Title: Where love that traveled far has found us…
Pairing: Xabi/Stevie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: RPS, slash, sex, fluff.
Disclaimer: Not true. Not meant to insult any of the persons involved. Pic credit.
Summary: Takes place in Summer 2007. A story about love and loss and happiness and Istanbul.

A/N: For my sister on her Sweet 16th. Happy Birthday! I got this idea a few days ago and rushed to reproduce it all out onto digital paper in time. I wanted it done by Friday morning your time but you know how slow a writer I am and then LJ died so yeah, a teensy bit late. Anyway, you were whinging about how there’s never any S/X smut so I hope this is smutty, fluffy, and long enough for you. =P Oh, and I hope it makes up for not getting to go to Istanbul. So yeah… it's a bit of everything really and it’s unbetaed so I’m just hoping it isn’t too bad. (If anyone’s wondering, the bolded parts are bits and pieces from quotes and lyrics and just stuff I came up with on my own). Anyway… enjoy!
 

The bakery door jingles shut behind you as you grip the paper bag close to your chest and chew on a sugary bun. You step out into the narrow cobblestone street and pause, squinting into the setting sun.

Summer in Istanbul is hot and sticky. A little too much heat and not enough air conditioners, you note, a droplet of sweat trickling down your back and soaking uncomfortably into the scrunched up waistband of your shorts. You turn and make your way down the path of brightly painted stores and apartment buildings.

It isn’t suffocating though, you muse. Not like giant, elegantly furnished mansions or crowded changing rooms. And most certainly not like the flashing camera bulbs or the raging chants of your names that hounded you every which direction you turned.

You lick icing from your bottom lip and wave to the spice seller as you walk past a row of tiny shops whose precious goods were falling haphazardly over tiny tables.

Nobody notices here. You aren’t football’s next greatest superstars or team captains with the pressure of fifty thousand expectations on your shoulders. Here your names aren’t up in gold (you hadn’t brought along the medals you have—and haven’t—won). Here you’re just Xabi and Stevie.

Xabi and Stevie who are your average every day folk, anonymous in this city just as everyone else is among the seagulls and the sirens from the boats and the sticky heat. This Istanbul isn’t the win from two years ago (as magical as that had been). This one is yours.

You smile slightly at that thought. Our city.

You turn a corner and punch in the security code at the door to your apartment building, throwing the last bits of your sweet bun to the terrier mutt parked on the stoop. You idly observe that the dog’s getting fatter as you take the elevator to the seventh floor. You walk down the narrow hallway and run your hand along the stucco wall, feeling the roughness scrape the pads of your fingertips. This place isn’t Buckingham Palace; the pipes leak sometimes and the floors aren't exactly marble, but it’s relatively clean and safe and the view is excellent.

Where thou art, it is home…

You slip your key into the lock and ease the door open, noting the silence of the empty living room as you go about putting the groceries away.

The apartment isn’t huge—two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen that opens up into the living area—but it’s tastefully furnished and the pale yellow walls and huge windows give it a bright, open appearance. You pick up a lone wooden horse laying haphazardly on its side and toss it into a cardboard box with all of its other animal friends, then turn down the hall.

You make your way to the bedroom but can't help but stop short at the doorway, your greeting lost on your tongue at the sight you’re rewarded with. 

A figure stands facing the window, bathed in warm golden light from the sunshine filtering into the small bedroom. The man is staring out at the dying sun and the rooftops of the city as he rocks back and forth just a bit, cradling a smaller, tiny body in his arms. The child's little blonde head rests in the golden crook of his neck and her tiny fingers grip the material of his sleeve tightly while another littl girl lays fast asleep in a crib nearby.

You lean against the doorframe and just stare at the sight for a few seconds, your heart suddenly in your throat.

Where none intrudes…

“Hey,” you speak quietly as you step toward the pair, not wanting to wake the little girl curled in Xabi’s arms.

The dark-haired man turns toward you, snapping out of his daze. He smiles, his lips curving gently.

“Hi Stevie,” he says, voice low and rich.

“I got that grape soda y’love so much,” you say, moving closer and resting one hand on Lexie’s back while the other curls around Xabi’s waist.

“Thank you,” Xabi responds, perpetually polite.

You graze your fingers over the soft cotton of Lexie’s little pajama dress.

“Shit, Xabi,” you whisper, “yer a real miracle worker, y’know that?”

