054. air.
Nam Mellitus Erat, 054. air.
Late October.
072. fixed.
As soon as Cesc comes back from practice, he drops his stuff and puts on loose pants and Iker's sweatshirt, then makes a beeline to the cupboard for bread. He toasts two slices and spreads peanut butter on one and jelly on the other, mashes them together. When he puts the peanut butter back on top of the fridge, he winces.
Iker recognizes the routine. This is the same thing Cesc did when he had a game on a Sunday and two exams on a Monday, and when he had a week of papers and drafts and four hours of sleep a night. He's been about that busy this week with homework and practice, and Iker's pretty sure his coach is still working him over for being late. He can tell by the way Cesc's walking, by the way he's holding his shoulders, that he wants to be touched. But he's also tired and really, really sore, the kind of sore that's so deep his bones ache. Iker watches him pop some Tylenol and a potassium. He drinks a glass of milk at the table and works at his sandwich, looking supremely frustrated while trying not to look frustrated.
At first Iker worried that the self-imposed chastity was Cesc freaking out about the sex. Which would be understandable. But Cesc doesn't flinch away from him or anything. If anything, he leans in before he pulls away-so then, Iker thought, it's a rule for games, maybe. Except for how far it is into the season, and how much Cesc didn't care before.
Finally, Iker puts two and two together. He doesn't know how he didn't get it before. Cesc is limping by and Iker reaches and tugs him over by his pants, guiding him to stand between his knees. He hooks a finger in the hole over Cesc's knee. Pulls it, gently.
"We don't have to do it like that every time, you know."
Cesc looks down at him midchew, like the concept hadn't even occurred to him.
"Just when we want to."
"...Oh," Cesc says. He finishes chewing, then climbs on the bed and gingerly settles in on Iker's lap. He links his hands at the small of Iker's back, rests his chin on Iker's shoulder. His sweatshirt is soft and warm and he smells like peanut butter. Iker shifts him up closer, careful not to touch too hard anywhere. "Good, then. Because I kind of just wanted a blowjob."
Iker presses his nose in his hair. "That's doable."
"Then I'll blow you."
"Okay."
Cesc settles back, eating his sandwich. "Hey, it's Tuesday." His voice is muffled in sandwich. "You have to watch a movie for your class, right?"
Iker grunts in agreement and leans over to hook the strap of his bookbag. Cesc watches him struggle and makes no move to help. Which is typical. He takes the DVD case Iker pulls out of the bag in his hand, flips it over to read the back.
"'Is it a nightmare or an actual view of a post-apocalyptic world?'"
Iker shifts under him, brushes his lips under Cesc's ear. Cesc keeps reading. "'Set in an industrial town in which giant machines are constantly working, spewing smoke, and making noise that is inescapable, Henry Spencer lives in a building-' It says there's a mutant baby."
Iker is already hard. Which is ridiculous, but it's been five days. He kisses Cesc's neck, where it's soft and warm under his jaw.
"Iker," Cesc says, bumping him with his forehead. "Iker. There's a mutant baby. Let's watch it."
Iker stops kissing, nudges his pulse with his nose. "Go put it in."
It's only after Cesc pops in the DVD and walks back to the bed that he seems to realize how horny Iker is. He looks at his face and then he can't get his pants to his knees fast enough, grabbing for Iker's hair. He isn't mean-he's just selfish. He's young. He pushes into Iker's hands when he frames his hips, his thighs, moans when Iker presses his face next to his dick.
"On the bed."
Cesc practically trips over himself.
Iker blows him while the DVD's on the title menu. Cesc sprawls out on the mattress, wriggling in the way that means he's really happy, alternately pulling and petting his hair. He hums and rolls his hips each time Iker sucks, reaches down for Iker's hands and pulls them up under his clothes. His skin feels hot, insulated under all the layers. He comes when Iker pinches his nipple.
To be fair, he makes a valiant effort. He's reaching down to grope at him before Iker can even sit up, shuffling forward on his knees and getting a hand around Iker's dick-it's only when he starts blowing him that it's clear that he's totally tired himself out. It starts out sloppy and enthusiastic but gets slower and slower and slower, until he seems to stop kidding himself and sits up, pants still open, and presses his face in Iker's neck. He jacks him off instead. Iker covers his hand and tightens it, works with him. He buries his nose in Cesc's hair and breathes and comes in Cesc's palm. Cesc sleepily curls his fingers-Iker brings his hand up and Cesc watches him close his mouth over the come, his eyes half-lidded. He strokes Iker's bottom lip with his fingers, smiling.
