FOOTBALL RPF FIC: Lo Que Quieras
Nov. 8th, 2013 01:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flywomanTitle: Lo Que Quieras
Pairing: Iker Casillas/Xavi Hernández
Rating: R
Word Count: 4966
Disclaimer: While inspired by real persons and events, this is a work of fiction.
Summary: Having overindulged after his team's depressing loss in the clásico, Iker continues to experience the aftereffects with Xavi's eager assistance.
Warnings: Belly kink fic. Stuffing and its imagined physical and sexual consequences.
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to, and takes place immediately after the events of, Embarazado de Nada. There's a bit near the end inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clivelive49 's House M.D. fic Whatever You Want.
Xavi, as might have been expected, was the first to break the silence. "Wow," he drawled, still breathless from his orgasm, "that was so-"
"Weird," Iker interrupted, just as Xavi said, "-hot."
"I'm willing to compromise with 'weirdly hot,'" Xavi chuckled, and rubbed a soothing hand over Iker's distended stomach. "How are you feeling?"
"Great," Iker allowed, "but at the same time... kind of gross." This admission was punctuated unintentionally by a loud burp as the contents of said stomach struggled to settle. He felt, in fact, like a beached whale, grotesquely swollen and possibly in danger of putrefying. "I mean, I don't actually feel sick, but... I'd like to get cleaned up." He had spurted all over Xavi's fist, and there were rapidly drying spatters of semen decorating the dome of his belly.
"Don't move," Xavi said cheerfully, pressing his stubbled cheek affectionately to Iker's, and carefully extricated himself from behind Iker's back, doing his best not to jar him. Iker didn't feel it necessary to point out that he probably couldn't have done even if he wanted to. In addition to feeling weighed down by all of the food and beer in his belly, he was now blissed-out and boneless from the intensity of his orgasm.
He did, however, muster enough energy to position himself more comfortably in Xavi's absence. Lying down flat, he soon discovered, was not going to work; his stomach was so full that he would shortly have a hell of a case of heartburn. Instead, he commandeered the extra pillows, piled them behind his back, and leaned against them, half reclining, half-sitting up. He hoped that he would still be able to fall asleep.
Xavi soon padded back from the bathroom with a warm, damp washcloth and settled himself next to Iker. Then, with a gentleness that Iker rarely saw him display in daily life, he rubbed the cloth carefully over Iker's stomach, removing the sticky remnants of sweat, semen, and saliva.
Iker sighed in stupefied satisfaction. The slow, rhythmic movements mimicked the massage that Xavi had given him earlier, relieving some of the pressure of his glut, and more than that, it was stirring lovely waves of warmth that merged seamlessly with the afterglow still radiating through his pelvis. Xavi was crooning something as he worked, maybe soothing nonsense, maybe an old Catalan lullaby.
Iker's eyelids fluttered shut.
***
He was in a meadow with four other children and a group of adults beside a wide brown river. But this was no ordinary meadow, no ordinary river, and one of the adults was a dapper little man in a plum velvet jacket carrying a cane topped with a golden ball.
"As you can see," he was saying in a thick Argentinian accent with a grand sweep of his hand, "everything, absolutely everything in this room, is edible." He bent down, picked up a pinch of grass in his fingers, and offered it to Iker.
"Mmm, mint," he mumbled happily. It was absolutely melting in his mouth.
"Feel free to wander," Mr. Wonka continued, "but don't get too close to the river. My chocolate must not be touched by human hands."
There was so much to see, so much to explore... and so, so much to taste. The grass alone could have kept him content if he hadn't found the flowers that burst bright fruit flavors into his mouth, the bushes with licorice leaves and sharp cinnamon berries, the big glossy globes that broke to release a dozen delicious fillings. Iker lurched from one delight to the next, smearing himself with hazelnut, getting cotton candy caught in his hair, stuffing himself silly with the incredible sweets on display.
At last he found himself on the riverbank, only a foot or two away from the chocolate that steamed and frothed on its way from the enormous waterfall that had churned it into the highest quality liquor for Wonka's world-renowned chocolate bars. It foamed and burbled, beckoning to him.
Iker glanced around. He was alone on the bank, and no one was looking his way.
Surely it wouldn't hurt anything if he just had one little taste.
He knelt clumsily at the side of the river, nearly swooning at its overpowering aroma, then dipped a cupped hand into it and raised it to his lips. As the rich, creamy chocolate slid deliciously down his throat, he closed his eyes and shuddered with pleasure.
He had to have more.
Completely disregarding Mr. Wonka's warning shout, Iker leaned forward, scooping up the steaming chocolate with both hands now, and slurping it up as fast as his mouth could manage. He was only vaguely aware of his companions moving around and chattering anxiously behind him, concentrating on the incredible sensation of the silky stuff filling his throat and swelling his already full stomach. He knew that he should stop, but he couldn't; it tasted so, so good, the best chocolate that he had ever had.
He was leaning just a little too far out in his eagerness, bending over his bulging belly to drink directly from the river, when someone bumped into him from behind. A lurch, a curse, and suddenly he was afloat in the famous chocolate river, rolling over and over in its rapids.
Iker struggled in vain to right himself, opened his mouth to scream for help and got a huge mouthful of frothy chocolate for his troubles. The river dragged him down, choking on chocolate, then popped him to the surface again, completely coated with the stuff. This happened over and over again while Iker flailed and fought to gulp air. He barely had time to breathe between bouts, and he was getting dizzy and nauseated.
He must have swallowed half a gallon before he finally fetched up, not battered at the base of the waterfall as he had feared, but at the bottom of one of the huge clear tubes that was sucking the chocolate up through the ceiling. He labored against the current to no avail; all of the candy and chocolate he had consumed seemed to be weighing him down like lead. One second he was frantically treading chocolate; the next, he was being jerked down under the surface; and then, just as abruptly, he was pulled right up into the tube.
The powerful flow of the chocolate pushed him ever upward. Iker moaned as his massively distended stomach rubbed painfully against the glass sides of the tube. He could see the ground getting farther away, but more and more slowly.
And then, to his horror and utter humiliation, he got stuck.
He could feel the pent-up pressure of the chocolate behind him, pummeling his legs and bottom like a hundred indignant fists, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to twist his trapped limbs, to blow out his breath, to suck his bloated belly in, to burp up some of the excess air, but still he couldn't budge.
Suddenly a dozen little orange-skinned men poured out of the shrubbery, doing a complicated dance step and breaking into derisive song.
And every one of them had a Barcelona player's smirking face.
***
Iker jolted awake with a gasp, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and clutching convulsively at the comforter.
