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They’d just lost to Dortmund in the second leg of the Champions League quarter final. The team went on from aggregate, but a disappointed mood was still shared among them all, settling in the air as the locker room was a little quieter than usual. Everybody was doing their own thing, Lamine and Balde were quietly laughing about something while Lewa and Tek were by the door, speaking to each other in polish. It was almost like a typical post-game environment, everybody seeming to be taking their first loss of 2025 pretty well.
Everybody except Ferran.
Pedri was barely in the locker room before the sight of his friend storming out without a word made his heart drop. Nobody else seemed to care, most of them getting used to Ferran’s outbursts after certain games. It was the common consensus that he wasn’t mad at anybody, but upset at himself. The team didn’t take it personally, and for obvious reason. Though, not everybody was Pedri. Not everybody had the relationship Pedri had with Ferran.
It wasn’t a relationship relationship, but it was something. The thing that had always been between them. That magnetic force driving them together, like their bodies always needed to be touching, a hug always shared or fingers discreetly intertwined. Everybody got used to them, jokingly would say Ferran is in love with Pedri, and the two embraced it, softly smiling whenever the rest of the team would tease them.
Ferran was the first to initiate it, all the way back in the season before. He kissed Pedri after a game in September, his lips gentle and careful, testing the waters, seeing if Pedri had also been pining for him for so long. Pedri was shocked at first, his back to the wall as Ferran caged him in, but it only took a few seconds before he would reciprocate it, his lips chasing the Valencian’s back. They made out for hours that night, like two teenagers, dryly grinding against each other as Ferran licked the inside of Pedri’s mouth. It relieved something in the Canarian, something he refused to acknowledge because he feared Ferran would never feel the same way he did.
It had become a thing after that. They never really discussed it, never really went further either. Just the occasional make out session after training or a particularly bad game.
The only time they ever ranged out of that zone was the win against Girona, when Ferran had gotten a red card. The Valencian was upset that night, despite the win, and Pedri wanted to make him feel better. They went back to Ferran’s apartment that night, the taller quiet the entire way home. It was the first time in a while that Pedri felt uncomfortable with Ferran. It was a side of him he’d never seen for the years the two had known each other, and frankly it made Pedri nervous, made him fidget his hands between his thighs and watch Ferran’s movements tentatively. Not that he was necessarily scared the Valencian would hurt him, more like he just didn’t know what to expect.
Ferran was surprisingly gentle with Pedri that night, kissing him lazily, and eventually laying the Canarian on his back, crawling between his knees.
“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” Ferran asked, speaking for the first time since they left the locker room.
The words hung in the air for a moment before Pedri shook his head, his mind racing. He wasn’t necessarily opposed to it, but the words still got caught in his throat. He’s never done it, never even received it. Ferran was most of his sexual experience.
“Do you want to try?” Ferran suggested, eyes traveling between Pedri’s open legs, hands groping Pedri’s left thigh dangerously high up, and the Canarian resisted the instinct to cover himself.
Pedri gulped, immediately wondering what the feeling of having a dick inside his mouth would be like, what having Ferran inside his mouth would taste like. Would it hurt? Would it become a new thing for them? How far are they going to go from now on? Pedri’s thoughts raced and he stared at his teammate above him, trying to gather a coherent sentence.
But, the moment was over as fast as it came, Ferran seemingly disappointed by Pedri’s silence, pushing himself off the shorter’s body, ignoring Pedri’s whine of pain at the sudden roughness and walking into his own room.
He was back to his normal self by that morning, joking “I have the best wife,” as the Canarian made the both of them breakfast. Though, all he could think about was the night before, how dangerous his friend seemed.
But that didn’t matter now, because now Ferran was gone, upset at himself. Pedri’s heart ached, knowing how hard the Valencian is on himself, and he wished he could have talked to him before he left.
The Canarian quickly took a shower, trying to wash off the soreness of his muscles with the hot water as he thought.
He was in the middle of slipping his shoes on when his phone dinged loud enough for him to hear above the chatter of the locker room.
It was a text, from Ferran.
Come to my car.
No other words, no emojis he usually sends, no silly pictures, just that single sentence.
Pedri bit his lip, looking around the locker room before picking up his bag and leaving for Ferran’s car.
