I'm really lucky, underneath it all (you're really lovely)
Title: I'm really lucky, underneath it all (you're really lovely)
Pairing: Marc Burch/Adam Johansson
Rating: NC-17
Word Counts: 1977
Disclaimer: Not true
Beta: albion_lass
Summary: Marc tries to make sense of going from DC to Seattle, Brad wants an impromptu twitter interview, and Adam wants to show Marc how they say Happy Birthday in Sweden. Aka 'Ice cream cake is awesome, blow jobs are better'.
This is Marc Burch and this is Adam Johansson. They're both defenders for the Seattle Sounders. I was going to make some snarky comment and dedicate this to the person on fbkink who keeps asking for MLS fic and the person who asked for a Marc fic.... but let's not lie to ourselves... we all know it was me ;-;. So instead, this is for albion_lass, who is the best motivator/whip cracker/smut-demander'er ever, especially where the Sounders are concerned. Thank you boo <3
When the room assignment list is passed around, a brief flare of irritation runs through Marc. He doesn't understand why Sigi insists on randomly drawing names and assigning rooms this way. Actually he does, it's this team building stuff their coach is so fond of- and it annoys him. Before the list is even in his hands, he sees a few sympathetic looks thrown his way. He doesn't miss the grin on Brad's face as he pulls out his phone.
"Have fun," Jeff snickers as he sees Brad's name next to Marc's on the list.
Marc likes Brad, he really does. He doesn't mind listening to stories about Brad's dog or helping him come up with pranks to play. Brad is a good friend, good enough for Marc to intervene in the middle of a fight in Chicago and back Brad up. When Brad tells everyone it's Marc's birthday and leads them in an earsplitting rendition of 'happy birthday', Marc finds it endearing. What Marc does mind is being Brad's roommate. Brad might be his closest friend on this new team, but he doesn't want to be the focus of Brad's twitter obsession when there's someone else he would rather be with.
"I hope you're ready for Inside the Sounders' Studio," Brad's grin makes Marc want to bash his head against the wall and chuck Brad's phone out the airplane.
*
They practice, they shower, and Marc manages to avoid Brad until dinner time. Dinner is a phone-free zone and Marc and Brad find themselves sitting with Mauro and Eddie. It's decidedly awkward- they're all nice but have nothing in common. Brad and Eddie chatter on about something while Mauro smiles and nods. Marc adds something every once in awhile but he's more content to sit and listen. It's been a little over three months, but he still feels new. He's jealous of his teammates who have come from colleges and from from teams outside of the MLS, those who don't have the stigma of wearing another team's crest.
There's a tickle on his face, a weird niggling sensation that someone is watching him. He scans the room and connects with amused, light blue eyes. Adam smiles at him and winks before turning back to whatever he was laughing with Roger about. Marc has to bite his lip to prevent his mouth from twitching up into a matching smile. Turning back around, Brad is looking at him with a knowing look in his eye. Before Brad can say anything, Marc kicks his shin and delights in the sound of Brad's whine.
"They never stay," Brad tells him after Eddie and Mauro leave, and Marc raises an eyebrow at him. "The Swedes. They never stay." He looks pointedly at the other table.
It's something that no one talks about but everyone knows about. When Marc turns around, he sees Brad is looking past Adam and at Roger. Marc pretends like he doesn't know what Brad is talking about; Brad is more observant than people give him credit for.
*
The team has a private meeting room on the fifth floor, a sort of lobby and hang out room that they all flock to. Brad drags him out to be social when all he feels like doing is slipping away. Brad is texting away on his phone as they leave their room and he has a knowing grin on his lips, like he's privy to some information Marc doesn't know. Instead of opening the door when they get to the room, Brad knocks and Marc hears some sort of whispering and shushing on the other side. He raises an eyebrow at Brad, who shrugs like he has no idea what's going on even though they both know he's not fooling anyone.
There on a table in the middle of the room is a half melted ice cream cake, with 'Happy Birthday Marc' written in blue and green. Blessedly there are no candles in it, fire around this group is always a bad idea, and his teammates sing happy birthday to him again. There's a few minutes afterward where everyone realizes no one thought ahead to bring plates or forks and they have to call the front desk to get some, but soon Marc is cutting into the rapidly melting cake and eating his first bite among cheers.
Eventually everyone is busy eating or talking amongst themselves and Marc is allowed to retreat to a sofa in the corner of the room. There's a storm beating down on the city outside, rain lashing every available surface, lightning shooting up the sky, and thunder shaking and crashing. The couch dips and he knows it's Adam without turning. Adam puts his hand next to Marc's, moves his fingers so that their pinkies are touching, intertwined, and sits with him in silence.
"I've never had ice cream cake before," Adam tells Marc after a particularly large bolt of lightning flashes across the sky and the thunder follows mere seconds later. "Our cakes are different."
