Work Text:
“Fuck, I just want someone to get me off,” Ferran complains as soon as they’re back at the hotel.
Pedri had every intention of going straight to sleep. He’s not one to drink, but after being told, “We’re on vacation,” for the hundredth time that night, he decided to have “something fruity, since he’s from the tropics,” as Gavi so eloquently told the bartender. She had rolled her eyes: either too drunk herself to realize who she was serving or simply totally oblivious to football.
“It’s not the tropics,” Pedri had argued exactly once before getting lost in a mango strawberry something. God, was it sweet. And no one stopped him from ordering three more, especially since Gavi would complain about his beer and then “hold” Pedri’s drink for him.
Yeah, real clever.
So when he fumbled around with his wallet to get the hotel passkey out, his first stop was going to be the horrendously expensive mini fridge to drink all the water he possibly could. But leave it to Ferran to invite himself in and for Gavi to follow them around, his tail between his legs like a wounded dog at the shelter.
Yeah, all three of them are coming home alone. Except Ferran’s the only one who’s actually mad about that.
“I can understand both of you not ending up with anyone, but I seriously thought that one girl was down.”
Pedri tries to catch Gavi’s eye, to silently ask Which girl? Ferran had talked to at least a dozen.
Gavi, though, is far more insulted. “What do you mean you understand us not getting with anyone?”
Ferran groans. “Well, you look like you’re twelve, and Pedri’s wearing those awful jeans, so. Let’s face it. Not exactly the best wingmen.”
Pedri looks down at his outfit. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”
“If you have to ask.” Ferran sighs and plops down on the couch.
Gavi snorts. “If you were any better with women, you wouldn’t need a wingman. Or to chat up a whole bar.”
Pedri agrees, but he’s finally managed to get the cap off his overpriced water bottle. He drinks heavily, polishing off the first bottle before cracking into another. His head isn’t so fuzzy as it was when he downed the third mango strawberry concoction. It was worse half an hour ago, when they were in the cab, but standing is a bit of a struggle, and, God, is he thirsty.
“Says the guy who talked to exactly two people before getting piss drunk.”
“I’m not piss drunk,” Gavi argues back. “Why does everything have to be about getting laid? Why can’t we just be on vacation and have fun?”
Pedri shoots him a dirty look. “Bro, going out was your idea!”
“If we had it your way, we’d never go out again.”
“Yeah, because we wasted four hours, a couple hundred Euros, for nothing. I could’ve stayed home and watched-”
“Oh here he goes, fucking Game of Thrones-”
“I still haven’t watched the ending!” Pedri shouts, louder than he intends. “I thought we were supposed to be relaxing!”
Ferran leans back into the sofa cushions, watching the both of them. “As much as this is entertaining, I’m still mad at you idiots.”
Gavi turns back to Ferran. “Why are you mad at me?!”
“Because neither of you helped and you probably made it worse-”
“Okay, for the last time. We didn’t prevent you from getting laid. Take it up with your tiny dick and terrible pick up lines.”
Ferran scowls. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious! We’ve been here two days, and it’s like you’re hellbent on getting your dick wet!”
Pedri nods along because Gavi is right. Ferran has been on the prowl since they landed. He even hit on the check in lady at the lobby, who flushed very prettily before making a show of her wedding ring.
“You’ve got a couple million. Hire someone,” Pedri says without thinking. Both Gavi and Ferran stop their squabbling to turn to Pedri, shock on their faces. “What?”
“Uh, wow. He must be sloshed.”
“I’m not that drunk,” Pedri groans, a hand over his eyes. He needs to pee. Drinking water that fast, not smart. “It’s a solution.”
“Yeah, no thanks man. I know you’re into the whole MILF thing, but I would prefer someone from this generation.”
Pedri lets the insult slide. Ferran loves poking fun at his tenacity to run after older women, but the slight comes from a man who’s sitting alone on his couch, positively bitchless, so Pedri’s not that offended.
“Damn, what was her name again? Maria? Do you think I could find her on Insta?” Ferran has his phone out. “Or she has to be on Tinder.”
Gavi turns to Pedri. “He’s hopeless.”
“It’s only 1:00 in the morning,” Ferran scowls again. “Just because you guys are prudes doesn’t mean I have to suffer.”
“Can you go suffer in your room, then?” Pedri asks, but Ferran pays him no mind.
“None of these girls look like they give good head.”
Pedri groans. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Spoken like a true prude-”
“Theoretically, men do suck dick the best,” Gavi says solemnly. Pedri doesn’t know how, but Gavi’s managed to find a beer to crack open and drink.
“What?”
“I mean, girls can suck dick pretty well, but obviously a guy would know better.” Gavi takes another sip of his beer as if debating dick sucking merit is just another conversation topic between the bros. “Because he’s a guy.”
“What?”
“Are you stupid?” Pedri asks abruptly. “Or just drunk?”
Ferran holds up his phone. “I’m trying to figure out what he’s saying while swiping!”
“He’s saying that because guys get their dicks sucked, they probably know how to suck dick better than a girl,” Pedri explains. He feels his ears getting redder at each time the word “dick” leaves his mouth.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Ferran says with a laugh.
“Well, have you ever had your dick sucked by a guy?” Gavi challenges.
“Uh, no,” Ferran chuckles. “But I’ve had some pretty great blowjobs before, all from women. So, if you don’t mind…” Ferran points to his phone.
Gavi snorts. “Good luck with that.”
Pedri anticipates the conversation to be dead but Ferran, who’s never really been one to shut the fuck up, immediately complains, “God, this app sucks. What is wrong with this city? Is no one trying to get laid?”
“Maybe they just don’t wanna suck tiny dick,” Pedri giggles, then bursts out into laughter. He laughs and laughs, turning away from them as Gavi and Ferran continue their argument. God, I need to pee.
“Everyone’s probably too drunk to get laid-”
“Then why are they on the fucking app as available-”
“God, just give it up already!”
“No, I’m horny, and I’m going back out there.”
“Really? Really? You think that’s safe?”
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s safe, I came here to party, you’re both fucking downers, and I’m gonna get my ‘dick wet,’ like you said I should-”
“Get on the couch-”
“No, I’m leaving- what are you doing-”
“I’ll fucking do it-”
“What the fuck-”
“You said you wanted to get your dick wet-”
“Wait, Gavi-”
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Pedri announces to literally no one before throwing the bottle over his shoulder and walking to the bathroom that’s across from the kitchenette. He shuts the door behind him, sighing at the peace and quiet. Thankfully, Gavi and Ferran have stopped fighting.
