Fic: gangsters don't love 10a [Pep/Bojan]
Title: gangsters don’t love 10a
Author: foot_faults
Characters/Pairing this chapter: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkić
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 980
Disclaimer: this is an entirely fictional story with fictional characters. Any resemblance to real life is a coincidence.
Summery: Pep Guardiola is the head of one of the largest mafia groups in Spain. But what’s a gangster to do when he gets his own personal hostage in the form of the grandson of his biggest enemy?
Disclaimer part 2: I don’t know anything about the mafia, Spanish or otherwise. This is all made up like a made up thing. Also I realize that Bojan is not really Pérez’s grandson, but see the disclaimer about this being made up. These are not real people; they are fictional characters with fictional families and fictional lives.
Note: Wow, it’s been almost 2 months since I updated this! I’m sorry! I don’t have a finished chapter yet, and have to study for a midterm right now, so here, have half a chapter. I hope you’ll forgive me for updating so little, RL has really gotten to me, and it’s hard to juggle writing 2 chaptered fics at once. Anyway, here is a little bit of a chapter to tide you over!
Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4a | 4b | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Pep waits for what he judges to be long enough, then reaches up to gently stroke Bojan's cheek again. Despite his slow careful movements, Bojan jumps once more at the touch, but this time he quickly settles down, leaning cautiously into Pep's hand. If he were a cat, he would be showing cautious beginning rumbles of a purr, Pep muses. Pep waits, patient, his only movement the stroking of his thumb against Bojan's cheek. It's better if Bojan makes the next move.
Bojan meanwhile, is staring down into the water between them, chewing on his lip, his mind clearly working furiously. Finally he glances back up at Pep, and his whole face stains with the blush. "Did ..." he starts, and the blush deepens.
"Did what?" Pep asks patiently.
"Didyoulikethat?" Bojan manages to get out, then ducks back down into the water, only his eyes showing, like hiding there will protect him from what he has said.
Pep can't help another chuckle. Bojan flinches, and Pep quickly reaches out to stroke reassuringly at his hair. "Do you want me to show you how much I liked it?" he asks.
Bojan blinks at him, not comprehending, then begins to stiffen, eyes growing wide. Pep notices his quick darting glances downwards, into the water between them, and how he starts to shrink away. "Shh," Pep says. "Like this." He carefully cups Bojan's jaw. "Come here."
"Oh." Bojan relaxes again, mouth softening as he allows himself to be drawn forward, and then Pep is pressing their lips together again. He's slow and gentle, coaxing Bojan's little mouth open bit by bit, until it's all there, lush and waiting for him to take it, and so he does. His tongue invades, his hand cradling Bojan's head to hold him still, fingers sliding through soft wet strands. He can feel Bojan's surprised moan muffled against his mouth, feel the vibrations of it, and it makes his own mouth more all consuming, invading deeper, claiming more. Bojan is twisting and writhing against him, as if he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as if he can't help but move against Pep. He keeps making these abortive little gasps of moans, and Pep chases them back into his mouth with his tongue. Bojan's mouth is lush and sweet, and he's responsive under Pep. It feels good to be kissing him like this, good to be kissing him like he means it.
When they part for air, Bojan's thin little chest is heaving, and he's panting slightly, eyes glassy with confused lust. He looks so young, Pep realizes, so young and wanting, but not quite understanding what he wants. It's that innocence that makes Pep's throat tighten, that sweet confused-yet-trusting yearning that makes his chest ache. It's those big eyes staring up at him that make Pep push back, sending Bojan off his lap. "I can't do this," he mumbles as he stands, a wave of water splashing out of the tub. He climbs out awkwardly, his sodden clothes now weighing him down like lead, his movements stiff, jerky.
"What? What?" Bojan flings his arms out to catch himself as he tumbles from Pep's lap, spluttering as water splashes into his mouth. "What?" He stares up at Pep with confusion and growing distress. "Was- was it something I did?"
Pep's stripping out of his sodden clothes, fingers fumbling with the slick buttons, but he pauses at the way Bojan's voice breaks on the last word. "Oh, no. No, no, no, niño, no. It was-"
Bojan isn't listening though, face crumpling even as he tries to hide it, turning away and ducking down into the water again.
