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fliccuSamir Nasri Redemption Arc
or, Samir does good things and gets even better things in return
Samir/Stevan, Samir/Matija/Edin/Aleks, Samir/Jesus/Alvaro, Jesus/Alvaro, Samir/Micah
R
2694 words
In the wake of his excellent performance in this season's Manchester Derby, it was decided that Samir deserved something lovely. For Cat ♥
It’s Stevan, surprisingly, that grabs him first. Samir had been trying to steady himself, the chants of the fans still rumbling bone deep, and he’d taken a deep breath as he rounded the corner to the dressing room.
Then Stevan had been there, orange training bib bright against the sea of blue and a wide smile stretched across his face. Samir had expected a handshake, a fist bump, maybe, but Stevan grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug that squeezes all of the air Samir had tried so futilely to gather right out of his lungs.
“You were brilliant!” he crows, and it’s so exhilarating, being pressed up against Stevan’s chest like he doesn’t ever want to let Samir go, that Samir barely even notices the way his eardrums tremble at the volume. He’s just settling into the hug, arms coming up to wrap around Stevan’s back, when Stevan pulls away. He still has that toothy grin on his face but then he claps Samir on the shoulder, says something about sharing in that softly lilting accent of his, and then he’s shoving Samir bodily into the dressing room.
It’s almost as raucous in here as it had been out on the pitch, except now it’s condensed into one tiny little room, and instead of the comfortingly familiar smell of grass Samir’s nose is assaulted by the sharp tang of sweat and victory.
Bodies swarm in on him from all sides and Samir’s about the make his way to his locker, to have a drink or a sit down or something because his mind is still struggling to catch up with the last ninety minutes, but then there’s a hand on his shoulder.
The pressure is only gentle and when Samir turns he isn’t surprised to see Matija looking down at him. There’s a sweet little smile on his face and he uses his hand on Samir’s shoulder to carefully guide Samir back through the dressing room, over piles of carelessly discarded boots and spare shirts, right down into a warm lap. Long arms go around his waist, anchoring him there securely, and Samir isn’t given the chance to turn around and see who’s lap exactly this is, before there’s a teasing nip at his earlobe.
“Hello, Samir,” Edin says casually, as if he’s not flicking his tongue over the shell of Samir’s ear.
“Hello-“ Samir starts to say back, but then there’s a tug on the hem of his shorts and when Samir glances back down Matija is on his knees, that sweet smile still in place as he looks up at Samir, fingers rubbing gentle circles on the skin of his thigh just beneath his shorts.
“Let him,” Edin says, holding tighter at Samir’s waist when it looks like he’s going to protest. “You worked so hard today, Samir. Let us give you something nice.” Matija’s still looking patiently up at him, but as soon as Samir nods he’s pulling at Samir’s shorts with both hands, tugging at them until they’re around his knees. His grip around Samir’s cock as he takes it in hand and slowly starts to work him to hardness is firm and assured, like everything Matija does, and Samir tips his head back onto Edin’s shoulder, allows Edin to suck a bruise into the sweaty skin of his neck.
He’s just starting to get into it, hips rocking up into Matija’s grasp, when there’s a commotion off to the side and Samir looks up just in time to see Aleks barrelling his way over to their corner of the room.
“What is going on here?” He says, voice firm enough that Samir almost scrambles to get out of Edin’s lap. That is, until a grin splits Aleks’ face almost clean in two and he reaches down to curl a hand into Matija’s hair. “You’re starting without me?”
Edin’s laugh is warm and rich in Samir’s ear, and it calms him a little, but it still doesn’t stop him from blinking up in surprise as Aleks uses the hand in Matija’s hair to guide the younger boy’s head down and- “Fuck,” Samir gasps, tipping his head back onto Edin’s shoulder as Aleks pushes Matija’s head down until Samir’s cock slips easily past his lips.
“He’s good, no?” Aleks laughs. “You did good today, Samir, so I think-“ Edin makes an affronted noise from where he’s digging tooth shaped welts into Samir’s neck, “we think, you should have something nice. And Matija is, well, Matija is very nice.”
