fic: you on my skin
title: you on my skin
pairing: dan agger/fernando torres
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
follows washable tattoos. for mikaylex, my fellow tattoo enthusiast ♥
Another day in Liverpool, another day greeted by the sound of rain drumming steadily on the roof. It’s all familiar now: the feel, the sound of nature that is unique to England. Different from the cold of Denmark. Different from the heat of Spain.
Fernando is standing at the sink in the kitchen, slowly washing the dirty dishes from dinner. The house is quiet but comfortable so he doesn’t mind. The rain is his soundtrack and after three years he has learned to appreciate it, just like the style of play in this country. It’s different from back home but he could honestly say that he loves it. The best players always adapt to their surroundings, to any situation they are thrown in. Someone had once told him this and the day he left Madrid he had made sure to keep it in mind.
No training the next day means most of his teammates are out right now, even if it were just at Stevie’s restaurant. They all like to frequent the spot regularly but Fernando had turned down the request. He just feels like spending the evening at home tonight, amongst the quiet and tranquility: something he hasn’t had much of since the disaster that is their season. Though it is on the mend and slowly coming back together, Liverpool had been on its way to being the poorest display of football they’ve put on in years. Luckily - luckily this hadn’t been the case; it was like someone had thrown a lasso on their season and slowly pulled it away from the cliff.
Pair of arms slide around his middle causing Fernando to tense up, his body going rigid, until he feels familiarity of scent, of muscles, of touch settle in and he relaxes once again.
“What are you thinking about?”
Dan’s soft voice tickles the shell of his ear. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“Difference.”
“In?”
“Here and home.” The arms settle on his hips, a little tighter than before. “Do you think about it?”
“Sometimes,” Dan replies, his lips grazing against the back of Fernando’s neck. “But when I’m back in Denmark I can’t wait to get back here.” He puffs out a little breath of air when he laughs.
Fernando goes silent, hands still deep in soapy water as he mulls over what has just been said. He loves playing for his country, loves being back home too but he has never thought about like that.
Fingers slip under his shirt and caress his ribs, thumbs moving in soothing circles against his muscles and bones. When the dishes are all done he shuts off the water and leans against Dan’s hard body, letting him anchor him for a moment.
“I still want to do it,” Dan says softly as he presses his thumb a little harder against the outline of Fernando’s rib. “If you still want to.”
And he knows exactly what he’s talking about, memories of just a little while ago flood back: the press of the felt pen against his skin, the blindfold, the temporary imprint of the Danish crown on his skin. Fernando turns around and brings his still wet hands around Dan’s body.
“I do,” he kisses him softly, chaste. “But maybe not on my ribs anymore.”
Dan laughs before he kisses him again. “Scared?”
Fernando makes a little noise of indignation and tries his best to glare but it just comes out as a half grin. “Of course not.” He pauses, his face steeling before softening within seconds. “Just... not on my body...”
And Dan of course knows exactly what he means. It’s too in the open, on his ribs, for everyone to see, to judge and speculate. Everyone including Fernando’s family. He has no right to be mad or question his decision. So he doesn’t.
He slides his hands to the front of Fernando’s chest, thumbs rubbing over his nipples for a flash of a second. Then he’s kissing him, his solid body pressing Fernando’s against the sink, trapping him underneath.
“Can I show you where else to put it then?”
“Of course.” It’s immediate and no more than a flutter of breath. Dan kisses him a little more firmly this time around, sliding his tongue inside Fernando’s mouth and claims before he pulls away to push the clothing out of the way. The shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor by their feet and on any other circumstances Fernando would have made Dan pick it up but there are hands on his belt buckle and a mouth sucking at his soul.
Dan hums against Fernando’s lips as he pushes his jeans down his hips, just enough. He brings his thumbs and lets it sit on the bones that are jutting out there.
“You know, I love hip tattoos.”
Fernando laughs into his mouth, gasping for breath as he pulls away. “Do I look like a girl?”
“Guys have them too.”
“Then you can get on your hip because I am not.”
It’s his turn to laugh as he presses his fingers a little harder. “They look good. Hot.” He brings his fingers to the middle, just above Fernando’s groin. “How about here?”
“The Danish crown right above my cock? That’s not obvious at all, Dan.” Fernando all but rolls his eyes.
Instead of retorting the Dane just continues with his mapping of Fernando’s skin, touching every inch of his hips, his thighs but of course not his cock. He dips his head and licks at his collarbone, little licks and swipes that are less for arousal sake and more for Dan’s amusement. Fernando twists his torso, mewling at the treatment.