Maybe they’ll leave now.
Pedri unzips his allegedly ugly pants and pisses into the toilet, yawning as he does. Of course, it would be nice to be with someone right now. But he’s woefully single, and, to some degree, Ferran is right. His love for older women doesn’t translate well into finding a steady relationship. Not that he’s really on the hunt for one. As much as they failed tonight, he can’t deny wanting intimacy. Nor can he blame Ferran for being so feral. They’re on this vacation to blow off steam.
Maybe tomorrow night, we can go out and have some real fun.
Pedri resolves to be a better wingman as he washes his hands and towels them off. He opens the bathroom door and comes out to the living room, ready to tell his friends that tomorrow’s a new day, with new women, and a new chance at love.
The words die in his mouth when he sees what Gavi is doing with his.
“G-Gavi?”
And Ferran is just sitting there, on the couch, his pants shoved down to his ankles, a wicked smile on his face, half shrugging like “What? It just happened!”
“Care to join us, Pedri?”
Like a cartoon character recovering from a dropped anvil to his head, Pedri rubs his eyes and proceeds to blink rapidly at the scene in front of him. On the couch is Ferran, naked from the waist down with Gavi between his legs. A long slurp tells Pedri all he needs to know about what's happening, yet he still chooses to step closer to see that Ferran is both well-endowed and totally balls deep in Gavi’s throat.
“Can you believe he sucks dick like this?” Ferran says, voice all gleeful as his hand comes down to Gavi’s head, urging him to keep going. “He's a fucking natural.”
“Ferran,” Pedri clears his throat. “We- you shouldn't be- Gavi is drunk. It's wrong-”
“I'm not drunk,” Gavi snaps before gulping for air. “He wanted it, and now he knows.”
“Knows?” Pedri asks wearily, still unable to tear his eyes from Gavi stroking Ferran’s cock.
“Men can suck dick just as well as women,” Gavi says this proudly before spitting savagely on Ferran’s cock.
“Is that- you're doing this to prove a point?” Pedri yells.
“Man, either sit down and get off or shut up,” Ferran complains.
Pedri shakes his head. “I'm leaving.”
“So go.”
But Pedri can't. He's rooted in the same spot: a few meters away from his best friend giving his other, slightly more annoying best friend what looks like the sloppiest blow job he's ever seen. A porn star would blush from the sounds coming out of Gavi’s very full mouth. Also, where the fuck can I go? This is my room! Pedri tries saying it out loud, but he’s slack-jawed and shocked.
It doesn’t help that Gavi looks like sin right now.
Pedri’s always had a soft spot for Gavi; that's not unexpected. Only a few years apart, they grew close, fast. “Thick as thieves,” he heard Lewy say, when they were pulling on each other’s hair and play fighting instead of hitting the showers after practice. Gavi. That's his friend. The one he's gonna progress in this club with. The one he trusts on the field the most. And yeah, Ferran is his teammate and friend too, but Gavi…
It was a mild attraction that Pedri put to rest months ago, especially when he would remind himself that Gavi would be the most chaotic boyfriend in the world. Yeah, Pedri thought about it. And he’ll never say it out loud, but there were times when he even envisioned it with a hand down his briefs. “It” being Gavi, on his knees like he’s doing right now. But fucking your best friend? Yeah, that’s a sure-fire way of ruining everything. So Pedri smothered the bouts of jealousy he felt whenever Gavi climbed Lewy like a fucking tree. He looked away whenever Gavi innocently tore his kit off, complaining about the heat. Pedri put out all the fires himself: removing Gavi’s arms around his neck whenever he’s drunk, slurring his words. Ignoring Gavi whenever he carelessly says I love you, like it could actually mean something to him. Taking freezing showers whenever he spent too long looking at Gavi’s back.
But at this moment, the attraction and more comes rushing back, tenfold. Because right now, Gavi isn't attractive. He isn't boyish or cute: the words Pedri uses to keep all of this at bay. Gavi is sexy. He's messy. He's erotic, the way he pops Ferran’s cock out of his mouth and locks eyes with him while sliding his lips up and down Ferran’s shaft.
“Sticking around, Pepi?”
It's Gavi. Of course, it's Gavi using that nickname to rile him up.
“Um-”
“Might be your only shot,” Ferran gruffly adds. “Let's wreck him, Pedri.”
The audacity behind Ferran’s words causes Pedri’s resolve to snap. He crosses the room towards the couch and sits, keeping what he thinks is an appropriate distance from Ferran.
And Gavi? Well, Gavi fucking adjusts. He scoots over, keeping a hand on Ferran before palming Pedri’s jeans.
“You really want this?” Pedri asks, his eyes meeting Gavi’s. He just nods, pulling at Pedri’s zipper, but the midfielder stops him. “Tell me.”
Gavi glares, but nonetheless says, “Shut up and whip it out already.”
Pedri breathes out before helping Gavi wriggle his jeans off. He's not as hard as Ferran, but Gavi's already working a lithe hand up and down his length.
“Shit,” Ferran groans. “He's really going for it-”
Pedri is bewitched, unable to break eye contact with Gavi as the younger man starts to lick the base of his cock, long and slow strokes of his tongue, as if to tease him to life. And it works. Pedri’s cock twitches at the sensation, at Gavi and his innocent yet slightly peeved expression.
When Gavi places a kiss on the underside of his cock, Pedri knows he's gone.
“Fuck,” Pedri exhales.
Gavi smirks and turns away from Pedri to lap at Ferran’s cock, the silent “I told you I was right,” hanging heavy in the air. Pedri has no doubt that the single kiss was meant to torment him while Gavi has his way with Ferran. Fucking bastard. At least he’s still moving his hand; though with Ferran, Gavi is noisy and loud. He sinks his mouth down over Ferran, as much as he can, and stays as long as he can. Pedri can see the muscles in Gavi’s throat working, fighting to get him air as he chokes on his dick. And Ferran has both hands on Gavi, one guiding him by grasping his nape and the other fisted in Gavi’s hair.