Although he was safely back in Xavi's bedroom with nary an Oompa-Loompa in sight, his obscenely bloated belly had not disappeared with his dream. His alcohol-blurred memories of the evening's events resurfaced slowly, explaining his current bizarrely distended state. Iker could feel the painful pressure of it, and when his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see it, too, the pale mound ending abruptly under the blanket that Xavi had evidently draped over what would have been his waist. There was a bright band of especially intense pressure further down, right around his belly button, and when Iker turned his head, he discovered that Xavi was fast asleep beside him, snoring softly into a spare pillow, one arm wrapped protectively around his friend's swollen stomach.
All of these discomforts were dwarfed, however, in comparison to that of his distended bladder, which was signaling to Iker in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get up immediately, there was a very real risk that it would empty itself all over Xavi's still mostly clean sheets.
In itself, this was not too terribly surprising since Iker frequently felt the urge to urinate after sex, which he would have done earlier if he hadn't been too tipsy, not to mention too damned comfortable, to bother getting up to go to the bathroom.
Usually, however, he had not drunk approximately two liters of beer immediately beforehand.
"Pelopo," he whispered. His friend slumbered on without so much as twitching an eyelid. Iker slid his hand under the blanket and tried to push Xavi's arm aside, but the other man just snuggled closer and sighed in his sleep. Next Iker tried arching his back to push himself upward and break Xavi's hold, but was immediately informed that this was a mistake by the shooting sparks of pain all along his belly due the constriction created by Xavi's leaden arm.
Iker groaned, partly in pain, partly because his need to urinate was growing more urgent by the second. Xavi had always been a heavy sleeper. Once, at the end of an international tournament, Iker and a friend had pranked him by stuffing his suitcase full of everything not nailed down in their hotel room while he slept. When this was discovered by airport security, Iker had actually peed himself, he'd laughed so hard at Xavi's befuddled expression.
He was finding his current situation to be a lot less funny, although the end result might well turn out to be the same.
"Pelopo!" he said sharply in his friend's ear. There was no response whatsoever.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Iker leaned closer and drew in as deep a breath as he could to hiss, "Xavi! You're going to miss the match!"
Xavi jerked awake. "Huh - whuh?" he mumbled, raising his head and looking around groggily. Then he directed an accusing glare at Iker. "Do you know what time it is? What'd you wake me up for?"
"I have to go to the bathroom," Iker said, gritting his teeth. He calculated that he could probably manage to hold it for another minute, tops.
"Oh," Xavi uttered, raising his eyebrows in understanding. Mercifully, he released Iker's middle, leaving a shallow indentation in his skin that slowly filled, then pulled the blankets back and sat up. "Okay," he yawned, scrubbing at his eyes. "I'll come with you."
Iker struggled for a few seconds to haul himself farther up against the headboard, then wheezed as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, the sudden movement squeezing his swollen stomach. "What are we, teenage girls? I can go by myself, thanks."
But as soon as he succeeded in getting to his feet, he realized (as Xavi no doubt had already) that this was, strictly speaking, not true. With a six-pack's worth of alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, he could not have walked anything approximating a straight line under the best of circumstances; the walls and ceiling were slowly spinning around him even when he was standing still. And when he took a step towards the bathroom door, the altered center of gravity resulting from his bloated belly wobbled him off to one side. He made a hasty attempt at course correction, overcompensated, and staggered straight into the bedside table, barking his shin.
"Ow, fuck!" Iker yelped. He started to bend down to rub the sting away, then thought better of it as his head swam. He had to brace himself on the edge of the table just to keep his balance. His other hand went instinctively to cradle his protruding gut, which was sloshing audibly in the wake of this ordeal.
Xavi didn't even bother to say "I told you so," just slid off the bed to stand by his side and wrapped his arm carefully around Iker's erstwhile waist. "Here," he said, "put your arm around my shoulders and lean on me."
Deeply embarrassed, Iker obeyed in silence, and they stumbled to the toilet together, Xavi just managing to keep both of them upright, although they listed like leaky galleons. At least Xavi let go of him when they got there and turned away to rummage through his medicine cabinet.
Iker thought that he had never experienced anything sweeter than the relief of emptying his bursting bladder, the sound of his stream ringing loudly, even musically, against the bowl. He held onto the edge of the counter with one hand but cupped the convex underside of his belly with the other, feeling himself shrink perceptibly as the contractions continued. There was also something weird, and hot, and weirdly hot, about this, Iker reflected, even though he'd peed in front of Xavi probably a thousand times in their decades together.
The weirdness and the hotness did not diminish a whit when Iker flushed and turned back around to behold Xavi standing right behind him with a big glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.
"You can't be serious," Iker said, even as his engorged stomach gurgled in protest.
Xavi set the glass on the counter, unscrewed the bottle, and shook two pills into his palm. He held them out to Iker. "You know that if you don't, you'll regret it in the morning."
"I'm fairly certain that I'll have a lot to regret in the morning regardless," Iker retorted, and then hiccupped as if to emphasize his point. It hurt more than a little, probably because his poor diaphragm had no place to go. Xavi just stood there patiently, staring at him with the stubborn jut to his lip that Iker knew so well. He hiccupped again, grimacing, and placed a hand on his tender gut. It didn't help. Every spasm shook his entire frame and made him feel as though he'd been prodded sharply right under the sternum.
"You know what usually helps the hiccups?" Xavi suggested, obviously trying, and failing, not to sound smug. "Drinking a full glass of water without stopping." He picked up the glass again and handed it to Iker, who side-eyed it. The glass was so full of liquid that it was almost overflowing its brim every time he hiccupped. Not unlike himself.
"Hombre," he whined, "what part of 'drank a whole six-pack" - hic - "and ate the entire tortilla' didn't you understand?"
"Nonsense," Xavi replied pragmatically, "you just relieved yourself of at least half a liter not thirty seconds ago. There has to be some space now."
He was, as ever, infuriatingly right... and even if he hadn't been, the idea of continuing to shake painfully with each hiccup for the foreseeable future was even less appealing to Iker than that of forcing one more serving of fluid down his throat.
"Fine," Iker said sullenly. Hic. "Might as well give me the aspirin, too." He started to raise the glass carefully to his lips, then looked over the rim and met Xavi's intent eyes. He might not have given this a second thought except that his friend immediately flushed a dull red and looked away.
Iker pointed an accusing finger at him. "You want to watch me drink this, don't you?" Hic. "This isn't about my hangover" - hic - "it's about you getting off on... on..." He hiccupped yet again, gesturing wordlessly at his sore, swollen stomach.
"Why can't it be both?" Xavi asked reasonably, although the tips of his ears were still pink.
"I can't believe it," Iker told him, genuinely annoyed now. Hic. "You're actually enjoying this."
