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Eric was perched on the bar stool, nursing a glass of something he'd stopped tasting half an hour ago. The club was packed with teammates, staff, some invited friends. Everyone riding the high of the league title they'd clinched just hours before.
Versus Madrid of all teams.
At Camp Nou of all stadiums.
So even as league titles go, it was the sweetest of them all.
Champagne still sticky in his hair, a grin on his face, Eric watched the chaos unfold around him. He could see Ferri in the middle doing something that could generously be called dancing with Pedri, both of them laughing so hard they could barely stand. Pedri still looked a little shy and self conscious so Eric knew he was still totally sober while Ferri, who was an over eager puppy on the soberest of days, was jumping up and down like nothing he had seen before. Fermin had somehow acquired a bottle of something expensive and was pouring it directly into Gavi’s mouth. The whole scene was pure, unfiltered joy and Eric soaked it in. He was a little tipsy himself, okay more than a little tipsy, he admitted as he swayed a little.
"Hey."
The voice came from his left and Eric turned to find Joan standing there. He smiled instinctively at his favourite person in the world, his tall, tall, tall best friend. Why was he so tall? Ugh and Joan’s hair was all messy. Who messed his hair up? He didn’t like whoever had done that.
"Hey yourself," Eric said, blinking awake. "Enjoying the party of your first league title, Joanet?"
Joan smiled his classic little smile that Eric loved so much, the one that made his eyes disappear. "Yeah, it’s fun! Not a party person though, it’s so loud!”
"Oh come on, we’re footballers! We thrive on loud!”
"On the pitch, yeah. Off it..." Joan trailed off then threw his drink back in one swallow and placed the glass back on the bar. "Dance with me."
Eric blinked. "You? Asking me to dance?" hs set his glass down too, turning fully to face him. "Who are you and what have you done with my Joan?"
Joan rolled his eyes but the smile stayed. "Shut up. I'm serious, come on it might be fun!”
"You don't dance. You've told me a hundred times! Oh Eric! Dancing is so stupid, Eric! I look like an idiot, Eric!”
"Maybe I've had enough drinks to not care about looking like an idiot!” Joan stepped closer. "Come on. Please?"
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You're begging now?"
Joan's lower lip jutted out into a very weaponised sad pout and even tipsy Eric knew what Joan was doing. He was using all his weapons because he knew Eric would never deny him anything.
"Pleaaaseee?" Joan repeated, dragging the word out. "For me?"
Eric sighed all theatrically but let out a real smile. When had he ever been able to say no to his Joan?
"Fine. One dance. But if you step on my feet, I'm telling everyone you cried when I made you watch Spirit.”
"You wouldn't!”
"Try me, Joanet.”
Eric pushed off the bar stool, the world tilting just slightly before he found his balance. He was not fully drunk but the world still pleasantly blurred around the edges and his usual inhibitions loosened. Joan was already moving toward the crowded dance floor and Eric followed him.
The floor was packed, everyone grinding and jumping and losing themselves in the music. Eric found a small pocket of space and turned to face Joan, who was already swaying awkwardly, looking like he regretted ever even asking Eric to dance in the first place.
"Oh my god, relax," Eric laughed a little and stepped closer. "It's not that hard, come on just feel the beat."
"I don't, I can't—" Joan gestured vaguely at his own body. "I don’t even know why I asked you to dance. This is not a thing I do."
"Clearly." Eric reached out, taking Joan's hands and placing them on his own waist. "Okay, copy me. It’s a club song you don’t need to do any elaborate choreography at it, Joanet, trust me.”
He started moving loosely, a simple side to side sway and Joan followed, stiff at first, then gradually loosening as the alcohol and the music took over. They settled into a groove, not quite dancing together but copying each other’s rhythm more like.
"Hey, you're not terrible!” Eric laughed.
"Ooooh high praise."
"Don't get used to it."
The song shifted into something else, still one of those club songs but a bit more sultry with the bass a bit more hypnotic. Around them, the crowd adjusted and peoples’ bodies pressed closer to each other, couples forming. Eric felt the change in the air and he knew Joan noticed too because they drifted closer without even trying, the space between them shrinking inch by inch. Eric could feel the heat radiating off Joan's body, could see the way his chest rose and fell with every breath.
"There you go, you’re dancing," Eric huffed a breathless, shaky laugh.
"All thanks to you.”
And Eric couldn't look away from him. There was something magnetic about Joan in this moment. Maybe it was the flush on his cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed. Eric's gaze dropped to those lips without thinking, tracing their curve and he saw Joan swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing.
What the fuck am I doing?
Before Eric could process the thought, someone slammed into him from behind, some drunk kid from La Masia probably, stumbling through the crowd. Eric lurched forward, off balance and crashed directly into Joan's chest.
The goalkeeper’s hands came up instantly, gripping his hips and Eric found himself pressed flush against his body, their chests touching, his face inches from Joan's neck.
He could feel Joan's heartbeat so so fast… or maybe that was his own.
"Sorry," Eric mumbled but he didn't pull away.
"It's okay." Joan's voice was rough, his hands still holding Eric's hips.
Eric's hands had landed on Joan's chest when he fell and now he slowly slid them upward, over the swell of Joan's pecs, up to his shoulders and then looped his arms around Joan's neck. The position was impossibly intimate now with Eric looking up at Joan, Joan looking down at him, their noses almost touching.
The rest of the world faded to Eric, his screaming teammates, the bass, the flash of lights, every thing faded. All of it dissolved until there was only Joan.
