[Fic - Real Madrid] I Don't Need a God (I Have You & Your Beautiful Mouth) (Part IV)
Title: I Don't Need a God (I Have You & Your Beautiful Mouth) (Part IV)
Fandom/Pairing: Real Madrid - Mesut Özil/Sergio Ramos
Rating: So very NC-17
Author: onyxexistance/openmoments
Spoilers: --
Word Count: 4,762
Summary: Sequel to Can't Let Go. In which Mesut and Sergio can't keep it in their pants and therefore just have sex in places that aren't their bed.
Prompt: --
Author's Notes: I had a bit that didn't fit into the first fic, but I didn't want to just leave it as a weird 1.3k of disjointed fic. And thencagedlight was all, "I want moar!" and I really suck at saying no to her, so I went ahead and wrote more. And more. And more. Basically: it's all porn with a little bit of plot. Exactly how things should be.
Sergio looks up from tying his boots when he hears Mesut’s voice yelling, “Put me down!” and sees him thrown over Cris’s shoulder as Marcelo’s chasing after them.
He chuckles under his breathe as he finishes and then stands up and jogs over just as Mesut’s being put back on the ground and he shakes his head, his face pink and wide with a smile.
“I told you you were tiny,” Cris teases him and Sergio mutters to himself, “Wrong,” and Mesut squints his eyes at him, arms crossed.
“No I’m not,” and Sergio’s half surprised there isn’t a Cris-like foot stomp there.
Cris tilts his head to the side and raises his eyebrows, “I just picked you up, you little ballerina,” and Mesut frowns and mutters something.
“What was that?” Cris asks as he leans forward, butts his forehead against Mesut’s and Mesut sticks out his tongue and Cris laughs, forehead still pressed up against Mesut’s and Sergio gets this twist in his stomach, a vice like grip that squashes the smile that was just about the spread when he looks at how close they are, the way Mesut’s leaning in against Cris’s forehead and that look he’s giving him.
It happens again, when they’re fucking around during practice, some of them lined up at half and booting balls down the pitch, trying to hit the net and Mesut’s makes it close and Sergio feels pride swelling up in his chest and then Cris’s makes it and he almost cheers on his friend but then Mesut frowns and goes over, football under his arm before he places it in front of Cris, asks him to do it again.
Sergio gets something fluttering in his stomach when Cris makes it again and Mesut jogs over to a discarded football, kicks it up to his hands and finds another one to boot to Cris.
They spend only a couple of minutes, but the way Cris’s hands flutter around Mesut, positioning him, showing him how to kick the ball a certain way and he’s digging his nails into the palms of his hands, half moons dotting the skin there when he looks at them.
“At least my thighs aren’t fatter than my head,” he hears Mesut joke later and he turns around to interject, to see who he’s insulting and his teeth grind when he sees Cris wrapping his arm around his head.
“That’s not fat,” he tells him, fist rubbing into the top of Mesut’s head, “That’s muscle, something you wouldn’t know anything about,” and Sergio turns around, back to the direction of the change room as Mesut lets out a cry of protest.
“Hey! Just because mine aren’t suspiciously large...,” and Cris cuts him off.
“That’s not all that’s large,” he teases and Sergio resists the urge to whirl around but grits his teeth instead and walks on.
“Not all of you can be large,” Mesut points out as Sergio breathes in and out slowly.
“Would you like to inspect that? Just to be sure?” Cris asks and the rest of the conversation is cut short as Sergio leaves them behind and enters the change room, door banging shut behind him.
The shower’s hot, scalding, against his back, but works out the knots at the back of his neck, until laughter and bouncing words fall over each other and echo among the tiles in the shower.
He cranes his neck to look, even though he doesn’t have to. He knows that laugh, knows that it’s Mesut laugh number three on the scale of one to five for flirting. Knows it like he knows that Mesut will always pick Turkey if he’s playing FIFA against Sami, knows that he calls his mother every Thursday evening at 5:00, knows that he hates peas and loves carrots and puts his socks on the left side of the drawer and his underwear on the right.
Mesut wanted to take his new car to practice, wanted to drive for a change and Sergio had teased him about it, asking if he felt he wasn’t getting enough attention. He kicks himself for it now.
He’s been waiting outside for half an hour and almost everyone’s left when Mesut finally comes out, his laugh inching up to almost a four on the five scale and Cris has his arm looped around his neck and Sergio doesn’t even notice that his teeth are on edge when Cris finally unravels himself from around Mesut, stops for small talk, tells them he’ll see them tomorrow before getting in his own vehicle, music loud as he drives out of the parking lot.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Mesut apologizes as he tosses their stuff in the trunk and Sergio doesn’t say anything as he slides into the passenger seat.
Mesut tries talking for the first ten minutes of the drive home and Sergio says nothing, eyes trained on the traffic ahead of them, ignores the thought that he should let Mesut drive more often because it suits him, this car, driving and instead curls his fingers into his thighs.
They stop at a red light and Mesut glances over, for the first time looks at his face and frowns.
“Are you okay? Sergio?” and he says nothing, jerks his chin forward as the light turns green and Mesut opens his mouth and then closes it, hits the gas instead.
“What’d I do?” and Sergio wants to laugh because of course Mesut’s intuitive like that and saying the words, “I’m jealous,” aren’t something he wants to say so again he says nothing and he can feel Mesut getting annoyed in the seat beside him.
It’s a long drive home, feels longer when they’re not talking or when they’re not switching between the German rap and flamenco Sergio put on Mesut’s iPod. Mesut doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive home and Sergio’s switched off the iPod and it’s silent and it does nothing for Sergio’s mood.
They finally make it home and Mesut turns the engine off and Sergio can see him opening his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but he cuts him off before he even starts.
“Don’t.”
Mesut throws him a confused look and Sergio shakes his head, still looking ahead at the garage door, “Just...don’t.”
