Footie RPS Ficlet: Die Tränen von Nürnberg (Arjen/Ronnie, NC-17)
Die Tränen von Nürnberg
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: This is not real, it's fiction. I don't know them and I don't own them. Both are straight in the real world and I mean no offense with this.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Pairing: Arjen Robben/Cristiano Ronaldo
Summary: The night after the Portugal - Holland game Arjen gets a surprise visit from Cristiano. (Yes, I still suck at summaries.)
Author's Note:
This is UNBETAED so there are most likely spelling mistakes, bad grammar and missing words.
This is based on Ronnie/Arjen from the RPG theinsidestory.
Dedicated to leetje! ♥♥♥
Title is German and means 'The tears of Nuremberg' but the fic is in English.
Archive: Beautiful Games (if accepted)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arjen kept staring at the TV, without really taking in what was actually happening on the screen. He also didn’t know why he tortured himself through this again. Wasn’t it enough that not even two hours ago, he had been there, on this very pitch?
The shock of this game still paralyzed him, the wounds of the loss still fresh and raw. He wouldn’t be able to analyze the mistakes he had made anyway, so why the hell was he watching the game again?
His fingers twitched as they showed a crying Cristiano Ronaldo being led off the pitch. He wanted to reach out, touch the screen, make the tears go away and offer some sort of comfort. Seeing Cristiano like this, made his heart ache and he bit his lips.
During the game Arjen had barely registered any of this. Just that Khalid’s foul on Cristiano had led to the Portuguese’s substitution. And after the game, when Arjen had wanted to check upon Cristiano, he wasn’t allowed to. Van Basten had made sure that all of them left quickly, for some last stupid bonding dinner.
In the end hardly anyone had touched the food, no one had been particular hungry, too big was the shame they felt for losing, for being participants in such an ugly game. Most of them just wanted to go to their rooms, crawl into their beds and hide.
The first thing Arjen had done was turning on the telly and raiding the mini-bar to fix himself some Red Bull with vodka. He downed the glass in one go, the vodka burning his throat and going straight to his head. He hadn’t cared. Anything to soothe his nerves and distract him from the thoughts his mind came up with.
A knock on the door made him nearly drop his re-filled glass; a second later Dirk poked his head around the door.
“There is someone here for you,” he said, giving Arjen a small smile.
“Send them away, I don’t feel like seeing anyone,” Arjen replied, not really in the mood for guests, not even for his parents.
“I don’t think so,” Dirk said, opening the door wider and Arjen felt his jaw drop. Behind Dirk stood the tall, familiar figure of a certain Portuguese winger, who currently occupied his mind.
Dirk grinned upon seeing Arjen’s flabbergasted expression. “Thought so.”
Stepping aside, Dirk made room for Cristiano, who thanked him with a smile, closed the door and locked it.
Like in trance Arjen put the glass aside and got up from the bed. He slowly closed the distance between them. He wanted to say so many things but somehow none of them came over his lips. Instead he found himself wrapping his arms gingerly around Cristiano, pressing his face into the Portuguese’s neck and inhaled the familiar scent of Armani aftershave and Cristiano’s own fragrance. The Portuguese held him tightly, stroked over his hair, and Arjen sighed against his skin.
He didn’t know for how long they stayed like this. Wrapped up in the presence of one another, he only knew that he could have stayed like this forever. And when Cristiano drew back it was only to cradle Arjen’s face and bring their lips together. The Portuguese kissed him as gingerly as Arjen had hugged him. It was like this game had changed things between them, both seemed so hesitant and unsure of gestures which once had been so natural for them.
Opening his lips, Arjen let Cristiano deepen the kiss, moaning low in his throat as their tongues touched. Gods, he had missed this, it felt like ages Cristiano had kissed him, and he wished he would never stop.
The lack of oxygen made Cristiano finally break the kiss and he shifted on his feet cringing.
“Can we sit down?”
Frowning slightly, it took Arjen a moment to realize that his lover was actually injured.
“Oh, sure… sorry,” Arjen apologized, feeling like an idiot.
Cristiano sat down on the bed, his gaze fell onto the glass filled with golden liquid, before moving to the television and then back to Arjen.
“Why you watching this?” The Portuguese asked in his typical broken English.
“I don’t know,” Arjen said, shrugging. “I’ve asked myself that before.”
