AU Fic: Domina Cariño (10/?)
Domina Cariño (10/?)
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: soft R (overall)
Word count: 1,276
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: This is a story about trust and control, in both love and lust.
Warning: Some parts (not all) may contain minor yet integral BDSM scenes/themes.
Pepe had buzzed him from downstairs to tell him that Sergio had arrived. Fernando had been calm, he had grown calm a while ago, and he had been able to quiet the thoughts in his head - but now, in that instant, they all came rushing back, one thought on top of another, making his pulse quicken and his breathing unsteady. He had told Pepe he needed another five minutes.
This time, he waits for Sergio in the dark. For a while earlier, he had debated with himself whether to wear a mask but eventually decided not to. Yet, as he watches Sergio enter the room, again without his own mask, he stays in the shadows behind him and forbids him to turn around.
When he speaks, though, he doesn’t try to mask his voice.
“What brings you back to Club de Cariño Brutal?”
He thinks it takes a full minute before Sergio responds, and he wonders about that - what wheels are turning in his head.
“I don’t… I don’t know,” is the hesitant, wary reply.
Fernando traces with his eyes Sergio’s silhouette against the light from under the door. He can understand it if Sergio’s experiencing a disconnect; he had also been experiencing that himself, with himself, these past couple of weeks.
He walks behind where Sergio is standing stiffly, and he speaks again, knowing that Sergio will recognize this as Niño:
“I’m asking you a question, and I want a clear answer. Why are you here?”
He watches Sergio’s fingers curl as he held his hands behind him, probably not knowing where else to put them. He knows the curl of those fingers quite well.
Sergio’s voice is soft when he replies, “I want to learn how to let go.”
Fernando focuses on the back of his neck. “Let go of what?”
“I mean, things. Let go of things. People, maybe.”
Fernando steps closer. If he actually lifts his hand, he will be able to touch Sergio’s hair, soft and smooth and smelled so familiar.
“Why?” he asks instead.
Sergio is quiet for a moment, and without seeing his face, Fernando can feel something hanging in the air, something that tightens his chest and constricts his throat.
“I tend to feel… want to be on top of things; always prepared, always in control, always -” He’s almost whispering, and Fernando steps even closer to hear him better, close enough that he can imagine his breath blowing across the little hairs on the back of Sergio’s neck.
“- always responsible.”
For a while, they stand there in silence. Sergio’s back is turned to him but so so close, and Fernando knows he can feel him so close - he can see the little hairs standing on end.
“Do you want me to take that feeling away?” he whispers back, almost gentle, into Sergio’s ear.
He sees Sergio’s shoulders tense, and he almost expects him to turn around. But Sergio only nods once, twice, and he only says: “Yes,” adding hoarsely, “Please.”
Fernando feels his own shoulders tensing, one of them throbbing. Seeing Sergio this way again, when he had seen him the other way, it’s… he can’t think of the word. He can’t think.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers to Sergio’s ear again, his tone now firm. It could’ve come out shaky, but it doesn’t.
He waits only a beat, doesn’t wait for assent, before he walks around and faces Sergio. His eyes are already closed.
Fernando takes a moment to study the man before him. Everything is still well put together, but he notices the dark circles around the eyes, the absence of a beaming smile on those full lips, a sort of tired and sad aura around him.
“Do you trust me, Sergio Ramos?” he asks a bit later.
He sees Sergio’s eyelids twitch, and he is about to open his mouth to answer but he interrupts him.
“What I mean is, do you trust that I know the difference between what you want and what you need? Do you trust that I know how to give you both, or either, whatever the case may be?”
Sergio opens his mouth again, and a moment later his answer comes out. “Yes.”
“Good,” Fernando says, more to himself. “Good,” he says more softly.
He looks again at Sergio, eyes closed unquestioningly, and he takes his hand and guides him to the bed. But as Sergio makes a move to lie down, yielding and almost passive, Fernando tugs at his hand until he sits up again.
“No, Sergio. Tell me what you want me to do.”
For a few seconds, he thinks Sergio will dare open an eye at him in surprise. His silence stretches far too long that Fernando thinks he might not have understood. He speaks again:
“Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
As soon as he speaks it, he gasps in wonder at his own words. It’s like hearing one’s voice coming out of another’s mouth, mouth speaking words he hasn’t realized were forming in his brain. But it is his brain, his thoughts, his words, his mouth, his voice - and he can’t stop them from doing what they want.