He moves to open the door and Sergio grabs his arm across the console, grips it tight and Mesut’s head whips back to look at him and Sergio’s pulling him closer.
“You don’t get to flirt like that with him,” he spits out and his hand moves from Mesut’s wrist to behind his head and pulls him closer, kisses him, hard and punishing and there’s a gasp of surprise against his mouth and he snakes his tongue in the space it creates.
“You’re mine,” he rasps when they break a whisper’s breathe away and Mesut shivers against him and Sergio grabs him by the arms and tugs him over the console, into his lap, his head smacking against the roof and Mesut hisses then moans when Sergio cups him through his pants.
Sergio mouths against his neck and Mesut’s head falls to the side to allow better access and he whines against Sergio’s ear, breathy and high.
His hand fumbles with Mesut’s belt, mouth busy working on his neck and he’s distracted by the sound Mesut’s making in his ear. Finally he gets it undone and pops the button and the zip is down and his hand is inside his boxers, hot on his hard dick and Mesut thrusts up into his hand and he realizes how fucking small his damn car is.
“Bigger car next time,” he growls in Mesut’s ear, who breathlessly laughs in reply and Sergio knows there won’t be enough room in the front, shifts and pushes Mesut who ends up awkwardly in the backseat with a bit of a crash. He looks over his shoulder with a scowl.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks and frowns as Sergio shrugs before leaning closer.
“It really bothered you that much?” he asks as Sergio half leans over the console and tugs his shoes off and pulls at the hems of his jeans.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” is his curt reply as he tosses the jeans to into the driver’s seat when he gets them off and leans over to slip his hands on the inside of Mesut’s boxers when he feels his hands on his wrists.
He looks up and sees Mesut’s brow furrowed, “You don’t want to talk about it but you expect me to have sex with you?” and he pauses for a moment before shrugging and nodding.
“Yeah,” and Mesut sits back, pushes his hands off.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” and Sergio lets out a puff of air, frustrated and he runs a hand through his hair.
“You’re right, you don’t have to. I’m going inside,” and he’s popped the trunk to grab his stuff and out of the vehicle, leaving Mesut in the back seat with his pants still in the driver’s seat.
He doesn’t look back as he slams the door on the trunk and makes his way to the house, letting the door slam back into its frame. (He considers locking Mesut out for two seconds and then realizes how childish that would be. Besides, Mesut has a key and it would be pointless.)
He grabs a water bottle from the kitchen on his way to the laundry room, drops his bag in front of the washing machine and winds around to the stairs. He stops in his tracks when he sees Mesut sitting on the bottom step.
“You left,” and Sergio nods as he looks at the top of the water bottle.
There’s a silence and Sergio thinks back to the day he stepped onto Mesut’s front porch, wondering why he hadn’t stopped by in awhile, wondering if he’d done something, the way he’d spent weeks just wandering aimlessly around his house, waiting for him to walk in through the back door.
He sighs and pushes a hand through his still damp hair and looks up and Mesut’s there, filling the whole space in front of him and he deflates a little, drops his gaze back down for a moment and the words jumble out of his mouth, “I’ve never felt that jealous before,” he admits.
“Cris and I joke around all the time,” Mesut points out as he settles his hands on his hips, shifting them closer. “And you’ve never had an issue with it before,” he adds and Sergio feels something twist in his stomach when he says that, pointing out the obvious.
“I know,” he admits, “And it’s not...it wasn’t...I don’t know,” he finally admits and pulls away, taking a long drink from his water bottle and running a hand through his hair again.
“I’m just...I’m sorry,” he finally says, voice low and he bites his lip before turning around, “I really am. I shouldn’t have and I didn’t want to make you feel like I was making you do anything...,” he trails off and looks back down at the bottle in his hands. “I haven’t,” he tracts back, “I’ve never felt that way before, and I guess...I guess I didn’t know what to do with it,” he finishes as he twists the empty bottle in his hands.
The room stays silent and he wonders if maybe it’s now Mesut who’s mad at him and they’ve never really had a fight before. They’ve been frustrated but not....but not anything like this. He didn’t think it would hold out forever but he also didn’t figure it would be him doing something completely stupid as...as what....
“You know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” interrupts his thoughts and his head snaps up as he looks at Mesut, his mouth forming around a question he doesn’t know to ask.
He licks his lips and tries again, “You’re not mad?”
Mesut scrubs at the back of his neck and he mildly notes how much he loves it when he does that and then focuses on, “I...I don’t think....that’s not....,” and he seems to be thinking out loud before he cracks a crooked smile and drops his hand, slips them into his pockets. “No, I’m not,” and Sergio feels confused.
“What?”
Mesut shrugs and takes a step forward, “I’m upset, more than anything,” he says, looking at him before his gaze darts to the floor for a moment as he bites his lips, deciding his next words, “I know you need space to figure out what you’re feeling, but, you can tell me, you know,” and Sergio knows that, he does and he opens his mouth, snaps it shut when Mesut shakes his head.
“I know you know that, and I figure you were just upset, but next time, just...tell me, yeah?” and the way he says it, just points it out, the way it’s a forgiveness and it’s soft and not in his face and completely Mesut.
He feels the mood shift, it’s almost imperceptible, but he feels it. The way Mesut’s standing right in front of him and looking up at him, eyes wide and open and...and Sergio’s seen the glint there before.
He doesn’t know, though, if he’s reading it right and nods, relieved and he smiles, small, “Thank you,” and his voice comes out a whisper and he doesn’t realize how much he was worried, too, when Mesut looked at him from the back of the car.
Mesut pushes his hips up against his and his smile quirks up at the edges, “Next time, though, you could always stand up for me and tell Cris under no uncertain terms that I am not small,” and Sergio can’t help the smile that splits his face.
“What if he asks me how I know?” he asks innocently.
Mesut’s hands slide out of his pockets and around Sergio’s waist, his gaze flicking down and then back up to his face.