Matija’s looking up at Samir with heavy eyes and he does something with his tongue that has Samir almost howling and yeah, he’s nice, more than nice. Aleks still has a hand curled into his short hair, but the way Matija bobs his head so easily, the pleased smile that curves at his lips where they’re wrapped around Samir’s cock, tells Samir all he needs to know about how much Matija is enjoying this. He reaches out to touch a shaky hand to Matija’s cheek and Matija’s answering hum has Samir gasping, “He’s- oh, he’s-“
Aleks laughs again and he shifts beside Matija, coming closer to the bench so that he’s within reach of Samir. Samir takes advantage of it, grasping out almost blindly with both hands until he feels the sweaty material of Aleks’ shirt between his fingers. Edin’s bare chest feels warm and slick through his own shirt and Samir wonders absently what it would be like they were all shirtless, how it would feel to be sandwiched between the two of them, hot and hard and gasping as Matija curls his tongue around Samir’s cock. He sucks hard, hard enough to have Samir surging forward. He’s clinging to Aleks, now, and it feels almost like it had on the pitch, expect the roar of the crowd is replaced with the sound of Edin’s breath over the back of his neck and Samir can feel Aleks’ cock pressing hot and heavy against his forearm.
Samir tries to reach for it, tries to dip his hand down into Aleks’ shorts, but Aleks stops him, catching Samir’s slim wrist easily and pinning it against the bench. “No, Samir. This is for you only.” His voice is deep with pleasure and Samir wouldn’t mind, honestly, because he hadn’t been the only one that played well today, he isn’t the only one that deserves this strange version of a present that he’s being given, but Aleks holds firm so Samir nods shakily.
His other hand still clings tightly at the front of Aleks’ shirt, but it isn’t long before he’s squirming almost helplessly in Edin’s lap as the warm, wet heat of Matija’s mouth becomes almost too much. He can feel that telltale tugging in the pit of his stomach and he tries to warn Matija, he really does, but the younger man is sucking the voice right out of him and when Samir tugs desperately at the hem of Aleks’ shirt he just barks out a laugh and says, “Go on.”
That’s all the permission Samir needs. The head of his cock knocks against the back of Matija’s throat and then he’s coming, Matija staring almost serenely up at him as he swallows it down so easily. Samir’s loud enough that the whole locker room must be staring at them, but he finds himself unable to quiet, not with the way that Matija continues to work him, swallowing around the head of Samir’s cock until he’s twitching and trembling with sensitivity. It’s Aleks that stops him, tightening his grip in Matija’s hair and pulling him back gently until Samir’s cock slips from his mouth with an obscene pop.
Samir slumps back against Edin’s chest, limbs boneless. Edin’s hands soothe gently over his stomach and Samir watches as Matija shuffles forward on his knees, swollen lips curved up into a sweet smile, and pulls Samir’s shorts back up his legs.
Samir’s about to open his mouth to speak, to thank them all or something equally awkward, but Aleks stops him again with another laugh. “You deserve everything for today, now go on.”
Edin’s hands remain secure and steadying on Samir’s hips as he stands and they don’t leave until Samir is safely to his feet. He hears Edin laugh and mumble something about the shaky way Samir makes his way back to his own seat, but Samir flips him off without turning around and then sinks almost bonelessly down onto the bench.
Samir isn’t left to his own thoughts for long, though. He’s just about to reach down into his bag, rummage around for a drink, when a bottle is held out in front of him. When he looks up, Alvaro is stood there, that warm, self-assured smile on his face and he inclines his head a little, pressing the bottle into Samir’s hand.
Samir takes it gratefully, and Alvaro watches Samir drink with an almost peaceful expression on his face before he speaks.
“We see, what the others, they- ah, they do, for you. Jesus and I-“ Samir peeks around Alvaro’s substantial frame, and he sees Jesus watching the two of them. He balks a little when Samir catches his eye, cheeks turning a beautiful, dusky pink, but he doesn’t look away. “We, also, would like, if you would like- ah-“ Alvaro curses, his tentative English obviously not pliable enough for this kind of conversation, and Samir barks a laugh when he makes an obscene gesture with his hand.
“Okay,” Samir smiles, “yes, if you want to.” Alvaro returns his grin and turns to shout in loud, brash Spanish at Jesus. Jesus pulls a face, but he stands from his seat and makes his way just a little unsurely over to Samir.
“Hello,” he says, soft voice almost lost under the boisterous celebrations still going on across the dressing room. “I can- is okay, if I…?” He gestures in the vague direction of Samir’s crotch, where Samir can already feel his cock stirring in his shorts.
