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"FAN!" The sudden outburst of Swedish profanity snapped Kepa's focus away from his training routine. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a gloved hand, searching for the source of the commotion. Viktor Gyökeres, at the opposite pitch to where Kepa trained, was storming away from the rest of the group. Even from such a distance, Kepa could see the harsh scowl on his face, nostrils flaring in annoyance.
"Hey, come on, bro," Saliba sang with his usual smirk, "it's all good-" his arms outstretched in an offering to make light of the situation. But Viktor didn't register his presence, keeping his eyes fixed downwards as he continued away from the group.
Gabriel managed to place a reassuring hand on Viktor's chest. "Vik-" his mouth barely had the chance to open to provide some words of encouragement, before his attempt was abruptly shrugged off.
Kepa could hear the faint murmur of arguments beginning to brew amongst the others as they exchanged dumbfounded looks, some unsure if he was joking or not.
"The fuck is his problem?" one voice started, "he's only missed one shot!"
"He's been like it all day, man! You can't be like that in training," another chimed in.
"Come on, leave it, lads," Declan's authoritative voice was clear above the rest. "He just needs to cool off; let him go."
As Viktor made his way off the pitch and out of sight, the group turned back to continue the drills without him.
Kepa felt a sharp gust of wind against his cheekbone as a ball landed in the back of the net with a thud.
"Come on, Kepa!" he heard the goalkeeping coach's exacerbated call, "Focus up!"
Kepa scrambled to get the ball tangled at the back of the net, tossing it back to his coach and quickly steeling himself, ready for the next challenge.
Training only continued for a short while longer, and most of the main team had already left by the time Kepa had finished. A few stragglers called across to Kepa to say their goodbyes.
Kepa took his time collecting his things - he wasn't in his usual rush to get home. His wife was back in Spain with their twin daughters, visiting extended family. He allowed his thoughts to drift as he absentmindedly gathered his bottle and gloves before he looked up to see that someone else remained on the pitch with him. To his surprise, at the opposite goal, he saw Viktor.
Kepa decided to keep his distance, leaning against his goalpost, watching as Viktor repeatedly smashed ball after ball into the back of the net with full force, letting out guttural screams as he fired all his energy into each shot. By the time Viktor stopped to breathe, the goal was full with at least 10-15 balls. As the Swede stood, hands on his hips, staring up into the late evening sky, Kepa decided now was the time to approach.
"Got it out of your system?" Kepa called out with a smile as he approached the striker.
Viktor turned to face him, meeting him with an exhausted half-smile. "Hey, Kepa", he avoided answering the question, letting out a shaky sigh, still catching his breath. He didn't say anything further, awkwardly gazing at the ground, playing with a patch of grass under his boot. He was waiting for the inevitable (and probably deserved) telling off for his behaviour during training, but it never came.
Kepa bridged the short distance between them and swung a warm arm around Viktor's shoulder, encouraging the striker to move off his spot and walk beside him.
"You know," Kepa started, "you made me miss a shot earlier". Kepa gave him a playful shove, causing Viktor to nearly trip over his own feet.
A smile spread across Viktor's face, "Well, I apologise for that," he let out a half-laugh, "but you can't blame me if you start the next game on the bench."
Kepa turned his head to gauge the expression on Viktor's face - a shy, cheeky grin forming as he spoke. "You are competing for your spot against the league's best keeper."
Kepa was a bit surprised when Viktor responded in this way, feeling a warmth of admiration in his chest. Kepa had yet to have much interaction with Viktor, so he was still uncovering different parts of this Swedish mystery. Kepa couldn't help but laugh, "You're not wrong there."
Silence fell, and Viktor was back looking towards the ground, the remnants of his smile fading.
"Well," Kepa started, attempting to bring Viktor out of his thoughts, "I don't know if I'll be up to your standards, but as second best, I'm happy to stay and train with you for a while," he finished with a smile, placing a hand on his own chest with a slight bow.
Viktor met his eyes, seeing the warmth and care there, which felt so foreign these days.
"If you want, of course," Kepa quickly added.
Viktor ran a shaky hand through his hair; his adrenaline was coming down now, and he suddenly realised how exhausted he was, knowing he probably pushed himself too hard...again. "I appreciate the offer," the words rolled off his tongue with his typical Swedish cadence, "but I'll probably just head back to the room now". Viktor began to gather the mountain of balls that sat in the back of the net.
"Not found a place of your own yet?" Kepa kicked up a ball near his feet, helping Viktor fill up the bag. "Still living in the hotel?"
"Yeah..." Viktor sighed, "I know it could be worse; it's a nice enough suite and the staff are fantastic, but," he paused as he selected his next words carefully, "I just don't feel settled." He let the admission sit in the air. It felt weird to say his thoughts out loud, but there was something about Kepa that made him feel comfortable being honest.