At that, Xavi stepped forward and kissed him contritely on the cheek, careful not to make contact with his tender tummy. "I'm sorry, cariño. This is really strange for me too, okay? I just never knew..." he bit his lip, although his embarrassed expression said it all. "And I didn't even think about it hurting you."
"Not hurting," Iker said quickly before an especially vicious hiccup belied his words. "At least, I wasn't, before..." Hic. "And I have to admit...hic" - he felt himself blushing now - "the sex was amazing."
Xavi looked up at him and smiled - a slow, sweet, wicked smile that caused Iker's cock to stir. "It really was, wasn't it?" Now he placed his palm on the curve of Iker's belly, just above the navel, and squeezed very, very gently. Iker whimpered and shifted eagerly under Xavi's hand - it felt so damn good - but then shook with another painful hiccup.
"There's no reason," Xavi said in a low voice, "that you can't enjoy this too." He grasped Iker's arm and guided him slowly around so that he could see himself in profile in the mirror. "Just look how big and sexy you are," he said, sounding almost reverent.
Iker looked. There he was, thinning brown hair mussed, cheeks full and pink, toned shoulders freckled, and then... he could hardly believe his eyes. From the side, his stomach looked even more distended than he had imagined, sticking out from under his sternum, then falling in a smooth, round, solid curve that dipped back in and just brushed the top of his pubic hair. But much of his binge must have made its way down his digestive tract at this point because his belly hung low on his frame, resembling nothing so much as a six-month pregnancy. Every time he hiccupped, it rippled irritably for a second, then slowly settled.
Iker swallowed, feeling himself get hard. If his hands hadn't been full, he would not have been able to resist the urge to run them softly over his own skin, to find out exactly where it was taut and where it yielded gratefully to the touch.
Xavi suffered no such impediments. He knelt down on the linoleum and clasped the sides of Iker's swaying belly tenderly with both hands, then leaned forward and kissed it just below the navel. When another hiccup shook Iker's stomach, they both shivered.
"Drink the water, cariño," Xavi suggested hoarsely. "I'll help you."
Surrendering to the inevitable, Iker took a deep breath - or as deep a breath as he could manage under the circumstances - tossed the aspirin to the back of his throat, then brought the glass to his lips. He felt so full already that for a moment he was afraid that he might gag, but the first cool swallow went down easily enough, and then he just had to keep at it, tilting the glass steadily back, forcing the water down and holding onto the counter with his other hand when he started feeling dizzy.
Out of sight, Xavi was gently massaging his stomach, helping to stretch the skin so that it could hold still more, and there was a fluttery, moist, and oddly arousing something going on down there as well. It occurred to him as he drained the last drops from the glass that Xavi was dipping his tongue into his navel, mimicking Iker's swallowing movements with his mouth, and this thought excited him so much that he set down the glass with a shuddering gasp.
Xavi lurched to his feet and refilled the glass from the tap. "Another?" It sounded like half a challenge, half a plea.
"Joder, are you crazy? I could barely finish the first one," Iker complained, but secretly he was seriously tempted. After all, even if the hiccups were finally gone, the extra water really would help keep him from the dehydration that made most hangovers so miserable, and besides... besides, a small voice whispered, as his gaze was drawn involuntarily to the reflected profile of his paunch, which seemed even more pronounced than a moment ago - this is totally turning you on, too.
"You can do it," Xavi encouraged him. "We'll bring it to the bedroom, make you comfortable."
"Sure," Iker said sarcastically, "Why don't I just waddle on over there with the water," but his cock had bounced right up at the thought, brushing against the bottom of his belly.
"Don't be silly," Xavi said. "I'll carry the water. First let's get you back to bed."
Iker was, of course, still very tipsy, and the brief journey unsettled his stomach more than a little. When Xavi had helped him sit back against the pillows again, he leaned against the headboard and groaned, closing his eyes as the world whirled gently around him.
"Hold on," he ordered, holding up a warning hand. "Need a... urp... little time to recover."
Xavi went back to the bathroom for the water. When he returned, he set the glass down on the bedside table and sank onto the mattress slowly, then reached out to touch Iker on his turgid tummy. Iker flinched away at first, but Xavi's caresses were so gentle that eventually he was able to tolerate and even enjoy them.
And once the nausea had receded, Iker became aware of just how horny Xavi's hands were making him feel. He started to squirm, not out of discomfort now, but because he yearned for more, the feeling of being even fuller, and of knowing that he was driving Xavi absolutely wild with desire.
He opened his eyes and looked hopefully at Xavi, who took his wordless hint immediately and helped Iker scoot a little further down in the bed so that he could sit behind and support him.
When they were both comfortable, Xavi picked up the glass of water and pressed it into Iker's hand, then carefully clasped the curving sides of his distended stomach. "Whenever you're ready, cariño." His voice was trembling a little.
Iker took a breath, bracing himself, then lifted the rim of the glass to his lips. As the liquid trickled down his throat, he imagined that he could feel himself swelling ever so slightly to accommodate each swallow. Meanwhile, the gentle pressure of Xavi's palms was going straight to his cock.
"Joder," Xavi husked in his ear, his voice hoarse with desire, "I can actually feel you expanding."
This idea was so exciting that Iker almost came right then and there; he had to pause, clutching the glass and concentrating on holding himself together. Xavi seemed to sense this since his hands stilled on Iker's sides. They both breathed deeply for a few seconds before Iker felt capable of continuing.
As he tipped the glass higher, Iker started having doubts about his ability to finish; every additional swallow was a greater struggle. But Xavi was right there with him, gaze fixed on Iker's throat, his low voice crooning encouragement in his ear.
"Oh god," Iker groaned at last, settling back onto the pillows and letting the empty glass drop from his hand onto the comforter. "I can't believe I just did that." His stomach couldn't quite believe it either; he could feel a dull ache building in his middle, radiating little tendrils of discomfort bordering on pain around to his back and down into his pelvis. "Ugh."
"Here, let me," Xavi said swiftly and reached for the tube of hand lotion, thumbing it open and spurting some onto Iker's skin. He began rubbing Iker's belly in smooth, semicircular strokes, pausing every so often to press a kiss into the side of his neck.
At first the massage hurt more than it helped as his sore skin stretched under the pressure of Xavi's fingers, but then, as Iker relaxed into it, the sensations became much more pleasurable. He shifted, settled himself more comfortably into the crook of Xavi's neck and shoulder, and sighed gratefully. "Better?" Xavi asked.
Iker's only response was a big burp, which did, in fact, make him feel significantly better and at least a little less bloated.
At the sound, Xavi's hands sped up, shaking a little. "Christ," he murmured in Iker's ear, his voice raw with naked need. "You're as big and round now as... as a football."
