fic: a moment of
title: a moment of
pairing: frank lampard/ricardo kaká
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
written for cesc's world cup party at keys_in_a_pot
this prompt went unwritten so i decided to take it :)
Well this is new for him.
Of course he knows who Kaká is; the entire world knows who Kaká is. He has seen him play, has played against him, has even made small talk with him during commercial shoots and at award ceremonies. It is always friendly. There isn’t a reason for it not to be.
However, Frank doesn’t know Ricardo, never had a reason to and tonight’s... activities doesn’t constitute valid grounds either. Though he isn’t going to deny the fact that he is curious as is could be as to why the Brazilian is here; why would he choose to be a part of such debauchery when his devotion to his faith is no secret in no way whatsoever. It’s not in Frank’s place to ask however.
“Have you been here before?”
The question shakes Frank out of his thoughts and he turns his attention to his companion for the night.
“Africa?” Ricardo nods. “Not really. Not to really explore it.”
Ricardo frowns slightly as he walks past Frank to the bed. He sits down, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
“You should,” he says as he looks up. “It’s beautiful... A different kind of beauty people like us don’t get to see everyday.”
Suddenly Frank feels wrong. Feels so fucking wrong for being here with Ricardo. It’s not his fault obviously but he is pretty fucking sure he cannot go through with this. Ricardo... he doesn’t belong here amongst the debauchery and filth... It has always been fun and games for Frank but with Ricardo here, sitting in front of him, too pure, too good, Frank feels dirty.
“I... I think I am going to go, get a good night’s sleep and all. The world cup will be exhausting after all.”
It’s funny. When he looks back on this moment later, back at his room with the England squad, he won’t remember how it happened. But as it happens it’s like everything is moving in slow motion. Ricardo barely lifts off the bed but just enough to reach for Frank’s arm. The tug is gentle but insistent and Frank stumbles a little. He falls half onto the mattress, half onto younger man. Ricardo smiles before he frowns.
“You came here for a reason, Frank,” he says quietly, looking down to where his fingers are still curled around the strong wrist. “So did I.”
This time he lifts his gaze to meet Frank’s and the determination the Englishman sees takes him back.
“So why did you come here then, lad?”
If it were anyone else but Ricardo, than the all righteous Kaká, Frank would have expected it, would have opened his lips and accepted the kiss as an automatic response. Instead he stays still, rigid and it takes him being surprised at how aggressive Ricardo is being that he gasps, allowing an agile tongue to slip in.
“For the same reason you did.”
The whispered words against his lips melt away most of Frank’s reservations and worries. It’s the hand on cock, rubbing through the thin material of his trousers that erases thoughts of anything else.
They tumble backwards, lying side by side as they continue to kiss. Frank finally gives in and pulls Ricardo close to his body. He doesn’t question it any longer, refuses to because he is in the moment and really why think when Ricardo is blatantly fine with it.
Seeing Ricardo naked is... It causes Frank’s breath to catch in his throat as clichéd as that sounds. He’s as pale as Frank is, maybe more so because Brit has a noticeable tan line that outlines where the sun has caressed him above and below his waist whereas Ricardo doesn’t. He’s just smooth and pure all over.
Frank is unsure how to proceed but luckily Ricardo surprises him again by taking charge. He settles on top of the Englishman. A smile floats down.
The pressure of his ankles against his thighs is warm, pleasurable and Frank cannot believe that is his center of focus until Ricardo slides down onto his rigid cock. For a moment he thinks he should be concerned that he cannot recall the younger man prepping himself, nor does he remember putting on a condom. But it’s all been taken care of. He places his hands on Ricardo’s waist, gripping strong, sharp hips.
Ricardo looks down as he moves on his cock, his eyes hazy but still friendly and kind.
“H-harder.”
The break in his voice coupled with everything else (the fact that this is Kaká ) shatters Frank’s resolve and he gives Ricardo what he wants and more.
He tightens his hold and begins to fuck him in earnest. He doesn’t look away and neither does Ricardo. The younger man’s breath hitches, gasps flowing from him steadily. Ricardo lays his palms flat against Frank’s chest as he leans down, trying to ease yet speed up his pending orgasm at the same time. When Frank hits deep particularly hard, Ricardo gives up the pretence and wraps his hand around his cock.
When he comes he has his head buried into the crook of Frank’s neck, his breath heavy and moist against already damp skin.
“Alright, lad?” Frank asks, his throat raw making his voice harsh in the silent room. Ricardo just nods against his shoulder as he reaches back with one hand to pull himself carefully off of Frank’s spent cock.