"How do you celebrate in Sweden?"
A wry grin lights up Adam's face like lightning. "If you're a child, you get breakfast in bed. When you're older..." he trails off and Marc bites his lip.
*
Adam tastes like chocolate ice cream, that's the only thing Marc can think of as Adam kisses his way into his mouth and fumbles with his belt. As Adam's hand grasps his cock, his hips buck up and Adam chuckles against him. There's this brief notion in the back of his head that being pressed up against the door isn't the best idea and that anyone passing in the hallway would know exactly what was going on, but he's past the point of caring.
The beds are high enough off the ground so that Adam won't have to bend over at an uncomfortable angle. Marc sits on the edge of bed as Adam kneels in between his open legs, throws his clothes across the room, and stares up at him with that cheeky little smile. He rests his head against Marc's inner thigh, places a gentle kiss there that burns with the scratch of his facial hair. Marc loves how Adam's face moves when he smiles at him- the curl of his lips, the way his eyes light up, how Marc feels like Adam is focused on him and nothing else. Adam makes Marc feel like he's a nervous and bumbling teenager in the back of his dad's car in high school again, heart beating in sync to George Strait on the radio, in control of everything and nothing at the same time.
When Adam licks at him, he feels the burn of Adam's tongue, hot and exactly where Marc wants it, and the burn of his beard against his sensitive skin. It makes Marc squirm, and he knows Adam is doing it on purpose. He pops the head of Marc's cock in and out of his mouth a few times, allowing it to run over his lips, flicking at the tip of it with his tongue. Adam's hand is slightly cool against him as he grasps Marc and pumps up and down his length a few times before holding him still. Marc is biting his lip, trying his hardest not to gasp and moan and raise attention as to what's going on inside their room, but when Adam looks up at him and slowly licks him, tracing his tongue around the head of his cock torturously slow with that smile still on his lips, Marc feels like he's going to fall apart.
"Adam, please," Marc's not one for begging, but the way Adam's tongue is pressing against him, alternating soft and hard touches, brief licks and longer swirls, is making his vision blur. "Please."
"Yes?" Adam keeps his lips on his cock and the way they move when he speaks, the subtle vibrations draw a stifled groan from Marc. "Something I can do for you?"
"Come on, don't make me beg."
Adam pulls away from him, smiles up at him, drives him crazy with the way he looks at him. Leaning back down, he kisses the tip of Marc's cock before slowly sliding his mouth down. The heat is intense, electric; Marc has to close his eyes when he feels the back of Adam's throat. Adam sucks at him gently, applying enough pressure so that Marc feels the curling behind his belly, but soft enough that it builds slowly. He puts a hand on Adam's head, threading his fingers in the messy white, blond hair that always looks like Adam's just rolled out of bed. His fingers move of their own accord, twitching as Adam brings him closer to the edge.
There's a twinkle in Adam's eyes, like he's got something else up his sleeves, as Marc watches him move his head up and down, drawing him in and out. Marc's already so close, incoherent words tumbling out of his lips. When Adam starts to hum a song, the vibrations send Marc crashing over the edge and he comes with a cry, Adam's hands holding Marc's hips down as he spasms.
Marc's not sure when he starts to breathe again or how he even remembers to do so. Adam's licked him clean, his cheek resting against Marc's leg as he finishes softly humming his song. Marc smiles at him, pulls him up for a kiss. Adam still tastes vaguely like chocolate and Marc gives a little laughing sigh.
"What were you humming?"
"Happy birthday, in Swedish." Marc laughs as he lays down on the bed and Adam curls up next to him, arm wrapped around him.
*
"Boxers or briefs? EPL team?"
"Man thong, Man United."
"Do you like Seattle?"
"Yep."
"What do you miss the most about DC?"
He thinks of the funny smell of the Metro, the way RFK Stadium shook when the supporters jumped, how a city with so many separate cultures didn't have one of its own, and the way the air in the summer stuck to you like a heavy second skin. He remembers laughing himself sick with his teammates, the elation he felt at being a part of the DC United legacy, the pride in wearing the black jersey, the idea that he was part of something and that the United jersey would be the last one he wore. All of those memories are faded, in the shadow of being inexplicably let go. Marc still doesn't understand why, maybe he wasn't good enough anymore. DC brings a bitter taste to his mouth now.
"The Metro."
Brad smiles down at his phone's keyboard as he types out the response.
"What do you like the most about Seattle?"
Marc thinks of how the rain makes everything smell clean, the way the boom boom clap reverberates in his body as the CenturyLink overflows with rave green, and how Seattle has pulled him in, addicted him, seduced him, simply by smiling at him. At first he was unsure of this new team, whether or not he'd be welcome in the city where soccer runs so deep, but he wasn't the only new one. Marc smiles as he thinks of accented words, groggy blue eyes and sleep worn hair, of someone who understands his uncertainty even better than he does.
