[ MMOM ] Casillas / Ramos
Title : Te Encontre Debajo de las Estrellas, or, I Found You Beneath The Stars
Pairing : Sergio Ramos / Iker Casillas
Word Count : ~900
Rating : R
The bass is overpowering and tremendous, making Iker’s bones shake and his heart thrum in his chest. He doesn’t like this sort of club, he finds them too dark and the air always seems to be too thick. In the heart of Madrid, it’s difficult to find somewhere open, where the stars shine bright.
Iker would rather go to the country, to Galicia and maybe spend a week or two in Lugo. Get a room overlooking the river on the outskirts of the city, spend his nights drinking rich Spanish wine and enjoying the warm summer air.
But there’s Sergio to consider. He’s young, only four years younger than Iker, but that’s a lifetime in the football world. He wants to go to his loud clubs and enjoy the company of beautiful women- he wants to let his hair down and dance.
And if there’s something in this world that Iker loves more than anything, it’s watching Sergio dance.
He orders a drink, his third of the night, from the bar and sips from it at the edge of the dance floor. The music is nothing if not catchy and he finds himself swaying his hips to the beat by sheer force of habit.
It doesn’t take long for him to spot Sergio in the thickest part of the throng, hair flowing down to his shoulders and body shimmering from the heat and lights. He’s passionate, untamed. Watching him move is beautiful, even more than watching him play.
The song ends and Iker can already feel his jeans are a little tighter than is comfortable and he catches Sergio’s gaze momentarily, drawing a smile from both of them. And although he disappears into the crowd almost immediately and Iker’s slightly disappointed, he keeps himself busy by scoping out the rest of the crowd.
It’s mostly women, a few men scattered here and there, all tall and slender with arched eyebrows and olive skin. Iker thinks, they all pale in comparison to Sergio, but he can see himself with a few of them, if the club slows down a bit maybe.
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”
The gentle voice tickles at Iker’s ear and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s his dancing gypsy.
“Watching you make a fool of yourself,” Iker replies, finishing the rest of his drink in one swallow and setting it down. “Are you going to ask me to dance or am I too old for you now?”
“Almost,” Sergio says with a smile that Iker can feel on the back of his neck, “Eres un viejo, Iker Casillas. But you’re my old man.”
He lets himself be tugged out into the crowd, concentrating on the warm feel of Sergio’s hand in his own. It’s rough compared to his, fingers long and a little crooked, palms calloused. He likes this contrast in the touch, the same way he likes that Sergio tans a little darker than him and acts a little wilder. He likes that Sergio doesn’t use cologne when they go out because when they’re pressed together, he gets the raw passion of his younger lover. No mask.
Sergio keeps him young. His spirit, the way he speaks, how he moves even when he’s just walking around the kitchen in the morning or wandering about the locker room. He’s like a jaguar, or a panther, with sleek muscles and a predatory glint in his eye. He’s perfect.
Iker learned early on that Sergio is all hands. They don’t pause and kiss with their mouths as much as they do with their entire bodies. He lets his hands rest on Sergio’s hips, letting his rhythm guide them both. But tonight, Sergio only has the lead for as long as it takes Iker to fall into the beat, and then Iker takes control.
He tightens his grip on Sergio with one hand, the other sliding under his shirt where the fabric sticks to his skin. He feels more than hears the low rumble of a moan in Sergio’s chest when he slips his thigh between Sergio’s legs, grinding and rutting against him like an animal.
“You’re acting different,” Sergio says suddenly, muffled by the music, but Iker can still hear the raw desire in his voice, “I like it.”
Their mouths clash together for the first time that night- Iker’s teeth tug at Sergio’s lip before glossing it over with his tongue.
“You want to move this party to the bathroom?”
“Not tonight,” Iker replies, smiling at the way Sergio falls so quickly into a pout. “I’d like to actually make it to the bedroom for once.”
He doesn’t expect to feel a hand slip into his back pocket and squeeze his ass roughly, or to have teeth biting down on the most sensitive part of his throat- and he gasps into it, clinging to Sergio’s shoulders and crying out his name.
“I’ll take care of it myself then,” Sergio growls into his ear, “Alone. Or I’ll find someone else-”
Iker digs his fingers into the taut muscles of his lover’s back and glares. “You’ll do no such thing.”
His reaction seems to spark something in Sergio and he recoils. “Perdóname,” he murmurs, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Forgiveness is swift, like a woman’s fingers brushing along his skin during a dance- there for a moment and then vanished into the mysterious night. Iker smiles against Sergio’s mouth, tongue dancing out to stroke along his lips.
“Let’s get out of here.”
...
* Eres un viejo - You’re an old man / geezer.
