The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 7
Title: The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 7
Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: NC-17 (This part)
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 3,641 Words
Disclaimer: This is not real.
Summary: Do you know what love is? Why do humans fall in love? Do we all have 'soul mate' waiting for us? What does it take for one to love another? Does 'love at first sight' really exist?
David Beckham will court Victoria Adams with Iker Casillas' help. Gerard Piqué will conduct an experiment because he has this bullshit love theory about dogs. Fernando Torres loves piano and hates Daniel Agger. And Xabi Alonso has this penchant of solving every mystery in the world.
Their journeys through the teenage years will lead you to the discovery of the biggest conundrum in the universe, and back.
Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
A/N: I'll be away from my laptop for quite a while so I'll post this chapter now, I hope you don't mind. (I know you don't mind. ;))
And comments! Yay!
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 7
Cesc Fàbregas used to have girlfriends.
There were two. One was when he's in 6th grade, he's her first love. It was a puppy love. He didn't even know the concept of love at the time, he asked her out because she's pretty enough. She's a brunette, as tall as him, had deep brown eyes and succulent lips.
Her name was Thalia.
They broke up because they went to different secondary schools, the distance kept them apart.
His second girlfriend came in 7th grade, a while after his and Thalia’s separation. Her name was Daniella, a Lebanese girl with dark hair and tanned skin. They're together for almost two years.
Then Cesc broke up with her.
Because he then understood what that everyone called 'love' was all about and realized that what he felt for Daniella wasn’t even close to what he felt for one of his friends: his male friends.
Cesc's life had been screwed ever since.
He'd never thought of being homosexual before. He had a happy family, wasn't bad at studying and was even better at sports, his friends love him. Overall he had a happy life. Then why? WHY?
But what he felt for his best friend was unmistakable, undeniable. Hammers in his heart, butterflies in his stomach, blank anxiety in his head, every reflex his body screamed when the other boy was near was an enough telltale sign. He'd never felt like this with Daniella or Thalia or anybody else, and Cesc wasn't a denial person.
He knew it had always been Gerard Piqué.
It'd been two years since he realized what’s in his head for only God knew how long, and he couldn't get rid of it. He'd never thought of telling Gerard, though. They'd been friends for too long and being with him was natural. Gerard had never had lovers, neither girls nor boys, not that he knew of, so Cesc had never thought of them being apart before.
Not until now.
"I'm Cesc," he answered after a moment of hesitation. Van Persie grinned.
"Nice to meet you." He held out a hand and Cesc caught it for a casual shake. "You come here often?"
"Quite." Cesc shrugged, trying to be friendlier despite not in the mood since the other boy didn't seem to leave him alone soon.
"Me, too. Captain’s quite energetic, he needs lots of exercises." Van Persie gestured to the Pug who was barking playfully at Arsenal, an invitation for some gambols.
"Captain? That's cute." Cesc looked at the Pug, smiling automatically at its cheerfulness.
"Yes, how about yours? Is it him or her?" Van Persie regarded the Chihuahua adoringly.
"Him. His name's Arsenal."
"Sounds powerful," he commented. "Where do you study?"
"Sagrado Corazon. You?"
"Fomento El Prado," the boy answered.
There was silence.
"Well, I think I'll take a walk." Cesc stood up. "Would you want to?"
"Sure." Smiling, Van Persie got up, leash in hand. Captain was frolicking when the four of them walked along together. "Which grade are you in?" he asked.
"Tenth."
"Oh, I'm twelfth. Tenth grade is quite the fun phase. When you hit twelfth grade, all you think about will be what you'll do with life."
"Do you?" Cesc quirked his eyebrow.
"Yes, though my image doesn't fit with the notion of academic purpose, I quite excel at a lot of things scholastic." He grinned which Cesc thought was quite charming.
"What do you want to study in the uni?" asked Cesc.
"I've already applied for Computer Science," he said, "and Chemical Engineering."
"Which university?"
"Several, but I prefer UPM. They're the best around here for the Engineering faculty."
"If you're so into Engineering, maybe you should consider universities in Germany," Cesc pointed out.
"I'm not very excellent at English, let alone German." He chuckled. "I might consider some in Holland, there are some which are quite famous for Engineering, too, like Delft."
"Right, I notice your last name."
"I'm Dutch," Van Persie confirmed, "but been here since eleven."
"Your parents are expats?"
"Yes, my dad works at DSM."
"I see."
"You know, actually, I've seen you a couple of times here before. But normally you're with another boy."
Cesc grimaced. "He won't come again."
"Did you guys have a fight?"
"No," he snapped.
"Well, is he your boyfriend? Or was?"
The question took Cesc off guard, he went stock-still on the winding path. "Err, no." Blushed scarlet, too.
"Well, that's good." Van Persie winked. "What are your hobbies? Besides petting a Chihuahua."
Cesc was reckoning something along the line of 'thinking about Gerard Piqué’, but he replied, "Football, I guess."