“You do not mind then?” Cristiano asked, reaching for the remote control, his intention clear.
“No, turn it off,” Arjen said, nodding his head to the telly.
Cristiano pushed the red button and the room was filled with nothing but silence. The small lamp next to the bed the only source of light now.
The Portuguese took the glass from the bedside table, sniffed on it, and raised an eyebrow before bringing it to his lips and gulping down the contents in one go. He licked his lips and patted the bed beside him. Arjen smiled and sat down, facing him.
“How’s your thigh?”
“Not so bad,” Cristiano said, shaking his head at seeing Arjen bite his lip. “Not your fault, amado, do not look like it is.”
“I’m -”
Pressing a finger to Arjen’s lips, Cristiano shook his head again. “And do not say you are sorry. I am sorry, for not being there. I saw you cry. You never cry. I so worried, but they did not let me go out on pitch again.”
Arjen smiled pressing a kiss against Cristiano’s finger. “It’s okay. I wasn’t allowed to check on you either. We had to leave straight away.”
“I know, Ruud told me,” Cristiano said, rubbing his thumb slowly over Arjen’s bottom lip. “Will you be okay?”
“Yeah,” Arjen said, sighing. “Not tonight but soon.”
Cristiano nodded his head, his fingers cradling the back of Arjen’s neck and pulling him close. “Tonight, I will make you forget.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Their lips met again, and this time there was no hesitancy, no slow and soft touches. Cristiano’s tongue plundered Arjen’s mouth, the intention clear, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
The Portuguese’s hand slipped between Arjen’s thighs, pressing the palm down on the growing bulge and Arjen helplessly moaned into the kiss, bucking his hips up in the search for more friction.
A push on his right shoulder, let the pleasure turn to pain and with a gasp Arjen let himself fall backwards onto the bed.
“Arjen?” Cristiano asked, giving him a worried look.
“I’m fine,” Arjen said, reaching for Cristiano again, but the Portuguese would have none of that. Cristiano half-pulled, half-ripped the shirt from him, revealing an ugly looking bruise on Arjen’s right shoulder. Some of the skin was scraped off and imprints of studs were clearly visible.
“How?”
“I think it was Nuno Valente who managed to kick me,” Arjen said, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”
Tenderly Cristiano ran his fingers over the mark, tracing the outline and then bent down letting his lips ghost over the bruise. The contact made Arjen shiver and he entangled his fingers in Cristiano’s hair. The Portuguese drew back slightly and gave him a fake pout.
“Ruining my hair, amado?”
Arjen chuckled, he knew Cristiano hated it when people messed with his hair but he didn’t withdraw his fingers. “Since when do you mind me touching your hair?”
“I don’t,” Cristiano said, his pout turning into a sly smile. “But I have to get up.”
Letting go of him, Arjen watched Cristiano scramble up to slip out of his shirt and carelessly tossing it to the ground, the green of Portugal mingling with the red, white and blue of Arjen’s shirt before being covered by Cristiano’s sleek black sweat pants.
Arjen was about to prop himself up on his elbows to watch Cristiano strip off his underwear, when he suddenly found himself half sliding off the bed as the Portuguese attacked his remaining clothing.
Cristiano just growled when Arjen didn’t immediately raise his hips, the low growl sent a surge of pleasure through his body and made his cock twitch with anticipation.
Looking down, Cristiano let his eyes travel over Arjen’s body, something that usually made the Dutchman feel quite uncomfortable as he never got what was there to admire in the first place. This time however, he didn’t try to cover himself up. The alcohol he had consumed seemed to have washed away his usual self-consciousness; Arjen even spread his legs, exposing himself completely to Cristiano’s gaze.
Their eyes met for a brief moment and Cristiano smiled in approval before stepping closer. He ran his hands over Arjen’s thighs and raised an eyebrow.
“You shaved?”
Arjen nodded, he had indeed shaved his legs and thighs. What for he didn’t know at that time. Maybe part of him had hoped Cristiano would notice it during the game or whatever.
“Good boy,” Cristiano said, bending down and kissing the inside of Arjen’s left thigh, drawing a moan from the Dutchman, who let his head fall back against the soft mattress.