Dan moves down his body leisurely, taking his time in appreciating and exploring a body he can fortunately call his (even if it’s just in his mind). With his lips still worshipping, he pushes Fernando’s jeans down rest of the way.
“Step out of them,” he demands, murmuring against Fernando’s firm stomach, his muscles quivering under his touch. When Fernando fulfils his wish, Dan folds onto his knees and looks up, his eyes narrowed and hard. His hands skim down his thighs, applying a little pressure when he reaches the funnily shaped knees.
“Dan,” Fernando whispers and it’s breathy. Trembling. His eyes are on the verge of closing but he keeps them open, tries to focus. Struggling. “Do something...please.”
And he does. Licking his lips lightly, he wraps them around Fernando’s cock that is protruding obscenely in front of him, bobbing in the air. He moans, loud and wantonly and it makes Dan laugh around him, the vibrations just adding to the sensation.
Placing a hand on the base, Dan pulls off after a few stroke, his lips red and wet. His eyes hide nothing.
“Right now, Fernando.”
He wraps his hands in Dan’s short hair, grips it as tight as he can, pulling him closer to what he wants. “Right here. Just now. Now.”
It isn’t pretty but they end up on the floor, using their clothes combined for a makeshift bed between their warm and soft bodies in comparison to the chilled hardwood floor. Fernando’s on his back, Dan in between in legs, hovering above him. Their bodies are lined up and when he pushes in it hurts. Only using saliva as lubricant and nearly not enough preparation at all, they curl towards each other, lips and mouths melting away the pain one kiss at a time.
**
“So.”
“So.”
Dan laughs. Fernando is looking up at him, his freckled cheeks nicely crimson. He brings a hand towards his face and rubs his thumb against the soft skin right under his eye. “Are we going to stay on the kitchen floor or should we go upstairs?”
Smiling Fernando bites his lip, looking utterly coy and fuckable. “I don’t know about you but I’m comfortable.”
Dan laughs again as he lowers himself completely against Fernando, tucking his head into his neck. His body spills onto the cold floor, the ‘bed’ now messed up beneath them. He hisses against warm Spanish skin.
“More comfortable in a bed though.”
Conversation rolls away, allowing silence to flow in and cocoon them in a shell of calm. Fernando’s hand finds its way against the small of Dan’s back. They are content. More than.
“On my arm.”
Fernando’s voice is low, a quiet hum Dan feels against his forehead. He peels away and leans up on one elbow to look at him. “Hmm?”
“The tattoo,” his eyes close but a slight smile remains on his lips. “I want it on my arm.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know where exactly. Not on my biceps but maybe around the on my forearm... or the nine.”
Dan reaches down and caresses his cheek, making Fernando open his eyes. “Are you sure? I know you-”
Forcing himself up, he cuts off Dan with a kiss, pressing his lips firmly. Assuredly. “I want it.”
When the kiss ends, Dan smiles. “Okay.”
“Do you have all the supplies here? I was thinking to get it done during the holidays.”
“The holidays?” Dan’s voices rises a little, surprised. “Wait. You actually want me to do it?”
Fernando shrugs though his eyes and lips lie, too bright to be neutral. “You offered.”
“I did but I didn’t think you were serious.”
“I am.”
It’s the hard look in Fernando’s eyes that convinces Dan more than the actual words. He’s serious, completely and one hundred percent sure. Suddenly he leans in and kisses Fernando so passionately he’s pressed against the floor once again.
“Come with me to Denmark,” he says once they part, eyes glazed again, lips puffy and obscene. “When the season is over. My friend owns and shop and he lets me do tattoos whenever I want.”
When Fernando doesn’t answer immediately regret floods Dan and he backtracks as much as he can. “Actually there’s a place near Melwood that does is pretty amazing. The artists-”
Once again Fernando swallows his words with a kiss. He cups his face and looks hard into his eyes before speaking. “No. Denmark sounds perfect.”
His tone leaves no room for argument but Dan wants to ask if he’s sure. But then Fernando’s shaking his head and he knows better than to ask the Spaniard again.
“Okay then we’ll go to Denmark and I will tattoo you.”
Fernando smiles. “Good. Now let’s go upstairs. Neither of us needs to add a back injury onto the list.”
