heartbeats
title heartbeats
pairing sergio ramos/fernando torres
rating r? nc-17? I AM PANTS AT SEX SCENES I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS, SORRY!
summary fernando flies to spain to have surgery on his knee, and spends the night at sergio's house.
notes first sex scene wahoo? but, you know, whatever, the point of the story is that i want fernando to get better and sergio just happened to have his own way of making that happen!
Fernando stepped off of the plane, hair mussed, headphones around his neck. He paused to blink sleep out of his eyes, and when he reopened them, he saw Sergio, wearing a grey sweater and jeans, leaning against the wall opposite Fernando. His heart lurched as he limped forward, surrounded once again by the familiar, comforting sound of Spanish around him, and for a fleeting moment he was overwhelmingly happy. Then the pain stabbed through his knee and he grimaced, remembering exactly why he was here.
His only luggage was his shoulder bag- a trip born out of necessity, not pleasure.
“Let me take it,” Sergio said as Fernando approaches him, sweeping the striker into a hug with one arm and taking his gym bag with the other. Fernando pressed his face gently into Sergio’s neck and breathed in deeply.
“Good to see you,” he mumbled against the caramel skin.
In the car, Fernando sat in the back seat and propped his leg up. Sergio was singing along with the radio and the deep, slightly scratchy quality of his voice was as comforting to Fernando as any lullaby had ever been.
“So you need to be in Barcelona tomorrow?”
“Mm,” Fernando replied. “Tomorrow evening to check in, surgery’s the morning after.”
It scared him, to talk about the surgery. Talking about it made it real, as if the shooting pain in his leg wasn’t real enough on its own. It scared him because it made him helpless, at the hands and mercy of the doctors, of God.
“Hey,” Sergio said gently, turning in his seat to face Fernando. “You’ll be okay.”
--
Sergio’s house was the same as always, Fernando mused as he limped through the door, Sergio still carrying his bag. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. It was a big place for Sergio to live alone, but he managed to fill it with life anyway, from the food keeping in the refrigerator to the photos of Sevilla he’d hung on the walls. Fernando felt his heartbeat slow down a little as he breathed in the warm air, his nervous energy starting to dissipate.
He felt Sergio’s hand, large and comforting on his lower back, and he hopped around to face the defender.
“How’re you feeling?”
Fernando let Sergio wrap his arm more fully around his torso and let the younger man take some of his weight. “So scared, you have no idea. It’s like- I’m so out of control. I can’t do anything, it’s killing me.” He took a deep, shuddery breath, realizing exactly how close to tears he was. “And what if- what if it doesn’t work? What if I just get hurt again and then I’m just useless like I am now and nobody wants me and I left everything I had here for nothing? For a few good games and then a few bad injuries and then I’m just some guy who used to be good at football?”
Sergio brought his other arm around Fernando and held the striker tightly. Fernando slipped his own arms around Sergio’s back and buried himself in the cocoon of Sergio’s warmth.
“That will not happen,” Sergio promised quietly, whispering right into Fernando’s ear. Fernando felt a thrill go up his spine. “You will do the surgery and recover and go back to scoring the most goals in the league and tournament winning goals for Spain and driving me crazy in national team practice because I can’t stop you from scoring.” Sergio kissed the skin behind Fernando’s ear gently. Goosebumps appeared on Fernando’s arms. “You never will have left Madrid for nothing. You love Liverpool, that’s what matters.”
“I love here, too,” Fernando forced out, more of a strangled cry than anything. Sergio’s hands came alive against his back, rubbing up and down in soothing, circular motions, and Fernando felt more like a child than he had since leaving Atletico.
“I’m glad,” Sergio breathed.
--
“Relax,” Sergio commanded softly. “We aren’t leaving for another five hours. You don’t even have to get out of bed for another three, at least.”
Fernando blinked a few times in rapid succession, looking up at Sergio and wondering why the other side of the double bed was empty before he remembered the awkwardness of last night, when Sergio showed him to the guest room and his barely controllable want to ask Sergio to stay.
“Am I hiding it that badly?”
“You have no idea,” Sergio laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed tentatively.
“I can’t help it, I guess,” Fernando mumbled. “I’m not trying to be tense.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few long moments, and Fernando tried to focus on Sergio’s breathing, tried to match his heartbeat to the steady rise and fall.