Iker burst out laughing. This was a mistake - the jouncing immediately brought his nausea back - but he couldn't help it. "Is that," he managed between helpless gasps, "why this is turning you on so much?" He struggled to contain himself; if his hiccups returned, there was no way that yet another glass of water was going to make it down his gullet.
"Shut up," Xavi retorted, smacking Iker lightly on the arm.
"Careful you don't kick me," Iker hooted.
"You've completely ruined the mood," Xavi complained.
"Me? I'm not the one who just compared part of my anatomy to a piece of sports equipment," Iker pointed out, then hiccupped. He froze for a few seconds, but fortunately it seemed to have been a one-off. "I object to this..." Iker paused and rubbed his aching stomach for a second. "this... objectification." He burped again. Better.
"Yeah," Xavi smirked, "that would be a lot more believable if you didn't have an even bigger boner than I do." As if to prove his point, he reached down and wrapped his fingers firmly around Iker's cock, which would have gotten even harder had that been humanly possible.
Iker pushed back, thrusting himself into Xavi's fist, then motioned to him to come closer. "Kiss me," he whispered. He knew that Xavi loved him, knew that the electricity between them wasn't exclusively because of his current swollen state, but he still craved reassurance directly from his friend's lips. He twisted his neck around as Xavi tilted his head, but the angle was awkward.
Without releasing him, Xavi slipped out from behind Iker and stretched himself along his side, craning his neck for the kiss. As he did, his cock brushed against Iker's belly. They moaned in unison, and Xavi jerked and missed Iker's mouth, his lips landing just below his ear instead.
"You liked that?" Xavi whispered. He let go of Iker now in order to brace both hands on the mattress and then pumped his hips a couple of times - slowly, experimentally, keeping his eyes fixed on Iker's face. His pupils were huge, dilated with desire.
"God yes," Iker groaned. "Feels so good."
"Ah, cariño," Xavi sighed gratefully, and allowed himself to pick up the pace a little. His eyelids fluttered shut. By this point, he was openly rutting against the exquisitely sensitive skin of Iker's stretched stomach, his velvety cock sliding up and down his side with just the right rhythm to drive Iker crazy.
For his part, Iker exulted in the novel experience of apparent helplessness. He was basically immobilized by sheer bulk, unable to control their contact except by vocalizing his pleasure openly enough to help guide the angle and speed of Xavi's thrusts. His whole body hummed as if vibrating on a standing wave created by the soft, sweet strokes up and down his abdomen.
"You are so big," Xavi was saying hoarsely, probably not even aware of the words spilling out of his mouth. "So huge and gorgeous and amazing..." Iker writhed under him, exulting in Xavi's excitement as much as in the incredible sensations created by his cock.
Suddenly Xavi sped up, cresting, and cried out, spurting spasmodically across Iker's stomach. The sound of his friend's pure pleasure seemed to grab hold of Iker's cock and wring his own orgasm out of it seconds later, his body moving in shallow jerks against the mattress as he groaned in ecstasy.
They rested together, unmoving, for several minutes afterwards, Iker feeling limp as a rag doll, lassitude filling his limbs. Xavi had collapsed after his climax, lying half across him, although he had been aware enough to avoid putting any direct pressure on Iker's abdomen. He was still breathing deeply and rapidly, a look of wonder suffusing his face.
Looking at him, Iker knew that he would do whatever Xavi wanted to get that expression again.
"Pelopo," Iker ventured.
A hoarse "Hmmmm?" vibrated Xavi's throat.
When Iker hesitated, Xavi finally pried one eyelid open to gaze up at him, a concerned frown creasing his beatific features. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Iker reassured him, although his fingers automatically flicked out to touch his own tummy tenderly. "I was just thinking..."
"A dangerous pastime," Xavi observed, his lip curling a little in amusement.
"We could do this again sometime," Iker suggested, swiftly, before he could change his mind. Xavi lay very still, saying nothing, blinking up at him.
Iker could feel himself blushing in embarrassment but forged on, determined. "I could... I could drink another six-pack the next time you see me. You could be there... you could help me get it all down. Would you like that?" he continued as Xavi's limp prick stirred with evident interest.
"I could even..." Iker paused to stifle another burp, rubbing his stomach a little to soothe it. "If you wanted, I could do this by myself, maybe once a week or so. We could skype if you wanted to see me... to see it. I could" - and here he felt positively alight with inspiration - "I could even grow a little belly. It would be waiting there under my jersey, just for you."
Xavi appeared to give this idea due consideration but then shook his head with finality. "I wouldn't mind," he admitted. "Joder, I think it would be really hot. But," he added with his trademark tact, "if you gained any more weight, you probably wouldn't be able to play."
Iker looked down at him incredulously. "In other words, if we're being forced to make a choice between football and having the most incredible sex of our lives on a regular basis..."
Xavi shrugged, obviously considering the matter settled.
"Football it is then," Iker said, rolling his eyes with a mixture of relief, resignation, and just a little regret.
FIN.
Pairing: Iker Casillas/Xavi Hernández
Rating: R
Word Count: 4966
Disclaimer: While inspired by real persons and events, this is a work of fiction.
Summary: Having overindulged after his team's depressing loss in the clásico, Iker continues to experience the aftereffects with Xavi's eager assistance.
Warnings: Belly kink fic. Stuffing and its imagined physical and sexual consequences.
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to, and takes place immediately after the events of, Embarazado de Nada. There's a bit near the end inspired by
clivelive49 's House M.D. fic Whatever You Want.Xavi, as might have been expected, was the first to break the silence. "Wow," he drawled, still breathless from his orgasm, "that was so-"
"Weird," Iker interrupted, just as Xavi said, "-hot."
"I'm willing to compromise with 'weirdly hot,'" Xavi chuckled, and rubbed a soothing hand over Iker's distended stomach. "How are you feeling?"
"Great," Iker allowed, "but at the same time... kind of gross." This admission was punctuated unintentionally by a loud burp as the contents of said stomach struggled to settle. He felt, in fact, like a beached whale, grotesquely swollen and possibly in danger of putrefying. "I mean, I don't actually feel sick, but... I'd like to get cleaned up." He had spurted all over Xavi's fist, and there were rapidly drying spatters of semen decorating the dome of his belly.
"Don't move," Xavi said cheerfully, pressing his stubbled cheek affectionately to Iker's, and carefully extricated himself from behind Iker's back, doing his best not to jar him. Iker didn't feel it necessary to point out that he probably couldn't have done even if he wanted to. In addition to feeling weighed down by all of the food and beer in his belly, he was now blissed-out and boneless from the intensity of his orgasm.
