As someone who's obsessed with changing ages in her own story, I'll do it again. Lewandowski is 31 here and cris 27- okay? Cristiano at 27 is FUCKING PERFECTION. Ahem. To the story.
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The recent transfer window left the players of Barca in such of a badly dismantled state,- forcing them to slack during practice.
It was this pact that Barca players and madrid players had agreed to follow the rules and regulations of, which read as follows:
- The transfer of the players of an opposition team to the rival team is strictly forbidden. Although R9 had gotten away with it, now it's strictly forbidden.
It's like some sort of untold and unspoken curse that's been left to age with time, as both clubs begin to loose all their players that once glorified the Spanish clubs to stand where they are now, floating in a sea of praises from their home fans.
Although the 'pact' has been left untouched and in a pile of dust from not being dared to have a glance at, Cristiano being the Godly of a person he thinks he is, decides to break through the barrier, beyond all the odds that no fan has ever dared to think about.
The transfer. It's been troubling everyone, like an itch that just won't go.
It's successfully flooded their minds with a high level of anxiety- one that's gonna make you go so insane that there's no name for it. The insanity has lived to be a great threat, and it has certainly given everyone a great spin- now that they're just plain stiff, too shocked to even begin with.
But Lewandowski doesn't understand any bit of it, as he paces across the field back and forth, thinking of how Cristiano would look in the new blaugrana jersey that would now replace his boldy red jersey of red that once made him an easy target in the transfer window.
Without a care in the world, he manages to harshly clash with a mannequin, his head clanking with the flat, cold metal surface, stumbling to the ground, hand stuck on his head, a low groan escaping his lips.
He hears a low laugh, as someone's shadow blocks the sun out of his way. Lewandowski looks up to find a fairly tall and tanned figure to be acting as the shade from the sun, his face not exactly too visible from the shadow but too familiar and recognizable.
So it wasn't too hard for him to realize who it is, at first glance.
Lewandowski used his new fellow team-mate's hand and got back up on his feet, flashing a smile, his pale blue eyes standing alone in a void of it's own, which the sun's rays couldn't find itself worthy enough to compete against, reflecting away, leaving a sparkle.
Cristiano smiled back, a very teethy one, the one he doesn't usually show. His cheeks heated- probably from the burning rays of the sun. Lewandowski escorted him to the bleachers where they found themselves to be in a small conversation, getting engaged with each other's life and hobbies.
But it wasn't before long the Polish began to feel a tad bit uncomfortable. Maybe he wasn't feeling well. He shrugged it off and continued to talk, without realizing how this would grow to be a major problem within a few minutes.
And it lived upto it's expectations, none of which Lewandowski payed attention to, but definitely should have.
A man got him hard. A fucking man. Disgusting. He's straight. But that does seem like it, anymore.
The tent in his shorts doesn't say much about his sexuality that he refers himself to be, well.
- "I might need to excuse myself, if you don't mind that is."
He said standing up, as Cris looked up at him and smiled almost apologetically.
- "No no ofcourse, please go ahead" He gestured his hand politely, as the Polish was soon out of his sight, breathe heavy and mind empty of any solution to the problem- the solution he wants to avoid but can't.
Certainly, this is gonna be a problem.
---
- "Hey,"
Oh not again, Lewandowski grumbled as Cristiano passed the ball. They began to pass, and the distance was too close to go unnoticed but no one couldn't care to bother.
Lewandowski can only pray to God now for the best to happen.
- "Are you the sun? Cuz you're hot"
- "T-Thank you."
- "You're more than welcome, sexy." Cristiano winked and kicked the ball so softly as if a feather, as the whistle blew.
A groan escaped his lips. He doesn't wish to endure this any longer.
He doesn't deserve to be left edged like this in the middle of the training grounds by a team mate.
It makes Lewandowski go insane when Cristiano says unmindful and rather flirtatious things to him, which is very rare, because Lewandowski isn't one who's so easy to stun.
He'll stun you but you'll never got to stun him, which is why it makes Cristiano much of a worthy oponent.
Lewandowski's eyes look heavy as he returns to the locker room, no signs of any other players but their reeking smell of sweat from the jerseys left to rot in the hamper by the near corner.
He glances down at his problem. He sighs and groans, cussing at Cristiano, planning to go take a cold shower to put off some steam from the adrenaline that's pushing the tension around his body, only distributing the heat more, much to his luck today.
But God didn't seem to be in favor anymore. Because entering the shower, he's instantly met with the familiar bold brown pair of eyes eating at his soul across the room, a cheeky smile stretching his lips, the upper half of his body covered with patches of lather.
Lewandowski's dick grows harder. He can barely walk from the impact now. Either he jerks off, or he's left to die now. He tries his best to keep his calm, the reason to his problem just in the next stall, his head and upper half of the body peaking out, leaving the lower half covered from the matte glass seperator.
Lewandowski rubbed some soap onto his body. He could feel a pair of eyes still stuck on him, making him feel more and more hot and bothered, slowing his hands down from brushing the lather over his skin.
