Archive of Our Own

Cristiano Ronaldo Jr. took after his mother in more than in name. Beyond their near-identical features, his eldest son shared the same, skinny beanpole physique Cristiano carried in his youth. The boy was a little over three, and he was already halfway to four feet. When Lionel held him, Junior took over his entire body. He was still light enough to carry, but it wouldn’t be long before that changed, too. Cristiano suspected that Lionel was looking forward to it. He liked things big. Big babies. Big dogs. Big omegas. Messi couldn't keep his hands off of Cristiano when the older man was pregnant with Thiago. Cristiano used to think it was because Leo wasn't there for Junior's pregnancy, but now Cristiano wasn’t sure. It could have been regret, or it could have been his fetish. All his life, Leo was the smallest alpha in his pack. It must be gratifying being crowned the king of giants.

Today, Leo had been with the kids all day. He didn’t look tired, but he must have been. People, even their children, took a lot out of Messi. After every match or press conference, Leo would retreat to his room for hours. Now, no matter how drained Messi was, he always made time for the children. He could play with them for hours, suffer through the tedium like it was the best time of his life. Perhaps, the Portuguese forward was wrong, and their sons gave him strength.

Cristiano was wrong a lot when it came to his lover.

They've been together for four years, and Cristiano knew as much about the man as he did the legend. Cristiano could recount Messi's biography, his stats, and whatever his PR team pushed to his media, but not his deepest fear. He knew all of Leo's habits through observations, like how he took off his shoes as soon as he came home, or how he liked to set the table before going to bed so that it’d be ready the next morning. But Messi never told him anything. Cristiano wasn’t special enough for his secrets.

It was unnerving because Cristiano was always special. He deserved to be number one. The player spent his entire life climbing out of the gutters, leaving behind bloody fingerprints to feel the sun. Things changed when he first played against Lionel Messi. Cristiano realized at once that Messi was a star.

Like most boys who enjoyed playing with fire, Cristiano wanted to touch. The footballer sought greatness for himself and others, and it was easy to justify his flirtations following their match. Leo was the best alpha, so Cristiano should have him. The next time Cristiano was in Barcelona, he asked Messi out for a drink. They had a pleasant dinner next to a pier, and Cristiano ordered a bottle of wine he did not drink. Then, when Leo was too drunk to say no, Cristiano invited the fellow forward to his hotel room. They fucked like animals the entire night. Cristiano rode him the first time, and the Barca player grabbed Cristiano’s ass so hard, his nails left marks in his skin. He sobered up after the second round and some rest before taking Cristiano on his back, thrusting with all the anger and indignation he kept bottled up from when Cristiano used him like a toy. Cristiano was on his hands and knees next, on his back again, and then in his lap. They did it any way they could, unable to keep their hands off each other. Cristiano couldn’t think of anything else when Messi kissed his body, and he lost his mind when the Argentinian bit him.

Sex was about power. Cristiano always felt powerful in bed. Cristiano’s partners used to worship his body—they would touch every muscle like they were receiving the Eucharist. Messi touched him like he owned him. Every time Cristiano tried to reclaim the throne, Messi's fingers would make him release the crown. They went on like that for hours. Dominance and submission, coming first, coming second, resting long enough to try again, until it became clear they were addicted and could only stop when they surrendered to sleep.

When Cristiano woke up the next morning, Messi was gone. Typically, this would be Cristiano's favorite way to wake up after a one-night stand and a pleasure he didn’t get to indulge in much. People often tried to push their luck, but it never worked. Cristiano had many lovers and many friends he kept on call for those nights he needed to be filled. They meant nothing to him.

Messi wasn’t going to be one of them. The next day, the man continued to haunt his mind. Cristiano became obsessed, going through every webpage, and talking to any shared contact they had. There was quite a lot—both of them started their careers at similar periods, but like Cristiano, those outside of Barca could only speak to his skill. It drove Cristiano mad, thinking that he was only a little better than them for knowing the way Messi tasted. Later, he stomped on his pride and contacted the Argentinian again. He said he wanted to talk about that night. When the younger man arrived at his apartment in Madrid, they ended in bed again. It was easier the second time around. Cristiano didn't even need the wine, though he was still the first to kiss him. The two players met up several times after that, all ending in the same way, but was no less fulfilling. One day, Cristiano thought about giving up. His stomach couldn’t handle the strain of this halfhearted relationship. It made him sick, so sick, Cristiano ended up vomiting in the middle of the Real Madrid locker room. Marcelo took him to the doctors. While he waited for the results, he thought about the best way to end it with Messi without looking like a heartbroken fool. Cristiano was going to come out on top of this relationship, even if they weren't officially together. He wanted Messi to regret losing him. His thoughts were interrupted when the doctor revealed he was pregnant.

Well, fuck his life.

Cristiano never appreciated his management team more; they were worth the millions he spent each year. Jorge already planned the injury he would fake when he became too big to hide, and his PR team.arranged for lodgings during the crucial period. “They’re very discreet,” one assistant assured him. Cristiano snorted. The coach was on board. His teammates were supportive.

The problem was the child itself.

Cristiano spent several weeks deciding on what to do until his mother convinced him to keep it. She didn’t believe in strangers raising family. “We’ll have one of your sisters claim it’s theirs.” Cristiano felt a stirring in his gut when she suggested it, before agreeing. The plan was solid. Everything would work out. 

Until Cristiano held his son for the first time.

Jorge Mendes was livid when Cristiano named his son after himself. Cristiano Ronaldo Jr. was the most beautiful thing his mother had ever seen in his life. Cristiano wasn’t ever going to let him go. He loved his son. He didn’t think he could ever love anyone as much again.

There was no way to convince Cristiano to change his mind, and the next day, the footballer announced Junior’s birth on Instagram so no one could think about trying. The media had a field day. Cristiano would face the hailstorm later, but until then, it was all about bonding with Junior.

When Cristiano came back to Madrid, the reporters were ready. Most of the questions were about the child. Cristiano expected that. His publicist prepared him for the worst, and he dodged each question with ease, never mind that his heart stopped when they asked about the father, he still smiled through it. Some questions Cristiano looked forward to answering. The forward spent several months off the field and away from training, and his fans—the diehard football fanatics—were desperate to know if he would continue his career. Cristiano loved the thought of proving the cynics wrong, and with his branded arrogance, he made sure to inform all of them that he looked forward to playing as soon as possible.

After the news hit the press, Cristiano prepared himself for the inevitable. Messi wasn’t an idiot; he could do the math and at least suspect he may be Junior’s father. Since Barcelona had a game the next day, Cristiano figured he had some time to prepare.

The omega didn’t expect Messi to take the 90-minute plane ride to Madrid without warning. Cristiano was in the middle of a workout when his intercom turned on, and his security informed him that someone was at his door. Cristiano had placed a strict, no-visitors policy that applied to even his mother for the first few days. However, in anticipation of Messi's arrival, he told them to warn him if the player ever showed up instead of turning him away.

Cristiano couldn’t move when he saw the Argentinian. Messi had no suitcase. He was wearing his training kit. He must have boarded the first plane to Madrid as soon as he heard the news because there was no way he could have gotten here in such a short amount of time. The thought made him impossible to turn away.

Cristiano took a deep breath and told them to open the gates for the other man. Even after doing so, Cristiano thought about running. It would have been a futile effort as much as a cowardly one, so he did the next best thing, and that was to go to Junior. His son brought him comfort in a way no other human being would. Cristiano stayed in the nursery for what seemed like hours. The doors were unlocked, but his house was big. It would take some time for Messi to find them, and Cristiano wanted to enjoy the last moment where it was just him and his son. 