It’s true. Only twenty minutes ago you'd run out to grab some groceries. Xabi had been on the couch engrossed in some book on Greek architecture or some such, Lily had been running around in circles, and Lexie’d been sitting on the carpet squealing and throwing toys around. Though it was well past their bed time, they hadn’t looked anywhere near close to getting to sleep (you suspected it was all that ice slush you’d snuck them while Xabi was having his afternoon nap) and you don't know how Xabi managed to do it.

“With none of your help,” Xabi replies—reading your damn mind, “I know you gave them ice cream. That horrible blue stuff. It’s not healthy for them, you know... all sugar and colors.”

You chuckle and rest your chin on Xabi’s shoulder. “I like it when you act all motherly.”

Xabi huffs and you imagine you would have gotten a good deck for that had he not been holding a sleeping one-year-old.

Truth be told, Xabi’s caring attitude has blown you away. Over the last few months, he has shown you nothing but support and you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve it, but you sure aren’t about to throw it away.

Things hadn't been going too well for you earlier this year. The level of tension and mistrust between you and Alex had reached an all-time high and then one dreary Sunday after a particularly painful Premiership loss you had woken up in the morning and she was just… gone. Her belongings were missing and her Porsche was nowhere to be found. The only thing she’d left behind was a note and your girls (you’d thanked God and Jesus and whoever else was up there for the latter).

You had sat—oblivious to your own daughter’s hysterical cries in the next room—on the edge of your bed for an entire hour, your hands shaking uncontrollably as you read and reread the note no less than seventy times (can’tdothisanymore … hopeyouunderstand … pleasetakecareofthegirls). And then Xabi (you still can’t remember calling him) was sitting next to you, a sniffling Lexie against his shoulder, gently extracting the wrinkled paper from your clenched fists and putting a comforting arm around you.

“What am I going to do?” you’d whispered and he had pulled you closer.

“It’s okay,” was all he’d said.

And Xabi had stayed (metaphorically of course, because you had to get out of that house). He had offered you and your daughters an open home and an open heart and your girls (taking after their daddy) fell in love with the quiet, gentle Spaniard. So you stayed at Xabi’s house until the season’s end (you in the guest bedroom and the kids in a spare room that Xabi made sure to fill with stuffed animals and books and toys and anything else they could have asked for), and now you’re here.

It’s pure chance really, you think, that you’ve ended up in Istanbul. Xabi had mentioned that it would be nice to get away for the summer—someplace where nobody would ask any questions, he’d said—and you knew some guy who knew some guy who owned a furnished apartment building in Istanbul.

And you can’t ask for anything more. You’re in one of the world’s most magical cities and you’re sharing it with your very best mate, a man who has only ever shown you endless care and support and who tends to your children like they’re his very own. In fact, you’re starting to notice how attached Lexie in particular is becoming to Xabi. 


Maybe you should be worried, really. That the only time she’s ever able to fall asleep is when she’s in Xabi’s arms. That the third word your own daughter ever spoke was leche with near-perfect Spanish enunciation (the first was dada of course quickly followed by xabixabi and sometimes you seriously wonder if she knows the difference).

But you can’t bring yourself to mind, because it’s Xabi and because you’re happy. You’ve never been happier.

You instinctively edge closer to him. 


The room is now nearly completely shrouded in darkness and the two (well, three) of you still stand in the same position, just enjoying each other’s presence and the brilliance of the inky purpleblue sky outside the window. Your hand around Xabi’s waist has comfortably snuck under the edges of his t-shirt and is now resting against the warm skin there.

You suppose your behavior isn’t normal for best mates. You must that admit you've never treated any of your other friends the way you do Xabi. 


The two of you hold hands and share small caresses and sometimes you can't help but press quick kisses to his neck or cheeks or fingers. But that’s just the way you two are and it hasn’t ever gone any further that that anyway, you’ve reasoned. In reality though, you began to question yourself quite a while ago. You’re pretty sure that getting butterflies in your stomach whenever your best mate smiles or talks or even fucking breathes isn’t ordinary even for the closest of buddies.

But you tried not to think about it any more than that and you hadn't… until you came here. Istanbul cleared your mind and the quiet nights and lack of worries have given you more than enough time to mull things over. You haven’t reached any conclusions because you’ve never been good at crap like that, but if there’s one thing you know now it’s that you’ve never been as hopelessly addicted to anything as you are to Xabi.

Where I will show you how beautiful it is to live…

“Xabi,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to Lexie’s little hand and then lingering for a split-second before pressing one to the strong curve of the Spaniard’s jaw, “put ‘er to bed.”