Joan, whose eyes were dark, pupils blown wide and he was looking at Eric like he was seeing him for the first time.
He was so close. So close Eric could count Joan's eyelashes, could see the tiny scar above his eyebrow that you wouldn’t notice until you were really looking at him, the scar Eric had noticed in his first meeting with the keeper, could feel Joan's breath on his lips.
He wanted to kiss him.
The thought hit Eric like lightning, sudden and overwhelming and terrifying. He wanted to close the distance between them, to press his mouth to Joan's, to taste the champagne on his tongue and something that was just Joan.
He frowned, confusion cutting through the haze. What? Where did that come from? Joan was his best friend. His teammate. The guy he'd spent countless hours with on the pitch, in the locker room, on his couch playing FIFA.
They were friends, just friends.
But the thought didn't retreat at all, in fact it planted itself in his brain, spreading roots before Eric could stop it and the more he looked at Joan's lips, the more he wanted.
The song changed again into something more upbeat and Eric couldn't take it anymore. If he stayed like this looking up at Joan, he'd do something stupid. He'd lean in and kiss him. And he had no idea what would happen after that.
So he turned around.
It was a clumsy move, twisting in Joan's grip but he managed to put his back against Joan's chest.
Yeah, that’s better. That’s safer actually. If he couldn't see Joan's face, he couldn't make the mistake of kissing him.
Except it wasn't better at all.
In fact, it was much much worse.
Joan was taller and Eric fit perfectly against him, his back pressed to Joan's front. He could feel his chest behind him and then the younger leaned down, his mouth brushing Eric's ear, making him shiver.
"You okay?" Joan murmured.
"Fine," Eric managed but his voice was barely a choked whisper.
Joan's hand found his hip again, fingers curling around it and he pulled Eric closer, pressing them flush together. Eric gasped but his body responded without permission as his back arched slightly and his ass pressed instinctively against Joan's crotch.
And there it was.
Joan was hard.
The evidence was unmistakable and he pressed against Eric's ass through their jeans.
Eric's brain fully short circuited.
Joan was hard, Joan was holding him, breathing in his ear, pulling him closer and he was hard.
Eric's hips moved on their own, grinding back against Joan, seeking more contact. He heard Joan's breath hitch, felt the grip on his hip tighten. Eric couldn’t even control himself, it was this strange trance he was in where he wasn’t in control of anything, his body was moving off his own accord, off of what his heart told him.
He ground against Joan again and the younger responded too, his hips pressing forward to meet Eric and they found a rhythm together slowly, just grinding against each other, bodies moving as one.
Eric's eyes fell closed. He could feel his own arousal building, his cock thickening in his jeans.
This is insane. This is my best friend. We're in a club full of our teammates.
But when he looked around, nobody was watching them so far. They were all too drunk, too caught up in their own celebrations. Eric opened his eyes for a moment and saw Ferran making out with Pedri in the corner, saw Dani laughing at something on his phone, probably Facetiming his girlfriend, saw the rest of the world carrying on as if nothing was happening.
Nothing was happening, yeah.
Except Joan was hard against him and Eric was grinding back and he still wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so bad he was going to fucking turn back around and do it. This was insanity.
"Joan," Eric breathed, not sure what he was asking for.
Joan's lips brushed his ear again, kissing underneath it softly. "Mhm?"
Eric couldn't answer. He didn't have any words. What was he even supposed to say? Hey, Joan, kiss me please but also don’t stop moving against me, your cock feels so good against me, please please never stop.
Fucks sake he couldn’t say that.
So he just did what his drink riddled mind told him to do: run to safety.
He pushed Joan’s hands away from him and ran, dodging past peoples elbows, his eyes ahead of him, just looking for a safe place to hide. He spotted the bathroom door and made a beeline towards it. As Eric pushed through the door, the sound of the club muffled to a dull throb. He strode past the sinks straight to the last stall and locked himself in. His hands shook as he stood there against these luxurious marble walls, head dropping forward, breath coming in too fast.
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
His cock was still hard, straining against his jeans and the pressure was almost painful. He palmed himself through the denim and then immediately yanked his hand away.
No. No! You're in a bathroom at a club. Your teammates are outside. You're not going to jerk off thinking about your best friend.
Except he absolutely wanted to. The image of Joan's dark eyes, his lips inches away, the way his hands had gripped Eric's hips like he owned them. God, Eric wanted him to own him.
And that bulge. Eric had felt it for too short a time. He wanted more, he wanted and wanted and wanted.
He heard the bathroom door swing open again and then a familiar voice spoke up in a soft tone.
"Eric? I know you're in here. I saw you come in,” Joan murmured.
Eric squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t say anything.
The footsteps moved closer and stopped right outside his stall.
“Come on, Eric, open up,” Joan knocked softly on the door of the stall.
Eric's voice cracked when he finally spoke. "I'm… I just need a minute."
"Carinyo, please.” Joan's voice was still soft but almost pleading. "Come out, hmm? We need to talk."
Eric stared at the locked door. Every rational part of his brain screamed at him to stay put, to ignore Joan until he left, to call a car and escape and pretend tonight never happened. But the tipsy, desperate part of him, the part that had been grinding against Joan just minutes ago, the part that was so endeared by Joan calling him carinyo, reached out and slid the lock open.
Eric walked out and there Joan was, looking at him with a concerned frown which was just a little too cute for Eric itself.
He looked at Eric with his dark eyes. "Are you okay?"