He did, however, muster enough energy to position himself more comfortably in Xavi's absence. Lying down flat, he soon discovered, was not going to work; his stomach was so full that he would shortly have a hell of a case of heartburn. Instead, he commandeered the extra pillows, piled them behind his back, and leaned against them, half reclining, half-sitting up. He hoped that he would still be able to fall asleep.
Xavi soon padded back from the bathroom with a warm, damp washcloth and settled himself next to Iker. Then, with a gentleness that Iker rarely saw him display in daily life, he rubbed the cloth carefully over Iker's stomach, removing the sticky remnants of sweat, semen, and saliva.
Iker sighed in stupefied satisfaction. The slow, rhythmic movements mimicked the massage that Xavi had given him earlier, relieving some of the pressure of his glut, and more than that, it was stirring lovely waves of warmth that merged seamlessly with the afterglow still radiating through his pelvis. Xavi was crooning something as he worked, maybe soothing nonsense, maybe an old Catalan lullaby.
Iker's eyelids fluttered shut.
***
He was in a meadow with four other children and a group of adults beside a wide brown river. But this was no ordinary meadow, no ordinary river, and one of the adults was a dapper little man in a plum velvet jacket carrying a cane topped with a golden ball.
"As you can see," he was saying in a thick Argentinian accent with a grand sweep of his hand, "everything, absolutely everything in this room, is edible." He bent down, picked up a pinch of grass in his fingers, and offered it to Iker.
"Mmm, mint," he mumbled happily. It was absolutely melting in his mouth.
"Feel free to wander," Mr. Wonka continued, "but don't get too close to the river. My chocolate must not be touched by human hands."
There was so much to see, so much to explore... and so, so much to taste. The grass alone could have kept him content if he hadn't found the flowers that burst bright fruit flavors into his mouth, the bushes with licorice leaves and sharp cinnamon berries, the big glossy globes that broke to release a dozen delicious fillings. Iker lurched from one delight to the next, smearing himself with hazelnut, getting cotton candy caught in his hair, stuffing himself silly with the incredible sweets on display.
At last he found himself on the riverbank, only a foot or two away from the chocolate that steamed and frothed on its way from the enormous waterfall that had churned it into the highest quality liquor for Wonka's world-renowned chocolate bars. It foamed and burbled, beckoning to him.
Iker glanced around. He was alone on the bank, and no one was looking his way.
Surely it wouldn't hurt anything if he just had one little taste.
He knelt clumsily at the side of the river, nearly swooning at its overpowering aroma, then dipped a cupped hand into it and raised it to his lips. As the rich, creamy chocolate slid deliciously down his throat, he closed his eyes and shuddered with pleasure.
He had to have more.
Completely disregarding Mr. Wonka's warning shout, Iker leaned forward, scooping up the steaming chocolate with both hands now, and slurping it up as fast as his mouth could manage. He was only vaguely aware of his companions moving around and chattering anxiously behind him, concentrating on the incredible sensation of the silky stuff filling his throat and swelling his already full stomach. He knew that he should stop, but he couldn't; it tasted so, so good, the best chocolate that he had ever had.
He was leaning just a little too far out in his eagerness, bending over his bulging belly to drink directly from the river, when someone bumped into him from behind. A lurch, a curse, and suddenly he was afloat in the famous chocolate river, rolling over and over in its rapids.
Iker struggled in vain to right himself, opened his mouth to scream for help and got a huge mouthful of frothy chocolate for his troubles. The river dragged him down, choking on chocolate, then popped him to the surface again, completely coated with the stuff. This happened over and over again while Iker flailed and fought to gulp air. He barely had time to breathe between bouts, and he was getting dizzy and nauseated.
He must have swallowed half a gallon before he finally fetched up, not battered at the base of the waterfall as he had feared, but at the bottom of one of the huge clear tubes that was sucking the chocolate up through the ceiling. He labored against the current to no avail; all of the candy and chocolate he had consumed seemed to be weighing him down like lead. One second he was frantically treading chocolate; the next, he was being jerked down under the surface; and then, just as abruptly, he was pulled right up into the tube.
The powerful flow of the chocolate pushed him ever upward. Iker moaned as his massively distended stomach rubbed painfully against the glass sides of the tube. He could see the ground getting farther away, but more and more slowly.
And then, to his horror and utter humiliation, he got stuck.
He could feel the pent-up pressure of the chocolate behind him, pummeling his legs and bottom like a hundred indignant fists, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to twist his trapped limbs, to blow out his breath, to suck his bloated belly in, to burp up some of the excess air, but still he couldn't budge.
Suddenly a dozen little orange-skinned men poured out of the shrubbery, doing a complicated dance step and breaking into derisive song.
And every one of them had a Barcelona player's smirking face.
***
Iker jolted awake with a gasp, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and clutching convulsively at the comforter.
Although he was safely back in Xavi's bedroom with nary an Oompa-Loompa in sight, his obscenely bloated belly had not disappeared with his dream. His alcohol-blurred memories of the evening's events resurfaced slowly, explaining his current bizarrely distended state. Iker could feel the painful pressure of it, and when his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see it, too, the pale mound ending abruptly under the blanket that Xavi had evidently draped over what would have been his waist. There was a bright band of especially intense pressure further down, right around his belly button, and when Iker turned his head, he discovered that Xavi was fast asleep beside him, snoring softly into a spare pillow, one arm wrapped protectively around his friend's swollen stomach.
All of these discomforts were dwarfed, however, in comparison to that of his distended bladder, which was signaling to Iker in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get up immediately, there was a very real risk that it would empty itself all over Xavi's still mostly clean sheets.
In itself, this was not too terribly surprising since Iker frequently felt the urge to urinate after sex, which he would have done earlier if he hadn't been too tipsy, not to mention too damned comfortable, to bother getting up to go to the bathroom.
Usually, however, he had not drunk approximately two liters of beer immediately beforehand.
"Pelopo," he whispered. His friend slumbered on without so much as twitching an eyelid. Iker slid his hand under the blanket and tried to push Xavi's arm aside, but the other man just snuggled closer and sighed in his sleep. Next Iker tried arching his back to push himself upward and break Xavi's hold, but was immediately informed that this was a mistake by the shooting sparks of pain all along his belly due the constriction created by Xavi's leaden arm.
Iker groaned, partly in pain, partly because his need to urinate was growing more urgent by the second. Xavi had always been a heavy sleeper. Once, at the end of an international tournament, Iker and a friend had pranked him by stuffing his suitcase full of everything not nailed down in their hotel room while he slept. When this was discovered by airport security, Iker had actually peed himself, he'd laughed so hard at Xavi's befuddled expression.
He was finding his current situation to be a lot less funny, although the end result might well turn out to be the same.
