FOOTBALL RPF FIC: why should you come (when i call)

[flywoman]

Title: why should you come (when i call)
Pairing: Iker Casillas/Xavi Hernandez
Rating: R
Word Count: 1277
Summary: A smooth operator, Iker is not.
Author's Note: Written in celebration of MMoM 2013, although most likely this will be my only contribution. Unabashedly inspired by (imo) the best awkward phone sex scene ever, in Involuntary Commitment by ignazwisdom.


Iker held the phone away from his ear for a moment, blinking. He couldn't quite believe that he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. From the other end of the connection came Xavi's voice, thin and tinged with impatience. "Eh, Iker? You still there?"

"You can't mean you want me to - Joder, Xavi - well, I mean, maybe, but only if you -" Iker sighed. "Ugh, I really hate that we can't see each other. Okay, fine, if you really want me to, I'll try it."

"What was that, the five stages of grief in under ten seconds?" Xavi asked, sounding sincerely impressed.

"Shut up."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, we're in a long distance relationship, people do this all the time." Xavi cleared his throat suggestively. "Are you alone?"

"What, you mean now?" Iker asked, hearing his own voice hike up an octave.

"Haven't we waited long enough already?" Xavi whined.

He did have a point. It had been five weeks since the clásico, longer since the last international call-up, and yet Iker's impressions of Xavi, his scent, his touch, the low rumble of amusement that made his chest shiver under Iker's ear, were almost unbearably vivid at times. "Okay, okay. How does this work?"

"Make yourself comfortable," Xavi ordered. Iker could hear him fumbling around, the faint squeak of bedsprings. Iker frowned. He was already sitting on his bed, dressed in an old t-shirt and the sweatpants he slept in, fleece faded and soft against his skin.

"Okay," Xavi said, in a warm, intimate tone that sent shivers down Iker's spine. "Imagine that I'm there, right outside your door. I knock. You let me in. What happens next?"

"Well. You'd walk in. And kiss me. And then we'd, um. Make love?"

There was a sputter of incredulous laughter on the other end of the line that was covered up almost instantly by a forced coughing fit.

Iker blushed furiously. "I'm hanging up now."

"No, wait," Xavi said quickly, still breathless. "Points for effort. Just give it one more try, please." He dropped his gravelly voice to an even lower register that raised the hairs on the back of Iker's neck... and more. "Close your eyes."

Iker did as he had been told, still feeling slightly ridiculous.

"I've just come into your room and shut the door," Xavi continued. "We haven't seen each other in weeks. Now, what are you going to do to me?"

"Um. Okay." Iker cast around for something, anything, to say. "What are you wearing?"

"Do I even know you?" Xavi demanded in disbelief.

"Fine then," Iker huffed, ready to give this stupid idea up for good. "Just forget it."

"No, no," Xavi protested. "I just... have never seen much concern from you on the subject of what either of us was wearing, to be honest."

"Hombre, your seduction technique needs some work," Iker informed him.

"Ha. Sorry. Really, I'm sorry. Let's rewind." Iker could hear Xavi taking a deep breath. "I've just come into your room and shut the door." He paused. "Iker, if your eyes aren't closed, this will be a lot more difficult."

Rather than asking how Xavi could possibly have known that his eyes were open, Iker only sighed and obediently lay back in the bed, one arm folded to support his head, and closed them.

"That's better," Xavi said. "Relax. Now, I've just come in and shut the door. I'm wearing..." he paused for effect. "That black suit I bought for the awards ceremony. You know the one."

"Shows off your ass," Iker mumbled, picturing it. This was definitely getting more interesting.

"Exactly. Tight pants, jacket, crisp white shirt. No tie, that would only get in the way."

"But I like taking off your tie," Iker told him, really beginning to warm to the idea. "And then we could always use it for... other things."

"Now you're talking," Xavi said happily. "Tell me more."

"I'd reach for your tie," Iker said, imagining the slide of silk through his calloused fingers and feeling himself stir. "I'd unknot it and pull it off... and then toss it over my shoulder and onto the bed."

"Go on," Xavi encouraged him.

Feeling bolder by the minute, Iker continued, "I'd unbutton your shirt and kiss your throat... now that notch between your collarbones. I'd trail kisses down your chest until I got to your belt."

"Yes?" Xavi prompted, starting to sound a little hoarse.

"I'd unbuckle it. Slowly." Iker smiled, eyes still shut. "I'd unzip your fly and then slide the slacks off those narrow hips of yours." He paused, hardening at the thought.

"Where are you now?" Xavi asked softly.

"I'm lying on my bed," Iker informed him.

"No, no, joder," Xavi said impatiently. "We're in your hotel room together. You've just succeeded in getting into my pants. Where are you now?"

"You were awfully easy," Iker couldn't help but point out.

"I was irresistibly overwhelmed by your dashing good looks, your razor sharp wit, and your impeccable taste in men," Xavi drawled. "Go on, you've left me standing here with my pants off."

Iker smirked. "I bet you get that a lot."

"Iker," and there was an edge of mock menace in his voice now. "Focus."

"Okay, okay." Iker sighed and closed his eyes again. "Um, I'd slide my hand into your boxers. Touch you."

"Go on," Xavi urged. He sounded distant, a little dazed.

"You're so hard. I'd massage you, gently, the way you like it. Touch your balls."

"I'd get your pants off too," Xavi murmured. "Touch your cock."

Not sure whether this was instruction or narration, Iker nevertheless slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and groaned with pleasure as he gripped himself, slid his hand up and down a couple of times.

"What are you doing?" Xavi hissed.

Iker looked down at the hump of his hidden hand and felt himself flush. "You know what I'm doing."

"Tell me," Xavi pleaded.

"I'm... you know, I'm..." He took a deep breath. "I'm touching myself, I'm..." His hand moved again, almost involuntarily. "I'm jerking off to the sound of your voice."

"Oh god."

"I'd get down on the floor," Iker told him, his own breath becoming ragged. "I'd kneel between your legs. I'd look at you, I love to look at you. And then I'd take you into my mouth." Xavi's happy hum was broken by a sudden sharp hitch of breath, and Iker grinned.

"I'd lick you," he whispered. He pictured Xavi with his ear pressed desperately to the phone, his own hand stroking himself in time to Iker's words, and swallowed hard. "I'd swirl my tongue, tasting you everywhere."

"Don't stop," Xavi gasped.

"And then I'd suck you." His own hand sped up. He was so close. "I'd let you tangle your hands in my hair, and I'd suck you so hard it would almost be more than you could take. And then-" Suddenly he spasmed, spilling over his own fist, his breath forcing itself out in a high-pitched moan as he spurted over his hand, his t-shirt, the bedclothes.

On the other end of the line, Xavi made a sort of strangled sound that ended in a low whimper.

Iker lay on his back, looking at the ceiling, waiting for himself to stop shuddering, for his breathing to slow. A warm glow was spreading from his core all the way to the tips of his toes.

"That was a good idea," he admitted.

Xavi chuckled, a small, smug sound. "I told you so," he said sleepily, and Iker smiled and curled up on his side, tucking the phone under his ear.