Kepa filled the bag with the last few balls and pulled the cord shut before slinging it over his right side. "That's understandable," he drew Viktor back in against his left side, resting his arm around the Swede's broad shoulders. "Is this why you're staying here late?" Kepa asked softly, guiding Viktor to walk alongside him.
"Not every night," Viktor answered a question that wasn't asked.
Kepa just smiled and attempted to pull Viktor a little closer to him, or as best he could while carrying a full bag of footballs over his other shoulder, realising the striker probably just shared more than he intended to. He felt Viktor relax into him, the tension of his body relenting as he rested his head lightly against Kepa's.
"It's the only thing that helps. Football is all I have..." Viktor's voice was barely above a whisper. "But it's not enough." Viktor finished with an exhale.
The two made their way off the pitch, sharing a bizarrely intimate silence, the metallic clank of their studs on the concrete the only audible noise. It was Viktor who finally broke it, just as they reached the doors to the main training building.
"You don't have to stay with me," Viktor put on his bravest face as he moved away from Kepa. "Your family's probably waiting for you".
Kepa shucked the heavy bag off his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Actually," he started, letting the bag rest on the ground by the main doors, "I'm on my own too at the moment."
Viktor's eyes met Kepa's as he continued.
"My wife's taken the girls back to Spain to visit our family. They've only been gone a few days - I'm still getting used to having the whole place to myself," he laughed, "It's so quiet without them."
Viktor had a friendly smile on his face as he held open the door for Kepa, allowing him to carry the equipment into the building. "What are their ages?"
"Just coming up to 9 months - they're twins," Kepa said as he heaved the gear into the storage cupboard before shutting the door. "You know," he exhaled as he turned back to Viktor, trying to sound casual, "You're welcome to come over. I was going to cook some dinner and chill in front of the TV."
Kepa watched as Viktor considered the idea. While Kepa didn't know Viktor too well yet, he could tell he was definitely on the more introverted side, so maybe he was pushing it a bit.
"I could use the company," Kepa added with a smile. He thought he saw Viktor blush a little as the pair made their way towards the changing rooms.
"You cook?" Viktor's voice indicated surprise, echoing slightly down the empty corridors.
"When I have to." Kepa smiled. "Although... what I have was made by the chefs here, so I'll just be heating it up," he admitted.
"I see," Viktor responded, sounding disappointed. "So you're not offering to wine and dine me, then?" He faked disappointment before flashing Kepa a cheeky grin.
"Unfortunately not, but I can offer you a decent shower," Kepa added, catching Viktor's attention. "I've heard the shower pressure in the hotel leaves something to be desired."
Viktor practically moaned at the thought, "Ahh, that would be so good." he threw his head back with eyes closed, an almost childish smile lighting up his face.
Kepa just laughed at him sweetly, reaching out a hand to the back of Viktor's head, ruffling his hair and pushing him over the threshold of the changing room. "Go grab your stuff then!"
Kepa sat down on the nearest bench to change his shoes as Viktor threw on his hoodie, grabbed his bag.
"I didn't actually bring a change of clothes," Viktor said as he packed his boots away. "I usually just head straight out."
Kepa rose to his feet, "That's all good, I tend to do the same as well." He gathered his things and waited in the doorway, car keys dangling in his hand, as he leaned against the doorframe. "I've got plenty of spare clothes," he looked the striker up and down as Viktor stood, "we're probably about the same size."
Viktor walked right up to Kepa, pausing in the shared space of the doorway, meeting his eyes with a grin. "Perfect," Viktor responded, his accent sounding all the more prominent so close.
"The guest shower is just through there," Kepa guided Viktor through his home, into what looked like a showroom bedroom. He pointed towards a pristine marble ensuite, equipped with a shower and a free-standing white porcelain bathtub, complete with gold trim detailing.
"Fucking hell, Kepa.." Viktor stood in awe, "This place is insane."
Kepa laughed at his childlike amazement. "Well, I can't really take any credit for it," his hand caressed the tight muscles of his own shoulder. "We didn't move in too long ago, and my wife found a new hobby while she was pregnant: interior designing." Kepa's Spanish accent came through clear on the last two words.
"It's beautiful..." Viktor admired. "She's very talented."
"Indeed," Kepa laughed. "Well, you're welcome to take a bath or shower, whichever you prefer," Kepa continued. "I'll grab you some clothes to change into and leave them on the bed."
Viktor met his eyes with a grateful smile, "Thanks, Kepa, I really appreciate this."
"Don't mention it," Kepa smiled back, "I'm going to take a quick shower myself and then get cooking, so I'll leave you to it."
"Aah..." Viktor leant back in the kitchen chair, pushing his empty plate forward, "My compliments to the chefs of Sobha!" He flashed a cheeky grin at Kepa.
"I shall pass on the message myself," Kepa laughed as he gathered their plates and rinsed them off in the sink to load into the dishwasher.
"Want a hand?" Viktor's voice came from directly behind him, making Kepa jump; he hadn't heard him get up from the table.