The stare almost felt like it was being done by purpose, just to see if the other is triggered by it. And Cris knows he is, so he's doing nothing to stop it either.
Cristiano wants to see where this will end. Hopefully it's the ending he's been anticipating for. Or else all this hard work would've been all in vain.
Lewandowski decides to stare back at the Portugese.
It's the clash of ice and fire. The atmosphere is overtaken by the radiating aura of dominance which is coming from none other than Lewandowski, his gaze growing colder and ironically 'hotter' as seconds pass.
And the time reach it's end, or Lewandowski is just reaching his dead end of tolerance.
And it's surely at it's ground breaking point, because the veins on his neck are pertruding more than they should be.
Like things couldn't get any heated, Cristiano began to bite his lower lip sensually from the middle and slowly let his canine teeth graze on the corner, flashing a triggering side smile, multitasking in ease.
- "You know what? Since you've asked,"
Lewandowski grumbls and pushes him up against the wall, waist pinned with one hand, kissing Cris hard on the mouth as his free hand roamed all over his body, spreading the lather all over.
Cristiano tried his best to prove himself to be the one dominant here, but gave in to the pleasure that the Polish man was offering him. He moaned to every kiss that Lewandowski began to place a trail of, starting from the neck, down to his torso and thighs.
Lewandowski looked through Cristiano's soul with his striking blue eyes, while beginning to tease his now throbbing dick by giving kitty licks on the slit. It only made him feel more hot and bothered than he was before.
Cristiano grabbed a fistful of his soft hair and began to tug at it as he managed to take majority of Cristiano's length into his mouth, the tip of his dick hitting the back of his throat. But he didn't gag, which gave away alot about Lewandowski's amount of experience into such activity.
- "Fuck me already!"
It was a statement that came out only as a mere whisper, but it wouldn't be too low to escape Lewandowski's attention.
So he began to speed his current job up. And it worked, because a few seconds later, Cristiano was met with his rather very dramatic orgasm- as he rolled his eyes and slacked against the wall, his legs already giving in.
Lewandowski smirked as he stood back up, now cowering over the fairly young Portuguese lad.
- "We're only getting started, sweetheart."
Maybe Cristiano should have given it a second thought when he was pushing the Polish to rush the process and jump to what is going to be the major part of this whole situation.
And indeed, regret and fear of the outcome rushed the pace of his heart, and all the thoughts in his mind that are now a mess as his pupils search for any signs that'll say this is going to make him cry the next morning, but he doesn't find anything near to what he thought would stand as a supposed warning.
He only found the start of unending, blue voids that couldn't find their matching ends in the alternate dimension that existed in his eyes only. The striking, black pool of nothing that created his pupil created a beautiful contrast that remained unmatched to that of any other thing worthy of being compared to this wonder.
And so the moments flowed in their own rythm, slow and steady, step by step, without a rush.
Every action done was filled with such passion and warmth that it didn't at all come to Cristiano's notice that he's doing this with a team mate without the conscience that what the consequences might be. To Cristiano, it only stood as a reason that he could make up for, but not obstacle that he couldn't avoid.
They carried on with their intercourse.
Although it wasn't one of innocense, it did contain all the elements to prove anything near to the fact that they both are obsessed with one another.
Lewandowski's soft grip on his body and his lovely eyes never leaving the latter's sight was one of the many proofs that stood as a testimony of his obsession for the younger. And Cristiano wasn't one to oblige.
He remained very responsive to every move Lewandowski made on him, and every inch of skin that he marked.
What seemed like a never ending session came to and end as they both met their orgasm for what they assume is the second time.
They both pant, raising their gaze to look at each other once more, as if not enough. Cristiano doesn't waste the next second and kisses him plain on the lips. Lewandowski responds by synchronizing the movement of his lips with Cristiano's as their eyes grow half lidded.
They part away, and Cristiano shows no signs of interest in leaving the Polish's side. Lewandowski sighs and grabs the towel, wiping him and Cristiano.
- "It's been what, like an hour since we've been in here? They'll get suspicious, Cristiano."
- "I don't care!! I wanna stay with you"
- "I understand, so do I. But we don't want them to find out yet, do we?"
- "um..well.."
- "Exactly. But don't worry, I have my plans."
With a wink and a smile, he left the shower rooms. Cristiano could only think what he meant by that statement, as he scratched his head and managed to somehow limp his way out of the showers in some degree of agonizing pain.
---
The training ended way late than anyone had expected.
Cristiano hadn't been able to talk to Lewandowski after their little session in the shower rooms, which he dreaded. He did get to train alongside him but wasn't able to talk to him for once, at all.
He dressed a pout on his lips whilst he packed his things up from the locker as the few players were left in the locker room, soon even they began to leave, as now Cristiano remained alone.
- "He didn't even give me his number..."
Cristiano sadly muttered, as he slid his duffel bag over his shoulder. But as he was about to turn to leave, a paper fell to the ground from what seemed like it had fell from under his bag.
He picked it up and opened the folds, to see a specific name with a number written underneath that immediately lit his face up. He crumpled it between his fingers and walked away a happy man.
- "God answered my prayers"
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