When Messi arrived, he was breathing like he’d been playing a match. Ironic, since he would miss the next one. Leo looked at Cristiano and then at the crib. Without saying a word, he bent over to stare at the child sleeping.

“Is this my son?” Messi asked softly. Cristiano liked how soft his voice was, always did.

Cristiano spent a lot of time postpartum considering the answer and what to do when confronted.

What happened was that he nodded and said, “Yes.”

Lionel didn't ask if he was sure like Cristiano thought he would. He remembered thinking that when Messi asked that, he wouldn't be insulted. It was a reasonable question, given Cristiano’s history, and Cristiano would tell him to take a DNA test if he cared, or none if he didn’t. Cristiano almost gave his son up, and he wouldn’t judge Messi for doing the same.

Messi stared at the sleeping baby. “Can I hold him?”

A better person would say yes. “He’s sleeping. If you pick him up now, it’ll take forever to get him back to sleep.”

Messi said nothing. He agreed and turned back to Cristiano. His brown eyes revealed nothing. No happiness or sadness or anger. Just a blank stare. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Because I was scared, Cristiano thought, because I didn't know how you would react. Because I didn’t know that I wanted him until I had him, and I was afraid you’d be the same, but I was more afraid that you wouldn’t.

Cristiano shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Whether Leo was satisfied with the answer or not, Cristiano couldn’t tell. Messi asked for their son’s name, and Cristiano was amused when Messi's lip gave the slightest twitch at the answer. Then, Cristiano turned back to their son and sighed. “He looks like you.”

Cristiano didn’t know if he was exasperated or relieved.
“Thank you,” Cristiano answered automatically. This made Messi chuckle, and Cristiano’s heart skipped. He asked if he could take a bath before they could talk about what to do. His composure alarmed Cristiano. He thought there would be fire and brimstone, threats of custody battles, or full-blown warfare. Instead, Cristiano directed Messi to the nearest shower.

“Can I borrow some clothes? I didn’t bring my own.”

Cristiano nodded. While Messi waited, Cristiano picked out the smallest pajamas he owned and knew they would still be too big on the alpha. He handed them over to Messi, who thanked him and began to strip. The last thing Cristiano saw was his silhouette in the shower curtain and an ass Cristiano wanted to dig his heels into as he got fucked against the wall.

Later that night, the two of them talked for hours on the issue. Leo asked if Junior was healthy—unlike the two of them, who were medical miracles with their biological shortcomings. He was, Cristiano had answered. Then, Leo asked if Junior was an alpha or omega. Alpha, Cristiano told him easily. When the questions about their son were finished, they moved onto the talk of a new arrangement. To Cristiano’s surprise, Messi agreed to live together. He didn’t fight Cristiano’s decision to continue playing football, and he wanted to raise Junior alongside Cristiano, with the omega taking the lead in childrearing. They would have to find a new home between Madrid and Barcelona, but Messi never once indicated he found displeasure in the move. Cristiano made more and more demands, and Messi agreed to the vast majority of them. The deference Messi had towards Cristiano as a mother was astounding, and for the first time, Cristiano felt more powerful than Messi.  

They fucked later that night. Cristiano had his back against the wall as he demanded Messi go harder. Deeper. Faster. He controlled the pace.

That day was also one of the only times in the last three years, Cristiano remembered having a conversation with Messi. They had their moments of reflection, especially after Thiago was born, and Messi was able to experience the entirety of fatherhood. Cristiano could tell he loved being a father. The tiny forward was beginning to open up to Cristiano.

It was nice.

But it wasn’t enough.

Cristiano pushed for perfection. It was a bad habit of his to push until miracles were made, or something was broken. He forced himself to be the best, and he pushed Messi to open up. When his efforts didn't work, and Cristiano pushed too hard, the younger man would either push back, or he would retreat. Secretly, Cristiano wondered what would happen if he pushed too far, and Messi ended up bleeding all over their bedroom floor.

Cristiano bet even Messi couldn’t hide any secrets with a cracked skull.   

While lost in his thoughts, Cristiano didn’t feel the hand pressed against his face. Lionel stroked his cheek. “What is wrong?”

Cristiano eyed the shape of his partner’s head. Then, he smiled. "Nothing," Cristiano answered before pulling his alpha into a kiss. 

***

No one looking at Cristiano could tell he gave birth to two children. He spent most of his time after delivery sculpting his body back to the godly standard he prided himself on. Many called him vain for his efforts, but his career put as much emphasis on his looks as they did on his playing. It was the reason behind the success of his fashion label, and the billions of dollars of sponsorship he received every year. At his latest photoshoot, Cristiano grinned when the nervous omega assigned to oil him up nearly had an aneurysm from touching his pecs, and he almost busted out laughing when a few alphas were scolded for their bulging knots.

Cristiano left almost immediately after they wrapped up their session. They would send over their best, post-edited pictures tomorrow, and he could take his pick. Before Cristiano drove home, he posted his favorite “candid” photo of the shoot on his Instagram, thanking the workers for a job well done and his fans for their support. By the time he pulled up to his gates, millions would have seen the photo and liked it, promising to buy a pair for themselves or their significant others as soon as it came in stock.  

Junior came running towards him as soon as he heard the door open. His eldest son was a mama’s boy, and as soon as he reached his bearer's legs, Cristiano scooped him up and peppered his face with kisses. Leo found him soon after. He held Thiago in his arms. Their youngest was getting big, too, Cristiano noted. He kissed him on those chubby cheeks and inhaled. Thiago smelled so good, Cristiano sighed. Then, he moved onto his children's father. Messi received the kiss well and took steps to deepen it despite both of them holding onto their children. It was Cristiano’s laugh that broke the kiss.

"We should put them down," Cristiano suggested.

Messi chuckled and agreed. He told them to play outside while he talked to their mother—alone. Junior was reluctant, having been away from Cristiano all day always put him in a bad mood, but thankfully, Thiago dragged him away. The toddler whined and reached out to hug Junior. Finally, Junior relented and followed his younger brother's waddles outside. Affection filled Cristiano's chest. He knew Junior was suited to be a big brother, but it helped that Thiago was an easy child. He had the gift of empathy; he knew what people were feeling, even when they weren't aware of themselves. Messi loved this quality about their son, and sometimes, Cristiano was jealous of their second born. It was laughable to think about it—him, being jealous of anyone, let alone his own child. But Leo confided in Thiago in a way Cristiano couldn’t comprehend. They had these secret messages through their smiles and laughter that Cristiano couldn’t fathom translating, and it made him retreat to his firstborn even more. Sometimes, he thought he was cruel or childish. Leo loved playing with Junior; his sons were everything to him, and Cristiano felt inadequate for not loving Thiago the same way he loved his older brother.

“How was the shoot?” Messi asked when they were finally alone.

"Great. I looked good.”
“As always?”

Cristiano grinned. He grabbed the back of Messi's head to pull in for a kiss, and the two of them continued kissing as Messi directed him to the coach. The two began to strip each other of their pants, fingers on any zipper or button they could touch.  Cristiano laughed when he fell on the cushions, and the pillows fell off the couch when Messi followed on top of him.

“Aren’t we supposed to be outside the kids?” Cristiano teased. He closed his eyes when Messi kissed his neck. The two of them could hear dogs barking and laughter outside.

“They’ll be fine,” Messi assured, before turning his attention back to Cristiano’s body. His hands slipped into Cristiano’s boxers, sliding his finger between the folds of his cunt before grabbing his cock.