"No," Eric admitted, his voice a whisper. "I don't know what's happening."
Joan's hand came up to cup Eric's cheek. His thumb traced over the older’s cheekbone. "I think I do."
Eric's eyes fluttered closed at the touch. "Joan, we're teammates. Best friends. This is insane."
"I know." Joan's forehead pressed against Eric's.
And then Joan's lips were on his.
It started off with just a soft peck but then they leaned back to look at each other for a second and the second time they met together, it wasn’t soft at all. It was desperate and wet, tongues sliding against each other, teeth catching on lips. Eric moaned into Joan's mouth and his fingers gripped the fabric of Joan's shirt, pulling him closer.
Joan broke the kiss only to trail his lips down Eric's jaw, biting the skin just beneath his ear. "Fuck," Eric breathed, head tilting back, giving Joan more access. Joan took it, sucking hard, leaving a mark that would be visible tomorrow at the parade.
But shit that was a problem for future Eric.
Joan moved lower, teeth scraping down the side of Eric's neck and bit into the muscle of his shoulder. "You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered against his skin. Then he bent down, hooked his hands under Eric's thighs and lifted him onto the sink counter.
Joan towered over him, kissing him on the lips as he pressed Eric fully down onto the counter and ruched his shirt up to expose his torso. The cool marble against Eric’s bare back made him shiver but Joan's mouth was hot as he pressed open mouthed kisses down Eric's chest, over his nipples, tongue flicking before teeth closed around the sensitive skin.
Eric cried out, his back arching. "Ah Joan—"
Joan bit down on the curve of Eric's pectoral, sucking a bruise into it. Then he moved lower, teeth grazing over ribs, biting there too. He left several bite marks along his way as Eric felt himself harden to the point of insanity. Joan bit hard near Eric’s navel then licked the spot to soothe it, before biting again at his hip.
"Please," Eric gasped, hands fisting in Joan's hair. "Please, Joan—"
Joan surged back up, kissing Eric deep and filthy. His hands grabbed Eric's thighs, pulling him to the very edge of the counter until Eric's ass was half off the marble, his legs wrapped around Joan's waist. For a moment, Joan leaned his forehead against Eric's and closed his eyes, breathing hard, his cock pressing against Eric's through their pants.
Then he pulled back, his jaw tight. "Fuck."
Eric frowned, hands still cupping Joan's face. "What?"
Joan's eyes were frustrated when he looked back at him. "I don't have condoms. Or lube, fuck.”
Eric's stomach flipped at the words because… how do you tell someone you’re carrying these things without sounding like a complete whore.
He flushed, the heat creeping up his neck. "...I do.“
Joan's eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face. Eric reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a single use packet of lube and a foil wrapped condom. His cheeks burned as he held them out.
Joan stared at the items then back at Eric. "Why do you just… have those?”
Eric's mouth went dry. "Um…we're at a club."
"So?"
"So at clubs, I either fuck someone or get fucked." The words tumbled out and he felt his face go impossibly red. "I like to have the stuff ready. Just in case."
He wanted the floor to swallow him. What must Joan think? That he was a whore, that he planned for this, that he came to the club expecting to get laid? Wait, maybe he was a whore.
Fuck, he couldn't even look at Joan, he didn’t want Joan to think anything bad about him but the problem is… he must. He must be thinking what a slut he was, maybe how easy he was. Eric saw a muscle twitch in Joan’s jaw then his hand shot out as he grabbed the items from Eric's palm and tossed them onto the counter beside them.
And then he was kissing Eric again but even harder this time. Joan's hands grabbed Eric's hips, yanking him flush against his body, grinding their cocks together. Eric gasped into the kiss and his fingers dug into Joan's broad shoulders.
It was pure demand in this kiss. Joan's tongue pushed into Eric's mouth, his teeth nipped at Eric's lower lip, his hands slid up Eric's back to press him harder into the mirror.
When they finally broke apart for air, Joan's forehead pressed against Eric's again. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."
Eric's heart pounded and he knew he wanted it too, he wanted it so fucking bad he was going crazy. And maybe he wanted it longer than he had admitted to himself.
"Then take it," Eric whispered. "Take me."
Joan's hands pulled him off the counter and spun him around, bending him over to face the mirror.
Joan's lips trailed up to Eric's ear from behind. "Today," he murmured, "you're mine."
Eric moaned, grinding his ass back against Joan's crotch again. "Yes," Eric breathed. "Yes, I'm yours. I'm yours, Joan."
Joan's hands moved to the button of Eric's jeans, popping it open and shoved the fabric down his thighs. They pooled around his ankles, leaving Eric in just his boxers which were quickly shoved down too. Now he was completely naked from the waist down, bent over the sink, while Joan stood behind him still fully dressed.
Eric felt a little humiliated but in the best possible way. He saw in the mirror as Joan reached for the lube packet on the counter. He tore it open, slicked his fingers and brought it down, circling his entrance slowly, teasing him.
"Please," Eric gasped, his head hanging low between his shoulders. "Joan, please."
Joan's finger slid inside and Eric cried out, his knuckles white against the sink. Joan added a second finger after a little while, stretching him slowly, fucking him open with his hand while Eric moaned and panted.
Joan added a third finger and fuck it felt so good, Eric wanted to cry.
"Fuck me," Eric begged. "Please, Joan, I need you inside me. I need to feel you."
Joan laughed behind him but didn’t move his hand away.