“Yes, whatever you like.” That permission seems to be all Jesus needs, because he drops to his knees and gently pushes Samir’s thighs apart. Alvaro growls something that sounds teasing and Samir watches as Jesus punches him playfully in the thigh before reaching out to tug Samir’s shorts down.
Jesus curls slender fingers around the base of Samir’s cock, and it doesn’t take much persuasion before Samir feels himself growing hard again. Alvaro rests one hand on the back of his neck, and Samir sees those last vestiges of shyness melt from Jesus’ body at that comfortingly familiar touch. “Okay?” he asks again, and he waits for Samir to nod before pressing the head of Samir’s cock to his mouth.
He’s more of a tease than Matija had been, mouthing wetly around the head of his cock until Samir feels like he’s going to go insane. He squirms on the bench and Alvaro laughs as Jesus relents, taking the tiniest bit more into his mouth.
“Cheeky, no?” he says, squeezing the back of Jesus’ neck. Samir just nods, tipping his head back. He hears Alvaro whisper something to him and then Jesus is sinking right down until his nose knocks against the warm skin of Samir’s belly.
Samir peers down and he almost wishes he hadn’t, not when he sees those piercing eyes fixed on his face. His breath shutters in his throat and Samir reaches out for Alvaro, tugs on the waistband of his shorts.
“Let me,” Samir gasps, back arching when Jesus hums, the vibrations shooting right down his cock. “Please, I want to- oh.”
Alvaro shuffles closer, palm still resting on the back of Jesus’ neck, and Samir wastes no time in slipping his hand under his shorts. He takes hold of Alvaro’s cock, pumps it a few times and it’s not as refined as he would like, but it’s hard to concentrate with Jesus’ head bobbing between his legs. He’s still able to get Alvaro cursing with a twist of his wrist, though, so Samir supposes it can’t be that bad.
It doesn’t take long before Samir feels his balls tightening. He tries to warn Jesus, but his voice dies in his throat when Alvaro growls, “He likes-“ and then Samir finds himself spilling down the throat of a teammate for the second time this afternoon. Jesus swallows around him and it’s too much for Samir to take, his cock so sensitive it’s almost painful. He tugs almost absently at Alvaro’s cock as his body comes down, and Alvaro comes apart under Samir’s hand as he stares down at Jesus, watches as Jesus wipes Samir’s come from his chin and licks it up like a kitten.
Samir tugs his hand from Alvaro’s shorts, and he doesn’t even have the energy to clean himself up as he slumps back, exhausted. Jesus tucks him away carefully, pulls Samir’s shorts back up, and he squeezes Samir’s thigh as he stands. “Thank you,” he says, and Samir’s about to reach out, to at least offer to get Jesus off, no matter how tired he is, but Jesus shakes his head and Samir can’t help but notice how cute his laugh is. “Is okay,” he says, and he actually looks a little embarrassed as he glances up at Alvaro. “Oh,” Samir says absently, because he gets what that look means.
Alvaro ruffles Samir’s hair fondly, and then the pair of them are retreating back to their own side of the dressing room, Alvaro’s hands cupping Jesus’ ass as they go.
Samir doesn’t move from where he’s propped against the wall and he’s sure he looks a sight, but he couldn’t care less. Not with the way his limbs feel laden down with pleasure and he can barely keep his eyes open. No, Samir thinks, he could quite happily fall asleep here, and he isn’t far off doing that when he feels another body appear by his side.
“Well you certainly decided to celebrate in style, didn’t you?” That voice is so familiar and Samir’s grin stretches wide as he cracks his eyes open, sees Micah’s smiling face peering down at him.
“Yes, well, when you play as well as I did,” Samir teases.
“You fucking little shit!” Micah punches Samir in the arm, but his laugh is joyful and his grip is gentle as he curls his fingers around Samir’s bicep. “4-1 though, Sami. Beating that lot just never gets old, does it?” Micah sounds strangely wistful and Samir knows that victories like this mean nearly as much to players like Micah, who have been with the club for almost as long as they can remember, for whom victories like this would have been little more than a pipe dream not so many years ago, as they do to the fans. Micah’s body is warm and solid next to his, and Samir allows himself to pitch forward until his head rests tiredly on Micah’s shoulder. Micah peeks down at him but Samir just shakes his head.
“I’m fine, honestly,” he says softly, taking Micah’s hand from his arm and squeezing it. “Just a little tired.
