the edge before pulling back.
When he looks at him it isn’t Feliciano’s clenched eyes that grab his attention nor the pre-come pooling at the tip of his cock or how taut his body has gone. It’s the red, angry marks on his normal smooth soft skin that makes Sergio want to fuck him right now - needs to fuck him right now.
He fumbles in search of the condoms and lubricant Feliciano had tossed onto bed earlier but once he finds them Sergio wastes no time. He doesn’t slow down, not even when he finally pushes his cock inside Feliciano’s body. He knows he should have, that he has not stretched him enough by any standards but need has replaced responsibility though he mentally stores away to make it up to Feliciano however he can.
He reaches for Feliciano’s wrists, taking them into his hands as he closes their mouths together. His thumbs press into abrasions, his mouth swallowing the hiss and moan.
They match each other flawlessly, each push and pull in perfect synchronization. When Sergio stops kissing him, Feliciano opens his eyes and all he can see is a mess of bronzed skin and hair, musky breath heavy on his face. He tilts his face up a little, asking a for a kiss without words and Sergio complies though it’s slow this time as they take their time exploring each other’s mouth though the pace of their fucking hasn’t dulled at all.
“Feli,” the younger man breathes against his cheek, his lips resting against hot skin. He doesn’t let go of the restrained wrists as he fucks him hard.
This is where others who are close to both men don’t understand the extent of their friendship though only a few actually know. But they fulfil a need - a craving - they share. It may not make sense. But it works. If it’s not broken don’t fix it, right?
Only when he feels his orgasm approaching does he let go. One hand grips Feliciano’s cock roughly, jerking him off quickly and not caring about technique. The other cups the tenista’s cheek as he brings their lips close together though they do not kiss. Only breathing. And when they come, one after the other, they share the same air.
Sergio releases Feliciano’s hands almost immediately after, only letting his body cool down just slightly. He slides off to the side, his second orgasm of the night taking a toll on his body.
“Fuck.”
Feliciano rubs at his wrists carefully, though his face is still wearing the expression of bliss. With a sigh he gets up slowly.
“Where are you going?”
“Clean up and maybe find something to heal my wrists.”
He doesn’t say it with too much venom but Sergio knows Feliciano too well. He laughs and gets up as well. “I’ll help.”
**
After cleaning up and tending to Feliciano’s ‘wounds’ they head out to the balcony attached to his room to share a cigarette.
“Maybe we set up a day to meet up or something?”
“I’m sure we’ll run into each other, Sergi.”
A cloud of smoke settles over them as they watch the city they have both adopted as their own.
pairing: sergio ramos/feliciano lopez
rating: nc-17
warnings: use of restraints
disclaimer: fiction
summary: in a city so large it's amazing how one can feel so small. though good friends can make you feel less alone.
thank you pretty_panther for the hand holding and liroa15 who knows all things spanish.
this is the first crossover i have actually completed and not deleted like many before it. feedback is appreciated. (also i apologize if you see this on your flist like 3/4 times >.<
Madrid is a very big city - too big at times. With its huge historical buildings and preservation of culture making it a ‘must see’ attraction, millions of people filter in and out of the city constantly. Whether you are a tourist or a local it’s hard not to feel lost amongst the bright lights.
Ironically however the city of Madrid is far too small when you have had a little (or large) taste of fame. Paths cross. Circles intertwine. It’s hard not to know the who’s who of Madrid when you are considered one yourself.
So it’s no surprise for Feliciano to see Sergio Ramos at his favourite restaurant one random night in early September with blonde haired foreign looking girl attached to him. The tenista on the other hand is with friends. He doesn’t approach him. Instead he waits until they ‘run’ into each other in the washroom, stitching surprise onto his face when Sergio greets him with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. They don’t exchange many words however as Sergio is in a hurry to get back to his company. Feliciano doesn’t mind. Why would he?