"For real? I'm a biggest fan, too. What team do you support?"
"FC Barcelona. You?"
And they chatted while walking around the park, their puppies capering about and leading the way. When it's getting late, Cesc announced that he had to get home.
"I'll walk you home." Van Persie grinned his charming grin.
So the Dutch walked the Spaniard home though their house were on different paths, he asked for Cesc’s number when they arrived at the Fàbregas' door, so that they could meet for a walk again, he said.
Cesc gave it to him.
"Good night, Cesc." Van Persie smiled charmingly.
That's not bad at all, Cesc thought while shutting the door behind him, he'd had a nice walk and a good time. If he's sure he's bent and would stick to this path anyway, he could try. Van Persie wasn't a girl, and Cesc had never tried relationships with someone without boobs before, maybe he might like this boy eventually.
Just maybe.
***
Fernando didn't know what was happening.
His whole universe went blank, was squeezed into a sole space and time like he's now squeezed in Agger's tight embrace. The Dane's lips were on his and his mind's reeling hard trying to piece the puzzles together.
Agger was kissing him. What? Why?!
As Fernando's brain spun in sweet dizziness, the Dane deepened the kiss. He crushed their mouths together like to emphasize the feeling, sucked the Spaniard's lower lip and Fernando instinctively slightly parted his mouth, which Agger didn't wait for a second to shove his tongue in.
The Spaniard gasped, the Dane's hands clutched both sides of his waist and impassionedly stroked his back, hips, down to his perfect arse, and Fernando was aroused by every minute of every move. He moaned weakly into the Dane's mouth, their pants were the only other sound, and he went limp further as Agger got bolder and squashed his arse as well as pushing it down so that their groins pressed against each other, and Fernando almost bit the Dane's lower lip at the sweltering contact even through the rough fabric of their jeans, he could feel Agger's hardness under his and didn't even want to know his own condition.
Agger broke the kiss and panted heavily. His lips trailed along the Spaniard's freckly cheek to his ear, his chest heaved violently and his skin against Fernando's face was feverish. Then he intentionally pulled the Spaniard's hips to crush harder against his and Fernando jerked at the same time as Agger hissed the exactly same thing he had in his hazy mind, "fuck."
The first alien sound in the almost-eternity of heavy breaths and staggering moans suddenly drove all the fog in his mind away. The madness of the situation hit him and the idea of Agger actually 'fuck'ing him scared him to his marrow, though it's not all unpleasantly. Fernando abruptly sprang up, all his weight suddenly loaded onto Agger's crotch. The Dane gasped aloud, his hands tightened on the blonde’s hips and rocked them back and forth instinctively.
"Agger, Agger stop!" Fernando squeezed his eyes shut, laboring his breaths. His hands caught the Dane's wrists, stilling them. "What are we doing?!"
"Dry humping?" Agger suggested in a rough voice. He pushed himself up and before Fernando could blink, he found his back hitting the mattress: he under the Dane, their heads at the foot of the bed and his legs tangling around Agger's waist.
This is no good.
"Agger," the Spaniard protested weakly as Agger moved and the crashing waves of lust were almost unbearable. Fernando gritted his teeth fighting the blind ecstasy, his hands clutched the Dane's shirt. Agger's hot breaths singed the side of his throat, he's explicitly struggling with himself.
"Can I have you?" Agger asked dryly.
Fernando immediately snapped his drooping eyelids open. "What?!" He intended it to be a screech but it came out a bit wrong: raspy and sotto voce. Agger didn't answer or ask anything again but grinding their hips together to reassert his point. The Spaniard jolted and needed no further voicing request. He shoved the Dane off with all his feeble might - unexpectedly successful - and ground out, "hell, no!" Then he sat up right, trembling slightly. Agger sat there facing him. Their cheeks flushed and both were huffing turbulently.
Finally the Dane asked weakly, "why not?"
Fernando's still shivering, he wanted to hit something. "Why not?!" He repeated incredulously. "Do you even have an idea what you're doing?!" He yelled, more composed than ever when he didn't have the other boy's evidence of arousal throbbing against his.
"No, but how different could it be from with girls?" Agger's voice was still thick and he looked like he could lunge at the Spaniard again anytime. Fernando saw the necessity to be out in the open as fast as he could. Springing out of bed, he left the Dane who's too torpid to impede him in the lower bunk.
"What?!" With unrestricted space and sufficient distance, Fernando felt he could shout more menacingly as well as thinking more clearly about what'd just happened between them. Raking his hand through disheveled blond hair distraughtly, he tried to even the raving beats of his heart. "For one thing, Agger, I've never known you swing that way." The thought made him shiver but he’s quite certain not because of revulsion. He dismissed it fast enough.
"I don't!" Agger looked ghastly offended, eyes blazing with fire of either anger or desire, or both. "But you do."
"What?! What the fuck is this all about?!" Fernando squawked. "I'm not gay!"