"Oh, no, it's okay," he fumbled over his words, trying to hide his embarrassment as he splashed water up his sleeve. "Make yourself comfortable on the sofa, I'll just be a sec," Kepa nodded over to the living room, where a white leather sofa with plush cushions sat.
"Sorry for scaring you," Viktor laughed apologetically, both hands gripping heavily on Kepa's shoulders, attempting to massage away the tension he'd just caused.
Kepa rolled his head down towards his chest, enjoying the pressure of Viktor's hands around the back of his neck. "I'll get you back one day," he chuckled darkly, "believe me."
Viktor leaned forward, his voice low and serious in Kepa's ear, "Try me." He gave a final squeeze of Kepa's shoulders and playfully pushed off him, making his way to the sofa with a smirk.
Kepa shook his head with a smile as he stacked the plates into the dishwasher and wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "You wanna beer?"
"Oh my god," Viktor let out an exasperated sigh as he flopped down onto the sofa, "You keepers have it so easy, man!" He ran a hand through his hair as he let the other dangle over the back of the sofa.
Kepa didn't say anything, simply opening the fridge and grabbing two bottles. When he didn't get the response he was expecting, Viktor turned his attention to where Kepa stood, illuminated by the fridge light, holding up two bottles with the prominent blue labels. "Alcohol. Free." Kepa pointed at each word, reading it aloud as if Viktor were a child.
"Oh, in that case, sure," Viktor could feel the blush creep up his face as Kepa made his way to join him on the sofa, holding out a bottle. "Thanks"
"So," Kepa broke the ice, "you were in Portugal before here, right?"
"Yeah, at Sporting," Viktor responded, taking a swig of beer. "I was in England before that, though, for Coventry in the Championship. You were at Bournemouth, right?"
Kepa laughed at him, but Viktor didn't get why.
"Yeah, I was on loan from Chelsea. Had a loan spell at Real Madrid too. I'm just thankful that Mikel scooped me up when he did. I needed to be somewhere stable to start my family," Kepa said with a smile. "How did you find it in Portugal?"
"It was good. Difficult at first, of course, with the language barrier, but I think my playstyle really suited them, so we did really well as a team." Before Viktor could continue speaking, Kepa's attempt to suppress his laughter distracted him. "Okay, what is it? Why do you keep laughing at me?!"
"I'm sorry-" Kepa ran a hand across his mouth, trying to hide his amusement. "You really only talk about football, don't you?"
"I do if you ask me about it, yeah!" Viktor laughed, but there was a clear undercurrent of fierce annoyance.
Kepa scooched closer to Viktor on the sofa, wrapping an arm around him to pull him close and ruffling his still-damp hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh," He tried to appease his anger with a joking push away. "I'm trying to get to know you personally, not professionally."
The explanation didn't make things any clearer for Viktor, and it showed on his face. "Well, there's no difference with me. My life has always been football."
Kepa didn't say anything further, giving him the space to speak.
"When I was a kid, my dad was my coach," Viktor laughed lightly, stroking the condensation off the neck of his beer, "so it's just always been football."
"You had a girl, though, no? In Portugal?"
"Oh yeah," Viktor added quickly, "I'm not a virgin or anything-"
Kepa nearly choked on his beer, cutting him off. "Yeah, that wasn't what I was getting at."
"I had to end things to come to the UK. Portugal was always just a stepping stone to the Prem, so I knew it wasn't permanent..."
"And how'd she take that?" Kepa asked.
"As well as she could, I guess." Viktor looked down at his hands, his face turning serious. "When things hit the press, it became a whole thing...Needless to say, I've learnt my lesson," he looked at Kepa with a sad smile. "Besides, it's easier to be on your own - more peace, a clear mind, can focus on the game, and that's what really matters."
"Like today?"
Viktor opened his mouth to speak before he realised he had no comeback.
"I get you, though, especially when you move somewhere new, it can be good to have a fresh start and focus on yourself," Kepa started.
"Yeah," Viktor appreciated his understanding.
Kepa looked like he was about to continue speaking before he stopped himself, shaking his empty beer. "Want another?"
Viktor drank the last few drops and held out the empty bottle for Kepa to take with him to the kitchen. "Sure"
He only took a few steps before Kepa stopped and turned back to Viktor, "Actually, do you want a proper drink? I have some whiskey."
"Suppose one can't hurt."
"Good boy," Kepa muttered under his breath as he grabbed two crystal glasses.
Kepa sat deliberately closer to the younger man when he returned with the drinks, resting his arm along the back of the sofa, letting Viktor feel the warmth of his body without directly making physical contact. Kepa waited for Viktor to take a sip before he continued their conversation. "Can I say something?"
"Of course," Viktor whispered, desperately hiding the knowing smirk that threatened to show on his face.
"I've been around guys like you before - football is their everything. Food is just fuel, sleep is to recharge for the next game, and nothing else matters. With the way you play and the singular focus you have, people say you're a machine, a beast. But as much as you live like that, you can't escape the fact that you're still human." Kepa looked at him with sincere eyes.