“I’ll bet,” Micah laughs again, but it’s quieter this time, and he squeezes back. “How about we get you showered and cleaned up, yeah?” Micah stands, hooking both arms under Samir’s armpits, and helps Samir shakily to his feet. “Then I could maybe take you back to mine and we could do some celebrating of our own. What do you say?”
The noise in the dressing room is still rambunctious, but as Samir puts an arm around Micah’s waist to steady himself it feels almost like the two of them are alone in the room, and he is the only thing that Micah’s smiling eyes can see. “Okay, I’d like that,” he agrees easily, and as Micah guides him into the shower, as he peels Samir’s kit off and adjusts the shower head until blessedly warm water cascades down over Samir’s tired muscles, Samir can’t think of any other way that he’d rather spend the rest of his evening.
Besides, as that old saying goes, third time’s a charm.
or, Samir does good things and gets even better things in return
Samir/Stevan, Samir/Matija/Edin/Aleks, Samir/Jesus/Alvaro, Jesus/Alvaro, Samir/Micah
R
2694 words
In the wake of his excellent performance in this season's Manchester Derby, it was decided that Samir deserved something lovely. For Cat ♥
It’s Stevan, surprisingly, that grabs him first. Samir had been trying to steady himself, the chants of the fans still rumbling bone deep, and he’d taken a deep breath as he rounded the corner to the dressing room.
Then Stevan had been there, orange training bib bright against the sea of blue and a wide smile stretched across his face. Samir had expected a handshake, a fist bump, maybe, but Stevan grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug that squeezes all of the air Samir had tried so futilely to gather right out of his lungs.
“You were brilliant!” he crows, and it’s so exhilarating, being pressed up against Stevan’s chest like he doesn’t ever want to let Samir go, that Samir barely even notices the way his eardrums tremble at the volume. He’s just settling into the hug, arms coming up to wrap around Stevan’s back, when Stevan pulls away. He still has that toothy grin on his face but then he claps Samir on the shoulder, says something about sharing in that softly lilting accent of his, and then he’s shoving Samir bodily into the dressing room.
It’s almost as raucous in here as it had been out on the pitch, except now it’s condensed into one tiny little room, and instead of the comfortingly familiar smell of grass Samir’s nose is assaulted by the sharp tang of sweat and victory.
Bodies swarm in on him from all sides and Samir’s about the make his way to his locker, to have a drink or a sit down or something because his mind is still struggling to catch up with the last ninety minutes, but then there’s a hand on his shoulder.
The pressure is only gentle and when Samir turns he isn’t surprised to see Matija looking down at him. There’s a sweet little smile on his face and he uses his hand on Samir’s shoulder to carefully guide Samir back through the dressing room, over piles of carelessly discarded boots and spare shirts, right down into a warm lap. Long arms go around his waist, anchoring him there securely, and Samir isn’t given the chance to turn around and see who’s lap exactly this is, before there’s a teasing nip at his earlobe.
“Hello, Samir,” Edin says casually, as if he’s not flicking his tongue over the shell of Samir’s ear.
“Hello-“ Samir starts to say back, but then there’s a tug on the hem of his shorts and when Samir glances back down Matija is on his knees, that sweet smile still in place as he looks up at Samir, fingers rubbing gentle circles on the skin of his thigh just beneath his shorts.
“Let him,” Edin says, holding tighter at Samir’s waist when it looks like he’s going to protest. “You worked so hard today, Samir. Let us give you something nice.” Matija’s still looking patiently up at him, but as soon as Samir nods he’s pulling at Samir’s shorts with both hands, tugging at them until they’re around his knees. His grip around Samir’s cock as he takes it in hand and slowly starts to work him to hardness is firm and assured, like everything Matija does, and Samir tips his head back onto Edin’s shoulder, allows Edin to suck a bruise into the sweaty skin of his neck.
He’s just starting to get into it, hips rocking up into Matija’s grasp, when there’s a commotion off to the side and Samir looks up just in time to see Aleks barrelling his way over to their corner of the room.
“What is going on here?” He says, voice firm enough that Samir almost scrambles to get out of Edin’s lap. That is, until a grin splits Aleks’ face almost clean in two and he reaches down to curl a hand into Matija’s hair. “You’re starting without me?”