Arjen had known Cristiano would approve of him getting rid off his so called ‘fur’, he just hadn’t thought it would be this much of a turn on for his Portuguese. Cristiano kept licking and biting the sensitive skin of his inner thigh and Arjen was sure he could come alone from that. He was writhing on the bed, gasping for air, his hands clawing at the bed-sheets as Cristiano sucked so hard on his skin, he was sure there would be a hickey visible tomorrow.
“Cris… gods…” Arjen moaned, trying to tell Cristiano to stop. “Please…”
The Portuguese seemed to get the hint. Cristiano looked up, his full lips curling into a knowing smirk. Like a predatory cat he crawled up onto Arjen’s body, letting his tongue trace over Arjen’s cock, abs and chest before nipping on his jaw.
“Want me?” It sounded like a purr and when Arjen tried to pull him down for a kiss the Portuguese drew back, teasing and playing with him, like he always did and Arjen grit his teeth.
“Damn, tease,” Arjen muttered, bucking his hips up. “Cris, please, I can’t take much more.”
Bending down Cristiano placed an open-mouthed kiss against the sensitive skin of Arjen’s neck. “Love you like this, so needy.”
Cristiano sat up, shifted slightly and Arjen eyes widened in panic as felt his cock brush against Cristiano’s opening. His hand grabbed the Portuguese’s left wrist. “Wait, you didn’t -”
But Cristiano just shook his head and gave him a bemused smile, and then Arjen felt a familiar slickness and he let out a sigh of relief. Cristiano had obviously planned this and had come to him fully prepared.
Chuckling Cristiano brushed his fingers over Arjen’s cheek. “I’m not stupid.”
Whatever reply Arjen had, it died on his lips the moment his prick was engulfed by Cristiano’s slick heat.
Oh god, it had only been six weeks, six very long weeks yes, but Cristiano’s tightness made his head swim. He couldn’t breathe; he would come if Cristiano just moved an inch.
Apparently his turmoil must have been shown as Cristiano went deadly still, studying him once more with an amused little smile. “Too much?”
“Gods, you are so tight,” Arjen said, through his teeth while trying to regain control of his breathing.
“Poor baby,” Cristiano said, letting his fingers brush over Arjen’s chest, tracing one of the Dutchman’s hard nipples. The Portuguese waited a moment longer and then tentatively rocked his hips causing Arjen to gasp with pleasure.
The rhythm was hard and slow and Arjen bit his lips, fighting against the overwhelming need to come straight away. His left hand brushed over the coarse fabric of the bandage on Cristiano’s right thigh before coming to rest on the Portuguese’s hip, holding tight.
“Let go,” Cristiano said, his voice husky and full of need.
Arjen moaned loudly, he bucked his hips up, just a bit longer, one more thrust but it was too much, he fought a losing battle. His breath hitched in his throat and with a groan he spilled his seed deep into Cristiano’s body as the world around him dissolved into white hot pleasure.
When Arjen opened his eyes again, Cristiano was still straddling his hips, the Portuguese’s fingers brushing soothingly over his chest. Arjen was torn, he felt guilty for taking his own pleasure and not giving something back.
“I’m sorry,” Arjen apologized, feeling his cheeks getting hot.
Cristiano raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I couldn’t… you didn’t…”
The Portuguese rolled his eyes at him. “You so tired?”
“No, but I wanted us both…”
“Not always possible, amado,” Cristiano shrugged, shifted and slowly moved off Arjen, sitting down beside him.
Arjen’s eyes lingered on Cristiano’s cock, the tip glistening with pre-come and he licked his lips. Rolling onto his side, he tentatively curled his fingers around the hard and throbbing flesh of the Portuguese. Cristiano opened his legs slightly; it was all the invitation Arjen needed.
Shifting closer, he let his tongue trace over the sensitive underside before opening his lips and sucking Cristiano’s cock deep into his mouth. His reward was gasp and a moan from the Portuguese and he hummed around the hard flesh, causing Cristiano to buck upwards.
Arjen kept still and let Cristiano fuck his mouth, his eyes meeting dark one’s of the Portuguese, who was feverishly biting his bottom lip. He loved this, seeing Cristiano in the throws of passion, unable to hide his emotions.