Feliciano has known Sergio for years. It was inevitable really. They had met years ago after Feliciano had attended a Real Madrid match with Carlos and another friend of theirs. It was Sergio’s first season with the senior squad and he had yet to fully impress consistently though he did turn heads from time to time. When they had met they had gotten along just fine without being overtly friendly though Feliciano had given most of his attentions to the ‘stars’ of the team. However with being close to people in both friends circles it’s hard for them not to be friends.
**
It is a rarity when Feliciano doesn’t feel like going out. Instead of heading to the club with his friends he decides to call it a night and head home. It’s early still, only a quarter past two but Feliciano just isn’t in the mood. A rarity indeed.
It isn’t because he saw the young defender but he cannot help but think about him. The last time they had gotten together - had actually had a proper conversation not plagued by others - had been before the Confederations Cup.
Feliciano remembers that night quite well. Especially the feel of Sergio’s small yet muscular body against his; his eagerness and youth becoming Feliciano’s vices. Some would call their friendship unconventional but both men crave to break the label of ordinary at any cost.
It just had naturally progressed that way anyway. They had gravitated to each other sexually as if it was supposed to happen - a sign written in the stars (if you believe in that of course). And really how could they not? Both men know the commodity of their attractiveness to others and to each other, know how to work a room with a smile, with a laugh, a touch. Their attraction is natural, mutual and always welcomed.
Filling a glass of rich red wine for himself, Feliciano moves to take a seat on the leathered couch in his living room. He cannot help but wonder what the younger footballer is doing this exact moment. Probably fucking that blonde. His hand strays to his pocket nonetheless and Feliciano retrieves his phone. But before he can even press a single button he receives a message.
Are you out right now?
Feliciano laughs at the screen. Sergio Ramos will have a long life indeed. He sends of a quick At home reply before taking a sip of the wine. The glass just leaves his lips when he gets another message.
Okay be there in 10
A feeling of anticipation settles into the pit of his stomach though he doesn’t know why. He knows Sergio, is friends with him. Fucks him. Yet...
Feliciano shakes away his thoughts as he gets up and heads into the kitchen. He goes through his wine selection, his index finger tapping his bottom lip, before settling on one he knows Sergio would like. Retrieving the bottle, Feliciano makes one last stop to pick up one more glass before returning to the living room. As he places both items on the table next to his wine glass, the doorbell rings.
“Well that was quick,” Feliciano says with a smirk as soon as he opens the door.
Sergio, looking flawless and relaxed with his hair in a ponytail, glances up from his shoes. “Hola a ti tambien, puta,” he replies in a snarky tone that has Feliciano laughing.
“Hola, hola.”
He pulls the younger man in for a hug and trades kisses to the cheeks before ushering him inside. Of course he doesn’t need to show Sergio where to go; instead, Feliciano leans against the doorway of the living room and watches as Sergio sits down and pours himself a glass of wine straight away.
“Good choice.” There’s a slight noise of him smacking his lips together in approval.
“Of course,” Feliciano smirks in reply as he joins him on the couch. “So,” he starts, his eyes narrowing in question and wonder. “Why are you here and not with that girl?”
A shrug. “Got bored and you know I don’t stick around later.”
“You don’t like wasting time.”
“Of course not,” Sergio laughs, taking another savoury sip. “Who does? And anyway she’s from America. Her first comment to me was ‘oh you are in the posters around the city’. She was a good fuck though.”
“Aww,” Feliciano teases. He pats Sergio’s cheek playfully. “Did you get offended that she didn’t know who you are?” Sergio bats his hand away.
“Well it wasn’t that but after I told her I play ‘soccer’ she was all too clingy after that. So why stick around?”
Feliciano raises his glass of wine in salute to the younger man before drinking a little of the liquid.
“So why aren’t you out right now then?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Not in the mood tonight.”
Laughing, Sergio tilts forward to place his drink on the table in front of him before leaning back to rest his head against the couch. His eyes close.
“Neither am I,” the young defender replies.
“Why are you here?”
Sergio turns his head to the side and cracks open one eye. A smile settles onto his lips. He knows Feliciano knows why he’s here and knows on most days he doesn’t have to justify his reasons anyway. But Feliciano is looking down coyly at him, expectantly. It’s all just a game after all.