He shrugs casually, “I’m sure there’s an example or two you could come up with,” he replies cheekily and Sergio’s mouth goes dry.
“I don’t know if that’s appropriate for practice,” and his voice is hoarse and Mesut grins at the sound of it.
“Well, we’re not at practice now,” he points out, pushes his hips up against Sergio’s and he can’t stop the whine that slips out of his mouth.
“But what about...?” and Sergio frowns for a moment, trying to think past the haze that’s quickly clouding his mind.
Mesut backs up a fraction, face serious, “Sergio. I know you, okay? I know you didn’t mean it like that. I know that. And I completely believe it when you said you were sorry and I do, I forgive you,” and Sergio feels his chest get tight and then laughs when Mesut adds, “Now, I’m trying to get you to make it up to me, if you’d quit cockblocking yourself,” with a wink.
“Seriously?” he asks as he slips his hands around Mesut’s waist and Mesut hums in response.
“Seriously,” and he shrugs and darts his gaze for a moment before, “Besides, Cris and I kind of noticed how green your face had gotten after the scoring from centre field and we....,” he shrugs again, “we rolled with it.”
Sergio narrows his eyes, “You were acting that last time?”
Mesut ducks his head, smile on his face, “Yeah. Cris kind of suggested it and after he pointed it out,” he drops off for a moment before leaning in, breathe fanning across Sergio’s chin and cheek, “You’re kind of hot when you’re jealous.”
Sergio raises his eyebrows as he looks down at him, “As in reading-a-book-hot or...?” and he lets the sentence hang as Mesut mimics the look on his face, raises his own eyebrows and shakes his head.
“No,” he whispers, slipping his hands into his back pockets and hitching his hips up, “That’s sex on a couch hot,” he says as he licks a stripe up Sergio’s neck, grinning against skin there, “No, this...this is sex in the back of a car hot,” and Sergio’s breathe hitches in his ear when he says it.
His voice stutters in his ear, “Are you...?” and Mesut nods against his shoulder.
“I’m saying that there’s a perfectly useable car in the driveway,” he whispers, finishing his sentence and presses his hands against Sergio’s ass, pushing their hips together, grinding his against Sergio’s.
Sergio bends his head and presses his mouth, hot and hard on Mesut’s, teeth clanking together and Mesut groans at the contact, grabs Sergio’s ass firmly as Sergio moves his hands from his hips and to either side of his face, fingers lining up with his cheekbones.
“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” Sergio says breathlessly when they pull away and Mesut pulls away, grins when Sergio whines at the lack of contact.
“Can’t have that,” he says and slides his hands out of Sergio’s back pockets and slips his fingers through his belt loops, pulling him towards the door, Sergio leaning in as they walk, leaving soft kisses on his mouth, his eye, his cheek.
Sergio pushes him up against the door when they get there, hand behind Mesut as it searches for the door knob as Mesut moans up against him, tongue sweeping over his lips and the door pushes him closer against Sergio as he opens it and he grins when he feels the hardness of his cock against his thigh.
Sergio just winks and leads him out of the house, stopping on the front porch quickly to see if anyone’s on the street before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the car. Mesut unlocks and opens the door, pushes the passenger seat forward, Sergio’s hands distracting him as they touch, everywhere: hips, back, shoulder, arm, ass.
Mesut crawls into the back seat, hears the door close and as soon as he flips himself onto his back, Sergio’s there, pressing their mouths together and he moans into the heat of his mouth, hands scrabbling at Sergio’s waist, pressing into his hips before lifting the hem of his shirt, getting it caught around his armpits and he laughs breathlessly as Sergio lifts himself a fraction, helps him pull the shirt off before falling back down, mouth on his neck this time.
He moans as Sergio sucks on his neck, mouth trailing down and he spreads his legs, one falling off the seat for a moment as Sergio pushes in to the space he’s created before he brings it back up, wraps it around his waist, pushes it against him, pushing Sergio down closer to him.
Sergio pushes his hips down more and Mesut’s head knocks against the side of the interior when he feels his hard cock pushing up against his own. Sergio bites down on his shoulder when he does and he drags his nails down his back when he does.
“We’re wearing way too many clothes,” he says with a choked laugh, ending it with a moan when Sergio rolls his hips.
“And you seriously need a bigger car,” Sergio whines against his skin and he rolls his eyes but ignores the comment when he feels Sergio’s hands sliding under his shirt and spanning over his hips and over his ribs and pushing his shirt up further and he does his best to help him get it off.
He presses his bare chest up against Sergio’s and their mouths meet, his hands finding their way into his hair and he tugs his head back as he gets his turn at his neck. Sergio moans and pushes his hips down, Mesut hissing at the contact.
Sergio pulls back, back hunched in the too small car, as he rests his thighs on his calves, smiles through his bruised and puffy lips as he quickly undoes his belt, his fingers working quickly to pop his button and pull down the zipper to his pants. He pushes his hands down his hips, pushing the fabric down and as it gets to his knees, they both realize that there’s not enough room for Sergio to stay there and for Mesut’s pants to come off.
Mesut looks up at him with his eyebrows raised and a smile and Sergio nods and they readjust themselves, Mesut quickly sitting up and tugging his own pants and underwear off while he hears Sergio’s belt being undone and the sounds of him also shuffling out of his own pants. Both pairs are tossed in the direction of the front and Sergio’s pulling at him, getting him back on his back as he’s sliding back between his legs and as Mesut wraps his leg back around his hips, his cock rubs against his thigh and he moans low in his throat.
Sergio pauses a breathe’s space away from his mouth and Mesut opens his eyes.
“Lube?” is all Sergio asks and Mesut pauses for a moment, swearing under his breathe before he remembers.
“Middle console,” he says and winks when Sergio gives him a questioning smile before he leans over and pops the top of it, rummaging for a few seconds before taking up his space again.