Xabi turns to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly before he nods and pulls away. He walks to the white crib on the opposite side of the room and drops a kiss to Lexie’s head before lowering her carefully into the bed. He tucks her in and turns around to find you facing him.

“Xabi,” you whisper again and feeling a surge of inexplicable emotion, you reach forward to clasp his hands in your own. He looks at you curiously.

“Stevie?” he breathes.

You smile slightly before leaning forward to capture his lips in your own.
 

The first time you kiss Xabi it isn’t hesitant. You kiss him once, not shy in the slightest. It’s short and friendly and casual, like a thank you or a you’re the best, and when you pull away he just grins contentedly in return because this isn't really out of the ordinary.

The second time you kiss Xabi, you move your body closer to his and intertwine your fingers together. You glance into his warm brown eyes, your heart starting to beat wildly in your chest—and then press your mouth to his again, this time tentative and gentle and searching like a may I? and when you pull away he just stares at you. His eyes are wide and his lips are still slightly puckered like he’s forgotten what to do with them and you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling like you might just die right then and there. Oh ground, swallow me up. What have I done?

The third time you kiss Xabi, it’s because Xabi kissed you first. He lurches forward and captures your lips in perfect, calculated precision and the only thing you can do is stand frozen in shock for a split-second before you snap out of it and start to kiss him back hungrily, desperately, urgently and it’s like an I love you.

Your hands fly up to cup his neck and you feel like your heart might explode because this is actually real and it’s happening right now. He licks at your lips and then thrusts his tongue into your mouth, his hands gripping your sides as he kisses you over and over and it’s so good, so good you can barely comprehend it in your haze of surprise and arousal and pure heart-stopping goodness. You push yourself closer, absolutely intoxicated and wanting more, wanting to touch and taste and feel him everywhere.

“Xabi,” you gasp as he pulls away, but he attacks your neck and you can’t help but moan then when you feel his wet, burning hot tongue touch your feverish skin. You run your hands through his silky hair and then down to his chest and further still until they’re under his shirt, touching as much of his soft warm skin as possible.

You shuffle closer to him, pressing your hips to his and you almost don’t notice when his back hits Lexie’s crib with a loud thud. He does though, and he instantly tears his lips from yours to check on the little girl.

“She’s asleep,” you reassure him and lean down to turn the girls’ night lamp on. “Come on.”

You grasp his hand and pull him from the room impatiently, dragging him into the darkened room down the hall (the one Xabi’s been sleeping in—you’d been sleeping on a bed in the girls’ room). He follows you and once you’re inside, you shut the door and push him up against it, attacking his lips again.

“God, Xabi,” you gasp against his lips. “Do you have any idea how long I—”

“I know,” he interrupts and kisses you hard, “me too.”

You kiss him back but it’s messier and your hands are grappling with the edges of his t-shirt. You curse them for trembling so much but you want this so badly right now.

He senses your anxiousness and pulls away, capturing your hands in his, and he manages to slow down the pace with a single look into your eyes (you’re thankful really, because you imagine you probably would’ve come right then and there in your dizzying haste), his own brown ones reflecting flecks of pale yellow from the dim city light that’s filtering into the room.

He leans in then and kisses you with deliberately slow preciseness and suddenly, you feel like you’ve discovered a whole new level of heaven.

You kiss him back slow and hard and it’s so sensual and intimate and delicious that it feels like making love. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest and your cock throbs hotly against your underwear and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything this amazing in your entire life.

You can’t help but press up against Xabi, seeking out temporary relief from the throbbing in your shorts, and he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away and peels his shirt off, then pushes you further into the room before you can get your hands on him again. He walks you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it. His hands are under your shirt immediately, pushing it up over your stomach and chest until it’s off, then he covers your body with his own and recaptures your lips.

If kissing Xabi against the door was amazing, then kissing Xabi in bed while your bare chests are pressed together and his cock is hot and hard right against yours is enough to make you fucking pass out from the sheer sensual pleasure. You manage to stay conscious though and kiss him back for a few long moments before breaking away.

You grasp his arms gently and flip him onto his back. You can’t help but press closer and grind against him, your body desperately seeking release.

“Xabi,” you whisper, your hands reaching up to cup his flushed face. His hair is more disheveled than you’ve ever seen it and his lips look swollen and thoroughly kissed.

“I want to—I want..” you stutter, cursing your inarticulateness.

Xabi’s chest rises and falls and you can feel his heart start to thump faster against your chest. He looks at you, his eyes slightly wide and maybe just a tiny hint afraid, and you know he has understood. He takes a breath and nods. Then he nods again, as if the first one was to himself.