Cristiano arched his back in delight. “Shit,” he swore. He pushed his hips forward, but Messi kept his pace controlled. “Don’t tease me.”

“How many alphas were there at the shoot?” Messi asked. His voice was low. For a second, Cristiano wondered if Messi was upset. Then, the younger man let go of his cock and went down to his kiss him through his underwear. Cristiano shivered.

“Just a few.” Cristiano moaned when Messi’s lips brushed against his clothed cock. “The photographer, some staff members…ah…” Messi ran his tongue against his soaking clit. “You’re going to ruin my boxers.”

“I’m sure you can get more.”

Cristiano tried to laugh, but only his breath came out. Messi started to suck on his cock through the fabric. Cristiano's toes curled at the sensation. Was Leo jealous? God, he hoped that was the case. Messi fucked like a dog pissed when he was jealous; he was all about marking territory, and that meant being filled to the brim with cum.

“I was thinking about you during the shoot.”
Cristiano took a deep breath when Messi’s tongue pressed into his folds, pushing the cotton deeper into his cunt. He reached forward to entangle his fingers in the man’s hair. “I was almost naked, and all these people were touching my body. Moving me around, getting me nice and wet.” He moved his fingers against his abs, drawing attention to the spots that were once fondled by strangers.

Messi never asked about the others, but he’d heard of them. Cristiano had walked in on several angry telephone calls and physical confrontations between his teammates, telling their precious forward to abandon ship before he drowned. When they first moved in together, Cristiano was aware of Messi's suspicious stare every time Cristiano got a text or a call from a name he didn't recognize. Cristiano found it entertaining because it meant Messi cared about him more than he let on. Leo was afraid of losing Cristiano, and it showed when he followed him to a private room, waiting until he was sure the no. 7's call was business-related or platonic.

Messi paused; his lips still pressed against Cristiano's thighs. “Did you stop them?”

“Why would I?” Cristiano was grateful Messi couldn’t see his smile. He could feel Messi getting upset. Messi once threatened to lock him away if he continued being so brazen. Cristiano laughed, and Messi smiled as well, but it was tight. Sometimes, Cristiano wondered if he wasn’t joking. “I like to flirt. People should be looking at me.”

Messi looked at him again, and his stare was dark. He got up and pulled Cristiano’s boxers down and dragged his hips further down. Cristiano yelped, and he laughed turned to a pleased hum when Messi bent down to put Cristiano in his mouth. He was bigger than most omegas, and he knew many alphas who'd be grateful to have his size. Most alphas would try to overcompensate when they saw his cock. The most amusing were the ones who became obsessed with his cunt and would jackhammer him to a point where Cristiano either had to tell them to leave or ride them until they remembered who was the boss in his bed.

But not Messi—never Messi.

Messi knew size didn’t matter if you were the best at what you did.  Messi never shied away from his dick—it went back to his obsession with big things. The younger forward took his head in his mouth and sucked on his tip until Cristiano was keening for more. The fucking tease liked to collect his moans like they were raindrops in a drought. When Cristiano started rolling his hips into his mouth, the smaller man gripped his hips to keep him still. The strength it took to do that would leave bruises into Cristiano's bones. Cristiano released some swear words, and maybe a few insults to get him riled up. He got rough after Cristiano baited him enough, and Cristiano barely had to wait at all for the man to take half of his cock inside his mouth. Cristiano felt the short, trimmed hairs of Messi’ growing beard and moaned loudly, rubbing his cunt against his face while the man continued to suck.

Cristiano tightened his grip on Messi's hair as the man bobbed up and down his cock. He wished he could move more, but Messi still had his grip on his hips. This was their compromise — a saddle on Messi and a leash on Cristiano. Cristiano didn't mind it as long as Messi kept up with his rhythm. Messi stopped sucking and remove his mouth. Before Cristiano could whine at the cold air, Messi's mouth was back on him in second.

Cristiano released his hand in surprise and threw his head back in pleasure. Fuck, he thought — fucking hell. Messi was letting him fuck his mouth. The Argentinian continued to move in and out several times, almost letting Cristiano’s cock touch the back of his throat for a single moment of bliss. Messi didn’t deepthroat him often, but when he did, it was a treat Cristiano would be traded for.

Suddenly, Messi’s phone rang. This should have been nothing. Leo was a dedicated lover, and nothing short of the children could stop them in the middle of fucking. When the man began to speed up his ministrations, Cristiano knew it could only mean one thing.

It was a family call.

One part of him wanted to appreciate that Messi still prioritized Cristiano's orgasm before the caller. Most of Cristiano was simply irritated. Messi bobbed his head a few more times and used his fingers to play with his clit for additional stimulation. Cristiano hated the mechanical nature of Messi's actions. Like he was a client in a brothel instead of the mother of his fucking children. It was especially annoying how easily the alpha got him off. Cristiano found himself coming in seconds, and Messi calmly swallowed. The Portuguese player hoped the load was so heavy, Messi's relatives could hear it on his tongue. He kissed Cristiano before he made the call, and Cristiano was pleased to taste the salt on his lips. Leo always tasted better after pleasing Cristiano.

The bliss was ruined when Leo redialed the number. Cristiano could sense the disapproval from the ringtone, so it was probably the alpha’s mother. The omega stared at Messi when he spoke. The man's erection was half-hard, and Cristiano wondered if he should take the plunge and pull it out. He did that once when Messi was on a call with his father, and the alpha was livid, but the fuck was unbelievable. Cristiano licked his lips and stopped himself. They seemed to be discussing old business, which usually meant she was begging to see him more and made snide comments about his family life, like whether he was still with "that omega"—as if she didn’t know his name.

Messi shot him an odd, almost guilty look. Cristiano frowned when Messi told her he had to “talk about it with Cris.” Cristiano’s frowned deepened to a grimace when the words “they’re his children, too. I can’t do that…” The conversation continued for a few more seconds, and finally, Messi promised to call her at a better time.   

When he hung up, Leo's natural reaction was to curl back on the couch and into Cristiano's arms. Cristiano didn’t buy the affection for one second.

"What did your mother call about?"

Messi shrugged. “She wanted to see the kids.”

Cristiano snorted. She was probably asking when Cristiano would be out of the country. Thank God, both boys were both big enough to travel with him. Before, Lionel and Cristiano left them with their grandparents when they traveled, and neither forwards were particularly fond of their pseudo-in laws. “Well, she can visit anytime,” Cristiano said evenly.

They may not have liked him, but they loved their grandchildren.

“She wants them to go to Argentina during the off-season.”

Cristiano tried not to let his displeasure show. They already had travel plans this winter—a few weeks set aside for a yacht trip with friends and shopping and food sprees where they could let loose before they resumed training mode. Losing even a day of that arrangement made Cristiano want to scream.

“For how long?”

Messi paused. “The whole break.”

No wonder he didn’t want to tell Cristiano, because the suggestion was ridiculous.  

“Fuck no.”

Messi sighed. “Thiago has never been there.”

“Then, we’ll visit. But not for the whole break. He will hate Argentina,” Cristiano pointed out. "He doesn't like anywhere, but Spain.” The boy threw a tantrum any time they were a quarter of a mile away from their house. It was the only time they’ve seen him truly upset.

“He doesn’t know Argentina. Junior likes it there.”

“Junior likes to travel,” Cristiano corrected.

“I didn’t agree to anything yet,” Messi assured him. Yet, Cristiano repeated in his head. “But I’m sure we can find the time. It’d be good for them. We can even go to Portugal, too.”