Viktor just laughed in his face. "Fucking knew it," he took another sip of whiskey like he was giving a celebratory toast to his own perception.
Kepa sat there dumbfounded.
"If you wanted to fuck, you could have just said, Kepa."
Suddenly, the room felt too hot and stuffy. Kepa wasn't sure if it was the whiskey or the fact that Viktor just insinuated he was down to have sex with him, all the while remaining in such close proximity that he could feel Viktor's breath on his cheek.
Viktor flashed a wicked grin, his tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth. He was enjoying putting Kepa on the back foot, as cruel as it was.
Kepa laughed, trying to regain some of his composure. Maybe he hadn't known guys exactly like Viktor after all. "Honestly, if I weren't married with kids, I'd have already had you by now," he stated matter-of-factly, taking a large swig of his drink, finding confidence in the burn down his throat. "But that's not an option."
"Then what am I doing here?" Viktor whispered, his body now leaning in towards Kepa.
Despite the clear attempts of seduction, Kepa remained fixed in his position as if he were made of stone. His voice took a scolding tone as he spoke. "If you'd let me finish what I was saying..." He waited for Viktor to prove he could stay silent and listen to him before he continued. "You have such tight control over every aspect of your life; it all runs like clockwork. But you're not getting the usual results, and the goals won't come, no matter how hard you push yourself. Why?"
Viktor knew the question was rhetorical, but couldn't help answering with a smirk. "Because I need to get laid?"
Kepa ignored him as he continued. "Because you're actively denying yourself of other needs, the ones you think 'distract you from football'. You won't allow yourself to indulge in such things even though you know deep down that you need it; you're too stubborn, you think you don't deserve it until you start performing. Am I wrong?"
Viktor looked at him with glassy blue-green eyes, filled with a sick combination of lust and fierce defiance. Despite eating a decent-sized meal, the whiskey was undoubtedly starting to cloud his judgment, making the nerves all over his body come alive. It had been a while since he felt this rush. "While I appreciate your thorough assessment, Dr Freud, I'd much rather we discuss your proposed treatment." He had an intoxicated smile as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Kepa's lips.
The arm Kepa had draped over the back of the sofa was growing numb. He flexed his fingers and brushed them up along the side of Viktor's neck, two fingers tracing lightly over his rapidly increasing pulse. He watched Viktor's lips as they parted with an inaudible gasp. "Well, aren't you a willing patient?" Kepa teased. "Maybe this'll be easier than I thought."
"I'm not easy," Viktor spat back. He wasn't trying to antagonise the situation, but even in his half-drunk state, he couldn't let such comments stand; his pride wouldn't allow it.
Kepa tutted, taking a deliberately condescending tone, quickly realising how much it gets under Viktor's skin. "I didn't say that.. But it's hard not to think that when you're acting so fucking desperate for it." Kepa could physically see the effect his words were having on Viktor's reddening face, his cheeks puffing up like a tomcat, and he couldn't hold back now. "So you can sit there, getting more and more wound up at the fact that you need this, or you can stop fighting it. For tonight, let go of it. Let me take control, and just do as you are told." Kepa didn't need any more words than that; he simply stared directly into Viktor's eyes and waited for his response.
Viktor didn't avert his gaze; he held his own under the intense stare of the older man. He could see his own lust reflected in Kepa's eyes; he wasn't the only one getting off on this. But there was something else in Kepa's eyes he hadn't seen before, the threat of something he didn't yet know. It should have made him more apprehensive, but it only made him curious to push it and see how far he'd go. "And if I agree?"
"Then you don't have to worry about the answer to that question or think about anything else. Just follow my orders, and you'll get what you need." Kepa could still see the defiance in his eyes, and his teeth itched to knock it out of him.
"What I need," Viktor repeated slowly with a knowing smile, ghosting a hand up Kepa's inner thigh. Sudden pain shot through his wrist as Kepa grabbed him harshly, applying an obscene amount of pressure that made him choke out a cry. The cool, metal band of Kepa's wedding ring dug into his flesh. He tried to pull his hand free, but Kepa's vice-like grip didn't allow for it.
"You still don't understand," Kepa scolded him like a child, voice laced with disappointment.
Viktor, still wincing from the pain, didn't break the intense eye contact he held with Kepa. Instead, he blinked the tears away from his eyes, wetting his lashes, making his baby blue eyes all the more striking. Viktor was now beginning to understand the role he'd have to play. A few seconds passed before he finally whispered, his Swedish accent stronger than ever, "Kepa...please.."
The unbridled neediness in Viktor's voice unlocked a primal desire in Kepa to devour. A deep, satisfied groan resounded in his throat, "Will you submit to me?"