-
“Took you long enough.” Ferran muttered when Pedri finally arrived, sitting into the passenger seat with his head low, like a naughty puppy.
“I was talking with Gavi.” Pedri lied, trying to ease the tension.
“Of course you were.” Ferran muttered, his hand harshly resting on the wheel, not moving to start the car.
“Where…what do you want to do?” Pedri asked, trying to change the subject.
And without hesitation, the Valencian spat back, “I’m trying to get my dick wet, Pedri, what the fuck do you think?” his gaze finding the younger’s.
The response made the shorter frown, brows furrowing as he became annoyed himself.
“Is that why you made me come all the way out here after a whole game?” Pedri asked, though his voice came out much weaker than he intended it to be.
“Oh stop acting like we’ve never done this after a game before.” Ferran huffed, running his hands through his hair. “You knew why I texted you.”
No, he didn’t. How was he supposed to know Ferran wanted to mess around? They’re friends for fucks sake, typically they just hang out after training or games.
“Ok well, I don’t really feel like it tonight.” Pedri replied, hands reaching for the door handle before the Valencian grabbed his arm.
“Hold on, Peds.” Ferran said, gently pulling him back in with a shy smile. It was relieving to hear his teammate use the nickname, his tone suddenly getting softer. Pedri eased, melting into Ferran’s touch, like he always does. “I- It was just a rough night.”
“Hmph.” Pedri scoffed, raising his eyebrows, feigning amusement.
“Don’t you want to help me feel better?” Ferran asked, his grip on the Canarian tightening slightly. “Don’t you want to feel good?”
Pedri stared back at his teammate for a moment, semi-shocked by his request. They never really asked each other for it, just kind of did it. He would usually crawl into Ferran’s lap after a few minutes of watching a movie, the two lazily making out or grinding against each other. It’s not like Pedri didn’t want to do it, or help Ferran feel better, this all just seemed so off.
“I don’t know…” Pedri mumbled, trying to wiggle his arm out of his friend’s hold.
“C’mon Peds, who else am I going to find to fuck at this time of night?” Ferran asked, his tone rising and that familiar anger returning. He said it like it was casual, like it was just something they do any time.
Pedri’s heart slightly dropped when he felt his friend forcing the hand he was holding to touch his crotch, a growing bulge in Pedri’s palm as he stayed frozen. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t even process the situation that was unfolding in front of him.
“Look at how hard you got me.” Ferran muttered, his hand enveloping over Pedri’s on his own crotch. “You should take responsibility, no?”
Pedri knew he didn’t like the way he couldn’t move his arm, how pushy Ferran was being, how scared he was of his friend i’m this moment, but he couldn’t make his body move. His mind was racing, but he stayed frozen, staring at his hand on the Valencian.
“I asked a question.” Ferran said, dragging Pedri out of his thoughts.
“I- I don’t know.” Pedri replied, “I…I don’t really want to, Ferran.”
Not only was he forcing the Canarian to feel his semi, he had suggested they would ‘fuck’, something they haven’t even gotten close to. Pedri didn’t imagine it like this with Ferran. He thought it would be back at one of their apartments, maybe after a day off, the two embracing after a dinner or night out. He doesn’t want it to be like this.
“Shh,” Ferran mumbled, reaching over with his free hand to caress his friend’s cheek, who flinched at the touch, his brows furrowing and lips pouting. “It’ll be fun.”
“Let’s- let’s just go home.” Pedri requested, reluctantly letting his friend touch him.
“Why not here, though?” Ferran asked, his hand turning to grab Pedri’s face. “Isn’t this exciting?” His voice had dropped lower, and the Canarian started to squirm in his seat, getting more and more uncomfortable by the second.
“Please, let’s just go.” Pedri grabbed Ferran’s wrist, taking his hand off his face. The Valencian let go of his friend’s hand at the same time, his expression becoming similar to the one he saw on the pitch earlier, when Ferran had been the most upset.
“So you’ll give it up to Gavi, but I’m where you draw the line?” Ferran asked, practically spitting the question out. And as he spoke, he unbuckled himself from the seat, fully sitting up and looking at his friend.
Pedri was taken aback by the question. Ferran knew what his relationship with Gavi was like, he knew that they were really close friends. He knew Pedri hated it when people suggested they were more, just because they are affectionate with each other.
