Uncommon Sensation
by labyrinthically
He comes into training late, rushing into the empty locker room and quickly changing, swearing at himself under his breath. A late night, a late entrance, these weren't things he needed right now. Right now, he needed to impress Spalletti. He needed to impress the club, his team, the fans. He needed to depose Doni, get attention, get noticed. He didn't need rushing onto the pitch when the rest of the club was already jogging along the sides, the nets already set up. Gianluca's face flared red when Spalletti greeted him with a raised eyebrow and unkind words as he ran to join his teammates.
Training was nothing new, the same repetitions, the same friction. Doni catching an impressive Totti free kick that almost made it; everyone leaving the pitch at the end of the day cheerful and confident. Gianluca stays away, between the sticks, looking out at the empty field. Imagines being at the Olimpico on matchday, watching the screaming crowds and rushing opponents, wearing the number one. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and it's like it could be real. If he only tried a little bit harder, got a little bit better.
"Hey." And he opens his eyes to Daniele standing before him, like nothing happened last night. Like nothing changes. He had thought De Rossi had already gone to change, but Daniele was standing before him in his training kit still, grass stain smearing his shorts and a little tear in the shoulder of his top.
"Since we're both out here, practice some free kicks?" Like he could resist De Rossi's almost shy smile, the grin it breaks into when Gianluca nods. Golden Boy runs out into the field, and Gianluca finally notices the netted bag of balls Daniele must have brought out with him. They practice free kicks for what seems far longer time than it actually was, and by the end of it Gianluca is grinning too, having stopped almost half of them, the ones going in impressive enough that he doesn't care (and the ones flying wildly by the bar causing Daniele to laugh with chagrin and not storm away). They go to gather the loose balls and store them, go into the empty change room.
He doesn't expect it when Daniele presses him against a locker (and oh God, he hopes it isn't Totti's), and his eyes are still open when Daniele moves his mouth from Gianluca's lips to his neck, hands not touching Daniele, like it's the first time when it isn't even close to that.
"Come on Curci, show a little life. You weren't this dead outside," Daniele says, raising his head to look at Gianluca's face. He's still smiling, shy and cocky, red rising up his cheeks. His thumb is rubbing along Gianluca's hip, making his shirt ride up and dragging the elastic of his shorts down. Gianluca makes himself smile a little and De Rossi's other hand reaches up to pull his head down. Daniele's biting his lip, tugging at his clothes and Gianluca wonders how they ever got to this point, how much he wants it. Wants all of it: Daniele, Roma, wants to be called up to the Nazionale, wants to make it five at the World Cup, celebrate with capitan futuro, wants to lead their club, wants the scudetto. He wants Daniele to fuck him by the lockers, wants to entrance him if only for a little while. He's pretty damn sure De Rossi isn't dragging Doni into the showers for anything.
Daniele gets their kits off, and Gianluca runs his hands across his ribcage. Daniele has his hands around their cocks, is biting at his shoulder. He lifts his head to look at Gianluca, still with that excited look.
"You could get on your knees or something. You know, if you wanted to," and at least they're both laughing at how it comes out, that they aren't so used to this that they can ask to get their cocks sucked without sounding like idiots.
Gianluca does, pushing Daniele to sit on the bench, mumbling something unintelligible to try and feel less awkward. He wonders if Daniele has this much trouble getting his wife to go down on him, like how Gianluca feels guilty just touching Sabrina when the baby's in the next room, and she gets that dreamy, lovely smile on her face when she tells him to keep it down, and he wakes up in the middle of the night to find her standing over the crib. She cries and kisses him, happy, and all the time he has that hole in his stomach, where he can't breathe or think, because he's definitely not kneeling in front of his girlfriend. He wonders if Daniele feels the same, like he's always going home guilty.
Like last night, when Daniele sucked him off in a hotel room and Gianluca fell asleep beside him after they jerked each other off in the shower. Gianluca woke up to a sheet being pulled up his body, Daniele kissing his cheek and, "I've got to get home, Gaia'll be waiting for her story," and he leaves with that goofy grin on his face. Gianluca always feels nervous around his son, who's so tiny and fragile that it seems he'll break if something touches him. Thinking about it, here, the hole in his stomach doesn't get any better.
He barely notices when Daniele pushes his head away; is it so routine now that he doesn't have to think about it? Daniele stumbles up and drags Gianluca up with him, renewing his attack on his mouth, pushing him against the lockers, turning him around.