Cesc manages to hand Iker the remote and settle in on his side before he goes limp-five minutes into the movie, he's asleep, breathing the long deep breaths that mean he's really, really tired. Iker fixes his hair and turns the volume down, a bit.
Iker rarely eats at the cafeteria anymore, but there are some days when it's the only option. Usually he takes the food to the picnic tables outside, though it's getting a little cold for that now, even during the day. The leaves are almost all off the trees, covered in a thin layer of frost. He's texting Unai when somebody sits down across from him.
"Hey, I've been looking for you." Sergio takes one of his fries and starts stripping his jacket off. He's left in the wind in a t-shirt and a scarf, but looks nonplussed. "Give this to Cesc."
"For tonight?" Cesc usually comes back from Astronomy lab blue in the lips.
"Yeah, but he can keep it." Sergio takes another one of his fries. Him and Iker have been building Cesc a winter wardrobe. It's all under the pretense of "borrowing", otherwise Cesc won't accept any of it. "I mean, who sends their kid here without clothes." He stabs his fry in the ketchup. "He'll freeze on the side of the road."
Iker shrugs.
"Seriously, I think I've seen him wearing, like, what, five different shirts? Max."
"His mom's-" Iker waves his fry a bit in the air, and Sergio understands. His dad's a prick. He might not understand completely, but he understands.
"So is there a message attached." Iker examines the jacket. Cesc uses his when they go out, but this one's more casual, better for class. And he'll like the color too. "'With love from Sergio' or something?"
"Sure," Sergio replies, not embarrassed at all. Iker laughs and Sergio grins, hits the table a few times and gets up to leave.
"Hey, do you want the rest of these?" Iker asks after him, pushing his plate of fries.
Sergio comes back, taking the plate. "See you at lecture tonight, yeah?"
"Yeah."
At the next game, Ricky clambers down next to him. He's grinning ear-to-ear, wearing his fur hat and an ugly pair of gloves that look handmade.
This time, Iker explains the rules to him. Ricky seems to understand most of it, except for offsides. He will not accept offsides.
"But he is right!" Ricky says, gesturing to Ronaldo. Ronaldo is waving his finger at the referee, dramatically shaking his head. "Why was he stopped?"
"He was offside, Ricky." Iker tries not to laugh at Ronaldo, at Ricky's indignation on his behalf. "He was totally offside."
"What is that even-what does that-"
Iker explains it again.
"Eraserhead", Iker thinks, was probably not to Cesc's taste anyways. "It Happened One Night" is his other assignment. He thought Cesc might like it, but he was wrong. Cesc is completely enthralled.
"Why didn't you take off all your clothes?" Clark Gable asks. "You could have stopped forty cars."
"Oh, I'll remember that when we need forty cars."
It's late at night. It might be past three. Iker peers down, watches Cesc grin at the dialogue. He shifts his arm in front of his eyes, acts like he doesn't know it's blocking his view. Cesc pushes it down, keen to see the TV.
"You don't have to eat the carrots," Clark says. "Just passed a pond with some ducks in it."
Iker does it again, straightfaced. Cesc huffs air out his nose and swats his wrist and then Iker actually covers his eyes, fighting down a smile, and Cesc grunts and shoves and bites his forearm, in the muscle just beneath his elbow.
Cesc is heavy on his side, hot with dozing and the blanket. His teeth feel small, his mouth warm and wet. Iker scrubs his hair and gently tries to shake him off and Cesc bites harder, holding on. It reminds Iker of the way a young animal would bite-stubborn, possessive, but hesitant. Careful not to cause too much harm. He feels a surge of something in his chest-fondness, maybe, but more acute and weakening and big.
He brushes Cesc's bangs back from his face. Cesc still looks mad, but his expression softens.
"Would you let me tie you down?" Iker asks quietly.
Cesc takes a moment, then carefully lets go. He rests his chin on the spot where he bit, fiddling with the pullstring of Iker's hoodie.
"...No."
"Why not?" Iker isn't disappointed. But he's curious.
Cesc looks uncomfortable. Not with the subject matter, but with trying to articulate it. Claudette Colbert rambles in the background, with her low voice and her 30's cadence. "Because when it's you-" Cesc starts. The TV is throwing shadows on his face. "You can feel me, you know. You would know, if I. But with something else, it wouldn't be-you. ...You know?"
He looks up, meets Iker's eyes.
Iker knows. "Okay."
Cesc noses Iker's elbow then lays his head on his thigh. In a bit, he'll go to sleep, and Iker's leg will fall asleep too. It doesn't matter.
Clark Gable calls Claudette a brat again and Iker examines his arm. Cesc's teeth left two crescent indents, the skin between purplish red. It will bruise. It will be stark, and something people might notice. Iker understands it for what it is. He doesn't mind it.