Cristiano groaned. "Why don't they take them during the season?" That way, Leo and Cristiano could focus on their game, and they could have their vacation time reserved for their children and friends—people they actually wanted to spend time with.

Leo frowned. Cristiano raised an eyebrow at the unhappy expression. Finally, his partner revealed that he wanted Cristiano around the children when they visited.

“I want them to see you take care of the children.”

Confusion crossed Cristiano’s mind. After a few moments of silence and the guilty expression on Leo's face, the implication then hit him like a freight truck. Cristiano got up and marched over to Messi.

Leo looked away.

“Do they not think I take care of them?”

Messi didn’t answer.

Cristiano glared. He knew Messi's family didn't approve of him for their precious, prodigious son, but to suggest that he wouldn’t die for his children was a different matter.

“Are you fucking serious?” Cristiano asked.

"It's nothing," Messi told him. His voice was soft as if he were speaking to a wild animal. “They’ve only seen you with them when you’re dropping them off for training or a trip. It worries them.”

“You do that, too,” Cristiano countered. “They don’t like me, why would I want to see them any more than that?”

Cristiano couldn’t tell if his words hurt Messi or irritated them. Maybe he was just exasperated. Cristiano didn’t know. “Their opinion would change if they saw how much you love them.”

“Why should I care about what they think about me?”

"I don't like hearing them say bad things about you."

Cristiano glared at him. “What? That I don’t spend enough time with my children? I know they think I should quit football. Condemn myself to a home I help buy. Rely on you like some bitch."

“They believe in a traditional structure. I don’t,” Messi reassured his lover. “I love watching you play.”

Cristiano usually loved the taste of Messi's words, but today, it wasn’t enough. “What else do they say?”

Messi doesn’t answer, and Cristiano didn’t expect him to without a push. That was his particular skill, wasn't it? “Tell me. I want to know.”  

Messi sighed. “They don’t like that you hid your pregnancy from me, or…the things the tabloids have said about you. I’ve told them it wasn’t true.”

“Things the tabloids say or things I’ve done?” Cristiano knew it would come up in conversation. The last time they met, Messi's mother tried to pry through his life, asking questions about how he liked to spend his nights, or the crowds he’d been seen with, the partying he used to do, the countless models that have marked themselves on his bedposts. His PR team was fantastic, because nothing genuinely incriminating had ever leaked, but there was always that one bitch with a loose tongue.  “They think I’m a whore, right?”

“You are not a whore.”

Messi said this with such vindication, Cristiano could have fallen in love with him if he wasn’t so angry. “So, I’m a bad mother and a whore. What else?”

“Nothing important. Nothing they say matters.”

Messi looked to the window where they could see the children playing. Cristiano grabbed his arm and forced them to face each other. “Don’t walk away from me. If you think I’m ever going to let them see my children again, you tell me everything.”

Messi gave him a look that made him shiver. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“I think I know what I want better than you do.” Cristiano glared at him. “I don’t think you know me at all.”

“That’s not true.” The Barca player glared back at him. “I know you very well, Cristiano. That’s why I never took their suggestions to heart. I knew they weren’t true. I knew you wouldn’t lie to me. You wouldn’t do that to our family.”

“What do you mean?”  

Messi paused, and for a second, Cristiano wondered if he wanted to know the answer.  Then, Messi conceded. "They thought I should have taken a paternity test.”

Cristiano tensed. Anger overwhelmed him, and he let go of Leo, no longer afraid of abandonment.

“I didn't listen," Leo told him before he could retreat. “I knew he was mine the second I saw him. I believed you.”

“So, you had no doubts?” Cristiano mocked. “Not one?”

Messi’s nostrils flared at the accusation. “No. Junior and Thiago are both my sons.”

His answer hit Cristiano harder than any defender. He took a deep breath. He wanted to think about this clearly. Cristiano hadn't noticed if they treated Junior any differently than Thiago, having bolted the second he handed over the children, and Junior seemed perfectly happy being around his grandparents. But it couldn’t be denied that compared to Thiago, Junior carried almost nothing of his father’s appearance.

“My family loves them both,” Messi comforted him. “They know Junior is mine. I made sure of it.”

“They don’t know anything,” Cristiano countered. Another fear resurfaced. He decided to address the matter now before Messi's family had the chance to poison his mind. “If they think I would lie to have you, what’s to stop them from believing I would lie to keep you. What if they think Thiago was a trap? Or any other child we have?” Cristiano was hesitant to bring up the thought of a third born. Their relationship was tentative, and though they did not lack attraction, Cristiano felt like their relationship was constantly tethering on the edge of separation. Fortunately, Leo didn't deny the possibility.

“All the children we have are blessings.”

Another beautiful goal from Lionel Messi, but Cristiano didn't feel like giving him the win.

“I don’t want you listening to their stories," Cristiano told him. "They're trying to break us apart. They've always had. Look at us now! We are fighting because of them.”   

“Cristiano, I don’t listen to them. I don’t care what they say about you.” He reached out to hold Cristiano.

Cristiano shoved him away.

"Even lies sound like the truth if you hear them enough," Cristiano growled.

Before Leo could answer, the phone rang. Messi looked at Cristiano, who was standing inches away from him, snarling at him, and back at the phone.
“Don’t you dare,” Cristiano warned him.

Messi shook his head and reached for his phone. As soon as it was in his lover's hand, Cristiano grabbed it and threw it against the wall.

“Cristiano!” Messi scolded.

“Look at me.” Cristiano grabbed his face with both hands. “Look. At. Me. We are fighting. You and me. Stop paying attention to other people when you should be paying attention to me!” Cristiano shouted. “This is about us. This is about our family. You should care more about what we want.”

“They’re my family, too.”

Cristiano’s eyes narrowed. He let go of Leo. He was about to storm off when their children came running in, or rather, Junior did, with Thiago in his arms. Junior called out for his mama and papa and said they were tired after playing alone for so long.

The two footballers shared a look, one particularly begging from Messi. Cristiano shook his head angrily. He bent down to take his youngest son, but Messi stopped him. The alpha touched his arm gently and took a step closer so that their children could not hear his voice. Then, he tip-toed and stroked Cristiano’s face. The gesture was a comfort; it would have never come from the man without the children being born. 

“I want what you want,” Messi promised. “I want my family to be happy. I want to be with you and the children. I don’t need anything else. If you don’t want to go to Argentina, we don’t have to. But let’s not fight about this anymore. I don’t want those stories in our house any more than you do.”

Cristiano looked away. Leo moved his attention back on him. His hand was warm against Cristiano's cheek. Cristiano reluctantly leaned into the touch. He wanted to fight some more. He didn't want this to end on such a half-hearted note.

Thiago let out a little cry. Junior tried to comfort him, rocking the babe with as much strength his small arms could muster. Cristiano hated surrender, yet he wasn’t going to fight in front of his children. Cristiano performed his original intent of taking his youngest into his arms. Thiago was a sweet boy and smiled as soon as he was in his mother’s arms. He had Messi’s smile.

The same smile was shining back at him through the boy’s father. The storm had passed in his mind. The Barca player leaned forward to kiss him, and then pressed his hand behind Junior’s head. He suggested they play with the dogs together. They looked at Cristiano expectedly, waiting for him to join them.

