“Cesc! Look at me!” Iker snapped at a drowsy Cesc, Iker shook his shoulder roughly.
“Whaaaat?” Cesc whined, still not looking at the goalkeeper. He was tired and comfortable, why couldn’t Iker leave him alone for a few hours.
“Cesc! Cescy! Cescito!” Iker repeated, calmly and playfully this time, hoping a gentle approach would work. Cesc managed to partially gaze directly up into Iker’s eyes, who was standing over him on the sofa.
“What Iker? I’m tired, go deal with your dick yourself, or get Sergio to help. Leave me alone.” Cesc managed to mumble, not remembering that half of La Selección were in the same room, Nando overheard;
“What the hell did you just say Cesc?” Fernando glared at Cesc, who was wide eyed now and palming at Iker’s t-shirt for help.
“Nothing Torres, mind your own business, and your cards or Pepe’s gonna win all of your money, again.” Iker ordered the freckled striker.
“If you’re tired baby, why don’t you go to bed?” Iker gazed down into the brown orbs, which were barely open. “Come on, mi amor, I’ll help you.” Iker had a hand on the midfielder’s arm, stroking it therapeutically. Cesc’s eyes were now fully closed, his breathing getting deep.
“I’m gonna take him to bed.” Iker informed Villa, he picked the midfielder up, one arm supporting his legs with one arm, his back with the other.
“You coming back Capítan?” Xavi asked, ready to jump in Iker’s place at the table.
“Maybe, keep away from my cards! You’ll lose all my money!” The room snickered at the order; Andres patted Xavi’s back sympathetically as Spain’s No. 6 pouted.
Iker carried Cesc back to their room, along the hallway, struggled to get the key-card out of his pocket, and opened the door. As he stepped through the doorway he accidentally whacked Cesc’s head against the frame.
“Ouch! Iker!” Cesc raised a hand to rub his head, Iker looked down, checking for blood.
“Shit! Cesc, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Iker flustered, he laid the midfielder gently down on his bed and kissed the slightly reddening mark on the younger man’s head softly.
“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Cesc stroked Iker’s cheek reassuringly, Iker sighed and leant into the hand.
“I’m sorry nènè. It’s your own fault you know!” Iker smirked down to Cesc. He was met by a look of incredulity.
“Excuse me?” The midfielder challenged, Iker chuckled.
“You’re so god-damned cute, you’re a distraction. I can’t even walk in a straight line when I see you.” Iker half-joked.
He was sat on he edge of the bed, body turned to his lover. The ‘keeper was stroking Cesc’s arm soothingly, his eyes fluttering as he tried to fight off sleep.
“Baby, did you hit your head?” The smaller man asked sweetly, eyes closed.
“No. No baby.” With that Iker placed a palm softly on his cheek and lowered himself to Cesc’s lips, brushing them softly with his own, then pulled back gently.
“Come on, ready for bed. Shoes off!” Iker patted Cesc’s thigh, who just grumbled in disagreement. He was nice and warm and comfy.
“Come on nènè…Fine, I’ll do it!” Iker stood up to pull of Cesc’s shoes, the struggled with his t-shirt and finally his shorts. All the while Cesc laid there like a rag-doll. Iker let his hand ghost over Cesc’s toned stomach and up his broad chest, silently worshipping the semi-unconscious man before him.
“‘M cold now.” The younger man frowned faintly.
“Move over then.” Cesc opened his eyes a bit, giving Iker a slightly confused but obliged by shuffling backwards on the slim bed. Iker removed his clothes and slid in, facing the younger man. Cesc’s eyes were closed, not asleep yet, Iker’s eyes were open, the ebony orbs running over the features on his lover face. The older man put his arms around Cesc, who nuzzled closer, pushing his nose into Iker’s stubbly neck. They both sighed contentedly as Iker began to stroke Cesc’s side causing the young man to relax even more into his embrace.
“You’re not going back to the card game?” Cesc mumbled into the older man’s neck.
“No. I’m probably gonna get shit for this, but I’d rather stay here.” Iker replied into Cesc’s soft, dark hair. Cesc giggled. Iker looked down.
“Nothing, well, you’re acting like a girl, you’ve gone all soft.” Cesc grinned teasingly up at the man in reference. Iker chuckled deeply and bent down to bite Cesc’s ear, “Ouch!” The midfielder squeaked.
“I’m not girly!” Iker released the reddening lobe from his teeth, “I’m sorry baby.” He said and kissed the top of the younger man’s head, his hair tickling his jaw. They lay like this for a while, their breaths regulating, calming each other.
“I love you,” Cesc’s breath tickled Iker’s throat; he kissed it and tilted his head upwards. Iker met his lips so calmly and lovingly, Cesc enjoying the love and tenderness Iker showed him so rarely.
“I love you too,” Iker replied, breathless. Iker knew the importance of these precious moments to Cesc, and felt like a bastard for not showing him the kind of attention and love he deserved. Iker pulled him closer, legs twining together, chests pushed together as they drifted off into a peaceful nights sleep.