"Niño-" Pep is quickly kneeling by the tub-side. How does he put his feelings into words, when he doesn’t quite know them himself? “It wasn’t anything you did, I promise,” he says instead.
Bojan doesn’t respond, and then to his horror Pep hears a sniffle over the sloshing of the water, and leaning over the tub so that he can get a look at Bojan’s face, he realizes the boy is crying.
“Niño- no, no, here, come here.” Pep’s not sure what he’s doing, except that tears are the last thing he wanted to cause, and so he reaches into the tub, wrapping his arms around Bojan’s torso and awkwardly hoisting up. Bojan flails a little in surprise, but then he’s a dead weight in Pep’s arms, neither helping nor hindering. When Pep has him most of the way out of the tub, Bojan finally has to contribute, or fall, and so Pep manages to pull Bojan into his lap with little mishap. Bojan is stiff, all rigid limbs and drawn face, on which tears continue to fall. He keeps his eyes averted so that he does not have to look at Pep.
Keeping Bojan clutched to his chest, Pep scootches until towels are in reach, and then pulls a large one down to wrap around Bojan’s quickly chilling form. “Shh, shh,” he says, though Bojan is crying silently. “Shh, there, it’s okay.”
Slowly, Bojan quiets, shrinking down in the enormous towel. Pep, who is sodden and chilly himself, grabs another towel to wrap around his own shoulders. His attention though, is on the boy in his arms. Young man, he reminds himself. Thinking of Bojan as a boy won’t help anything.
It’s hard not to do though, when he has Bojan cradled in his arms and the boy’s--young man’s--boy’s head is slowly drooping against Pep’s chest as he gives into the tiredness all the wildly fluctuating emotions and crying have produced in him. Staring down at the crown of Bojan’s head, Pep comes to a decision. It’s difficult, climbing to his feet with Bojan in his arms, but Pep manages. Bojan startles when Pep starts to get up, a “what?” escaping his lips, but he’s quickly silent again.
Author: foot_faults
Characters/Pairing this chapter: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkić
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 980
Disclaimer: this is an entirely fictional story with fictional characters. Any resemblance to real life is a coincidence.
Summery: Pep Guardiola is the head of one of the largest mafia groups in Spain. But what’s a gangster to do when he gets his own personal hostage in the form of the grandson of his biggest enemy?
Disclaimer part 2: I don’t know anything about the mafia, Spanish or otherwise. This is all made up like a made up thing. Also I realize that Bojan is not really Pérez’s grandson, but see the disclaimer about this being made up. These are not real people; they are fictional characters with fictional families and fictional lives.
Note: Wow, it’s been almost 2 months since I updated this! I’m sorry! I don’t have a finished chapter yet, and have to study for a midterm right now, so here, have half a chapter. I hope you’ll forgive me for updating so little, RL has really gotten to me, and it’s hard to juggle writing 2 chaptered fics at once. Anyway, here is a little bit of a chapter to tide you over!
Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4a | 4b | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Pep waits for what he judges to be long enough, then reaches up to gently stroke Bojan's cheek again. Despite his slow careful movements, Bojan jumps once more at the touch, but this time he quickly settles down, leaning cautiously into Pep's hand. If he were a cat, he would be showing cautious beginning rumbles of a purr, Pep muses. Pep waits, patient, his only movement the stroking of his thumb against Bojan's cheek. It's better if Bojan makes the next move.
Bojan meanwhile, is staring down into the water between them, chewing on his lip, his mind clearly working furiously. Finally he glances back up at Pep, and his whole face stains with the blush. "Did ..." he starts, and the blush deepens.
"Did what?" Pep asks patiently.
"Didyoulikethat?" Bojan manages to get out, then ducks back down into the water, only his eyes showing, like hiding there will protect him from what he has said.
Pep can't help another chuckle. Bojan flinches, and Pep quickly reaches out to stroke reassuringly at his hair. "Do you want me to show you how much I liked it?" he asks.