The trembling of Cristiano’s thighs told Arjen that his lover was close and he let his eyes flutter shut, willing his throat to relax while his fingers cupped Cristiano’s sac, squeezing slightly. That did it, with a cry Cristiano came into his mouth and Arjen swallowed Cristiano’s seed greedily. He kept on sucking till there was no drop left before slowly drawing back and letting Cristiano’s softening prick slip from his lips. He put his head on the Portuguese’s left thigh, and gave him a small smile.
Cristiano was still trying to catch his breath as he ran his hand through Arjen’s hair.
“Better now, amado?”
“Mhmm, yeah…,” Arjen said, licking his lips. He sat up and drew Cristiano in a slow kiss, knowing the Portuguese didn’t mind to taste himself.
Sated and spent, they both stretched out on the bed. Arjen was laying on his back and looked up at Cristiano who had his head propped up on his hand next to him. Reaching out the Dutchman traced the silver bracelet dangling from Cristiano’s right wrist. It had been his gift to Cristiano when the Portuguese had turned twenty.
“I smiled when I saw you wearing it,” Arjen whispered.
“Was hoping you would see it,” Cristiano said, brushing his left hand over Arjen’s cheek. “Sleep now.”
Closing his eyes, Arjen snuggled closer to Cristiano and to his surprise it only took a few minutes till sleep claimed his exhausted mind and body.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The alarm of his cellphone woke him with a start. It took Arjen a moment to realize where he was and what day it was. He rubbed his eyes drowsily and blinked a couple of times.
A second later the happenings of yesterday came crashing down onto him. The game, the loss, Cristiano... Arjen looked around and with a sigh noticed that he was alone. Of course, Cristiano couldn’t have stayed.
Sitting up he ran a hand through his hair and noticed a small little paper lying on the bed next to him. Unfolding it, something dropped into his lap and Arjen reached for it. It was a key, a key attached to a small Portugal flag key-ring.
Looking at the paper he read the familiar scrawl:
My home is your home.
I will see you soon, amado.
Tanned and shaved!
Cristiano
Well, the first thing he would do upon arriving in Holland again was booking a flight to Madeira. And spend the next couple of weeks tanning on Cristiano’s balcony, waiting for him to return.
He would need to learn how to smile again, but Arjen knew if anyone could help him with that, it would be Cristiano.
~ * ~ * ~ END ~ * ~ * ~
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: This is not real, it's fiction. I don't know them and I don't own them. Both are straight in the real world and I mean no offense with this.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Pairing: Arjen Robben/Cristiano Ronaldo
Summary: The night after the Portugal - Holland game Arjen gets a surprise visit from Cristiano. (Yes, I still suck at summaries.)
Author's Note:
This is UNBETAED so there are most likely spelling mistakes, bad grammar and missing words.
This is based on Ronnie/Arjen from the RPG theinsidestory.
Dedicated to leetje! ♥♥♥
Title is German and means 'The tears of Nuremberg' but the fic is in English.
Archive: Beautiful Games (if accepted)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arjen kept staring at the TV, without really taking in what was actually happening on the screen. He also didn’t know why he tortured himself through this again. Wasn’t it enough that not even two hours ago, he had been there, on this very pitch?
The shock of this game still paralyzed him, the wounds of the loss still fresh and raw. He wouldn’t be able to analyze the mistakes he had made anyway, so why the hell was he watching the game again?
His fingers twitched as they showed a crying Cristiano Ronaldo being led off the pitch. He wanted to reach out, touch the screen, make the tears go away and offer some sort of comfort. Seeing Cristiano like this, made his heart ache and he bit his lips.
During the game Arjen had barely registered any of this. Just that Khalid’s foul on Cristiano had led to the Portuguese’s substitution. And after the game, when Arjen had wanted to check upon Cristiano, he wasn’t allowed to. Van Basten had made sure that all of them left quickly, for some last stupid bonding dinner.
In the end hardly anyone had touched the food, no one had been particular hungry, too big was the shame they felt for losing, for being participants in such an ugly game. Most of them just wanted to go to their rooms, crawl into their beds and hide.
The first thing Arjen had done was turning on the telly and raiding the mini-bar to fix himself some Red Bull with vodka. He downed the glass in one go, the vodka burning his throat and going straight to his head. He hadn’t cared. Anything to soothe his nerves and distract him from the thoughts his mind came up with.