"'Course you're," the Dane hissed through gritted teeth. The Spaniard's dumbstruck for a minute, then took in a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Agger, listen to me. I'M. NOT. GAY," he enunciated.
"Then what do you explain all this?" Agger gestured his hand at nothing in particular. Fernando gawked.
"Bastard. You started it!"
"You kissed me back," Agger retaliated, his lips still swollen from the said crime.
"I did not!" Fernando countered immediately.
They glared at each other challengingly, the Dane didn't reply and the room fell seethingly silent for a while. Their breaths were still irregular. Fernando didn't know about Agger, but for him, the lust had slightly subdued and the current struggling for oxygen was mainly due to exasperation.
"You think so?" The Dane raised his eyebrow and the eventual question from him didn't make the situation any better. Fernando chewed on his lower lip.
"I'm sure about it." But even when he confirmed the notion, a cryptic doubt popped up in his mind, is he?
A smirk on Agger's freckly face was a bit unforeseen and Fernando was taken aback. The Dane got up off the bed, smoothing out the creases of his t-shirt. He didn't seem skeptical for now but as he passed the stock-still Spaniard in the middle of the room, the closeness of his burning whisper prickled Fernando's nape and scorched his ear.
"We'll see."
***
Xabi was thunderstruck.
He stared blankly at his mobile for a very long time until Mikel asked, "Baby, what's wrong?" that he realized where he was.
"Nothing." Putting his phone back in his pocket, he smiled bitterly at everyone around the table then engaged in the conversations once again.
Yet he would never forget what he had to do.
The first thing Xabi did after stepping into his home after a walk back from the Artetas' household with Mikel was fishing his phone out. He opened the message, staring at it some more before typing,
'Who r u?'
He waited a while with a hammering heart before his mobile beeped again.
'I thought we agreed not to talk about this. ;)'
With that, Xabi got angry, he'd never agreed to such a thing. 'Y didn't u tell me u’r not Mikel?' He furiously typed back and waited. A minute passed.
'U've never asked.'
Xabi pressed his lips. 'U stood me up. U didn't show up behind the gym that day.'
'No, I was there.'
The Basque’s confused. 'I checked. No one was there.'
'That was after Arteta accosted u.'
Xabi felt like an idiot by every second. 'And u left because of Mikel. Y was that may I ask?'
'Because he had something very important to say to u.'
'And u didn't have?'
'That could wait.'
Xabi gritted his teeth in irritation. 'And I assume after a month, u've waited long enough?'
'U could say that.'
This was getting annoying. 'Tell me what u have 2 say.'
'U haven't answered my question.'
Xabi's brows knitted together now. 'What question?'
'The 'Hello, how r u?' one.'
The Basque sighed. 'I'm okay.'
'How r u with Arteta?'
Now that's interesting. 'What does this have anything 2 do with Mikel?'
'Mayb bcos he's ur boyfriend?'
Xabi was about to type that the reason he's with Mikel in the first place was because he thought Mikel was ‘him’ but resisted, that would be too cruel for Mikel. Instead he typed, 'We're fine'.
'Good 4 u then.' The reply was simple.
'Do u still want 2 meet?' The Spaniard held his breath after sending that question, waiting anxiously.
'Not now.'
His eyes widened and his hands shook. What? Why?! 'Y not?' He felt really unconfident now.
'Cos u r with Arteta, and I don't want 2 b a problem 2 u.'
Xabi stared at his mobile screen some more disbelievingly. Another message came after a minute of hush. ‘Can I ask u something?'
'Go on,' Xabi typed.
'Which type of radioactive decay doesn't change the atomic number?'
The Basque rolled his eyes but smiled, so this was how they would fall back into the routine. If the other wanted it like this, he had no reason to decline.
And now we reached nuclear physics level, what a progress. 'Gamma. Am I correct?'
'U r always brilliant, Xabi Alonso.'
Xabi waited three minutes more, and when he's sure his conversationalist had decided to drop the subject for the day, he typed, 'When will I meet u?'
A minute passed and a message came,
'Soon. ;)'
***
The room was smoldering despite the chill of October. He felt wet, because of the spilled water on the cover and his skin, and felt raw, because David's callous hands that stroked his chest through his t-shirt and raked his messy hair brought his primitive instinct to the surface. The world around them was bright from a bulb on the ceiling and all the pictures were clearly vivid as well as all the scents and touches: David's light stubbles that brushed his cheeks, David's odor which was the mix of salty sweat and peppermint bark from the soap he used and BVLGARI Black cologne he wore, David's bright blond hair that glowed in the yellowish LED light, David's sweats that wet his forehead, David's heart that beat against his, David's, David...
Everything about David made him light-headed in the meantime he remembered every detail correctly like he'd captured every moment with his mind, unlike last time. The wetness of David's lips against his was intoxicating, the heat of David's skin was mind-blowing and everything screamed sex.