Shrugging, Sergio turns his head back and closes his eye again. “I was bored and thought you could be bored with me.”
The room is silent. All Sergio can hear is breathing - his own and the older tenistas - and it’s comforting until suddenly the couch under him shifts and there’s a heavy weight of a body pressing into his. A warm puff of breath falls onto his ear.
“What if I don’t want to be bored?”
“Then do something.”
It’s quick. Unexpected? No. Unwanted? Never. Feliciano slides on top of Sergio and kisses him hard, forgoing the pretence of soft and gentle. His hands settle on the younger man’s neck, his fingers toying with baby hairs that rest on the base; he feels Sergio’s arms come around him and pull him to settle into his lap properly though the fit is a little bit awkward.
“So,” Feliciano pulls back slightly, his lips red, wet and smirking. “Why are you here now?”
“Because you want me here, Feli.”
This time it is Sergio who pulls Feliciano tight and close to his body, forcing their lips to reconnect. Mouths open up to each other and Sergio pushes his tongue deep against Feliciano’s, the taste of wine heavy and strong.
Sergio slips a hand into Feliciano’s shirt, the pads of his fingertips ghosting over tiny hairs and smooth skin. Feliciano arches into the touch and Sergio’s body has no choice but to follow to keep in contact. It’s no surprise to Feliciano when he feels how hard the young defender already is.
“Upstairs?” He asks with a chuckle against Sergio’s lips as he snakes a hand between their bodies. The cock against the palm of his hand grows quickly - harder - and Feliciano feels a little envious that Sergio would come at least twice tonight.
Nodding, Feliciano licks at his lips before shifting off. He reaches for the glasses of wine that sit on the table before him and drains one. He locks his eyes onto Sergio’s and knowing he has his full attention, Feliciano licks away at a drop of wine that may or may not have strayed on his bottom lip before he places the glass down onto the table and leaves the room swiftly. If he knows Sergio has well as he believes he knows the Sevillano won’t be too far behind.
Before he can even reach the stairs, Feliciano is spun around and kissed so fiercely he has to reach behind him to hold onto to the wooden railing of the staircase to steady himself.
“Sergio. Sergio. Upstairs,” He can barely gasp out as the younger man effective wraps his body against Feliciano’s, moulding them into one. A hand skates around his waist before dipping into the back of his jeans. The feel of soft skin of his palm yet rough in some spots as result of hard work on his body sends a shiver through his body. “Sergio.”
There’s a chuckle against his lips before Sergio pulls away, a smirk heavy on his mouth. He doesn’t say a word only motions with his hand instead for Feliciano to lead the way. It takes a second (or a few) for Feliciano to gather his wits before he continues up to his room. Sergio however slips an arm around the tenista’s front and presses himself close. It makes the walk a little difficult and despite Feliciano’s curses and protests he doesn’t let go.
When they reach just outside of his bedroom door, Feliciano finds himself being slammed around again and his mouth swept up in a rough kiss, the second time in mere minutes.
“You know,” Feliciano struggles moments later as he tears his mouth away from Sergio’s. “If you just get into the fucking bedroom this would be so much easier. And better.”
With his hands on his shoulders, Sergio runs them down Feliciano’s chest, his thumbs dragging slowly over his nipples. “Don’t tell me you’re not as eager, Feli.” He stops and circles them until Feliciano’s nipples harden under his touch.
“If I didn’t know better Sergio, I would think you hadn’t already had sex tonight.”
The snarl in Feliciano’s voice only increases the size of the younger man’s smirk.
“Don’t be jealous, Feli. I’m young enough to keep you up all night.”
Sergio then proceeds into the older man’s bedroom, well aware that his strides are being watched. So he adds a little something extra in each step. Calculated. Smooth. Easy.
He doesn’t even wait for Feliciano, just starts to undress immediately instead. They’re comfortable enough with each other to drop the act of pretence. Sergio settles on top of the bed, sitting Indian-style with his legs folded. It’s not the sexiest of poses but when he raises his arms to stretch out his body, Feliciano cannot hurry off his clothes quick enough.
