to err is human
title: to err is human
pairing: steven gerrard/xabi alonso
rating: pg-13/r
disclaimer: fiction
happy birthday riyaynwa! thank you for letting me borrow the boys for a day. i hope you like it :)
You think it is ridiculous; to like, love, be with another man. There are plenty of women, of good looking bodacious women out there. Why give up all those luscious curves? You don’t care that other men swing that way but personally the man that would make you switch would have to be a one of a kind, a perfect human being in every sense of the word. And you know that simply does not exist. To err is to human.
{*}
It shouldn’t bother you. You’ve seen many people do it; it’s a custom in many countries around the world. Yet when Xabi and Fernando exchange besos to the cheek, you can’t help but feel irritated. The way they linger, whisper something against each others’ skin implies something more, something you don’t want to think about yet you do anyway.
It’s Xabi who grabs your attention. He’s quiet and reserved but that doesn’t mean he holds back from the team. He still joins in with the teasing of others, with the celebrations and bonding sessions. He’s just not ‘in-your-face’; doesn’t have the need to boast or put others down intentionally.
You notice other things too. Like the way his smile (though not as prominent as others - you see it as something that needs to be earned) lights up his entire face when he’s truly happy (you’re lucky enough to say you have been on the receiving end of these smiles - and more than once). And though you’ll never admit it out loud, there’s something about his eyes, an infusion of gold and brown that captures your attention so much you forget to blink sometimes (Xabi in turn then looks at you funny but never says anything of course).
You don’t even allow yourself to think about his body. No, you simply refuse to go there. You don’t look at him when he pulls off his shirt after training or especially after matches. Slim frame yet taut and hard muscles do nothing for you. You recite this every time he stretches next to you and you can see the clear definition of his calves, of his hard thighs. You don’t even like that; it’s all about curves you remind yourself.
{*}
“Is something wrong, Steven?”
You look up from the magazine you are reading (or staring at - same difference) and catch the concern look in his eyes. Suddenly you feel exposed under his gaze, like he knows you’re deepest thoughts, knows what you really think of him.
“Why would you say that, lad?”
Xabi shrugs before slumping down onto his hotel bed., staring up at the ceiling instead of you. You’re grateful for that.
“I was saying something about Spain and national team and you started frowning.”
“Oh,” you say awkwardly. You don’t remember doing that at all. “Did I? I’m sorry. I must have been thinking of something else.”
Then suddenly he’s sitting next you, looking down at you with his soft brown eyes and you utter a curse under your breath.
“It’s other times too, when I’m with Fernando. Do you... not like him? Or,” he breaks away for a quick second as he looks to the floor before reaching your eyes again, “maybe you don’t like me?”
That has you sitting up straight in seconds. “No, no, lad, never.” The magazine gets tossed to the side somewhere as you close the distance between the two of you, placing a hand on his thigh. You think about removing it when you realize he’s wearing a pair of thin shorts but your hand doesn’t seem to get the memo your brain is sending out. “It’s not like that. You’re a good mate but - “
Xabi cuts you off, shaking head as he places his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay. I’ll see if Carra wants to switch with me. I don’t want to - “
And now it’s your turn to cut him off as you lean forward and press your lips to his. You can tell it catches him off guard as it does you but you don’t pull away, don’t think about what you’re doing exactly. All you know is that you like the feel of his lips against yours, how they fit perfectly.
Then the moment is gone when Xabi pulls back. You expect his eyes to be wide and wait for him to start yelling at you but nothing comes. Instead, he looks at you with such softness that you draw him in for another kiss. This time, he opens up his mouth and gives in to you completely.
His hand is still on yours and you turn both of them over to grasp his. Like a lifeline. And really that’s all you can ask for right now.
{*}
You’re hesitant, of course you are. You have no idea what you are doing and an twenty minutes ago you would swear on your mother’s life that you would never do anything like this. But here you are, half lying on top of him, half leaning over, clothes long discarded. Of course you know the faster you get this over with the faster things will go back to normal. But you can’t do fast right now, you don’t want to.
Xabi looks up under dark lashes, his expression soft and inviting. It calms you more than it should. With steady fingers you trace the soft skin of his face, starting with the subtle lines his forehead then down cheek and across his chin. When your thumb comes to rest against his lip, Xabi’s breath hitches and you replace the finger with your lips. He moans lightly causing you to do the same.
You do everything yet nothing but it’s enough. The way Xabi’s body tremble underneath your exploring fingers, the way his moans and breath hitches against your lips only encourages you to continue. You might not know what you’re doing exactly but when you pull away slightly, Xabi’s eyes are shining with lust and want and trust. And really it’s enough.
