[fic] The Keys To My Heart (Brazil/Argentina)
Title: The keys to my heart
Pairing: Brazil/Argentina (Luciano/Martín)
Rating: NSFW (THAT MEANS SEX)
Word Count: 1500~
Summary: When Luciano locks the door, sex happens there's no turning back.
Based on these gorgeous drawings from zulenha: 1 2
The deadbolt slid into place with a heavy thunk, a bullet shot through a silence only otherwise marred by the shallow breathing of two people who were afraid of disturbing some delicate balance in the atmosphere by exhaling too heavily.
Luciano’s hand splayed across Martín’s chest, pressing him to the door like it might stop him from leaving if the lock would not. The tips of his fingers lay against the skin of Martín’s neck, just above the collar of his shirt, dragging it down just enough to reveal a flushed collarbone.
It was difficult to look at Luciano without shaking; it was difficult to look away, too. His eyes were hungry. They searched Martín’s face and chest, marveled at the shades of their skin against each other, waiting. Martín had always considered himself the predator of the pair, but now he could not forget the dangers slinking in the depths of Brazil, areas barely touched by human hands. He shivered.
One step closer, and then another half step so that Luciano’s body was fitted snuggly against Martín’s, their thighs interlocked, their chests touching. As Luciano moved the hand on his chest up his neck and into his hair, Martín froze with parted lips, watching Luciano’s tongue dart out to wet his own. At the clang of the keys being dropped to the floor by their feet, he jumped, but Luciano was there to catch him, pulling his head down so that their faces were too close to play this off as anything other than what it was.
They kissed. Or rather, they attempted to kiss, teeth clacking against each other as they both moved in at the same moment, until Martín clutched Luciano’s hair with both hands and guided him into a better position, one that made him moan with the slickness and the heat and the overwhelming rush of blood behind his eyes.
Luciano was a solid weight against him, pushing him into the door with his fervor, humming soft moans against Martín’s mouth. His arm rested against the door beside Martín’s head, keeping him from sagging into the kiss. Martín wanted to feel both of his hands on him, but he could not bring himself to break the kiss just for that. He would say something later. In a minute. Right now he was too busy scratching at Luciano’s scalp and licking at the inside of his mouth.
This was good. This was something he had only ever dreamed about in the darkest corners of the night, and in the shower, and while he was driving, and whenever he saw Luciano pull his jersey up at the end of a volleyball or a football match to wipe his face, revealing an abdomen glittering with sweat, and now Luciano had grabbed his chin tightly between his fingers and was forcing him away, and God, that should not be as hot as it was.
Luciano’s eyes were piercing, and Martín knew that whatever he was trying to do or say was probably important, but he could not seem to bring himself to care because the other arm had found its way behind his back and was holding him securely just as he had wanted. Luciano was having some sort of personal dilemma, as he still had not done anything more than stare at Martín for the past three seconds, so Martín decided to take matters into his own hands and leaned against his hand to kiss him again.
“Wait, wait, I’ve got to tell you-” Luciano sputtered, finally finding the words that had eluded him. “I don’t hate you!”
Martín stopped and blinked. “Uh, okay, I sort of figured.”
“Um…yeah. Okay.” Luciano let go of him in his embarrassment, his fingers twitching with nerves.
Martín flickered his eyes across his face, taking in the pout and the tilt of his brows. “Can we keep going?”
“Shit, y-yeah.”
Had it been any other moment, Martín would have taken the time to wonder how Luciano might have gotten the impression that he believed that he hated him. He would have sat Luciano down and verbally knocked some sense into his thick head that, yes, Luciano was a total ass sometimes, but that he had never doubted his affection. He would have explained that Luciano was terrible at hiding the soft smiles and the lingering glances. He would have said all of that and more had Luciano brought this madness up at any other time, but now he was too busy panting into Luciano’s ear as the heel of his palm ground against the front of Luciano’s jeans.
“Fuck,” Luciano hissed between clenched teeth when Martín turned them around and knocked him into the door, and then again as he watched Martín sink to his knees and hike his shirt up to press a wet kiss to the skin just below his navel. “Damn, you’re fast.”
“Am not. I’m taking just the right amount of time. Now, do you really want to talk now?” Martín asked, resting his fingertips at the edge of Luciano’s waistband.
“Well, not really, but shouldn’t we-”
“Do you want this?” Martín popped the button on Luciano’s pants. “Because if you want this, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later. I won’t-I’m not going anywhere.” He flushed.
“Ah, alright, I guess. Martín?”
“What now?”
“Nothing! Just…” Luciano cupped the side of Martín’s face in his hand. “You look so sexy right now.”
Martín grinned as he kissed the palm of Luciano’s hand, pushed down his pants, and slipped his cock out. The air of the room was cool, but Martín’s breath was warm as it gusted against the head, sending shivers down Luciano’s spine. Looking up into his eyes, Martín pressed a kiss to the tip, and then another one to the side, flickering his tongue out to lave along it’s length. He licked it from root to tip a few times before taking it into his mouth and sucking. With a throaty groan, Luciano buried both hands into Martín’s hair, not to push or pull, just to touch him, to hold him. His hands were warm and sweaty, just like the rest of him, his thighs and stomach and everything surrounding Martín, holding him in this moment. It was…something Martín felt a little embarrassed about liking so much, craving this newfound closeness.