“I’m going to take a shower, first,” Cristiano promised them before handing over Thiago to Messi. The two of them retreated to the other room after kissing Cristiano. Cristiano was about to make good on his promise to bathe when he heard the phone ring. He froze. Cristiano stared at Messi's broken phone, making it clear it wasn't as defective as Cristiano would have liked. He glared at the device before going over to it, picking it up and taking it with him to the trash.

***

When they first met, Cristiano was in awe of the young man’s size. He was a child, Cristiano thought when they were shaking hands at the beginning of the game. Messi’s hair was long, pulled back by a headband, and his face was clean-shaven back then. He didn't have any tattoos yet. He looked like someone’s kid brother had found their way onto the field. Cristiano remembered all the emotions he felt when he shook the boy’s hand. Amusement, because he was just as small up close. Then, resentment, because this was someone who should have been born an omega, not him. He was someone who should have been protected, who looked like he would give an alpha pretty babies and a clean home, and a nice hole to stick their dick in. Instead, that honor was reserved for omegas like Cristiano, and Cristiano vowed he would never fall into that trap.  

Then, Cristiano watched Messi play, and he couldn’t stop watching him until his team lost.

For once, Cristiano felt that pull to have those pretty children. Junior was a surprise, but Cristiano took full advantage of the present his son gave him. Messi was a gift he wasn’t willing to give away, and when the threat of someone stealing him came to surface, Cristiano was fortunate enough to become pregnant with Thiago. Their relationship following their children wasn’t perfect, but it was better with them. Messi used to shut Cristiano out of his life; he wouldn't eat or talk or look at anything but the walls. He wouldn’t touch Cristiano, either, even when the man made an effort to take a plane to Madrid to surprise him at his home. Messi changed for the children. When he was sad, he would hold them. Smile for them. Read books and eat with them. Cristiano knew Messi was happiest when he was with his children. No one could fault Cristiano for wanting Messi to be happy.

People always underestimated an omega's strength, when, in reality, they were built for pain. From the second their sex matured, they were forced to endure a quarterly fever that burned for days. If they found relief, it was accompanied by more pain. They were pierced and used until their insides bruised, and if they were lucky, filled with a child that would serve to cause them the greatest agony anyone could bear. Pain was a birthright for an omega.

To make up for their suffering, an omega's body underwent an accelerating healing process during their heats. Their endorphins increased to a point the pain became a pleasure, and their cells worked overtime. Cristiano remembered his broken wrist, which was predicted to heal in two weeks, was cured in five days after his heat. The doctor had laughed and told him he’d forgotten Cristiano was an omega.

“There are some advantages to the fairer sex, no?” He leered down at Cristiano. “You’re strongest when you want to be mated.” Cristiano wanted to wipe that smile away with his fist.

On a bright Monday afternoon, Cristiano found he agreed with his doctor. The player was getting out of a locker room when he spotted his teammate Gareth. The player swung his arm around his shoulder and brought him close. The fellow omega was surprised by the sudden affection.

“What’s going on, Cristiano?”

“Nothing,” Cristiano answered. Then, he leaned into his ear and whispered something inaudible to the rest of the world.

Gareth's eyes widened, and he quickly shoved his teammate off. "What the fuck?"

 Cristiano raised his hands in false surrender. “Hey, I just asked a question.”

 “You can’t ask me that,” Gareth hissed. He looked around to make sure no one was listening and then dragged them to the nearest empty corner. "What the hell are you thinking? What if someone overheard you?”

Cristiano laughed. "Relax, you're making more of a scene than I am. Besides," Cristiano's eyes became cold. "I'd get into just as much trouble as you if someone overheard."

Yeah right. Gareth glared. Real Madrid hated Gareth. They’d take any reason to drag him through the mud. “What do you need them for?”  
“Not for the same reason as you,” Cristiano replied. "Now, do you still have them?"

Fear flashed through Gareth’s eyes. He was sweating now. “No. I threw them all away. I don’t use them anymore.”

“Is that so?” Cristiano wondered if he should believe him, but he’d been betrayed too many times before to take his word. “Not even one?”

“Yes, taking those pills was a mistake, Cristiano.” Gareth shook his head. “My injury was killing me. I was scared I couldn’t play any longer, and I needed a win. It wasn’t worth it. Trust me.”

Cristiano’s smile dropped. “I don’t need a lecture, Gareth.” His smile became a snarl as he took a step closer. The winger was one of the largest omegas he'd ever seen, but Cristiano beat him in mass. "I need you to get the pills for me. As many as you can.”

“Cris," Gareth sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but a heat isn’t going to solve your problems,” Gareth told him. He gave him a solemn look. “A child won’t either.”

Without warning, Cristiano forced Gareth against the wall, fully aware of his superior strength. Gareth grunted in pain. Before he could fight back, Cristiano bent down so his voice could only be heard by the two of them.

“What do you know?” Cristiano asked, his voice low and angry. “You don’t understand. At least, I’m doing this for my family. You used them to cheat.”
Gareth didn’t respond. He stared at Cristiano with a knowing look, and the star player grunted and let go. “If you don’t get me them by the end of the week, I’ll make everyone know you’re nothing but a liar.”

Cristiano didn't wait for a response. Gareth knew the consequences of his actions, and it was sure his life would be over if Cristiano told. The day before his deadline, Cristiano was worried Gareth might have gained a spine. Then, the next day, Cristiano checked his locker, and there was a paper bag with two packs of heat inducement pills. The Portuguese player turned to his teammate across the room, but the omega refused to meet his eyes. Instead, the Welshman slammed his locker and walked out. Meanwhile, Cristiano sneaked the pills into his gym bag and left without a word.

***

Cristiano and Leo decided to split their breaks into two parts—the first two weeks, they'd spend time with their friends as planned, and the last week would be saved for Argentina. Cristiano came up with the plan. Leo was surprised but accepted it with restrained glee. Perhaps he thought it was a trap, but he was grateful the issue settled amicably. He asked if Cristiano wanted to set some time for the two of them to be alone, which was rebuffed. Cristiano justified that since preseason didn’t start for the next month, the two of them would have plenty of time together at home.

“I like it better that way. If we go on vacation, we’ll be too busy with activities to enjoy each other.”

Messi agreed, and Cristiano sealed the deal by riding him all through the night. Messi was happy and fucked him like they were in love. It was the best feeling in the world. For the first week, they went on a couple’s trip with their friends—Luis, Gerard, both Sergio’s, Marcelo, and their significant others came along with them to Ibiza. They rented a boat large enough for them and their kids to enjoy. Messi was a bigger homebody than Cristiano, but he allowed himself to be dragged into the sun for a tan and swim. He seemed like he was having fun, waddling with Thiago in the on-deck pool, and swimming with Cristiano and Junior. They kissed in the water and slept underneath the rays. Messi coped a few feels while he massaged sunscreen onto Cristiano's body and kissed him when the older man tried to swat him away. While sunbathing, Marcelo teased Cristiano about being a kept omega. The comment would have offended him years ago but made him glow further. Before the sun went down, Cristiano excused himself to go to the bathroom, where he overheard Messi, Luis, and Kun talking about their relationships. He heard from Leo that Kun was on his way to a divorce—sad but not unexpected given the couple's distance during the trip—the two looked like they couldn’t stand to be in the same country together, let alone the same house. For a moment, Cristiano wondered if this was going to be "the trip" that decided whether their relationship was worth the effort. Then, he decided he didn't care about the answer when he heard them ask Messi how his family was doing.

“I’ve never been happier in my life,” Messi answered. There was no deflection in his voice, no indication he was telling them anything but the truth. Cristiano didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he heard the others laugh.

