Fic: Upon My Skin
Title: Upon My Skin
Pairing: David Beckham/Michael Owen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: While David's asleep, Michael muses over his tattoos. short little fluff cause i haven't written my boys in a long time :)
A/N: I am aware that Michael Owen is not playing for England in tomorrow's match in Spain. But for the purposes of this fic, he is so it makes perfect sense for them to be in Spain together *nods*
The air is light, warm yet breezy at the same time. Being back in Spain together has been so serene. What once was fiery and wild lust has smoldered into a quiet loving relationship. They haven’t lost the passion, only developed it into something more, an ever present longing.
It’s early, the sun barely peeking its head out. Michael is awake though, on his side propped up on an elbow, watching David sleep on his stomach, his face tilt up towards him. With so many years together, Michael shouldn’t feel so content to just lie here, be lulled by David’s breathing. Time has pulled them apart and pushed them together relentlessly. They shouldn’t be together, given all the circumstances they have had to face. But here they are, together, fortunately to the sun smile down upon them once again.
With steady fingers, Michael reaches out and touches David’s lower back, trailing over the letters of David’s youngest son’s name. He traces the outline of the bold lettering, his touching sweeping up, then curving with smooth strokes. The muscles underneath his touch are pliant, relaxed, like there isn’t an ounce of stress in David’s body. He follows the line upward, slowly approaching the angel. His guardian angel. One day, when they were laying together, David told him that at the time he got that particular tattoo because he felt he needed someone to watch over, to protect him. When Michael nodded, David smiled and said that now he’s got one in the flesh too, his own personal real guardian. Since then, this one has always been Michael’s favorite.
Michael traces the wings carefully, pursing his lips. The detail is just incredible; the pain must have been just as great. Every line, every curve of the feathers is caressed, cared and loved for by his fingertips. Still moving upward, he takes his time feeling the smooth surface of David’s skin, outlining the “R” and every letter after with a delicate softness, mindful of not wanting to disturb David. When he reaches the cross, Michael bends down slightly and places a light kiss to the ink. He doesn’t know why he does it; it just feels right. He strokes the nape of David’s neck, occasionally dipping into the ends of his hair. With a slow yet quick feel, Michael touches David’s shoulders, skimming the surface of the cherub.
David once told him, and continues to tell him, that every tattoo on his body means something, thus Michael should be on his body in someway too. With his left arm dedicated to his wife and his back to his kids, Michael thinks that there is no room for him, at least on David’s flesh and he’s ok with that. They have discussed getting tattoos together but Michael ends up laughing nervously, saying that it’ll look stupid on him. David does want a tattoo of Michael, though, something that reminds him of all the years they have spent together, of all the tears of joy and sadness they have shed together. He may not have been able to come up with a design just yet, but he will. He knows he will.
Fingertips slowly descend down the painted canvass, adoring every stroke of ink on its way. When they reach the base of David’s back, they stop on Brooklyn. Michael pulls himself closer to David’s warmth as he settles in with the knowledge that even though he may not be etched on David’s skin, he is forever engraved in his heart.
Pairing: David Beckham/Michael Owen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: While David's asleep, Michael muses over his tattoos. short little fluff cause i haven't written my boys in a long time :)
A/N: I am aware that Michael Owen is not playing for England in tomorrow's match in Spain. But for the purposes of this fic, he is so it makes perfect sense for them to be in Spain together *nods*
The air is light, warm yet breezy at the same time. Being back in Spain together has been so serene. What once was fiery and wild lust has smoldered into a quiet loving relationship. They haven’t lost the passion, only developed it into something more, an ever present longing.
It’s early, the sun barely peeking its head out. Michael is awake though, on his side propped up on an elbow, watching David sleep on his stomach, his face tilt up towards him. With so many years together, Michael shouldn’t feel so content to just lie here, be lulled by David’s breathing. Time has pulled them apart and pushed them together relentlessly. They shouldn’t be together, given all the circumstances they have had to face. But here they are, together, fortunately to the sun smile down upon them once again.
With steady fingers, Michael reaches out and touches David’s lower back, trailing over the letters of David’s youngest son’s name. He traces the outline of the bold lettering, his touching sweeping up, then curving with smooth strokes. The muscles underneath his touch are pliant, relaxed, like there isn’t an ounce of stress in David’s body. He follows the line upward, slowly approaching the angel. His guardian angel. One day, when they were laying together, David told him that at the time he got that particular tattoo because he felt he needed someone to watch over, to protect him. When Michael nodded, David smiled and said that now he’s got one in the flesh too, his own personal real guardian. Since then, this one has always been Michael’s favorite.
Michael traces the wings carefully, pursing his lips. The detail is just incredible; the pain must have been just as great. Every line, every curve of the feathers is caressed, cared and loved for by his fingertips. Still moving upward, he takes his time feeling the smooth surface of David’s skin, outlining the “R” and every letter after with a delicate softness, mindful of not wanting to disturb David. When he reaches the cross, Michael bends down slightly and places a light kiss to the ink. He doesn’t know why he does it; it just feels right. He strokes the nape of David’s neck, occasionally dipping into the ends of his hair. With a slow yet quick feel, Michael touches David’s shoulders, skimming the surface of the cherub.
David once told him, and continues to tell him, that every tattoo on his body means something, thus Michael should be on his body in someway too. With his left arm dedicated to his wife and his back to his kids, Michael thinks that there is no room for him, at least on David’s flesh and he’s ok with that. They have discussed getting tattoos together but Michael ends up laughing nervously, saying that it’ll look stupid on him. David does want a tattoo of Michael, though, something that reminds him of all the years they have spent together, of all the tears of joy and sadness they have shed together. He may not have been able to come up with a design just yet, but he will. He knows he will.
Fingertips slowly descend down the painted canvass, adoring every stroke of ink on its way. When they reach the base of David’s back, they stop on Brooklyn. Michael pulls himself closer to David’s warmth as he settles in with the knowledge that even though he may not be etched on David’s skin, he is forever engraved in his heart.