Fabregas's Deft Touch
Fabregas's Deft Touch.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cesc Fabregas/Nicklas Bendtner
Disclaimer: not true, no matter how much fangirls want it to be
Warnings: PORN. yea.
A/N: so yea, first stab (or thrust I suppose) at a sex scene, let me know how it turns out.
also this fic is based on the Nick Live Cesc Fabregas Show (Raise Your Game) you can find it here
alright, enough of my foolishness, on with the fic.
“I’m serious!” Cesc said, crossing his arms. “No sex for a week! For two weeks!”
“Cesc, you’re being irrational!” Nicklas tried to reason with his Spaniard, reaching to cup his face.
Cesc ducked to avoid the hand and gave him a level (and unfamiliar) look that said no sex. Nick sighed.
“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.”
Immediately Cesc perked up and launched himself at the striker, Nick barely caught him as the bubbly midfielder pressed kisses all over his face and neck then suddenly jumped down.
“Ok, we’ve gotta go now if we’re gonna make it in time!”
Nick sighed again and followed at a more sedate pace, what was he going to do with him?
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
They re-entered Cesc’s apartment after the taping with Cesc’s arm slung over Nick’s shoulders, grinning like a mad man.
“So you don’t care at all that you fixed it.”
“Nope.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a tiny little bit.” If possible Cesc’s smile broadened.
“Even though that should cheapen the victory for you?”
“Nicky, I was the best, even if I may have bribed you a little into saying so.”
“Bribed? More like blackmailed!” Bendtner huffed, plopping down on the couch.
“What? The no sex thing?” Cesc laughed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t think you could keep it in your pants for a couple of weeks.”
“Couldn’t keep it in my-?! You are the one that’s always begging for it!”
Cesc sighed and crawled into the sulking Dane’s lap.
“Nicky,” he cupped the man’s face. “You know I was the best so what does it even matter?”
“You know, fair play and all that! What if the kid had turned out to be better?”
Cesc was getting annoyed, all this talk was cutting into the time they could be using for sex. So he switched tactics and turned so his legs were straddling the seated striker.
“You think that kid had a better touch than me?” His accent blended the words together sexily and Nick gave a low, frustrated groan.
“Cesc, that’s not fighting fair.”
“Answer the question, Nicky.” Cesc purred, close to his ear.
“What does it matter what I think? I said you were the best and you ‘know’ you were the best, so whatever” The Dane was stubbornly sticking to his point.
“Did you want to see more of his touch? Feel some of it maybe?” Cesc asked huskily, stroking Nick’s chest with slow, teasing circles.
“Cesc, don’t start.”
“So you did! You did want that ‘deft touch’ on you.” Cesc was kind of worried now, but managed to keep it out of his voice.
“Of course I didn’t,” Nick sighed, then decided to give in. “I’ve got you haven’t I? And you’ve got the best touch.”
Cesc grinned triumphantly and rewarded Nicklas with a deep, involved kiss which evolved into hands clawing at shirts, bodies rubbing on bodies and a desperation to feel bare skin against bare skin.
“Dios, I wanted this all through the show.” Cesc growled against Nick’s neck, breaking contact to pull his shirt free and toss it haphazardly over the back of the couch. “As soon as you walked through that tunnel.”
“I told you you were the one always starting this!” The Dane smiled against his lover’s skin. “My horny little Spaniard.”
“Don’t start with me, Bendtner.” Said Spainiard growled, working on the other man’s belt. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that easy little pass you gave him at the beginning.” The jeans were undone and Cesc slipped off Nick’s lap to pull them off fully, kneeling in between the striker’s legs. “Or that you aimed one right at little Francesc! I thought that was your favourite part of me!”
The boxers followed the jeans and ‘little Nicklas’ was revealed to be not so little.
“No, when it’s not doing useless things like talking, your mouth is my favourite part of you.” He put an encouraging hand on the back of Cesc’s head.
The Spaniard took the hint, Nick leaned back and closed his eyes in anticipation of Cesc’s wet, clever little mouth but was disapointed when the midfielder leaned down to press a kiss on his inner thigh and voiced his displeasure with a loud groan.
