Unspoken Goodbyes
Title: Unspoken Goodbyes
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cesc Fabregas/ Carlos Vela
WC: 2717
Warning: Sex
Disclaimer: Not True >.>
Summary: Theirs was a relationship built off the knowledge that silence often spoke louder than words and that goodbyes didn’t last forever.
This is the first non 'fade to black' sex scene I've written, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. This is a request fic (I <3 you Eli), and I really hope it lives up to the expectations.
Thank you thank you thank you to albion_lass! You have my eternal gratitude and love for helping me with this ^_^ *glomp*
Theirs was a relationship based off of words that needed to be understood. When Carlos first stepped off that plane and into the wet and cold British air so unlike home, he realized how different London would be, how different Arsenal would be. Arsenal. He was walking among players who were gods and heroes in their own right. Who was he but a scared little boy from Mexico who couldn’t even communicate with them? Cesc understood Carlos’s fear; he had always understood Carlos when others couldn’t, in more ways than just words.
Theirs was a relationship based off of greetings and goodbyes. There were issues with his ability to play legally due to his work permit, so he was shuttled off three separate times. At least in Spain they spoke the same language. He made a name for himself there, garnered recognition. When everything back in England was straightened out, he left the colors of Spain for the gray of England once again. The third time is the charm he told himself, they wouldn’t loan him out again. England wasn’t home, but in England, there was someone whose smiles were better than home.
Theirs was a relationship based off of words left unspoken. They were friends, close friends, anyone could see that, whether it be on the field during training, during a game, or even over Twitter. The jokes, the pranks, and good times were what everyone heard. The stolen glances, lingering touches, and frustrated sighs of what they both wanted, but were too afraid to act on, screamed louder in their minds than spoken words. Sometimes Carlos felt like their friendship was a still life study of silence.
The minute the doorbell rang, Carlos knew Cesc would be standing outside. It was late, too late for anyone else to come to his apartment. The club had officially announced his loan to West Brom that morning. The news wasn’t a secret, but the loan hadn’t been set in stone either. The third time hadn’t been the charm apparently. The fourth loan in the six seasons he had been at Arsenal. Maybe he was just doomed to be like a gypsy, always wandering, knowing where he belonged, but unable to stay.
“Come on, it’s not like I’m leaving the country this time.” Carlos wanted to take the frown off of Cesc’s face as they spoke in his kitchen.
“But you’re leaving again.”
“Cesc, we’ve been over this. I want to play. If I stay here, I’ll be on the bench all season.”
“I know, but… It just sucks that you’re leaving.”
“I know. It’s just for the rest of the season, it’s not forever.”
Cesc huffed in frustration, crossing his arms. Carlos didn’t know what to say and whether he should say it to his Captain, his friend, or to he man who made his heart skip a beat every time he would walk into a room. He looked down at his hands as another silence stretched between them. Venturing a stolen glance upwards, he saw Cesc was staring downwards, frown on his face. Carlos wondered if it was Cesc the friend or Cesc that Captain that was unhappy he was leaving.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“Sure.”
A random action film was their ritual. One would show up uninvited to the other’s apartment and instead of addressing the screaming tension between them, a movie or videogame would attempt to distract the thoughts and tension away. It didn’t distract them though, the noise just kept them silent. As they sat on the couch, sides touching, Carlos realized how long of a day it had been. Practice, a press conference, beginning to pack some of his belongings, the emotional stress of his teammates reacting to his loan, and now Cesc sitting calmly next to him; it was all overwhelming. His eyelids began to droop and within minutes, he was asleep, collapsed against his friend.
Something was nudging his shoulder and the sound of his TV being turned off echoed in his mind. Groaning, he wiped at his eyes before opening them. It was past midnight and the movie had just ended. Carlos allowed Cesc to pull him to his feet and lead him into his bedroom, where he collapsed down on the bed. Cesc sat down next to where Carlos laid sprawled, pulling his knees into his chest. He looked distracted, upset, and Carlos wondered if it was the weight of the Captain’s armband. Carlos looked away; it must be nice to know you were always wanted.