He's close to dozing by the end of the movie too.
"Do you love her?"
"A normal human being couldn't live under the same roof with her, without going nuts. She's my idea of nothing!"
"I asked you a question. Do you love her?"
"Yes! But don't hold that against me. I'm a little screwy myself."
They're at a bonfire. Iker is talking to a classmate. It's late at night and bitter cold, and Cesc is bundled up in Iker's cardigan, Sergio's coat, Iker's gloves, Iker's scarf, and his own hat. Both hands are clutched around a cup of hot chocolate. His cheeks are pink, he's so warm. He laughs at something Pique says.
"Because it's sketchy and weird."
Cesc laughs looking up at him, his head heavy in Iker's lap. "What's the point of having a minor in Film if you don't even film one piece of amateur pornography?"
Iker sets his book on his face and keeps reading. "No."
Cesc peeks up past the binding. "We don't even have to be fucking for real," he reminds him.
Iker adjusts the book again. "No."
"It can all be me. Your face doesn't even have to be in it." His voice is garbled against the spine.
"Cesc."
Cesc groans in frustration and rolls on his side, pressing his nose in Iker's stomach. Iker keeps reading.
They're having coffee after classes in the corner shop. It's too cold to sit outside at all anymore-not snowing yet, but it will be soon. It might snow this week. It's gloomy outside-dark and gray, clouds hanging heavy in the north. Cesc is wearing a black scarf made of yarn. He takes a bite of his muffin. It's butterscotch and rum, and smells rich. He drew a seahorse on the fog in the window while Iker was buying coffee.
"What does that sound like?" he asks.
"What does what sound like?"
"That," Cesc says, mouth half-full. He points.
Iker pulls the book out of his bag. Fragmentary poetry. Greek.
"Read it," Cesc says.
They're in their own corner of the shop and the only other people there are two old ladies and the hippie running the cash register, so Iker does. Part of a poem, anyways. He's glad Cesc didn't ask him to read Latin. His Greek sounds better.
Cesc sets his cup down. "What does it mean?"
Iker has to look at it for a few moments, put on the spot. "...It means, 'For they love him, and they hate him, and they long to possess him.'"
"They hate him?" Cesc rests his chin in his hand. His wrist slips out of his sleeve, thin and delicate. Iker fixates on it. Remembers pressing his mouth to the pulse there two days before, Cesc arching up helplessly under his weight. He loses his train of thought.
"Well, it's a love poem. So. Yeah."
Cesc laughs. Iker likes to think it's the laugh that's only meant for him. It's quiet and young. "Read another one."
Cesc might be the only 17-year-old boy in the world who gives a shit about hearing ancient love poetry.
Iker flips around and chooses and reads. Then he translates. This one's harder to say out loud. He feels oddly exposed. Sitting in the coffee shop across from Cesc, from his baby face and his bony wrists.
"'When I look at Diophantos, new shoot among the young men, I can neither flee nor stay.'"
Cesc watches him, lazy and content. Iker flips the page and reads another. Or he acts like he's reading-this one, he has memorized.
"'Such a longing for love, rolling itself up under my heart,
poured down much mist over my eyes,
filching out of my chest the soft lungs.'"
"Lungs?" Cesc repeats.
"For the Greeks-the word is phrenas. It's complicated. It's what they use to breathe, but also to think and feel. It's like, consciousness." He looks up to see if Cesc is bored. He isn't, so Iker finishes. "It's the last word in the poem and the poem ends there-when his breath is taken away, he can't speak anymore."
"That's my favorite," Cesc says. His coffee and muffin sits on the table, forgotten.
"Yeah," Iker replies. "Me too."
They go to a Halloween party. Iker wakes up hungover. He thinks Cesc might be too and feels a momentary pang of irresponsibility, but Cesc is smiling in his sleep, so. It looks like he tried to take off his costume last night but gave up halfway through-one of his shoes is still on, his mask is hanging off his neck. Candy is falling out of his pockets. He still has some black make-up smudged on his eyes. Iker shifts up to lean on his elbow, gently rubs it off with his thumb.
"Have you started filling out applications yet? They'll be due soon."
Iker is reading over his draft. There's much less red than there used to be. "Applications," Iker echoes.
"Graduate school," Dr. Beckham says.
Before, when Iker heard "graduate school", it didn't mean much of anything. It was just something he's going to do; he'd feel a bit of stress, a bit of reluctant excitement. But at some point the words had been redefined in his head, without Iker even knowing it. Now they make him blanch, and feel cold. It's like he'd forgotten they existed and they've just been sitting there in his head all along, a quiet four-syllable time bomb.
