4 Stevie Gerrard/Xabi Alonso ficlets
Honestly, I'm not even sure how these happened. All I can say is that sometime during the commentporn weekend, they did.
Pairing: Stevie Gerrard/Xabi Alonso and one ?/? (but written with them in mind).
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Disclaimer: THIS IS FICTION, a figment of my sick imagination, not real in any way or form. I have no knowledge, I make up things. I'm bad like that.
Warnings: Not sure. Sap? Check. Cliches? All around. Some minor kink? Of course.
Stevie/Xabi, prompt: "This shouldn't turn me on"
"This shouldn't turn me on," Stevie thought as he watched Xabi hugging Fernando. "This shouldn't turn me on," he thought as he watched Xabi stretching during practice. "This shouldn't turn me on," he thought again as he watched Xabi doing…something. Because this wasn't a "this" at all. It was Xabi. And he shouldn't be turning him on. Certainly not driving him so crazy, so barely able to contain himself every time he's around. Certainly not keeping him awake at night, hard and feeling shame and guilt when he finally gave in a jerked off thinking of Xabi doing…something. The truth is, it didn't matter anymore what it was. It was enough for him just to think of Xabi.
"Steven?" another thing that shouldn't turn him on. Xabi's voice. Xabi's breath so close to his neck. Certainly it shouldn't turn him on when they're still on the pitch.
"Steven," the voice is impatient now, but still turns him on so much, "you're coming over, yes?"
He nods. He's coming over for dinner tonight. Surely, he must be a true masochist to agree to spend such a long time alone with Xabi.
But he can't resist. It's like playing with fire - you know you shouldn't, you know you can't, but you can't help but want to get closer, even if you know that you're never, ever allowed to touch. Just another test for his willpower.
And he goes, as promised. The dinner is great. Stevie's sure the food is great, if only he could taste it, instead of watching Xabi's every movement and focusing on not being turned on. Which is probably why he barely notices when Xabi suddenly drops his fork and pulls him out of his chair, until they're both standing and facing each other, Xabi's hands still on his.
"Oh, Steven," Xabi says, and he barely, sort of, registers him moving closer, "Steven," he almost sighs, eyes on Stevie's and burning with something amazing, "you really shouldn't be doing all these things to turn me on." And leans to kiss him.
Stevie/Xabi, prompt: "Tempted. So fucking tempted.."
Tempted. So fucking tempted... So fucking tempted to just reach out and touch. All these years. All these years of feeling guilty, ashamed, embarrassed to be so fucking in love with him, and now, now of all times, you're tempted beyond belief. Now, when you meet in fucking Madrid, of all places, on the friendliest of terms (of course. Fuck, that's one kind of screwed up friendship, you're pretty sure friendship is not defined by how hard you get when you see him), now you're tempted. Tempted to yell at him for now seeing it. Tempted to scream at him for not seeing right through you. For not seeing you at all. So. Fucking. Tempted.
You don't, of course. What's the point? What's the fucking point. So you smile, you laugh, you tell him some inane news about mutual friends. You even hug him when he turns to leave. Normal. So fucking normal.
But he turns back. No. Don't. You're still tempted. He looks at you, as if he's waiting for something. Sighs. Bids you goodnight again.
But it's too late. You're so fucking tempted, it's too late. You grab his hand, and he turns around, and looks at you - not with surprise, with relief. He doesn't pull back when you push against him, he pushes right back against you. He doesn't look appalled when you grab his arse and lean to kiss him. He doesn't protest when you grind your hips against his. He's clearly so fucking tempted himself.
?/? , prompt: "Truth or Dare"
Truth or Dare. That's what his life turned into, a fucking game of truth or dare.
Truth: he didn't dare to tell the truth. So he had to take the dare, over and over again, upping the ante every time.
Dare: dare to be his friend. Dare to stand too close to him. Dare to hug him during the games. Dare to hug him off the pitch. Dare to spend more and more time alone with him. Dare to kiss him in front of the cameras and dare to say it meant nothing at all.
Dare: dare to think of the truth. Dare to imagine what it would be like to tell the truth. Dare to tell the truth.
Truth: he didn't expect to survive the truth. Truth: he didn't expect him to tell the truth too. Truth: telling the truth was the best dare he ever took.