A knock on the door made him nearly drop his re-filled glass; a second later Dirk poked his head around the door.
“There is someone here for you,” he said, giving Arjen a small smile.
“Send them away, I don’t feel like seeing anyone,” Arjen replied, not really in the mood for guests, not even for his parents.
“I don’t think so,” Dirk said, opening the door wider and Arjen felt his jaw drop. Behind Dirk stood the tall, familiar figure of a certain Portuguese winger, who currently occupied his mind.
Dirk grinned upon seeing Arjen’s flabbergasted expression. “Thought so.”
Stepping aside, Dirk made room for Cristiano, who thanked him with a smile, closed the door and locked it.
Like in trance Arjen put the glass aside and got up from the bed. He slowly closed the distance between them. He wanted to say so many things but somehow none of them came over his lips. Instead he found himself wrapping his arms gingerly around Cristiano, pressing his face into the Portuguese’s neck and inhaled the familiar scent of Armani aftershave and Cristiano’s own fragrance. The Portuguese held him tightly, stroked over his hair, and Arjen sighed against his skin.
He didn’t know for how long they stayed like this. Wrapped up in the presence of one another, he only knew that he could have stayed like this forever. And when Cristiano drew back it was only to cradle Arjen’s face and bring their lips together. The Portuguese kissed him as gingerly as Arjen had hugged him. It was like this game had changed things between them, both seemed so hesitant and unsure of gestures which once had been so natural for them.
Opening his lips, Arjen let Cristiano deepen the kiss, moaning low in his throat as their tongues touched. Gods, he had missed this, it felt like ages Cristiano had kissed him, and he wished he would never stop.
The lack of oxygen made Cristiano finally break the kiss and he shifted on his feet cringing.
“Can we sit down?”
Frowning slightly, it took Arjen a moment to realize that his lover was actually injured.
“Oh, sure… sorry,” Arjen apologized, feeling like an idiot.
Cristiano sat down on the bed, his gaze fell onto the glass filled with golden liquid, before moving to the television and then back to Arjen.
“Why you watching this?” The Portuguese asked in his typical broken English.
“I don’t know,” Arjen said, shrugging. “I’ve asked myself that before.”
“You do not mind then?” Cristiano asked, reaching for the remote control, his intention clear.
“No, turn it off,” Arjen said, nodding his head to the telly.
Cristiano pushed the red button and the room was filled with nothing but silence. The small lamp next to the bed the only source of light now.
The Portuguese took the glass from the bedside table, sniffed on it, and raised an eyebrow before bringing it to his lips and gulping down the contents in one go. He licked his lips and patted the bed beside him. Arjen smiled and sat down, facing him.
“How’s your thigh?”
“Not so bad,” Cristiano said, shaking his head at seeing Arjen bite his lip. “Not your fault, amado, do not look like it is.”
“I’m -”
Pressing a finger to Arjen’s lips, Cristiano shook his head again. “And do not say you are sorry. I am sorry, for not being there. I saw you cry. You never cry. I so worried, but they did not let me go out on pitch again.”
Arjen smiled pressing a kiss against Cristiano’s finger. “It’s okay. I wasn’t allowed to check on you either. We had to leave straight away.”
“I know, Ruud told me,” Cristiano said, rubbing his thumb slowly over Arjen’s bottom lip. “Will you be okay?”
“Yeah,” Arjen said, sighing. “Not tonight but soon.”
Cristiano nodded his head, his fingers cradling the back of Arjen’s neck and pulling him close. “Tonight, I will make you forget.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Their lips met again, and this time there was no hesitancy, no slow and soft touches. Cristiano’s tongue plundered Arjen’s mouth, the intention clear, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
The Portuguese’s hand slipped between Arjen’s thighs, pressing the palm down on the growing bulge and Arjen helplessly moaned into the kiss, bucking his hips up in the search for more friction.
A push on his right shoulder, let the pleasure turn to pain and with a gasp Arjen let himself fall backwards onto the bed.
“Arjen?” Cristiano asked, giving him a worried look.
“I’m fine,” Arjen said, reaching for Cristiano again, but the Portuguese would have none of that. Cristiano half-pulled, half-ripped the shirt from him, revealing an ugly looking bruise on Arjen’s right shoulder. Some of the skin was scraped off and imprints of studs were clearly visible.
“How?”