“Fuck yeah, Gavi, so good at that. Keep going, keep- that's it.” Ferran’s a natural, a mix of praise and filth coming out of his mouth to encourage Gavi. “Good boy.”
The pet name makes Pedri glare. “What about me?” Pedri puts his hand over Gavi’s, the one that's still stroking him. “When are you gonna use your mouth on me?”
“Shit, shit,” Ferran gives one more thrust into Gavi’s mouth before lifting his mouth off his lap. “Good call. Don't wanna come this soon.”
Gavi obediently turns back to Pedri. He positions his mouth right over Pedri’s now erect cock, but before doing anything else, Gavi’s lips part and a slow drop of saliva drips downwards, coating the tip. The ropes of spit, watching them land all over his cock, is hypnotic in its own way. Or maybe it's Gavi: this side of him that Pedri’s never seen before. The side of Gavi that then spits onto his cock, rubs his palm over the tip to mix his precum with it. Pedri leans his head back against the sofa, breath held as Gavi finally puts him in his mouth.
It's fucking amazing.
“Fuuuuuuck.”
The sound is obscene: the wet smack and slurps coming from Gavi’s mouth while he goes down on him. He keeps his mouth tight on Pedri’s tip while his hand curls up and down. The other hand is stroking Ferran at the same time, but at a much slower and sloppier pace. And then there’s Gavi’s face, just his fucking face: how pink it is, and how there’s what Pedri swears is the start of a grin at the corners of his mouth. Shit, is he smiling? Pedri’s brain is fried with the thought that Gavi may be enjoying this so much more now that he's got his hands and mouth full.
Gavi wastes no time. He takes Pedri deep, all at once, making the midfielder cry out. His throat is tight and hot, and the pleasure is mind numbing. Pedri’s no prude: football superstars mess around and he’s not any exception, but he's never had more of an urge to fuck someone’s throat raw. He’s always played it safe because he has to. Because even after all the signed paperwork and non-disclosure agreements and fake names and numbers, sex is regulated like everything else in his Barça life.
But not this. Not with Gavi.
He ought to ask first, but unbridled pleasure destroys any logical thinking. Without any warning, Pedri places both hands on Gavi’s head and shoves himself upwards. Gavi chokes, eyes closed. Pedri expects him to push away.
Except Gavi just opens his mouth wider.
“Oh fuck, oh, fuck-”
“Fuck, Gavi, you like choking on dick?” Ferran is totally awestruck, like he's just found his own personal glory hole to fuck. When Gavi wrenches away from Pedri, Ferran tugs him back to his side, shoving his cock straight into Gavi’s mouth. “Oh yeah, just like that.”
The gurgles from Gavi’s throat are heinous, but they just spur both of the men on. Within seconds, Pedri and Ferran make a pattern out of Gavi’s throat, taking turns to use it to their liking before passing Gavi back to the other. And all throughout it, Pedri can see just how fucking hard Gavi is: his cock making a wet spot in the khakis he's wearing and the moans Gavi’s pride suppresses because, if he knows his best friend as well as he hopes he does, Gavi sure as hell isn’t going to let up until Ferran is eating his words. Or at least until he’s jizzing on Gavi.
Gavi.
Sitting.
With cum on his face.
Pedri can't sit anymore. He needs to do something with his hands or he’s really going to lose it. He gets up, leaving Ferran at the mercy of Gavi’s wicked mouth, and settles behind him. “Get on your knees.” And Gavi listens; brat doesn't even listen to Pedri when he asks to pass him the salt during breakfast, but for cock? Gavi is all ears and holes. He leans forward so that his hands are planted onto Ferran’s thighs and his ass is sticking out for Pedri to palm and explore.
He’s sure he’s had a dream like this, at some point. Except Ferran wasn’t there and Gavi was about a million more times belligerent and pouty: wagging his ass and trying to coax Pedri into doing something sinister. Reality isn’t so different. Pedri reaches under and zips Gavi’s pants, pulls them and his boxers down as much as he can. How often had he ogled at Gavi? Too often. Pedri isn’t smooth at all, and while he’ll never admit it, all that teasing wasn’t just for giggles or to piss Gavi off (not that a pissed off Gavi isn’t amusing to watch.) Shoving Gavi around, putting him in headlocks, chasing him across the field with a water bottle aimed at Gavi’s back: all pitiful excuses to get a touch in here or there.
There are so few reasons to feel up Gavi’s ass, realistically.
Gavi could get away with being that forward. Gavi’s cute like that. He can go around and molest Lewy’s biceps or grab Pedri’s chest. They signed Dani Olmo two days ago, man hasn’t even been on the field yet, and Gavi’s hugging him like Olmo’s just came home from war. There was once when Gavi fucking smacked Jude Bellingham’s ass, and Pedri had to take several deep breathes to calm himself down. Because who the fuck was he jealous of? Jude, for getting his ass smacked by Gavi? Or Gavi, for being so goddamn handsy with no fucking consequences because of his pretty face and absolute need to be loved on by everyone? Pedri couldn’t tell, not for the life of him. All the emotions he’s pent up over the years, all the secrets he keeps about Gavi, all the stolen glimpses of Gavi’s ass when they’re in the showers, have culminated into this fucking moment: Gavi, bare, with his cock leaking while he’s in between his teammates.
So Pedri does what he wants to, what he’s thought of for too long: a single, loud smack to Gavi’s pale, glorious, firm ass before reaching down to fist the midfielder’s dick.
The wince from Gavi’s full mouth doesn't go unnoticed, despite Ferran now desperately fucking into Gavi, his movements choppy and wild. “Fuck, gonna cum all over your face. Want it Gavi? Wanna have it on your face?”
“Fuck,” Gavi pulls off, and Ferran fists his cock, pressing against Gavi’s lips. “Give it-”
“Stick your tongue out, stick it- oh shit, yeah,” Ferran smacks the tip of his cock onto Gavi’s tongue as the ropes of his cum spurt out all over it and Gavi’s mouth and lips. “Fuck, you little slut-”
Pedri looks up, unexpected fury in his veins at Ferran’s words, but that instantly disappears when he sees Gavi’s smirk: a very clear, “I won,” sort of expression on his face as Ferran tries to catch his breath. And when Gavi sticks his tongue out and collects whatever cum he can from his lips and cheeks to swallow, Pedri knows he’s not gonna make it outta this night alive.