“You know it’s not like that.” Pedri grumbled, trying to maintain his composure under his friend’s stare. He took this moment to also unbuckle himself, letting the seat belt slide across his chest as it came undone. “Fer…you’re freaking me out.”
“No, I get it.” Ferran waved his hand dismissively, “You don’t want me, it’s fine.”
Pedri sat up, reaching for his friend’s hand, “No, no, I do,” Ferran turned to look at him, almost expectantly, “I just…I don’t know.”
His friend smirked, and the Canarian’s shoulders lowered a bit, easing at the expression.
“You won’t even have to do anything, Peds.” Ferran replied, intertwining his fingers with Pedri’s. “You can just sit there and look pretty while I do all the work.” He rubbed the space right under the Canarian’s eye, a sweet smile on his face.
The shorter nodded his head unconsciously, trying to work out the suggestion in his mind.
He doesn’t have to do anything.
This will make Ferran feel better.
It'll be fine.
Ferran crawled over Pedri, maneuvering his seat so Pedri was staring at the roof of the car, his body flat and under Ferran’s. His heart beated in his chest as he watched the Valencian take his own pants off, leaving his boxers on.
It’s not like they were in the middle of the parking garage, where everybody would pass by them on the way out, but at the same time, they’re not completely hidden. All it would take to stumble across the two would be a few turns around corners.
And with his growing anxiety about the situation, the sudden boom of something falling in the parking garage made him jump up, both his arms reaching out to push away Ferran, who was in the middle of undoing Pedri’s belt.
“Jesus Christ, something just fell over, it’s fine.” Ferran huffed, gently pushing his friend back down. “You need to relax.”
“Sorry.” Pedri mumbled, gulping. He continued staring at the roof of the car, trying to ignore how hyper aware he was of everything.
The Valencian finally got the better of Pedri’s belt, pulling off from around his waist. “Don’t know why you got all dressed when you knew I was going to take all your clothes off anyways.” Ferran laughed, dragging Pedri’s pants and boxers down, fully exposing the boy from the waist down.
“I didn’t know.” He mumbled like a child. Instinctively he reached down to cover himself up but Ferran’s hands beat him to it, grabbing Pedri’s soft dick.
“Usually you’re leaking just after a few kisses.” He said, amused by Pedri’s lack of arousal.
The shorter didn’t say anything, just turned his head to the side, his mind going numb. He started to think about the rest of the team. They’re probably all on their way home by now. It’s probably just him and Ferran left here.
Two fingers suddenly tapped Pedri’s cheek, bringing him back to reality.
“Suck.” He demanded, “I don’t have any lube.”
The Canarian stared at the two fingers before hesitantly opening his mouth, the digits intruding almost immediately. They tasted gross on Pedri’s tongue, like sweat, and he didn’t really know what to do, sucking on them like a baby would do with a pacifier, looking up at his friend.
“You’re so cute.” Ferran laughed, and that familiar smile made the nerves in Pedri’s stomach ease a bit.
After a few minutes of Pedri sucking on Ferran's fingers, the Valencian eventually pulled them out, his hand dipping to the shorter’s crotch.
“Lift your legs up.” He said, emotionless, and it scared Pedri how quickly his mood changed.
The Canarian lifted his legs up slightly, but that didn’t seem to satisfy the Valencian, who grabbed the back of his thighs and forced his legs up so high his feet almost hit the roof of the car as they rested on Ferran’s shoulders.
Pedri’s eyes widened as he was maneuvered, suddenly feeling contact on the tight muscle of his hole.
“Wait!” He almost yelled, fear consuming him, only getting an annoyed glare from his friend. “I’ve never..I’ve never done this before.” He confessed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he grabbed Ferran’s wrist. “Gentle…please.”
Ferran’s scowl suddenly morphed into a condescending smile as shook Pedri’s weak grip off his wrist.
“Aww,” He mockingly cooed, “My sweet baby Pedri is a virgin?”
Pedri’s face became even warmer as he turned to the side, trying to avoid the humiliation of his situation.
“C’mon,” Ferran lightly slapped his friend’s cheek, “Tell me, this is your first time?”
Embarrassed, Pedri nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I get to be the first one to fuck the Pedro Gonzalez?” Ferran continued, seemingly relishing in the fact that Pedri’s never been with anyone before.
