fic: just hit the snooze
title: just hit the snooze
pairing: jose mourinho/aitor karanka
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
this story began as a twitter conversation between miss_black91, wlanki and myself. basically, jose and aitor show up to training in each other's training shirts.
When the alarm goes off far too early for his liking, Aitor grumbles quietly as he reaches behind him to turn it off. It’s too fucking early and it wouldn’t hurt to sleep in just a little bit longer. Once his hand hits the clock, Aitor shifts further into the comforter, trying his best to catch a few more zzz’s. As soon as he feels himself floating off again, the comforter is ripped off him and Aitor’s body jerks forward.
“Get up, Aitor! You’re going to be late.”
He blinks, his face scrunched up unhappily. “Me?”
Jose smiles down at him, one towel wrapped around his hips, the other he uses to dry his hair. “Oh, I will leave without you if you don’t get up now.”
It takes Aitor a moment to become fully aware of the image that is presented before him and a moment longer to sit up and grab Jose’s wrist.
“You aren’t going anywhere without me... el mister,” Aitor says lowly as he tugs Jose towards him. He doesn’t expect him to go so easily so when Jose falls on top of him, he’s caught off guard.
Jose narrows his eyes as he stares down at him, both towels now haphazardly forgotten. “Is that so?”
Aitor doesn’t respond. Instead he curls his fingers around Jose’s jaw and pulls his face close enough to touch but not quite. He stares into Jose’s hazel grey alert eyes, knowing his own are tired and tinged with sleep. Aitor flickers his gaze down to his lips and back again before he closes the distance and kisses Jose hard.
“Aitor... I-”
But he doesn’t let up. Instead, Aitor slides his fingers over Jose’s ears and rubs the shell lightly as he presses his lips a little more insistently. He presses just above the lobes and Jose submits, opens his mouth fully and Aitor feels like it’s his birthday.
They settle against each other, Aitor underneath Jose’s naked body - the status of the towel no longer a concern for either man.
Immediately, Aitor snakes his hands around Jose’s hips and pulls him even closer, letting out a shaky groan as he feels Jose respond to him.
“Jose...”
“We can’t, Ait-”
Cut off with a kiss, Jose forgets any kind of protest that lingers on his lips as Aitor takes care of him. Instead, he moulds his body against the Basque’s, pressing his groin down onto Aitor’s, his hands plunging within soft brown hair as he kisses back hard and fast. He needs skin on skin. He needs Aitor naked.
Aitor’s thinking the same thing as he shifts his body to the side but doesn’t let go of Jose, his fingers gripping him tight. He twists and shimmies his hips until his boxers are kicked off and Jose’s warmth makes up for the discarded cloth.
Warm skin, damp hair, the smell of musk and soap spurs Aitor on and he slides a hand between their bodies, stroking Jose’s cock slowly, relishing how the Portuguese’s body is reacting already. It’s a heady powerful feeling he loves madly.
With his other hand, Aitor reaches for the lubricant and condom on the bedside table. With his head turned, he feels a wet tongue tracing its way against the curve of his jaw. Aitor laughs as he turns back to Jose.
“Impatient?”
“You started it.”
And he could hardly argue against that as he did indeed start it because whenever he sees Jose in his current state of undress he never suppresses his urges. (Why would he want to do that to himself anyway?)
With a chaste kiss to his lips, Aitor leans back and sit on his legs as he rips open the condom and slides it onto himself. Jose is smiling up at him, his coy ‘I will let you top this time’ smile.
“Lift up your leg.”
Instead of complying immediately (he is Jose after all), Jose reaches out and places a finger against Aitor’s nipple. “Say please.”
A gasp is torn from Aitor’s lips. “P-please.” He doesn’t even think about hesitating.
He wants this just as much as the Basque does so Jose shuffles his legs out from underneath Aitor and lift it high enough for him to grab. Aitor doesn’t wait any longer and pushes the limb back as he uncaps the lubricant with one hand.