The sight is just as tempting for Ferran, who yanks Gavi up. “Get up, slut. Come here.” Gavi stumbles, but obeys. Ferran stands too, then shoves Gavi back on his knees. “Clean me off.”
Gavi is about to, but then Pedri hears his name. “Pedri.” Gavi beckons him closer. “You too.”
God, is this really happening?
Pedri wobbles as he stands, his still erect cock poking at Gavi’s cheek as Gavi licks Ferran earnestly. When satisfied with the state of him, Gavi turns back to Pedri and sinks his mouth over Pedri’s cock. His legs are shaking; Gavi’s just too good at this. And Pedri can’t help but notice that while Ferran had to jack himself off onto Gavi’s face, Gavi is giving Pedri some star slut treatment: no fucking hands at all, just his mouth, his throat relaxing so Pedri can use him, come right into him. It doesn't take long at all for orgasm to wash over Pedri, and to his utter shock, it doesn't take any modicum of hesitation for Gavi to swallow every drop of him, humming around Pedri’s spent dick. He lets Pedri go, but not without giving him a final, long lick from base to tip.
“Holy shit.” Ferran looks like he’s glazed over. “I’ve never come that quick.”
Gavi smirks. “I rest my case.”
Ferran pulls him up. “Yeah? Wanna prove yourself right again?” He has a grin on his face, like he’s trying to manipulate Gavi into spreading his legs.
Except Pedri knows better. He’s seen it before: the look that Gavi wears. The glint in Gavi’s eyes whenever he picks a fight with another footballer on the opposing team. When he gets all up in the face of someone two heads taller than him. It lets Pedri know that whatever Gavi has started is totally in his control. Not the other way around. Ferran and he can pretend all they like, but if Gavi were to pull his pants back on and call it a night, it would be them crying and pleading. Not Gavi.
“Depends if you’re willing to be proven wrong again,” Gavi sneers.
Ferran growls before yanking Gavi farther into the hotel room. Pedri supposes he doesn’t need an invitation, being that it’s his room. And he feels sort of stupid for following the duo onto his bed (because why does it have to be his bed?) But he can’t deny that there’s something absolutely insane about watching Gavi land on his back with his legs sprawled out. Whatever issues Ferran has about the gender dynamics of dick sucking have long been abandoned, or at least put aside so that he can fuck Gavi.
Oh my god, Ferran’s gonna fuck Gavi.
Pedri stands at the edge of the bed, mouth gaping at the bottle of lube that apparently Ferran just carries around.
“Wait, are you really-” Pedri stops, looking at Gavi. “Are you really letting Ferran fuck you?”
“No.” Gavi holds his stare. “I’m also letting you fuck me.”
Pedri swears there’s something else behind what Gavi is saying, but it’s quickly dispelled by his sex riddled brain and the fact that Ferran has clicked the little bottle open.
“Gavi, are you sure? Have you ever-”
“I have,” Gavi grits out, teeth clenched, cock hard and weeping onto his stomach. “What do I have to say?”
“‘Please’ would actually be so fucking hot right now,” Ferran moans, coating his cock in lube.
“Not a fucking chance.” The words are meant to come out with a bite, but they’re more like a stammer leaving Gavi, being that Ferran’s got a finger in him already, and looking to add more to the mix. Ferran having first dibs on Gavi should make Pedri mad. And maybe there is some jealousy there. But watching Gavi’s heavy cock twitch at each of Ferran’s fingers has Pedri thinking of how he can be of use to him. So as the winger presses here and there, making Gavi stretch, Pedri wraps his hand around Gavi’s cock and starts to stroke.
“Pedri!” It’s the first time Gavi’s said something that isn’t dripping with sarcasm, and fucking hell, does Pedri want him to say his name like that again. He goes slowly, lost in every detail of Gavi’s heightening pleasure: fisted sheets, curled toes, shut eyes, and tight jaw. Pedri’s not arrogant enough to think he’s the one making Gavi’s body spasm when orgasm hits him, but he knows he’s never going to forget the sight of Gavi thrashing in bed, his cock dribbling his load all over his fingers, and how Gavi wearily opens his eyes to meet his.
“Ready for this, Gavira?”
Ferran’s voice brings Pedri back to what’s about to happen. And Gavi, still in the haze of his orgasm, nods. “How do you want it?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-
“Hands and knees, Gavi. How you look best.” Ferran smacks his thigh and it riles Gavi up enough to assume the position that Ferran wants. Pedri settles onto the bed, back up against the headboard, cock already thickening at how Gavi’s facing him, with Ferran positioned behind him. “Fuck, Gavi…”
He watches Gavi’s eyes close, his head falling downward, the veins in his arms, neck, everywhere straining at taking Ferran’s cock into his body. Ferran’s got a death grip on Gavi’s ass, and Pedri can see the swells of Gavi’s rippled flesh in his hands; he’s looking no different than Gavi, as if fucking Gavi is that mind blowing.
Pedri believes it.
“Fuck, Fer, just-” Gavi breathes out hard. “Move, move.”
“Yeah, you sure about that, Gavira? Fucking tight down here.”
“Fuck me already,” Gavi snarls in response. “Or I’ll get Pedri to take your place.”
The threat is enough to get Ferran to snap his hips forward, making Gavi wide-eyed and breathless. His eyes, big and dark, meet Pedri’s, and Gavi’s mouth drops open, just a little. Like he’s begging for Pedri to give him a kiss, to shove his tongue inside of Gavi’s mouth and gag him as he takes Ferran, inch by fucking inch. And if that’s not enough, it’s the fact that Gavi, even while being fucked by someone else, looks so beautiful like this: half naked and taking cock like a champ. This still doesn’t feel real, even though Pedri’s blood is racing and he swears Gavi is on the verge of whimpering. Pedri briefly thinks that he may have died and gone to the afterlife, but Gavi’s moan at Ferran steadily thrusting into him pulls him out of such a thought.
The nail in the “is this a dream” question’s coffin is Gavi reaching for Pedri, trying to balance on one forearm while Ferran goes to town behind him.
Pedri gets the message, scooching downwards and placing each leg on either side of Gavi. He bites down on his lip, looking at Gavi’s face, trying to say “It’s okay if you don’t.” But he should’ve known that Gavi would never back down from a challenge. So thirty seconds later, it’s not that Ferran’s fucking Gavi and Pedri’s stroking himself.