“Turn over.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You need to relax, c’mon. Just turn over. Let me take care of you, just for a little bit.”
Pushing the comforter off, Fernando did as Sergio asked, resting his cheek against his folded arms. The bed was soft and he could feel it dip as Sergio moved to straddle his back, carefully keeping his weight on his own knees. Fernando felt like crying again, twice in two days, for the care with which Sergio touched him, the intimacy, even though they hadn’t exchanged anything more than friendly kisses since Nora had been born.
Sergio’s hands were warm and strong, gently kneading the knots out of Fernando’s shoulders, tracing gently over the freckles scattered there, before moving lower, applying gentle pressure against the defined muscles in the striker’s back. His thumbs moved gently but firmly along Fernando’s vertebrae and Fernando felt like every nerve ending was on fire where Sergio was touching him, turning his muscles into jelly, making him sink into the bed like he never needed to get up again.
“Turn over,” Sergio whispered against Fernando’s shoulder, and with slow, languid movements, Fernando acquiesced, barely daring to hope.
But Sergio shuffled down his body to rest at his knee, tracing a finger gently over the one thin scar already there. Fernando shivered gently and looked at the Sevillan, searching his eyes. Sergio rubbed gently at the knee with his fingers, and there was only the tiniest twinge of pain.
“What are you-“
“This is part of you,” Sergio mumbled, leaning down to press an open mouthed kiss against the scar. “Just like the next one will be. And it’s part of you so I love it.”
Fernando pushed himself up onto his elbows and reached out, cupping Sergio’s cheek in his hand.
“Come here,” he whispered, and his voice was hoarse to his own ears.
Sergio was next to him in an instant, his breath washing over Fernando’s cheeks and Fernando felt like melting into the defender. “Fer, you said we couldn’t, what about your-“
“I need you. I need you more than-“ Fernando took a long, shaking breath. “Right now, I need you more than anything, Sergio, please.”
Unable to tear his eyes away from Sergio’s until the last moment, Fernando leaned in, and their lips met, sliding together right away, tongues teasing and lips parting. Sergio still knew every crevice of Fernando’s mouth, every spot to make the striker’s blood feel hot under his skin. Fernando panted for breath as Sergio moved his onslaught to his neck, kissing every freckle, sucking gently at his pulse point. His heart was thumping so fast, and he knew Sergio could feel it.
Sergio bit gently at one of Fernando’s nipples, teasing the hard bud until the striker gasped and arched against him, back curling. His legs spread of their own accord and Sergio nestled himself between them, sliding their clothed cocks together and letting out a gasp of his own.
“More, please, Sergio, I need.”
Sergio worked his hands down to Fernando’s hips and slipped the older man’s boxer shorts off, before throwing his own over the side of the bed. “What do you need?”
Fernando thrust his hips up and groaned as Sergio moved his knuckles against his cock, sending sparks of electricity up his spine. “You, anything, Sergio, you, just.”
When he opened his eyes, Sergio was crouched between his legs, and Fernando moaned for the beauty of his tanned back, his eyes dark with lust, his lips glistening with saliva. Sergio placed his hands gently on Fernando’s knees, stroking his thumb over the scar once more, before forcing them further apart. Fernando curled, arching his back, soft whimpers falling from his lips.
Sergio’s tongue prodded at his entrance and he closed his eyes, letting the Sevillan work him open, relax him completely. Fernando clutched at the sheets as Sergio’s tongue flicked inside of him and the defender slid in one finger, then two.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” Sergio mumbled, kneeling above Fernando and tapping the striker’s knee. Fernando nodded, his pupils blown wide, and he made to stroke his cock. “No,” Sergio commanded, pushing Fernando’s hand away. “This is about me taking care of you.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Fernando’s forehead. Fernando closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing, tried to take in everything, the scent of Sergio all around him, the tickle of the Sevillan’s hair against his chest, and when he opened his eyes again there was a blunt pressure against his ass and then Sergio was slipping in in in and Fernando arched against him, crying out.
--
“Can I at least drive you to your parents’?” Sergio asked, putting his mug of tea in the sink. Fernando’s bag was packed and he’d called his mom already, letting her know what time he’d arrive at his own house, but he was loathe to leave Sergio’s, this too big house that had become a haven for him.
“You don’t have to keep taking care of me,” Fernando said quietly, looking down. Sergio sighed.