Viktor nodded, and some loose hairs fell in front of his face. When Viktor made no effort to run his free hand through them, Kepa knew the answer to his question. He instantly released his grip and watched Viktor's hand drop down to his lap like a dead weight. "Good boy," he smiled, but only for a second. "On your knees."
As Viktor began to move, Kepa leaned back into the sofa, spreading his legs wide enough for the blonde man to kneel before him. "Take your top off," Kepa took a swig from his drink, the glass now slightly warm from where it was held between his legs. He watched with hooded eyes as Viktor complied, his fingers smoothing through his hair before leaning back on his haunches, spreading his legs a little wider to get more comfortable. It was beginning to look obscene, almost professional. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've done this before."
"I'm a fast learner," Viktor responded, chest swollen with pride.
"Evidently," Kepa shifted himself on the sofa, allowing himself to lean forward to tower over him as he growled out, "or are you just a slut like this for everyone?"
"No."
"You shouldn't lie to me," Kepa advised him with some sincerity. The unknown threat was there again.
"I'm not," Viktor responded flatly. "Normally, I'd be the one in your position."
"I see," Kepa said with a smirk, "And how is it being on the other side?"
Viktor laughed darkly. "I'll let you know when I find a difference-"
Kepa backhanded him sharply across the face, knocking Viktor sideways and losing his balance, more from the shock than the motion. His cheek stung as he got back to his knees, but it did little to remove the enjoyment evident on Viktor's face. Despite the pain, he was enjoying this new dynamic more than he'd like to let on just yet.
Kepa grabbed as much of his hair as he could fit into his fist and yanked his head back, making sure to pull harshly at his baby hairs to earn a wince, punctuating his next commands. "Stop. Misbehaving. I will break you if I have to. You do realise that, don't you?" Kepa questioned with burning eyes before he released his hold on Viktor, shoving him back to the ground. "Now be a good little striker and stop fighting me."
Viktor shot him a look but didn't say anything, checking his lip for any blood.
In that moment of silence, Kepa realised just how much he liked the feverish resistance in Viktor. As much as he wanted to have full control over Viktor, he was enjoying the back and forth too much for it to end so soon. "Do you have a problem?" Kepa asked in a completely neutral tone, goading Viktor to bite back.
"Thought we already established we're the same size," Viktor laughed.
Kepa felt his heart rate spike as a surge of adrenaline propelled him forward, wrapping a large hand around Viktor's neck, squeezing as he spoke. "That may be, but you're certainly smaller when you're on your knees before me." He held Viktor's face close to his as he watched his expression intently. Viktor still had that shit-eating grin on his face, and it made Kepa feel inspired. Without warning, he spat directly on Viktor's face, trying to shock the younger man into submission.
Instead, it was his turn to be surprised, pleasantly so, as Viktor slowly brought his eyes to a close and opened his mouth for Kepa to spit directly into. Viktor could hear the possessive growl in Kepa's throat as he moved over him, pulling his head into an upward angle.
Sucking in his cheeks to build up enough saliva, Kepa let the thick pool of spit trail off his tongue, trying to direct it into Viktor's waiting mouth. It landed messily on his chin, and Kepa brought his thumb up to swipe it into Viktor's mouth.
As soon as the thumb brushed over Viktor's lips, he sucked the digit into his mouth along with the spit, tongue working to savour the taste with a deliberately timed moan. He opened his eyes to meet Kepa's as he opened his mouth wider, wordlessly willing him to press his fingers in deeper.
Kepa knew he had been hard the entire time, but the ache was painful as he worked his index finger in and out of the striker's pliant mouth. Kepa watched Viktor's mouth with a perverse fascination, watching as his finger disappeared into the wet heat around his tightly pursed lips. He thinks of all the times he's got distracted from training in the gym, watching the way Viktor's tongue sticks out when he focuses, licking at his top lip. He probably doesn't even realise he's doing it. "Freud would've had a field day with you," Kepa said in awe. "Your oral fixation deserves to be studied."
Viktor moaned around his fingers at the somewhat twisted praise as he made little thrusts with his hips, desperate for some sliver of friction to ease his own throbbing.
Kepa found it sweet that, despite his penchant for disobedience, he still hadn't made any attempts to touch himself before being instructed. "Get your cock out and put your hands to use," Kepa ordered, and watched as Viktor complied, all while continuing to suck his finger, eyes full of lust. When Viktor's breath started to hitch, and his eyes rolled back, Kepa removed his now-wet fingers with a pop and reclined back into the sofa to watch the display.
Viktor remained still, waiting for an instruction, jogging bottoms and underwear pushed down his thighs, cock hard and heavy in his hand.
"Did I tell you to stop?"
Viktor leaned back on his heels, elongating his neck and stomach muscles, revelling in the feeling of Kepa's gaze across every inch of his skin. He ghosted the lightest of touches down the length of his cock, already at full hardness from all the buildup and denial. He bit his lip to stop a moan from escaping as his body shuddered, focusing his attention on the movements of his wrist.
"Don't hold back," Kepa ordered.