Later when he’s asleep, tucked into your body, you card your fingers through his hair. You think about what all this means when Xabi mumbles something against your chest and tries to burrow further against you. And suddenly you no longer have the need to label this, to compartmentalize in your mind where you belong. You’re not stupid either; you know Xabi’s not perfect, just like you but he comes as close as anyone ever could.
pairing: steven gerrard/xabi alonso
rating: pg-13/r
disclaimer: fiction
happy birthday riyaynwa! thank you for letting me borrow the boys for a day. i hope you like it :)
You think it is ridiculous; to like, love, be with another man. There are plenty of women, of good looking bodacious women out there. Why give up all those luscious curves? You don’t care that other men swing that way but personally the man that would make you switch would have to be a one of a kind, a perfect human being in every sense of the word. And you know that simply does not exist. To err is to human.
{*}
It shouldn’t bother you. You’ve seen many people do it; it’s a custom in many countries around the world. Yet when Xabi and Fernando exchange besos to the cheek, you can’t help but feel irritated. The way they linger, whisper something against each others’ skin implies something more, something you don’t want to think about yet you do anyway.
It’s Xabi who grabs your attention. He’s quiet and reserved but that doesn’t mean he holds back from the team. He still joins in with the teasing of others, with the celebrations and bonding sessions. He’s just not ‘in-your-face’; doesn’t have the need to boast or put others down intentionally.
You notice other things too. Like the way his smile (though not as prominent as others - you see it as something that needs to be earned) lights up his entire face when he’s truly happy (you’re lucky enough to say you have been on the receiving end of these smiles - and more than once). And though you’ll never admit it out loud, there’s something about his eyes, an infusion of gold and brown that captures your attention so much you forget to blink sometimes (Xabi in turn then looks at you funny but never says anything of course).
You don’t even allow yourself to think about his body. No, you simply refuse to go there. You don’t look at him when he pulls off his shirt after training or especially after matches. Slim frame yet taut and hard muscles do nothing for you. You recite this every time he stretches next to you and you can see the clear definition of his calves, of his hard thighs. You don’t even like that; it’s all about curves you remind yourself.
{*}
“Is something wrong, Steven?”
You look up from the magazine you are reading (or staring at - same difference) and catch the concern look in his eyes. Suddenly you feel exposed under his gaze, like he knows you’re deepest thoughts, knows what you really think of him.
“Why would you say that, lad?”
Xabi shrugs before slumping down onto his hotel bed., staring up at the ceiling instead of you. You’re grateful for that.
“I was saying something about Spain and national team and you started frowning.”
“Oh,” you say awkwardly. You don’t remember doing that at all. “Did I? I’m sorry. I must have been thinking of something else.”
Then suddenly he’s sitting next you, looking down at you with his soft brown eyes and you utter a curse under your breath.
“It’s other times too, when I’m with Fernando. Do you... not like him? Or,” he breaks away for a quick second as he looks to the floor before reaching your eyes again, “maybe you don’t like me?”
That has you sitting up straight in seconds. “No, no, lad, never.” The magazine gets tossed to the side somewhere as you close the distance between the two of you, placing a hand on his thigh. You think about removing it when you realize he’s wearing a pair of thin shorts but your hand doesn’t seem to get the memo your brain is sending out. “It’s not like that. You’re a good mate but - “
Xabi cuts you off, shaking head as he places his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay. I’ll see if Carra wants to switch with me. I don’t want to - “
And now it’s your turn to cut him off as you lean forward and press your lips to his. You can tell it catches him off guard as it does you but you don’t pull away, don’t think about what you’re doing exactly. All you know is that you like the feel of his lips against yours, how they fit perfectly.
Then the moment is gone when Xabi pulls back. You expect his eyes to be wide and wait for him to start yelling at you but nothing comes. Instead, he looks at you with such softness that you draw him in for another kiss. This time, he opens up his mouth and gives in to you completely.
His hand is still on yours and you turn both of them over to grasp his. Like a lifeline. And really that’s all you can ask for right now.
{*}
You’re hesitant, of course you are. You have no idea what you are doing and an twenty minutes ago you would swear on your mother’s life that you would never do anything like this. But here you are, half lying on top of him, half leaning over, clothes long discarded. Of course you know the faster you get this over with the faster things will go back to normal. But you can’t do fast right now, you don’t want to.
Xabi looks up under dark lashes, his expression soft and inviting. It calms you more than it should. With steady fingers you trace the soft skin of his face, starting with the subtle lines his forehead then down cheek and across his chin. When your thumb comes to rest against his lip, Xabi’s breath hitches and you replace the finger with your lips. He moans lightly causing you to do the same.
You do everything yet nothing but it’s enough. The way Xabi’s body tremble underneath your exploring fingers, the way his moans and breath hitches against your lips only encourages you to continue. You might not know what you’re doing exactly but when you pull away slightly, Xabi’s eyes are shining with lust and want and trust. And really it’s enough.
Later when he’s asleep, tucked into your body, you card your fingers through his hair. You think about what all this means when Xabi mumbles something against your chest and tries to burrow further against you. And suddenly you no longer have the need to label this, to compartmentalize in your mind where you belong. You’re not stupid either; you know Xabi’s not perfect, just like you but he comes as close as anyone ever could.