AU Fic: Domina Cariño (4/?)
Domina Cariño (4/?)
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: soft R (overall)
Word count: 750
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: This is a story about trust and control, in both love and lust.
Warning: minor yet integral BDSM scenes/themes
The day when he had first recognized Sergio at the coffee shop was a surprise, it really was. Fernando was actually there whiling away the time, whiling away a sour mood, when he had heard the barista call out the name. His line of thought had stilled, and he whipped his head around toward the direction of the counter even as the name registered in his memory.
Sergio Ramos. Fucking vanilla.
The man who took the coffee looked just about right as he remembered, sharply dressed too, and with hair neatly combed back, not even the shorter strands out of place. He supposes a mask covering only half of one’s face isn’t really enough to conceal one’s features, but in the light of day and obstructed by nothing, the prominent nose and shapely lips and distinct jaw line and cheekbones all looked much more… interesting.
The man was walking out, getting away. Before Fernando could think, he was already getting up from his seat, his feet already carrying him to follow the man out. He was following Sergio Ramos, a guy he had no reason to remember other than for being a terrible headache.
Yes, a headache. That first, and so far, only session had ended badly. Terribly! He had come home with a headache thinking of Sergio’s hand - tenderly, gently - reaching up to him to tuck stray hair behind his ear, then to touch his face. He was straddling Sergio and leaning over, his thrusts slowing down as he closed his eyes to savor his orgasm; his eyes flew open once he felt the touch.
For a moment, they were both silent as their eyes locked onto each other, Sergio’s hand still on his cheek. But when the hand moved to caress, Fernando had tilted his face away. Nobody has ever -
“What are you doing?” he had asked. He knew it came out as a whisper, and he hoped it at least sounded firm enough.
“I, uh… nothing,” Sergio had stammered and pulled his hand away.
Fernando remembers feeling thankful that the reddish light in the room could at least cover up blushing, whether it be him or the other guy.
He had followed Sergio from the coffee shop to a deli across the street, where he ordered a sandwich. He also went in and ordered a sandwich for himself, watching from a few feet away as Sergio removed the pickles and onions and put them on a separate plate. He watched Sergio chew almost thoughtfully, then later, fold the used sandwich wrapper meticulously.
It was all so fascinating, but Fernando managed to stop himself later from getting up as well and following Sergio out again when he was done.
The next day, just as a hunch, he came back to the same coffee shop at around the same time and caught Sergio just as he was placing the same order as the day before. The barista later called out to him again in full, and he again headed to the deli across the street to get the same kind of sandwich, not mentioning anything about excluding pickles and onions from the order but again opting to remove those himself instead. Fernando tried to do it as well, but it was such a bother.
Everything was the same the following day, and the day after. That’s Monday thru Thursday of the same things all over again. Now, Fernando doesn’t really have much else to do, and Sergio’s little habits are actually quite amusing, but - he wonders then, why doesn’t he have anything better to do than follow Sergio around, and why does he find his habits amusing? If there’s anything, Sergio is actually, definitely, really really boring.
Maybe I’m just bored enough to find the boring interesting, Fernando thinks to himself.
He also wonders if he’s actually feeling a bit bad for how their session ended. He had been insensitive, perhaps; he had not provided Sergio any ‘aftercare’. He just remembers Sergio stammering and pulling his hand away, and him feeling something tightening in his chest. He had unceremoniously gotten up then and told Sergio to clean up and get dressed, and he had all but discouraged him to come back.
And Sergio hadn’t come back, not since that night. It has been almost two weeks.
It’s now Friday. Sipping his coffee and watching Sergio come up to the counter, Fernando wonders if he can have Sergio do something different for today.
He should do something fun, Fernando decides.
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: soft R (overall)
Word count: 750
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: This is a story about trust and control, in both love and lust.
Warning: minor yet integral BDSM scenes/themes
The day when he had first recognized Sergio at the coffee shop was a surprise, it really was. Fernando was actually there whiling away the time, whiling away a sour mood, when he had heard the barista call out the name. His line of thought had stilled, and he whipped his head around toward the direction of the counter even as the name registered in his memory.
Sergio Ramos. Fucking vanilla.
The man who took the coffee looked just about right as he remembered, sharply dressed too, and with hair neatly combed back, not even the shorter strands out of place. He supposes a mask covering only half of one’s face isn’t really enough to conceal one’s features, but in the light of day and obstructed by nothing, the prominent nose and shapely lips and distinct jaw line and cheekbones all looked much more… interesting.
The man was walking out, getting away. Before Fernando could think, he was already getting up from his seat, his feet already carrying him to follow the man out. He was following Sergio Ramos, a guy he had no reason to remember other than for being a terrible headache.
Yes, a headache. That first, and so far, only session had ended badly. Terribly! He had come home with a headache thinking of Sergio’s hand - tenderly, gently - reaching up to him to tuck stray hair behind his ear, then to touch his face. He was straddling Sergio and leaning over, his thrusts slowing down as he closed his eyes to savor his orgasm; his eyes flew open once he felt the touch.
For a moment, they were both silent as their eyes locked onto each other, Sergio’s hand still on his cheek. But when the hand moved to caress, Fernando had tilted his face away. Nobody has ever -
“What are you doing?” he had asked. He knew it came out as a whisper, and he hoped it at least sounded firm enough.
“I, uh… nothing,” Sergio had stammered and pulled his hand away.
Fernando remembers feeling thankful that the reddish light in the room could at least cover up blushing, whether it be him or the other guy.
He had followed Sergio from the coffee shop to a deli across the street, where he ordered a sandwich. He also went in and ordered a sandwich for himself, watching from a few feet away as Sergio removed the pickles and onions and put them on a separate plate. He watched Sergio chew almost thoughtfully, then later, fold the used sandwich wrapper meticulously.
It was all so fascinating, but Fernando managed to stop himself later from getting up as well and following Sergio out again when he was done.
The next day, just as a hunch, he came back to the same coffee shop at around the same time and caught Sergio just as he was placing the same order as the day before. The barista later called out to him again in full, and he again headed to the deli across the street to get the same kind of sandwich, not mentioning anything about excluding pickles and onions from the order but again opting to remove those himself instead. Fernando tried to do it as well, but it was such a bother.
Everything was the same the following day, and the day after. That’s Monday thru Thursday of the same things all over again. Now, Fernando doesn’t really have much else to do, and Sergio’s little habits are actually quite amusing, but - he wonders then, why doesn’t he have anything better to do than follow Sergio around, and why does he find his habits amusing? If there’s anything, Sergio is actually, definitely, really really boring.
Maybe I’m just bored enough to find the boring interesting, Fernando thinks to himself.
He also wonders if he’s actually feeling a bit bad for how their session ended. He had been insensitive, perhaps; he had not provided Sergio any ‘aftercare’. He just remembers Sergio stammering and pulling his hand away, and him feeling something tightening in his chest. He had unceremoniously gotten up then and told Sergio to clean up and get dressed, and he had all but discouraged him to come back.
And Sergio hadn’t come back, not since that night. It has been almost two weeks.
It’s now Friday. Sipping his coffee and watching Sergio come up to the counter, Fernando wonders if he can have Sergio do something different for today.
He should do something fun, Fernando decides.