“I think it was Nuno Valente who managed to kick me,” Arjen said, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”
Tenderly Cristiano ran his fingers over the mark, tracing the outline and then bent down letting his lips ghost over the bruise. The contact made Arjen shiver and he entangled his fingers in Cristiano’s hair. The Portuguese drew back slightly and gave him a fake pout.
“Ruining my hair, amado?”
Arjen chuckled, he knew Cristiano hated it when people messed with his hair but he didn’t withdraw his fingers. “Since when do you mind me touching your hair?”
“I don’t,” Cristiano said, his pout turning into a sly smile. “But I have to get up.”
Letting go of him, Arjen watched Cristiano scramble up to slip out of his shirt and carelessly tossing it to the ground, the green of Portugal mingling with the red, white and blue of Arjen’s shirt before being covered by Cristiano’s sleek black sweat pants.
Arjen was about to prop himself up on his elbows to watch Cristiano strip off his underwear, when he suddenly found himself half sliding off the bed as the Portuguese attacked his remaining clothing.
Cristiano just growled when Arjen didn’t immediately raise his hips, the low growl sent a surge of pleasure through his body and made his cock twitch with anticipation.
Looking down, Cristiano let his eyes travel over Arjen’s body, something that usually made the Dutchman feel quite uncomfortable as he never got what was there to admire in the first place. This time however, he didn’t try to cover himself up. The alcohol he had consumed seemed to have washed away his usual self-consciousness; Arjen even spread his legs, exposing himself completely to Cristiano’s gaze.
Their eyes met for a brief moment and Cristiano smiled in approval before stepping closer. He ran his hands over Arjen’s thighs and raised an eyebrow.
“You shaved?”
Arjen nodded, he had indeed shaved his legs and thighs. What for he didn’t know at that time. Maybe part of him had hoped Cristiano would notice it during the game or whatever.
“Good boy,” Cristiano said, bending down and kissing the inside of Arjen’s left thigh, drawing a moan from the Dutchman, who let his head fall back against the soft mattress.
Arjen had known Cristiano would approve of him getting rid off his so called ‘fur’, he just hadn’t thought it would be this much of a turn on for his Portuguese. Cristiano kept licking and biting the sensitive skin of his inner thigh and Arjen was sure he could come alone from that. He was writhing on the bed, gasping for air, his hands clawing at the bed-sheets as Cristiano sucked so hard on his skin, he was sure there would be a hickey visible tomorrow.
“Cris… gods…” Arjen moaned, trying to tell Cristiano to stop. “Please…”
The Portuguese seemed to get the hint. Cristiano looked up, his full lips curling into a knowing smirk. Like a predatory cat he crawled up onto Arjen’s body, letting his tongue trace over Arjen’s cock, abs and chest before nipping on his jaw.
“Want me?” It sounded like a purr and when Arjen tried to pull him down for a kiss the Portuguese drew back, teasing and playing with him, like he always did and Arjen grit his teeth.
“Damn, tease,” Arjen muttered, bucking his hips up. “Cris, please, I can’t take much more.”
Bending down Cristiano placed an open-mouthed kiss against the sensitive skin of Arjen’s neck. “Love you like this, so needy.”
Cristiano sat up, shifted slightly and Arjen eyes widened in panic as felt his cock brush against Cristiano’s opening. His hand grabbed the Portuguese’s left wrist. “Wait, you didn’t -”
But Cristiano just shook his head and gave him a bemused smile, and then Arjen felt a familiar slickness and he let out a sigh of relief. Cristiano had obviously planned this and had come to him fully prepared.
Chuckling Cristiano brushed his fingers over Arjen’s cheek. “I’m not stupid.”
Whatever reply Arjen had, it died on his lips the moment his prick was engulfed by Cristiano’s slick heat.
Oh god, it had only been six weeks, six very long weeks yes, but Cristiano’s tightness made his head swim. He couldn’t breathe; he would come if Cristiano just moved an inch.
Apparently his turmoil must have been shown as Cristiano went deadly still, studying him once more with an amused little smile. “Too much?”
“Gods, you are so tight,” Arjen said, through his teeth while trying to regain control of his breathing.
“Poor baby,” Cristiano said, letting his fingers brush over Arjen’s chest, tracing one of the Dutchman’s hard nipples. The Portuguese waited a moment longer and then tentatively rocked his hips causing Arjen to gasp with pleasure.
