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"I missed you." It took Lisandro at least a minute or two of a deep, neverending kiss, before he pulled away from Antony's face, still holding the back of his head possessively. He didn't pull away completely, he kept his eyes fixated on the younger man's lips, hungry for more. "Missed you so much." To stay true to his words, he leaned in for another kiss, this time leaning his whole body into it, wrapping his arms tightly around Antony's shoulders and squeezing him in a passionate embrace.
Antony felt overwhelmed by such a passionate greeting, although he wouldn't expect anything less from the Argentinian. He always gave his all and never left any doubt about the nature of his feelings, especially when he was with Antony in private.
Even when they broke the kiss, they stayed with their foreheads touching and mouths hanging open, taking in each other's breath in an intimate ritual.
"You fought like an animal," Antony exhaled, overcome with arousal at the sight of his Argentinian boyfriend in a state of frenzy. He couldn't resist him and kissed him again. "Hungry, wild animal."
Licha's teeth showed in a half-grin.
"That Argentina shirt is like your skin. You could be running around the pitch naked as well." The Brazilian's fingers teased the collar of Lisandro's jacket, pulling it away from Licha's skin just enough to see underneath it while undoing the zip.
"I wish I played more," Licha admitted, letting Antony deal with the unzipping by himself. And there it was, in its full glory, the stripes of white and sky blue. Antony trembled. He used to associate the colors with disdain, disgust, and hatred, although he never cared that much about international rivalries; but Argentina was a football enemy, and this inherited feeling ran through his veins. He despised those smug, macho bastards who thought they were so much better than everyone else, played dirty, and then cried like babies - but now, the stripes that he always wanted to tear apart, belonged to the man he loved. It sent shivers down his spine. He touched Lisandro's chest, and the shirt felt hot, but maybe it was just Licha's body heat and his skin on fire with the immense pride of wearing the shirt.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he breathed out, fascinated by his fingers caressing the material of the shirt, and his fingers against the sky-blue stripes. "I don't even see the shirt, I just see you."
Martínez's grin grew even wider. He placed his hands on the sides of Antony's head and looked at him. The eyebrow slit, the neck tattoo Iluminado, the small messy goatee - it all gave Antony a rough, bad boy look, that contrasted so much with the way he was melting under Lisandro's hands.
"Show me your shirt," Licha said softly yet firmly, refusing any speculations or arguments.
Antony looked him in the eyes as if he was making sure he'd heard the actual words and understood their meaning.
"It's in the wardrobe," he uttered, unsure how to feel about the whole deal that he and Licha made some time ago. Licha's shirt turned him on, there should be no mistake, but he was also self-conscious about wearing the Brazil shirt in front of someone who was supposed to be the biggest rival.
"Put it on."
Licha was still smiling, but his tone gave a clear indication of how much he wanted to see the yellow shirt of Brazil on Antony. He was excited about the prospect, and he wanted it now. Antony still felt a little embarrassed by the way Brazil went out of the tournament, especially when Argentina managed to go all the way and win it, but the deal was done and he wasn't one to step back.
Lisandro followed him into the room and then stood by the door, watching him open the large door of the wardrobe.
"You thought you'd get out of this, huh?" he mocked Antony. The younger man shot him a glance from across the room.
"I knew I wouldn't," he replied defiantly. Lisandro's hungry eyes were scanning him, and he decided to put on a bit of a show. He rolled up the plain white shirt that he was wearing and threw it carelessly at the floor, eyeing Licha the whole time. Lisandro could resist only for a while; then he made his way to Antony, grabbing him possessively by his butt and pressing him close to his own body. "You're a tease, you." He licked his lips and squeezed the butt that his hands had cupped. With their crotches pressed together, Antony could feel they were both already well aroused. "I missed fucking that perfect ass."
Antony moaned. When Lisandro swore and spoke about anything that involved the two of them and the things they did, it was driving him insane. He thrust his hips to get more of the friction against Licha's body, and the Argentinian smiled, knowing exactly what it was all about. "The shirt," he reminded, although he loved seeing Antony's bare chest as well, and normally, he would spend a good few minutes just tracing the skin covered in tattoos and laying kisses on every inch of it - but today, he was too excited about what else they had planned to waste time on soft kisses on the chest.