Edin’s laugh is warm and rich in Samir’s ear, and it calms him a little, but it still doesn’t stop him from blinking up in surprise as Aleks uses the hand in Matija’s hair to guide the younger boy’s head down and- “Fuck,” Samir gasps, tipping his head back onto Edin’s shoulder as Aleks pushes Matija’s head down until Samir’s cock slips easily past his lips.
“He’s good, no?” Aleks laughs. “You did good today, Samir, so I think-“ Edin makes an affronted noise from where he’s digging tooth shaped welts into Samir’s neck, “we think, you should have something nice. And Matija is, well, Matija is very nice.”
Matija’s looking up at Samir with heavy eyes and he does something with his tongue that has Samir almost howling and yeah, he’s nice, more than nice. Aleks still has a hand curled into his short hair, but the way Matija bobs his head so easily, the pleased smile that curves at his lips where they’re wrapped around Samir’s cock, tells Samir all he needs to know about how much Matija is enjoying this. He reaches out to touch a shaky hand to Matija’s cheek and Matija’s answering hum has Samir gasping, “He’s- oh, he’s-“
Aleks laughs again and he shifts beside Matija, coming closer to the bench so that he’s within reach of Samir. Samir takes advantage of it, grasping out almost blindly with both hands until he feels the sweaty material of Aleks’ shirt between his fingers. Edin’s bare chest feels warm and slick through his own shirt and Samir wonders absently what it would be like they were all shirtless, how it would feel to be sandwiched between the two of them, hot and hard and gasping as Matija curls his tongue around Samir’s cock. He sucks hard, hard enough to have Samir surging forward. He’s clinging to Aleks, now, and it feels almost like it had on the pitch, expect the roar of the crowd is replaced with the sound of Edin’s breath over the back of his neck and Samir can feel Aleks’ cock pressing hot and heavy against his forearm.
Samir tries to reach for it, tries to dip his hand down into Aleks’ shorts, but Aleks stops him, catching Samir’s slim wrist easily and pinning it against the bench. “No, Samir. This is for you only.” His voice is deep with pleasure and Samir wouldn’t mind, honestly, because he hadn’t been the only one that played well today, he isn’t the only one that deserves this strange version of a present that he’s being given, but Aleks holds firm so Samir nods shakily.
His other hand still clings tightly at the front of Aleks’ shirt, but it isn’t long before he’s squirming almost helplessly in Edin’s lap as the warm, wet heat of Matija’s mouth becomes almost too much. He can feel that telltale tugging in the pit of his stomach and he tries to warn Matija, he really does, but the younger man is sucking the voice right out of him and when Samir tugs desperately at the hem of Aleks’ shirt he just barks out a laugh and says, “Go on.”
That’s all the permission Samir needs. The head of his cock knocks against the back of Matija’s throat and then he’s coming, Matija staring almost serenely up at him as he swallows it down so easily. Samir’s loud enough that the whole locker room must be staring at them, but he finds himself unable to quiet, not with the way that Matija continues to work him, swallowing around the head of Samir’s cock until he’s twitching and trembling with sensitivity. It’s Aleks that stops him, tightening his grip in Matija’s hair and pulling him back gently until Samir’s cock slips from his mouth with an obscene pop.
Samir slumps back against Edin’s chest, limbs boneless. Edin’s hands soothe gently over his stomach and Samir watches as Matija shuffles forward on his knees, swollen lips curved up into a sweet smile, and pulls Samir’s shorts back up his legs.
Samir’s about to open his mouth to speak, to thank them all or something equally awkward, but Aleks stops him again with another laugh. “You deserve everything for today, now go on.”
Edin’s hands remain secure and steadying on Samir’s hips as he stands and they don’t leave until Samir is safely to his feet. He hears Edin laugh and mumble something about the shaky way Samir makes his way back to his own seat, but Samir flips him off without turning around and then sinks almost bonelessly down onto the bench.
Samir isn’t left to his own thoughts for long, though. He’s just about to reach down into his bag, rummage around for a drink, when a bottle is held out in front of him. When he looks up, Alvaro is stood there, that warm, self-assured smile on his face and he inclines his head a little, pressing the bottle into Samir’s hand.
Samir takes it gratefully, and Alvaro watches Samir drink with an almost peaceful expression on his face before he speaks.
