Man on a Mission
Title: Man on a Mission
Author: junas_stories
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/Nemanja Vidic
Rating: erh, R?
Word Count: 902
Disclaimer: Don't know anybody or anything and am not making any money. Sadly.
Summary: He figures, all is fair in love and - football.
Warnings: memororis told me already that this pairing is crazy; it just happened. Also, this is a weird mixture of smutty and crack. Smut on crack? Something like that. I blame those pics that've been circling around of Cristiano at the pool. They fried my brain, I'm sure. Links in the text. ;D
Originally written for the prompt "tactics" at footballslash11. Feedback would be loved and appreciated and held dearly. As always.
Man on a Mission
Nemanja felt pretty damn comfortable. There was something to be said about international duty. Especially when it meant a few days in sunny, toasty Portugal at the exact same time weather in England decided to fast-forward to winter. And especially especially when it meant getting to laze around in Cristiano's jacuzzi in the sweltering afternoon heat, letting bubbly jets of warm water massage his muscles which were tired and aching slightly after the intense training session earlier in the day. This was paradise or at least close to it.
Water sloshing in waves against his chest and the accompanying sounds of Cristiano climbing out of the jacuzzi made Nemenja slowly open his eyes and - stare. Comfortable was then, now was porn. Miles and miles and miles of smooth, tan skin glistening with tiny water droplets. Nemanja swore never to make fun again of Cristiano for waxing all over because…well, miles and miles of perfect, smooth, glistening skin? And in sharp contrast to the darkened skin short, white swimming trunks pulled taught over the most perfect ass. Formerly white trunks. Now that they were drenched with water they were practically see-through and clinging to Cristiano's ass, hugging it close, caressing it. Teasing him with the promise of tanned skin underneath them. Seams were running from the Portuguese' hips across the round butt cheeks down into the crack as if they were begging you to follow them with your thumbs…
He groaned.
"Oh, you're awake. I thought you had dozed off. I'm getting something cool to drink. You want something, too?" Cristiano asked, turning around at the door leading from the patio into the house, into the kitchen. Looking at Nemanja with his big, brown eyes. All caring innocence. Nemanja's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Nah." He said. Croaked. And then groaned again when Cristiano smiled sweetly, gave a little half-shrug as if to say 'suit yourself' and then bend over to slip into the house underneath the partially lowered sunblind.
~~~~~~~
Once Cristiano was safely inside the smile turned into a grin. He was a man on a mission, a man with a plan and he would succeed. Chuckling slightly to himself he made his way over to the frigde since he actually was thirsty. He took a coke and then stood before the open fridge for a second or two. He hated to admit it but all those years in rainy, cold Manchester made him now suffer in the heat of the Portuguese late summer and it felt so good to just let the cool air from the fridge whisper across his naked, hot skin. He shivered slightly.
Behind him 'it' groaned. He grinned wickedly. He was so going to win. Schooling his features into an expression of sweet innocence again, he half turned around to face Nemanja who stood in the door of the kitchen. Staring.
"Want something to cool off after all?" he asked, just about managing to bite back another chuckle when he saw Nemanja literally shake himself out of staring at Cristiano's ass.
"What are you trying to do here, Cristiano?" the Serbian asked while his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Erh, I'm drinking a coke?" he answered lifting said coke to illustrate his point while he shut the fridge with his other hand. Still the picture of innocence.
"You know what I mean. The white trunks. You." Nemanja gestured wildly and his eyes slid down again and widened slightly as they took in the new view now that Cristiano had fully turned around. So winning.
"But it's the colour of your team. I'm wearing them as an…well, like an homage, yes?"
"Like an -. They are not even white anymore, they are see-through. Damn, you could just as well go naked, Ronny!" With a slight chuckle of his own, more a snort, Nemanja added. "Actually, I have this sneaking suspicion that this is about me telling you that I wouldn't have sex with you before the match because I wanted to save my energy for the pitch."
"It might."
"You're trying to make me crack, aren't you?"
"Is it working?"
Blue-grey eyes raked over his body. Open, shamelessly. From his wet, unstyled, unruly hair, to the necklaces resting on his chest, down to his abs … and up again. Cristiano felt himself blushing slightly from the attention even though he had provoked it, wanted it. Maybe because of it.
A wicked, dirty smile twisted Nemanja's features as he stepped closer until he was crowding Cristiano against the now closed fridge door. Goose-bumps broke out all over the Portuguese' body with the shocking contrast of the cool fridge against his back and the hot skin of Nemanja's solid, leanly muscled body in the front. Staring deep into Cristiano's eyes, the defender took the can of cake from Cristiano, took a deep swallow himself and then put it on the counter behind the Portuguese. He stood so close that their bodies were almost touching, just almost, but close enough that Cristiano could feel the slight ripples going through the Serbian's body when the muscles in his throat, his chest and his arms contracted and relaxed slighty with the movement. Still caught in pale eyes, Cristiano couldn't suppress a shudder working its way through him and a quiet moan to escape at the sensation.
"It just might," was all Nemanja lowering his head those few centimeters separating them in height.