“Is this the last goodbye?”
Cesc frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Are you going to be here when I come back?”
More unspoken words, but Carlos knew Cesc understood what he meant. Barcelona. It was one thing to say you were happy where you were, but when home called and large amounts of money were laid before you, minds could change. Barcelona was another shade of silence in the still life of their friendship. Carlos closed his eyes.
Cesc shifted, stretching out on the bed, laying his head on the pillow next to Carlos’s. A hand came to intertwine with his and he opened his eyes, giving Cesc an inquiring glance. The Catalan was staring at him like he might never see him again, dark eyes sad, preoccupied. Would there be nights like this in the future? No, not if they weren’t playing together on the same team. Carlos closed his eyes again.
He didn’t open them again until he felt the warm air of Cesc’s breath against his cheek and lips as Cesc gently pressed their mouths together. When he pulled back, he bit his lip, faint blush on his face as he looked everywhere but at Carlos. Carlos didn’t need an explanation; words would just cheapen the reality of it.
Carlos closed the space between them to claim those lips as his own, even if it only was for one night, to explore the hot mouth, tongues battling, teeth scraping. Carlos put his hand on Cesc’s hip, pulling his … friend (Captain, teammate, potential lover?) up against him. Cesc was firm muscle and sharp bone. Carlos knew he’d bruise from where their hip bones were digging in against each other; he didn’t care, it would be a reminder that something had finally happened. The feeling of facial hair roughly grazing the skin around his mouth and chin was new and he savored the burn.
Soon shirts, pants, and socks were strewn about the room, thrown haphazardly from the bed as they craved more skin, more contact. Warning bells were going off in Carlos’s head, but he silenced and ignored as many as he could. No, this probably wasn’t the best idea, but neither of them really cared any more. Carlos pushed Cesc over onto his back and rolled on top of him, using his knee to spread the other man’s legs apart. They were aroused, hard, almost painfully hard, after years of silence and repression. They writhed against each other, breathing light, shallow, and punctuated with sighs and moans.
But they weren’t teenagers anymore, and they didn’t need to be rubbing against each other in sexual frustration while still wearing their boxers. Carlos gave Cesc one last kiss, pulling the Spaniard’s bottom lip with his teeth in a gentle nip as he pushed himself up between Cesc’s legs. He had to take a deep breath to keep from coming in his boxers as he stared down at Cesc, who stared right back up; eyes dark, lips swollen and wet, and looking every bit as pornographic as Carlos’s mind dreamed up during those nights alone. He reached for the elastic of Cesc’s boxers, pausing for a moment to wait for a sign from Cesc that he was okay, and at the Spaniard’s nod, he rid both of them of the last barrier between them.
Leaning back down, he buried his face in the crook of Cesc’s neck and shoulder, tasting the skin there as he reached between them, taking both of them in his hand and beginning to slowly pump up and down. Cesc threw his head back; eyes tightly shut as he bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out as Carlos pushed their cocks together, working his hand in motion with his hips. With his head back, Carlos had better access to Cesc’s neck and jaw, and his lips left no patch of skin un-worshipped. There would be bite marks, there would be hickies, but that’s what snoods were for. As Carlos pulled back for a moment, Cesc let out a disappointed mewl and stared up at him. Carlos knew this is how he would always remember Cesc: chest heaving, eyes undisguised with want, sheen of sweat coating his body.