Above him, Luciano moaned as he worked, following every shift and cry like a road map to bringing him pleasure, the heady scent of his arousal and the twitch of his length against Martín’s tongue. Luciano’s hips tried to buck into him, but he held them still with a firm grip, massaging the flexing muscles beneath his skin.
Before long, Luciano was completely hard in his mouth, and Martín was completely hard himself. He let go of Luciano with one hand and shoved it into his own pants, choking a bit when Luciano lurched forward due to the sudden lack of resistance.
“I didn’t mean-I-” Luciano babbled, stroking Martín’s hair with trembling fingers.
Martín hummed around him as he stroked himself, accepting Luciano’s apology graciously and without question, vowing never to reveal the sudden rush of exhilaration he had gotten from being overwhelmed so suddenly. Those thoughts floated away as all his energy focused on getting Luciano and himself off, the heat and the haziness and the white noise in his ears and Luciano’s groans through it all, mixed in with soft, muffled whines of his own, and Luciano’s fingers tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to hurt so good, and then bitterness against the back of his tongue and he was coughing and coming and falling.
They leaned heavily against each other, gasping for breath, their skin sticky and hot and tingling. Finally, when Martín was confident that he could stand without getting too light headed, he grabbed Luciano’s arm and pulled himself up, hugging him until the dizziness passed. Even then he saw no reason to let go.
Luciano wiped the mess from Martín’s face with his thumb, tracing the contours of his cheekbones and nose when he was done. He kissed him on the lips, and then buried his face in the curve of his neck.
“You weren’t lying, were you?” he mumbled against him, his lips sticking to the delicate skin of Martín’s neck.
“What?”
“Before. You said we could talk later because you weren’t going anywhere.” Luciano started to say something else, but cut himself off to press a kiss just below Martín’s jawline.
“Oh, that.” Martín felt his face heat up. “My word is golden.”
“Good.” Luciano was smiling again, which made Martín smile
“But you’d better have something good planned for breakfast in the morning.”
“Ha, sure, sure.” He pinched Martín’s side. “Greedy thing.”
“Hey, I’m just asking for what’s already due to me,” Martín explained.
A bath, a snack, a fresh pair of pajamas, and a comfy bed were also due to him, apparently-not that Luciano was going to complain, especially when it meant that he could curl up that night with Martín’s smile and the promise of a future pressed against his nape.
Pairing: Brazil/Argentina (Luciano/Martín)
Rating: NSFW (THAT MEANS SEX)
Word Count: 1500~
Summary: When Luciano locks the door, sex happens there's no turning back.
Based on these gorgeous drawings from zulenha: 1 2
The deadbolt slid into place with a heavy thunk, a bullet shot through a silence only otherwise marred by the shallow breathing of two people who were afraid of disturbing some delicate balance in the atmosphere by exhaling too heavily.
Luciano’s hand splayed across Martín’s chest, pressing him to the door like it might stop him from leaving if the lock would not. The tips of his fingers lay against the skin of Martín’s neck, just above the collar of his shirt, dragging it down just enough to reveal a flushed collarbone.
It was difficult to look at Luciano without shaking; it was difficult to look away, too. His eyes were hungry. They searched Martín’s face and chest, marveled at the shades of their skin against each other, waiting. Martín had always considered himself the predator of the pair, but now he could not forget the dangers slinking in the depths of Brazil, areas barely touched by human hands. He shivered.
One step closer, and then another half step so that Luciano’s body was fitted snuggly against Martín’s, their thighs interlocked, their chests touching. As Luciano moved the hand on his chest up his neck and into his hair, Martín froze with parted lips, watching Luciano’s tongue dart out to wet his own. At the clang of the keys being dropped to the floor by their feet, he jumped, but Luciano was there to catch him, pulling his head down so that their faces were too close to play this off as anything other than what it was.
They kissed. Or rather, they attempted to kiss, teeth clacking against each other as they both moved in at the same moment, until Martín clutched Luciano’s hair with both hands and guided him into a better position, one that made him moan with the slickness and the heat and the overwhelming rush of blood behind his eyes.
Luciano was a solid weight against him, pushing him into the door with his fervor, humming soft moans against Martín’s mouth. His arm rested against the door beside Martín’s head, keeping him from sagging into the kiss. Martín wanted to feel both of his hands on him, but he could not bring himself to break the kiss just for that. He would say something later. In a minute. Right now he was too busy scratching at Luciano’s scalp and licking at the inside of his mouth.
This was good. This was something he had only ever dreamed about in the darkest corners of the night, and in the shower, and while he was driving, and whenever he saw Luciano pull his jersey up at the end of a volleyball or a football match to wipe his face, revealing an abdomen glittering with sweat, and now Luciano had grabbed his chin tightly between his fingers and was forcing him away, and God, that should not be as hot as it was.