When they walk out of the kitchen together (their clothes left for the morning) the rain still beats harder than ever against the windows.
pairing: dan agger/fernando torres
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
follows washable tattoos. for mikaylex, my fellow tattoo enthusiast ♥
Another day in Liverpool, another day greeted by the sound of rain drumming steadily on the roof. It’s all familiar now: the feel, the sound of nature that is unique to England. Different from the cold of Denmark. Different from the heat of Spain.
Fernando is standing at the sink in the kitchen, slowly washing the dirty dishes from dinner. The house is quiet but comfortable so he doesn’t mind. The rain is his soundtrack and after three years he has learned to appreciate it, just like the style of play in this country. It’s different from back home but he could honestly say that he loves it. The best players always adapt to their surroundings, to any situation they are thrown in. Someone had once told him this and the day he left Madrid he had made sure to keep it in mind.
No training the next day means most of his teammates are out right now, even if it were just at Stevie’s restaurant. They all like to frequent the spot regularly but Fernando had turned down the request. He just feels like spending the evening at home tonight, amongst the quiet and tranquility: something he hasn’t had much of since the disaster that is their season. Though it is on the mend and slowly coming back together, Liverpool had been on its way to being the poorest display of football they’ve put on in years. Luckily - luckily this hadn’t been the case; it was like someone had thrown a lasso on their season and slowly pulled it away from the cliff.
Pair of arms slide around his middle causing Fernando to tense up, his body going rigid, until he feels familiarity of scent, of muscles, of touch settle in and he relaxes once again.
“What are you thinking about?”
Dan’s soft voice tickles the shell of his ear. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“Difference.”
“In?”
“Here and home.” The arms settle on his hips, a little tighter than before. “Do you think about it?”
“Sometimes,” Dan replies, his lips grazing against the back of Fernando’s neck. “But when I’m back in Denmark I can’t wait to get back here.” He puffs out a little breath of air when he laughs.
Fernando goes silent, hands still deep in soapy water as he mulls over what has just been said. He loves playing for his country, loves being back home too but he has never thought about like that.
Fingers slip under his shirt and caress his ribs, thumbs moving in soothing circles against his muscles and bones. When the dishes are all done he shuts off the water and leans against Dan’s hard body, letting him anchor him for a moment.
“I still want to do it,” Dan says softly as he presses his thumb a little harder against the outline of Fernando’s rib. “If you still want to.”
And he knows exactly what he’s talking about, memories of just a little while ago flood back: the press of the felt pen against his skin, the blindfold, the temporary imprint of the Danish crown on his skin. Fernando turns around and brings his still wet hands around Dan’s body.
“I do,” he kisses him softly, chaste. “But maybe not on my ribs anymore.”
Dan laughs before he kisses him again. “Scared?”
Fernando makes a little noise of indignation and tries his best to glare but it just comes out as a half grin. “Of course not.” He pauses, his face steeling before softening within seconds. “Just... not on my body...”
And Dan of course knows exactly what he means. It’s too in the open, on his ribs, for everyone to see, to judge and speculate. Everyone including Fernando’s family. He has no right to be mad or question his decision. So he doesn’t.
He slides his hands to the front of Fernando’s chest, thumbs rubbing over his nipples for a flash of a second. Then he’s kissing him, his solid body pressing Fernando’s against the sink, trapping him underneath.
“Can I show you where else to put it then?”
“Of course.” It’s immediate and no more than a flutter of breath. Dan kisses him a little more firmly this time around, sliding his tongue inside Fernando’s mouth and claims before he pulls away to push the clothing out of the way. The shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor by their feet and on any other circumstances Fernando would have made Dan pick it up but there are hands on his belt buckle and a mouth sucking at his soul.
Dan hums against Fernando’s lips as he pushes his jeans down his hips, just enough. He brings his thumbs and lets it sit on the bones that are jutting out there.
“You know, I love hip tattoos.”
Fernando laughs into his mouth, gasping for breath as he pulls away. “Do I look like a girl?”
“Guys have them too.”
“Then you can get on your hip because I am not.”
It’s his turn to laugh as he presses his fingers a little harder. “They look good. Hot.” He brings his fingers to the middle, just above Fernando’s groin. “How about here?”
“The Danish crown right above my cock? That’s not obvious at all, Dan.” Fernando all but rolls his eyes.
Instead of retorting the Dane just continues with his mapping of Fernando’s skin, touching every inch of his hips, his thighs but of course not his cock. He dips his head and licks at his collarbone, little licks and swipes that are less for arousal sake and more for Dan’s amusement. Fernando twists his torso, mewling at the treatment.