Antony pouted a little but followed through. The yellow shirt fitted him perfectly, and he smiled as he put it on, as always, gleaming with pride.
"You always look so proud," Licha told him. "The yellow makes you shine. The blue one as well. And red - " He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disbelief over how well the red color suited Antony. "I'm so happy for you."
"For what?" Antony sneered. There was barely anything to be proud of now. He didn't play much, and he didn't play exceptionally well. Naturally, he was happy to have been to the World Cup, to even have been called up by Tite - that was something to cherish. But in comparison with Licha and his Argentinian shirt with a fresh third star, all his achievements seemed laughable at best.
"For getting where you are. Look at where you started." For a brief moment, the hunger in Lisandro's eyes was replaced by genuine concern. "You're a fighter and I'll never stop praising you for that."
Antony's heart skipped a beat as he heard the words. His cheeks heated up quickly and he felt almost embarrassed by the meaning of Licha's words. In response, he pressed his lips on Lisandro's in a kiss that he hoped would capture all the neediness, gratitude, and love he felt for the man.
It was ridiculous, Antony thought as he pulled away, catching his breath. He grabbed a fistful of the striped white-and-sky-blue shirt with aggression that could only be triggered by this specific combination of colors and pulled Lisandro closer to his face. "This makes me so fucking mad." He pulled on the Argentina shirt.
Licha smirked. He loved a bit of an aggressive attitude, but he always seemed to understand that Antony was by nature a bit shyer and reserved than him. Whenever the Brazilian showed more passion and aggression, he was the first person to appreciate it, or use it as fuel for his own response, just like he did right now. He licked his lips and leaned closer to Antony's ear. "Argentina, Argentina, Argentina," he chanted softly, almost whispering.
"Oh, fuck you," Antony replied, with eyes hanging on Licha's lips. The space between them was almost non-existent and filled with hot, electrifying air, that left them both breathless for a split second. Then, as if something inside Lisandro finally broke, he grabbed Antony's hand and dragged him towards the door of the bathroom. Seeing the mirror over the sink, his grin grew wider. He wrapped his arms around Antony's waist and pressed his own body against him, moving his hips and grinding against him with a force that dragged a moan out of the Brazilian. He expected the friction, but not the feverish tempo and force of it, but before he could speak, Lisandro stuck to his lips, giving him a sloppy wet kiss before biting his lower lip. "Fucking missed you so much," he panted, getting one hand to Antony's hair and unsuccessfully trying to entangle his fingers in them. "Every day, Jesus, every night. You were so fucking close and I couldn't see you." He moved his hand down, to Antony's ass. "I couldn't have this."
Antony grinned like an idiot. "You can now."
"Oh, I know." He squeezed the firm round bum under his hand and pressed himself desperately against Antony one last time. "Fuck, 'tony, look what you do to me."
Antony could feel it; they could both feel it. The separation was too long, especially after all the time they got to spend together in Manchester before the World Cup. He was unbearably hard just thinking about Licha, and having his hands all over himself again was almost enough to send him over the edge straight away, he was that impatient. Lisandro could feel how tense his body was though and stopped with the touches before they became too much.
"You got any lube here?"
"In the mirror, there's a shelf."
"Good."
The whole time, Antony couldn't take his eyes off Licha's lips. Fuck, those lips could do things, and the way Lisandro could curl their corners up in a know-it-all smirk got him all worked up.
"Face the mirror, love."
Antony placed his hands on the sink in front of him. The mirror was a perfect size, he could see both of them, their faces, their chests, the shirts with their countries' emblems - and Lisandro stood behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulder. "Look at us," he said, caressing the canary yellow shirt of Brazil. "I want you to see it all when I fuck you." Antony let out a quiet moan as Lisandro's breath brushed against his ear. The mirror reflection was so hot to him, he felt Lisadnro's hands but he could also see them exploring his chest underneath the shirt, and he's never seen them like this, in front of a mirror, watching everything unfold in front of his eyes in a full HD. It was hot to see them both; not only Lisandro, as he was always used to, but also to see how he himself reacted to Licha's touches and words. He never knew how obvious his arousal was on his own face; he never knew that he had a habit of throwing his head slightly back and half closing his eyes when Lisandro said something sexy, it was all just a natural response of his body.