“I don’t want to know,” he says when he pops the top and squeezes some onto his fingers, dropping it on to the floor when he’s done, leaning back over, placing a kiss against Mesut’s forehead as his hand reaches between them.
“Sometimes,” Mesut starts, stutters when he feels one of Sergio’s fingers circling his hole, “before we started dating,” and he closes his eyes as Sergio’s finger presses just in and then out again, breathes in deep, “when we didn’t drive to practice together and...and you’d be driving me absolutely nuts,” and Sergio’s got his first finger in all the way, crooking it just so and Mesut lifts his hips up to meet it.
“What would you do, Mesut?” Sergio asks him and he leans in close, breathe warm on his face as he now brings two fingers to circle his hole, “Hmmm? Tell me.”
“I’d...I’d,” and his tongue darts out to lick his lips and the words spill out in a swirl of moans and breathless sighs, “God Sergio. You didn’t know and fu-uck the way you’d....the way you are-are, drive me crazy and I’d...I couldn’t wait to get home and,” his voice drops off into a groan when Sergio bites down on his collar bone as he crooks the three fingers inside of him just right.
“C’mon baby,” Sergio croons against his hot skin, placing a kiss on the abused skin, “tell me. Tell me what you’d do.”
The car’s quiet for a moment, filled just with their heavy breathing, the sound of Mesut’s keens as Sergio keeps pumping his fingers in and out, twisting and spreading them as he does.
Sergio pushes his mouth up against Mesut’s, bites his bottom lip before his mouth moves down to his ear, “Please baby, I want to hear it. What would you do?” he asks and his fingers slip out of Mesut who lets out a breathy complaint before his hips buck up when Sergio wraps his hand around his cock instead.
“Would you jerk yourself off?” Sergio whispers, hand moving from tip to base, back again, thumb smearing the precum there, Mesut giving a moan of consent, “Would you think about me doing this?” and he sucks on his neck before moving back up to his ear, “Or would you think about sucking me off with that perfect mouth of yours? Swallowing when I cum? Like you do so well, baby,” he croons breathlessly, fist slowing down on Mesut’s dick before stopping completely.
Mesut struggles to open his eyes when Sergio pulls his hand off, giving him a questioning, pitiful look and Sergio chuckles as he leans in closer to Mesut’s ear, breathe hot against the side of his face, hand working between their bodies as he grips himself in his hand, “Or, would you imagine me fucking you like this in your backseat?” he asks as he lines himself up and pushes himself into Mesut, whose leg tightens around Sergio’s hip, his back arching so their chests are flushed together.
“Was that it, baby?” he asks as he pulls out before pushing back in completely, “Did you get yourself off, thinking about me fucking you, like this, in your backseat?” and the sounds Mesut makes is more than an answer for him and he grins, hair hanging in his face, as he pushes himself up, careful of the roof.
Mesut’s leg slides from around his waist and Sergio leans back, grabs his waist, pulls him flush up against his thighs, cock burying deep inside of him, Mesut’s hips thrusting up in the air as he does so and Sergio holds him firmly as he fucks him, deep and quick and Mesut’s babbling, Sergio’s name repeated over and over as his left hand holds on to the driver’s seat in front of him for support, his right hand buried in his own hair, eyes closed.
“Sergio, I’m going to, oh fuck yes, Sergio, oh, oh,” and it’s words tripping over words and Sergio grins, wolfishly, at him as he bucks his hips up, fingers digging into Mesut’s skin, leaving dark marks there.
“Tell me baby, tell me what you want.”
“Please Sergio, fuck, I want to, oh fuck, Sergio, make me cum, please Sergio,” and the way he says it, so broken and wanting and needy and Sergio’s hands fly from his hips to around his ribs where he pulls him up onto his lap, pushes their mouths together, hands still around him as he fucks up into him and Mesut pushes down to meet him and the way he clenches around him makes Sergio see stars and Mesut throws his head back, barely notices when he hits the headrest behind him and he’s cumming, spurts over his stomach and over Sergio and their hips with an, “Oh fuck yes, Sergio,” and Sergio pushes into him once, twice more before he’s also cumming, hips pushing flush against Mesut, cock buried deep as he grips the back of Mesut’s head and crashes their mouths together, hands clenched tight in his hair.
He collapses bonelessly against the backseat of the car, Mesut pressed limply up against him, their bodies slick with sweat and the air hot and heavy and smelling of sex.
Sergio’s eyes are closed and his head is back, arms wrapped around Mesut’s waist and he smiles when Mesut moves his head, presses his mouth to his shoulder, across his collar bone, nips at his chin, before he presses a kiss to Sergio’s lips.
“Up for round two already?” Sergio asks as he rubs his hands up and down his back, laughs when he feels Mesut shake his head.
“That was....fuck, Sergio,” and Sergio chuckles again.
“Yes?”
There’s a pause and Sergio cracks an eye when he doesn’t say anything, opens both eyes with a slow smile when Mesut ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck.
“That was better than when I...,” and he trails off, a blush appearing on the tops of his cheeks, running down his already hot skin.
“Better than you what?” Sergio asks, his grin now taking up his whole face and Mesut shakes his head, rolls his eyes.
“Better than when I jerked off to it after practices,” he admits and Sergio waggles his eyebrows and leans in to meet Mesut half way.
They kiss slowly for a few moments before Mesut suddenly pulls back, a worried look on his face, “The neighbours are so going to judge us if they see us getting back to the house,” he says and his face looks so worried that Sergio can’t help but laugh.
“Oh babe. They’ll just be jealous that you got with me,” Sergio teases him and Mesut makes a face at him.
He’s still chuckling as he pulls Mesut back towards him and he sighs against his mouth, “No. They’ll be wondering how you could possibly allow your beautiful car to be used in such a dirty way,” and when the words sink in, Mesut pulls away again, looking around him before back woefully at Sergio.