Iker feels off kilter. He's distracted. He turns in his History paper to his Econ professor and his Econ paper in to his History professor. He slams on his brakes halfway through an intersection when the light is red.
He's lying on his back, nursing a headache, when Cesc gets in from work. Cesc sits down next to him on the edge of the bed, barely moving the mattress.
"Hi," he says. He looks at Iker for a while, then pushes Iker's shirt up the slightest bit. Kisses his abdomen. Something in Iker's expression must give him the go-ahead, because he climbs on the bed and lies down, facing him.
"Hi," Iker says finally.
Cesc smiles. His hair is plastered down, hours beneath a hat. He shimmies up as close as he can get to Iker, rests his hand on his chest. He ducks down to kiss his neck.
Iker closes his eyes. "Aren't you tired?" he asks quietly. Cesc shakes his head. His lips make quiet sounds on Iker's skin.
It's clear that he hasn't done this kind of thing very often-he lingers, stays too long in the same place-but he's warm and he smells good, and it's familiar. Iker touches his hair and Cesc nudges him onto his back, covers his body like a blanket. His hands wander. He spreads his legs, gently starts grinding. Iker doesn't know if he's meaning to or not, but it's good.
Cesc presses his nose in Iker's collarbone when his hips stutter-Iker cups his ribcage, feels his nipple go hard under his thumb. Cesc goes to move himself but nudges himself on Iker's leg in the process-he looks up and meets Iker's eyes and laughs, kind of, like he surprised himself with how good that felt. Iker shifts his thigh further up between his legs. He presses. Cesc stiffens and holds on to his sleeves over his biceps, his mouth opening.
"Wait, wait." He breathes, tries to slow himself down. "I don't wanna-I have to wear these tomorrow." Iker lets him pull back to sit in the space between his legs, wriggling out of his jeans. Cesc only has two pairs of jeans. Iker makes a mental note to buy him another pair. Cesc seems to think for a moment, then pulls his shirt off too.
He comes back and presses against him, naked. Iker passes his hand down the curve of his spine, rests it on his ass. Cesc shifts the slightest bit under his palm, rubbing himself against Iker's leg.
"But you can come on my jeans?" Iker asks.
Cesc smiles, presses the sides of their noses together. "Yeah."
"Yeah."
Cesc starts moving again. He leans his forehead on Iker's cheek, looking down to watch. Iker can feel the shift of the muscles in his thighs under his hands. He relaxes.
After a while, Cesc pulls back to sit up on his heels. He starts jacking off like he's trying to get off as fast as he can, like it's something he needs to get out of the way. Iker watches and Cesc comes quickly, without much of a sound. He looks around for something to wipe his hand on, but not finding anything, he uses his mouth. He wrinkles his nose. He's not trying to be hot, but he's so fucking hot.
"I'm gonna blow you," he says to Iker, mouth on his knuckles. He looks up like he always does, like he still thinks he needs permission. Iker rubs his hip and Cesc makes quick work of his buckle, his zipper.
There's nothing dirty or lewd about it, and he isn't putting on a show. He swallows, jerks Iker off for a while then swirls his tongue-Iker doesn't know when he picked that up, but it's good. Iker covers his eyes with his arm. It's really good.
Cesc nudges the head of his dick with his nose and Iker reaches down, rubs his temple with his thumb, tells him he's going to come. Instead of pulling off like usual, Cesc swallows him down again, lets him come in the back of his throat. He only coughs a little, but the constriction feels-incredible.
Iker feels light-headed. He looks at the ceiling and Cesc moves up the bed to lay next to him. His weight is firm and warm and grounding. Cesc kisses him.
They kiss, but not often. Usually when they do, it's brief, a way to say goodbye or hello or to say something without saying it at all. This time, Cesc makes out with him. He coaxes him into using his tongue, licks into his mouth and cups his cheek. Cesc kisses him until he can't even breathe. When Cesc pulls back, Iker feels high.
"Better?" Cesc asks, very quiet.
Iker kisses where he can reach-his cheek, his nose-then his lips again.
025. strangers.
Author's notes:
-This is a bit of a filler chapter. sappy sappy womp womp i will regret it tomorrow
-This movie's awesome. And hot. It is now Cesc's favorite movie, except for Jurassic Park.
-I added Cesc and Iker to my Firefox dictionary today. No more red lines. It's a big day.
-I don't know if this is relevant to anything, but I might not be able to keep up with weekly updates for a little while. School's sneaking up on me in the most horrible ways.
