(no subject)
Author name: Neens
Fic title: Love is only for fools
Summary: Great minds think alike...
Pairing: Christoph Metzelder/Per Mertesacker
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not true in the least bit. I'm just borrowing their public persona to play.
Archive: Beautiful Games.
Notes: Just over 2,100 words, beta-ed by the lovely anglo_phile (*smooches!*), and yes, I´m doing the unthinkable and breaking up the Metzelly. Will God smite me for this heresy? ;-)
„He knows,“ Metze said, shrugging. “Always has.”
Per fiddled with the hem of his training jacket. “So… you two are, like, a …?” He didn’t dare to look up to the fellow defender stretching out on the couch next to him, hoping that the warmth of his ears didn’t mean that he was blushing again.
A light chuckle. “No, we aren’t. Actually, we aren’t anymore,” Metze added, his knee brushing against Per’s, an innocent touch if there ever was one, but Per had to swallow, feeling suddenly stifled and too warm.
He had always admired the older football player and having finally met him in person about two years ago, he had realized that Christoph Metzelder, or Metze, as everyone called him, wasn’t just one of the most accomplished centre defenders in Germany, but also one hell of a sexy guy. Per had long ago known that the idea of other men didn’t fail to arouse him, but as the same applied to women, too, it hadn’t played a major part in his sexual life so far, mainly due to his awareness of the widespread homophobia in football and also his own shyness.
He had always been careful in the locker rooms at 96 and Werder, taking care to not call undue attention to his secret observations of the other teammates’ bodies - Robert’s especially. But when it came to Metze, Per just couldn’t help himself looking at the other man, tracing the leanmuscled figure with his eyes, drinking in every line and curve, longing to touch Metze in more intimate ways than an exhilarated hug when their strikers had scored or high-fiving him after a successful combined defence attack. All he was left with was the way their sweat-drenched jerseys clung together, the warm body against his own brimming with energy and vigour. The way Metze’s breaths sounded so close to his ear, along with curt commands or words of praise that Per would always remember.
Off the pitch, it was just friendly handshakes or slaps on shoulders accompanied with small talk, but even then, Per´s legs turned into jelly when he was faced with that smile of Metze´s, bright and genuine, a fact that he tried to cover with too-bright smiles and almost-stuttered greetings.
They clicked pretty well, too, when they weren´t playing alongside each other or joking around at training, but Per didn’t dare to join Metze when Kelly was there, displaying an easy familiarity with Metze that Per silently envied, invading Metze’s private sphere without any second thoughts, sprawling his legs over Metze’s lap, poking his side, mussing up his hair, leaning over Metze to talk to Jens on the other side, a hand on Metze’s thigh to balance himself, or putting his head on Metze’s shoulder, dozing, his hand resting between Metze’s knees, the fingers curled inward loosely.
Where Metze was, there was Kelly, too. Per had watched them after the small finale against Portugal, sitting closely together on the podium where they had received their bronze medals, Kelly leaning into Metze, talking quietly. He knew that they were best friends, but had suspected that there was more, which Metze had now admitted to him, as nonchalantly as if they had been just talking about the weather.
“Basti wants different things from life than I,” Metze answered his unspoken question, “and neither of us wanted to compromise. But we’re still friends.” He smiled at Per, the eyes crinkling that reminded Per of the first chestnuts in autumn, a gleaming warm deep brown. “What about you?”
“M-me?” Per knew that he was blushing again, and really, he definitely should have used up his blushing quota by now when he had confessed his bisexuality to Metze earlier, helped along by two or three bottles of the local beer that Jogi had generously allowed them after the victory against Wales.
“Yeah,” Metze said, dropping his arm on the couch’s backrest, is fingers barely touching Per’s shoulder and yet the tall blond had to swallow, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable in such close proximity to the fellow defender. “Ever fooled around with a guy, or did something more serious?” Metze’s voice expressed genuine interest along with light amusement, but the latter was friendly enough to make Per smile.
“Not exactly,” he said, looking down into his lap. “It isn’t as if they’re throwing themselves at me.” He looked up to meet Metze’s eyes and grinned, trying to ignore his flaming hot ears. His fingers twitched to reach up and knead the earlobe, but he didn’t want to betray his nervousness. “Actually, I never did anything yet with a guy.”
There. But Metze just smiled, his hand sliding down to exert a gentle grip on Per’s shoulder. “Believe me, you’re really missing out on something there.”
“Show me, then,” Per blurted out. What? He hadn’t just said what he was thinking, but judging from the way Metze’s eyes widened, he apparently had. Fuck.