“Fuck,” is all he says and Sergio laughs, big and heartily.
“Yeah babe. We did that already.”
Part V
Fandom/Pairing: Real Madrid - Mesut Özil/Sergio Ramos
Rating: So very NC-17
Author: onyxexistance/openmoments
Spoilers: --
Word Count: 4,762
Summary: Sequel to Can't Let Go. In which Mesut and Sergio can't keep it in their pants and therefore just have sex in places that aren't their bed.
Prompt: --
Author's Notes: I had a bit that didn't fit into the first fic, but I didn't want to just leave it as a weird 1.3k of disjointed fic. And thencagedlight was all, "I want moar!" and I really suck at saying no to her, so I went ahead and wrote more. And more. And more. Basically: it's all porn with a little bit of plot. Exactly how things should be.
Sergio looks up from tying his boots when he hears Mesut’s voice yelling, “Put me down!” and sees him thrown over Cris’s shoulder as Marcelo’s chasing after them.
He chuckles under his breathe as he finishes and then stands up and jogs over just as Mesut’s being put back on the ground and he shakes his head, his face pink and wide with a smile.
“I told you you were tiny,” Cris teases him and Sergio mutters to himself, “Wrong,” and Mesut squints his eyes at him, arms crossed.
“No I’m not,” and Sergio’s half surprised there isn’t a Cris-like foot stomp there.
Cris tilts his head to the side and raises his eyebrows, “I just picked you up, you little ballerina,” and Mesut frowns and mutters something.
“What was that?” Cris asks as he leans forward, butts his forehead against Mesut’s and Mesut sticks out his tongue and Cris laughs, forehead still pressed up against Mesut’s and Sergio gets this twist in his stomach, a vice like grip that squashes the smile that was just about the spread when he looks at how close they are, the way Mesut’s leaning in against Cris’s forehead and that look he’s giving him.
It happens again, when they’re fucking around during practice, some of them lined up at half and booting balls down the pitch, trying to hit the net and Mesut’s makes it close and Sergio feels pride swelling up in his chest and then Cris’s makes it and he almost cheers on his friend but then Mesut frowns and goes over, football under his arm before he places it in front of Cris, asks him to do it again.
Sergio gets something fluttering in his stomach when Cris makes it again and Mesut jogs over to a discarded football, kicks it up to his hands and finds another one to boot to Cris.
They spend only a couple of minutes, but the way Cris’s hands flutter around Mesut, positioning him, showing him how to kick the ball a certain way and he’s digging his nails into the palms of his hands, half moons dotting the skin there when he looks at them.
“At least my thighs aren’t fatter than my head,” he hears Mesut joke later and he turns around to interject, to see who he’s insulting and his teeth grind when he sees Cris wrapping his arm around his head.
“That’s not fat,” he tells him, fist rubbing into the top of Mesut’s head, “That’s muscle, something you wouldn’t know anything about,” and Sergio turns around, back to the direction of the change room as Mesut lets out a cry of protest.
“Hey! Just because mine aren’t suspiciously large...,” and Cris cuts him off.
“That’s not all that’s large,” he teases and Sergio resists the urge to whirl around but grits his teeth instead and walks on.
“Not all of you can be large,” Mesut points out as Sergio breathes in and out slowly.
“Would you like to inspect that? Just to be sure?” Cris asks and the rest of the conversation is cut short as Sergio leaves them behind and enters the change room, door banging shut behind him.
The shower’s hot, scalding, against his back, but works out the knots at the back of his neck, until laughter and bouncing words fall over each other and echo among the tiles in the shower.
He cranes his neck to look, even though he doesn’t have to. He knows that laugh, knows that it’s Mesut laugh number three on the scale of one to five for flirting. Knows it like he knows that Mesut will always pick Turkey if he’s playing FIFA against Sami, knows that he calls his mother every Thursday evening at 5:00, knows that he hates peas and loves carrots and puts his socks on the left side of the drawer and his underwear on the right.
Mesut wanted to take his new car to practice, wanted to drive for a change and Sergio had teased him about it, asking if he felt he wasn’t getting enough attention. He kicks himself for it now.
He’s been waiting outside for half an hour and almost everyone’s left when Mesut finally comes out, his laugh inching up to almost a four on the five scale and Cris has his arm looped around his neck and Sergio doesn’t even notice that his teeth are on edge when Cris finally unravels himself from around Mesut, stops for small talk, tells them he’ll see them tomorrow before getting in his own vehicle, music loud as he drives out of the parking lot.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Mesut apologizes as he tosses their stuff in the trunk and Sergio doesn’t say anything as he slides into the passenger seat.
Mesut tries talking for the first ten minutes of the drive home and Sergio says nothing, eyes trained on the traffic ahead of them, ignores the thought that he should let Mesut drive more often because it suits him, this car, driving and instead curls his fingers into his thighs.
They stop at a red light and Mesut glances over, for the first time looks at his face and frowns.
“Are you okay? Sergio?” and he says nothing, jerks his chin forward as the light turns green and Mesut opens his mouth and then closes it, hits the gas instead.
“What’d I do?” and Sergio wants to laugh because of course Mesut’s intuitive like that and saying the words, “I’m jealous,” aren’t something he wants to say so again he says nothing and he can feel Mesut getting annoyed in the seat beside him.
It’s a long drive home, feels longer when they’re not talking or when they’re not switching between the German rap and flamenco Sergio put on Mesut’s iPod. Mesut doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive home and Sergio’s switched off the iPod and it’s silent and it does nothing for Sergio’s mood.
They finally make it home and Mesut turns the engine off and Sergio can see him opening his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but he cuts him off before he even starts.
“Don’t.”
Mesut throws him a confused look and Sergio shakes his head, still looking ahead at the garage door, “Just...don’t.”
He moves to open the door and Sergio grabs his arm across the console, grips it tight and Mesut’s head whips back to look at him and Sergio’s pulling him closer.