-I-am-sorry!Pique thanks you for your time.
Late October.
072. fixed.
As soon as Cesc comes back from practice, he drops his stuff and puts on loose pants and Iker's sweatshirt, then makes a beeline to the cupboard for bread. He toasts two slices and spreads peanut butter on one and jelly on the other, mashes them together. When he puts the peanut butter back on top of the fridge, he winces.
Iker recognizes the routine. This is the same thing Cesc did when he had a game on a Sunday and two exams on a Monday, and when he had a week of papers and drafts and four hours of sleep a night. He's been about that busy this week with homework and practice, and Iker's pretty sure his coach is still working him over for being late. He can tell by the way Cesc's walking, by the way he's holding his shoulders, that he wants to be touched. But he's also tired and really, really sore, the kind of sore that's so deep his bones ache. Iker watches him pop some Tylenol and a potassium. He drinks a glass of milk at the table and works at his sandwich, looking supremely frustrated while trying not to look frustrated.
At first Iker worried that the self-imposed chastity was Cesc freaking out about the sex. Which would be understandable. But Cesc doesn't flinch away from him or anything. If anything, he leans in before he pulls away-so then, Iker thought, it's a rule for games, maybe. Except for how far it is into the season, and how much Cesc didn't care before.
Finally, Iker puts two and two together. He doesn't know how he didn't get it before. Cesc is limping by and Iker reaches and tugs him over by his pants, guiding him to stand between his knees. He hooks a finger in the hole over Cesc's knee. Pulls it, gently.
"We don't have to do it like that every time, you know."
Cesc looks down at him midchew, like the concept hadn't even occurred to him.
"Just when we want to."
"...Oh," Cesc says. He finishes chewing, then climbs on the bed and gingerly settles in on Iker's lap. He links his hands at the small of Iker's back, rests his chin on Iker's shoulder. His sweatshirt is soft and warm and he smells like peanut butter. Iker shifts him up closer, careful not to touch too hard anywhere. "Good, then. Because I kind of just wanted a blowjob."
Iker presses his nose in his hair. "That's doable."
"Then I'll blow you."
"Okay."
Cesc settles back, eating his sandwich. "Hey, it's Tuesday." His voice is muffled in sandwich. "You have to watch a movie for your class, right?"
Iker grunts in agreement and leans over to hook the strap of his bookbag. Cesc watches him struggle and makes no move to help. Which is typical. He takes the DVD case Iker pulls out of the bag in his hand, flips it over to read the back.
"'Is it a nightmare or an actual view of a post-apocalyptic world?'"
Iker shifts under him, brushes his lips under Cesc's ear. Cesc keeps reading. "'Set in an industrial town in which giant machines are constantly working, spewing smoke, and making noise that is inescapable, Henry Spencer lives in a building-' It says there's a mutant baby."
Iker is already hard. Which is ridiculous, but it's been five days. He kisses Cesc's neck, where it's soft and warm under his jaw.
"Iker," Cesc says, bumping him with his forehead. "Iker. There's a mutant baby. Let's watch it."
Iker stops kissing, nudges his pulse with his nose. "Go put it in."
It's only after Cesc pops in the DVD and walks back to the bed that he seems to realize how horny Iker is. He looks at his face and then he can't get his pants to his knees fast enough, grabbing for Iker's hair. He isn't mean-he's just selfish. He's young. He pushes into Iker's hands when he frames his hips, his thighs, moans when Iker presses his face next to his dick.
"On the bed."
Cesc practically trips over himself.
Iker blows him while the DVD's on the title menu. Cesc sprawls out on the mattress, wriggling in the way that means he's really happy, alternately pulling and petting his hair. He hums and rolls his hips each time Iker sucks, reaches down for Iker's hands and pulls them up under his clothes. His skin feels hot, insulated under all the layers. He comes when Iker pinches his nipple.
To be fair, he makes a valiant effort. He's reaching down to grope at him before Iker can even sit up, shuffling forward on his knees and getting a hand around Iker's dick-it's only when he starts blowing him that it's clear that he's totally tired himself out. It starts out sloppy and enthusiastic but gets slower and slower and slower, until he seems to stop kidding himself and sits up, pants still open, and presses his face in Iker's neck. He jacks him off instead. Iker covers his hand and tightens it, works with him. He buries his nose in Cesc's hair and breathes and comes in Cesc's palm. Cesc sleepily curls his fingers-Iker brings his hand up and Cesc watches him close his mouth over the come, his eyes half-lidded. He strokes Iker's bottom lip with his fingers, smiling.