“We see, what the others, they- ah, they do, for you. Jesus and I-“ Samir peeks around Alvaro’s substantial frame, and he sees Jesus watching the two of them. He balks a little when Samir catches his eye, cheeks turning a beautiful, dusky pink, but he doesn’t look away. “We, also, would like, if you would like- ah-“ Alvaro curses, his tentative English obviously not pliable enough for this kind of conversation, and Samir barks a laugh when he makes an obscene gesture with his hand.
“Okay,” Samir smiles, “yes, if you want to.” Alvaro returns his grin and turns to shout in loud, brash Spanish at Jesus. Jesus pulls a face, but he stands from his seat and makes his way just a little unsurely over to Samir.
“Hello,” he says, soft voice almost lost under the boisterous celebrations still going on across the dressing room. “I can- is okay, if I…?” He gestures in the vague direction of Samir’s crotch, where Samir can already feel his cock stirring in his shorts.
“Yes, whatever you like.” That permission seems to be all Jesus needs, because he drops to his knees and gently pushes Samir’s thighs apart. Alvaro growls something that sounds teasing and Samir watches as Jesus punches him playfully in the thigh before reaching out to tug Samir’s shorts down.
Jesus curls slender fingers around the base of Samir’s cock, and it doesn’t take much persuasion before Samir feels himself growing hard again. Alvaro rests one hand on the back of his neck, and Samir sees those last vestiges of shyness melt from Jesus’ body at that comfortingly familiar touch. “Okay?” he asks again, and he waits for Samir to nod before pressing the head of Samir’s cock to his mouth.
He’s more of a tease than Matija had been, mouthing wetly around the head of his cock until Samir feels like he’s going to go insane. He squirms on the bench and Alvaro laughs as Jesus relents, taking the tiniest bit more into his mouth.
“Cheeky, no?” he says, squeezing the back of Jesus’ neck. Samir just nods, tipping his head back. He hears Alvaro whisper something to him and then Jesus is sinking right down until his nose knocks against the warm skin of Samir’s belly.
Samir peers down and he almost wishes he hadn’t, not when he sees those piercing eyes fixed on his face. His breath shutters in his throat and Samir reaches out for Alvaro, tugs on the waistband of his shorts.
“Let me,” Samir gasps, back arching when Jesus hums, the vibrations shooting right down his cock. “Please, I want to- oh.”
Alvaro shuffles closer, palm still resting on the back of Jesus’ neck, and Samir wastes no time in slipping his hand under his shorts. He takes hold of Alvaro’s cock, pumps it a few times and it’s not as refined as he would like, but it’s hard to concentrate with Jesus’ head bobbing between his legs. He’s still able to get Alvaro cursing with a twist of his wrist, though, so Samir supposes it can’t be that bad.
It doesn’t take long before Samir feels his balls tightening. He tries to warn Jesus, but his voice dies in his throat when Alvaro growls, “He likes-“ and then Samir finds himself spilling down the throat of a teammate for the second time this afternoon. Jesus swallows around him and it’s too much for Samir to take, his cock so sensitive it’s almost painful. He tugs almost absently at Alvaro’s cock as his body comes down, and Alvaro comes apart under Samir’s hand as he stares down at Jesus, watches as Jesus wipes Samir’s come from his chin and licks it up like a kitten.
Samir tugs his hand from Alvaro’s shorts, and he doesn’t even have the energy to clean himself up as he slumps back, exhausted. Jesus tucks him away carefully, pulls Samir’s shorts back up, and he squeezes Samir’s thigh as he stands. “Thank you,” he says, and Samir’s about to reach out, to at least offer to get Jesus off, no matter how tired he is, but Jesus shakes his head and Samir can’t help but notice how cute his laugh is. “Is okay,” he says, and he actually looks a little embarrassed as he glances up at Alvaro. “Oh,” Samir says absently, because he gets what that look means.
Alvaro ruffles Samir’s hair fondly, and then the pair of them are retreating back to their own side of the dressing room, Alvaro’s hands cupping Jesus’ ass as they go.
Samir doesn’t move from where he’s propped against the wall and he’s sure he looks a sight, but he couldn’t care less. Not with the way his limbs feel laden down with pleasure and he can barely keep his eyes open. No, Samir thinks, he could quite happily fall asleep here, and he isn’t far off doing that when he feels another body appear by his side.
“Well you certainly decided to celebrate in style, didn’t you?” That voice is so familiar and Samir’s grin stretches wide as he cracks his eyes open, sees Micah’s smiling face peering down at him.
“Yes, well, when you play as well as I did,” Samir teases.