And without another word, fingers suddenly entered him, two reaching past the second knuckle.
Pedri immediately cried out, the intrusion sudden and the stretch painful. His hand reached out for Ferran’s wrist again, trying to get him out instinctively.
“It hurts.” He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Calm down,” He could hear Ferran laugh, though his tone sounded annoyed, “You’re acting like I just put my whole fist in you.”
Pedri’s nerves started to rise again, the reality of his situation suddenly washing over him and he felt like he was faced with the decision between getting out now or letting it happen. But before he could even decide, a third finger entered him.
“Ahh..!” Pedri yelled, his back arching and arms reaching out for Ferran. “S…slow…please.” Tears started to swell in his eyes, but he couldn’t pay enough attention to be embarrassed. His gaze was only on the hand between his legs, forcing him open.
“We don’t have all fucking night, Pedri.” Ferran replied curtly, “Don’t expect me to treat you all sweet just cause that’s what you want.”
The Canarian’s breathing started to become rapid, and his hands fumbled to push Ferran off him.
“Stop…stop, I- I need time.” Pedri cried, trying to adjust to the fingers inside him. The spit had long dried, and the friction between his insides and the fingers was almost as painful as the stretch.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Ferran whispered, wiping away one of the shorter’s tears with his free hand.
Swiftly, the digits were removed, leaving Pedri feeling empty.
He craned his neck up, the pain in his lower half starting to leave, when he saw Ferran pull his own boxers down, his dick hard in the air, a bit of pre-cum leaving the red tip. Pedri’s breath hitched as the length was revealed, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have that inside him. He's never seen the Valencian’s dick, only felt it through the fabric of his shorts a few times, and it was bigger than he had been imagining.
Immediately he sat up, the thought scaring him as he realized it would be impossible to fit.
Ferran sensed his tension, gently but firmly pushing his shoulders back down.
“Watch,” He instructed, spitting onto his own hand before wrapping it around his dick and tugging the length a few times, coating it in the spit. “Now, it’s nice and wet. It’ll slip right in because I already prepped you, alright?” He explained, sweetly rubbing Pedri’s sides up and down. “It’ll be okay, Peds.”
The Canarian just gulped, apprehensively laying back down and spreading his legs again.
“…M’kay.” Pedri murmured, his hands squeezing the car seat he was laying on as he prepared for the intrusion. He flinched when the tip tapped his hole, but tried to calm himself down, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think of anything else but this.
He let out a quiet gasp as the Valencian started to sink in, the stretch feeling like a knife was splitting him in half.
Ferran groaned above him, right into his ear, “There’s the tip…fuck…you are so good- so fucking tight.” He licked Pedri’s earlobe, sucking onto it. “You really are a virgin.”
Pedri could barely hear him over the sound of his own heart beat, his body trying to both adjust and reject the pain his lower half was facing.
Slowly, Ferran continued to push in, the discomfort growing with each inch. About half way in was Pedri’s breaking point.
“Fer,” He almost shrieked, his words coming out in a messy gasp, “Stop, too- too much.” His arms were now on the Valencian’s shoulders, desperately trying to push him away. But before he could even move his friend at all, Ferran pushed all the way in, dragging a shrill scream from Pedri’s throat, who went limp at the sudden intrusion.
“Pedri…” The older grunted, his hips moving in and out as his pace began. “So fucking good, best pussy…fuck.”
At the same time, the Canarian was on the verge of passing out, the ringing in his ears becoming the only noise he could hear, and his body felt like it was on fire. His words got caught in his throat and his hands weakly punched at Ferran’s back, trying to get his friend to stop.
“Does it hurt, baby?” Ferran asked, though a mocking smile was plastered on his face and the thrusting remained just as cruel. “It’s your first time, it’s normal.” He laughed breathily, bowing his head as he continued assaulting Pedri’s hole.
“Mm-,” Pedri grunted, his back arching and face contorting, “Mm- hurts!” He complained, desperately trying to reach his friend.
“Shh, it’s okay, you’re doing so good.” Ferran answered, sitting up and using the back of the Canarian’s thighs as leverage as he slapped into him relentlessly.
“Ferri!” Pedri cried, the pain overwhelming, “Fer- Stop!” He pleaded, though the pounding didn’t stop. The shorter finally opened his eyes, reaching out to push away Ferran, who only grabbed his hand and pulled it away dismissively.
