Football/ice hockey crossover
Title: It takes a stranger to tell the truth.
Pairing: Peter Forsberg/Diego Forlán.
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: Peter is a (now retired) Swedish ice hockey player. I wrote a little fangirl post for him here.
Disclaimer: I obviously made this up.
Word count: 659.
Canada.
Diego tasted the word in his mouth, as if he needed a reminder that he was really there. Even though he only had time for a few days here, these moments of peace and solitude were well worth it. Unlike in Spain, or even back home in Uruguay, he could actually walk the streets here without the nearest five journalists insisting on tagging along three steps behind, and even without being recognized all the time. Apparently, Canadians were not that interested in football; they seemed to care passionately only about sports that could be played on ice. Ice hockey, curling… and ice hockey again, judging from the newspaper that had been carelessly tossed aside on the small hotel room desk.
"Don't read those," Peter remarked, following his gaze towards the newspaper. "They only write whatever makes them sell more papers anyway."
Diego chuckled. "I know." That problem was clearly the same all around the world. However, he dismissed the thought quickly as he leaned back against the pillows with one hand behind his neck and the other lazily rested against his knee. "You still haven't told me what you are doing in Canada? Aren't you supposed to be in… Denver?"
"You ask too much," Peter murmured, leaning closer and tracing his hand over the placket of Diego's shirt, tugging lightly. "Sometimes it's better to accept than to ask." His fingers closed on the collar of the shirt, impatiently searching the naked skin underneath, but still barely touching. A moment later, he shifted his grip to Diego's jaw, looking directly at him and letting the words brush his skin.
"Får jag?"
The words made no sense, but the seductive tone and the sparkling eyes still made the meaning obvious enough. Diego gave a small encouraging nod even before Peter had caught the mistake and repeated the question in English.
"May I?"
Not even a second later, he found himself melting into the kiss and parting his lips in obvious need for more. If he was too encouraging, it didn't matter. Caution was something he had left behind in Spain, being good and proper was for later. Not now; not when he could feel the need pulsating in his veins as a hot tongue slipped eagerly into his mouth.
For the moment, he was perfectly content with this first wave of pleasure.
***
Diego didn't feel the sting in his conscience right away.
The cloud of lust dissolved slowly around him as he regained his breath, but he still moaned quietly against Peter's neck. For a long moment he was content like that; breathing in the smell of the other man's skin and feeling those strong hands slowly caressing him. However, he couldn't suppress a light shiver as the thoughts finally registered in his mind.
This was wrong. The sudden freedom of being in a foreign country was not supposed to push all his usual limits aside. He was not supposed to be this easy; this willing to trust someone who was, essentially, still a stranger to him. He wondered briefly when he had become that desperate, but he still made no move to untangle himself from the careful embrace.
Only a second, stronger shiver gave him away.
"This wasn't so bad, was it?" Peter asked, pulling a hand through Diego's hair and searching eye contact. "Sometimes it takes an unexpected person to make you feel good. Enjoy it instead of fighting it?"
Such truth, such understanding. Diego turned the words over in his mind before he answered, still surprised at how accurate they were.
"You're confident," he grinned instead, easily diverting attention from himself and the emotions he was not quite ready to deal with just yet.
Peter's lips curved into a soft smile. "Maybe. I've learned to be, when I have to." He shrugged it off and fixed a suddenly piercing gaze directly at Diego. "That reminds me, you still haven't told me what you are doing in Canada?"
Pairing: Peter Forsberg/Diego Forlán.
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: Peter is a (now retired) Swedish ice hockey player. I wrote a little fangirl post for him here.
Disclaimer: I obviously made this up.
Word count: 659.
Canada.
Diego tasted the word in his mouth, as if he needed a reminder that he was really there. Even though he only had time for a few days here, these moments of peace and solitude were well worth it. Unlike in Spain, or even back home in Uruguay, he could actually walk the streets here without the nearest five journalists insisting on tagging along three steps behind, and even without being recognized all the time. Apparently, Canadians were not that interested in football; they seemed to care passionately only about sports that could be played on ice. Ice hockey, curling… and ice hockey again, judging from the newspaper that had been carelessly tossed aside on the small hotel room desk.
"Don't read those," Peter remarked, following his gaze towards the newspaper. "They only write whatever makes them sell more papers anyway."
Diego chuckled. "I know." That problem was clearly the same all around the world. However, he dismissed the thought quickly as he leaned back against the pillows with one hand behind his neck and the other lazily rested against his knee. "You still haven't told me what you are doing in Canada? Aren't you supposed to be in… Denver?"
"You ask too much," Peter murmured, leaning closer and tracing his hand over the placket of Diego's shirt, tugging lightly. "Sometimes it's better to accept than to ask." His fingers closed on the collar of the shirt, impatiently searching the naked skin underneath, but still barely touching. A moment later, he shifted his grip to Diego's jaw, looking directly at him and letting the words brush his skin.
"Får jag?"
The words made no sense, but the seductive tone and the sparkling eyes still made the meaning obvious enough. Diego gave a small encouraging nod even before Peter had caught the mistake and repeated the question in English.
"May I?"
Not even a second later, he found himself melting into the kiss and parting his lips in obvious need for more. If he was too encouraging, it didn't matter. Caution was something he had left behind in Spain, being good and proper was for later. Not now; not when he could feel the need pulsating in his veins as a hot tongue slipped eagerly into his mouth.
For the moment, he was perfectly content with this first wave of pleasure.
***
Diego didn't feel the sting in his conscience right away.
The cloud of lust dissolved slowly around him as he regained his breath, but he still moaned quietly against Peter's neck. For a long moment he was content like that; breathing in the smell of the other man's skin and feeling those strong hands slowly caressing him. However, he couldn't suppress a light shiver as the thoughts finally registered in his mind.
This was wrong. The sudden freedom of being in a foreign country was not supposed to push all his usual limits aside. He was not supposed to be this easy; this willing to trust someone who was, essentially, still a stranger to him. He wondered briefly when he had become that desperate, but he still made no move to untangle himself from the careful embrace.
Only a second, stronger shiver gave him away.
"This wasn't so bad, was it?" Peter asked, pulling a hand through Diego's hair and searching eye contact. "Sometimes it takes an unexpected person to make you feel good. Enjoy it instead of fighting it?"
Such truth, such understanding. Diego turned the words over in his mind before he answered, still surprised at how accurate they were.
"You're confident," he grinned instead, easily diverting attention from himself and the emotions he was not quite ready to deal with just yet.
Peter's lips curved into a soft smile. "Maybe. I've learned to be, when I have to." He shrugged it off and fixed a suddenly piercing gaze directly at Diego. "That reminds me, you still haven't told me what you are doing in Canada?"