“You fucking little shit!” Micah punches Samir in the arm, but his laugh is joyful and his grip is gentle as he curls his fingers around Samir’s bicep. “4-1 though, Sami. Beating that lot just never gets old, does it?” Micah sounds strangely wistful and Samir knows that victories like this mean nearly as much to players like Micah, who have been with the club for almost as long as they can remember, for whom victories like this would have been little more than a pipe dream not so many years ago, as they do to the fans. Micah’s body is warm and solid next to his, and Samir allows himself to pitch forward until his head rests tiredly on Micah’s shoulder. Micah peeks down at him but Samir just shakes his head.
“I’m fine, honestly,” he says softly, taking Micah’s hand from his arm and squeezing it. “Just a little tired.
“I’ll bet,” Micah laughs again, but it’s quieter this time, and he squeezes back. “How about we get you showered and cleaned up, yeah?” Micah stands, hooking both arms under Samir’s armpits, and helps Samir shakily to his feet. “Then I could maybe take you back to mine and we could do some celebrating of our own. What do you say?”
The noise in the dressing room is still rambunctious, but as Samir puts an arm around Micah’s waist to steady himself it feels almost like the two of them are alone in the room, and he is the only thing that Micah’s smiling eyes can see. “Okay, I’d like that,” he agrees easily, and as Micah guides him into the shower, as he peels Samir’s kit off and adjusts the shower head until blessedly warm water cascades down over Samir’s tired muscles, Samir can’t think of any other way that he’d rather spend the rest of his evening.
Besides, as that old saying goes, third time’s a charm.
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Date: 2013-10-26 12:33 pm (UTC)Seriously this was awesome and I loved it!
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Date: 2013-10-26 12:41 pm (UTC)I'm so glad that you liked it! ♥
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Date: 2013-10-28 09:47 am (UTC)I'm filled with so much glee, omg, I can't even begin to tell you. First of all, THANK YOU :D I'm so so so so happy; this is so perfect and just filled with so much team cute and togetherness and I just want to burst. I have so many feelings about that Balkan assault in the beginning because, of course, they do everything together, including tag team giving head. Also, um, it's so very hot. Did I say that yet? Shame on me, I should have started with that. It's incredibly hot. The mental image of Matija kneeling and smiling softly and blinking owlishly up at Samir... well, I'm just saying it's going to stay with me awhile.
I LOVE THAT ALVARO WAS IN THERE OKAY. I love him. He's such an amazingly gorgeous chunk of a man and thank GOODNESS he and that pocket precious Jesus are starting to get in on the action. LBH, it was only a matter of time. <3
And, ugh, wait, when Micah showed up in the end I have to tell you I squealed a lot okay, there was a lot of whale noises coming out of me because UM, PERFECT CUTE OTP. I love the joy and care and familiarity at the end, between the two of them. Honestly, Samir/Micah is so precious because no one would have expected all of us to ship it but really, it makes so much sense and they're just so smiley and pretty together, thinking about the two of them together just brings so much joy. And the bit about how much the Manchester derby victories mean to players like Micah, wow, that really hit me and made me think about how lovely these victories really, truly mean for the long-serving players and, by analogy, the long-suffering supporters.
(As an aside, I'm writing this a day after the really painful loss at Stamford Bridge and even though it still frustrates me like nothing else ~OMG CHARLES JOSEPH ARGHHHGHHH~ it assuages me a bit because, well, stuff like this builds character, for them and for us, heh. It still doesn't stop me from screaming expletives at my TV tho.)
The ending is perfect. You are perfect. Samir and Micah together being lovely and cute together is perfect. ILU, bb <333 reading this again cheered me up.
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Date: 2013-10-29 01:12 am (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing it and playing with everyone's different personalities and just yes yes, it was a pleasure to write for you. Seriously I read this comment first thing when I woke up this morning, then reread it over and over throughout the day, and it still makes me smile from ear to ear.
(Oh Joe. Oh Joe. I just- I just don't know what to think. The media assassination makes me sick to my stomach, though, and as angry and frustrated as I am with him, I want to wrap him in bubblewrap and hide him away from all that. He's ours no matter what and we're the only ones allowed to call him names. I watched the match with my family, and as soon as he came running off his line, my dad, my sister and I all stood up in tandem and started screaming, so... :( ugh.)
i l uuuuuuu~ ♥