* Perdóname - Forgive me.
...
[ MMOM Archive ]
Pairing : Sergio Ramos / Iker Casillas
Word Count : ~900
Rating : R
The bass is overpowering and tremendous, making Iker’s bones shake and his heart thrum in his chest. He doesn’t like this sort of club, he finds them too dark and the air always seems to be too thick. In the heart of Madrid, it’s difficult to find somewhere open, where the stars shine bright.
Iker would rather go to the country, to Galicia and maybe spend a week or two in Lugo. Get a room overlooking the river on the outskirts of the city, spend his nights drinking rich Spanish wine and enjoying the warm summer air.
But there’s Sergio to consider. He’s young, only four years younger than Iker, but that’s a lifetime in the football world. He wants to go to his loud clubs and enjoy the company of beautiful women- he wants to let his hair down and dance.
And if there’s something in this world that Iker loves more than anything, it’s watching Sergio dance.
He orders a drink, his third of the night, from the bar and sips from it at the edge of the dance floor. The music is nothing if not catchy and he finds himself swaying his hips to the beat by sheer force of habit.
It doesn’t take long for him to spot Sergio in the thickest part of the throng, hair flowing down to his shoulders and body shimmering from the heat and lights. He’s passionate, untamed. Watching him move is beautiful, even more than watching him play.
The song ends and Iker can already feel his jeans are a little tighter than is comfortable and he catches Sergio’s gaze momentarily, drawing a smile from both of them. And although he disappears into the crowd almost immediately and Iker’s slightly disappointed, he keeps himself busy by scoping out the rest of the crowd.
It’s mostly women, a few men scattered here and there, all tall and slender with arched eyebrows and olive skin. Iker thinks, they all pale in comparison to Sergio, but he can see himself with a few of them, if the club slows down a bit maybe.
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”
The gentle voice tickles at Iker’s ear and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s his dancing gypsy.
“Watching you make a fool of yourself,” Iker replies, finishing the rest of his drink in one swallow and setting it down. “Are you going to ask me to dance or am I too old for you now?”
“Almost,” Sergio says with a smile that Iker can feel on the back of his neck, “Eres un viejo, Iker Casillas. But you’re my old man.”
He lets himself be tugged out into the crowd, concentrating on the warm feel of Sergio’s hand in his own. It’s rough compared to his, fingers long and a little crooked, palms calloused. He likes this contrast in the touch, the same way he likes that Sergio tans a little darker than him and acts a little wilder. He likes that Sergio doesn’t use cologne when they go out because when they’re pressed together, he gets the raw passion of his younger lover. No mask.
Sergio keeps him young. His spirit, the way he speaks, how he moves even when he’s just walking around the kitchen in the morning or wandering about the locker room. He’s like a jaguar, or a panther, with sleek muscles and a predatory glint in his eye. He’s perfect.
Iker learned early on that Sergio is all hands. They don’t pause and kiss with their mouths as much as they do with their entire bodies. He lets his hands rest on Sergio’s hips, letting his rhythm guide them both. But tonight, Sergio only has the lead for as long as it takes Iker to fall into the beat, and then Iker takes control.
He tightens his grip on Sergio with one hand, the other sliding under his shirt where the fabric sticks to his skin. He feels more than hears the low rumble of a moan in Sergio’s chest when he slips his thigh between Sergio’s legs, grinding and rutting against him like an animal.
“You’re acting different,” Sergio says suddenly, muffled by the music, but Iker can still hear the raw desire in his voice, “I like it.”
Their mouths clash together for the first time that night- Iker’s teeth tug at Sergio’s lip before glossing it over with his tongue.
“You want to move this party to the bathroom?”
“Not tonight,” Iker replies, smiling at the way Sergio falls so quickly into a pout. “I’d like to actually make it to the bedroom for once.”
He doesn’t expect to feel a hand slip into his back pocket and squeeze his ass roughly, or to have teeth biting down on the most sensitive part of his throat- and he gasps into it, clinging to Sergio’s shoulders and crying out his name.
“I’ll take care of it myself then,” Sergio growls into his ear, “Alone. Or I’ll find someone else-”
Iker digs his fingers into the taut muscles of his lover’s back and glares. “You’ll do no such thing.”
His reaction seems to spark something in Sergio and he recoils. “Perdóname,” he murmurs, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Forgiveness is swift, like a woman’s fingers brushing along his skin during a dance- there for a moment and then vanished into the mysterious night. Iker smiles against Sergio’s mouth, tongue dancing out to stroke along his lips.
“Let’s get out of here.”
...
* Eres un viejo - You’re an old man / geezer.
* Perdóname - Forgive me.
...
[ MMOM Archive ]