“Ehm, sorry, I didn’t-“ but then Per was interrupted by warmsoft lips on his still moving mouth, swallowing the ‘mean to’. Christoph fucking Metzelder was kissing him, and it quickly surpassed every other kiss - not that there were terribly many - on Per’s private Top Ten. He groaned as Metze’s tongue deftly slipped into his mouth. The kiss, growing more passionate with every second ticking by, was finally broken off by their need to fill up on air. Metze’s hand rested on Per’s thigh, squeezing gently as his other hand was a warm presence on Per’s neck.
“I’m going to be so bold as to assume that you liked it,” Metze said, his voice rougher than before and Per swallowed at watching the swollen red lips moving.
“Yes,” he croaked, cursing his apparently not yet finished puberty, “very much.”
Metze smiled, the curl of his mouth promising secret pleasures. “Want to…?” and he jerked his head towards the bed that took up the other half of the hotel room. Per, not trusting his voice anymore, just nodded, feeling a grin spread his mouth that he suspected probably looked rather sheepish and happy at the same time.
Metze’s face lit up with an answering grin as he got up, pulling Per with him. They almost stumbled against each other, but Metze’s strong arms held Per in place.
“So goddamn tall…” Metze said with a smile, letting his eyes travel up Per’s height. The blond was pretty sure by now that his blush covered his full body and would never ever disappear again. Maybe he could blame a botched-up solarium visit for it?
But before his mind could think up a more elaborate excuse, Metze was suddenly there, pressed flush against him like on the pitch, but with his mouth claiming Per’s again and hands roaming over Per’s back until they hit gold - read: his ass, which tightened up in the firm grip.
Per held onto Metze’s shoulders, revelling in the feel of muscles shifting under the sweater, bespeaking hidden strength and power, something he had lacked in his previous sexual partners - numbering two to this day. He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams how arousing this would be, but his aching cock told him that he might be way more gay than he previously thought.
But seeing as he wasn’t the only one here what with Metze ruthlessly plundering his mouth and the telltale presence of an erection pressed against his thigh, Per didn’t care too much about this new revelation right now. Much more important was how Metze’s short-shorn hair felt under his hands, how the slight stubble rasped against his chin, how the muscled torso fit so perfectly against his own, how Metze’s hands pulled his jersey out of his sweatpants, and Per gasped into the kiss as they touched his hot skin, skimming along his waistband.
Metze raised his head, whispering, “Okay?” as he stilled his movements.
Per nodded, swallowing. “Yeah,” he said, “go on.”
But Metze shook his head. “Let’s relocate to a more comfortable location first,” he said, winking at Per. “These old bones prefer soft mattresses to wooden floors.”
Per chuckled. “You’re not that old yet,” his fingers still carding through Metze’s hair.
Metze’s smile widened. “Come on,” he said, and then getting naked was just a matter of seconds, especially when all you were wearing was training kits and pulling them on and off was routine, especially when you did it day in, day out in a room full of guys doing the same.
But taking a leaf out of Metze’s book and allowing himself to ogle the other man as much as he always wanted to almost cost Per his composure, especially when Metze whistled. “I’m impressed, Merte,” he said.
“Well, there can’t be always exceptions to the rules,” Per said with a grin, having finally given up the lost battle with his obvious state of embarrassment.
Metze laughed. “Get yourself on the bed and then we’ll see just how many other rules we can adhere to,” crawling onto said bed and Per swallowed at seeing the engorged cock dangling between Metze’s leanmuscled legs, the whole ensemble along with the round, lightly furred ass immediately making it to the top in Per’s rather extensive list of sex fantasies. He was shy, yes, but that didn’t mean that he lacked imagination.
As to be expected, his downstairs brain took over and so he found himself quickly atop Metze, their legs tangling as they roamed each other’s bodies in exploration, tongues duelling open-mouthed. Per ground down against Metze, yearning for friction that would soothe his aching cock throbbing in the damp warmth between their bodies, mirrored by Metze’s bucks which were obviously carried out to achieve the same effect.
“Wait,” Metze breathed, and then he brought his hand up to Per’s face, his fingers resting on the latter’s wet lips. “Suck them,” he said, his half-lidded eyes darkening, “make them wet.”
Metze tasted good, hints of dew and spice and something sweet making Per’s mouth water, and he tried to take in as much as he could, drooling saliva everywhere. Heat pooled in his groin region as half-formed images and thoughts of what was to come flitted through his brain; actually, imagination wasn’t the problem as he knew fairly well enough what two men could do in bed together, thanks to an afternoon some years ago spent alone at home and with a highspeed DSL connection. Which had also led to him almost rubbing his dick raw, by the way. And having to shower three times in short succession.