Cesc manages to hand Iker the remote and settle in on his side before he goes limp-five minutes into the movie, he's asleep, breathing the long deep breaths that mean he's really, really tired. Iker fixes his hair and turns the volume down, a bit.
Iker rarely eats at the cafeteria anymore, but there are some days when it's the only option. Usually he takes the food to the picnic tables outside, though it's getting a little cold for that now, even during the day. The leaves are almost all off the trees, covered in a thin layer of frost. He's texting Unai when somebody sits down across from him.
"Hey, I've been looking for you." Sergio takes one of his fries and starts stripping his jacket off. He's left in the wind in a t-shirt and a scarf, but looks nonplussed. "Give this to Cesc."
"For tonight?" Cesc usually comes back from Astronomy lab blue in the lips.
"Yeah, but he can keep it." Sergio takes another one of his fries. Him and Iker have been building Cesc a winter wardrobe. It's all under the pretense of "borrowing", otherwise Cesc won't accept any of it. "I mean, who sends their kid here without clothes." He stabs his fry in the ketchup. "He'll freeze on the side of the road."
Iker shrugs.
"Seriously, I think I've seen him wearing, like, what, five different shirts? Max."
"His mom's-" Iker waves his fry a bit in the air, and Sergio understands. His dad's a prick. He might not understand completely, but he understands.
"So is there a message attached." Iker examines the jacket. Cesc uses his when they go out, but this one's more casual, better for class. And he'll like the color too. "'With love from Sergio' or something?"
"Sure," Sergio replies, not embarrassed at all. Iker laughs and Sergio grins, hits the table a few times and gets up to leave.
"Hey, do you want the rest of these?" Iker asks after him, pushing his plate of fries.
Sergio comes back, taking the plate. "See you at lecture tonight, yeah?"
"Yeah."
At the next game, Ricky clambers down next to him. He's grinning ear-to-ear, wearing his fur hat and an ugly pair of gloves that look handmade.
This time, Iker explains the rules to him. Ricky seems to understand most of it, except for offsides. He will not accept offsides.
"But he is right!" Ricky says, gesturing to Ronaldo. Ronaldo is waving his finger at the referee, dramatically shaking his head. "Why was he stopped?"
"He was offside, Ricky." Iker tries not to laugh at Ronaldo, at Ricky's indignation on his behalf. "He was totally offside."
"What is that even-what does that-"
Iker explains it again.
"Eraserhead", Iker thinks, was probably not to Cesc's taste anyways. "It Happened One Night" is his other assignment. He thought Cesc might like it, but he was wrong. Cesc is completely enthralled.
"Why didn't you take off all your clothes?" Clark Gable asks. "You could have stopped forty cars."
"Oh, I'll remember that when we need forty cars."
It's late at night. It might be past three. Iker peers down, watches Cesc grin at the dialogue. He shifts his arm in front of his eyes, acts like he doesn't know it's blocking his view. Cesc pushes it down, keen to see the TV.
"You don't have to eat the carrots," Clark says. "Just passed a pond with some ducks in it."
Iker does it again, straightfaced. Cesc huffs air out his nose and swats his wrist and then Iker actually covers his eyes, fighting down a smile, and Cesc grunts and shoves and bites his forearm, in the muscle just beneath his elbow.
Cesc is heavy on his side, hot with dozing and the blanket. His teeth feel small, his mouth warm and wet. Iker scrubs his hair and gently tries to shake him off and Cesc bites harder, holding on. It reminds Iker of the way a young animal would bite-stubborn, possessive, but hesitant. Careful not to cause too much harm. He feels a surge of something in his chest-fondness, maybe, but more acute and weakening and big.
He brushes Cesc's bangs back from his face. Cesc still looks mad, but his expression softens.
"Would you let me tie you down?" Iker asks quietly.
Cesc takes a moment, then carefully lets go. He rests his chin on the spot where he bit, fiddling with the pullstring of Iker's hoodie.
"...No."
"Why not?" Iker isn't disappointed. But he's curious.
Cesc looks uncomfortable. Not with the subject matter, but with trying to articulate it. Claudette Colbert rambles in the background, with her low voice and her 30's cadence. "Because when it's you-" Cesc starts. The TV is throwing shadows on his face. "You can feel me, you know. You would know, if I. But with something else, it wouldn't be-you. ...You know?"
He looks up, meets Iker's eyes.
Iker knows. "Okay."
Cesc noses Iker's elbow then lays his head on his thigh. In a bit, he'll go to sleep, and Iker's leg will fall asleep too. It doesn't matter.
Clark Gable calls Claudette a brat again and Iker examines his arm. Cesc's teeth left two crescent indents, the skin between purplish red. It will bruise. It will be stark, and something people might notice. Iker understands it for what it is. He doesn't mind it.