"Good for you," Luis told him. "We were worried at first, but it looks like you're happy."

“It’s about time you found someone,” Kun followed. “You two deserve each other.”

They proceeded to praise Cristiano’s looks, and Cristiano found himself grinning. Because while Messi loved his family, but they didn’t know him as well as his friends. Luis used to be his neighbor for God's sake. These men were giving their approval to Cristiano, and that meant more than the support of a woman who abandoned Messi when he was thirteen. The three men talked some more about other miscellaneous topics, mostly football, before heading upstairs. Cristiano hastily left.  

When the sun went down, they all sent their children downstairs to watch a movie. The adults stayed up top with a few bottles of alcohol to celebrate a great day. Cristiano didn’t drink, but he liked watching Messi loosen up. Soon, the sway of sweet spirits and chasers made everyone’s bodies sing. Someone turned on the music. Geri was already up and grinding against his omega, kissing Ramos’ neck and slipping his fingers into the man’s cunt. Cristiano tried not to smirk. It never ceased to amuse him that his captain—a man who rejected his omega status even more than Cristiano did—could become a complete bitch in his alpha’s hand. The Spanish alpha promised absolute filth in the blonde’s ear, talking about how he was going to shove his “big, Barca knot” in Ramos’ “sweet, Madrid cunt.” Cristiano wondered if Gerard knew how loud he was or if he liked humiliating his rival in front of their friends.

Probably the latter, Cristiano mused.

People thought of Gerard as this lovable jokester, but he was just as disgusting as every other alpha. Cristiano remembered his former teammate’s behavior at Manchester United, and the number of omegas ruined by his huge dick every night. He made a pass at Cristiano once, and truth be told, the omega had been tempted just to see this cock he'd heard so many people rave about. Cristiano knew better. As charming and easygoing as the man pretended to be, Geri was a complete dog off the field. Once he marked his territory, any ass he came in belonged to him. Ramos should have never allowed the man to touch him. Now, whenever Ramos tried to push him off him, Gerard just came back harder. Ramos struggled a few more times, obviously uncomfortable with the amount of affection he was given. Still, Gerard finger-fucked him until he was coming over the other defender's hand and dragged into the separate room.

Kun stayed far away from his wife, but he was still smiling and even laughed when dragged onto the dance floor. Luis was pressed against his wife and sucked on her mating gland while his hands were under her skirt, gripping her ass as they moved. 

Cristiano didn't drink, but he danced. Messi watched him from his chair, so Cristiano moved like he was putting on a show. Marcelo took his act a step further when he pulled Cristiano close and rolled his hips against him. They were best friends, both on the team and off, so physical affection wasn’t uncommon between them. They danced on the field, in the locker rooms, and now on a boat with Cristiano’s alpha watching him with that damnable gaze. Marcelo’s partner didn’t mind, but Messi looked livid. The heat from his gaze got him wet. Cristiano licked his lips as he started to press against his best friend’s cock; he could feel it growing in his swim trunks. Marcelo whispered something in his ear, and it sounded like a scolding. “Don’t get me killed” or something like that. He sounded worried. Cristiano closed his eyes and reached up behind him, so he pulled Marcelo’s head down to his neck. He could feel the man's laugh against his skin. Cristiano only had to wait for a second, before he dragged out of his friend's arms.

Cristiano couldn’t help his laugh when he found himself on his alpha’s lap. Cristiano and Messi fucked like they played—in the moment and without reservations. Cristiano’s swim trunks were falling past his hips. He flexed his ass against Messi’s erection. The Portuguese player dripped everywhere, but he needed more if he wanted Messi to enter him there. He grabbed Leo’s hand and led the alpha’s fingers to his clit. Messi responded by pressing his fingers against him and then moving south so that he could curl his fingers in Cristiano’s cunt.  

Cristiano almost screamed. He pressed his back against Messi, eager to get the alpha inside him. Cristiano’s ass was padded with thick muscle, and it made for a tight fit whenever his alpha entered him. He didn’t have any additional prep besides his natural wetness, but when he felt the burn of Messi's cock entering him, he decided it didn’t matter. Messi's cock was big and thick and could stretch him out however he liked.   

“You feel so good,” Messi muttered in his ear. Cristiano’s back muscles tensed as he entered in further. Pre-cum leaked from his cock, and his cunt was making a mess on Leo’s lap. His insides were burning, and it felt so good; he thought he was going to die when white filled his eyes. He needed more, and he would get it. Cristiano lifted his hips, so most of Messi's cock came out, and then he pushed himself back down, going back and forth from being empty and full.

A broken moan left Messi’ throat as Cristiano began to ride him. His ass was greedy for dick, and he got his money's worth with every bounce. Messi grunted loudly in his ear and gripped Cristiano's hips as he rode him. Cristiano sped up his motions. He could hear his ass slapping against Messi’s thighs while his balls gave him bruises. The music became deafened by the moans and slick.  

It was so dirty, Cristiano thought. Everyone was immersed in their partners. Sex was raw. Sweat and semen and slick covered everyone's body. Their debauchery heightened by the fact that their children were downstairs, oblivious to the party upstairs.

Raising his head to the starry skies, Leo moaned deep in his throat. He grabbed Cristiano’s cock with his hand and began to pump it as Cristiano's ass drained his dick. The older player rode him wildly. Soon, Cristiano saw the same stars in the sky and came, covering Messi’ thighs with slick and cum. He collapsed against Leo's chest. Leo thrust a few more times upwards before he spilled deep inside Cristiano's hole. Cristiano felt like he could come again by the sensation. He loved getting filled up.

Cristiano slumped against his alpha, while they waited for everyone to finish. It wasn’t an unpleasant wait. The air against their sweat-stained skin was cool, and Cristiano liked how Messi’ arms wrapped around him protectively, even when the man was barely conscious. He petted Cristiano’s wet hair and stroked him until they were half-way to sleep. Eventually, everyone went downstairs to kiss their children to sleep.

***

Later that night, Cristiano woke up to get a glass of water. He’d forgotten to take his medication in light of the activities. They would be leaving for Argentina in a few days, so he couldn't afford to skip a day. When Cristiano came to the kitchen, he found he had company.

Junior was tiptoeing over the kitchen counter to get a water bottle. Without saying another word, Cristiano picked up his son and dropped him onto the table. He grabbed the bottle from the tabletop and handed it over to him.

Junior pouted when Cristiano ruffled his hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” The omega asked his son. He kissed him on the cheek when the pout intensified. Cristiano kept peppering kisses all over his face until the boy started smiling, and before he knew, the three-year-old was begging his mama to stop. Cristiano laughed. He unscrewed the cap for the little alpha, but the boy shook his head.

“I thought you wanted water.”

“It’s not for me. Thiago was thirsty.”

Cristiano chuckled. “Oh? And did he tell you that?” Thiago was learning how to speak, but he only knew basic sounds. Junior liked to pretend he could understand everything his baby brother was saying.

Junior shrugged. “I just know.”

Cristiano shook his head in amusement. He opened up the fridge and told Junior that if Thiago was thirsty, he needed to use the proper cup. The chef kept sippy cups in the pantry for the parents. Cristiano poured the water in the container, and together, they walked back to the toddler’s room. Junior said they should creep in case Thiago fell asleep waiting for the water.

“That’s a good idea,” Cristiano agreed. Junior was so dangerous when it came to taking care of his family. He remembered learning from Messi that the boy had almost burnt himself trying to make him soup when Cristiano got sick.

“You’re such a good older brother,” Cristiano praised. He patted his son's hair.