"Iker..." David detached his lips and panted in the Spaniard's ear. Iker huffed, the deprivation of the English's lips was like quitting drugs and would certainly lead him to experience a withdrawal so the Spaniard caught David's nape and pulled him down.
"Stop talking," he whispered before crushing their lips together again.
The kiss was longer and deeper this time. When David thrust his tongue in Iker's mouth, he felt like he might explode. He moaned which sounded like a growl, and his hips bucked up instinctively. The Londoner gasped and broke the contact again. "Gosh, Iker, that was-"
He couldn't finish the sentence because the Spaniard bucked his hips again and the delicious friction was almost unbearable. David gasped again.
"I said, 'shut up'." Iker gritted his teeth. His hands slid down the English boy's arms and waist to the hem of his shirt, tugged it and pulled. David raised his arms up so the other could take his shirt off.
David's chest was solid and its sweat-sleekness gleamed in the light. Iker's breath hitched as his eyes tracked the Londoner's abs down to the slight coarse blond hair on his lower belly which disappeared under the edge of his jeans.
The last time they had sex, the room was dark. Now that it's bright and clear, Iker found his heart drumming to the expectation of the upcoming perspective. That thing under those jeans was visibly straining for freedom against the rough fabric. In Iker's mind, he blearily recalled the sensation of it breaching him, how painful, inside him, how fitting, thrusting in and out of him, how drunkenly wonderful it actually felt. David's hung, and his mind screamed to see it, touch it, have it in him once again no matter how err it sounded. His hand followed his thought, it rose to stroke David's face, at which the English turned to kiss adoringly, then down to the strong shoulder, firm chest, muscular stomach, ran through coarse blond hair and, unwaveringly, stopped still on the bulge of David's trouser.
The Londoner's breath caught but the challenge in his eyes glistened daringly in the LED light. There's only a moment of hesitation before Iker squeezed the hardness in his hand. David jerked and huffed, his head dropped to snuggle against the Spaniard's neck. "Take off your clothes," he hissed.
"Take off your jeans," Iker hissed back in David's ear.
He could feel the English’s quirked-up lips against his cheek. "Could you do it for me?"
The Spaniard felt his cheeks flush at the thought but dipped his hands down to David's buckle nonetheless. The Spaniard unfastened the belt and unzipped the jeans. David's left hand laid on Iker's right one, helping as he struggled out of his denim and y-front.
The sight made the Spaniard’s heart skip a beat: David's erection at its full-length. The English's cheeks blushed as he caught Iker gawking at his bits so he hastily grabbed the hem of the Spaniard's shirt and pulled it up. Iker caught on and took it off while David turned to fumble with the Spaniard's belt. He took off Iker's pants and the Spaniard felt totally exposed lying there under the bright light in the middle of the night.
He didn't have to be embarrassed about his nudity long because David lowered himself and covered the core of his uneasiness by taking its head in the heat of his mouth.
Iker bolted and gasped in shock, the cave of David's mouth was inflamed but instead of melting in there, the Spaniard felt that his erection was even more rigid. And when the Londoner's lips slid down his shaft, taking it all to the back of his throat, Iker wanted as much to scream but he bit his lower lip, letting slip only whimpering moans.
David drew his mouth away when the Spaniard's length was dripping wet leaving Iker lay panting heavily. The English asked very softly and huskily,
"Could you do that for me, too?"
Iker was apprehensive but he nodded, anyway. Lying down on his back beside the Spaniard, the English caught the other boy's shoulder, encouraging him to get down to his crotch and on his knees. Iker obeyed but he had no experience with the thing in front of him or actually anything at all and David could see right through his tension. "It's okay," David reassured gently, his fingers brushed Iker's damp hair off his eyes, so tenderly like he actually cared. "I just need you to wet it, just like I did to yours. You needn't worry about making me feel good or anything."
But Iker did worry and he tried his best to keep his sharp teeth away from David's hardened flesh. There were once or twice that they grazed too harshly and he could feel David's hand in his hair tighten as well as the hisses, but after that the British would caress his hair supportively once more.
"Okay, that's enough," David said and gently pulled Iker by his hair away from his groin. He shifted their positions: Iker down on his back and the English on top of him once again. "I-I'll-" David stumbled against the other's ear, Iker interrupted,
"David, just do it." With that, he realized that his voice was scratchy, too. But David did stop blabbering and instead, lowered his hands to catch the Spaniard's thighs to push them up, and Iker submitted.
It took a while before the Londoner found the right place to push and breach, and what Iker could do to halt his scream was biting his lip and digging his nails into David's back. When the English was all the way in at last, they're both trembling violently. David started, "Iker...,"
The Spaniard caught David's cheeks with both hands and crushed their lips together with all the passion because he didn't want to hear anything anymore.
Iker remembered everything within fifteen minutes after that very clearly, and for him, it felt like their first time more than their real first time.
To be continued in Chapter 8.