"Everything."
Pairing: Marc Burch/Adam Johansson
Rating: NC-17
Word Counts: 1977
Disclaimer: Not true
Beta: albion_lass
Summary: Marc tries to make sense of going from DC to Seattle, Brad wants an impromptu twitter interview, and Adam wants to show Marc how they say Happy Birthday in Sweden. Aka 'Ice cream cake is awesome, blow jobs are better'.
This is Marc Burch and this is Adam Johansson. They're both defenders for the Seattle Sounders. I was going to make some snarky comment and dedicate this to the person on fbkink who keeps asking for MLS fic and the person who asked for a Marc fic.... but let's not lie to ourselves... we all know it was me ;-;. So instead, this is for albion_lass, who is the best motivator/whip cracker/smut-demander'er ever, especially where the Sounders are concerned. Thank you boo <3
When the room assignment list is passed around, a brief flare of irritation runs through Marc. He doesn't understand why Sigi insists on randomly drawing names and assigning rooms this way. Actually he does, it's this team building stuff their coach is so fond of- and it annoys him. Before the list is even in his hands, he sees a few sympathetic looks thrown his way. He doesn't miss the grin on Brad's face as he pulls out his phone.
"Have fun," Jeff snickers as he sees Brad's name next to Marc's on the list.
Marc likes Brad, he really does. He doesn't mind listening to stories about Brad's dog or helping him come up with pranks to play. Brad is a good friend, good enough for Marc to intervene in the middle of a fight in Chicago and back Brad up. When Brad tells everyone it's Marc's birthday and leads them in an earsplitting rendition of 'happy birthday', Marc finds it endearing. What Marc does mind is being Brad's roommate. Brad might be his closest friend on this new team, but he doesn't want to be the focus of Brad's twitter obsession when there's someone else he would rather be with.
"I hope you're ready for Inside the Sounders' Studio," Brad's grin makes Marc want to bash his head against the wall and chuck Brad's phone out the airplane.
*
They practice, they shower, and Marc manages to avoid Brad until dinner time. Dinner is a phone-free zone and Marc and Brad find themselves sitting with Mauro and Eddie. It's decidedly awkward- they're all nice but have nothing in common. Brad and Eddie chatter on about something while Mauro smiles and nods. Marc adds something every once in awhile but he's more content to sit and listen. It's been a little over three months, but he still feels new. He's jealous of his teammates who have come from colleges and from from teams outside of the MLS, those who don't have the stigma of wearing another team's crest.
There's a tickle on his face, a weird niggling sensation that someone is watching him. He scans the room and connects with amused, light blue eyes. Adam smiles at him and winks before turning back to whatever he was laughing with Roger about. Marc has to bite his lip to prevent his mouth from twitching up into a matching smile. Turning back around, Brad is looking at him with a knowing look in his eye. Before Brad can say anything, Marc kicks his shin and delights in the sound of Brad's whine.
"They never stay," Brad tells him after Eddie and Mauro leave, and Marc raises an eyebrow at him. "The Swedes. They never stay." He looks pointedly at the other table.
It's something that no one talks about but everyone knows about. When Marc turns around, he sees Brad is looking past Adam and at Roger. Marc pretends like he doesn't know what Brad is talking about; Brad is more observant than people give him credit for.
*
The team has a private meeting room on the fifth floor, a sort of lobby and hang out room that they all flock to. Brad drags him out to be social when all he feels like doing is slipping away. Brad is texting away on his phone as they leave their room and he has a knowing grin on his lips, like he's privy to some information Marc doesn't know. Instead of opening the door when they get to the room, Brad knocks and Marc hears some sort of whispering and shushing on the other side. He raises an eyebrow at Brad, who shrugs like he has no idea what's going on even though they both know he's not fooling anyone.
There on a table in the middle of the room is a half melted ice cream cake, with 'Happy Birthday Marc' written in blue and green. Blessedly there are no candles in it, fire around this group is always a bad idea, and his teammates sing happy birthday to him again. There's a few minutes afterward where everyone realizes no one thought ahead to bring plates or forks and they have to call the front desk to get some, but soon Marc is cutting into the rapidly melting cake and eating his first bite among cheers.
Eventually everyone is busy eating or talking amongst themselves and Marc is allowed to retreat to a sofa in the corner of the room. There's a storm beating down on the city outside, rain lashing every available surface, lightning shooting up the sky, and thunder shaking and crashing. The couch dips and he knows it's Adam without turning. Adam puts his hand next to Marc's, moves his fingers so that their pinkies are touching, intertwined, and sits with him in silence.
"I've never had ice cream cake before," Adam tells Marc after a particularly large bolt of lightning flashes across the sky and the thunder follows mere seconds later. "Our cakes are different."
"How do you celebrate in Sweden?"
