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He walked fast. Not rushed, but in a confident pace. Haughty and self sure, knowing really well where he was going and what he had to do. The three-piece black suit fitted him perfectly and, along with the blond hair and a cocky elegance, gave him a model’s look. He definitely could be a model if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His actual job was much more profitable. And dangerous.
Lukas waited in his car while the other man walked from his Audi to the building. The fancy neighbourhood was dark and the silence spoke loud. Giving some minutes to himself he grabbed his handbag and walked the same path. Walking in the hotel, he went past the lobby through a discrete door to find the room he was already used to. Inside it, an average reunion room with a round table and about ten men.
“My dear Lukas!” the eldest man greeted. “I am glad Wozni sent you instead of that shit Idzi. His face begs for a punch every time I see him.” Lukas smiled politely, greeting Karsten and their small crowd. A few nodded but no one said anything. Looking around, he recognized some of the faces at the table. And there was the blond guy. Lukas didn’t remember seeing him not wearing a suit and impeccable shoes. Not to mention the smile. He didn’t speak either, but he smiled at Lukas. As always.
“Bastian, please, get us a whisky and drink with us.” Bastian was Karsten’s right hand and did as he was told. When Lukas said he didn’t drink, Karsten laughed. "You haven’t changed a bit since I met you, kid.”
Apparently, Bastian also thought his alcohol abstinence was funny. He drank his entire cup in a big gulp, putting it on the table with a loud and defiant thud and smiling at Lukas. The same smile he did before, but wider. He smiled in a cocky way, as if there was a joke only he had the intelligence to understand.
Lukas hated that fucking smile and his owner. He hated those fucking people and his fucking job. But, above all, he hated having to be part of it. He wanted to scream at Karsten and say he was not a kid anymore, to prove himself, to run away, to hit that fucking Bastian until he stops smiling. Backpfeifengesicht.
But he didn’t. Instead, he crooked his eyebrows at Bastian’s little show. “Down to business, shall we? Here is your share," he spoke in a soft, calm voice. The heavy handbag was open at the table, euro bills shining in a seductive light.
“Great. While our Basti here counts it – and I am sorry to do so –, tell me: did everything went well? Any unexpected event?”
“There are always unexpected events. But they were well managed. We know how to do it, Karsten. You started together, remember? Father taught me well.”
“Of course he did, Lukas. I am not doubting you. The thing is… Wozni is not as careful as he should be with his people. As I said, I am glad he gave you this mission. That Idzi…”
“I did it myself and it’s solved” Lukas stated, not wanting to go beyond in that matter. He didn’t like Idzi either, but he also didn’t want to be there more than the sufficient. Bastian, who was counting the money with the ability of someone who manage billions of euros per week, looked at Lukas with a genuine interest, as if he was seeing something in there for the first time.
“It’s clear, Karsten. The money is here and he did it following the plan. Why don’t we send him to Russia? He proved himself worthy.”
Why was that Bastian giving him orders? The urge to punch that face was even bigger.
“I don’t think I need to…”
“Great idea. I was thinking about it too,” Karsten interrupted. “And I need my best men in it. You are going with him, Bastian.”
Fuck.
Lukas tried to protest, but Karsten shushed him.
“It’s past the time you get along. I need my best men in it and I am not changing my mind. I am sure you will be a good pair.”
“Yes, we will,” Bastian smiled. Again.
Signaling to make them stay, Karsten dismissed the others. Lukas sat in front of him, the table between them. Bastian took the opportunity to sit beside him, legs open and knees touching. He tried to get away of the casual touch, but Bastian followed him.
Even more uncomfortable, Lukas started. “When do we go? And why exactly are we going that early? Is Wozni aware about it? Why me?”
“Yes, Podolski, your father knows the plan. He gave the idea, actually. We have two months to prepare ourselves,” Bastian explained, seriously.
“WHAT? Why the fuck do you know what my father planned for me? Why do you know every little thing that happens in this fucking place?”
“Lukas, don’t be rude. Bastian is my successor and he has proved himself more than once. You, on the other hand, never wanted to be part of it. All you wanted was to play football, so inconsequent and careless about family business.” Karsten was serious, but seemed to expect Lukas’ outburst.