They both go their own way, not exchanging words but smiles instead. When Frank reaches his room at his hotel much later he still couldn’t find words to describe what happened. Nothing fit.
pairing: frank lampard/ricardo kaká
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
written for cesc's world cup party at keys_in_a_pot
this prompt went unwritten so i decided to take it :)
Well this is new for him.
Of course he knows who Kaká is; the entire world knows who Kaká is. He has seen him play, has played against him, has even made small talk with him during commercial shoots and at award ceremonies. It is always friendly. There isn’t a reason for it not to be.
However, Frank doesn’t know Ricardo, never had a reason to and tonight’s... activities doesn’t constitute valid grounds either. Though he isn’t going to deny the fact that he is curious as is could be as to why the Brazilian is here; why would he choose to be a part of such debauchery when his devotion to his faith is no secret in no way whatsoever. It’s not in Frank’s place to ask however.
“Have you been here before?”
The question shakes Frank out of his thoughts and he turns his attention to his companion for the night.
“Africa?” Ricardo nods. “Not really. Not to really explore it.”
Ricardo frowns slightly as he walks past Frank to the bed. He sits down, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
“You should,” he says as he looks up. “It’s beautiful... A different kind of beauty people like us don’t get to see everyday.”
Suddenly Frank feels wrong. Feels so fucking wrong for being here with Ricardo. It’s not his fault obviously but he is pretty fucking sure he cannot go through with this. Ricardo... he doesn’t belong here amongst the debauchery and filth... It has always been fun and games for Frank but with Ricardo here, sitting in front of him, too pure, too good, Frank feels dirty.
“I... I think I am going to go, get a good night’s sleep and all. The world cup will be exhausting after all.”
It’s funny. When he looks back on this moment later, back at his room with the England squad, he won’t remember how it happened. But as it happens it’s like everything is moving in slow motion. Ricardo barely lifts off the bed but just enough to reach for Frank’s arm. The tug is gentle but insistent and Frank stumbles a little. He falls half onto the mattress, half onto younger man. Ricardo smiles before he frowns.
“You came here for a reason, Frank,” he says quietly, looking down to where his fingers are still curled around the strong wrist. “So did I.”
This time he lifts his gaze to meet Frank’s and the determination the Englishman sees takes him back.
“So why did you come here then, lad?”
If it were anyone else but Ricardo, than the all righteous Kaká, Frank would have expected it, would have opened his lips and accepted the kiss as an automatic response. Instead he stays still, rigid and it takes him being surprised at how aggressive Ricardo is being that he gasps, allowing an agile tongue to slip in.
“For the same reason you did.”
The whispered words against his lips melt away most of Frank’s reservations and worries. It’s the hand on cock, rubbing through the thin material of his trousers that erases thoughts of anything else.
They tumble backwards, lying side by side as they continue to kiss. Frank finally gives in and pulls Ricardo close to his body. He doesn’t question it any longer, refuses to because he is in the moment and really why think when Ricardo is blatantly fine with it.
Seeing Ricardo naked is... It causes Frank’s breath to catch in his throat as clichéd as that sounds. He’s as pale as Frank is, maybe more so because Brit has a noticeable tan line that outlines where the sun has caressed him above and below his waist whereas Ricardo doesn’t. He’s just smooth and pure all over.
Frank is unsure how to proceed but luckily Ricardo surprises him again by taking charge. He settles on top of the Englishman. A smile floats down.
The pressure of his ankles against his thighs is warm, pleasurable and Frank cannot believe that is his center of focus until Ricardo slides down onto his rigid cock. For a moment he thinks he should be concerned that he cannot recall the younger man prepping himself, nor does he remember putting on a condom. But it’s all been taken care of. He places his hands on Ricardo’s waist, gripping strong, sharp hips.
Ricardo looks down as he moves on his cock, his eyes hazy but still friendly and kind.
“H-harder.”
The break in his voice coupled with everything else (the fact that this is Kaká ) shatters Frank’s resolve and he gives Ricardo what he wants and more.
He tightens his hold and begins to fuck him in earnest. He doesn’t look away and neither does Ricardo. The younger man’s breath hitches, gasps flowing from him steadily. Ricardo lays his palms flat against Frank’s chest as he leans down, trying to ease yet speed up his pending orgasm at the same time. When Frank hits deep particularly hard, Ricardo gives up the pretence and wraps his hand around his cock.
When he comes he has his head buried into the crook of Frank’s neck, his breath heavy and moist against already damp skin.
“Alright, lad?” Frank asks, his throat raw making his voice harsh in the silent room. Ricardo just nods against his shoulder as he reaches back with one hand to pull himself carefully off of Frank’s spent cock.
They both go their own way, not exchanging words but smiles instead. When Frank reaches his room at his hotel much later he still couldn’t find words to describe what happened. Nothing fit.