The Other Side
Title: The Other Side
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Author's Notes: Takes place Monday night and is the sequel to Clarity.
---
He shows up at the door to your building in the middle of the night. You stumble down the stairs, still mostly asleep, wearing only boxers. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think maybe you ought to check to see who's out there, but you don't. And when you pull the door open and it's Fernando standing there, you have no idea what to say.
"Hi." His voice is soft and he looks unnaturally self-conscious. His English has improved since the last time you saw him, and you almost reach out and touch him. As if to make sure that he's really there.
"Come in." Your voice is gruff and you're not entirely sure you're not dreaming. But as he walks past you, fingers brushing against your stomach, you realize that this isn't a dream.
You trail after him, walking slowly upstairs, telling him to make a left and then it's the first door on his right. You watch him walk into your flat and for a moment you can't figure out what he's doing here. You follow and as you shut the door behind you, it's like a switch gets flipped inside you.
Maybe it's rude or brash, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. "So it's really true." And it's not a question.
He turns, nodding. He doesn't smile and you wonder why he chose Liverpool. You don't ask, but he figures it out.
"It wasn't because of you," he offers with a slight smile. He stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room and you find the desire to touch him almost overwhelming.
"I didn't think -" you start, but he cuts you off, crossing the room and kissing you hard.
"It was only one night." His accent is thick, but you have no trouble understanding.
You step back, but not away. You want to look at him, really look. The only memories you have are blurred by the darkness of your hotel room and the early morning sun as he stumbled to dress and go back to his hotel.
You hadn't seen him since that day, except briefly on the pitch when Denmark played Spain. But you'd barely even acknowledged each other's existence and it didn't bother you. Not then and not now. Except that he's standing right in front of you and you don't know what to expect.
"And now you're here." You reach out before you can stop yourself and press your fingers against his cheek. Thumb over his lips and he kisses the tip of your thumb, then turns his head, mouth against the palm of your hand.
He reaches up, fingers curled around your wrist and he holds your hand in his as he speaks. "I wanted to tell you in person." He stumbles over the words and you step closer.
"Why?" You ask, but you don't really care. You lean in and cover his mouth with yours before he can even answer.
He slides his arms around you, kissing you back before you think to ask him how long he's staying or where his bags are. He slides his hands between the waistband of your boxers and your skin. Pushing his fingers down and you fumble with the back of his shirt, finally scraping your nails against his back.
You kiss him again, hungrily and almost desperately. It's been nearly a year (almost exactly) and you suddenly remember the hotel like it was yesterday. He kisses you back, fiercely and you don't waste any time finding your bedroom. You push him onto the bed and he pulls you down hard on top of him.
"Fuck me," he whispers against your mouth and your stomach twists as you nod.
You slide off of him, half watching him undress as you dig in your nightstand for condoms and lube. You crawl back onto the bed and again he pulls you down on top of him. You kiss him, pushing against him and he arches, hips meeting yours. He slides his hands down your sides, over the top of your boxers and pushes them down until you can kick them off.
You pull back, just enough so that you can slide the condom on. He watches you; the light from the street lamps shines through the window, a cool breeze rustling the curtains. As you squeeze lube onto your hands, rubbing them in slow circles, he reaches out, fingers against your upper arm, your elbow.
He catches your gaze and you nod. He rubs his fingers against the new tattoos as you nudge his knees apart. He complies, then lifts his ass and you push a finger in, then two. He gasps, fingers curled against your arms, nails not quite digging in. You twist your fingers, crooking them slightly and then pulling out. More lube on your hands and then over your cock.
You shift forward, pressing against his ass and he tugs at you as you push in. You go easily, kissing him hard as you thrust into him. His fingers against the back of your neck, up through your still-short hair and then back down. He curls his hands over your shoulders now and you thrust faster. You can feel his cock, hard and you slide one hand down between your bodies and you curl your fingers around him. Sliding along his cock as you thrust, thumb against the tip and he gasps, arching in response.
The room spins a bit as you move faster, hips shoved up against his ass. Fernando's breathing goes ragged and you shift just a bit, pushing down in him and he groans low. You shudder and curl your hand tighter around his cock. He pushes against you, taking you in deeper and bites your bottom lip as you kiss him again.
He shudders under you now, close and you jerk your hand against him. The angle is awkward, but neither of you care. He digs his nails into your back and kisses you over and over until you can barely breathe. You thrust faster now, any more and you're going to explode. You slide your free hand up, along his face as you kiss him and it's intimate and strange all at once. His hands against your back, holding on and then he's coming. Over you, your hands and you're not going to last long.
He squeezes tight around you and you shudder, close. Then he speaks, your name on his lips.
"Daniel." It's a whisper, accent thick and you come hard, pushing deep into him. He holds you as you slow and you shake a bit. You kiss him, soft and you're both breathing hard.
You shift, pulling your hand out from between your bodies and brace yourself on the bed as you slide out of him. His fingers trail down your arm and then you roll away and stumble off of the bed. You tug at the condom and turn, starting toward the bathroom.
"Daniel." He repeats your name and it makes you shiver. You turn and he's holding his hand out for you.
You take it and he pulls you back into bed. He grabs your discarded boxers, cleaning himself off and then pulls you into his arms. You don't fight it and before you fall asleep, you wonder if the next morning will be like the last time you fucked.