It’s Gavi, orchestrating his two friends into spitroasting him. And if anyone, anyone, were to question if Gavi was truly enjoying himself, well, Pedri would just have to film the way Gavi’s eyes roll, the way his mouth sucks and spits, as evidence that Gavi’s happy and willing to slut himself out for his friends.
The realization has Pedri reeling, has his brain screaming Mine, mine, mine-
“Pedri…”
His eyes snap back onto Gavi, who’s got his tongue hanging out like a panting dog. Offering himself, his mouth. How the fuck could Pedri say no?
Pedri moves closer, and Gavi’s face falls into his hip. His soft lips are ticklish against Pedri’s inner thigh, but the skittish feeling is quickly replaced with a sharp shot of pleasure through his cock. Gavi’s licking his way back to between Pedri’s thighs, leaving a trail of bites and kisses. Kisses. Gavi’s kissing his skin. Did he do that to Ferran? Pedri’s mind is swimming in so many thoughts, and Gavi’s mouth softly lapping at his cock isn’t exactly providing the answers he craves. What it does provide is just enough of a distraction to prevent Pedri from spiraling down that wormhole any more.
“Fuck, Gavi-” Pedri groans. “Your mouth.”
Ferran notices Gavi’s little excursion too. “Sucking Pedri off while I fuck you, Gavira?”
“Y-yeah,” Gavi pants. He's sprawled on top of Pedri now, one hand stroking as best it can, tongue hanging out and brushing up against Pedri’s cock, sucking away the precum that oozes out. It's nothing mind blowing, but Gavi's little sounds and his flushed cheeks and his sweat stuck hair edge Pedri ever closer. God, he needs to be inside of him-
“Ah, shit, shit,” Ferran chokes. “Getting close-” He pulls out with a huff, stroking himself, eyes still on Gavi on his knees. “Whenever you’re ready, Pepi.”
Pedri swears but he nearly falls off the bed swinging his legs over Gavi’s head and crawling over to the other end. Ferran switches with him and takes his place at the headboard, and then Pedri finds himself facing Gavi’s delectable looking ass: rim all wet and inviting, skin reddened with Ferran’s manhandling. He shouldn’t hold back, but he does: reaching for Gavi like he might disintegrate if he touches him. Eventually, it’s Gavi, impatient as always, who pushes back on him, his head turned over his shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything; Pedri just knows he’s desperate for it by the way his thighs buckle when their eyes meet. And then when he’s got a hand on Gavi’s ass, Gavi can barely suppress the whine.
“Go for it, Pepi, he’s needy for cock,” Ferran coaxes. He’s jacking himself off, quite enjoying the show and possibly thinking of using Gavi’s mouth as soon as Pedri makes his move.
“Not like this.” Pedri pulls on Gavi’s arm to bring upright. “Get on your back.”
Thank fuck Gavi doesn’t put up a fight. Thank fuck he rolls and lays down, legs together with a challenge in his eyes: “if you want it, come get it.” Pedri grabs him by his hips and yanks him downwards, spreading him and gliding his cock up against Gavi’s. He thought it’d be difficult to choose a position, because he wants Gavi every way humanly possible, but seeing Gavi like this, pink faced and practically begging for him, is better than any goal or trophy in sight.
God, there’s so much to unpack there. But later. His hands are full. Full of Gavi, and so is his head, when Gavi says, “Fuck me, Pedri.”
Pedri slicks his dick so that his tip catches on Gavi’s rim, just to tease him, but after a few more strokes, he can’t hold back anymore. He presses forward. His cockhead slowly pushes into Gavi, just the first inch or two because goddamn, Gavi is still tight even though Pedri was sure Ferran would’ve wrecked him.
Gavi is warm and wet and velvet and heaven. It takes Pedri ages to accept that he’s inside his best friend, that this is not a dream, that his best friend is nodding him along, lost in the pleasure alongside him. He tilts Gavi’s legs up a bit more to better angle himself, and then he can no longer hold back. He shoves in quickly, all at once, basking in the small cry Gavi lets out.
“Fuck!”
Ferran has a hand on Gavi’s chest, eyes locked onto how Pedri starts to fuck their friend using slow, but long strokes. “Damn, Pedri, you’re really torturing him.”
Gavi turns his head, cheek flat against the mattress. “Shut up-”
“Why? Someone’s gotta say it.” Ferran brings his face to Gavi’s. “You look good, Gavira. Don’t you think, Pedri?”
“Fuck yes, he does,” Pedri chokes out. There’s more to that, so much more. Because good doesn’t fucking cover it, but he’s not gonna say it, not gonna make this weirder than it has to be. He falls into a steady pace, Gavi’s body slightly bouncing with each of Pedri’s thrusts.
Ferran has the brilliant idea to stick his dick back in Gavi’s throat. Pedri can’t blame him. Why waste the chance? Why not fuck every part of Gavi? Why stop at his holes? Pedri wants to fuck Gavi’s thighs, his feet, his calves, wants to explode all over his chest and face and hands, wants to nut inside of him and fill him to the brim-
Oh fuck.
The singular thought has his orgasm only a few more strokes away. Pedri slows immediately, though neither man notices. Gavi’s eyes are shut as Ferran pistons in and out of his mouth. Just watching them would be enough to bring him over the edge, but Pedri can’t move on from the thought that if really wanted to, he could just cum in Gavi. Fill him up. Make Pablo his in a way that Ferran hasn’t yet.
Pedri slowly eases back in and starts fucking Gavi deep. The sudden change in pace has Gavi crying out, Ferran’s dick popping out of his mouth. Ferran strokes himself hard and seconds later, he’s shooting off on Gavi’s face for a second time all while Pedri batters into him. Pedri barely notices. He grips onto Gavi so tight that he’s almost worried about how the fuck Gavi’s gonna wear those little training shorts next week. Almost, being the keyword, because if Pedri had his way, no one would look at Gavi ever again. He’d mark Gavi’s little ass and thighs up, leave hickies all over his throat and chest and tell the goddamn world that Pablo Gavira is his. And if that wasn’t enough, maybe Gavi’s ass seeping out Pedri’s cum would be.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gavi-”
Gavi has a hand on his cock, rubbing himself furiously, eyes hooded, tongue out and licking off as much of Ferran's cum he can. “Come on me,” Gavi demands breathlessly. “Fucking do it, Pedri.”