Carlos’s eyes strayed to his bedside table, his mind on the condoms and lube that he kept there for the rare happenstance that he brought someone home for the night. Cesc followed his gaze and when their eyes met again, he nodded. Stretching, he opened the drawer and pulled out a foil wrapper, a few tissues, and the bottle of lube. Setting them down on the bed, Carlos returned his attention to Cesc’s cock, red and leaking against his well defined stomach. Moving down, he licked the pale skin of Cesc’s inner thigh before lightly sucking on it, wanting to leave a bruise, a mark, to make sure Cesc remembered him, felt him, when he was gone. Carlos delighted in the way that Cesc squirmed under his mouth as he explored and tasted every bit of offered flesh, except for where Cesc wanted him the most. The power Carlos had over Cesc, over his body, was almost maddening and he smirked as Cesc began to grow impatient, whimpering out of need.
When pre-come began to slowly roll down Cesc’s cock, Carlos finally took pity on him and caught the rolling drops on the tip of his tongue, slowing licking up Cesc’s length before taking the tip in his mouth. Making sure his lips were covering his teeth, he began to slowly move up and down, taking Cesc as far in as he could before slowly backing off. Cesc’s hand came down, fingers tangling themselves in Carlos’s hair, the other one gripping into the mattress, knuckles white. He listened and watched for cues, and when Cesc’s breathing became louder, shallower, and his hips began to shake, Carlos knew to pull back and pressed a smile into Cesc’s hip at the angry huff.
Grabbing the bottle of lube, he flicked the top open, hastened along by Cesc’s needy noises. Generously coating his fingers, Carlos reached down in between Cesc’s already open legs, and gently spread his cheeks to allow him better access. His fingers circled Cesc’s hole before he slowly slid one in, gently stroking Cesc’s side to keep him relaxed and prevent him from clenching. Adding a second finger, he waited for the pressure to ease before he began sliding them in and out, scissoring them apart to prepare Cesc for the eventual third finger. Changing the angle, Cesc’s hips bucked as he gasped; Carlos bit his lip and did it again, feeling high from the way Cesc’s eyes were trained on his, letting him know it was Carlos who was doing this to him, making him hard and making him moan like a slut. Fearful of hurting the man in his arms, Carlos squeezed more lube onto his fingers as he pressed a third finger in. Cesc clenched around his fingers and Carlos leaned up, bringing their lips back together as he slowly fucking his fingers in and out, stretching and preparing the man below him.
When the pressure was gone from around his fingers, Carlos pulled his fingers out and wiped them off on the tissues. Grabbing the condom, he ripped it out of the foil wrapper, pumped his cock a few times to make sure he was fully hard, before rolling it on. Positioning himself at Cesc’s entrance, he entwined the fingers of his free hand with Cesc’s hand, next to his head on the pillow case. Hand in hand, wrist to wrist, he swore he could feel Cesc’s rapid heart rate beating against his wrist. Pushing in, he captured Cesc’s mouth in time to silence the jagged moan that threatened to escape those bruised and swollen lips. He was tight and burning hot, slick from all the lube. Carlos slid in gradually; allowing Cesc to become accustomed to something larger than three fingers. When he was all the way in, he paused, content to be fully enveloped in Cesc’s heat for as long as possible.
Carlos untangled their hands and reached down to firmly grasp Cesc’s dick. Slowly pulling out to where only the head of his cock was in, he pushed back inside, moving the hand on Cesc in time with his own thrusts. Biting his lip so he wouldn’t groan, he picked up the pace as Cesc began to making nonsensical noises in the back of his throat, moaning and mewling. He lost all thought for a few minutes, focused on the high Cesc was pulling from him as he pushed in and out, occasionally changing the angle to draw different noises from his writhing Captain. The scene was burning into the back of his mind: the perfect arch in Cesc’s back every time Carlos completely filled him, the moans coming from his lips, the way his arms were thrown haphazardly at his sides, fists clenched, and pleasure written across his face.