When he pushes in a wet finger, Jose’s eyes don’t flicker. “I don’t need it, Aitor. Just do it.”
And then it begins. Aitor pushes in and Jose’s arching his body, the first steps of their dance flow into something so smooth and natural. Lines crease at the edge of Jose’s face as he breathes a little deeper, a little harder, struggling to keep his eyes open. Aitor inches forward and slides his fingers to curl around his neck and shoulders, bringing their foreheads together.
“Aitor...” Jose breathes out against the Basque’s lips, his neck straining forward until Aitor gives in and kisses him, just a flutter of tongue as he pushes in harder, with more purpose.
Hooking his hands under his knees, Aitor creates more space for himself to fuck Jose deeper, his fingers soothing the skin of his kneecaps. Jose has his eyes closed now, his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Jose.”
His name gets his attention and he opens his eyes to see Aitor looking down at him with such heat in his eyes, a longing, a desire. Without thinking, Jose wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes himself in time with Aitor’s thrusts. The Basque presses their lips together again but this time there’s nothing soft about it. It’s rough and bruising and if Jose was in any other mindset he would yell at him for being so reckless.
But right now, it feels incredibly good, so good it only takes Jose two - three more strokes and he’s coming into his hand, his body shivering for a moment.
Aitor pushes on his hip and turns him to face to the side, the pressure around his cock immediately tightening and it doesn’t take him long after that. He comes with a tiny shout and fingers dug into the skin of Jose’s hip, collapsing against the Portuguese after it’s all said and done.
After a minute, Jose reaches out with his clean hand and ruffles Aitor’s hair with it.
“Time for another shower?”
Jose turns his head and looks at the clock, cursing as he pushes the Basque off him.
“I am going to fine you for this.”
Aitor laughs as he takes over the warmth Jose just abandoned. “That means you need to fine yourself as well.”
Jose just glares at him.
*
They barely make it to the training ground but Jose had called ahead to Rui to tell him to start things without them if necessary. So together they make onto the pitch, heading over to where the coaching staff had gathered.
Rui’s two seconds away from making a smart remark but is shot down by Jose’s stare before he even has a chance.
The team gathers around the manager, forming a circle around him. Although heads are bowed, Jose knows they are listening to him, can see it in their body language. He knows he has their attention until there’s a ripple of laughter from somewhere from the left before it spreads quickly.
“What’s so funny, eh? That you all are okay with losing?”
It’s Iker who speaks up first. “It’s nothing. Sorry. Continue.” He shoots a glare around to his players that has most of them quietening. Well, all but Cristiano and Sergio.
When Jose shoos them off to do drills, the duo hang back for a moment.
“Did you have a good morning, mister?” Sergio asks all too innocently. Cristiano’s face is barely keeping it together.
“Yes, yes it was fine,” Jose says with a dismissal, not having time to joke around with the players at the moment.
“Aitor looks like he had a good morning too,” Cristiano laughs, his body shaking.
“What are you...”
Aitor runs up to him and whispers something into his ear that would have him blushing if he were any other man.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters under his breath, turning back to Cristiano and Sergio. “I’ll give you five seconds to return to the drills before making you run ten extra laps and you have already wasted two seconds.”
When the duo runs off leaving a trail of laugher behind them, Jose turns to Aitor and smiles sheepishly, reaching out to trace the JM on Aitor’s chest. “Oops?”
Aitor’s cheeks are flushed from embarrassment and if they weren’t on the pitch Jose would kiss him in reassurance. “We should go change.”
Jose looks down at his own training shirt and smile. “I quite like the AK and you suit my initials.”
He didn’t think it was possible but Aitor blushes even further, quite the change from earlier this morning when he was demanding Jose’s leg over his shoulders.
Swinging an arm over the Basque’s shoulders, Jose whispers in Aitor’s ear. “You can make me late and wear your clothes anytime you want, you know.”
Aitor laughs as he turns into Jose’s neck slightly. “You are impossible.”