“But I… you’re…” Sergio stammers beside him, his brows raised but his eyes closed shut. Fernando would think it a ridiculous sight if it weren’t for the ridiculous words spilling out of him instead.
“If it makes more sense, I’m giving you permission. I’m ordering you to tell me what to do.”
Sergio seems to accept this, though, but still with some degree of hesitation. By this time, Fernando surrenders to the will of his own thoughts, and he sidles closer to Sergio on the bed and speaks more ridiculousness.
“Tell me, Sergio. Do you want me to suck you off? Rim you? Fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me with your fingers, hold my cock in your hand? Do you want your cock fucking my ass fast and hard until you come deep inside me? You can tie me down, cuff me, slap me around if you like…”
Sergio takes his mouth with a hunger he probably shouldn’t be expecting, but he opens his mouth readily and lets Sergio’s tongue in. He lets his hands grab at him and manhandle him however which way he liked. Sergio tells him he wants to fuck him from behind.
It’s a game, Fernando tells himself - the Dom playing as a sub. He hasn’t been taken from behind in years, hasn’t felt a hand holding him by the back of the neck as he does now, hasn’t been on his hands and knees feeling a strong body pounding into him from behind where he cannot see, hasn’t almost fallen on his face as he tries to grasp his own aching cock while the other thrusts into him continuously.
It’s a game. It’s a game he likes to play. It’s a game he likes to play with Sergio, for Sergio.
Only Sergio?
He collapses on the bed later, Sergio collapsing half on top of him. They’re a heap of sweat and sheets and bodies and come. He doesn’t know if Sergio’s eyes are still closed, or if they ever stayed closed as they fucked, but he keeps his head turned away. He feels a hand sweeping up his back, fingers treading through his hair, breath blowing against the top of his head. Then the hand stills, thumb stopping right atop what must be the fading discoloration on his shoulder.
Fernando knows then, Sergio has opened his eyes. And he knows something else then, so he lifts himself up on his elbows and turns. He meets Sergio’s gaze.
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: soft R (overall)
Word count: 1,276
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: This is a story about trust and control, in both love and lust.
Warning: Some parts (not all) may contain minor yet integral BDSM scenes/themes.
Pepe had buzzed him from downstairs to tell him that Sergio had arrived. Fernando had been calm, he had grown calm a while ago, and he had been able to quiet the thoughts in his head - but now, in that instant, they all came rushing back, one thought on top of another, making his pulse quicken and his breathing unsteady. He had told Pepe he needed another five minutes.
This time, he waits for Sergio in the dark. For a while earlier, he had debated with himself whether to wear a mask but eventually decided not to. Yet, as he watches Sergio enter the room, again without his own mask, he stays in the shadows behind him and forbids him to turn around.
When he speaks, though, he doesn’t try to mask his voice.
“What brings you back to Club de Cariño Brutal?”
He thinks it takes a full minute before Sergio responds, and he wonders about that - what wheels are turning in his head.
“I don’t… I don’t know,” is the hesitant, wary reply.
Fernando traces with his eyes Sergio’s silhouette against the light from under the door. He can understand it if Sergio’s experiencing a disconnect; he had also been experiencing that himself, with himself, these past couple of weeks.
He walks behind where Sergio is standing stiffly, and he speaks again, knowing that Sergio will recognize this as Niño:
“I’m asking you a question, and I want a clear answer. Why are you here?”
He watches Sergio’s fingers curl as he held his hands behind him, probably not knowing where else to put them. He knows the curl of those fingers quite well.
Sergio’s voice is soft when he replies, “I want to learn how to let go.”
Fernando focuses on the back of his neck. “Let go of what?”
“I mean, things. Let go of things. People, maybe.”
Fernando steps closer. If he actually lifts his hand, he will be able to touch Sergio’s hair, soft and smooth and smelled so familiar.
“Why?” he asks instead.
Sergio is quiet for a moment, and without seeing his face, Fernando can feel something hanging in the air, something that tightens his chest and constricts his throat.
