Title: Tarjeta Roja (Part One)
Fandom: RPS - FC Liverpool / Real Madrid CF
Personage / Pairing: Sergio Ramos, Fernando Torres (Sernandoh ♥)
Rating: VM18
Warning: sporcaccionaggini and lots of melancholy COC
Disclaimer: This fanfiction not for profit. (H) You do not want to offend or be prejudicial against real people described. (Eeeeeh) Nothing in this narrated fanfiction has really happened but it is fictional, so do not pretend to give a truthful picture of events or personalities. (Eeeeeeeeeeeeeh)
Notes: last chapter, yay! And finally sporcaccionaggini VM18 and find a way ...
But here's the links to previous installments.
(PART ONE )
(PART TWO )
Fernando appeared on the question of the removal, and the dinner hour came back with three bags smoking. In fact, two: the third because he did not smoke, he explained with enthusiasm, was full of chocolate pudding and cream.
"Full" should mean that Nando had bought five or six servings of pudding and wanted to eat them all before midnight.
Among other things, lost no opportunity to weigh him that his conception of "dinner time" is not no way approached that of British: he was touched to turn quite a few 'among the little villages in the area, before finding a grill that held open until late.
- I can not even conceive that someone could sit at a table before nine. - Sergio muttered, as he took the silverware from a drawer, painted blue. - Explain to me what the hell are the rest of the evening, if they eat at six? -
- They make love. - Fernando ridiculed. - This is why I am so happy to live here. -
Sergio made the gesture to forge a knife in his hand. - Hey, this could save thee. - Protested. - That is the famous British humor? -
- Come on. - Nando looked at him and hurried to put on the best nose of the repertoire. - Sorry. - Starred, biting his lower lip guiltily.
- Nh. Well, we do not cool down dinner. What is it? -
- I do not know. Indian cuisine. Thai. -
- I do not think they're the same thing. -
- by chance I've brought a bowl of paella for René? I do not think so disappointed. -
Sergio almost choked trying to swallow laugh and spicy chicken at the same time. Fernando looked at him with the satisfaction of a pastry chef who provides the best wedding cake that has ever failed.
- You are always better. - He said simply.
- I know. You too. -
Fernando chewed her smile before they slip through our lips, even though Sergio was pretending to be busy eating to not watch it. He could not finish the whole thing that he had taken, because Sergio is warmly recommended not to fill your stomach to bursting point, otherwise he would come to sleep too early. And he had the face of someone contemplating the notion of "sleep" for the nights to come.
- Drop the pudding! -
- I know. -
Sergio calculated with precision the exact trajectory of the spoonful of pudding, which betrayed him, finishing straight on the navel of Fernando. He moaned, shocked by the cold and awareness of what, a little later, it happened.
With a satisfied groan, Sergio attacked him, made him laugh by tickling her. It was great when Fernando was laughing and groaning with pleasure: her whole body responded with absolute spontaneity to his tongue to clean the neural folds of her navel. Sergio realized that the thin hair was still slightly smeared all around, and wondered what would have been dirty do the same thing with his groin. He thrust two fingers into the jar of pudding, blindly, and Fernando just realized what he was doing, he opened his eyes.
- Do not You be ... -
- Can you swear. -
Fernando dropped on the pillow with a groan in agony. - I'll pay the fine. - Outside, not at all fearful to be pathetic.
Sergio chuckled quietly, but did not give him the time to add another: ate it with the typical ruthless ardor of those who did not think of anything else for hours and hours, maybe even days. Fernando thanked him with an almost anguished moan, arching toward him as far as he could. Sergio grabbed her hips and pressed strongly on the mattress, which smacked against his back. He continued to rub the erection of Nando exhausted with their lips, giving him the satisfaction of touching it with the language only occasionally.
Nando tried to protest, as in his heart, that Sergio would only continue to do all this for eternity . Eventually, Sergio was persuaded to lie down, and allowed him to pull out the pants with small, frenetic shots of the wrists, because I love the way that Fernando was able to look at the penis, amazed, and greedy, and totally honest about his intentions.
went beyond sex, beyond the anticipation of the great orgasm was coming soon: he was able to make a perfect love, newspaper, probably the highest form of love that could exist, when you shut in a bedroom and living long hours of mutual devotion.
Nando gave some convulsive breaths, and Sergio realized that the time was right, the one that would be entered as the maximum enjoyment. He held firm, and forced him to feel every inch, until Fernando almost shouted give more, for the love of god.
is enjoyed without any restraint sticky noise produced by pushing against her sacrum, until his body very early on rationality, warned him that he would not detained beyond orgasm. He was inside, as he loved to do, planted more thoroughly as he could, stifled by the pulse of Nando who had preceded him just a couple of pushes. And that's when he fell over, meowed again for your satisfaction.
- I wonder why we never thought of before. - Sighed, stringendoselo between his legs with such determination that Sergio knew that sleep would have ended up in that state.
- What? - Asked softly. - On the red card strategy? -
had in exchange a face unique: curled shit, almost edible.
- the pudding, Sergio. -
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