Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1777489.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Football_RPF
  Relationship:
      Iker_Casillas/Sergio_Ramos
  Character:
      Iker_Casillas, Sergio_Ramos
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Homelessness
  Series:
      Part 3 of Born_to_Run
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-13 Words: 2184
****** Born to Run, a side story, or: Studies of Gypsies and their Saviors,
Two. ******
by dollylux
Summary
     It's Christmas, and Iker doesn't know where Sergio is.
Notes
     Occurs before the events written in Born to Run.
When the knock sounds on Iker's door, he walks toward it like he's been
expecting it. He opens the it and is face-to-face immediately with a shivering,
weak Sergio, one who has gone one too many days without sleep, without eating,
without a single touch. The rain spills in sheets behind him and over the cars
in the parking lot of Iker's apartment building. Iker looks him over with
immediate concern, as if a flick of his worried eyes could diagnose him. He can
hear Sergio's teeth chattering and it sends him immediately into action. He
steps back from the doorway and spreads the door the rest of the way open,
beckoning him in wordlessly. Sergio folds his arms over his chest and curls
down over himself, eyes averted in deeply embarrassed apology. He steps in
gratefully, too weak to argue, to offer up any excuses but Iker didn't need
them anymore; he'd already been through this a number of times. They both know
the drill.
Iker sets about stripping him, removing layer after layer from his body, the
coat and then the hoodie and one shirt and then the other, all of them
tattered, stained, ungodly soft with constant wear and soaking wet from a
week's worth of rain. Sergio's mouth is pale, alarmingly so, a slightly bluish
tint to such a normally rose colored mouth, his face pale, gaunt. Iker searches
his eyes as he works on his belt, pushing at his pants and realizing that he
doesn't even need to unbutton them to get them off his thin hips. Sergio pushes
in against him the second he's free of every stitch of wet clothes, of his
ancient boots, he crowds in against him and begs for his warmth, for his body
heat and his affection and he can't even draw a breath to get out the please,
the please please please I'm so sorry.
"Shh, it's okay. Come here, lay down. Are you hungry?"
Sergio manages a nod, finally shifting out of survival mode and his body is
shutting down quickly now, sent into fitful shaking and his fingers are clasped
frantically to Iker's. Iker burrows his mouth against them and tries to kiss
heat into Sergio's skin as he walks him back into his dim bedroom, to his soft
bed, to all those layers of blankets. He helps him lie down carefully,
smoothing his hands over Sergio and god his skin is ice cold and Iker is
getting more and more concerned by the second. He pushes the blankets up around
him and covers him up to his nose, rubbing his hands hard over his body now
through the blankets, warming him up as best as he can. Sergio hides his nose
against the blankets and lets his breath wash over it and he rubs his nose
there to try and get some feeling back in it, anywhere. Once he's not shaking
quite so violently, Iker steps away from him, hovering worriedly in the doorway
before hurrying into the kitchen, banging and clanking and cursing around it
before he finds a can of chicken noodle soup, one that is dented and dusty but
it's canned soup, it's immortal and so he pours it into a bowl and adds water
for more broth and shoves it into the microwave. He pours Sergio the rest of
his orange juice and tosses the bottle away just as the soup announces that
it's ready. He hurries both offerings back to the bedroom and places them on
the bedside table, digging his fingers into Sergio's hair and kissing across
his forehead because it's the only part of him he can see.
"Will you sit up and eat? Just a little?"
He sees the covers move and assumes it's a nod. Iker digs through the pile of
clothes near the bed and comes up with a sweatshirt with Princeton's name
emblazoned on the front and a pair of pajama pants that look small enough to
fit Sergio. He dresses him quickly and Sergio is sitting up, hands hidden
beneath the sleeves, toes curled down into the warming mattress. He looks lost,
helpless, starved. Iker has to rip his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from
telling him so many things, namely that he loves him.
Sergio doesn't take his eyes off of Iker as he's fed the hot soup, as he sips
at the orange juice that burns down his sore throat. He gradually stops
shivering, starts feeling like a person again. When the soup's all gone and
when Iker has put socks on Sergio's dirty but bare feet and joined him in the
bed, Sergio finally clears his throat in his first attempt to speak in days.
"Mm." He blushes, eyes averted, digging up the courage to try again. Iker keeps
petting his hair, having given up on trying to rid it of tangles long ago and
now simply strokes the dreadlocks there, squeezes them in his fingers, trails
over the tiny scraps of fabric tied deep in that soft brown jungle. He kisses
the hook of Sergio's nose to comfort him. "M-Merry. Christmas."
Iker smiles finally, his eyes warming and the light shines from them straight
into Sergio's heart. His stomach stops trembling and fills with warmth. Iker
kisses his mouth finally, tasting the soup and the juice on such chapped, raw
lips but at least the color had come back to them, that beautiful, beautiful
color.
"Merry Christmas, Sergio."