He's close to dozing by the end of the movie too.
"Do you love her?"
"A normal human being couldn't live under the same roof with her, without going nuts. She's my idea of nothing!"
"I asked you a question. Do you love her?"
"Yes! But don't hold that against me. I'm a little screwy myself."
They're at a bonfire. Iker is talking to a classmate. It's late at night and bitter cold, and Cesc is bundled up in Iker's cardigan, Sergio's coat, Iker's gloves, Iker's scarf, and his own hat. Both hands are clutched around a cup of hot chocolate. His cheeks are pink, he's so warm. He laughs at something Pique says.
"Because it's sketchy and weird."
Cesc laughs looking up at him, his head heavy in Iker's lap. "What's the point of having a minor in Film if you don't even film one piece of amateur pornography?"
Iker sets his book on his face and keeps reading. "No."
Cesc peeks up past the binding. "We don't even have to be fucking for real," he reminds him.
Iker adjusts the book again. "No."
"It can all be me. Your face doesn't even have to be in it." His voice is garbled against the spine.
"Cesc."
Cesc groans in frustration and rolls on his side, pressing his nose in Iker's stomach. Iker keeps reading.
They're having coffee after classes in the corner shop. It's too cold to sit outside at all anymore-not snowing yet, but it will be soon. It might snow this week. It's gloomy outside-dark and gray, clouds hanging heavy in the north. Cesc is wearing a black scarf made of yarn. He takes a bite of his muffin. It's butterscotch and rum, and smells rich. He drew a seahorse on the fog in the window while Iker was buying coffee.
"What does that sound like?" he asks.
"What does what sound like?"
"That," Cesc says, mouth half-full. He points.
Iker pulls the book out of his bag. Fragmentary poetry. Greek.
"Read it," Cesc says.
They're in their own corner of the shop and the only other people there are two old ladies and the hippie running the cash register, so Iker does. Part of a poem, anyways. He's glad Cesc didn't ask him to read Latin. His Greek sounds better.
Cesc sets his cup down. "What does it mean?"
Iker has to look at it for a few moments, put on the spot. "...It means, 'For they love him, and they hate him, and they long to possess him.'"
"They hate him?" Cesc rests his chin in his hand. His wrist slips out of his sleeve, thin and delicate. Iker fixates on it. Remembers pressing his mouth to the pulse there two days before, Cesc arching up helplessly under his weight. He loses his train of thought.
"Well, it's a love poem. So. Yeah."
Cesc laughs. Iker likes to think it's the laugh that's only meant for him. It's quiet and young. "Read another one."
Cesc might be the only 17-year-old boy in the world who gives a shit about hearing ancient love poetry.
Iker flips around and chooses and reads. Then he translates. This one's harder to say out loud. He feels oddly exposed. Sitting in the coffee shop across from Cesc, from his baby face and his bony wrists.
"'When I look at Diophantos, new shoot among the young men, I can neither flee nor stay.'"
Cesc watches him, lazy and content. Iker flips the page and reads another. Or he acts like he's reading-this one, he has memorized.
"'Such a longing for love, rolling itself up under my heart,
poured down much mist over my eyes,
filching out of my chest the soft lungs.'"
"Lungs?" Cesc repeats.
"For the Greeks-the word is phrenas. It's complicated. It's what they use to breathe, but also to think and feel. It's like, consciousness." He looks up to see if Cesc is bored. He isn't, so Iker finishes. "It's the last word in the poem and the poem ends there-when his breath is taken away, he can't speak anymore."
"That's my favorite," Cesc says. His coffee and muffin sits on the table, forgotten.
"Yeah," Iker replies. "Me too."
They go to a Halloween party. Iker wakes up hungover. He thinks Cesc might be too and feels a momentary pang of irresponsibility, but Cesc is smiling in his sleep, so. It looks like he tried to take off his costume last night but gave up halfway through-one of his shoes is still on, his mask is hanging off his neck. Candy is falling out of his pockets. He still has some black make-up smudged on his eyes. Iker shifts up to lean on his elbow, gently rubs it off with his thumb.
"Have you started filling out applications yet? They'll be due soon."
Iker is reading over his draft. There's much less red than there used to be. "Applications," Iker echoes.
"Graduate school," Dr. Beckham says.
Before, when Iker heard "graduate school", it didn't mean much of anything. It was just something he's going to do; he'd feel a bit of stress, a bit of reluctant excitement. But at some point the words had been redefined in his head, without Iker even knowing it. Now they make him blanch, and feel cold. It's like he'd forgotten they existed and they've just been sitting there in his head all along, a quiet four-syllable time bomb.