“You don’t get to flirt like that with him,” he spits out and his hand moves from Mesut’s wrist to behind his head and pulls him closer, kisses him, hard and punishing and there’s a gasp of surprise against his mouth and he snakes his tongue in the space it creates.
“You’re mine,” he rasps when they break a whisper’s breathe away and Mesut shivers against him and Sergio grabs him by the arms and tugs him over the console, into his lap, his head smacking against the roof and Mesut hisses then moans when Sergio cups him through his pants.
Sergio mouths against his neck and Mesut’s head falls to the side to allow better access and he whines against Sergio’s ear, breathy and high.
His hand fumbles with Mesut’s belt, mouth busy working on his neck and he’s distracted by the sound Mesut’s making in his ear. Finally he gets it undone and pops the button and the zip is down and his hand is inside his boxers, hot on his hard dick and Mesut thrusts up into his hand and he realizes how fucking small his damn car is.
“Bigger car next time,” he growls in Mesut’s ear, who breathlessly laughs in reply and Sergio knows there won’t be enough room in the front, shifts and pushes Mesut who ends up awkwardly in the backseat with a bit of a crash. He looks over his shoulder with a scowl.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks and frowns as Sergio shrugs before leaning closer.
“It really bothered you that much?” he asks as Sergio half leans over the console and tugs his shoes off and pulls at the hems of his jeans.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” is his curt reply as he tosses the jeans to into the driver’s seat when he gets them off and leans over to slip his hands on the inside of Mesut’s boxers when he feels his hands on his wrists.
He looks up and sees Mesut’s brow furrowed, “You don’t want to talk about it but you expect me to have sex with you?” and he pauses for a moment before shrugging and nodding.
“Yeah,” and Mesut sits back, pushes his hands off.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” and Sergio lets out a puff of air, frustrated and he runs a hand through his hair.
“You’re right, you don’t have to. I’m going inside,” and he’s popped the trunk to grab his stuff and out of the vehicle, leaving Mesut in the back seat with his pants still in the driver’s seat.
He doesn’t look back as he slams the door on the trunk and makes his way to the house, letting the door slam back into its frame. (He considers locking Mesut out for two seconds and then realizes how childish that would be. Besides, Mesut has a key and it would be pointless.)
He grabs a water bottle from the kitchen on his way to the laundry room, drops his bag in front of the washing machine and winds around to the stairs. He stops in his tracks when he sees Mesut sitting on the bottom step.
“You left,” and Sergio nods as he looks at the top of the water bottle.
There’s a silence and Sergio thinks back to the day he stepped onto Mesut’s front porch, wondering why he hadn’t stopped by in awhile, wondering if he’d done something, the way he’d spent weeks just wandering aimlessly around his house, waiting for him to walk in through the back door.
He sighs and pushes a hand through his still damp hair and looks up and Mesut’s there, filling the whole space in front of him and he deflates a little, drops his gaze back down for a moment and the words jumble out of his mouth, “I’ve never felt that jealous before,” he admits.
“Cris and I joke around all the time,” Mesut points out as he settles his hands on his hips, shifting them closer. “And you’ve never had an issue with it before,” he adds and Sergio feels something twist in his stomach when he says that, pointing out the obvious.
“I know,” he admits, “And it’s not...it wasn’t...I don’t know,” he finally admits and pulls away, taking a long drink from his water bottle and running a hand through his hair again.
“I’m just...I’m sorry,” he finally says, voice low and he bites his lip before turning around, “I really am. I shouldn’t have and I didn’t want to make you feel like I was making you do anything...,” he trails off and looks back down at the bottle in his hands. “I haven’t,” he tracts back, “I’ve never felt that way before, and I guess...I guess I didn’t know what to do with it,” he finishes as he twists the empty bottle in his hands.
The room stays silent and he wonders if maybe it’s now Mesut who’s mad at him and they’ve never really had a fight before. They’ve been frustrated but not....but not anything like this. He didn’t think it would hold out forever but he also didn’t figure it would be him doing something completely stupid as...as what....
“You know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” interrupts his thoughts and his head snaps up as he looks at Mesut, his mouth forming around a question he doesn’t know to ask.
He licks his lips and tries again, “You’re not mad?”
Mesut scrubs at the back of his neck and he mildly notes how much he loves it when he does that and then focuses on, “I...I don’t think....that’s not....,” and he seems to be thinking out loud before he cracks a crooked smile and drops his hand, slips them into his pockets. “No, I’m not,” and Sergio feels confused.
“What?”
Mesut shrugs and takes a step forward, “I’m upset, more than anything,” he says, looking at him before his gaze darts to the floor for a moment as he bites his lips, deciding his next words, “I know you need space to figure out what you’re feeling, but, you can tell me, you know,” and Sergio knows that, he does and he opens his mouth, snaps it shut when Mesut shakes his head.
“I know you know that, and I figure you were just upset, but next time, just...tell me, yeah?” and the way he says it, just points it out, the way it’s a forgiveness and it’s soft and not in his face and completely Mesut.
He feels the mood shift, it’s almost imperceptible, but he feels it. The way Mesut’s standing right in front of him and looking up at him, eyes wide and open and...and Sergio’s seen the glint there before.
He doesn’t know, though, if he’s reading it right and nods, relieved and he smiles, small, “Thank you,” and his voice comes out a whisper and he doesn’t realize how much he was worried, too, when Mesut looked at him from the back of the car.
Mesut pushes his hips up against his and his smile quirks up at the edges, “Next time, though, you could always stand up for me and tell Cris under no uncertain terms that I am not small,” and Sergio can’t help the smile that splits his face.
“What if he asks me how I know?” he asks innocently.
Mesut’s hands slide out of his pockets and around Sergio’s waist, his gaze flicking down and then back up to his face.
He shrugs casually, “I’m sure there’s an example or two you could come up with,” he replies cheekily and Sergio’s mouth goes dry.