Shifting his hips again, Carlos came in from a different angle and Cesc nearly screamed. It spurred him into motion and he stopped Carlos, wrapping a leg around Carlos’s waist to hold him inside deep while he rolled them around so now he could sit on top. Adjusting them so Carlos was sitting up with his back against the headboard, Cesc put his hands on Carlos’s dark shoulders and began to ride him. His head was hanging down limply, forehead pressed against Carlos’s, their quick and heavy gasps of breath mingling and brushing across their faces. Carlos’s fingers were digging bruises into Cesc’s hips as he helped him rise up and slam back down. He knew his back and shoulders would be bruised and red tomorrow from how hard Cesc was gripping him and he could feel fingernails scraping his skin.
Brushing his lips against Cesc’s, he pushed his hips up hard to meet Cesc’s downward stroke. Shifting his hips to repeat the gesture at a different angle, Cesc jerked and his hips bucked. Carlos watched, mesmerized, as Cesc threw his head back and loudly gasped. Three more strokes were all it took before Cesc was clenching down hard around him, crying out as he came across Carlos’s stomach. Seeing Cesc convulse in pleasure, and feeling him tighten around what already felt impossibly tight and hot, sent Carlos over the edge and he pressed his face against Cesc’s chest, muffling a shout against the sweat covered skin as he shakily came.
Cesc collapsed down upon him, too tired and high from his orgasm to move. Carlos didn’t move either, except to wrap his arms around Cesc and pull him close. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, still joined, sweat and come-stained bodies pressed against each other, exacting as much comfort as possible from each other. Eventually, their minds came out of the hazed sex fog. Carlos grabbed the base of the condom to make sure it didn’t slide off as he gently pulled his still softening cock out of Cesc. Tying it, he stood from the bed and went into the bathroom, throwing it into the garbage as he grabbed a hot washcloth. Returning to the bed, he wiped Cesc and himself off.
Pulling back the covers, he pulled Cesc underneath the comforter and blankets. Cesc allowed Carlos to wrap an arm around his waist and hold him close, his face pressed into Carlos’s chest. Carlos’s felt a soft kiss placed against his collar bone as he began to drift off to sleep. They hadn’t spoken a single word; they didn’t need to.
Theirs was a relationship built off the knowledge that silence often spoke louder than words and that goodbyes didn’t last forever.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cesc Fabregas/ Carlos Vela
WC: 2717
Warning: Sex
Disclaimer: Not True >.>
Summary: Theirs was a relationship built off the knowledge that silence often spoke louder than words and that goodbyes didn’t last forever.
This is the first non 'fade to black' sex scene I've written, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. This is a request fic (I <3 you Eli), and I really hope it lives up to the expectations.
Thank you thank you thank you to albion_lass! You have my eternal gratitude and love for helping me with this ^_^ *glomp*
Theirs was a relationship based off of words that needed to be understood. When Carlos first stepped off that plane and into the wet and cold British air so unlike home, he realized how different London would be, how different Arsenal would be. Arsenal. He was walking among players who were gods and heroes in their own right. Who was he but a scared little boy from Mexico who couldn’t even communicate with them? Cesc understood Carlos’s fear; he had always understood Carlos when others couldn’t, in more ways than just words.
Theirs was a relationship based off of greetings and goodbyes. There were issues with his ability to play legally due to his work permit, so he was shuttled off three separate times. At least in Spain they spoke the same language. He made a name for himself there, garnered recognition. When everything back in England was straightened out, he left the colors of Spain for the gray of England once again. The third time is the charm he told himself, they wouldn’t loan him out again. England wasn’t home, but in England, there was someone whose smiles were better than home.
Theirs was a relationship based off of words left unspoken. They were friends, close friends, anyone could see that, whether it be on the field during training, during a game, or even over Twitter. The jokes, the pranks, and good times were what everyone heard. The stolen glances, lingering touches, and frustrated sighs of what they both wanted, but were too afraid to act on, screamed louder in their minds than spoken words. Sometimes Carlos felt like their friendship was a still life study of silence.