 
--
 
It takes them practically a full day to rouse themselves from the bed, a full
day for Iker to bring Sergio as much bread and pasta and soda as he can fit in
his little stomach, a full day for Sergio to be able to stand up again and as
soon as he can he's in the bath, soaking in tubful after tubful of scorching
water (heat heat, Sergio only likes heat) until he's soft and clean all over
and his fingers are pruny like they used to get when he was little and he
played with his Transformers a little too long in the bath. He loves the scent
of body wash, of soap, of shampoo, the feel of steam on his skin, of thick
lotions and oils, of feeling soft soft soft here against Iker. They're warm and
in bed again, both of them clean and used to each other now, both of them naked
and they start the dance slowly, just eye gazing now (so much better than
stars, Sergio tells him), just fingers in hair and over jaws and down necks and
the slowest, laziest of blinks, all the motions circular and drawing them into
a dreamy web of it, of silken skin and breath on faces and the earthy colors
and scents of each other. Sergio's eyes are fire again, an earthen fire, flames
licking into ancient trees and he's warm and well and in love with the man in
front of him. His fingers take on intent on Iker's cheek, trickling over the
stubble there and his thumb catches on Iker's bottom lip, stroking even more
color into it. Iker just gazes at him, mouth parted in softness and with the
enchantment Sergio makes him feel, always, always makes him feel. Sergio is
closer somehow now and breathing over his mouth and Iker's heartbeat quickens
for the wisdom in those eyes, the slow burn of absolute, smoldering passion.
"With chaste heart, and pure eyes, I celebrate you, my beauty, restraining my
blood so that the line surges and follows your contour, and you bed yourself in
my verse, as in woodland, or wave-spume: earth's perfume, sea's music."
Iker's eyes laze as he listens to him, the deep rumble of Sergio's voice
sending a slow roll of pleasure through him, climaxing from his spine up and
he's burning up now, he's breathing audibly and Sergio's fingers quicken
quicken but don't speed up at all, just press in with more intensity, more
meaning. He almost doesn't feel as Sergio digs against him, turning Iker until
he's on his back and then until he's sitting back against the headboard and
he's powerless under him, he's rendered absolutely helpless under Sergio's
spell. He simply watches as Sergio spreads himself around his pale legs, as he
reaches back for Iker's cock that is almost shamefully hard (from words, from
ghost touches and words) and feeds it into himself, his body yielding
gracefully to lick him up inch by inch until he's buried. Iker sucks in a long,
almost overwhelmed breath, the world going from grey with concrete and rain and
winter and loneliness to something beyond color, to synesthesia where he can
taste the red of Sergio's breath and it tastes like cinnamon, where he can see
the erotic roll of Sergio's body in waves of opal all around him, and he can
hear Sergio's grip on his dick, can hear the trap, the intake, the capture and
it sounds like rushes of wind in a place more free than he'd ever known. He
rests his head back against the headboard and spreads his feeble hands over
Sergio's hips and moans and it feels horribly inadequate.
"I'm hungry for you." Sergio says this simply, as simply as saying "I love you"
and he frames Iker's face with his tendering hands and kisses him and Iker's
guts clench up and he tries to kiss him back with the amount of emotion he's
feeling. Sergio keeps his gaze as he starts to move on him, riding Iker in a
slow roll of his hips and my god it feels like magic, it feels like he's high
and that all of his senses are peaked and every single one of them are
completely overtaken by Sergio, by SergioSergioSergio. Iker moves his hands up
to spread over Sergio's ass and he moans even louder because it's utterly soft,
it's lotioned and smooth and the color of honey caramel and it's two moons in
his eager palms and his fingers quest between them to marvel at how Sergio is
spread around him, is split in two by his dick, that he's letting him be god
right there at all. Sergio nods gently for Iker's reactions as he works him in
and out with deep, sucking pulls on his dick. Iker's hands grow desperate on
him and he cannot help how worshipfully he's looking up at him now, at how he's
kissing so reverently at Sergio's fingers and that soft little mouth.
"How do I feel? Am I warm enough for you?" Iker trembles for his words and he's
almost afraid of how viscerally he reacts to them. His eyes flutter and Sergio
strokes his lashes. His mouth quivers and it's kissed. His dick is being worked
into burning, suffocating bliss. He nods and he stares intently into Sergio's
eyes, trying to show him that he deserves this, trying to hold onto him with
what he feels like are strong hands, trying to embrace him with what he's
always thought of as sturdy arms, man's arms but Sergio turns him all to
liquid, melts him down to the sum of his parts. He nods and nods and moans and
he's kissed, licked into, fed.
"Yeah? Iker, this fills me up so much. Can't you feel it? All over? Does this
just burn you up and make you feel like you're going to overflow? Like you're
on fire?" Sergio is panting now and his words are coming out as soft, breathy
things and his body does feel like it's on fire and Iker cannot stop nodding as
he feasts on him, tasting him on his neck and across his collarbones and the
lines and dips of his shoulders and Sergio accepts it like the offerings they
are, exchanges them for a faster movement of his hips and he's rolling them
now, keeping Iker in and letting his muscles do the work, the power of his hips
and Iker holds onto him like Sergio is going to fly away, fingers eating into
searing, flushed skin. He tries to lift up and give something to this but
Sergio doesn't let him move, he keeps him pressed into the haven of this bed
(their bed, at least now, right now) and he fucks himself on him and he reaches
down for one of Iker's hands, prying it from its grip on the fleshiest part of
his hip and guiding it down to his dick and god how he arches then, giving his
first true cry and it's an aching sound, it's a warning as he comes into Iker's
awed grip on his dick and his body constricts around Iker until he feels so
much pressure on his dick that he can only sob as he comes, Sergio's arms
wrapped around him like he's a newborn and that sweet, sweet mouth kisses his
own and licks up his sounds and those hips roll and quake until Iker is
immobile under him, his body still ebbing tiredly with emotion. He finally
kisses Sergio again and he sighs in amazement but Sergio only tastes love.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!