“I have proved myself more than once too. And I don’t need you to patronize me. If you and father want me to do it, then I will. But once you trust me I will not be watched by anyone. Including your successor,” he spat the last words.
“See? You are already acting more likely of your position. Maybe it’s good if you and Bastian stay a little more to discuss your business and get to know each other. Angry glances don’t count, Lukas. I mean really talk. Russia will be a hard mission, all eyes are turned there.”
Karsten got up and the youngsters did the same. He walked up to Lukas and hugged him. “Aren’t you going to hug your godfather back? I really have to talk to Wozni.”
Lukas sighed, anger bubbling up inside him, just a bit from exploding. But he hugged back. Bastian, who was just observing the development, was patted on the back with an instruction: “explain to him the details.”
When the door was closed and the two men were alone inside it, Lukas let his anger go out in hot and strong waves.
“Why do you know everything? Why am I just a fucking piece in this shit? Why do I have to travel to fucking Russia to prove myself? Why you?” he bursted.
“I don’t have to prove myself, Podolski. You are part of it now, and nobody cares if you want it or not. You are not a player anymore, so get your shit together.” Bastian was calm and it infuriated Lukas even more.
“You were never a player, Schweinsteiger. You don’t know what is like to have everything, to win everything, and then stop at your best because of a fucking injury. It was fucking hard, but it happens. I could still manage a club, work at the base. But no, working with football now has other meanings. I work with a fucking results mafia. I work against my fucking passion and YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT’S FUCKING LIKE, SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH.”
Lukas found himself screaming at Bastian, shouting all his frustrations from the past three years at the blonde’s face. He was so close that he could finally punch that face without a second thought. He didn’t.
“Are you finished?” Bastian asked, not impressed.
But he wished he did.
“I do know what it’s like to have a passion and not be able to pursue it. Don’t you think I don’t. You are not the only one with problems here, Podolski. Do you think you are so deserving because you have such a sad story? You don't. You can’t even work with your father and godfather. No one here trusts you but we have to accept you because you are their blood. You were given a mission and you will fucking do it.”
“Will I? What makes you so sure?”
“I’ll personally guarantee it. And if you don’t, I’ll make you do it.”
“You’re so self sure, aren’t you? With those expensive suits, following Karsten’s orders like a fucking puppet. Serving drinks, counting money, babysitting. What else?”
“I do what I have to. I’m not like you, who had everything. Who HAS everything. You are a spoiled kid, Podolski. But let me tell you something: the world doesn’t revolve around your fucking navel. You think having a song made for you makes you be something? It doesn’t. They don’t even do it anymore. Forget the football world because no one else remembers you anymore.”
That was enough. Lukas felt his body tremble and, before he knew, he punched Bastian with all his strength, not feeling the pain but being awake by the sound of his hand and the blonde’s maxilar. Still in shock but not regretting his actions, he looked at Bastian. The blonde’s face showed nothing, but his eyes were dark and narrowed. He grabbed Lukas arm and only then he realized they were too close.
“I wouldn’t do it again if I were you” he stated, closely and predatory.
“Why not? You look pretty recovered and calm for someone who was just punched in his fucking face.”
“You should watch your mouth, Podolski. Is ‘fucking’ the only bad word daddy let you say? I am not complaining, actually. It’s a pretty interesting choice…” Before Lukas could say anything, he continued. “I’ll let it go this time. You are angry and I understand. Although I prefer to relieve all this tension in another way.”
Lukas laughed.
“Are you hitting on me, Schweinsteiger?” he said defiantly, looking right into Bastian’s eyes.
“What if I am?” he replied the same way.
It was nothing new for Lukas, having guys hitting on him. He got used to have both men and women throwing themselves at him – and he was glad he had options. Double the chances, they say. More than once he had guys in his bed and it was not a big deal. Having Bastian on the other hand…
Lukas still hates the guy, he still wants to punch his fucking face again. He also starts to admit to himself that maybe there’s something else in his hate. He never liked Bastian, since the first time they met, but he had to confess that he was hot. And the cocky smile helped to increase both his hate and his arousal. He couldn’t control a crooked smile.