Lisandro reached out his hand and opened the mirror, for a moment the reflection got distorted as he fished inside the shelves for the lube that he'd asked about, and then his hand slipped out with the bottle and he closed the mirror again, meeting Antony's gaze in the mirror. He smiled and planted a soft kiss on the side of Antony's neck.
"Keep looking at yourself," he whispered as he placed the lube on the side of the sink. With his free hands, he started unzipping Antony's pants. There was a deadly silence in the room for a few seconds as Antony felt his skin, his ass, and his hard cock exposed to the fresh air when Lisandro rolled down his pants and underwear. Thankfully, none of that was visible in the mirror, but it made the whole scene even more fascinating to Antony's eyes. He could feel what was happening, but the image in the mirror was still just him in his Brazil shirt. He heard more of unbuckling and unzipping, but he couldn't see much of Licha either; there was just a bit of commotion behind him and a firm hand holding onto his butt, and then Licha finally looked up, straight into the mirror, and smile. His hand crept to Antony's hip and then to his front, and he wrapped his hand around Antony's erection, giving him a few strokes.
Antony didn't break eye contact with his own reflection. It mesmerized him that the reflection remained so serene, so cool, and without any changes; it looked the same as before; had anyone else seen only the reflection, they wouldn't be able to tell what was happening, and he wouldn't be able either, had he not felt the hand working up and down his shaft. It might have been one of the most erotic things he has ever experienced because it lacked any explicitness. He didn't want to look down, he didn't need to see Licha's hand moving up and down, up and down, up and down in a steady rhythm; he was more fascinated by how good the reflection of the two of them looked. Lisandro pressed himself against his ass, his own erection rubbing against the asscheeks, poking in between them in a manner that made Antony laugh a little because this was also ridiculous, and in response, Lisandro kissed the side of his neck again.
"Can I?" he whispered, hardly even concealing his arousal.
"Fucking hell, Lich'. Just do it."
Lisandro responded with another kiss and then reached for the lube bottle. Antony kept looking in the mirror, subconsciously following the instruction that Licha gave him, but he heard the pop of the bottle being opened and he instinctively moved his hips a little, missing Lisandro's touch already. Lisandro gave his cock a few strokes with a lubed-up hand, and then did the same to Antony; now his palm and fingers slid up and down with greater ease and Antony shivered because it just felt so good.
"Spread your legs a little," Licha mumbled, fully focused on the lube now, and Antony listened. "You're tense, you need to relax a little. Come on, baby." When the lubed-up fingers touched him, Antony instinctively tried to move away from the touch, but there wasn't much space between him and the sink anyway. Lisandro used his free hand to hold Antony's hip and steady him in one place. "Come on," he repeated and planted another kiss on his neck. "It's okay."
"I know," Antony hastily responded, frustrated with the way his body was reacting. God, they've done this so many times, and wanted it so much - maybe a bit too much; he was horny and desperate and frustrated that it couldn't be all done at once because he wanted it now -
He huffed when one finger slipped inside, and finally broke eye contact with his reflection to hang his head down, trying to keep it together.
"Good boy," Lisandro praised him, moving the finger and trying to add a second one. Antony bit his lip to not hiss in discomfort. "You're my good boy. But look at yourself, come on. Look how well you're doing."
Antony felt like melting with the praise that Lisandro gave him, and he shifted his feet a little, adjusting his position a little and pushing back against his lover to allow easier access to his fingers. Lisandro's repeated mantra of "good boy" sounded heavenly to his ears, and he had to focus on his own racing heart and thoughts to keep himself grounded because the words and the tone of Licha's voice combined with what his hands were just doing was making him go insane.
"I can take it," he blabbers. "Fuck it, I just need you inside - "
"I know, 'tony. I know." Lisandro nibbles his neck and then gently bites his earlobe before laughing against his skin. "Your body is so hot now. Your skin - and inside - fuck, you're on fire."
"Come on," Antony begs him as if Lisandro needed a reminder of what to do.