Stevie/Xabi, prompt: "I need you"
Stevie wonders whether Xabi ever sleeps. He's pretty sure he must stay awake all night coming up with new, crazy ideas to torture him.
Like now. "Look, but don't touch," he said, and spread himself right in front of Stevie, hand on his cock.
Stevie would kill to have just a little touch, just a little lick right now. His hands (tied - yet another crazy thing he'd only ever dream of letting Xabi do) are itching to reach out, chafing against his restraints. Just a little lick on Xabi's cock, a little touch. Just…
It amazes and infuriates (and yeah, turns him on) that Xabi can be so collected, so unaffected. It shocks him how calmly he can strip and just touch himself as if Stevie wasn't even in the room. It drives him crazy that when he finally breaks and asks Xabi to free him, Xabi looks at him as if he forgot he was even there.
Like he's looking at him now. Curious look, as if he wonders what he's talking about. Bastard.
He doesn't answer, certainly doesn't make a move to free him. No, his only response is to stick two of his slick fingers in his arse in one swift motion. That's just too much. To think he's a foot away, and he could be doing it… It wasn't worth pretending to be above begging.
"Xabi…" he begs, "please. I need you." Xabi speeds up, one hand on his cock, fingers thrusting deeper.
"Xabi," he pants. Maybe threats are in order. "I swear, if you won't let me go right now, I'll never fuck you again."
Nothing. Ah, well, maybe his threats should be more realistic.
"Xabi," he tries again - he has to do something, has to, he's so painfully hard, so aroused he just might faint, "baby, don't you want me to fuck you? I'll make it so good for you… Just let me go, baby, and I'll make it so good for you."
"No, that's not what I want," Xabi says suddenly.
Oh. Ok, that wasn't insulting at all.
"Yes, I want you to fuck me. God, I need you to fuck me," Xabi's quick to pacify - the hurt must be plain on his face, "but now, now I want… I want to see if you can come like this Stevie. Just looking at me."
Oh.
"But you know," the hand on his cock speeds up, and Xabi's looking him straight in the eye, and Stevie's not sure what turns him on more, what he does with his hands or the dark look of desire in his eyes, "you know I think of you when I do that. It's you I need. Not just now. Every time. Every time, I think it's you, Stevie."
And yes, apparently Stevie can come just from looking.
Pairing: Stevie Gerrard/Xabi Alonso and one ?/? (but written with them in mind).
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Disclaimer: THIS IS FICTION, a figment of my sick imagination, not real in any way or form. I have no knowledge, I make up things. I'm bad like that.
Warnings: Not sure. Sap? Check. Cliches? All around. Some minor kink? Of course.
Stevie/Xabi, prompt: "This shouldn't turn me on"
"This shouldn't turn me on," Stevie thought as he watched Xabi hugging Fernando. "This shouldn't turn me on," he thought as he watched Xabi stretching during practice. "This shouldn't turn me on," he thought again as he watched Xabi doing…something. Because this wasn't a "this" at all. It was Xabi. And he shouldn't be turning him on. Certainly not driving him so crazy, so barely able to contain himself every time he's around. Certainly not keeping him awake at night, hard and feeling shame and guilt when he finally gave in a jerked off thinking of Xabi doing…something. The truth is, it didn't matter anymore what it was. It was enough for him just to think of Xabi.
"Steven?" another thing that shouldn't turn him on. Xabi's voice. Xabi's breath so close to his neck. Certainly it shouldn't turn him on when they're still on the pitch.
"Steven," the voice is impatient now, but still turns him on so much, "you're coming over, yes?"
He nods. He's coming over for dinner tonight. Surely, he must be a true masochist to agree to spend such a long time alone with Xabi.
But he can't resist. It's like playing with fire - you know you shouldn't, you know you can't, but you can't help but want to get closer, even if you know that you're never, ever allowed to touch. Just another test for his willpower.
And he goes, as promised. The dinner is great. Stevie's sure the food is great, if only he could taste it, instead of watching Xabi's every movement and focusing on not being turned on. Which is probably why he barely notices when Xabi suddenly drops his fork and pulls him out of his chair, until they're both standing and facing each other, Xabi's hands still on his.
"Oh, Steven," Xabi says, and he barely, sort of, registers him moving closer, "Steven," he almost sighs, eyes on Stevie's and burning with something amazing, "you really shouldn't be doing all these things to turn me on." And leans to kiss him.