“I think you are bluffing, Bastian. Are you testing me?”
Bastian was even close, noses almost touching. His voice was soft and low, every word dripped from his mouth. “Does it look like a fucking test to you, Podolski?” he said, grabbing Lukas crotch suddenly, drawing a gasp from him.
Lukas was already hard, he noticed – and the same could be said about him. The first time Bastian saw him they were 27 years old and Lukas had just retired. He kinda liked him as a player, but he definitely wasn’t excited to have him in the group. Lukas was clearly unwillingly. If he wasn’t son and godson of the chiefs, he would never behave like that. Bastian didn’t like his attitude, always welcomed when he had to prove himself over and over again to achieve his position in the group.
Not being excited about Lukas Podolski as a colleague was one thing, not noticing how hot he was was something entirely different. Bastian saw the way he looked at him, despise written in his eyes. Eyes that always lingered a bit more on his frame, even when their owners didn’t seem to notice.
Having a hard Podolski in his hands was fucking good, but he wanted more. He moved his hands up and down Lukas throbbing cock, over his dark jeans. Lukas sighed and moved along the blonde’s hand, grasping at his shoulders to get balance. When Bastian increased the pace Lukas crashed their mouths, taking the opportunity to touch him too.
They kissed fervently, mouth muffling their moans, hands grasping tight at each other’s hair. Lukas undid Bastian’s belt and undressed him, enjoying the freedom of movements. Bastian seemed to enjoy the improvement too, considering his moans and motions.
“So cocky. So confident. But look at you right now, Schweinsteiger. All flustered under my touch, moaning like a little girl.”
“I don’t think little girls do it” he stated, increasing his movements to prove his point. Lukas moaned hard and kissed Bastian again, aroused yet frustrated. Both men fumbled to reach the table without taking their hands away.
Lukas pressed Bastian against the table and moved against him, hands and waist and mouths working in tune. He worked his hand all over Bastian’s cock, giving special attention to the tip, slowly, teasing.
“Fuck, Podolski.”
“Oh, is that what you want?” Lukas smiled, touching him even slowly now.
“FUCK, Podolski! Are you fucking dumb? Fuck me.”
“Is that the only word you know? Interesting choice, Schweinsteiger” he laughed in Bastian’s ear, mimicking his early words, working on his hole while still teasing his cock. When he had one finger in, Bastian bit on his shoulder, cursing.
“Are you a fucking virgin? I am not a fucking virgin. Move, for fuck’s sake” he said, breathily. Lukas did so, Bastian’s words making his cock pulse. Two fingers in, he felt Bastian moving along, the hand on Lukas’ cock just a loose grip. Deciding it was his time to have fun, Lukas turned Bastian and slammed against him. He felt Bastian tense, but he didn’t worry. He wasn’t a fucking virgin.
Bastian leaned across the table, back arched and looking over his shoulder. Lukas smiled wide when a particular thrust made Bastian moan in a not so nobly way. “Look at you, the powerful Bastian Schweinsteiger fucked by the spoilt Lukas Podolski, moaning out loud and begging for more. Oh, Bastian. So fucking good." Each word was a thrust, harder than the one before.
The silence was disturbed only by the sound of their skin slapping, the table creaking and their moans. Lukas slammed against Bastian, holding him in place with one hand, pumping his cock with the other.
“Come on, Bastian. Do as you’re told and come for me,” Lukas whispered on his ear. Bastian didn’t speak though, just pushed his body back, right into Lukas’. The hard movement took him by surprise, making him come, shortly followed by Bastian.
The Bavarian was the first to move, retrieving his pant and recomposing himself. When he was done, Lukas’ hands were still trembling, struggling with his belt. Bastian took the chance to help him.
“Looks like Russia will be real fun, Podolski . See you in two months,” he said, centimeters away from Lukas face. Again, he hadn’t the chance to answer when Bastian turned around. He stopped at the door and gave that smile again before disappearing, leaving a confused Lukas behind. Suddenly, Russia didn't seem that bad.