The rhythm was hard and slow and Arjen bit his lips, fighting against the overwhelming need to come straight away. His left hand brushed over the coarse fabric of the bandage on Cristiano’s right thigh before coming to rest on the Portuguese’s hip, holding tight.
“Let go,” Cristiano said, his voice husky and full of need.
Arjen moaned loudly, he bucked his hips up, just a bit longer, one more thrust but it was too much, he fought a losing battle. His breath hitched in his throat and with a groan he spilled his seed deep into Cristiano’s body as the world around him dissolved into white hot pleasure.
When Arjen opened his eyes again, Cristiano was still straddling his hips, the Portuguese’s fingers brushing soothingly over his chest. Arjen was torn, he felt guilty for taking his own pleasure and not giving something back.
“I’m sorry,” Arjen apologized, feeling his cheeks getting hot.
Cristiano raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I couldn’t… you didn’t…”
The Portuguese rolled his eyes at him. “You so tired?”
“No, but I wanted us both…”
“Not always possible, amado,” Cristiano shrugged, shifted and slowly moved off Arjen, sitting down beside him.
Arjen’s eyes lingered on Cristiano’s cock, the tip glistening with pre-come and he licked his lips. Rolling onto his side, he tentatively curled his fingers around the hard and throbbing flesh of the Portuguese. Cristiano opened his legs slightly; it was all the invitation Arjen needed.
Shifting closer, he let his tongue trace over the sensitive underside before opening his lips and sucking Cristiano’s cock deep into his mouth. His reward was gasp and a moan from the Portuguese and he hummed around the hard flesh, causing Cristiano to buck upwards.
Arjen kept still and let Cristiano fuck his mouth, his eyes meeting dark one’s of the Portuguese, who was feverishly biting his bottom lip. He loved this, seeing Cristiano in the throws of passion, unable to hide his emotions.
The trembling of Cristiano’s thighs told Arjen that his lover was close and he let his eyes flutter shut, willing his throat to relax while his fingers cupped Cristiano’s sac, squeezing slightly. That did it, with a cry Cristiano came into his mouth and Arjen swallowed Cristiano’s seed greedily. He kept on sucking till there was no drop left before slowly drawing back and letting Cristiano’s softening prick slip from his lips. He put his head on the Portuguese’s left thigh, and gave him a small smile.
Cristiano was still trying to catch his breath as he ran his hand through Arjen’s hair.
“Better now, amado?”
“Mhmm, yeah…,” Arjen said, licking his lips. He sat up and drew Cristiano in a slow kiss, knowing the Portuguese didn’t mind to taste himself.
Sated and spent, they both stretched out on the bed. Arjen was laying on his back and looked up at Cristiano who had his head propped up on his hand next to him. Reaching out the Dutchman traced the silver bracelet dangling from Cristiano’s right wrist. It had been his gift to Cristiano when the Portuguese had turned twenty.
“I smiled when I saw you wearing it,” Arjen whispered.
“Was hoping you would see it,” Cristiano said, brushing his left hand over Arjen’s cheek. “Sleep now.”
Closing his eyes, Arjen snuggled closer to Cristiano and to his surprise it only took a few minutes till sleep claimed his exhausted mind and body.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The alarm of his cellphone woke him with a start. It took Arjen a moment to realize where he was and what day it was. He rubbed his eyes drowsily and blinked a couple of times.
A second later the happenings of yesterday came crashing down onto him. The game, the loss, Cristiano... Arjen looked around and with a sigh noticed that he was alone. Of course, Cristiano couldn’t have stayed.
Sitting up he ran a hand through his hair and noticed a small little paper lying on the bed next to him. Unfolding it, something dropped into his lap and Arjen reached for it. It was a key, a key attached to a small Portugal flag key-ring.
Looking at the paper he read the familiar scrawl:
My home is your home.
I will see you soon, amado.
Tanned and shaved!
Cristiano
Well, the first thing he would do upon arriving in Holland again was booking a flight to Madeira. And spend the next couple of weeks tanning on Cristiano’s balcony, waiting for him to return.
He would need to learn how to smile again, but Arjen knew if anyone could help him with that, it would be Cristiano.
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