Junior beamed at him. Cristiano’s hand became still in the middle of his brushing. He looked at his son with a contemplative expression, before stroking his head again. "You know, it’s because of you, I decided to have Thiago.”

Junior giggled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cristiano smiled. “You were the most perfect baby in the world. You almost never cried. You loved me more than anything. I remember thinking if I had another child half as good as you, it’d be worth it to go through that pain again.”

Cristiano stood still. Without thinking, the omega pulled his son into a hug. Junior called out his name, but Cristiano kept hugging him.

"Your father looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing in the world when he holds the two of you in his arms. I can win every award this year, and he still wouldn’t love me as much as when I give him a child.”

Perhaps Junior could hear something was off in his voice, so he hugged Cristiano tighter. “I love you the most, mama.”

“I love you, too.” Cristiano kissed the top of his head. He carried him to bed while the boy took the sippy cup in his hand. When the two checked on Thiago, they saw that the boy was sound asleep. Junior was disappointed that his efforts went to waste, but it was getting late, and his eldest needed his rest since they’ll be exploring the town tomorrow.

Once Junior was in bed, Cristiano pulled the pills out of his pocket. He didn’t feel like making a second trip to the kitchen to get more water, so he swallowed half a pill dry. It tasted chalky and bitter, but familiar. Finally, Cristiano was relaxed. The pill was disgusting, as Cristiano remembered, but at least it was real. He’d been worried Bale had gotten him a placebo to spite him.

***

No mother liked to see their child unhappy, but Cristiano took some twisted pleasure in the tantrum Thiago threw when they landed in the Rosario Airport at 3:00 in the afternoon. Cristiano did his best to pacify him, but the boy was already showing his distaste for his father’s native country.

"Do you want me to hold him?" Leo's mother, Celia, suggested. “You look unwell.” Her voice was cool, not standoffish or unkind, but simply emotionless.  She had gone with Messi’s brothers to pick him up at the airport. The drive to their riverfront home would be long, but she made it clear she didn’t want to waste a second without her son.

Cristiano wiped some more sweat off his forehead. He agreed to hand over his son for the sole joy of watching the boy scream louder. Celia had babysat for them a number of times, but Cristiano had said it before. Thiago Messi hated traveling. He screamed his lungs out each time they landed in a new country, and it would take forever before he calmed down. A grandmother’s touch wasn’t going to change that.

To her credit, Celia was stubborn. She tried her best to soothe her grandchild, but in the end, the noise became too much for everyone in the van. Cristiano was about to make his rescue when Messi, tired of hearing his son cry, had to take Thiago away from her. He rocked the boy to sleep for a few minutes, and the crying eventually went down to a sniffle. Messi held onto his son until the end of the car ride. When it was time to get out, Celia held out her hands to take her grandchild. Leo must not have seen her, or perhaps he was working out of habit, but he placed Thiago into Cristiano’s arms.

Cristiano held onto his son tight. He didn't want to let anyone near him in this foreign land. Eventually, Cristiano handed Thiago back to Messi when it was his turn to get out of the car. Messi's brothers got their luggage in a uniform fashion, and all of them headed inside the house.

Cristiano sighed in relief when he felt the air conditioner. “Finally,” he muttered.

Messi frowned. He reached over to brush his knuckles against Cristiano’s face. “Your fever’s gotten worse.”

Cristiano tried to smile. “It’s not too bad.” He pretended to stumble when he leaned on his luggage. Messi was quick to catch him.

“You should get some rest,” Messi told him. “You’re burning up.”

Cristiano opened his mouth in protest, before having another ‘dizzy’ spell. He reluctantly nodded.  "Okay…I…" Jesus Christ, he wasn't pretending anymore.

Messi ordered him to go upstairs. “I’ll get you some food later.”

“What about the kids?” Cristiano asked. If he said nothing, he was an inconvenience. If he mentioned his children, he was a martyr.  

Messi told them his mother would take care of them. Cristiano knew he couldn’t leave the matter alone. The whole point of Cristiano coming here was for Messi to prove Cristiano was a good parent. Cristiano wished he could say he didn't care, but he did. This was Messi's family, and family was everything to Messi.

Cristiano bent down and held out his arms. Junior came running. He always did. Then, as if sensing his mother’s distress, Thiago started crying out again. Celia was forced to put her grandchild on the ground as he started reaching out for his bearer. The toddler scrambled towards Cristiano, and before Cristiano knew it, he was filled with the warmth of his sons. His fever felt like nothing when he held them. He pressed his face against their hair and mumbled out an excuse. “I’m a little sick right now, so you be good to your daddy, okay.”

They nodded obediently. “Are you taking a nap?” Thiago asked.

“For a little bit,” Cristiano promised, “I’ll get better soon.”

Junior still looked concerned, but Thiago showed no emotion on his face. He stopped crying, and he stared at his mama. For a second, Cristiano wondered if God was punishing him by giving his son a real illness. He reached out to check Thiago’s temperature, but their youngest quickly recovered. He hugged his mother a final time and mumbled a gibberish that may have been 'get better' as it could be 'food.' Out of all the people in the room, Thiago seemed the least concerned. That itself was worrisome, considering there were people who loathed Cristiano in this house. He pecked Cristiano on the lips before attaching himself to Junior.

Cristiano was shown Messi’s bedroom shortly after. Not all of his luggage was present, but the one that matters most was. Cristiano hastily opened his bag and found the box that contained his last pill. He probably didn’t need it, but Cristiano never left things to chance.

The best things in life were the things you’ve earned.

After one swallow, Cristiano waited for the first wave to consume him. It would take some time but overall was much faster than he originally planned. He’d hope for at least a day to spend with his kids and Leo. On the airplane, Messi talked about taking him to places around the neighborhood he used to frequent as a child and his favorite restaurants and introduce all his old friends, maybe even visit the Newport Boy's Club. Cristiano wondered how authentic any of those memories were. Messi left for Barcelona when he was thirteen years old. He only visited to see his family once a year before he went pro. Cristiano learned this was a bad habit of Messi’s. He was a romantic. He liked to see his memories in the form of beautiful dreams.

Cristiano was different. He saw the harsh reality firsthand and used the pain to make himself stronger. He could handle pain and discomfort, but he would never survive, knowing he didn't do everything possible to get what he wanted.

Cristiano was brought out of his musings by an exploding bomb inside his belly. The first stage of his heat had arrived, and a surge of wetness ruined his pants. His body howled for an alpha-his alpha—to come and bring him relief. Every muscle in his body compelled him to go through the door and find his alpha while he was red and squirming and looked like a bitch ready to breed. For now, he could still think, but soon, his awareness would only come in bursts. He needed to act fast in case something terrible happened. An omega in heat could spur a rut in any compatible alpha, so Messi needed to get to him before his brothers—two of whom were alphas—did. Siblings were almost always compatible with the same omega. 

Cristiano grabbed his phone; he was shaking, and nearly dropped it several times during his text that he growled ‘fuck it’ to no one and dialed Messi’s number.

The alpha picked up immediately.  “Cris? What’s wrong?”

“…Leo,” Cristiano whined. The pain was agonizing. “Leo…Leo…” Shit, he should have held out on the last pill. He’d never been this far gone on the first wave. He dropped the phone before he could make any requests. He closed his eyes as he tried to breathe.

Suddenly, Leo’s scent, powerful and delicious, was so thick he could taste it. It filled the room. His alpha slammed the door open and stared at him with a feral expression. With his gaze never leaving Cristiano, he closed the door.