"Please," Eric whimpered, his hips twitching. "Don't tease me. Please, I've been so good for you."
"Have you?" Joan pushed his fingers faster and Eric gasped. "You've been a very good whore tonight. But I want to hear you beg."
"I am begging," Eric cried out, his voice cracking. "Please, Joan, please. I want you in me. Please, I can't take it anymore. I need your cock. I need you to fill me. Please, please—"
Joan withdrew his fingers and Eric heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. He moaned shamelessly loud at just the sound of his best friend undoing his pants.
God, Joan really must think he's such a slut.
Joan reached for the condom packet but Eric's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.
"No," Eric mumbled. "I want it raw."
Joan’s breath hitched when he said that and he moaned low in his throat. "Are you sure?"
Eric looked up, catching Joan's eyes in the mirror. Their gazes locked and Eric nodded. "Yes. I, um, I get tested regularly. I’m clean and… I want to feel you.”
Joan looked at him in the mirror for a bit and then he pressed a kiss to the back of Eric’s neck, “Okay carinyo,” he said in a soft, soft, soft tone. Eric shivered at the name again.
Joan lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against Eric's entrance and pushed in slowly. Eric's mouth fell open, a high keening moan escaping as he was filled inch by inch. His vision blurred, his hands gripping the sink so hard his knuckles went white.
"Oh my God," Eric choked out. "Joan, Joan—"
"Fuck, you're so tight," Joan groaned, his hands gripping Eric's hips, holding him still as he bottomed out.
“Joan,” Eric gasped, “Move, fuck, oh god it’s so—ngh, move, move.”
Then he began to move.
The pace was brutal from the start, just hard punishing thrusts that drove Eric’s entire body lunging forward harshly into the marble counter. Joan's thumbs dug into his hips with a bruising grip and he held him in place as he fucked into him. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the walls.
"Harder," Eric begged. "Harder, please—"
Joan obliged, his thumbs digging bruises into Eric's hips as he fucked into him, his rhythm punishing, relentless.
Eric's head hung low and his arms trembled as his entire body shook forward with each of Joan’s powerful thrusts. Joan's hand shot out and wrapped around his throat. He pulled Eric's face up, forcing him to look at the mirror, to see himself being fucked, tear streaked and slack jawed. He looked wrecked. He looked owned.
"Look at yourself," Joan growled against his ear, his hips never slowing. "Look at what a pretty slut you are for me."
A sob of pleasure escaped Eric's throat. Joan's other hand came down hard on his ass, the slap sharp and stinging. Eric yelped, his hole clenching around Joan's cock.
"That's right," Joan said, landing another slap, harder this time. "You love this, don't you? Love being my whore."
"Yes," Eric choked out, tears streaming down his face. "Yes, Joan, I’m your whore, fuck—"
Joan slapped him again and it felt so, so good. "Fuck, you feel that? You clench around me when I spank you. You love it."
"Yes," Eric cried out. "I love it. I love everything you do to me."
Joan spanked him again, harder and again, and again, each slap punctuated by a thrust. Eric's ass was red and burning, his cries filling the room.
"You're such a dirty fucking slut," Joan hissed. "Letting me fuck you raw in a club bathroom while all our teammates are outside. Moaning like a whore. You'd let anyone fuck you, wouldn't you?"
"No," Eric gasped, shaking his head. "Only you. Only you, Joan. I swear."
”But you already had the stuff with you huh? So what you would’ve just spread your legs for anyone?”
”No, no, Joan—oh fuck— nngh, only you.”
"That's right. Because you're mine. Say it."
"I'm yours," Eric choked out.
"Again."
"I'm yours, Joan. I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours.”
Joan's fingers slid into Eric's mouth, pressing down on his tongue, fucking his throat while his cock fucked his ass. Eric gagged, drool spilling down his chin but he didn't resist. He sucked Joan's fingers like he would if they were his cock, moaning around them.
"You're mine," Joan said desperately . "You're nobody else’s, you’re mine, you're mine, you're mine."
Eric moaned around his fingers and Joan took them out to force Eric’s face back towards the mirror, holding him by the throat. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Joan please, oh god—“
“Nobody fucks you like I do. Nobody sees you like this. You’re mine, you’re mine,” Joan rammed into him and oh god, he was so fucking big Eric could feel him in his throat at this point. He was definitely the biggest Eric had taken and he felt every ridge of that cock so girthy it made him feel stuffed full to the brim.
“Yours, yours, Joan, only yours.” Eric panted and then grasped clumsily at Joan’s arm then back at his face, tilting his head back towards him for a kiss. Joan obliged, holding Eric by the throat now, still pistoning into him as they kissed. The angle for the kiss was awkward but they didn’t care as they kissed all wet and sloppy. Joan thrust into Eric particularly hard and Eric broke the kiss open on a sob. He tilted his head back against Joan’s shoulder as he kept fucking into him.
Joan manhandled Eric so he was bent over the counter again, grasping his hips in both hands, spearing him back against his cock.
“Oh fuck, shit shit fuck I’m close baby, are you close?” Joan panted.
Eric sobbed, “Yes, yes please, Joan.”
Joan brought one hand up into Eric’s hair, tilting his head back up the mirror and brought the other one down to Eric’s cock, stroking it fast. “Look at yourself. Look in the mirror while I fuck you. I’m going to fucking ruin you for anyone else.”
His hips snapped against Eric's, harder and harder until Eric was crying out with every thrust. Joan stroked Eric faster once then twicd as he drove into him one last time, burying himself deep.