Pedri doesn’t have the chance to ask; Gavi’s command is his to follow, and before he can help himself, he’s pulling out of his best friend and erupting all over his cock and navel, streaks of white on Gavi’s tanned skin. Pedri chants Gavi’s name, which in itself feels just as good as his orgasm. And the cherry on top is Gavi spirals right after him, his hand freezing in motion when he cums. It’s a mess, all over him, trickling down his hips and to his ass.
“God, Pedri…”
Pedri’s breathes come out hard and fast, but he needs to ask: “You okay, Gavi? Was that too much?”
Gavi shakes his head, blissed out and falling backwards onto the bed. “S’good,” he mutters.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Ferran? You okay?”
Ferran’s more than okay. He’s asleep. With both pillows under his head, snoring away.
The fucking audacity.
“Hold on, Gavi. Let me get a cloth to clean you up.” Gavi gives him a pitiful nod back before closing his eyes and sinking deeper into the bed.
Pedri escapes momentarily into the bathroom and turns the faucet on high to wash his hands and then to sigh heavier than he has ever sighed before. He looks in the mirror: Gavi’s a mess, but he’s no different. His hair is totally fucked and stuck to his temple. His ears and face are bright red, and his lips are bruising. He hadn’t noticed that he was biting them so hard, but he supposes that’s the least remarkable consequence of fucking one’s best friend.
Oh God. I fucked Gavi. I fucked Gavi.
And he liked it. I liked it.
It’s not exactly the best time to have a spiral over this, but Pedri can’t help himself. Months, years of restraint, and it all went down the drain because of alcohol, Ferran’s insatiable sex drive, and his own lack of self-control. He’s so painfully sober now, the image of a fucked out Gavi coming all over himself just burned into his eyes forevermore. And he doesn’t want it to go away. He wants to see it, every morning. Possibly every night. And everywhere.
Insane. He’s orgasmed twice already tonight, and his whole friendship may be at risk, but now he wants Gavi in every way possible. He’s not sure what ways he means, but he’ll take them all.
Pedri quickly washes his hands and splashes water on his face, combing the cold drops into his hair and pushing it back. He needs a shower, but Gavi needs one more. He finds a small towel and dampens it before leaving the bathroom.
And when he’s back in the bedroom, Gavi is already fast asleep.
Pedri looks at his two friends fondly. Of course he’s worried about the consequences. Who wouldn’t be? But he imagines any other set of people would have skipped out by now. At the very least, they both stayed, most likely because they’re tired but also because they can.
Pedri takes his time cleaning Gavi up, gently wiping him down twice over and trying very hard not to touch him more than necessary. And while Ferran didn’t exactly ejaculate on himself, Pedri does clean off his hands too, because Ferran rubbing his eyes in the morning would result in a nightmare. He does his best to clean off the bed and then places water bottles on each nightstand for the three of them.
By now, Pedri ought to be tired, but he’s not. So he makes sure they have their wallets and hotel keys, and puts all their phones on the charging pad finally remembered to pack. Then he goes around and picks up their clothes, folding them into neat piles and putting them on the room’s desk. He holds onto Gavi’s shirt for a little longer, bringing it to his face and inhaling deeply. Gavi’s cologne and deodorant are two very distinct scents and they arguably clash, but Pedri doesn’t care. He saves this for last. When there’s nothing else to do, he manages to find a small space between Ferran and Gavi, curls himself up, and waits for the dark to take over.
Well, at least I’m not too hungover.
Pedri expected the morning to be so much more painful, but it’s not. Because it’s the late afternoon and he had the sense to at least draw one of the curtains. He yawns loudly before hoisting himself up to his elbows. Gavi is still fast asleep. And Ferran’s side of the bed is empty. He hadn’t expected Ferran to stay, but it does hurt that he left like a thief in the night. Gavi stirs slightly when Pedri reaches for his phone on the nightstand. There are several new messages from Ferran.
Ferran: leaving now, too hot to sleep with you morons
Ferran: this was cool but yeah im still going out tonight
Ferran: and pedri?
Ferran: you should talk to gavi
Ferran: i mean like talk to him
Ferran: he likes you too you know
Ferran: ur just a moron and cant see it
Pedri looks over at Gavi, who’s just starting to open his eyes.
“Hey,” Pedri says, voice still hoarse. From last night’s activities or this morning’s realizations, he does not know.
Gavi stretches and yawns. “Hey,” he mutters back. “Where’s Fer?”
“He went to sleep in his room.”
Gavi snorts. “Yeah, that tracks.” He moves to get a bottle of water and winces.
Pedri’s immediately next to him. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”
Gavi looks at him, curiously. “I’m fine. Just sore. Can you pass me the water?” Pedri does, but keeps an eye on Gavi as he drinks. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Pedri says too quickly, making Gavi’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “I mean… yeah. You’re okay with yesterday?”
“I am. Are you?”
“Yeah. It was…” Life changing. Mind boggling. Soul crushing. “Fun. A lot of fun.”
Gavi fights a smile. Or something. He looks like he could burst into laughter but he doesn’t. “Fun’s good.”
“Gavi-”
“I should shower,” he interrupts. “Sorry, I just feel kinda… sticky.”
“Okay,” Pedri says quietly. He watches Gavi get up from the bed, his moves slow and cautious. And Pedri just wants to rush to his side, not to touch him, but to help him. But Gavi’s back is turned to him and he’s already padding down the hall to the bathroom. Minutes later, he hears the shower running.
Pedri fights the urge to flop onto the bed with a frustrated groan. It shouldn’t have been like this. He has dreamt of this moment, time and time again, for years. They win the Euros or the World Cup, get drunk, and fuck like animals in a snazzy hotel. Or Gavi gets his heart broken by some influencer, and he’s crying into Pedri’s shoulder so hard that Pedri has to kiss him to stop; they make love for hours on Gavi’s twin sized bed and stay pressed against each other for comfort. Gavi gets injured and Pedri stops by and one thing leads to another. Pedri drags Gavi to Tenerife, and they go clubbing and get handsy in the back of his car when grinding to shity music isn’t enough.
Never in a million years did he ever think he’d hook up with his best friend and then let him walk away so easily.