Finally, Cristiano thought when Messi’s lips captured his in a kiss. The alpha ripped away his CR7 boxers and tore apart his shirt to gain access to his chest. He separated their mouths to suck on Cristiano’s nipples, tugging at them with his teeth. Without looking, Messi instinctively guided his dick into Cristiano’s dripping slit. He rubbed his tip against the folds Cristiano’s pussy, loosening him up with more precum until he was satisfied with the wetness. Messi pushed the budging tip into the hole. Cristiano took him in so quickly, it felt like the other man was feeding his cock into him, and Cristiano’s pussy was hungrily eating him up. His cunt was a greedy thing, eager to be stretched out and stuffed by his alpha’s knot.

Messi groaned as he pushed the rest of his inches into Cristiano. Cristiano cried when he slammed in; he must have been loud enough to alert their children, and worse, other alphas because Messi chose that moment to kiss him. Cristiano whimpered into the messy kiss, and Messi took that opportunity to move.

Heat sex was never about bonding. It was procreative, and the main intent of any alpha in his rut was to breed the hole offered to him. Messi normally started by rocking his hips against him, waiting for Cristiano’s slippery cunt to adjust around his cock and ebb the pain away with slow, precise movements.

In a heat, there were no bounds. Messi pounded into his pussy with all the strength he could manage and bottomed out deep inside his cunt until his balls were bruising the surface of Cristiano’s cunt. Cristiano’s arms reached out to embrace his alpha, and his fingers gripped Messi’s hair to keep balance. His head tipped back against the bed sheets as his eyes glazed over, and the muddled heatwave invaded his mind. Cristiano used every muscle in his body to clamp onto the cock and made the friction so unbelievable that Leo, with all his world-renowned endurance, was already on the edge of coming after a few thrusts. He moved faster and harder, sweat dripping all over his body as he continued to pull back and slam into that tight hole. Cristiano was no better off his situation. He was too far gone to care about anything other than getting bred. He closed his eyes and opened up his mouth and dreamed about the pleasure of getting his cunt filled for the rest of the week.

“Leo,” Cristiano choked out one last time.

Messi’s eyes darkened and pushed his tongue inside. Cristiano didn’t remember if Messi’s mouth ever left him after that. All he could recall was the hours of orgasms, and how the large knot stretching him out destroyed the last few pieces of his sanity. Before everything melted together, all his mind could hold onto was Messi’s name.   

***

When Cristiano came to his senses, he smelled food. All sorts of herbs and spices, cumin paprika, basil filled his nostrils and made his mouth water. A spoon was heading towards him, and despite his danger senses coming through his headache, he opened his mouth to be fed. After a few spoonfuls of flavorful meat he’d never indulge in with a sound mind, his vision cleared up. The world was still murky, but Cristiano could make out the essentials. He could see that he was in Argentina, and Leo was feeding him.

Cristiano swallowed his food and opened his mouth for another bite. Messi must have recognized the action as cognizance because on the next bite, instead of grilled meat, Cristiano got a kiss.

“Welcome back,” Leo greeted him with his lips pressed against Cristiano’s. Alphas always recovered from their ruts faster than their omegas; Messi was no exception. Fortunately, while many alphas were inexperienced with what to do with their mates, the two of them had danced before. Messi never screwed up on the aftercare. He ordered food before Cristiano could think about asking, and he always made sure there was a meal ready for Cristiano when he needed it. The dish before him tasted too good to be ordered in, which meant Messi’s mother made it. For some reason, the knowledge that Celia Cuccittini made meals for the omega she wished her son would abandon was incredibly satisfying.

Cristiano licked his lips. He looked around for some water, but Messi was prepared. He uncapped the bottle on Cristiano’s tray. Cristiano pretended he didn’t feel stupid and continue to ask about his heat. “How long was I out?”

“About four days,” Messi responded. “I got out of my rut in three. The heat didn’t feel as strong as the others.”

“Oh.” Cheapass pills. Cristiano bet Gareth got him the weakest dose. “That’s good.”

“But I was worried anyway, so I called my doctor.”
Cristiano’s heart stopped. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. Because your heats are irregular; it was hard to tell if anything was wrong. I didn't let him do a more thorough examination," Messi growled, much to Cristiano's amusement. The rut must be still lingering in his skill. Cristiano wondered if he’d like this new side to Messi, but kept the thought in the back of his head. “We should make an appointment when we get home.” 

Cristiano nodded. “I'll get someone on it.” He focused on his breakfast, which was almost done. It made Cristiano bitter, because he rarely got to indulge in meals like this, and now, he couldn't remember the taste. He wanted to savor every bite. Messi's mother may not like him, but she wasn't about to feed a guest poor food. When the Real Madrid player finished eating, Messi cleared the plates.

“I already packed your things, so when you've rested enough, we can go."

"Go? Go where?" Cristiano expected Messi to make up a theme park or a street location he could drag Cristiano to in the guise of a date.

"Home."

"Home? Aren't we at your house?"

"I meant our home."

Cristiano was taken back. "What? You want to go back already?"

Messi nodded. “I don’t want to leave your health to chance. If there is a problem, we need to figure it out immediately. This is the second time your heats have gone out of control. I'm worried." 

The only problem is that you can't speak your mind, Cristiano thought and that I had to resort to these methods.

“But…” Cristiano tried to drink more water before asking if it was alright for him to do this to his parents.

"Won't they be unhappy?"

"Why?"

Cristiano swallowed. “That you chose me over your family."

"Cris, you are my family.”

Cristiano didn't know how to answer that. "They're okay with you leaving? They won't hate me."

Messi sighed. "Yesterday, they became upset that I refused to do anything but nurse you back to health. I should have listened to you,” Messi admitted. “I don’t want you around them for a while. I think it’s bad for your health.”

Cristiano's heart jumped in happiness. He tried to sound calm. "What happened?"

“It’s nothing. I don't like that they don't understand why I want to care for you when you're sick,” Messi admitted. “You’re my omega. You were in heat. Even if you have a rest period, that time is for us to bond, not for me to go out with friends.” He sat down on the mattress next to Cristiano. The player tried to get closer in solidarity.

“They wanted you to leave me?” Cristiano asked. “While I was in heat?”

Messi tightened his hold on the sheets. He was furious at the memory. “You were vulnerable, and they wanted me to leave you. It was an insult to both of us.” He pulled Cristiano closer. “I don’t want our children to hear that garbage.”

Cristiano got closer to Messi to cuddle into his arms. He pressed his mouth against Messi's neck. “Thank you for staying.”
Messi shrugged. “It's natural for me to stay. You're my omega; you've always have been.”

Cristiano laughed. “Bold words from a man who built a relationship off one-night stands.”  

There was a pause. Cristiano turned to his lover; his face was dire.

“We were always in love," Leo corrected him. “From the moment we met, we had a connection. You asked me out that night because you knew I wanted you and was too shy to ask,” Leo 'reminded' him. “You know me better than anyone, from my favorite food to my worse habits. You were meant for me."  

Leo kissed Cristiano's hand to mimic the moment.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you and would not stop until you were in my arms.” The second kiss he gave Cristiano was tense. “We were destined when you moved to Spain.”

The declaration would have been sweet, except a sudden wave of weariness came over Cristiano. Goosebumps rose to his skin when Messi reached out to touch his stomach as if willing a baby into his belly by sheer desire alone. Cristiano heard the alpha call him beautiful. While he rubbed the muscular surface, it dawned on Cristiano for the first time that Leo may have been more invested in keeping their family together than him.