A wry grin lights up Adam's face like lightning. "If you're a child, you get breakfast in bed. When you're older..." he trails off and Marc bites his lip.
*
Adam tastes like chocolate ice cream, that's the only thing Marc can think of as Adam kisses his way into his mouth and fumbles with his belt. As Adam's hand grasps his cock, his hips buck up and Adam chuckles against him. There's this brief notion in the back of his head that being pressed up against the door isn't the best idea and that anyone passing in the hallway would know exactly what was going on, but he's past the point of caring.
The beds are high enough off the ground so that Adam won't have to bend over at an uncomfortable angle. Marc sits on the edge of bed as Adam kneels in between his open legs, throws his clothes across the room, and stares up at him with that cheeky little smile. He rests his head against Marc's inner thigh, places a gentle kiss there that burns with the scratch of his facial hair. Marc loves how Adam's face moves when he smiles at him- the curl of his lips, the way his eyes light up, how Marc feels like Adam is focused on him and nothing else. Adam makes Marc feel like he's a nervous and bumbling teenager in the back of his dad's car in high school again, heart beating in sync to George Strait on the radio, in control of everything and nothing at the same time.
When Adam licks at him, he feels the burn of Adam's tongue, hot and exactly where Marc wants it, and the burn of his beard against his sensitive skin. It makes Marc squirm, and he knows Adam is doing it on purpose. He pops the head of Marc's cock in and out of his mouth a few times, allowing it to run over his lips, flicking at the tip of it with his tongue. Adam's hand is slightly cool against him as he grasps Marc and pumps up and down his length a few times before holding him still. Marc is biting his lip, trying his hardest not to gasp and moan and raise attention as to what's going on inside their room, but when Adam looks up at him and slowly licks him, tracing his tongue around the head of his cock torturously slow with that smile still on his lips, Marc feels like he's going to fall apart.
"Adam, please," Marc's not one for begging, but the way Adam's tongue is pressing against him, alternating soft and hard touches, brief licks and longer swirls, is making his vision blur. "Please."
"Yes?" Adam keeps his lips on his cock and the way they move when he speaks, the subtle vibrations draw a stifled groan from Marc. "Something I can do for you?"
"Come on, don't make me beg."
Adam pulls away from him, smiles up at him, drives him crazy with the way he looks at him. Leaning back down, he kisses the tip of Marc's cock before slowly sliding his mouth down. The heat is intense, electric; Marc has to close his eyes when he feels the back of Adam's throat. Adam sucks at him gently, applying enough pressure so that Marc feels the curling behind his belly, but soft enough that it builds slowly. He puts a hand on Adam's head, threading his fingers in the messy white, blond hair that always looks like Adam's just rolled out of bed. His fingers move of their own accord, twitching as Adam brings him closer to the edge.
There's a twinkle in Adam's eyes, like he's got something else up his sleeves, as Marc watches him move his head up and down, drawing him in and out. Marc's already so close, incoherent words tumbling out of his lips. When Adam starts to hum a song, the vibrations send Marc crashing over the edge and he comes with a cry, Adam's hands holding Marc's hips down as he spasms.
Marc's not sure when he starts to breathe again or how he even remembers to do so. Adam's licked him clean, his cheek resting against Marc's leg as he finishes softly humming his song. Marc smiles at him, pulls him up for a kiss. Adam still tastes vaguely like chocolate and Marc gives a little laughing sigh.
"What were you humming?"
"Happy birthday, in Swedish." Marc laughs as he lays down on the bed and Adam curls up next to him, arm wrapped around him.
*
"Boxers or briefs? EPL team?"
"Man thong, Man United."
"Do you like Seattle?"
"Yep."
"What do you miss the most about DC?"
He thinks of the funny smell of the Metro, the way RFK Stadium shook when the supporters jumped, how a city with so many separate cultures didn't have one of its own, and the way the air in the summer stuck to you like a heavy second skin. He remembers laughing himself sick with his teammates, the elation he felt at being a part of the DC United legacy, the pride in wearing the black jersey, the idea that he was part of something and that the United jersey would be the last one he wore. All of those memories are faded, in the shadow of being inexplicably let go. Marc still doesn't understand why, maybe he wasn't good enough anymore. DC brings a bitter taste to his mouth now.
"The Metro."
Brad smiles down at his phone's keyboard as he types out the response.
"What do you like the most about Seattle?"
Marc thinks of how the rain makes everything smell clean, the way the boom boom clap reverberates in his body as the CenturyLink overflows with rave green, and how Seattle has pulled him in, addicted him, seduced him, simply by smiling at him. At first he was unsure of this new team, whether or not he'd be welcome in the city where soccer runs so deep, but he wasn't the only new one. Marc smiles as he thinks of accented words, groggy blue eyes and sleep worn hair, of someone who understands his uncertainty even better than he does.
"Everything."