They came together, Eric with a strangled scream, his release spilling onto the marble and Joan with a guttural moan, filling him stuffed. Eric sagged against the counter, Joan's chest pressed against his back, both of them panting hard.
Joan leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the back of Eric's neck again and now that the heat of the moment had passed, Eric felt it more intimately than before and even in his sex riddled brain, he quite liked the contrast of how rough Joan was during it and how utterly soft and gentle he was anytime before or after it.
Joan kissed his neck again. “Hey carinyet, you okay?” he asked softly.
Was he okay?
His best friend had just fucked his brains out, he had the best orgasm of his life, he had screamed loud enough that if someone was outside this bathroom door, they’ve have definitely heard. His best friend had the world’s best fucking cock in the world, that was still pressed inside him, his cum was leaking out of him, his kisses on his neck felt so good it made Eric want to cry.
So… was he okay? He didn’t even know himself.
But out loud to Joan he said, “Mhm.”
Joan slowly pressed out of him as Eric winced but he was nice enough to wet some paper towels and gently clean them both up. When that entire part of their situation ended, Eric realised they were left in an insanely awkward scenario. Joan buttoned his pants back up and so did Eric and then they just stood near each other in complete silence.
“So, um—“ Eric started. “That was…”
“Wow.” Joan added.
“Wow, it was.” Eric nodded and then it was silent again.
Fuck, Joan had called him “mine” a few minutes ago. Why were they acting like strangers now? Granted Joan had also called him his whore but still! They shouldn’t act this… this tense around each other after that!
“Um so, I’ll… get going.” Joan mumbled and Eric nodded, looking anywhere but at him. Joan stuck around for a few more awkward seconds and then he abruptly turned on his heel and walked out.
Eric heaved a breath out and leaned back against the wall. God, how the fuck was he supposed to look Joan in the eye again!? He stayed in the bathroom for still a few more minutes then gathered his courage and walked out.
He tried to appear very nonchalant as he stood by the bar and ordered another drink to calm himself. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t looking for Joan but he was. He kept scanning the room but Joan was nowhere to be found. Eric was just thinking that maybe he had gone home to nurse his share of embarrassment there when Dani slid right next to him, a calm look on his face.
Eric nodded his head at him. “What’s up man?”
Dani tilted his head sideways at him and gave him a deadpan look. “Do not even.”
“Wha—“
“Eric! You and Joan just had drunk sex in there!”
Eric flushed pink and felt probably more embarrassed than he had in his entire life. “How the fuck did you find out?!”
“Find out!? I just wanted to pee and I could hear both of you loud and clear! And then a Masia kid wanted to go in and I had to make all sorts of excuses while talking louder than I ever have just so he wouldn’t hear you guys! And my god, I’d have to cleanse my ears and pray to all the deities that I somehow forget that memory because I am scarred for life but forget that for now! How could you be that irresponsible!” Dani scolded him.
“Well, it’s not like we planned on it! It just… it happened.” Eric defended himself.
Dani sighed. “Eric, this will complicate things unless you talk it out. Please promise me you’ll talk to him?”
No the fuck not, Eric thought.
But out loud, he said to Dani. “I promise I will! Just… not now. After the celebrations and everything are done.”
Dani shook his head but then he sighed defeatedly. “I guess that’s better than nothing. Now, I’m dropping you home. You’ve had way too many drinks and already made bad decisions and we have the parade left tomorrow. Come on, lets find Pedri and Ferri and head home.”
Eric grumbled but agreed along and then he spoke up. “Wait what about Joan? We should take him home too.”
Dani gave him a look. “I saw him call a car the minute he was out of that bathroom. He’s been long gone.”
The next morning, Eric woke up with a pounding headache, like jackhammers going away behind his eyes.
Man, you gotta love a drunken celebration but hate its consequences.
He groaned and pressed the heel of his palm to one eye, digging in but it brought him no comfort. Still squinting with one eye closed, he reached for his phone and the light from his screen blinded him but he saw that it was still 8 in the morning. He had a couple of texts but he ignored them all for now.
For a few seconds, the headache was his only stress of the day but then he remembered what had happened last night.
Fuck, he wasn’t drunk enough to forget that.
He mustered up all the strength in the world to get up, swinging his legs to the side of the bed and hobbled to the bathroom. As he turned on the lights, the evidence of last night jumped up at him in stark detail.
He was covered from neck to torso in bite marks, very evident proof that he got ravaged by someones teeth yesterday. And okay, he could hide the ones on his torso with his shirt but what the fuck was he going to do about the one on his neck? The parade was in a few hours and he looked like he got mauled.
Fucks sake, Joan and his sharp teeth, he thought with a shiver.
He thought over how to cover it and it’s not like he could wear a turtleneck in May. That would’ve been even more suspicious.
He needed concealer or something but yeah teeny problem. He didn’t have any! He thought if he could ask his sister but he would have to explain this… situation to her and no thanks, he’d rather die.
He thought of which of his friends might have but came up short. Fuck, he had to ask someone and the only level headed name that came to his head was Dani.
So he called him.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” Eric chanted on the phone and on the fifth ring, Dani finally did. He sounded groggy as he mumbled. “Hello?”
“Dani hi can you ask Laura if she has any concealer matching my face complexion? Well my neck actually but—“
“Eric, hold— what, uh, what? Eric, it’s 8 in the morning. I fell asleep three hours ago at 5 am. The parade isn’t until 5 pm, we aren’t due at Camp Nou until 4 pm. Why, why, why are you calling me about fucking concealer?”