Cesc smiled wickedly at Nick’s frustrated and desperate look; it was good to know despite all his talk Nick couldn’t go without this. Maintaining eye contact with the aroused Dane, Cesc slowly opened his mouth and swallowed, inch by tourtous inch. Nick fought the urge to close his eyes, it was so much better to see Cesc looking up at him as he swirled and licked and sucked and enjoyed getting Nicklas off.
“Av god.*”
Cesc’s hand somehow (lord knew how, Nick was watching him the whole time) worked its way up to cup and stroke his balls and then he couldn’t take it, the stare, the wonderful wet suction, the long languid licks; Nick (a little rougher than intended) pulled Cesc off with a tug to his hair. The Spaniard rocked back to recline supported by his arms and smirked. That’s when Nick noticed he still had his pants on.
“Oof!” Cesc grunted when the Dane leaped off the couch, thrust his tongue into the midfielder’s mouth and tore at his jean buttons.
“Indskrænket hive efter vejret!” Nick growled, struggling. “Gudinde, afvænne!*”
Danish, as a rule, wasn’t a very sexy language but when it was coming out of a sexy, frustrated striker, Cesc could think of little else he’d rather hear. Except for the small gleeful sound Nick let out when he finally got Cesc’s jeans undone and yanked them and his boxers down. They got stuck on his shoes and Nick growled again, tugging them off impatiently. In a flash he was back up , his body covering Cesc’s.
“You,” Kiss. “Wear,” Kiss. “Too many,” Lick. “Clothes.”
Cesc was too far gone for word play and skillfully (he’d had a lot of practice) rolled them over, keeping contact between all parts of their bodies. Nick knew what was coming next and his hand scrambled blindly for the coffee table and hopefully some lube.
Cesc swatted his hand away and flipped open a hide-a-book to reveal a well stocked stash of lube. Nick tipped his head back to watch and laughed a little.
“Some how I’m not surprised.”
“I knew we’d get to sex in the living room eventually.” Cesc sounded proud of his forethought.
Surprisingly enough, it was pretty much the only room they hadn’t had sex in yet. And yes, that included both linen closets and the underground parking garage (that was a long story).
This was Nicklas’s favourite part, Cesc leaned back and lubed up a couple of fingers. As he slowly impaled himself on his own fingers he began to murmer.
“Oh dios… si, si…tan buena.” Nick changed his mind, this was his favourite part. “Mi dios…”
They had been at this long enough that Cesc knew when Nick was about to lose control and just take him, hard and fast. That was always good but Cesc, still flush with victory, wanted control. So just as Nick was about to sit up and flip them Cesc pushed his shoulders to the floor and climbed atop him. Nick knew Cesc was enjoying torturing him by sliding down so slowly so he thrust upwards, causing a gasp and a moan from the Spaniard.
“Mi dios, mi dios, mi dios”
“Av god, artig* god!”
Spanish and Danish and English mixed as the room got hotter and sweatier and better. Cesc wanted it harder and faster but he couldn’t get the leverage, Nick could hear it when he begged, English and Spanish flowing together seamlessly.
“Más rápido! Dios, harder Nicky! Cariño!*”
Nick pushed up and rolled Cesc on to his back and gave him what he wanted. Cesc became nonsensical but between the Spanish and English fragments and the moans Nick could hear his name.
“Nicklas, Nicky, Nick, Nickeee!”
A few perfectly weighted pulls later Cesc gasped and came, sticky all over his stomach and chest. Nick followed, shuddering and collapsed on to the smaller footballer. He reached for a shirt and cleaned the two of them off before lying next to Cesc and throwing an arm across him.
“Nicky?”
“Hmm?” He was basking in the post-sex glow he loved.
“I wouldn’t have cut you off for two weeks.”
“I know.”
“What? You knew I wasn’t serious?”
“Cesc.” Nick sat up a bit to look him in the face. “You wouldn’t have cut me off for an hour, you woudn’t have lasted.”
“Then why?” Cesc was confused. “What-I don’t understand.”
Nick smiled and kissed his forehead and stood up.
“You give the best blow jobs when you’re desperate.”
With that he left the room and Cesc open mouthed. Cesc could hear the shower turn on and scrambled to his feet to see if Nick was up for some post sex shower sex.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
*Oh god
*stupid pants, goddamn, get off
*Oh god, yes, yes, so good, my god
*good god
*faster, god, spanish term of affection (like babe or something)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cesc Fabregas/Nicklas Bendtner
Disclaimer: not true, no matter how much fangirls want it to be
Warnings: PORN. yea.