Bojan blinks at him, not comprehending, then begins to stiffen, eyes growing wide. Pep notices his quick darting glances downwards, into the water between them, and how he starts to shrink away. "Shh," Pep says. "Like this." He carefully cups Bojan's jaw. "Come here."
"Oh." Bojan relaxes again, mouth softening as he allows himself to be drawn forward, and then Pep is pressing their lips together again. He's slow and gentle, coaxing Bojan's little mouth open bit by bit, until it's all there, lush and waiting for him to take it, and so he does. His tongue invades, his hand cradling Bojan's head to hold him still, fingers sliding through soft wet strands. He can feel Bojan's surprised moan muffled against his mouth, feel the vibrations of it, and it makes his own mouth more all consuming, invading deeper, claiming more. Bojan is twisting and writhing against him, as if he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as if he can't help but move against Pep. He keeps making these abortive little gasps of moans, and Pep chases them back into his mouth with his tongue. Bojan's mouth is lush and sweet, and he's responsive under Pep. It feels good to be kissing him like this, good to be kissing him like he means it.
When they part for air, Bojan's thin little chest is heaving, and he's panting slightly, eyes glassy with confused lust. He looks so young, Pep realizes, so young and wanting, but not quite understanding what he wants. It's that innocence that makes Pep's throat tighten, that sweet confused-yet-trusting yearning that makes his chest ache. It's those big eyes staring up at him that make Pep push back, sending Bojan off his lap. "I can't do this," he mumbles as he stands, a wave of water splashing out of the tub. He climbs out awkwardly, his sodden clothes now weighing him down like lead, his movements stiff, jerky.
"What? What?" Bojan flings his arms out to catch himself as he tumbles from Pep's lap, spluttering as water splashes into his mouth. "What?" He stares up at Pep with confusion and growing distress. "Was- was it something I did?"
Pep's stripping out of his sodden clothes, fingers fumbling with the slick buttons, but he pauses at the way Bojan's voice breaks on the last word. "Oh, no. No, no, no, niño, no. It was-"
Bojan isn't listening though, face crumpling even as he tries to hide it, turning away and ducking down into the water again.
"Niño-" Pep is quickly kneeling by the tub-side. How does he put his feelings into words, when he doesn’t quite know them himself? “It wasn’t anything you did, I promise,” he says instead.
Bojan doesn’t respond, and then to his horror Pep hears a sniffle over the sloshing of the water, and leaning over the tub so that he can get a look at Bojan’s face, he realizes the boy is crying.
“Niño- no, no, here, come here.” Pep’s not sure what he’s doing, except that tears are the last thing he wanted to cause, and so he reaches into the tub, wrapping his arms around Bojan’s torso and awkwardly hoisting up. Bojan flails a little in surprise, but then he’s a dead weight in Pep’s arms, neither helping nor hindering. When Pep has him most of the way out of the tub, Bojan finally has to contribute, or fall, and so Pep manages to pull Bojan into his lap with little mishap. Bojan is stiff, all rigid limbs and drawn face, on which tears continue to fall. He keeps his eyes averted so that he does not have to look at Pep.
Keeping Bojan clutched to his chest, Pep scootches until towels are in reach, and then pulls a large one down to wrap around Bojan’s quickly chilling form. “Shh, shh,” he says, though Bojan is crying silently. “Shh, there, it’s okay.”
Slowly, Bojan quiets, shrinking down in the enormous towel. Pep, who is sodden and chilly himself, grabs another towel to wrap around his own shoulders. His attention though, is on the boy in his arms. Young man, he reminds himself. Thinking of Bojan as a boy won’t help anything.
It’s hard not to do though, when he has Bojan cradled in his arms and the boy’s--young man’s--boy’s head is slowly drooping against Pep’s chest as he gives into the tiredness all the wildly fluctuating emotions and crying have produced in him. Staring down at the crown of Bojan’s head, Pep comes to a decision. It’s difficult, climbing to his feet with Bojan in his arms, but Pep manages. Bojan startles when Pep starts to get up, a “what?” escaping his lips, but he’s quickly silent again.