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Author's Notes: Takes place Monday night and is the sequel to Clarity.
---
He shows up at the door to your building in the middle of the night. You stumble down the stairs, still mostly asleep, wearing only boxers. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think maybe you ought to check to see who's out there, but you don't. And when you pull the door open and it's Fernando standing there, you have no idea what to say.
"Hi." His voice is soft and he looks unnaturally self-conscious. His English has improved since the last time you saw him, and you almost reach out and touch him. As if to make sure that he's really there.
"Come in." Your voice is gruff and you're not entirely sure you're not dreaming. But as he walks past you, fingers brushing against your stomach, you realize that this isn't a dream.
You trail after him, walking slowly upstairs, telling him to make a left and then it's the first door on his right. You watch him walk into your flat and for a moment you can't figure out what he's doing here. You follow and as you shut the door behind you, it's like a switch gets flipped inside you.
Maybe it's rude or brash, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. "So it's really true." And it's not a question.
He turns, nodding. He doesn't smile and you wonder why he chose Liverpool. You don't ask, but he figures it out.
"It wasn't because of you," he offers with a slight smile. He stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room and you find the desire to touch him almost overwhelming.
"I didn't think -" you start, but he cuts you off, crossing the room and kissing you hard.
"It was only one night." His accent is thick, but you have no trouble understanding.
You step back, but not away. You want to look at him, really look. The only memories you have are blurred by the darkness of your hotel room and the early morning sun as he stumbled to dress and go back to his hotel.
You hadn't seen him since that day, except briefly on the pitch when Denmark played Spain. But you'd barely even acknowledged each other's existence and it didn't bother you. Not then and not now. Except that he's standing right in front of you and you don't know what to expect.
"And now you're here." You reach out before you can stop yourself and press your fingers against his cheek. Thumb over his lips and he kisses the tip of your thumb, then turns his head, mouth against the palm of your hand.
He reaches up, fingers curled around your wrist and he holds your hand in his as he speaks. "I wanted to tell you in person." He stumbles over the words and you step closer.
"Why?" You ask, but you don't really care. You lean in and cover his mouth with yours before he can even answer.
He slides his arms around you, kissing you back before you think to ask him how long he's staying or where his bags are. He slides his hands between the waistband of your boxers and your skin. Pushing his fingers down and you fumble with the back of his shirt, finally scraping your nails against his back.
You kiss him again, hungrily and almost desperately. It's been nearly a year (almost exactly) and you suddenly remember the hotel like it was yesterday. He kisses you back, fiercely and you don't waste any time finding your bedroom. You push him onto the bed and he pulls you down hard on top of him.
"Fuck me," he whispers against your mouth and your stomach twists as you nod.
You slide off of him, half watching him undress as you dig in your nightstand for condoms and lube. You crawl back onto the bed and again he pulls you down on top of him. You kiss him, pushing against him and he arches, hips meeting yours. He slides his hands down your sides, over the top of your boxers and pushes them down until you can kick them off.
You pull back, just enough so that you can slide the condom on. He watches you; the light from the street lamps shines through the window, a cool breeze rustling the curtains. As you squeeze lube onto your hands, rubbing them in slow circles, he reaches out, fingers against your upper arm, your elbow.
He catches your gaze and you nod. He rubs his fingers against the new tattoos as you nudge his knees apart. He complies, then lifts his ass and you push a finger in, then two. He gasps, fingers curled against your arms, nails not quite digging in. You twist your fingers, crooking them slightly and then pulling out. More lube on your hands and then over your cock.
You shift forward, pressing against his ass and he tugs at you as you push in. You go easily, kissing him hard as you thrust into him. His fingers against the back of your neck, up through your still-short hair and then back down. He curls his hands over your shoulders now and you thrust faster. You can feel his cock, hard and you slide one hand down between your bodies and you curl your fingers around him. Sliding along his cock as you thrust, thumb against the tip and he gasps, arching in response.
The room spins a bit as you move faster, hips shoved up against his ass. Fernando's breathing goes ragged and you shift just a bit, pushing down in him and he groans low. You shudder and curl your hand tighter around his cock. He pushes against you, taking you in deeper and bites your bottom lip as you kiss him again.
He shudders under you now, close and you jerk your hand against him. The angle is awkward, but neither of you care. He digs his nails into your back and kisses you over and over until you can barely breathe. You thrust faster now, any more and you're going to explode. You slide your free hand up, along his face as you kiss him and it's intimate and strange all at once. His hands against your back, holding on and then he's coming. Over you, your hands and you're not going to last long.
He squeezes tight around you and you shudder, close. Then he speaks, your name on his lips.
"Daniel." It's a whisper, accent thick and you come hard, pushing deep into him. He holds you as you slow and you shake a bit. You kiss him, soft and you're both breathing hard.
You shift, pulling your hand out from between your bodies and brace yourself on the bed as you slide out of him. His fingers trail down your arm and then you roll away and stumble off of the bed. You tug at the condom and turn, starting toward the bathroom.
"Daniel." He repeats your name and it makes you shiver. You turn and he's holding his hand out for you.
You take it and he pulls you back into bed. He grabs your discarded boxers, cleaning himself off and then pulls you into his arms. You don't fight it and before you fall asleep, you wonder if the next morning will be like the last time you fucked.