"Pelopo!" he said sharply in his friend's ear. There was no response whatsoever.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Iker leaned closer and drew in as deep a breath as he could to hiss, "Xavi! You're going to miss the match!"
Xavi jerked awake. "Huh - whuh?" he mumbled, raising his head and looking around groggily. Then he directed an accusing glare at Iker. "Do you know what time it is? What'd you wake me up for?"
"I have to go to the bathroom," Iker said, gritting his teeth. He calculated that he could probably manage to hold it for another minute, tops.
"Oh," Xavi uttered, raising his eyebrows in understanding. Mercifully, he released Iker's middle, leaving a shallow indentation in his skin that slowly filled, then pulled the blankets back and sat up. "Okay," he yawned, scrubbing at his eyes. "I'll come with you."
Iker struggled for a few seconds to haul himself farther up against the headboard, then wheezed as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, the sudden movement squeezing his swollen stomach. "What are we, teenage girls? I can go by myself, thanks."
But as soon as he succeeded in getting to his feet, he realized (as Xavi no doubt had already) that this was, strictly speaking, not true. With a six-pack's worth of alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, he could not have walked anything approximating a straight line under the best of circumstances; the walls and ceiling were slowly spinning around him even when he was standing still. And when he took a step towards the bathroom door, the altered center of gravity resulting from his bloated belly wobbled him off to one side. He made a hasty attempt at course correction, overcompensated, and staggered straight into the bedside table, barking his shin.
"Ow, fuck!" Iker yelped. He started to bend down to rub the sting away, then thought better of it as his head swam. He had to brace himself on the edge of the table just to keep his balance. His other hand went instinctively to cradle his protruding gut, which was sloshing audibly in the wake of this ordeal.
Xavi didn't even bother to say "I told you so," just slid off the bed to stand by his side and wrapped his arm carefully around Iker's erstwhile waist. "Here," he said, "put your arm around my shoulders and lean on me."
Deeply embarrassed, Iker obeyed in silence, and they stumbled to the toilet together, Xavi just managing to keep both of them upright, although they listed like leaky galleons. At least Xavi let go of him when they got there and turned away to rummage through his medicine cabinet.
Iker thought that he had never experienced anything sweeter than the relief of emptying his bursting bladder, the sound of his stream ringing loudly, even musically, against the bowl. He held onto the edge of the counter with one hand but cupped the convex underside of his belly with the other, feeling himself shrink perceptibly as the contractions continued. There was also something weird, and hot, and weirdly hot, about this, Iker reflected, even though he'd peed in front of Xavi probably a thousand times in their decades together.
The weirdness and the hotness did not diminish a whit when Iker flushed and turned back around to behold Xavi standing right behind him with a big glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.
"You can't be serious," Iker said, even as his engorged stomach gurgled in protest.
Xavi set the glass on the counter, unscrewed the bottle, and shook two pills into his palm. He held them out to Iker. "You know that if you don't, you'll regret it in the morning."
"I'm fairly certain that I'll have a lot to regret in the morning regardless," Iker retorted, and then hiccupped as if to emphasize his point. It hurt more than a little, probably because his poor diaphragm had no place to go. Xavi just stood there patiently, staring at him with the stubborn jut to his lip that Iker knew so well. He hiccupped again, grimacing, and placed a hand on his tender gut. It didn't help. Every spasm shook his entire frame and made him feel as though he'd been prodded sharply right under the sternum.
"You know what usually helps the hiccups?" Xavi suggested, obviously trying, and failing, not to sound smug. "Drinking a full glass of water without stopping." He picked up the glass again and handed it to Iker, who side-eyed it. The glass was so full of liquid that it was almost overflowing its brim every time he hiccupped. Not unlike himself.
"Hombre," he whined, "what part of 'drank a whole six-pack" - hic - "and ate the entire tortilla' didn't you understand?"
"Nonsense," Xavi replied pragmatically, "you just relieved yourself of at least half a liter not thirty seconds ago. There has to be some space now."
He was, as ever, infuriatingly right... and even if he hadn't been, the idea of continuing to shake painfully with each hiccup for the foreseeable future was even less appealing to Iker than that of forcing one more serving of fluid down his throat.
"Fine," Iker said sullenly. Hic. "Might as well give me the aspirin, too." He started to raise the glass carefully to his lips, then looked over the rim and met Xavi's intent eyes. He might not have given this a second thought except that his friend immediately flushed a dull red and looked away.
Iker pointed an accusing finger at him. "You want to watch me drink this, don't you?" Hic. "This isn't about my hangover" - hic - "it's about you getting off on... on..." He hiccupped yet again, gesturing wordlessly at his sore, swollen stomach.
"Why can't it be both?" Xavi asked reasonably, although the tips of his ears were still pink.
"I can't believe it," Iker told him, genuinely annoyed now. Hic. "You're actually enjoying this."
At that, Xavi stepped forward and kissed him contritely on the cheek, careful not to make contact with his tender tummy. "I'm sorry, cariño. This is really strange for me too, okay? I just never knew..." he bit his lip, although his embarrassed expression said it all. "And I didn't even think about it hurting you."
"Not hurting," Iker said quickly before an especially vicious hiccup belied his words. "At least, I wasn't, before..." Hic. "And I have to admit...hic" - he felt himself blushing now - "the sex was amazing."
Xavi looked up at him and smiled - a slow, sweet, wicked smile that caused Iker's cock to stir. "It really was, wasn't it?" Now he placed his palm on the curve of Iker's belly, just above the navel, and squeezed very, very gently. Iker whimpered and shifted eagerly under Xavi's hand - it felt so damn good - but then shook with another painful hiccup.
"There's no reason," Xavi said in a low voice, "that you can't enjoy this too." He grasped Iker's arm and guided him slowly around so that he could see himself in profile in the mirror. "Just look how big and sexy you are," he said, sounding almost reverent.
Iker looked. There he was, thinning brown hair mussed, cheeks full and pink, toned shoulders freckled, and then... he could hardly believe his eyes. From the side, his stomach looked even more distended than he had imagined, sticking out from under his sternum, then falling in a smooth, round, solid curve that dipped back in and just brushed the top of his pubic hair. But much of his binge must have made its way down his digestive tract at this point because his belly hung low on his frame, resembling nothing so much as a six-month pregnancy. Every time he hiccupped, it rippled irritably for a second, then slowly settled.
Iker swallowed, feeling himself get hard. If his hands hadn't been full, he would not have been able to resist the urge to run them softly over his own skin, to find out exactly where it was taut and where it yielded gratefully to the touch.
Xavi suffered no such impediments. He knelt down on the linoleum and clasped the sides of Iker's swaying belly tenderly with both hands, then leaned forward and kissed it just below the navel. When another hiccup shook Iker's stomach, they both shivered.