A/N: so yea, first stab (or thrust I suppose) at a sex scene, let me know how it turns out.
also this fic is based on the Nick Live Cesc Fabregas Show (Raise Your Game) you can find it here
alright, enough of my foolishness, on with the fic.
“I’m serious!” Cesc said, crossing his arms. “No sex for a week! For two weeks!”
“Cesc, you’re being irrational!” Nicklas tried to reason with his Spaniard, reaching to cup his face.
Cesc ducked to avoid the hand and gave him a level (and unfamiliar) look that said no sex. Nick sighed.
“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.”
Immediately Cesc perked up and launched himself at the striker, Nick barely caught him as the bubbly midfielder pressed kisses all over his face and neck then suddenly jumped down.
“Ok, we’ve gotta go now if we’re gonna make it in time!”
Nick sighed again and followed at a more sedate pace, what was he going to do with him?
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
They re-entered Cesc’s apartment after the taping with Cesc’s arm slung over Nick’s shoulders, grinning like a mad man.
“So you don’t care at all that you fixed it.”
“Nope.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a tiny little bit.” If possible Cesc’s smile broadened.
“Even though that should cheapen the victory for you?”
“Nicky, I was the best, even if I may have bribed you a little into saying so.”
“Bribed? More like blackmailed!” Bendtner huffed, plopping down on the couch.
“What? The no sex thing?” Cesc laughed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t think you could keep it in your pants for a couple of weeks.”
“Couldn’t keep it in my-?! You are the one that’s always begging for it!”
Cesc sighed and crawled into the sulking Dane’s lap.
“Nicky,” he cupped the man’s face. “You know I was the best so what does it even matter?”
“You know, fair play and all that! What if the kid had turned out to be better?”
Cesc was getting annoyed, all this talk was cutting into the time they could be using for sex. So he switched tactics and turned so his legs were straddling the seated striker.
“You think that kid had a better touch than me?” His accent blended the words together sexily and Nick gave a low, frustrated groan.
“Cesc, that’s not fighting fair.”
“Answer the question, Nicky.” Cesc purred, close to his ear.
“What does it matter what I think? I said you were the best and you ‘know’ you were the best, so whatever” The Dane was stubbornly sticking to his point.
“Did you want to see more of his touch? Feel some of it maybe?” Cesc asked huskily, stroking Nick’s chest with slow, teasing circles.
“Cesc, don’t start.”
“So you did! You did want that ‘deft touch’ on you.” Cesc was kind of worried now, but managed to keep it out of his voice.
“Of course I didn’t,” Nick sighed, then decided to give in. “I’ve got you haven’t I? And you’ve got the best touch.”
Cesc grinned triumphantly and rewarded Nicklas with a deep, involved kiss which evolved into hands clawing at shirts, bodies rubbing on bodies and a desperation to feel bare skin against bare skin.
“Dios, I wanted this all through the show.” Cesc growled against Nick’s neck, breaking contact to pull his shirt free and toss it haphazardly over the back of the couch. “As soon as you walked through that tunnel.”
“I told you you were the one always starting this!” The Dane smiled against his lover’s skin. “My horny little Spaniard.”
“Don’t start with me, Bendtner.” Said Spainiard growled, working on the other man’s belt. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that easy little pass you gave him at the beginning.” The jeans were undone and Cesc slipped off Nick’s lap to pull them off fully, kneeling in between the striker’s legs. “Or that you aimed one right at little Francesc! I thought that was your favourite part of me!”
The boxers followed the jeans and ‘little Nicklas’ was revealed to be not so little.
“No, when it’s not doing useless things like talking, your mouth is my favourite part of you.” He put an encouraging hand on the back of Cesc’s head.
The Spaniard took the hint, Nick leaned back and closed his eyes in anticipation of Cesc’s wet, clever little mouth but was disapointed when the midfielder leaned down to press a kiss on his inner thigh and voiced his displeasure with a loud groan.