Author: junas_stories
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/Nemanja Vidic
Rating: erh, R?
Word Count: 902
Disclaimer: Don't know anybody or anything and am not making any money. Sadly.
Summary: He figures, all is fair in love and - football.
Warnings: memororis told me already that this pairing is crazy; it just happened. Also, this is a weird mixture of smutty and crack. Smut on crack? Something like that. I blame those pics that've been circling around of Cristiano at the pool. They fried my brain, I'm sure. Links in the text. ;D
Originally written for the prompt "tactics" at footballslash11. Feedback would be loved and appreciated and held dearly. As always.
Man on a Mission
Nemanja felt pretty damn comfortable. There was something to be said about international duty. Especially when it meant a few days in sunny, toasty Portugal at the exact same time weather in England decided to fast-forward to winter. And especially especially when it meant getting to laze around in Cristiano's jacuzzi in the sweltering afternoon heat, letting bubbly jets of warm water massage his muscles which were tired and aching slightly after the intense training session earlier in the day. This was paradise or at least close to it.
Water sloshing in waves against his chest and the accompanying sounds of Cristiano climbing out of the jacuzzi made Nemenja slowly open his eyes and - stare. Comfortable was then, now was porn. Miles and miles and miles of smooth, tan skin glistening with tiny water droplets. Nemanja swore never to make fun again of Cristiano for waxing all over because…well, miles and miles of perfect, smooth, glistening skin? And in sharp contrast to the darkened skin short, white swimming trunks pulled taught over the most perfect ass. Formerly white trunks. Now that they were drenched with water they were practically see-through and clinging to Cristiano's ass, hugging it close, caressing it. Teasing him with the promise of tanned skin underneath them. Seams were running from the Portuguese' hips across the round butt cheeks down into the crack as if they were begging you to follow them with your thumbs…
He groaned.
"Oh, you're awake. I thought you had dozed off. I'm getting something cool to drink. You want something, too?" Cristiano asked, turning around at the door leading from the patio into the house, into the kitchen. Looking at Nemanja with his big, brown eyes. All caring innocence. Nemanja's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Nah." He said. Croaked. And then groaned again when Cristiano smiled sweetly, gave a little half-shrug as if to say 'suit yourself' and then bend over to slip into the house underneath the partially lowered sunblind.
~~~~~~~
Once Cristiano was safely inside the smile turned into a grin. He was a man on a mission, a man with a plan and he would succeed. Chuckling slightly to himself he made his way over to the frigde since he actually was thirsty. He took a coke and then stood before the open fridge for a second or two. He hated to admit it but all those years in rainy, cold Manchester made him now suffer in the heat of the Portuguese late summer and it felt so good to just let the cool air from the fridge whisper across his naked, hot skin. He shivered slightly.
Behind him 'it' groaned. He grinned wickedly. He was so going to win. Schooling his features into an expression of sweet innocence again, he half turned around to face Nemanja who stood in the door of the kitchen. Staring.
"Want something to cool off after all?" he asked, just about managing to bite back another chuckle when he saw Nemanja literally shake himself out of staring at Cristiano's ass.
"What are you trying to do here, Cristiano?" the Serbian asked while his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Erh, I'm drinking a coke?" he answered lifting said coke to illustrate his point while he shut the fridge with his other hand. Still the picture of innocence.
"You know what I mean. The white trunks. You." Nemanja gestured wildly and his eyes slid down again and widened slightly as they took in the new view now that Cristiano had fully turned around. So winning.
"But it's the colour of your team. I'm wearing them as an…well, like an homage, yes?"
"Like an -. They are not even white anymore, they are see-through. Damn, you could just as well go naked, Ronny!" With a slight chuckle of his own, more a snort, Nemanja added. "Actually, I have this sneaking suspicion that this is about me telling you that I wouldn't have sex with you before the match because I wanted to save my energy for the pitch."
"It might."
"You're trying to make me crack, aren't you?"
"Is it working?"
Blue-grey eyes raked over his body. Open, shamelessly. From his wet, unstyled, unruly hair, to the necklaces resting on his chest, down to his abs … and up again. Cristiano felt himself blushing slightly from the attention even though he had provoked it, wanted it. Maybe because of it.
A wicked, dirty smile twisted Nemanja's features as he stepped closer until he was crowding Cristiano against the now closed fridge door. Goose-bumps broke out all over the Portuguese' body with the shocking contrast of the cool fridge against his back and the hot skin of Nemanja's solid, leanly muscled body in the front. Staring deep into Cristiano's eyes, the defender took the can of cake from Cristiano, took a deep swallow himself and then put it on the counter behind the Portuguese. He stood so close that their bodies were almost touching, just almost, but close enough that Cristiano could feel the slight ripples going through the Serbian's body when the muscles in his throat, his chest and his arms contracted and relaxed slighty with the movement. Still caught in pale eyes, Cristiano couldn't suppress a shudder working its way through him and a quiet moan to escape at the sensation.
"It just might," was all Nemanja lowering his head those few centimeters separating them in height.