Lisandro removes his fingers and gently slaps the butt, and it finally gave Antony a new wave of confidence to look back into the mirror. His own eyes are dark with lust and he's genuinely surprised at how much the lust shows in his face; his mouth is hanging open and he searches for Licha's eyes in the reflection. "Fuck me," he breathes out, and he feels like he's never watched anything more erotic than the smirk that Lisandro gives him when their eyes met and at the same moment, he felt the tip of his cock at his entrance. He pushes inside slowly, giving Antony enough time to whisper a line of "fuckfuckfuckfuck" and squirm a little, closing and opening his eyes again, while Lisandro watches him carefully in the mirror. Then, he moves again, with more ease, slowly, until his whole length is inside, and then, he bites down on Antony's shoulder. Antony would swear he could see his body tremble. They stay still for a moment before Lisandro moves, just with his hips though, there's barely any movement noticeable in their reflection, and he raised his head again to meet Antony's eyes.
It's easier now, and the motion gets smooth, although when Licha speaks, his voice catches at the back of his throat. "Look at you. Getting fucked in your o canarinho shirt. Getting owned like that, fucking hell, 'tony. If anyone saw you like this, one of your teammates - they would kill you, eh? You love it, don't you?"
Antony nodded, nodded, and nodded again; he loved it, there was no running away from that, and he loved exactly what Licha said, getting fucked, wearing the shirt, knowing how he'll never be able to wear it without remembering this, knowing that Lisandro fucked him raw, in front of a mirror, from behind, while jerking him off over a sink in a bathroom, and as he watched it all in a mirror; he'll never get the image out of his head now.
"I love that it's you," he managed to say, grasping onto the sink desperately as Lisandro changed the pace and fucked him roughly by now, barely trying to keep the rhythm steady but rather chasing the pleasure for both of them as he took hold of Antony's cock and jerked it again.
It still seemed mad to him how calm and decent the mirror reflection looked, just the two of them, in their shirts, there was nothing explicit about it, nobody would have known. He moaned, jerking his hips to meet Lisandro's hand.
"Fuck, Lis' - I needed this - "
"I know, baby, I know. You need to be fucked, every day. God, the things I'll do to you - I dreamed about you all the time, what I'd do with you - "
The words alone made Antony experience a few pleasant spasms in his muscles as he gasped, slamming his hand against the mirror and then leaning his forehead against it for support. He couldn't keep looking in the mirror now, as his face was too close to it and the surface steamed up with his breath; but he was sure he wouldn't be able to see anything else anyway. His hips jerked forwards again in a desperate attempt at getting more out of Lisandro's touch, and Licha understood, wrapping his hand just around the head of Antony's cock and flickering his thumb over the top.
"Lis', Lis', fuck, it's - it's too much - " He felt his muscles tensing and then a hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled him away from the mirror.
"Look at yourself, come on, I want you to see how you cum, cum for me baby, watch yourself cum - "
He faintly followed the words and kept looking but it didn't feel like him anymore; although the person in the mirror looked just like him, it was some numbed-out version of him, just his torso with the shirt, but he felt his body shake as blood rushed through his veins and his muscles tensed again, in short convulsions, and he felt the immense relief of one, two, three strong spurts coming out, before his body relaxed again, with more cum leaking out of the tip of his cock. He hung down his head, watching the mess he made, watching how Lisandro's hand moved lazily and slowly now, with almost soothing care over his cock, before he realized that Licha too stiffened up a little and then bit into his shoulder, this time with a force that made it almost painful, and came inside him without any further fuss.
They stayed like that for a while, both unable to fully catch their breath, before Lisandro raised his head, leaving a red mark of his teeth on Antony's skin and a wet spot on his shirt.
"We look like a nice couple," he said, watching their reflection in the mirror, and wrapped both his arms around Antony. He made sure to touch the Brazil shirt with the hand that he just took off Antony's cock, and Antony groaned annoyedly, but that was all he could do. He didn't really care. Licha was still inside him and it was crazy to see their reflection in the mirror like that.
"A nice family portrait," he corrected him. It still seemed insanely erotic to him that the reflection was real but not revealed anything at all of what has just happened.
Lisandro laughed heartily and finally pulled away, slipping out of Antony, who groaned a little at the sense of being left without him. He promptly reached for the toilet paper and cleaned up Antony's buttocks and the inner side of his thighs. Then, he pulled him away from the sink. It was strange to now face the real Lisandro Martínez and not see only his mirrored reflection. He was even more beautiful in person, and Antony stole a quick kiss from him.
"I still want to shred that damn shirt to pieces," he said, nodding to the striped shirt.
"Do that and I'll shred you to pieces," Lisandro countered, kissing him again with a smile. "And not in a way you'd like."