“Yes. Yes, Stevie. I want this,” he says and you’ve never seen or heard anything more beautiful. You lean in and kiss him hard.

You kiss him until you feel his hands at the waistband of your shorts and you lean back to allow him access. He tugs them down your hips and you moan when your cock springs free of its khaki prison. Xabi’s hand immediately comes up to cup it through your underwear and pleasure wracks your body at the warm pressure he applies, stroking you as expertly as if it was your own hand.

He rubs his thumb over the wet spot at the tip of your cock and the friction from his fingers and the scraping slide from your slightly damp underwear nearly push you right over the edge. You tremble and grab his wrist.

“Stop, I’m gonna…”

He looks up at you and gives you one last squeeze before his lips curve and he makes a show of licking the pad of his thumb. You can’t help but stare back in wonder because if that isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen then fuck. You barely resist rubbing your dick all over his leg and getting yourself off right then.

Instead, you reach down and pull your underwear off before you reach for his shorts, tugging them off along with his briefs in one swift motion. You throw them aside and crawl closer, pressing your completely nude body against his and this time he’s the one that’s moaning and rocking up against you, rubbing his silky cock against your stomach.

He sucks in a breath and curls his fingers in your hair.

“Now, Stevie,” he breathes and you look into his eyes.
 
 

Where bliss in your arms takes me…

You study his flushed features then nod, taking a deep breath. A tiny coil of nervousness has begun to grow inside you but you brush it aside and reach your hand down to stroke his lower stomach with slightly shaking fingertips.

You pet him until he’s humming and purring like a cat and then, growing in confidence, you reach further down and cover his prick with your palm for the very first time.

He exhales shakily and you revel in the amazing feeling of the silky hard texture and hot heaviness that is purely Xabi. You rub at him experimentally a few times and he moans your name and tries to thrust up into your hand, searching for a rhythm that’ll push him over the edge, but you let go of him and move further down, nudging his legs apart.

“Wait,” he whispers as he recovers from your ministrations and realizes what you’re about to do. He reaches for something on the bedside then lays back down, pressing a small bottle into your hands.

You grasp the bottle and lean forward to press a reassuring kiss to his lips before uncapping the lotion, squirting some onto your fingertips before reaching down to stroke at his cock a bit more until you're sure he's ready.

Your fingers trail lower, finding his entrance and just rubbing there a few times. You look up at him and his eyes are more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen them, filled with such raw trust that it makes your already speeding heart pound more rapidly against your ribs at the implication of all that’s about to happen. You press against him and kiss him gently before searching his eyes for a sign to go on.

He bites his lower lip and nods in consent and you take another deep breath, watching him carefully before you slide a finger inside him.

He gasps and stiffens, body unfamiliar with the intrusion.

“Okay?” you ask immediately, worried, but he just licks his lips and nods, breathing hard for a moment before he inhales and starts to relax.

You kiss his cheek and stroke his hair with your other hand before slipping a second finger in.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans this time, half in discomfort, half in some indiscernible emotion that doesn't sound too displeased. You wait a few long seconds until you’re sure he’s relaxed enough before you lean forward and stroke your fingers in and out of him experimentally. His chest rises and falls gently and he doesn’t seem to be hating it now so after a few thrusts, you’re confident enough to curve your fingers upward inside of him.

He curses loudly in Spanish and for a second you’re worried you might’ve hurt him but then he hisses something that sounds like again.

You look at him and curve your fingers again and he practically purrs, his fingers digging into your upper arms.

“Again.”

Encouraged, you stroke your fingers out and then back in, curling them right against that spot and you watch in wonder as Xabi moans loudly and thrashes, trying to buck up and push down against your fingers all at once in frenzied arousal. Your cock throbs almost painfully at the sight; he's coming apart at the seams and it’s all because of you.

Hungry for more of that reaction, you continue to rub against the spot until his hands are grappling at the bed sheets and he’s gasping desperately, his cock flushed and swollen and leaking pre-cum. He grips your arms, forcing you to stop, and looks into your eyes.

“Now,” he whispers raggedly.

You nod and kiss him hungrily before you pull away and find the lotion bottle. Accidentally squirting too much in your aroused haste, you quickly rub all you can onto your cock then lean between his legs. He instinctively lifts them and hooks them behind your back as you position yourself at his entrance, nudging the head of your cock into his tightness.

“Alright?” you ask and watch him carefully.

“Yes, keep going,” he says and bites his lip.

You thrust into him a bit more and can’t help but groan loudly, your cock throbbing sensually inside his unbelievably tight heat.