Stevie/Xabi, prompt: "Tempted. So fucking tempted.."
Tempted. So fucking tempted... So fucking tempted to just reach out and touch. All these years. All these years of feeling guilty, ashamed, embarrassed to be so fucking in love with him, and now, now of all times, you're tempted beyond belief. Now, when you meet in fucking Madrid, of all places, on the friendliest of terms (of course. Fuck, that's one kind of screwed up friendship, you're pretty sure friendship is not defined by how hard you get when you see him), now you're tempted. Tempted to yell at him for now seeing it. Tempted to scream at him for not seeing right through you. For not seeing you at all. So. Fucking. Tempted.
You don't, of course. What's the point? What's the fucking point. So you smile, you laugh, you tell him some inane news about mutual friends. You even hug him when he turns to leave. Normal. So fucking normal.
But he turns back. No. Don't. You're still tempted. He looks at you, as if he's waiting for something. Sighs. Bids you goodnight again.
But it's too late. You're so fucking tempted, it's too late. You grab his hand, and he turns around, and looks at you - not with surprise, with relief. He doesn't pull back when you push against him, he pushes right back against you. He doesn't look appalled when you grab his arse and lean to kiss him. He doesn't protest when you grind your hips against his. He's clearly so fucking tempted himself.
?/? , prompt: "Truth or Dare"
Truth or Dare. That's what his life turned into, a fucking game of truth or dare.
Truth: he didn't dare to tell the truth. So he had to take the dare, over and over again, upping the ante every time.
Dare: dare to be his friend. Dare to stand too close to him. Dare to hug him during the games. Dare to hug him off the pitch. Dare to spend more and more time alone with him. Dare to kiss him in front of the cameras and dare to say it meant nothing at all.
Dare: dare to think of the truth. Dare to imagine what it would be like to tell the truth. Dare to tell the truth.
Truth: he didn't expect to survive the truth. Truth: he didn't expect him to tell the truth too. Truth: telling the truth was the best dare he ever took.
Stevie/Xabi, prompt: "I need you"
Stevie wonders whether Xabi ever sleeps. He's pretty sure he must stay awake all night coming up with new, crazy ideas to torture him.
Like now. "Look, but don't touch," he said, and spread himself right in front of Stevie, hand on his cock.
Stevie would kill to have just a little touch, just a little lick right now. His hands (tied - yet another crazy thing he'd only ever dream of letting Xabi do) are itching to reach out, chafing against his restraints. Just a little lick on Xabi's cock, a little touch. Just…
It amazes and infuriates (and yeah, turns him on) that Xabi can be so collected, so unaffected. It shocks him how calmly he can strip and just touch himself as if Stevie wasn't even in the room. It drives him crazy that when he finally breaks and asks Xabi to free him, Xabi looks at him as if he forgot he was even there.
Like he's looking at him now. Curious look, as if he wonders what he's talking about. Bastard.
He doesn't answer, certainly doesn't make a move to free him. No, his only response is to stick two of his slick fingers in his arse in one swift motion. That's just too much. To think he's a foot away, and he could be doing it… It wasn't worth pretending to be above begging.
"Xabi…" he begs, "please. I need you." Xabi speeds up, one hand on his cock, fingers thrusting deeper.
"Xabi," he pants. Maybe threats are in order. "I swear, if you won't let me go right now, I'll never fuck you again."
Nothing. Ah, well, maybe his threats should be more realistic.
"Xabi," he tries again - he has to do something, has to, he's so painfully hard, so aroused he just might faint, "baby, don't you want me to fuck you? I'll make it so good for you… Just let me go, baby, and I'll make it so good for you."
"No, that's not what I want," Xabi says suddenly.
Oh. Ok, that wasn't insulting at all.
"Yes, I want you to fuck me. God, I need you to fuck me," Xabi's quick to pacify - the hurt must be plain on his face, "but now, now I want… I want to see if you can come like this Stevie. Just looking at me."
Oh.
"But you know," the hand on his cock speeds up, and Xabi's looking him straight in the eye, and Stevie's not sure what turns him on more, what he does with his hands or the dark look of desire in his eyes, "you know I think of you when I do that. It's you I need. Not just now. Every time. Every time, I think it's you, Stevie."
And yes, apparently Stevie can come just from looking.