“How are we doing this?”
Feliciano shrugs as he throws his shirt to the ground and shuffles out of his jeans. “I don’t care. Fuck me?”
Sergio grins before moving back to rest against the headboard. “Of course.” He lets his eyes roam over Feliciano’s body. Sergio has fucked his fair share of men before so he can honestly say that nobody has a body like Feliciano’s. Feliciano is in a league of his own.
“Puta,” the older man replies though with a smile when he sees Sergio all but eye fucking him. He walks over to the side the bed where the nightstand is and opens the bottom drawer. As he goes to retrieve the lubricant and stripe of condoms that are always there a shine of metal catches his eyes. His mind is already made up before it can even process the actual thought.
He tosses the supplies towards Sergio (who has been watching him the entire time with a smile on his face). As he sits down next to him, Feliciano shows the younger man his find.
“Interested?”
Sergio watches Feliciano twirl a pair of silver cuffs from his index finger. He moves his gaze to meet Feliciano’s eyes, blue depths mysterious with want. “What do you have in mind?”
Much to his surprise, Feliciano drops them onto his stomach. Sergio looks down. The contrast of the harsh silver to gold of his tan skin is quite astonishing.
“Whatever you want.”
Feliciano lies down next to him, efficiently closing off the space between their bodies as he slides half on top of Sergio. Their lips meet and their kiss is much like it was earlier. Hot. Needy. Bruising.
Gripping the older man’s biceps firmly, Sergio rolls them over so he is on top. The cuffs slide off and onto the bed but not forgotten as Sergio gropes for them haphazardly, not daring to break away their mouths. Feliciano moans into his mouth when he feels the sharp press of metal into his side but Sergio just swallows the sound.
Sergio pulls away, his slightly smaller stature still looming over Feliciano as he looks at him. “Last chance to touch, Feli.” He dangles the cuffs above him, his eyes dangerous as his smile. Feliciano leans up on one elbow and reaches for Sergio’s neck with his free hand. His fingers crawl into the younger man’s hair and pulls away the band that holds the locks together. Sergio’s hair now frames his face and Feliciano settles back, looking slightly satisfied.
“Better. Much better.”
Sergio laughs before reaching down and grasping Feliciano strong wrists in his grip. He brings them above Feliciano head and immediately begins to fasten the cuffs. He doesn’t ask if Feliciano is okay and he doesn’t need to.
Once restrained, Sergio looks down at his handiwork and smirks when he sees Feliciano smiling as well. He covers said smiling lips with his own, his teeth tugging teasingly first before he relents and gives Feliciano his tongue. He feels Feliciano relax under his body which only spurs him on.
It’s crazy how much Feliciano trusts him. They may have not said to each other but body language does not lie. Not ever.
Palms flat, Sergio runs his hands up Feliciano’s flanks and over his nipples. The touch causes the tenista to arch a little and it never fails to surprise (and amuse) Sergio how sensitive Feliciano’s nipples are. He bends down and plays with them with his tongue, laving them until they are hard and wet, causing Feliciano to arch up.
A quiet moan causes Sergio to direct his gaze up to the older man; Feliciano has his eyes closed, his lips ever so slightly parted, his skin taut around the metal cuffs on his wrists. Coyly, Sergio licks at the nub before biting down firmly. Feliciano shakes a little underneath him but Sergio pays no attention to it, only continues to lick his way around his chest.
Lips and tongue trail downward to tease a slightly quivering bellybutton, the salty taste of sweat heavy in Sergio’s mouth. He swiftly moves down where Feliciano’s cock sits hard and hot on his stomach. But instead of taking him down his throat like he usually would, Sergio licks the head, suckles it a little before moving over to strong thighs. Feliciano isn’t too happy with that decision.
“Sergi, don’t fuck around.”
Sergio pulls his mouth away though his hands grip on his thighs. The grin he wears is dangerous.
“Who’s tied up right now, Feliciano?”
