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Luka wakes to the feeling of fingers stroking up and down his spine. He’s face-down in a Lisboa hotel pillow, arms curled under his head, and though his eyes are closed, he can sense that it’s still the middle of the night. When he cracks open his right eye, he finds the room very dimly illuminated by the warm yellow light spilling out of the half-ajar bathroom door. Hm, they left the bathroom light on. Terrible waste of electricity.
The hand petting him slips under the bed sheet and squeezes his left asscheek. Tch.
Luka doesn’t know how he keeps getting into these situations. It seems like no matter what club he joins, no matter how professional he tries to be, he inevitably ends up forming a deep bond with one of his teammates, and then…. Well. In Croatia, it was Ćorluka. At Tottenham, it was Bale. In Madrid, now…. To be fair, things have never been sexual between him and Gareth, but they definitely used to be with Vedran. Luka frowns into the pillow when he ruminates on it a little. He seems to have a weakness for tall, dark center-backs. And they seem to have a weakness for him, because they won’t leave him alone. His current bedmate isn’t the only Spanish defender to make a pass at him since he moved to Madrid. He is Luka’s favorite, though.
“Lukita…,” comes a deep, buttery purr somewhere near his ear.
Sergio Ramos’ voice is one of the many things Luka likes about him. He could make flowers bloom when he sings.
Luka hums to acknowledge that he’s heard him but he doesn’t say anything. He’s sleepy and Sergio is being a pest.
A big hand takes him by the shoulder and rolls him over with effortless strength. Another thing Luka likes about him. He allows it, falls onto his back, right up against Sergio’s chest. In the dim light, Sergio’s handsome face is soft and shadowed at the edges. Gorgeous. Luka’s toes curl a little under the sheet where no one can see them, just at his beauty. He keeps his grumpy expression on.
“Hm,” he grunts.
His grouchiness only makes Sergio grin bigger. He has always taken absurd delight in Luka being moody for some reason. When he calls Luka vinagrito, he says it in the same way a man would call Shakira guapa. He often goes out of his way to annoy Luka just to get a rise out of him, he likes it so much. Now, he shows his appreciation with a warm, lingering kiss to Luka’s cheek.
“Hermoso, are you awake?” Sergio murmurs.
“Do I look as if I am sleeping with my eyes open?” Luka bites.
Sergio snickers. He might be a masochist, Luka thinks. He does enjoy bashing his head into things a lot.
Sergio takes one of Luka’s hands in his own, brings it to his lips, and kisses the back of it. It’s sweet, and for a moment, Luka is charmed. And then Sergio guides the hand down under the sheet and makes Luka touch his erection. Luka snorts and Sergio giggles.
It hasn’t been much time at all since the last round. Since their going to bed together for the first time, in fact. Luka thinks he might even be able to hear the celebrations still going strong in the hotel rooms nearby. The game was mere hours ago, the flavor of the ecstatic high of victory still potent in the back of Luka’s throat, and Sergio is trying to fuck him a second time already. Sergio is manic enough when he scores a goal in any game, never mind the equalizing goal in extra time of a Champions League final—Luka is sure he’ll be repeating the number 93 to anyone and everyone for the rest of eternity. He’ll probably tattoo it on his damn head. He’s not terribly surprised that Sergio is still full of so much… vigor.
Sergio starts biting and licking his ear as he guides Luka’s hand up and down on his cock. He’s hard as a rock. Tch. Men. Ćorluka was equally lusty after a win.
“Insatiable,” Luka mutters. He shakes off Sergio’s grip and takes over stroking. Sergio groans loudly in appreciation. His kisses get sloppy immediately, hands all over Luka’s face and neck.
“I want you again,” Sergio demands, in that toe-curling deep voice. “I want your thighs around me.”
Luka’s eyes flutter closed and he almost shivers. When he first met Sergio, his bull-headedness was infuriating. Now, it turns him on like crazy. Sergio Ramos takes what he wants, always, boldly, and never backs down. To be the thing he wants—it’s heady.
Sergio gets on top of him, forcing Luka’s thighs apart. He clutches at them and squeezes them, mouthing drunkenly at Luka’s neck as he does so. Their first time, a couple hours ago, he quite literally drooled on Luka at the sight of the bare thighs he’s obsessing over now. Luka has been teased for many years over his legs, but it all feels pretty insignificant now that those same legs have made Sergio Ramos drool.
Persistent fingers squirm their way between Luka’s asscheeks, feeling, gathering information.
“Still wet,” Sergio pants. He sounds like he might drool again.
Then, thicker, heavier pressure. Luka bites his lip and braces himself. He grips the sheets.
Sergio slides inside, one smooth, slow push without pause. Luka is alright until the last inch, which punches a helpless cry out of him. Sergio is big. His cry makes Sergio groan, and Luka feels him throb inside. Of course he loves the idea that he’s difficult to take.
Sergio takes Luka’s ankles in his hands and holds his legs in the air to fuck him this time. He stares at every part of Luka’s body like he’s been starving to death in the desert for weeks and Luka is a hunk of meat roasting on a fire. His dark eyes slide over everything—Luka’s calves, his thighs, the crease at his hip, stomach, chest, collarbones, neck. Sergio’s thrusts are hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall with every pump. All Luka can do is hold onto the mattress and gasp for air. Why do the men he ends up in bed with always want to fuck him so hard?
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” Sergio pants, voice steady despite the power of his thrusts. “I think of you always. You are divine to me!”
Luka squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth falls open in a silent cry. Spanish men make for romantic lovers, he’s learning, nothing at all like Croatian men. Luka is too rational to fall for sweet talk, but still, Sergio’s words make his skin tingle, make him grip the mattress tighter. Could it be true?
“You like it?” Sergio continues. “Feels good, hm?”
Yes. Luka claws at Sergio’s lower stomach. Feels like his cock is bruising Luka’s insides.
“Feels so good to be inside you,” he groans, squeezing Luka’s ankles tighter. “You look like an angel…!”
Sergio doesn’t last much longer than he did the first time, despite how recently it was. With an animalistic snarl of pleasure, he spills inside Luka, a gush of hot wetness, enough for Luka to feel. Because of course he cums a lot, of course he gets hard right away after the first round and of course he manages to produce something impressive when lesser men would already be drained dry. Luka moans softly as he feels Sergio pulsing, stroking his sculpted hips, just enjoying Sergio’s vitality.
When he’s finished, Sergio sinks down onto him.
“Come here,” Sergio breathes, mouth crushed against Luka’s sweaty temple.
He rolls them over so that Luka is on top straddling him and reaches between Luka’s thighs. While biting and sucking on Luka’s neck, he strokes Luka off with gusto, works Luka until he’s groaning in ecstasy, thighs shaking, and then he kisses Luka back to sleep.
It’s still night, still dark out, when Luka gets woken again, this time by Sergio’s mouth on his left nipple.
“Madre mia,” Luka groans. “Haven’t you had enough?”
Sergio leans his lower body into Luka’s and shows Luka that no, he has not.
Luka suspects he’s not going to be leaving this hotel room bed for a very long time.