But then the wet hand slid down between their bodies and took both their cocks in a hand, making Per gasp out loud. “Your hand, too,” Metze breathed, and after some thorough sweeps with his tongue over the palm of his slightly shaking hand, Per joined the party downstairs. Metze entwined their fingers around their erections and Per had to bite down hard on his lip, because ejaculatio praecox wasn’t that unheard of in men of his age, especially when faced with this.
“It’s okay,” Metze whispered, “okay,” and Per followed the rhythm Metze’s hand set for them, tightening their grip around the hotwet lengths of their cocks, scrunching his eyes shut as he felt himself coil up tighter and tighter and hotter. When Metze rubbed his thumb justso over this spot on Per’s cock, it was only thanks to Metze’s quicksilver reflexes that Per’s shout didn’t wake up the entire hotel’s floor but got muffled by a very fluffy pillow, Metze’s hand pressing his head down into it.
The orgasm was at least a 13 on the Richter scale, turning him into a shaking boneless pile on Metze, his hand coated in his own come, still milking their cocks. Metze suddenly sped up the pace, gripping harder and Per almost cried out because of his now oversensitive cock when Metze grunted, thrusting up against Per, the body whiplash-taut and wet hotness splashed onto Per who just held on.
Metze loosened their stickywet grasp, breathing hard as he came down from his own orgasm. “Shower,” he sighed, smearing the come on the bedsheets. “Come on, before I fall asleep.”
*
Metze smiled, stretching out next to Per with his hand resting on the latter’s faintly damp abdomen. “Basti would now say that it´s time for the imaginary after-sex cigarette,” he said, closing his eyes.
Per almost immediately felt Metze stiffen and the sighed “Sorry,” made him tighten his embrace. “It’s okay,” he said, although his innards were setting up a silent mutiny, “I get it.”
Metze raised his head, looking at Per earnestly. “Do you?”
Per shrugged, lifting a hand to trace Metze´s jaw, the stubble rasping over his fingertips. “He’s a big part of your life. Of who you are.”
“Yeah,” Metze smiled, “that he is. Was,” he corrected himself, and Per then was gently convinced again that Christoph Metzelder was the world’s best kisser.
And the other stuff, well. Per knew from experience that there was always a solution. And he was nothing if not patient - and determined.
*
... to be continued? *winks*
Fic title: Love is only for fools
Summary: Great minds think alike...
Pairing: Christoph Metzelder/Per Mertesacker
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not true in the least bit. I'm just borrowing their public persona to play.
Archive: Beautiful Games.
Notes: Just over 2,100 words, beta-ed by the lovely anglo_phile (*smooches!*), and yes, I´m doing the unthinkable and breaking up the Metzelly. Will God smite me for this heresy? ;-)
„He knows,“ Metze said, shrugging. “Always has.”
Per fiddled with the hem of his training jacket. “So… you two are, like, a …?” He didn’t dare to look up to the fellow defender stretching out on the couch next to him, hoping that the warmth of his ears didn’t mean that he was blushing again.
A light chuckle. “No, we aren’t. Actually, we aren’t anymore,” Metze added, his knee brushing against Per’s, an innocent touch if there ever was one, but Per had to swallow, feeling suddenly stifled and too warm.
He had always admired the older football player and having finally met him in person about two years ago, he had realized that Christoph Metzelder, or Metze, as everyone called him, wasn’t just one of the most accomplished centre defenders in Germany, but also one hell of a sexy guy. Per had long ago known that the idea of other men didn’t fail to arouse him, but as the same applied to women, too, it hadn’t played a major part in his sexual life so far, mainly due to his awareness of the widespread homophobia in football and also his own shyness.
He had always been careful in the locker rooms at 96 and Werder, taking care to not call undue attention to his secret observations of the other teammates’ bodies - Robert’s especially. But when it came to Metze, Per just couldn’t help himself looking at the other man, tracing the leanmuscled figure with his eyes, drinking in every line and curve, longing to touch Metze in more intimate ways than an exhilarated hug when their strikers had scored or high-fiving him after a successful combined defence attack. All he was left with was the way their sweat-drenched jerseys clung together, the warm body against his own brimming with energy and vigour. The way Metze’s breaths sounded so close to his ear, along with curt commands or words of praise that Per would always remember.
Off the pitch, it was just friendly handshakes or slaps on shoulders accompanied with small talk, but even then, Per´s legs turned into jelly when he was faced with that smile of Metze´s, bright and genuine, a fact that he tried to cover with too-bright smiles and almost-stuttered greetings.
