Fic: The Aftermath, Andriy Shevchenko/Kaka, PG-13
“Andriy…” you tried to say, but all that came out was a choke.
The Aftermath
Lying soundlessly next to the spent man, the shortness of breath that caused pants filled the vacant room.
The man sat up while you were lying tiredly. You reached out, massaged his glistening back, drops of sweat slowly rolling down. You wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. “Andriy…” you tried to say, but all that came out was a choke. You watched him turn his head slightly to the right before dropping his head down. Finally having catching your breath, you sat up and pulled the Ukrainian into your lap. Even after what just happened, he stiffened. Physically you didn’t react, but you were mentally alarmed and felt automatically discomforted.
You’re not shocked; earlier you stiffened to his touch.
You rubbed your hands against his arms. You felt him loosening up, and he relaxed in your arms. He sighed, and snuggled into you. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him, touched him, felt his body writhing against yours, but his body still perfectly fitted next to yours. Savouring the feel of the older man, you closed your eyes and hummed to no particular tune. The striker grabbed your cold hands, and entwined his fingers in yours. No longer were your hands cold; they were afire, burning pleasantly against another. He gently pried open your right hand and began tracing random patterns on your palm. You squirmed under him, and he let out a low chuckle, his shoulders moving up and down, rubbing his back against your chest. You eyed his long neck. You leaned forward, and swiped your tongue from his shoulder to his ear. He closed his eyes and moaned softly.
He knows that turned you on, every sound he made.
You growled in his ear, and began to nibble on his ear. Your tongue darted out with a mind of its own. You placed your tanned hands against his waist and turned him around. With the nearly-bald forward straddling you, he rubbed his half hard cock against yours. He pulled you closer to him, giving you the friction you so desperately wanted. He pulled back and thrusted forward. He did it again. And again. And again. And again. He was soft, gentle, unlike before. You sighed with pleasure and let your eyes flutter shut. You rested your forehead against his. You tilted your chin towards him and pressed your lips on his pout-like ones. His tongue slipped out and licked your bottom lip. Unsure, you licked his back.
He paused.
Your eyes open, widened for a moment, then quickly looked off to the side. You didn’t know what you did wrong. You thought would it always been as awkward like this? You missed him back home in Italy. You still weren’t used to waking up on your own, no more early phone calls from your lover. You weren’t used to driving yourself to practice and having the loss of playfulness while changing the locker rooms. You weren’t used to actually finding matching socks every morning when you packed your bags.
You shook your head and tried to think of the problem at hand. A hand reached out, and snapped your chin up. He stared at you, eyes gentle, comforting. Those soft brown eyes were so full of warmth, love. He smiled, eyes crinkling. You boyishly grinned at him. This time, he put his arms around you, and just held you. It was if he knew your insecurity, now that he lived in England, now that he wasn’t at home anymore. He understood this insecurity. You are so young, he knows this. He didn’t say, but you knew he felt the same insecurity, you just knew.
You allowed him to softly lay you down on the rumpled sheets, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you until your eyes heavily closed.
The Aftermath
Lying soundlessly next to the spent man, the shortness of breath that caused pants filled the vacant room.
The man sat up while you were lying tiredly. You reached out, massaged his glistening back, drops of sweat slowly rolling down. You wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. “Andriy…” you tried to say, but all that came out was a choke. You watched him turn his head slightly to the right before dropping his head down. Finally having catching your breath, you sat up and pulled the Ukrainian into your lap. Even after what just happened, he stiffened. Physically you didn’t react, but you were mentally alarmed and felt automatically discomforted.
You’re not shocked; earlier you stiffened to his touch.
You rubbed your hands against his arms. You felt him loosening up, and he relaxed in your arms. He sighed, and snuggled into you. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him, touched him, felt his body writhing against yours, but his body still perfectly fitted next to yours. Savouring the feel of the older man, you closed your eyes and hummed to no particular tune. The striker grabbed your cold hands, and entwined his fingers in yours. No longer were your hands cold; they were afire, burning pleasantly against another. He gently pried open your right hand and began tracing random patterns on your palm. You squirmed under him, and he let out a low chuckle, his shoulders moving up and down, rubbing his back against your chest. You eyed his long neck. You leaned forward, and swiped your tongue from his shoulder to his ear. He closed his eyes and moaned softly.
He knows that turned you on, every sound he made.
You growled in his ear, and began to nibble on his ear. Your tongue darted out with a mind of its own. You placed your tanned hands against his waist and turned him around. With the nearly-bald forward straddling you, he rubbed his half hard cock against yours. He pulled you closer to him, giving you the friction you so desperately wanted. He pulled back and thrusted forward. He did it again. And again. And again. And again. He was soft, gentle, unlike before. You sighed with pleasure and let your eyes flutter shut. You rested your forehead against his. You tilted your chin towards him and pressed your lips on his pout-like ones. His tongue slipped out and licked your bottom lip. Unsure, you licked his back.
He paused.
Your eyes open, widened for a moment, then quickly looked off to the side. You didn’t know what you did wrong. You thought would it always been as awkward like this? You missed him back home in Italy. You still weren’t used to waking up on your own, no more early phone calls from your lover. You weren’t used to driving yourself to practice and having the loss of playfulness while changing the locker rooms. You weren’t used to actually finding matching socks every morning when you packed your bags.
You shook your head and tried to think of the problem at hand. A hand reached out, and snapped your chin up. He stared at you, eyes gentle, comforting. Those soft brown eyes were so full of warmth, love. He smiled, eyes crinkling. You boyishly grinned at him. This time, he put his arms around you, and just held you. It was if he knew your insecurity, now that he lived in England, now that he wasn’t at home anymore. He understood this insecurity. You are so young, he knows this. He didn’t say, but you knew he felt the same insecurity, you just knew.
You allowed him to softly lay you down on the rumpled sheets, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you until your eyes heavily closed.