“I don’t know if that’s appropriate for practice,” and his voice is hoarse and Mesut grins at the sound of it.
“Well, we’re not at practice now,” he points out, pushes his hips up against Sergio’s and he can’t stop the whine that slips out of his mouth.
“But what about...?” and Sergio frowns for a moment, trying to think past the haze that’s quickly clouding his mind.
Mesut backs up a fraction, face serious, “Sergio. I know you, okay? I know you didn’t mean it like that. I know that. And I completely believe it when you said you were sorry and I do, I forgive you,” and Sergio feels his chest get tight and then laughs when Mesut adds, “Now, I’m trying to get you to make it up to me, if you’d quit cockblocking yourself,” with a wink.
“Seriously?” he asks as he slips his hands around Mesut’s waist and Mesut hums in response.
“Seriously,” and he shrugs and darts his gaze for a moment before, “Besides, Cris and I kind of noticed how green your face had gotten after the scoring from centre field and we....,” he shrugs again, “we rolled with it.”
Sergio narrows his eyes, “You were acting that last time?”
Mesut ducks his head, smile on his face, “Yeah. Cris kind of suggested it and after he pointed it out,” he drops off for a moment before leaning in, breathe fanning across Sergio’s chin and cheek, “You’re kind of hot when you’re jealous.”
Sergio raises his eyebrows as he looks down at him, “As in reading-a-book-hot or...?” and he lets the sentence hang as Mesut mimics the look on his face, raises his own eyebrows and shakes his head.
“No,” he whispers, slipping his hands into his back pockets and hitching his hips up, “That’s sex on a couch hot,” he says as he licks a stripe up Sergio’s neck, grinning against skin there, “No, this...this is sex in the back of a car hot,” and Sergio’s breathe hitches in his ear when he says it.
His voice stutters in his ear, “Are you...?” and Mesut nods against his shoulder.
“I’m saying that there’s a perfectly useable car in the driveway,” he whispers, finishing his sentence and presses his hands against Sergio’s ass, pushing their hips together, grinding his against Sergio’s.
Sergio bends his head and presses his mouth, hot and hard on Mesut’s, teeth clanking together and Mesut groans at the contact, grabs Sergio’s ass firmly as Sergio moves his hands from his hips and to either side of his face, fingers lining up with his cheekbones.
“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” Sergio says breathlessly when they pull away and Mesut pulls away, grins when Sergio whines at the lack of contact.
“Can’t have that,” he says and slides his hands out of Sergio’s back pockets and slips his fingers through his belt loops, pulling him towards the door, Sergio leaning in as they walk, leaving soft kisses on his mouth, his eye, his cheek.
Sergio pushes him up against the door when they get there, hand behind Mesut as it searches for the door knob as Mesut moans up against him, tongue sweeping over his lips and the door pushes him closer against Sergio as he opens it and he grins when he feels the hardness of his cock against his thigh.
Sergio just winks and leads him out of the house, stopping on the front porch quickly to see if anyone’s on the street before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the car. Mesut unlocks and opens the door, pushes the passenger seat forward, Sergio’s hands distracting him as they touch, everywhere: hips, back, shoulder, arm, ass.
Mesut crawls into the back seat, hears the door close and as soon as he flips himself onto his back, Sergio’s there, pressing their mouths together and he moans into the heat of his mouth, hands scrabbling at Sergio’s waist, pressing into his hips before lifting the hem of his shirt, getting it caught around his armpits and he laughs breathlessly as Sergio lifts himself a fraction, helps him pull the shirt off before falling back down, mouth on his neck this time.
He moans as Sergio sucks on his neck, mouth trailing down and he spreads his legs, one falling off the seat for a moment as Sergio pushes in to the space he’s created before he brings it back up, wraps it around his waist, pushes it against him, pushing Sergio down closer to him.
Sergio pushes his hips down more and Mesut’s head knocks against the side of the interior when he feels his hard cock pushing up against his own. Sergio bites down on his shoulder when he does and he drags his nails down his back when he does.
“We’re wearing way too many clothes,” he says with a choked laugh, ending it with a moan when Sergio rolls his hips.
“And you seriously need a bigger car,” Sergio whines against his skin and he rolls his eyes but ignores the comment when he feels Sergio’s hands sliding under his shirt and spanning over his hips and over his ribs and pushing his shirt up further and he does his best to help him get it off.
He presses his bare chest up against Sergio’s and their mouths meet, his hands finding their way into his hair and he tugs his head back as he gets his turn at his neck. Sergio moans and pushes his hips down, Mesut hissing at the contact.
Sergio pulls back, back hunched in the too small car, as he rests his thighs on his calves, smiles through his bruised and puffy lips as he quickly undoes his belt, his fingers working quickly to pop his button and pull down the zipper to his pants. He pushes his hands down his hips, pushing the fabric down and as it gets to his knees, they both realize that there’s not enough room for Sergio to stay there and for Mesut’s pants to come off.
Mesut looks up at him with his eyebrows raised and a smile and Sergio nods and they readjust themselves, Mesut quickly sitting up and tugging his own pants and underwear off while he hears Sergio’s belt being undone and the sounds of him also shuffling out of his own pants. Both pairs are tossed in the direction of the front and Sergio’s pulling at him, getting him back on his back as he’s sliding back between his legs and as Mesut wraps his leg back around his hips, his cock rubs against his thigh and he moans low in his throat.
Sergio pauses a breathe’s space away from his mouth and Mesut opens his eyes.
“Lube?” is all Sergio asks and Mesut pauses for a moment, swearing under his breathe before he remembers.
“Middle console,” he says and winks when Sergio gives him a questioning smile before he leans over and pops the top of it, rummaging for a few seconds before taking up his space again.
“I don’t want to know,” he says when he pops the top and squeezes some onto his fingers, dropping it on to the floor when he’s done, leaning back over, placing a kiss against Mesut’s forehead as his hand reaches between them.