“Can’t you just fucking moan and pretend you like it?” Ferran grunted from above him, eyes closed in pleasure.
Pedri only cried in response, not caring if sounded pathetic. This was the most pain he’s ever felt, it hurts more than any injury he’s gotten, more than the time he broke his arm as a kid, more than when anything. He feels like he’ll die.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to reject the situation he’s in, focusing on the sound of his friend grunting and the squeaking of the seat under both their weight. Pedri should have never come here, he should have never opened the notification, he should have never felt bad for Ferran. This shouldn’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
For what seemed like hours, the Valencian continued the brutal pace, the lewd slapping of his crotch meeting Pedri’s ass becoming almost as loud as Pedri’s cries, his face drenched in snot and tears.
“So fucking pretty- always so fucking pretty.” Ferran muttered, “My pretty boy, mine, my boy, taking it, so good- such a good fucking boy.” He rambled, though the words fell on deaf ears, as Pedri’s mind was dazed, his movements ceasing to just rocking back and forth with each thrust.
“Fuck.” Ferran grunted one last time before a warm liquid released inside Pedri, filling him up as he let out another pitiful whine.
The Valencian fucked his way through the orgasm before finally pulling out with a lewd popping noise.
For a few moments, or a few minutes, Pedri couldn’t think anymore, Ferran sat up, wordless as he stared down at his friend below him. The Canarian refused eye contact, so many emotions consuming without the mind to process any of them. All he could do was cry quietly.
“Fuck, Pedri.” Ferran finally mumbled, turning on the light in the car before the Valencian’s breath hitched loudly, “Shit..!”
Pedri finally looked up and in between his legs, a mix of white and red coloring the car’s leather seats. He didn’t even say anything, too tired and hurt to conjure up any thoughts. Just whined as he realized Ferran had literally torn him open.
“Shit, I'm- shit.” Ferran opened the door, crawling out before standing at the door, grabbing napkins from the glove box and quickly wiping up the blood and cum. He hesitated before wiping Pedri’s hole, quietly apologizing when the Canarian whined. He found the shorter’s boxers and shorts, gently sliding them back up his legs, such a stark contrast from how he had taken them off.
“Fuck…I’m sorry” Ferran muttered as he grabbed his own head, running his fingers through his hair, “I…I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I- I want to go home.” Pedri whispered, his voice hoarse from the crying and screaming. “…Please.”
“Yeah, yeah of course.” Ferran nodded, shutting the door and going to the other side. He started the car without a word, and Pedri didn’t move at all, laying on his side, his thoughts becoming overwhelming as he fought the urge to pass out, exhaust reaching him.
-
“Where’d you run off to last night?” Gavi asked Pedri the next morning, the two standing next to each other in the locker room. Pedri slightly flinched and his jaw clenched, trying to ignore the memories of what happened flooding back.
“Home.” He answered curtly, hoping Gavi would take the hint.
“You sure you didn’t go back to Ferran’s place?” Gavi teased, his words coming out with a breathy laugh. But Pedri didn’t make a noise, his eyes wide as he turned to his teammate, fears flooding his mind.
There’s no way Gavi knew what happened, right?
“What- what’s wrong?” The Sevillian asked, startled by Pedri’s sudden expression.
“I- I-,” Pedri stuttered, breaking eye contact with his teammate as his vision blurred with tears. “I just went home last night, okay? That’s it.”
“Yeah…okay.” Gavi nodded his head, dropping the subject and letting Pedri sit, the conversation between them ending and the air tensing.
The Canarian could see Ferran looking at them, his stomach twisting in fear. He couldn’t read the Valencian’s expression, and his chest began to feel heavy as bile threatened to rise from his throat.
Gavi followed him to the bathroom, silently watching his teammate vomit, worry clouding his mind.
Pedri would ignore every ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did something happen?’, wanting to leave the situation between him and Ferran only.
Nobody would find out, nobody needed to know. Pedri is fine.
He let Ferran hold him that night, let him whisper sweet apologies into his ear and hug him innocently.
“I’m so sorry, Peds.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I wouldn’t be mad if you never want to speak to me again.”
Pedri cried a bit, melting into the touch of his friend and nodding his head.
He forgives Ferran.