Pausing for several seconds, you try to collect yourself but his legs tighten around you, pulling you closer, and suddenly you’re fully sheathed inside him. You moan and gasp for breath as your heart thuds inside your chest at the sensation. You fit so perfectly inside of him and you vaguely wonder if there really is such thing as soul mates because you think you’ve found yours.

You dazedly realize that your soul mate is currently thrashing beneath you, trying to rock his hips up.

“More,” he demands then and you oblige, extracting your cock and thrusting back into him.

His entire body shudders instantly and you know you’ve hit his spot. You adjust your body and thrust inside him again hard, knowing you’re going to hit it head-on this time.

Xabi throws his head back and practically howls, his fingers clawing at your shoulders, and it’s so fucking sexy you can't help but repeat your action again, and again, driving him insane. You thrust into him, starting off slow but eventually working up a faster rhythm, your cock begging for more and more of his delicious tight friction.

You lean forward to suck on the exposed skin of his neck, needing to taste him as you continue to grind into him. A dizzyingly amazing pressure you’ve never felt before is building to an unbearable peak deep inside of you and it drives you absolutely crazy. Xabi’s tight walls stroke your cock over and over and you feel so fucking high, so close to him, so privileged to get to be with him like this, to make him feel like this.

“God, Xabi,” you grunt and breathe harshly against his skin, your sweaty forehead resting on his shoulder. You’re so close. So close to reaching this incredible, impossible place and you need it so badly, you’ve never needed anything like this.

He’s trembling beneath you now, his hands holding onto your arms weakly as he concentrates on the pleasure that you’re giving him. Unable to hold back anymore, you reach down and grab his hot swollen cock in your hand. You rub at the underside of the wet tip with your thumb and then you palm him, stroking down once and then up roughly.

He comes apart at your first stroke upward, cursing in his native Basque as he shudders and comes hard. His cock jerks in your palm and spills messily all over your hand and his breathing stops completely for a second before he moans, the breath falling from his parted lips in hot little gasps. He clenches around your cock and it’s just the last little push you need.

Your cock throbs and you come deep inside Xabi’s body and you feel like passing out from the waves of pleasure that wash over you, long and hard and intense. Your lungs feel they’re about to capsize and you heart feels like it might give out from this lightning fast rush of blood and adrenaline that seems to fill your entire body, from your strained arms and legs down to your very toes.

Your entire body trembles and you thrust weakly into Xabi, panting breathlessly and riding out the last of your orgasm before you collapse onto him, face in his neck.
 

You stay there for several long seconds, trying to regain your breathing and calm the shaking in your limbs before you manage to drag yourself away a bit so that only half your weight is crushing him. You keep your face buried in his neck and your arm draped across his sweaty chest, your mind reeling from what just happened—how fucking good it felt.

So fucking good.

So fucking good you can’t help but mutter the sentiment aloud against Xabi’s neck and he just chuckles and curls his arm around your waist.
 

Where heaven holds us…

The next week you’ve taken the girls down to the waterway. Lily loves to run after the seagulls and Lexie, well Lexie likes to coo against Xabi’s shoulder so it works for her.
 

You’re standing with Lily and watching Xabi as he stands a little further from the water. He’s currently trying to set Lexie down on a bench but every time her legs touch the seat she scrunches up her face and nearly rips his sleeve off. He turns to look at you exasperatedly and you just chuckle.
 

“Hey, don’t look at me,” you call and he looks at you pointedly, causing a little shiver to run down your spine.
 

If you thought you were happy before, then what happened between you two has killed you and sent you to heaven. In truth, your relationship with Xabi hasn’t changed too drastically. You don’t act like lovebirds or an old married couple (or at least you hope not) because that’s just not the type of people you are, but the new intimacy in your relationship has made everything feel inexplicably more right. It was waiting to happen, you guess.
 

Either way, you aren’t keen on thinking about things too much when you can enjoy them instead.
 

You lean down to pick Lily up, handing her a biscuit and walking toward Xabi.
 

“Hey, you feel like pickin’ up some dinner?” you ask and he nods, adjusting Lexie’s death grip on his collar and turning to you.
 

“Yes but nothing blue tonight please,” he protests.
 

“Ha ha” you say but grin and nudge at him.

His lips curve at you and then the two of you make your way up the water’s edge, babies in tow. You joke and chatter together as you walk and your fingers brush against his casually.

Xabi links them together and squeezes for a split-second before letting go and you can’t help the huge grin that stays glued to your face for the rest of the night.