Viktor met Kepa's eyes, acknowledging his control. He hissed as he dipped his thumb into the slit of his cock, smearing the lubrication across the swollen head of his cock. His other hand travelled up to his own chest and played performatively with one of his nipples, breathing out little gasping moans that sent shivers down Kepa's spine. He knew full well what he was doing, and it was working at driving Kepa mad.
As much as he wanted to tell Viktor to stop it, to focus on getting off, not putting on a show, he couldn't take his eyes off him. One of his hands remained clutching his empty glass, the other dug into the sofa, knuckles white with restraint. He felt his cock twitch when Viktor moaned his name.
"Keep your hand still," Kepa instructed through gritted teeth. "Fuck your fist."
Viktor complied, making his hand into a loose fist and thrusting slowly into it.
"Tighter." Kepa's voice was strained.
Watching Kepa's control begin to slip only encouraged Viktor to squeeze his cock tighter as his hips began to find a steady rhythm. His eyes dropped to where Kepa was clearly painfully hard, a wet patch already sticking his joggers to the skin of his thighs. The sight alone made his mouth water, and he needed to fill it.
"Faster." Kepa's voice was barely audible over Viktor's wanton moans, but his body complied whether he consciously heard the command or not, snapping his hips faster against his fist.
"Kepa..." Viktor choked out his name as his whole body jerked forward, reaching his free hand up to grab Kepa's shin to steady himself as his hips began to stutter. He rested his forehand against Kepa's knee, wetting his joggers further with open-mouthed moans and pleas.
Kepa grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head to the side so he could see the blissful expression on his face. "Are you close, boy?"
Viktor shook his head. "Waiting for you," he moaned as he shuddered against Kepa's touch, unbothered by the pain of it.
Kepa released his grasp, but Viktor remained with his cheek pressed against Kepa's thigh. "I already told you, no." Kepa could hear how pained his own voice sounded to say those words, and he didn't need to look down to know his blatant arousal was clearly visible. Where Viktor's face was right now, he imagines he could probably smell it.
Kepa deliberately looked away from Viktor in a bid to help him remain in control, eyes settling on the photos on his mantlepiece. Pictures from his wedding day, the day the twins were born, and their first family Christmas. He tried to focus on their faces, remember the times those pictures were taken. But with a world-class striker moaning and writhing against him, any rational thought proved impossible.
"Kepa.." Viktor's voice was laced with such neediness that it instantly stole the Spaniard's attention. His eyes were fixed on Kepa's neglected bulge, admiring how it twitches every time he says his name, before he looked up to meet Kepa's reluctant gaze. "I want to cum with you in my mouth." When Kepa didn't respond, he followed it up with an ever needier, "Please".
When Viktor started to beg, Kepa shoved two fingers into his mouth just to shut him up, allowing Viktor to suck eagerly on them, while he tried in vain to think of anything other than shoving his cock down Viktor's throat. He deliberately pushed his fingers all the way in to his knuckle, hoping to make Viktor gag on his pleas. He felt the throat muscles tighten around his digits, but Viktor just let his eyes roll back with a moan.
Suddenly, Kepa felt Viktor's teeth tighten and scrape along his middle finger. He quickly pulled them both out, leaving a trail of drool across Viktor's chin that travelled down onto his exposed chest. "Fuck!" he checked his fingers for damage before looking back at Viktor in a rage.
Before Kepa had a chance to chastise him, Viktor stuck out his tongue. It felt like a punch in the gut when he saw his wedding ring sitting in the middle of Viktor's outstretched tongue. Without thinking, he reached out to grab it back, but Viktor snapped his mouth shut with a grin. "Viktor, don't." Kepa's voice warned, carrying the hint of a very real threat.
Viktor leaned back from Kepa's reach and played it across his plush lips before he removed the ring from his mouth and placed it on the nearby glass table. When he looks back to see Kepa's relieved face, Viktor's eyes are almost black, his pupils fully blown out. He wasn't holding back now. "Come on, Kepa," Viktor pleaded with the older man, but the neediness in his voice is gone, replaced instead by a dark edge. "I'm giving you an out, here..."
Kepa felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He could feel Viktor's eyes staring up at him, waiting for his answer to the question that Viktor didn't need to ask. He knew what was being offered. A guilt-free way to give in to his desires, a way he can frame it in his mind that absolves him of sin - Viktor seduced him, not the other way around.
"You talk to me about giving up control and letting yourself have what you need-"
Before Viktor could continue, Kepa cut him off, denying him, "That's not what this is."
"No?" Viktor laughed at the muffled panic in Kepa's voice, making him bold. If Kepa wasn't going to accept his offer, he'd have to keep fighting until he snaps. Viktor doesn't hold back now, letting the spite be heard in his voice. "You bring me to your home while your family's out of the country, you let me shower, give me your clothes, cook me dinner, try to get me drunk - you need this just as much as you do, at least I can admit that."