.
Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: NC-17 (This part)
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 3,641 Words
Disclaimer: This is not real.
Summary: Do you know what love is? Why do humans fall in love? Do we all have 'soul mate' waiting for us? What does it take for one to love another? Does 'love at first sight' really exist?
David Beckham will court Victoria Adams with Iker Casillas' help. Gerard Piqué will conduct an experiment because he has this bullshit love theory about dogs. Fernando Torres loves piano and hates Daniel Agger. And Xabi Alonso has this penchant of solving every mystery in the world.
Their journeys through the teenage years will lead you to the discovery of the biggest conundrum in the universe, and back.
Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
A/N: I'll be away from my laptop for quite a while so I'll post this chapter now, I hope you don't mind. (I know you don't mind. ;))
And comments! Yay!
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 7
Cesc Fàbregas used to have girlfriends.
There were two. One was when he's in 6th grade, he's her first love. It was a puppy love. He didn't even know the concept of love at the time, he asked her out because she's pretty enough. She's a brunette, as tall as him, had deep brown eyes and succulent lips.
Her name was Thalia.
They broke up because they went to different secondary schools, the distance kept them apart.
His second girlfriend came in 7th grade, a while after his and Thalia’s separation. Her name was Daniella, a Lebanese girl with dark hair and tanned skin. They're together for almost two years.
Then Cesc broke up with her.
Because he then understood what that everyone called 'love' was all about and realized that what he felt for Daniella wasn’t even close to what he felt for one of his friends: his male friends.
Cesc's life had been screwed ever since.
He'd never thought of being homosexual before. He had a happy family, wasn't bad at studying and was even better at sports, his friends love him. Overall he had a happy life. Then why? WHY?
But what he felt for his best friend was unmistakable, undeniable. Hammers in his heart, butterflies in his stomach, blank anxiety in his head, every reflex his body screamed when the other boy was near was an enough telltale sign. He'd never felt like this with Daniella or Thalia or anybody else, and Cesc wasn't a denial person.
He knew it had always been Gerard Piqué.
It'd been two years since he realized what’s in his head for only God knew how long, and he couldn't get rid of it. He'd never thought of telling Gerard, though. They'd been friends for too long and being with him was natural. Gerard had never had lovers, neither girls nor boys, not that he knew of, so Cesc had never thought of them being apart before.
Not until now.
"I'm Cesc," he answered after a moment of hesitation. Van Persie grinned.
"Nice to meet you." He held out a hand and Cesc caught it for a casual shake. "You come here often?"
"Quite." Cesc shrugged, trying to be friendlier despite not in the mood since the other boy didn't seem to leave him alone soon.
"Me, too. Captain’s quite energetic, he needs lots of exercises." Van Persie gestured to the Pug who was barking playfully at Arsenal, an invitation for some gambols.
"Captain? That's cute." Cesc looked at the Pug, smiling automatically at its cheerfulness.
"Yes, how about yours? Is it him or her?" Van Persie regarded the Chihuahua adoringly.
"Him. His name's Arsenal."
"Sounds powerful," he commented. "Where do you study?"
"Sagrado Corazon. You?"
"Fomento El Prado," the boy answered.
There was silence.
"Well, I think I'll take a walk." Cesc stood up. "Would you want to?"
"Sure." Smiling, Van Persie got up, leash in hand. Captain was frolicking when the four of them walked along together. "Which grade are you in?" he asked.
"Tenth."
"Oh, I'm twelfth. Tenth grade is quite the fun phase. When you hit twelfth grade, all you think about will be what you'll do with life."
"Do you?" Cesc quirked his eyebrow.
"Yes, though my image doesn't fit with the notion of academic purpose, I quite excel at a lot of things scholastic." He grinned which Cesc thought was quite charming.
"What do you want to study in the uni?" asked Cesc.
"I've already applied for Computer Science," he said, "and Chemical Engineering."
"Which university?"
"Several, but I prefer UPM. They're the best around here for the Engineering faculty."
"If you're so into Engineering, maybe you should consider universities in Germany," Cesc pointed out.
"I'm not very excellent at English, let alone German." He chuckled. "I might consider some in Holland, there are some which are quite famous for Engineering, too, like Delft."
"Right, I notice your last name."
"I'm Dutch," Van Persie confirmed, "but been here since eleven."
"Your parents are expats?"
"Yes, my dad works at DSM."
"I see."
"You know, actually, I've seen you a couple of times here before. But normally you're with another boy."
Cesc grimaced. "He won't come again."
"Did you guys have a fight?"
"No," he snapped.
"Well, is he your boyfriend? Or was?"
The question took Cesc off guard, he went stock-still on the winding path. "Err, no." Blushed scarlet, too.
"Well, that's good." Van Persie winked. "What are your hobbies? Besides petting a Chihuahua."
Cesc was reckoning something along the line of 'thinking about Gerard Piqué’, but he replied, "Football, I guess."