“Sometimes,” Mesut starts, stutters when he feels one of Sergio’s fingers circling his hole, “before we started dating,” and he closes his eyes as Sergio’s finger presses just in and then out again, breathes in deep, “when we didn’t drive to practice together and...and you’d be driving me absolutely nuts,” and Sergio’s got his first finger in all the way, crooking it just so and Mesut lifts his hips up to meet it.
“What would you do, Mesut?” Sergio asks him and he leans in close, breathe warm on his face as he now brings two fingers to circle his hole, “Hmmm? Tell me.”
“I’d...I’d,” and his tongue darts out to lick his lips and the words spill out in a swirl of moans and breathless sighs, “God Sergio. You didn’t know and fu-uck the way you’d....the way you are-are, drive me crazy and I’d...I couldn’t wait to get home and,” his voice drops off into a groan when Sergio bites down on his collar bone as he crooks the three fingers inside of him just right.
“C’mon baby,” Sergio croons against his hot skin, placing a kiss on the abused skin, “tell me. Tell me what you’d do.”
The car’s quiet for a moment, filled just with their heavy breathing, the sound of Mesut’s keens as Sergio keeps pumping his fingers in and out, twisting and spreading them as he does.
Sergio pushes his mouth up against Mesut’s, bites his bottom lip before his mouth moves down to his ear, “Please baby, I want to hear it. What would you do?” he asks and his fingers slip out of Mesut who lets out a breathy complaint before his hips buck up when Sergio wraps his hand around his cock instead.
“Would you jerk yourself off?” Sergio whispers, hand moving from tip to base, back again, thumb smearing the precum there, Mesut giving a moan of consent, “Would you think about me doing this?” and he sucks on his neck before moving back up to his ear, “Or would you think about sucking me off with that perfect mouth of yours? Swallowing when I cum? Like you do so well, baby,” he croons breathlessly, fist slowing down on Mesut’s dick before stopping completely.
Mesut struggles to open his eyes when Sergio pulls his hand off, giving him a questioning, pitiful look and Sergio chuckles as he leans in closer to Mesut’s ear, breathe hot against the side of his face, hand working between their bodies as he grips himself in his hand, “Or, would you imagine me fucking you like this in your backseat?” he asks as he lines himself up and pushes himself into Mesut, whose leg tightens around Sergio’s hip, his back arching so their chests are flushed together.
“Was that it, baby?” he asks as he pulls out before pushing back in completely, “Did you get yourself off, thinking about me fucking you, like this, in your backseat?” and the sounds Mesut makes is more than an answer for him and he grins, hair hanging in his face, as he pushes himself up, careful of the roof.
Mesut’s leg slides from around his waist and Sergio leans back, grabs his waist, pulls him flush up against his thighs, cock burying deep inside of him, Mesut’s hips thrusting up in the air as he does so and Sergio holds him firmly as he fucks him, deep and quick and Mesut’s babbling, Sergio’s name repeated over and over as his left hand holds on to the driver’s seat in front of him for support, his right hand buried in his own hair, eyes closed.
“Sergio, I’m going to, oh fuck yes, Sergio, oh, oh,” and it’s words tripping over words and Sergio grins, wolfishly, at him as he bucks his hips up, fingers digging into Mesut’s skin, leaving dark marks there.
“Tell me baby, tell me what you want.”
“Please Sergio, fuck, I want to, oh fuck, Sergio, make me cum, please Sergio,” and the way he says it, so broken and wanting and needy and Sergio’s hands fly from his hips to around his ribs where he pulls him up onto his lap, pushes their mouths together, hands still around him as he fucks up into him and Mesut pushes down to meet him and the way he clenches around him makes Sergio see stars and Mesut throws his head back, barely notices when he hits the headrest behind him and he’s cumming, spurts over his stomach and over Sergio and their hips with an, “Oh fuck yes, Sergio,” and Sergio pushes into him once, twice more before he’s also cumming, hips pushing flush against Mesut, cock buried deep as he grips the back of Mesut’s head and crashes their mouths together, hands clenched tight in his hair.
He collapses bonelessly against the backseat of the car, Mesut pressed limply up against him, their bodies slick with sweat and the air hot and heavy and smelling of sex.
Sergio’s eyes are closed and his head is back, arms wrapped around Mesut’s waist and he smiles when Mesut moves his head, presses his mouth to his shoulder, across his collar bone, nips at his chin, before he presses a kiss to Sergio’s lips.
“Up for round two already?” Sergio asks as he rubs his hands up and down his back, laughs when he feels Mesut shake his head.
“That was....fuck, Sergio,” and Sergio chuckles again.
“Yes?”
There’s a pause and Sergio cracks an eye when he doesn’t say anything, opens both eyes with a slow smile when Mesut ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck.
“That was better than when I...,” and he trails off, a blush appearing on the tops of his cheeks, running down his already hot skin.
“Better than you what?” Sergio asks, his grin now taking up his whole face and Mesut shakes his head, rolls his eyes.
“Better than when I jerked off to it after practices,” he admits and Sergio waggles his eyebrows and leans in to meet Mesut half way.
They kiss slowly for a few moments before Mesut suddenly pulls back, a worried look on his face, “The neighbours are so going to judge us if they see us getting back to the house,” he says and his face looks so worried that Sergio can’t help but laugh.
“Oh babe. They’ll just be jealous that you got with me,” Sergio teases him and Mesut makes a face at him.
He’s still chuckling as he pulls Mesut back towards him and he sighs against his mouth, “No. They’ll be wondering how you could possibly allow your beautiful car to be used in such a dirty way,” and when the words sink in, Mesut pulls away again, looking around him before back woefully at Sergio.
“Fuck,” is all he says and Sergio laughs, big and heartily.
“Yeah babe. We did that already.”
Part V