"Shit," Daniele mumbles, "just… wait." He hops over the bench to his locker to rifle through his bag, and comes back with a condom and a bottle of lubricant. Gianluca smiles at Daniele's triumphant grin, leans his head against his arms on the locker with his eyes half-closed. Daniele kisses him, then moves to mouth at his shoulder blades while sliding slick fingers into him. Gianluca bites his lip and presses his forehead into the cool metal of the locker. Still not that routine, he supposes.
He hears Daniele fumble with the condom, feels him mouth swears into his back. He laughs, and Daniele does too, running fingers gently across his ribs. He presses in slowly, moaning; Gianluca inhales, tries not to shake.
He doesn't know how many times they've done this, how it evolved into illicit fucks in the locker room. Daniele starts to move harder, teeth scraping at Gianluca's back, and a hand reaches around to his cock, the other at his hip; Gianluca's grateful that Daniele bites his nails short enough that he doesn't scratch, even if he's indenting Gianluca's hip like he wants to leave fingerprints. One of Gianluca's arms slips sweat-slick against the locker and his forehead smacks against it. Daniele keeps moving, moaning into his back, and Gianluca's biting his lip to keep quiet, but comes with a gasped moan anyway. Daniele does soon after, panting with his forehead resting on Gianluca's shoulder. They move apart after a minute of respite, pick up their scattered clothes. The quiver of tension that sticks to Gianluca's body quiets when they end up making out in the shower, slipping against the floor and each other. They talk about training, the team, Lazio is screwed this season, and some new American film coming out soon that neither can remember the name of but both are sure features a very hot lead actress.
"I've got to go, the girls will be waiting. Maybe next week we can catch up some more," and the way he says it is so nonchalant, like he's perfectly comfortable with what they're doing. Gianluca nods, throws out some awkward agreement and Daniele smiles and leaves, happy and going home. Gianluca stands in the locker room, a damp towel hanging from his hand, wondering what he needs in his life to be that content. A World Cup trophy, a starting spot, before he can go home to his family after staying late to fuck a teammate? He leaves the training ground still wondering, that hole inside him not getting any smaller.
He comes into training late, rushing into the empty locker room and quickly changing, swearing at himself under his breath. A late night, a late entrance, these weren't things he needed right now. Right now, he needed to impress Spalletti. He needed to impress the club, his team, the fans. He needed to depose Doni, get attention, get noticed. He didn't need rushing onto the pitch when the rest of the club was already jogging along the sides, the nets already set up. Gianluca's face flared red when Spalletti greeted him with a raised eyebrow and unkind words as he ran to join his teammates.
Training was nothing new, the same repetitions, the same friction. Doni catching an impressive Totti free kick that almost made it; everyone leaving the pitch at the end of the day cheerful and confident. Gianluca stays away, between the sticks, looking out at the empty field. Imagines being at the Olimpico on matchday, watching the screaming crowds and rushing opponents, wearing the number one. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and it's like it could be real. If he only tried a little bit harder, got a little bit better.
"Hey." And he opens his eyes to Daniele standing before him, like nothing happened last night. Like nothing changes. He had thought De Rossi had already gone to change, but Daniele was standing before him in his training kit still, grass stain smearing his shorts and a little tear in the shoulder of his top.
"Since we're both out here, practice some free kicks?" Like he could resist De Rossi's almost shy smile, the grin it breaks into when Gianluca nods. Golden Boy runs out into the field, and Gianluca finally notices the netted bag of balls Daniele must have brought out with him. They practice free kicks for what seems far longer time than it actually was, and by the end of it Gianluca is grinning too, having stopped almost half of them, the ones going in impressive enough that he doesn't care (and the ones flying wildly by the bar causing Daniele to laugh with chagrin and not storm away). They go to gather the loose balls and store them, go into the empty change room.
He doesn't expect it when Daniele presses him against a locker (and oh God, he hopes it isn't Totti's), and his eyes are still open when Daniele moves his mouth from Gianluca's lips to his neck, hands not touching Daniele, like it's the first time when it isn't even close to that.