“Oh yeah okay sorry. It’s just… well you know what happened with Joan.”
“Vividly.”
“Yeah okay so he um… he left marks behind… that I can’t hide with my shirt.” Eric mumbled.
He heard Dani take multiple deep breaths like he was trying not to lose his mind and then he very calmly said. “Look, come over to my house before we go to Ciutat Esportiva to get ready. I’ll… well, Laura might be able to help I guess.”
“Dani, no! Oh my god, don’t involve her in this! I won’t be able to ever look her in the eye ever again!” Eric said desperately.
“You should’ve thought of that before you let that giant man eat you up! I don’t know any makeup or how to cover… all that. So just come over okay? And bye now, seriously I’m turning my phone off!”
“Ugh fine, okay. But explain the situation to Laura so I don’t have to!”
“Bye.”
“Daniel!”
And Dani cut the call.
So that’s how Eric mortifyingly showed up before the parade. Laura had relentlessly teased him the minute he had entered Dani’s house and his rascal of a best friend didn’t help him for even a minute.
“Oh shoot, you’re too tan and I’m too pale so this shade won’t work!” Laura said and then said something about mixing it with a bronzer and dashed out of the room for a bit.
Eric sat there in his stupid tank top that he had to wear so she could work in peace and cursed at himself. Maybe he should buy some concealer you know, for emergencies like this. He heard Dani snort so he gave him a glare but he just send Eric a flying kiss back.
Laura returned after a bit with something she called bronzer and mixed it with the concealer, using her hand as a palette until she was satisfied with the shade. She started blending it on Eric’s neck, trying not to laugh and teasing him all along the way. “Damn Eric, your boy got some set of teeth on him no? I’ll run out of concealer at this point.”
Eric grumbled. “Are we done yet?”
“Yeah, just this one spot aaaand we’re done! Wow, I did a pretty good job!” She turned around to talk to Dani who, eternally love struck, praised her on a job well done.
When it was time to head to Ciutat Esportiva to get ready for the parade, Dani gave Eric a ride and they walked in to the dressing room. Eric was praying to any god who would listen that he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with Joan anytime soon and of course the sinner that he was, none of his prayers were answered because he bumped into Joan as soon as he opened the door to the dressing room.
“Oops—“ Eric said, his hands instinctively coming up to Joan’s chest. Joan’s hands dropped to Eric’s waist to stabilise him and for a beat, time stopped for them. Eric forgot Dani standing next to them and his hands reflexively cupped themselves over Joan’s pecs like he remembered thats where they started last night on the dance floor. He felt Joan’s fingers tighten on his waist and saw his Adam’s apple move as he gulped. And then Dani harshly cleared his throat and they both jumped apart. Eric blushed furiously as he dashed past Joan into the locker room to get dressed for the parade.
Unbeknownst to Eric, his problems were just starting.
As the parade began moving its way past the city that was painted in blaugrana, Eric found himself running as far away from Joan as possible.
Because looking at him meant thinking of him. And thinking of him meant being transported back last night.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop thinking about it.
Suddenly Ferri clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey, come on, Team Domino picture with the trophies, everyone’s waiting for you!”
Oh, shit. He looked past Ferri’s shoulder to see Pedri, Dani and Joan lined up in front of the trophies at the top of the bus, waiting to take a photo.
"No," he said, too quickly. "I… um I need water. I’ll be back!”
But before he could duck away, Ferran grabbed his elbow and marched him to the spot to take a group photo. He stood at the farthest end possible from Joan, next to Dani.
Just don't look at him. Don't look at his hands. Don't look at his lips. Don't think about—
A flash of memory came up anyway, completely unbidden. Joan's fingers sliding into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and he'd sucked on them like a starving man, drool spilling down his chin. He could taste it still, the salt of Joan's skin.
Why was the photographer taking so long to take this damned picture!
As soon as they were done, Eric ran away again to the corner of the bus. He was lost in thought, just blindly staring at the crowd when a familiar voice came from beside him.
"Hey."
Eric didn’t turn around to look at him, still waving somewhere at the crowd.
"Eric."
Joan's hand landed on his shoulder and it was the kind of touch that would have been normal between them before yesterday. But now it sent a bolt of light up Eric's spine. He flinched and jerked away.
"Don't," Eric muttered.
"Don't what? Don't say hello to my best friend? Don't ask if you're okay?"
"I'm fine." Eric kept his eyes fixed on the crowd below. "Just tired. Long night. You’d know.”
Joan let out sarcastic laugh and the sound made Eric's knees weak. "Oh yeah, I’d know.”
Eric's face burned with shame. Why couldn’t Joan just leave him alone. Why couldn’t he stop making him look at his beautiful face? He could feel Joan's gaze on him and he didn’t want to look directly at him because that meant remembering the memory of those eyes boring into his in the mirror while Joan fucked him raw.
"Look at me," Joan said because of course he did.
Eric shook his head.
"Eric."
Eric's heart pounded and he shook his head again.
"Please, Joan. I can't."
"Can't what?"
"I can't look at you and not—" He swallowed hard. "I can't. Please just... give me some space."
He didn’t wait for Joan’s answer and turned away from him again, retreating to the safety of his ever reliable Ferri. However, he was hanging out with Pedri and that sharp eyed Canario caught his drift straight away. He nudged him with an elbow and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you being weird today?”