Cesc smiled wickedly at Nick’s frustrated and desperate look; it was good to know despite all his talk Nick couldn’t go without this. Maintaining eye contact with the aroused Dane, Cesc slowly opened his mouth and swallowed, inch by tourtous inch. Nick fought the urge to close his eyes, it was so much better to see Cesc looking up at him as he swirled and licked and sucked and enjoyed getting Nicklas off.
“Av god.*”
Cesc’s hand somehow (lord knew how, Nick was watching him the whole time) worked its way up to cup and stroke his balls and then he couldn’t take it, the stare, the wonderful wet suction, the long languid licks; Nick (a little rougher than intended) pulled Cesc off with a tug to his hair. The Spaniard rocked back to recline supported by his arms and smirked. That’s when Nick noticed he still had his pants on.
“Oof!” Cesc grunted when the Dane leaped off the couch, thrust his tongue into the midfielder’s mouth and tore at his jean buttons.
“Indskrænket hive efter vejret!” Nick growled, struggling. “Gudinde, afvænne!*”
Danish, as a rule, wasn’t a very sexy language but when it was coming out of a sexy, frustrated striker, Cesc could think of little else he’d rather hear. Except for the small gleeful sound Nick let out when he finally got Cesc’s jeans undone and yanked them and his boxers down. They got stuck on his shoes and Nick growled again, tugging them off impatiently. In a flash he was back up , his body covering Cesc’s.
“You,” Kiss. “Wear,” Kiss. “Too many,” Lick. “Clothes.”
Cesc was too far gone for word play and skillfully (he’d had a lot of practice) rolled them over, keeping contact between all parts of their bodies. Nick knew what was coming next and his hand scrambled blindly for the coffee table and hopefully some lube.
Cesc swatted his hand away and flipped open a hide-a-book to reveal a well stocked stash of lube. Nick tipped his head back to watch and laughed a little.
“Some how I’m not surprised.”
“I knew we’d get to sex in the living room eventually.” Cesc sounded proud of his forethought.
Surprisingly enough, it was pretty much the only room they hadn’t had sex in yet. And yes, that included both linen closets and the underground parking garage (that was a long story).
This was Nicklas’s favourite part, Cesc leaned back and lubed up a couple of fingers. As he slowly impaled himself on his own fingers he began to murmer.
“Oh dios… si, si…tan buena.” Nick changed his mind, this was his favourite part. “Mi dios…”
They had been at this long enough that Cesc knew when Nick was about to lose control and just take him, hard and fast. That was always good but Cesc, still flush with victory, wanted control. So just as Nick was about to sit up and flip them Cesc pushed his shoulders to the floor and climbed atop him. Nick knew Cesc was enjoying torturing him by sliding down so slowly so he thrust upwards, causing a gasp and a moan from the Spaniard.
“Mi dios, mi dios, mi dios”
“Av god, artig* god!”
Spanish and Danish and English mixed as the room got hotter and sweatier and better. Cesc wanted it harder and faster but he couldn’t get the leverage, Nick could hear it when he begged, English and Spanish flowing together seamlessly.
“Más rápido! Dios, harder Nicky! Cariño!*”
Nick pushed up and rolled Cesc on to his back and gave him what he wanted. Cesc became nonsensical but between the Spanish and English fragments and the moans Nick could hear his name.
“Nicklas, Nicky, Nick, Nickeee!”
A few perfectly weighted pulls later Cesc gasped and came, sticky all over his stomach and chest. Nick followed, shuddering and collapsed on to the smaller footballer. He reached for a shirt and cleaned the two of them off before lying next to Cesc and throwing an arm across him.
“Nicky?”
“Hmm?” He was basking in the post-sex glow he loved.
“I wouldn’t have cut you off for two weeks.”
“I know.”
“What? You knew I wasn’t serious?”
“Cesc.” Nick sat up a bit to look him in the face. “You wouldn’t have cut me off for an hour, you woudn’t have lasted.”
“Then why?” Cesc was confused. “What-I don’t understand.”
Nick smiled and kissed his forehead and stood up.
“You give the best blow jobs when you’re desperate.”
With that he left the room and Cesc open mouthed. Cesc could hear the shower turn on and scrambled to his feet to see if Nick was up for some post sex shower sex.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
*Oh god
*stupid pants, goddamn, get off
*Oh god, yes, yes, so good, my god
*good god
*faster, god, spanish term of affection (like babe or something)