"For real? I'm a biggest fan, too. What team do you support?"
"FC Barcelona. You?"
And they chatted while walking around the park, their puppies capering about and leading the way. When it's getting late, Cesc announced that he had to get home.
"I'll walk you home." Van Persie grinned his charming grin.
So the Dutch walked the Spaniard home though their house were on different paths, he asked for Cesc’s number when they arrived at the Fàbregas' door, so that they could meet for a walk again, he said.
Cesc gave it to him.
"Good night, Cesc." Van Persie smiled charmingly.
That's not bad at all, Cesc thought while shutting the door behind him, he'd had a nice walk and a good time. If he's sure he's bent and would stick to this path anyway, he could try. Van Persie wasn't a girl, and Cesc had never tried relationships with someone without boobs before, maybe he might like this boy eventually.
Just maybe.
***
Fernando didn't know what was happening.
His whole universe went blank, was squeezed into a sole space and time like he's now squeezed in Agger's tight embrace. The Dane's lips were on his and his mind's reeling hard trying to piece the puzzles together.
Agger was kissing him. What? Why?!
As Fernando's brain spun in sweet dizziness, the Dane deepened the kiss. He crushed their mouths together like to emphasize the feeling, sucked the Spaniard's lower lip and Fernando instinctively slightly parted his mouth, which Agger didn't wait for a second to shove his tongue in.
The Spaniard gasped, the Dane's hands clutched both sides of his waist and impassionedly stroked his back, hips, down to his perfect arse, and Fernando was aroused by every minute of every move. He moaned weakly into the Dane's mouth, their pants were the only other sound, and he went limp further as Agger got bolder and squashed his arse as well as pushing it down so that their groins pressed against each other, and Fernando almost bit the Dane's lower lip at the sweltering contact even through the rough fabric of their jeans, he could feel Agger's hardness under his and didn't even want to know his own condition.
Agger broke the kiss and panted heavily. His lips trailed along the Spaniard's freckly cheek to his ear, his chest heaved violently and his skin against Fernando's face was feverish. Then he intentionally pulled the Spaniard's hips to crush harder against his and Fernando jerked at the same time as Agger hissed the exactly same thing he had in his hazy mind, "fuck."
The first alien sound in the almost-eternity of heavy breaths and staggering moans suddenly drove all the fog in his mind away. The madness of the situation hit him and the idea of Agger actually 'fuck'ing him scared him to his marrow, though it's not all unpleasantly. Fernando abruptly sprang up, all his weight suddenly loaded onto Agger's crotch. The Dane gasped aloud, his hands tightened on the blonde’s hips and rocked them back and forth instinctively.
"Agger, Agger stop!" Fernando squeezed his eyes shut, laboring his breaths. His hands caught the Dane's wrists, stilling them. "What are we doing?!"
"Dry humping?" Agger suggested in a rough voice. He pushed himself up and before Fernando could blink, he found his back hitting the mattress: he under the Dane, their heads at the foot of the bed and his legs tangling around Agger's waist.
This is no good.
"Agger," the Spaniard protested weakly as Agger moved and the crashing waves of lust were almost unbearable. Fernando gritted his teeth fighting the blind ecstasy, his hands clutched the Dane's shirt. Agger's hot breaths singed the side of his throat, he's explicitly struggling with himself.
"Can I have you?" Agger asked dryly.
Fernando immediately snapped his drooping eyelids open. "What?!" He intended it to be a screech but it came out a bit wrong: raspy and sotto voce. Agger didn't answer or ask anything again but grinding their hips together to reassert his point. The Spaniard jolted and needed no further voicing request. He shoved the Dane off with all his feeble might - unexpectedly successful - and ground out, "hell, no!" Then he sat up right, trembling slightly. Agger sat there facing him. Their cheeks flushed and both were huffing turbulently.
Finally the Dane asked weakly, "why not?"
Fernando's still shivering, he wanted to hit something. "Why not?!" He repeated incredulously. "Do you even have an idea what you're doing?!" He yelled, more composed than ever when he didn't have the other boy's evidence of arousal throbbing against his.
"No, but how different could it be from with girls?" Agger's voice was still thick and he looked like he could lunge at the Spaniard again anytime. Fernando saw the necessity to be out in the open as fast as he could. Springing out of bed, he left the Dane who's too torpid to impede him in the lower bunk.
"What?!" With unrestricted space and sufficient distance, Fernando felt he could shout more menacingly as well as thinking more clearly about what'd just happened between them. Raking his hand through disheveled blond hair distraughtly, he tried to even the raving beats of his heart. "For one thing, Agger, I've never known you swing that way." The thought made him shiver but he’s quite certain not because of revulsion. He dismissed it fast enough.
"I don't!" Agger looked ghastly offended, eyes blazing with fire of either anger or desire, or both. "But you do."
"What?! What the fuck is this all about?!" Fernando squawked. "I'm not gay!"