Dan moves down his body leisurely, taking his time in appreciating and exploring a body he can fortunately call his (even if it’s just in his mind). With his lips still worshipping, he pushes Fernando’s jeans down rest of the way.
“Step out of them,” he demands, murmuring against Fernando’s firm stomach, his muscles quivering under his touch. When Fernando fulfils his wish, Dan folds onto his knees and looks up, his eyes narrowed and hard. His hands skim down his thighs, applying a little pressure when he reaches the funnily shaped knees.
“Dan,” Fernando whispers and it’s breathy. Trembling. His eyes are on the verge of closing but he keeps them open, tries to focus. Struggling. “Do something...please.”
And he does. Licking his lips lightly, he wraps them around Fernando’s cock that is protruding obscenely in front of him, bobbing in the air. He moans, loud and wantonly and it makes Dan laugh around him, the vibrations just adding to the sensation.
Placing a hand on the base, Dan pulls off after a few stroke, his lips red and wet. His eyes hide nothing.
“Right now, Fernando.”
He wraps his hands in Dan’s short hair, grips it as tight as he can, pulling him closer to what he wants. “Right here. Just now. Now.”
It isn’t pretty but they end up on the floor, using their clothes combined for a makeshift bed between their warm and soft bodies in comparison to the chilled hardwood floor. Fernando’s on his back, Dan in between in legs, hovering above him. Their bodies are lined up and when he pushes in it hurts. Only using saliva as lubricant and nearly not enough preparation at all, they curl towards each other, lips and mouths melting away the pain one kiss at a time.
**
“So.”
“So.”
Dan laughs. Fernando is looking up at him, his freckled cheeks nicely crimson. He brings a hand towards his face and rubs his thumb against the soft skin right under his eye. “Are we going to stay on the kitchen floor or should we go upstairs?”
Smiling Fernando bites his lip, looking utterly coy and fuckable. “I don’t know about you but I’m comfortable.”
Dan laughs again as he lowers himself completely against Fernando, tucking his head into his neck. His body spills onto the cold floor, the ‘bed’ now messed up beneath them. He hisses against warm Spanish skin.
“More comfortable in a bed though.”
Conversation rolls away, allowing silence to flow in and cocoon them in a shell of calm. Fernando’s hand finds its way against the small of Dan’s back. They are content. More than.
“On my arm.”
Fernando’s voice is low, a quiet hum Dan feels against his forehead. He peels away and leans up on one elbow to look at him. “Hmm?”
“The tattoo,” his eyes close but a slight smile remains on his lips. “I want it on my arm.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know where exactly. Not on my biceps but maybe around the on my forearm... or the nine.”
Dan reaches down and caresses his cheek, making Fernando open his eyes. “Are you sure? I know you-”
Forcing himself up, he cuts off Dan with a kiss, pressing his lips firmly. Assuredly. “I want it.”
When the kiss ends, Dan smiles. “Okay.”
“Do you have all the supplies here? I was thinking to get it done during the holidays.”
“The holidays?” Dan’s voices rises a little, surprised. “Wait. You actually want me to do it?”
Fernando shrugs though his eyes and lips lie, too bright to be neutral. “You offered.”
“I did but I didn’t think you were serious.”
“I am.”
It’s the hard look in Fernando’s eyes that convinces Dan more than the actual words. He’s serious, completely and one hundred percent sure. Suddenly he leans in and kisses Fernando so passionately he’s pressed against the floor once again.
“Come with me to Denmark,” he says once they part, eyes glazed again, lips puffy and obscene. “When the season is over. My friend owns and shop and he lets me do tattoos whenever I want.”
When Fernando doesn’t answer immediately regret floods Dan and he backtracks as much as he can. “Actually there’s a place near Melwood that does is pretty amazing. The artists-”
Once again Fernando swallows his words with a kiss. He cups his face and looks hard into his eyes before speaking. “No. Denmark sounds perfect.”
His tone leaves no room for argument but Dan wants to ask if he’s sure. But then Fernando’s shaking his head and he knows better than to ask the Spaniard again.
“Okay then we’ll go to Denmark and I will tattoo you.”
Fernando smiles. “Good. Now let’s go upstairs. Neither of us needs to add a back injury onto the list.”
When they walk out of the kitchen together (their clothes left for the morning) the rain still beats harder than ever against the windows.