"Come on Curci, show a little life. You weren't this dead outside," Daniele says, raising his head to look at Gianluca's face. He's still smiling, shy and cocky, red rising up his cheeks. His thumb is rubbing along Gianluca's hip, making his shirt ride up and dragging the elastic of his shorts down. Gianluca makes himself smile a little and De Rossi's other hand reaches up to pull his head down. Daniele's biting his lip, tugging at his clothes and Gianluca wonders how they ever got to this point, how much he wants it. Wants all of it: Daniele, Roma, wants to be called up to the Nazionale, wants to make it five at the World Cup, celebrate with capitan futuro, wants to lead their club, wants the scudetto. He wants Daniele to fuck him by the lockers, wants to entrance him if only for a little while. He's pretty damn sure De Rossi isn't dragging Doni into the showers for anything.
Daniele gets their kits off, and Gianluca runs his hands across his ribcage. Daniele has his hands around their cocks, is biting at his shoulder. He lifts his head to look at Gianluca, still with that excited look.
"You could get on your knees or something. You know, if you wanted to," and at least they're both laughing at how it comes out, that they aren't so used to this that they can ask to get their cocks sucked without sounding like idiots.
Gianluca does, pushing Daniele to sit on the bench, mumbling something unintelligible to try and feel less awkward. He wonders if Daniele has this much trouble getting his wife to go down on him, like how Gianluca feels guilty just touching Sabrina when the baby's in the next room, and she gets that dreamy, lovely smile on her face when she tells him to keep it down, and he wakes up in the middle of the night to find her standing over the crib. She cries and kisses him, happy, and all the time he has that hole in his stomach, where he can't breathe or think, because he's definitely not kneeling in front of his girlfriend. He wonders if Daniele feels the same, like he's always going home guilty.
Like last night, when Daniele sucked him off in a hotel room and Gianluca fell asleep beside him after they jerked each other off in the shower. Gianluca woke up to a sheet being pulled up his body, Daniele kissing his cheek and, "I've got to get home, Gaia'll be waiting for her story," and he leaves with that goofy grin on his face. Gianluca always feels nervous around his son, who's so tiny and fragile that it seems he'll break if something touches him. Thinking about it, here, the hole in his stomach doesn't get any better.
He barely notices when Daniele pushes his head away; is it so routine now that he doesn't have to think about it? Daniele stumbles up and drags Gianluca up with him, renewing his attack on his mouth, pushing him against the lockers, turning him around.
"Shit," Daniele mumbles, "just… wait." He hops over the bench to his locker to rifle through his bag, and comes back with a condom and a bottle of lubricant. Gianluca smiles at Daniele's triumphant grin, leans his head against his arms on the locker with his eyes half-closed. Daniele kisses him, then moves to mouth at his shoulder blades while sliding slick fingers into him. Gianluca bites his lip and presses his forehead into the cool metal of the locker. Still not that routine, he supposes.
He hears Daniele fumble with the condom, feels him mouth swears into his back. He laughs, and Daniele does too, running fingers gently across his ribs. He presses in slowly, moaning; Gianluca inhales, tries not to shake.
He doesn't know how many times they've done this, how it evolved into illicit fucks in the locker room. Daniele starts to move harder, teeth scraping at Gianluca's back, and a hand reaches around to his cock, the other at his hip; Gianluca's grateful that Daniele bites his nails short enough that he doesn't scratch, even if he's indenting Gianluca's hip like he wants to leave fingerprints. One of Gianluca's arms slips sweat-slick against the locker and his forehead smacks against it. Daniele keeps moving, moaning into his back, and Gianluca's biting his lip to keep quiet, but comes with a gasped moan anyway. Daniele does soon after, panting with his forehead resting on Gianluca's shoulder. They move apart after a minute of respite, pick up their scattered clothes. The quiver of tension that sticks to Gianluca's body quiets when they end up making out in the shower, slipping against the floor and each other. They talk about training, the team, Lazio is screwed this season, and some new American film coming out soon that neither can remember the name of but both are sure features a very hot lead actress.
"I've got to go, the girls will be waiting. Maybe next week we can catch up some more," and the way he says it is so nonchalant, like he's perfectly comfortable with what they're doing. Gianluca nods, throws out some awkward agreement and Daniele smiles and leaves, happy and going home. Gianluca stands in the locker room, a damp towel hanging from his hand, wondering what he needs in his life to be that content. A World Cup trophy, a starting spot, before he can go home to his family after staying late to fuck a teammate? He leaves the training ground still wondering, that hole inside him not getting any smaller.