When Feliciano just glares at him (and tries not to rattle the cuffs too much), Sergio laughs, his hair falling back off his shoulders to show off the column of his neck, his tan skin teasingly the restrained man.
“If you don’t like it then you should have thought twice about the cuffs, yes?”
He knows Feliciano has a retort for him but before the tenista could utter a word, a syllable even, Sergio fastens his lips onto his hipbone and sucks hard; all Feliciano can do is push his body into it even more.
“Sergi... Sergio. Just do something.”
So he does.
Gripping his thighs, Sergio spreads Feliciano’s legs and pushes them back.
“Look at me.”
Raising his head off the pillow, Feliciano complies and sees Sergio give him a wink. It all goes downhill from there. Or uphill. In this moment, Feliciano could care less.
Having him spread out and open for him, Sergio licks over his entrance, his tongue laving and teasing at the smooth yet puckered skin. He can feel Feliciano’s deep moan on his tongue as he circles and circles yet doesn’t push in. Not yet. He cups his ass firmly, using his thumbs to keep Feliciano as open as possible.
“Sergi”
It’s breathy. It’s needy. It’s desperate and Sergio relents. He pushes his tongue inside slightly but Feliciano pushes back, effectively getting more of Sergio’s wet muscle.
“Fuck!”
Sergio feels Feliciano tremble under his touch, against his tongue and it makes his cock pulse, reminding him of his own need (though it could never neglect that even if he tried). He fucks him with his tongue a few times, in and out, in and out; he circles the edge before pulling back.
When he looks at him it isn’t Feliciano’s clenched eyes that grab his attention nor the pre-come pooling at the tip of his cock or how taut his body has gone. It’s the red, angry marks on his normal smooth soft skin that makes Sergio want to fuck him right now - needs to fuck him right now.
He fumbles in search of the condoms and lubricant Feliciano had tossed onto bed earlier but once he finds them Sergio wastes no time. He doesn’t slow down, not even when he finally pushes his cock inside Feliciano’s body. He knows he should have, that he has not stretched him enough by any standards but need has replaced responsibility though he mentally stores away to make it up to Feliciano however he can.
He reaches for Feliciano’s wrists, taking them into his hands as he closes their mouths together. His thumbs press into abrasions, his mouth swallowing the hiss and moan.
They match each other flawlessly, each push and pull in perfect synchronization. When Sergio stops kissing him, Feliciano opens his eyes and all he can see is a mess of bronzed skin and hair, musky breath heavy on his face. He tilts his face up a little, asking a for a kiss without words and Sergio complies though it’s slow this time as they take their time exploring each other’s mouth though the pace of their fucking hasn’t dulled at all.
“Feli,” the younger man breathes against his cheek, his lips resting against hot skin. He doesn’t let go of the restrained wrists as he fucks him hard.
This is where others who are close to both men don’t understand the extent of their friendship though only a few actually know. But they fulfil a need - a craving - they share. It may not make sense. But it works. If it’s not broken don’t fix it, right?
Only when he feels his orgasm approaching does he let go. One hand grips Feliciano’s cock roughly, jerking him off quickly and not caring about technique. The other cups the tenista’s cheek as he brings their lips close together though they do not kiss. Only breathing. And when they come, one after the other, they share the same air.
Sergio releases Feliciano’s hands almost immediately after, only letting his body cool down just slightly. He slides off to the side, his second orgasm of the night taking a toll on his body.
“Fuck.”
Feliciano rubs at his wrists carefully, though his face is still wearing the expression of bliss. With a sigh he gets up slowly.
“Where are you going?”
“Clean up and maybe find something to heal my wrists.”
He doesn’t say it with too much venom but Sergio knows Feliciano too well. He laughs and gets up as well. “I’ll help.”
**
After cleaning up and tending to Feliciano’s ‘wounds’ they head out to the balcony attached to his room to share a cigarette.
“Maybe we set up a day to meet up or something?”
“I’m sure we’ll run into each other, Sergi.”
A cloud of smoke settles over them as they watch the city they have both adopted as their own.