Pedri bolts up. Gavi has not walked away. Not yet. Not if he lets him.
God, he hates when Ferran is right.
Pedri gets to the bathroom, takes a deep breath and opens the door, heart soaring when he sees Gavi left it unlocked anyways.
“What the-” Gavi turns around as Pedri opens the glass door of the shower. “Pedri?!”
It’s hard to tell if Gavi’s eyes are red from the soap or the exhaustion, but Pedri’s never been so glad to see him. “I thought I could help.”
Gavi furrows his brows, looking down at Pedri’s quickly soaked boxers. He hadn’t bothered to take them off before entering the shower and closing the door. “Help? With wha-”
Pedri grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him hard.
Gavi doesn’t fight him. Not once. It takes three seconds, but then Pedri feels Gavi’s arms around him too, twining around his neck as their mouths meet over and over again.
“Pedri-” Gavi gasps.
“I can handle Ferran,” Pedri admits when he pulls away. “I can handle knowing that for the rest of my life, but that’s the only exception I can make.” He presses Gavi into the tiled wall of the shower, the water cascading over them. “But I can’t pretend that I’m okay with just one night.”
Gavi tries to say something, but Pedri can’t stand to hear anything else. He kisses him again, cutting him off, finding a sense of relief when Gavi kisses him back with just as much desperation. Gavi licks into his mouth before moaning deeply at Pedri fondling his ass, spreading it and then tracing a finger to Gavi’s rim. Gavi shivers, but doesn’t stop him. Apparently, twice is not enough for him either. Instead, his head falls to Pedri’s shoulder, breathing heavy as the steam billows around them.
“I want you,” Pedri mutters. “I want you all to myself.”
“I…” Gavi smothers his mouth into Pedri’s shoulder, kissing it and upwards to Pedri’s neck. “Want you too, all this time.”
Pedri has no idea how long they spend in the shower making out, but it’s long enough for Gavi’s body to go soft and pliant under his hands. Only when he’s satisfied with the state of him does Pedri drop to his knees, the water still coming over them.
“Pedri-”
“Turn around.”
The blush on Gavi’s face is not from the shower. Yet he turns, bracing himself against the shower wall as Pedri peppers kisses all over his lower back. He takes his time before sinking his teeth into the meat of Gavi’s ass, making him yelp. He grins at the sound before spreading Gavi apart and licking him from bottom to top in one long motion.
“Oh, God-”
Gavi shudders and mewls with each lick, each dip of Pedri’s tongue, and Pedri is enjoying every second of it. Gavi like this, all open and willing, is nothing short of perfection, absolutely sinful and angelic all at the same time. The expanse of his back, the muscle in his thighs, the swell of his ass. There’s no man more perfect than his best friend and eating him out while he whimpers his name is far more satisfying than anyone else he’s been with.
And Pedri has no interest in holding back. He would devour Gavi alive if he could, but he settles for probing at Gavi’s little hole until he’s sure that Gavi’s cock is aching. And when it is, he wraps his hand around Gavi’s length and strokes it. He doesn’t give a single fuck about his aching knees or the fact that he’s definitely going to look like an idiot trying to get out of these damn boxers. All he cares about is Gavi. Making Gavi feel good. Making Gavi say his name. Making Gavi come.
“Pedri, I can’t,” he gasps. “I wanna come when you’re inside-”
Only then does Pedri stop, wobbling up and taking Gavi’s kiss in earnest. He shuts off the water and, yes, endures the snort from Gavi as he peels his boxers off with great effort. But after, they towel each other off pretty pathetically before playing grab ass on their way to bed.
Pedri climbs right on top of Gavi after he falls flat on the sheets, planting more kisses to his neck before moving down and capturing a nipple in his mouth. He groans deeply before he sucks hard. Gavi’s flush only deepens, his hands on Pedri’s waist as he arches into every one of Pedri’s touches. He toys with the little bud before nipping down on it, making Gavi’s grip tighten.
“Too rough?”
“No,” Gavi sighs. “More.”
Pedri takes his other nipple between his fingers and rolls while his tongue laps over the right. “Like that?” Gavi nods before closing his eyes, lips parted like he’s about to whine. Gavi is so much more noisy than he was last night, and Pedri adores it. He knew Gavi was holding back; since when could Gavi ever shut the fuck up on the field? And why would he be any different in bed? But Pedri has never found any of Gavi’s yapping annoying, and the obscene sounds from Gavi are anything but. He whispers Pedri’s name and makes his demands known: more, yes, harder, suck harder, bite it, bite, bite, fuck, more-
“I wanna suck you off,” Pedri murmurs right into Gavi’s navel, kissing lower.
Gavi shakes his head, sitting up. “I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he chokes out. Pedri takes his hand and pulls him up, meeting him with another sloppy kiss.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
Gavi whimpers. “Yeah, but…”
Pedri pulls away. “But?”
“I wanna ride you.”
FUCK.
Pedri’s blood races as he nods. Gavi gives him yet another firm kiss before gently pushing Pedri down, his head landing on one of the pillows. Gavi runs his hands from Pedri’s shoulders down to his hips and takes his cock in his hand. He grins wickedly as he sees the bottle of lube that’s, miraculously, still on the bed.
“Guess Ferran left this.”
“Guess so,” Pedri says, voice a bit strained. He really doesn’t wanna think about Ferran right now, but it’s too late. “Did you know he knew about how you feel? How I feel?”
“Hmm,” Gavi plays stupid. “I don’t even know how you feel.” He opens the cap to the lube. “You should tell me that, by the way.”
The cold lube dripping onto his cock makes Pedri swear. “Ahhh…”
“Or I could stop.”
“Fuck, Gavi, you-” Pedri breathes out through his nose. “I feel too many things about you.”
“Let’s start with what you feel now.”
“You sound like an overpriced therapist.”
“I’m sorry, are you not trying to get laid?”
“Actually,” Pedri gasps as Gavi gives him a single pump to put him back in his place. “Actually, I’m not trying to get laid. I’m trying to get with my best friend. On the long term.”
“Oh? How’s that going?”
“Well, he said he was gonna ride me, but he’s taking his sweet ass time.”
Gavi snorts. “You’re right. Your best friend has a sweet ass. Consider you spent the last half hour eating it out.” He strokes hard and fast, and Pedri nearly preens. “Long term, you said?”