Luciano’s eyes were piercing, and Martín knew that whatever he was trying to do or say was probably important, but he could not seem to bring himself to care because the other arm had found its way behind his back and was holding him securely just as he had wanted. Luciano was having some sort of personal dilemma, as he still had not done anything more than stare at Martín for the past three seconds, so Martín decided to take matters into his own hands and leaned against his hand to kiss him again.
“Wait, wait, I’ve got to tell you-” Luciano sputtered, finally finding the words that had eluded him. “I don’t hate you!”
Martín stopped and blinked. “Uh, okay, I sort of figured.”
“Um…yeah. Okay.” Luciano let go of him in his embarrassment, his fingers twitching with nerves.
Martín flickered his eyes across his face, taking in the pout and the tilt of his brows. “Can we keep going?”
“Shit, y-yeah.”
Had it been any other moment, Martín would have taken the time to wonder how Luciano might have gotten the impression that he believed that he hated him. He would have sat Luciano down and verbally knocked some sense into his thick head that, yes, Luciano was a total ass sometimes, but that he had never doubted his affection. He would have explained that Luciano was terrible at hiding the soft smiles and the lingering glances. He would have said all of that and more had Luciano brought this madness up at any other time, but now he was too busy panting into Luciano’s ear as the heel of his palm ground against the front of Luciano’s jeans.
“Fuck,” Luciano hissed between clenched teeth when Martín turned them around and knocked him into the door, and then again as he watched Martín sink to his knees and hike his shirt up to press a wet kiss to the skin just below his navel. “Damn, you’re fast.”
“Am not. I’m taking just the right amount of time. Now, do you really want to talk now?” Martín asked, resting his fingertips at the edge of Luciano’s waistband.
“Well, not really, but shouldn’t we-”
“Do you want this?” Martín popped the button on Luciano’s pants. “Because if you want this, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later. I won’t-I’m not going anywhere.” He flushed.
“Ah, alright, I guess. Martín?”
“What now?”
“Nothing! Just…” Luciano cupped the side of Martín’s face in his hand. “You look so sexy right now.”
Martín grinned as he kissed the palm of Luciano’s hand, pushed down his pants, and slipped his cock out. The air of the room was cool, but Martín’s breath was warm as it gusted against the head, sending shivers down Luciano’s spine. Looking up into his eyes, Martín pressed a kiss to the tip, and then another one to the side, flickering his tongue out to lave along it’s length. He licked it from root to tip a few times before taking it into his mouth and sucking. With a throaty groan, Luciano buried both hands into Martín’s hair, not to push or pull, just to touch him, to hold him. His hands were warm and sweaty, just like the rest of him, his thighs and stomach and everything surrounding Martín, holding him in this moment. It was…something Martín felt a little embarrassed about liking so much, craving this newfound closeness.
Above him, Luciano moaned as he worked, following every shift and cry like a road map to bringing him pleasure, the heady scent of his arousal and the twitch of his length against Martín’s tongue. Luciano’s hips tried to buck into him, but he held them still with a firm grip, massaging the flexing muscles beneath his skin.
Before long, Luciano was completely hard in his mouth, and Martín was completely hard himself. He let go of Luciano with one hand and shoved it into his own pants, choking a bit when Luciano lurched forward due to the sudden lack of resistance.
“I didn’t mean-I-” Luciano babbled, stroking Martín’s hair with trembling fingers.
Martín hummed around him as he stroked himself, accepting Luciano’s apology graciously and without question, vowing never to reveal the sudden rush of exhilaration he had gotten from being overwhelmed so suddenly. Those thoughts floated away as all his energy focused on getting Luciano and himself off, the heat and the haziness and the white noise in his ears and Luciano’s groans through it all, mixed in with soft, muffled whines of his own, and Luciano’s fingers tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to hurt so good, and then bitterness against the back of his tongue and he was coughing and coming and falling.
They leaned heavily against each other, gasping for breath, their skin sticky and hot and tingling. Finally, when Martín was confident that he could stand without getting too light headed, he grabbed Luciano’s arm and pulled himself up, hugging him until the dizziness passed. Even then he saw no reason to let go.
Luciano wiped the mess from Martín’s face with his thumb, tracing the contours of his cheekbones and nose when he was done. He kissed him on the lips, and then buried his face in the curve of his neck.
“You weren’t lying, were you?” he mumbled against him, his lips sticking to the delicate skin of Martín’s neck.
“What?”
“Before. You said we could talk later because you weren’t going anywhere.” Luciano started to say something else, but cut himself off to press a kiss just below Martín’s jawline.
“Oh, that.” Martín felt his face heat up. “My word is golden.”
“Good.” Luciano was smiling again, which made Martín smile
“But you’d better have something good planned for breakfast in the morning.”
“Ha, sure, sure.” He pinched Martín’s side. “Greedy thing.”
“Hey, I’m just asking for what’s already due to me,” Martín explained.
A bath, a snack, a fresh pair of pajamas, and a comfy bed were also due to him, apparently-not that Luciano was going to complain, especially when it meant that he could curl up that night with Martín’s smile and the promise of a future pressed against his nape.