Iker feels off kilter. He's distracted. He turns in his History paper to his Econ professor and his Econ paper in to his History professor. He slams on his brakes halfway through an intersection when the light is red.
He's lying on his back, nursing a headache, when Cesc gets in from work. Cesc sits down next to him on the edge of the bed, barely moving the mattress.
"Hi," he says. He looks at Iker for a while, then pushes Iker's shirt up the slightest bit. Kisses his abdomen. Something in Iker's expression must give him the go-ahead, because he climbs on the bed and lies down, facing him.
"Hi," Iker says finally.
Cesc smiles. His hair is plastered down, hours beneath a hat. He shimmies up as close as he can get to Iker, rests his hand on his chest. He ducks down to kiss his neck.
Iker closes his eyes. "Aren't you tired?" he asks quietly. Cesc shakes his head. His lips make quiet sounds on Iker's skin.
It's clear that he hasn't done this kind of thing very often-he lingers, stays too long in the same place-but he's warm and he smells good, and it's familiar. Iker touches his hair and Cesc nudges him onto his back, covers his body like a blanket. His hands wander. He spreads his legs, gently starts grinding. Iker doesn't know if he's meaning to or not, but it's good.
Cesc presses his nose in Iker's collarbone when his hips stutter-Iker cups his ribcage, feels his nipple go hard under his thumb. Cesc goes to move himself but nudges himself on Iker's leg in the process-he looks up and meets Iker's eyes and laughs, kind of, like he surprised himself with how good that felt. Iker shifts his thigh further up between his legs. He presses. Cesc stiffens and holds on to his sleeves over his biceps, his mouth opening.
"Wait, wait." He breathes, tries to slow himself down. "I don't wanna-I have to wear these tomorrow." Iker lets him pull back to sit in the space between his legs, wriggling out of his jeans. Cesc only has two pairs of jeans. Iker makes a mental note to buy him another pair. Cesc seems to think for a moment, then pulls his shirt off too.
He comes back and presses against him, naked. Iker passes his hand down the curve of his spine, rests it on his ass. Cesc shifts the slightest bit under his palm, rubbing himself against Iker's leg.
"But you can come on my jeans?" Iker asks.
Cesc smiles, presses the sides of their noses together. "Yeah."
"Yeah."
Cesc starts moving again. He leans his forehead on Iker's cheek, looking down to watch. Iker can feel the shift of the muscles in his thighs under his hands. He relaxes.
After a while, Cesc pulls back to sit up on his heels. He starts jacking off like he's trying to get off as fast as he can, like it's something he needs to get out of the way. Iker watches and Cesc comes quickly, without much of a sound. He looks around for something to wipe his hand on, but not finding anything, he uses his mouth. He wrinkles his nose. He's not trying to be hot, but he's so fucking hot.
"I'm gonna blow you," he says to Iker, mouth on his knuckles. He looks up like he always does, like he still thinks he needs permission. Iker rubs his hip and Cesc makes quick work of his buckle, his zipper.
There's nothing dirty or lewd about it, and he isn't putting on a show. He swallows, jerks Iker off for a while then swirls his tongue-Iker doesn't know when he picked that up, but it's good. Iker covers his eyes with his arm. It's really good.
Cesc nudges the head of his dick with his nose and Iker reaches down, rubs his temple with his thumb, tells him he's going to come. Instead of pulling off like usual, Cesc swallows him down again, lets him come in the back of his throat. He only coughs a little, but the constriction feels-incredible.
Iker feels light-headed. He looks at the ceiling and Cesc moves up the bed to lay next to him. His weight is firm and warm and grounding. Cesc kisses him.
They kiss, but not often. Usually when they do, it's brief, a way to say goodbye or hello or to say something without saying it at all. This time, Cesc makes out with him. He coaxes him into using his tongue, licks into his mouth and cups his cheek. Cesc kisses him until he can't even breathe. When Cesc pulls back, Iker feels high.
"Better?" Cesc asks, very quiet.
Iker kisses where he can reach-his cheek, his nose-then his lips again.
025. strangers.
Author's notes:
-This is a bit of a filler chapter. sappy sappy womp womp i will regret it tomorrow
-This movie's awesome. And hot. It is now Cesc's favorite movie, except for Jurassic Park.
-I added Cesc and Iker to my Firefox dictionary today. No more red lines. It's a big day.
-I don't know if this is relevant to anything, but I might not be able to keep up with weekly updates for a little while. School's sneaking up on me in the most horrible ways.
-I-am-sorry!Pique thanks you for your time.