“Yes I do, Fer. That’s what you do when you love somebody.”
pairing sergio ramos/fernando torres
rating r? nc-17? I AM PANTS AT SEX SCENES I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS, SORRY!
summary fernando flies to spain to have surgery on his knee, and spends the night at sergio's house.
notes first sex scene wahoo? but, you know, whatever, the point of the story is that i want fernando to get better and sergio just happened to have his own way of making that happen!
Fernando stepped off of the plane, hair mussed, headphones around his neck. He paused to blink sleep out of his eyes, and when he reopened them, he saw Sergio, wearing a grey sweater and jeans, leaning against the wall opposite Fernando. His heart lurched as he limped forward, surrounded once again by the familiar, comforting sound of Spanish around him, and for a fleeting moment he was overwhelmingly happy. Then the pain stabbed through his knee and he grimaced, remembering exactly why he was here.
His only luggage was his shoulder bag- a trip born out of necessity, not pleasure.
“Let me take it,” Sergio said as Fernando approaches him, sweeping the striker into a hug with one arm and taking his gym bag with the other. Fernando pressed his face gently into Sergio’s neck and breathed in deeply.
“Good to see you,” he mumbled against the caramel skin.
In the car, Fernando sat in the back seat and propped his leg up. Sergio was singing along with the radio and the deep, slightly scratchy quality of his voice was as comforting to Fernando as any lullaby had ever been.
“So you need to be in Barcelona tomorrow?”
“Mm,” Fernando replied. “Tomorrow evening to check in, surgery’s the morning after.”
It scared him, to talk about the surgery. Talking about it made it real, as if the shooting pain in his leg wasn’t real enough on its own. It scared him because it made him helpless, at the hands and mercy of the doctors, of God.
“Hey,” Sergio said gently, turning in his seat to face Fernando. “You’ll be okay.”
--
Sergio’s house was the same as always, Fernando mused as he limped through the door, Sergio still carrying his bag. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. It was a big place for Sergio to live alone, but he managed to fill it with life anyway, from the food keeping in the refrigerator to the photos of Sevilla he’d hung on the walls. Fernando felt his heartbeat slow down a little as he breathed in the warm air, his nervous energy starting to dissipate.
He felt Sergio’s hand, large and comforting on his lower back, and he hopped around to face the defender.
“How’re you feeling?”
Fernando let Sergio wrap his arm more fully around his torso and let the younger man take some of his weight. “So scared, you have no idea. It’s like- I’m so out of control. I can’t do anything, it’s killing me.” He took a deep, shuddery breath, realizing exactly how close to tears he was. “And what if- what if it doesn’t work? What if I just get hurt again and then I’m just useless like I am now and nobody wants me and I left everything I had here for nothing? For a few good games and then a few bad injuries and then I’m just some guy who used to be good at football?”
Sergio brought his other arm around Fernando and held the striker tightly. Fernando slipped his own arms around Sergio’s back and buried himself in the cocoon of Sergio’s warmth.
“That will not happen,” Sergio promised quietly, whispering right into Fernando’s ear. Fernando felt a thrill go up his spine. “You will do the surgery and recover and go back to scoring the most goals in the league and tournament winning goals for Spain and driving me crazy in national team practice because I can’t stop you from scoring.” Sergio kissed the skin behind Fernando’s ear gently. Goosebumps appeared on Fernando’s arms. “You never will have left Madrid for nothing. You love Liverpool, that’s what matters.”
“I love here, too,” Fernando forced out, more of a strangled cry than anything. Sergio’s hands came alive against his back, rubbing up and down in soothing, circular motions, and Fernando felt more like a child than he had since leaving Atletico.
“I’m glad,” Sergio breathed.
--
“Relax,” Sergio commanded softly. “We aren’t leaving for another five hours. You don’t even have to get out of bed for another three, at least.”
Fernando blinked a few times in rapid succession, looking up at Sergio and wondering why the other side of the double bed was empty before he remembered the awkwardness of last night, when Sergio showed him to the guest room and his barely controllable want to ask Sergio to stay.
“Am I hiding it that badly?”
“You have no idea,” Sergio laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed tentatively.
“I can’t help it, I guess,” Fernando mumbled. “I’m not trying to be tense.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few long moments, and Fernando tried to focus on Sergio’s breathing, tried to match his heartbeat to the steady rise and fall.
“Turn over.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You need to relax, c’mon. Just turn over. Let me take care of you, just for a little bit.”