The minute the doorbell rang, Carlos knew Cesc would be standing outside. It was late, too late for anyone else to come to his apartment. The club had officially announced his loan to West Brom that morning. The news wasn’t a secret, but the loan hadn’t been set in stone either. The third time hadn’t been the charm apparently. The fourth loan in the six seasons he had been at Arsenal. Maybe he was just doomed to be like a gypsy, always wandering, knowing where he belonged, but unable to stay.
“Come on, it’s not like I’m leaving the country this time.” Carlos wanted to take the frown off of Cesc’s face as they spoke in his kitchen.
“But you’re leaving again.”
“Cesc, we’ve been over this. I want to play. If I stay here, I’ll be on the bench all season.”
“I know, but… It just sucks that you’re leaving.”
“I know. It’s just for the rest of the season, it’s not forever.”
Cesc huffed in frustration, crossing his arms. Carlos didn’t know what to say and whether he should say it to his Captain, his friend, or to he man who made his heart skip a beat every time he would walk into a room. He looked down at his hands as another silence stretched between them. Venturing a stolen glance upwards, he saw Cesc was staring downwards, frown on his face. Carlos wondered if it was Cesc the friend or Cesc that Captain that was unhappy he was leaving.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“Sure.”
A random action film was their ritual. One would show up uninvited to the other’s apartment and instead of addressing the screaming tension between them, a movie or videogame would attempt to distract the thoughts and tension away. It didn’t distract them though, the noise just kept them silent. As they sat on the couch, sides touching, Carlos realized how long of a day it had been. Practice, a press conference, beginning to pack some of his belongings, the emotional stress of his teammates reacting to his loan, and now Cesc sitting calmly next to him; it was all overwhelming. His eyelids began to droop and within minutes, he was asleep, collapsed against his friend.
Something was nudging his shoulder and the sound of his TV being turned off echoed in his mind. Groaning, he wiped at his eyes before opening them. It was past midnight and the movie had just ended. Carlos allowed Cesc to pull him to his feet and lead him into his bedroom, where he collapsed down on the bed. Cesc sat down next to where Carlos laid sprawled, pulling his knees into his chest. He looked distracted, upset, and Carlos wondered if it was the weight of the Captain’s armband. Carlos looked away; it must be nice to know you were always wanted.
“Is this the last goodbye?”
Cesc frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Are you going to be here when I come back?”
More unspoken words, but Carlos knew Cesc understood what he meant. Barcelona. It was one thing to say you were happy where you were, but when home called and large amounts of money were laid before you, minds could change. Barcelona was another shade of silence in the still life of their friendship. Carlos closed his eyes.
Cesc shifted, stretching out on the bed, laying his head on the pillow next to Carlos’s. A hand came to intertwine with his and he opened his eyes, giving Cesc an inquiring glance. The Catalan was staring at him like he might never see him again, dark eyes sad, preoccupied. Would there be nights like this in the future? No, not if they weren’t playing together on the same team. Carlos closed his eyes again.
He didn’t open them again until he felt the warm air of Cesc’s breath against his cheek and lips as Cesc gently pressed their mouths together. When he pulled back, he bit his lip, faint blush on his face as he looked everywhere but at Carlos. Carlos didn’t need an explanation; words would just cheapen the reality of it.
Carlos closed the space between them to claim those lips as his own, even if it only was for one night, to explore the hot mouth, tongues battling, teeth scraping. Carlos put his hand on Cesc’s hip, pulling his … friend (Captain, teammate, potential lover?) up against him. Cesc was firm muscle and sharp bone. Carlos knew he’d bruise from where their hip bones were digging in against each other; he didn’t care, it would be a reminder that something had finally happened. The feeling of facial hair roughly grazing the skin around his mouth and chin was new and he savored the burn.
Soon shirts, pants, and socks were strewn about the room, thrown haphazardly from the bed as they craved more skin, more contact. Warning bells were going off in Carlos’s head, but he silenced and ignored as many as he could. No, this probably wasn’t the best idea, but neither of them really cared any more. Carlos pushed Cesc over onto his back and rolled on top of him, using his knee to spread the other man’s legs apart. They were aroused, hard, almost painfully hard, after years of silence and repression. They writhed against each other, breathing light, shallow, and punctuated with sighs and moans.