"'Course you're," the Dane hissed through gritted teeth. The Spaniard's dumbstruck for a minute, then took in a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Agger, listen to me. I'M. NOT. GAY," he enunciated.
"Then what do you explain all this?" Agger gestured his hand at nothing in particular. Fernando gawked.
"Bastard. You started it!"
"You kissed me back," Agger retaliated, his lips still swollen from the said crime.
"I did not!" Fernando countered immediately.
They glared at each other challengingly, the Dane didn't reply and the room fell seethingly silent for a while. Their breaths were still irregular. Fernando didn't know about Agger, but for him, the lust had slightly subdued and the current struggling for oxygen was mainly due to exasperation.
"You think so?" The Dane raised his eyebrow and the eventual question from him didn't make the situation any better. Fernando chewed on his lower lip.
"I'm sure about it." But even when he confirmed the notion, a cryptic doubt popped up in his mind, is he?
A smirk on Agger's freckly face was a bit unforeseen and Fernando was taken aback. The Dane got up off the bed, smoothing out the creases of his t-shirt. He didn't seem skeptical for now but as he passed the stock-still Spaniard in the middle of the room, the closeness of his burning whisper prickled Fernando's nape and scorched his ear.
"We'll see."
***
Xabi was thunderstruck.
He stared blankly at his mobile for a very long time until Mikel asked, "Baby, what's wrong?" that he realized where he was.
"Nothing." Putting his phone back in his pocket, he smiled bitterly at everyone around the table then engaged in the conversations once again.
Yet he would never forget what he had to do.
The first thing Xabi did after stepping into his home after a walk back from the Artetas' household with Mikel was fishing his phone out. He opened the message, staring at it some more before typing,
'Who r u?'
He waited a while with a hammering heart before his mobile beeped again.
'I thought we agreed not to talk about this. ;)'
With that, Xabi got angry, he'd never agreed to such a thing. 'Y didn't u tell me u’r not Mikel?' He furiously typed back and waited. A minute passed.
'U've never asked.'
Xabi pressed his lips. 'U stood me up. U didn't show up behind the gym that day.'
'No, I was there.'
The Basque’s confused. 'I checked. No one was there.'
'That was after Arteta accosted u.'
Xabi felt like an idiot by every second. 'And u left because of Mikel. Y was that may I ask?'
'Because he had something very important to say to u.'
'And u didn't have?'
'That could wait.'
Xabi gritted his teeth in irritation. 'And I assume after a month, u've waited long enough?'
'U could say that.'
This was getting annoying. 'Tell me what u have 2 say.'
'U haven't answered my question.'
Xabi's brows knitted together now. 'What question?'
'The 'Hello, how r u?' one.'
The Basque sighed. 'I'm okay.'
'How r u with Arteta?'
Now that's interesting. 'What does this have anything 2 do with Mikel?'
'Mayb bcos he's ur boyfriend?'
Xabi was about to type that the reason he's with Mikel in the first place was because he thought Mikel was ‘him’ but resisted, that would be too cruel for Mikel. Instead he typed, 'We're fine'.
'Good 4 u then.' The reply was simple.
'Do u still want 2 meet?' The Spaniard held his breath after sending that question, waiting anxiously.
'Not now.'
His eyes widened and his hands shook. What? Why?! 'Y not?' He felt really unconfident now.
'Cos u r with Arteta, and I don't want 2 b a problem 2 u.'
Xabi stared at his mobile screen some more disbelievingly. Another message came after a minute of hush. ‘Can I ask u something?'
'Go on,' Xabi typed.
'Which type of radioactive decay doesn't change the atomic number?'
The Basque rolled his eyes but smiled, so this was how they would fall back into the routine. If the other wanted it like this, he had no reason to decline.
And now we reached nuclear physics level, what a progress. 'Gamma. Am I correct?'
'U r always brilliant, Xabi Alonso.'
Xabi waited three minutes more, and when he's sure his conversationalist had decided to drop the subject for the day, he typed, 'When will I meet u?'
A minute passed and a message came,
'Soon. ;)'
***
The room was smoldering despite the chill of October. He felt wet, because of the spilled water on the cover and his skin, and felt raw, because David's callous hands that stroked his chest through his t-shirt and raked his messy hair brought his primitive instinct to the surface. The world around them was bright from a bulb on the ceiling and all the pictures were clearly vivid as well as all the scents and touches: David's light stubbles that brushed his cheeks, David's odor which was the mix of salty sweat and peppermint bark from the soap he used and BVLGARI Black cologne he wore, David's bright blond hair that glowed in the yellowish LED light, David's sweats that wet his forehead, David's heart that beat against his, David's, David...
Everything about David made him light-headed in the meantime he remembered every detail correctly like he'd captured every moment with his mind, unlike last time. The wetness of David's lips against his was intoxicating, the heat of David's skin was mind-blowing and everything screamed sex.