“I mean it, Gavi,” Pedri pants. “I love you. Don’t know why I denied it for years, but I’m not denying it now.” He shivers when Gavi’s hand stops. “This is the part when you say it back, you idiot.” He tries to sound nonchalant about it, but if Gavi doesn’t say it back, then Pedri’s going to need a lifetime to get over this. Over him.
Gavi, the sheer chaotic nutjob he is, laughs before pouring lube onto his fingers and reaching behind himself. “Yeah? Want me to say it while I’m lubing myself up?”
“What other sort of romance do you need?”
“Not much, apparently.” Gavi tosses the bottle somewhere near Pedri’s head before he swings over to his hips. And Pedri can’t do much besides look up at how fucking blinding Gavi looks under the sunlight that pours in from the hotel window. “It’s a good thing you’re kind of hot,” he purrs as he aligns Pedri’s cock to his entrance.
“Gavi-”
Gavi bites his lip. “You know, I think I’ll forgive you for not getting with me sooner, even when I made it obvious.” Pedri can’t answer; his hands fly to Gavi’s hips as he starts to sink down on his cock. “Because, fuck, I did enjoy last night-”
Pedri is two seconds away from putting Gavi onto his back, but he refrains. Instead, he grips harder onto Gavi’s waist as a warning. “Did you?” he grits out.
“I did,” Gavi sighs, stretched and now full of Pedri’s cock. “Because seeing you be so jealous is hot too.”
“You’re a fucking-”
Gavi pulls himself up and slams himself down, and Pedri nearly blacks out.
“What was that?” Gavi asks sweetly as he starts to fuck himself onto Pedri’s length.
“Prick,” Pedri lamely finishes as his hands fall away from Gavi’s body. He’s not even remotely interested in fighting with Gavi, though that feels like its own sort of sexual foreplay. In fact, he can’t really do anything else besides let his best friend ride his cock like there’s no fucking tomorrow.
Gavi smirks as he bounces on him, his hands splayed out onto Pedri’s chest. “I like this jealous side of you.”
“Yeah?”
Gavi leans in. “Because it means you’re mine,” he mutters before kissing Pedri hotly.
Pedri tries to follow his lips, but Gavi pulls away much too soon and goes back to fucking himself senseless. Sweat starts coming down Gavi’s face, his wet hair plastered to his skin. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Pedri reaches for Gavi's cock, holding it while Gavi uses him. Gavi’s so good at this, so well versed at everything, that Pedri’s mind accidentally wanders to how the fuck Gavi learned to ride dick like a professional. Jealously instantly ignites in his veins, his jaw clenched at the thought of some random fucker touching Gavi-
Oh God, Ferran AND Gavi are right, someone please help-
“Pedri-”
Pedri’s eyes shoot up to see Gavi, his face no longer wearing that superior little smirk of his. His eyes are lust fueled and hooded, and his cheeks are so red that he could very well have heatstroke from the frantic pace of their fucking. And yet, Gavi continues, and Pedri’s convinced that Gavi could not look any more beautiful than he does right now.
But then Gavi arches his back and titles his head back, and all Pedri can think is how he hopes Gavi is ready to spend the rest of his life proving him wrong.
“Pedri, Pedri-”
“Yeah? Like using my cock like this, Pablo?”
Gavi nods furiously, eyes closing as his body continues to move. “Yes, fuck, it’s so good in me-”
Then Gavi does something so insane that Pedri’s gonna need some sort of therapy to unpack.
“Pedri,” Gavi drawls out, a hand skimming down his navel, the ripples of his abs. “So deep- can- can feel you right here-”
“Oh, fuck.” Pedri’s orgasm is building fast, and he’s not gonna last long now that he’s thinking about filling up Gavi to the point where he’s aching and full and totally fucked out and drunk on his cum.
“Wanna do it, Pedri?”
“Pablo, Gavi, please-”
“Come in me?”
Pedri’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he fists the sheets.
“Come in me, Pedri. It’s-” Gavi gasps. “It’s gonna feel so good in me.”
Gavi’s command is the last thing that pushes Pedri towards the edge and topples him over. His eyes snap open as he comes right into Gavi’s willing body. And Gavi slams his hips down one more time to take it all as he fists his cock, keen to come onto Pedri’s body while he’s still inside of him.
He does. He shoots off all over Pedri, his body tightening and causing what feels akin to electricity coursing through every inch of Pedri before Gavi gives out and slumps forward.
Among kisses and sighs, Gavi very carefully pulls himself off and collapses inelegantly next to Pedri, a short laugh accompanying a very long groan. Pedri, at first, pushes Gavi’s heavy head which landed quite painfully on his shoulder before pulling him back in for a soft kiss. He moves Gavi’s sweaty hair away from his eyes and kisses his nose and temple before capturing his lips again: slow, lazy. More grabbing and teasing each other that results in Pedri smacking Gavi’s ass and then pulling his cheeks apart.
Gavi’s a mess. Because of him.
ROUND FOUR, ROUND FOUR, his brain chants.
“I need another shower,” Gavi mutters.
“Yeah, just give me five minutes.”
“No, if I shower with you, we’re going to end up doing that again.”
“Three orgasms only? What sort of record is that?”
“Is that what we’re going for?” Gavi asks, though he yawns after. “A record?”
“Three orgasms, call that shit a hat trick if you want. But we can do better.”
Gavi elbows him. “I can’t believe I’m in love with someone who makes terrible jokes.”
Pedri’s heart soars at this. “Get used to it.”
“And a terrible dancer. Who sucks at FIFA.”
Pedri glares at him. “Are you done yet?”
Gavi grins, but then his expression becomes soft. “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
Gavi noses his shoulder. “Thanks for cleaning me up last night.”
It’s Pedri’s turn to go neon red. “Were you awake for that?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to stop. So…” Gavi trails off, eyes wide and so full of gratitude. Pedri has to look away; it’s too much. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Pedri murmurs. “You’re just… you’re cute.”
Gavi laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. No part of you is bad, Pablito.”
Gavi hums quietly as, for the time being, the shower idea is tabled. Instead, they hold each other, quite content with each others’ presence.
“Do we have to let Ferran know he was right?”
“No, baby. Never.”
Ferran: i should get free blow jobs for life for making this happen for u
Pedri: keep dreaming