"Shut the fuck up," Kepa ground out through gritted teeth, his anger levels rapidly rising to match his arousal. He dug his fingernails into his own palms to stop his hands from acting on his thoughts; despite himself, his eyes remained fixed on Viktor's fist still working its way across his length as he spoke.
Viktor let out a hearty laugh, "Or what?" He felt a rush of power over the older man as he began to stand, breaching the distance between them as he leaned down to whisper into his ear. "You've been hard before I even got my knees, Kepa." With calculated movements, Viktor pulled back enough to look at Kepa head-on, his lips inches away from Kepa's snarling mouth as he continued. "How much more do I need to fight you before you give in and take what we both need right now?"
As soon as he finished talking, Kepa wrapped a crushing hand around his throat, holding Viktor's head back to stop their lips from touching. He took a few moments to study Viktor's face as he choked the air from his lungs, his eyes still shining with defiance. "Get. Back. On. Your. Fucking. Knees." Kepa squeezed his hand harder with every word. Viktor's face was turning from red to purple as his hands dug into the flesh of Kepa's forearms, but he still didn't comply, his mouth fixed in a smug smile. The satisfied look on his face made Kepa's anger rise more than he thought possible.
Viktor's vision was blurring from the lack of oxygen, and despite everything sounding distant, he could clearly make out the rustling sound of clothes being hastily pushed down. And they weren't his own.
"I said, get back on your knees and open your mouth." Kepa let go of Viktor's throat and let his body drop heavily to the floor. Kepa's joggers were pushed down to his ankles, his cock painfully hard in his hand, almost too sensitive from the lack of touch until now. He hissed as he gave himself a few strokes, trying to relieve some of the tension around his head that was almost purple with neglect.
Viktor grabbed at his throat; the sudden influx of rapid breaths made him dizzy, his limbs too heavy to move. He was still coughing and spluttering when he felt two large hands grab either side of his face and yank him back to his knees. The sharp sting of a slap across his cheek brought him back to the room and the situation before him. With watering eyes, Viktor looked up to Kepa, frowning when he couldn't see his face. He blinked away tears as his vision came back into focus, his eyes adjusting to Kepa's cock in front of him as he received another slap with it across his cheek.
"Open," Kepa demanded, pushing the thick head of his cock against Viktor's lips, easily forcing them to part, only being blocked from entering by his teeth.
Enough oxygen reached Viktor's brain that he heard the command, tasting the first salty drops of Kepa smeared across his lips, making his mouth water. He obeyed.
In a swift motion of his hips, Kepa entered Viktor's parted mouth, giving him no time to adjust as he began to fuck his face with full force. "Fuck-" Kepa groaned through gritted teeth as he felt Viktor's throat, hot and wet, constrict around him, snapping his hips in a brutal rhythm, repeatedly pounding the back of Viktor's throat. He tightened his grip around Viktor's head, hands moving to the back of his head to meet each thrust of his hips, his balls slapping loudly against Viktor's chin.
Viktor struggled to breathe against the assault on his mouth; his nose started to feel bruised from the force with which his face was slammed against Kepa's lower stomach. Panicked hands landed on Kepa's thighs to keep him stable as he choked and spluttered around the thick cock invading his throat, uncontrollable amounts of saliva pooling and falling from his lips. He raised his eyes to look at Kepa's face, moaning around his cock as he saw that Kepa's expression had finally given way to the pleasure. Viktor let out a vibrating groan in his throat as he relaxed his jaw, letting Kepa freely use his throat. The feeling of fullness and the heavy weight of Kepa pressing down on his tongue made Viktor's cock twitch where he had left it neglected. Wrapping a tight fist around his own length, he timed the movements of his hand in time with Kepa's assault on his mouth.
Kepa watched Viktor's face with fascination as his cock stretched his lips open and disappeared down his throat. "Is this what you fucking wanted? My cock rammed down your throat, huh?" Kepa groaned, speeding up his relentless assault on Viktor's throat, realising how much the younger man was getting off by being used like this. "You fucking like that, huh?"
Viktor wasn't able to control the wet noises being drawn from his throat, but he tried his hardest to make his moans heard, encouraging Kepa to continue. Not that Kepa was waiting for any indication to keep going, rapidly chasing his climax with every stab against the back of Viktor's throat.
When Kepa's movements became frenzied, and a string of Spanish rambling followed his moans, Viktor knew he was close. Viktor quickened his own hand, wrist working over his pre-cum slicked head with renewed desperation. The ache in his jaw and assault on his throat only heightened the waves of pleasure about to crash over him. He forced his eyes to meet Kepa's, feeling the sharp scratch of nails digging into his scalp, as he came over his hand, ropes of cum shooting across the hard flooring where he knelt.