Pushing the comforter off, Fernando did as Sergio asked, resting his cheek against his folded arms. The bed was soft and he could feel it dip as Sergio moved to straddle his back, carefully keeping his weight on his own knees. Fernando felt like crying again, twice in two days, for the care with which Sergio touched him, the intimacy, even though they hadn’t exchanged anything more than friendly kisses since Nora had been born.
Sergio’s hands were warm and strong, gently kneading the knots out of Fernando’s shoulders, tracing gently over the freckles scattered there, before moving lower, applying gentle pressure against the defined muscles in the striker’s back. His thumbs moved gently but firmly along Fernando’s vertebrae and Fernando felt like every nerve ending was on fire where Sergio was touching him, turning his muscles into jelly, making him sink into the bed like he never needed to get up again.
“Turn over,” Sergio whispered against Fernando’s shoulder, and with slow, languid movements, Fernando acquiesced, barely daring to hope.
But Sergio shuffled down his body to rest at his knee, tracing a finger gently over the one thin scar already there. Fernando shivered gently and looked at the Sevillan, searching his eyes. Sergio rubbed gently at the knee with his fingers, and there was only the tiniest twinge of pain.
“What are you-“
“This is part of you,” Sergio mumbled, leaning down to press an open mouthed kiss against the scar. “Just like the next one will be. And it’s part of you so I love it.”
Fernando pushed himself up onto his elbows and reached out, cupping Sergio’s cheek in his hand.
“Come here,” he whispered, and his voice was hoarse to his own ears.
Sergio was next to him in an instant, his breath washing over Fernando’s cheeks and Fernando felt like melting into the defender. “Fer, you said we couldn’t, what about your-“
“I need you. I need you more than-“ Fernando took a long, shaking breath. “Right now, I need you more than anything, Sergio, please.”
Unable to tear his eyes away from Sergio’s until the last moment, Fernando leaned in, and their lips met, sliding together right away, tongues teasing and lips parting. Sergio still knew every crevice of Fernando’s mouth, every spot to make the striker’s blood feel hot under his skin. Fernando panted for breath as Sergio moved his onslaught to his neck, kissing every freckle, sucking gently at his pulse point. His heart was thumping so fast, and he knew Sergio could feel it.
Sergio bit gently at one of Fernando’s nipples, teasing the hard bud until the striker gasped and arched against him, back curling. His legs spread of their own accord and Sergio nestled himself between them, sliding their clothed cocks together and letting out a gasp of his own.
“More, please, Sergio, I need.”
Sergio worked his hands down to Fernando’s hips and slipped the older man’s boxer shorts off, before throwing his own over the side of the bed. “What do you need?”
Fernando thrust his hips up and groaned as Sergio moved his knuckles against his cock, sending sparks of electricity up his spine. “You, anything, Sergio, you, just.”
When he opened his eyes, Sergio was crouched between his legs, and Fernando moaned for the beauty of his tanned back, his eyes dark with lust, his lips glistening with saliva. Sergio placed his hands gently on Fernando’s knees, stroking his thumb over the scar once more, before forcing them further apart. Fernando curled, arching his back, soft whimpers falling from his lips.
Sergio’s tongue prodded at his entrance and he closed his eyes, letting the Sevillan work him open, relax him completely. Fernando clutched at the sheets as Sergio’s tongue flicked inside of him and the defender slid in one finger, then two.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” Sergio mumbled, kneeling above Fernando and tapping the striker’s knee. Fernando nodded, his pupils blown wide, and he made to stroke his cock. “No,” Sergio commanded, pushing Fernando’s hand away. “This is about me taking care of you.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Fernando’s forehead. Fernando closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing, tried to take in everything, the scent of Sergio all around him, the tickle of the Sevillan’s hair against his chest, and when he opened his eyes again there was a blunt pressure against his ass and then Sergio was slipping in in in and Fernando arched against him, crying out.
--
“Can I at least drive you to your parents’?” Sergio asked, putting his mug of tea in the sink. Fernando’s bag was packed and he’d called his mom already, letting her know what time he’d arrive at his own house, but he was loathe to leave Sergio’s, this too big house that had become a haven for him.
“You don’t have to keep taking care of me,” Fernando said quietly, looking down. Sergio sighed.
“Yes I do, Fer. That’s what you do when you love somebody.”