But they weren’t teenagers anymore, and they didn’t need to be rubbing against each other in sexual frustration while still wearing their boxers. Carlos gave Cesc one last kiss, pulling the Spaniard’s bottom lip with his teeth in a gentle nip as he pushed himself up between Cesc’s legs. He had to take a deep breath to keep from coming in his boxers as he stared down at Cesc, who stared right back up; eyes dark, lips swollen and wet, and looking every bit as pornographic as Carlos’s mind dreamed up during those nights alone. He reached for the elastic of Cesc’s boxers, pausing for a moment to wait for a sign from Cesc that he was okay, and at the Spaniard’s nod, he rid both of them of the last barrier between them.
Leaning back down, he buried his face in the crook of Cesc’s neck and shoulder, tasting the skin there as he reached between them, taking both of them in his hand and beginning to slowly pump up and down. Cesc threw his head back; eyes tightly shut as he bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out as Carlos pushed their cocks together, working his hand in motion with his hips. With his head back, Carlos had better access to Cesc’s neck and jaw, and his lips left no patch of skin un-worshipped. There would be bite marks, there would be hickies, but that’s what snoods were for. As Carlos pulled back for a moment, Cesc let out a disappointed mewl and stared up at him. Carlos knew this is how he would always remember Cesc: chest heaving, eyes undisguised with want, sheen of sweat coating his body.
Carlos’s eyes strayed to his bedside table, his mind on the condoms and lube that he kept there for the rare happenstance that he brought someone home for the night. Cesc followed his gaze and when their eyes met again, he nodded. Stretching, he opened the drawer and pulled out a foil wrapper, a few tissues, and the bottle of lube. Setting them down on the bed, Carlos returned his attention to Cesc’s cock, red and leaking against his well defined stomach. Moving down, he licked the pale skin of Cesc’s inner thigh before lightly sucking on it, wanting to leave a bruise, a mark, to make sure Cesc remembered him, felt him, when he was gone. Carlos delighted in the way that Cesc squirmed under his mouth as he explored and tasted every bit of offered flesh, except for where Cesc wanted him the most. The power Carlos had over Cesc, over his body, was almost maddening and he smirked as Cesc began to grow impatient, whimpering out of need.
When pre-come began to slowly roll down Cesc’s cock, Carlos finally took pity on him and caught the rolling drops on the tip of his tongue, slowing licking up Cesc’s length before taking the tip in his mouth. Making sure his lips were covering his teeth, he began to slowly move up and down, taking Cesc as far in as he could before slowly backing off. Cesc’s hand came down, fingers tangling themselves in Carlos’s hair, the other one gripping into the mattress, knuckles white. He listened and watched for cues, and when Cesc’s breathing became louder, shallower, and his hips began to shake, Carlos knew to pull back and pressed a smile into Cesc’s hip at the angry huff.
Grabbing the bottle of lube, he flicked the top open, hastened along by Cesc’s needy noises. Generously coating his fingers, Carlos reached down in between Cesc’s already open legs, and gently spread his cheeks to allow him better access. His fingers circled Cesc’s hole before he slowly slid one in, gently stroking Cesc’s side to keep him relaxed and prevent him from clenching. Adding a second finger, he waited for the pressure to ease before he began sliding them in and out, scissoring them apart to prepare Cesc for the eventual third finger. Changing the angle, Cesc’s hips bucked as he gasped; Carlos bit his lip and did it again, feeling high from the way Cesc’s eyes were trained on his, letting him know it was Carlos who was doing this to him, making him hard and making him moan like a slut. Fearful of hurting the man in his arms, Carlos squeezed more lube onto his fingers as he pressed a third finger in. Cesc clenched around his fingers and Carlos leaned up, bringing their lips back together as he slowly fucking his fingers in and out, stretching and preparing the man below him.