"Iker..." David detached his lips and panted in the Spaniard's ear. Iker huffed, the deprivation of the English's lips was like quitting drugs and would certainly lead him to experience a withdrawal so the Spaniard caught David's nape and pulled him down.
"Stop talking," he whispered before crushing their lips together again.
The kiss was longer and deeper this time. When David thrust his tongue in Iker's mouth, he felt like he might explode. He moaned which sounded like a growl, and his hips bucked up instinctively. The Londoner gasped and broke the contact again. "Gosh, Iker, that was-"
He couldn't finish the sentence because the Spaniard bucked his hips again and the delicious friction was almost unbearable. David gasped again.
"I said, 'shut up'." Iker gritted his teeth. His hands slid down the English boy's arms and waist to the hem of his shirt, tugged it and pulled. David raised his arms up so the other could take his shirt off.
David's chest was solid and its sweat-sleekness gleamed in the light. Iker's breath hitched as his eyes tracked the Londoner's abs down to the slight coarse blond hair on his lower belly which disappeared under the edge of his jeans.
The last time they had sex, the room was dark. Now that it's bright and clear, Iker found his heart drumming to the expectation of the upcoming perspective. That thing under those jeans was visibly straining for freedom against the rough fabric. In Iker's mind, he blearily recalled the sensation of it breaching him, how painful, inside him, how fitting, thrusting in and out of him, how drunkenly wonderful it actually felt. David's hung, and his mind screamed to see it, touch it, have it in him once again no matter how err it sounded. His hand followed his thought, it rose to stroke David's face, at which the English turned to kiss adoringly, then down to the strong shoulder, firm chest, muscular stomach, ran through coarse blond hair and, unwaveringly, stopped still on the bulge of David's trouser.
The Londoner's breath caught but the challenge in his eyes glistened daringly in the LED light. There's only a moment of hesitation before Iker squeezed the hardness in his hand. David jerked and huffed, his head dropped to snuggle against the Spaniard's neck. "Take off your clothes," he hissed.
"Take off your jeans," Iker hissed back in David's ear.
He could feel the English’s quirked-up lips against his cheek. "Could you do it for me?"
The Spaniard felt his cheeks flush at the thought but dipped his hands down to David's buckle nonetheless. The Spaniard unfastened the belt and unzipped the jeans. David's left hand laid on Iker's right one, helping as he struggled out of his denim and y-front.
The sight made the Spaniard’s heart skip a beat: David's erection at its full-length. The English's cheeks blushed as he caught Iker gawking at his bits so he hastily grabbed the hem of the Spaniard's shirt and pulled it up. Iker caught on and took it off while David turned to fumble with the Spaniard's belt. He took off Iker's pants and the Spaniard felt totally exposed lying there under the bright light in the middle of the night.
He didn't have to be embarrassed about his nudity long because David lowered himself and covered the core of his uneasiness by taking its head in the heat of his mouth.
Iker bolted and gasped in shock, the cave of David's mouth was inflamed but instead of melting in there, the Spaniard felt that his erection was even more rigid. And when the Londoner's lips slid down his shaft, taking it all to the back of his throat, Iker wanted as much to scream but he bit his lower lip, letting slip only whimpering moans.
David drew his mouth away when the Spaniard's length was dripping wet leaving Iker lay panting heavily. The English asked very softly and huskily,
"Could you do that for me, too?"
Iker was apprehensive but he nodded, anyway. Lying down on his back beside the Spaniard, the English caught the other boy's shoulder, encouraging him to get down to his crotch and on his knees. Iker obeyed but he had no experience with the thing in front of him or actually anything at all and David could see right through his tension. "It's okay," David reassured gently, his fingers brushed Iker's damp hair off his eyes, so tenderly like he actually cared. "I just need you to wet it, just like I did to yours. You needn't worry about making me feel good or anything."
But Iker did worry and he tried his best to keep his sharp teeth away from David's hardened flesh. There were once or twice that they grazed too harshly and he could feel David's hand in his hair tighten as well as the hisses, but after that the British would caress his hair supportively once more.
"Okay, that's enough," David said and gently pulled Iker by his hair away from his groin. He shifted their positions: Iker down on his back and the English on top of him once again. "I-I'll-" David stumbled against the other's ear, Iker interrupted,
"David, just do it." With that, he realized that his voice was scratchy, too. But David did stop blabbering and instead, lowered his hands to catch the Spaniard's thighs to push them up, and Iker submitted.
It took a while before the Londoner found the right place to push and breach, and what Iker could do to halt his scream was biting his lip and digging his nails into David's back. When the English was all the way in at last, they're both trembling violently. David started, "Iker...,"
The Spaniard caught David's cheeks with both hands and crushed their lips together with all the passion because he didn't want to hear anything anymore.
Iker remembered everything within fifteen minutes after that very clearly, and for him, it felt like their first time more than their real first time.
To be continued in Chapter 8.
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