"Drink the water, cariño," Xavi suggested hoarsely. "I'll help you."
Surrendering to the inevitable, Iker took a deep breath - or as deep a breath as he could manage under the circumstances - tossed the aspirin to the back of his throat, then brought the glass to his lips. He felt so full already that for a moment he was afraid that he might gag, but the first cool swallow went down easily enough, and then he just had to keep at it, tilting the glass steadily back, forcing the water down and holding onto the counter with his other hand when he started feeling dizzy.
Out of sight, Xavi was gently massaging his stomach, helping to stretch the skin so that it could hold still more, and there was a fluttery, moist, and oddly arousing something going on down there as well. It occurred to him as he drained the last drops from the glass that Xavi was dipping his tongue into his navel, mimicking Iker's swallowing movements with his mouth, and this thought excited him so much that he set down the glass with a shuddering gasp.
Xavi lurched to his feet and refilled the glass from the tap. "Another?" It sounded like half a challenge, half a plea.
"Joder, are you crazy? I could barely finish the first one," Iker complained, but secretly he was seriously tempted. After all, even if the hiccups were finally gone, the extra water really would help keep him from the dehydration that made most hangovers so miserable, and besides... besides, a small voice whispered, as his gaze was drawn involuntarily to the reflected profile of his paunch, which seemed even more pronounced than a moment ago - this is totally turning you on, too.
"You can do it," Xavi encouraged him. "We'll bring it to the bedroom, make you comfortable."
"Sure," Iker said sarcastically, "Why don't I just waddle on over there with the water," but his cock had bounced right up at the thought, brushing against the bottom of his belly.
"Don't be silly," Xavi said. "I'll carry the water. First let's get you back to bed."
Iker was, of course, still very tipsy, and the brief journey unsettled his stomach more than a little. When Xavi had helped him sit back against the pillows again, he leaned against the headboard and groaned, closing his eyes as the world whirled gently around him.
"Hold on," he ordered, holding up a warning hand. "Need a... urp... little time to recover."
Xavi went back to the bathroom for the water. When he returned, he set the glass down on the bedside table and sank onto the mattress slowly, then reached out to touch Iker on his turgid tummy. Iker flinched away at first, but Xavi's caresses were so gentle that eventually he was able to tolerate and even enjoy them.
And once the nausea had receded, Iker became aware of just how horny Xavi's hands were making him feel. He started to squirm, not out of discomfort now, but because he yearned for more, the feeling of being even fuller, and of knowing that he was driving Xavi absolutely wild with desire.
He opened his eyes and looked hopefully at Xavi, who took his wordless hint immediately and helped Iker scoot a little further down in the bed so that he could sit behind and support him.
When they were both comfortable, Xavi picked up the glass of water and pressed it into Iker's hand, then carefully clasped the curving sides of his distended stomach. "Whenever you're ready, cariño." His voice was trembling a little.
Iker took a breath, bracing himself, then lifted the rim of the glass to his lips. As the liquid trickled down his throat, he imagined that he could feel himself swelling ever so slightly to accommodate each swallow. Meanwhile, the gentle pressure of Xavi's palms was going straight to his cock.
"Joder," Xavi husked in his ear, his voice hoarse with desire, "I can actually feel you expanding."
This idea was so exciting that Iker almost came right then and there; he had to pause, clutching the glass and concentrating on holding himself together. Xavi seemed to sense this since his hands stilled on Iker's sides. They both breathed deeply for a few seconds before Iker felt capable of continuing.
As he tipped the glass higher, Iker started having doubts about his ability to finish; every additional swallow was a greater struggle. But Xavi was right there with him, gaze fixed on Iker's throat, his low voice crooning encouragement in his ear.
"Oh god," Iker groaned at last, settling back onto the pillows and letting the empty glass drop from his hand onto the comforter. "I can't believe I just did that." His stomach couldn't quite believe it either; he could feel a dull ache building in his middle, radiating little tendrils of discomfort bordering on pain around to his back and down into his pelvis. "Ugh."
"Here, let me," Xavi said swiftly and reached for the tube of hand lotion, thumbing it open and spurting some onto Iker's skin. He began rubbing Iker's belly in smooth, semicircular strokes, pausing every so often to press a kiss into the side of his neck.
At first the massage hurt more than it helped as his sore skin stretched under the pressure of Xavi's fingers, but then, as Iker relaxed into it, the sensations became much more pleasurable. He shifted, settled himself more comfortably into the crook of Xavi's neck and shoulder, and sighed gratefully. "Better?" Xavi asked.
Iker's only response was a big burp, which did, in fact, make him feel significantly better and at least a little less bloated.
At the sound, Xavi's hands sped up, shaking a little. "Christ," he murmured in Iker's ear, his voice raw with naked need. "You're as big and round now as... as a football."
Iker burst out laughing. This was a mistake - the jouncing immediately brought his nausea back - but he couldn't help it. "Is that," he managed between helpless gasps, "why this is turning you on so much?" He struggled to contain himself; if his hiccups returned, there was no way that yet another glass of water was going to make it down his gullet.
"Shut up," Xavi retorted, smacking Iker lightly on the arm.
"Careful you don't kick me," Iker hooted.
"You've completely ruined the mood," Xavi complained.
"Me? I'm not the one who just compared part of my anatomy to a piece of sports equipment," Iker pointed out, then hiccupped. He froze for a few seconds, but fortunately it seemed to have been a one-off. "I object to this..." Iker paused and rubbed his aching stomach for a second. "this... objectification." He burped again. Better.
"Yeah," Xavi smirked, "that would be a lot more believable if you didn't have an even bigger boner than I do." As if to prove his point, he reached down and wrapped his fingers firmly around Iker's cock, which would have gotten even harder had that been humanly possible.
Iker pushed back, thrusting himself into Xavi's fist, then motioned to him to come closer. "Kiss me," he whispered. He knew that Xavi loved him, knew that the electricity between them wasn't exclusively because of his current swollen state, but he still craved reassurance directly from his friend's lips. He twisted his neck around as Xavi tilted his head, but the angle was awkward.
Without releasing him, Xavi slipped out from behind Iker and stretched himself along his side, craning his neck for the kiss. As he did, his cock brushed against Iker's belly. They moaned in unison, and Xavi jerked and missed Iker's mouth, his lips landing just below his ear instead.
"You liked that?" Xavi whispered. He let go of Iker now in order to brace both hands on the mattress and then pumped his hips a couple of times - slowly, experimentally, keeping his eyes fixed on Iker's face. His pupils were huge, dilated with desire.
"God yes," Iker groaned. "Feels so good."