Kepa felt Viktor's throat constrict around him, vibrations coming from deep within him; whatever noises Viktor was making were drowned out by the static in his ears. Kepa screwed his eyes shut as he held Viktor's head in place, his upper body curling in on himself as he managed to thrust his hips a few more times before he was cumming deep down Viktor's throat with a scream. He came for what felt like an eternity, his balls continued to tense as if every drop of cum was being dragged out. He continued shallow thrusts throughout, only pulling out of Viktor's mouth when he was fully spent. Kepa stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the sofa, feeling as if he was about to pass out from the intensity of orgasm. "Fuck," Kepa let his body sink into the sofa as he wrapped an arm across his eyes, "Look what you made me do"
Viktor didn't know if he was talking to him or just to himself. He licked at his own lips and diligently ensured every drop of Kepa's cum was swallowed. He let out a satisfied moan as he tasted the last few drops, looking up at Kepa to see him watching him from under his forearm. Kepa's chest was heaving, shirt sticking to his body with large patches of sweat. He still had his cock in his hand, slowly softening as he came back to reality and the situation before him. Viktor just looked up at him with an expectant grin, waiting. Despite the regret clear on Kepa's face, his eyes weren't completely void of lust; the remnants still clear as he licked his dry lips, maintaining eye contact with the younger man who remained in position on his knees.
Kepa watched silently as Viktor started to suck on his own fingers, savouring the taste of his own cum as he cleaned each finger. Kepa leaned forward to observe the floor in front of Viktor, tutting as he saw the thick pool of cum that sat there. He nodded towards a box of tissues on the table beside them, "Clean it up."
Viktor glanced towards the tissues before flashing Kepa a smile. He made sure he was watching him, and he bent forward, arching his back to get his face down to the floor and began to lick up the mess.
Kepa hissed through his teeth, "You're a fucking psycho, you know that?"
Viktor hummed in agreement as he finished lapping the floor clean of his cum before he looked back up to Kepa. "It has been said before," he said with a sweet smile. Once he was finished, he sat back on his legs and allowed his breath to return to his lungs. He knew the dull ache in his throat would stay with him for a while, but he gave the front of his neck a gentle rub regardless.
When he finally felt grounded and back in the room, Kepa broke the silence. "We can't do that again, Viktor... That shouldn't have happened" Kepa let the statement sit for a moment, his voice shaking with guilt. "I'm sorry."
Viktor got to his feet and began to redress himself, tucking himself back into his boxers and joggers. He stood there, looking down at Kepa, who couldn't meet his eyes, completely lost in his regret. Viktor pursed his lips, "Well, slight problem there," he said casually as he put his shirt back on.
"What?" Kepa's focus snapped to Viktor. "What do you mean?"
Viktor just laughed, "I don't exactly do one-time things..." his grin was back in full force. "It's very all or nothing with me."
"Well, it's nothing, then," Kepa said definitively.
"That wasn't 'nothing'," Viktor was quick to retort, eyes motioning to the wet patch still present on Kepa's joggers. "You were right in your assessment of me: once I have my sights on something, I do whatever it takes, and I won't stop til I get what I want."
Kepa watched silently as Viktor looked over him with a newfound intensity in his eyes.
"Keeping certain needs unmet is a choice I make. But you've shown me that I don't have to do anymore - thank you for that." Viktor smiled at Kepa sweetly.
Before Kepa had the chance to shut him down, Viktor leaned closer to him, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Besides, I think you needed that more than I did." Viktor clasped a hand on Kepa's shoulder as he walked past him into the kitchen.
"Viktor," Kepa spoke, the panicked rage that smothered his chest made his voice quieter than he wanted. He waited until the younger man looked back towards him before he continued. "Get the fuck out of my house."
Viktor met his gaze with a smile. "What, you're gonna make me walk home?" he laughed in fake disbelief.
"Uber's outside," Kepa held up his phone, no longer maintaining eye contact or even looking in his general direction.
"What a gentleman you are!" Viktor joked, but Kepa wasn't in the mood to laugh; he felt like his world was spinning out of control, and he couldn't think with the other man still in his home.
"Keep the clothes for now, you can give them back at training." Kepa's voice was utterly defeated as he sat with his head in his hands.
"Will do, thanks," Viktor replied as he collected his things and made his way to the front door. "I'll let you know once I get my own place," Viktor called back with a flirtatious hint in his voice, "you can help me properly christen it."
"Viktor," Kepa warned sternly.
"Okay, okay, I'm going." Viktor laughed, "I'll see you tomorrow."
It was only once the front door closed that Kepa felt oxygen return to the room. He sat in silence as every thought rushed to his head at once, the overwhelming guilt filling his whole body. He was always told never to underestimate his opponent, and he realises with crushing certainty that he hasn't known someone like Viktor before, and he's just welcomed a world of chaos into his life. After some time, Kepa remembers his wedding ring, eyes snapping to where it was left on the table. It's gone. He desperately looks under the table, or anywhere else it could have fallen, but there's no sign of it. It's at this point that Kepa realises he's finally met his match. And he's in for a world of trouble.