“Weird, wha—me!? No, of course not! I’m sooo normal right now!” Eric stammered.
“Okay that high pitched voice you just did? Weird.”
Ferri turned to look at Eric too now. “Now that Pedri mentions it… you really are being weird. And I don’t know why but I’ll figure it out!” Suddenly he looked behind Eric’s back and called out happily, “Joan! Look that kid has a banner for you!” pointing out someone in the crowd to him.
Eric felt Joan come up to his right side and now he was caged with nowhere to run. It was… not good when it happened in front of thousands of people.
Eric tried not to look at Joan at all cost because what if he looks at his lips. What if he remembers what it felt like to kiss him. What if he loses his fucking mind and just kisses him here in front of a trillion cameras.
God, what was this man doing to him? He just wanted to go back to being normal about his best friend but here they were and Eric felt anything but normal.
In his quest of not looking at Joan’s face, he kept his gaze downwards and his eyes fell upon Joan’s hands, his fingers that were curved around the railing of the bus rooftop.
God, his fingers. His long, slender fingers. How they felt inside him, how they felt inside his mouth as he drooled around them, how they felt gripping his throat as Joan fucked him from behind.
He was lost in thought just staring intently at Joan’s fingers when Ferri suddenly clicked his fingers in front of his eyes and Eric blinked awake.
“Bro? I asked you if you wanted another beer. What world are you lost in?” Ferri squinted at him suspiciously.
“Beer?” Eric said back, still a little dazed.
“Yeah? Beer? Beer can? You want one?”
“Um, uh no thanks.” Eric replied and then he heard Joan say from the back, “I’ll have one, Ferri. Thanks.”
Eric kept his back turned to him but when Ferri got him his beer can, Joan reached an arm out closer to grab it and his chest touched Eric’s back.
And all those memories came rushing back in. Fucks sake, he could feel his cock twitching in his shorts he realised, mortified.
He excused himself and fled again, shoving through the crowd. He ducked into the stairwell leading down into the bus's lower deck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
This is ridiculous.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Joan's reflection in that mirror. He felt the sting of his palm against his ass, the burn of his teeth on his shoulder, the thick, heavy fullness of his cock driving into him. As he walked down to the inside of the bus, it was empty with just the driver in the front seat. He ran back straight to the end of the bus where the tinted windows provided him some privacy atleast.
He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes.
He was having the time of his life here with the fans, the city painted in the colours of the club of his life but this thing with Joan was putting a straight damper on his happiness. Why had he done that? Is this what they’re going to be like now? Just awkward around each other and not being able to look at each other in the eye without remembering the things they did in that bathroom?
And the worst thing is, Eric wanted more.
He didn’t want to stop here. He wanted more, more, more. He wanted to have it all day, every day. He wanted his best friend back and he wanted that night back too. He wanted it all wrapped in one person, with him, for good.
He huffed a bitter laugh. Well, he could want all he likes but he wasn’t going to have that. It was impossible. It was just a drunken hook up to Joan which Eric was sure he already regretted.
He didn’t realise he was tearing up until he felt one roll down his face and he tasted the salt of it on the corner of his mouth. He quickly wiped the tears away.
He felt so pathetic right now.
Why was he even losing his shit alone in this bus while everyone celebrated the hard fought league title together? Crying because he realised he ruined everything with his best friend, his favourite person in the world? And because now he can’t even look him in the eye without it being weird? He hated that. He hated ever drinking, ever accepting Joan’s plea to dance, ever going to that bathroom, ever kissing Joan, he hated ever telling him he had the lube they needed.
Except he still didn’t regret it at all. He wanted to have it again but that was the entire problem. The wanting.
He wasn’t allowed to want it when they were both sober. Surely Joan didn’t want it either.
The thought brought more tears to his eyes and he felt angry at himself as he roughly wiped his face again. He was so tired of feeling like shit on a day he was supposed to enjoy. He was so happy yesterday, buzzing with the feeling that comes with winning anything with the club of your life. And look at him today… a sniffling, blubbering mess.
He heard footsteps coming down and he quickly wiped his face properly again. He looked up just in time to see Joan coming down, his gaze instantly going to Eric and he frowned. Eric saw him walking near and then he sat in the chair next to Eric without asking.
Eric kept his own eyes on his knees, he didn’t want to look at him.
“Eric…” Joan said gently.
“I told you I need some space, Joan. Leave me alone.”
He heard Joan sigh but he didn’t get up. “Eric, at least talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong. Come on, please I know what happened was… intense but I don’t want to lose you like this. Hey carinyet, at least look at me, Eric—“
“Looking at you is the entire fucking problem, Joan!” Eric interrupted him.
“Why?”
“Because!” Eric finally lifted his head to look him in the eye and it was a mistake. Fuck, fuck, fuck it was a mistake. “Because every time I look at your eyes I… I think of the way they looked in the mirror yesterday. Every time I look at your lips, I remember the way they felt on mine. I look at your hands and I…” Eric looked away again, bringing his knees up and putting his forehead down on it. “I can’t, I can’t—“
Joan was quiet for a long time but he didn’t get up. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler than ever. “Okay. I understand. I’ll leave you alone.”
So Eric was getting what he wanted but for some reason, Joan just leaving him alone, maybe forever, it scared Eric more than looking him in the eye ever did.
He raised his head off his knees suddenly as he felt the bus seat squeak and Joan getting up. Eric quickly shot out a hand and held Joan’s wrist, looking up at him with wide eyes. He felt so fucking ridiculous. So he wanted Joan to leave him alone but he wanted Joan to stay and he also wanted Joan to never come near him again but he also wanted Joan to carve his chest open and make a home for himself in Eric’s heart.