They clicked pretty well, too, when they weren´t playing alongside each other or joking around at training, but Per didn’t dare to join Metze when Kelly was there, displaying an easy familiarity with Metze that Per silently envied, invading Metze’s private sphere without any second thoughts, sprawling his legs over Metze’s lap, poking his side, mussing up his hair, leaning over Metze to talk to Jens on the other side, a hand on Metze’s thigh to balance himself, or putting his head on Metze’s shoulder, dozing, his hand resting between Metze’s knees, the fingers curled inward loosely.
Where Metze was, there was Kelly, too. Per had watched them after the small finale against Portugal, sitting closely together on the podium where they had received their bronze medals, Kelly leaning into Metze, talking quietly. He knew that they were best friends, but had suspected that there was more, which Metze had now admitted to him, as nonchalantly as if they had been just talking about the weather.
“Basti wants different things from life than I,” Metze answered his unspoken question, “and neither of us wanted to compromise. But we’re still friends.” He smiled at Per, the eyes crinkling that reminded Per of the first chestnuts in autumn, a gleaming warm deep brown. “What about you?”
“M-me?” Per knew that he was blushing again, and really, he definitely should have used up his blushing quota by now when he had confessed his bisexuality to Metze earlier, helped along by two or three bottles of the local beer that Jogi had generously allowed them after the victory against Wales.
“Yeah,” Metze said, dropping his arm on the couch’s backrest, is fingers barely touching Per’s shoulder and yet the tall blond had to swallow, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable in such close proximity to the fellow defender. “Ever fooled around with a guy, or did something more serious?” Metze’s voice expressed genuine interest along with light amusement, but the latter was friendly enough to make Per smile.
“Not exactly,” he said, looking down into his lap. “It isn’t as if they’re throwing themselves at me.” He looked up to meet Metze’s eyes and grinned, trying to ignore his flaming hot ears. His fingers twitched to reach up and knead the earlobe, but he didn’t want to betray his nervousness. “Actually, I never did anything yet with a guy.”
There. But Metze just smiled, his hand sliding down to exert a gentle grip on Per’s shoulder. “Believe me, you’re really missing out on something there.”
“Show me, then,” Per blurted out. What? He hadn’t just said what he was thinking, but judging from the way Metze’s eyes widened, he apparently had. Fuck.
“Ehm, sorry, I didn’t-“ but then Per was interrupted by warmsoft lips on his still moving mouth, swallowing the ‘mean to’. Christoph fucking Metzelder was kissing him, and it quickly surpassed every other kiss - not that there were terribly many - on Per’s private Top Ten. He groaned as Metze’s tongue deftly slipped into his mouth. The kiss, growing more passionate with every second ticking by, was finally broken off by their need to fill up on air. Metze’s hand rested on Per’s thigh, squeezing gently as his other hand was a warm presence on Per’s neck.
“I’m going to be so bold as to assume that you liked it,” Metze said, his voice rougher than before and Per swallowed at watching the swollen red lips moving.
“Yes,” he croaked, cursing his apparently not yet finished puberty, “very much.”
Metze smiled, the curl of his mouth promising secret pleasures. “Want to…?” and he jerked his head towards the bed that took up the other half of the hotel room. Per, not trusting his voice anymore, just nodded, feeling a grin spread his mouth that he suspected probably looked rather sheepish and happy at the same time.
Metze’s face lit up with an answering grin as he got up, pulling Per with him. They almost stumbled against each other, but Metze’s strong arms held Per in place.
“So goddamn tall…” Metze said with a smile, letting his eyes travel up Per’s height. The blond was pretty sure by now that his blush covered his full body and would never ever disappear again. Maybe he could blame a botched-up solarium visit for it?
But before his mind could think up a more elaborate excuse, Metze was suddenly there, pressed flush against him like on the pitch, but with his mouth claiming Per’s again and hands roaming over Per’s back until they hit gold - read: his ass, which tightened up in the firm grip.
Per held onto Metze’s shoulders, revelling in the feel of muscles shifting under the sweater, bespeaking hidden strength and power, something he had lacked in his previous sexual partners - numbering two to this day. He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams how arousing this would be, but his aching cock told him that he might be way more gay than he previously thought.
But seeing as he wasn’t the only one here what with Metze ruthlessly plundering his mouth and the telltale presence of an erection pressed against his thigh, Per didn’t care too much about this new revelation right now. Much more important was how Metze’s short-shorn hair felt under his hands, how the slight stubble rasped against his chin, how the muscled torso fit so perfectly against his own, how Metze’s hands pulled his jersey out of his sweatpants, and Per gasped into the kiss as they touched his hot skin, skimming along his waistband.