When the pressure was gone from around his fingers, Carlos pulled his fingers out and wiped them off on the tissues. Grabbing the condom, he ripped it out of the foil wrapper, pumped his cock a few times to make sure he was fully hard, before rolling it on. Positioning himself at Cesc’s entrance, he entwined the fingers of his free hand with Cesc’s hand, next to his head on the pillow case. Hand in hand, wrist to wrist, he swore he could feel Cesc’s rapid heart rate beating against his wrist. Pushing in, he captured Cesc’s mouth in time to silence the jagged moan that threatened to escape those bruised and swollen lips. He was tight and burning hot, slick from all the lube. Carlos slid in gradually; allowing Cesc to become accustomed to something larger than three fingers. When he was all the way in, he paused, content to be fully enveloped in Cesc’s heat for as long as possible.
Carlos untangled their hands and reached down to firmly grasp Cesc’s dick. Slowly pulling out to where only the head of his cock was in, he pushed back inside, moving the hand on Cesc in time with his own thrusts. Biting his lip so he wouldn’t groan, he picked up the pace as Cesc began to making nonsensical noises in the back of his throat, moaning and mewling. He lost all thought for a few minutes, focused on the high Cesc was pulling from him as he pushed in and out, occasionally changing the angle to draw different noises from his writhing Captain. The scene was burning into the back of his mind: the perfect arch in Cesc’s back every time Carlos completely filled him, the moans coming from his lips, the way his arms were thrown haphazardly at his sides, fists clenched, and pleasure written across his face.
Shifting his hips again, Carlos came in from a different angle and Cesc nearly screamed. It spurred him into motion and he stopped Carlos, wrapping a leg around Carlos’s waist to hold him inside deep while he rolled them around so now he could sit on top. Adjusting them so Carlos was sitting up with his back against the headboard, Cesc put his hands on Carlos’s dark shoulders and began to ride him. His head was hanging down limply, forehead pressed against Carlos’s, their quick and heavy gasps of breath mingling and brushing across their faces. Carlos’s fingers were digging bruises into Cesc’s hips as he helped him rise up and slam back down. He knew his back and shoulders would be bruised and red tomorrow from how hard Cesc was gripping him and he could feel fingernails scraping his skin.
Brushing his lips against Cesc’s, he pushed his hips up hard to meet Cesc’s downward stroke. Shifting his hips to repeat the gesture at a different angle, Cesc jerked and his hips bucked. Carlos watched, mesmerized, as Cesc threw his head back and loudly gasped. Three more strokes were all it took before Cesc was clenching down hard around him, crying out as he came across Carlos’s stomach. Seeing Cesc convulse in pleasure, and feeling him tighten around what already felt impossibly tight and hot, sent Carlos over the edge and he pressed his face against Cesc’s chest, muffling a shout against the sweat covered skin as he shakily came.
Cesc collapsed down upon him, too tired and high from his orgasm to move. Carlos didn’t move either, except to wrap his arms around Cesc and pull him close. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, still joined, sweat and come-stained bodies pressed against each other, exacting as much comfort as possible from each other. Eventually, their minds came out of the hazed sex fog. Carlos grabbed the base of the condom to make sure it didn’t slide off as he gently pulled his still softening cock out of Cesc. Tying it, he stood from the bed and went into the bathroom, throwing it into the garbage as he grabbed a hot washcloth. Returning to the bed, he wiped Cesc and himself off.
Pulling back the covers, he pulled Cesc underneath the comforter and blankets. Cesc allowed Carlos to wrap an arm around his waist and hold him close, his face pressed into Carlos’s chest. Carlos’s felt a soft kiss placed against his collar bone as he began to drift off to sleep. They hadn’t spoken a single word; they didn’t need to.
Theirs was a relationship built off the knowledge that silence often spoke louder than words and that goodbyes didn’t last forever.