God, Joan should hate him for these mixed signals he kept sending his way.
Joan probably read a little bit of the conflict in Eric’s eyes because he sat back down. Eric tried his best to keep eye contact when he sat down but yeah, it was way too soon so he blushed furiously and looked back down, although he brought his hand down and intertwined his fingers with Joan who tightened his grip on them in return.
“Eric, I want to ask you something, okay?” Joan started.
Eric nodded, tightening his hold on Joan’s hand impossibly.
“Carinyet, whatever happened last night… do you regret it?
Eric immediately shook his head. “No.”
“Because If you do—" Joan's thumb traced a soft circle over Eric's knuckles. "I mean it. If you regret it, I'll leave you alone. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I don't want to make you feel... this. Whatever this is. If you want to pretend it never happened, I'll do that. For you."
Eric's jaw tightened. "Do you regret it?"
"No." Joan's voice was firm. "I don't. I've wanted you for so long, Eric. I told you last night too. This wasn’t a one time thing for me and it can’t be. But if it’s not more than that for you, I’ll… I can understand.”
Eric's head lifted slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet Joan's for a split second before he looked away again, his cheeks burning.
"How long?" he managed.
Joan let out a a soft laugh. "Years. I knew for sure a year ago when I saw you for the Catalunya friendly games. But I think it started way before that." He squeezed Eric's hand. "I'd catch myself watching you during training back when we were kids playing for the under 17 team. But when I saw you again last summer and you just… you laughed at something and you threw your head back and your eyes… they shined so fucking bright. Brighter than anything I’d seen before and I thought to myself, fuck, I'm so screwed."
Eric huffed a laugh too. "You never said anything."
"How could I? You're my best friend. You're—" Joan's voice cracked a little. "You're my Eric. I couldn't risk losing you."
Eric finally lifted his head fully, meeting Joan's eyes for longer than he had all morning. His face was still red, his eyes glassy but he held Joan's gaze for a long moment.
"I thought I was going crazy," Eric whispered. "I thought, I kept telling myself it was just the heat of the moment. Just the celebration. But I can't stop thinking about you and… Joan, I want more.”
Joan's lips smiled this hopeful little thing. "Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't know. It's terrifying."
"I know." Joan lifted their intertwined hands and pressed a kiss to Eric's knuckles. "Terrifying doesn’t have to mean bad though, hmm? If we do it together?”
Eric's breath hitched a little at the contact but he liked it. It made his chest feel funny and his stomach all fluttery but not in a bad way.
"You know what the worst part is?" Eric said amusedly. "I keep looking at your fingers and thinking about—" He broke off and blushed furiously. "God, I can't even say it without turning into a tomato."
Joan laughed genuinely. "And there you are, turning into a little tomato."
"Shut up," Eric muttered but he was smiling too.
"I'm serious." Joan leaned closer. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you. And it’s just an added bonus to see you blush like this and smile like this. You’re so cute.”
Eric's smile widened even though he tried to bite his lip to stop it. "And you’re so cheesy."
"Oh but you’re smiling, carinyo.”
"Don't get cocky."
"Too late, my head is already in the sky because I made you blush. I’m on top of the world actually.” Joan grinned and then his expression softened. His free hand came up hovering near Eric's cheek but not touching yet. "Can I kiss you?"
Eric's breath caught but he nodded. His eyes were closed before Joan's lips met his.
Joan kissed him oh so softly, nothing like last night. It was slow and careful and gentle like Joan was relearning him, memorising the shape of his lips all over again, just kissing for the sake of kissing. Kissing when it didn’t lead anywhere else.
Eric's hand tightened around Joan's even more and he tilted into the kiss, letting himself sink into it.
When they pulled apart, Eric opened his eyes. Joan was looking at him with an expression that made Eric's chest flutter with so many emotions, full of something that felt a lot like love.
And in that moment, Eric realised he didn't want to look at Joan and just remember last night.
He wanted more.
He wanted to look at Joan's eyes and remember this softness, this sweetness as well as the wildness from last night.
He wanted to look at Joan's hands and remember how gently they held his, their fingers intertwined, not just that he had them in his mouth.
He wanted to look at those hands and not just remember the way they’d pinned him down but maybe one day how they stroked his hair, how they looked when they made breakfast together.
He wanted a thousand more memories with Joan, layered on top of each other until last night was just one beautiful, intimate moment among many.
"I want more," Eric whispered suddenly and even surprised his own self. "I want… more of this. More of you. More memories with you."
Joan's smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Eric loved this smile so, so, so much. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Eric squeezed his hand. "But maybe we can take it slow? My brain is still—" He gestured vaguely at his head. "Trying to catch up."
"Slow," Joan nodded. "I can do slow. I’ll wait for you as long as you need.”
Eric blushed furiously at how sweet he was and he laughed at Joan softly. "You're such a sap."
"Oh you haven’t even seen me started. I’ll be such a sap. I already am for you. I’ll be your little obedient sap actually." Joan lifted their joined hands and kissed Eric's fingers again.
Eric's blush deepened even more, his face burnt but he was smiling. Really, truly smiling at Joan’s silly antics and how comfortable he felt with him. For the first time all day, when he looked at Joan, he didn't feel overwhelmed by last night.
He just felt excited for whatever came next with his little obedient sap.