“I tend to feel… want to be on top of things; always prepared, always in control, always -” He’s almost whispering, and Fernando steps even closer to hear him better, close enough that he can imagine his breath blowing across the little hairs on the back of Sergio’s neck.
“- always responsible.”
For a while, they stand there in silence. Sergio’s back is turned to him but so so close, and Fernando knows he can feel him so close - he can see the little hairs standing on end.
“Do you want me to take that feeling away?” he whispers back, almost gentle, into Sergio’s ear.
He sees Sergio’s shoulders tense, and he almost expects him to turn around. But Sergio only nods once, twice, and he only says: “Yes,” adding hoarsely, “Please.”
Fernando feels his own shoulders tensing, one of them throbbing. Seeing Sergio this way again, when he had seen him the other way, it’s… he can’t think of the word. He can’t think.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers to Sergio’s ear again, his tone now firm. It could’ve come out shaky, but it doesn’t.
He waits only a beat, doesn’t wait for assent, before he walks around and faces Sergio. His eyes are already closed.
Fernando takes a moment to study the man before him. Everything is still well put together, but he notices the dark circles around the eyes, the absence of a beaming smile on those full lips, a sort of tired and sad aura around him.
“Do you trust me, Sergio Ramos?” he asks a bit later.
He sees Sergio’s eyelids twitch, and he is about to open his mouth to answer but he interrupts him.
“What I mean is, do you trust that I know the difference between what you want and what you need? Do you trust that I know how to give you both, or either, whatever the case may be?”
Sergio opens his mouth again, and a moment later his answer comes out. “Yes.”
“Good,” Fernando says, more to himself. “Good,” he says more softly.
He looks again at Sergio, eyes closed unquestioningly, and he takes his hand and guides him to the bed. But as Sergio makes a move to lie down, yielding and almost passive, Fernando tugs at his hand until he sits up again.
“No, Sergio. Tell me what you want me to do.”
For a few seconds, he thinks Sergio will dare open an eye at him in surprise. His silence stretches far too long that Fernando thinks he might not have understood. He speaks again:
“Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
As soon as he speaks it, he gasps in wonder at his own words. It’s like hearing one’s voice coming out of another’s mouth, mouth speaking words he hasn’t realized were forming in his brain. But it is his brain, his thoughts, his words, his mouth, his voice - and he can’t stop them from doing what they want.
“But I… you’re…” Sergio stammers beside him, his brows raised but his eyes closed shut. Fernando would think it a ridiculous sight if it weren’t for the ridiculous words spilling out of him instead.
“If it makes more sense, I’m giving you permission. I’m ordering you to tell me what to do.”
Sergio seems to accept this, though, but still with some degree of hesitation. By this time, Fernando surrenders to the will of his own thoughts, and he sidles closer to Sergio on the bed and speaks more ridiculousness.
“Tell me, Sergio. Do you want me to suck you off? Rim you? Fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me with your fingers, hold my cock in your hand? Do you want your cock fucking my ass fast and hard until you come deep inside me? You can tie me down, cuff me, slap me around if you like…”
Sergio takes his mouth with a hunger he probably shouldn’t be expecting, but he opens his mouth readily and lets Sergio’s tongue in. He lets his hands grab at him and manhandle him however which way he liked. Sergio tells him he wants to fuck him from behind.
It’s a game, Fernando tells himself - the Dom playing as a sub. He hasn’t been taken from behind in years, hasn’t felt a hand holding him by the back of the neck as he does now, hasn’t been on his hands and knees feeling a strong body pounding into him from behind where he cannot see, hasn’t almost fallen on his face as he tries to grasp his own aching cock while the other thrusts into him continuously.
It’s a game. It’s a game he likes to play. It’s a game he likes to play with Sergio, for Sergio.
Only Sergio?
He collapses on the bed later, Sergio collapsing half on top of him. They’re a heap of sweat and sheets and bodies and come. He doesn’t know if Sergio’s eyes are still closed, or if they ever stayed closed as they fucked, but he keeps his head turned away. He feels a hand sweeping up his back, fingers treading through his hair, breath blowing against the top of his head. Then the hand stills, thumb stopping right atop what must be the fading discoloration on his shoulder.
Fernando knows then, Sergio has opened his eyes. And he knows something else then, so he lifts himself up on his elbows and turns. He meets Sergio’s gaze.