"Ah, cariño," Xavi sighed gratefully, and allowed himself to pick up the pace a little. His eyelids fluttered shut. By this point, he was openly rutting against the exquisitely sensitive skin of Iker's stretched stomach, his velvety cock sliding up and down his side with just the right rhythm to drive Iker crazy.
For his part, Iker exulted in the novel experience of apparent helplessness. He was basically immobilized by sheer bulk, unable to control their contact except by vocalizing his pleasure openly enough to help guide the angle and speed of Xavi's thrusts. His whole body hummed as if vibrating on a standing wave created by the soft, sweet strokes up and down his abdomen.
"You are so big," Xavi was saying hoarsely, probably not even aware of the words spilling out of his mouth. "So huge and gorgeous and amazing..." Iker writhed under him, exulting in Xavi's excitement as much as in the incredible sensations created by his cock.
Suddenly Xavi sped up, cresting, and cried out, spurting spasmodically across Iker's stomach. The sound of his friend's pure pleasure seemed to grab hold of Iker's cock and wring his own orgasm out of it seconds later, his body moving in shallow jerks against the mattress as he groaned in ecstasy.
They rested together, unmoving, for several minutes afterwards, Iker feeling limp as a rag doll, lassitude filling his limbs. Xavi had collapsed after his climax, lying half across him, although he had been aware enough to avoid putting any direct pressure on Iker's abdomen. He was still breathing deeply and rapidly, a look of wonder suffusing his face.
Looking at him, Iker knew that he would do whatever Xavi wanted to get that expression again.
"Pelopo," Iker ventured.
A hoarse "Hmmmm?" vibrated Xavi's throat.
When Iker hesitated, Xavi finally pried one eyelid open to gaze up at him, a concerned frown creasing his beatific features. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Iker reassured him, although his fingers automatically flicked out to touch his own tummy tenderly. "I was just thinking..."
"A dangerous pastime," Xavi observed, his lip curling a little in amusement.
"We could do this again sometime," Iker suggested, swiftly, before he could change his mind. Xavi lay very still, saying nothing, blinking up at him.
Iker could feel himself blushing in embarrassment but forged on, determined. "I could... I could drink another six-pack the next time you see me. You could be there... you could help me get it all down. Would you like that?" he continued as Xavi's limp prick stirred with evident interest.
"I could even..." Iker paused to stifle another burp, rubbing his stomach a little to soothe it. "If you wanted, I could do this by myself, maybe once a week or so. We could skype if you wanted to see me... to see it. I could" - and here he felt positively alight with inspiration - "I could even grow a little belly. It would be waiting there under my jersey, just for you."
Xavi appeared to give this idea due consideration but then shook his head with finality. "I wouldn't mind," he admitted. "Joder, I think it would be really hot. But," he added with his trademark tact, "if you gained any more weight, you probably wouldn't be able to play."
Iker looked down at him incredulously. "In other words, if we're being forced to make a choice between football and having the most incredible sex of our lives on a regular basis..."
Xavi shrugged, obviously considering the matter settled.
"Football it is then," Iker said, rolling his eyes with a mixture of relief, resignation, and just a little regret.
FIN.
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no subject
Date: 2013-11-08 09:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-08 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-08 11:54 am (UTC)Inexplicably really hot, and yes totally hilarious. The oompa loompa part, and the running theme of football was just right.
The ending = perfection.
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Date: 2013-11-08 12:43 pm (UTC)I love the ending too, obviously. *shaking head* Oh Xavi.
So glad that you found this weirdness both hilarious and hot!
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Date: 2013-11-08 01:11 pm (UTC)I call them hobbits or munchkins sometimes, so this theme could run.
It kind of went without saying, but yes can imagine it was like the biggest quandary ever.
To be fair, it's probably not any weird than half the stuff in my brain.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-10 10:54 pm (UTC)Loved Iker's sheepishness.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was amazing, and I liked the parallel between Iker's actual embarrassment and that of dreaming about getting stuck in the tube.
And now for the funnies -
And every one of them had a Barcelona player's smirking face.
*****
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Iker leaned closer and drew in as deep a breath as he could to hiss, "Xavi! You're going to miss the match!"
Xavi jerked awake. "Huh - whuh?" he mumbled, raising his head and looking around groggily. Then he directed an accusing glare at Iker. "Do you know what time it is? What'd you wake me up for?"
*****
"Don't be silly," Xavi said. "I'll carry the water. First let's get you back to bed."
*****
"Careful you don't kick me," Iker hooted.
"You've completely ruined the mood," Xavi complained.
*****
"I object to this..." Iker paused and rubbed his aching stomach for a second. "this... objectification." He burped again. Better.
"Yeah," Xavi smirked, "that would be a lot more believable if you didn't have an even bigger boner than I do."
*****
And the end - because football will come before everything.
Also, this was especially lovely
Iker sighed in stupefied satisfaction. The slow, rhythmic movements mimicked the massage that Xavi had given him earlier, relieving some of the pressure of his glut, and more than that, it was stirring lovely waves of warmth that merged seamlessly with the afterglow still radiating through his pelvis. Xavi was crooning something as he worked, maybe soothing nonsense, maybe an old Catalan lullaby.
♥
no subject
Date: 2013-11-10 11:28 pm (UTC)Lolling my ass off the whole way through this, but before I get to the bits that made me holler, let me just say that I loved Xavi here - for the way he embraced this kink and threw himself into it, and for the way he took such good care of Iker. It created an almost sweet tone that played alongside the humour wonderfully. Also, I found the illicitness uber hot!
Loved Iker's sheepishness.
There were some interviews of the Spain NT players for the Confederations Cup this summer, and one of the questions was, "How old were you when you had sex for the first time?" Iker: "That's very personal." Xavi: "Fourteen or fifteen. I got a move on early."
Jajajajaja... So I'm convinced that this is exactly how such a scenario would play out - with Iker blushing and Xavi throwing himself into things with gusto.
But I also like that this piece isn't solely about kink - their interactions reflect their deep affection and trust, and how Iker's discomfort brings out Xavi's intuitive, nurturing side. I'm really glad that you appreciated that sweetness as well as the humor (and, as you know, I absolutely love it when you quote your favorite lines, most of which are usually mine as well!).
And omg, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! I had that idea as I was walking to work. I'm pretty sure that other people wondered why I was giggling madly to myself.
And the end - because, yes, in Xavi's world at least, football will come before everything.
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Date: 2013-11-10 11:34 pm (UTC)LOL - Xavi. I got a move on early. Too funny!! You are making me love him. Dammit.
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Date: 2013-11-10 11:45 pm (UTC)You are making me love him. Dammit.
How could anyone not????
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Date: 2013-12-04 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-04 02:22 am (UTC)