“And you love it.”
pairing: jose mourinho/aitor karanka
rating: nc-17
disclaimer: fiction
this story began as a twitter conversation between miss_black91, wlanki and myself. basically, jose and aitor show up to training in each other's training shirts.
When the alarm goes off far too early for his liking, Aitor grumbles quietly as he reaches behind him to turn it off. It’s too fucking early and it wouldn’t hurt to sleep in just a little bit longer. Once his hand hits the clock, Aitor shifts further into the comforter, trying his best to catch a few more zzz’s. As soon as he feels himself floating off again, the comforter is ripped off him and Aitor’s body jerks forward.
“Get up, Aitor! You’re going to be late.”
He blinks, his face scrunched up unhappily. “Me?”
Jose smiles down at him, one towel wrapped around his hips, the other he uses to dry his hair. “Oh, I will leave without you if you don’t get up now.”
It takes Aitor a moment to become fully aware of the image that is presented before him and a moment longer to sit up and grab Jose’s wrist.
“You aren’t going anywhere without me... el mister,” Aitor says lowly as he tugs Jose towards him. He doesn’t expect him to go so easily so when Jose falls on top of him, he’s caught off guard.
Jose narrows his eyes as he stares down at him, both towels now haphazardly forgotten. “Is that so?”
Aitor doesn’t respond. Instead he curls his fingers around Jose’s jaw and pulls his face close enough to touch but not quite. He stares into Jose’s hazel grey alert eyes, knowing his own are tired and tinged with sleep. Aitor flickers his gaze down to his lips and back again before he closes the distance and kisses Jose hard.
“Aitor... I-”
But he doesn’t let up. Instead, Aitor slides his fingers over Jose’s ears and rubs the shell lightly as he presses his lips a little more insistently. He presses just above the lobes and Jose submits, opens his mouth fully and Aitor feels like it’s his birthday.
They settle against each other, Aitor underneath Jose’s naked body - the status of the towel no longer a concern for either man.
Immediately, Aitor snakes his hands around Jose’s hips and pulls him even closer, letting out a shaky groan as he feels Jose respond to him.
“Jose...”
“We can’t, Ait-”
Cut off with a kiss, Jose forgets any kind of protest that lingers on his lips as Aitor takes care of him. Instead, he moulds his body against the Basque’s, pressing his groin down onto Aitor’s, his hands plunging within soft brown hair as he kisses back hard and fast. He needs skin on skin. He needs Aitor naked.
Aitor’s thinking the same thing as he shifts his body to the side but doesn’t let go of Jose, his fingers gripping him tight. He twists and shimmies his hips until his boxers are kicked off and Jose’s warmth makes up for the discarded cloth.
Warm skin, damp hair, the smell of musk and soap spurs Aitor on and he slides a hand between their bodies, stroking Jose’s cock slowly, relishing how the Portuguese’s body is reacting already. It’s a heady powerful feeling he loves madly.
With his other hand, Aitor reaches for the lubricant and condom on the bedside table. With his head turned, he feels a wet tongue tracing its way against the curve of his jaw. Aitor laughs as he turns back to Jose.
“Impatient?”
“You started it.”
And he could hardly argue against that as he did indeed start it because whenever he sees Jose in his current state of undress he never suppresses his urges. (Why would he want to do that to himself anyway?)
With a chaste kiss to his lips, Aitor leans back and sit on his legs as he rips open the condom and slides it onto himself. Jose is smiling up at him, his coy ‘I will let you top this time’ smile.
“Lift up your leg.”
Instead of complying immediately (he is Jose after all), Jose reaches out and places a finger against Aitor’s nipple. “Say please.”
A gasp is torn from Aitor’s lips. “P-please.” He doesn’t even think about hesitating.
He wants this just as much as the Basque does so Jose shuffles his legs out from underneath Aitor and lift it high enough for him to grab. Aitor doesn’t wait any longer and pushes the limb back as he uncaps the lubricant with one hand.