Metze raised his head, whispering, “Okay?” as he stilled his movements.
Per nodded, swallowing. “Yeah,” he said, “go on.”
But Metze shook his head. “Let’s relocate to a more comfortable location first,” he said, winking at Per. “These old bones prefer soft mattresses to wooden floors.”
Per chuckled. “You’re not that old yet,” his fingers still carding through Metze’s hair.
Metze’s smile widened. “Come on,” he said, and then getting naked was just a matter of seconds, especially when all you were wearing was training kits and pulling them on and off was routine, especially when you did it day in, day out in a room full of guys doing the same.
But taking a leaf out of Metze’s book and allowing himself to ogle the other man as much as he always wanted to almost cost Per his composure, especially when Metze whistled. “I’m impressed, Merte,” he said.
“Well, there can’t be always exceptions to the rules,” Per said with a grin, having finally given up the lost battle with his obvious state of embarrassment.
Metze laughed. “Get yourself on the bed and then we’ll see just how many other rules we can adhere to,” crawling onto said bed and Per swallowed at seeing the engorged cock dangling between Metze’s leanmuscled legs, the whole ensemble along with the round, lightly furred ass immediately making it to the top in Per’s rather extensive list of sex fantasies. He was shy, yes, but that didn’t mean that he lacked imagination.
As to be expected, his downstairs brain took over and so he found himself quickly atop Metze, their legs tangling as they roamed each other’s bodies in exploration, tongues duelling open-mouthed. Per ground down against Metze, yearning for friction that would soothe his aching cock throbbing in the damp warmth between their bodies, mirrored by Metze’s bucks which were obviously carried out to achieve the same effect.
“Wait,” Metze breathed, and then he brought his hand up to Per’s face, his fingers resting on the latter’s wet lips. “Suck them,” he said, his half-lidded eyes darkening, “make them wet.”
Metze tasted good, hints of dew and spice and something sweet making Per’s mouth water, and he tried to take in as much as he could, drooling saliva everywhere. Heat pooled in his groin region as half-formed images and thoughts of what was to come flitted through his brain; actually, imagination wasn’t the problem as he knew fairly well enough what two men could do in bed together, thanks to an afternoon some years ago spent alone at home and with a highspeed DSL connection. Which had also led to him almost rubbing his dick raw, by the way. And having to shower three times in short succession.
But then the wet hand slid down between their bodies and took both their cocks in a hand, making Per gasp out loud. “Your hand, too,” Metze breathed, and after some thorough sweeps with his tongue over the palm of his slightly shaking hand, Per joined the party downstairs. Metze entwined their fingers around their erections and Per had to bite down hard on his lip, because ejaculatio praecox wasn’t that unheard of in men of his age, especially when faced with this.
“It’s okay,” Metze whispered, “okay,” and Per followed the rhythm Metze’s hand set for them, tightening their grip around the hotwet lengths of their cocks, scrunching his eyes shut as he felt himself coil up tighter and tighter and hotter. When Metze rubbed his thumb justso over this spot on Per’s cock, it was only thanks to Metze’s quicksilver reflexes that Per’s shout didn’t wake up the entire hotel’s floor but got muffled by a very fluffy pillow, Metze’s hand pressing his head down into it.
The orgasm was at least a 13 on the Richter scale, turning him into a shaking boneless pile on Metze, his hand coated in his own come, still milking their cocks. Metze suddenly sped up the pace, gripping harder and Per almost cried out because of his now oversensitive cock when Metze grunted, thrusting up against Per, the body whiplash-taut and wet hotness splashed onto Per who just held on.
Metze loosened their stickywet grasp, breathing hard as he came down from his own orgasm. “Shower,” he sighed, smearing the come on the bedsheets. “Come on, before I fall asleep.”
*
Metze smiled, stretching out next to Per with his hand resting on the latter’s faintly damp abdomen. “Basti would now say that it´s time for the imaginary after-sex cigarette,” he said, closing his eyes.
Per almost immediately felt Metze stiffen and the sighed “Sorry,” made him tighten his embrace. “It’s okay,” he said, although his innards were setting up a silent mutiny, “I get it.”
Metze raised his head, looking at Per earnestly. “Do you?”
Per shrugged, lifting a hand to trace Metze´s jaw, the stubble rasping over his fingertips. “He’s a big part of your life. Of who you are.”
“Yeah,” Metze smiled, “that he is. Was,” he corrected himself, and Per then was gently convinced again that Christoph Metzelder was the world’s best kisser.
And the other stuff, well. Per knew from experience that there was always a solution. And he was nothing if not patient - and determined.
*
... to be continued? *winks*