When he pushes in a wet finger, Jose’s eyes don’t flicker. “I don’t need it, Aitor. Just do it.”
And then it begins. Aitor pushes in and Jose’s arching his body, the first steps of their dance flow into something so smooth and natural. Lines crease at the edge of Jose’s face as he breathes a little deeper, a little harder, struggling to keep his eyes open. Aitor inches forward and slides his fingers to curl around his neck and shoulders, bringing their foreheads together.
“Aitor...” Jose breathes out against the Basque’s lips, his neck straining forward until Aitor gives in and kisses him, just a flutter of tongue as he pushes in harder, with more purpose.
Hooking his hands under his knees, Aitor creates more space for himself to fuck Jose deeper, his fingers soothing the skin of his kneecaps. Jose has his eyes closed now, his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Jose.”
His name gets his attention and he opens his eyes to see Aitor looking down at him with such heat in his eyes, a longing, a desire. Without thinking, Jose wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes himself in time with Aitor’s thrusts. The Basque presses their lips together again but this time there’s nothing soft about it. It’s rough and bruising and if Jose was in any other mindset he would yell at him for being so reckless.
But right now, it feels incredibly good, so good it only takes Jose two - three more strokes and he’s coming into his hand, his body shivering for a moment.
Aitor pushes on his hip and turns him to face to the side, the pressure around his cock immediately tightening and it doesn’t take him long after that. He comes with a tiny shout and fingers dug into the skin of Jose’s hip, collapsing against the Portuguese after it’s all said and done.
After a minute, Jose reaches out with his clean hand and ruffles Aitor’s hair with it.
“Time for another shower?”
Jose turns his head and looks at the clock, cursing as he pushes the Basque off him.
“I am going to fine you for this.”
Aitor laughs as he takes over the warmth Jose just abandoned. “That means you need to fine yourself as well.”
Jose just glares at him.
*
They barely make it to the training ground but Jose had called ahead to Rui to tell him to start things without them if necessary. So together they make onto the pitch, heading over to where the coaching staff had gathered.
Rui’s two seconds away from making a smart remark but is shot down by Jose’s stare before he even has a chance.
The team gathers around the manager, forming a circle around him. Although heads are bowed, Jose knows they are listening to him, can see it in their body language. He knows he has their attention until there’s a ripple of laughter from somewhere from the left before it spreads quickly.
“What’s so funny, eh? That you all are okay with losing?”
It’s Iker who speaks up first. “It’s nothing. Sorry. Continue.” He shoots a glare around to his players that has most of them quietening. Well, all but Cristiano and Sergio.
When Jose shoos them off to do drills, the duo hang back for a moment.
“Did you have a good morning, mister?” Sergio asks all too innocently. Cristiano’s face is barely keeping it together.
“Yes, yes it was fine,” Jose says with a dismissal, not having time to joke around with the players at the moment.
“Aitor looks like he had a good morning too,” Cristiano laughs, his body shaking.
“What are you...”
Aitor runs up to him and whispers something into his ear that would have him blushing if he were any other man.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters under his breath, turning back to Cristiano and Sergio. “I’ll give you five seconds to return to the drills before making you run ten extra laps and you have already wasted two seconds.”
When the duo runs off leaving a trail of laugher behind them, Jose turns to Aitor and smiles sheepishly, reaching out to trace the JM on Aitor’s chest. “Oops?”
Aitor’s cheeks are flushed from embarrassment and if they weren’t on the pitch Jose would kiss him in reassurance. “We should go change.”
Jose looks down at his own training shirt and smile. “I quite like the AK and you suit my initials.”
He didn’t think it was possible but Aitor blushes even further, quite the change from earlier this morning when he was demanding Jose’s leg over his shoulders.
Swinging an arm over the Basque’s shoulders, Jose whispers in Aitor’s ear. “You can make me late and wear your clothes anytime you want, you know.”
Aitor laughs as he turns into Jose’s neck slightly. “You are impossible.”
“And you love it.”